The clash of light, shadow, steel, and Sigil-born force raged through the silent arena, but Myrwol remained eerily calm at the center. Each time a strike landed, it barely staggered the massive beast. His fur shimmered with threads of dusklight, and his golden eyes, far too intelligent for a mere monster, watched them with a growing, curious focus.
Kael's wings of fractured light twisted in the air, letting him dance above and around the wolf's snapping jaws. Each gust he summoned was like a question thrown into the storm: Could he bleed? Could he fall?
Allen darted through the edges, fractured vision mapping Myrwol's intentions just a half-second before they happened. His gaze, lit faintly by the cracks of his Sigil, scanned every paw twitch, every shift in weight. Still, it was barely enough. Too fast. Too aware.
And V—
V was holding the line.
His every step sounded like stone crashing into stone. Shoulders hunched under unseen weight, golden cracks pulsed faintly from the tusk-shaped markings blooming across his back. Each time Myrwol swiped toward their core, V was there. Absorbing. Deflecting. Grunting, but silent.
But his eyes were getting darker, slower to blink. Not from exhaustion—but from pressure. Something internal, crushing inward.
Luck cursed, weaving between swipes as he guided near-misses and clipped blows. "He's not even trying yet," he spat, deflecting a claw meant for G with a shoulder-check that should've dislocated his arm. "And he knows it."
G was almost a blur—flickers of light trailing behind him in pulses of motion, darting beneath Myrwol's reach, every motion powered by that quiet, glowing core of joy he hid under tired smiles.
But Myrwol wasn't focused on them.
The wolf exhaled, long and low. Dust scattered, and the soundless air seemed to pause—just for a moment.
Then his eyes shifted.
"Interesting," Myrwol muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "There is weight. But also fracture."
His head turned slightly. Toward V.
Allen noticed first.
"Formation shift! Now!" he barked, but it was already too late. Myrwol was gone from the center, a blur of primal muscle and golden energy—
—and behind V in the next instant.
V turned, slowly. Not surprised. Not panicked.
But heavy.
As if something inside was starting to split.
Kael dove, wind screaming around him.
Luck swore again, palm snapping forward with a desperate, flicking rune—instinctive and unfocused.
G's light flared once—then disappeared entirely.
The battle hadn't ended.
But the line had begun to break.
The impact didn't come.
Myrwol had halted just inches from V's chest. The massive wolf tilted his head, sniffing the air around the boy like a hound uncertain if it had found meat or something fouler.
"You carry far more than the rest," Myrwol murmured, voice like thunder behind fog. "Why do you not fall?"
V met his gaze, unmoving. "Because if I do... they might."
For a second—just a breath—the battlefield held still. Tension like a drawn bowstring. Then Kael's dive interrupted the moment, wind cracking against Myrwol's side and forcing the wolf to pivot back.
Allen dragged V away with a sharp motion. "What the hell was that?!"
V just grunted. "I had him."
"No, you didn't," Kael snapped, wings beating hard. "You froze."
"I held." V's voice wasn't angry. It was… distant. Calm, like a weight had numbed everything else. "I'm fine."
Luck looked at him hard. "Don't lie to us, V. I can feel it. You're... heavy. Heavier than usual."
"I'm always like this."
"No." G's voice was quiet, but cutting. "You're not. You hide it well. But not from us."
V exhaled. Shoulders sagged slightly. "I can manage."
Allen glanced at Kael—then back at Myrwol, who was now slowly circling again, tail low and lazily swaying. Watching. Waiting.
"He's not done," Allen said. "He's letting us exhaust ourselves."
"Then we don't give him the chance." Kael flexed his fingers, his half-formed wings flickering. "We change the tempo."
"We're not changing anything if our anchor falls apart," Luck said sharply. "V, talk to me—how much longer can you hold it?"
V hesitated.
"I don't know."
The quiet nearly cracked something in all of them.
But then Myrwol's voice returned, distant, echoing. "Yes... break, little herd. Let the slow one drag you into ruin."
G narrowed his eyes. "We move. Stay tight. Don't isolate."
Kael raised a hand. "On me. Rotate outward. Force pressure from his flanks."
Allen's cracked irises pulsed once. "I'll coordinate the signals."
V straightened, the gold lines across his back pulsing faintly—growing brighter.
"I'll hold the center."
No one argued. Not because they believed him.
