Atlas woke to ringing ears and weightlessness, his heart leaping into his throat as he realized his feet were dangling over open air. He blinked hard and looked up to see Seris gripping his arm with both hands, her face pale but determined.
"I got you," she said weakly. "It's my turn to save you, I guess."
She hauled him up just as Lorian flickered in and out of existence nearby, dodging invisible blows, while Garruk traded earth-shaking strikes with Calik, who had launched himself onto the tower like a living missile.
Calik laughed as he leapt away, his eyes glowing red. "Enough of this. I suppose I'll have to use some against you."
A red barrier snapped into existence midair, blasting Garruk away. Atlas's stomach dropped.
"Aether Resonance," he muttered.
The air above the tower distorted as Calik's red aether surged outward, invisible pressure folding the space around him until Atlas felt it in his teeth, a deep vibration rattling through bone and breath alike. The red barrier that snapped into existence between Garruk and Calik was not solid in any conventional sense, yet when Garruk collided with it mid-leap the impact sounded like a mountain striking glass, the giantblood hurled backward hard enough to crater the stone beneath him.
Atlas barely managed to stay upright as the shockwave rolled across the rooftop, the edges of the tower cracking and shedding debris into the endless drop below. Calik hovered just above the ground now, boots inches from the stone, his cloak lifting unnaturally as the aether bled off him in pulsing red waves.
"So crude," Calik mused, flexing his fingers as translucent constructs formed around them, geometric shapes humming softly as if alive. "You rely too much on mass. On instinct. Aether is refinement. Control."
Ako lunged again despite the blood soaking her back, her movements fueled by sheer will rather than strength, but Calik merely gestured and a red wall erupted in front of her, slamming her backward and suspending her midair in a glowing prison that snapped shut around her with surgical precision.
"Ako!" Seris shouted, reaching out instinctively, only for another barrier to coil around her legs and torso, lifting her off the ground as though gravity itself had been rewritten.
Garruk roared and charged again, resonance flaring through his arms as stone ripped free beneath his feet, but Calik turned his palm outward and the aether responded instantly, wrapping around Garruk like tightening bands. Garruk slammed both hands against the translucent prison, veins bulging, the stone beneath him cracking in spiderweb patterns, yet the barrier did not break.
Lorian backed away, heart hammering, his breath shallow and panicked as another red construct formed beside him. He vanished just as it snapped shut, reappearing several feet away only to find another already forming, Calik's eyes tracking him with amused precision.
"Annoying trick," Calik said calmly. "But predictable."
Atlas dodged as the final barrier attempted to close around him, rolling across the stone and coming up hard on one knee, pain tearing through his side as he forced himself upright. His vision tunneled, the world narrowing to Calik's raised hand and the Deathforged trapped one by one around him.
Calik approached slowly, savoring the moment, his voice dropping almost conversationally.
"See. This is the part where resistance stops being admirable."
The barriers began to contract.
"Wait!" Lorian shouted. "Please! I can't die yet!"
The box slammed shut—
—and Lorian vanished.
Smoke.
The real Lorian appeared behind Calik, terror and resolve etched into his face as he slashed downward, cutting Calik's hand. The barriers shattered.
Garruk did not hesitate.
He stomped the ground, stone ripping free as he hurled it forward with crushing force, sending Calik flying off the tower.
The Deathforged erupted in exhausted cheers.
"I am the chosen one!" Lorian whooped. "You may now call me Sir—"
Ako limped over and smacked him. "You're the reason we're in this mess."
Bithron's arrival tore the sky open with sound, the dragon's wings beating violently against the red air as he descended toward the tower, heat rolling off his scales in shimmering waves. The Deathforged barely had time to mount before Calik rose from the rubble below:
"...I can't them get away...They killed the chieftain's son! Unforgivable! Reprehensible! Vile! Cruel! What kind of servant am I if I cannot detain and kill these murderers!"
Suddenly wings erupted from his back in a spray of dark energy and bone, each massive span snapping outward with a wet, thunderous crack.
They flapped slowly unit finally they launched him upward at insane speed.
Meanwhile Bithron surged forward, claws scraping stone as he leapt into open air, the sudden drop wrenching Atlas's stomach as the tower vanished beneath them. The wind howled immediately, ripping at cloaks and hair as Seris leaned forward, gripping the reins tightly, her blood-streaked face set with fierce concentration.
Behind them, Calik accelerated unnaturally fast, his wings not beating so much as cutting through the air, red aether trailing him like contrails of flame.
"Oh come on! He's got wings! Dammit! He's gaining!" Lorian shouted, clinging desperately.
"I know!" Seris snapped, yanking Bithron sideways as they narrowly avoided a jagged rock spire that burst past them. "Bithron, dive!"
The dragon obeyed instantly, folding his wings partially as they plummeted toward the canyon below, the walls rushing up to meet them in a blur of black stone and crimson light. Calik followed without hesitation, weaving effortlessly between falling debris as Bithron unleashed a torrent of fire backward.
Calik twisted through it, the flames bending around his aether shield, his laughter carrying across the wind like broken glass.
Atlas crawled forward despite the pain, grabbing Seris's bow from her back. "You maneuver. I shoot."
"Hey—!" Seris protested, then grit her teeth and nodded. "Fine. Don't miss."
Atlas drew the string back, his arms shaking, timing his shots between violent turns as he loosed arrow after arrow, each one slicing through the air toward Calik. The demon dodged most effortlessly, batting one aside with a claw, another disintegrating against his shield, yet one grazed his shoulder, drawing a thin line of blackened blood.
Calik hissed, eyes narrowing.
They burst out of the canyon into open sky, cliffs giving way to jagged floating rock formations, remnants of ancient upheaval suspended impossibly in the air. Seris guided Bithron between them at breakneck speed, the dragon banking sharply as Calik pursued relentlessly, tearing through stone that dared slow him.
Bithron roared and released another blast of fire, but Calik skidded to a halt midair, his wings flaring wide as he snarled.
"Ugh," he spat. "It's you three."
Above him, framed against the red sky, hovered the three elven riders.
The three elven riders hovered above them on broad-winged griffins, their silhouettes cut cleanly against the red sky. To the right was a smaller, younger-looking elf whose posture betrayed a constant edge of tension, his frame thin and almost frail despite the armor he wore. Long green hair spilled past his shoulders, framing wide, bug-like brown eyes that never seemed to stop moving, and a thin scar cut across his cheek as if it had never quite healed right. He looked nervous, alert in the way prey learned to be, hands gripping the reins tighter than necessary.
To the left rode a woman with short blonde hair and sharp green eyes, her build fuller and stronger than most elven warriors, power settled into her stance rather than worn openly. She was undeniably beautiful, but there was nothing soft about the way she carried herself, her expression serious and unreadable, gaze fixed forward with the calm certainty of someone who had already decided how this encounter would end.
At the center was a tall, thin elf whose presence anchored the formation without effort. His long, messy grayish hair stirred lazily in the wind, a narrow goatee framing a face marked by age and experience rather than weakness. One of his blue eyes watched the scene below with open interest while the other, clouded white and sightless, did nothing to dull the confidence in his smile, a quiet, knowing curve that suggested he had seen far worse than this and survived it.
Each of them wore pristine white armor inlaid with gold, plates etched with the same elegant sigils and design as Lykkos's own, polished and untouched by battle, as if they had arrived not from war, but from certainty.
"The Hero Lykkos's Three Guardians," Calik finished.
And for the first time since the chase began, Calik hesitated.