Twenty minutes ago, the worst-case scenario was failing to find Lusha before she could cast a ninth-circle spell. How hopelessly naive I was.

Every nerve in my body screamed at me to flee, to run, to escape. The fear and pressure of facing two ninth-level beings threatened to overwhelm my every thought. Memories of the arbiter and twin lava dragons flashed through my mind over and over, overlapping with Lusha and Zenith. My words had been brave, but at the end of the day, what was I but a simple eighth-level mage? I couldn’t even use combat spells.

A sharp clang rocked the air, vibrating into my bones. I opened my mouth to scream, but my voice died as Zenith appeared in front of me, his sword frozen a few inches from my throat, locked in place by Fable’s claw. The warrior raised an eyebrow, glancing at Fable. My wolf’s hide rippled over his muscles, the veins standing out as they bulged beneath his fur. His lips were peeled back from his muzzle, fangs gleaming in the magma light, and his ears were pressed back, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

My voice caught up to the scene before me, and I cried out, stumbling back. There’d been no warning, no signs in his soul. Not even the subtle compression of mana I’d relied on to anticipate magical arts and techniques. It was exactly like Fyren had taught Luke. Ninth-level beings were on another level entirely.

"I’ve never seen a monster quite like this, to read and block my attack like that. Not even the elderwyrms are capable of such a thing," Zenith said, suddenly a few steps away, his sword held casually in a relaxed fighting stance.

"He truly is marvelous," Lusha agreed. "A pity to stain his shining coat with crimson. Just make it quick, Zenith. No need to make an oble creature suffer."

"Noble?" Zenith spat, his spittle hissing into steam before it hit the ground. "No demon-cursed mangrel could be noble. But power? Now that I respect."

He moved again, this time slow enough that I saw it coming a fraction of a second before he actually hit. Fable reacted much faster, lashing out with a hind leg as he twisted out of the way of the blade. Zenith swayed like a reed in the wind, dodging it by a quarter of an inch. His sword cut up, slicing cleanly into Fable’s flank. He hissed and recoiled, but Zenith stayed on him. Wherever his sword flashed, more crimson lines appeared across his coat. Curling wisps of sun mana clung to the wounds, but burned away in Adaptive resistance’s warmth. Even the worst cuts closed in seconds, thick fur sprouting to cover the fading scars.

They fought for a few seconds, a game of cat and mouse, before Zenith suddenly broke off the assault. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"What the hell?" he muttered, glancing at me and then back at Fable. "What kind of creature is this?"

Where before his question was steeped in regret, it now held a hint of genuine curiosity.

"Fascinating," Lusha mumbled, staring at Fable. "He clearly has demon features, but the sun doesn’t touch him. How does he have no infernal mana?"

"Enough," Zenith said, raising his sword. "You can pry the answers from its carcass after I gut him."

The air shook as his sun mana gathered, the metal of his blade humming. Fable sensed it too and readied himself, his hackles raised. The two stared each other down, seconds dragging on. My hands clenched on my staff, my heart slamming against my chest, but whenever I reached for my mana, a sudden chill crossed my back, and I ducked, sensing Lusha’s gaze. Her soul was occupied by the World Barrier, but at the end of the day, trying to cast something in front of a ninth-level mage was futile.

Finally, Zenith lunged. Excess mana bled from his sword, forming a beacon of light that extended its reach, carving a furrow through the glossy obsidian floor and walls. Fable dodged, again anticipating the attack, but Zenith’s speed exploded, the light of his sword stretching impossibly. It caught Fable in the shoulder, ripping through his flesh. The wolf snarled and jerked his head, trying to bite Zenith’s arm, but his teeth snapped shut on empty air. The warrior flowed like water, his sword flashing, and blood splattered the floor as he raked Fable’s face.

Fable was thrown from the force of the blow, flipping twice through the air before smashing through one of the molten lava falls. He howled as magma draped across his fur, blanketing him in glowing orange and red as he struck the ground. He scrambled to his feet and shook his coat, sending hardening droplets in every direction. Blotches of black and melted fur were scattered unevenly across his body, but the lacerations from Zenith’s sword had already healed. As he streaked back to my side, interposing himself between the warrior and me, most of the burns, too, had already vanished.

"Tenacious mutt," Zenith muttered.

As the two met again, Fable finally managed to land a small blow on the warrior’s side, but his armor absorbed the brunt of it. He traded the chance for several more deep cuts across his chest.

While they fought, shockwaves and errant tides of mana buffeting my wards, I studied Lusha and the world barrier, maintaining as small a profile as possible. She was fixed on the wolf, keen with interest, but I didn’t doubt for a second she was watching me closely. She seemed reluctant to cast a spell herself, which I assumed had to do with the world barrier, but that would change the moment I threatened to upset the battlefield. There was only one chance to get this right, one chance to make a difference. So long as Fable gave me the chance to plan, I would take it and figure out a way to get out of this mess.

Finding that chance would have been a thousand times easier if I had access to fate, but the region was still sealed off, even this deep underground. I couldn’t wait for the Fatesworn to break it, or for Luke to catch up. We were on our own.

I ducked as Fable was sent flying again, narrowly missing clipping, and bit back a silent curse. Almost, I wished the Star Guard were here to fight alongside him, that we hadn’t been forced to leave them behind up above, but they would only be slaughtered. And Zenith hadn’t used a single ninth-level technique yet.

"Fable?" I asked, backing away as Zenith advanced at an easy-going pace.

Fable had found himself submerged in another lava river, but I felt his soul brush against mine, his worry showing he’d come to the same conclusion as I had.

If I couldn’t cast a spell without provoking either of them from taking it seriously, then I could only fall back to the only tool I had left, the only abilities that hadn’t forsaken me.

Fable crouched within the river, gathering his strength while using the vicious currents of magma to shield himself from Zenith’s gaze. He didn’t seem to care, idly swishing his sword as he caught up to me, bringing it down with thudnrous might.

I let out a cry as my wards shivered, falling backward, scrabbling away from him. His sword rose and fell with blistering speed, hammering with just as much force. Black, jagged lines spiderwebbed across my wards, every blow threatening to break through.

Zenith raised his sword for one final blow, concentrating a tremendous amount of mana into the crystalline blade. The air cracked, and the ground groaned with the weight of his aura. A ninth-level technique. He tensed, the veins in his arms bulging as he fought to contain the power.

As the blade wavered, beginning the reversal that would end in it shattering my wards, I lifted my staff. Lusha cried out in alarm, her soul blossoming with mana, but it was too late. The Final Star exploded with light.

"Be still," I whispered.

Time ground to a halt. The lava froze mid-fall, forming thick pillars of swirling marble. Lusha’s wand was outstretched toward me, the ending runes of an eighth-circle spell on its tip. Zenith’s sword hung in the air over my head. It alone moved, slowly descending toward me. I stared at it for a long moment, my heart pounding. A sharp crack rang out as the air around him fractured, and I cried out, clutching my chest as a spike of pain drove into my soul.

My soul was strong, and my mana was in rich supply. So why was there this burden? Not even the Lava Dragons had strained me so. Was it some kind of Divine Blessing? Or was I just weaker than I thought?

"Hurry," I groaned, regaining my feet and stumbling out from under Zenith’s slowly falling sword. "Their fates are too strong. It won’t be held for long!"

With a roar, Fable was there, trailing ribbons of magma that froze as they streamed from his coat. He pounced over my head, sinking his teeth into Zenith’s shoulder. For the first time since the battle began, the ninth-level warrior bled.