The Protectors: Rising from Ashes [Progression Fantasy | Action-Packed | Epic Battles]

The silence held for only a moment.

Elias moved first, swift but not blinding. His boots scraped the earth, lifting a thin arc of dust behind him as he darted to the left. Not a charge, a calculated shift, keeping distance, watching.

His body leaned forward, muscles drawn tight beneath his shirt, the cords in his neck taut. His fingers curled at his sides, twitching slightly with every breath, like he was waiting for something. Waiting for the spark. The blur. The surge that once roared through him like wildfire.

Nothing came.

Across from him, Fenrik crouched low, weight balanced, body motionless, save for the faint ripple of muscle beneath his coat. His fur shimmered faintly, silver catching the sunlight in fleeting glints. He didn't pounce. Not yet. He just watched. Eyes locked. Reading Elias.

Then, without warning, he moved.

A burst of force and speed. Silent, clean, no wasted motion.

Inside the transformed body, Aiden's thoughts stirred.

You're fast... faster than I've ever felt.

Fenrik's voice was quieter. Controlled.

You think that's just me? This isn't only power. It's hunger. For challenge. For something real.

Aiden's voice hesitated, edged in disbelief.

Since when did you want a challenge? You used to stay in the back, avoid the blood. You were never like this.

A pause. Quiet as breath.

Maybe I was waiting for the part of me that wasn't afraid to finally wake up.

Before Aiden could speak again, Fenrik's paw swept low, aiming for Elias's leg.

Elias reacted. He leapt back, the gravel skidding beneath his boots, breath tearing from his lungs. Barely in time. His balance rocked; his left foot slid before he caught himself.

No light flared around him. No speed beyond human reach.

Only instinct.

Only survival.

Fenrik moved again, this time veering left, a feint. Then a blur to the right, faster than Elias could counter.

Elias twisted, shoulder dropping to dodge, but not fast enough.

A hit. A glancing blow, just along his shoulder, enough to knock him off rhythm. He stumbled, boots scraping hard. His hands clenched. His jaw locked tight.

Still nothing. Still no rise of that force within.

He drew a sharp breath, steadied his stance, and circled again, but slower now. The weight of effort settling heavy in each step.

On the edge of the field, Thorne's brows furrowed. His grip on his halberd grew tight.

"That's not him at full power," he muttered. "He's missing something."

Alice folded her arms tighter, voice low. "He's trying too hard. It's not flowing. It's forced."

Lyric stood still, her gaze flicking between Elias and Fenrik, eyes sharp but quiet.

"He's scared to let go... I can feel it. Like he's pulling the reins too tight."

Cassandra exhaled through her nose, arms loose at her sides, but her focus narrowed like a blade.

"His energy's stuck. It's not reaching the surface because he's fighting himself more than Fenrik."

Beside her, Sentinel stood still, unmoving.

His eyes fixed on the clash.

Within, Vaelthar's voice rumbled

He's coiled too tight. The storm is there, but fear has clogged the sky. The lightning will not strike unless something shatters.

Sentinel answered without shifting.

We need to crack it open. Or he'll break before he ever awakens.

Then give him something to break against, Vaelthar replied. Shake the walls of him... or they'll never fall.

Out on the field, Elias lunged again, footfalls heavy against the gravel, body twisting as he aimed another strike toward Fenrik.

But the space he reached for was already empty.

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Fenrik had vanished from that spot, his form flowing like smoke around Elias's back. A clawed paw extended — clean, precise — and grazed his arm in passing. Not deep. Not brutal. Just enough to sting. Just enough to say, You're open.

Elias staggered, teeth gritted. He spun sharply, fist lashing out into the space where Fenrik had been.

Only air met his knuckles.

His chest heaved once, twice. Breath pulled in fast, then pushed back out through tight lips.

His movements lost their rhythm, his focus scattered. Heat simmered beneath his skin, and the cold weight of failure pressed in, heavier with every breath.

Across from him, Fenrik halted mid-step, his posture lowering. He didn't bare his teeth or raise his hackles. Instead, his head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing. Not aggressive. Just... confused.

Why is he holding back so much?

The thought barely formed before Aiden's voice answered from within.

Because he's scared of what might come out... or maybe afraid that nothing will.

Fenrik's ears twitched. Then he moved again.

A blur.

Elias shifted to meet him, instincts pushing forward, but too slow.

The edge of Fenrik's claw clipped across Elias's shoulder. Just a line. Just a slice.

But enough.

Fabric tore. A thin streak of blood welled at the surface, tracing downward in silence.

Elias jerked back, breath catching as the sting flared hot.

From the sidelines, the sound of gasps broke through the air like snapped branches.

Lyric's hand flew to her mouth. "He's hurt..."

Alice's eyes locked on the wound, her voice barely more than air. "That didn't look light..."

Fenrik's movement ceased.

His body stiffened, claws curling unconsciously into the earth beneath him. The ripple of his muscles slowed. His ears pinned back slightly. A deep, uneasy sound rose from his chest. Not quite a growl, not quite a whimper.

His gaze flicked to Elias. And held there.

Golden. Wide. Raw.

