5

When you lay with a mortal wound in your side. I was the one who sustained your life, so it wouldn't fade! I was the one who stopped your agony, hoping you'd stop fighting if you regained your strength.

" "Don't you remember what he did? He clouded your mind with his beautiful speech and false promises?

" "His words inspire trust! Yours only sorrow and laughter. I left because I couldn't bear it anymore. But you had to come back here and play the great hero." Ksaia was outraged and frustrated. She didn't consider the meaning of her words. "Let me explain something to you: heroes don't exist! Your delusions have led many to suffering. Leave us forever!" Naimad, influenced by the words he heard, involuntarily recoiled a few centimeters.

"I loved you so much." He felt the hilt of his sword slowly slipping from his hand; he couldn't contain the despair that overcame him. "And you..."

"I love Waron, not you! I never loved you!" A small tear appeared in the warrior's eye, then evaporated in the heat of the flaming sword.

"So many lies. So many lies! You poisoned my life more than snake venom. I couldn't live without you, and only the knowledge that one day I could have you back kept me going. So you left. For such a arrogant man! You should have died with him!" Naimad took a swift swing, intending to take both their lives, but a powerful force suddenly struck him in the back.

He rolled forward a few meters and spotted the culprit. The landing dragon

brought down a warrior in golden armor, holding a gleaming sword in one hand. He had short brown hair and a pleasant expression, but it was he who prevented him from finishing the job he had just finished. Soon after, another dragon landed, this one silver, releasing white puffs of air from its nostrils.

He couldn't forgive him. This person turned out to be his ally, his friend, who had stabbed him in the back without his even noticing. He trusted him so much, yet he had led him astray. How could he do this? Hatred, combined with despair, erupted in Naimad's heart. He had lost everything: his prince, his friend, and the meaning of his continued existence. His eyes glazed over in the midday sun.

Without a sword at hand, which had landed beside the hut, he decided to use magic to end it all. Stumbling and uttering strange groans, he moved a few steps away from the group of enemies, then stood on a cliff with his legs slightly apart and his hands spread out toward the sun.

Meanwhile, the stranger who had just finished his duel in the firmament approached the pained Waron.

"My name is Tocun – ruler of the northern kingdom of Roukoaz. I am a friend of Naimad," he spoke peacefully. Here he looked at Ksaia. "Don't think I saved you because you matter. Like every human being, you have the right to life, and Naimad wanted to deprive you of it. You should have died long ago for what you did to him. For all those lies and manipulations! But the gods spared you, and I have no power over your life." He pointed at her. "May you be happy with him. Don't be surprised if you ever find yourself in the path of someone's sword again..."

He stopped as the exposed part of his body, not covered by armor, suddenly, for

some unknown reason, began to emanate an increasingly piercing pain. The harsh rays of the sun burned his skin, turning it red and causing considerable suffering. Tocun raised a translucent blue shield that began to block the deadly radiation, thus protecting him and those nearby. After a moment, he understood what was happening.

Looking over the edge of the cliff, he saw Naimad, enveloped in a deep red shield similar to his own, launching his final attack. From within the dome, powerful lights periodically emanated, then vanished in all directions. Tocun glanced at the sun, toward which the warrior had extended his hands. The sun had become almost pitch black, and it was likely this that gave Naimad his strength. The landscape around them began to transform. The sky turned orange, and the air around them became heavy and hot again, making it difficult for everyone to breathe normally. However, no one paid attention to the sweltering heat, as everyone tensely awaited what would happen next.

Suddenly, the forest behind them began to burn with a living flame. The last droplets of water evaporated from the ground, and the grass became dry, as if it hadn't been rained on for months.

Tocun noticed his shield beginning to shrink. In a flash, he realized that if he didn't think of something, everyone within the spell's radius would be roasted alive. He had to think of something. But could it match the power of the magic Naimad was now using?

He shouted at the wailing figures to move closer, for they might soon break through the shell. Simultaneously, he plunged his sword into the ground and extended both arms upward to support the shrinking shield. What could defeat such a force? How could he defeat a powerful mage in the middle of a spell? He frantically tried to remember what he had been taught at the Academy.

There was nothing about changing the climate of a selected area, nor anything about magic extending beyond the third circle. What could he do, how could he stop it?

Of course! Sever the mage's connection to his power! That was it! Naimad had to stop chanting spells; he couldn't use his power. That was obvious, but how could he do it?

Diplomacy was sometimes better than aggression.

"Naimad!" "Your hatred could kill thousands of people! I'm sure you don't want that, you have to fight your pain! Overcome it!"

He made a decision. With one hand, he still held the shell, and with the other, he formed the water adepts' favorite weapon – a several-dozen-centimeter-long icicle. I'm sorry, Naimad, but I have no choice, he thought, then took a swing and threw the projectile at the fire mage. Unfortunately, as soon as it emerged from the shell, the icicle dissolved under the heat and Naimad's fiery shield, leaving no trace behind.

"This is bad, this is not good, this is not working," he thought.

Suddenly, a burning branch fell on Tocun's shield, evaporating in the same instant .

In a split second. If it weren't for the shell, they would have been crushed and burned like paper in a fire. This event convinced the water adept that he wouldn't be able to convince Naimad with mere words. Time was running out, and Tocun still hadn't found a solution, let alone acknowledge that his personal crusade was coming to an end.

At that moment, he noticed a gleaming object lying on the ground. Looking closer, he noticed the hilt and blade of a sword. It wasn't his own, for he had it on him, and Waron's sword was held by part of his severed arm. It was the blade of a fire mage. As soon as Tocun saw it, a brilliant idea came to him.

He summoned his power and pulled the sword toward him. It rolled across the bare ground, right at the feet of the water mage, who bent down to pick it up. He slowly approached the seated Waron and said in a hesitant voice,

"I have an idea that requires your involvement. I know the pain is unbearable, but you must concentrate." He crouched down and showed the sword to both of them, then grabbed the blade, which cut the skin of his hand. "We must bring Naimad out of the trance he's fallen into. I need all your power. It's the only sensible solution at this point.

" "Outlander, you're asking for strange things." Waron looked at Tocun's light blue eyes. His doubts vanished as if he'd taken his hand away. He understood that the man before him wouldn't use his energy for evil. "Agreed." He also grabbed the blade with his left hand. Blue streams of power flowed through his hand and into the weapon.

"You too." Tocun turned to Ksai, who hesitantly and slowly grasped the hilt. As with Waron, the streams of yellow energy this time filled the sword with Ksai's strength.

"Enough," said the water mage. "Leave the rest of your energy to yourselves. In the worst-case scenario, we'll have to escape from here on Raven." The dragon, still behind them, let out a low growl.

Tocun stood and assessed the situation. The entire land to the east was a veritable

hell. Numerous fires and billowing smoke sent shivers down his spine, and the very fact of the world's destruction seemed so real and imminent. The wizard looked again at the sword he held by its sharp blade. Blood bathed his wounded hand, and the pain became increasingly excruciating. The energy within shifted between itself, creating various shades of blue and green.

After a moment of reflection, he poured all the power he possessed into the sword. The blood began to flow even more intensely, and the pain nearly clouded his mind. He couldn't control such a vast amount of energy. It terrified him, for at any moment it could unleash a massive explosion that would destroy everything within a radius of several hundred meters.

“Forgive me, Naimad,” he said quietly, then took a swing and, with the last of his remaining strength, threw the sword towards its owner.

The weapon filled with the energy of the three magicians, a source of much suffering, cut through the hot air and pierced Naimad's shell, and once close enough, it released its power, taking another life...