Choose your battles wisely. After all, life isn't measured by how many times you stood up to fight. It's not winning battles that makes you happy, but it's how many times you turned away and chose to look into a better direction. Life is too short to spend it on warring. Fight only the most, most, most important ones, let the rest go.
JoyBell C. :
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"Yes Breaking reality. And you…" His chuckle was low, "Ha ha ha… You broke it with that last attack. Truly, you are incredible."
The rules had changed. The battlefield was gone. And she had no idea what was coming next.
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"You know," the boy began, his voice steady, yet laced with a teasing edge, "for that beautiful attack… I think I'll return the favor with something of mine."
An attack.
Her breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in like a stone. Would she even survive what was coming? The cold, oppressive atmosphere pressed against her skin, creeping deeper into her very bones.
But instead of despair, a strange emotion coursed through her veins—exhilaration.
It was twisted, reckless, but undeniably there. A spark of defiance, a raw eagerness to meet whatever end awaited her, as long as it was on her own terms. She would not crumble in fear. She would not kneel.
The regret of submission was something she refused to allow herself to feel.
Her hands moved instinctively, the fractured space bending to her will as new rings of fire began to form around her. Massive and glowing, they mirrored the ones she had summoned before, but this time, her strength faltered.
She could only conjure three, maybe four.
Her power felt stretched, pulled thin like a thread about to snap. Yet she refused to give up. What she lacked in quantity, she poured into intensity. Each ring burned hotter, brighter, thrumming with energy that threatened to tear apart the very fabric of the Fracture.
This would be her final stand.
Her resolve hardened, and with an almost primal scream, she unleashed her attack.
The rings began to shrink, collapsing in on themselves with blinding speed and ferocity. The air around them crackled, warping under the sheer force of their energy. Blocking them should have been impossible. They were too fast, too devastating, too final.
This was everything she had left, a strike meant to obliterate.
But as the rings closed in, about to collide with the boy and vaporize him in an instant…
"tick"
They didn't strike.
They stopped.
Hovering mere inches from their target, the fiery rings hung suspended, their unstoppable force suddenly neutralized. The air grew colder, the temperature plummeting in an instant.
And then she saw it.
Her flames had been intercepted—halted by another set of rings.
These rings weren't hers.
They were his.
Burning with the same ethereal blue fire that encased his hands, his rings surrounded hers, matching their power but exuding an unshakable calm. Where her flames raged uncontrollably, his burned with an almost serene intensity, as if mocking her desperation.
She stared, wide-eyed, as her attack—her final stand—hung powerless, caged within his blue inferno.
His flames hadn't just stopped hers.
They had consumed them.
"Well, this isn't the attack I was talking about," the boy said calmly, his gaze unwavering as it locked onto the girl. Her fiery eyes, wide with confusion and something akin to admiration, met his.
She didn't respond, her voice caught somewhere between disbelief and silence.
"It is what it is," he continued with a shrug, as though the grand spectacle around them was merely another trivial moment in his day.
And then it happened.
More than a thousand blue rings of fire materialized around her, each one burning with a mesmerizing, ethereal glow. They encircled her in perfect harmony, their motion fluid yet deliberate, like a dance of inevitability. The sight was as beautiful as it was terrifying.
She barely had time to react. Before she could summon her will to fight back, it was over.
There was no pain. No anguish.
Instead, there was only stillness, a quiet acceptance that washed over her like a gentle wave. Relief settled in her chest—if this was her end, at least it wasn't agonizing. A painful demise would have been unbearable.
Her thoughts drifted to the battle, the choices she had made, the strength she had summoned in her final moments.
Was it enough? Was it worthy of her?
Yes. It absolutely was.
As her body began to dissolve into the infinite void of the Fracture, her lips parted one last time. A whisper escaped, soft but resolute, her final words carrying the weight of her resolve.
"Thank you."
And then, she disintegrated.
Her ashes, delicate and weightless, scattered into the emptiness, on the verge of being lost forever in the fractured space.
But he didn't let that happen.
The boy reached out, his hand steady and deliberate. The blue flames surrounding him flickered gently, as if in reverence, as he carefully gathered her remains.
"Guess I'll bury her," he murmured, his voice quiet but laden with a rare note of respect. "She's earned that much."
He stood there for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the fractured space, now eerily still. It wasn't remorse that filled him, but something else—perhaps an acknowledgment of her strength, her determination.
Without another word, he turned and began his departure.
The fractured world faded behind him as he returned to the open plane where their battle had first begun, leaving only the memory of the fight—and the girl's unyielding spirit—etched into the void.
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As the boy emerged from the Fracture, he found himself standing amidst the remnants of their battlefield. The land was in utter ruin, a desolate wasteland scarred by destruction. The ground was scorched black, deep fissures ran like veins across the earth, and the horizon was ablaze with flickering fires.
His eyes swept across the devastation, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he raised a hand toward the sky. Blue flames flickered to life in his palm, swirling upward in a mesmerizing spiral.
The air began to shimmer, and a moment later, the heavens answered his silent call. Clouds gathered, dark and brooding, their heavy forms swirling ominously. Then, in stark contrast to the fiery chaos below, snow began to fall.
Soft, delicate flakes drifted down, blanketing the scorched earth in a veil of white. The biting cold subdued the lingering flames, smothering their destructive heat bit by bit. The once-chaotic landscape grew quiet, the harsh cries of fire replaced by the gentle whispers of snowfall.
Yet, something felt wrong.
The boy's gaze lingered on the land, his sharp eyes noticing the scars that remained etched into the earth. The battlefield showed no signs of healing. It was unusual.
Before, the ground would restore itself, erasing the aftermath of destruction as if it had never happened.
But not this time.
Still, he didn't dwell on it. His focus shifted to the floating ashes cradled in his hands.
The remains.
With a flick of his finger, the ground trembled beneath him. The earth parted slowly, creating a makeshift simple grave. He knelt down, cradling the ashes with both hands.
Then, with quiet care, he scattered them into the open earth. The blue flames around him flickered softly, their glow subdued, almost reverent, as if paying their own tribute.
Once the ashes were laid to rest, he closed the grave, the snow settling gently atop the freshly turned soil.
He remained kneeling for a moment longer, his head bowed in silent prayer. No words passed his lips, but the stillness of the moment carried the weight of his intent. Whatever he prayed for—atonement, peace, or simple respect—was his alone to know.
When the ritual was complete, he rose to his feet.
His steps were light on the snow-dusted ground, the landscape behind him fading into a silent memory. He walked toward the distant horizon, unshaken by the bitter cold, his figure shrinking against the vast, empty sky.
Another chapter had closed, and somewhere ahead, a new one waited to begin….
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50 Power stones for an extra chapter.
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