"Enough," Zander growled, his voice cold and sharp. He gripped their wrist, his strength unrelenting as his flames licked at the assassin's mana-shielded arm, forcing cracks to form in their defense. "This little game of tag was amusing for about five seconds, but I'm done now."
With a casual flick of his arm, Zander sent the assassin flying. They tumbled through the air before slamming into the ground, coughing as they struggled to rise. But Zander wasn't about to let up. He descended upon them like a predator closing in on wounded prey, landing with a thunderous impact that cracked the earth beneath his feet.
"You're going to start talking now," Zander said, his voice laced with dangerous calm. He loomed over the assassin, his flaming aura casting an ominous light across their trembling form. "Who sent you? What do they want? And why target me?"
The assassin groaned, clutching their side where Zander's earlier kick had struck, but said nothing.
Zander's gaze darkened, his patience running thin. "Not the chatty type, huh? Fine. Let's see if you're more talkative when you're on fire." With a wave of his hand, flames erupted around the assassin, dancing dangerously close to their body but not yet searing flesh.
The assassin gritted their teeth, their voice strained but defiant. "I could tell you… but it wouldn't matter. You're not going to stop us."
Zander raised an eyebrow, his flames flaring higher. "That so? Guess we'll see about that once you start spilling details."
But the assassin, even while dominated, held firm. "All you need to know… is that you're not fighting just one clan or one enemy. There are forces at play beyond your imagination. And soon, you'll realize you've already lost."
Zander's expression remained neutral, though the flicker of intrigue in his eyes betrayed his interest. "Forces at play, huh? Let me guess: shadowy cabal, secret handshakes, big plans for world domination. Yeah, I've heard it all before. What makes you think I care?"
Before the assassin could respond, Zander's comm device buzzed to life, a sharp tone cutting through the tension.
"Commander!" Beatrice's voice was frantic, her usual composure shattered. Zander's heart dropped slightly at the panic in her tone. "We're under attack! They're everywhere—" Static cut through her words, but her desperation was unmistakable. "…military secrets… resources… we can't hold them much longer!"
Zander's flames flickered, his focus momentarily splitting between Beatrice's words and the assassin kneeling before him. His jaw tightened, rage beginning to boil in his chest.
The assassin chuckled weakly, coughing as they struggled to steady themselves. "Now you get it," they rasped, their voice tinged with cruel satisfaction. "We were never here to kill you. That would've been suicide. You're one of the strongest King-stage Awakened in the world. We knew we couldn't touch you."
Zander's eyes snapped to the assassin, his rage sharpening into a deadly glare. "Then why bother?" he hissed.
"To keep you here," the assassin admitted, their tone dripping with mockery. "Our mission was never to kill you. It was to keep you busy. To waste your time while our real team hit your base. Right about now, they've finished tearing through your soldiers, taken what we came for, and left the base in ruins."
Zander's flames surged, his crimson eyes burning with fury. "You…"
The assassin smirked faintly, their defiance shining through their battered state. "Domain battles? We didn't even bother. We knew if we initiated one, you'd crush us in seconds. So we played smarter. And judging by your comm, it worked."
Zander's hand tightened into a fist, the white flames around him intensifying into a blazing inferno. "You think this is smart?" he snarled. "You think this is over?"
He reached for the hilt of his sword, the long-dormant weapon humming with power as he drew it from his back. The air around them grew heavy, the sheer weight of Zander's mana pressing down on the battlefield. "You're not leaving here alive."
The assassin's grin didn't waver. Despite the inferno around them, they managed to push themselves to their feet and glance toward the Alpha's broken form. "Too late," they whispered.
Zander's eyes widened as he realized their intent. The assassin moved swiftly, their mana flaring as they dashed toward the Alpha. Zander lunged forward, sword blazing as he swung it in a desperate attempt to cut them down. But in a flash of light, the assassin reached the Alpha, grabbing hold of the wolf's limp body.
Before Zander's blade could connect, the two vanished into thin air, leaving behind only the faintest trace of mana.
