( Salem POV)
I didn't get a second chance.
Kali moved the instant my blade took form — a whisper of motion, then steel.
I blocked. Barely. The impact jarred through my arm like a hammer. I twisted, ducked, caught the next strike on the flat of my shadowblade. She was testing me. Mapping my rhythm.
And then she disappeared.
A flicker. A blink.
By the time I turned, her thin sword slipped through my side — fast and clean, just beneath the ribs. I gasped, staggered. She didn't even bother twisting the blade. She just stepped back, precise and elegant, as if the blood didn't matter.
"You're durable," she said. "I like that."
I spit red.
She lunged again.
Every strike was surgical. Thrusts, not slashes — her blade meant for organs, not spectacle. It was a duelist's weapon, and she wielded it like she'd never needed anything else. My shadow arm reshaped constantly to block her pace — shield, dagger, scythe-blade — whatever it took to hold her off.
But it wasn't enough.
Her mana pressed down harder with each second — that same awful weight dragging at my bones, my thoughts, the thread of my connection to Annabel growing thinner by the breath.
The immense weight of her mana was weakening me just by existing.
And still, I fought.
A flash of her blade caught my thigh. Then my shoulder. My side. Blood bloomed hot across my clothes — each cut shallow, but deliberate. A lesson.
"Your strength is real," she mused, circling. "But crude. Unrefined. Like a knife scraped against bone instead of sharpened for the kill."
I lunged. Missed.
She didn't.
The blade glanced off my collarbone, opened my bicep. My shadow arm flickered and i faltered.
Kali tilted her head.
"Not bad for a one-armed rat."
I gritted my teeth and surged forward anyway.
We collided again — shadow flaring around me, swirling into a jagged crescent of steel. She parried without effort, spun, and kicked me across the clearing. I landed hard, rolled, spat blood into the black sand.
But my legs moved. I got up.
Bleeding. Dizzy. Slipping.
Still up.
She smiled again, serene and soft. "You're not fighting for yourself. That much is obvious. It's the girl. The blind one. Annabel."
I said nothing.
She took a step closer.
"I'll gut her slow," she said sweetly. "So you can hear her scream first."
Rage tore through me.
I roared, shadows flaring wide — and caught her cheek with the edge of my blade.
A scratch. Barely skin-deep.
But it bled.
Kali stopped.
Her fingers brushed the cut. She looked at the blood, then at me. Her smile faded.
For the first time, she looked… annoyed.
"That," she said, voice quiet, "was a mistake."
Then everything shattered.
She came at me like a storm — no more games. No more precision. Just raw speed and pressure. I blocked three strikes. Dodged the fourth.
The fifth went through my abdomen.
Hot pain flooded my chest.
I staggered, coughed, dropped to one knee — blade trembling in my shadow-hand. Everything inside me screamed. Mana burned too fast to hold. My vision blurred.
She raised her sword again.
And I laughed.
It came out wet, rasping. But I meant it.
Because behind her, in the distance — the ridgeline cracked with thunder.
Three figures rode down the black hill at full speed. Dust and fire trailing in their wake. Rōko, unmistakable in the center — her mana bright and violent like a comet. And flanking him — two other mages, robes blazing with guild seals, ranked high enough to overpower even me.
Kali's head turned. Her shoulders tensed.
And from the ruined castle behind us — another crash of stone and smoke.
Two shapes burst out of a window like cannonshot.
William first — flailing, scrambling through the air before rolling to the dirt below.
And then— Annabel.
A flare of fire like a god's breath followed her. She landed hard, stumbling — but she stood. Her entire body was burning — not from pain, but power. The fire danced around her like armor.
And behind her—
The last one out.
A devil.
The commander from the outpost.
His mana was different from the guards, although not as strong as Kali.
His body dripped black ichor, still burning from Annabel's magic, but he stood.
Grinning.
"Looks like the real fight's just started," I rasped.
Kali turned her gaze on me.
No more words.
But the look in her eyes promised this wasn't over.
Not yet.
——
(Annabel POV)
The fire swallowed the first three guards.
