Vince’s eyes narrow, spear still angled toward Ignis but attention fully on us now. "Who the hell are you," he snaps, "to interrupt a sanctioned execution?"
Frostine’s already stepping forward, mana crackling cold around her, mouth opening to answer him with considerably less patience than words.
"Frostine," I say, calm, "hold."
She stops, though the frost still curling off her hands says she’s not exactly happy about it.
I look at Vince directly. "I’m taking Ignis with me."
For a second he just stares, and then he actually laughs — short, genuinely amused, like I’ve said something absurd at a dinner party. "You’re taking her." He shakes his head. "Do you have any idea what you just did? Unauthorized airspace violation, trespassing on a guild-sanctioned execution site, interference with lawful sentencing—" he ticks them off like he’s reading straight from a statute book, "—you have zero standing here. No permit, no guild rank recognized in this sector, nothing. You’re already under arrest the second I say the word."
He raises a hand, and guards start moving in from the arena’s edges, spreading out to encircle us, the crowd murmuring louder now, sensing the show’s about to get more interesting than they paid for.
"Someone get this lowlife in restraints," Vince says, almost bored by it now, already turning his spear back toward Ignis like the interruption’s barely worth his attention.
I exhale slow.
Guards closing in. Diplomacy already dead before it even started.
Viperess’s shadow spreads wide across the arena floor, patient, ready. Frostine’s frost creeps out from under her feet, spreading in slow cracking lines across the stone.
"Guess we’re doing this the hard way," I say.
"Viperess. Frostine."
"Yes, Master," they answer together, both settling into ready stances, shadow and frost coiling low and controlled around them.
Vince raises a hand, guards tightening the circle, weapons rising in unison — dozens of barrels now pointed our way, the crowd’s murmur climbing into something eager, hungry for blood either way this goes.
"Last chance," Vince says, voice amplified through the arena’s speakers now, carrying to every seat, every screen broadcasting this out across the towers. "Kneel. Comply. Do that, and I’ll worsen your sentence but keep it non-lethal — a mercy, given what you just pulled. Resist," he tilts the spear slightly, almost lazy, "and my men have full lethal authorization. Your choice."
The guards’ fingers tighten on their triggers, red dot sights flickering across my chest, Viperess, Frostine, Seraphina standing tense just behind us.
Vince grins into the mic, savoring it, letting the whole crowd hang on the moment.
"On your knees. Now."
I don’t move.
I look at him steady, arena lights bright overhead, ten thousand people watching, guns aimed at my chest, and I answer just as clear, just as loud, voice carrying same as his did.
"No."
Vince’s grin drops flat. "Then you leave me no choice."
"Fire," he says, calm, almost bored by it, like this is a formality he’s already bored of.
The guards squeeze their triggers in unison — and nothing happens. Frostine’s already moved, a wave of freezing mist rolling out from her palm faster than any of them can react, wrapping around every barrel in the circle at once. Metal groans, frost crawling up the steel, and a chorus of clicks echo out uselessly across the arena as every gun locks solid, frozen shut mid-trigger.
Before the confusion even finishes registering, Viperess is gone from where she stood — just an afterimage left behind, shadow smearing across the ground like ink poured too fast. She reappears and vanishes and reappears again, flickering between guards faster than the eye can track, each pass leaving another body crumpling, weapons clattering uselessly from frozen hands as they’re sent flying, crashing back into the arena’s outer wall in a ragged heap.
It’s over in seconds. A full ring of armed guards, and now just groaning bodies scattered across the stone, not one of them managing to land a single shot.
The crowd’s noise shifts instantly — gasps, stunned murmurs rippling out through every tier, thousands of people who came for an execution now watching something else unfold entirely.
Vince’s grin is completely gone now. He looks at his fallen guards, then back at me, spear tightening in his grip, and for the first time tonight there’s something sharper in his eyes.
Actual attention. Actual respect, grudging as it is.
"...Interesting," he says quietly, shifting his stance, spear angling toward me directly now instead of toward Ignis. "Guess I’ll have to handle this myself."
Vince’s spear catches the arena lights, edge gleaming with something that doesn’t look entirely metal — more like condensed pressure given shape. "Your summons are strong," he says, almost conversational now, circling slightly. "But this spear’s cut through S-rank cores like paper. One scratch, and it’s not just you dead. Your little pets go with you."
I don’t even look at him.
"Yeah, yeah," I say, already turning away, walking straight past his posturing toward the chained figure kneeling in the center of the platform.
Ignis looks up at me as I crouch down, chains rattling faintly against the restraints, eyes wide, wary, hope and disbelief warring plain across her face.
I place my hand against the side of her face, gentle, same as I did with Frostine.
"I’m here to save you," I say.
[Beast State: Stabilized — Trust Threshold Met][Bind and Evolve? Y/N]
I don’t hesitate.
Yes.
Fire erupts around her — not violent, not consuming, just bright and warm, curling up from the chains as they shatter link by link under the heat. The restraints fall away in pieces, and where a bound, weakened demon knelt a second ago, something rises instead — a demi-human form, fire-toned skin, curling ember-colored horns, tail flicking embers with every motion, eyes glowing steady gold instead of desperate.
The crowd goes dead silent. Vince actually takes a step back, spear lowering slightly on pure reflex.
"That’s..." he starts, and can’t quite finish it.
Ignis stands slow, flexing fingers wreathed faintly in flame, looking down at herself like she barely recognizes the power now settling comfortable under her own skin.
Then she looks at me, something fierce and grateful burning behind her eyes.
"Master," she says, voice steady now, sure. "Give me a name."