The blow was immediate, relentless.

Markus' dagger sank deep into Jarek's abdomen, piercing flesh and muscle with a sickening crunch. The mercenary's breath caught in his throat, a gush of blood spurting from his lips and splattering the enemy's blade.

But at the same moment, the incandescent curve of Jarek's sword came down mercilessly on Markus's side. The flaming blade cut through flesh with disconcerting ease, tearing the skin and immediately cauterizing the wound with an ominous crackling sound. The suffocating smell of burning flesh filled the room.

Markus screamed, a guttural cry torn from the depths of his throat. His hand clenched around the dagger still lodged in Jarek's stomach, but his body gave way. He collapsed to one side, convulsing, his eyes rolled back in pain.

Jarek remained standing for a moment, swaying, the sword still clenched between his trembling fingers. The fire surrounding him flickered like a flame buffeted by the wind. Then, with a sudden movement, he pulled the dagger from his abdomen. His blood spurted out immediately, thick and dark, splattering the floor.

His legs trembled. He took two steps back, breathing heavily, his gaze fixed on Markus, now on his knees, unable to get up. The assassin's body was nothing more than a pile of smoking wounds. His skin, blackened in places, tore with the slightest movement.

"Y-you won't... get away with this..." Markus spat, his lips trembling with pain.

Jarek narrowed his eyes, breathless, his flaming sword still in his hand despite the unbearable pain radiating from his abdomen.

"You talk too much," he said in an icy voice.

He raised his blade and, with a sharp motion, brought it down. The flaming steel pierced Markus's chest, passing through his heart. The assassin's eyes froze, his mouth half-open in a final silent breath, before his body slumped heavily to the ground, lifeless.

A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the crackling of the flames still crawling up Jarek's blade.

But the respite did not last.

Behind him, Anton roared. His collar and sacred sword burst into a blinding glow. Pure, icy, sharp anger reflected in his eyes.

"You... YOU DARE!!!"

The vibration of his cry shook the walls, and a shockwave swept through the room, violently throwing Jarek backwards. The mercenary hit a pillar, his blood already staining the floor with each of his staggering steps.

He raised his head, gasping for breath, his eyes blazing despite his broken body.

Markus was dead. Only Anton remained.

But his body would only last a few more moments, he knew that. He placed his hand on his perforated abdomen and cauterized the wound with the heat of his flames.

Accustomed to manipulating flames without ever feeling the slightest pain, this time the fire seeping into his organs burned him, literally. He didn't make a sound, but his eyes spoke for him. He closed one eye, as if to resist the pain, and after a few moments withdrew his hand, flames continuing to pour out of his stomach.

Anton watched the scene, almost disgusted by what the member of the Order of Assassins had just done.

Anton gripped the hilt of his sacred sword more tightly. His muscles tensed, glowing with a metallic sheen, a direct effect of his Ushi: Steel Grip. Every movement of his arms promised to be relentless, every strike capable of crushing stone and bone.

"Vermin like you... should never have touched Markus," he growled, his voice vibrating with hatred.

He lunged forward, swift despite his stature, his sword describing a deadly arc.

Jarek barely parried, but the impact was titanic. His blade vibrated, his arms trembled, and Anton's brute force nearly sent him to his knees. Pain radiated from his stomach to his skull, each breath becoming torture.

The gang leader gave him no respite. Unleashing his artifact, the Necklace of Night Howls, he let out a second deafening scream that pierced Jarek's eardrums. His reflexes, already impaired, slowed even further. His movements seemed to be sinking into invisible mud.

Anton's sword struck again. This time, Jarek was unable to dodge completely: the blade bit into his shoulder, opening a gaping wound. Blood spurted out, hot and scarlet.

He staggered backward, dropping to one knee. His flames still flickered around him, but they wavered like a dying candle.

Anton, panting but galvanized by his rage, raised his weapon with both hands.

"Finish your flames, assassin. I'll reduce your body to ashes..."

A smile then appeared on Jarek's bloodied face. A thin, almost imperceptible smile, but one filled with cold determination.

"Tss... You think... the flames will go out just like that?"

He pressed his free hand against the ground. Veins of fire immediately crawled across the stone, forming a glowing circle around him. The air vibrated, heavy with heat, and a fiery breath filled the room.

Anton frowned.

"What are you..."

Jarek stood up, his body trembling, his sword glowing even brighter than before. The circle lit up with a bright red light, like a blaze ready to engulf everything in its path. "I no longer have the luxury... of playing this little game." His voice became deep, hoarse, but relentless. " If I fall... you will fall with me."

The flames rose, dancing and swirling, as if the mercenary were summoning a final inferno. The ground cracked beneath their feet. The atmosphere became suffocating.

Anton clenched his teeth, his sword still raised, but for the first time, a glimmer of concern flashed across his eyes.

The flaming circle traced by his flames burst into flames at once, as if the ground itself had turned into a blaze. The fiery veins thickened, forming an unstable rune that pulsed to the rhythm of Jarek's heart. Each pulse sent a wave of suffocating heat throughout the room.

His eyes, usually deep brown, took on a glowing red hue, like two burning embers. The fire was no longer just around him: it seemed to spring from his veins, escaping from every pore of his skin.

Anton took a step back, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. He knew the instinct of combat, and it was screaming at him that he was facing something he could not contain.

Jarek, trembling, raised his flaming sword. His voice cut through the air, deep and vibrating with unwavering determination:

"... Total Ignition."

At that moment, the circle burst into flames with a loud explosion. A column of fire shot up, engulfing Jarek and almost the entire room. The only place that escaped this column of flame was where Mira was standing, unconscious for quite some time now.

