The sun was gone.
Not hidden—gone.
The sky above us had collapsed into a dull, waiting grey, heavy with something unspoken. Clouds pressed low, thickening with each passing second, as if the rain itself hovered just beyond decision.
Below, the world choked.
Ash filled the air, dense and restless, shifting with every breath of movement. It clung to my skin, slipped into my sleeves, coated the back of my throat.
I inhaled—
—and immediately regretted it.
My lungs burned.
The sensation spread outward, sharp and dry, each breath dragging heat and soot deeper inside.
There was no time to hesitate.
Hollow Palm?
The thought came clean. Immediate.
But the cost—
"I still have to conserve enough qi for attack and defence," I reminded myself, forcing the words through a tightening chest.
My breathing stuttered.
I steadied it.
In.
Short.
Controlled.
Out.
The ash cloud pressed closer, visibility shrinking to a shifting blur of dark and blue-flecked haze. My eyes stung, vision smearing at the edges as if the world itself were dissolving.
I stepped back.
Then again.
Each movement deliberate.
Measured.
Eighty percent qi remaining.
The number surfaced without effort.
A quiet calculation beneath the noise.
Hollow Palm is still the safest option.
My breath ran thinner.
The ash thickened.
Fine.
I raised my hand.
Fingers curved inward, forming a hollow cup. Not clenched. Not open. A precise shape—space held between tension and release. Only the tips of my fingers, coated in qi, brushed against the void I created.
Hollow Palm.
The air responded.
Moisture gathered.
Not visibly at first.
Then—
Dew formed along my skin. The faint dampness of breath condensed in the cold edge of circulating qi. Mist drew inward, pulled from the surrounding air with increasing urgency.
It spiraled into my palm.
A sphere began to form.
Small.
Then denser.
Water, suspended and trembling within the space I held.
"Not bad," Morgan said.
Her voice came through the ash as if distance meant nothing.
A shape moved—
Her blade.
It cut toward my neck.
Fast.
Clean.
I didn't dodge.
My naginata rested at my feet, just out of reach.
My left hand lowered slightly.
Fingers tightened.
At the final instant—
I compressed.
The gathered vapor collapsed inward.
Water hardened.
Pressure condensed into a single point.
Crushing Depth.
My fist drove forward.
The impact landed square against her solar plexus.
It wasn't just force.
It was weight.
Density.
A contained pressure released all at once.
The sound followed a fraction later—a deep, concussive thud that rippled through the ash.
Morgan's body snapped backward.
She vanished into the smoke.
I exhaled sharply.
Air filled my lungs—clearer now, cleaner as I stepped out of the densest part of the cloud. The burning in my chest eased slightly, though each breath still carried a trace of heat.
My arms stung.
I glanced down.
Burn marks—shallow, scattered where the ash had clung too long.
Nothing serious.
But enough to remind me.
The clearing—
It had changed.
Trees burned openly now, bark splitting under heat. The ground had been torn apart in jagged lines, trenches carved by attacks that hadn't missed by much.
In the distance—
Lady Alvie hovered.
Not standing.
Not supported.
Floating.
Spears formed around her—one after another—each flickering into existence before launching downward in precise, controlled arcs.
They fell like judgment.
Each strike carved into the cultist below.
Relentless.
Measured.
"That really hurt," Morgan said.
She appeared beside me.
No transition.
No warning.
Her kick landed before my body could respond.
It struck my ribs—
The force folded into me, compressing air from my lungs as the world tilted sideways. My feet left the ground—
Then—
Impact.
My back slammed into a tree.
The trunk shuddered, bark cracking slightly where I hit. Leaves above rattled loose, drifting down through the smoke.
My grip tightened instinctively.
I pushed myself off the trunk.
"Smoke Veil."
Morgan's voice cut through again.
I saw her posture through the haze—right hand cupped over her left fist, mirroring the earlier technique.
I reached down.
My fingers closed around my naginata.
The weapon felt heavier now.
Grounding.
"It's smaller," I realized.
Her ash cloud had changed.
Condensed.
Pulled tight around her form instead of flooding the entire clearing.
A controlled shroud.
The air inside it pulsed—
Then flashed.
Light exploded outward.
A beam of white qi tore through the smoke, aimed directly at me.
I rolled.
The attack passed close enough to feel the heat peel across my back, slicing through the ground where I had been standing. Dirt and ash scattered in its wake.
I came up on one knee.
Then stood.
Flames had spread further.
The clearing no longer had boundaries—just patches of fire bleeding into one another.
"D-don't forget about me," Morgan said.
She stood ahead, framed by firelight.
Her silhouette flickered against the flames.
Her grin—
Wild.
Unrestrained.
"Serpent Gate."
Qi surged.
It flooded through my arms, down into the shaft of the weapon, gathering along the blade in a sharp, coiling current.
I stepped forward.
Swung.
The arc was wide.
Deliberate.
The qi extended beyond the blade, forming a cutting edge that tore across the space between us.
Morgan moved.
Fast.
But not fast enough.
The attack caught her along the thigh.
A deep gash opened.
She stumbled—
Recovered—
And landed several paces away.
"That was painful," she said.
The complaint sounded genuine.
Almost offended.
Then—
She changed.
Her breathing had shifted. Faster now. Shallower. Blood ran freely down her leg, dark against the ash-coated ground.
But her eyes—
They shone.
Bright.
Alive.
Her fingers rose to her face.
Index and middle pressed lightly at the corners of her mouth.
Then pulled.
A subtle motion.
Almost playful.
She leaned forward—
And spat.
The liquid struck my weapon.
Qi reacted instantly.
A sharp hiss cut through the air.
The metal—
Warped.
Not melted.
Not broken.
Eaten.
The blade twisted as if something unseen gnawed through it in seconds.
More droplets followed.
They struck my arm.
Pain flared.
Sharp.
Burning.
I jerked back instinctively.
Acid?
No—
Lava.
The realization came with the heat.
It wasn't dissolving.
It was consuming.
"Ha!" Morgan laughed.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly now.
She was panting.
The wound on her leg bled steadily.
But she didn't slow down.
Didn't retreat.
If anything—
She leaned further into it.
And above us—
The sky finally broke.
The first drop of rain fell.
It struck the ground with a sharp hiss as it met flame.
Then another.
And another.
Soon the sound spread—a scattered rhythm of water meeting fire.
Steam rose in thin, twisting columns.
The battlefield shifted.
Heat met cold.
Ash met rain.
The air thickened again—but differently now. Heavier. Wetter.
The fire resisted.
The rain insisted.
And in between—
I stood.
Breathing.
The world moved around me, but for a moment—
Just one—
The chaos aligned.
The battlefield breathed.
And so did I.