Chapter 15
The wyvern recoiled, its flames swallowed by the strange sword, and snarled in fury. Its wings spread wide, beating hard enough to scatter crates and send townsfolk tumbling, their shouts swallowed in the roar of the monster. Smoke curled from the broken stalls, mixing with the acrid scent of scorched stone and splintered wood. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the plaza, twisted by the wyvern's flickering fire and the dying light of day. The air crackled with energy, a palpable sense of danger.
Enix shifted his stance, the Incinerator humming with latent heat, its edge flickering like embers as if alive. "Tch. Big lizard's got an attitude," he muttered, voice rough, eyes scanning for weak points in the creature's jagged scales. He moved with a fluid grace, his body tense and ready for the next attack.
Azre caught her breath, muscles screaming from the long journey and the earlier skirmish. She stepped closer, narrowing her eyes. "You. Stranger. Can you fight?" She assessed him quickly, searching for any sign of weakness or deception.
Enix glanced at her silver hair streaked with gold, armor cracked but still gleaming, her stance a mixture of knightly precision and raw desperation. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Guess we'll find out," he said, voice low, almost teasing but there was something in his tone that betrayed a trace of respect. He recognized her strength, her determination.
The wyvern lunged, jaws snapping, molten flames licking the air. The heat washed over them, searing their skin.
Enix moved first, sliding under its bite with impossible reflexes. His blade carved a fiery arc across its scales, sparks bursting as steel met hide. The beast roared in pain, wings thrashing, the ground trembling beneath it. He danced around the wyvern, his movements a blur of motion.
"Now!" Azre shouted, rallying every shred of strength she had. She charged in, slashing at its exposed leg. Divine light flared across the plaza as her blade struck true, the wyvern faltering, its wing dipping enough to clip a building. Stone and wood splintered. She fought with a fierce determination, her eyes burning with righteous fury.
The two fell into rhythm Enix's wild, fire laced strikes drawing the wyvern's attention, Azre's precise, disciplined blows finding its weak points. Where he burned, she carved. Where she faltered, he shielded. They moved as one, their movements synchronized, a testament to their skill and training.
But the wyvern was far from finished. With a shriek, it vaulted upward, wings spreading wide, and then slammed down with bone crushing force. The plaza cracked beneath it, shockwaves toppling stalls and scattering debris. Azre was thrown off balance, her sword skittering out of reach. The ground shook beneath her, her body battered and bruised.
The wyvern loomed over her, maw opening wide. Flames licked the air, casting a hellish glow over the shattered square. The heat was intense, suffocating, threatening to consume her.
"Move!" Enix roared, darting between them. He crossed Incinerator before him once more, catching the fiery burst. The blade shone red hot, its magic suppressing some of the wyvern's fire, but the force drove him back, his boots grinding against stone, arms trembling. He struggled to maintain his balance, his muscles screaming in protest.
"Dammit this thing's not gonna stop!" he hissed through clenched teeth, the smoke curling around his face, masking the faintest of scars across his cheek. He knew they were running out of time, that the wyvern was too powerful for them to defeat.
Azre's eyes darted frantically. Her sword was too far, her body weak from exhaustion and recent battles, her muscles screaming for relief. Then her gaze landed on a twisted metal pipe jutting from the rubble of a collapsed stall. Rusted, jagged, yet potentially lethal. She knew it was a long shot, but it was their only chance.
Her fingers wrapped around it, hot and sharp, cutting her palms. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly, calling forth the energy she had buried deep within her soul. She focused her mind, channeling her inner strength.
A prayer. A plea. A vow whispered to the gods and the memory of all she had lost. She thought of her fallen comrades, her lost home, the sacrifices she had made.
Light surged from her hands, flowing through the jagged metal like molten silver. The pipe glowed, humming with sacred energy, vibrating as if aware of her intent. It felt alive in her hands, a conduit for her divine power.
"Fall!" she cried, sprinting forward with every ounce of strength. She charged towards the wyvern, her eyes burning with determination.
The wyvern turned, fire still spewing, too late to react. Azre leapt, driving the glowing makeshift spear straight into its skull. A blinding explosion of divine light erupted, searing through bone and flesh. The beast's scream tore through the plaza a final, broken cry that lingered in the air like a curse before collapsing into a heap of smoldering ruin. The force of the impact threw her backwards, sending her sprawling on the ground.
Silence blanketed the square. Smoke spiraled skyward, the scent of fire and ash mixing with the heavy, metallic tang of blood. Only the sound of Azre's ragged breathing filled the air as she stood over the fallen creature. The glowing pipe still pulsed faintly, humming with residual energy. The battle was over, but the war was far from won.
She pulled it free, letting it clatter to the stones. Slowly, she turned. She looked at the fallen wyvern, her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and exhaustion.
Enix was watching her. His chest rose and fell in uneven, heavy breaths, Incinerator resting at his side. Their gazes met his eyes simmering like hidden coals, hers burning with divine fire. In that instant, a quiet understanding passed between them. They had faced death together, and they had survived.
