Supreme Spouse System.

The Wrath of Dire: Endgame at Silver City [Part-3]

The sky above Silver City had become a battlefield between gods—an endless, churning war of crimson and black clouds, spiraling like furious omens in motion. The sky was bleeding. Thunder cracked like rage turned into sound, shaking the world. And down below, the city—once proud—was on fire.

Those towers—used to stand quiet, bathed in soft moonlight's silver hush. Now? They're falling apart, one by one. Like broken monuments to memories crumbling to dust. They groan, heavy and aching, collapsing into flames that swallow them whole. Sparks fly up, swirling like the last gasps of some dead dream that never got its chance. And the streets—those streets that once echoed with footsteps and laughter? They were burning. Every corner pulsed with fire now. Arteries of flame snaked across the stone, bleeding the city from within, burning it down to nothing but smoke and ash.

And just beyond where the fire still clawed and howled—past the shattered wreck of the city's gate—an open field had become something else entirely. Not a refuge. Not safety. A battleground. A last stand.

A place where desperation made its final, stubborn mark.

At the heart of that field—where grass had been swallowed by scorched, dead earth—nine warriors stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the kind of horror that could only be whispered about in stories.

Nine against one.

And yet, the one was winning.

General Dire towered among them. But calling him a man didn't fit anymore. Not even close. He wasn't beast either. He was something else. Something that had clawed its way up from hell—reborn in fury, hammered in fire. His entire body didn't move so much as writhe, like it was alive with pain. Flesh twisted and scorched, skin split in places, blackened like old coal.

Underneath, molten veins pulsed—glowing like magma pushing up through cracks, like it was trying to break free. The heat coming off him wasn't just hot. It was thick. Heavy. Made the air around him ripple like water over flame.

Every time he breathed, steam poured out slow and sharp, a hiss rising from his throat like a furnace that never shut off. And every time he moved, the ground blackened and cracked, smoking underfoot. Lava dripped from the open seams of his arms and legs—actual molten fire, falling like sweat from a volcano, melting the stone with every drop.

His face was a twisted mask of something once human—long gone now. Horns jutted from his skull like crowns of war, curling upward and black as obsidian. And his mouth, gods... that mouth stretched into a grin so wide it felt wrong just looking at it. Malicious. Almost playful. He was enjoying this. Every second of it.

Burning glee lived in that expression.

"[Molten Scatter!]" Rias shouted—her voice cut through the heat like a whipcrack, sharp and pissed off. Her red blade roared to life, bursting into flame so bright it lit the ground under her like a sun flare. It didn't just burn—it looked stolen, like she'd ripped fire straight from the sky and dared anyone to take it back.

She moved. Fast. Dodging through the chaos, weaving between craters and shockwaves, her steps like streaks of fire across the battlefield. Just as a boulder-sized fist slammed into the ground beside her—close enough to rattle her bones—she twisted away at the last instant, flames curling around her like a second skin.

"Damn, he's fast—!" Black growled, gritting his teeth as he caught a swipe with both hands locked around his sword hilt. Sparks exploded as Dire's knuckles scraped across the steel, the force sending Black hurtling backward into a jagged boulder.

"BLACK!" Ronan cried out, heart clenched, but even with the fear rising in her throat, she didn't break formation. They couldn't afford to.

Tsubaki was next to strike—her greatsword came crashing down like a meteor descending from the heavens. The impact struck Dire with enough force to split the ground beneath him, rupturing the field in a spiderweb of cracks. He raised both arms to block, grunting as her strength drove him half a foot into the stone.

"Trying to bury me?" he spat, voice vibrating with volcanic menace.

Tsubaki's brows furrowed, sweat trailing down her temple. No matter how hard they struck, he wasn't faltering. Her teeth clenched as she shouted, "Circle formation, now! We won't beat him head-on—we do it together!"

No hesitation. Each of them moved with practiced unity, bodies flowing like blades of the same weapon. Mana crackled in the air as Rias, Aria, Cynthia, Syra, Kyra, and Tsubaki encircled Dire in a deadly dance, synchronized with Black, Ronan, and Johny.

