Hero Of Broken History

Academy Main Courtyard - Mid-Morning

The Church knights fell back in disarray. Blood stained the cobblestones, mixed with ash and the chemical residue of Kai's compounds. Canaline allowed herself a moment to breathe, flames dimming to a low simmer around her hands.

"We're holding," she said, surprised to hear hope in her own voice.

Kai wiped sweat from his forehead, fingers coming away red—not his blood, someone else's. "We're surviving. There's a difference."

"I'll take it."

Then the air changed.

It wasn't dramatic. No thunderclap, no divine light. Just a sudden pressure, like the atmosphere itself had gotten heavier. Canaline's flames guttered, flickering uncertainly for the first time all morning.

"Kai—"

"I feel it." His hand moved to his knives, fingers tightening on familiar grips. "Something's wrong."

The Church knights parted. Not retreating—making way.

Three figures walked through the gap. They wore white armor that seemed to drink in the morning light, blessed steel that hummed with something older and more dangerous than simple Church blessings. No cloaks. No decoration. Just perfect, deadly efficiency.

The one in the center—a woman with silver hair cut military-short—surveyed the Academy defenders with eyes that had seen centuries of war. Her gauntleted hand rested on a sword that radiated divine energy even sheathed.

The pressure in the air intensified. Canaline's flames guttered lower, like even fire was reluctant to burn in their presence.

"What—" someone started behind her.

The silver-haired woman's gaze swept across them, dismissed most, then locked onto Canaline and Kai. A small smile touched her lips.

"I am Sister Elara of the Lightbringers, the Archbishop's blade." Her voice carried easily across the courtyard, formal, like she was introducing herself at a state function rather than a battlefield. "My companions have other assignments. You two are mine."

Lightbringers? Canaline had never heard the term. But the way Sister Elara said it—like a title that should mean something—made her stomach drop.

The other two figures moved with purpose—one heading for the Dean's tower at impossible speed, the other... Canaline tracked his path and her stomach dropped further. He was heading toward where she'd last seen Avian.

"Fuck," Kai breathed.

Sister Elara drew her sword. The blade caught sunlight and threw it back wrong, like looking at divinity through broken glass. "Shall we begin?"

Eastern District - Simultaneously

Avian spotted them through a gap in the smoke. Five Church soldiers in nondescript armor, moving with the kind of careful purpose that screamed "infiltration team" to anyone with eyes and experience.

Not heading for the fighting. Heading deeper into the Academy. Toward the vaults.

So that's the real play. The siege is just noise.

He dropped from the rooftop he'd been using as a vantage point, landing silent in the alley below. Fargrim hummed against his back, eager.

Hold. Not yet.

He followed at a distance, tracking them through the maze of Academy buildings. They knew where they were going—someone had given them maps, patrol routes, ward locations. The Church had been planning this for longer than three days.

They reached the old administration building, the one that connected to the underground vault system. The infiltrators paused, checking for guards. Found none—everyone was at the walls, fighting the "real" threat.

Avian stepped out of the shadows.

"Lost?" His voice cut through their whispered planning.

Five heads snapped toward him. Hands went to weapons.

"Lord Veritas." The leader spoke calmly, not surprised. "The Archbishop said you'd be here."

"Did he now."

"He did. Which is why—"

The air split.

Two figures materialized between Avian and the infiltrators. Not teleportation—just movement so fast it looked like it. Their armor was different from the Church knights', older, covered in script that hurt to look at directly.

The first was massive, easily seven feet tall, built like someone had carved a warrior from a mountain and taught it to kill. Bald head covered in scars, eyes like chips of ice. A warhammer rested across his shoulders, the head glowing with condensed divine energy.

The second was smaller, leaner, a woman with dark skin and darker eyes. Twin blades hung at her hips, curved and wicked. She moved like water, weight constantly shifting, never still.

"I am Lieutenant Gorath of the Lightbringers." The big one's voice rumbled like grinding stone. "The Archbishop's wrath."

"Lieutenant Ashera of the Lightbringers." The woman's voice was almost musical by comparison. "The Archbishop's mercy."

Lightbringers. Never heard of them. But if the Archbishop is sending them...

Avian's hand found Fargrim's hilt. The demon blade sang its joy.

"Lieutenants. I'm honored." He drew his sword slowly. "The Archbishop must really want those artifacts."

