Chapter 14 ( Abyss Invasion ARC)

The riverbank was a graveyard of shattered ice and splintered hope, the air thick with void-rot and the copper tang of Sean's blood. 

He lay sprawled in the mud, katana limp in his unyielding grip, ribs a fractured cage around lungs that burned with every ragged breath. 

Starfire flickered weakly in his veins, a dying nebula against the encroaching dark too drained, too slow to knit the void-wounds Sira's scythe had carved. 

Aya... Her name was a silent scream, his vision blurring as the General advanced, tattered wings dragging furrows in the scorched earth.

Sira's laugh echoed like grinding bones, his massive form swelling further void-armor pulsing with stolen life, scythe trailing ethereal mist that withered the grass to dust. 

Aya thrashed against the shadow-tendril coiling her ankle, her golden regen flaring in desperate pulses, warm light cracking the darkness but not breaking it. 

"Sean!" she cried, voice raw, ribbon tangled in her hair like a frayed prayer. Terror etched her face not the numb horror of her lost years, but fresh, shattering fear. 

The swarm circled overhead, beaks dripping anticipation, as Sira loomed over her, scythe raised high.

"Watch closely, healer-boy," Sira sneered, red eyes gleaming with manic glee. "Her screams will be your lullaby. I'll peel her layer by layer make that pretty light of hers dance for hours." 

The blade descended, slow and savoring, aimed to flay without killing, to drag her regeneration into an eternity of agony right before Sean's helpless eyes.

No... not her. Please... Sean's fingers clawed the mud, the Cosmic Dragon's whisper a faint, mocking rumble: Begging now? Unleash me, child. 

But his body betrayed him limbs leaden, power spent. Everything felt hopeless, the world narrowing to Aya's wide, pleading gaze. This was it. The monster he'd become, failing again.

Then the air changed.

A subtle warmth bloomed, insidious at first, like sunlight piercing storm clouds. It seeped into the chill, gentle but insistent, coiling around Sean's frost-shattered pillars. 

Cracks spiderwebbed through the ice, edges glistening as they softened, dripped, melted. Steam hissed upward, carrying the faint scent of embers and scorched pine 

comforting, alive, wrong in this void-tainted hell. Sean's breath caught, a spark of confusion cutting the despair. 

What... heat? Now? His starry veins twitched, responding to the shift, but weakly, as if the warmth mocked his fading frost.

Aya gasped, her struggles pausing mid-thrash. The tendril around her ankle sizzled, black smoke curling from its edge like burning oil

 "Sean... it's... warm?" Her voice trembled, not with pain but bewilderment, golden light in her scars pulsing brighter, as if feeding on the unexpected thaw. 

Tears streaked her cheeks, mixing with mud fear twisting into fragile awe. "Like... the campfire? But everywhere..."

Sira faltered, scythe hovering mid-arc, his helm tilting as red eyes narrowed. "What trick is this? Your dying frost playing games?" 

Arrogance laced his tone, wings flaring dismissively, but a flicker of unease rippled through his swarm the lesser demons chittering, circling tighter as the warmth intensified. 

The river's frozen surface bubbled, cracks widening into steam vents, the air shimmering like a forge's haze.

From the treeline, the mist burned away not with flame, but with an aura that devoured shadow itself. 

A figure emerged, unhurried, cloak trailing faint smoke trails that lingered like ghosts. 

Ragon lean scars etched by forgotten hells, ember-eyes smoldering under wild, ash-streaked hair. 

His sword remained sheathed across his back, untouched, but his presence warped the world: grass yellowing at his boots,

stones cracking from internal heat, the very air humming with restrained inferno.

Sira whirled, scythe sweeping in a defensive crescent, void-energy crackling. "Another insect? The Abyss claims you next your heat's nothing to my queen's hunger!" 

Arrogance swelled in his voice, wings beating to summon a gale of shadow that lashed forward, tendrils seeking to smother the newcomer.