But because there wasn't a choice.
The formation surged.
Kael shot left, wind trailing from his limbs like storm-wrapped thread. G vanished into the blind spots, his presence almost untraceable in the chaos. Allen stepped behind Kael's motion, reading ripples in the air—sending out sharp gestures like silent commands. And at the center, V dug his heels into the stone, planting himself like a living fortress.
Myrwol turned to face them, something like boredom in his molten eyes.
The air trembled.
Kael's strike hit first—direct and wild, wind cracking like a whip across Myrwol's snout. The wolf grunted, head shifting just enough to send Kael flying sideways with a snap of its tail. The follow-up from G slashed across its hind legs—a flash of light and shadow that made Myrwol snarl—but didn't slow him down.
Allen's hands moved in a blur, using faint pulses to redirect Luck's strikes. Daggers twisted through the air, one glancing past the beast's left eye—just shy of the mark.
"V—brace!" Allen called.
V's arms rose. Myrwol slammed into him.
The arena floor split.
The impact rang through the bones of everyone present. V skidded back—but he didn't fall. His feet tore trenches into the ground, and blood ran from his nose, down to his lip, unnoticed.
The tusk markings across his back glowed gold—then cracked slightly.
His eyes stayed hollow.
Myrwol backed off, not out of pain, but interest.
"You feel it, don't you?" Myrwol said lowly, pacing. "The slow splintering. You carry them like stone—you always have. Why?"
V didn't answer.
Kael rejoined the fray, coughing but still upright. "He's trying to break us. Get in his head before he gets into yours."
G reappeared by Allen. "V's tempo is dropping. His pulses are irregular. He's burning too fast."
Allen nodded grimly. "He's nearing threshold."
"Then we force Myrwol to blink first," Kael said. "Draw his attention. Rotate out. Give V time to cool."
"I said I'm fine!" V roared suddenly.
The ground quaked.
His voice carried like a warhorn—raw, unfiltered.
Everyone turned.
Myrwol grinned. "There it is."
The throne-mark along V's back cracked further—faint golden steam rising from his skin.
He was still standing. Still breathing.
But something—someone—was slipping.
The battle didn't slow. If anything, it became desperate.
Kael leapt forward again, wild wind spinning around his limbs. Allen flanked from the right, manipulating distance like it was geometry. G struck from the back in flashes of flickering motion. And V—
V was unmovable. Untouchable.
Every blow Myrwol launched was absorbed or countered. The tusks along V's upper back burned gold. Each impact sent shockwaves out, but he didn't stumble. He held.
And for a moment, they believed it.
"He's doing it," G breathed, almost in awe.
Kael nodded, eyes wild with wind and sweat. "He's adapting—he's stabilizing the load."
Allen frowned. "Wait…"
Then Myrwol laughed.
A deep, booming sound that rolled across the battlefield like thunder from within a mountain.
"Fools," he said, eyes gleaming. "You think he's the one bearing the cost?"
His gaze shifted—piercing, sharp—and landed on Luck.
Luck stood still, lips tight, hands trembling at his sides. Gold runes pulsed faintly at the base of his fingers. Barely perceptible, but there. He wasn't even looking at Myrwol—he was focused.
Focused on V.
His knees wobbled slightly. Sweat soaked his collar. His eyes were wide—not in panic, but locked in concentration beyond reason.
Allen's breath caught. "No…"
Kael blinked, then followed Myrwol's gaze. "Luck?"
It all clicked—every near miss, every improbable redirect, the way V's footing had just managed to hold. Luck wasn't nudging probability anymore. He was chaining it, twisting threads of chance tighter and tighter to hold the collapsing weight of V's overload in check.
He was pulling double burden.
G swore under his breath and rushed toward Luck, but froze when Myrwol's body shifted—almost playful, circling now.
"Not many understand," the wolf said, voice low and delighted. "The cost of fate-tampering. The greater the change, the heavier the price. And he's bleeding reality dry just to hold your champion upright."
V's breathing had turned shallow, mechanical. His eyes were wide but distant, flickering. His strength remained titanic, but it was too much. His body was dragging weight not just from his own traumas—but from everyone else's.
Luck coughed suddenly—once, twice—blood spattering the stone beneath him.
And still, he held.
The gold around his fingers flared… then began to fracture.
"Luck!" Kael shouted, wind flaring as he moved to his side.
