Aya stared at the scythe of water cleaving through Dorian's torso, her breath caught in her throat. No… not him too. She wasn't going to allow it again.
The world had taken one person she loved; Dorian couldn't be another name etched into the tally of the dead.
A scream tore from her throat, feral and unrestrained. Shadowbound shattered around her as she surged forward, wind spiralling violently at her heels.
She dove into her soul core, ripping mana from the deepest well possible, and unleashed a spell so brutal it flayed the mage where he stood, causing his skin to be shredded from his body.
His body flung like broken driftwood across the battlefield, crashing into some stone—but not even that would stop him. Blood splattered from his gashes and cuts, yet those wounds writhed, stitching themselves closed.
New flesh erupted. It was grotesque and purple—wrong. What was replacing itself made the man look less human by the second. Whatever he had injected himself with was nothing short of dehumanising; it was putrid.
Aya's eyes narrowed, fury laced with dread. She raised both of her hands and grasped the wind onto her fingertips.
Crossing her arms, she pulled the wind diagonally without any mercy. Two unrelenting swords of mana cut through the ground, each racing against the other to meet the flesh of the opponent.
The mage was still recovering; there wasn't a chance to evade. The two scythes of wind struck him like he'd been hit with the full force of a ravaging monster.
Smoke and dust swirled through the air where the mage had been hit. In the midst of it, the silhouette of something monstrous emerged. It was him—what was left of him, at least.
He staggered forward, and what Aya saw made her stomach twist. His blood, if it could be called that, was now a viscous, sickly green sludge that dripped from his severed arm. Mana also leaked from his wounds in unstable and furious bursts.
His skin had paled to a deathly grey, and his eyes, which were losing their colour, carried on getting closer, faster and nearer by the second.
Aya clutched her head as her breathing had become ragged. The surge of adrenaline was slipping from her veins; she coveted the power she once had, but instead, she was left with a crushing, bone-deep exhaustion.
Even her soul core was straining, fighting just to keep her upright.
Despite all the odds against her, she refused to yield.
"I have to fight," she whispered through a voice trembling with rage. "Even if blood pours from every pore of my body… even if my soul shatters… I will not allow myself to stop."
Tears began to blur her vision as she forced her battered body to stand, gathering any force she had left to move.
A metallic hand rested on her shoulder and forcefully pushed her back down. Aya's legs trembled as she fell, flinching whilst looking up.
Shadowbound had his blade drawn in one hand and looked down at Aya. He spoke with true compassion and applauded her: "You truly have served as a more valiant and inspirational knight than I have ever been, Aya."
Cid began to enter a stance, placing his second hand around the blade, reinforcing its might. "All this time, you've been assisting me, first coming here, then saving me from being controlled by the abomination in front of us. I believe it to be an appropriate occasion where I am saving you."
The creature sprawled across the battlefield. Shadowbound prepared himself as he recalled a key memory from when he was training with Master Eshvir.
For hundreds of years, they had been guarding the Star Gate, the entire forest from many different people. Their duty never swayed, no matter the strength of the person they were facing—and now, it wouldn't be the same.
Four tendrils of water launched to latch around Shadowbound, but he wasn't going to let himself be subdued so easily. Pulling on each end of the greatsword, they seemed to separate into two individual swords of equal calibre.
Cid thrust the swords, with that radiant blue mana of his, and challenged the tendrils of water mana by slicing in an 'X' formation. The tendrils broke under the force of his sword, and now the mage and Shadowbound were face to face.
The mage created a makeshift sword of water, whilst Shadowbound used his blade as they clashed against each other with frightening ferocity.
"You believe that you will best the Eshvirs and the Crossed Seas Guild?" Shadowbound questioned.
"I-I don't care anymore, as long as I can keep on killing and killing," he hissed.
Shadowbound wouldn't allow anyone else in this forest to die today. Not while he still had the breath and strength to fight.
With a roar that thundered through his metallic helm, he drove his twin blades against the mage, forcing him to be knocked backwards.