Ragon stopped, head tilting slightly, as if appraising a mildly interesting bug. The shadows withered mid-lunge, evaporating into harmless wisps against his aura. 

He stood unmoving, hands loose at his sides, but the warmth escalated air growing thick, oppressive, like standing at the mouth of a volcano. 

Sean's skin prickled, sweat beading despite his wounds, a strange comfort threading the pain. Who... what is he? 

The Cosmic Dragon stirred sharply, a rare edge of wariness in its rumble: Flames... old flames. Not yours, boy.

Aya's eyes widened, the tendril around her ankle charring to brittle ash and crumbling away. She scrambled back toward Sean, 

clutching his arm, her touch a mix of tremble and wonder. "It's... burning everything. But it feels... safe? Sean, look  the shadows are afraid." 

Her voice hitched, golden light flaring in sync with the heat, as if her regen danced to its rhythm.

"What’s so amusing?" Ragon's voice cut through, low and rumbling like coals shifting in a dying fire. He stepped forward, boots searing footprints into the earth. 

"What is the thing you’re enjoying is it killing? Or is it torturing? What is it?" His ember-eyes locked on Sira, 

unblinking, a faint smirk ghosting his lips. "I get it. I won’t find it unless I try it myself."

The air ignited. Heat surged, no longer subtle a blistering wave that warped vision, trees yellowing and curling like paper in flames. 

Sira snarled, charging with a roar, scythe blazing void-lightning, swarm diving in a frenzied shield. "Die, flame-wretch! The Monarch's will "

Ragon's smirk widened into a genuine smile rare, feral, joyful. His hand moved, deliberate, grasping the hilt of his sword for the first time in decades. 

Steel whispered free, the blade a monolith of etched obsidian and forgotten runes, trailing heat-haze like a comet's tail. "Oh? Finally... a worthy battle."

The strike was poetry in ruin. Ragon swung once lazy, almost casual a horizontal arc that split the air with a whoosh of superheated wind. 

No explosion, no fanfare. Just a line of fire blooming in its wake, invisible at first, then erupting. Everything behind Sira burned

the swarm incinerated mid-dive, wings vaporizing to cinders; trees erupting into bonfires that crowned the horizon; the riverbed boiling to steam in a hissing geyser. 

The world behind him became an inferno tapestry, ashes raining like black snow.

Sira stood unscathed, or so it seemed. His void-armor smoked, edges glowing cherry-red, but he laughed, manic and defiant. "Fool! The Abyss "

Then it hit. Cracks spiderwebbed across his form, obsidian flesh sloughing like overheated slag. Ichor boiled from within, steaming from fissures, his wings crumbling to dust mid-flap. 

He staggered, scythe clattering, red eyes widening in dawning horror as his body disintegrated layer by layer, regenerating only to ash faster than it could knit. "No... impossible... the queen's general..."

Ragon sheathed the sword with a soft click, the smile fading to a sigh. He turned, kicking at a drifting ember. 

"Over already? If you were gonna die with just one strike... why'd you make me draw my sword?" 

His voice rose, edged with that familiar frustration, echoing over the crackling pyre. "Disappointing! Disappointing!!" 

The heat ebbed as quickly as it came, leaving scorched earth and silence in its wake.

Sira's remnants scattered on the wind a final screech dying to embers. Ragon glanced at the wreckage Sean and Aya, battered but breathing then shrugged, 

as if they'd been footnotes in a dull tale. Without a word, without even a nod, he walked into the smoldering treeline, cloak trailing faint smoke, vanishing like a spent spark.

Sean didn't care. He dragged himself to Aya, pulling her into a fierce, trembling hug as her golden light washed over him, mending what little it could. 

"You're safe," he whispered, voice cracking, the world refocusing on her wide eyes, her ribbon still clutched tight. 

That's all that mattered the spark preserved, the smile unbroken. The void had come, and fire had answered. 

But as the flames died to embers, a distant roar echoed from the east not abyssal, but draconic, wings beating thunder. The Vivran stirred, and their fragile peace teetered once more.

To be continued.