Fire and Ice

Jarathia | Volcano

Deep in the volcano—

No. He has something. A plan.. If I can reach the core one more time… I just need more of a charge. He said he’ll cover me. It hurts—too much energy—but I’ll push past the limit. I’ll fly without him if I must.

She coughs and charges. Heat licks her legs; magma bursts from everywhere. Behind her, a translucent wing of water begins to form.

“More!” Hanla roars. “I will not surrender!”

Nine collapses.

“I WILL NOT SURRENDER!” She screams at the sky. “FIRE DRAGON! I’LL KILL YOU—YOU LITTLE PIECE OF—” Her voice breaks with fury. “NOBODY has pissed me off like you!”

The dragon rises and pivots toward her.

Hanla closes her eyes and lifts her fists. Her body lights up—one side bright blue, the other burning red.

“More…”

??? | Red Room

Nine wakes in a red room: two chairs, a table. Blood-colored walls hung with pictures—his childhood, old adventures, a blue-haired woman and Chisa.

A silhouette stands in front of the pictures. “Brother.” the figure says, amused. “Your life turned out… eventful. Girls falling for you, fighting calamities—I’m a little jealous, I have to admit.”

Nine freezes. “No. It can’t be—”

“You know, I gambled on this outcome.”

“Jerome…”

Jerome offers his hand. Nine takes it and stands.

Jerome boots the table aside and instead leans against the wall. “I prefer looking cool, instead of like I’m in some interrogation room. Why do you even have all this stuff inside your head?”

“Is this an illusion?” Nine asks.

Jerome shakes his head. “Mana networks are… souls, of a sort. Entry points. Idiots break them during breakdowns. You, uh, nearly did.” He smiles, sad. “I regret a lot. Killing myself in front of you—yeah. That was dumb. But my time was already running out and—”

His outline thins.

“My time is limited.” He cuts himself short, stepping close. “If you had the power to stop it all, would you take it? One last push to the end.”

“What are you saying?”

“My final sacrifice—ugh, that sounded cooler in my head… My final gift.” He lifts his hand. “Take it.”

Nine grips his brother’s hand. Heat floods his body. Mana veins flare to life—red. His ruined eye knits back together. The iris blooms a deep, burning crimson.

Jarathia | Volcano

Crystals surge back, stronger, tinted blue.

“AIA—ERAZIA,” Nine intones.

Pillars rise from the ground, damming the magma flow. A cool breath washes through the crater.

Hanla drives her blue fist into the dragon’s face. It readies a breath—but crystal wedges jam between its jaws.

“AIA—EX PA!”

The crystals detonate inside its maw, forcing a small opening.

Hanla rockets forward with a brutal hook, sending the dragon skidding across the ground. A wing of fire sprouts behind her to match the water.

“How— You—” she pants.

Nine just grins. “Let’s end this chapter. I’ve got some mana left. Reach the core and finish this!”

Above, the dragon roars, voice breaking: “Roooaaaar—…N…O…H…E…L…P…”

Rage consumes it. The left wing turns watery blue, right wing incandescent red.

Hanla’s wings unfurl fully.

“Punch it,” Nine says, “nothing will reach you.”

Hanla jumps and flies.

I don’t know how to fly—but no, I will. I want to fly. I want to see the sky!

The dragon vomits up a storm—thousands of lances of fire and water. Every beam angled for Hanla and Nine.

Hanla soars through the air—flying.

Nine’s fingers dance. Blue crystals bloom and intercept the dragon’s attempts—one beam, then the next, each one met and stopped. Protected, Hanla climbs higher, rising eye-to-eye with the monster. Below, the blue barricades hold back meteors the size of houses. Fear flickers in the dragon’s gaze.

It roars.

Hanla’s arms thrum. Fire and water veins blaze. She glances down—Jarathia spread beneath them, waiting.

“We’ll give you another tomorrow, Jarathia…” She whispers.

She angles herself toward the dragon, lining up a straight path to the core.

The beast empties itself—more beams, more meteors, heat so savage the air seems to burn.

Hanla closes her eyes and dives.

Crystals shell around her as she gets closer, letting her get close undisturbed. She reaches the organic wing—too dense to break.

The dragon screams.

“Come on!” She snarls.

On the ground, Nine sets his stance and holds the blade. “Push through, HANLA THE DEAGONFIST! LIQUIDITY—ENDLESS CRYSTAL BLADE!”

The sword liquefies into a flowing edge of crystal and whips skyward. He swings with everything left. His arm tears—blood spatters across his chest, veins spider and rupture, both of his eyes leaking red.

“PUSH THROUGH!”

The liquid blade shears the dragon in half, laying the core bare at the same instant Hanla smashes the wing aside.

The blade shatters.

Hanla hits the core—once, twice. Cracks form, but it doesn’t collapse. She keeps punching—knuckles split, blood sprays. Each strike shakes the volcano.

“JUST BREAK!”

With a last, twin-fisted blow, the core gives—Light flickers, meteors wink out.

Her arms rip open. She goes limp. Her stomach torn, forearms shredded—in free fall.

Nine launches himself, catching her midair—even as bones snap with the force of it.

Together, they tumble from the sky.

Jarathia | City Outskirts

Mersa and Beatrix look to the sky as the dragon dissolves under Hanla’s fist and Nine’s blade-spell. Wyverns unravel under the blast—only their cooling cores rain down.

The sky shines silver.

“They did it… that’s insane…” Mersa breathes out.

“Mhm. They beat a second calamity.” Beatrix agrees.

Maxwell squints up. “That looked like Jerome’s spell. Don’t tell me… No, that’s too crazy. It’s much too random to be planned. But… if he did…”

They trade a look—and run for the volcano.

Around them, Jarathia stands stunned. Realization hits. Then cheers roll out—wild, relieved, full of life.

Jarathia | Volcano

Beatrix, Maxwell, and Mersa descend into the crater. Cold-blue crystals keep the heat at bay.

They find Hanla and Nine lying side by side, wrecked.

“I’ll get a healer.” Mersa says, turning back.

Beatrix sprints over to them. Maxwell kneels by Nine’s side.

“Badly wounded…” Maxwell murmurs, studying him. “I hope you both survive. He would definitely appreciate it—a new dawn for our island.”

Beatrix laughs, breathless with joy. “They’re just exhausted.”

She lays a hand on Hanla, another on Nine and shuts her eyes. “Pro ta—Ha Lu Ng.”

Green light ripples out. Their breathing steadies.

“After today, everyone will know you,” Beatrix says softly, “and I’ll fight for it, if I have to. Silver Sky—you’ll be one of the top guilds. You could even reach Mythical rank someday, I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” Maxwell says. “They’re truly heroes.” His eyes close; a tear escapes. “A new beginning. This is all we needed.”

Mersa returns with three healers. “Treat them! Keep them stable! We’ll need to celebrate them…”

The healers circle, hands hovering over torn flesh and scorched skin. Green glow blooms out.

“Severely wounded—both.” One concludes.

“But the girl heals fast,” another adds, “her skin is knitting itself together. She’s stabilizing her.”

“The young man…” the third frowns, “he’s crystallizing the burns and treating himself. He's conscious.”

“Nine?” Mersa asks.

Nine’s eyes crack open. “Be quiet. My head hurts. Let her rest.” He closes them again.

Beatrix sighs. Maxwell chuckles. Mersa grins.

The healers glance at each other, baffled.