As the Ifrit raised its arms, the molten pools churned and gave birth to flame itself. From the depths of the lava, twisting figures emerged—fire elementals, smaller than the Ifrit but no less dangerous. Their bodies flickered and crackled with barely-contained heat, their burning tendrils lashing at the air hungrily.
Irelia's pulse spiked. Too many. She had expected the Ifrit to escalate its attacks, but this?
One of the elementals lunged at her, its tendrils snapping forward like a whip of molten fire. She twisted, barely avoiding the searing strike, but the heat still licked at her cheek, leaving a raw, stinging sensation.
Biting back a curse, she loaded a Frost Bolt into her crossbow and fired. The bolt struck true, detonating on impact and smothering the elemental in an explosion of icy mist. It writhed, its flames dimming as frost spread across its molten form before it collapsed into a pile of cooling embers.
One down. Dozens more to go.
Another rushed toward her before she could even reload.
Nariel was already moving, intercepting the oncoming threat with practiced precision. She pivoted, dodging a fiery slash from the Ifrit, then spun on her heel, her sword carving through the advancing elemental. Its molten body split apart, the halves collapsing back into the lava with a hiss.
But before she could regain her footing, another attacked from behind.
Nariel whirled—too late.
A burst of flame slammed into her shoulder, searing through the armor before she could fully summon a barrier. Pain flared like a lightning strike, raw and unrelenting. She staggered, her breath catching as the fire clung to her sleeve, burning through the fabric. With gritted teeth, she ripped away the smoldering material, batting out the lingering embers with her gloved hand.
The acrid scent of scorched leather filled the air. Beneath the ruined armor, her skin was an angry red, raw and blistered. Her fingers twitched involuntarily, the pain making her left hand tremble.
No time for hesitation.
She pressed her palm over the wound, summoning a faint glow of holy light. The magic pulsed, knitting the worst of the damage, enough to keep her arm functional—but not enough to erase the pain. Move past it. Focus.
Her grip on her sword tightened as she steadied her stance.
"Irelia!" she called out, her voice sharp with strain. "We can't hold out like this!"
Irelia knew it. She could feel her energy slipping, her body close to shutting down. Every movement was a battle, every breath came ragged and hot. Her supply of enchanted bolts was running dangerously low.
They needed something big—something to turn the tide.
A reckless idea formed in Irelia's mind—one that went against every survival instinct she had.
Her magic was still weak, barely a flicker of what it should be. But not empty. In the hours since their last battle, she had recovered just enough for one move, one final move. A last, desperate gamble.
"Just my style." A wry smile ghosted across her lips.
With a shaky breath, she dropped to one knee, ignoring the way her vision swam. She drew a rune into the ground with her own blood, mixing it with what remained of her magic. A Frost Burst Rune. It was dangerous—volatile. At this level of exhaustion, it would either work spectacularly or break her completely.
No second-guessing. No hesitation.
She slammed her palm against the sigil.
The effect was instantaneous.
A deafening crack split the air as a shockwave of freezing mist erupted outward, expanding in a violent, all-consuming wave.
The Ifrit let out a bloodcurdling screech as jagged ice surged up its molten limbs, steam billowing in furious clouds as fire and frost warred against each other. The fire elementals froze mid-motion, their flickering bodies encased in crystalline ice before shattering like glass.
For a single, breathless moment, the inferno was snuffed out.
Then—silence.
Irelia collapsed, her vision blurring. She had drained herself completely. She couldn't even lift her crossbow. Not now.
But it was enough.
Nariel saw her chance.
As the Ifrit reeled, its body fractured with frost, Nariel pushed forward, cutting through the mist-laced battlefield like a blade through smoke.
Each step sent a pulse of divine energy rippling outward, the silver glow of her armor intensifying with every movement. Light magic—pure, unyielding—coursed through her, gathering at the blade in her grip.
Irelia, barely holding onto consciousness, could only watch as Nariel lifted her sword high, the weapon radiating like a beacon against the scorched battlefield.
"By the Blooming One!" Nariel's voice rang out, echoing through the cavern with unwavering power.
The Ifrit roared, a sound of defiance and desperation, its molten form writhing as it fought against the freezing magic still latching onto its body. But Nariel was already there—diving into the opening Irelia had carved.
The Ifrit turned just as Nariel struck.
Her sword drove deep into its molten core.
The moment her blade connected, holy energy erupted outward.
A shockwave of silver-white radiance exploded through the chamber, cutting through the suffocating heat and piercing the Ifrit's fractured shell. The cracks in its molten body widened, exposing the infernal flames burning within.
The Ifrit let out a shriek of agony as its form convulsed, flames sputtering wildly. Holy light clashed with infernal fire, a violent collision of opposing forces that sent tremors through the cavern.
Irelia raised an arm to shield her eyes as the entire chamber quaked, waves of pure force rippling outward. The Ifrit let out one final, wretched wail—its entire body shuddering beneath the weight of Nariel's strike.
Nariel staggered back, her breath ragged, her sword still glowing with divine light, trembled slightly in her grip.
And as the Ifrit reeled, as its form wavered between collapse and resurgence, Irelia forced herself to lift her head.
Her vision still swam, her body betraying her, but through the fog of exhaustion, she saw it—
The battle was far from over. Despite its wounds, despite the crack in its molten heart, the Ifrit still burned.
