Arc 2, Chapter 67: Amidst the Blizzard, Against the Flame

Jotou took steps forward, slow and precise—trying to ease the stinging sensations all over her body. The freezing cold and the heating fires around, was just right.

This would be it. After this—she did not really want to think about right now; each step over the blazing embers she took, before she met the wall of flame dancing up to her knees.

"Step back!" Moren stood on the other edge, bringing his blade out—black hair trailing over his eyes. A glowing icy blue orb went through the clouds above.

Jotou watched the fire crackle. 'Might as well try it.' Standing in a house on fire was not the best place to experiment after all. Her boot sparked- "PFFFBOOM!"

The flames she stomped roiled up. Jotou shielded her eyes before the fire went back to the size it was. Cinders flew past her eyes and soot sat on her nose; she looked over to Moren who stood—who just stood.

"You know," Jotou spoke, "I've fought plenty of enemies in games. But the ones I especially hate; tough, arrogant and I know they're powerful, but when it's time to fight I have to chase it because it runs away.

So, let's cut the chitchat and put down the fire. Where're you gonna go? Off the roof? Be my guest, please. Or if you want to surrender, I'll take that too."

Jotou brought up her fingers, glaring at him, "You have four possible outcomes here—nothing else. You jump off, you fight me and lose, you surrender or you beat me.

In the last case, even if you do, you'll have to go through Hotaru, Fumeko, Asobi, Zach and Okod. If you're still standing there that's your best bet; and I'm injured. So, what'll it be?"

'Battle of the mind comes before a battle of attrition.' Moren stood—breathing, glancing down the ledge and back to Jotou. The icy blue through the clouds long gone…

"There's a fifth," Moren uttered, "I give all the information any of you want and you let me escape."

"Sounds like the surrendering option with extra steps. Why can't I just hear all you have to say during an interrogation?" she cocked a brow to the fire. 'I know my gear is somewhat fireproof… Do I take the leap?'

"Cause I won't say a damn word. Pluck out my nails, pull out my teeth I still won't."

Closing her eyes, she put one foot behind and hopped! Over the fire, she felt the heat against her hands as she made it past, rattling the tiles as she landed. She sparked her sword, sauntering forward.

"You can't beat me easily, the only thing you have on me is that spell," Moren held up his sword.

"Yup. By the way, Master's real proud of you," her glare did not change hue.

His blade went down, "I don't care what he thinks." Jotou kept walking before Moren put a hand up, "Wait, Tenner—Jack Tenner."

Jotou halted… "What about him?"

"He's a part of all of this too. Puppeteering the strings with the mayor, the politics. He's the one who kept all the information circulating."

Jotou stared. 'Jack… Seriously? We all assumed he was at Kria Estate, protecting it… Jack? Behind everything? Why isn't that hard to believe?' The blonde sighed, "All you've given me is another thing to do today."

"He's offshore, you're not getting to him."

"Then I'll have to get you to talk; I really don't care how," Jotou continued forward.

Moren stood straight, "You're really adamant about fighting me…" he brought his blade up; there was only going to be one way out.

"Logic's not working in your favour. You tried to kill me and my friends over and over. Not to mention, your hand in all of this is a heavy one."

"And yet there isn't a care on your face."

'Of course not, I'm trying to control what I show right now. You have any idea how much my body hurts right now?'

"Oh I'm pissed. My emotions are tired, but trust me when I say I want to see your body squirming like a worm when lightning tears through your veins like paper…"

'Where the hell did that come from!?' Internally shocked, Jotou watched as Moren took a heavy breath—her face still in a glare. He saw now why the blonde did what she did…

No way she could've predicted that the attackers would retreat after her speech; even if she did, the risk of doing so and the probability of her success, from what she knew?

It would have been in the attacker's favour by a large margin. Even Moren didn't know he would be double-crossed. But as she stood with her sparking blade, trying to get into his mind to piss him off.

He understood that it was not a 'risky manoeuvre', no—it was just to complicate their plans, to steal a few chess pieces so they couldn't play—it was just to be a thorn right under the heel of their feet.

Every fight to her was a personal one… Even if she does not win, she would make sure you will remember her—buzzing like an annoying fly in the corners of your mind.

'I might be wrong, but I think that intimidated him.' Unaware of the mental crisis Moren was calculating in his head, Jotou stamped one foot down, arm to her chest and other arm out with the blue hilted sword.

Moren raised his sword to eye level, other hand cladded in a leather bracer he raised near his jaw, elbow going down to his chest. "I will win this and be rid of you."

"And if you win, I hope my ghost can watch you live out your pathetic life in prison," even she could not help but give a little smirk as Moren furrowed his brows lower.

The snow and cinders spectated as the two clattered across the rooftop towards their foe. "CLANG!" Jotou brought her blade up to block his strike.

She bent her knees, spinning with one foot out to kick out his feet out from under- "Thud!" Her boot met with his as Moren stood steady.