Their two bodies were swallowed up by the incandescence, and for about ten seconds, nothing but a sea of flames existed in that room. Jarek had heard Anton use his artifact several times, but he had made sure that the flames were hot enough that his cry could not extinguish them.

When they reappeared, Jarek's silhouette seemed to be made of living flames. Every beat of his heart seemed to feed the blaze, every movement of his muscles fanned the flames.

Anton, meanwhile, had not yet given in. His body was almost unrecognizable, his hair burned, his clothes in tatters, his skin charred, but he was standing, fighting the pain with such a will to win in his eyes that Jarek could not look away.

Their eyes met, two cornered beasts, consumed by suffering but unable to give in.

Anton, despite his charred body, moved forward with heavy steps, each movement causing his bones to creak and his blackened flesh to crackle. His hand gripped his sacred sword with inhuman ferocity, his muscles still swollen from Iron Grip. His breathing was wheezy and hoarse, but his voice vibrated with boundless rage, even though his vocal cords had been burned by Jarek's attack:

"I WILL NOT FALL... NOT BEFORE I SEND YOU TO HELL! "

He raised his weapon, and the glow of his artifact intensified, its metallic veins pulsing with raw energy. The power he exuded defied all logic, as if hatred alone kept him standing.

Opposite him, Jarek staggered, his flames licking the ground and consuming even the air. His stomach pierced, his shoulder torn, everything should have pinned him to the ground. But he couldn't falter, not now. His eyes, glowing like two infernal fires, stared at Anton with icy intensity.

He took a step, then another, each movement leaving behind a trail of burning embers. His voice rose, hoarse, broken, but relentless:

"Then come... Anton. Show me... which one of us will burn the brightest."

They lunged at each other at the same time.

The clash was cataclysmic.

Anton's sacred sword struck with the force of an earthquake, splitting the air with a metallic roar. Jarek's flaming blade traced a glowing arc that set everything in its path ablaze.

Their weapons clashed in an explosion of flames and metal. A shockwave ravaged the room, shattering pillars and pulverizing floor tiles. Fire and fury mingled, engulfing the entire room in incandescent chaos.

Anton screamed, his cry of rage and pain echoing off the ruined walls. Jarek remained silent, his lips twisted into a bloody grin, his gaze consumed by an iron will.

The floor collapsed beneath their feet. Their bodies, staggering, continued to clash in a deadly dance. Each blow tore away a piece of flesh, each impact shook the walls of the building.

But soon it became clear that their bodies would not hold out much longer.

Jarek's flames began to flicker, his heart beating erratically, threatening to stop at any moment. Anton, meanwhile, was nothing more than a pile of burnt flesh and pure hatred, his breath already half gone.

In one last suspended moment, they raised their weapons, each screaming with all their soul, before striking one last time.

The impact lit up the room with a blinding glow, as if the sun itself had exploded in their midst.

Then silence fell again.

Only the crackling flames continued to live on in this incandescent tomb.

The sound of a weapon falling to the ground broke the heavy silence.

Anton, charred and motionless, watched with one last effort as his sacred sword fell to the ground, even though he hadn't let go of it, at least not voluntarily. But he just couldn't hold his weapon anymore; his hand, his arm, and even his shoulder were now on the ground, still holding his sword.

As he realized he had lost, he noticed Jarek looking at him a few inches away and collapsed to the ground.

His body was motionless, his chest no longer rising, his heart had stopped beating.

There was no fear in his eyes, no regret either, just pure hatred and anger. Such rage that even death could not erase.

Jarek, meanwhile, watched this grim spectacle without blinking once. Then, when he was certain that his two opponents were dead, he looked up, panting, his pupils still red, before spitting out a trickle of blackened blood.

"Tch... You were really... annoying," he muttered, on the verge of fainting.

Then, slowly, he fell backward, his half-charred body crashing against the cracked tiles, his gaze fixed on the ruined ceiling.

The fight was over.

This time, a long, heavy silence fell.

Jarek took advantage of this moment to take a green vial out of his purse. Luckily, it was neither broken nor burned. He was able to drink it without being disturbed, although his whole body protested at the slightest movement. His stomach, although cauterized, continued to bleed, and his sides, shoulder, arm, and entire body cried out for treatment.

But right now, the only thing he could do was drink the small vial of healing potion he had brought with him.

He drank it quickly and waited a few more minutes before finally feeling the effects.

This potion couldn't work miracles, given that he had concocted it himself, but the effects were powerful enough to at least close his wounds and stop the bleeding.

He was able to get up, albeit with difficulty, and noticed the state of the room. Two walls had collapsed, and part of the roof had fallen in. Luckily, the only reason the whole thing hadn't collapsed was because the central pillars were still standing.

Jarek glanced quickly at Mira, who was still breathing. Due to the heat of his flames, her ropes had come loose, so she had fallen to the ground. Apart from a few superficial burns, the fight had not caused her any further damage, but her condition was still not good. she was still bleeding from her stomach, where Anton had cut her.

Having no other healing potions, Jarek simply pressed his hands against her stomach for a few moments.

He then noticed that the bleeding was less severe than expected and decided to remove his hands from her body.

He then walked over to the two corpses of his opponents and retrieved their artifacts as well as the sacred weapon he had come for.

Putting all four of them in a bag, he then walked over to Anton's corpse and decided to take his head as well. Who knows, with a little luck, there might be a quest or a bounty for his head.

And before he could even turn around, he heard a loud crash coming from the broken table, then a voice called out to him: "Thank you for saving my sister, Jarek."

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