The smoke hadn't cleared.
It clung to the air like memory—bitter, searing, electric. Serah stood at its heart, flame still coursing along her arms, the molten ground hissing beneath her boots. Her breaths came deep and steady, but her skin prickled with heat. The fire inside her pulsed too loudly now. Too eagerly.
Across the ring, Varek was already getting back up.
He shook ash from his arms, cracked his neck, and laughed—a low, electric rasp that cut through the aftermath.
"Now that's what I'm talking about," he grinned, teeth white in a face smudged with soot. "You really are a walking inferno."
His shoulder was smoking, and the side of his tunic was charred through—but he moved with no limp, no hesitation. Voltage still sparked across his knuckles, the arcs slower now, but focused—deadly.
"You melt half the arena just to singe me?" he said, rolling his neck. "Come on, Serah. I know you've got more."
Serah didn't answer.
She could feel it now—that wrong pressure building beneath her skin. Her control slipping. The fire didn't want to rest. It wanted to consume.
The crowd was losing it. Half screamed her name. Half screamed his.
Above, the announcer's voice cracked through the roar:
"And Varek of the Skybound rises! The storm isn't over yet!"
Varek grinned wider at that, like the chaos fed him. "Good. You're quiet. Means you're getting serious."
He stepped forward—light on his feet, electricity buzzing like a storm held barely in check.
"But I've still got tricks," he added. "You brought your fire—now I'm bringing the lightning."
Then he vanished.
A crack of thunder split the air as he flashed across the arena, a bolt made flesh.
Serah pivoted—
Too slow.
Lightning slammed into her ribs and sent her skidding. She hit the ground hard, her fire sputtering from the impact.
Pain flared. Real, this time.
She rolled to her feet, coughing smoke.
Varek was already circling her, hands alive with current.
"You're strong," he said. "But strength without control?"
His eyes gleamed.
"That just burns you alive."
Serah lunged with a snarl, fists blazing.
Varek ducked the first strike, caught the second with a crackling forearm, and drove a shockwave up her arm that made her teeth clench. But she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. The fire had a rhythm now, and it was louder than pain.
Blow after blow came like a storm of heat and ash. Varek backpedaled, sparks bursting beneath his boots as he skated across the stone. For the first time, his smile faltered.
Serah drove him to the edge of the arena—each strike landing closer, hotter, heavier.
Keep pressing. Keep burning.
Flame whipped around her, her skin glowing like iron just shy of the forge. The embers were answering her, and the crowd was too.
They were chanting now. Her name.
Serah. Serah. Serah.
She felt it. Power and pride. Her flame didn't just fight back—it commanded.
Varek grinned again through the strain, chest heaving. "There it is," he said, voice crackling. "That's what I wanted."
Then he threw his hands wide and slammed them together.
BOOM.
A dome of lightning erupted outward from his body like a living pulse. Serah was caught in it—lifted off her feet as the surge tore through her limbs, paralyzing, searing.
She hit the ground, coughing smoke. Her vision blurred.
But she pushed herself up—shaking, burned—and grinned.
"I'm still standing," she growled.
"You're insane," Varek said, half-laughing. "And I love it."
He didn't press the attack. He wanted her up. Wanted her to bring more.
And she would.
Serah rose slowly, breath ragged but fiery, ash coiling from her skin like steam from boiling metal.
This wasn't just about winning anymore. This was about proving something—about showing everyone what she was made of.
She liked how the crowd looked at her now. She liked that she was the fire they couldn't stop watching.
"You wanted all of it," she said, voice low.
Cinders spun around her like a cyclone.
"Then burn with me."
Serah's fingers curled into fists, heat roaring beneath her skin.
This time, there was no hesitation—no breath to waste. She launched forward, boots scorching the stone, flame bursting in her wake like a furnace let loose.
Varek braced. Lightning spun around him in wild arcs.
Their clash was thunder.
Fist met forearm—ember against voltage. Sparks and cinders exploded with every impact, each strike louder, heavier, more desperate. The air warped from the force of it. Neither of them gave ground now. Every blow was an answer to the last.
Varek grunted as a punch slammed into his side—then twisted and cracked his elbow into Serah's jaw. She staggered, fire sputtering for half a second—then flared again, fiercer.
She roared and slammed both palms into the ground.
Scorchline.
Fire exploded in a jagged path beneath Varek's feet, the stone glowing red-hot, then white. The voltage in the air distorted, twisted. Varek tried to leap—too late.
The burst caught him full-on, a pillar of flame hurling him skyward.
The arena gasped.
Serah didn't wait.
Ash spiraled around her, swallowing her from sight, and when she reappeared—midair, boots burning—she met him there.
Her body curled, her fists blazed.
The second attack was more than flame. It was fury made solid. A burning sigil ignited across her chest—Cinderbrand surging again, brighter, more reckless.
"This is the end!" she shouted, the heat in her voice almost drowning the words.
She brought her fist down like a hammer from the heavens.
Varek raised his arms—
BOOM.
The impact split the sky.
Fire swallowed the arena, rolling out in a shockwave that knocked banners loose and sent the crowd reeling. Stone cracked. Sections of the floor glowed molten. Even the barrier flickered.