Realizing she did not have enough weight to match, she rolled herself behind him and around his foot. "CLASH!" Narrowly avoiding the golden blade striking down into the tiles.

Wincing in pain she twisted herself up onto her feet and raised the sword to his spine—"TING!"—only to be blocked by his sword as Moren turned behind.

"ZAP!" Moren disengaged his sword from her immediately as zaps glistened her blade for a couple of seconds. That roll she made was enough to make her pant.

The amount of pain she was in; at least it didn't feel like broken bones yet. 'No messing around.' His strikes were most definitely not holding back as he slashed forward, flame tracing across his sword.

"Thundering Strike!" Moren's face was caught in a shock and flame roiled onto his blade quicker and quicker within the fraction of a second- "Spzz… BLAst!"

The fires danced and rose like a blooming flower, lightning sputtering and striking into Moren's blade; most of it flew off and shined the clouds a bright yellow.

Jotou stopped herself by the heels of her feet, while with shrunken eyes she watched the flame and smoke in front of her. She stretched her back quickly, "guh…"

Where was he between the dark clouds and bright flames? She squinted to the wall of fire as she realized, Moren had stabbed his sword—a line dragging through the shingles.

His armour was scuffed as he faced up; he wiped the blood from his nose. Not a scratch on the blade he pulled out. The burst against the flames had protected him from a near-fatal blow.

He had a plan to counter her it would seem; but how tough was his armour? Though through her eyes, judging by his expression and the way he got up… the impact certainly affected him.

Switched from their previous positions, they exchanged leers before rushing towards the other again. One step out of place on the flat surface and down the slope you go.

"Cling! Burst!" Sparks met flame and bashing swords together only recoiled them back. Moren's flame died out, igniting again and again whilst the sparks on Jotou's blade merely fizzled when the two met.

Embers blasted from sparks, blade in right hand; she scraped across Moren's blade going up and then dropped the blade to her left hand and—"TANG!"—slashed across, as a chip of grey metal fell from the blue hilted blade.

While it certainly held up much better than her other blades, the lightning did not withdraw its effects. Passing the sword over to her right- "Ting, clang, tink, tink, tink! CLING!"

With sweat waved off by the cold, she sprung forth in a flurry, however Moren had put his blade up vertically, defending himself from every attack—not a scratch even came close to his body.

She held the hilt with both hands and curved it to the side. "STRIKE!" It knocked his sword to the side, for a moment making him stagger and—"THUD!"—a sparked foot kicked against the side of his knee.

Moren bent as Jotou spun around, blade in her right hand now- "CLINK!" As her eyeline swished back around, Moren had caught her spinning strike by raising his blade higher to his head.

"AH!" Jotou grunted. Moren's knee that had fallen, came back to kick her in the gut.

"ZAP!" she caught the leg in place.

"Gah!" Moren sounded out, but his open hand grabbed Jotou by the neck. How much of her spell actually went through his armour was anyone's guess.

Jotou gritted her teeth as if breathing through hail and fire was not hard enough. His fingers pressured into her veins, she could feel each of them throb.

"STAB!" A thrust she felt onto her gut… but his sword did not pierce the enchantment of her clothing so easily, leaving a tear mark on the outer side of the fabric.

Her vision was getting white and she did not want to feel what a party balloon would feel. "ZHAP!" nearly croaking she casted, she held tightly onto Moren's wrist.

"GFFH!" Moren's fingers had to release for a second, enough for Jotou to step back and then leap further back.

"HHA!" she let her teeth free as she took a big gasp. The momentary adrenaline to escape turned her vision blurry—her head aching from eye to nape.

Moren lifted himself up and headed towards Jotou. Were there three of him? No, one—no wait, three. Through the lightheaded daze she hiccupped. 'Come on Jotou, focus!'

As Moren got closer, her body wavered and brought her sword to the side. "BASH!" Moren swung for her shoulder, Jotou's blade went to deflect, but it was a little too late.

Like a thin bat hitting against her skin, the armour protected her arm, but the impact trembled through her bones. How much longer could she fight, bloodied and bruised?

Perhaps a friend would miraculously come up that trapdoor; maybe Moren would make a mistake. Some other spell—she did not know many others…

All she could rely on was what she trained. "CRACK!" something definitely broke, yet again too late to defend. "GYAAH!!!" She screamed aloud as he struck right where Frost had kicked her before, to her torso's side.

'One… Last resort.' The blade in her hand sparked, rivalling the flames in glow alone. Brighter than ever before—surging down from her spine, down her arm, to the blade.

A flash, a yellow flash burnt so brightly, like a spinning merry-go-round with nothing but yellow lights, she twisted—lightning surrounded her waist.

The flames blasted up first over Moren's figure, trying to shield the incoming spell. "…" Nothing, but a yellow flash across the roof—brimming with plasma through the flames—that crackled; that only crackled, after-

"PPZZZZZZ BLASSTTTTTT!!!!!!! SIZZLEeee, sizzllleee…"

Like a ragdoll her body flew to the edge. but she caught herself before she fell down the slope—knees scraping on the flat surface. Some piece of a blue hilt flew across her face, alongside the shingles.

