Riley moved before Nicole even finished her sentence—one explosive crack of thunder and he was gone. The air burst apart in electric arcs as his boots hit the frozen ground and launched him skyward. In a blink, he was above her, rifle drawn, lightning dancing down the barrel like a coiled serpent waiting to strike.
The first shot hit before the sound reached her—then a second, then a third. Blue sparks cut through the air like tracer rounds of pure light. Nicole barely managed to raise an arm, shards of ice forming a wall before the barrage shattered it apart, scattering diamond dust through the wind.
She spun, furious, her voice cutting through the storm. "You—! You move like a goddamn lightning strike!"
"Close," Riley called, tone teasing and crackling with static, "more like an electric kangaroo!"
She launched spears of ice across the clearing, each one sharp enough to skewer steel, but he was already gone—ricocheting off invisible footholds midair, leaping and flipping, each movement punctuated by thunder. Sparks traced the shape of his body in motion—orange, blue, and violet streaks weaving through the falling snow like living brushstrokes of a mad painter.
Serenkhand shielded her eyes from the glare, watching in awe. "It's like—like shooting stars," she whispered, her breath fogging in the cold. "But brighter. More alive."
Riley grinned as he landed behind Nicole in a crouch, barrel pressed against the back of her head. "Now then," he said, lightning crackling off his hat brim, "still think I'm just the warm-up act?"
Nicole hissed through gritted teeth, a string of furious Russian curses spilling out as she spun to face him, frost clinging to her hair and shoulders. Riley, meanwhile, couldn't shut up—his fatal flaw as always.
"Y'know," he said between bursts of lightning, pacing in circles around her like a showman, "ever since Red showed up, everyone's been all—'Oh, Red this,' 'Red that,' 'He's the prodigy,' 'He's the strongest.'" He aimed the rifle lazily, electricity humming at the barrel's edge. "Meanwhile, I'm over here, holding the damn fort, jumping across mountains, shooting my arse off—and what do I get? 'Nice work, Riley.' That's it!"
Nicole's eyes flicked to his hands, waiting for an opening, but Riley just kept talking—every word dripping with both swagger and suppressed insecurity.
"But now? Nah. Now it's my turn in the spotlight." He flashed a grin, looking over his shoulder at Serenkhand, who stood frozen halfway between awe and disbelief. "Finally, I get to show Miss Steppe Queen here that I'm not just Red's sidekick—I'm the bloody main guy!"
Nicole lunged—ice erupting beneath her feet—but Riley barely moved, dodging by an inch, his hat spinning in the air before he caught it again. He winked. "
Serenkhand sighed under her breath. "You really do talk too much."
Nicole's glare turned murderous. "Then maybe I should shut him up permanently."
"Good luck with that, sweetheart," Riley smirked, electricity flaring up his arms again. "'Cause I've been waiting my whole life for a crowd."
Lightning and frost collided in the grasslands like gods quarrelling in a forgotten myth. Each clash left the air trembling—thunder roaring, snow vaporizing midair, and the horizon flashing between blue and white. Riley dashed in arcs of orange lightning, moving so fast his boots barely kissed the ground, while Nicole advanced with a dancer's precision, her ice dagger leaving trails of frozen air that sliced like razors.
He fired three shots in a blink. The first shattered against her crystalline shield, the second ricocheted off her frozen heel, and the third she caught midair by freezing the bullet itself. She flicked her wrist, sending it back like a comet. Riley tilted his head just enough for it to skim past, grinning.
"Cute trick," he said, reloading in one fluid spin.
Nicole lunged, the ice dagger melting into mist only to reform as a long glaive. She swung it in a crescent arc that exploded with sleet. Riley ducked low, sliding on the frost, boots sparking. His rifle came up in a reverse grip—CRACK—he slammed it against her midsection, then spun, using the momentum to uppercut her with an electrified elbow.
Her response was instantaneous—a flash-freeze aura detonated around her. Frost bloomed up Riley's arm, biting deep into his skin. She smirked. "Electricity conducts through ice, little roo."
"Yeah?" He gritted his teeth, his grin sharpening. "Then let's conduct it properly!"