A silent apology lived inside them.

Elias didn't step back.

He pressed one hand over the cut, fingers tight. Blood slicked his palm, but his stance didn't falter. Slowly, the hand dropped again to his side.

His jaw tightened, but his voice didn't waver.

"It's not your fault," he said, eyes meeting Fenrik's. "I wasn't fast enough."

The air stilled.

Then the sound of footsteps, measured and deliberate, crushed through the silence.

Sentinel approached.

Each step he took landed with a soft crunch of gravel, but it echoed louder than it should have. His arms stayed behind his back, posture rigid, chin slightly lifted. His stride wasn't fast, yet the silence bent around him as if pulled taut. It wasn't urgency that filled the space—but weight.

Eyes followed him, breaths held.

He came to a halt in front of Elias.

His gaze dropped. A bead of blood traced the boy's shoulder, glinting red-black under the dimming light. His stare followed the cut for a beat, then slowly lifted, meeting Elias's eyes.

"That wasn't fast enough?"

The sentence hit the air like iron hammered to stone.

"You think that excuse will matter when the next invader drives a blade through your chest?"

On the sideline, Thorne shifted uneasily. His brows creased.

"Uh-oh..." he muttered under his breath.

Sentinel stepped closer, movements deliberate. He stopped just a few paces from Elias, the air around him tightening with tension that spread like heat through a stormfront.

Cassandra's eyes narrowed slightly. "What are you doing...?"

Her words met silence. Sentinel didn't break pace, didn't glance back.

"You're quick to accept being chosen. But have you even begun to earn it?"

Elias stood, unmoving.

No tension lined his limbs. No slackness dulled his stance. He simply held. Centered. Balanced between control and ignition. His fingers curled inward, slow, deliberate, knuckles paling as the grip intensified.

He gave no reply.

"Again," Sentinel said.

The words sliced with intent, sharper now.

One foot slid behind him. Gravel stirred beneath his heel.

"This time…"

His chin lifted. Shoulders squared.

"You fight me."

The air responded first, folding inward like stone doors sealing shut. Every breath around the field paused.

Thorne shifted near Lyric, voice dipping to a murmur. "Did he just say—?"

Lyric's stare didn't flicker. Her arms crossed tighter, tone steady. "He's serious."

Across the field, Fenrik moved with silence. No sound in his retreat. His frame dipped low, half-crouched. Hackles twitched, the tension in his form still humming from before. He watched — alert, unmoving.

Elias's lips parted slightly. Not to speak.

The faintest twitch crossed the edge of his mouth — too faint for a smile, too steady for disbelief. Held emotion, cinched deep.

Cassandra's voice slipped in, cool but firm. "This isn't necessary."

Sentinel didn't acknowledge her. His attention never wavered.

"It is."

His gaze snapped back to Elias, cold, unwavering.

"You were chosen," he said, each word carved from granite. "But chosen for what? To hesitate? To follow? You speak like a protector, yet your movements shrink like a shadow afraid of the sun."

Fenrik didn't move. His eyes, wide and gold, tracked the exchange, unwavering.

Thorne leaned again, his whisper more hushed. "He's turning into the old grumpy dragon again."

This time, no chuckle followed. The weight in the air left no room for lightness.

Elias remained still.

His fists clenched harder. Shoulder blades rose with each breath, higher now, drawing in weight. Something around him tightened. The tension wasn't in motion—yet it pressed outward, as if a dam began to crack beneath surface calm.

Sentinel lowered his voice.

Each word landed like a blade.

"Come. Face me. Or are you only brave when you're chasing Kael's ghost?"

The words struck like a thunderclap splitting through bone.

A sharp inhale cut from Lyric's throat. Her arms uncrossed, falling stiffly to her sides, as if the floor beneath her had shifted. Her eyes snapped to Elias, lips parting, though no sound escaped.

Alice's spine straightened. Her brows lifted, the weight of the name sinking in with visible force. She turned toward Sentinel, jaw clenched, the barest flicker of anger flaring in her stare.

Thorne took half a step forward, grip tightening on his halberd, the leather groaning under his hand. "Damn…" he breathed, too low for anyone to catch but Lyric. His face, once unreadable, pulled tight with unease.

Fenrik's ears twitched sharply. His crouched stance didn't rise, yet tension rolled off him like heat.

Even Eddy, standing furthest from the center, blinked hard. His hands lifted a little from his sides, like instinct wanted him to step in, though he knew he couldn't.

"That was... low," he whispered, half to himself, voice caught between awe and alarm.

Cassandra's breath left in a sharper exhale. Her posture tensed. One step forward, a hand lifted halfway, stopped. Her lips pressed thin. She said nothing.

Eyes turned back to Elias.

The name struck more than a nerve.

It hit marrow.

Elias didn't look away. Didn't argue.

No words passed his lips.

He moved.

One foot forward. Intent focused in a single step. Not reckless. Not shaken. Drawn from a flame long buried beneath ash.

His jaw set.

Shoulders tensed.

Breaths stuttered from his chest, heat winding beneath his ribs.

His fists trembled, not from fear.

From ignition.

Then, without a sound, he launched forward.