Behind her was something that could be described as a, "MEGA-BOMBASTIC-SUPER-TERRIFIC EXPLOSION!!!" as Asobi would put it if she were here.

Flame touched the clouds, bits of the roof flew onto buildings across the area. Windows—merely fragments of fragments of glass—a shrilling shred echoed all the way down the guild.

Some of the roof had caved in, into the floors below, but surrounded by flames. Where the two stood, any inferno was extinguished.

Hands and knees on the floor, she breathed—she breathed, one, two, three; one, two, three; three, two, one. 'Is this what Asobi feels after using up her mana…?'

Lethargic, she could fall asleep right here. The only injuries from the day, nothing seemed to be from the spell. Though, that internal bleeding she was all too familiar with.

Couldn't sleep yet, "Get to Hotaru, fast," her hair stopped fizzling with lightning. "So hungry…" She pushed herself up, "Nope!" she slumped over as she panted and she placed her hands on her knees.

The explosion behind her died down—chunks of roof rained and clanked against the shingles.

Behind the flames, there was still a figure… Armour pretty much melted into half of his skin, from his legs till his neck—tissue and flesh cauterized with the leather.

He held the right side of his face, while new scars webbed across the left side of it. The burning smell of hair roasted off of him—most of his locks gone.

Blood leaked down her eye, realizing a chunk of roof had slashed across the right of her forehead. Her bangs had traces of crimson and soot, some stuck together like glue.

One step after the other, Moren made his way across, still breathing. Though his injuries were nothing less of brutal, blood barely dripped from him.

Some sort of creature, melted together with his armour. His face red across—one eye closed. It was going to take a phenomenal healer to mend him back to himself, but first…

One step after the other, he gripped his sword while moving towards Jotou, still panting. She could hear the footsteps approaching, an eye to the side to notice Moren.

He stood over her, raising his sword up. What was she to do… No sword to defend, her body could barely get up, "GH!" even when she tried.

"I'll remember our fight," Moren uttered, "Say goodbye."

'I'm not ready to say goodbye… Meko… Aru… Sobi… I, I like this world… My friends, I miss them…' Her body forced her hand, straining every muscle in her body to move right now.

The sound, his footsteps, where the sword raised, where his voice was coming from. There was a stuffiness in the air from where he stood.

'I won't say goodbye… I'll live you bastard…' "Slash!" Moren's blade met nothing but wind as it came down—Jotou had managed to shift herself to the left.

"Hello," she twisted her knees and stood up, and forced her back straight; she rotated back around with a fist sparking with lightning. She did it. Her fist caught his face in one final swish of her body…

"Thundering STRIKE!" she yelled along… All this time protected by a flame, finally contacted by skin. "BLAST!" It was nothing compared to the thunder before.

Her mana had drained, this was everything she could muster. And it served more than enough as she saw his body fly with a blast of shock across the rooftop and down the slope. "Thump! Thud! Crash!"

His sword fell from his grasp and teetered on the edge of the roof. Three times in a day; that's a new record. A reserved appetizer, an all-you-can-eat buffet and leftovers for dessert.

With her tired smirk—blood dripping down her eyes—she stood up. If she moved too much, who knew what the broken bone might prick. 'What do I do now?'

'His blade's over there. Well, I'll get that first…' She hobbled over. The blade shone gold still, not a scratch it had. Picking up the hilt, it was as light as feather.

She moved it around and the weight seemed to shift in each direction. In the middle of the hilt was a circle—the Ordinate's symbol. It was enchanted Okod said.

"Cough." Jotou peered down the slope as she heard the sound, onto another flat part of the roof. Moren was on his knees, sputtering as his arm spazzed every so often.

'He's still alive. It's time to go, I've done what I needed to do.

I can't just leave him up here…

Where's he gonna go? I'm sure someone can heal him and we can throw him in prison.

What purpose does he serve right now? You remember what he said, he's not gonna say a word when he gets caught.

I still think I can just leave him here. Let's just get back somewhere safe. If he's still not dead-

He might come back. Think about it, all the evidence and confessions we need are downstairs. I'm sure Lexi would know a lot. He has no information we can't get.

In fact, we don't even know if the Regimes might come back for him. He can very well escape and come back. All this danger would just return. Logically, he has no use to live.

No information, just danger. He might just conjure up some fire and burn Kria if he wanted to since he would be caught.'

Caught in a debate in her own mind, she looked at the blade in her hand. Moren heard the tiles shifting as he saw a blonde descend with his sword. Moren faced up to her; he did not even speak. His face mangled and veined.

The way she held the blade, eyeing him down—Moren closed his eyes. 'He's a criminal of war. Death by the dozen and terrorizing innocents.'

"Slick!" The sword so beautifully precise, splattering every drop of blood from his neck to one side. Her glare ended, taking another breath that led into a sigh. The loose grip on the hilt—each finger held tighter…