The relentless battle had pushed Dunce to his absolute limit. The silver radiance within his core, his Vitality Aura, felt like cold embers fading in the dark. He channeled the ragged energy coursing through him, pushing his shattered meridians towards mending, clawing back fragments of his depleted power. Time stretched into an uncertain void until, finally, he'd clawed back maybe half his strength. His physical wounds knitted, leaving phantom aches as grim reminders.
One thought pierced the fugue of his recovery: *Frostbone*.
He ended his meditation, eyes snapping open. The dryad was bathed in a flickering emerald light, hovering over Frostbone. The effort was immense, sweat beading on her forehead as she poured her own meager, restored reserves into the fading girl. Dunce's heart lurched. He scrambled to Frostbone's side.
The wounds had partially healed, scar tissue forming beneath hastily applied bandages, but Frostbone's face was impossibly pale. Her brow was creased, locked in the silent agony of her final battle. The dryad took a deep, shuddering breath, letting the verdant light gutter and fade. She swayed, nearly collapsing, only Dunce's steadying grasp keeping her upright.
"Elf Maiden?" Dunce rasped, voice thick with dread. "How is she?"
The dryad shook her head, eyes filled with sorrow. "I've given everything… hours of channeling… but it wasn't enough." Her voice was a whisper heavy with defeat. "The Catwoman's blow was grievous… but… there's something worse. A poison inside her, old and vile. It's seeped into her marrow. She was living on borrowed time, kept alive by some cruel regimen of suppressants. The blood loss… it let the toxin loose. Your energy alone kept her tethered until now. Even the Majesty Queen herself… couldn't pull her back from this brink."
Dunce felt the world stop, then shatter. He stared down at Frostbone's fragile, still form, etched in fading moonlight. Tears, hot and unchecked, carved tracks through the grime on his face. "No… NO!" The denial tore from him, ragged and raw. "Fate can't be this cruel! I refuse! There *has* to be another way!" His hands shook as he gathered Frostbone into his arms, pulling her close. White light, the pure power of his Vitality Aura, surged from his core, enveloping her like a shroud of defiance. Against all reason, a flush of color seemed to touch Frostbone's cheeks. She coughed, a small trickle of crimson staining her lips, and her eyelids fluttered open.
The dryad sighed, a sound of profound sorrow. She knew it for what it was – the final, cruel flare of life before the darkness closed in. Silently, she rose. A glance to Rock and his silent companion, a nod, and she drew them away, leaving Dunce and Frostbone in the cruel, temporary reprieve of their farewell.
Dunce saw the color in Frostbone's face, mistook it for hope, and poured even more energy into her.
Frostbone's eyes found his, the irises clouded and distant. Yet, seeing him, a ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Out… of Dark City…?" Her voice was a dry scrape, each word an effort.
Dunce nodded fiercely, cradling her head. "Yes, yes! Outside the walls. You're safe now. I'll heal you. You're done with that cursed place."
A frail chuckle, barely audible. "Silly… stoic man… I know… my own clock, better… than anyone." She paused, gathering breath. "Twenty-three years… and dying… today's… the best." Her gaze drifted, lost in the haze of pain and morphine he hadn't realized she needed. "Not… so young… only eighteen when we met… told you… remember?" She managed a faint trace of her old, sharp spirit.
Dunce blinked, the minor age correction irrelevant against the tsunami of grief. "You won't die. I swear it."
Frostbone's eyes held a deep, sudden clarity. "You were… always so kind, beneath the quiet. So… terribly naive." A ragged breath. "Know this. You… you're the only one… I ever… loved." The confession hung in the cooling air. She pressed a weak hand to his lips, stopping the protest she saw forming. "Listen… please… My time bleeds out… like this wound… but my regrets… my story… need telling. Grant me… this. Let me be… known… by you. Then… I sleep."
Dunce's world narrowed to the feel of her cooling hand in his, the scent of blood and herbs. He nodded, choking back the sobs that threatened to engulf him. He held her hand tightly, a lifeline he knew was fraying.