Then came the green-haired twins—Syra and Kyra—moving in tandem as their blades flared with raw elemental energy.

"Twin Fang Formation!" they cried out in perfect harmony.

Their bodies spun, two wild whirlwinds of steel and force. Syra's sword shook the earth itself with every strike, while Kyra blurred through the air, moving like a whisper on the wind. They slashed and sliced into Dire's sides and arms with sharp, brutal precision—blades cutting molten flesh, each hit followed by the sizzling hiss of burning blood vanishing before it hit the ground.

But still, he stood.

"I'll burn you all to cinders!" Dire roared, fury boiling from his core.

He raised his monstrous hands, and in the next instant, a wall of molten lava surged forth—an eruption of fire and stone meant to consume everything in its path.

But then, Aria stepped forward.

Her voice flowed like a stream in a storm, calm and sure. "[Aqua Veil.]"

A shimmering barrier of water magic erupted before them, colliding with the inferno. The clash sent up a wall of steam, a deafening hiss blanketing the field.

Before the smoke could settle, Cynthia's staff struck the ground with graceful finality. "[Moonlit Chains!]" she intoned.

From the torn earth and trembling shadows, glowing silver chains burst upward—snaking around Dire's arms and legs, wrapping tighter with every second. They burned into him, glowing with lunar intensity.

He bellowed, thrashing wildly. "You pests!"

The chains creaked as he flexed, and with a volcanic eruption of magma from his skin, they shattered into molten fragments.

But that was all they needed.

Rias moved.

She sprinted through the wall of steam, her sword blazing, drenched in red-hot rage. The heat shimmered around her as the sword pulsed with raw fury, her eyes locked on him—like a beast that had already decided the kill.

[Inferno Beast!] she cried out.

Her swing was sharp, brutal—and from that sweeping arc, fire exploded into shape. A beast of flame roared into the air, snarling as it crashed headfirst into Dire's chest.

The impact carved a savage, burning gash across his body. The creature's molten jaws slammed into him, tearing straight through skin and scales, all of it drenched in blinding, merciless fire. Lava spilled from the wound, spraying the ground in molten agony, and for the first time… the monster staggered.

Black followed. "Steel Sever!" His blade gleamed gold, pulsing with sacred runes as he brought it down in a mighty slash, deepening the wound across Dire's monstrous hide.

"Wind Step!" came Ronan's cry. His figure vanished in a sudden gust, then reappeared with a sharp gust of air, twin daggers slicing through Dire's flank in a flash of steel.

[Molten Edge!] Johny's roar split through the chaos. His blazing sword carved a scorching arc, searing across Dire's molten side with violent heat.

Tsubaki leapt in, slamming her blade into the ground with precision. "Rock Spire!" she called out. Spires of jagged stone erupted upward, impaling the beast's thigh in a brutal strike.

Dire let out a guttural howl, flames bursting from his maw in rage and pain. "I WILL NOT FALL—!"

But Ronan's voice rang from the side like a cutting breeze. "Tempest Blade!" he shouted, his body spinning in one swift motion as he hurled a dagger pulsing with wind.

The blade struck true. It pierced deep into Dire's rib, and with a spiraling explosion of air, the surrounding magma and flesh were torn apart. Skin peeled, lava hissed—the force was devastating.

Dire stumbled, wheezing for air, his molten body leaking from the fresh wound. Then he raised his head and let out a bone-rattling roar that shook the very ground. "ENOUGH!"

Slamming both fists into the earth, the soil beneath them screamed—then shattered. A violent shockwave burst forth, shattering their battle line in an instant.

"Get down—!" someone shouted.

But it was already too late.

The ground split like shattered glass, and bodies flew—tossed into the air like dead leaves caught in a storm. Every breath was fire and chaos. Lava poured from Dire's grotesque body, spilling across the earth as his cruel, guttural laugh roared through the air like thunder cracking the sky.

"Is that your best shot? Pathetic. Like insects trying to tear down a storm with their teeth!"

Through smoke and blood, the warriors tried to rise.