"The Eyes of Potestas belong to the Church," Gorath said. "They always have."

"Funny. The Academy seems to disagree."

Ashera smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "We're not here to debate, boy. We're here to remove obstacles."

The infiltration team was already moving, disappearing into the building. Avian took a step to follow—

Both Lightbringers moved.

Gorath's hammer came down where Avian had been standing, cratering the cobblestones. Ashera's blades sang through the air, forcing him back.

Fast. Fuck, they're fast.

He parried Ashera's follow-up, Fargrim meeting her blessed steel with a shriek of opposed energies. Gorath's hammer swung in from the side. Avian dropped, rolled, came up with gravity already gathering at his feet.

He launched himself backward, putting distance between them. Both Lightbringers pursued without hesitation.

This is going to be a problem.

Avian's blade met Gorath's hammer, and the impact sent shockwaves through his arms. The big Lightbringer had the strength of his tier backing every blow, and at Seventh Tier, that was enough to crack fortress walls.

Ashera came in low, blades seeking tendons and arteries with surgical precision. Avian twisted, gravity reducing his weight mid-motion, let himself drop beneath her strike instead of blocking. He reversed the pull, slamming back to earth with five times normal weight, the sudden shift throwing off her follow-up.

Blood still ran from the shallow cut on his shoulder. First blood. His, not theirs.

Seventh Tier against two Seventh Tiers. Divine energy countering Fargrim's demonic nature. They're fresh, I've been fighting all morning. And they work together.

Time to even the odds.

The ring on his finger pulsed. Lux materialized in a flash of lightning—six feet of crackling, predatory wolf made of pure electric fury. She'd been patient, waiting in her dormant form while he assessed the threat.

Now she was done waiting.

Ashera's eyes widened fractionally—the first surprise Avian had seen from either Lightbringer. Lux lunged, not trying to fight but to distract, electricity arcing between her paws and the surfaces she touched, leaving scorch marks on stone.

Ashera had to adjust mid-attack, blade coming up to deflect the lightning wolf. Not a real threat to a Seventh Tier Lightbringer, but enough to disrupt her timing.

Avian used the opening. Gravity gathered at his feet—he launched himself skyward with a pulse of reversed weight, spinning mid-air as he increased his mass. His descending strike had seven times normal force behind it.

Gorath's hammer met it. The impact cratered the street, sent shockwaves through nearby buildings.

"A spirit companion and gravity magic," Gorath rumbled, adjusting his assessment. "You're better armed than expected."

"I have my moments."

Both Lightbringers pursued. Gorath simply jumped—the cobblestones beneath him shattered from the force—while Ashera ran up the building wall, blessed energy making gravity irrelevant.

Avian landed on a rooftop, spun, and met them both as they arrived.

Fargrim sang. The demon blade drank deep of his intent, growing sharper, heavier, more real. It caught Ashera's blades and held them, screeching protests of demonic versus divine energy.

Lux darted in from the side—not attacking Ashera directly, but snapping at her legs, forcing the Lightbringer to shift her stance. The lightning wolf couldn't hurt a Seventh Tier blessed warrior, but she could be annoying as hell.

That split-second distraction was enough.

Gorath's hammer came down like divine judgment.

Avian released Ashera's blades and threw himself backward, simultaneously increasing gravity beneath his feet tenfold. The rooftop tiles shattered under the combined weight and force, stone exploding downward.

He fell through the hole he'd created.

The hammer hit where he'd been standing. The entire section of roof disintegrated, support beams snapping like kindling.

Avian caught the edge of the floor below, fingers screaming as they took his full weight plus the lingering gravity effect. His shoulders threatened to dislocate. The stone ledge cracked under his grip.

Up. Now.

He reversed the gravity on himself, making his body light as air, and pulled. The sudden shift in weight let him haul himself up in one smooth motion—

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Right into Ashera's descending blades.

He twisted mid-pull, Fargrim coming up instinctively. Blessed steel met demonic iron inches from his face. The impact sent him spinning back into the room, landing hard on broken floor.

Lux bounded down through the hole after him, electricity arcing between her and the exposed structural beams.

The room was some kind of storage—crates, barrels, narrow spaces. Debris from the collapsed roof section scattered everywhere.

Gorath dropped through the hole like a falling star, hammer raised. The entire building shook from his landing.

Better than the rooftop. At least here the supports might hold.

