Arthur took a slow step forward, each movement literally melting the ground beneath his feet. He exhaled—and even that warped the air around him.
"You played with time," he said, voice calm, but heavy enough to make bones feel like stone. "Now watch me burn it away."
Rael's fists clenched.
For the first time, he looked... unsure.
Then Arthur moved.
No warmups. No buildup.
Just war.
The manor? Gone. In its place was a broken battlefield scorched beyond recognition. The sky overhead twisted and bent, like reality was trying to nope out of whatever was happening down below.
Arthur stood in the center, wrapped in golden-red flames that didn't just burn—they distorted. He didn't feel human anymore. The Eyes of Wrath had gone full send, and with them came something terrifying.
He wasn't just burning things anymore.
He was burning existence.
Rael stood opposite—bloodied, armor cracked, silver hair a mess. The smugness was gone. Just calculation. And under it? A flicker of fear.
"You're different now," Rael muttered, wiping blood from his lip. "This power… it shouldn't exist."
Arthur rolled his shoulders. The heat around him shimmered like a hallucination. "Neither should yours. But hey—life's weird."
Rael's jaw clenched. He flicked his wrist.
Time stopped.
Everything froze. Air. Embers. Sound. Gone.
Except Arthur.
Rael's pupils widened. "No."
Arthur stepped forward.
That step shattered the stillness like glass. Cracks split across frozen time. The air caught fire.
Rael jumped back. Time resumed the moment he moved.
Arthur was already in his face. Fist cocked. Fire roaring.
Rael barely dodged. He stopped time again—
—but flames surged mid-stop.
Time itself started to burn.
Rael's eyes widened. The concept of frozen time was burning.
Too late.
Arthur hit him.
Fist met face.
But the impact wasn't just physical. It smashed through space, time, logic. A shockwave tore through the world. Rael blurred through multiple dimensions before slamming into the earth like a meteor.
Rael choked. Even his demonic healing couldn't keep up.
Arthur was already above him. No pause. No warning.
Rael stopped time again—but this time he moved. Fast. Faster than ever. His domain. His rules.
He slipped behind Arthur and drove a punch into his ribs.
When time resumed, the impact landed like a warhead. Arthur skidded back—
—but didn't flinch. Didn't blink. His body was a living furnace. Pain didn't mean anything.
Rael growled. "Fine."
He raised both hands.
Time compressed.
Reality around Arthur crunched. The air got so heavy it felt like centuries were slamming down on him.
Arthur took a breath.
And let the fire go.
Time compression? Incinerated.
Rael's face twisted. "Damn you!"
They clashed again—blow for blow. Speed and force that shredded the sky.
Rael kept trying: freezing time, skipping forward, forcing old injuries to resurface.
Arthur burned through everything.
Every trick Rael had?
Worthless.
Because this wasn't just fire.
This was absolute.
It didn't burn.
It erased.
Rael's healing slowed. His body failed. He started to lag.
Then he hesitated.
Arthur didn't.
One step. One punch.
Fist to chest.
Flames ignited.
Rael screamed—not from pain, but from erasure. His body didn't burn. It stopped existing.
He tried to stop time—burned.
Tried to teleport—burned.
Tried to survive—flames said no.
Then he was gone.
No body. No ash.
Just gone.
Arthur stood in the silence, flames dimming. The battlefield cracked and glowing.
He exhaled.
It was over.
Rael—the half-demon of time—erased.
And Arthur?
He wasn't just a fighter anymore.
He was something else.
Something dangerous.
For the first time—
He wondered what would happen if he lost control.
Everything was still. Just the hiss of scorched ground. A few stubborn embers popping beneath Arthur's boots.
Rael? Nothing left.
Arthur stood there, chest rising slow. No pain. Just silence.
Then—
"...Arthur?"
Camila.
She stood at the edge of the blast zone. Pale. Wind-tossed. Eyes wide.
She hadn't seen the fight.
But she could feel it.
Arthur turned. Even that simple movement looked... off. Like his body was lagging behind whatever he'd become.
Camila's eyes scanned the wreckage. The twisted sky. The heat-bent air. "What happened?"