Cynthia's lips were split open, dry and bleeding. Her cough tore out of her throat—wet, sharp—but still, she dragged herself up. It hurt like hell, but she moved anyway. Rias was shaking all over, her body twitching like it was ready to give out at any second... but she didn't let it. She stayed up. Just barely. Aria and Syra clung to each other, leaning in hard, both of them on the edge of collapse, their legs buckling underneath—but they didn't fall. They kept rising. Slow. Unsteady. Like the very air was trying to shove them back down. Kyra gasped for breath, chest rising fast, then pulled from deep—summoned the wind with a raw flick of will. It wrapped around her thighs, soft and sure, warm like a lover's hand, lifting her on instinct and grit alone. And just a little farther away, Tsubaki pushed herself up again. Her sword was buried deep in the wet, bloodstained soil, and she used her sword for hold herself steady, shoulders trembling with every ragged breath—but her grip didn't falter. Her stance held. Fierce. Unbroken. Unmoving.

Johny dropped to one knee, clutching his sword in both hands, fingers trembling hard around the hilt. Ronan's robe was torn open, his dislocated shoulder hanging uselessly as he gritted his teeth. Black clenched his jaw and tried to push himself up, his body screaming in protest.

But still… they stood.

Because Dire hadn't won. Not yet.

Then came his voice, low and final. "I am done playing. I have no more time to waste."

Something in his tone changed, and before they could react—before a word could be shared—they moved instinctively, almost sensing what was coming next.

Dire slammed his hands into the ground again. But this time, molten fury burst from his mouth. He vomited lava, the molten stream cascading like a flood across the battlefield. The ground hissed loud, angry, as that burning tide spread out in every direction, swallowing everything in its path.

Lava crawled up their legs—thick, glowing, alive. The heat hit like a hammer to the chest, stealing the air straight from their lungs. But... it didn't burn. Not like it should have. It didn't tear through their flesh or set their skin screaming. Instead, It just wrapped around them—like a possessive, smoldering lover—coiling around their limbs, burning not with pain, but with weight. Their boots hissed, the soles melting into the river of molten rock beneath, each step sinking, halted, stolen.

The flow crept higher. Up past their knees. Their waists. Tightening, choking, like it wanted to fuse with them. Their arms were caught mid-motion, frozen. Hands clenched, locked in place, swallowed by that glowing sludge. It was too thick to break, too heavy to fight. It didn't rip. It didn't crush. It just... held. Merciless. Unmoving.

By the time the lava had them to the waist, they couldn't move at all. Armor cracked and blistered. The skin underneath—starting to bubble.

There was no breath left. No strength in their limbs. The world around them twisted—cruel, alien, nothing like the battlefield they knew.

And it was the earth itself that held them down.

"I'm bored," Dire growled. His voice rumbled low as he dragged one smoldering arm toward Rias. His eyes burned—lit from within like twin coals. "Let's end this."

Rias clenched her teeth, the pressure unbearable. She fought—damn, she tried—to move, to twist free, to raise her hand, anything. But the grip of lava was too strong. Her limbs trembled uselessly as she failed, again and again.

Behind her, everyone screamed. Chaos. Shouts. "Move away!" Voices—dozens of them—yelled again and again, overlapping, desperate. But she still couldn't move. Rias's fingers twitched. Her lips parted, the start of a chant on her tongue... but her body wouldn't listen. Wouldn't budge. The lava held her tight—clinging to her like a curse. Its heat wasn't just pain—it coiled around her limbs, burning without flame, choking off her magic before it could even rise. It didn't just hurt—it crushed her. Like the molten grip had swallowed her whole, swallowed her power, stripped her of everything—strength, breath, even the will to try again.

"Rias!

MOVE!

Get away!"

The cries came louder, desperate. But her body refused to respond. She was frozen—not by fear, but by the infernal grip that had crawled up her legs and locked her in place.

And then—he was there. Right in front of her. Close. So close. Barely ten centimetres away.

Too late.

Dire's twisted hand, wrapped in dripping magma, reached forward—just a breath away from her throat. The heat coming off him bent the air around his body. His grin spread slow, hungry, cruel.

He was reaching for the kill.

But then— A voice cut through everything. Cold. Steady. Calm like ice in the middle of fire.

"[Fire Vortex]."