I froze for half a heartbeat too long.
'Run,' Cerberus's roar slammed into my skull, raw and primal, snapping me back into motion.
Wisps peeled away from Hephaestus's body—threads of living fire, drifting at first, then accelerating with intent. I scooped up my severed tail without thinking and hurled it straight into their path. The moment the flames touched it, the flesh blackened, curled, and disintegrated into ash midair.
No hesitation after that.
I bolted toward the forest.
Open roads meant nowhere to hide. Trees meant angles, cover, mistakes—mine or his. I plunged between trunks, branches whipping my face, claws tearing into bark as I pushed myself harder than I thought I could.
Behind me, the swordsman screamed.
I didn't look back.
I didn't need to. The heat stayed with me, a suffocating presence pressing against my spine. He was still close. Too close.
'Left,' Cerberus barked.
I swerved—
—and a blast detonated where I would've been. The shockwave threw me sideways. Trees vanished in a burst of fire and splinters, trunks erased like chalk lines. I slammed into the ground, rolled, and barely got back on my feet.
"Damn it," I snarled.
I hacked at a tree with my claws, dropping it across my path in a desperate attempt to slow him. By the time I glanced back, the fallen trunk was already smoldering, its bark glowing red, collapsing into embers as if rot had eaten it from the inside out.
"Run all you want, insect," Hephaestus's voice boomed, echoing through the forest like a judgment. "I'll catch you sooner than you think."
Then—nothing.
The heat eased.
Not gone, but distant.
I slowed despite myself and looked back.
He wasn't there.
'Above you,' Cerberus screamed.
I jumped on instinct.
Hephaestus crashed down from the sky like a falling star. The impact obliterated everything beneath him—earth caving in, trees vaporized, a crater blooming outward with molten cracks racing across the ground. The shockwave sent me tumbling end over end, ears ringing, vision swimming.
I landed hard, skidding across dirt and ash.
He stood at the center of the crater, flames licking upward, looking almost… amused.
I was on higher ground. Barely. Still, his eyes followed me upward.
"Are you looking down on me?" he asked, tilting his head. "How disrespectful."
Cold ran down my spine, sharp and instinctive.
'What are you doing?' Cerberus roared. 'Run!'
I didn't argue. I ran.
The forest blurred. My lungs burned. My wounds screamed with every step. The armor clung to me, heavy now, soaked with blood and sweat. My legs felt like they were filled with sand.
We can't keep this up, I thought desperately. My stamina's almost gone.
'Do you hear that?' Cerberus said suddenly.
"Hear what?" I snapped between gasps. "All I hear is trees and—cars, far away—"
'You forgot something else.'
"What?"
'Water, you incompetent fool.'
I nearly tripped.
Then I heard it.
Faint at first—rushing, constant, alive. Not fire. Not destruction.
A river.
Hope sparked painfully in my chest.
I veered toward the sound, every remaining ounce of strength poured into my legs. Behind me, the heat surged again, furious now, impatient.
Hephaestus was done playing.
And I was gambling everything on whether fire could be taught to drown.
The sound of rushing water grew louder with every step, no longer just a hope but a promise. Branches clawed at my face, roots tried to trip me, and still I ran.
The forest thinned abruptly, opening onto the river like a held breath finally released.
It was wide—far wider than I expected—and unnervingly still. No rapids. No violent churn. Just a broad, glassy surface stretching from bank to bank, moonlight and firelight reflected cleanly across it. The water was deep too; I could tell from the way the color darkened toward the center, a slow gradient into shadow. Clear enough that I could see smooth stones far below, unmoving, undisturbed.
Perfect.
I didn't hesitate.
I ran straight off the bank and dove.
The cold wrapped around me instantly, sharp but clean, biting through exhaustion and heat like a blade. Unlike the chaos I expected, the water didn't throw me around. It accepted me. I sank fast, my body dragging me down, the silence closing in as the world above blurred into wavering light.
For the first time since the chase began, the heat loosened its grip.
I opened my eyes underwater.
The river was clear—painfully so. I could see everything. Pale stones resting undisturbed at the bottom. Long strands of river grass swayed gently despite the stillness above. My own blood trailing faintly from torn armor, dissolving into the dark.
Then the light changed.
A glow bled through the surface, spreading outward like a stain.
I twisted and kicked upward just as the river screamed.
Steam erupted above me, not from turbulence but from sheer temperature. The surface didn't explode—it peeled away, water evaporating in a widening circle as if erased. Light stabbed downward, and I broke the surface, coughing, air burning my lungs.
The river was still there—but wounded.
Large sections had been stripped bare, water pulled back violently from the center, exposing smooth riverbed and dark stone. What remained boiled quietly, hissing instead of roaring. Steam rose in thick sheets, but beneath it, the water stayed eerily calm, refusing to churn even under impossible heat.
Hephaestus hovered above the bank, looking down at me like I'd disappointed him.
"Do you really think you can hide underwater?" he asked, voice steady, amused.
He jumped.
Not toward the bank—toward the river itself.
He struck dead center.
The impact didn't send waves crashing outward. Instead, the water vanished on contact, flashing into vapor so fast it left a hollow around him. For a moment, the river parted cleanly, exposing the deep channel beneath before water slid back in from the sides, smooth and heavy, colliding soundlessly.
We stood facing each other mid-river, water reaching our thighs, steam curling around us.
Up close, I saw it clearly now.
The flames around him weren't raging. They clung instead of flaring, thinner, unstable. His armor glowed unevenly, like a forge starved of air.
He didn't notice.
His gaze never left my face.
"Running only makes this tedious," he said. "You should be grateful I'm patient."
"You dried a deep river," I said, forcing breath into my lungs. "Even a god has to pay for that."
Something flickered in his eyes—too brief to be doubt.
I charged.
'Don't,' Cerberus warned.
Too late.
My claws struck his chest, sparks tearing outward as metal screamed against divine alloy. The resistance was still there—but weaker. My blow actually moved him, boots scraping against submerged stone.
He staggered half a step.
I pressed in, kick snapping low to unbalance him, claws hammering again and again into dim sections of his armor. Without the full force of his flames, every hit landed harder. Water surged around our legs, perfectly clear even as it hissed and steamed, reflecting fire and blood alike.
His counterattack was brutal—raw strength without restraint. A fist crashed into my ribs, shattering breath and sending me skidding backward through the water. Pain flared white-hot, but I stayed upright.
For a moment, we were equals.
Then the river betrayed me.
Not by moving—but by warming.
Slowly. Relentlessly.
The water around Hephaestus began to glow faintly. Steam thickened again. His flames crept back, crawling over his armor like living things reclaiming lost ground.
Cerberus's voice cut through the noise. 'Run. He's stabilizing.'
I clenched my fists. "This is the only place we weakened him."
'And that's why you leave,' Cerberus snapped. 'Before he regains his flames.'
Hephaestus straightened, heat rolling off him once more. He smiled—wide, satisfied.
"Clever," he said. "But not enough."
I tore myself free from the river and sprinted for the bank, water shedding from my armor in heavy sheets. I ripped a tree loose at the edge, muscles screaming, and hurled it back at him.
Without full flames, he kicked it aside instead of incinerating it.
That hesitation saved me.
I vanished into the forest as his laughter followed, echoing behind me.