The Forsaken Hero

As the sheets of flames enveloped me, a surge of adrenaline-fueled my instincts. My soul pulsed with the unyielding strength of Adaptive Resistance, overpowering the Demon Mage’s spell. The blinding inferno obscured my vision, but I could sense that the Mirror Sphere had also survived, and I exhaled in relief.

Explosions echoed, each more deafening than the last, but they soon faded into nothingness. The two demons, their widened eyes full of astonishment, hesitated. In the eerie silence that followed, the Mirror Sphere released a discordant vibration, and a torrent of magic ruptured its surface, shooting concentrated jets toward the Mage.

”Impossible!” the mage stammered, taking an instinctive step back and summoning a magic shield.

The barrier shattered on impact as the reflected meteor spell engulfed the mage in a shower of light and flame. His agonizing screech pierced through the air, briefly interrupting the intense showdown between Soltair, Trithe, and the Flame Commander. The awful keen persisted, grating on my pointed ears until it dwindled into a faint whimper. As the consuming flames subsided, even the feeble cry vanished.

The mage’s companion was the first to break the silence, staring at the smoldering corpse. ”Wha-?”

Fyren shot me a surprised look before seizing the opportunity to taunt, ”Not as immune to fire you thought, eh? Consider it a life lesson.”

With a wicked grin, he lunged at the demon, his broadsword cutting through the air. Sword lights erupted from his wide swing, tearing at the demon’s scales, causing it to gasp in pain as it evaded the relentless strikes.

Soltair’s cry echoed through the cavern, followed by a tremendous blast of light. My heart raced at the desperation in his voice, and I turned toward him. He launched a series of feverish attacks on the Flame Commander, blasting it with sun magic whenever it tried to win space. Trithe lay crumpled nearby, clutching at her stomach. Her blood gushed through her fingers, evaporating in hisses of scarlet steam as it flowed passed her Fire Shield.

”Trithe!” I cried, rushing to her side. Waves of light radiated from Soltair, but I resisted their might with Adaptive Resistance. I reached Trithe, finding her pale and writhing in pain, blood staining her lips. I grasped her blood-soaked hand and examined her wound.

A short hiss escaped me as I beheld the mangled flesh just beneath her ribcage. For the first time, I truly appreciated the size difference between ourselves and the demons we fought. Although it seemed it only caught her with the tip of its claw, the slight blow ended up almost completely disembowling her. Her seductive leather armor, which exposed her midriff, had finally taken its toll.

”Hang on,” I muttered, squeezing her hand firmly. I threaded mana through my staff, casting Restoration. Green light enveloped her, knitting her broken flesh together. She gasped and squeezed my hand tightly as the spell worked for several seconds.

When the spell’s effects subsided, only a thin white scar remained, running from her sternum to her hip. She collapsed, covered in blood and sweat, taking shallow, shaky breaths. Her eyes parted in cloudy slits, pupils dilating unevenly as she tried to focus on me.

”F-filthblood?” She murmured weakly, barely hanging on to consciousness. I brushed her slur aside and summoned a small Waterball, threading a stream of water through her lips. She coughed the water touched her parched throat, and eagerly swallowed as her body welcomed the fluid.

Assured she’d be alright, I stood and scanned the battlefield when a sudden spell of dizziness nearly knocked me off my feet. Leaning on my staff, I regained my balance and realized I’d expended an enormous amount of mana. I dimly recalled the hundreds of third-circle Fire Shields I cast on the soldiers, which had felt so long ago I’d completely forgotten about it.

”Are you alright?” Fyren’s deep voice rumbled in my ears. He rested on his sword just a few feet away, face painted with concern.

Nodding, I glanced over his shoulder and found the demon’s corpse disintegrating in the volcanic winds. ”Sorry for leaving you,” I began, glancing down at Trithe.

”No need to apologize. Saving your companions is only natural,” he replied, then turned up to Soltair. ”Do you think we should help him?”

We both watched as Soltair continued his frenzied assault. The Flame Commander wasn’t one to go down easily, but his power should have only been around the other demons we fought. If Fyren had already killed one, then didn’t that mean...?

”It’s fine. I doubt he’d want our help anyway.”

In just a few minutes, both Soltair and the demon were gasping for breath. I shifted nervously as his body began to glow, and a series of magic circles materialized above his head.

