The Inferno Duel [Part-4]
Silver City groaned beneath the weight of fire and chaos.
The western districts were on fire.
Not just burning—on fire. Like someone had thrown the whole damn place into the mouth of a god who wanted blood.
Smoke was rising in thick, choking columns. It clawed at the sky like it wanted to strangle the stars—rip them right out of the night.
This street—whatever it used to be—it was gone. Dead. Stripped to its bones. Cracked cobblestones. Storefronts smashed in, crushed under layers of ash.
Flames were jumping from rooftop to rooftop, wild and starving. Like they could smell something still breathing, and they weren't done yet. They tore through timber, chewed at stone like it was soft. Like even that wasn't enough.
The air was heavy. Thick. Smoke clung to the inside of your throat, made you taste blood. Burned wood, scorched stone—everything reeked of it. It was in your skin, your breath, your fucking bones.
