The city held its breath.
Rain still fell, but slower, like the sky itself was watching.
Steam drifted where the street had melted, and somewhere far away, alarms rang — faint, pointless.
Drayk lay motionless, face down in the water. The red had already thinned to gray.
Liora stood over him, hands trembling. Her Mirra burned too bright — unstable, dangerous — her control shredded by fury.
The light around her flickered like a dying star trying to remember how to shine.
Mael turned toward her, coat dark with rain, hair plastered to his forehead.
For once, he didn't smile.
---
The Final Duet
Liora's voice cracked. "You killed him."
Mael tilted his head slightly.
"No," he said. "He killed himself. I just made it efficient."
"SHUT UP!"
The scream split the rain.
Her blades of light reappeared, not in elegant orbit — but scattered, raw, frantic. They spun around her like chaos given form.
She charged.
The street broke beneath her feet, sparks trailing behind.
Mael didn't move until she was almost upon him.
Then — a single step.
One slow exhale.
The ground sighed, as if exhausted.
Her blades struck from every direction — high, low, front, side.
He slipped between them, ducked under one, twisted around another. To any observer, it would've looked like he'd known their path long before she swung.
He didn't attack back.
He let her exhaust everything.
"You don't need anger anymore, Liora," he said softly, ducking under another strike. "You need acceptance."
She slashed harder, light flaring bright enough to cut the rain itself. "Stop talking!"
"Even the rain's bored of this now."
Her scream carried enough rage to shake glass from broken windows. She flung her last blade with both hands, the construct blazing white — all power, no control.
Mael caught it.
Just caught it.
The blade vibrated in his hand, humming like a dying song. Light crackled, twisted, and went out.
Liora froze.
Her knees hit the ground, exhaustion catching up all at once.
Mael looked down at her, turning the dim blade hilt between his fingers.
"Still standing," he said quietly. "I'll give you that. Shame the world won't remember it."
---
The End
She looked up at him, eyes wild, voice shaking. "You think this is victory?"
"No," Mael said.
He stepped closer, crouched down so his voice reached her ear.
"It's clarity."
Liora spat blood. "You think you're a god?"
Mael smiled faintly.
"I liked you better when you didn't believe you could win."
She tried to stab him with one last flicker of light —
but her Mirra collapsed mid-form, fizzing out like dying embers.
Mael's hand shot out, palm open.
He pressed it gently against her chest.
A low hum, a flash — and she stopped moving.
No scream. No struggle. Just silence.
He stood, wiping rain from his face.
The glow from her body faded, leaving only the pale shape of someone who had once believed the world was fair.
---
The Quiet After
Mael looked at her for a long moment.
Then turned his gaze to the gray sky above.
"You were better than most," he said, voice barely audible.
"That's what made it sad."
He dropped the broken light hilt beside her body. It hissed once in the puddle, then went out completely.
The street stretched empty again — full of ghosts and echoes.
---
The Walk Away
Far across the district, guild drones buzzed to life, scanning the wreckage.
They wouldn't find him.
They never did.
Mael walked through the rain, hands in his pockets, humming a slow, off-tune melody.
His boots splashed through puddles where light once stood.
No triumph.
No regret.
Only rhythm.
"Monsters don't win," he murmured to himself. "They just outlive the applause."
The city behind him flickered — lights dying one by one — until all that remained was his silhouette in the rain, fading into the mist.
---