Chapter 100: A Symphony of Flames (Rewritten)

(Chapter 100 A Symphony of Flames)

"Huh?" 

Constantine muttered, eyes narrowing in confusion as he surveyed the reception room. To his surprise, it was empty, with no sign of movement or resistance, only eerie silence hanging in the air.

Tempest, ever composed, adjusted his gas mask before giving a subtle nod to Rohan. Without wasting a second, Rohan tossed several sleeping agent smoke bombs into the hotel's entrance, their hissing filling the air as they released a thick cloud of gas. 

Tempest flicked his finger, a silent command. Instantly, the knights surged forward, storming into the hotel with swift precision. Their gas masks firmly in place, they moved like a well-oiled machine, blades, and flintlocks at the ready. Some wielded swords with deadly grace, while others hefted blunderbusses, prepared for close-quarters chaos.

"Empty…" 

Tempest muttered, scanning the abandoned reception area, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The room was unsettlingly still, too still. Something wasn't right.

Constantine grunted, already moving toward the door that led to the hotel's inner rooms. 

"Ready?"

 He asked, hoisting his blunderbuss into position, its muzzle aimed directly at the doorknob.

"Ready." 

Tempest replied calmly, taking a position just behind him. He placed a steady hand on Constantine's shoulder, signaling him to proceed. There was no room for hesitation now.

With a sharp nod, Constantine pulled the trigger. The blunderbuss roared to life, shattering the doorknob with explosive force. The heavy door swung open with a creak, revealing a dimly lit corridor that stretched into the bowels of the hotel.

Tempest's gaze sharpened, his fingers twitching over the hilt of his sword. Rohan, ever vigilant, reached for the doorframe, ready to push forward. The knights were on edge, the silence deafening as they prepared for whatever awaited them behind those walls.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Your Grace... No resistance, no sign of the Fatui anywhere."

 Rohan muttered, his voice low as his sharp eyes scanned the shadowy hallways of the hotel. The eerie silence only heightened his unease, the absence of any enemies gnawing at his instincts.

Tempest's expression darkened, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. 

"Smoke the area." 

He commanded, his voice steady but firm, cutting through the tension in the air.

Two knights, burdened with large tanks filled with the potent sleeping agent, stepped forward. In their hands, they carried sprayers, ready to flood the space with the noxious gas. With a hiss, the sprayers came to life, emitting thick clouds of the agent that billowed through the hallways. 

They covered every corner, spraying the mist in all directions, ensuring no space was left untouched. The gas swirled through the air like a creeping fog, seeping into every crevice, each knight moving with precision, eyes scanning for the slightest movement.

Tempest watched intently, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge. Something was wrong, and they all knew it. The trap hadn't sprung yet, but the tension in the air was palpable.

They kicked down the doors one by one, each time expecting resistance, only to be met with nothing but cold, empty rooms. The silence that followed each slam of the door was suffocating, the sense of foreboding growing stronger with every unchecked corner. Tempest's frustration bubbled over as the final door revealed yet another vacant space. His teeth clenched in fury, eyes blazing with anger.

Without a second thought, Tempest whipped around, his gaze locking onto Stone, who stood near the back, watching the operation unfold. Tempest's patience had snapped. 

"Did you lead us into a fucking trap?!" 

He snarled, his voice echoing off the hotel's walls.

Before Stone could utter a word in his defense, Tempest's hand shot forward, seizing him by the neck. In one swift, furious motion, Tempest slammed Stone into the wall with enough force to rattle the nearby frames. The impact sent a shudder through Stone's Ghost suit, causing it to flicker momentarily, the camouflage briefly malfunctioning under the pressure.

Stone gasped, his face pale, hands instinctively going to Tempest's wrist as he choked out.

"I swear, I didn't-"

"Swear all you want." 

Tempest growled, tightening his grip. 

"But if this is a setup, you won't live to see the next sunrise." 

The tension in the air was thick as every knight looked on, weapons at the ready. They were all on edge, unsure whether this mission had been compromised. Tempest's eyes narrowed, barely containing the storm of fury within him as he held Stone there, waiting for a sign of betrayal.

"Lead us to where you followed that secret entrance," Tempest ordered, his voice cold and unforgiving. With a sharp motion, he threw Stone to the floor, the impact hard enough to leave a dull thud in the air. Stone grunted, rolling slightly before pushing himself up, but he didn't dare rise fully, not yet. 

