Ash drifted like snow through the ruined village. The sky glowed orange, heavy with smoke, every gust of wind carrying the bitter stench of burnt wood and blood. The fires had eaten most of the houses already, leaving only black skeletons of wood and stone. Beneath that choking haze, something vast stirred.
Hunnt and Alder stood side by side amid the wreckage, both breathing hard, armor blistered from the heat. Their boots sank slightly into the softened ground where molten rock had cooled just enough to stand on. The monster was still out there—its shadow moved through the haze like a living furnace. Every few seconds, the ground trembled under its slow, deliberate steps.
Then a sound broke through the roar of the flames—a small, human sound. A cough.
Hunnt's eyes snapped toward it. His blood ran cold.
A child. The same boy he had carried to safety earlier was creeping out from behind a collapsed hut. Tiny hands clutched a broken wooden charm as he peeked toward the battlefield. His wide eyes gleamed not with fear, but awe. He wanted to see the hunters who defied the monster.
Hunnt's voice cracked from the smoke. "No—stay back!"
The boy froze, eyes widening.
But it was too late. The air shifted. A low rumble rolled through the ground.
From the heart of the ruin, Glisarin Ignis rose.
Her molten wings unfurled with a sound like tearing metal, scattering burning embers across the sky. Her eyes—twin orbs of molten gold—locked on the tiny figure standing alone in the open. Recognition flashed there, followed by hatred. The same sound had woken her from her slumber days ago. That small cry had broken her peace.
And now, she would erase it.
Her roar shattered what was left of the silence. Heat burst outward like a wave, bending the air. Hunters miles away would later swear they felt it in their bones.
Hunnt broke into a sprint, shouting, "Run! Get out of here!"
The boy couldn't move. Terror rooted him to the spot.
But another figure moved faster.
Alder surged past Hunnt, his great sword dragging sparks as it scraped the ground. He didn't think. He couldn't. The years of hunts, screams, and ruined villages burned into instinct. There was no choice left to make.
The monster descended from the smoke like a falling sun, claws outstretched, wings flaring.
Alder planted his boots and swung his blade upward, both hands clenched tight. The weapon's edge glowed from the heat, veins of red spreading through the steel. He met the full force of her charge head-on, the shockwave exploding outward. Stone shattered. The earth caved.
"Don't stand there—RUN!" Alder's voice tore through the chaos, echoing over the storm. When the boy didn't move, he roared again, louder, until his voice cracked. "RUUUN!"
The child stumbled, then turned and ran, sobbing as he vanished behind the ruins.
Glisarin pressed harder, claws grinding against Alder's blade. His legs shook, armor melting where it touched her burning scales, but still he held. Sparks fell around him like rain. "Not this time," he muttered through clenched teeth, forcing the blade upward with every last ounce of strength.
For one heartbeat, man and monster clashed as equals.
Then the Glisarin shrieked and twisted her body. Her tail swept around in a blazing arc. Hunnt saw it too late.
The tail struck Alder's chest like a boulder of molten iron. The sound cracked through the air—a single, horrible note. Metal crumpled. The world seemed to slow as Alder's body was flung backward, trailing smoke and sparks.
He crashed through the remains of a wall and slid across the ground, coming to rest near the edge of the square. His great sword tumbled from his grasp, embedding itself in the dirt several paces away. When he stopped moving, the only sound was his ragged breathing.
Hunnt ran. The air burned his lungs, but he didn't care. "Alder!"
He dropped beside him, boots sinking in ash. Alder's chestplate was crushed inward, the steel folded like paper. Blood soaked his tunic beneath it. He coughed, crimson spilling down his chin, and tried to laugh but only managed a rasping breath.
"Still… hurts less than I thought," he whispered, voice faint but calm.
"Don't move," Hunnt said, his tone sharp, the edge of command cutting through his fear.
Alder ignored him, eyes searching. "The kid?"
"Safe," Hunnt replied.
Alder smiled weakly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "Good. Then it's worth it."
"Stay still," Hunnt repeated, gripping his shoulder. "You've done enough."
Alder's hand twitched, reaching toward the ground until his fingers brushed the hilt of his fallen weapon. His grip tightened, but his arm trembled too much to lift it. "Not yet… can't… stop now."
Hunnt forced the blade upright beside him. "You'll have it when you can stand."
Alder chuckled dryly, a ghost of his old grin flashing through the blood and soot. "You're a stubborn one."
"Guess I learned from you."
A shadow fell across them both. The air thickened again. The temperature rose so fast the ground began to glow.
Glisarin circled back through the haze, her massive form shimmering behind waves of heat. The molten light in her chest pulsed like a second heartbeat. Her eyes locked onto the two men—one broken, one defiant.
Alder's fingers clenched weakly around Hunnt's wrist. "Don't… let her near them," he murmured. "No one left to lose."
Hunnt rose slowly, his shadow stretching across Alder's body. The air rippled around him, every movement precise and deliberate. His fists clenched, the scorched steel of his gauntlets creaking.
He stood between Alder and the monster, the last barrier left.
Glisarin growled, flame leaking from the cracks along her body. The sound was low at first, like a mountain groaning, then rose into a scream that split the burning sky. The ground trembled under her steps as she charged again, wings cutting through the smoke.
Hunnt's stance didn't break. His eyes were steady. His breath slow.
Behind him, Alder exhaled, blood bubbling on his lips, a whisper escaping between his teeth. "You better make this count…"
The Glisarin's roar drowned everything.
Hunnt didn't move.
The fire washed over the field, swallowing the world in light.
And in that moment, between life and death, Hunnt stood alone—unmoving, unyielding—the last line between the monster and the dying man behind him.