Hero Of Broken History

Avian made it ten steps from the vault before his legs gave out.

He caught himself against the wall, Fargrim scraping stone as he used the demon blade to stay upright. His vision swam—not just exhaustion, but the new sight overwhelming him with information he couldn't process. Energy flows everywhere. Power signatures moving through the Academy. Too much. Too fast.

Need to keep moving. Need to—

His legs buckled. He slid down the wall, ending up sitting in the passage just outside the vault entrance. The corpses of the five infiltrators were still visible through the doorway, blood spreading across silver-inlaid stone.

Zero mana. Maybe five percent of his stamina left. Body held together by Fargrim's healing and stubborn will.

The Eyes of Potestas were gone. Absorbed. Part of him now.

He should move. Should run. Should get as far from here as possible before more Lightbringers came.

But his body had other ideas.

Just... five minutes. Then I'll move.

Footsteps echoed from down the passage. Coming closer.

Avian's hand tightened on Fargrim. Fuck. Already?

He forced himself to stand, using the demon blade as a cane. His new sight showed him the approaching signature before they entered—a burning core of power, Fifth Tier, moving fast.

Not a Lightbringer. Different energy signature. But familiar somehow.

The figure appeared in the vault entrance, and Avian recognized her immediately.

Church uniform. Short dark hair. Bandaged knuckles. The girl from the Underground—the one who'd escaped when he killed those knights months ago.

Seraphina.

She froze when she saw him. Saw the bodies. Saw the blood.

Her expression cycled through shock, recognition, and then pure, concentrated rage.

"You."

Avian said nothing. Just watched her through his new sight. Fifth Tier core burning bright. Enhanced musculature—something had been done to her body, some ritual or technique that pushed her beyond normal limits. Her power signature was... wrong. Forced. Like someone had taken a Fourth Tier fighter and artificially upgraded them.

The Archbishop's work, probably.

"You killed them," she said, voice shaking. Not with fear. With fury. "Amara. Roland. And now these—" She gestured at the bodies. "You just keep killing."

"They attacked first." His voice came out rough, exhausted. "Both times."

"Liar." She drew her sword—blessed steel, glowing with divine energy. "You're a murderer. A demon. And I'm going to make you pay for what you took from me."

Avian's new sight showed him her power gathering. Aura flowing into her blade. Muscles coiling for a charge. Divine energy wrapping around her like armor.

Fifth Tier with enhancements versus exhausted Seventh Tier. Normally not even close. But right now?

Right now, this could actually be dangerous.

"Walk away," Avian said. "You don't want this fight."

"I've wanted nothing else for months." She advanced, each step deliberate. "Every day I trained. Every night I bled. All for this moment."

"You'll die."

"Then I die." Her smile was terrible. "Better than living knowing I ran."

She moved.

Fast. Faster than Fourth Tier should be.

The Archbishop's enhancements weren't just cosmetic. Her speed was genuine Fifth Tier, maybe pushing Sixth in bursts. The blade came for his throat in a clean thrust, technique solid, no wasted motion.

Avian's new sight saved him.

He saw the power flow into her arms a split-second before the strike. Saw the trajectory crystallize in his vision—not prediction, but observation of energy patterns that preceded action.

He moved his head. Her blade passed close enough to kiss his cheek.

Fargrim came up in a counter-slash. She blocked, divine steel meeting demonic iron. The impact drove him back a step. His legs nearly buckled.

Fuck. She's strong. Really strong.

Seraphina pressed the advantage, blade work vicious and efficient. No flourishes. No wasted movement. Someone had trained her well in the months since their last encounter.

Avian gave ground, using his sight to read her attacks before they landed. Saw power gathering in her legs—dodged left before the kick came. Saw her aura spiking—raised Fargrim to block the overhead slash that would have split his skull.

But reading the attacks didn't make him faster. Didn't give him back his stamina. Each block jarred his arms. Each dodge cost energy he didn't have.

"What's wrong?" Seraphina's voice was vicious. "Where's the demon who killed trained knights? The monster who slaughtered my family?"

She thrust low. Avian twisted, but not quite fast enough. The blessed steel carved a line across his ribs. Shallow. Painful.

And then Fargrim responded.

The drain hit like ice water. Seraphina gasped as the demon blade fed on the wound it had indirectly caused—her blade had drawn blood, but the price was hers to pay. Her vitality flowed into Avian, knitting the cut closed. Not much. Not enough to matter.

