Two hundred soldiers thundered across the snow.
Hooves pounding like war drums.
Hearts racing with the knowledge that most would not return.
Every soldier knowing this was likely their last ride.
Roy led the vanguard, fire already blazing around him—not constructs, not techniques, just raw flames wreathing his entire body.
Phoenix shapes screaming through the air, burning paths through the Berserker lines.
"BREAK THROUGH!" he roared, his voice carrying over the chaos. "DON'T STOP FOR ANYTHING! NOT FOR THE WOUNDED! NOT FOR THE FALLEN! FORWARD!"
Behind him, Michel's Knights formed a perfect wedge formation.
Kar'eth cavalry flanking them, their northern warhorses bred for exactly this kind of madness.
Arden and Elara riding near the center, ready to support where needed.
The Berserker army reacted with shocking speed.
Drums beating in coordinated patterns.
Warriors forming defensive lines with practiced efficiency.
But they were too slow.
Three centuries of victories had made them confident.
Arrogant.
They didn't expect prey to charge straight at the hunter.
The assault force hit them like a hammer through glass.
Roy's fire constructs struck first—massive phoenixes made of golden flame that exploded on impact.
Berserkers screaming as they burned, their War Essence disrupted by the intensity of the heat.
Then the Knights crashed through the opening.
Michel at the tip of the wedge, his blade moving so fast it was almost invisible.
Every strike killed.
Every movement perfectly calculated.
Steel meeting corrupted flesh.
Blood spraying across white snow, steaming in the cold air.
"KEEP MOVING!" Michel shouted, his voice carrying that edge of command that made soldiers obey without thinking.
"DON'T LET THEM SURROUND US! FORWARD! ALWAYS FORWARD!"
The cavalry pushed deeper into enemy territory.
Cutting through Berserker formations like a spear through flesh.
Roy's fire clearing the path ahead, consuming everything it touched.
But the Berserkers were recovering from their surprise.
Beginning to coordinate with frightening efficiency.
War Essence flaring as hundreds of warriors channeled power simultaneously.
The air itself shimmering with corrupted mana.
Converging on the charge from all sides.
"WE NEED MORE SPEED!" Voss called out, sending a wave of fire to their left flank where Berserkers were trying to flank them.
"THEY'RE CLOSING THE GAP!"
Arden saw it happening with terrible clarity.
The Berserkers forming walls of bodies, shields locked together.
Trying to trap them in a killing zone.
Slow them down.
Grind them to nothing through attrition.
We're not going to make it through. Not at this rate.
A massive Berserker champion—nine feet tall, covered in bone armor that pulsed with War Essence—stepped into their path.
Roaring challenge that shook the air.
War Essence radiating from it like a furnace, so intense Arden could feel it from fifty feet away.
Lesser soldiers would have frozen.
Would have faltered.
Roy didn't slow.
Didn't hesitate.
Just lowered his head and charged straight at it.
"OUT OF MY WAY!"
Fire exploded from his entire body in a corona of golden-white flame.
Not constructs this time.
Not techniques with fancy names.
Just pure, overwhelming fire drawn from the absolute depths of his mana reserves.
His sword blazing white-hot, the metal screaming from the heat.
The Berserker champion swung a massive war axe wreathed in crimson War Essence—
Roy met it head-on.
The impact created a shockwave that knocked nearby Berserkers off their feet.
The ground cracking beneath them.
Snow vaporizing in a twenty-foot radius.
For a moment, they were locked together.
Champion's axe against Roy's blazing sword.
War Essence against Integration fire.
Then the champion's axe shattered.
The bone armor cracking.
Roy's blade continuing through to cleave the monster from shoulder to hip.
Black blood spraying.
The champion collapsed, dead before it hit the ground.
Roy didn't even slow down.
Just kept charging forward, leaving burning corpses in his wake.
Fire trailing behind him like a comet's tail.
He's not holding back anymore, Arden realized with growing dread.
Whatever reserves he had—whatever limits he usually maintains—he's abandoning all of it.
He's burning everything. Every ounce of mana. Every scrap of power.
Like a man who knows he won't need it tomorrow.
They pushed deeper into enemy territory.
Three hundred yards from the Flame-Crowned's position.
Two hundred and fifty.
Bodies piling up behind them—Berserker and human alike.
