The street had long forgotten what silence was.
Now it remembered — in flashes.
Each impact came like a heartbeat too strong for the body that owned it. Light, metal, and thunder ripped through the skeleton of the city, scattering rain into mist. Buildings stood only because they hadn't realized they should fall yet.
Mael walked through it all.
Not fast. Not slow.
Just certain.
Drayk's shout split the air — half rage, half desperation.
He'd lost the rhythm of a soldier and found the panic of a man.
"STAND STILL!"
Mael smiled. "You don't really want that."
---
The Breaking Tempo
Drayk slammed both palms to the ground.
Mirra flared under the asphalt, crawling outward like veins of molten glass. The street itself warped, shuddering, trying to rise up and swallow Mael whole.
The ground erupted.
Chunks of glowing stone flew into the air, each one transmuted mid-flight — obsidian, crystal, steel.
Mael moved through the storm with a grace that mocked physics.
A flicker of movement, a shift of pressure — and every piece missed.
Drayk bared his teeth. "You— you think this is some dance?"
Mael tilted his head. "If it is, you've forgotten the rhythm."
Drayk lunged, swinging his transmuted arm like a hammer. Mael sidestepped — a small motion, elegant in its cruelty. The punch carved a crater into the street.
"Stop dodging!"
"You're breathing too loudly," Mael said, almost kind. "That's not fighting — that's begging your body to remember how."
Drayk roared and threw another strike.
This time Mael didn't dodge.
He caught it.
The shock ran up Drayk's arm, making bone hum against its own will. Mael held the man's fist in one hand, studying it like a broken tool.
"You built your lives on rules," Mael murmured, his eyes glowing faintly under the rain. "Funny thing about rules — they break the people who worship them."
He twisted.
Something cracked — loud, final.
Drayk's elbow bent the wrong way.
---
Liora's Last Stand
"Drayk!" Liora shouted, sprinting in. Her blades reformed in a flash of gold — hundreds this time, smaller, faster, furious. They rained toward Mael in a spiral that should've turned him into ribbons.
He didn't even look at her.
Just turned slightly. The blades hit something invisible and curved away, slicing into nearby debris instead.
"You're thinking too much," he said without facing her.
"React. Don't reason."
"I'm not your student!" she snapped, lunging again.
"You're not anyone's student," Mael replied, catching her wrist mid-swing. "You're just the memory of obedience."
He pushed.
Liora stumbled back, boots skidding on the wet street.
Drayk, bleeding, panting, dragged himself upright. His Mirra veins pulsed out of control — bright, frantic lines across his skin.
Liora saw it and froze. "Drayk, no—"
---
The Implosion
He didn't hear her.
Didn't care.
He roared, and the world answered.
Every ounce of Mirra inside him exploded outward, raw and unshaped.
The air vibrated — glass shattered for entire blocks. His skin split in glowing lines as his power bled out in pure force.
"SEE HOW HUMAN I AM NOW!" he screamed.
Mael's voice cut through the chaos like a scalpel.
"If this is discipline," he said quietly, "I've seen better balance in drunks."
He stepped forward through the blinding blue-white storm.
The ground melted around his feet, but he didn't stop. Didn't burn. Didn't flinch.
Drayk threw a punch that could've killed a lesser man three times over.
Mael caught it. Again.
Held it. Again.
"Look at you," Mael said softly. "Still waiting for someone to give you permission to kill me."
Then, with that same calm tone, he snapped his fingers.
The explosion folded inward — sound imploded, light twisted, and the very energy Drayk had unleashed crushed back into him.
His scream cut off halfway through.
When the light faded, he was on his knees. Steam poured from his mouth like winter breath. His eyes — open, unfocused — stared at something that wasn't there.
Mael looked down.
"You think pain is a reason to stop? No. It's a reminder that you still haven't done anything worth dying for."
He stepped behind Drayk.
No flourish. No rage.
One strike — clean, efficient, final.
Drayk's head tilted forward. He fell face-first into the rain, steam rising where his body hit the ground.
Liora's scream tore through the city.
---
The Mockery of Mourning
She ran to him, but he was gone — just weight and quiet.
The rain washed blood down the street in small rivers, turning crimson into gray.
Mael stood a few meters away, back turned.
He spoke softly, almost to himself.
"You talk about justice like it's a real thing."
He looked over his shoulder at Liora. His eyes were calm again.
"That's adorable."
---
The Shift Before Silence
Liora's body trembled — rage, grief, Mirra burning through her veins. Her light flickered into something unstable, violent.
Mael saw it and sighed.
"This again."
He turned to face her fully. "You could leave now."
"I'm not leaving without your corpse."
"Strong last words," he said. "Pity you wasted them."
The ground between them cracked as the next wave of power flared.
Rain scattered upward, pushed away by raw force.
And for the first time since the fight began, Mael adjusted his footing.
He wasn't retreating.
He was preparing.
The world seemed to tilt toward him.
---
End of Chapter 45.
---