Nerina and Lyra were completely out of mana, their bodies trembling as exhaustion overtook them. Nerina held Lyra on her shoulder, her vision blurring from tears and fatigue.
"Sister... I think we might die this time..." Nerina whispered, her voice barely a breath. "At least... we're together again. I could see you one last time."
Tears streamed down both their faces, their hands barely able to hold each other. Their arms drooped, too weak to lift. The enemy army loomed ahead, closing in with the promise of annihilation.
Just before the first wave struck, a deafening series of explosions erupted across the battlefield. Around a hundred blasts tore through the enemy ranks, sending fire and shrapnel in all directions. Over 20,000 enemy soldiers were instantly reduced to ashes, their bodies flung skyward in twisted ruin. Smoke blanketed the battlefield in a thick, choking fog. The enemy forces reeled, momentarily lost in the chaos.
Beneath Lyra and Nerina, the ground suddenly gave way, revealing a small tunnel entrance. Strong arms reached up from below and pulled them into the depths.
"Hold on, we've got you!" Captain Rurik's gruff voice rang through the tunnel.
His 2,000-strong battalion had been secretly planting magical landmines beneath the battlefield while the sisters fought above. Their meticulous planning had paid off, their sabotage crippling the enemy forces just in time. As soon as they had Nerina and Lyra safely underground, they retreated through the tunnel.
A handful of enemy scouts, possessing heightened senses, pursued them, snarling as they closed the gap. But before they could catch up, Rurik's men collapsed the tunnel behind them, sealing their escape.
Once inside the city, Nerina wasted no time. With the last remnants of her mana, she placed her trembling hands over Lyra's worst wounds, focusing what little energy she had left into healing her sister first.
Meanwhile, in the depths of the Demon King's lair, Jareth continued his brutal battle against Romelo.
The Demon King grinned, his boyish, almost angelic face twisted with cruel amusement.
"I certainly enjoyed watching your struggle in my magic mirror," Romelo mused. "It was so amusing, watching you slay my precious female demons. You're quite the heartbreaker."
Jareth had no time to retort. Romelo flicked his fingers, and the countless mirrors lining the walls shifted angles in an instant. The reflections bent, distorting his surroundings into a twisted maze of light and illusion.
Jareth's eyes darted around, his instincts screaming danger. The next attack could come from any direction.
A blast of dark energy erupted from Romelo's fingertips. Jareth dodged—only for the beam to strike a mirror and refract, splitting into two deadly arcs. One slashed past his cheek, searing his skin, while the other barely missed his ribs.
The mirrors shifted again, making it impossible to predict the angles of the next attack.
Romelo smirked and raised his hands. "Let's make this even more fun."
A dozen dark orbs appeared around him. Instead of firing immediately, they floated in place, rotating around the Demon King in a slow, deliberate pattern.
Jareth tensed. Delayed spells. The moment he moved, they would trigger. He had to plan each step carefully, or risk being caught in a deadly crossfire.
Romelo snapped his fingers, and a new beam fired—this time slower, but aimed directly at Jareth's chest.
Jareth dodged to the side, but as soon as he moved, the delayed spells activated. The dark orbs erupted, releasing bursts of magic that shot toward his new position.
He twisted in midair, barely avoiding the barrage, but the mirrors adjusted again, bouncing smaller beams toward him from unexpected angles. One struck his shoulder, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his arm. Another grazed his thigh, burning through his armor.
Romelo laughed. "You're quite nimble, Champion, but I wonder... how long can you last?"
Jareth clenched his teeth. He needed a way to turn the tide.
Bahamut's voice thundered in his mind. Jareth, I will tell you this. You need to use not only your instincts—you must become one with your enemy's mind. If you know what he thinks, you already know how to beat him.
Jareth steadied his breathing. He couldn't react purely on instinct anymore. Every movement had to be precise—controlled. If he panicked, he'd be overwhelmed.
Romelo prepared his next move, his fingers weaving another series of spells. The mirrors shimmered once more, shifting the battlefield yet again.
Jareth exhaled sharply, his muscles coiling like a spring. This was it. He had to find a way through.