Finally—finally—a battle he could join.

Ronan turned and saw he wasn't alone anymore. His allies had arrived.

Shae walked forward with her usual deadly grace, her long blue sword glimmering faintly in her palm. Beside her stood Silver Wing, calm, solid, both hands gripping elegant silver blades. From the void stepped Balor, two dark daggers in his hands, his face just as calm.

And then there was Little One. He shifted out of his microscopic form, body expanding until he stood in his normal human shape.

"Rest now. We'll take it from here," Balor said, patting Ronan's shoulder.

Ronan looked at him, shook his head. They didn't understand. They had no clue how powerful this Dark Emissary really was. If they did, they wouldn't be so relaxed.

"He's too strong," Ronan said. "You'll need my help."

Balor raised a brow. "I think you should take a look at yourself before talking big."

Little One jumped in, smirking. "Yeah, you look like a man one step from death. Relax, let us handle this."

"Just rest up for now," Silver Wing added, voice steady. Shae nodded with him. "You'll fight again but not like this."

Ronan hesitated, then finally gave a slow nod. He sat cross-legged. The armor on his body peeled back, reverting into the form of the Dread Crown. It was chipped, scarred, a battered relic of war.

"Damn, that's a cool crown," Little One said, eyes flashing. "Care to share...."

A single cough cut through the air. Sharp. Loud. Heavy with meaning.

Balor hadn't even looked at him. But Little One twitched. He knew exactly what that cough meant.

He coughed back....soft, fake, playing it off but muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear. "We'll… talk later," he whispered, then winked.

Ronan blinked, lost. He had no idea what that was about.

Little One cleared his throat again, regaining his "heroic" composure. He stepped forward, slow and dramatic, then raised his voice.

"It doesn't matter that you're a Dark Emissary," he proclaimed. "Here, this place will be your grave!"

He pointed his dagger, fire in his eyes. "Forces of evil always fall to those of the light. That's how it's always been. And you.... your very name reeks of darkness! You're nothing more than a shadow. But us? We are the light. And we even have an angel in our midst!"

Magus, who had been watching silently, raised an eyebrow. Angel? What angel?

Not just him but also the rest of the heroes glanced at each other in confusion. What the hell was Little One talking about?

Little One coughed again, trying to cover his slip. "You… evil-doer… are so naïve." Then he snapped his fingers subtly at Silver Wing and raised his hand into the air, signaling.

Silver Wing understood. His silver wings unfurled in an instant, glowing as he rose into the air. Two long silver blades gleamed in his hands, his face calm, unshaken, as if nothing in this world could touch him.

For a moment even Magus was impressed. The image was perfect. Silver Wing in the sky, swords gleaming, wings spread wide. He looked like an angel who had descended into the realm of man.

The silence was thick, everyone staring.

And then Silver Wing ruined it. He looked down at Little One, grinned, and gave him a big thumbs up and a wink.

The entire illusion shattered. Everyone understood the joke now.

Little One froze, his face twitching. This bastard. Silver Wing was too childish. Too careless. Too much of a clown.

And now the whole heroic speech had been spoiled.

Little One gritted his teeth, feeling the irritation boil in his chest.

Magus chuckled, low and brief, before his face slid back into its usual calm.

"You're full of humor," he said. "And I don't feel any real killing intent from you. That means your intent wasn't to kill me but to stop me. Even if it meant my death. Which, in the end, is basically the same thing."

"Tch. That is the same thing," Little One muttered.

Magus ignored him, voice steady. "I'll give you a chance to leave. Stay and you will be killed by me."

The calm in his tone burned hotter than any threat.

"Hey! Who the hell do you think you are?" Little One snapped, face tight with indignation. He and Balor were members of the A6. They were respected, feared heroes. Yet this dark bastard dared to speak like they were nothing. That couldn't stand.

"Come on! Let's shut this guy up!" Little One shouted. In a blink, he shrank into his microscopic form.

Silver Wing surged forward, blades flashing. Magus flicked his wrist as several bolts of lightning burst out. Silver Wing cut through them, but it cost him seconds. Against Magus, a second was already too long.

Wind howled. Gale after gale roared toward him. Silver Wing twisted, ducked, barely scraping by.... the wind clipped strands of his silver hair but nothing more.