"One wrong move." 

Tempest continued, his eyes glinting with dangerous intent. 

"And that collar explodes. You understand me?"

Stone coughed, rubbing his neck, his pride clearly bruised, but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. He nodded, the threat all too real. 

"Got it... Boss." 

Stone rasped, his voice barely hiding the bitterness he felt. But he knew better than to argue now. One misstep and it wouldn't be Tempest's hand crushing his throat, it would be the collar around his neck ending him.

Tempest straightened, his hand hovering near his weapon. 

"Lead the way." 

He demanded his tone a final warning.

Shortly after, Stone led Tempest and his group to the hotel's library. The vast room stretched out before them, lined with shelves of old books, but like the rest of the hotel, it too was eerily empty. 

Tempest scanned the room, eyes narrowing. "

Where is it?"

He demanded, his patience wearing thin.

Stone ignored the glare burning into his back, moving along the dusty shelves. One by one, he began pulling books from their places, inspecting each as if searching for something specific. The room was silent save for the sound of books sliding from their slots until suddenly, with a smirk, Stone paused. 

"Boom." 

Stone muttered under his breath, yanking down a hidden lever concealed behind one of the volumes. There was a heavy clank, and the floor beneath one of the bookshelves shifted. Slowly, a secret door slid open, revealing a dark, winding stairway that led deep into the ground below.

"This is it." 

Stone said, a crooked grin on his face, but his eyes were wary, knowing that one wrong move could still end in his death. 

Tempest stepped forward, staring into the abyss of the hidden stairway. 

"Good." 

He said, the single word carrying the weight of his authority. 

"Let's finish this."

Tempest muttered under his breath, a mix of anticipation and determination seeping through his words as they began their descent into the hidden stairway. The passageway was narrow, the air thick with a damp, musty smell that clung to their senses. 

As they ventured deeper, the stone walls closed in around them, barely lit by faint, flickering torches mounted along the winding path. The maze-like structure confirmed Stone's description, twisting corridors splitting off in every direction, designed to confuse and disorient intruders. 

Tempest's knights moved cautiously, their eyes scanning the dimly lit surroundings, their hands gripping their weapons tighter. Every step echoed off the cold stone floor, amplifying the eerie silence. Despite their rigorous training, there was an unshakable sense of foreboding, as if the shadows themselves were watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Stay sharp." 

Soon, they arrived at a set of imposing twin doors. Tempest hesitated for a brief moment, his heart quickening as a wave of déjà vu washed over him. The sight beyond those doors was all too familiar, it was the very place where he had once been held captive, memories of his kidnapping flashing vividly in his mind.

With a nod, he signaled his men to proceed, and as the doors creaked open, they were met by the cold, sterile interior of the room. At the far end, a man stood calmly in front of an elevator, his posture casual, almost welcoming.

"Ah, you have arrived." 

The man greeted them with an unsettling calmness.

Tempest's knights instantly reacted, raising their flintlocks and blunderbusses, aiming directly at the lone figure. Their faces were tense, fingers hovering over triggers, ready to fire at a moment's notice. Yet the man remained unfazed, completely unbothered by the lethal weapons trained on him. Not a twitch, not a flicker of fear crossed his face.

"You brought an entire army with you." 

The man said with a calm, almost mocking tone, his eyes scanning the group of knights as if they were an afterthought. 

"That's a shame, really. Everyone else left yesterday. The place is empty, save for me, Luka, at your service. And, of course, the poor guard outside, the one who was supposed to guide you here... I assume you've already taken care of him?"

The man's words lingered in the air, causing a ripple of tension to pass through the room. He continued, unfazed by the glares or the raised weapons.

"And her." 

He added, his tone growing more ominous. 

"She's waiting for you. Anticipated your arrival, actually. She's on the top floor. She doesn't want a fight... just a conversation."

His calm demeanor only stoked Tempest's fury, the knight's trigger fingers twitching as they awaited Tempest's command. But Luka merely stood there, completely unruffled, as if he were simply delivering an invitation to an evening gathering, rather than setting the stage for a dangerous confrontation.

*Bang!*

The sharp crack of the musket echoed through the dimly lit room. In an instant, the man's calm expression shattered as a bullet from Stone's modified Ghost musket pierced his skull, dropping him lifeless to the ground. 

