Unleash me...
"W-Who...?"
Fuse with me. I'll give you what you need—power.
Soren's heart pounded, his rage uncontainable. It didn't just burn—it felt like it would tear through his chest.
His palm crackled with unstable arcane energy, wild and flaring red. He raised it, aiming at Mirelle—
But at the last second, he shifted it.
The bolt veered.
It shot past her—missing by inches—and slammed into the ground behind.
KRRRSHHH—!
The blast carved through the earth, dragging a vicious scar across the terrain. Chunks of stone flew, dust surged, the whole field shook.
"Kh...!" Soren clutched his face with trembling fingers, his stance faltering. His right hand pressed against his face as if trying to hold something in.
The Eye of Ruin glared wide—glowing, manic, crazed.
Now!
Seeing her chance, Mirelle reacted.
Water surged from her sphere and wrapped around Soren's body. It solidified instantly—ice encasing his right arm and left leg with neat precision.
But she wasn't finished.
The glow around her elemental focus shifted—from glacial blue to muted brown.
THRMM—
The ground beneath Soren responded. It rumbled, then shifted—stone rising, molding itself into shackles that locked his remaining limbs.
Ice and rock. Fused restraints.
The sight was stunning. Soren stood locked in place, bound by nature itself.
But Mirelle wasn't aiming to hurt him, not now.
She decide to just disabling him—because something about his condition was wrong. Unstable. And she wasn't sure if Soren was even in full control.
crack...
A sharp, low noise.
The restraints cracked.
Then—exploded outward.
BOOM—!
A burst of force erupted from within him. Smoke billowed from his skin, heat radiating off in waves. His arms and torso shimmered red—as if his blood itself had turned molten.
Hahhh...
Soren exhaled—a slow, heated breath, thick with steam.
"The air's too cold," he muttered.
But it didn't sound like him.
Not fully.
The tone was deeper. Rougher. Like someone speaking through borrowed lungs. Someone who hadn't felt fresh air in a long, long time.
"This anger..." he said next, voice distorting slightly. "With how much energy left of this body... I might have five minutes. No more."
He was talking to no one.
Or rather—to something only he could hear.
The red fissure stretching from his eye glowed brighter now—like liquid fire crawling beneath his skin.
Mirelle's breath caught.
What is that? she thought. A transformation? A curse? No enchantment I know behaves like this...
Then the air changed.
FWUMP—
Soren raised his hand—fingers spread, reaching forward like to grasp something.
Suddenly, pressure shifted.
A vacuum formed.
Wind sucked toward him in spirals—along with dirt, pebbles, broken shards—and Mirelle.
She gritted her teeth, shoved her elemental focus forward.
THU-DOOM—!
A thick stone pillar rose between them, acting as a buffer.
The force howled louder. The pillar trembled—then fractured, chunks peeling off as if sandblasted into rubble.
Even so, seeing Mirelle resisted, Soren change his course of action.
His hand reached into the debris cloud.
Bits of broken rock clung to his right arm—layering, fusing—until they formed a crude gauntlet of compressed stone.
Without warning, he lunged forward.
CRACK—!
A dash. Fast. Brutal.
His stone-armored fist collided with the barrier Mirelle raised—water twisted into a dense fluid wall. She had loosened its density just in time, turning it liquid enough to absorb the blow.
The impact still rang out like thunder.
Mirelle skidded backward.
Her elemental focus shines green.
With her other hand, she thrust her wand forward—
FWISH—!
A wind blade, point-blank.
But Soren shifted.
The world slowed around him.
Sloth—time bent for him.
He dodged—not by much, just enough.
The blade hissed past, slicing through strands of his hair.
He smirked.
"Aggressive woman," he said. "I like that."
They stood only a few feet apart now.
Mirelle looked into his face—truly looked.
The glow in his eye. The cracks on his skin. The heat bleeding off his form.
That's not Soren, she thought. That's something else entirely.
Soren launched another blast of arcane energy—raw, unstable, roaring forward in a streak of red-gold light.
Mirelle was ready.
The suspended water that had hovered beside her—the remnants from earlier—swirled into motion, converging in the air. It took shape rapidly, forming the silhouette of a massive, fluid creature.
A whale. Towering. Surging. Majestic.
It moved to intercept.
BOOM—!