He poured more current through his body, the lightning snapping and sizzling against her frost. The air between them glowed—a violent dance of blue sparks and silver mist. Then he vanished—jumping high, kangaroo-style, his silhouette cutting through the clouds before he dropped like a meteor. Nicole raised her glaive and met his fall—shockwave. Ice shattered, dust stormed, and lightning webbed the ground for miles. Serenkhand fell to her knees, shielding her eyes.
Nicole coughed blood, stepped back, and extended her hand toward the ground. Dozens of spears of ice rose like teeth. She launched them—hundreds in a wave. Riley twirled his rifle, flipped the safety off, and fired each spear mid-air. Every bullet left a golden arc, turning the battlefield into a strobe-lit storm.
She closed the distance, grabbing his wrist mid-flip. He countered with a knee strike; she blocked and countered with a frostbite punch. They both landed opposite again, panting, sparks and snow mixing in the wind.
"Not bad," she said, breathing frost. "For a clown."
Riley spat blood and laughed. "Not bad yourself, Elsa."
She frowned. "Who's Elsa?"
"Never mind."
Then they clashed again—CQC at lightning speed. His rifle spun like a bo staff; her glaive fractured into dual daggers. Sparks met frost in rhythmic violence—parry, sweep, elbow, stab, spin, reload, strike. Every impact sang like thunder made of glass.
And then—miles away—Rudra's tent flapped violently from the wind. He blinked awake, senses prickling. The temperature had dropped unnaturally. His instincts roared, "Ice Mantra."
He sat upright, muttering, "Agni? No… no, that's not her…"
His right eye turned gold, Divya Dhrishti flaring to life. His vision expanded across mountains, over the plains—until it focused on the battlefield. Lightning carved orange veins across the land. Ice gleamed like steel.
And then he saw Riley—shirt torn, laughing, fighting for his life.
Rudra squinted, whispering, "Why the hell is she wearing a leather bra in this temperature… God, it must be uncomfortable; she is asking the fleas and mosquitos to fuck her up."
Then his eyes widened as he recognized the fighter. "Wait. Is that that bloody leprechaun?"
Riley's boots skidded against the ice, lightning bleeding from every pore as he steadied his rifle. Nicole stood amid the smoking grassland, frost spreading in a perfect ring around her. Both of them were breathing hard, both bleeding, and both grinning like lunatics who'd forgotten pain.
"Not bad, kangaroo boy," she said, voice sharp but steady. "You made me sweat."
Riley cocked his rifle, the barrel glowing orange. "Sweat? You're covered in snowflakes, sweetheart."
Nicole smirked—and then, slowly, her tone shifted, lower, softer, almost playful. "Did you really think that was stage two?"
Riley blinked, his expression faltering. "Huh?"
"You've been fighting a stage one hunter this whole time."
He froze. The wind itself seemed to stop with him. Serenkhand, standing several meters away, felt her throat dry.
Nicole's eyes began to glow faintly—white, like frostlight under the moon. A pulse of cold spread outward, not sharp this time, but divine, like the quiet chill before snowfall. Behind her, an ethereal bloom opened—a translucent white lily suspended in the air, petal by petal unfolding. Two layers of its blossom shimmered open, silver veins threading through each petal like veins of moonlight.
Riley instinctively raised his rifle, but his lightning faltered. He felt it—the overwhelming, elevated pressure that came when a soul bloomed.
Stage Two.
Nicole's breath condensed into mist. "Every hunter has a flower," she murmured, voice echoing with something not entirely human. "Mine is the White Lily—four layers for four oaths. You've made me open two."
As the second layer unfurled, the air rippled, and the frost around her feet melted into a luminous mist that climbed her body. The tatters of her leather outfit dissolved, replaced by a white and silver dress—regal yet spectral, like a divine relic wearing human form. Frost crystals hung around her neckline like diamonds; her eyes no longer blinked, only glowed.
Serenkhand whispered, trembling, "She's beautiful…"
Riley didn't respond. His grip tightened on his rifle as the hum of divine ice filled the field. Nicole looked at him—smiling, pitying.
"Now, Kangaroo," she said gently. "Let's see if lightning can dance with winter."
And the world went white.