Ashenhold had never felt so small.
The great stone walls that once symbolized strength now seemed fragile beneath the darkened sky. A storm was gathering—not of rain, but of shadow. The air itself felt heavy, suffocating, as if the world were holding its breath.
Ren stood atop the northern watchtower, his cloak whipping in the cold wind. Below him, soldiers lined the battlements. Civilians hurried through the streets, carrying supplies, barricading doors, praying silently.
He could feel it.
The Last Flame inside him was restless—alive, alert.
"They're coming," Kael said quietly, lightning crackling faintly along his staff.
As if summoned by his words, the horizon shifted. A massive black cloud rolled forward unnaturally fast, swallowing the fading sunlight. Within it, golden lights flickered—thousands of them. Eyes.
The Shadow Army.
The first wave descended like falling ash. Shadow creatures slammed against the outer walls, claws scraping against stone. Soldiers fought back desperately, arrows and steel meeting darkness.
"Hold the line!" Borin roared, cutting through two shadows with a single glowing slash of his enchanted blade.
Liora raised her hands, silver light expanding outward to reinforce the city gates. Talia followed, freezing sections of the battlefield to slow the advancing swarm.
Ren inhaled slowly.
This was it.
He leapt from the tower.
Flames erupted around him midair, spiraling downward in a blazing vortex. He landed beyond the gates in an explosion of fire, a shockwave rippling through the ground. Dozens of shadows disintegrated instantly.
The battlefield ignited.
Ren moved like living flame—controlled, precise. He launched arcs of fire that curved through enemy ranks. He formed blazing shields to protect fallen soldiers. Each movement was deliberate. Each strike calculated.
But the shadows kept coming.
Then the ground trembled.
A towering figure emerged from the heart of the storm. Black fire coiled around him like a living cloak. His presence alone extinguished nearby torches.
The Shadow King had arrived.
The army stilled. Even the wind seemed to retreat.
"Ren," the Shadow King's voice echoed across the battlefield, deep and resonant. "You defend a dying city."
Ren stepped forward, flames rising higher around him. "As long as I stand, it won't fall."
The Shadow King lifted his hand. A massive sphere of condensed darkness formed above him and launched toward the city walls.
Ren reacted instantly.
He unleashed the Phoenix Flame at full force. Scarlet fire met black energy in the sky, colliding in a deafening explosion that split the clouds apart. Shockwaves rippled outward, cracking stone and shattering windows.
Ren staggered but remained standing.
The Shadow King descended fully to the battlefield now, his golden eyes locking onto Ren. "You grow stronger," he admitted. "But strength without endurance is meaningless."
He moved faster than expected. Dark flames slashed toward Ren.
Ren barely blocked in time, forming a blazing barrier that shattered under the impact. The force hurled him across the battlefield.
"Ren!" Liora's voice rang out as she sent a beam of silver energy to push back advancing shadows.
Kael struck the Shadow King with a bolt of lightning, buying Ren seconds to rise.
Pain coursed through Ren's body—but beneath it, something else stirred. Not rage. Not fear.
Purpose.
He looked around him. Soldiers fighting despite wounds. Civilians being evacuated. His friends risking everything.
The Last Flame responded.
It changed.
The fire surrounding him intensified, but it was no longer chaotic. It expanded outward in radiant wings of blazing energy—shaped like a phoenix rising behind him.
The battlefield glowed crimson.
Ren lifted his hands slowly.
"I fight," he said steadily, "not because I'm stronger than you… but because I refuse to let this world burn."
The Phoenix form above him screamed—an echoing cry of fire.
Ren launched forward.
The clash between him and the Shadow King tore through the battlefield. Fire and darkness spiraled together, carving trenches into the earth. Each impact lit the sky like a second sun.
Ren unleashed a concentrated descent of pure flame—his strongest technique yet. The Phoenix dove from above, striking the Shadow King directly.
For the first time, the Shadow King staggered backward.
Smoke rose from his dark armor.
Silence fell.
Then he laughed softly.
"Impressive. Truly." His form began dissolving into shadow. "But this was only a test."
The storm clouds started to withdraw. The shadow army, leaderless, began to scatter.
"Prepare yourself, Flamebearer," the Shadow King's voice echoed as he vanished. "The next time we meet… I will not retreat."
The sky slowly cleared.
Ashenhold still stood—but barely. Fires burned along sections of the wall. The wounded filled the streets.
Ren dropped to one knee, breathing heavily. The Phoenix aura faded, leaving only faint embers in his palm.
Liora knelt beside him. "You did it. You drove him back."
Ren stared at the horizon where the darkness had vanished.
"No," he said quietly. "He was measuring me."
And deep down, Ren understood something terrifying—
The Shadow King had not come to destroy Ashenhold tonight.
He had come to see how strong the Last Flame had become.
The real war was still ahead.
And next time… there would be no retreat.