Rage & denial

Orion's relentless assault on the barrier ceased abruptly, his entire body locking into place as if he had been turned to stone. But it was not fear that had paralyzed him—it was cold, simmering rage. His sword remained clutched tightly in his grip, mana pulsing through his veins like wildfire. His golden eyes, filled with barely restrained fury, bore into the figure that approached with an eerie, measured grace.

The horned woman halted just a breath away from the barrier. Her piercing crimson gaze traveled up and down his form, assessing him with unsettling amusement. A slow smirk curled across her lips, revealing a hint of elongated canines. As if savoring an unseen delight, she licked her lips, claws stretching out to the barrier's surface. A single touch sent ripples through the shimmering energy field, distorting the air between them like a heatwave.

Orion's grip on his sword tightened. The sheer audacity of her presence, her confidence—it was infuriating. The barrier would not hold forever. He had to be ready.

The horned woman chuckled softly. "Such fire," she murmured. "I do wonder… how long will it last?"

With deliberate grace, she raised both claws, her fingertips crackling with swirling black energy. The very air around her darkened, absorbing the surrounding light as she prepared to unleash a devastating strike. Orion braced himself, every fiber of his being poised for the moment she shattered the barrier—

A sudden gust of wind howled through the battlefield, sharp as razors. A silver arc of light slashed through the air, and the horned woman flinched, twisting away. She was fast—unnaturally so—but not fast enough. A thin gash opened along her thigh, black ichor dripping onto the ground. Her smirk faltered, and she turned her head, eyes narrowing at the unexpected interference.

A figure stood beyond, her stance unwavering, her sword aglow with whirling currents of wind mana. Lisa.

Her earlier injuries were gone, erased as if they had never existed. The wind coiled around her like a raging tempest, her presence suffused with raw, untamed power. The sheer force of her mana output sent shockwaves through the ground beneath her feet. The air crackled, thick with energy far beyond that of a mere silver mage.

The horned woman's amusement faded. "Oh? And here I thought you were already broken."

Lisa didn't reply. Instead, she moved.

A deafening boom shattered the silence as Lisa shot forward, the impact of her movement splitting the ground beneath her. Orion barely had time to process what was happening before the horned woman was sent flying, her body slamming into the stone wall with enough force to crack it. The impact sent debris raining down, dust clouding the space between them. But Lisa didn't stop. Without so much as a glance at Orion, she pursued, her speed a blur, her sword carving the air with lethal precision.

For the first time since the battle began, Orion felt something icy settle in his chest. It was not relief. It was dread.

Lisa had the upper hand. That much was clear. But victory did not bring him comfort. Instead, his expression twisted with something raw, something close to horror. His grandfather's lessons echoed in his mind, blunt and merciless:

**"There is no such thing as a sudden power-up. Strength demands a price. There are no exceptions."**

A dark premonition settled over him. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

The battlefield blurred as Lisa and the horned woman clashed at speeds beyond mortal comprehension. Orion struggled to track their movements, but his senses failed him. Then, amidst the chaos, a sharp, electric hum resonated through the air. The mana around him vibrated violently, and with a brilliant flash of blue light, a portal materialized beside him.

Orion's breath hitched. It was the same ethereal hue as the barrier that confined him. The portal pulsed, its energy radiating in rhythmic waves, as if fueled by an unseen force. Slowly, his gaze dropped to the pendant around his neck.

The sight of it made his stomach twist.

The pendant—Lisa's birthday gift to him—had changed. What was once a simple silver charm now resembled a delicate, intricate snowflake, each crystalline edge shimmering in the same furious blue light as the portal. The realization struck him like a physical blow. The pieces fell into place, forming a picture he did not want to see.

Lisa had orchestrated this.

"Leave through the portal, Ori." Lisa's voice echoed in his mind, her tone firm, resolute. "It will take you to the safe house Grandpa prepared."

Orion's heart pounded. "No." His voice was sharp, laced with defiance. "Let me help. Together, we can beat her—you don't have to stay behind."

Lisa's silence was deafening. And then, softly, almost regretfully, she replied, "No, Orion. I've already used my potential as a mage to forcefully break through to radiant silver. My future is already over. I can't let you risk your life. You are too precious."

Orion felt something inside him snap. "Bullshit."

Lisa flinched at the raw venom in his voice.

"Grandpa isn't a god. He can't see the future. I'm no one's damn 'hope.' This is all just—" His voice cracked, his anger barely masking the tremor of something deeper, something fragile. "Damn it, Lisa, you don't have to do this. We can leave together! Please—"

But before he could finish, the connection between them severed, cutting off his plea.

Silence swallowed him whole.

And then came the rage.

A fury unlike anything he had ever felt erupted within him, white-hot and suffocating. His vision blurred with unrestrained wrath as he turned back to the barrier, his fists clenching so tightly his knuckles went white.

With a roar, he slammed his fists against the shimmering wall.

"Every damn time!" His voice tore through the air, each word a violent strike against the prison that held him. "Every single time! Cowards—selfish cowards—finding the easy way out!"

The mana around him pulsed violently, his anger manifesting in erratic bursts of energy. His entire body trembled with rage, his shouts growing more ragged, more desperate.

"You can't decide for me! You can't—" His breath hitched, a sob caught in his throat. "I refuse—I refuse—"

And then, the battlefield fell silent.

A sickening sound cut through the stillness—a dull, wet *thud.*

And then in the wake of his outburst, as if thrown from the depths of a dark dream, a severed head rolled forth, halting just before the illusive wall of his confinement.

Orion's breath came in short, shallow gasps. His pulse pounded in his ears. His mind screamed at him to move, to react, but his body refused to obey.

It was then, in his mind beneath the suffocating weight of the moment, a single, chilling realization surfaced.

It was already too late.