Frostbone exhaled, her gaze drifting towards the indifferent stars. "A day… a lifetime… your shadow… fell deep." Her voice gained a ghostly strength, fueled by whatever reserves her confession demanded. "I never understood… why. My luck… was cursed from birth. Born in a nowhere town… just ruins now. Taken by Viscount Master Horton's land grabbers. Mother gone… before memory. Father… broken, mean. A stepmother… cold. My first memories… fists, curses… unwanted." The flat tone held oceans of old pain. "Learned cold… built walls." She coughed, pausing as Dunce channeled energy, a low hum vibrating through them both. "Fifteen… Horton's enforcers came. Claimed the land… my home. People fought… foolish. The enforcers… cut them down. Every one. Father, stepmother… the half-brother I barely knew. Two hundred lives… gone in hours." Her voice remained frighteningly devoid of emotion recounting the horror. "I waited… for the bullet… welcomed it. Life Rockforce… offered nothing."
"But Horton… saw my face. Took me. Not mercy… calculation. Thought a prize." Bitterness, sharp and venomous, replaced the detachment. "Cleaned me up… fed me… played kind master. Then… took what he wanted. Shattered the girl I barely was." Her hand clenched weakly in Dunce's. "Learned hate then… deep, hungry hate. I wanted to rip his heart out. But weak… trapped. He made me his whore… and worse… passed me like a party favor to grease deals, build alliances. I thought… drowning myself… many times. But hate pinned me here. Had to kill him first."
The poison's legacy surfaced. "He poisoned us… all his 'special assets'. Slow, insidious. Monthly antidote… a life-sentence leash. Betrayal… meant agony, death. I played the game… became his trusted serpent. Eight years… coiled beside him… waiting to strike." A tremor shook her. "He was… a paranoid viper. Guards… even in his bed… like a fortress. Eight years… no opening."
Dunce wept openly now, the dam broken. The true weight of the shadow behind her eyes, the history etched into a soul just twenty-three, crashed over him. The sheer, relentless ugliness was staggering.
Her fingers brushed his wet cheek, the anger softening. "Heard them call you Dunce… your name?" Dunce nodded mutely. "Fits… quietly strong…" Her gaze wandered slightly, the focus beginning to slip. "Yesterday… Goldwave gave orders… Use the honey trap. Catch the naive spellsword. First sight… just another kid playing hero… magic tricks…" A fleeting, genuine smile touched her lips. "You blushed… avoided my eyes… actually *listened*… Your light… burned my darkness." The smile vanished, replaced by a desperate intensity. "Your friend… called you Dunce 'The Stoic'... it fits…" She took a shuddering, wet breath, the pauses growing longer. "Then the roulette… saw your power… not just magic… real skill… I tested you… pushed… meant to see how deep the well ran... you barely flinched… Thought you'd rage… kill me… but your eyes… just disappointment." Each word was forced out against the closing darkness. "At the tables… I helped the house… played my part… against you… you… won again… didn't hate me…" A trace of awe flickered. "Goldwave signaled… full seduction… wanted you drowning. I played… stripped… cold… professional…" Her voice dropped to a whisper, strained. "But you… you idiot boy… offered freedom… a way OUT…" Her grip tightened momentarily. "*That* moment… seeing my body… the shock… the nosebleed… that *honest*, awkward panic?" A weak, almost girlish chuckle escaped, turning into a painful cough. "Watching you flee… clumsy knight… that… was my first true joy…"
The memory of their awkward, desperate encounter in the room flashed in Dunce's mind. A woman, broken by the world, finding light in his utter innocence. Frostbone *loved* him. She had said it. He felt the life draining rapidly from the fragile body he held.
Her eyes were fading fast, losing focus. "…Then… by your side at the auction… the heat of you… solid and real… That tiny bit of warmth… stolen time…" Her voice faded into a breathless murmur. "Then… Catwoman came… stole… my light. You left… Goldwave alerted me… Horton followed… hunting. I knew… knew his tactics… Knew about Coldmist… his favorite ambush poison…" Panic fueled her fading strength. "His stronghold… understaffed… I ran… searched… my access still good… found the antidote vials…" Her breath hitched. "Made it… just as blades flew… your friends falling… you about to take the deathblow… Threw the vial… broke it at your feet… breathed that cold relief…" Tears tracked down her temples. "So scared… Dunce… so scared I'd be… too late… and see you die…"
Dunce understood now. His life was a gift, purchased with the dying breaths of the woman in his arms. *Twice* she had intervened. He gripped her cold hand, pouring everything he had into the connection.
