Fritz crumpled to his knees.

The moment Kharvos tore free, Taylor was already moving—grabbing Fritz by the collar with her chains and hauling them backward as blood darkened the front of his armor.

"Jay—NOW!"

Jay skidded to his knees beside him, hands glowing as healing light poured into the wound, frantic and focused. Fritz gasped, choking once before the pain dulled enough for his breathing to steady.

Ryn didn't look back.

Because Kharvos was already coming.

Dheam's Hero surged forward with a roar, power flaring wildly around him. His movements were faster, stronger now, but the precision in each was gone. Each swing of his blade carved deep furrows into the metal floor, sending water spraying in violent arcs.

Amelia met him head-on.

Flames clashed against steel as she deflected the blow, heat rolling through the chamber in a concussive wave. Ryn slipped in immediately after, Snow flashing up to intercept the follow-through.

The impact nearly tore the sword from his hands.

Too strong.

But—

Kharvos overextended.

Amelia punished it, fire bursting across his side as Ryn twisted away. The smell of burned fur and blood filled the air.

Kharvos staggered.

Just for a fraction of a second.

Ryn saw it.

Blood was already soaking into the floor beneath him, a pitch black that wasn't the original crimson Ryn had expected.

The scientists were right. He did infuse himself with corrupted blood.

The realization landed.

This was not Peak Rank, not even anywhere close to it in fact.

It was more like…a rotting corpse forced to move.

Kharvos straightened anyway, muscles locking back into place as power surged through him again. Each breath he took sounded heavier now, strained, as if his body were fighting itself just to remain upright.

Every step left another dark smear behind him.

It was the same symptoms that he'd seen in Evernight beasts.

Corrupted blood burned hot, amplifying strength at the cost of everything else. It devoured its host from the inside out, trading longevity for pure power.

Kharvos charged again.

Ryn met him, briefly, just long enough to redirect the strike before slipping away. Amelia followed with fire, not to kill, but to force his swing.

To make him bleed.

Ryn's grip tightened.

That's the win condition.

He shifted his stance, breathing steadying as the fight narrowed into something precise and merciless.

"Amelia," he said quietly, eyes never leaving Kharvos. "Don't stop him."

She glanced at the spreading blood, then nodded once.

"Make him spend it."

Flames wrapped around her body as she kicked off the floor, heat spiraling upward as she twisted into the air.

Fire coiled behind her like wings as she spun, embers scattering in her wake. Ryn finally realized the rumors about her.

In his past life, he'd never been allowed near her during battle, or any soldier for that matter. But now, Ryn could see it clearly…her Blessing fit her like a glove.

The Flame Queen.

Kharvos snarled and raised his hand.

Compressed beams of pressurized water screamed upward, tearing through the steam-filled chamber with piercing shrieks.

Water Lance.

One missed Amelia by a hair's breadth, carving a molten groove through the ceiling plating before detonating in a burst of vapor.

She exhaled before twisting again, fire exploding outward as she hurled a wave of heat down on him.

Below her—

Ryn ran.

Dodging and weaving between the debris that littered around the chamber.

Left.

He shifted—

—and the water beam punched through the slab of stone that had been there an instant earlier, exploding into shards inches from his face.

Duck.

Ryn dropped into a slide as another lance screamed overhead, slicing clean through a chunk of metal and embedding itself into the far wall with a thunderous crack.

Ryn vaulted over shattered debris, weaving between cover that no longer mattered. The beams weren't slowing.

Because Kharvos himself was overcompensating.

He knew exactly what Kharvos was doing. He didn't care if he was going to live through this battle.

But why? What happened to those plans?

The answer came as another beam tore through the ground where Ryn would've landed.

Kharvos isn't fighting to win.

Ryn rolled to his feet, sprinting again as debris collapsed behind him.

He's buying time.

Ryn couldn't dwell on the thought.

Forward.

He dove—

—and the beam carved through the space he'd occupied a heartbeat ago, water shearing metal like paper.

Kharvos was bleeding faster now.

Black splashes marked every step, every overextended swing, every reckless surge of power.

The Hero was already dead. That much was obvious now. He wasn't guarding his life.

Then I won't wait, Ryn thought.

If Kharvos wanted an ending, Ryn would choose how it happened.

Aquila flared gold as he dashed.

He sprinted straight through the gap Kharvos didn't believe anyone would take.

Debris exploded around him as water lances tore through stone and steel, but Ryn was already gone—sliding, vaulting, twisting through collapsing cover as if the destruction was chasing a shadow.

The champion finally turned around to face Ryn.

But it was too late.

Ryn stood with his outstretched arm, finger spread. An arrow of light formed without a sound. Elegance compressed along its length, the bow string pulled back as Ryn anchored his stance.

[Orion - Fully Charged]

Then—he let go.

Light tore through the chamber, carving a perfect path through steam, water, and debris. The pressure wave followed a heartbeat later, ripping shattered stone from the floor as the arrow punched straight through Kharvos's back.

The Hero froze.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the power left him.

The condensed water beams faltered mid-air, collapsing into harmless spray as the glow around Kharvos's body flickered violently. His sword slipped from his grasp, striking the floor with a hollow clang that echoed far louder than it should have.

Kharvos staggered forward.

Black blood poured freely now, spilling from the wound in thick, inky sheets as his knees buckled.

The impact shook the chamber.

Water splashed outward in a wide ring as Kharvos Bloodmane collapsed face-first into the flooded floor, his body skidding a short distance before coming to rest.

Steam drifted slowly through the chamber as the chaos settled, broken only by the sound of water continuing to pour through the ceiling breach.

Ryn stood where he was, arm lowering slowly.

No victory cry or relief.

Just the quiet certainty that this fight was over.

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