Arthur didn't speak right away.
Then:
"Rael's gone. Burned away. Completely."
Camila stepped closer. "Burned… away?"
He looked at his hand. Flames danced slow over his fingers. Controlled.
"I hit the second stage of the Eyes of Wrath," he said. "And with it came something new. Absolute Burning."
Camila sucked in a breath.
She'd heard of it.
But this?
Seeing it?
Feeling it?
Different.
"What does that mean?"
Arthur looked past her. At the cracked sky. The wounded land.
"It means I can burn anything. Not just flesh. Not just the world. Time. Space. Existence."
He met her eyes.
"Rael stopped time. I burned through it. He tried to exist… I burned that too."
Camila's stomach turned.
She trusted him.
But now?
She could see it in his face.
He didn't trust himself.
She reached out. Placed a hand on his arm.
He was warm. Too warm. But steady.
"You're still you," she whispered.
Arthur didn't answer. Just gave a small nod.
Deep down, he knew—
This power wasn't a gift.
It was a burden.
And one day?
It might break him.
But not today.
"We still need to find Amelia," he said.
Camila nodded.
They walked forward. Together.
And for the first time since it started—
Arthur wondered if anything could stop him.
Or if nothing could.
—
The ruins disappeared behind them. Swallowed by night. The air still stank of scorched stone and leftover magic. But they didn't stop.
They had one job left.
Find Amelia.
An underground tunnel led them deeper. The walls closed in. The lanterns flickered like they were scared to stay lit. The deeper they went, the more the air fought them. Like even the space didn't want them here.
Then—they found it.
A massive chamber. Strange machinery. Wires everywhere, humming.
At the center?
A containment tube. Full of glowing fluid.
Inside—
Amelia.
Her silver hair floated around her like she was underwater. Eyes closed. Still. Wires in her back.
Camila gasped, running forward. "Amelia!"
She slapped the glass. "She's alive… but what is this?"
A slow, mocking clap echoed.
They turned.
Miguel.
Leaning on a control panel like this was his living room. Hair slicked back. Golden eyes. Smug as hell.
"Congrats," he said, grinning. "Took you long enough."
Arthur's jaw clenched. "Miguel."
Miguel spread his arms. "I was starting to think you got lost."
Camila stepped forward, sword drawn. "Why are you doing this?"
Miguel rolled his eyes. "Oh please. It's all been leading here. Amelia. Rael. Your shiny new power-up upstairs." He looked Arthur over. "Props, by the way. That was wild. Didn't expect that kind of evolution. You sins keep surprising me."
Arthur stepped forward, flames curling. "What are you doing to her?"
Miguel sighed. "Always so dramatic. Fine. Since you made it this far."
He flicked a switch. Monitors lit up—vitals, energy readings. All connected to Amelia.
Camila's eyes narrowed. "What is this?"
Miguel smiled. "Years of work. Amelia's not just anyone. She's the key."
Arthur's voice dropped. "Key to what?"
Miguel tapped the glass. "Breaking the boundary between realms."
Silence.
Camila shook her head. "No. That's not possible. The veil—"
"Is fragile," Miguel said. "Wars have cracked it. Amelia—" He gestured to the tube. "—can shatter it. Her bloodline makes her perfect."
Arthur's face hardened. "You're tearing reality open."
Miguel beamed. "Exactly. And with Rael gone? I don't have to hold back."
Camila's grip on her sword tightened. "He thought he was in charge."
Miguel scoffed. "Half-demons think power equals control. He played his part. But I? I wrote the script."
His eyes locked on Arthur. "I'm the mastermind."
Arthur's fists ignited. "Let her go."
Miguel raised an eyebrow. "Or what?"
Golden-red fire flared. The ground blackened.
Miguel whistled. "There it is."
Camila stepped beside Arthur, blade ready.
"We're not letting you use her."
Miguel sighed like a teacher disappointed in his students.
"I thought you'd see the big picture."
The room rumbled.
Amelia's containment tube pulsed.
Her eyes glowed faintly—caught between sleep and waking.
Miguel just stood there. Arms crossed. Calm.
Like he already knew how this would end.