Chapter 18 – Fracture
The clash raged on with brutal intensity.
Marcos swung his enchanted warhammer in wide, thunderous arcs, each blow sending tremors through the earth. His armor was battered, smeared with blood and sweat, but his fierce roar ignited the spirits of their allies.
Livia moved like a tempest incarnate, her twin swords flashing in lethal arcs as wind magic whipped around her, deflecting incoming attacks. She was a blur of motion, her every step calculated and deadly.
Dante, wounded but unyielding, fought with veteran resolve. His earth magic cracked the ground beneath enemies' feet, disrupting their formations, while his commanding voice rallied the group to hold their ground.
Andrew danced through the chaos, his longsword ignited with dark flame. Selena's twin daggers darted like silver vipers, each strike precise and merciless. Their duel was a deadly game of cat and mouse, shadow and steel.
Beside them, Clara's breath grew ragged. Her elemental construct sword pulsed with fire and ice, each strike sending foes reeling. But the pressure was mounting—enemy after enemy pressed in, their combined might threatening to overwhelm.
A spear crackled with lightning, lunging toward Clara's side. She barely raised her blade in time to block, the shock pulsing through her arm. Pain flared, and a strange heat bloomed in her chest.
Her vision blurred; a whisper echoed inside her mind—a dark, hungry voice, rising beneath the surface.
Another enemy closed in, and Clara's grip faltered. The storm inside her ignited.
Her eyes flared brilliant white, then black, the swirling colors of fire, frost, and wind raging wildly within.
A roar tore from her throat—not her own, but something ancient and chaotic.
Elemental forces burst free.
Flames exploded outward, engulfing enemies in a scorching blaze. Ice shards shot like arrows, piercing armor and flesh. Furious gusts of wind tore through the battlefield, uprooting trees and sending foes tumbling.
The air vibrated with raw power—uncontrolled, devastating.
Allies shielded their faces, stumbling back from the maelstrom.
Dante's protective barriers flickered under the onslaught, his eyes wide in stunned disbelief.
Andrew's shadow cloak fluttered wildly as he struggled to approach, but Clara's tempest was unstoppable.
Her body convulsed violently, consumed by the chaotic magic.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the storm collapsed inward.
Clara crumpled to the ground, unconscious, limp against the bloodied earth.
---
The battlefield fell eerily silent.
Allies and enemies alike stared, breaths caught in their throats.
Selena Vale's expression twisted—a mixture of shock, fear, and wary calculation. The assassin's usual cold confidence shattered in an instant.
Without hesitation, Selena turned and vanished into the smoke, fleeing swiftly to report what she had witnessed to her command center.
Dante groaned, clutching a deep wound in his side. Marcos and Livia rushed to his aid, steadying him as Andrew moved quickly to support their fallen comrade.
"We have to pull back," Dante rasped, voice strained but resolute. "That power… it's unlike anything I've seen."
Marcos nodded grimly. "Agreed. We can't risk another outburst."
With heavy steps and cautious eyes, the group began their retreat, shadows weaving protectively around them as they left the shattered field behind.
The tent was quiet, the canvas walls fluttering gently in the breeze. Only the soft rustle of fabric and the distant crackle of a dying campfire broke the silence.
Clara stirred on the cot, groaning faintly as she blinked up at the dimly lit ceiling. Her limbs ached. Her head throbbed. But it was the hollow emptiness in her chest that truly frightened her.
Then she noticed him.
Andrew was seated beside her, motionless, arms crossed loosely, eyes fixed on the floor—but when he felt her shift, he looked up instantly.
"You're awake," he said, his voice soft.
Clara sat up slowly, wincing as the weight of her body caught up with her. "How long was I out?"
"A few hours. The others are resting. Dante's stable. Marcos and Livia are keeping watch."
She nodded, rubbing her face. "I lost control, didn't I."
Andrew didn't answer right away.
"Yeah," he said at last. "But you also saved us."
Clara gave a bitter laugh, but it caught in her throat. "Saved you by almost killing everything in sight."