Irelia's vision blurred, her body trembling from exhaustion as she stared up at the battlefield. The frost from her desperate rune was already fading, its magic losing ground against the infernal heat of the chamber.
The Ifrit staggered, molten cracks running across its body, but it did not fall.
Why won't it fall?
Frustration surged through Irelia, clawing at her chest like a vice. She had seen it weaken—had felt the force of Nariel's blade sink deep into its molten core. And yet, though the Ifrit reeled, its flames refused to die.
Through the haze of exhaustion, her gaze locked onto the brazier at the center of the chamber.
It was still burning.
Stronger than before.
The roaring flames, the heat pressing against her skin like a living force, even Nariel's voice—all of it faded into the background. All she could see was that brazier.
A memory flickered at the edges of her mind, a fragmented echo from mere moments ago.
The Ifrit had emerged from it.
The runes surrounding its base had pulsed the moment it was summoned.
Now, as the Ifrit faltered, the brazier's flames only burned brighter.
A spell. Not just a summoning, but a binding.
Irelia's breath hitched as realization struck her like a blade to the chest.
The Ifrit wasn't just defending this chamber.
It was tethered to it.
Her mind latched onto the symbols she had traced before its summoning. At the time, they had been too intricate, their meaning lost in the haze of battle and exhaustion. But now, with the fight dragging on, with the Ifrit refusing to die, she saw them for what they really were.
A conduit. A binding spell. A direct link between the Ifrit and Pyraxis' flame.
Destroying the Ifrit would never be enough.
The brazier was the true key to its power.
The Ifrit let out a thunderous roar, the very foundations of the chamber trembling beneath its wrath. Molten rivers surged and rose, their fiery tendrils licking at the walls as if the ruins themselves were lending power to the infernal entity's final stand.
Above them, the brazier blazed brighter than ever, its fire no longer a simple source of light but a raging inferno, a second sun burning within the darkness.
And then, the firestorm began.
The air detonated with waves of blistering heat as meteors of pure flame rained from the cavern ceiling, slamming into the stone with explosive force. Molten debris erupted in all directions, turning the battlefield into a chaotic inferno.
Nariel barely had time to react as a flaming boulder crashed into the ground beside her, the sheer force nearly knocking her off her feet. She raised her light shield just in time to absorb a wave of superheated air, the impact scorching the edges of her armor.
Irelia dove behind an obsidian pillar, her breath ragged as the flames howled around her. Her fingers trembled as she reached for another bolt—
Only one left.
And they were out of time.
Irelia pushed herself up, heat clawing at her skin as she shouted through the chaos, "Nariel! The brazier! It's fueling the Ifrit—we need to sever it!"
Nariel snapped her gaze toward the brazier, her mind working through the implications in an instant. The unnatural glow, the surging flames, the Ifrit's refusal to die—
It was all connected.
"Then do it!" Nariel ordered, stepping between Irelia and the Ifrit. Her sword gleamed with divine energy, a silver beacon against the suffocating inferno. "I'll hold it off!"
The Ifrit lurched forward, molten claws streaking through the air in a final, desperate attempt to incinerate them where they stood.
Nariel didn't retreat.
She charged straight into the flames, her blade igniting with divine radiance. The Ifrit roared in fury, its molten eyes blazing as it turned to meet her.
Nariel didn't give it the chance.
With a single, precise strike, her sword drove deep into the Ifrit's already-cracked core.
The impact sent shockwaves through its body, cracks spiderwebbing outward as flames burst violently from within.
But it wasn't enough.
Not yet.
Across the chamber, Irelia loaded her final bolt.
A Shock Bolt.
Perfect.
Lightning and fire—it would create an explosion, hopefully, one big enough to shatter the brazier completely.
She gripped the bolt tightly, feeling the last remnants of her magic pulse along its runes, the energy barely holding together. This had to work.
One shot.
Her breath steadied.
Her vision tunneled.
She took aim.
And fired.
The bolt streaked through the chamber like a bolt of lightning, a crackling arc of raw power. It struck the central rune on the brazier with deadly precision.
The effect was immediate.
A deafening crack of thunder split the air as raw electricity surged through the ancient stone. Sparks danced across the brazier's surface, overloading the runic circuits that tethered the Ifrit to Pyraxis' flame.
The brazier shuddered.
Fractured.
And then—
Exploded.
The Ifrit let out a soul-rending roar, its flames sputtering wildly, its once-mighty form collapsing to one knee. The molten veins of its body cracked apart, fissures of dying embers racing across its limbs. The inferno that had dominated the chamber died in an instant. The molten rivers along the floor solidified into blackened stone, the heat vanishing as though it had never existed.
The Ifrit's flickering form wavered, its body losing cohesion, flames barely holding shape. But even as its power diminished, its molten eyes burned with eerie clarity.
It turned toward Irelia.
And spoke.
"The flame of Pyraxis... cannot be extinguished."
The voice was no longer purely wrathful. It carried something else—something deeper.
A warning.
"Your trials... have only begun."
Then, with a final burst of fire, the Ifrit's molten core shattered.
Its essence dissolved into nothingness.
The brazier, now broken beyond repair, dimmed completely, leaving behind only a smoldering crater in its wake.
The battle was over.