Demitress glances over, arms still crossed, voice flat. "Are you fighting or not."
Something in Solnix’s expression shifts — soft warmth burning away into something colder.
"Fine," she says quietly. "He asked for it."
She raises both hands, solar flame gathering bright and condensed at her fingertips, and unleashes it in a single sweeping wave — the beam tears clean through the nearest battleship, hull splitting open, fire and light erupting where a warship used to be a second ago. Gone, just like that.
Another cruiser banks hard, closing fast on our position, guns already charging.
Demitress doesn’t wait. Bat-like wings snap open from her back and she launches off the hatch, crossing the gap in a blink, landing hard on the enemy hull. Hellfire spreads from her hands the moment she touches down, black flame eating through metal like it’s paper, the whole ship groaning as it starts melting apart beneath her.
Orion’s ship rocks from the impact, crashing lower, sparks showering off the hull — but he stays composed through it, boots planted steady, whip already whistling through the air toward Viperess.
She reacts fast, shadow rising up around her like a shield —
— but the whip shifts mid-strike, light bending into something else entirely, then again, a second change, slipping straight through the shadow like it was never there at all. It catches one of our engines dead on, sparks exploding along the hull, and the ship lurches hard, losing altitude fast.
"Impressive toys," Orion calls out, grin wide, whip cracking again at his side, "but hardly enough."
I watch it all from the hatch for one more second — Solnix and Demitress tearing through his fleet, Viperess recovering fast, Frostine already moving to cover the failing engine.
Then I stop watching.
I push off the hatch and dive straight down, wind tearing past me, eyes locked on Orion the entire way — because this isn’t a fight I’m letting them finish alone.
The whip cracks toward me mid-dive, shifting the second it leaves his hand — earth this time, jagged stone chains whipping through the air like a landslide given shape. I twist through the gaps, weaving between rock and momentum, close enough now I can see the fury in Orion’s eyes.
Then it shifts again.
Light — blinding, searing, burning bright enough to swallow the whole space around us, heat rolling off it in waves that scorch the air itself.
I throw an arm up on instinct, vision flaring white —
— and that’s when I remember.
The staff.
I call it through the system, and it materializes straight into my grip mid-fall, humming warm and familiar, Solnix’s power woven into every inch of it.
[Sunflame Staff Active] [Solar Absorption Engaged]
The burning light around me bends, gets pulled in, drawn straight into the staff’s core like it was never a weapon against me at all — just fuel.
Orion’s eyes widen, grin faltering for the first time since we landed.
I level the staff at him, energy building bright and concentrated at the tip, and don’t hesitate.
The blast tears loose, clean and searing, straight into his chest — the same light he tried to burn me with, thrown right back at him tenfold.
He doesn’t even get a scream out before the impact sends him rocketing backward, armor cracking, whip torn loose from his grip and spinning off into the void.
The blast doesn’t stop — I keep diving straight down with it, staff locked on target, momentum carrying us both toward the ground below. Orion tumbles backward through the air, smoke trailing off his armor, no chance to recover as the beam keeps driving him down, down, until he slams into the ground hard enough to crater the stone around him.
I flare ice out from my palm on instinct, shaping it fast into a slick, curved slide beneath me, and ride it down the rest of the way, slowing my fall until my boots hit solid ground.
The staff’s glow fades in my grip as I step forward, smoke still curling off Orion’s crumpled form, his golden armor cracked clean down the chest plate.
I stand over him, staff resting easy at my side, and look down without a shred of the fear he probably expected from a "Lower Realm rat."
"Not so smug now," I say.
Orion’s fingers twitch weak against the ground, whip barely lifting an inch before falling still again. He still manages a sneer up at me, voice cracked and breathless.
"You think this changes anything, rat," he mutters. "You have no idea what you’ve—"
"Save it," I cut in.
Around us, his fleet keeps crashing down in pieces — hulls splitting apart, fire blooming bright against the dark, chunks of burning metal scattered across the crater we just made. The whole battlefield glows orange, smoke thick in the air.
I crouch down slightly, staff still humming faint in my grip, and look him dead in the eye.
"Here’s some advice," I say, voice quiet, even. "Next time you think about chaining something up and torturing it for fun — don’t. Because next time, I won’t stop at knocking you down."
He doesn’t answer that one.
I straighten up, turning away from him, and that’s when I notice it — the altar, not far off at all, half-lit by the fires still burning around us. And chained to it, void-black scales catching the firelight, the dragon’s eyes are locked on me.
Fear flickers there, plain and raw, like she doesn’t know yet whether I’m just another version of him.
I hold my hands up slow, staff lowering at my side, and take a slow step toward her.
"Hey," I say, gentle. "It’s okay. You don’t have to be scared. Not of me."