But the Berserkers were adapting with frightening speed.
More champions appearing from the ranks.
Coordinating their assault with tactical precision.
War Essence forming barriers to slow the charge, walls of corrupted power.
"WE'RE LOSING MOMENTUM!" a Wire Knight shouted, desperation creeping into his voice.
It was true.
The cavalry was slowing despite their best efforts.
Berserkers swarming from all sides like ants overwhelming prey.
Dozens of soldiers falling with every passing second.
Dragged from horses by corrupted hands.
Overwhelmed by sheer numbers and War Essence.
"REFORM!" Michel commanded, his voice still steady despite the chaos. "TIGHTEN THE FORMATION! PROTECT YOUR FLANKS!"
They condensed into a smaller wedge.
More defensible.
But slower.
Much slower.
The Flame-Crowned's position still one hundred yards away.
Might as well have been miles for all the good it did them.
Roy pulled ahead of the main group.
Alone.
Separating from the formation deliberately.
Fire blazing around him so intensely the snow within twenty feet melted instantly, turning to steam.
The ground beneath his feet charring black.
"VOSS!" Michel called out, alarm clear in his voice. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"WHAT I CAME HERE TO DO!" Roy shouted back without looking. "KEEP THE OTHERS ALIVE! THAT'S AN ORDER, MICHEL!"
"YOU STUBBORN—"
"IT'S BEEN AN HONOR!" Roy interrupted. "TELL THEM I WENT OUT FIGHTING! TELL THEM IT WAS LEGENDARY!"
He accelerated.
His horse screaming—an awful sound—as he pushed it beyond normal limits, beyond what any mount should endure.
Berserkers trying to stop him, forming walls of flesh and steel—
Burned to ash before they could get close.
Roy's fire wasn't normal anymore.
Wasn't even natural.
It was consuming.
Devouring War Essence and corrupted mana like fuel, feeding on the very power meant to stop it.
Growing hotter with every enemy it touched.
Growing stronger with every death.
Fourth-stage peak pushing toward something beyond.
Fifty yards from the Flame-Crowned.
Forty.
Thirty.
The Overlord finally moved.
Rose from his throne of bones and skulls, standing to his full twelve-foot height.
His crown of fire burning brighter, responding to the challenge.
Stared at Roy with something like... curiosity.
Interest.
Like a predator noticing prey that dared to bare its teeth.
"You dare approach me alone?" The voice wasn't a roar.
It was calm. Almost conversational.
Spoken in perfect Imperial Common with an accent that predated the Empire itself.
"I am the Flame-Crowned. I have ruled these mountains for three centuries. I have destroyed fifteen armies. Broken nine fortresses. Killed forty-seven heroes whose names echo in legend."
He took a step forward, and the ground cracked beneath his weight.
"I have bathed in the blood of dragons. Consumed the flames of the Fell God himself. Transcended the limitations of mortality."
Another step.
"And you are...?"
Roy didn't respond immediately.
Just dismounted twenty feet away with deliberate slowness.
His horse collapsing immediately, pushed past its limits, foam at its mouth.
Dead or dying.
Roy walked forward through the corpse-strewn battlefield.
Fire blazing around him in a corona that rivaled the Overlord's crown.
His armor scorched black.
His face covered in burns and blood.
But his eyes clear.
Focused.
Unafraid.
"Roy Voss," he said finally. "Rangers. Fourth-stage peak Integration user."
He smiled—sharp and deadly and completely genuine.
"And the man who's going to kill you."
The Flame-Crowned stared at him for a long moment.
Then laughed.
Deep and resonant, echoing across the battlefield.
Not mocking.
Appreciative.
"Fourth stage. Peak, you say. Impressive for a human. Most never reach that stage." The Overlord's burning eyes studied him. "I can see why. Your mana control is exceptional. Your fire burns true. You have talent."
He gestured with one massive hand.
"Join me. Abandon these weaklings. I will teach you to transcend your mortal limits. To steal divine fire as I did. To become eternal."
"You would make a fine lieutenant. Better than these mindless Berserkers. Together, we could conquer kingdoms. Burn cities. Reshape the world."
Roy's smile widened.
"That's a generous offer."
"It is."
"And I'm honored you think so highly of me."
"You should be."
