The moment the shadows around them stirred, Lyra acted first. She slid her dagger from its sheath and uncorked the small vial at her hip, coating the blade quickly with a viscous black poison that shimmered faintly with mana. As the fumes hissed into the air, she inhaled sharply and whispered a string of incantations under her breath—layering herself with speed enhancement, reflex sharpening, and minor barrier spells.
Veyrith watched without interrupting, his glowing eyes tracking her every motion. His muscles tensed. The forest itself seemed to hush.
Then he struck.
He lunged like a living shadow—fast, silent, and brutal. Lyra barely dodged in time, rolling beneath his clawed swipe, her enhanced reflexes barely keeping up. She slashed at his side, but he twisted, evading with terrifying grace.
"Still too slow," Veyrith growled.
"Maybe. But I only need one strike to count," Lyra hissed back.
The next clash came harder. Veyrith darted in and out of her vision, appearing at her flank, then her rear, forcing Lyra to spin and parry. Her dagger struck sparks against his claws, her barrier crackling under the force of his blows.
"You're learning," Veyrith said, circling. "But instinct won't save you forever."
Lyra kept moving, searching for an opening. She cast a low flame along the ground, forcing him to leap back.
"Who said I'm only relying on instinct?"
She pressed forward, launching a combination of wind and fire spells. Veyrith dodged the flame but was clipped by a burst of cutting air. He growled.
Then shadows erupted beneath her feet—vines made of smoke and dark intent. She shouted a freezing chant, trapping the shadows in ice, and escaped with a tumble. But not before one tendril wrapped around her ankle and slammed her into a tree.
Her vision doubled.
She coughed hard, tasting blood. Her ribs ached, and her hands trembled. Yet she pushed herself upright.
"You still stand?" Veyrith said, half-impressed.
"I've survived worse than a tantrum, shadow cat," she spat.
He lunged again. She countered with an illusion spell—multiple images of herself flickered around the clearing. Veyrith paused, squinting.
"Clever," he said.
He closed his eyes—and let his senses guide him.
His claws tore through the illusion and slashed Lyra across her shoulder. She cried out, rolling back and throwing a blinding flash of light. He roared and stumbled.
Lyra took the chance to gulp down a potion, then hurled a spear of condensed earth. It hit his flank and sent him staggering. She followed up with a sweeping arc of wind-blades. One carved across his shoulder. Blood dripped.
"You're bleeding," she said, panting.
"That's new," Veyrith admitted, his tone more amused than angry.
"But don't get ahead of yourself. I haven't even used half of my arsenal."
"Nor have I."
His aura flared suddenly. Shadows converged around him, swirling like a storm. He raised a claw, and chains of darkness lashed toward her. She dodged one, cut through another, but a third wrapped around her waist and hurled her into the ground.
Pain erupted across her spine. Her vision blurred. She reached for another potion, but it slipped from her shaking fingers.
"Now I will show you why I rule this domain," Veyrith declared, his voice like thunder.
She forced herself to rise. Bloody, bruised—but not broken.
He began to unleash his magic fully. Clones formed from shadow leapt toward her. She parried one, cast a fire spell to disperse another, but they kept coming. She was outnumbered, outpaced.
She hurled an explosive spell at the ground, scattering the shadows with a burst of light and wind. The smoke cleared—and she was already chanting.
A whip of water lashed out and caught Veyrith's leg, yanking him backward. She surged forward with blade in hand, slashing his side. He hissed and vanished into the trees.
"You fight like one who's lost before," he said, voice echoing from the shadows.
"I did lose," Lyra admitted, her tone calm but resolute. "And it taught me more than any victory ever could. This time, I'm not fighting just to survive. I'm fighting to win."
He reappeared, faster than before, and slammed her with a wave of shadow energy. She flew backward, landing hard. Bones creaked. She staggered up, coughing.
"You should've stayed down."
Lyra wiped the blood from her lip, forcing herself to her feet.
"You should've finished me. Because now, I'm not holding back either."
Veyrith narrowed his glowing eyes, his stance still and unreadable for a breath.
"Stubborn to the very end," he murmured. "Very well. If that is your will… then behold the beast unshackled by restraint."
With a roar that shook the clearing, his body expanded, dark energy erupting around him. His claws lengthened. His form pulsed with wild mana. His eyes were now blazing orbs of crimson.
"Berserk…" Noxy whispered in Lyra's mind. "Be careful. That form sacrifices control for power. He won't hold back."
Lyra barely had time to react before Veyrith charged. The speed was unlike anything before. She raised a barrier—shattered. She rolled—too late. His claw caught her side, slashing deep. Blood poured.
Another strike nearly took her leg. Her vision blurred. She screamed, more from anger than pain, and hurled a fire bomb at his feet. The explosion forced him back for a second.
"You can't win!" he roared. "You're just a spark trying to burn down a storm!"
"Then I'll burn until the storm breaks!"
She cast a stone shield just in time to absorb his next pounce, but it cracked from the force. Her breath was ragged. Every limb ached. She was losing.
And then—
Everything slowed.
Lyra's breath caught as something inside her stirred. A presence. A current. Her heartbeat synced with the rustle of leaves. Her eyes widened.
The mana in the air… it moved with her.
She stepped aside. Perfectly. Veyrith's claws missed her by an inch.
She ducked. Parried. Countered.
It wasn't instinct—it was alignment. With nature. With the world.
The wind guided her dodge. The ground lent her balance. The air whispered where to strike.
"What is this?!" Veyrith snarled.
"I… I don't know," Lyra whispered. "But it feels like everything's helping me."
"You think some borrowed grace will save you?!"
"No. But I think it will help me end this."
She lunged forward, her blade glowing faintly—not with her magic, but with the forest's. She slashed across Veyrith's flank. Then again. Again.
The beast howled.
"Impossible…!"
With a final cry, Lyra drove her dagger deep into his shoulder, the poison seeping into the wound. Veyrith staggered, shadows dispersing wildly.
He dropped to one knee, chest heaving. His berserk aura flickered, dimmed, and finally faded.
"You… have surpassed my expectation."
Lyra stood over him, bloodied and breathing hard, but unyielding.
"I told you," she said. "I won't lose. Not again."
Veyrith met her eyes, and for a moment, something ancient and proud passed between them.
"Then take this victory, Lyra. The forest has chosen you over me."
And he fell, unconscious but alive.
Lyra collapsed beside him, exhaustion overtaking her.
But the forest sang in silence around her.
She had won.