The world burned, and yet it refused to die.
The courtyard lay in ruin. Stone still smoked from the heat, and the air reeked of molten dust and ash. Where Varrick had struck, only slag and silence remained. For a moment — just a moment — everyone thought it was over.
Jayden wanted to believe it too.
But then the air shuddered.
A deep, pulsing vibration rippled through the ground — not sound, but something older. The shattered runes above the academy began to flicker, reigniting one by one. The circle of light reformed, molten and alive, like an eye forced open by rage.
Kael swore under his breath. "You've got to be kidding me…"
The heat returned, worse than before. The flames no longer spread — they crawled, deliberate, almost intelligent. The Gate pulsed once more, and from its heart came a sound that was half a scream and half a birth cry.
Something was coming through.
Jayden stepped backward without realizing it. His breath caught in his throat. All around, the instructors raised their relics again — but even they hesitated.
Then, the Gate Guardian returned.
It rose from the molten light like a god reborn, twice the size it had been before. Its bones glowed white-hot, every motion cracking the ground beneath its weight. The flames didn't just burn anymore — they devoured. Air turned to glass. Shadows melted.
It wasn't just a creature now.
It was will made fire.
And at its center burned a molten brand — a spiral of runes that twisted and bled light. The mark of something ancient. Jayden could feel it gnawing at his own elemental core, burning into the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Varrick stood alone in its shadow.
For the first time, the headmaster's expression changed — faint, almost imperceptible. His coat was torn, his arm streaked with ash, but his eyes still glowed with that steady, impossible calm.
The Guardian struck first.
The ground shattered under the blow. A river of molten fire burst outward, swallowing the courtyard's center. Dozens of sigils cracked under the pressure. Stone towers fell like sand. Jayden barely rolled behind a collapsed wall as a column of fire seared past, leaving nothing but black glass where students had been seconds ago.
He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
He was nothing but a witness to something too vast to comprehend.
Varrick raised his hand. The flames parted — only barely. The shockwave that followed slammed into the earth, tearing the courtyard apart. The heat alone was enough to strip bark from trees a hundred feet away.
Still, the headmaster stood.
He moved forward, each step driving cracks into the molten stone. Power coiled around him, dense and formless, like the world itself was folding under his command. When he spoke, the words were calm.
"Your realm is not welcome here."
The Guardian answered in fire.
It unleashed a wave of heat so immense that the very clouds above ignited. The air shimmered red. Every breath Jayden took tasted of iron and smoke. Kael's lightning flickered weakly beside him.
"Is this…" Kael muttered, awe and fear tangled in his voice, "…what being Heroic means?"
Jayden couldn't answer. His voice had left him. He could only stare.
Varrick's next gesture split the sky.
A line of force — silent, perfect — cut through the Guardian's chest. The molten giant staggered, roaring, magma spilling like blood. Varrick pressed his advantage, advancing step by step. Every motion was deliberate. Every strike carried weight enough to unmake mountains.
But the Guardian refused to die.
It slammed both hands into the ground, and from the cracks, fire geysers erupted — a thousand pillars of flame reaching for the heavens. The world became light and death.
One of the instructors screamed orders. Students scrambled for cover.
Jayden ducked behind the ruins of a fallen arch, arms over his head, his skin blistering from the heat. He could feel the water within his core boiling. His element screamed under the oppression of the flame.
He looked up again — and saw the end of gods.
Varrick surged forward through the inferno. His eyes glowed brighter, his presence warping the air. He clenched his hand into a fist, and the fire folded, crushed inward by sheer intent. When he struck, the sound wasn't thunder — it was silence so complete it made Jayden's ears ring.
The Guardian's chest imploded. A hole tore straight through its molten frame. Fire spilled outward like blood. The force knocked even the instructors backward.
The beast staggered, shrieking in a voice that split the air.
Varrick didn't stop. He lifted his other hand, pulling the creature downward with invisible weight. The Guardian crashed to its knees, the ground beneath it fracturing under pressure.
"Fall."
The word left his lips like a sentence passed by heaven itself.
The Guardian's core burst. Its molten light exploded outward, a ring of raw fire flattening everything in its path. Jayden was thrown off his feet, tumbling across the ground, his back slamming into broken stone. His ears rang. His vision blurred.
When the glare faded, the world was silent.
The Gate Guardian was gone.
In its place stood Varrick — motionless in the glow of burning ash, coat torn, blood streaking one side of his jaw. Around him, the ground was melted smooth, glass catching the moonlight like a sea of mirrors.
Jayden pushed himself up, shaking. His hands trembled, his body numb. Kael lay beside him, gasping for breath. Instructors rushed to contain the damage, healing, rebuilding, counting the fallen.
No one spoke to Varrick.
No one dared.
The headmaster turned toward the still-open Gate. It pulsed weakly, like a dying heart.
"Close."
The word carried weight. The runes shivered, the flames dimmed, and the circle began to collapse inward, shrinking into a single ember that flickered once… and died.
Silence returned.
Then he walked away, his footsteps echoing against the ruin.
Jayden watched him go, a hollow ache forming behind his ribs.
For the first time since he'd unlocked, since he'd felt the thrill of his own power, he understood something terrible and absolute:
He wasn't strong.
He wasn't special.
He wasn't even close.
The path ahead stretched beyond the horizon — and he hadn't yet taken a single step.