Silas walked toward Lyrielle, his steps unhurried, almost casual, as if he had all the time in the world. The destroyed clearing stretched between them, littered with splintered wood and scorched earth. Lyrielle stood her ground, watching him carefully, gauging every movement, every flicker of expression on his handsome, dangerous face.
"Why do you want to kill me?" she asked. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp, searching.
"Because you're a huge obstacle in my mission." Silas tilted his head, that ever-present smile playing on his lips. "And to complete said mission, I need you out of the way."
"Mission?" She arched a brow.
"None of your concern." He waved a hand dismissively.
Lyrielle allowed a small, taunting smirk to surface. "You might as well tell me. If you're so confident you can kill me, what's the harm? Or..." She let the pause hang. "Are you not so confident after all?"
Silas stopped walking. For a moment, his smile flickered—just for an instant—before settling back into place. "That's a nice try." He tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle he'd already solved. "But I am confident. The mission just doesn't concern you. It concerns the kids in your care more."
Lyrielle's expression shifted. The taunting smirk vanished, replaced by something colder, more focused. "The players?" Her voice dropped. "How do you know about them?"
Her hands, which had been loose at her sides, curled into fists. This was no longer a simple confrontation. If he knew about the players, if his mission involved them, then everything had just changed.
Where was Rowan? The thought flashed through her mind, unbidden and unwelcome. She needed him now, and he wasn't here. She pressed her palms to her face for a brief second, then let them fall.
"Look at me." A humorless laugh escaped her. "Playing the damsel in distress." She raised her head, meeting Silas's gaze with renewed fire. "If you want to hurt those kids, then you were right to target me first."
She clenched her fist, and aura began to gather around it—a soft, green glow that intensified as she pushed against the weight of the seal pressing down on her. It was like trying to draw water through a clogged pipe, but she forced it anyway. Every last drop she could muster.
Now it was personal. Those kids knew nothing. Nothing except survival. They hadn't even begun to understand the world of Nyxoria, its dangers, its politics, its ancient hatreds. And if this man wanted them, it couldn't be for anything good.
Silas watched her with something almost like respect. "If it's anything, I don't consider you a damsel in distress, Lyrielle." He settled into a fighting stance, his greatsword Nithfang humming with that dark, hungry energy. The blade's green veins pulsed visibly now, as if it were alive and eager.
"I don't give a damn about your opinion." The words snapped out of her like a whip.
And then they clashed.
The speed was blinding. Lyrielle's plant magic erupted from the ground—vines, thick as pythons, surging toward Silas in waves. But Nithfang cut through them like scythes through wheat. Each swing left charred, disintegrating edges where the vines crumbled to ash. She tried different angles, different attacks—thorned whips, explosive sprouts, wooden barriers—but nothing held. Nithfang cleared through her defenses as though she were throwing weeds at a forest fire.
"You can't defend against Nithfang's poison, Lyrielle." Silas gave her a moment's breathing room, stepping back with that infuriating smile still in place. "There's a reason it's called Nithfang. The Soul Taker."
The name struck a chord deep in her memory. Ancient texts. Forbidden archives. She'd read about it once, decades ago, in a library that no longer existed.
Nithfang. The Soul Taker.
A mythical-grade weapon. Forged in the Great Wars by a mad smith who'd sacrificed his own family to complete it. Its attributes synchronized most powerfully with poison magic users because it was built to disintegrate anything it touched—the amount of life the wielder surrendered to it determined the depth of its destruction. Lost for millennia, presumed destroyed, and now it was in this man's hands.
And the seal pressing against her power—that was likely mythical-grade too.
She was at a disadvantage. She knew it. One graze from that sword and the poison would begin its work, disintegrating flesh and soul together. She couldn't afford a single mistake.
Lyrielle steadied her breathing, steeled her nerves, and raised her hands once more.
The serpent crept forward through the shattered forest, its massive body sliding between trees as though they were blades of grass. Kai dropped to one knee, raised his bow, and poured aura into the arrow until it blazed with light. He released.