In a flash, Shadowbound surged forward, fusing his blades into one, and drew his weapon down in a devastating arc—only for the mage to vanish at the last second, narrowly missing death.
"Hydra Bloom." From the mage's severed arm, water gushed forth in writhing streams. They twisted, coiled, and shaped themselves into three hydra heads, monstrous and dripping with the same inhumanity as the mage.
With a thunderous crash, they slammed into the ground and each other, all sprinting towards Shadowbound.
"Battle Stance: Ashen Wolf Style."
The name rang with weight. The Ashen Wolf Style was one of four sword styles taught amongst the swordsmen of the continent.
Where the other great styles of Elaijya had adapted, this particular style endured. It had preserved its ferocity that survived through the Great War of Succession.
Though Shadowbound wasn't nearly adept in the style—in fact, he had only just begun learning it—it could provide him the edge he needed.
His overall stance had lowered, his presence sharpened, and one of the hydra's heads lunged. He didn't flinch; with the grace of the Ashen Wolf, he sidestepped and growled, "Howling Edge."
His blade surged with mana, crackling to life like lightning through steel. All it took was one cleave, which he did with practised precision, severing the hydra's head, with it bursting into rain and mist.
There was no time to savour the strike because the second head barrelled forward with fury. Shadowbound made the spontaneous decision to split his sword into two. He slashed and carved through the air, with the remnants of energy that rested on his sword.
Mana projections screamed from his blade, hammering the creature with blow after blow, but it wasn't enough. Shadowbound wasn't an expert in controlling the power he had; he was only able to utilise it at this point.
So the head, which was partially severed, collided with him. One blade flew from his grip, and his body slammed into the treeline with a brutal clang of his armour.
He let out a stream of blood from his mouth and held onto his right arm, which was broken, and he needed to get up.
His vision blurred as the final hydra head, untouched and revelling in power, charged him—its maw opening wide, ready to devour him whole.
"Draconic Style: Soulflare."
A new voice cut through the chaos and stabbed the ground in front of Cid. His body exploded into a wall of flames as he roared through the collision with the hydra's head. Dorian powered through the borrowed power and dispelled it easily.
Dorian didn't allow himself to lose focus; he wasn't going to talk to anyone. His mind and sole target was the mage, and he was sure to end him.
The droplets of water on the floor began to rise. Dorian observed it and noticed that there was mana embedded within them, perhaps for a follow-up attack. He was right.
Water, which was now akin to shards of glass, began raining down. "Crimson Resonance." Dorian swung his sword all around him, targeting the very sky itself, and fire surged from his sword, making a ring of flames that contested the water.
Shards of water and angered flames fought to overpower each other, but they reached a standstill and erupted into steam. Mitigating the problem, Dorian flashed in front of the mage.
His expression wasn't one to be messed with. With how Dorian was feeling now, he felt as if he could make the entire forest burn if he so willed. He directed all of that anger, all of that hatred, into one cleave.
The mage caught Dorian's eye and froze as the searing blade powered forth and severed the mage's stomach, blood splattering all over Dorian's face.
He was trying to do something—a last attempt at destruction—but Dorian didn't allow that. Pointing his blade forward, he roared, "EMRYS!"
Flying from the shadows, with its maw open, Emrys roared a black, destructive flame that burned through the mage's attempts at chaos, searing the very flesh from his skin. Atop the dragon's back was Vanessa, the Crossed Seas Guild, and the entirety of the Eshvir Cohort.
They all jumped from the dragon's back, circling the mage with weapons of mana that could end his life.
Staring down with his jet-black eyes, the mage, who was half-dead, peered at Dorian as his sense of fear grew. He knew it was over, and dread washed over him.
"It's over," Dorian stated, with finality in his voice.
The mage was slumped over, with purple mist dissipating as his body was reverting back to normal. They had won.
Shadowbound, Aya and Dorian had saved the Eshvir Forest.