"Are you sure you want to remove the castle your friend worked so hard to create?" Zayne asked, his tone half-curious, half-taunting.
His gaze fixed on the tall, silver-haired man standing opposite him, who stood with an almost theatrical calm, completely unbothered by the grand structure fading behind him.
Vel'Lucranis, dressed in flowing robes marked with winged emblems, smiled faintly.
"Oh, you see… I have the Wings Creation," he said, his voice smooth like a whisper carried by the wind. "Wide open areas are where I can use my powers to their fullest.
As for the castle—don't worry about it. My friend can conjure another one whenever he wants… and trap you inside it again, if necessary."
With that, Vel'Lucranis spread his arms wide as ethereal energy crackled at his back.
A luminous shimmer pulsed behind him, then burst into shape—four glowing butterfly-like wings, each translucent and gleaming with shades of violet and cyan.
They buzzed gently, then with a powerful flap, lifted him into the air.
Zayne's eyes narrowed. He pulled out his sword without a word, the air around his feet beginning to twist and bend—his Speed Creation flaring to life.
In a split second, he disappeared and reappeared just as fast, moving so rapidly he became a blur that began circling Vel'Lucranis.
Vel'Lucranis hovered in place, eyes tracking the streaks of movement below him.
His wings flapped lazily as if he had all the time in the world. But inside, he wasn't underestimating his opponent.
Speed Creation… one of the deadliest Creations in history, he thought, ascending steadily. But speed alone can't touch the sky.
He shot upward, higher and higher. He believed Zayne couldn't keep up in the air.
But just as he settled above the battlefield, a sound cracked through the air—Zayne had leapt after him.
The sudden movement startled Vel'Lucranis. Before he could retreat, Zayne was already there, sword flashing with dangerous intent.
Vel'Lucranis tried to react, to swing first, but he wasn't fast enough.
Zayne's blade came down in a clean arc, aiming for his head. Vel'Lucranis barely tilted his head in time—the edge grazed past his temple and slashed into his right shoulder.
The pain surged through his arm, forcing him to drop his sword. It spiraled toward the ground, a blur of silver. But worse yet—Zayne's next move was already underway.
With precise control, Zayne swung again and sliced through one of Vel'Lucranis's wings.
The right butterfly wing disintegrated into shimmering fragments. Without it, Vel'Lucranis lost his balance mid-air and began to falter.
Zayne landed smoothly, his boots kicking up dirt. He looked up, adjusting his grip on the hilt.
"When you're up against an opponent who can fly," he said calmly, "it's not too hard to predict their next move.
I might not have wings, but I can build momentum. And a swift, calculated strike? That's something even clouds can't hide you from."
Vel'Lucranis, recovering mid-air, chuckled dryly. Blood dripped from his shoulder, but he ignored it.
"I knew you had a dangerous Creation," he admitted, hovering again, "but I underestimated your intelligence."
He began circling Zayne slowly, his remaining wings fluttering weakly, almost playfully. Zayne stood his ground, energy flaring around his feet once again.
Then, just as Zayne tensed to launch again, Vel'Lucranis flew upward once more, rising with increasing speed.
But Zayne was faster than before.
He launched himself again, chasing upward like a bullet, blade gleaming in the sunlight. Vel'Lucranis gritted his teeth and barely had time to react.
As Zayne's blade came down, Vel'Lucranis caught it mid-air with his bare hand, blood spilling instantly from his palm.
Then, with a rapid flash of energy, he shifted his wings—this time, they transformed into a pair of massive eagle wings, broader and stronger.
Using one arm, he gripped Zayne's blade; with the other, he grabbed Zayne himself by the torso.
And then they soared.
The wind howled around them as Vel'Lucranis rose even higher, carrying both Zayne and his blade.
Zayne twisted and tried to kick free, but Vel'Lucranis kept him just out of range. Realizing he was at a disadvantage, Zayne made a split-second decision—he let go of his sword.
Without wasting a moment, he reached to his torso and drew a hidden dagger, its curved edge glowing faintly.
He slashed at Vel'Lucranis's neck—but the winged man reacted just in time.
He pulled back his eagle wings and shielded himself. The blade sliced deep into them, tearing through the feathers and sinew.
The wings shattered.
Both men began to plummet, free-falling from hundreds of feet above.
Zayne didn't hesitate. Mid-fall, he tried to stab again, lunging forward. But Vel'Lucranis was forced to act fast. He let Zayne go, pushing him back mid-air.
Then, he concentrated his Creation again—this time forming a new pair of albatross wings, wide and aerodynamic. They emerged from his back just in time, flapping open with a gust of wind.
Zayne sighed as he descended, gravity pulling him faster. "That was close," he muttered under his breath, shifting his body.
Just before hitting the ground, he activated his Speed Creation once again, accelerating forward the instant his feet touched the earth.
He ran with the momentum, dispersing the shock and avoiding broken bones.
He slid to a stop, panting slightly.
Above, Vel'Lucranis hovered, smirking. "Tough man," he whispered, his voice fading with the wind as he disappeared from sight.
Zayne scanned the area, sharp eyes searching for signs of movement. His gaze fell on a glint beneath the trees—his sword. He sprinted toward it, picked it up, and stood with renewed focus.
Then it happened.
From the sky, a flurry of black feathers began to fall—hundreds, no, thousands of them—raining down in a storm of shadows.
They weren't just feathers; they were thick, raven-like and unnatural, clouding the air and obscuring everything.
Zayne raised his guard, spinning in a slow circle, trying to spot where the next attack would come from.
Then he froze.
A sharp pain tore through his stomach, just below the ribs on his left side. He looked down in disbelief—a blade had pierced through him, cleanly, silently. His breath caught in his throat.
Blood soaked his shirt, dripping slowly onto the forest floor.
Turning his head slowly, he saw them—new wings flapping quietly in the air. But these weren't butterfly wings or eagle wings. No, these were broad, silent, and ghostly gray.
Owl wings.
Zayne's thoughts raced. No wonder I didn't hear a damn thing…
And then everything faded into silence.