The streets of Mistfill had never known such chaos.
The lockdown had turned the once-lively kingdom into a maze of steel and silence — guards on every corner, the sound of boots echoing against the cobblestone like drums of war.
But then, in the heart of that tension, the air shifted.
The people in the marketplace felt it before they saw it — that prickling sensation on their skin, like the world itself holding its breath.
And then—
CRACK!
A bolt of lightning split the sky.
It didn't come from above, but from within the city — a jagged spear of light that struck the roof of a warehouse, tearing through stone and timber. The explosion of sound sent birds fleeing into the air and citizens diving for cover.
On the smoking rooftop, two figures stood amidst the chaos — one wreathed in water, the other cloaked in lightning.
Chris staggered back, his breath ragged, the smell of ozone burning his lungs. He clenched his fist, summoning water from the air itself. Droplets formed and spiraled, wrapping around his arm like a living serpent.
Across from him stood Rauth, his body humming with faint arcs of electricity. His eyes glowed faintly blue beneath his hood — cold, merciless, and precise.
"So it is you," Rauth said, his tone almost casual. "The king's little shadow."
Chris didn't answer. His gaze flicked once toward the eastern gate — the direction the midwife had fled. He couldn't afford to lose. He couldn't even afford to stall.
Rauth tilted his head slightly, studying him. "A Stage One Conjurer, protecting a secret. Tell me, Chris… is the child worth dying for?"
Chris's jaw tightened. The water around his arm hardened into sharp streams, shimmering like glass.
Rauth smiled faintly. "I'll take that as a yes."
And then he vanished.
Lightning flashed — a single blur of motion — and Rauth reappeared above him, hand outstretched.
Chris reacted on instinct. The water coiled upward, forming a shield just as lightning struck.
The impact was deafening.
A surge of white and blue filled the air, the explosion sending shards of stone flying across the rooftops. The blast wave shattered windows, and civilians screamed as the ground trembled.
Chris was hurled backward, landing hard on the side of a bell tower. His vision blurred, and his ears rang like the world was collapsing.
He coughed once, tasting blood.
"Stage Two…" he muttered, forcing himself to stand. "No wonder the queen sent you."
Rauth landed gracefully on the broken rooftop, lightning crawling along his arms like living veins. "You should feel honored. Few Stage Ones ever face me and live long enough to understand what that means."
Chris raised his head, eyes burning with defiance. "I don't need to understand you. I just need to slow you down."
"Slow me down?" Rauth chuckled, low and cruel. "You can't even see me."
And then he moved again.
The world became light.
Bolts of electricity rained down like spears, carving through the air. Chris leapt from roof to roof, his body enhanced by the subtle blessing of the first stage. Water formed beneath his feet midair, freezing for a split second before evaporating — allowing him to twist, dodge, and redirect the lightning as it came.
Every movement cost him. His element was fluid, reactive — lightning was raw destruction.
The clash between them painted the skyline with chaos. Streams of water spiraled upward to meet blinding bolts of thunder. Steam burst from their collisions, coating the city in a ghostly haze.
Guards below watched in horror.
"By the gods—what's happening up there!?"
"It's Lord Rauth! He's fighting someone!"
The captain swallowed hard. "Then pray the heavens stay out of it. Whatever they're fighting for—it's not ours to meddle in."
Back on the roof, Rauth landed a kick that shattered Chris's defense. Water exploded outward like shattered glass, and Chris was sent tumbling across the tiles, crashing through the window of a nearby tower.
He groaned, dragging himself to his knees. His cloak was torn, blood dripping from his forehead.
Rauth stepped through the smoke, every step leaving a faint scorch mark behind.
"This is over," he said, his voice calm, almost pitying. "Tell me where the child is, and I'll make your death quick."
Chris spat blood and glared at him. "Do you even know what you're killing for? That child did nothing. He's just been born."
"That's exactly the problem," Rauth replied. "Something that draws a storm of elements at birth… is not just a child. The queen fears what she does not control. And I—" he raised his hand as arcs of lightning swirled to his palm— "exist to maintain her control."
The charge built quickly. The air hummed.
Chris's muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself to stand. Water coalesced again, wrapping around both arms this time — swirling faster, denser, until it formed two curved blades of liquid.
"If that's your truth," Chris said quietly, "then here's mine—"
He lunged.
Lightning met water once more.
The clash sent a shockwave through the district, shaking the very foundations of the castle itself.
Guards shouted in panic as flames erupted where lightning struck wooden beams. The sky turned white-blue, and the smell of steam filled the air.
Rauth blocked one strike easily, but Chris used the rebound to slide behind him, slashing upward. The blade grazed Rauth's shoulder — steam hissed where water met lightning-charged skin.
Rauth grinned, almost impressed. "So you can touch me."
Chris didn't respond. He just pressed harder, his movements blurring. Each swing of his blades sent ripples of water that carved the air like a scythe. He was fast — far faster than any ordinary man — but Rauth was a step beyond him in both strength and speed.
Within moments, Chris's movements slowed. His breathing grew heavy. The water around him trembled, losing shape.
Rauth's tone darkened. "You're done."
He vanished again — lightning consuming him.
A heartbeat later, a bolt pierced the air behind Chris.
Chris twisted too late. The strike grazed his ribs, sending agony through his body. He was thrown across the rooftop, crashing into a wall. His blades shattered into mist.
He fell to one knee, coughing blood.
Rauth walked toward him, hand raised for the final blow.
"Where is the child?"
Chris's vision blurred. The image of the midwife flashed in his mind — the soft cry of the baby, the promise he'd made to the king.
Even if his body failed, his loyalty would not.
He looked up at Rauth and smiled weakly. "Farther than you'll ever reach."
Rauth's eyes hardened. "Then die with your secret."
The lightning fell.
Chris raised his hand — not to attack, but to defend. Water surged once more, forming a dome around him as the bolt struck. The explosion tore through the tower, reducing it to rubble.
Smoke and flame consumed the sky.
When the dust settled, Rauth stood over the ruins, lowering his arm.
The air still shimmered with static.
He looked down at the collapsed stone and shook his head. "Fool."
Turning to the soldiers who had arrived at the scene, he gestured. "Search the area. If he's alive, bind him. If he's dead, burn what remains."
"Yes, my lord!"
As they obeyed, Rauth turned his gaze toward the horizon — toward the distant forest road that led away from Mistfill.
He could feel something faint, far away — a presence that tugged at the edges of his perception, like the whisper of rain before a storm.
"The child lives," he murmured. "And the queen will not rest until he doesn't."
He disappeared once more in a flash of blue, the sound of thunder echoing behind him.
Far beyond the city, on the quiet dirt road where the wagon rolled toward the mountains, the midwife looked back once.
Smoke still rose from Mistfill's skyline, curling into the morning light.
She didn't know what had happened — only that Chris had stayed behind to protect them.
She held the child tighter. "Rest easy," she whispered. "Your guardian bought you time. Don't waste it."
The baby stirred softly, a faint sound escaping his lips — not a cry, but something deeper, almost resonant. For the briefest moment, the air around him shimmered — a soft pulse of warmth, then nothing.
The midwife blinked, uncertain if she'd imagined it.
And then she turned away from the burning kingdom and into the wild unknown, carrying with her the last hope of House Nightfall — and the soul of the man the world had already forgotten.