The night bled silver and fire.
Veyth's hand hovered inches from Aelric's wrist, his glass digits pulsing with a rhythm that didn't belong to the living. Around them, the battlefield stilled—as though the Arch-Hunter had pressed pause on reality itself.
Sparks hung in the air. The survivors froze mid-motion, screams locked in their throats. Even the crackling of flames seemed delayed, sound stretched thin.
Aelric could still feel movement, but sluggish, like swimming through tar. His corrupted veins throbbed in revolt against the stasis.
He's not just bending time, Aelric realized, teeth grinding. He's rewriting it.
The whispers surged inside his head, taunting.
Let me through. Tear him apart. You cannot win bound by their rules.
Aelric's laugh rasped out, dry and painful. "You Hunters and your rules. Always so obsessed with control."
Veyth tilted his helmeted head, glass digits reflecting Aelric's flickering lifespan. "Control defines order. Chaos is what destroyed the others of your Oath. And chaos is what festers in you."
His finger touched Aelric's timer.
The digits spasmed.
---
Elara forced herself upright, even as her lungs burned against the freezing air. Her light sputtered weakly, but she poured everything she had into it. Her body screamed with fatigue, but her spirit refused to kneel.
She called out, her voice cutting through the suffocating stillness:
"Aelric! Listen to me—don't let him take it! Your time belongs to you, not them!"
The words hit like a spark in dry tinder. Aelric's chest tightened, fury boiling.
"My time is mine," he snarled. His corrupted arm surged outward, raw and jagged, shattering the invisible grip. The frozen air cracked like glass.
Reality lurched back into motion.
---
Chaos erupted again. Survivors gasped for breath. Fire snapped loudly, and sand whipped up in sudden wind.
The Hunters advanced once more. One swung its blade at Elara, forcing her back. Mira threw herself between them with nothing but a broken spear haft, deflecting the strike long enough for Lysa to drive a dagger into the creature's knee joint.
The Hunter staggered—but then adapted instantly, its movements recalibrating. Its timer digits flashed. [∞]
Mira's blood ran cold. "What… the hell does that mean?"
"It means they're not bound anymore," Elara whispered hoarsely. "Veyth is feeding them his own frozen time."
The Hunters fought harder. Every strike carried unnatural weight, their forms accelerating beyond mortal reflexes.
---
Aelric staggered to his feet, corrupted veins pulsing across half his torso now. His breath came ragged, but his eyes burned with defiance.
"You want my time? Come take it."
Veyth's voice was calm. "So be it."
They clashed.
Aelric's sword met Veyth's time-forged blade. The impact split the air, a shockwave flattening tents and scattering sand like a storm. Sparks of corruption and frozen light spiraled outward, warping the battlefield.
Every strike echoed with two sounds—the present impact and its afterimage, as though time replayed each blow twice.
Aelric pushed harder, sweat burning his eyes. His corrupted arm screamed with power barely restrained. He could feel the whispers clawing at his sanity, urging him to unleash everything.
But if he did, he wasn't sure there'd be anything left of himself.
---
Meanwhile, Elara and the others fought desperately to keep the remaining Hunters away from the survivors.
Kael stumbled, nearly caught by a blade, but Mira dragged him back, blood streaking her arm. Lysa darted in and out of the shadows, her knives like fireflies, never stopping long enough for the Hunters to predict her.
Still, the numbers weren't on their side. Each Hunter fought like ten men.
Elara gathered her last reserves of light and cast a blinding flare across the battlefield. It didn't destroy the Hunters, but it forced their movements to falter for half a heartbeat.
Sometimes, a heartbeat was enough.
---
Back at the center, Aelric and Veyth locked blades again.
"You fight like one clinging to a flame already dying," Veyth said, unshaken. "Your immortality is a lie. Even endless time cannot withstand corruption."
"Maybe," Aelric growled, teeth bared. "But corruption is still mine. Not yours."
He shoved forward, letting the black veins flare. Shadows licked outward, devouring sparks of frozen light. The ground split where his corrupted arm struck, sand glassing into black crystal.
For the first time, Veyth stepped back half a pace.
"You risk unmaking yourself," the Arch-Hunter warned.
"Better me than them," Aelric spat.
---
Elara's voice rang out again, desperate but unwavering.
"Don't you dare die, Aelric! You still owe me a sunrise after this!"
Something inside him steadied at her words.
The whispers clawed at him, but he clung to her voice as an anchor.
He remembered her laughter under the broken sky, her stubborn faith when even he doubted himself. The corruption was strong—but so was she.
And maybe… so was he.
---
The duel reached its peak.
Veyth's frozen time clashed with Aelric's corrupted eternity. Blades met again and again, sparks painting the night. The survivors could only watch, breathless, as titans collided.
Each impact twisted the world, bending time around them. Prisoners saw glimpses of alternate outcomes—Aelric lying dead, Veyth collapsing, the camp already ashes. Futures branching and collapsing in the blink of an eye.
It was like staring into eternity's mirror.
Finally, both opponents broke apart, chests heaving.
Veyth's voice was steady, but there was a faint edge now, as though even he felt the strain.
"You are not ready. Yet your defiance… is noted."
He raised his hand. The remaining Hunters froze, then withdrew as though recalled by unseen strings.
The battlefield fell eerily quiet.
Survivors gasped, bleeding, half-broken, but alive.
Elara staggered to Aelric's side, catching his arm before he fell. His corrupted veins glowed faintly, spreading dangerously close to his heart.
"You can't keep pushing like this," she whispered, fear trembling beneath her words.
Aelric forced a smirk. "Guess I'll just… have to be stubborn."
She glared at him through tears. "Idiot."
---
Veyth's final words lingered in the night, heavy as a curse:
"The Council knows. They will come. Your flame will not last."
Then he and the Hunters vanished into the darkness, leaving only silence, broken tents, and the stench of blood.
Aelric's grip tightened on his sword. His timer flickered with unstable digits, corruption creeping further inside him.
But he wasn't done. Not yet.
As long as Elara's light still shone, he would fight until the last second.
---
To be continued…