Kai found himself fighting at the peak of his power in the soul space. He moved through the blue sky like a streak of flame, and his robe crackled with heat. A spear of fire and wind twisted in his hand.

The best thing about this space was that it didn’t follow the natural rules. His mana never ran dry. If he wanted to create something, he simply could—he’d feel the draw on his Mana heart, then will it full again, and it was. Even spells that would normally cost far too much mana came easily.

Wounds healed the same way. He could do it just with intent. He simply had to think about the sensation it created.

Still, for every miracle he conjured, Valkyrie matched it—graceful, composed, terrifyingly precise. He burned the sky with spells. She froze them mid-flight. He turned stone to molten slag. She stepped over it as if walking on glass.

What kind of monster fights like this even in death…?

A thought sparked in him as he dodged another ice blade that shattered the clouds around him. He spun and released three compressed spheres of fire laced with slicing wind.

They raced toward Valkyrie with a high whine—miniature suns in motion. She danced between them effortlessly. It caused a question in his mind.

“If we can both just heal and create spells endlessly,” Kai called out, “then how are we supposed to decide who wins?”

From across the battlefield, Valkyrie’s voice answered, smooth and calm as always—even as her fingers etched another spell structure in the air.

“You don’t decide.” A gust of cold rushed outward. “I do.” The spell finished. “It ends when I believe you’re worthy of my inheritance,” she added. “If it were my son, I’d have made it easier. But you’re not him.”

The air around Kai dropped sharply.

His breath misted.

Ice formed in the space beneath him. Before he could blink, a shimmering cage of frost had formed right where he hovered.

His foot froze in place.

Shit!

Kai jerked upward, his other leg catching the edge. A flaming lance appeared in his hand. He drove it down with a roar.

The ice shattered, shards spinning outward like razors as he burst free—just in time to avoid a curtain of razor-sharp icicles that exploded from Valkyrie’s outstretched hand.

They tore past him. Some grazed his robes. One slashed a shallow line across his cheek.

You don’t bleed here unless she wants you to…

Kai gritted his teeth and circled her again, moving with the winds.

He spoke—not as a taunt, but a truth.

“Don’t you think just strength is a terrible measure?” he said, hurling a chain of fire spears as he spoke. “There was an orc I had to fight before this. Strong. Ruthless. But if he was here, will you give him the inheritance simply because he's strong? It sounds stupid to me.”

Valkyrie didn’t answer right away. She summoned a sheet of ice in the air that bent like glass, deflecting the spells with an elegant curve.

Then gave an amusing laugh. “I never said this trial was about defeating me.”

Kai hovered midair, his brow furrowed, his flames dimming for just a moment.

“It’s not?” he asked, gaze narrowing at Valkyrie as mana continued to hum under his skin.

The woman laughed again.

“I said I wanted you to challenge me,” she replied, her fingers sketching symbols of light in the air. “Not that winning gives you the tower.”

A spike of frost flared behind her and vanished.

Kai clenched his jaw. “Then why the fight?”

“Because power is part of the equation.” She tilted her head, forming another layered spell circle in her palm. “If you can defeat me, I’ll know you have the strength to defend this place when it matters.”

The runes in her palm glowed pale blue. The temperature dropped again—slower this time, like a tide instead of a storm.

“Also,” she added, lips twitching in amusement, “battles where you can’t die are very good for conversation.”

He blinked at that. Before he could reply, the sky above him trembled—mana swelling until it shimmered like silver glass.

Kai’s instincts flared a heartbeat before it began.

A downpour of giant icicles tore through the clouds, sharp as glaives, fast as spears.

Kai threw his hands up. [Wind Ward]

A dome of wind roared into place above him, the barrier humming as each ice spear shattered on contact, exploding into crystalline dust.

He exhaled, still floating.

He narrowed his eyes toward Valkyrie as he dispelled the barrier. “And what kind of conversation are you looking for exactly?”

Her response came as she drifted forward.

“Let’s talk about you.”

Kai barked a laugh, even as he conjured twin flames into each palm. “I’d rather learn about you, honestly.”