"But here's the thing about eternal beings..." Roy raised his sword, fire intensifying until it was almost white. "You've been unchallenged so long, you've forgotten what desperation looks like. What mortality means. What it's like to fight when you have everything to lose."
He took a combat stance.
"Let me remind you."
The Flame-Crowned's amusement faded.
Replaced by something sharper.
Respect, perhaps.
Or the anticipation of a hunt that might actually be interesting.
"Very well. Show me this desperation. Show me if mortal fire can challenge the divine."
And he moved.
Faster than anything his size should move.
Twelve feet of armored monster covering twenty feet in a single bound that cracked the earth.
His fist—wreathed in crimson divine fire that seemed to consume light itself—aimed at Roy's head with enough force to shatter stone.
Roy didn't dodge.
Didn't try to block.
Just released every ounce of mana he'd been compressing.
"PHOENIX REQUIEM!"
Golden-white fire exploded from his body in all directions.
Not a technique from his Integration.
Something beyond that.
Something he'd been developing for years.
His ultimate attack.
The one he'd never shown anyone because using it meant burning his mana reserves to absolute zero.
The Flame-Crowned's punch connected—
Roy's ribs cracking audibly, blood exploding from his mouth.
But so did Roy's counter-attack.
The explosion was visible from the fortress walls three hundred yards away.
A sphere of fire—gold and crimson mixing—that consumed everything within fifty feet.
The sound like thunder.
The heat intense enough to melt armor.
When the flames cleared—
Both combatants still stood.
Roy bleeding heavily from his mouth, his armor cracked and partially melted.
The Flame-Crowned's armor scorched, actual damage visible for the first time.
"Interesting," the Overlord said slowly, looking down at the burns on his gauntlets. "You hurt me. No one has done that in... sixty-three years? Sixty-four? Time blurs when you're eternal."
He looked at Roy with new respect.
"What is your name again?"
"Roy Voss."
"Roy Voss. I will remember that name." The Overlord smiled—terrible and predatory. "When I am bored in future centuries, I will recall the human who dared to burn me."
He raised both fists, divine fire blazing.
"Again. Show me more."
They clashed again.
Roy's sword met the Overlord's gauntleted fist.
The impact creating shockwaves that knocked nearby Berserkers off their feet.
Cracks spreading through the ground.
Fire meeting fire.
Divine flame against mortal determination.
Roy was faster, his decades of combat experience showing.
His blade finding gaps in the armor with surgical precision.
Cutting. Scoring hits.
Drawing black blood.
But the Overlord was stronger.
Infinitely stronger.
Each hit he landed broke bones.
Cracked ribs.
Shattered Roy's defenses like they were paper.
"You fight well," the Flame-Crowned acknowledged, blocking a strike aimed at his throat. "Better than the so-called heroes who challenged me before. They relied on raw power. You use technique. Strategy. You understand combat."
"Spent twenty years learning," Roy gasped between attacks. "Against monsters. Against Integration users. Against everything that wanted to kill me."
"It shows." The Overlord's next punch was almost casual, but it sent Roy flying fifteen feet. "But you cannot win, Roy Voss. I am eternal. You will tire. You will break. You will die."
"Probably," Roy agreed, struggling to his feet, blood running down his face from a dozen wounds. "But I'll take you with me."
The Overlord's expression changed.
Not anger.
Sadness.
"No. You won't." He shook his head slowly. "You are fourth-stage peak. Impressive. But I have stolen divine fire. I have transcended mortal limits. Your power, no matter how great for a human, is insufficient."
"I am the Flame-Crowned. The Fell God's fire burns within me. I have consumed armies. Devoured cities. Killed forty-seven heroes stronger than you."
He raised his hand, crimson-black flames gathering.
"You fight with honor. With skill. With courage. But it is not enough. It will never be enough."
"Then I'll make it enough," Roy said simply.
The Overlord's fire intensified.
Crimson becoming almost black, shot through with veins of sickly gold.
The stolen divine flame revealing its true nature.
Unnatural.
Wrong.
Power that shouldn't exist in mortal hands.
"Witness true power."
He unleashed a wave of crimson-black flame.
Not a technique.
Just raw divine fire given form.
Roy met it with his own golden fire, pushing everything he had into the defense.
The collision was cataclysmic.
Fire battling fire in a contest of pure power.
Mortal will against stolen divinity.
For a moment—just a moment—they were equal.