Ashera came through the hole like water flowing downhill—graceful, inevitable. Her blades were already moving before she landed.

Avian rolled aside, feeling blessed steel kiss the air where his throat had been. Lux intercepted, snapping at the Lightbringer's legs, forcing her to adjust mid-strike. The room was cramped, filled with obstacles.

Better. He could work with this. And with Lux helping control positioning, he wasn't completely overwhelmed.

The lightning wolf darted between crates and barrels, crackling and snarling, drawing Ashera's attention in bursts while Avian repositioned. Not enough to win, but enough to survive.

For now.

Gorath's hammer swung horizontally, too fast for something that size. Avian increased gravity on himself, dropped straight down. The hammer passed overhead, obliterated three crates, kept going until it embedded in the stone wall.

Avian decreased his weight, launched himself at Gorath's exposed side. Fargrim sang, aiming for the gap between chest and shoulder plates—

Gorath wrenched his hammer free, brought it around in a backswing that shouldn't have been possible with that much weight. The haft caught Avian mid-leap, redirected his momentum. He crashed through a barrel, rolled with the impact, came up already moving.

Close. Too fucking close. That would've killed most people.

But Ashera was already there, blades flashing. Avian parried desperately, Fargrim screaming as blessed steel struck demonic iron. The force drove him back, step by step.

Lux lunged at Ashera's blind side, forcing her to pivot. The split-second distraction let Avian disengage, putting a crate between them.

They're good. Individually, we're matched. But two against one...

Gorath's hammer came through the crate like it was paper. Avian threw himself sideways, felt the wind of its passing. Stone cracked where it hit.

This is barely survivable.

Main Courtyard - Full Focus

Sister Elara moved.

One moment she stood twenty yards away. The next, her sword was at Canaline's throat.

Canaline threw herself back, flames erupting instinctively. The Lightbringer's blade cut through the fire like it wasn't there, forcing Canaline into a desperate backpedal.

Kai's knife flashed from the side. Sister Elara didn't even look, just shifted her weight, and suddenly Kai was stumbling past her, off-balance.

"Disappointing," the Lightbringer said.

Canaline hit her with everything. White flames, pure and scorching, hot enough to make the air itself scream. The cobblestones beneath her feet cracked from thermal stress. Blood that had pooled in the courtyard from earlier fighting evaporated instantly, leaving rust-colored stains on superheated stone.

The heat rolled outward in waves. Canaline's skin prickled from her own flames, sweat beading instantly on her forehead, running down her temples. The air shimmered like water, distorting everything beyond Sister Elara into wavering mirages.

Sister Elara walked through it.

Not dodged. Not blocked. Just... walked, her divine aura turning Canaline's fire aside like a gentle breeze.

"Your flames are impressive for one so young." The Lightbringer's voice was conversational, like they were discussing weather. "But raw power without refinement is just noise."

She moved again, impossibly fast. Canaline barely got her arms up before the pommel of Sister Elara's sword slammed into her ribs.

The impact drove the air from her lungs. Pain exploded across her chest—something cracked, she felt it give way beneath the strike. She flew backward, crashed through a wooden bench that had somehow survived the earlier fighting, landed hard enough to see stars.

Get up. Get up get up get up—

Her hands pressed against hot stone, palms stinging from the superheated cobblestones her own flames had created. Her ribs screamed with each breath. Blood in her mouth—she'd bitten her tongue.

Kai's vials shattered against the Lightbringer's armor, releasing compounds that should have frozen, burned, corroded. Sister Elara's divine aura simply consumed them before they could take effect.

"The alchemist." She turned toward him with that same calm expression. "The Archbishop warned me about your tricks."

Her sword flashed. Kai dove aside, feeling blessed steel kiss the air where his throat had been. Too close. Way too fucking close. He threw more vials—not at her, at the ground. The glass exploded, creating a wall of caustic fog between them.

His hands were shaking. Sweat made his grip slippery, the knife handle sliding against his palm. He tightened his fingers, knuckles white, but the tremor wouldn't stop.

Sister Elara walked through the fog like it was morning mist.

Kai's knife met her blade. The blessed steel shattered his weapon like glass, sent fragments spinning. One piece opened his cheek. Blood ran hot down his jaw, dripping from his chin onto his coat.

She kicked him. Simple, economical. Kai's ribs screamed as he tumbled across broken stone. His shoulder hit first, then his hip, momentum carrying him until he crashed into the fountain's base.