"Still think I'm one of them?" 

Stone said coldly, lowering the smoking barrel of his weapon. His voice was a low rasp, filled with a dangerous satisfaction as he glanced at Tempest.

The knights barely flinched, but the tension in the room shifted. The man who had spoken so confidently mere seconds ago now lay motionless, his smugness wiped away in an instant. 

Tempest's gaze flickered from the body to Stone, his jaw tight. Stone's actions spoke louder than any words, but trust was still a fragile thing.

"Search the area." 

Tempest ordered, his voice steady but cold. 

"Confirm that man's words, make sure we're truly alone down here." 

His gaze swept across the room before landing on the elevator.

"I'm going in. Alone."

"Your Grace, I don't thi-"

 Falric began, concern evident in his voice.

"No." 

Tempest cut him off sharply, his eyes narrowing. 

"This is my fight. Do you understand, Falric?"

Without waiting for an answer, Tempest took off his gas mask and tossed it to the ground with a heavy thud, the sound echoing through the chamber. The weight of his decision was clear, his determination palpable. He surveyed the faces of his knights, waiting for any objections.

"None?" 

He asked, his voice even more resolute as he looked around the room. His gaze finally fell on Constantine, his mentor, the one person whose opinion he valued above all.

"Teacher?" 

Tempest asked quietly, his tone softer but laced with tension.

Constantine's lips curled into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with pride. He gave a slow, deliberate nod. 

"No objections here." 

He said with a gruff chuckle. 

"Give her hell, Your Grace."

Tempest nodded back, his resolve unshaken. This was his battle, and he intended to finish it.

Tempest took a deep breath, steadying himself for what lay ahead. His heart was calm, but his mind raced with a storm of thoughts. 

Before the doors slid shut, he cast one last glance at his knights, his warriors. Their eyes were on him, silent and unwavering in their trust. He gave them a brief nod, his silent promise that he would return.

The elevator doors closed with a soft hiss, sealing him inside. The steady hum of the machinery filled the small space as he began his ascent to the top floor, where his enemy awaited. Each second felt heavy.

This was it, the confrontation he had been preparing for, the reckoning he had been waiting for.

Shortly, the elevator opened, revealing the familiar place of Crucabena's office, but she was dead now, this was Arlecchino's office.

"You've arrived."

Arlecchino said smoothly, her voice laced with a mixture of mockery and elegance.

She was seated gracefully at a table adorned with a delicate tea set, her legs crossed in a poised manner that belied the tension in the air. The soft clink of porcelain echoed in the dimly lit room as if she had prepared for an afternoon of leisurely conversation rather than an inevitable battle to the death.

"Tempest Proudmoore, I am not he-"

"Where's the pink one?" 

Tempest cut her off, his tone sharp and impatient as he scanned the room. He was searching for Clervie, the vibrant girl who typically flitted around Arlecchino like a colorful moth drawn to a flame.

The room remained still, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them.

Arlecchino's gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features as she remained quiet, seemingly unfazed by his interruption. Her lips pressed into a thin line, a subtle indication that she wasn't inclined to share what had happened to her companion. 

"She's-"

"Oh, right, I don't give a fuck... You probably killed her anyway." 

Tempest snapped, his voice laced with venom as he unsheathed his sword. 

For a fleeting moment, Arlecchino's expression darkened, but it quickly reverted to its usual stoic demeanor. The flicker of emotion was gone, replaced by a mask of calm that was almost unnerving.

"You expect me to have a lively conversation with you? Stand up and fight me... to the death." 

Tempest challenged, his words dripping with intensity. In an instant, his Pyro Delusion flared to life, igniting the blade of his sword in an inferno that cast flickering shadows on the walls around them.

Yet, Arlecchino remained seated, her composure unwavering as she regarded him with a cool, calculating gaze. The flames danced in the air between them, but she showed no signs of fear or hesitation, only a quiet confidence.

"She stood in my way." 

Arlecchino said, her voice calm, almost indifferent.

"It wasn't my intention to hurt your little Ghost." 

She added, her tone measured, as if she were explaining a trivial matter. 

"That's why I didn't kill her."

Tempest's jaw clenched, anger simmering beneath the surface. He could feel the heat of his own fury mixing with the raw power of his Pyro Delusion, which flared more intensely by the second. The flames flickered wildly, casting harsh, dancing shadows on the walls of the room, but Arlecchino didn't flinch. She remained seated, completely composed, as if the firestorm around her was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

"You have exactly one minute to say whatever it is you want to talk about." 