Gold and crimson locked together, neither advancing.
The air itself screaming from the heat.
Then Roy's fire began to falter.
Fourth-stage peak was impressive.
Legendary by human standards.
But not enough against divine flame stolen from a god.
The crimson fire pushed forward inch by inch.
Overwhelming Roy's defenses.
Burning through his armor.
Scorching his flesh.
He screamed—couldn't help it—as divine fire touched him.
Pain beyond anything mortal fire could inflict.
Behind them, the assault force was dying.
Berserkers overwhelming them through sheer numbers despite their best efforts.
Michel fighting desperately to hold the formation, his blade never stopping.
Arden trying to reach Roy, cutting through enemies—
But too many in the way.
Too many Berserkers between them.
"VOSS!" Arden screamed, desperation breaking through his usual control. "FALL BACK! WE'LL REGROUP!"
Roy heard him through the pain.
Turned his head slightly.
Smiled despite the agony.
Despite the flames consuming him.
"Can't do that, kid."
"ROY, PLEASE—"
"It's over, Arden!" Roy called back, his voice rough but steady. "I'm done! Mana reserves at five percent! Body's broken! I've got maybe two minutes before I collapse!"
"Then retreat! We'll—"
"There is no retreat!" Roy's voice cracked like a whip. "Look around you! We're surrounded! The only way out is through that bastard!"
He was right.
Arden looked.
Saw the Berserker formations closing in.
Saw the assault force trapped.
Saw the only path forward was through the Flame-Crowned.
And Roy was the only one strong enough to fight him.
"Listen to me!" Roy shouted, still holding back the divine flames through sheer willpower. "I taught you everything I know! You're the best student I ever had! So LEARN FROM THIS!"
"Learn what?!"
"How to die like a legend!"
The Flame-Crowned had been watching this exchange with interest.
Now he spoke, his voice carrying across the battlefield.
"Your mentor speaks truth, young one. He cannot win. But he fights anyway. This is what it means to be mortal. To struggle against inevitable defeat. It is... admirable."
The Overlord looked at Roy again.
"You impress me, Roy Voss. In three centuries, few have earned my respect. You are one of them."
"Honored," Roy gasped.
"Let me grant you a warrior's death. Quick. Painless. You have earned that much."
"Appreciate the offer."
"But?"
Roy smiled through the pain.
Through the flames consuming him.
Through the knowledge that he was dying.
"But I didn't come here for a warrior's death. I came here to hurt you. To wound you. To crack that eternal arrogance."
He reached for his belt with a shaking hand.
Pulled something free.
A small crystal, glowing with concentrated mana.
The Overlord's eyes widened in understanding.
"A mana detonation core. You came here planning to die."
"Always had a flair for drama," Roy agreed, his voice growing weaker. "Ask anyone who knew me."
"That core will kill you instantly."
"Yep."
"And it will wound me gravely."
"That's the plan."
"But you will die."
Roy looked past the Overlord to where Arden stood.
Their eyes meeting across the battlefield.
"ARDEN!" Roy shouted, his voice stronger for a moment. "YOU LISTENING?!"
"YES!"
"Tell Riza I loved her! Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise to come home! Tell her—" His voice broke. "Tell her I died trying to protect people who couldn't protect themselves! She'll understand!"
"ROY, NO—"
"And Arden!" Roy's smile was visible even at a distance. "You were a good student! Best I ever had! I'm proud of you, kid! So damn proud!"
Tears were streaming down Arden's face.
"Don't do this! Please!"
"Got to. No other way. You know that." Roy looked at the Flame-Crowned. "One last thing to say to you, Overlord."
"Speak."
"You're right. I can't beat you. Can't match divine fire. Can't overcome three centuries of power." Roy raised the crystal. "But I can make you remember me. Make you remember that mortals don't lie down and die just because the odds are impossible."
"You would sacrifice yourself for them?" The Overlord gestured at the dying assault force. "For these weaklings who will probably die anyway?"
"Yeah. I would." Roy's voice was steady now. "Because that's what it means to be human. To fight for something bigger than yourself. To die so others might live. You've been eternal so long, you've forgotten that."
"Perhaps." The Overlord nodded slowly. "You have my respect, Roy Voss. Few mortals have earned such honor. I will remember your name. Your sacrifice. Your courage."
