Ch. 11 — Flames of Practice

The battlefield shook with every clash.

Kael’s blades carved arcs of shadow, each strike a killing blow. Arata’s Draconic Eyes caught the motions—his body screaming to follow. He ducked, twisted, deflected, the edges of steel grazing him by heartbeats.

But Kael was faster—Stronger. Unrelenting.

A slash tore across Arata’s ribs. Blood sprayed, sizzling on the black sand. He stumbled, only to block the next strike a fraction too slow. The katana carved down his arm, searing pain ripping through him.

“Ghh—. ” His knees buckled, vision blurring.

Kael’s voice cut through the storm, cold and merciless. “Good—Bleed. Learn what it means to fight with your life in your hands. ”

The greatsword descended. Arata barely rolled aside, the blade shattering the ground where his head had been. Obsidian shards exploded, one slashing across his cheek.

He gasped for air, lungs burning. Every nerve screamed, every wound dripped fire into his veins. Yet his eyes—his eyes refused to close.

He saw it—The twitch of Kael’s wrist. The shift of his stance—The beat of his wings before each strike.

“—Wait. ” Arata’s voice rasped, half-laugh, half-groan. “I. can read him. ”

Kael lunged again, katana flashing. Arata shifted just before it came, his sword deflecting the blow—not by luck, but by anticipation. Sparks exploded as steel glanced off steel.

The greatsword swept low. Arata jumped back, the blade cutting a furrow into the sand where his legs had been.

His grin flickered through the blood on his lips. “—Heh,Not invincible after all. ”

Kael’s a faint smirk sharpened—“So you adapt. Good—Then adapt faster. ”

The black-winged warrior surged forward, blades whirling in a storm of killing arcs. Arata met them—stumbling, bleeding, but meeting them. His Draconic Eyes caught the openings, his body reacting a fraction quicker each time.

A downward strike. Arata twisted, sliding inside the arc, slamming his shoulder into Kael’s chest. The angel grunted, forced a half-step back.

A thrust of the katana. Arata angled his blade, sparks scattering as he shoved it aside, then slashed across Kael’s arm. A shallow cut—but a cut nonetheless.

Arata panted, chest heaving, blood dripping down his side. His voice broke with exhaustion but rang with defiance.

“—I’m not. just surviving anymore. I’m fighting you. ”

Kael’s eyes gleamed, sharp with approval hidden behind disdain. “At last—”

The clash of steel shook the battlefield. Sparks scattered like falling stars, flames and shadows twisting together in violent arcs.

Kael pressed forward, his greatsword sweeping wide, his katana stabbing like a serpent. Each blow was a death sentence. Arata’s Draconic Eyes caught them all—every twitch, every flex of muscle, every shift of weight. His body moved on instinct, barely clinging to survival.

But survival wasn’t enough.

Arata’s chest burned, his wounds seared, his breath ragged. I can’t keep this up, and he’ll crush me. His grip tightened on his blade—Unless.

He focused, pulling the elements to him. Fire sparked along his sword, water coiled around the edge, wind hissed at his back, earth steadied his stance.

The next strike came—a brutal overhead swing of Kael’s greatsword. Arata met it, his sword blazing with all four elements.

boooom.

The ground exploded beneath them. A shockwave ripped outward, sending black sand flying in a storm. Kael’s eyes narrowed as his strike was stopped—not crushed, but held.

Arata roared, shoving back with everything he had. His blade flared, fire and steam bursting upward in a blazing geyser. Kael stepped back, his wings shielding him from the blast.

“Hmph. ” A faint smile tugged at the Fallen’s lips. “You’re learning to weave. ”

Arata grinned through the blood on his lips—“Yeah? Hope you’re ready for more weaving, then—”

He lunged, wind propelling him forward like a bullet. His blade slashed, trailing fire and water, steam erupting in his wake. Kael deflected with the katana, sparks shrieking—but Arata twisted, slamming his foot into the earth. A pillar of stone shot upward, forcing Kael to leap back.

Arata swung again, the cyclone of flame and wind chasing him. The battlefield lit like a second sun, molten sand raining around them.

For the first time, Kael’s let the corner of his mouth quirk widened into something fiercer. “Good—Push harder. Show me your limit—”

He spread his black wings, shadows boiling around him. His greatsword pulsed with dark flame, his katana gleaming like obsidian lightning. When he moved, the air itself screamed—faster, heavier, deadlier than before.

