Chapter 150
The battlefield lay in broken silence, scorched stone and fractured earth spreading for miles in every direction. The last echoes of Mydei’s power had finally dissipated, leaving behind an eerie calm. Smoke curled into the air from fissures in the ground. The wind whispered like a sigh from the heavens.
Firefly stood still, her hand outstretched. The glow from her wings had dimmed, and blood trickled from a shallow wound on her temple. Her fingers trembled slightly, not from fear—but from the weight of everything that had led to this moment. She looked at Mydei, her eyes soft, yet unrelenting. "You don’t have to keep fighting. Just take my hand. It’s over."
Mydei’s expression was unreadable. His form shimmered with residual power, the chaotic energy that had driven him threatening to rise again. For a long moment, he simply stared at her hand—tempted, perhaps, by the peace it offered. Then his hand twitched, and the spear he had once cast aside began to reassemble itself from fragments scattered around the battlefield, pieces drawn together like iron filings to a magnet.
His fingers wrapped tightly around the spear shaft.
He moved.
A heartbeat passed.
But the blow never came.
Yuri stepped between them like a ghost from the wind. His hand snapped out, seizing the spear before it could strike. At the same moment, his other hand drew a blade of silvery temporal energy from nothingness and thrust it into Mydei’s chest. The blade slid through with a soundless precision, clean and lethal.
Mydei gasped, stumbling back as the spear clattered to the ground. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to a sitting position, clutching the wound with trembling fingers. Black mist rose from the entry point, but his body was no longer mutating, no longer shifting between forms. The chaos was draining away.