The Fallen One

"A smart, cunning beast with exceptional intelligence." That was Sia's sober assessment of the creature they faced—a daunting bear that had shown an unsettling level of awareness and strategy. From their earlier confrontation, it had become painfully clear: a direct assault would have led to its demise. Instead, it had resorted to a ghost-like ability—vanishing temporarily—using the time to recover from the injuries it had sustained.

Inwardly, Sia cursed herself and her companions. They had been given a golden opportunity to retreat—one she had explicitly called for earlier—but her instructions had been ignored without so much as a word. Did they truly believe they could avenge Rey's death? The comrade they had just lost? She had wanted to protest, to demand an answer, but the moment had passed. Now, her focus had returned to the formidable adversary standing before them.

The intelligence this beast displayed was staggering. It had demonstrated its cleverness time and again since the start of their encounter. Though the squad had managed to hold their ground, Rey's sudden death had shifted everything. Sia no longer believed they stood a fair chance.

Raga lay half-conscious, weaponless, and vulnerable. June was barely standing. Even before Rey's death, she had been weary, emotionally and physically drained. And then there was Dawn. She was the most affected by Rey's passing. Sia had sensed a deeper bond between the two, one that extended beyond camaraderie—perhaps mentor and protégé, or something even more intimate. Much like the bond between Raga and Rey, the relationship between Dawn and Rey had layers Sia chose not to explore in the heat of battle.

Amidst the chaos, it was the bear that continued to stand out as an anomaly. Mana beasts usually roared relentlessly—either to apply pressure or to instil dread. But this one roared only when necessary. It was controlled, strategic. Sia found that deeply unnerving. Whoever attacked first would be at a disadvantage, and she feared both the beast and her own teammates understood this too well. Her senses were heightened, sharp to the point that even the faintest irregular sound sent adrenaline surging through her.

And that jolt came when Dawn suddenly charged toward the beast, wielding her staff more like a spear than a caster's conduit. The abruptness of the move caught Raga completely off guard. He screamed after her, voice hoarse and desperate, pleading for her to stop. But Dawn didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes were fixed on the bear—her mind locked in a space of pain, rage, and resolve.

The bear sensed her reckless determination and seized the moment. As Dawn closed the distance, it slammed its massive forearms into the frozen ground, shattering it violently. A burst of ice shards—each one sharp as a dagger and no larger than a finger—erupted in every direction. The roar that followed wasn't just sound; it was a trigger. Hundreds of ice sparks launched at once, swarming the battlefield.

In the chaos, Raga somehow managed to reach Dawn. He grabbed her hand at the last second and shielded her with his massive, unarmored back, taking the brunt of the incoming barrage.

Sia took advantage of the disarray. She darted forward, sword drawn, swatting away incoming ice sparks with calculated precision. A few steps in, she spotted Raga's weapon on the ground—a glint of metal partially buried beneath the frost.

June, already struggling to stay upright, appeared to suffer the worst. With immense effort, she raised her trembling arms and summoned a small, transparent barrier. It held for a moment—just long enough to absorb several ice sparks—but eventually shattered into mist. June collapsed to her knees, hands planted weakly on the ground, barely able to hold herself upright. She was exposed. Defenseless.

But the bear wasn't done.

Its unnatural awareness of the battlefield was far greater than Sia had anticipated. Despite her best efforts to suppress her presence and flank it from its blind spot, the creature tracked her movement with frightening accuracy. Its eyes snapped toward her in an instant.

And then—it fired.

A concentrated Ice Beam of frozen mana hurtled toward her, tearing through the air with blistering speed. Her instincts screamed, but there was no time to dodge.

Before the blast could reach her, a concentrated flame arrow whistled past—a desperate counterattack from Dawn. The small projectile was dense, focused, and impossibly fast. The flame clashed against the ice, disrupting its flow. The beast twisted just enough to avoid the bulk of Dawn's spell. The glancing hit wasn't enough to wound, but it made it blink. Reassess.

Dawn pressed on.

Another flame arrow. Then another.

Each one more refined, more compressed. Her mana flared wildly as she pushed herself—each volley a prayer that one would pierce the beast's defence.