Magus's eyes shifted. On his flank, a faint green glow rushed closer. Then it vanished. But Magus wasn't fooled. He could still feel the life force. Little One hadn't disappeared, no, he'd just shrunk smaller, impossibly smaller.

Magus lifted his hand and swept it. A massive gust tore through the battlefield, a wall of wind aimed to scatter the tiny fighter.

Little One narrowed his gaze. The pressure slammed into him, almost tossing him away. Almost. But if there was one thing that made his broken skill even more broken....it was that no matter the form he took, his stats didn't change. His strength, endurance, stamina, all the same, whether he was big or microscopic.

His green suit blazed. He charged straight through, reached Magus's neck, and thrust both hands forward.

A devastating green blast detonated point-blank.

Magus was caught off guard, the hit slamming into his throat and hurling him downward.

"Now!" Silver Wing roared. He dove, blades poised to cleave Magus's head clean off.

"NO! Don't!" Ronan's voice boomed from below, but it was too late.

The swords came down....biting into Magus's skull.

Then, his eyes snapped open. Glowing, searing green.

"Splitting Slash."

His body dissolved into a storm of blades. Millions of wind edges exploded outward, slicing Silver Wing from every angle.... arms, face, torso, legs. Flesh shredded, blood sprayed.

Silver Wing hit the ground hard, but somehow stayed on his feet, teeth gritted, body painted in crimson.

"Are you alright, Silver Wing?!" Shae shouted, rushing forward.

He gave a stiff nod, then winced, clutching his side. The wound there was deep, tearing into him savagely. Shae ripped off her sleeve, pressing it against the injury, wrapping him up as best she could.

Silver Wing was a hero, a strong one at that but even strength like his wasn't enough to slow this down.

"Hey, Ronan," Little One asked, eyes narrowing, "you… you seem like you knew something like this would happen?"

Ronan shook his head slowly. "Yeah. It already happened to me before. But I wasn't expecting wind slashes this time. I was expecting… explosions."

"Explosion?" Little One blinked, bewildered.

Ronan nodded. Still cross-legged, forcing his breath steady, trying to ease the pain tearing through his body. "Earlier… when I tried to kill Magus, he detonated himself. Nearly tore me apart. But this....what he used against Silver Wing....wasn't the same explosion. It was wind slashes."

Something ugly clicked in Ronan's mind. His chest tightened.

If he could blow himself apart with fire, then twist it into wind… and he still has five elements left… then what else can he turn himself into?

"Wait… wait, are you saying…" Little One stammered, voice thin but hopeful. "You're saying he sacrificed himself just to wound Silver Wing that badly? You're saying he's dead now?"

Ronan opened his mouth but it wasn't him who answered.

Balor's voice cut in, flat and steady. "No."

Little One's gaze jerked upward.

And there, in the sky, calm and composed as ever—Magus. One hand behind his back, the other lazily holding a small fireball. It spun in his palm, burning soft, but the danger radiating from it was enough to make their bones scream.

"I told you already," Magus said, voice calm as ice. "If you stay, you die. Two choices: leave and live, or stay and die. And you heroes…" He lifted the fireball. "You chose death. So be it. I'll satisfy you."

The fireball rose, swelling, growing. More and more, until its form warped, twisting into something vast. Something alive.

A dragon.

Flames surged, scales of fire gleaming, wings unfurling across the sky. A majestic beast, beautiful yet drenched in dread.

Magus's voice carried, soft but absolute.

"Fire spell—Fire Dragon Rush."

His hand came down.

The air split. The dragon roared, a spiral of pure flame and destruction crashing down from the heavens.

"Oh crap," Little One breathed, eyes wide, looking at the inferno that seemed ready to swallow the entire world.

"Give it your all! It must be stopped!" Balor roared.

Useless or not, he still shouted. The others had no choice.

Silver Wing condensed every ounce of his energy, unleashing a storm of wing slashes. Blades of silver light crashed into the dragon, staggering its advance but not stopping it.

Shae's blue sword flashed. She tore the air with a flurry of rapid slashes, each strike burning with water's edge. They shredded chunks of flame, ripping scales from the fire dragon's body but still, the monster pressed on.

"Continue!" Little One shouted, his green suit glowing bright. He thrust his hands together, hurling a rain of energy blasts upward. They hammered into the beast, breaking it down more and more....but not enough.

The dragon still came.

Its maw of fire opened, spiraling downward, promising nothing but death.

To be continued…...

AUTHOR'S NOTE

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