Chapter 56: The Last Flame

The wind at the cliff’s edge was raw, biting through my torn cloak and stinging every cut on my body. I stumbled, nearly pitching forward into the abyss, but caught myself on a jagged stone. My lungs burned, breath coming in ragged bursts, but I forced my gaze down—down to the battlefield where everything was about to end.


I pressed the dragon egg close to my chest. Its warmth was a fragile anchor, the only thing that kept me from unraveling. The pocket dimension artifact pulsed faintly at my belt, a reminder of the promise I’d made and the price I was about to witness.


I closed my eyes, centering myself. Focus. See everything. I summoned the technique I’d honed in the shadows—Soul Veil: Farsight Bloom. The world sharpened. The haze of smoke and mana peeled away, and I saw the battlefield not just as it was, but as a map of living energy.


At the center of that storm, Lyra stood—no, towered—her dragon form restored in full, wings unfurled, scales battered but gleaming with defiance. She was a monument of fury and pride, every line of her body radiating power even as blood ran down her flanks.


Opposite her, the Eclipse Leader waited. His aura was blinding—a sword of pure light in human shape. He moved with the economy of a master, every step measured, every breath a calculation. His blade shimmered, runes pulsing with radiant energy.


The world seemed to hold its breath.


Lyra’s voice rolled across the field, low and thunderous. “So it’s just you and me now.”


The Eclipse Leader’s reply was calm, almost gentle. “It always was.”


He raised his sword, and the battle began.


He moved first—faster than sight, a streak of white fire across the ruined ground.


“Heavenfall Arc!”


The blade swept in a perfect crescent, a slash of light that carved a trench through the earth. Lyra twisted aside, the attack missing her by a hair’s breadth. The air where she’d stood shimmered, heat and energy clashing.


She countered instantly, jaws opening wide. “Draconic Flame: Final Ember!”


A torrent of black and crimson fire erupted, a stream so hot it turned stone to glass. The Eclipse Leader spun his blade, light flaring.


“Radiant Zone: Sanctus Edge!”


A dome of pure, blinding light snapped into existence, swallowing the flames. The two forces collided with a sound like the world splitting. For a heartbeat, the battlefield was nothing but white.


When the light faded, Lyra was crouched, sides heaving, smoke rising from her scales. The Eclipse Leader stood untouched, his dome flickering before vanishing.


He advanced, sword trailing sparks.


Lyra’s tail lashed, gouging a trench in the earth. “You’re not the first to hunt me. You won’t be the last.”


He didn’t answer. He simply attacked.


They clashed—light against flame, steel against scale. Every movement was a study in contrast. The Eclipse Leader’s style was precise, almost surgical: he never wasted a step, never swung without purpose. Lyra was all power and instinct, her massive claws and tail moving with a predator’s grace, each strike calculated to break, to burn, to end.


I analyzed every exchange, heart pounding. The Eclipse Leader’s swordplay was flawless, his light magic bending the battlefield to his will. He would feint left, then unleash a blinding arc from the right, forcing Lyra to defend with her wings or leap clear. Each time, she lost ground, her breath coming harder, her movements growing heavier.


But Lyra adapted. She used her environment—kicking up debris, melting stone beneath the Leader’s feet, forcing him to adjust. When he tried to box her in with a cage of light, she shattered it with a roar, sending shards of magic flying.


I could see the toll it was taking. Her flames were dimming. Her steps faltered, just for a second, but enough for the Eclipse Leader to press his advantage.


He circled, blade raised. “You’re slowing.”


Lyra bared her fangs, smoke curling from her nostrils. “I’m just getting started.”


She reared back, gathering every last ember of her strength.


“Blaze Vortex: Dragonheart!”


A cyclone of fire erupted around her, swirling upward in a column of heat and fury. The Eclipse Leader braced himself, sword held high.


I watched, breathless, as the vortex closed in, flames licking at his armor. For a moment, it looked as if Lyra might overwhelm him.


But the Leader’s sword flared, runes burning white-hot.


He slashed downward, splitting the vortex in two. Light and fire collided, the shockwave flattening everything in a hundred-meter radius.


Lyra staggered, wings drooping. Blood dripped from a dozen new wounds, her scales scorched and cracked.


The Eclipse Leader lowered his sword, breathing hard for the first time. “You fought well.”


Lyra’s laugh was raw, defiant. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”


She lunged, jaws snapping. The Leader sidestepped, blade flashing, and Lyra’s tail whipped around, forcing him to leap back.


I could see her plan—she was trying to draw him in, force him to commit, to make a mistake. But he was too disciplined, too patient. He waited for her to tire, for her attacks to slow, and then he struck.


“Heavenfall Arc!” Another slash of light, this time catching Lyra across the shoulder. She roared, pain and rage mingling in her voice, and unleashed another blast of fire.


The two forces met and canceled, the air between them boiling.


I pressed my fist to my mouth, helpless. Every instinct screamed at me to run to her, to do something, but I was powerless. Too far. Too weak. All I could do was watch.


Lyra backed away, sides heaving. Her eyes found me, just for a second. I saw pride there, and sorrow—and something like peace.


She turned back to the Eclipse Leader. “I won’t beg. If you want my end, you’ll have to take it.”


He nodded, almost respectfully. “I will, That's what needed to be done”


They clashed again, and again, each exchange shorter, sharper, more desperate. Lyra’s fire was nearly spent. The Eclipse Leader’s light was relentless, burning away every defense.


She stumbled, nearly falling. The Leader hesitated, just for a heartbeat.


Lyra grinned, blood on her teeth. “Still merciful? Or just tired?”


He said nothing, but his grip tightened on his sword.


She drew herself up, wings spread wide, gathering the last of her strength. “For my kin. For Aren. For the world you’ll never own.”


She roared, and the battlefield shook.


I whispered her name, voice breaking. “Lyra…”


The Eclipse Leader raised his sword, aura blazing.


And the world held its breath.


To be continued