Sia didn't need to hear Dawn's voice to understand her desperation; she could feel it in the air.

Seeing the opening created by Dawn's relentless attacks, Sia seized the moment. She grabbed Raga's sword from the ground and hurled it toward him, praying he still had enough strength left to fight. From this distance, she could see the grim reality—burns covered his skin, and jagged shards of ice shimmered from his bare back where the beast had landed a direct hit.

Yet, despite the pain, Raga's focus never wavered. Slower, yes—but his skill remained razor-sharp. He caught the sword mid-air with practised ease and shot her a glance that said it all. Join me. Sia nodded and rushed forward.

Raga, being closer, was the first to engage. Flames flared around him as he charged in, meeting the beast head-on. With a roar of defiance that echoed the creature's own, he reignited his Burning Mode. Heat warped the air around him, and his sword ignited like a blazing torch.

The beast responded in kind. It unleashed a wave of freezing mana, countering Raga's fire with relentless cold. The battlefield turned volatile—heat and frost colliding violently, shockwaves rippling with every clash.

Sia joined the fray, channelling her mana into Rare Death. Her armour—engineered for moments like this—absorbed the stray flames and resisted the frost better than expected. Her adrenaline cooled, her focus sharpened. As Raga's flames began to falter under the beast's ice affinity, she pressed forward, her strikes sharper and more calculated.

Magic and steel intertwined in the air. Fire met ice, spell met claw. But the toll was mounting. Raga's swings slowed; his sword grew heavier with each pass. The beast, sensing its fading strength, began turning its attacks toward Sia.

Then Raga saw it—an exposed injury on the beast's side, still coated in brittle layers of ice. Despite Sia's warning glance, he locked eyes with the target. He knew what he had to do.

Drawing on his last reserves, Raga surged forward, taking a direct cold blast to the chest—but he didn't stop. His willpower alone pushed him through. With a roar, he thrust his sword into the wounded side. Ice shattered. Steam erupted. The clash of fire and frost tore through the silence.

The beast howled, reeling from the impact. Raga didn't let go. With every remaining ounce of strength, he forced the blade deeper, driving it into the creature's heart. His final act—relentless and absolute.

The beast's scream was deafening—a high-pitched, gut-wrenching sound that tore through the air. It wasn't a roar, but a tortured cry that reverberated across the battlefield, filled with both agony and fury. The shockwaves slammed into Sia's chest, forcing her a few steps back. She dug her sword into the earth to brace herself, the cold rushing over her like a physical blow. Her instincts flared, and her eyes lifted toward the beast.

Raga stood directly in its path. His flames, once fierce and untamed, sputtered and died, smothered by the sheer force of the Ghost Bear's icy aura. His body, bare and exposed, looked fragile beneath the looming threat of those massive claws.

But before the strike landed, Dawn reacted. Her movements were slow—delayed from exhaustion—but she raised a hand and summoned a smokescreen, a desperate effort to cloud the beast's vision. It worked, if only briefly. The haze gave Raga a moment of cover.

Instead of retreating, he reignited his sword. Flames burst back to life, glowing brilliantly as he stepped forward once more. The fire cut through the cold like a dying sun clawing for dominance.

Then came the explosion—a violent, brilliant flash of light that forced Sia to shield her eyes. By the time her vision returned, the worst had already happened.

The beast's claw had pierced Raga's chest.

Blood sprayed from the wound as his body jerked back. His grip on the sword faltered. Then, with brutal force, the Ghost Bear slammed its massive paw into him again, hurling him through the air. His broken body, along with his weapon, flew toward the same area where Lucius was hiding.

Dawn froze. Her vision cleared slower than Sia's, but when it did, the colour drained from her face. She saw it—the brutal blow, the blood. Her husband, no longer standing. The beast, now stalking forward.

Only three of them remained. Though "standing" was generous.

Dawn could barely hold her weapon. Her arms trembled from the toll of her earlier magic. Sia stood beside her, bruised, breath ragged, but still on her feet. And the Ghost Bear—wounded, bloodied—crouched on all fours ahead of them. It was exhausted. But not done.

