The sky above the kingdom writhed in fury. Thunder roared like the war drums of gods, interspersed with lightning flashes that tore through clouds and illuminated the palace ruins like ghost silhouettes. In the midst of that chaotic vortex, Zenya hovered, her eyes radiating pure rage focused only on one person: Raksha.
The robe created from her divine mark, lightning blazing across her entire body, emitting an ear-splitting electrical hum. Her sword drawn, following the wild energy flow.
"Rakshaa!" she screamed, a voice containing all vengeance and heartache. Her body shot like an arrow released from a bow, leaving a lightning trail in the air.
Clang! Clang!
Two sword blades clashed, igniting a symphony of iron and rage. Their movements were balanced—fast and agile. Each collision sparked light: Zenya's blue lightning crossing with Raksha's reddish fire, shaking the surrounding air. From a distance, Parli watched calmly, a thin smile suggesting satisfaction over the battle they created.
"I've tasted the bitterness of losing to you, Raksha. That defeat carved a wound that never healed... and today, I will close it with your blood... I will destroy you here and now!"
Her attacks came relentlessly, without pause. With a hand thrust, she launched a roaring lightning dragon, targeting Raksha. "Witness your destruction!"
Raksha moved agilely, forming a thick ice shield before him. The lightning dragon struck and—crack!—for the first time, his shield was partially penetrated. Though he managed to withstand the core attack, electrical energy blasts struck Raksha's arm, leaving a burn wound emitting smoke and the aroma of scorched flesh.
However, Raksha was completely unwavering. His voice came out low, yet deadly.
"I'm done with you, Zenya."
Instantly, fire blazed fiercely along his ice sword blade. A dense and cold darkness aura enveloped him, making his own shadow appear alive and terrifying. Zenya attacked once more, but this time Raksha wasn't playing around.
In one movement too fast to see, Raksha's sword slashed, splitting a gap in Zenya's lightning robe. Before Zenya could react, Raksha had already spun his body, gathering all fire and darkness power on his sword, then struck it down.
Zenya tried to withstand—*CRASH!* The attack was too devastating. Her lightning robe shattered. Pure energy struck her, throwing her body until it hit the palace wall hard. She was flung and no longer moved, collapsed unconscious.
Parli clapped slowly, his sinister smile widening. "Magnificent. A very good battle!"
"Parli!" Raksha turned, his eyes blazing with freezing hatred. "You must pay for everything."
Parli raised his hand, displaying hard stone gauntlets gleaming gold, covering his arms to the elbows. "And of course, I won't underestimate you."
Raksha charged. His sword swept toward Parli's neck with deadly speed. *Clang!* Parli blocked the blade with his stone-wrapped palm, without a single scratch. Instead, he retaliated with trained and deadly consecutive punches. Raksha was forced to retreat, deflecting each punch.
Parli clenched his fist and plunged it into the ground. *Boom!* From within the earth, rows of sharp stone spikes emerged repeatedly, chasing Raksha. Raksha was cornered, retreating until his back almost touched the palace wall.
Parli grinned. "Haha, just as planned!"
Suddenly, from the wall behind Raksha, stone nails launched rapidly. Raksha spun to dodge, but not fast enough. A stone nail slashed his stomach side, leaving a wound immediately colored red.
"Look," Parli whispered in a condescending tone. "Blood... that proves you're just human. And humans... are always fragile. They crack, crumble, no matter how hard they try."
Raksha looked at the wound on his stomach, then at Parli. His voice trembled but full of conviction. "True. Humans are indeed fragile... but as long as they still have breath in their chest, humans will always rise again."
And then, Raksha disappeared. Dissolved into the shadows left by fire and darkness.
Parli stopped, his smile fading. His eyes swept the room, alert. "Where—?"
Schlik!
A cold and fiery blade stabbed from the shadow right behind him, piercing Parli's chest from behind.
"You will never understand," Raksha whispered in his ear.
Parli fell to his knees, but before Raksha turned his gaze away, a laugh—a mad laugh—echoed in the room.
"Hahaha... You think that's enough?" Parli stood again, the wound on his chest had quickly closed, only leaving a tear on his clothes. "What do you know about life? Immortality is everything!"
Raksha sighed. "So that's how it is."
Parli attacked brutally, his power seemingly limitless. His stone punches hammered, cornering Raksha. When his final punch was about to strike, Raksha blocked with his sword. Fire and ice united, the darkness aura around Raksha became so dense it almost felt solid.
"You hurt my sister," Raksha hissed, his voice trembling with rage as cold as ice. "That is your biggest mistake."
With eye and hand movements, Raksha released an attack. Water droplets formed from the air turned into sharp ice needles, piercing Parli's body from all directions like needles piercing cloth. Parli fell, his body like a cracked statue.
But, like before, his wounds closed in seconds. He rose.
"You will feel the consequences!" Parli shouted, but now there was a bit of panic in his voice.
He charged again, but Raksha had already read him. This time, Raksha raised his hand and from the ceiling, ice rain the size of fists pelted Parli, crushing his body into fragments.
He rose again.
Then created fire and exploded his body until destroyed.
Raksha killed him again. And again. And again.
With each resurrection, fear in Parli's eyes grew. Something alien, something he had never felt in his immortal life: despair. His heartbeat, which might not have beaten for a long time, seemed to pound loudly in his ears. This wasn't a battle anymore. This was a repeated burial.
"That immortality you're so proud of," Raksha said in a flat voice, observing Parli trying to reassemble himself, "is a curse."
"You! Don't understand anything!" Parli screamed, but his scream was full of despair.
Raksha, watching him, spoke softly, "What can save you now is only death."
Parli was killed for the umpteenth time. Then rose. Then killed again. Endless torture. The eternal light in his eyes dimmed, mixed with his own dust and blood.
"You lowly human!" he screamed, his voice hoarse. "I will always haunt your life!"
Parli looked toward the unwavering Raksha, then stared at his own hand—the gold gauntlet shining brightly. In ultimate despair, an understanding emerged. There was only one way out.
With a scream containing all frustration and fear, Parli gathered all remaining power in his hands. His hands glowed with dazzling golden light, and with all his might, he stabbed it into his own chest—directly piercing the essence of his immortality.
*Kraak!*
The sound of cracking like shattering glass echoed.
He sobbed, looking at Raksha for the last time. "This... doesn't end here. Death is not the end. I will wait for you elsewhere... hahaha..."
His body began to fade, turning into sparkling gold dust before finally swept by the wind, leaving emptiness.
A gripping silence descended covering the kingdom. Zenya still lay unconscious, her life hanging on a thin thread, but still there.
The only remaining sound was the hiss of fire at the tip of his sword. Raksha stood among the destruction he created, the darkness aura still enveloping him.
He didn't cheer. Didn't cry. He just stared at the dust remaining from Parli.
Then, with heavy steps full of burden, he turned and walked away, merging back with the shadows.
TO BE CONTINUED...