Arata’s eyes widened. His Draconic Eyes stretched the moment, but even slowed, Kael’s strikes blurred, overwhelming.

The blades came from everywhere at once—arcs of black fire that carved mountains into rubble.

Arata roared, throwing his entire soul into the flame. Fire erupted, wind carried it, water cooled it into steam, earth anchored him. His blade shone like a burning star as it met Kael’s storm.

The impact shattered the sky.

Flame and shadow exploded outward, ripping through the land. Spires crumbled, sand vaporized, rivers of lava boiled over. The battlefield itself groaned under the weight of their clash.

Through the chaos, Arata gritted his teeth, sweat and blood mixing on his face. His Draconic Eyes flared crimson-white, locked on Kael’s every motion.

“—I’m not done yet. ”

***

The battlefield was chaos incarnate.

Every strike of Kael’s blades split the air with shrieking force, every beat of his wings sent storms of shadow tearing through the black sand. Arata’s body screamed in protest—ribs cracked, arms trembling, blood running down his side.

And yet his eyes refused to close.

The Draconic Eyes burned, carving Kael’s movements into slow fragments. Each flicker of muscle, each tilt of a wing, each shift of stance—it all lit up like a map of survival.

I can see him—I can read him. Then—I just have to move faster than myself.

Kael lunged, greatsword cleaving downward like the judgment of gods. Arata grounded his stance, earth surging upward to brace his body. He raised his blade, fire erupting along its edge.

The clash detonated in a storm of sparks. Arata’s knees nearly buckled—but he didn’t falter. He twisted, water spiraling around his blade, steam exploding into Kael’s face.

The Fallen snarled, wings beating once to clear the haze. In that instant, Arata moved.

Wind surged at his back—Fire wrapped his sword. Earth steadied his steps—Steam masked his approach.

He roared, Draconic Eyes blazing crimson-white—“Haaa,. ”

His sword struck in a blazing arc, carving through Kael’s guard.

slash.

Blood sprayed, black and burning, as a deep cut tore across Kael’s side.

For the first time, Kael staggered. His thin smile vanished, replaced with something sharper—approval twisted with hunger.

Arata panted, his chest heaving, his arms trembling with exhaustion. Sweat and blood mixed down his body. But his grin—wide, fierce, unstoppable,lit the battlefield brighter than any flame.

“—Got you. ”

Kael straightened slowly. His hand pressed to the wound, blood hissing against his own dark flames. His eyes burned, sharper than ever.

Then—he laughed,Low at first, then rolling like thunder.

“Good. Very good. ” His wings spread wide, black fire boiling across them. “At last, you strike with intent. Not fear. Not desperation. Will. ”

Arata’s grin faltered, his body swaying—“,Yeah, well. intent hurts like hell—”

Kael’s laughter faded, but his gaze gleamed with something new.

“This duel is finished. ” His voice rang like a final bell. “You live. You bleed. You learn. That is enough—for today. ”

Arata sagged, nearly collapsing, his sword digging into the sand for support. Relief washed over him like cool rain, but his flame still burned, defiant.

“—Guess that means I passed. right? ”

Kael’s let out a small, lopsided smile returned, faint but razor-sharp.

“You survived. That is the only passing mark that matters. ”

***

The battlefield smoldered. Rivers of molten sand hissed, spires lay shattered, and the crimson sky burned with silent lightning.

Arata collapsed near a jagged outcrop, his sword slipping from his trembling hands. His body was a map of cuts and bruises, silver hair clinging to his bloodstained skin. Every breath rattled his chest like broken glass.

Across from him, Kael sat upon a boulder of black stone, wings folded, the greatsword planted beside him like a monument. He had tied a strip of cloth over his wound, though dark blood still seeped beneath it. His expression was calm, almost contemplative.

The silence stretched until Kael broke it, his voice low, rough as grinding stone.