But something.

"What—" She staggered back, pale. "What did you do?"

"Demon blade." Avian's voice was flat. "Figure it out yourself."

Her expression went from shock to fury. "You—"

"Still trying to kill me or are we taking a break?"

She came at him again, faster now. Desperate. Divine energy flaring around her blade.

Avian saw the strike pattern before it formed. Saw her power distribution shift. Knew she was going for a three-strike combination—thrust, slash, finishing blow.

He stepped into the attack instead of away.

The thrust missed by inches. The slash caught air. And while she was committed, while her weight was forward and her guard was open, Avian drove Fargrim forward.

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Not to kill. Just to wound.

The demon blade carved across her shoulder. Divine armor slowed it, but didn't stop it. Blood welled up, and the drain hit immediately.

Seraphina screamed—not from pain, from violation. The feeling of life being pulled out, vitality stolen, essence fed to a hungry blade.

Avian felt his exhaustion lift slightly. The rib wound finished healing. His stamina recovered a fraction.

Not enough. Not nearly enough.

But something.

They fought through the vault, Avian giving ground while Seraphina pressed forward with single-minded fury.

She was good. Better than she had any right to be. The Archbishop's training had turned her into a genuine threat. Her technique was solid. Her power was real. And her rage gave her an edge that skill alone couldn't match.

He couldn't win. Not like this. Not with zero mana and exhaustion making his limbs heavy.

But he could survive.

Seraphina's blade came for his heart. Avian saw the power spike, stepped inside her guard, and rammed his elbow into her solar plexus. Divine armor absorbed most of it, but she still gasped.

Fargrim opened a shallow cut on her arm. The drain hit. More vitality flowed into him.

"Stop healing!" She screamed the words, attacking faster. "Die like they died! Alone! Afraid!"

"They weren't alone." Avian parried a strike that would have taken his head. "They had you. You were there."

"I was USELESS!" Her next attack had no technique. Pure rage. "I watched them die! I couldn't do anything! I was too weak!"

The strike was wild. Avian saw it coming from three directions. He didn't block. Didn't dodge.

Let it connect.

Her blade bit deep into his shoulder. Divine steel burning through flesh. The pain was white-hot, immediate.

But Fargrim was already moving. Already responding.

The demon blade found her thigh. Cut deep. And drank.

The exchange was uneven. Her wound was worse. The drain took more. Avian's shoulder sealed itself closed while she bled, stumbling, her divine energy flickering as Blooddrinker fed.

"You're fighting wrong," Avian said, breathing hard. "Rage makes you predictable. Makes you commit too hard. Makes you take risks you can't afford."

"Shut up." She could barely stand now. Too much blood loss. Too much vitality drained. "You don't get to lecture me. You don't get to—"

He hit her with the flat of Fargrim's blade. Not hard enough to kill. Hard enough to send her sprawling.

She tried to rise. Couldn't. The blood loss was too much. The drain had taken too much. Her enhanced body was failing, muscles trembling, unable to support her weight.

Avian approached slowly. Every step hurt. His body was held together by stolen vitality and demonic healing. But he was standing. She wasn't.

"You're brave," he said quietly. "Stupid. Suicidal. But brave."

"Kill me." Her voice was raw. "Do it. Finish what you started."

He looked down at her. Saw the rage. The pain. The absolute certainty that she'd failed again.

His new sight showed him her power signature flickering. Showed him how close she was to passing out from blood loss. Showed him a dozen ways to end this.

He sheathed Fargrim.

"No."

Seraphina stared up at him, confusion cutting through the rage.

"What?"

"I'm not going to kill you." Avian turned away, toward the vault exit. "You fought well. Better than most. But you're not ready."

"Not—" She tried to rise, collapsed. "You fucking—you think this is PITY?"

"Think whatever you want." He was already moving. Had to get out before he collapsed. Before more enemies came. "But killing you doesn't accomplish anything."

"I'll hunt you." Her voice followed him. "I'll get stronger. I'll find you. And next time—"

"Next time you'll still lose." Avian didn't look back. "But maybe you'll make me work for it."

He left her there. Bleeding. Alive. Screaming curses after him.

I already have enough blood on my hands today. One less corpse buys me a little breathing room. Maybe.