In all her years, Sia had rarely seen a beast with this kind of endurance. Any other creature would've backed off. But Ghost Bears didn't flee. They stalked. They hunted. They chose a target and killed it.

The white-furred ones were the worst. Intelligent, strategic. Ruthless.

Everything in Sia screamed at her to fall back. But that spark inside—primal, defiant—refused.

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She glanced at Dawn. Their eyes met. No words were needed.

Sia stepped forward, gripping her sword tightly. The dying firelight danced across her blade. "Retreating?" she said, her voice low but resolute. "That's not in our blood, is it?"

The beast paused. Then responded—not with an immediate roar, but with silence. As if savouring the moment. Then it let out a guttural growl that made Sia's jaw tighten.

This wasn't a fight they could win.

It was a death match.

"Dawn," Sia said sharply, her eyes never leaving the beast, "take June and retreat behind the narrow trees."

Her voice was firm. Final. It didn't matter if Dawn obeyed—Sia had made her decision.

Her focus was on the boy now. Lucius.

Everything else—Rey's death, Raga's sacrifice, the failed retreat—had led to this moment. All of them had made their choices. Especially Raga. He had known about Dawn's strange bond with Rey. Yet he'd still charged ahead, chasing vengeance.

And now, he had paid the price.

With his life.

For once, Dawn reacted swiftly. As the monstrous creature lunged closer, she turned on her heels and bolted. But instead of taking June with her as Sia had ordered, she abandoned the unconscious girl like a dead weight and disappeared into the shadows.

Sia's eyes widened in shock, her body instinctively dodging the beast's strike, while her mind struggled to process what she had just witnessed.

"No! You stupid bitc—!"

Before she could finish her outburst, the creature slammed its massive limbs toward her, forcing her to raise her weapon in defence. The sheer strength behind the strike was overwhelming. Every muscle in her body screamed as she braced herself, struggling to keep her stance. Just meters behind her, June lay completely motionless. If the chaos, the explosions, the quakes, the carnage—hadn't woken her, nothing would.

With no other choice, Sia unleashed her full power.

"Mana Zone: Dance of the Bladeknight."

A violent surge burst from her core, spinning like a vortex. Mana flooded into her, her movements sharpening, senses heightening. It wasn't the full version of the legendary S-rank technique, but even this lesser form was formidable. The ability would allow her to fight while continuously absorbing and refining mana—a crucial edge.

She steadied her stance, locking eyes with the creature.

"Finally," she muttered, a smirk tugging at her lips. "We're on equal ground now."

BOOM.

A massive explosion erupted from the direction Dawn had fled. Even before the shockwave hit, Sia sensed it—a dense accumulation of mana, the sheer magnitude of it momentarily drowning out everything else. The beast before her dissolved like mist.

"Another mirage?! But how?!"

A chill ran down her spine. Had she been fighting an illusion the entire time? Her grip on her weapon tightened as she spotted movement in the trees ahead.

The true beast emerged, slow and deliberate. Something round dangled from its jaws, dripping fresh blood. As it stepped into the light, Sia's breath caught.

Dawn's severed head.

The bear carried her lifeless remains with grotesque pride, letting the head roll gently onto the blood-soaked ground. Grief swelled in Sia's chest, but rage overwhelmed it. She would mourn later.

Now, there was only the fight.

She launched herself into the air, sword glowing with mana. The beast watched, unmoving. As she soared toward it, it lowered its head and prepared its final attack.

Mana gathered above its spine, forming a massive, transparent, ring-like structure. The pressure distorted the air itself. Alarm bells screamed in Sia's mind, but she was already airborne—too close to turn back.

She had one option.

"Mana Zone: The Fallen Meteorite!"

A hundred layers of thin mana sheets encased her body. Her sword extended, searing with pure energy, nearly blinding in its intensity. Every drop of mana she had went into that strike.

The bear unleashed its attack.

Compressed mana pulsed out in shockwaves. The first wave struck, obliterating everything in its path—trees, stone, even the very earth split. Then came the second wave. Then the third. Each stronger than the last.

