The wind howled through the trees, carrying whispers of ash and memory.
Brittany staggered, her body aching from every strike she had endured.
How much more can I take? she thought.
Her fists trembled. Her lungs burned. The fight was draining her—too much, too fast.
Then she noticed it.
The air was thickening. The fog was no longer drifting—it was channeling, pressing into her chest like a weight.
The Chancellor smirked.
"Huh. Didn't think you'd be smart enough to catch on."
He raised his whip, the fog curling around him like a cloak.
"The denser it gets, the harder it
Brittany turned her head.
Lily was beside her, panting harder than ever. Her face flushed red, her breaths shallow.
Brittany's heart clenched.
She's my responsibility.
She tapped her communicator.
"Mira. Take Lily. Get her to the castle."
Lily's eyes widened. "No! I'm not going anywhere without you!"
Brittany smiled, bruised lips curling.
Roots surged from the ground, splitting the battlefield.
Lily's eyes filled with tears.
She saw it—the truth.
Brittany wasn't just a fighter. She was a sister. A protector. The real one.
The Chancellor snarled.
"Oh, I can't let that happen."
Brittany gritted her teeth, raising her fist.
"Well then, get ready to moan to your death."
The Chancellor smirked, whip snapping in the air.
The roots wrapped around Lily, pulling her away toward safety.
The battlefield narrowed.
It was Brittany versus the Chancellor.
Back at the mansion, Egry's body trembled.
Her knees were raw, pressed against stone.
Her ears bled faintly, crimson streaks staining her cheeks.
Her hands—once glowing—were now black-red, veins pulsing with strain.
She was pushing beyond her limits.
Every root she summoned tore at her body.
It was not a good sign.
And yet—she kept going.
Because Anne, Brittany, and Lily were still alive.
To be continued…