Anwyll's fingers dug into the ground as he forced himself to move, his arms trembling under his own weight. Every breath burned, shallow and uneven, his vision fading in and out as the world refused to steady. Weak sparks flickered across his skin, unstable and dying, barely enough to remind him his power was still there. He tried to push himself up again, but his body resisted, heavy and unresponsive, like it no longer belonged to him.
Inside, something shifted.
The man's attention turned—not toward Anwyll, but toward the ones he had left behind. Toward Maki. Toward Yuri. He stepped forward slowly, deliberately, his presence pressing against the room like an unseen weight. Each step felt wrong, like the space itself pushed back against him.
Maki felt it immediately. Her heart pounded, her body trembling—not just from fear, but from something colder. She stepped forward anyway, placing herself between the figure and Yuri, her hand rising despite the strain already building in her chest.
"Stay behind me," she whispered.
Yuri didn't argue. She couldn't. Her hands clutched tightly onto Maki's sleeve, her breath uneven, her eyes locked on the figure as it approached.
The air began to change.
At first, it was subtle—a faint chill slipping into the room. Then it deepened. Their breath became visible, thin clouds forming with each exhale as the temperature dropped further. The damp ground stiffened, frost spreading slowly across the surface in jagged patterns, creeping over broken stone and debris. The walls followed, a thin layer forming as the cold took hold.
Maki focused.
Her hand trembled as she held it steady, her breathing sharper now as she forced something inside her to respond. It didn't surge. It didn't explode. It forced its way into existence, slow and heavy, like something her body wasn't meant to hold.
The man's next step slowed.
Only slightly.
But it was there.
Then he looked up.
At her.
And kept walking.
Unaffected. Unbothered.
The temperature dropped further, but Maki's strength didn't follow. Her body struggled to keep up, her fingers stiffening, her arm shaking as she tried to push further. Each breath grew weaker, her vision blurring at the edges.
It wasn't enough.
It was never going to be enough.
Yuri trembled behind her, her grip tightening as fear overtook her. She couldn't move, couldn't look away, could only watch as the distance between them disappeared.
Maki's thoughts raced.
Anwyll was outside—injured, barely able to stand. Yuri was here, defenseless. And the thing in front of them… wasn't stopping.
Then her thoughts stilled.
There was no plan left.
Only time.
Her hand trembled as she raised it higher, her breathing sharp as she forced everything she had left into it. The cold surged violently, spreading all at once as if something inside her had snapped.
Her core flared.
The temperature dropped instantly. Frost raced across the ground, climbing the walls, the air turning painfully cold as each breath burned. The cold gathered, condensed—
Around his legs.
Ice formed instantly, thick and solid, locking him in place.
"Yuri—RUN!"
Her voice broke.
This time, Yuri moved. Fear pushed her forward as she turned and ran toward the broken wall—toward Anwyll.
Maki stayed where she was.
Her arms shook violently now, faint pale cracks of light spreading along her skin, crawling up from her hands as if her body was fracturing under the strain. Each pulse of power made them glow brighter.
The man stepped forward.
The ice shattered.
Cracked—then broke apart completely as he moved through it.
In one smooth motion, he drew his blade.
Maki's breath caught.
She turned.
Her eyes found Anwyll outside, barely holding himself up, still trying to move.
For just a second, the fear was gone.
Only something softer remained.
"A…Anw—"
The word never finished.
The blade passed through.
Clean.
Her body went still.
For a single heartbeat, everything froze—
Then she fell.
The cold lingered for a moment longer, fading slowly as the light along her skin dimmed and disappeared.
The man didn't look at her again.
His attention had already shifted.
To Yuri.
She was almost there.
Almost outside.
Almost—
He moved.
A blur.
Before she could reach the opening, before she could take another step, he was in front of her. His hand struck once—precise, controlled.
Yuri's body went limp.
He caught her.
Effortlessly.
For a moment, he stood there in silence, holding her unconscious form. Then, slowly, he turned his head.
Toward Anwyll.
Outside.
Watching.
Still trying to rise.
The man held his gaze for a brief second.
Then turned away.
And walked.
Step by step, he disappeared into the darkness, Yuri in his grasp, leaving nothing behind but silence… and the fading remnants of cold.
Outside, Anwyll's body finally gave out.
His fingers slipped against the frost-covered ground, his strength gone, his vision collapsing into darkness as the last of his awareness faded.
And this time—He didn't get back up.