His gaze didn't leave her. "You stopped when it mattered."
"No," she whispered. "I didn't stop. I collapsed."
Her shoulders trembled, hands curling into fists. "I didn't even remember some of it. I—I felt something else take over. Like I was watching through glass. My body just moved… and all I could think about was burning. Destroying. Making it all end."
Andrew leaned forward slightly. "That wasn't you."
"But it was," she whispered. "It was me. A part of me that didn't care about who got hurt."
He didn't speak. The silence stretched between them—heavy, but not uncomfortable.
Clara looked at him then, really looked at him. His face was scraped, his cloak torn, eyes rimmed with exhaustion—but still, he was here. Still beside her.
"Why aren't you afraid of me?" she asked, voice barely audible.
Andrew looked surprised. Then his answer came, quiet and firm.
"Because I know you."
Her breath caught.
He wasn't smiling, but there was a softness in his eyes she rarely saw. A steadiness that made her chest ache.
"I've seen you fight when you're scared. I've seen you protect people who didn't deserve it. You're fire, Clara—but you're not destruction."
A long pause.
Then, teasing gently, he added, "Besides… I think I'd be dead ten times over without you."
Clara gave a shaky laugh, brushing at her eyes.
"You're such a moron sometimes," she murmured.
He tilted his head slightly. "You say that a lot lately."
She looked away, cheeks tinged faintly with color. "I mean it a little less every time."
Andrew didn't move closer, but something in the air shifted. Softer. Warmer.
Unspoken things lingered in the quiet between them—trust, fear, and something tender they hadn't yet dared to name.
After a moment, Clara rested her head gently against his shoulder.
He stiffened just slightly—surprised—but didn't move away.
The tent was still. The world outside was broken. But here, in the dim quiet, there was something fragile, almost sacred, holding them together.
She closed her eyes.
"Don't leave," she whispered.
His reply came almost instantly.
"I won't."
---
Selena's boots echoed sharply down the cold metal corridors of the Eastern Command Fortress. Each step carried the weight of failure, blood, and something darker—fear.
The wounds along her body throbbed with every movement, but adrenaline pushed her forward. She could still feel the ghost of Clara's elemental storm pulsing in her bones, a force that had shattered her squad and threatened everything she'd known about power and control.
The door to General Dante's war room slid open silently. Inside, the air was thick with tension and unspoken dread.
Dante looked up from the maps spread across his table, eyes sharp beneath heavy brows. The lines of fatigue around his mouth deepened.
Selena wasted no time.
"General," she began, voice steady but cold, "the operation failed."
Dante's gaze sharpened.
"Explain."
She drew a breath, collecting the shattered fragments of what she'd witnessed.
"We engaged two targets near Grid Delta—one male, one female. Both teenagers, but unlike any Player I've seen. The girl is tri-elemental. Fire, ice, wind—cast without words, without hesitation. During the fight, she lost control. The battlefield was engulfed in flames and ice, torn apart by raging winds. Our forces suffered heavy casualties."
Her eyes flicked to Dante's.
"The boy… I cannot classify him. His power is born of shadows. He moved unseen, twice vanishing completely from all scans. He wielded constructs of dark smoke—blades, chains—that dissolved the moment they struck."
A shadow crossed Dante's face.
"He was merciless. Calculated. Efficient. It was as if the darkness itself answered his will."
Selena's voice dropped.
"Our entire squad was wiped out. Only I remain. We retreated."
Dante's jaw tightened, fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm on the table.
"Selena," he said finally, voice low and sharp, "this changes everything."
He paced slowly, eyes scanning the flickering tactical displays.
"We're a regional power on the rise. Threats like these… they don't just disrupt—they unravel order. The tri-elemental's instability could be exploited. But the boy—he's something new. Something dangerous."
He stopped, turning to face her fully.
"We cannot afford another failed strike. Prepare a purge unit. I will lead it myself. Capture them if possible. Kill if necessary. This… anomaly must be eradicated before it fractures everything we're building."
Selena nodded, the weight of the command settling cold in her chest.
"As you command, General."