"I've got it—just a little longer," Luck muttered, a smile twitching on his lips. "If I let go now… he'll fall apart."
Allen moved beside them, eyes already working calculations. "We need to break V's tether—offload some of the burden now."
Myrwol's grin widened. "Do it fast. Or watch them both crack."
The moment cracked.
Luck stumbled, collapsing to one knee. The faint shimmer of probability magic sputtered like a candle caught in wind. V's back arched unnaturally as the golden tusks twisted, roots of burden curling like chains over his shoulders.
Too much.
And Myrwol saw it.
He stepped forward with a smirk, dragging one long claw across the air like tearing silk. "I think it's time to clean up the mess, don't you?"
He moved fast.
A flurry of black wind lashed forward—razor-sharp, ancient, and dense with unseen weight. It wasn't just an attack. It was a judgment.
Kael shouted, wind howling in defiance. "NO!"
He darted in first, wind-crafting a wall of force mid-air to deflect the strike. It cracked, then shattered.
G followed in, nearly invisible in motion, his glow pulsing like fireflies as he redirected shrapnel and surged past the edges of Myrwol's focus.
Allen's gaze sharpened—he didn't move randomly. He moved precisely, drawing aggression away from Luck with step-perfect feints and pulse-bending strikes. Every hit bent space like a ripple—Myrwol began to miss for the first time.
And then Rorek roared.
He wasn't subtle. He wasn't fast. But when he dropped down between Myrwol and V, arms crossed in a guard that screamed defiance, it stopped the next attack cold.
"You'll have to go through me, monster."
Myrwol cocked his head, amused. "Very well."
The battlefield exploded.
Blasts of force. Cracks in the floor. Wind screaming. Probability curling. Light flaring. Blood. Sweat. Sorrow. Desperation.
Kael's wind turned savage, each movement slicing the air like wings in rage. Allen shifted through it, creating impossible openings. G kept the rhythm, redirecting attention, buying seconds. Rorek tanked everything meant for the two that could no longer stand.
And behind them—
Luck swayed, eyes unfocused, mouth whispering silent numbers and names like a prayer. His glow was dimming.
V remained on his knees, breathing shallow. The burden pulsed around him, his muscles trembling. Golden cracks spiderwebbed across the stone beneath him, mirroring the strain in his soul.
But they held.
And the others would die before they let them fall.
It happened in silence.
Rorek stood firm, eyes wild, breath ragged—and then, everything slowed.
The blow meant to shatter him never landed.
Golden chains bloomed from his skin, wrapping his arms, his spine, his chest. A symbol of ironwood and sky burned onto his sternum—a Sigil, ancient and immovable.
Sigil: Aegis Radicatum
("Rooted Shield")
A guardian's Sigil. Not to protect himself—but others.
The ground around him deepened with weight, and time stilled in his wake.
A ward was born.
Myrwol's claws screeched across the shield that wasn't there before. He blinked—then laughed.
"A bloom of will? From you?"
But it was already spreading.
V gasped—then screamed.
The golden throne across his back shattered and reformed midair. The roots bent backward, tusks glowing. The second evolution took him—
Stage 2: Custos Tardus — "Slow Guardian"
A spectral, towering elephant unfurled behind him, made of fractured gold and echoing grief.
It moved slow—but remembered everything. Every motion Myrwol had made. Every hit.
And it did not forget.
As it stepped forward with a tremble that cracked the ground—Kael's chest burst with light.
The wildflower turned crimson, roots peeling back.
Stage 2: Ala Fracta — "Broken Wing"
Kael's wind turned jagged, wings half-formed behind him—feathers of storm and sorrow. Every gust now carried weight. Every swing cut through not just air—but memory.
Luck, smiling faintly even through blood, whispered:
"About time."
His hands flared gold. The mark on his palm twisted. The arrowhead rune finally burned into the air—
Stage 2: Signum Mutabile — "Sign of Change"
He carved symbols instinctively now—probability didn't just bend—it knelt.
A thrown strike twisted backward. A falling ally missed the ground. Myrwol's next attack hit nothing but afterimage.
Then came Allen.
The cracks across his eyes deepened. The glassy fractures in his irises spun like clockwork.
He didn't shout. He simply saw—
Stage 2: Oculus Severatus — "Severed Gaze"
He could now distinguish the threads of deception from truth, illusion from reality, intention from reaction.
