Hours had passed since Strax had arrived with his wives and his mother...
The afternoon was tinged with crimson hues, as if the sky itself had been wounded. The once-green grass of the garden was scorched, fragnts of magic floated in the air like golden ash, and the battlefield before the mansion had beco a living crater of shattered energy.
Strax opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was the sky cracked by magical lightning—two figures clashing in the sky, so fast that the space around them trembled.
His body still ached. Magic still coursed through his blood like shards of crystal. But he was conscious.
Around him, everyone was on the ground. Beatrice lay beside him, panting, covered in soot. Cristine was slowly healing, surrounded by the remnants of what had once been a divine shield. Yennifer and Kryssia lay unconscious, huddled beneath a do of broken defensive runes. Even Xyn, the precise phoenix, was injured, a deep gash on her left arm.
All of them. Defeated. Exhausted.
But alive.
Strax felt his throat close up. He tried to stand, but his muscles wavered. His energy wasn’t yet fully restored, but the sounds above—magical explosions, roars of power, roars—made him try anyway.
Until he felt a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders from behind, firm but not hostile.
"Don’t move yet," Ouroboros said, his voice low as distant thunder.
"I have to stop them..." Strax murmured, trying to free himself.
"No. You need to understand first. Well, even if you wanted to, you won’t be able to stop anything."
He stopped, confused, his eyes fixed on the sky where Scarlet and Scathach were locked in a mad battle.
Scarlet was in her near-dragon form, her arms covered in scales, her wings of incandescent energy beating furiously. Her every movent was fierce, like a lioness fighting for her pride. But even she... was being pressured.
Scathach was unrecognizable.
She was no longer the steadfast mother, nor the legendary general. She was a creature of living runes, her eyes brimming with power and madness. Her hair seed to dance like enchanted shadows, her skin radiated ancient light. She attacked with obsession, with irrational hatred... and pure jealousy.
"She... she’s going to kill Scarlet!" Strax exclaid.
"Stop the show, they won’t be able to kill each other," Ouroboros said, his grip on her firmness unwavering. "But not out of true anger. Nor pride. She’s fighting... for you."
Strax turned, his gaze confused and frustrated.
"How did this start? Did she just start killing the people I love?"
"When she arrived and realized they were all your wives, her possessiveness began to spiral out of control."
Ouroboros loosened his grip and walked beside him, looking up at the sky with an ancient regret.
"You’ve seen the love of your wives. So are intense, so are calr. So share you with others, so want you all to themselves. You thought that was the limit of possessive love... but you were wrong."
Strax turned to her.
"What are you saying?"
"I’m saying that... perhaps the most dangerous of all the won who love you... is the one who raised you."
High above, Scarlet roared, spitting a blast of fire that ignited clouds. Scathach responded with a wall of runes that not only blocked but absorbed the flas, returning them in the form of mystical spears. One of them struck Scarlet in the abdon. The dragon scread, falling several feet before stabilizing, spitting blood.
Strax shouted, "ENOUGH!"
But neither of them stopped.
Ouroboros sighed.
"She saw you surrounded by won. She saw your life—full of love, full of choices. She saw you free. And inside her... sothing broke. Because she waited centuries, Strax. She was alone, in the dark, in the world of the dead, faithfully believing in her own convictions in the void..."
Strax took a deep breath, clenching his fists.
"And now that she’s found you again... she wants you all to herself. As a mother. As a protector. As the center of her world."
He looked up. Scathach was now using runes to tear through space, teleporting in microseconds and striking Scarlet with a magical spear that changed shape with each impact. The dragon was at her limit—the guardian’s strength was trendous, but she wasn’t built to face... Strax’s own creator.
"She’s completely blind," Strax murmured, his eyes welling up. "Because only problematic won appear in my life..."
"She will destroy everything around her until you are alone with her. Until she ’save’ you from what she considers impure."
Ouroboros then stepped away, finally letting go of him completely.
"It’s your choice now, Strax. Either watch... or interfere. But know that when you touch her, it won’t be just as a son. It will be as a man. And she... is no longer just your mother."
Strax looked up at the sky.
Scarlet fell, hit by a pressure wave that cracked the atmosphere around her. Her wings shattered into light and smoke. She collapsed to the ground, forming a crater.
Scathach descended calmly.
Her gaze was blank. Her body still encased in runes. She walked toward Scarlet’s body, raising her magical spear.
"YOU DON’T DESERVE HIM! NONE OF YOU DO!" she scread, her voice echoing like the thunder of a corrupted divinity.
The earth shook.
The atmosphere seed to still.
The roar that escaped Strax’s throat was no ordinary rage. It wasn’t just a scream—it was a divine command, heavy, deep, cutting through the air like an ancient blade. The clouds shuddered, and even the winds ceased their dance.
"STOP THIS SHIT NOW."
The killing intent unleashed in that instant was so dense, so suffocating, that even the flas around her seed to falter. Scathach’s runes wavered. Her spear trembled in her hand.
The world fell silent.
Scarlet, lying on the ground, gasped, but didn’t dare move.
Ouroboros slowly backed away, her eyes half-closed, satisfied. "Finally," she murmured.
Scathach stood, motionless, her eyes wide. As if the sound of Strax’s voice had awakened sothing buried deep within her.
Strax approached step by step, his posture erect, energy rebuilding around his body like an armor of shadow and light. His gaze was hard, sharper than any sword he had ever wielded. His presence grew with each step—not as a warrior, not as a son—but as the man he had beco.
As he stood face to face with her, Scathach’s magical spear shattered into golden fragnts. The rune on his forehead flickered... and faded.
"What do you think you’re doing?" he asked, his voice low, but with the force of suppressed thunder.
Scathach blinked in surprise. Her body still trembling. Her gaze still lost.
"I... I just wanted..."
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