Meaningless… meaningless…
The thought repeated itself not because Hailey believed it, but because her mind had nothing else to cling to. Ariel's blade hovered before her throat, so close that she could see the frost crawling along its edge, feel the cold leeching into her skin long before the steel touched her.
Everything is meaningless. Why live if you'll die? Why fight if you'll get hurt?
She noticed strange details in that moment—the way the light fractured against the polished metal of his armor, the faint vibration humming through the greatsword, the sound of her own breathing growing uneven. It felt wrong, noticing such small things when death was so near.
Achilles was shouting something. She couldn't hear the words, only see the tension in his face, the way his body leaned forward as if he could will himself closer. Jules stood frozen with his staff half-raised, a spell stalled mid-formation. Artorius' magic flickered uncertainly, unstable in the presence of something far older and stronger.
Cassia had already turned away.
Hailey saw her running—small boots slipping against frost-covered stone, shoulders hunched, hands clutching her dagger as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality. Cassia did not look back. She couldn't.
Ariel's eyes never left Hailey.
There was rage there, yes, but it was not the wild hatred she had expected. It was sharper than that. Heavier. Grief, ancient and unhealed, twisted into something that could only express itself through violence. For a fleeting, irrational moment, Hailey wondered if this was what centuries of loss did to anyone who survived long enough.
The blade descended.
Her body reacted before her thoughts could catch up. She twisted aside, movement born purely of instinct, and the sword tore past her neck instead of through it. Divine frost burned across her shoulder, white-hot pain exploding through her nerves as she crashed onto the frozen floor.
She was alive.
That realization grounded her more than anything else.
Steel rang as Achilles slammed into Ariel, sparks bursting from the clash. Jules dragged Hailey backward, hands glowing as he muttered frantic incantations. Artorius unleashed fire that forced Ariel back a single step, though it was clear even then that it had cost him more than it cost their enemy.
Ariel answered with fury.
His greatsword swept outward, the force of it splitting stone and air alike. The throne room fractured beneath them, cracks racing across the floor as the party scattered, barely avoiding being crushed beneath falling debris.
"Move!" Achilles shouted.
They ran.
Not as a coordinated unit, not as hunters or warriors, but as prey driven by the certainty that standing still meant death. The corridors blurred together—collapsed arches, shattered murals, statues of winged figures frozen mid-lament. Snow poured through broken ceilings, and behind them came the steady, relentless sound of Ariel's pursuit.
Cassia ran ahead, sobbing now, her fear spilling over into something raw and unrestrained. Hailey caught glimpses of her darting into side halls, too terrified to think, let alone fight. Ariel did not spare her even a glance. Cassia was irrelevant to him.
Hailey's lungs burned as they burst through the main gates and into the storm outside. The mountain wind screamed around them, snow whipping against her face as the steep path downward revealed itself.
For a moment, hope stirred.
Then Ariel emerged behind them.
Unharmed. Unslowed.
"He'll follow us," Jules said, voice strained. "Even if it kills him."
Achilles didn't hesitate. "Then we stop running."
They turned.
What followed was chaos stripped of elegance. Steel clashed against divine metal. Magic tore through the storm-lit air. Snow exploded beneath their feet with every impact. Hailey stayed back at first, heart pounding as she watched Achilles meet Ariel head-on, watched Artorius pour spell after spell into armor that refused to yield, watched Jules weave desperately between them, shielding and healing where he could.
Cassia crouched behind a fallen pillar, hands clamped over her ears, eyes squeezed shut. She was shaking so badly Hailey wondered if she could even stand. Ariel ignored her completely.
Hailey realized then that she could not afford to do the same.
She broke away, sprinting for the armory half-buried beneath ice and rubble. Weapons lay scattered like relics of a forgotten war. She grabbed a bow—simple, sturdy—and a quiver that miraculously still held arrows.
She returned to the fight and began to fire.
The arrows shattered on impact. Again and again. They did no real damage, but she noticed something important: Ariel slowed. Only slightly, but enough to matter.
Minutes blurred together. Hailey lost track of time, of how many times she had drawn the string. Her arms screamed in protest, fingers numb and bleeding from the cold. Ariel's movements grew heavier. His swings lost precision.
Then, by chance or fate, an arrow slipped into the joint behind his knee.
Ariel roared as he fell, the impact cracking stone beneath him.
Silence followed.
Achilles let out a breathless laugh. "We did it."
Hailey almost believed it.
Ariel rose.
Dark, shimmering blood ran down his leg. His eyes burned brighter than before, stripped of anything resembling restraint. He raised a hand, and a bell appeared—black, ancient, etched with symbols that made Hailey's vision blur.
He rang it.
The sound was soft, yet it carried everywhere at once.
From the depths of the castle came thunderous hooves. A massive steed emerged from the darkness, wings unfurling as it carried Ariel skyward.
Hailey ran.
Down the mountain, slipping and stumbling through snow and stone. She didn't look back until the pressure hit her—the unmistakable certainty of something vast and lethal taking aim.
Ariel hovered above, divine and terrible, a gargantuan spear of condensed energy forming in his grasp. He drew his arm back.
Hailey turned and raised her bow.
The quiver was empty.
Her hands trembled, but she did not lower the weapon. Cyan light spilled from her eyes, threading itself into the bowstring, shaping into an arrow formed entirely of her mana.
The storm howled. Snow erased the world beyond that moment. Ash and frost drifted together as everything else faded into nothingness.
A human before a god. An ant standing before a lion.
Her resolve did not waver.
Ariel hurled the spear.
Hailey released the string.
This was it—a clash between man and god.