Her descent slowed as she hovered above the wreckage of the capital. The storm crackled overhead, casting flashes of white-blue light across her face. Below, Lowe emerged through the smoke and ruin—scarred, steady, relentless.
Minus spun her staff idly, letting the hum of gathered energy thrum through the air. A sly smile curved her lips as her gaze fell on him. "Hmm," she said, voice lilting with amusement, "before you send me off to whatever grim fate you've prepared, don't you think you should introduce yourself? I'd hate to die without knowing the name of my killer."
Lowe's eyes remained cold and unblinking. His voice, when it came, was flat and unyielding. "Once you're dead, my name won't matter."
Minus laughed softly, stepping closer through the air, her presence pulsing like thunder. There was a mocking glint in her eyes. "Oh, I see. So sure of yourself. But what's the harm in a name?" Her tone sweetened, dangerous. "You must be confident… but then again, if you're so certain I'll be dead, what does it matter, right?"
A small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of Lowe's mouth. He shifted his stance, steadying his grip on his weapon. "Very well," he said coolly. "If you must know, my name is Lowe." His gaze sharpened. "But when you're dead, it won't be the name you remember."
Her smile widened, the stormlight flickering in her eyes as mana surged beneath her skin. "Lowe… huh? Strong name. Sharp. Just like you mmm." She lowered her staff slightly, lightning rippling along its length. "I'll remember it. Right before I break you."
He didn't flinch. "Try."
The space between them collapsed into chaos.
The space between them snapped like overstretched wire.
Minus moved first.
Not a spell—not yet—but a silent burst of pressure, a displacement of mana that shattered loose stones around her feet. Her body vanished for a breath, reappearing just above the ruined avenue in front of Lowe. Her staff arced in a downward sweep, trailing a bolt of lightning that screamed as it fell.
Lowe didn't dodge. He met it.
Steel crashed against enchanted wood. Sparks and static hissed outward in a blast wave, toppling the remains of a shattered wall beside them. The force of her strike cracked the ground beneath him, but he held firm, knees bending just enough to absorb the blow.
He twisted, forcing her weapon aside, and lunged forward with a tight slash—no wasted movement, no flair. Efficient. Lethal.
Minus leaned back just far enough, the blade whispering past her throat. She grinned. "Still fast."
She let him press forward. Let him close the distance. This was where he was strongest.
He knew that too.
Another strike. This one upward, feinting for her arm before redirecting toward her ribs. She caught it on the shaft of her staff, but the force behind it pushed her back. Dust kicked up around her boots as she slid across fractured stone.
"You're fighting better than last time," she said, circling him. "Or more desperate."
Lowe didn't answer. His eyes tracked every twitch of her shoulders, every shift in weight. He wasn't looking at her face anymore. He was reading her stance.
She noticed.
She liked that.
Her fingers flexed. Mana spiraled through her limbs, invisible to the eye but palpable in the air. She stepped forward again, but this time she vanished mid-stride—no flash, no warning.
Behind him.
The staff swung low.
He ducked.
But the blow wasn't aimed at his head—it hit the ground.
The entire street detonated.
Chunks of stone and flame erupted around them, the force flinging Lowe backward. He flipped midair, boots skidding across the ground as he landed. His cloak was torn, one arm bleeding from the explosion's edge, but he was already moving.
Minus didn't pursue. Not immediately.
She stood within the crater she'd made, lightning sparking along her arms, and watched him as he rushed forward again—still composed, still silent.
The storm above crackled louder now. Her mana pulsed with each heartbeat. This wasn't a quick fight. This was a war of attrition. And she wasn't sure who would last longer.
But she was sure of one thing.
He wouldn't stop until one of them was ash.
So neither would she.