Tempest growled, his voice barely holding back the rage that burned within. 

"Consider it a thank-you for tipping me off about what my Father was planning."

With that, he narrowed his eyes, glaring at Arlecchino as he walked closer to the table. His Pyro Delusion was glowing so fiercely that the very air around him seemed to sizzle. As he approached the empty chair across from her, the room itself began to burn, wood cracking, embers swirling in the heat, but Tempest didn't care. He dropped into the seat opposite Arlecchino, the fire licking at the edges of his uniform, his gaze never leaving hers.

Yet, despite the growing inferno, Arlecchino remained utterly unfazed, her cold, calculating gaze fixed on him as if the flames were no more than a passing breeze. Time seemed to slow as they faced each other across the burning table, the tension thick enough to choke on.

"Talk, before my patience runs out," 

Tempest demanded, his voice low and threatening. The one minute he had granted her was quickly ticking away.

Arlecchino's gaze remained steady, unblinking. 

"I am not your enemy, Tempest." 

She said calmly, as though oblivious to the searing heat radiating from his Pyro Delusion. 

"The Fatui are your true enemies."

Tempest let out a dry, humorless chuckle at her words. 

"Funny, aren't you one of them?"

"For now." 

Arlecchino replied smoothly, her voice laced with a quiet intensity. 

"But unlike the rest, I never knelt to the Tsaritsa. I bowed my head, yes, but only because it was necessary. I am loyal to no one but myself and the children of the House of the Hearth. And I would betray her, the moment it suits me."

Her words hung in the air, and Tempest's eyes narrowed. She continued, her voice calm but filled with an underlying ambition. 

"I must admit, your actions toward your Father, your rebellion, your refusal to play the part that was written for you, they inspired me. You see, I had my own chains to break. Whether it's Mother or the rules of Snezhnaya, I am not bound by them. In fact, I intend to turn my back on them soon enough. I've learned from your defiance."

Tempest's eyes burned with suspicion, though he let her speak.

"When I was brought to Snezhnaya." 

Arlecchino went on, her eyes darkening as she recalled the memory. 

"I was confronted by Pierro. He told me that I'm a descendant of an ancient noble family, a family that once ruled over the fallen kingdom of Khaenri'ah." 

Her words were spoken softly, but they carried a weight of history.

With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a flame in her palm, though it wasn't the ordinary red or orange of fire. It burned deep crimson, the color of blood, ominous and unnatural.

"They call it the Balemoon Bloodfire." 

She said the glow of the eerie flame reflected in her eyes. 

"A quaint title, wouldn't you agree?"

Tempest stared at the strange fire, a mixture of curiosity and disgust roiling inside him. 

"So what? Do you want me to believe that we're the same? That you're just another puppet breaking her strings?" 

He leaned forward, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. 

"You're still a Fatuus. Why are you telling me this, anyway?"

 He asked, his voice still sharp.

"Because, Tempest, our goals may be more aligned than you think." 

Arlecchino replied, her tone measured and deliberate. 

"The Fatui may be enemies to you, but they are also pawns to me. And perhaps, just perhaps, we could help each other rid ourselves of them. I have no loyalty to the Tsaritsa, and your fight is not with me. It never has been."

Tempest stared at her, weighing her words carefully as the seconds passed, the flames of his Delusion and hers casting the only light in the room.

"Do you not wish to stop the impending prophecy?" 

Arlecchino's voice cut through the tense air, her gaze unwavering.

"The prophecy foretells that the waters of Fontaine will rise, cleansing every Fontaintian of their so-called 'original sin.' Don't you wish to prevent that?" 

Her tone remained calm, yet the weight of her words hung heavily in the air.

Tempest regarded her carefully, his expression unreadable amidst the flickering glow of their intertwined flames. 

"I've only recently learned that I wasn't born in Fontaine originally." 

She admitted. 

"But regardless of my origins, I will do whatever it takes to stop such a cataclysm. The question is, will you?"

"I intend to stop the prophecy, one way or another." 

Tempest declared, his voice firm and unwavering. 

"But make no mistake, Peruere, I am not your little buddy, understood? I don't need your help." 

He leaned closer, his gaze piercing through the tension that hung between them. 

