Rage****

A sudden shock shattered the silence of the throne room. A figure dressed in royal robes and holding a scepter in her right hand walked through the glow of the numerous candles and torches attached to the thick stone walls. An elegant sword with a slightly curved tip, reminiscent of a pirate's, was strapped to her side.

She was very nervous, though she tried to remain calm in this difficult situation. Every so often, she went to the tall windows on either side of the room to see what was happening outside. Another shock caused the glass to rattle ominously, heightening the fear of the unknown.

Finally, he approached the throne at the far end of the room. He climbed three steps and looked ahead. A charming girl sat on a red seat decorated with gold patterns. She gazed out at the dark landscape beyond. Her beautiful, dark brown hair was loosely braided over her shoulders. She frowned as she watched the man approach her. Her large, blue eyes gazed innocently at her friend, from the days of the academy of magical arts. As she spoke, she enchanted everyone around her with her beautiful, thin voice.

"It was a bad idea," the king said in his gruff voice

. "He'll kill you." The girl replied

. "That's why I say it was a bad idea." The man

, Waron, repeated. "He looked into each other's eyes—I don't want him to kill you!"

"Ksaia. He doesn't…"

The dull sound of the door slamming against the wall reached the ears of the only people

in the throne room. They both looked in that direction. Waron's heart skipped a beat.

A young man stood in the doorway, a blood-dripping sword in his right hand. He had dark, short hair, spiked upwards. He wore silver armor that gleamed in the torchlight. His blue eyes, cold as the ocean's abyss, stared at the two standing by the throne. For a moment, there was a deathly silence as the two warriors eyed each other, assessing their chances in battle.

"Hide, Ksaia," Waron said to the girl, who slowly approached the window to the left of the throne and hid behind one of the two columns in the hall. As she did so, the king drew his sword, placed his scepter on the throne, and said cautiously to the young man, "You shouldn't have come here, Naimad.

" "I already know what I should and shouldn't do!" he replied in his hard but persuasive voice. "You took everything I cared about, and now you've kidnapped Ksaia. You'll die for it!" He spoke the last words through gritted teeth.

"You understand nothing. It's not like—

" "Don't fight!" They heard a voice from behind the column.

"I don't want to duel you. Let's settle this another way..." He didn't finish, as Naimad, as a fire adept, summoned his power and created a fireball that began to vibrate in his left hand. In a split second, his entire hand began to burn with a living flame that he couldn't even feel and that didn't harm him. Then he extended his hand toward Waron and fired a projectile at him.

At the last moment, Waron managed to somersault to the side. The projectile struck the throne, which

in a matter of seconds burst into flames, illuminating the room with its radiance. Naimad had already stopped burning and, sword in hand, began running towards his enemy. He prepared to repel the mage's attack.

Just before the stairs, Naimad leaped up and landed right in front of Waron. Their swords crossed, making a sharp whistling sound. The king was the first to attack, attempting a sideways slash, but he was blocked. He ducked, dodging a counterstrike, the sword slicing through the air above him and striking the wall beside him.

They clashed again, like two powerful bears fighting over a fish one of them had caught. Steel clashed against steel. Sparks flew. Waron, blocking Naimad's blow from above, looked into his face. His features hardened. Anger burned in his eyes, enough to shatter rock. He executed his movements with great force and perfection. He was blinded by hatred and a thirst for revenge after what Waron had done.

His sword was of exceptional quality. The blade was slightly wavy near the hilt, and symbols were carved before the tip. When he was at the academy, Naimad had been one of the few who could infuse his sword with his own power. From then on, only he could wield it and draw strength from it. "The loss of one will reverberate upon the other," he always repeated. It meant that if he died, the sword would self-destruct, and if it was destroyed, it could have a psychological impact on him.

They broke away from the clash and resumed the fight. Behind them, they heard Ksai's cries, but they didn't care. They were focused on one thing: inflicting as much damage as possible on their enemy.

Waron was an air adept, so he, too, summoned his power and filled his sword with it. Ominous discharges coursed through his weapon, instilling fear in every enemy. Naimad, however, was unfazed. He delivered an upward strike, and their swords clashed again.

A sudden shock coursed through his body, and in a split second, the force of the discharge violently pushed him back. He slammed his back against the column the girl was hiding behind and fell to the cold floor.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered .

His fingers went slightly numb, but he could continue fighting. He rose just in time to

parry Varon's blow. The throne was still burning, and together with the clashing swords, it created an eerie ballet of shadows on the nearby wall.

Naimad launched a counterattack. He unleashed blows that his opponent could barely contain. Simultaneously, the latter began to retreat under the onslaught of these attacks, toward the opposite window.

