Lígia could feel it.
She felt everything.
As if every cell in her body were being rewritten with fire ink and ancestral memory lines. Her throat was dust, her body convulsing in thunder spasms, and time... time melted between her fingers.
"GRH-Aahh"
Her scream tore through the golden plane like a rip in silence. Her body arched over the flowered ground, liquid shadows coiling around her like living tattoos, pulsing with ancient magic.
By the lake's edge, Auren leaned back with the casualness of a bored god, whistling.
With the calm of someone waiting for the water to boil for tea.
He cast a brief glance at Lígia — one eyebrow raised, expression almost... proud.
"Hm. She's halfway there"
"Endure, sweet child," he sighed, as one who contemplates a tragic opera, "If you resist, you'll see the world as it is: raw, honest... horrifically beautiful"
Lígia rolled, foam at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes rolled back, her pain echoed across nameless dimensions.
Auren went back to whistling. Lightly. As if nothing much were happening.
Outside, on the mountain,
Dorian watched the horizon. Arms crossed. Eyes fixed on the point where the invisible portal had vanished.
He could still feel her. She was still inside. Lígia was still fighting.
Harry, sitting cross-legged, muttered strange formulas with an open grimoire in his lap — half magic, half improv.
Vael slowly turned, eyes narrowed like someone detecting an unpleasant scent.
"New ones have arrived"
Dorian looked up. His expression sharpened.
Harry stood, dusting off his clothes with the enthusiasm of a reluctant guest at a blood-soaked party.
Then... they appeared.
Three men. One woman.
They carried ancient, corrupted airs. Like predators exiled from a throne they were never meant to hold.
Harry wrinkled his nose, glaring at them as if the smell of rotting fish had invaded the mountain air.
"The idiots who sent these... should be exiled. Dorian, you were right. The old Houses have rotted"
Dorian sighed bitterly.
"We stayed silent too long. Now they see us as prey. As cubs without claws"
Harry smiled. A sadistic, delighted smile.
"Finally"
With a snap of his fingers, sparks of mana burst around him like fireflies on the verge of exploding.
Vael simply observed. Like a master waiting for his pupils to learn... through pain.
The snow began to melt beneath their feet. The air rippled, thick with energy.
The enemies took position. Each one radiated a different kind of death.
The leader, a man with an axe carved from the bone of an extinct beast.
The woman, pale as moonlight, carried a black crystal spear.
The young man, wild-eyed, wielded two curved swords.
The old one held a runed cane that trembled as if it were made of secrets itself.
Vael didn't turn.
"The lady is yours, Mr. Harry"
Harry cracked his fingers, his eyes blazing.
"Didn't think I'd say this, but... I'm going to enjoy this"
Dorian just walked forward.
The man with the axe grinned.
"I knew it was you. It's always the boss"
Vael stood still. He glanced at the other two with disinterest.
"Come"
The woman moved like a dance.
"Harry, the Wandering Mage... son of chaos," she said, spinning the spear with deadly grace, "Didn't know you still served Dorian"
Harry grinned.
"Friendships are like magic mushrooms, girl... weird, dangerous... and addictive"
Seven magic circles appeared, spinning in layers — amber, purple, gray.
"What kind of magic is that"
"The kind you wouldn't understand. Tell me your name... before you scream it"
She charged.
The spear flashed in the air, tearing the ground.
Harry whispered,
"Inverted Vector Vortex"
She fell. Gravity multiplied by ten. The ground cracked beneath her.
But she didn't give in. She shouted in a forgotten tongue — her spear absorbed the force and exploded in a shockwave.
Harry was thrown into a tree.
He laughed. Spat blood.
"That'll leave a scar... Now it's personal"
The axe roared through the air.
"You're Dorian d'Argêntea? I expected more muscle"
Dorian raised a hand.
Time stopped.
The axe froze midair.
"Æther Vortis"
Three slashes opened across his opponent's chest before the man realized he'd already lost.
He staggered.
"Son of a...!"
"I'm not your son"
Shadow tentacles burst from the ground.
Dorian snapped his fingers.
The space between them... shattered.
He reappeared behind his opponent.
"You're slow"
With a kick, the air exploded.
The man hit the stone, leaving blood on the rock.
"Get up. I want to see if your muscles can handle... dimensional vacuum pressure"
On Vael's side,
The old man with the cane and the swordsman circled him.
"You think you can take two, old man"
Vael smiled with the calm of someone who has already buried hundreds.
"I've faced a hundred. You two don't even count as one"
Shadows lengthened.
Vael vanished.
Reappeared behind the old man.
A punch in the air.
The force crossed space — the swordsman was thrown back like the world itself had shoved him.
Golden chains surged forward.
Vael whispered,
"Nocturnis Umbra"
The chains froze.
Stopped by whispers.
He grabbed one and hurled the mage away like a broken toy.
The swordsman tried to strike again.
Blades spun in a whirlwind.
Vael dodged.
Caught one of the swords barehanded.
"This is sharp...? Feels like plastic"
Snapped the blade.
Knee to the gut.
The opponent dropped to his knees.
"Broke your toy. Come back when you know how to use a real one"
The blood fell silently.
The snow danced around them, tinged scarlet.
And in the space between worlds, Lígia still screamed.
But she did not break.