"A minute has passed. Stand up. You know what happens next..."

Arlecchino regarded him with an amused yet measured expression. 

"Ah, Tempest Proudmoore, always the serious one. But you must understand, I'm not here to be your enemy today. Your determination is admirable, but your approach may not yield the results you desire. The world we inhabit is filled with deception and manipulation. I may not be your ally in the traditional sense, but perhaps there's merit in having a strategic mind by your side." 

As she spoke, a tense silence enveloped the room, thick with anticipation.

"In another universe, I might have considered trusting you, but you've made one critical mistake. You stepped into my territory and severely wounded my soldiers. Do you honestly expect me to thank you for not killing her?"

Tempest's eyes narrowed as he watched her, the tension palpable. 

Arlecchino's lips curled into a faint smile, but there was no joy in it.

"Tempest, I didn't invite you here to beg for your gratitude." 

She said, her voice calm but resolute. 

"I came to warn you. The Fatui may be after something larger than either of us can imagine, but this isn't just about you or me. We're all pieces in a game far greater than what you see on the surface."

She stood up slowly, her posture commanding, though she made no move to draw a weapon. The room seemed to grow colder, even amidst the flames. 

"You don't have to trust me, nor am I asking for your loyalty. I hurt your soldier, yes, but I didn't kill her, because I knew it wasn't necessary. Do you honestly think I couldn't have done worse? You know as well as I do that sparing her was a deliberate choice."

Her words, though calm, carried a weight behind them, an understanding that went beyond simple explanations. 

"I acted out of necessity, Tempest. I have no interest in spilling unnecessary blood. But the prophecy, it's not something you can solve alone, no matter how strong you believe yourself to be."

Tempest's grip tightened on his sword, the flames crackling louder as his temper flared. 

"And what, you think this makes us equals? That sparing Tirpitz earns you a chance at redemption?"

Arlecchino shook her head. 

"No. I don't seek redemption, nor do I care for your approval. I've lived long enough to know that in this world, power and survival are what matter. I didn't spare her for your sake. I spared her because there's something bigger coming. Something that needs us both alive."

Tempest stepped closer, his blade raised slightly, flames licking at the air. 

"And what is that, exactly? More cryptic prophecies?"

"The prophecy is more than just the waters rising." 

Arlecchino said, her voice softening, though her gaze never wavered. 

"It's about the survival of this entire region, of Teyvat itself. We may be enemies today, but the forces at play... they don't care about our squabbles."

There was a pause, heavy with the tension of unspoken truths. Tempest glared at her, his patience thinning.

"You want to fight me? Fine." 

Arlecchino said, her voice turning sharp. 

"But know this, Tempest, if you strike me down, you'll lose your only chance to truly understand what's coming. You're strong, but you're still in the dark. And trust me, what's coming is far worse than what your Father could ever plot."

Tempest, jaw clenched, considered her words for a moment longer, but his fury was not so easily quelled. 

"You had your minute, Peruere. Now, draw your weapon and face me." 

His sword blazed brighter, casting shadows across the room. 

Arlecchino's smile faded, and for the first time, she sighed. 

"So be it." 

She straightened, the fire in her eyes matching his. 

"But remember, Tempest, when the tides rise, and the prophecy unfolds, you'll know that I tried to warn you."

Arlecchino's gaze hardened, her calm demeanor giving way to a more deadly aura. She manifested a large crimson scythe, its blade gleaming ominously as it appeared in her hand. 

Tempest snarled under his breath, manifesting a trident made of shimmering Hydro energy in his left hand, while his right continued to wield his sword, ablaze with Pyro flames. The contrast of water and fire in his hands created a volatile tension in the air, steam hissing from the trident's tip.

"I don't need your help on anything, and I'll make sure you regret stepping foot into Fontaine, you should've stayed in Snezhnaya, Peruere." 

Tempest hissed, his eyes locking with Arlecchino's.

They began circling one another in the burning room, neither willing to make the first move but both prepared for the inevitable clash. The atmosphere grew more charged with each passing second, the tension building like a storm about to break.

"I gave you a chance." 

Arlecchino said quietly, her voice carrying a dangerous edge. 

"But I see you've chosen your path."

"Chosen?" 

Tempest scoffed. 

"The only choice here is yours, stand and fight, or fall where you stand."

