⚔️ **CHAPTER 72 — Inferno in the Mist**
The ruins had become a labyrinth of shadow, fire, and smoke. Jagged rocks jutted from the ground, twisted beams of fallen structures blocked paths, and the mist thickened unnaturally, hiding threats until they were almost upon the group.
Kael's body screamed with fatigue and hunger, but Centering and Iron Mind held him upright. Every step, every breath, every decision required precision. Survival was no longer guaranteed—it had become a **calculated gamble**.
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The Council struck with precision.
**Rhayel** and **Tavric** attacked from opposite directions, their blades cutting through the mist. **Soryn** pressed into Kael's mind, probing doubts, memories, and fears with lethal precision. And from the shadows, **Varynn** emerged, using the terrain itself as a weapon, collapsing beams and tossing boulders toward the group.
Kael pivoted, Centering holding his body, Iron Mind filtering mental assaults. Flames erupted from Caelin's sword, licking along the misty ruins. He shaped the fire carefully: walls to block paths, arcs to deflect attacks, controlled bursts to scorch the ground and trip enemies. Each strike created breathing space for the group.
Mireya's shield met Tavric's swinging log with a metallic clang. She used the deflection to shove him off balance, creating a narrow corridor for Kael to maneuver. Tomas darted through shadows, striking Soryn's focus points with precision knives, disrupting the psychic pressure just enough for Kael to regain control.
Kael rolled under a falling beam, landing near Mireya, and forced himself upright, threading body and mind together. His limbs screamed, but Iron Mind filtered chaos into calculated action.
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Caelin's flames became more than defense—they **manipulated the battlefield**. Small fires blocked ambush points, arcs of fire forced Rhayel and Tavric to overextend, smoke concealed Tomas's movements, and the heat from controlled bursts slowed Soryn's psychic push.
Kael realized the truth: **magic was not power—it was leverage**. His companions' skills amplified his survival into strategy. Centering and Iron Mind kept him alive; Caelin's fire controlled space; Mireya protected; Tomas disrupted mental attacks. Together, they turned desperation into advantage.
But the Council adapted.
Varynn collapsed a massive stone pillar toward Kael. Tavric swung a tree trunk. Rhayel lunged at him. Soryn doubled the intensity of his mental assault. Kael staggered—but Centering kept him upright. Iron Mind filtered, threading chaos into clarity.
Kael lunged into action. He pivoted on unstable ground, using Tavric's momentum against him, dodged Rhayel's blade through the fire's glare, and redirected Varynn's falling stone with a calculated nudge.
The Council faltered. They had expected panic, but Kael and his companions **had learned to manipulate desperation itself**.
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By nightfall, the Council withdrew, frustrated but alive. Kael and his companions were battered, bloodied, exhausted—but victorious.
Kael sank to one knee, chest heaving, muscles trembling. "We… survived. Again."
Caelin sheathed his flaming sword, sweat streaking his face. "Fire isn't strength—it's precision. We survived because we used it wisely."
Mireya exhaled, shield lowering slowly. "And because we all survived together. That matters more than anything."
Tomas wiped blood from his cheek, smirking faintly. "Balance, fire, and timing… cleverness beats raw power."
Kael nodded, looking over the scorched ruins. The Council would return, stronger, more cunning—but **they had tasted resistance**, and now the team had a new edge: **balance, strategy, and fire**.
For the first time, Kael allowed himself a flicker of hope: **they could survive—and maybe even win.**
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