Two warriors, strangers until moments ago, now bound by blood, battle, and unspoken recognition. They had forged a bond in the heat of combat, a connection that transcended words.
Neither spoke. Yet both knew survival in this world demanded more than skill it demanded trust, even if temporary, even if uneasy. They had to rely on each other, to work together, if they wanted to survive the challenges ahead.
Behind them, the townsfolk crept from hiding, eyes wide with fear and awe. Some whispered prayers, others trembled, but all recognized the power they had just witnessed. They had been saved, protected by these two warriors.
The plaza was scarred, buildings splintered, market goods charred beyond recognition. And yet the wyvern's death marked not victory, but the beginning of a darker war. The true enemy was still out there, lurking in the shadows.
Far above, unnoticed by the crowd, a lone hooded figure stood atop Ethille's bell tower. His cloak fluttered in the night breeze, and the faint residue of summoning magic glimmered across his hands. He surveyed the plaza below, his crimson eyes tracing the movements of the surviving knights. He was a puppet master, pulling the strings from the shadows.
A low chuckle, unnervingly quiet yet sharp as broken glass, slipped from beneath his hood. He seemed pleased with what he had witnessed.
"The Valkyrie awakens and the Hex Flame stirs. Just as the Master foretold," he whispered, his voice a sibilant promise of chaos. He knew that the events unfolding below were part of a larger plan, a grand design.
His cloak fluttered violently as he disappeared into the night, shadows consuming his form. The wind carried the faint scent of sulfur and ash, curling around the rooftops, leaving only the echo of his presence. He vanished without a trace, leaving only a sense of unease in his wake.
Back in the plaza, Azre knelt briefly, clutching the glowing pipe. Her hands trembled, exhaustion clawing at her bones. She glanced at Enix. "Are are you all right?" Her voice was soft, almost human now, stripped of the divine fire she had summoned. She was vulnerable, exhausted, but still determined.
Enix wiped ash and sweat from his face, letting a hint of a smirk return. "Could be worse," he said, voice gruff but edged with something unreadable. "You? You're a little… more impressive than I expected." He was surprised by her strength, her skill, her unwavering determination.
Azre straightened, holding the pipe loosely now, her gaze sharp. "We fight differently, but we survived. That's what matters." She met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of respect and wariness.
A shadow moved behind her peripheral vision. Thalia, who had been observing from the outskirts, tightened her grip on her bow, eyes flicking briefly at Rowan who had circled to flank the wyvern alongside Azre before the creature's final fall. A subtle pang of something she refused to name stirred in her chest. Envy? Relief? Fear? Perhaps all three. She swallowed it down, hiding the momentary weakness behind practiced composure. She knew she had to remain strong, to protect her comrades.
The people of Ethille began to gather, murmuring among themselves, some daring to approach the knights, but Azre held up a hand. "Not now," she said, voice firm, eyes scanning the horizon. Danger was not yet gone. She could sense it, a lurking presence in the shadows.
Enix, she realized, was an anomaly. Wild, unpredictable, dangerous but undeniably skilled. She had seen his strength, but glimpsed something else in his gaze: a storm of motives, of secrets yet untold. She didn't trust him, not fully. Yet the world had taught her one unyielding truth: even in darkness, survival often demanded unlikely alliances. She knew she had to work with him, despite her reservations.
The hooded figure atop the tower had vanished, but the feeling of being watched lingered. A chill brushed her neck as if the shadows themselves whispered threats. She felt a sense of unease, a premonition of danger.
"Something's coming," she murmured, voice low. Not a question, but a warning. She knew that the wyvern was just the beginning, that a larger conflict was on the horizon.
Enix glanced up, sensing her unease. "Yeah," he said. "And I get the feeling we're right in the middle of it." He shared her sense of foreboding, her feeling that they were being drawn into something larger than themselves.
For a long moment, they simply stood there, two warriors bound by combat, watching the night creep over Ethille. Sparks from the dying wyvern's scales still glowed faintly on the cobblestones, casting twisted shadows that seemed to move on their own. The silence was broken only by the crackling of the embers and the distant cries of the gulls.
Azre tightened her grip on the glowing pipe. "This was only the beginning," she said, almost to herself. "I… I can feel it." She knew that the true test was yet to come, that they would face challenges that would push them to their limits.
And far above, the unseen hooded figure whispered once more, the wind carrying his words through the empty streets:
"The Valkyrie awakens and soon, all shall bend to the Hex Flame." His words were a prophecy, a promise of chaos and destruction.
A distant scream echoed from the forest beyond Ethille, swallowed immediately by the darkness. Something waited there, something hungry, patient… watching, always watching. The shadows seemed to deepen, to press in on them, as if the darkness itself were closing in.
And in that moment, both Azre and Enix knew, without needing words: the quiet before the storm had ended. The true darkness was only beginning. They braced themselves for what was to come, their hearts filled with a mixture of fear and determination.