For a brief moment, the two figures moved in perfect synchronicity, flames licking the walls around them as they circled each other like predators waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Tempest lunged forward, striking first with a powerful thrust of his Hydro trident, the weapon shimmering with the elemental energy that dripped like water. Arlecchino sidestepped with a dancer's grace, her crimson scythe twirling in her hands as she countered with a horizontal sweep aimed at Tempest's midsection. He blocked with his flaming sword, sparks flying as the clash of elements lit the already burning room with even more intensity.

They circled each other, every movement precise, every strike calculated. Tempest followed up with a sweeping slash of his sword, flames roaring to life as they sliced through the air. Arlecchino spun away, the blade missing her by inches, but she didn't lose her composure. Her movements were fluid, almost elegant, but Tempest could see the focus in her eyes, the cold precision of someone who had survived countless duels.

"You fight well, for someone with so much to lose." 

Arlecchino remarked, her voice calm but laced with a hint of amusement. She parried a quick jab from the trident, her scythe ringing against its shaft, as she used the momentum to spin around for another strike.

Tempest deflected her scythe with ease. 

"I've fought for more than just my life before. I'm not afraid of you, Peruere."

"Afraid?" 

Arlecchino replied with a small smirk, leaping back as Tempest came at her with a flurry of attacks, his sword and trident moving in tandem like a well-rehearsed dance. 

"Fear has nothing to do with it. But you have passion, I'll give you that. Perhaps too much."

For a while, they seemed evenly matched. Tempest's relentless offense was met with Arlecchino's agile defense, her scythe parrying or dodging each of his strikes. Their weapons crackled with elemental power, the heat of his Pyro blade clashing against the blood-red of her scythe, while the fluidity of his Hydro trident kept her on the defensive. Their movements were a blur, and the room echoed with the sound of their clash.

But as the fight progressed, Tempest began to push harder. His blows became heavier and more forceful, his Hydro trident flowing like water but striking like a tidal wave. He shifted his stance, blending the fluidity of his Hydro techniques with the raw intensity of Pyro. Arlecchino's evasions were becoming more desperate. Her calm demeanor faltered slightly, the subtle shift in her eyes betraying the mounting pressure.

Tempest could see it now, her precision was slipping. Where her scythe once moved with ease, it now had to react faster, blocking and dodging in ways that left her open to more attacks. He pressed his advantage, striking with greater fury, forcing Arlecchino back toward the burning walls of the room. Sweat began to bead on her brow, her movements less graceful, more hurried. Her smirk had vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating stare as she realized the tides were turning.

"You're slipping, Peruere." 

Tempest growled, his voice low and dangerous, as he swung his trident down, aiming for her legs. She barely avoided the strike, stumbling back a few steps. 

"Not as confident now, are you?"

Arlecchino's scythe glowed brighter, and she swung it in a desperate arc, but Tempest was quicker. He dodged the attack, his flaming sword coming down hard against her weapon, sending her skidding back.

"You talk too much." 

Arlecchino snapped, her voice sharper now, her earlier composure cracking under the weight of Tempest's relentless assault. Her hands tightened on her scythe as she struggled to keep up, her breath coming in short gasps.

But Tempest wasn't done. He pressed forward with renewed fury, striking faster, harder. His Pyro sword slashed through the air, nearly grazing her arm as she barely managed to block it with her scythe. His trident followed suit, a swift and fluid attack that she couldn't fully dodge. The tip of the trident caught her side, tearing through her coat, and leaving a trail of steam as the water sizzled against her skin.

Arlecchino winced but held her ground. 

"You think winning one fight will change anything? You don't know what's coming."

"Neither do you." 

Tempest's voice was cold, unwavering. He spun around, his flaming sword swinging in a wide arc. Arlecchino raised her scythe to block, but the force of his strike sent her weapon flying from her hands.

She stumbled back, weaponless, her eyes wide with shock as she struggled to maintain her balance. Tempest stood before her, both of his weapons glowing with elemental energy, his gaze filled with fire and determination.

"It's over." 

Tempest said, his voice as fiery as the sword he wielded.

Arlecchino straightened herself, her breaths labored but her eyes still defiant. 

"Maybe... But we both know, Proudmoore, this battle isn't the end. Not for me. Not for the Fatui."

Tempest tightened his grip on his sword, the flames roaring to life. 

"You're right. But it's the end for you."