Valkyrie shrugged. “But the trial is yours. And you… you’re far more interesting. It's not every day I meet someone living in another man’s body. How do you feel about leading a dual life?”

Kai didn’t smile this time.

His flames roared.

He hurled one palm forward—fire twisting into a focused beam that ripped through the air. Valkyrie moved, spinning away, but not fast enough this time. The second blast struck her in the gut.

A flash of pain crossed her features. And then it vanished.

Her body mended in an instant, mana knitting flesh together like a well-rehearsed song.

“You are getting better,” she said lightly.

Kai hovered in silence, breath steady, heat rising from his skin.

Leading a dual life… That was the first time someone had said it like that.

He hadn’t thought about it recently. Not since the fief war. He had simply begun to accept it as normal.

His frown deepened.

The fire in his palms dimmed, and the wind around him died down.

“I hate living your son’s life,” Kai said at last, his voice just above a whisper. “The only reason I could bear it was because there was always something to do. A problem to solve. A beast to kill. A threat looming over me.”

He didn’t look at Valkyrie when he said it. He wasn’t speaking to her. He was speaking to the space around them. To the guilt that had clawed at him since the first day he’d opened his eyes in Arzan’s body.

Valkyrie, still hovering effortlessly midair, let the silence stretch before asking:

“If there wasn’t anything to do… would you have continued?”

Kai’s jaw clenched. He had no answer.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

The truth slipped out like a wound reopening.

Valkyrie’s voice came softer now, less like a warrior and more like a mother.

“You said Arzan was in debt. That there was a Mage who wanted him dead. You were powerless. So why didn’t you run? Disappear. Live your life elsewhere.”

Kai looked up.

Mana still stirred faintly in his limbs, but the fight had paused.

“I thought about it,” he said, eyes shadowed. “I nearly did. But something always felt like it was chasing me. Like I’d never escape it. The debts. The enemies. The questions.” He sucked in a breath. “So I stayed. And I fought. Because I thought… maybe I was capable enough to deal with the problems.”

Valkyrie smiled at that.

All the spell circles vanished around her. The pressure of the mana faded like mist in the wind.

“And so,” she said softly, “you continued living as my son. And no one knew.”

Kai looked down. “Some do.”

“Is that enough?” Valkyrie asked. “Do you think Arzan—no matter what kind of person he was—would have liked being remembered… not as himself, but as you?”

Her words struck harder than any spell she’d cast so far. Because even thinking about it made something twist inside him. He had stopped thinking about Arzan until someone had brought it up. In way, he had simply shut down the guilt of taking over someone else’s body even when he knew he wasn’t the one to kill him

And it was what had come after.

He’d kept the name. Kept the power. Taken his seat, his story. He had walked into his relationships, worn them like old clothes, patched them where needed—but never once stepped back to ask what if this had been me instead?

Even when he told himself Arzan’s life had been a wreck… Even when he justified it with survival…He knew.

This tower wasn’t his. The inheritance Valkyrie left wasn’t his.

And yet, here he stood—fighting for it. Wanting it. Chasing it for power.

Because that’s what he did.

Because he had always chased strength—not just to survive, but because some part of him believed he deserved to. That if he suffered for it, bled for it, then maybe he could forget where it all began.

The wind in the soul space stirred. The sky above shimmered faintly with threads of pale mana, dancing like cracks in glass.

Valkyrie hovered in the air, robes fluttering, her expression unreadable. Her hair flowed behind her. For a moment, she simply watched him. As if reading his thoughts.

“Do you think,” she finally asked, “you deserve my inheritance?”

He met her gaze, then nodded. “Yes. I believe I do.”

“Why?”

Kai let out a breath, feeling the echo of his heartbeat. “Because I came here,” he said. “Because I stood before you and fought. Because I crossed deserts, bled for answers, and survived things that were meant to kill me.”

His fingers flexed. Mana sparked at his fingertips as he looked down.

“I fought beasts. I defeated tribals. I faced Khorvash and brought him down. I’ve proven myself.”

Valkyrie’s lips thinned. “I left a map,” she said. “For my son.”