"Good enough for me."
Roy turned to the assault force one last time.
"MICHEL! GET THEM OUT!"
"WE'RE NOT LEAVING YOU!"
"THAT'S AN ORDER, COMMANDER!" Roy's voice carried absolute authority. "PROTECT ARDEN! HELP HIM FINISH THIS! THAT'S YOUR MISSION NOW!"
Then to Arden: "GOODBYE, MY PROTÉGÉ! IT WAS FUN! MAKE SURE THEY WRITE SOMETHING GOOD ON MY TOMBSTONE!"
"ROY—"
He crushed the crystal.
The Flame-Crowned moved to retreat, but Roy grabbed him with his free hand, holding him close.
"You're coming with me."
"Fool—"
"Legendary fool," Roy corrected.
And detonated every ounce of mana in his body.
The explosion was like a second sun appearing on the battlefield.
Golden-white fire mixed with the crimson divine flame in a catastrophic fusion.
A sphere of destruction that expanded outward, consuming everything.
Heat so intense it turned sand to glass.
Light so bright it blinded anyone looking directly at it.
The shockwave threw Arden from his horse, threw everyone to the ground.
Knocked Berserkers flat for a hundred yards.
Shook the fortress walls three hundred yards away.
When the light faded—
When the fire finally dissipated—
Where Roy and the Flame-Crowned had stood, there was nothing.
Just a crater.
Fifty feet across.
Twenty feet deep.
Edges still glowing red-hot.
Scorched earth.
Melted snow turned to steam.
And silence.
Absolute, suffocating silence.
Then—
Movement in the crater.
Something pulling itself from the smoking wreckage.
The Flame-Crowned emerged.
Alive.
But wounded.
His armor was shattered across half his body, revealing burned flesh beneath.
His crown of fire flickering weakly, barely maintaining its form.
Burns covering his body—actual damage that would take days to heal, maybe weeks.
One arm hanging uselessly, bones visible through the charred meat.
Black blood dripping from dozens of wounds.
Pouring from a massive crack in his chest plate.
He staggered.
Actually staggered.
Dropped to one knee.
"Foolish," he rasped, his voice rough. "Foolish... mortal..."
But there was respect in his tone.
Admiration, even.
"Roy... Voss..."
He looked up at where the assault force had been.
At Arden, who stood frozen in horror.
"Your... mentor... was... worthy."
The Overlord forced himself to stand, using his remaining good arm for support.
"He hurt me. Truly hurt me. For the first time in... so long..."
His crown flickered again, almost going out.
"I will remember him. For all my days. His name will echo in my memory."
Then his eyes found Arden.
Focused.
Sharpened.
"Come, student of Roy Voss. Show me if his teachings were worthy. Show me if his sacrifice means anything."
Arden stared at the crater where Roy had been.
Nothing left.
Not even ash.
His mentor.
His teacher.
The man who'd taken a broken, desperate regressor and taught him to fight properly.
Just... gone.
Tears streaming down his face.
Hands shaking.
He gave his life. To wound this monster. To give us a chance.
I'm not wasting it.
Arden drew his sword.
Shadow Integration flaring to maximum, black energy wreathing the blade.
"ELARA!" he shouted, his voice breaking. "NOW!"
She appeared beside him, her eyes already flickering red-gold.
Her bloodline responding to the intensity of his emotion.
To the grief and rage radiating from him.
"For Roy," she said simply, her voice thick.
"For Roy," Arden agreed.
And they charged.
Straight at the wounded god.
Who saw them coming and, despite his injuries, smiled.
"Good. Come then. Let us see if mortal fire can finish what it started."
Behind them, Michel rallied the remaining soldiers—maybe fifty left from two hundred.
"FOR VOSS!" His voice carried across the battlefield. "FOR THE RANGER WHO BURNED A GOD! FOR THE HERO WHO BOUGHT US THIS CHANCE! CHARGE!"
What remained of the assault force followed.
Not because they thought they could win.
But because Roy had died to give them this opportunity.
And they would be damned if they let that sacrifice be meaningless.
The battle for Kar'eth's survival entered its final, desperate phase.
Against a wounded god.
With a dead hero's legacy burning in their hearts.
And Roy Voss's final lesson echoing in their minds:
Sometimes, you don't fight to win. You fight so those who come after you have a chance.