Final Showdown 1

Solis stood at the edge of the broken clearing, sword clutched tightly in both hands. The once-pure sorrow that had held him paralyzed only moments ago was now fading, scorched away by the fire rising in his chest. Grief had cracked open something deeper within him. It wasn't despair that filled the void, but resolve.

He could no longer cry. His eyes had dried up. The warmth of Phill's final words lingered, like a flicker of sunlight behind storm clouds. But they didn't comfort him. They fueled him.

Rage was taking its place.

Solis's fingers tightened around the sword hilt, the blade humming faintly. The air around him trembled. He took a step forward.

Meanwhile, at the rear lines of the battlefield, Captain Colins barked orders. The remaining Postknights formed a rough perimeter around the injured.

"Careful with him — they are your juniors!" Colins ordered as two knights gently laid the boy down onto a makeshift stretcher. Vaidya was barely conscious, his left arm wrapped tightly in a bloodied cloth. Liara, a rank B Postknight who is an emergency medic of the squad, worked quickly to stop the bleeding.

"This girl is still breathing," Liara confirmed. "Pulse is weak. Probably suffered magical fatigue."

Colins cursed under his breath. He knelt beside Vaidya, speaking urgently but gently. "Junior Postknight Vaidya. Can you hear me? Can you talk?"

Vaidya's eyes fluttered. He winced, then managed to croak, "R...Raz..."

Colins leaned closer. "Razille? What about her? Where is she?"

"There... blast... I think... she was caught in it." Vaidya points his finger to a side.

Colins stood abruptly. "Selvine!"

The silver-haired scout appeared beside him in a flash. "Captain."

"Razille's missing. She was last seen near the east line of this blast zone. Find her. Now."

Selvine nodded without a word and vanished, moving like a shadow across the fractured terrain.

Colins turned back toward the front lines — only to catch sight of Solis looking at the chaos out there. And a sword in his hand which seems quite different from usual.

"Solis!" he called out, voice hard and commanding. "Get back here! This isn't safe for you. You need to return to the evacuation zone — right now!"

But his warning didn't reach.

Solis couldn't hear it — or perhaps he didn't want to. His senses were honed like blades. The only thing that existed in that moment was the battlefield — and Hamad.

And then it happened.

A surge — not from within Solis, but from the sword itself. The blade pulsed, releasing a wave of energy that pushed the dust and bloodied wind outward. Solis felt it course through him — strength, clarity, speed.

Like lightning, he dashed forward.

Colins watched in disbelief. "What the —?" He started running after him. "Follow him! Don't let him go alone!"

But even at full sprint, Colins couldn't keep up. Solis moved like a phantom wind.

As he raced across the battlefield, weapons flew — arrows, daggers, bolts of magic — some intentional, some accidental. But Solis didn't falter. His sword shifted with a life of its own, deflecting every strike. He moved with a fluid precision, the blade arcing in practiced sweeps while his stance stayed low, sword angled to his right side, holding it with both arms.

Cultists who tried to intercept him were dispatched with a single parried strike or knocked aside by the sheer force of his passing.

Further ahead, Karina and Hamad clashed in a whirlwind of magical might.

Karina's staff burned with ember runes, her breath coming fast but focused. She swept her hand across the air, conjuring a wave of searing flame that forced Hamad to leap back.

"Still got some fight left, girl?" Hamad sneered. Earthen spikes erupted beneath her feet.

Karina shifted her stance, summoning a gust of wind that lifted her clear just in time. "I'm not done yet, master." she spat, spinning mid-air and launching three spheres of flame at Hamad's chest.

Hamad batted two aside with an armoured stone gauntlet and let the third hit his shoulder. He staggered slightly, then growled. "You're becoming annoying."

He slammed both fists into the ground, sending a ripple through the battlefield. Cracks tore through the soil as stone pillars burst upward, targeting her flight path. Karina was forced to land awkwardly, her boot skidding across scorched ground.

She panted. Her magic reserves were wearing thin, and Hamad could see it.

"Your flame's fading," he taunted, stepping forward. "I'll bury you before it dies." Now Hamad conjures some stone golems with his magic.

Karina gritted her teeth, "Ah! Shit."

She planted her staff and muttered a rapid incantation. A ring of fire burst around her, blocking Hamad's next advance.

But then — a shadow flickered behind him.

Hamad sensed it too late.

Solis.

He tore through the flames with no hesitation, blade glowing faintly white. Hamad whipped around and thrust a hand outward, conjuring a towering barrier of compacted earth.

Solis didn't stop.

He roared as he brought the sword down — and with a thunderous crash, the blade shattered the barrier. The slabs of rock exploded outward, chunks flying in all directions.

Hamad stumbled back, shielding his face. "What—?!"

Solis stepped through the debris, his eyes burning with raw fury.

"You messed with the wrong person, Hamad," he growled. "You're going to pay for this."

The battlefield quieted for a heartbeat.

Then the wind rose.

The sword pulsed again — not blinding, but steady. A calm before the storm.

Hamad's jaw clenched. "You're just a boy!"

"No," Solis said, lifting the sword slightly. "I'm the one you'll regret ever crossing."

Hamad snarled and lunged, stone wrapping around his fists as he threw a crushing punch toward Solis's chest.

Solis moved like water — shifting aside and slamming his shoulder into Hamad's midsection, throwing him off-balance. He followed with a wide upward slash.

Hamad barely raised a stone shield in time. Sparks flew as metal met rock, and both were pushed back.

Behind them, Karina fought off the last of the summoned golems, flames crackling from her exhausted palms. She turned her eyes toward the two figures now locked in a deadly duel — and though her legs shook, she smiled faintly.

"Give him hell, boy..." she whispered.

And as the smoke coiled around the battleground, two wills clashed — one burning with rage, the other rooted in cruelty.

The final reckoning had begun.