✨ Author's Note ✨Bonus chapter in celebration of 15k views! Thank you so much to everyone for the support and for following the story — every read makes it all worth it. Enjoy the reading, and see you in the next chapter! 🔥
The blade cut through the air, and Brianna dodged by a thread.
The daggers traced the space in precise movements, each strike a calculated response to Whirok's brute force. He advanced with speed, the sword spinning in wide arcs, trying to break her defense through sheer pressure.
She spun her body, scraping the blade along his arm — a superficial cut, but enough to draw a crooked smile from Whirok.
"Almost," he murmured, before counterattacking with a diagonal strike that she blocked by instinct.
The impact echoed, metal against metal, until both stepped back, breathing deeply.
The air seemed to hold its breath.
For an instant, only the rhythmic sound of their breathing filled the space — panting, controlled, each one trying to hide their own limit.
Rusty chains hung from the ceiling like silent fangs, swinging lightly under the flickering torchlight.
The stone floor, scarred by old cuts, reflected a pale and unstable glow. In the center, the circle engraved on the ground exhaled a dormant energy, almost alive, as if it were watching the two.
Brianna and Whirok faced each other inside that circle, shadows cast on the walls, distorted, merging and separating as they moved.
She adjusted her stance, gaze fixed, her whole body ready to react.
He, on the other hand, seemed too comfortable — a half smile curving his lips, his eyes playing with her tension.
Whirok tilted his head slightly, his voice low, provocative:
"Have you thought about giving up, or is this too fun for you?"
Brianna arched an eyebrow, spinning the dagger between her fingers.
"I was just studying your rhythm." A discreet smile. "Seems too predictable."
He let a low, drawn-out, laugh before spinning the sword lightly.
"Predictable… coming from someone who brags about being unpredictable, that's curious..." He let the phrase die in the air, the smile turning into a challenge.
In a single motion, he threw the sword aside. The metal scraped against the stone, echoing loudly.
"Let's see what you can do... without this."
Brianna kept her eyes on him for a moment, assessing the game — then, slowly, she let the daggers fall.
The metallic sound filled the space between them, vibrating along with the silence that followed.
Two predators. One same step of distance. And then, both advanced at the same time.
The impact was dry — fist against fist, the sound reverberating through the stone walls. Brianna stepped back half a step, diverting his arm and spinning her body in a movement that seemed rehearsed, her knee rising toward Whirok's abdomen.
He blocked the strike with his forearm, the force of the impact vibrating up to his shoulder.A smile appeared on his lips — that kind of smile that preceded something dangerous.
"Now this is getting fun"
Brianna didn't answer. She spun her body, caught his arm and pulled him down, trying to use his weight against him — but Whirok reacted quickly.
He grabbed her by the waist, using her own momentum to spin her in the air.
Brianna landed in a roll, her body flowing like water, already on her feet before he could get close.
"Impressive," he said, his voice hoarse, amused. "Do you train to kill… or just to entertain?"
She smiled slightly, controlled.
"Enough to keep things interesting."
Whirok smiled to the side, his gaze tracing her face with a cynical gleam.
"Good… but I think I can still have more fun."
He tried to grab her by the shoulders; Brianna spun her body, her forearm rising to deflect the movement.
Then, she used his momentum to trap his neck with her legs, throwing him to the ground. The sound of the impact echoed loudly.
For a second, she kept him pinned, muscles tense, her gaze fixed on his.
Whirok laughed, even immobilized.
"Curious… I should be afraid, but this angle is interesting."
Brianna rolled her eyes and let him go, standing up calmly.
"You talk too much."
"And you," he got up slowly, his voice lower, the smile returning, "love to pretend you don't like it."
She didn't answer — she only returned to her combat stance, gaze steady, body ready.
Whirok wiped the blood from his lip with his thumb, still smiling.
Two steps. They attacked each other again.
Brianna advanced — punch, spinning kick, quick elbow. Each movement was precise and lethal.
Whirok absorbed, dodged, and reacted with pure strength, each impact turned into momentum to reposition himself.
She spun in the air, kicking his shoulder. He stepped back, keeping his balance firm as stone. Brianna landed in a roll, ready for the next attack, watching where he stood.
A high kick hit the side, a punch to the shoulder; Whirok blocked and dodged, his body mass compensating for Brianna's speed.
She rolled over one of his attacks, feeling her muscles throb with the effort. She rose in a quick motion, breathing heavily, and struck a rapid sequence of punches and elbows.
He advanced, pushing her strongly, forcing her to retreat, but she reorganized herself, jumped and spun her body, hitting him again with precision.
Each of her strikes was partially absorbed, each of his responses showed brute strength and endurance, but nothing lessened the fluidity and rhythm of the fight.
