The ground beneath him was scorched, blackened and cracked as though the earth itself had been seared. Flames dancing in erratic patterns, writhing like a living being. The air was thick with the stench of iron and something alien.
He turned to Elria, his movement slow and deliberate. His mind protested. What is wrong with this girl? he wondered, his thoughts tingled with a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. I just want to end this quickly, the backlash from yesterday still makes my head ache.
But Elria, it seemed had another plan. Her eyes burned with fierce determination. She raised her staff, the runes pulsing with a light.
Before he protests, she unleashes a torrent of fire, the flame coming to life with a sound that is almost like a scream. The flames danced in the air, the heat wrapping around them, distorting the shadow into grotesque shapes that writhe like maddened things. The fire surged to him, a lump of heat that threatened to consume everything in its path.
Erik didn't flinch, his body moved with a fluid grace, rendering all the flames astray. The experience that he had gained when he woke up in this body—Erik's body—served him well. The memories of the cold night, being chased by mercenaries, threatened by the fate to choose between life or death. This is nothing new to him.
Elria's attack grew intense. The ground beneath her feet cracked, as each spell became more stronger than before. Yet he moved fluidly to dodge all the flames coming after him, his body moving through the inferno, dancing between the intense heat. The flames roared past him, close enough to singe his clothes but not his body.
She stood still amidst the devastation, her chest heaving with exertion. Her staff, still gripped tight in her hands, pulsed faintly as she observed the absurdity. Her eyes—her eyes were fixated on Erik, her gaze was sharp and questioning.
Her gaze was focused on a single person—Erik, in his hand he held a single kitchen knife, a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding them. The sight of it was almost absurd, a grotesque parody of the battle that just unfolded. A bad joke to the girl that caused all the chaos.
She narrowed her eyes, her gaze was questioning the reality that appeared in front of her, "Are you mocking me?" She demanded. Her eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing as she studied him. "Do you think I am a fool to be trifled with?"
For a moment, silence emerged. Erik stood still, rooted in the spot. His gaze downwards as if in submission to the fate that bound him. His inner voice, a muted echo of despair, admitted the bitter truth. This knife... it is all I could afford—a thought of pointless rebuttal in front of her.
"Fine," she said, her voice trembling with a mixture of furry. The air around her shimmered, distorting like heat rising from a desert mirage. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of burning. The rune that lingered around her ignited, so brightly that the shadow itself screamed in agony.
"I will make you pull out your staff," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
The soil trembled in tremors, and soon a pillar of fire came out, bursting through the ground piercing. Erik moves his body, trying to avoid it but another spell coming toward him. A small explosion can be heard, crackling and shaking the ground as the ground and the spell makes an impact.
Time went by, and with tactical thinking, Elria successfully cornered Erik. But when the attack that was supposed to hit him went wrong, his figure disappeared, leaving behind a mirage. Her expression went awry. The unexpected had happened in front of her eyes—a movement that nobody could follow.
As she searched the figure, a gust of wind swept by, carrying a stench of iron. A horror beyond imagination, a feeling of death crawling creeping through her skin. A figure that she was searched, in an instant, as if ripped from the dream appeared next to her. His sudden presence defied the known laws of nature. The air itself warps and groans under the strain of his arrival.
With his hand gripping tightly to the knife, his body twisting mid-air. The blade pointed to her, it felt slow as if the time itself bent for her to savour the horror in front of her eyes. His eyes, filled with murderous intent scarred the tiny courage that she already had.
Before her eyes were pierced by the pointy knife, a pillar of flame erupted in front of her. A reflex of the fear of death, she is making a space for herself causing the men in front of her to retreat. Yet, his aggressiveness didn't subsided. He was running, chasing her shadow frantically.
The air thrummed, as though the forest itself recoiled from the unknown. Erik sprinted through the twisted grove, his feet crunching on the scorched ground and brittle roots. Behind him, arrow-shaped flames hissed, following his movement as he tried to dodge. They were glowing and writing like living things. Each projectile left trails of smoke in its wake, the scent of burned ozone and something organic clinging to the air, choking the atmosphere with its presence.
"Got you," she said, her voice was low but full of confidence. Yet for the second time, Erik escaped with an unknown method. He was gone as if ripping through the space itself.
Erik's gazes flickered to the kitchen knife in his hand, the edges glinting faintly in the hellish light. For a heartbeat, his expression betrayed nothing—no fear. Then with swift motion, he hurled his blade. Its blade spun end over end, a clumsy projectile that should have been laughable.
A flame erupted, covering her entire body with its heat. The knife struck the barrier—and for an instant, it fell to the ground with a thud.
When she focused, looking at the place where Erik was there. Erik was already gone. As if the space itself bends, and swallows his body. Elria's eyes widened as he materialized beneath her with his knife arcing upwards coating in a silver flash. She stumbled back, her heels caught on a fissure she'd carved into the earth a moment ago. The ground crumbled, and she fell hard as her staff slipped from her hands.
Before she could react, Erik was upon her. His knife hovered over his head, pointing its tip in front of her. The tips were trembling faintly—not from fear, but from residual energy that still lingered even after it was concluded. His eyes, cold and depthless, bore into hers.
"It's my win, Princess," he said
Her chest heaved, her nails digging into the soil. The forest has fallen eerily silent, the flames guttered out as though snuffed by an unseen hand. Shadow pooled around them, thick and restless.
Erik turned around, leaving her behind without saying anything. Elria, still on the ground only watching as his shadow blended with the forest as if he was swallowed by the forest itself.
When he was far enough from Elria's eyes. Erik halted, he stood still in silence.
"You can come out, Edna," said him, his voice was low yet clear.