Elliren's voice cut through the haze.
"Lucan—don't."
Lucan took another step forward anyway, fists clenched so tightly his gauntlets creaked.
Elliren moved at once, placing himself squarely in Lucan's path, blade angled down but unmoving. His stance was firm, unyielding. His voice carried command—not raised, not harsh, but absolute.
"You can't chase him. Not now. Not in that state."
Lucan's flames flared instinctively, heat rolling off him in a wave that evaporated the rain around his shoulders. His eyes burned—not with holy fire alone, but with something raw and fractured beneath it.
"I can still fight," Lucan said through his teeth.
Elliren shook his head once.
"That's exactly what Carvon thought."
The words struck like a hammer.
Lucan froze.
Elliren continued, quieter now, but no less resolute. "If you go after him like this—exhausted, unstable, burning yourself from the inside out—you'll meet the same end. And we will lose *everything* he died to protect."
Lucan's breath hitched.
His gaze dropped.
To the ground.
To the blood.
To the place where Carvon had fallen.
*My fault.*
The thought ripped through him again, sharper than any blade.
If only I had pushed harder.
If only I hadn't hesitated.
If only I had made sure the demon stayed dead.
His hands trembled.
The flames around him wavered—surging, then thinning—mirroring the chaos tearing through his chest. He could still feel it: the instant Aldric's presence vanished, the split second too late when instinct should have screamed louder.
*Uncle…*
Lucan's jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
"I was right there," he whispered, voice cracking despite his effort to steady it. "I burned him. I pierced him. If I'd just—"
Elliren's hand came down on his shoulder.
Not forceful.
Not gentle.
Grounding.
"You did enough," Elliren said firmly. "You did what no one else could. You forced him to retreat."
Lucan shook his head, grief and fury twisting together until they were indistinguishable.
"He killed Carvon," he said, eyes burning again. "Right in front of me."
"And if you throw your life away now," Elliren replied evenly, "he'll have taken you too—without even being here."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by rain hissing against cooling stone.
Lucan finally exhaled.
Long.
Ragged.
The holy fire receded, collapsing inward until only faint embers clung to his armor. His shoulders slumped—not in weakness, but under the crushing weight of restraint.
"…Damn it," he muttered.
Elliren released his shoulder and turned slightly, eyes sweeping the battlefield once more.
"We mourn later," he said. "We prepare now."
Lucan's gaze lingered on the forest one last time.
Somewhere out there, Aldric was recovering.
And next time—
Lucan swore silently—
*there would be no hesitation.*
---
Aldric tore through the forest like a crimson phantom, branches and trunks blurring past as his wings folded tight against his back. Wet leaves burst beneath his feet, but he never slowed.
He glanced back once.
Nothing.
No pursuit.
No holy pressure scorching at his spine.
A low, irritated growl slipped from his throat.
"Tch… figures."
He vaulted over a fallen trunk and kept moving, blood mana pulsing in controlled waves through his body as torn flesh finished knitting itself together. The last remnants of exposed bone vanished beneath newly formed muscle and skin, pain dull and distant—annoying more than anything.
"That bastard…" Aldric muttered, breath steady despite the damage. "Those damn flames."
His jaw tightened as the memory replayed—white-gold fire bursting *inside* him, burning through blood and flesh alike, close enough that for a heartbeat—
*Too close.*
"I thought you were out of fuel," he snarled, claws flexing. "But you were still burning."
Aldric clicked his tongue in irritation.
He reached inward, feeling the layered blood constructs wrapped around his core—dense, compressed, interlocking like overlapping scales.
"My heart…" he said quietly. "Lucky."
At the last instant, he had forced every available drop of blood inward, condensing it into a multi-layered defense around his heart—isolating the holy fire, suffocating it, starving it of purchase.
He hadn't even been sure it would work.
"…Didn't think it'd hold that well," he admitted with a dry laugh. "But it did."
His expression darkened.
"If even a single thread of that flame had touched my heart…" His teeth bared briefly. "I would've been done. No regeneration. No tricks."
The realization settled heavy in his chest.
Dangerous.
For the first time in a long while, Aldric felt something close to *caution*.
"That's why," he continued, voice low and venomous, "the moment I got back up, I went straight for you."
Lucan.
The holy one.
The real threat.
"If I killed you first, the rest would've been easy," Aldric hissed. "One swing. One heart crushed—"
His stride faltered for half a step.
"…But it didn't go as planned."
He remembered it clearly now—the flames still roaring, still answering Lucan's will. Exhausted, yes.
But not empty.
"Damn bastard," Aldric muttered. "Still burning after all that…"
A thin, humorless smile crept across his face as he moved deeper into the woods.
"…If there's ever a next time," he said softly, eyes gleaming in the dark, "I won't give you the chance."
---
Aldric vaulted over a ravine and landed without breaking stride, feet skidding through wet soil as the forest thickened around him. The deeper he went, the quieter the world became—no pursuit, no flames, no crushing pressure of hostile mana.
Good.
He exhaled slowly, forcing his blood flow to stabilize.
"…That was too close," he muttered again, more to steady himself than anything else.
His thoughts sharpened, snapping into focus.
"Lyriana."
The name cut through the chaos in his mind like a blade.
His lips curled slightly as he leapt between two ancient trees, wings flaring just enough to redirect his momentum.
"I don't have time to play games anymore," Aldric growled. "Not with any of those holy bastards."
Lucan could wait.
Elliren could wait.
The others were irrelevant.
"But Lyriana…" His eyes narrowed, pupils thinning as his perception stretched outward, blood mana rippling through the forest floor in subtle pulses. "She's the key."
If she was captured—bad.
If she was injured—worse.
If she had already fallen into enemy hands—
Irritation twisted sharply in his chest.
"Tch. Don't tell me you let yourself get cornered," he muttered. "You're smarter than that."
He slowed for a heartbeat, pressing a hand against a tree trunk. Crimson lines spread from his palm, sinking into bark and root as blood magic echoed outward—tasting fear, pain, and lingering traces of mana left behind.
His head snapped left.
"There."
A faint trail. Old, but not gone.
Aldric straightened, grin returning—thin, dangerous.
"Found you."
His pace surged again, body blurring as he tore through the undergrowth, voice low and intent as he vanished between the trees.
"Hold on, Lyriana," he said softly. "I'm coming."
And this time—
No one was stopping him.