The One Who Never Meant To Rise
Blue light exploded as Eira swung first, his sword colliding with the woman's burning spear with a force that tore the air apart. Mana crashed outward in violent waves, ripping sound from the world as fire and frost devoured each other. He twisted his wrist mid-swing, dragging the blade down her weapon and forcing her back, ice crawling across the spear before shattering under a surge of black-red flames.
She laughed.
"You're late," she said, spinning and driving her spear toward his chest.
Eira barely deflected. The impact hurled him through the sky, his body twisting as he fought to regain control. He stopped himself with a burst of cold, boots skidding against invisible air, sword humming violently in his hands.
Only then did the world reveal itself.
Endless white stretched beneath them, cracked and broken by war. Bodies lay scattered across the frozen land—men and women with silver hair, armor torn, weapons buried deep into ice. Some moved. Some didn't. The ground itself bore scars of mana so deep they still glowed faintly.
A pressure rolled outward from Eira as he steadied himself.
Far away, people collapsed without being touched. Knees buckled. Breath failed. Even standing became impossible under the weight of his presence.
The woman floated calmly across from him, fire and shadow wrapping around her form. Her spear burned red, veins of black mana pulsing like a living thing. Flames spiraled outward from her body, erasing frost, stone, and anything else that dared exist too close.
Below them, a young woman stood shaking, blood running down her arm as she held up a glowing shield. She was wounded badly, yet she didn't step back. She shielded the fallen behind her with everything she had left.
Eira saw her.
His jaw clenched.
"Still distracted," the woman said, her voice carrying easily across the battlefield. "That hasn't changed."
She raised her spear and slammed it downward.
Fire crashed toward him like a collapsing sun. Eira answered by lifting his sword, blue light roaring outward as the flames split apart around him. The shockwave tore across the land, ice forming and breaking in the same breath.
The sky broke.
They moved again.
Sword and spear collided midair, faster than sight, each strike releasing violent surges of mana that warped the world itself. Blizzards swallowed firestorms. Flames evaporated ice. Mountains formed and shattered in seconds.
"You're weaker," she said, twisting her spear and driving him back through a wall of frozen air. "Did dying once finally dull you?"
Eira staggered, blood spilling from his mouth as he caught himself. His sword shook, not from fear, but restraint.
"I won't lose again," he said.
Her eyes narrowed.
"This ends now, Eira."