"…Hear you?" Her whisper was almost lost. "…Never saved you… for debt… or gratitude… Dunce…" The grey finally swallowed the light in her eyes, but her voice found one last, surprising conviction. "Love you… that's enough… know I'm… not worthy… of yours… not asking…" A final surge of clarity. "…I just… need… it… known…" Her eyes slid shut. "…Cold… Dunce… hold me… please?" Her hand went limp against his chest. "…Love… you… So… much… wish… I could… stay… watch… your light… grow…" The faint smile solidified on her pale lips, a testament to satisfaction in the void. "…Dunce… my… Dunce…" Her shallow breathing stopped. The tension left her body. A single, crystal tear escaped her closed eye, tracing a path down her temple, mingling with the dust of Dark City.
Frostbone was gone.
Dunce clutched the cooling body, his own grief a physical, paralyzing force. Sobs wouldn't come anymore; just a silent, yawning chasm of loss. He held her, immobile, refusing the monstrous reality that the fiery spirit he'd met yesterday was now this still form.
Behind him, Rock, the dryad, and the silent companion stood vigil. They understood the language of this loss. Words were useless. They shared the crushing silence of Dunce's grief.
Eventually, movement. With infinite tenderness, Dunce laid Frostbone on the ground. He smoothed her tangled hair, his voice a low, shattered murmur. "You were clean, Frostbone. Purest spirit in that pit of darkness. I promise… your peace." His hand brushed her cold cheek. "I keep you with me. Show you… the beauty we find… wherever we go."
His voice hardened, resolve crystallizing within the grief. "Let me wash the world's filth from you… restore your essence." He raised his hands. The air crackled. "Frigid flames of Judgment! Gather! Purify!" Deep cerulean fire bloomed in his palms – not the comforting hearth fire, but the cold, cleansing fire of transmutation. "Go! Honor her perfection!" He lifted Frostbone's body effortlessly. With a gesture, the blue flame engulfed her. There was no heat, only a deep, vibrating energy. Within the shimmering blue aura, the physical form dissolved into ash. A contained sphere of Dunce's aura held the residue, preventing dispersal. Under immense pressure, the ash compacted, fused, shrinking into a cohesive, dense white mass no larger than his fist.
Dunce closed his eyes, his fingers tracing unseen patterns. Yellow-gold light, hard as forged steel, flashed and sculpted with uncanny precision. Memory guided him – the sharp intelligence in her eyes, the defiant set of her jaw softened by that final smile. Moments stretched as he channeled raw grief into meticulous detail. Finally, he opened his eyes.
The ash effigy in his palm was breathtakingly lifelike. Not a death mask, but Frostbone as he remembered her spirit – alert, clever, touched with the melancholy beauty that had haunted him, and now crowned with that final, peaceful smile. He cradled the cold, smooth figure etched in white mineral ash – *albarium*, the purist's final form.
Rock approached, his own face tear-streaked, placing a heavy hand on Dunce's shoulder. "Brother… she's beyond pain now. Ease your burden."
Dunce didn't look at him. His gaze was locked on the effigy. "Dead?" His voice was unnaturally calm, detached. "No. She's here." He tapped the albarium figure over his heart. "Always. Witness to the world." Carefully, reverently, he tucked the perfect white carving into an inner pocket of his battered armor vest, safe against his skin. He finally turned to the dryad. "Sister Elf Maiden… thank you. For the precious moments… to say goodbye."
Without another word, he strode to a clear patch of ground and sat, legs crossed, eyes fixed on the horizon where the sun had plunged into the chaotic skyline of Dark City. He began to gather his energy, the air around him humming with repressed power. There was no invitation to join him. Just the stark command of necessity.
Rock exchanged a look with the dryad and his companion. This calm was terrifying, like the pressure drop before a hurricane hits the coast. They sat silently a short distance away, letting the grim exhaustion of body and soul pull them under into troubled rest.