“And that map brought me to a desert where your legacy was buried under sand and blood. Where orcs ruled, and humans doubted me. It wasn’t handed to me. I earned every step.”

Valkyrie studied him for a long moment. Then spoke again. “Yes. You did. But this inheritance is not yours. How do I know,” she continued, “that you will use it for good?”

Kai opened his mouth then closed it.

Then let out a breath. “I don’t think you can know. Not truly. All I can do is ask you to trust me.”

“Trust you?” she echoed. “Why?”

“Because I’m not here for greed. I’m not here to raise empires or reshape the world in my image.”

“You say that,” Valkyrie said, her voice quiet now, “but so many Mages said the same. They held noble intentions—until they didn’t. Until the world gave them power… and they became monsters. I see your truth now, Kai. But not the man you may become.”

Kai nodded. “And I saw the future you feared.”

Valkyrie’s expression shifted.

“I’ve lived it,” Kai continued, his tone flat. “I’ve seen what happens when Mages chase power without end. Kingdoms fall. Innocents burn. Wars, wars and more wars. The prophecy might exist, yes. But even without it, humanity would have brought ruin. Not with dead mana, but a thousand cuts of arrogance and war.”

Memories flashed through his mind. It was a dark place—where he’d gone. He quickly shook his head and looked at Valkyrie.

“I know what unchecked power does,” Kai said. “And I know I can’t promise I’ll always make the right choices. But I can promise… I’ll never chase power for the sake of power. I want to protect people. That’s why I stayed. That’s why I took the risks. That’s why I’m still here.”

Valkyrie smiled, the corners of her lips rising with a grace that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Can you stop that scenario from ever coming?”

Kai shook his head again. “No,” he said. “Not forever. Until I reach the peak of magic, I can still die. And even if I did reach the top, I can’t guard the world for eternity. That’s not how it works.”

His fingers flexed slightly, mana curling at his knuckles like smoke.

“What I can do,” he continued, “is build something that outlives me. A system. An order. A world where magic is studied, taught, and governed the right way. Not hidden or abused.”

His voice hardened.

“And if I have to conquer the world to do that—then I will.”

Valkyrie tilted her head slightly. “For power?”

“For safety,” Kai said without hesitation. “For balance.”

“And once it’s built,” Valkyrie murmured, “you’ll leave the throne behind?”

He gave a small, tired laugh. “You think I want that throne? Sitting on top, managing factions, balancing politics?” He looked up toward the sky above, now painted in orange hues. “No. That’s too much work. I believe we should return to our duel.”

Valkyrie chuckled. “You sure you don’t want to keep talking?”

He gave a small grin. “Like you said... this battle will take a while. We’ll have time.”

With that, Kai raised a hand.

A spell structure bloomed in the air, layered with glyphs that pulsed with golden-blue light. The sheer size of it dwarfed even Valkyrie’s earlier magic.

Mana surged from him in waves, the entire space trembling beneath the force of his will.

The sky ignited.

Winds howled and fire roared as dozens—no, hundreds—of eagles burst into existence, wings of flame, talons of sharpened wind-force, each one etched with a sigil on its beak.

They circled above, forming a storm of death in motion. Light shimmered off their wings, casting the whole soul space in radiant crimson-gold. It was a fifth circle spell meant to massacre through entire armies.

Valkyrie’s eyes widened. “You’ve been holding back.”

Kai’s smile returned. “I’m just getting started.”

He pointed forward.

“Let’s begin the second round.”

The sky broke open.

Eagles of flame and storm dived in unison, shrieking as they struck, their bodies detonating in controlled, devastating bursts. The soul space rumbled creating shockwaves outward. Heat and wind clashed, scattering illusions and ice.

The world burned in a bright light.

And above it all, the name of the spell echoed through Kai’s mind.

[Stormflight Legion]

***

Ansel stood over the broken body of Zethar.

The orc general’s chest had been torn open—burned, ruptured, and cratered so deep that his heart was little more than pulp. One leg barely clung to his body, dangling from scorched sinew and shattered bone. His skin was blackened and blistered, half his face missing under the blast that ended him.