"Is this truly the best the Academy offers?" Sister Elara sounded genuinely disappointed. "No wonder the Church has concerns about your education standards."

Canaline pushed herself up, one hand pressed to her ribs. Every breath was fire. Every movement sent lightning through her chest. But she was still alive. Still fighting.

Not made of glass, Avian's voice echoed in her memory. You'll probably be fine.

Her flames reignited. Not the explosive burst from before—controlled, focused, burning white at the edges. The courtyard temperature climbed another ten degrees. Fifteen. The bodies of fallen Church knights began to smoke, flesh cooking on superheated stone.

"Kai," she gasped, tasting copper. "Together."

He nodded, pulling a fresh knife with his off-hand. His right arm hung useless, shoulder dislocated or worse. Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging, blurring his vision. His grip felt wrong, uncertain, but he pushed himself up.

The courtyard stank of burned flesh and melted metal, chemical compounds and blood baking in the heat. Canaline's lungs burned with each breath—the air itself was becoming toxic, superheated until it seared from the inside.

They moved as one.

Canaline sent a lance of white flame at Sister Elara's face. The Lightbringer tilted her head, let it pass close enough that her hair singed, then stepped forward into Canaline's guard.

Too close for fire to be effective. Canaline tried to backpedal—

Kai's vial shattered between them. Not caustic fog this time—pure ice, crystallizing the moisture in the air, creating a barrier.

The sudden temperature shift made Canaline gasp. Her superheated skin met freezing air, prickling with a thousand tiny needles. Steam erupted where ice met her flames.

Sister Elara's sword shattered the ice barrier, but it bought a second. Canaline used it, creating distance, hands already moving through the forms for a more complex spell.

The courtyard heated. The temperature spiked—ten degrees, then twenty, climbing with each heartbeat. Stone beneath Canaline's feet began to glow cherry-red, cracks spreading as the rock expanded. The bodies of fallen Church knights started to smoke, then ignite. Fat rendered from flesh, feeding the fires.

Canaline's own skin blistered. Her palms, her forearms, her face—anywhere exposed to her own heat. The pain was distant, pushed back by adrenaline and desperation, but it was there. Waiting.

"Clever," Sister Elara noted. She was sweating now, actually sweating. The first sign she'd felt anything all fight. "Turning the entire battlefield into a furnace. It won't work."

"Wasn't trying to hurt you." Canaline's voice came out hoarse, damaged from breathing superheated air. "Just needed you to stay put."

Kai threw three vials in perfect sequence. They shattered around Sister Elara in a triangle—not at her, around her—and released compounds that shouldn't mix.

The explosion wasn't large. But it was precise, shaped, funneled by Canaline's superheated air into a cone of force that slammed the Lightbringer backward.

Sister Elara stumbled. First time she'd been off-balance all fight.

Her foot slipped on melted stone, caught on a corpse that had fused to the ground. Just for a second. Just enough.

"Now!" Kai shouted, voice cracking.

Canaline poured everything into her flames. Not the explosive burst from before, but sustained, focused, white-hot fire that turned the air to plasma. The cobblestones beneath Sister Elara began to melt, creating a pool of liquid stone that glowed like the sun.

The heat was unbearable. Canaline felt her mana reserves burning, her core screaming in protest. Blood vessels in her nose burst, hot copper flooding her throat. Her vision swam, black spots dancing at the edges.

But she didn't stop.

The Lightbringer's divine aura flared, pushing back against the heat. But even she couldn't ignore this level of power forever. Her armor glowed red-hot. The blessed steel began to warp.

Burns appeared on Sister Elara's exposed skin—her neck, her face, the gaps in her armor where flesh met air. Second-degree burns, blistering and angry red. The smell of cooked flesh mixed with the other stenches of battle.

Divine energy pulsed. The burns began to heal, flesh knitting back together in real-time, blisters fading to angry red then pink then pale. But new burns appeared as fast as the old ones healed, Canaline's heat relentless.

Sister Elara's jaw clenched. Sweat evaporated off her skin before it could even drip. Her breathing had gone ragged, each inhale of superheated air scorching her lungs.

"Better," she said through gritted teeth, and there was approval in her voice now. Real approval. Pain, too, but she pushed through it. "Much better."

