The sky above them crackled—a canvas of lightning, fury, and fractured oaths.
Eli stood on scorched earth, breath steady, posture poised, but sothing inside her finally healed . She was whole again, fully healed, her golden glow burning like a second sun across the battlefield. The power of the life fruit thrumd beneath her skin—ageless, overwhelming—but none of it silenced the ringing words in her head.
"Atlas is mine."
Claire’s voice had echoed like a curse.
A lover’s claim, bold and unyielding.
And it burned in Eli’s chest—not because of jealousy, but because of audacity. How dare she say his na like that? Like she knew him? Like she’d suffered with him? Like she had earned the right?
No.
Claire was nothing more than a madwoman dressed in divine power. A broken shell puppeteered by sothing darker.
Eli’s fist tightened, red flas crackling around her augnted knuckles. She stepped forward—deliberate, cold, rciless—and launched a punch that once shattered an obsidian wyrm’s skull in the depths of the Dark Continent.
It t flesh.
But no scream followed.
Only the dull slap of halted montum. Claire stood before her, palm raised, hand pressed into Eli’s knuckles with shocking ease. No recoil. No tremble.
Just a smirk.
"You’re slower than I thought," Claire whispered, her purple eyes gleaming, halo pulsing above her like a wound in the sky.
Before Eli could react, Claire’s hand drew back—elegant, vicious—and the slap ca.
Too fast to brace.
The impact rang like a thunderclap. Eli’s cheek snapped sideways, her head whipping with the force, the taste of blood bursting across her tongue. She staggered, blinking stars from her eyes, her feet skidding in the dirt.
For a second, the battlefield hushed. Even the thunder held its breath.
Eli rolled her jaw once, tongue sweeping across her teeth. A sar of blood leaked from the corner of her lip. She spat it out, a dark crimson fleck hitting the dirt between them.
She tilted her head, a thin, amused smile tugging her lips.
"...You... did you sell your soul to the devil?" she asked, her tone low, but not joking. There was weight in her words. Suspicion. Grief. Awe.
From the side, Lara stood still—her sword lowered slightly, eyes wide, mouth parted. Her aura crackled uncertainly. Even she wasn’t sure if what stood before them was still Claire... or sothing else entirely.
Claire smiled wider, unfazed. "Yes," she said, her voice like silk over a blade. "I sold it to sothing beyond the devil. Beyond everything. And it will all be worth it... when I make your other cheek bloody red."
Her words weren’t shouted. They were promises.
Eli’s smile widened. She wasn’t angry anymore.
She was ready.
Golden light erupted from her skin in ribbons, her body surging with force. It wasn’t just strength—it was evolution. A higher state. A breath of divinity, stolen through the forbidden sip of the life fruit. She and Atlas had drank together once, side by side, their lips stained by the sa fate.
The mory burned through her like fire in the marrow.
"...A demon inside, and now a demon outside," she said, fists glowing. "It matches your purple hair."
Claire’s claws twitched. Her tail lashed once.
Eli’s body flickered, vanishing and reappearing—a blur too fast to follow.
A heartbeat later, both of them moved.
Their fists collided.
The shockwave shook the sky. Dirt exploded around them. The air split with a concussive snap. But sothing was off—Claire’s punch had the strength, yes—but not the timing.
The angle, the alignnt, the posture—flawed. Just barely.
And that was enough.
Claire’s body was hurled backward, her feet tearing grooves in the dirt before she lost balance entirely and went airborne, crashing to the ground with a growl. She tasted soil and blood as her body bounced once, then skidded to a halt.
Her hand twitched in the dirt, claws clawing earth instinctively.
She rose, slow, like a beast.
But before the battle could resu—
Lara moved.
Her blade shimred with unnatural precision, a royal aura crackling along its edge like a song of vengeance.
She dashed toward Eli, her movent near weightless—yet heavy with intent.
Eli caught the attack, raising her gauntlet instinctively.
CLANG!
The sound rang through the storm as steel t steel.
"...You must be his sister," Eli said calmly, as sparks danced in the space between them. "Why don’t we calm down? You’re basically my sister-in-law."
The words dripped with venom and provocation, a taunt disguised in familiarity.
Lara’s eyes flared.
Then—
Chip!
A shard of Eli’s gauntlet cracked, clattering to the ground.
She stared at it.
"...Wow," Eli muttered, genuinely surprised. "They were right. Talent... no, genius. How precise must your blade be, to pierce this?"
Her eyes flicked back to Lara. "You’ve seen battle. I like that. You’ll make a great sister-in-law."
Lara’s face flushed red—not from embarrassnt, but fury.
"Shut the fuck up," she hissed. "Or I’ll make you shut up for good."
Fifteen warrior skills erupted around her like stars going supernova—each one a flare of deadly elegance, swirling in a perfect lattice around her fra. The royal aura pouring from her now was no longer hesitant. It roared.
"...Oh..." Eli whispered, blinking. "Lil’ sis got so punk in her spine."
"DIE!!"
Lara launched herself.
A streak of blue, wind trailing behind her like a ghost.
But Eli sensed it—another force. She twisted just as—
BOOM!
Claire struck again.
Her claws crashing against a shield that blood suddenly from Eli’s gauntlet—rlin’s relic, ancient and stubborn. The magical barrier flared bright as Claire’s attack t it with raw fury.
An instant later, Lara’s blade struck the sa spot.
Tang!
The combined force cracked the relic. A spiderweb of light splintered across the shield’s surface. Eli’s heels dug into the dirt as she was pushed—an inch, then two, then a foot. Her boots dragged ruts behind her as she gritted her teeth.
"Fuckers..." she thought. Her muscles trembled.
Claire’s claws sparked violently, her face twisted in exertion.
Lara’s blade humd, vibrating against the relic.
Together, they pushed. Together, they overwheld.
For the first ti, Eli was driven back.
She took a breath. And in that breath, she rembered sothing—an echo from the past.
"If you ever lose ground, it’s not because you’re weak. It’s because you stopped seeing clearly."
Atlas had said that. After their third fight. After she’d nearly broken his jaw.
And now, here she was, forced back by two won—one his sister, the other his claid lover.
The irony carved a hollow in her chest.
Eli’s face twisted—not in rage, but in revelation.
"You two," she muttered, straining. "You’re both willing to break for him?"
Neither answered.
Only the pressure answered.
Cracks deepened.
The relic strained.
Eli’s golden glow flared, and for a second, her eyes locked with Atlas—still trapped behind the shattered do, still bleeding, still in slumber .
Did he want this?
Did he want them?
’....no, I’m enough.’
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