With a final surge of power, Tempest charged forward, his weapons blazing as he prepared to deliver the finishing blow.

Then Arlecchino's eyes glowed with an ominous red light, and without warning, a single wing of fire sprouted from her back, casting waves of searing heat across the room. Tempest didn't flinch as the heat licked at his skin; his Pyro Delusion absorbed much of the flames, but the intensity was palpable. He narrowed his eyes, his focus never wavering.

"I'm not going down that easily." 

Arlecchino snarled, summoning a second scythe into her hand. The flames surrounding her blazed hotter as she advanced, her attacks now more fluid and relentless. Each strike was like a deadly dance, a combination of precision and power that forced Tempest onto the defensive. Her fiery wing cast long shadows, filling the air with embers, as she pressed forward.

Tempest parried, blocking the scythe with his sword, but her speed and power were increasing with each move. She spun, her scythe arcing towards his head, and he barely managed to duck in time. For the first time in their fight, Tempest realized she was no longer just matching him, she was pushing him back.

But Tempest was far from finished.

In a sudden motion, he discarded his Hydro trident, letting it dissolve into the ground. With both hands now gripping the hilt of his sword, the flames shifted from their usual fiery red to a brilliant, golden hue. His eyes flared with the same golden light as his sword ignited with Ra's power.

Arlecchino's eyes narrowed. 

"Using his power now, huh?" 

She muttered, momentarily taken aback by the transformation.

With a single, mighty swing, Tempest cleaved through the air, the golden flames blazing a trail as they collided with Arlecchino's scythe. The sheer force of his attack sent her skidding backward, her feet barely gripping the floor as she struggled to maintain her footing.

"Round two." 

Tempest growled, his voice low and fierce.

Arlecchino, now visibly straining, rushed at him again, her fiery wing unfurling to full size as she unleashed a torrent of flame. But Tempest was ready. He met her head-on, their blades crashing together with such force that the very ground beneath them trembled.

Then, with a swift, fluid motion, Tempest ducked beneath one of her strikes and delivered a powerful upward slash, severing her fiery wing in one clean stroke. Arlecchino gasped, her body jolting from the pain as she staggered backward, clutching at where the wing had once been. Before she could recover, Tempest was already upon her.

He grabbed her by the neck with an iron grip, lifting her off her feet. Her eyes widened in shock as he smashed her to the ground with such force that the floor beneath them shattered. The impact sent them both crashing through the floor and into a hidden underground chamber below.

Dust and debris filled the air as they tumbled into what looked like an old shelter. Tempest's grip on Arlecchino's throat remained firm as they landed with a thud. She coughed, dazed from the sudden fall, as she struggled to breathe. Tempest's golden eyes burned with fury as he looked down at her, his sword still glowing with radiant flames.

The sound of soft whimpers caught his attention, and as the dust began to settle, he saw them, the children of the House of the Hearth, huddled together in fear, hiding in the shadows of the underground shelter.

Arlecchino's eyes flickered with a strange mix of desperation and defiance as she glanced towards the children. For the first time, there was a crack in her stoic facade, a vulnerability that Tempest hadn't seen before. But his grip did not loosen.

"You... you wouldn't harm them, would you?" 

Arlecchino coughed weakly, her voice barely a whisper.

"Father!" 

A young voice cried out, and a boy ran toward Arlecchino, his small face twisted in fear and desperation. Arlecchino, still gasping for breath under Tempest's grip, struggled to speak.

"Stay back! This is between me and him."

She rasped, her voice harsh but protective.

Tempest's eyes flicked from Arlecchino to the child, his face a mask of determination but tinged with something darker. His grip tightened for a moment as if weighing his next move. The children behind the boy stared wide-eyed at the scene, too terrified to make a sound.

Arlecchino's eyes, however, didn't waver. Despite the pain, despite her struggle, she glared up at Tempest with fierce defiance. 

"You have no idea... what you're doing." 

She growled, her voice strained but resolute. 

"These children... they have nothing to do with this. Let them go."

Tempest remained silent for a moment, his golden eyes still blazing with power. He glanced at the children, then back at Arlecchino. The fire in his sword flickered, but his grip on her neck didn't loosen.

"Oh, they're not going anywhere."

Tempest said, with a snap of his other hand, the exit of the shelter was ablaze with golden flames, the panicking screams of the children didn't bother Tempest one bit.

"They will watch, every single one of them."