The Inferno Duel
Silver City's heart burned like a dying animal—ragged, furious, choking on its own death.
Flames tore through everything. Stone walls gave way, timber snapped like bones, and flesh melted without even a scream. Where once there was life, now there was only ruin. One by one, buildings collapsed into themselves. The air that had been thick with screaming moments ago was now clogged with smoke, ash, and silence.
And in the center of it all—in the shattered skeleton of what used to be a market square—six figures clashed under a blood-red sky.
Five of them moved together, smooth and precise. Their black robes twisted in the heat, flickering like broken wings. Hoods shadowed their faces, iron masks veiled them, hiding all but the sharp glint of their eyes—dark, unreadable, unfeeling. The firelight gleamed off their swords. There was a chill around them, too—a bitter cold that clung, like death had wrapped itself around their skin.
They weren't alone.