Waron watched his charging enemy with fear. He began to estimate his chances of defeating him in a fair fight less and less. But he could have set a trap for him! What an idiot he was. Now it was too late.

Naimad struck from the right, and his blow sent his opponent reeling. With a swift movement, he struck him in the sternum with his boot, sending Waron flying choking against the parapet. He swiftly struck down at the choking enemy, hoping that was the end. The blade missed by a few centimeters as the king clumsily dodged. The sword sank deep into the stone.

Waron took a deep breath and looked at his enemy.

"This fight is pointless. Do you want me to kill you?

" "Let's see who kills who." "Naimad replied, not even trying to retrieve his sword from the shattered parapet.

The king took a swing and was about to attack when his opponent gripped

his sword tightly with his left hand and covered his face with his right. He summoned power and aimed it directly at the stone parapet, which exploded a split second later, sending small pebbles flying in all directions. Naimad was unharmed by them, as he wore thick armor made of silver dragon scales, which he had acquired several years earlier. Now he could easily draw his sword.

Utterly surprised by the attack, Waron fell to his knees. Small drops of blood fell to the floor. When he looked up at his opponent, he saw that the stone projectiles had completely disfigured his face. Several deep gashes marked his face, and the rest was covered in small scratches.

"You will die for this!" he uttered, swallowing blood.

"That's all I'm waiting for!" Naimad retorted, approaching him from a different direction.

Waron, screaming, swung his sword and struck his prepared opponent from the right.

Naimad blocked the blow, but the force of it momentarily threw him off balance. The enemy wasted no time. With a swift blow from his shoulder, he threw Naimad to the hard floor in the center of the hall. The sword flew from his hands as he tried to break his fall with his hands.

His back ached. This was the second time he had been left on the ground because he had ignored his opponent's strength and cunning. Now he must improve. Time to end this fight!

The king approached the fallen man and aimed his sword at him. Naimad decided to act. He summoned the greater part of his power and created a shell of swirling magma around himself, almost transparent. When Waron's blade touched the edge, it began to soften and bend in all directions until it fell from the hilt. Simultaneously, the heat from the magma caused the king to drop the sword to the ground and begin blowing into his burned hand.

Naimad found his sword, picked it up, and looked around. Now he had a chance! He ran forward and delivered a powerful left blow. His enemy, however, was smarter than he realized. He raised his own protective shield, which blocked the blow and threw Naimad's sword far into the throne room. A slight tingle ran through his fingers. Looking at the king, he saw electric discharges where he'd struck.

"Didn't you learn anything from your previous fall?" Waron growled, blood dripping from his face onto the floor.

"I'm a slow learner." He sneered, glaring at his opponent.

"You will die!"

The king thrust his left hand toward Naimad and released a massive

electric charge, which struck the enemy's shield with unprecedented force. With his last remaining strength, Naimad raised the barrier again, and with his free hand, he aimed at Waron and began attacking him with his own power, releasing dozens of fireballs that attacked Waron's shield as fiercely as he attacked his.

No one would back down. They both knew they couldn't hold out that long. Eventually, their energy would drain and they would lose their strength. All the while, they stared at each other with a hatred that had no outlet and was gathering in their bodies as additional strength. "I will hold out," they both repeated.

Suddenly, they heard a terrifying groan. It lasted for a second, followed by a deathly silence, broken only by the sounds of fighting. Something had happened. Something bad. After that sound, Naimad's power began to fade. The bullets were losing their power, and his shell slowly began to fade.

Waron saw himself taking the lead. Now he began to believe he could defeat his most dangerous rival, the man who had disfigured his face and tried to keep him from his happy life.

At that moment, they heard the sound of a wall crumbling. They both looked up. The ceiling had collapsed! A huge hole had opened in the roof, growing larger with each passing second. Large stone slabs and hundreds of small shards rained down on them, and they didn't know what to do.

Naimad made a decision. It was too late to flee. He interrupted his attack and had to lower his shield to concentrate all his power on stopping the boulders in front of his head. There was no time for further thought, so he didn't anticipate that Waron would still be attacking him with his lightning. The attack sent Naimad crashing to the floor, paralyzed, while his opponent dodged the collapsing roof.

Massive amounts of rubble buried the mage's body before he could get out of the way. Clouds of dust rose. Waron, seeing that the walls of his castle were about to collapse just like the roof, quickly ran to the pillar. He grabbed the girl's hand and pulled her to the throne, which was slowly fading. Ksaia had a small wound on her cheek, likely caused by the stone projectiles.

"Let's get out of here!" he shouted, then slammed his hand against one of the stone blocks, which immediately moved aside, revealing a secret passage...