Another scream tore through the forest.
It came from the same direction as before—piercing, agonized, and final. It sent a chill through the remaining five who hadn't yet reached the battlefield. Blitz, Michael, Torren, Ralph, and Rob—five fighters still untouched by the storm that had swallowed the rest.
They were the last ones.
Michael's pace quickened.
"That was another one," he said grimly.
Torren nodded beside him, his jaw clenched. "We're running out of time."
Meanwhile, not far ahead, Ralph and Rob burst through a thicket, breaking into a wide clearing—and froze.
Bodies.
Zigrane lay unconscious near a scorched patch of ground. Felix sprawled a few feet away, barely breathing. Renald, Katsu, Erdan, Akatsuki, Elaira—all collapsed or writhing in pain, their bodies marked with burns, bruises, and exhaustion.
"What the hell…?" Ralph breathed, horror spreading across his face.
Rob's hands curled into fists. "Who did this?"
There wasn't even time to examine everyone. The air suddenly grew heavier.
From behind a patch of thick bushes, a figure stepped out slowly.
The man in the hooded cloak.
Billy's companion.
He stood calmly, as though the destruction before him was nothing more than a casual stroll through a field.
"I did," he said, voice low and amused. "And I must say… it was quite entertaining."
Rob's eyes narrowed, his body trembling with fury.
Ralph stepped forward, barely restraining himself. "You… you did this?"
The man didn't answer. He just smiled.
Ralph didn't wait. "You bastard!"
The forest exploded with movement as Ralph launched forward. Rob followed, ice already forming along his arms in jagged, sharp lines.
The man didn't flinch. Instead, a wave of heat pulsed from his body—so subtle at first, yet growing, intensifying. The grass around him withered. Leaves curled at the edges. The air shimmered.
"Let's see what you've got," the cloaked man muttered, raising a hand.
Ralph swung first, aiming a punch at the man's face, but flames erupted around the figure, forcing Ralph to pull back.
"Fire magic," Rob said coldly, forming a crystalline spear of ice in his hand. "He's a fire mage."
The cloaked man's grin widened. "Took you long enough."
Rob hurled the spear. It soared through the air, straight for the target—but it never reached him. A wall of fire burst up, devouring the spear in a roar of flame.
Ralph darted to the left, circling. "We take him together."
"Agreed," Rob said, ice already building along his forearms.
They struck in tandem.
Ralph unleashed a flurry of punches—fists reinforced with years of brutal training. Each strike met either fire or dodging movements. Meanwhile, Rob created a barrage of sharp ice projectiles, aiming for weak points. The man danced between the attacks with unnatural grace, the ground beneath him scorched black.
A counterattack came like a wave.
He clapped his hands together, and fire spiraled outward in a cone. Ralph jumped high, flipping mid-air, while Rob rolled low, shielding himself behind a wall of exploding ice.
For a moment, smoke clouded everything.
Then Ralph came flying through the haze, foot extended in a kick aimed at the man's chest. It landed—but the man barely budged. Instead, he caught Ralph's leg mid-air, spun, and flung him across the clearing.
"Ralph!" Rob shouted, freezing the ground beneath the man's feet in response.
The man stumbled slightly, just long enough for Rob to charge with a blade of ice in hand. He slashed once—twice—but fire coated the enemy's hands, melting the ice before it could dig in.
"You two are fun," the man said with a spark of amusement. "But you'll burn like the rest."
Ralph got back on his feet, blood dripping from a split lip.
"We're not done yet."
He cracked his knuckles, energy pulsing.
Rob summoned more ice.
The battle was far from over.