It was practical, not merciful. The Church would waste time treating her, debriefing her, planning her next move. Time he could use to escape. To disappear.

One less body meant one less reason for them to mobilize everything immediately.

She could live with her failure. He could live with the tactical advantage.

At least, that's an excuse.

The real reason was simpler. Messier. More human.

He was just tired of killing people today.

Seraphina's POV - The Vault

She woke to pain.

Her shoulder burned. Her thigh throbbed. Everything hurt.

But she was alive.

Why am I alive?

Seraphina forced herself to sit up, gasping at the movement. Her wounds had been... not healed, but sealed. Rough. Minimal. Just enough to stop the bleeding.

He'd done that before he left. Made sure she wouldn't die.

The bodies of the infiltrators still lay around her. Five dead. Blood everywhere. And in the center, where Avian had stood—nothing. No sign of the Eyes of Potestas. No evidence except corpses and destruction.

Her sword lay beside her. He'd left it. Hadn't even taken her weapon.

Pity. That was pity.

The rage that thought sparked was different from before. Hotter. More focused. More personal.

He didn't see her as a threat. Didn't see her as worth killing. She was just... an annoyance. Something to be endured and walked away from.

Like she didn't matter.

Like Amara and Roland didn't matter.

Seraphina grabbed her sword, used it to lever herself upright. Her legs shook. Her vision swam. But she stayed standing through sheer will.

"I'll get stronger." The words came out as a promise. A vow. "I'll train until I can't stand. I'll push until something breaks. And next time—"

Next time she'd make him see her. Make him take her seriously. Make him understand that she wasn't some child to be patted on the head and dismissed.

She looked down at her wounds. At the rough healing that had saved her life.

He'd called her brave. Called her stupid.

I'll show you stupid.

She limped toward the exit, leaving bloody footprints on silver-inlaid stone. Behind her, the vault held its secrets. The Eyes were gone. Avian was gone.

But she was alive.

And that meant she could get stronger.

That meant she could try again.

Next time. Next time I'll kill you. I swear it.

The rage burned in her chest, pure and clean and focused.

Not doubt. Not confusion.

Just fury.

Just determination.

Just the absolute certainty that she would make him regret sparing her.

Avian's POV - Academy Grounds

He made it three buildings away before his legs gave out.

Avian collapsed against a wall, sliding down to sit in shadows while the Academy burned around him. Fires still raged in several districts. Smoke obscured the stars. The sounds of fighting had mostly died down, but screams and shouts still echoed.

His new sight showed him power signatures moving through the chaos. Church knights. Academy defenders. Survivors searching for friends.

He couldn't stay here. Couldn't rest. Had to keep moving.

But his body had other ideas.

The healing from Blooddrinker had closed his wounds, but it hadn't restored his energy. His mana reserves were empty. His stamina was borrowed from Seraphina's vitality—already fading as his body processed and depleted it.

He'd survived. Barely.

But now what?

The Eyes of Potestas were part of him now. Absorbed somehow. Merged with him. He could feel them—not as separate artifacts, but as extensions of himself. The new sight wasn't something he'd chosen. It was just... there. Like opening eyes he'd always had but never knew existed.

He could see power flows now. Mana. Aura. Divine energy. All of it visible as colored currents and patterns that moved through the world.

It was beautiful. Terrifying. Overwhelming.

And he had no idea what it meant.

The vision. The gods. The curse.

The memory of what the Eyes had shown him still echoed. A throne room of impossible scale. Eight gods passing judgment. A chained figure screaming defiance as divinity was stripped away.

I will return. And you will remember why you feared me.

Who had that been? Potestas? The fallen god whose Eyes he'd absorbed?

And why had it felt so... personal?

Avian shook his head, immediately regretted it as the world spun. Too many questions. Too much exhaustion. He needed to focus on immediate survival.

Get out of the Academy. Find somewhere to hide. Figure out what he'd become.

And hope that the Church didn't find him first.

He forced himself to stand, using the wall for support. His legs trembled but held. Good enough.

One foot in front of the other. That's all it took. Just keep moving.

Behind him, in the vault, Seraphina was waking up. Planning. Swearing vengeance.

Ahead of him, the world was about to turn against him in ways he couldn't imagine.

But right now, in this moment, he was alive.

Wounded. Changed. Hunted.

But alive.

And that would have to be enough.