“You fought better than I expected. ”

Arata groaned, leaning his head back against the rock. “—Better than you expected still feels like ‘almost dead. ’”

Kael gave a tight half-smile faintly—“Then you are learning. Real battle is not glory, and it is pain. It is survival—Everything else is decoration. ”

Arata forced a laugh, though it caught in his throat. “—Decorations, huh? You make war sound like the worst holiday—”

Kael’s gaze drifted to the blood-red sky—“You joke now. But soon you will see—The First War burned for centuries. Angels, demons, men—all ground into dust. I fought until my wings blackened, until my brothers shifted to ash. ”

Arata’s grin faded. His Draconic Eyes dimmed as he studied the fallen warrior. “—You were there—You fought in it. ”

Kael nodded slowly—“I crossed blades with the Demon King himself. Neither of us won—Neither of us lost. The war ended not with victory, but with sacrifice. Angels fell, sealing the veil with their own lives, and we bought time—nothing more. ”

Arata’s chest tightened—“—So that’s what I’m up against. The same tide that crushed angels—”

Kael’s eyes cut to him, sharp as razors—“Do not mistake immortality for invincibility. Your body will not wither. But there are demons who can unmake even you. Their blades will cut deeper than flesh—Their fire will burn past your flame. ”

The words sank like lead into Arata’s gut—His fists clenched weakly at his sides. “—Then I’ll just have to get strong enough to face them. Stronger than angels—Stronger than anyone before. ”

For a moment, Kael studied him in silence. Then, to Arata’s shock, the faintest flicker of approval glimmered in his eyes.

“Good. Hold onto that fire. It is all that will keep you standing when the abyss stares back. ”

The wind howled across the wasteland, carrying the smell of ash and molten stone. Arata closed his eyes, exhaustion dragging him down. His last thought before sleep took him was Kael’s words echoing in his mind—

Kael was merciless. His blades struck with the force of storms, his wings carried shadows that crushed the air. Every mistake left Arata broken—ribs cracked, arms shattered, skin torn. And every dawn, Kael forced him back on his feet.

“Again, ” the Fallen would say. No pity. No pause. Only the demand to rise.

Arata endured.

At first, he fought like prey—dodging, scrambling, barely surviving. But slowly, painfully, he grew sharper. His Draconic Eyes adapted, reading Kael’s rhythm, seeing the smallest flaws. His body toughened, muscles carved by years of relentless battle. The flame within him burned hotter, fiercer, unyielding.

The scars on his body became a map of his survival. His skin toughened, his reflexes honed, his will sharpened into steel.

And then, after what felt like centuries, the day came.

The battlefield trembled beneath their steps. Kael’s greatsword roared down, black fire trailing its edge. Arata’s blade met it in a shower of sparks. The shockwave split the ground, molten sand boiling upward.

Arata’s chest heaved, but his stance did not falter. His silver hair whipped in the crimson wind, his Draconic Eyes blazing with clarity.

Kael lunged with his katana, faster than lightning. But Arata saw it—he read it. His blade moved first, deflecting the strike, sparks shrieking in slow motion.

Kael’s wings spread, his shadow engulfing the sky. Arata answered with flame, wind surging at his back, earth anchoring his feet. He roared, his sword blazing with all four elements, and struck.

The clash split the battlefield, shockwaves tearing across the wasteland.

Kael staggered—Blood sprayed from a gash across his chest. For the first time, his knee touched the black sand.

Arata stood above him, panting, drenched in sweat and blood, but still holding his blade steady.

His grin was wide, feral, alive—“—Looks like I finally caught up. ”

Kael stared at him, silence heavy—Then—he laughed. Deep, rough, echoing like thunder.

“Good. Very good. ” His eyes gleamed with approval, pride buried in steel. “You did not break. You became a blade worthy of its fire. ”

Arata’s chest swelled, his flame burning hotter than ever. “—Then this means I’m ready—”

Kael rose, blood dripping but his wry smile was sharp. “Ready to leave this place, perhaps—But remember—your war has not yet begun. Do not confuse victory over me with victory over what waits beyond the veil. ”

The crimson sky rumbled, black lightning splitting the horizon. Arata’s grin faltered, but his Draconic Eyes shone with defiance.

“—Then I’ll keep fighting until even the abyss blinks. ”

Days below, years above. Kael’s drills had burned grooves into bone; the city’s sirens cut them open again—calling him back to where fire mattered.

Days later below—but years in Caelestia—Arata traced the war’s shape across reports and maps. When the first sirens wailed, he was already moving.