When the smoke cleared, Varek was down—on his knees, arms trembling, steam rising off his back.
Serah dropped to the floor in a crouch, panting. Her skin was blistered. Her boots were nearly gone. Her vision blurred from heatstroke and power drain.
But she was smiling.
The crowd erupted.
Then—
"Still… not done," Varek muttered.
He rose.
Slowly. Shaking.
But his eyes were sharp—clearer than before.
"I get it now," he said, lightning crawling across his skin, not wildly, but with purpose. "You don't just burn hot. You burn smart."
He flexed his fingers. The voltage that sparked between them was different—denser. Calmer. Controlled.
Serah's smile faltered. "You're adapting."
"Damn right I am."
He cracked his neck. "You think that was the end? That was the beginning."
Then he moved.
Faster.
Not just lightning-speed, but focused—strikes honed from her own rhythm. He ducked her next swing, slammed a palm into her side, and sent a jolt that scrambled her balance. She coughed smoke, stumbled.
She tried to Ashwalk—too slow.
Varek was already there, driving a knee into her stomach, then an elbow across her back. Not fatal. Not careless.
Precise.
He was learning from her—becoming more like her—and using it.
Serah dropped to one knee, flames flickering weakly from her shoulders.
The crowd still roared for her. She still felt their eyes. Their awe.
But her breath came shorter now.
And for the first time…
She wasn't sure she could finish him.
The crowd was on its feet now, but the tension was palpable. The heat radiating from Serah's body was suffocating, her breath shallow. The burn on her hands ached, every movement feeling like the weight of a furnace. But the adrenaline—the victory—made it easier to ignore.
Her eyes were locked on Varek, who was still standing despite the damage, lightning arcing from his body with a force that seemed to shake the arena itself. His gaze was clear, determined, and sharper now than before.
"Get up," Serah gritted out, her voice low. She was almost laughing through the pain, a wild glint in her eyes. "Get up, come on stupid body I dare you."
Varek's lips pulled into a smile, but it wasn't cocky. It wasn't triumphant. It was the kind of smile someone wears when they know the storm is still coming.
"You're pushing yourself too far, Serah."
Her eyes narrowed. "I'll show you 'too far.'" She wasn't going to stop. Not when she was so close.
And then, as if a switch flipped, she unleashed her final move.
Kindling Roar.
A furious roar erupted from her throat, louder than anything before. The sky above her seemed to pulse with flame, and the earth shook as fire spiraled upward. This wasn't just her flames anymore. This was something primal, something untamable, a cascade of raw energy and fury—flames that wrapped around her like a second skin.
The ground trembled beneath her feet. Her vision blurred with heat and light. But she didn't care. She only saw Varek.
This will end it.
She lunged, her body blurring with fire as her fist, coated in a searing mass of flames, rocketed toward him. This was it. The final blow.
Varek stood his ground. His hands, now glowing with static energy, were steady—calculating. He didn't look like he was retreating, but he didn't look like he was afraid either.
And that was her mistake.
Serah thought she could force him to break. She thought the power of this final attack—this eruption of unrelenting flame—would overwhelm him. But just as her fist reached him, his lightning shifted.
With a single pulse, the air around Varek cracked.
He caught her fist—not with his hands, but with a single violent bolt of pure electricity. The heat surged in every direction, but Varek didn't flinch. The lightning wrapped around Serah's flaming arm, binding it, holding it just enough to stop her from landing that final, devastating strike.
Her flames sputtered. The surge of power she had summoned faltered—just for a split second.
And that was all Varek needed.
In that instant of weakness, he struck—again. This time, no mercy. He slammed his elbow into her ribs with bone-shaking force, the shockwave of the impact knocking the breath out of her lungs.
Serah gasped. She staggered back.
But it wasn't over yet.
Before she could catch herself, Varek pressed forward his body crackling with power, his strikes precise, relentless. He wasn't just attacking. He was showing her how to fight, how to survive.
But Serah refused to stop. She couldn't stop.
She pushed herself to her feet, hands shaking, hair singed. A sick, burning sensation roiled in her chest as she launched herself back into the fray.
Her Cinderbrand flickered back to life—but now, it was out of control.
Her flame blazed bright, too bright, her body consumed with too much of the power she had pushed herself to summon. She felt herself splitting—a rift forming between the rage and reason. The fire within her was no longer just her ally. It was consuming her, threatening to collapse in on itself.
But—no.
She wouldn't let it.
Her final move came not as a planned strike, but as an overwhelming surge of unbridled fury. She forced herself forward, ignoring her body's protests, her vision dimming with the searing heat and static crackling around her.
Her fist, still wreathed in flame, found Varek.
With a sickening crack, the strike landed. The arena went still.
Varek dropped to one knee.
Serah stood over him, chest heaving, every fiber of her being screaming from the pain. But she'd done it. She'd won.
The crowd roared in disbelief, but Serah barely heard it. The world around her swam in a haze of heat, power, and exhaustion.
She was breathing hard, but there was a smile on her lips tired, yet full of that same overconfident fire that had driven her through every battle.
She had done it.
She had won.
But deep in her chest, a quiet voice flickered like the faintest whisper in the distance.
Was this really victory?