”Sunstrike!”

His feral cry signaled the casting of a fifth-circle spell, launching a side beam of light at the demon. The Flame Commander attempted to evade, but the spell was too swift, swallowing him up in a flash of blinding brilliance. He screeched in agony, recoiling from the sunbeam and dropping to one knee. Flashes of light blazed on his body like static fire, neither burning nor vanishing.

”Sunpurge,” Fyren whispered, his voice hiding a respectful fear.

Soltair advanced, his chest heaving with exhaustion. Despite the volcanic heat, his eyes gleamed with the icy chill of an executioner. A shiver of unease crept down my spine to the tip of my tail as he raised his hand and began casting another spell.

”Die,” he spat, his voice buried beneath the rising storm of mana accompanying the seven magic circles rotating above him.

”Soltair! Wait!” I cried, recognizing the familiar spell. That was a wide-scale destruction spell, and the entire chamber was in range!

Grasping the last remnants of my mana, I squeezed out a final spell. ”Link Ability!

Through my mastery of the spell, I looped both Trithe and Fyren, bringing our souls together. As Soltair’s Solar Flare coalesced at the top of the dome-like ceiling, I anchored Adaptive Resistance to our group. The Shard of Omniscience had set it at fifth level, far from enough to withstand the full might of a seventh-circle spell, but I had no other choices. Fyren stooped down and picked up Trithe, laying her on his shoulder before wrapping his other arm around me. As he jumped, Link Ability resolved, a heartbeat before the column of light descended. As our souls brushed together, my body and mind were swept up in a storm of lustful rage. Fyren was an incomprehensible tangle of raw emotion, held in check by a fragile magical restraint.

The chaotic maelstrom of passion was overwhelming, but its power was forgotten the blast of Sun Magic struck us from behind. Black spots danced before my eyes as we crashed into the ground, and a harsh ringing filled my ears. My entire body was as though I had been dipped in molten lava, but Fyren’s armored form had shielded me from the worst of it.

When the blinding light finally dissipated, the entire dungeon quaked. Struggling to stand, I collapsed onto my staff and looked around. My skin was blistered, blackened, and bright red in places, but survivable. Fyren’s armor seemed to have protected him from the worst of the burns, but bore several scorch marks on his exposed neck and joints. Trithe was relatively unscathed, with only a few red blotches and blisters.

Turning around, I held back a surprised gasp. A jagged crater surrounded the space where the Flame Commander had once stood. The Gate Core, which had been just behind him, had vanished, undoubtedly consumed in the Solar Flare. White spatial tears appeared a few moments later, crackling outward at a slow but consistent pace. Soltair knelt on the ground, bent over and heaving, his sword on the ground beside him.

After a few heavy breaths, his hand stretched out to take his sword and he looked up. The hate and violence slowly left his eyes, replaced with a horrified realization.

”Trithe!” he called, staggering to his feet and running over to us.

”S-she’s fine,” I panted wearily, trying, but failing, to get to my feet once more.

The Sun Hero took her from Fyren, cradling her in his arms with all the love he had once shown me. ”I’m so sorry,” he croaked, voice choked with emotion. ”I should have been faster...”

I turned to find Fyren’s eyes on me, a cunning glint briefly passing through them before he sheathed his sword. ”No time for tears. The Gate is collapsing.”

The white rifts continued to spread, exuding an oppressive sense of impending catastrophe. Soltair nodded, scrubbing his arm across his eyes before gathering Trithe in his arms. I felt Fyren’s arm on my shoulder, and I gratefully leaned on him. Each step sent sharp jolts of pain through my body and soul, but together we managed to leave the Gate Core’s chamber and reach the primary battlefield.

Almost all the demons had been destroyed by this point, joined by a small minority of human soldiers, but I didn’t have the energy to spare mourning. The commanders crowded around us, asking what had transpired, but my vision grew hazy, and my staff slipped from my grasp, dissolving into a shimmering swirl of stars. Fyren’s strong arms caught me as I staggered, and I rested my head on his armored bicep, fighting the darkness that crept on the edges of my vision. My soul was exhausted, and I had succumbed to lesser injuries, yet I couldn’t allow myself this weakness. Although I rested on Fyren, I knew in my heart I had to learn to stand on my own two feet.