Aras, of course, was a highly skilled operative. Forged through countless life-or-death battles, he had become a force to be reckoned with. His batons whirled through the air as he continuously fended off the monster, though its raw power and bestial instincts were quickly overwhelming him. There was no rhyme or reason to its erratic attacks—only pure, brute force.
Summoning every ounce of strength, Aras dashed toward Heartbane, ducking beneath a sweeping claw strike and driving one of his batons deep into the creature's side. For a moment, he felt resistance—like piercing something that should no longer be alive at all.
Then came the scream.
A terrible, deafening wail tore through the battlefield as Heartbane staggered, clawing at the wound. Flames erupted around it, staining the sky blood-orange. The very air warped from the heat, distorting the ruins of the fallen city. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, and the cracked pavement hissed as embers licked against it.
Aras barely had time to react before the creature lunged again. He threw up a barrier, but Heartbane's claws sliced through it like brittle glass. The shockwave flung him backward, sending him crashing through the remnants of a once-proud building. Ancient banners, half-burned, fluttered weakly in the infernal wind.
Pain coursed through his body, but he couldn't afford to hesitate. Rolling to his feet, he summoned a burst of energy, hurling debris and wind at the monster. The force sent shattered metal beams and broken bricks flying like shrapnel. But Heartbane did not slow. Its flames surged higher, warping reality itself, as it rushed forward once more.
Gritting his teeth, Aras knew he had to finish this fight—fast.
He drew in a sharp breath, mustering every last scrap of strength, and launched himself at Heartbane with the desperation of a man who knew this might be his final stand. His baton crackled with energy, its glow intensifying until it rivaled the burning sky. He struck forward, aiming for the same wound he had inflicted.
But Heartbane met his charge head-on.
Flames surged, distorting the air with impossible heat. In one brutal motion, the creature's claws slammed into Aras's chest, piercing his armor as though it were paper.
A jolt of agony tore through him. He felt himself lifted off his feet, then flung aside like a broken doll. The impact cracked the ground beneath him, and every nerve in his body screamed in protest. He tried to rise—tried to push himself up—only to find his limbs unresponsive.
Heartbane loomed over him, its twisted visage flickering in and out of reality. In those final moments, Aras caught a glimpse of what lay behind those flaming eyes—a raw, consuming anguish that allowed no mercy.
The final blow came without fanfare. A single, swift slash ended the Transcendent's struggle. Aras's vision blurred; the world faded into a crimson haze, and distant screams were swallowed by the roar of infernal fire.
Heartbane stood victorious—flames dancing higher still, its relentless torment driving it onward.
***
Back at HQ, shock and disbelief reigned. One of their strongest warriors, Aras the DawnBound, had been defeated—just like that. And now Heartbane had locked onto the location of their underground stronghold, Stronghold 456, and was racing toward it.
"More backup requested—Aras the DawnBound has been defeated. I repeat, Aras the DawnBound has been defeated. Transcendents are advised not to engage in battle alone," the urgent message crackled over the cross-communicator.
On the surface, the city was holding together, but every street and building showed clear signs of battle. Smoke rose from burning wreckage, sirens echoed in the distance, and broken neon lights fought to stay lit. Tridnya, a key Transcendent working on the surface, felt her heart race as the news reached her. Aras had been a powerful fighter, and facing Heartbane without backup would mean certain death.
Within moments, Transcendents across the city began sharing their positions and setting rendezvous points to intercept the creature. Unbeknownst to Tridnya, a subtle trace of her presence—an imprint of energy left when she emerged from Stronghold 456—was guiding Heartbane directly toward her.
Shortly after, Tridnya met up with three trusted allies:
• Aleron, whose determined gaze was as steady as stone;
• Maris, calm yet resolute; and
• Zephir, quick and unpredictable.
They gathered under a ruined overpass as they exchanged short, grim nods.
"We have little time," Tridnya said firmly. "We must stop it before it reaches Stronghold 456 and destroys everything."
Aleron replied, "We stand together. Our fallen comrade demands justice, and our people depend on us."
Maris added, "Every second counts. Delay only makes it stronger."
Zephir's eyes burned with resolve. "Let's show it what Transcendents are made of."
They ran through the city's chaotic streets, dodging stray flames and falling debris. Aleron's communicator updated them continuously—the creature was speeding up and its path was clearly set on the entrance of their underground refuge. Yet none of them realized that Heartbane was tracking the faint energy signature left by Tridnya's exit from the stronghold.
By the time the team reached the interception point in an open area, Heartbane had already begun its charge. Its flames, shifting between pink and violet, tore through the urban landscape, destroying everything in its path.
Tridnya's pulse quickened as she listened to the latest update. Meanwhile, the mother and child she had left behind in Stronghold 456 were still inside, vulnerable to the approaching threat.
Then, as the team reached the critical point, something unexpected happened.
Deep within her, Tridnya suddenly felt a strange, overpowering presence—a force that seemed to latch onto her very being. In that split second, the noise of battle seemed to drop away. Her focus wavered, and she clutched her chest in pain. Losing her balance, she staggered from the building they were scaling.
"Lady Tridnya!" Zephir shouted, rushing to catch her.
But something was very very wrong with her.