The battlefield had changed.
Not because the fire had stopped burning, nor because the screams had faded—those still remained, echoing through the ruined streets of the smith village. But something else had taken over the moment, something heavier than destruction itself.
Loss.
Louis lay motionless on the ground, his spear no longer in his grasp, his presence—once unshakable—now gone. Not far from him, Omen struggled to rise from where he had been thrown, his body barely responding after the crushing impact of Maelkris' wings.
And in the center of it all
Solarynth moved.
No, he blurred
Grace couldn't keep her eyes steady on him.
Every time she tried to focus, he was already somewhere else. One moment he stood in front of Maelkris, the next he was behind him, above him, beside him—afterimages layering over each other until it felt like there were dozens of him filling the battlefield.
"W-what… is that…?" she whispered, her voice trembling despite herself.
Her hands, still stained from tending to Rook, tightened unconsciously as she watched.
This wasn't the Solarynth she knew.
Not the quiet one who asked questions.
Not the one who tried to understand people.
This one
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't speak.
Didn't even seem to breathe properly.
He just moved.
Fast too fast.
Steel Beard stood a few steps ahead of her, his warhammer resting at his side, but for once—
He wasn't charging in.
His sharp eyes followed Solarynth's movements, narrowing slightly as he watched the way the boy tore through the battlefield with raw, uncontrolled speed.
"…That ain't normal," he muttered under his breath.
He had seen strength before.
Monsters.
Warriors.
Beasts that could tear through armies.
But this—
This wasn't just strength.
It was something else.
Something unstable.
Solarynth's movements cracked the ground beneath him with every step, the air itself snapping as he pushed past its limits. His afterimages didn't fade like illusions—they lingered, delayed, then struck as if they carried weight of their own.
Steel Beard exhaled slowly, his grip tightening around his weapon.
"He's not controlling it…" he said, more to himself than to Grace.
Grace's eyes widened slightly.
"What do you mean…?"
Steel Beard didn't look at her.
His gaze stayed locked on Solarynth.
"Look at him," he said. "His breathing's off. His steps ain't clean. He's just… forcing it."
There was a pause.
A heavy one.
"…That kind of speed?" he continued, voice lower now. "If his body can't keep up…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Grace swallowed hard, her attention snapping back to Solarynth as he reappeared again and again around Maelkris, striking from angles that shouldn't even be possible.
"But he's… he's pushing him back…" she said, a hint of hope slipping into her voice despite everything.
For a moment, it did look that way.
Steel Beard's expression didn't change.
"…No," he said flatly.
Grace froze.
"That thing…" Steel Beard continued, his eyes narrowing slightly at Maelkris, "ain't even panicking."
And he was right.
Maelkris stood in the center of the storm, his Eternal Eyes tracking every movement, every shift, every strike. His body moved with precision, blocking some attacks, deflecting others, taking a few hits—but never losing control.
Never losing composure.
Steel Beard clicked his tongue.
"…He's learning him."
Grace's breath caught.
"Solarynth's fast," Steel Beard said, his voice steady but heavy, "but that bastard…"
His grip tightened around his hammer.
"…he's figuring him out."
Silence fell between them for a moment.
Not because the battle had stopped
But because they both understood what was coming next.
Grace looked back at Solarynth.
At the boy who had just lost someone for the first time.
At the boy who was now moving faster than anything she had ever seen.
"…He's going to lose, isn't he…?" she asked quietly.
Steel Beard didn't answer immediately.
His eyes stayed locked on the fight.
Watching, waiting.
"…If he keeps fighting like that," he finally said, his voice low and certain,
"…yeah."
Ahead of them
Solarynth moved again.
Faster and harder.
More desperate and Maelkris didn't move an inch more than he needed to.
The storm was reaching its peak and it was about to break.
Solarynth moved first.
There was no warning, no signal—only a sudden distortion of air as his body vanished from where he stood, his feet barely grazing the ground as he surged forward. The space around Maelkris fractured into motion, afterimages flickering into existence, circling him like ghosts caught in a storm.
A strike came from the right—a sharp hook cutting through the air—but it was a feint.
The real attack came from the left.
Fas, precise.
Aimed directly at the ribs.
Maelkris raised his forearm and caught it cleanly.
The impact echoed, forcing him half a step back, his boots grinding against the cracked ground. Before the motion could even finish, Solarynth was already there again, his fists moving in a relentless chain, each strike snapping toward the torso, the jaw, the throatfaster than sight, faster than thought.
And then
He vanished.
For a fraction of a second, the battlefield felt empty.
Then he reappeared behind Maelkris, body already spinning, his leg cutting through the air in a precise arc aimed for the back of the neck.
Maelkris shifted—just enough.
His shoulder rose, absorbing the impact with a dull, heavy sound, and in that same instant, his body responded. A backward elbow shot out without hesitation, sharp and compact, aimed to crush.