The floor echoed with the impact of their bodies. She stepped back two paces, passing near a rusty chain that swung lightly, while he repositioned himself in front of the engraved circle on the floor.
For a moment, the fight stopped; the air grew denser, charged with tension — heavy breaths, sweat, blood.
He advanced, a punch toward her, but paused for an instant:
"Tell me… what is your involvement with the Hive?"
Brianna dodged, rolling to the side, keeping her gaze steady while preparing for the next attack.
"I don't know what you're talking about. And even if I did… you think I'd tell you?"
A short, ironic smile curved his lips; amusement and calculation danced in his gaze.
"'Crimson Lady'… does that sound familiar to you?"
She blinked, measured the mention, but composed her face again, stepping subtly forward — provocative, calculating distance and intention.
Whirok tilted his head, letting the pause weigh a second longer. His voice came out low, almost a whisper that cut the silence:
"So… they did it again. I thought about devouring you, then enslaving you — for an instant I considered killing you. Now? I'll take you with me. Consider yourself… lucky. You won't die here."
He had barely finished speaking when the air exploded in movement. Brianna advanced, measuring the distance, seeking an opening.
He remained firm, body controlled, and the first attack came quickly: a side punch that grazed her shoulder, making the air hiss and a thread of blood appear on her skin.
She staggered, regaining balance without losing stance, and countered with a spinning kick that hit his torso.
He absorbed the movement and answered with a dry elbow to her stomach — forcing her to bend, letting out a faint, contained moan.
Still, she spun on her feet, turning the energy of the blow into momentum to strike a quick sequence: knee to the side, arched elbow.
Each of her attacks met resistance, and each of his responses made the space between them shrink.
He advanced with precision, landing clean hits: shoulder to her chest, a controlled punch that grazed the side of her face, a knee that forced her to retreat a few more steps.
Blood and sweat marked her skin, but her eyes remained cold, evaluating every move. He gained ground — through sheer strength, accurate strikes, body firm and unyielding.
She yielded a few steps, calculating each retreat, drawing him in without haste. When he threw his body forward with more intensity, hitting her shoulder with his elbow and forcing her to crouch, she felt the impact reverberate through her muscles.
With precision, she tucked her hips and wrapped his torso with her legs. The spin was sharp — Whirok hit the stone floor.
Dust and blood rose in a whirlwind, but he adjusted his body quickly, without losing control.
In the fall's momentum, Brianna pulled something from her hair — a small metal pin — and drove it into his right eye, quick and precise.
A thread of blood sprouted, and he narrowed his eyes, but kept a cold, calculating expression, as if nothing had shaken his composure. Without wasting time, she stepped back, jumping backward with firm steps. The exit ahead.
As she crossed the exit, she felt a dry impact: one of her own daggers struck her lightly in the shoulder. The pain was brief, the surprise minimal.
She stopped at the threshold and turned, facing Whirok as he rose slowly, a cold smile on his lips.
"Already leaving? I thought you were enjoying the game," he said, unhurried, still adjusting his body, blood dripping lightly from the corner of his eye.
Brianna stood firm, breathing controlled, her eyes fixed on him.
"Phasmatos," she murmured, and the torches around began to tremble, casting dancing shadows on the walls.
He tilted his head, evaluating, a gleam of interest in his eyes:
"I see you've recovered."
She took a deep breath, feeling the energy run through every muscle. Every gesture, every step calculated, until she finally whispered:
"Ignis! Exsurge!"
The flames burst from the walls, consuming the space around with heat and smoke, illuminating Whirok's face — still smiling, still calm, even swallowed by the fire.
"This isn't over yet," he murmured, his voice firm, filled with promise, as the heat trembled in the air between them.
Staring until the last second, Brianna turned toward the cave's exit. Each step echoed the remnants of the relentless fight. The climb up the long staircase seemed to drain every fiber of her body. The cold and silence of the night enveloped her when she finally reached the top.
She stopped, leaning against the cold cave wall, breathing deeply. Whirok's smile still lingered in her mind — that cold, provocative smile that had crossed the heat of the flames and the tension of combat. A chill ran down her spine, reminding her it hadn't been easy.
She sighed, looking at the moon that bathed the night in silver.
"Hive… Crimson Lady… Princes of the Abyss… democrats…" she murmured, her voice tense and tired. "Truly, I won't have rest, not even when this war ends."
On the other side of the Empire, around the forest that surrounded the Barony, a dense mist spread, swallowing everything around.
Whirok remained at the edge, unable to advance, blocked by the veil of fog that moved like a living wall.
"My avatar died…" he murmured, his voice low, almost to himself. "And with this mist between us… I won't be able to find him. There's no other way… I'll have to retreat."
He turned slowly. A cold smile appeared under the pale light of the mist — a harbinger that this was far from over.
"But we'll see each other soon… Ereon. And you too, Brianna."