Meaningless… Meaningless…
The words spiraled endlessly through Hailey's mind, overlapping and collapsing into one another as the world around her seemed to stretch thin. Ariel's blade hung before her, close enough that the frost creeping along its edge kissed her skin with a deadened cold. The sword hummed with divine intent, a sound that was neither sharp nor loud, yet heavy enough to press against her chest and steal her breath.
Everything is meaningless! Why live if you'll die? Why fight if you'll get hurt?
She could see everything at once.
Achilles was shouting—she could tell by the tension in his jaw and the fury in his eyes, though the sound reached her as if from underwater. Jules stood rigid, staff raised halfway, spell interrupted by sheer disbelief. Artorius' magic trembled in the air, half-formed and unstable. Cassia—small, shaking Cassia—had already turned away, boots slipping against the frost as she ran blindly from the throne room, her fear louder than any scream.
Ariel's gaze never left Hailey.
There was rage in his eyes, but it was not pure hatred. Beneath it lay grief so vast and ancient that it had long since curdled into something merciless. The weight of it bore down on her, as if she alone had been chosen to carry the sins of an entire world.
The blade fell.
Hailey moved without thinking. Her body twisted on instinct alone, driven by a will that refused to accept its own ending. The sword carved past her throat, tearing across her shoulder instead, divine frost burning through fabric and skin as she collapsed backward onto the frozen stone.
Pain followed—sharp, searing—but she was alive.
That was enough.
The moment shattered violently. Achilles crashed into Ariel with a roar, steel meeting divine metal in a scream of sparks. Jules dragged Hailey backward, muttering frantic incantations as Artorius unleashed a blast of fire that forced Ariel to stagger, if only by a single step.
It was never going to be enough.
Ariel answered with fury. His greatsword cleaved through stone and air alike, the force of it sending cracks racing across the throne room floor and scattering the party in every direction. The castle itself seemed to recoil, ancient walls groaning beneath the strain of divinity unleashed.
"Move!" Achilles shouted.
They ran.
Not with strategy. Not with order. They fled as prey, driven by instinct and terror, boots pounding against frost-slick stone as they tore through the ruined corridors. Broken statues blurred past—winged figures frozen mid-lament, their faces locked in eternal grief. Snow poured through shattered arches, and the faint hum of Ariel's presence followed relentlessly behind them.
Cassia ran ahead now, small form darting through side passages, sobs caught in her throat as she clutched her dagger like a lifeline. She did not look back. She could not.
Hailey's lungs burned as the cold air tore through her chest. Every step felt heavier than the last, yet Ariel never slowed. His armor shed frost and pale divine light with every movement, his footsteps echoing like judgment itself.
They burst through the castle gates and into the raging storm outside. The mountain wind screamed, snow lashing their faces as the steep path downward revealed itself beneath their feet. For one fleeting heartbeat, hope stirred within Hailey.
Then Ariel stepped out after them.
Unharmed. Unbroken.
"He'll follow us," Jules said hoarsely, the truth heavy in his voice. "Even if it kills him."
Achilles' jaw tightened. "Then we stop running."
The decision was instant and desperate. They turned as one.
The battle that followed was chaos incarnate. Steel rang against divine metal. Magic tore through the storm-lit air. Snow exploded with every impact. Hailey stayed back at first, heart hammering as she watched Achilles clash head-on with Ariel, watched Artorius pour spell after spell into armor that refused to yield, watched Jules dart between them, shielding and healing and shouting warnings that barely pierced the storm.
Cassia crouched behind a fallen pillar, hands clamped over her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Ariel did not spare her a glance. She was nothing to him. Less than nothing.
Hailey swallowed hard.
She refused to be the same.
She ran for the armory, half-buried beneath ice and rubble. Weapons lay scattered like the remains of a forgotten war. She grabbed a bow—simple, sturdy—and a quiver still half-full despite the cold. She returned to the fight and loosed arrow after arrow.
They shattered on impact.
Again and again.
The arrows did not wound him, but they slowed him. Barely. Enough.
Time blurred into a haze of burning muscles and ragged breath. Hailey lost count of how many times she drew the string. Her arms screamed in protest, her fingers numb and bleeding. Ariel's movements grew heavier, his swings less precise, his steps more deliberate.
Then it happened.
An arrow struck true, slipping into the joint behind his knee.
Ariel roared and crashed down, the ground fracturing beneath his weight.
For a moment, silence reigned.
Achilles laughed, the sound raw and disbelieving. "We did it."
Hailey's knees nearly gave out.
Ariel laughed too.
It was low and hollow, stripped of mirth. He rose again, dark blood shimmering as it ran down his leg. His eyes burned brighter than before.
He raised his hand.
A bell appeared—black, ancient, etched with symbols that made Hailey's vision swim.
He rang it.
The sound was soft, yet it reached everywhere at once.
From the depths of the castle came thunderous hooves. A massive steed emerged from the darkness, shadow given form, wings unfurling as it carried Ariel into the sky.
Hailey ran.
Down the mountain.
She did not look back until she felt it—the pressure of inevitability, the certainty of death descending upon her. Ariel hovered above, divine and terrible, a gargantuan spear of energy forming in his grasp, crackling with power that bent the storm itself.
He drew his arm back.
Hailey turned and raised her bow.
The quiver was empty.
Her hands trembled, but she did not lower it. Cyan light spilled from her eyes, pouring into the bowstring, shaping itself into an arrow born of mana and resolve alone.
The winter wind howled. The snowstorm swallowed the world. Ash and frost swayed together as everything beyond that moment faded into nothingness.
She stood alone.
A human before a god.
An ant standing before a lion.
Her resolve did not waver.
Ariel hurled the spear.
Hailey released the string.
This was it—a clash between man and god.