Solarynth leaned away mid-motion, his body bending unnaturally with speed, slipping past the counter before it could connect. He reappeared at Maelkris' flank, driving two rapid blows into his side before snapping an upward strike toward the chin.
The hit landed.
Maelkris' head tilted slightly from the force—
but his stance did not break.
His feet remained rooted.
Unshaken.
A hand shot out.
Maelkris caught Solarynth's wrist mid-motion, there was resistance.
Solarynth twisted instantly, his body blurring as he tore free, his movement splitting again into multiple afterimages. They surged in from every direction, striking in rapid succession—shoulders, ribs, back—each hit landing with precision, each impact sharp and fast.
The air trembled with the speed of it.
The ground cracked beneath Solarynth's steps.
The assault did not stop.
Maelkris slid back one step.
Only one.
Solarynth accelerated again.
Faster.
Harder.
He closed the distance in a blur, driving his knee forward into Maelkris' abdomen before chaining the motion upward into a downward axe kick aimed at the collarbone.
Maelkris raised both arms.
The kick landed.
The force split the ground beneath him, stone fracturing outward in jagged lines—
but he did not fall.
Solarynth pressed forward, his breathing beginning to sharpen, his movements pushing past their limits as he unleashed another storm of strikes. Each blow came faster than the last, afterimages overlapping, distorting the battlefield into a chaotic blur of motion.
To anyone watching—
It looked like Maelkris was being overwhelmed.
But he wasn't.
Behind those void-like eyes—
Something was changing.
He was watching, counting, learning.
The rhythm.
The timing.
The difference between illusion—and real.
Solarynth lunged again, committing fully, his body cutting forward with everything he had.
This time—
Maelkris stepped in.
Not back.
Forward.
A punch struck his shoulder.
He didn't stop it.
Didn't avoid it.
He let it land
Just to close the distance.
And then he struck.
A single, heavy blow drove straight into Solarynth's midsection.
The impact was absolute.
It crushed the air out of him instantly.
Solarynth's body halted.
Just like that.
The momentum—
Gone.
For a fraction of a second, the afterimages disappeared.
Solarynth staggered back, breath catching, his body trying to recover, but he didn't stop. He forced himself forward again, speed flaring, movement splitting once more into multiple angles, desperate to regain control of the fight.
Maelkris raised his arm.
This time—
He didn't even bother dodging.
The strikes came.
Fast, sharp.
Relentless.
He endured them.
Each hit landed but none of them were enough.
Then he moved.
His hand shot out and caught Solarynth's arm mid-strike.
His grip tightened.
Unbreakable.
Solarynth twisted, his body shifting directions in rapid bursts, trying to escape, but the grip didn't falter. No matter how fast he moved, no matter how many angles he created
He couldn't break free.
For the first time—
Speed failed him.
Maelkris pulled, Solarynth's balance broke instantly.
A knee drove upward into his torso.
The impact shattered his rhythm completely, forcing the air from his lungs again, his body folding under the force as the afterimages flickered and vanished.
Solarynth stumbled back, barely catching himself, his vision shaking as he forced one more attack, spinning into a desperate strike aimed for the temple.
Maelkris took it.
Partially.
His head turned slightly from the blow but his body moved forward again.
A crushing strike drove into Solarynth's body.
This time it sent him flying.
He hit the ground hard, skidding across broken stone before forcing himself back up, his body trembling, his speed still flickeringn but unstable now, uneven, breaking apart under the strain.
Still he moved.
One last time.
A final burst.
Everything he had left.
Afterimages scattered wildly, overlapping, erratic, no longer precise—just fast.
Too fast.
Out of control.
Maelkris didn't move, he stood still.
Waiting, for the right moment.
And then, he saw it
The real one.
Solarynth committed.
A final strike.
Everything behind it.
Maelkris stepped in.
Perfect timing, he caught him mid-motion and slammed him into the ground.
The impact shook the battlefield.
Silence followed.
Solarynth tried to move.
His body didn't respond the same way anymore.
His speed
Still there but his strength
Gone.
Maelkris stepped forward slowly, looking down at him.
A final strike descended—
but it never reached him.
The force shattered the ground beside Solarynth's head instead, stone cracking outward from the impact, dust rising into the air like a fading echo of what could have been the end.
Solarynth lay there, unmoving.
Not because he chose to
but because his body no longer answered him.
The storm had ended.
And in its wake, only silence remained.
Speed… had not been enough
Maelkris slowly straightened, his gaze lingering on the fallen figure beneath him, those hollow, endless eyes unreadable as ever.
"You're fast…" he said, his voice low and cold, carrying no anger only certainty.
A brief pause followed.
"…but weak."
He withdrew his fist without another glance, as if the outcome had already been decided long before the final blow was ever thrown.