The moment the space cleared and the tension snapped tight again, Kenta's hand surged forward, frost racing over his fingers, thickening, sharpening, until it resembled something far more dangerous than a simple construct.
An ice claw. Jagged, curved, and glinting faintly in the purple light. He stepped in and slashed straight for Hanko's face. Hanko's eyes narrowed just a fraction before moving.
His body snapped backward, feet pushing off the ground as he leaped away, the icy claws cutting through nothing but air where his head had been a moment earlier.
He landed lightly several feet back and immediately retaliated. Flames surged forward from his palm, gathering in an instant before exploding outward into a large, roaring fireball.
It tore through the space between them, heat flooding the room. Kenta reacted just as fast.
His free hand lifted, and a thick wall of ice surged up from the ground in front of him, forming in an instant. The fireball slammed into it, erupting into steam and crackling heat as flames spread across its surface. The impact echoed through the brothel.
For a moment, everything hissed and blurred behind the wall of frost. Kenta stepped back behind it, using the cover. His fingers tightened. The ice responded.
Behind the barrier, the frost began to shift and gather again, forming, elongating, and shaping into something new. A long, solid staff. Thick at the base, tapering slightly toward the ends, reinforced with layered ice that gleamed faintly with a cold sheen.
Kenta gripped it, rolling his wrist once as he tested its weight. On the other side, Hanko didn't stay still. He pushed off the ground again, leaping up onto the wall of the brothel like it was nothing more than flat ground. His feet stuck, flames licking at his soles as he ran along the vertical surface at high speed.
One step. Two steps. Then he was moving. Circling. Fast. Blurring around Kenta's position as he launched attack after attack.
Fireballs. Smaller, faster, rapid bursts of flame that shot toward the ice wall and the man behind it from all angles. The wall cracked. Pieces shattered away under the assault.
Kenta stepped out from behind it just as it gave way completely, the staff already moving in his hands. He spun it. Fast and precise.
Each incoming fire attack met the solid arc of ice, deflected or split apart, bursting into steam or scattering harmlessly past him. Some slipped through the gaps, grazing his robes, leaving faint scorch marks along the fabric.
The air grew hotter with each exchange. More chaotic. Some of Hanko's missed shots struck the furniture around the room. A table caught first. Then a curtain. Then the edge of a wooden support beam. Small flames flickered to life.
Then it began to spread. Kenta noticed. Of course he did. But Hanko pressed harder. He dropped from the wall in a sudden descent, his entire arm engulfed in roaring flames as he rushed straight at Kenta. At the last second, he dipped low.
Sliding across the floor beneath Kenta's guard. His arm snapped upward. A concentrated blast of fire erupted from his palm, aimed straight up. Kenta barely reacted in time.
Ice surged in front of him again, forming a shield just as the blast connected. The impact was violent. The shield shattered, and Kenta was sent flying.
His grip loosened, the ice staff slipping from his hands as his body was launched upward, crashing through the railing of the second floor with a sharp crack of splintering wood.
He hit hard. Rolled. Wood scraped against his back and shoulders as he slid across the floor before coming to a stop several feet away. For a second, he stayed there. Then he exhaled, pushing himself up.
Below, Hanko groaned, rubbing at his head before grabbing a fistful of his braided hair in frustration.
"You bastard!" he shouted, looking up toward the second floor. "Look at this place!"
Flames were spreading now. Not uncontrollable yet, but growing. Climbing along wood, feeding off curtains and furniture.
"My brothel!" Hanko snapped. "Do you have any idea how much I gambled to win this place?!"
Kenta, still catching his breath, let out a small exhale as he straightened.
"I'm not the one throwing fire everywhere," he said, his tone dry.
Hanko's eye twitched.
"If you'd just stop being a persistent bitch and die already," he snapped, "there'd be minimal damage!"
Before Kenta could respond, Hanko jumped. His body shot upward, flames trailing behind him as he cleared the gap between floors in a single motion, landing heavily on the second floor.
His arm was still ablaze. Brighter now. Hotter.
"I'm going to burn that ugly mug of yours to ash!" he snarled.
Kenta let out a quiet huff, rolling his shoulder as he stepped forward.
"I'd love to see you try."
They moved at the same time. Again. Kenta's arms became coated in thick layers of ice, frost crawling up to his elbows, reinforcing his strikes. Hanko's limbs burned brighter, flames roaring along his arms as he closed the distance.
They met in the center of the second floor. Impact. Ice and fire collided again, but this time it wasn't a single strike. It was a flurry.
Kenta's fists drove forward in sharp, controlled bursts, each movement precise, reinforced with layers of hardened ice. Hanko responded in kind, his strikes wild but powerful, each swing trailing fire that cracked and burst against Kenta's defenses.
The air around them twisted. Wind burst outward with each clash, pushing smoke and flame aside as their movements accelerated. Ice shattered. Fire roared. Wood creaked beneath their feet as the structure strained under the force. Neither of them slowed.
Both men are drawing deeper. Pulling more power. The energy built rapidly until it snapped. A sudden surge. A simultaneous release. Their attacks collided head-on, magic erupting outward in a violent burst that shook the entire floor. The force exploded between them.
The second floor groaned loudly, beams cracking as the shockwave blasted both men backward.
Kenta's body slammed into a wooden pillar, the impact cracking it slightly as splinters scattered around him. Hanko crashed into the opposite side, tearing through a bed and smashing into a wardrobe, wood splintering and collapsing around him.
For a moment, stillness. Broken only by the crackling of flames.
Outside, Hemlock stood just beyond the entrance, his eyes fixed on the building. Smoke poured from the doorway and windows, thick and dark against the daylight. Behind him, a small group had gathered. Brothel workers and patrons.
Some are shaken. Some are silent. The woman he had carried out lay nearby, a local doctor kneeling beside her, working quickly to treat the wound.
Hemlock barely looked at them. His focus stayed on the brothel. On the sounds coming from inside. The crashes. The impacts. The low, distant roar of fire. His jaw tightened slightly.
"He wasn't exaggerating," Hemlock muttered under his breath.
Another loud crash echoed from within the building. Followed by a sharp burst of heat that pushed outward through the open doorway. The people nearby flinched. Hemlock didn't. He just kept watching knowing this fight was far from over.