The shot landed cleanly on the serpent's flank.
The creature didn't even flinch. It didn't dodge, didn't defend—it simply absorbed the hit as if it were nothing. But the attack had served its purpose: the serpent's attention, previously fixed on some distant point, now swung toward Kai with terrifying focus.
He ran.
The serpent was fast—impossibly fast for something its size. It closed the distance in seconds, and just as Kai thought he might outpace it, the creature stopped abruptly. It used its own momentum to swing its massive, blade-tipped tail in a devastating arc.
Kai caught the movement from the corner of his eye. He dropped low, the tail whistling past inches above his head, close enough to ruffle his hair. He didn't hesitate. In the same motion, he twisted and fired another shot—point-blank.
The serpent dodged, barely, the arrow grazing its scales. Then it did something unexpected.
It shrank.
In the space of a heartbeat, the massive creature compressed down to the size of a common snake—small, fast, and now impossible to track. Kai froze for half a second, confusion flickering across his face.
That was all it needed.
The serpent lunged, but before it could strike, a body slammed into Kai from the side, shoving him out of range. James hit the ground rolling, coming up just in time to see the serpent's tail—now the size of a whip—slice through the air where Kai had been standing. The force of the missed strike carried through, shattering trees a dozen meters away.
"It can shrink itself!" Kai gasped, scrambling to his feet.
"And it keeps its strength," James added, eyes locked on the creature. "That hit would have taken your head off."
The serpent swelled back to its full size in an instant, then dove—straight into the earth. The ground rumbled and shook, vibrations racing beneath their feet like something hunting from below.
They felt it closing in. The tremors grew sharper, more violent, until the earth directly beneath them erupted.
James shoved Kai hard, sending him tumbling clear, and threw himself in the opposite direction. The serpent exploded from the ground where they'd been standing, jaws snapping on empty air.
It emerged fully, saw them still running, and shrank again. Smaller meant faster. It zipped through the undergrowth like a striking viper, closing on James in moments. Then it expanded mid-lunge, cutting off his escape route, jaws wide.
James planted his feet, sword raised, aura blazing around him.
"First Technique: Thousand Strikes!"
The barrage erupted—dozens of strikes in the span of a heartbeat, each one packed with aura and desperate strength. They slammed into the serpent's face, slowing its advance just enough for James to hurl himself sideways out of its path.
He landed, spun, and struck again.
"Second Technique: Moon Sweeping!"
His body became a whirlwind of silver light, spinning around the serpent's massive form, blade carving along its scales. But the strikes didn't penetrate. Sparks flew, edges chipped, but the serpent's hide held firm. If anything, the assault only enraged it further.
It coiled, preparing to crush him beneath its weight.
Then a silent blast of light connected with its head.
Kai's Moon Whisper—stealthy, precise, perfectly aimed. The serpent staggered, stunned for a precious moment.
Raya knelt beside Koby, her hands pressed against his wounds, green healing light flowing from her palms. His injuries were severe—deep gashes, broken bones, internal damage she could barely sense but knew was there. Sweat beaded on her forehead, ran down her cheeks, dripped from her chin.
"Why did it have to be this severe?" she whispered, more to herself than to him.
"It's working." Koby's voice was weak, but he moved his fingers slowly, deliberately. "I can feel them now. Couldn't before."
"We don't have time." Her voice cracked. In the distance, the sounds of battle continued—crashes, roars, the whistle of Kai's arrows.
"Calm down, Raya." Koby's eyes found hers, and despite everything, there was steadiness in them. "Focus. James and Kai will hold it off long enough."
She wanted to believe him. She wanted to nod and smile and keep working. But they both knew the truth.
"We both know that's a lie." The words came out raw, honest.
Koby didn't argue. He just looked at her, trusting her anyway.
Raya closed her eyes. She forced herself to breathe—slow, deep, measured. She forced her hands to still, her mind to quiet. The sounds of battle faded. The fear receded. There was only the warmth of her healing light, the damage beneath her palms, and the life she was fighting to save.
She kept working.