Blood still seeped from him. Thick. Slow. Ugly. But he wasn’t breathing.

Ansel had checked twice already—once with his fingers, once with the tip of his spear.

Zethar was dead. He had taken his revenge. He’d done it. They had.

He turned his head, looking to the side.

Khalid was kneeling in the sand, shoulders hunched, his chest rising and falling with short breaths. His left arm was gone from the elbow down—a stump wrapped hastily in cloth, pulsing red despite the bandage. Zethar had crushed it, ripped it apart like paper.

Even now, his brother held a half-empty healing vial in his right hand, the potion glowing faintly as it worked its magic. Whether it could regrow the limb, Ansel didn’t know, and it pained him to a great degree.

The silence between them lasted only a second before Ansel stepped forward.

“…Brother,” he said.

Khalid raised his head. Blood streaked down his face, dried at the corners of his lips. But he wasn’t grimacing.

He was… calm.

Like someone who had finally put down a weight too heavy to carry.

Ansel knelt beside him. “It’s over,” he said softly. “We won.”

And only then did Ansel let his eyes wander—truly take in the battlefield for the first time.

The winds of Ashari still blew. Orcs littered the ground, some heaped in piles where they had made their final stands, others scattered in broken heaps where Sand Knights and tribals had cut through them. The golden sand had turned red in places, black in others where flames had scorched the earth.

Some orcs still ran—cowards, deserters, remnants of a broken force. Maari’s warriors chased them like wolves after wounded prey.

But the fighting had stopped.

The war was over. Victory was theirs.

And yet… it didn’t feel like victory. Ansel followed his brother’s gaze.

Not far away, Husam lay in the sand—his weapon still clutched in one hand, his eyes staring skyward. Three warriors knelt beside him, heads bowed, hands trembling. One of them sobbed.

There were more like him. Too many. Every tribe had lost someone today. People with names, stories and families—they were all gone.

Ansel felt a lump in his throat, but he forced it down.

He looked back to Khalid, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the body of the fallen tribal chieftain.

“We should bury him properly,” Ansel said.

He looked at Khalid again and reached down, gripping his brother’s good shoulder and pulling him gently to his feet. “Let’s get you treated.”

Khalid gave a faint grunt, swaying a little before he steadied himself. “We need to know how many we lost first.”

“There’s time for that,” Ansel said firmly. “Your health matters more. There are others who can count the bodies. You can’t help anyone if you drop dead on the sand.”

Khalid opened his mouth to argue—but another voice beat him to it.

“I agree,” Feroy said, approaching them with slow steps, his flaming spear still dripping with orc blood. “You’ve done enough, Khalid. You should rest. I’ll take care of the losses and the wounded. I’ve done that before.”

Khalid narrowed his eyes at him. “You’ve been in war?”

Feroy gave a short nod. “There was one. Back home.”

Khalid took a moment before nodding, and then exhaled like the weight had finally reached his bones. “Then… thank you.”

But his eyes weren’t on Feroy for long. They drifted up past the smoke and the sand-swept dead to the distant peaks.

To the place where the dragon had fallen.

“What about Count Arzan?” Khalid asked, voice hushed. “It’s been too long since we heard anything. I know Khorvash is dead… but none of them have come back. Not even Adil.”

Feroy followed his gaze, his brow furrowed. “I think… they’re fine,” he said slowly. “They must be exploring the tower. Maybe dealing with whatever is left inside.”

“Are you sure they’re not in danger?”

Ansel finally smiled—just a little. “Brother… Lord Arzan killed Khorvash. If there’s anything out there that can trouble him… then none of us ever stood a chance.”

Feroy gave a short chuckle. “True. If anyone can survive in that tower, it’s him.”

The brothers didn’t answer immediately. For a while, they just stood there—watching the peaks, letting the wind cool the sweat and blood on their skin.

Eventually, Feroy turned, gesturing to the tents being set up in the distance. “Come on. Let’s get you treated. The war’s over…”

He looked around the battlefield.

“…But there’s still a lot left to do.”

***

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