She raised her sword. Divine energy gathered around the blade, building, condensing, drinking in light until the weapon looked like captured starlight. The glow intensified, pushing back against Canaline's flames, creating a pocket of cooler air around the Lightbringer.

The burns stopped appearing. The divine energy was too concentrated now, a shield against the heat.

Canaline tried to run. Her legs wouldn't respond. Too much mana spent. Too much damage taken. She could only watch as Sister Elara swung.

The shockwave hit like a physical thing.

Canaline's flames dispersed, scattered, snuffed. The wave of blessed power slammed into both of them with the force of divine judgment.

Canaline felt her ribs crack. Not just crack—break. Multiple fractures, the sound like green wood snapping. She flew backward, no control, just momentum and pain. Crashed into the fountain that had somehow survived the earlier fighting.

The stone shattered. Water and blood mixed as she fell, splashing across broken marble and melted cobblestones. The water was boiling hot, heated by the superheated stone around it. It scalded her skin where it touched.

She couldn't breathe. Each attempt brought white-hot agony. Broken ribs. Punctured lung. Maybe both lungs. Blood in her throat, in her mouth, bubbling with each gasping attempt at air.

Kai tumbled across melted stone, his coat smoking, catching fire at the edges. He tried to pat it out, but his good arm wouldn't coordinate properly. Shock, maybe. Blood loss. His vision swam, the world tilting sideways.

He got halfway up before collapsing. His legs wouldn't hold. Everything hurt. The knife in his hand felt impossibly heavy, like trying to lift a building with shaking fingers.

Sister Elara walked toward them through the settling dust. Her armor was scorched. Her hair was singed, shorter on one side where Canaline's flames had come too close. A thin line of blood ran from her temple where a piece of shrapnel had grazed her.

She was breathing hard. Actually breathing hard.

"You actually wounded me." She touched the cut, examined the blood on her fingers with something like surprise. "I'll admit, I underestimated you. You fight well together."

She raised her sword for the killing blow.

Canaline tried to summon flames. Nothing came. Her reserves were empty, her core screaming in protest, every channel burned from overuse. She'd pushed too hard, too long. Given everything and it still wasn't enough.

I'm sorry, she thought, not sure if she was apologizing to Avian, to Kai, to her family, or to herself. I tried.

Sister Elara's blade descended—

Steel spikes erupted from the ground between them, dozens of them, gleaming metal pillars that shot up faster than thought. The Lightbringer's sword struck the barrier and stuck, blessed steel meeting Academy steel, buried half a foot deep.

"That's enough."

Dean Aldrich stood at the courtyard entrance. His robes were torn, blood running from a dozen wounds. Behind him, the collapsed remains of his tower burned, smoke rising into the sky.

But he was alive. And very, very angry.

More steel spikes rose around him as he walked forward, metal growing from stone like crystalline flowers. Each step left a trail of gleaming metal in his wake.

"Sister Elara," his voice carried absolute authority, each word resonating with power that made the air vibrate. "You will step away from my students. Now."

The Lightbringer yanked her blade free, metal shrieking as blessed steel tore through Academy-forged iron. She turned to face this new threat. "Dean Aldrich. The Archbishop sends his regards."

"I'm sure he does." The Dean's hands moved, and steel began to rise from every surface of the courtyard—walls, ground, the fountain's base. Hundreds of spikes, all pointed at Sister Elara. "Tell him they're not appreciated."

From across the Academy, Canaline heard sounds of fighting intensifying. More Lightbringers. More battles. Explosions. Someone screaming. The siege had become something far worse than she'd imagined.

But right now, all she could focus on was breathing. On the fact that she was still alive, even if every breath felt like drowning in broken glass.

Kai had dragged himself over to her, pressed his back against hers. Both of them broken, bleeding, but still breathing. His body heat against her back was grounding. Proof they'd both survived.

"We did good," he wheezed, each word clearly costing him.

"We got destroyed." Canaline coughed, blood spattering on the boiling water pooled around them.

"Yeah." A pained laugh that turned into a groan. "But we're not dead. That counts as good."

The Dean and Sister Elara circled each other, magic and divine power building to catastrophic levels. The air pressure dropped, making ears pop. The ground trembled beneath gathering forces.

Somewhere in the distance, Canaline heard an explosion. Saw a pillar of fire that wasn't hers rise into the sky, followed by a thunderclap that shook buildings.

The real battle was just beginning.

And they'd barely survived the opening moves.