The battlefield looked like a graveyard.
Cracked stone. Blood-soaked dirt. Smoke spiraling into a broken sky.
And in the middle of it all—
Two silhouettes stood facing each other.
Rah.
Isdeath.
Both swaying. Both scarred. Both refuse to go down.
Their eyes said it all. No more questions. No more testing. No more bluffing.
This was it.
Their final round.
Isdeath's shoulders rose and fell with each breath. Her once-pristine black uniform was cut open across the chest and shoulder, blood leaking steadily. Sparks still clung to her fingers, twitching with unstable power.
Rah's red hair clung to his face, damp with sweat and blood. His arms were covered in slashes. A deep gash cut across his ribs, and his left wrist had begun to stiffen—but he held that flaming sword with both hands anyway.
No words.
Just stillness.
Then they moved.
CRACK—!
Isdeath dashed forward, lightning sparking from her heels.
Rah met her halfway, dragging flame with every step.
CLANG!
Their swords collided with a thunderous crash—then again, and again, and again. No room to breathe, no room to think. Just motion. Just instinct.
Rah twisted and slashed.
Isdeath parried and countered with a bolt to his side.
Rah tanked it—barely flinching—and spun his sword in a sharp arc that forced her back.
She narrowed her eyes, jumping above his head and releasing a spinning wave of electricity.
Rah ducked low, sliding across the ground before launching himself upward, his flame bursting from his feet.
They clashed in midair.
CLANG—BOOM!
Their blades locked, both struggling for ground, both pushed back by the force of their own magic.
They landed—Rah stumbling slightly, Isdeath coughing as blood filled her mouth.
And still, they stepped forward.
No room for fear now.
Isdeath slashed at his legs—Rah blocked with a clean downward twist, then brought his sword across her chest in a wide arc.
She parried at the last second, but the fire kissed her arm.
Her hiss of pain was met by Rah's silence.
Again.
And again.
Strike for strike.
Fire danced with lightning—neither side gaining ground for more than a second before the other took it back.
Rah lunged—his flames tracing the curve of his blade.
Isdeath ducked, then kicked him hard in the stomach—his body arched as he was lifted off his feet, landing rough.
She rushed him, aiming to finish the combo.
He rolled. Popped up. Met her with a punch to the jaw that sent lightning arcing off her spine.
She slashed wildly. He ducked.
She spun her body—lightning erupting in a sphere around her.
Rah backed off just in time, breathing hard.
He wiped the blood from his lip. Adjusted his grip.
He wasn't winning.
But neither was she.
They were equals now.
And that terrified her more than she let on.
She licked the blood from her lips. "You're not just a problem. You're a nightmare."
Rah's eyes didn't blink.
Just stared.
"You shouldn't be standing."
Rah lifted his sword again.
"I shouldn't be breathing."
He stepped forward.
She lunged—and their blades clashed once more, grinding and screaming against each other, both refusing to give.
"Why do you keep standing?!" she hissed her face inches from his.
Rah's answer was quiet.
"I have something to return to."
Then he shoved her off him with a blast of fire.
She flipped through the air and landed hard on her feet, but her body wobbled.
She caught her breath, sweat dripping down her face.
"I'm done holding back."
Rah didn't move.
Didn't respond.
She raised her rapier slowly.
And the clouds answered her.
BOOM—
Lightning danced across the sky.
The wind changed.
The ground started vibrating beneath their feet.
Rah stared up.
He could feel it. The pressure. The shift.
She wasn't bluffing.
Not anymore.
"This next one'll kill you," she said. "It's killed everyone else."
Lightning spiraled around her arms, climbing up her chest, around her throat, wrapping her like armor.
She lifted the sword skyward.
The heavens opened up.
"Lightning Blaze."
The clouds themselves cracked.
The Roof was disintegrated
And a column of lightning the size of a building tore down from the sky—aimed straight at Isdeath Sword which Absorbed it and spit it back at Rah
He didn't run.
Didn't dodge.
Instead—
He moved his sword to one hand.
And raised the other.
The fire answered him.
It didn't explode.
It rose.
Slow. Controlled. Heavy.
He clenched his fist, and flames surged up his arm, racing down his back, wrapping around his waist, his leg, and his shoulder.
Then it crawled across the blade.
A memory surfaced.
His mother.
Dying in his arms.
His sister.
Smiling despite the world burning around them.
The chains.
The blood.
The beatings.
And through all of it—he never dropped the flame.
Rah exhaled.
"I was born in fire."
He lifted the blade behind him, the fire roaring now—bright and focused.
"This world tried to chain it."
The flame coiled tight around the blade.
"But I made it mine."
He took one step forward.
The lightning was seconds from impact.
Rah surged his blade forward—gripping the fire itself as it exploded out—
It's not like Fire Bolt.
This wasn't distance.
This wasn't ranged.
This was personal.
This was close.
"The Slaved Glory."
The fire roared forward, through the blade, not off it.
He ran with it—blade covered in fire like a second limb.
And he cut the lightning.
Not deflected.
Not canceled.
Split it.
The column shattered down the middle like a glass sculpture—crackling, sizzling, breaking apart with a scream that echoed across the mountain.
Isdeath's face broke.
"What—!?"
She couldn't move.
She couldn't dodge.
Rah burst through the lightning—his body covered in burns—his hands shaking—
But he drove the blade forward—
Straight into her chest.
CRACK—!!!
The sword pierced her armor, and her ribs, and buried itself halfway through her torso, erupting with fire that seared the wound shut from the inside.
Isdeath gasped.
Her eyes were wide.
Her mouth opened but no words came.
Blood spilled down her chin.
She looked down at the sword.
Then up at him.
"…You…"
She coughed—hard—blood splattering on his shoulder.
Then she smirked.
Even as her vision blurred.
"…You think you freed them?"
Her knees buckled.
"You've got your hopes up…"
And with that—
Her body dropped.
Dead.
The flames on the sword dimmed.
Rah stood over her, body trembling. Arms locked in place.
He looked down.
No joy.
No celebration.
Only the silence of knowing it's over.
He didn't pull the blade at first.
Just looked up at the clouds.
They were quiet now.
Empty.
Then, slowly—he pulled the sword from her chest.
It dragged slightly as he yanked it free, his grip weak.
Blood dripped from the edge.
His own body gave out.
He dropped to one knee, gasping.
The pain caught up to him
His ribs screamed.
His arms went numb.
But before he passed out—
He thought of one thing.
Iah
Her voice.
Her laugh.
Her life.
He smirked.
Soft
Tired
"I kept my promise."
Then everything went black.