Sunset again, twenty-four hours later. It painted the rusted metal towers of Dark City in hues of blood and rust. Dunce "The Stoic" rose. The crushing fatigue was gone, burned away by grief and purpose. His Vitality Aura pulsed strong within him, a contained supernova of pure power. Injuries were sealed, energy restored to its full, lethal potential.
He stood at the edge of their makeshift camp, the desolation of the wasteland stretching towards the glowing hive of corruption that was his destination. He pulled the albarium effigy from its resting place over his heart. It felt warm against his palm, infused with his energy, his vow.
"Witness it, Frostbone," he murmured, his voice devoid of its former hesitation, flat and cold as steel. "Eight years of torment ends tonight. Your justice… paid in full." He stared at the effigy, seeing her knowing look. "This city spat on mercy. My hesitation… my weakness… that Catwoman reached you. That ends *now*." His fingers brushed the cool surface. "Before your spirit, I swear it. From this sunset forward, I cease to be the Stoic. I become Judgment. Mercy has no place for the wicked. For them… I become the final gate. The inevitable dark." His eyes, once reflecting the fading light, now seemed to absorb it into infinite cold depths. The air around him dropped perceptibly in temperature. His hand dropped to rest on the hilt of the weapon strapped to his back – a blade known in fearful whispers as the *Dunce's Edge*. A name he would now embody. "I am the debt collector of souls stained in black. I am… Death."
The raw, predatory hatred emanating from him was palpable, a chilling vortex that snapped Rock awake. He scrambled to his feet, his own power still only partially replenished. The Dunce that stood before him wasn't the brother he'd followed; this was a weapon primed, the Stoic shed to reveal an avatar of vengeance.
"Dunce!" Rock called, a warning and a question.
Dunce turned. The face was familiar, but the eyes belonged to a predator. "My strength is back, Big Brother Rock," he stated, tone flat, factual. "There's a debt in Dark City. Long overdue."
Rock's blood ran cold. "You're going back *in*? Alone? You know what waits? Horton will have every thug, every hired killer on alert!"
A mirthless, chilling ghost of a smile touched Dunce's lips. It didn't reach his eyes. "Alertness won't save them. Let the streets burn. Let Horton know." He raised the albarium effigy again, addressing it with unnerving intimacy. "She is my witness and my purpose. Stopping me now?" His gaze locked onto Rock, filled with the terrifying calm of absolute conviction. "Is impossible. Stand aside."
Rock felt the gulf between them, the abyss Dunce had crossed. He remembered his own blinding, soul-crushing rage when he'd lost someone irreplaceable. He understood the grim inevitability. He looked his brother in the eye. "Go then," Rock said, his voice rough with emotion. "A man's path is defined by these moments. But remember: lives are tied to yours still. Mine. The Elf Maiden's. Your masters, waiting somewhere. And," he paused, forcing the name past the lump in his throat, "Mystic Moon. She waits for the light she remembers."
The name *Mystic Moon* struck Dunce like a physical blow. The predator flinched, revealing the soul beneath the armor, just for a heartbeat. The absolute, self-destructive embrace of oblivion receded an inch. Life Rockforce – responsibility, connection – asserted a fragile claim. He looked down at the effigy in his hand.
"She watches," he murmured, almost to himself, then met Rock's gaze with renewed, terrifying resolve. "And she needs to see justice done. So I'll return." His fingers caressed the albarium face. "Keep your eyes open, Frostbone. Watch the corrupt burn." He tucked the effigy away.
Before Rock could utter another word, Dunce vanished. Not a blur, not a jump – one moment he stood framed against the dying light, the next, he was simply *gone*, leaving only a swirling eddy of dust and the oppressive weight of his departing rage. His trajectory: a deadly arrow aimed straight at the black heart of Dark City.
Rock stood alone in the sudden silence, the weight of the fading light heavy on his shoulders. He stared towards the city's grim silhouette. "Make it back alive, brother," he whispered to the encroaching night. "Bring that spark back. Tandor't let her sacrifice turn you to ash entirely."