Zander stood amidst the devastation, his sword still drawn, its blazing edge radiating heat that warped the air around him. His rage burned as fiercely as his flames, threatening to consume him entirely. Yet beneath the seething fury, an overwhelming wave of guilt and shame coursed through him, piercing deeper than any wound could.
He had known. From the very beginning, he had known this was a trap. The signs had been too obvious—a scheme playing out in the shadows, strings being pulled by unseen hands. And yet, he had gone along with it, driven not by logic but by his own insatiable desire for battle.
It was reckless. No, it was selfish. He had let his yearning for the thrill of combat cloud his judgment, prioritizing his own hunger for a worthy opponent over the safety of his soldiers.
Even now, the realization clawed at him. The battle with the Sirius Alpha and the assassin had taken far longer than it should have. If he had truly wanted, he could have ended it in seconds—a minute at most. Zander had no doubt about that. He had the strength, the skill, and the power to crush them instantly. But no. He had chosen to prolong the fight, toying with his enemies in a bid to satisfy his twisted sense of fun. He had convinced himself he was killing two birds with one stone: indulging his desire while unraveling their scheme.
But the cost… The cost was far too great.
As the memory of Beatrice's frantic call echoed in his mind, his heart clenched painfully. He prayed—to all the gods, to any power that would listen—that she was alive. She had to be. Beatrice wasn't just a capable second-in-command; she was the closest person to him outside of his family. The thought of losing her was unbearable.
No, more than that—he couldn't trust himself to handle such a loss.
He looked down at the charred ground where the assassin and Alpha had vanished moments before. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the hilt of his sword, trembling with barely restrained fury. The realization that he had been outplayed, that his distraction had cost him his soldiers, dug into him like a blade.
This wasn't over. Not yet.
With a sharp inhale, Zander turned on his heel, his flames flaring brighter as he shot into the air. The devastation below blurred into streaks of blackened earth and smoke as he pushed himself toward the base.
He reached the base in record time, but as soon as it came into view, his heart sank. The once-proud stronghold of the Phoenix Clan now lay in ruins. Smoke billowed upward in thick columns, darkening the sky. Rubble and bodies littered the ground, a harrowing testament to the massacre that had unfolded in his absence.
Zander landed heavily, his knees bending slightly as his boots hit the charred earth. The silence was deafening, broken only by the crackle of lingering flames and the faint groans of the wounded. His eyes darted around, searching desperately through the destruction. And then he saw her.
Near the center of the devastation, amidst the crumbled remains of a fallen tower, lay Beatrice. Her once-vibrant green hair was matted with blood, her uniform torn and scorched. She was barely breathing, her chest rising and falling with agonizing slowness.
"Beatrice!" Zander's voice was raw with anguish as he rushed to her side, falling to his knees in the dirt. He gently lifted her frail form, cradling her as if she were made of glass. "Stay with me," he whispered, his tone both commanding and pleading. "Don't you dare give up. I'm here now. You're going to be fine."
Beatrice's eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused but faintly recognizing him. A weak, trembling smile tugged at her lips. "Commander…" she murmured, her voice so faint it was barely audible. "I… I tried…"
Zander shook his head, his jaw clenched tightly as he fought back the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "Don't speak. Save your strength. You'll be fine. I promise."
But even as he spoke, he could feel the life slipping away from her. His flames flickered, dimming slightly as the reality of the situation pressed down on him like a crushing weight.
Zander's scream tore through the ruins, a primal, anguished roar that echoed across the broken battlefield. The ground beneath him cracked further as his mana flared uncontrollably, his flames igniting in a blazing inferno that reflected the rage and despair consuming him.
He turned his gaze skyward, his crimson eyes blazing with fury and resolve. His voice was a vow, carried on the winds like a curse.
"I'll find them," Zander swore, his tone dripping with venom. "Whoever did this—whoever dared to touch my clan—I'll hunt them to the ends of the earth. And when I find them…" His flames surged higher, engulfing the area around him in a searing heat. "…I'll release hell upon them. They'll wish they were never born."
He looked down at Beatrice, her fragile body still cradled in his arms. Tears blurred his vision, but he refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not while there was still something he could do.
The world would burn for what had been done here. Zander would make sure of it.