But Sia did not falter.

Her descent slowed under the weight of the onslaught, but her blade remained steady, aimed straight for the beast's heart.
And then, the final pulse came.

A colossal surge of raw, charged mana—pure destruction incarnate.

It collided with her descending attack in a violent clash, shaking the very fabric of reality. The two forces didn't merely crash—they merged, fusing for a split second before detonating like an erupting volcano. The explosion consumed everything in a blinding flash of light, followed by an ear-splitting roar that split the skies.

Sia pushed forward with everything she had, her roar joining the beast's, neither side willing to yield. This was the final moment—a battle of resolve, will, and sheer power.

One of them had to fall.

And it would not be her.

***

"... Did I black-out!?" The battleknight wasn't sure how long she'd been unconscious.

That thought came first, even before her eyes fluttered open. Her limbs felt like lead, her senses dulled as though she were submerged under deep water. Distant echoes of battle still rang in her ears—muffled, disjointed, yet present. When her eyes finally peeled open, the devastation that met her gaze was staggering.

A massive crater now marred the earth, its scorched edges still hissing with leftover mana discharge. The ground where the beast had once stood had collapsed inward, forming a deep, jagged pit. Trees had been ripped from the earth and flung aside like feathers. What once was a thick forest was now nothing more than a ruined wasteland, ravaged beyond recognition.

But something else was wrong.

Her vision was fragmented—large blind patches blocked parts of her sight, like a smeared lens. It took her a moment to realise she had crashed into a massive tree—the only one left standing, its roots deep and sturdy enough to survive the blast that had hurled her into it.

She conducted a quick mental check. Her right arm was shattered—multiple fractures, torn muscle, barely any feeling. Her armour was in ruins. The helmet was gone, breastplate cracked nearly in two. But somehow, she was alive. No fatal injuries. No permanent damage. Her breath came shallow but steady.

And then she saw her.

June.

The girl lay just meters ahead, wide-eyed, frozen, terror etched across her pale face. She was awake at last, and her gaze was fixed on something behind her. That fear in her eyes—it wasn't from waking up disoriented. It was something far worse.

Sia's heart sank.

The Ghost Bear was still alive.

She hadn't sensed it—her mana perception was completely dulled—but the pungent, iron-rich stench of blood was unmistakable. The beast was in terrible shape—deep gashes split open its side, its ribcage partially exposed, its blood pooling in a dark smear around its claws. Its breathing came in hoarse, agonised rasps. But its stance was firm. Its glowing eyes burned with venom and spite.

Still standing. Still hunting.

Even now, Sia found herself almost admiring it. That unnatural persistence. That refusal to fall. It was monstrous—and undeniably powerful.

But there was no time for awe.

The beast took a step forward, looming over the trembling girl. June's lips parted into a helpless whisper, barely audible, pleading, broken.

The bear sniffed deeply, its nostrils flaring as it inhaled her scent, just as it had done before striking Lucius. It was judging. Calculating.

Then, it made its choice.

Its claw came down.

June's scream shattered the silence. A soul-tearing, visceral cry of pure agony. The beast's claws pierced her back with horrifying ease, ripping through muscle and bone. She writhed in pain, flailing as her blood sprayed onto the scorched ground. The Ghost Bear's expression was unreadable, but its movements were slow—methodical.

It was toying with her.

With precise cruelty, the beast began to tear her apart, limb by limb.

June's cries grew weaker, her body trembling uncontrollably. Flesh tore, bones cracked, and the unbearable sound of it all—the wet, snapping brutality—filled the air like a curse. Sia wanted to look away, to turn her head, but her body refused. She was paralysed—not by fear, but by helplessness.

The blood pooled thickly, painting the earth red. June's broken body spasmed, then collapsed.

And then, the beast lifted one massive paw, placing it atop her skull.

With a sickening crunch, it ended.

The sound was deafening. Final.

June was gone.

And yet... Sia felt nothing. No scream. No rage. No immediate grief.

Only a strange, cold relief.

Little June wasn't suffering anymore.

The beast turned its gaze toward Sia.

It knew.

She was next.