Their mana flared bright for a heartbeat — then blinked out, scorched down to ashes and cracked bone before they could scream.
I didn't pause.
"William," I barked, "mind shield. Now. If a devil gets in your head again, I'll kill you myself."
He blinked, pale behind the smoke. "Wh—"
"Do it!"
His mana stuttered — then surged. I felt it reinforce, shape around his thoughts like a buckled dome. Sloppy. Heavy-handed. But solid enough.
Just in time.
The corridor rippled with incoming pressure.
More devils. Five, maybe six — and not like the ones from before. These had been waiting. Recharged. Fed. Their mana read as slick and wrong, full of jagged dips and blood-coated edges. One of them howled a war-chant, and it shook through the stone.
I stepped forward.
Heat rose in my chest. Fire bloomed behind my ribs like a second heart, twisting sharp through my veins. My vision seared but not from light.
From intention.
Three of them charged.
I raised my hand.
The walls went up in flames.
Then they were gone.
I let the heat rip loose — a spiral arc of contained combustion that snapped from my spine to the ceiling in a sweeping arc. Three devils vaporized mid-sprint, their outlines flaring, then folding in on themselves like hay in a bonfire.
The blast burned through me too. My knees buckled. Sweat slicked my back.
Too much, too fast.
Didn't matter.
Still four left.
William let out a shout behind me. Not fear, but anger. A deviant burst of motion on the stairs. I caught the outline of him leaping down the banister with something metal in hand — a curved sword stolen from a corpse, mana humming faint around the hilt.
A devil lunged up the steps.
William caught him mid-throat.
The kind of cut that ended spells mid-cast. The devil collapsed backward without a sound.
I blinked — impressed despite myself.
"Not bad," I muttered. "For a noble brat who was crying in his cell ten minutes ago."
He looked up, breathing hard. "I have my moments."
I almost smiled.
Then the walls warped.
Not heat this time.
Pressure.
The commander stepped into view.
His mana moved like a blade unsheathed — smooth, silent, and already halfway through me before i even saw it.
I raised my hand again, instinct flaring.
Too slow.
He was already moving.
His blade snapped forward in a strike meant to cleave — not kill, but crush. I slammed my foot steady on the ground forming a shield of warped metal between us.
Clang.
The strike cracked my teeth.
The impact threw me backward two full steps, but I held.
Then I struck back.
Ice.
Sharper, denser, and colder than I'd ever made it. It snapped into form in my off hand like it had been waiting for me — a spear laced with burning core-temperature cold. I twisted it forward and shoved with everything I had.
It didn't pierce his heart.
But it stabbed.
Right through his shoulder.
He grunted— not in pain, but fury. And his mana exploded outward.
The entire room shattered.
William and I went flying — through support beams, stone, fire, and smoke — and then through the outer wall of the outpost entirely.
Glass. Brick. Ash.
And then—
Wind.
⸻
The air was dry and brutal.
I landed hard on the slope outside, rolling, coughing, hands scraping rock. My ribs screamed. My vision worsening again. The mana outlines flickering fast and chaotic across the battlefield.
A storm of pressure.
To my left: Salem.
Her outline flickered erratic — bleeding heavily, stumbling, but upright. Her shadow curled around her like a broken wing. Her blade was still up. Her will even higher.
Opposite of her: Kali.
Smooth, poised, elegant even in murder. Her mana coiled tight and high around her — oppressive, venom-laced. She was bleeding too — just barely. A shallow streak across her face.
A cut. A real one.
And—
New arrivals.
Three riders, descending like meteors down the ridge — mana roaring around them. I couldn't see their faces, but I knew the one in front. Her presence cracked the sky.
Rōko.
And two others with her — ranked, pulsing, deadly. Backup.
Finally.
William crashed beside me, groaning. His mana was still up — barely.
I pushed myself to one knee, fire still curling around my fingers, pain echoing through every breath.
"Up," I muttered. "Get up. We're not done."
He groaned louder. "I'm very done."
"Too bad," I growled. "You're not allowed to die until I say so."
My eyes flicked back toward Salem — then to Kali.
This wasn't over.