And in that moment—he saw something no one else did.
Fear.
Just a flicker, in Myrwol's stance.
Myrwol stepped back for the first time.
Because they weren't breaking.
They were evolving.
Myrwol chuckled.
Not mockingly—genuinely. The kind of laugh that echoed too long, the kind that didn't belong to someone sane.
"You evolved," he said, dragging one claw through the air like slicing silk. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't. Finally. Something worth feeling."
The air changed.
Pressure, thick and ancient, fell like a second sky. The ground under their feet trembled—not from power, but from remembrance. As though the Tower itself recognized what had just awakened in him.
Myrwol stretched his arms, spine cracking, shadows peeling off his back like a discarded skin.
A dozen symbols shimmered faintly across his skin—echoes of old awakenings, long sealed.
A weightless hum built in the air, the fabric of reality shivering as he smiled.
"No more sleepwalking then."
He raised a hand—
And the earth caved in.
A shockwave of inverted gravity slammed outward. Rorek's shield cracked. Kael's wind screamed in reverse. V's guardian reeled, limbs flickering between presence and myth.
Even Luck's runes sputtered as space itself turned disobedient.
Myrwol moved.
And this time—he didn't pull his strikes.
One lunge, and Allen's vision cracked, fracturing like a dropped mirror. Only Rorek's shield—now burning with its own will—caught the brunt of the blow.
But not fast enough.
Kael bled.
V coughed gold.
Luck staggered, the rune trails shaking like hands trying not to fall asleep.
G vanished from sight—only to reappear behind Myrwol, blade biting shadow. It didn't pierce.
Myrwol didn't flinch.
"You dance better when you're afraid," he whispered.
He began tearing through them—not with reckless rage, but deliberate, graceful destruction. Like he was conducting a symphony of collapse.
And still—he smiled.
The air thickens, heavy with a weight none of them can escape. Myrwol, now fully serious, steps into the center of the battlefield, his aura pressing down like an invisible mountain. His mere presence sends a pulse through the group, rattling their resolve.
Kael, Allen, and Luck, still recovering from the intense strain, try to regain their footing, but even they can feel it—the pressure of Myrwol's awakening. The true danger is here now.
G feels the pulse surge through his veins, a cold, suffocating sensation. His body instinctively fights it, but the weight of Myrwol's aura presses on him, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. The air feels impossibly thick as if the very ground is pulling him under. He's lost his joy, his radiance dimmed under the weight of this being, and yet...
A sharp breath.
The dimming light of his Sigil starts to pulse against the suffocating atmosphere. It's a flicker at first, barely noticeable. Then a faint warmth blooms inside him—small, but growing. The light from the crescent moons beneath his collarbone pulses brighter, pushing back against the darkness closing in. His joy, his hidden radiance, ignites within him.
Stage II: Vox Silens activates.
The quiet burst of energy shifts the battlefield. An invisible pulse emanates from G, rippling through the air. He's no longer a passive participant. The pressure eases just enough, enough for him to stand firm once again. His presence flares, a quiet storm of stability. The others can feel it, the air around them subtly adjusting. His very being shifts from that silent, introverted glow to a radiant force of stability, protecting his allies' focus in this chaos.
Next to him, Risan feels it too.
The Reflexio Interna keeps crashing against the growing pressure, his mind overwhelmed by a blend of emotions from everyone around him—fear, anger, desperation. And then... he sees it. An image in his mind's eye, clear as crystal, of himself. Of the mirror he always avoided.
Stage II: Imago Fragmentum ignites.
With it comes a shift—a distortion of the space around him, reality folding into reflective pieces. His mirrored selves start to form, some disjointed, others calm, each one an expression of repressed feelings. They flicker into existence, not quite him, not quite anyone else, but enough to shake the air, confuse, and distract. It's like a chessboard where the pieces are constantly changing positions, and Risan holds the strings.
The pressure of Myrwol's aura isn't gone. But in the face of it, they evolve.
The energy changes from one of mere survival to a feeling of purpose. They are more than just reactions to the fight now. They are standing their ground.
Myrwol notices.
A low, growling chuckle rumbles from the depths of his chest, his grin widening. "So, you have grown…" His tone is mocking but impressed. "I'll have to take you seriously now."