But unlike June, she wouldn't go down silently. Her body was barely intact, but the lingering effects of the Dance of the Bladeknight still pulsed through her frame. Her right arm was completely destroyed—shattered and numb—but her left remained functional.

And it would have to be enough.

She steadied her breathing, exhaling sharply as her thoughts drifted toward the boy they had met just an hour earlier—Lucius. That small frame, those wide, admiring eyes, and a voice filled with innocent respect. She couldn't sense him now, but she knew he was out there, hidden in the treeline. Watching. Hoping. Praying that she had one final miracle left in her.

She didn't.

That kind of strength… She had once wielded it. But that was long ago.

The Ghost Bear lunged, its enormous body thundering toward her. It had sensed her recovery, eager to crush her before she could regain footing. The ground trembled beneath its weight, each step sending powerful vibrations through the earth.

Sia's vision remained distorted, but that tremor was enough. She knew its position, its rhythm.

And she had one chance.

Digging her heel beneath the buried hilt, she kicked her sword up into the air. Her left hand caught it mid-flip, and without hesitation, she launched herself forward.

This would be her final stand.

The collision was thunderous—steel against claw, sparks flashing through the smoke. She felt pain explode through her already broken frame, but she refused to yield. For a heartbeat, she thought the blood on her blade was hers.

It wasn't.

Through fragmented vision, she saw it—a perfect crimson arc slicing cleanly through the air.

Crimson Ultima.

The beast's arm dropped to the ground, severed at the joint.

Raga.

He was still alive.

Barely.

Four deep punctures lined his chest—gaping wounds that should have ended any man. Yet somehow, he remained on his feet. With what little strength he had, he had delivered a decisive blow.

Seizing the moment, Sia thrust her blade into the beast's exposed chest. Its roar split the sky, the earth trembling beneath their feet. Before it could strike back, she conjured a dagger into her mangled right hand. The pain was beyond anything she had known, but she buried it deep, driving the dagger into its side. Again. And again.

Raga, half-dead, stumbled between them, shielding her with his broken body. Every retaliatory strike from the beast slammed into him instead.

"That's for my family!" he roared, raw emotion lacing his voice.

With a final swing of its massive head, the beast sent Raga flying into the shadows, his body vanishing into the darkness.

Sia didn't stop. She jammed her dagger deep into the monster's throat.

The Ghost Bear reared up, lifting her off the ground. She refused to let go, gripping the embedded blade with all her might. A thin wire, still connected between dagger and sword, looped around the beast's thick neck as she leapt into the air and soared over its back.

She pulled.

The wire tightened.

The blade twisted deeper into flesh.

The Ghost Bear thrashed, howling in agony. The more it resisted, the more damage it sustained. Her grip burned, her joints screamed, but she held on. With her now-liberated right arm, she summoned the last flickers of her mana, forming eight sharp arcs of burning energy.

Each one struck true.

One.

Two.

Three—

Until the beast's howls devolved into choking, desperate gasps.

And then silence.

With one final effort, Sia allowed herself to be pulled back toward the bear's head. Using its momentum, she twisted her body and drove her reinforced elbow straight into its skull, leaping past it with the strike.

She landed hard, staggering on impact.

Behind her, the Ghost Bear wobbled—its towering frame trembling—and then, with one final heaving breath, it collapsed with a thunderous thud.

The ground stopped shaking.

The battle was over.

Sia stood over its body, chest heaving, every fibre of her being screaming in agony. Blood stained her armour, her limbs barely responded—but she was alive.

And so was the boy.

Lucius emerged from the trees, stepping into the aftermath. His eyes scanned the carnage, but his expression was unreadable.

He stopped beside her, staring down at the beast's lifeless corpse. No words were spoken between them. None were needed.

Sia lifted her hand and channelled a sliver of mana into her ring. In an instant, the Ghost Bear's massive body vanished, absorbed into her storage.

Only the torn battlefield remained.

She turned to Lucius and extended her battered hand.

He took it.

"It's over," she said quietly, voice thick with finality.

Then, with a faint smirk, she added, "Chop chop, little one. We're leaving."