The noise didn't die down.
It got louder. More layered. Like someone had turned up the volume on a broken world.
Screams. Claws on stone. The hiss of something unholy dragging itself across wood. And underneath it all, the hum of mana being ripped out of the ground like roots from a corpse.
Lindarion couldn't hear himself breathe.
The fire still worked.
'Still here. Still burning. That counts.'
His coat was soaked through. Not blood. Not sweat. Just melt. Ice mixing with heat, soaking through every layer. His gloves were scorched at the tips. His fingers barely felt real.
He punched it in the face with a fist wrapped in flame.
It shrieked, head first, body second. Black mist coughed out of its shattered eye sockets as it tumbled back into the crowd.
Ashwing darted through the gap and pounced the next one.
Tail whipping. Wings flared.
The little bastard actually looked excited.
Behind him, another scream, higher pitched. Human. Sharp.
Lindarion turned, half-limped toward the source, fire already lighting his palm—
A guard went down hard.
Clawed through the gut. His partner tried to drag him back, but another shadow-beast came in low and caught them both in the tangle.
Lindarion's flame lit them up in a burst that turned snow to steam and monster to charcoal, but the bodies didn't move.
'Six more gone. Just like that.'
He looked back toward the center.
The field was shrinking.
The perimeter had collapsed entirely on the western edge. Villagers were being rushed out in groups, pushed toward the remaining buildings. But monsters moved faster.
Every scream was another subtraction.
Blood along her thigh. Jaw clenched so tight it looked carved.
Lira wasn't bleeding. But her eyes were tight. Focused. The kind of focus you only pulled when the body started to falter and the brain had to compensate with pure hate.
They moved in tandem now.
Ren distracted. Lira stabbed.
The mage was bleeding from the mask, if you could call it that. Black steam hissed out from the chip like his face was trying to reform itself with malice alone.
The staff flared again.
But this time the light didn't hit them.
They screamed like someone had poured boiling metal down their spines.
Meren yelled behind him, "They're going berserk!"
"No kidding!" Ren shouted.
Ashwing yelped as a beast clipped his side. He tumbled, rolled, and got back up with a snarl, fire leaking from both nostrils now.
And this time he breathed it.
It torched five creatures in a burst of orange that lit the entire line.
Lindarion almost dropped to his knees.
"Showoff," he muttered.
Ashwing puffed out his chest and sneezed again.
Ren stumbled to a crouch, chest heaving. "We can't keep this up."
Her eyes were on the mage.
He was stepping forward again.
The staff dragged now.
Not because he was weak.
Because he wanted them to hear it.
Ardan cut down another monster and moved in beside Lindarion. His mouth was a thin line. Blood on his jaw. Not his.
"The line's folding," he said.
"Fifteen left. Maybe."
Lindarion looked at the field.
Half the town was gone.
And the air stank of burning mana and cooked rot.
Ren turned her head, spit blood, and shouted, "We need something big. Now."
Lindarion's fire dimmed again.
He looked down at his palm.
'Divine affinity's off-limits. Too much, too soon. It's not leveled up. But…'
He looked at the mage again.
And took one step forward.
But her hand twitched.
Like she was ready to back him up, no matter how bad this got.
The mage raised the staff one more time.
The sky split above them.
Like a lid coming off something the world had buried on purpose.
Lindarion muttered under his breath.
'Let's break the rules a little.'
His hands began to glow.
Ashwing turned toward him and crouched low, growling, not afraid. Just bracing.
The fire wasn't fire anymore.
And the mage had finally stopped walking.
Because even he could feel it.
The snow under Lindarion's boots hissed.
From heat without flame. Light without color. The raw beginning of something bigger pressing at the edges of the world.
'Alright. So this is what a bad idea feels like in my bones.'
He stepped forward again.
The noise dropped around him, just slightly. Like the wind was ducking for cover.
Ashwing growled low in his throat and stayed close. His tail flicked. Once. Twice. Then curled in tighter, like even he wasn't sure if this was a great plan.
But her eyes tracked every muscle in his shoulders like she expected him to implode.
The Divine affinity wasn't subtle. It came up from the core, not down from the sky. A pressurized hum in the spine. A pressure behind the eyes. A promise.
Lindarion raised both hands slowly.
The flame in his palms evaporated.
Not golden. Not holy.
The kind of real that made shadows look like liars.
Around him, the frost melted in a perfect circle. Steam rose, twisting through the air like confused spirits.
The mage stopped mid-step.
The monsters did not.
Two lunged from the right.
Lindarion didn't flinch.
A line of radiant pressure cracked out from his fingertips and slammed into the nearest beast.
It didn't even die right.
It just… disappeared.
Reduced to memory and heat.