The group, now more than just weary survivors, has shifted—G and Risan's Sigils adding a new layer of strength to the team. Myrwol's eyes narrow. The game has changed.
It's no longer just about the fight—it's about who can survive the storm.
Kael's heart races as the air crackles with Myrwol's rising energy. He can feel the pressure intensifying, the weight of the battlefield pressing down on him. His Sigil flares, but it's not quite fully awakened. It's wild, untamed, like a flower barely beginning to bloom, and yet it is enough to cause a noticeable shift in the air around him.
Kael takes a deep breath, his hands tightening into fists. His wings, symbolizing his inner conflict, stretch slightly behind him, the chaotic energy swirling through them. Stage 2: Ala Fracta. The fractured wings of his Sigil spread outward like cracks in the sky itself, reflecting the turbulence inside of him.
He shoots forward, his body propelled by a gust of wind. His movements are quicker now, more agile, and his thoughts sharp as the chaos within the wind that surrounds him. Kael directs the turbulent wind to create a barrier in front of him, attempting to push back the full force of Myrwol's advance. But the pressure is too much.
"Focus, Kael!" Allen's voice reaches him, sharp but steady. Kael glances to his side, seeing his best friend pushing forward with equal intensity. Stage 2: Florens Discordia has made Allen stronger, but also, the fractures in his own psyche are now his weapons—his inner turmoil a force that only grows stronger with every step. The wildflower Sigil flares, blooming with chaos, but Allen's focus remains unwavering.
"Stay close!" Kael yells, his voice strained, as the battle rages on.
Meanwhile, G is moving with precision, his Sigil's energy surrounding him like a radiant shield. Stage 2: Vox Silens. The quiet pulse of his power ripples outward, a wave of calm in the midst of the chaos. He's not immune to the battle's weight, but he stands strong, using the serenity of his powers to balance the conflict raging around them.
"Just stay back, G!" Kael calls, urging him to fall back into the protective formation they've set up.
But G just gives him a nod, his calm presence grounding the group, even as they feel the strain.
The true threat is Myrwol, however. With every movement, he becomes more dangerous, more aware of their attempts to subdue him. His monstrous form towers over them, his smirk widening with every failed strike. "Is this all you have? You should have stayed out of my way."
The air around him vibrates with raw, dangerous energy as he prepares his next attack. The ground cracks beneath his feet as he charges forward, his eyes glowing with murderous intent.
Myrwol's laughter echoes across the battlefield, and in the brief moment of his distraction, the group launches a combined assault. Kael is first to act, his wind-energy blade slicing through the air toward Myrwol, but the monster is fast, dodging at the last moment and retaliating with a forceful swipe.
"Kael!" Allen yells, rushing forward to intercept, his Sigil blossoming in a rush of chaotic energy as he strikes with calculated precision, his attacks targeting the monster's vulnerabilities.
The two move in sync, but Myrwol counters with a sweeping motion, sending a shockwave that forces the entire group back. The pressure of his aura pushes against them, and Kael feels his legs buckle for a moment, struggling to regain his stance.
"Stay together!" Risan calls out from the rear, his own Sigil: Reflexio Interna activating as he watches the battlefield unfold. The mirror-like reflections of himself split off, blurring the line between reality and illusion, his targets shifting unpredictably.
His illusions pull at Myrwol's focus, but Myrwol isn't distracted for long. He sneers at the distorted images and roars, ready to finish them off. "Your tricks won't save you!"
"Just a little longer..." Luck whispers under his breath. His Sigil: Signum Mutabile pulses, the very air around him vibrating with the subtle manipulation of probability. The runes in the air form a delicate path, pushing the odds just enough to give the group an edge. Luck grits his teeth, the pressure mounting. He pushes harder, but his energy is visibly draining.
Myrwol looks directly at him, his expression darkening. "So, this is the one who thinks he can change fate?"
Kael sees the strain in Luck's eyes as he pushes harder, his body shaking from the effort. His odds are shifting, but barely. It's only a matter of time before he collapses under the pressure.
"Luck, stop!" Kael urges, knowing full well how much this is costing him.
But Luck only grins, his will unwavering. "I'm fine... Just keep fighting. We can do this."
As they struggle to hold back Myrwol's onslaught, they start to realize the true weight of this fight. Myrwol might not be at his full power yet, but the burden they're all carrying is growing heavier by the second.
They can only hold on a little longer.