The arcane blast collided with the watery guardian in a violent clash. The explosion lit up the field, shattering the whale's body into a downpour of glimmering droplets. The pressure wave rippled outward, flattening loose grass and hurling shards of stone across the field.
Rain began to fall.
A strange, sparkling rain.
Mirelle narrowed her eyes and mumbling.
"Shiva's Tears."
The droplets weren't ordinary. Each one shimmered faintly, imbued with her mana. As they landed, they didn't soak the ground—they froze it.
Fast.
The earth turned to slick, crystalline ice wherever the rain touched.
Even Soren, mid-motion, was caught.
Frost spread across his arms and shoulders, creeping over his skin in jagged fractals. His body tensed as the cold dug in deeper than before.
This freeze, isn't the same level as earlier…
"HAHH—!"
He inhaled sharply, his skin radiating heat in retaliation. The reddish glow flared again, steam bursting off his body as the frost melted—
But then froze again.
The two forces clashed—heat and cold—stuck in a stalemate. Vapor hissed around him in clouds, obscuring his form in swirling smoke and frost.
Meanwhile—
Eryndor had found his moment.
Lancer stumbled, the poison flaring again—brief, but enough.
Now.
Eryndor opened the Codex of Gold, the golden light pulsing.
A sudden flash—searing bright—erupted like a flashbang.
FWWASH—!
Lancer flinched, eyes squeezing shut, yet his guard still up.
Eryndor didn't attack.
He moved.
He flew sideways, jetting across the air with a burst of magic. Thin beams of golden light streamed from his boots—laser propulsion, elegant and precise.
In his hand, his staff shifted—twisting as he called forth a different codex.
The last one. The third one.
The Chronos Codex. Its cover was matte gray, marked with a raised clock-like emblem.
The Codex of Time.
"STAY STILL."
The words echoed with force.
The codex opened—and released a strange pulse.
BOOMMM...
It wasn't loud. More like a low, muted sonar. A hum that vibrated the very air.
The space around Soren shimmered. Collapsed.
Then—
Stillness.
Time stop.
Soren's body froze mid-motion, steam still curling from his skin.
Again, Eryndor paused.
Something was… off.
Ruin glows with manic.
Time?
Sloth, Wrath beckon. Aid me.
A groggy voice replied.
"Tch. I enjoy doing nothing, but not to the point I can't do shit."
The time freeze cracked.
Not entirely.
Just enough.
The stop effect reversed, peeling back like a faulty clock rewind. Soren's limbs began to move again—not at full speed, but slowed measure…
From stop revert to time dilation.
Still slowed. Still partially trapped.
But enough.
This is better.
Sloth's voice faded again, leaving only silence.
Outside, Eryndor watched with a stunned expression.
"He's… moving?"
Impossible.
But before Eryndor could act again—
Soren's body gave out.
His knees buckled.
"...Tch. Looks like the five minutes is up."
Wrath's voice—detached now. Fading.
Soren collapsed, exhaling one final, steaming breath. The reddish glow from his skin faded. The cracks on his left eye dimmed—but the fracture lines remained, etched like scars.
Losing consciousness, he now can't resist as Shiva's Tears continue it freezing advance.
Frost overtook him.
His limbs stiffened. His breathing slowed.
He looked less like a threat—and more like a boy asleep on his feet.
Encased in ice.
Silent.
Still.
Eryndor exhaled as the last of the frost settled. Soren lay motionless—encased in ice, and unmoving.
Finally subdued.
Relief flickered behind the Archmage's eyes.
Then—
"Father!"
Mirelle's voice cut through the quiet.
He turned—just in time to see the empty space where Lancer had been.
Gone.
Vanished.
Eryndor's expression darkened. "He escaped…"
Far ahead, beyond the ruined field and fractured stone, a lone figure stood beneath the settling mist.
Lancer.
His cloak hung tattered, his stance relaxed but firm. One hand gripped his spear loosely, its tip resting against the ground.
His eyes—cold, unreadable—were fixed on the ice-encased boy far away.
On Soren.
The breeze picked up.
Then, Lancer spoke—low, to no one in particular.
"My future successor… I kill your enemy, and you defend me."
"Let's call it even."
He turned his back.
Began walking.
Then paused—just once.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"And now…"
"…I like you even more."