Malachites power radiates like a furnace around his body.Malachite kicks Hael, the force of that kick had shattered stone, sent him flying through buildings like a ragdoll. Even without the Faith Helix's might, Hael knew his own strength—knew the weight of his strikes. And yet Malachite had shrugged it off as if it were nothing.
"You thought yourself a tide against us?" Malachite sneered, yanking Hael close by the collar of his armor. "I will show you the delusion in that belief."
Another kick. Hael's body carved a path of destruction through the village homes before crashing to a stop in a heap of splintered wood and dust.
Mary screamed his name, but before she could move, Malachite's hands clamped onto her shoulders.
"If you wanted to go to him that badly," he purred, "you should have just said so."
A brutal kick to her back sent her hurtling toward Hael.
Miraculously, he caught her—but the impact sent a fresh wave of agony through his battered body. Something warm and wet splashed against Mary's face. She looked up.
"Blood."
Crimson streaked from Hael's brow, dripping steadily onto her cheeks.
The legends spoke of the Archmen as unbreakable. Unyielding. They do not bleed. They do not falter.
And yet here he was.
Hael set her down gently, his movements stiff with pain. He reached for his axe, fingers trembling—but his grip firmed as he stood.
Mary grabbed his arm. "We need to "run". He's too strong—"
Hael didn't even glance at her. His gaze remained locked on Malachite, his resolve unshaken even as his body betrayed him.
Malachite's laughter boomed across the ruined village. "Stupid girl. He won't stop."He limped forward in grotesque mimicry of Hael's injuries. "He is the Archon Primus—God's own hand. And we've studied you all for so very long."His grin twisted into something darker. "You're guilty of the same sin as we are. What drives him now, do you think? Faith… or pride?"
Hael ignored the taunt. Step by labored step, he closed the distance, axe raised.
Malachite's eyes gleamed. "Good. Good.It would be a shame if you broke easy."
He lunged.
Steel met steel in a shower of sparks. Every clash sent tremors through Hael's arms, his muscles screaming under the weight of Malachite's blows. He was being pushed back—overpowered.
Then—
A brutal swing wrenched the axe from Hael's grip.
Malachite's forehead smashed into his face.
Bone crunched. Blood poured. Hael collapsed to his knees, vision swimming.
Malachite loomed over him, spear raised for the killing strike. "You thought yourself stronger. Thought yourself victorious. You are nothing more than prey."
"Hael!" Mary's chain lashed out, wrapping around Malachite's spear and throat. She pulled with all her strength—
"Insect."
Malachite released his weapon, seized the chain, and *hurled* her into the nearest building. Wood shattered. Dust billowed.
But the distraction was enough.
Hael tackled Malachite with the last of his strength, driving him back into a crumbling wall. The warlord's face twisted in disgust. "Pathetic. Your persistence is futile."
Hael's arms shook, his blood-slick fingers slipping against Malachite's armor. But his voice was iron.
"Let me show you the error of that belief."
Then—
"MARY!"
She burst from the wreckage,running towards them,picking Malachite's spear in hand. Without hesitation,
she hurled it.
Hael twisted at the last second—his back pressed to Malachite's chest—and caught the spear midair.
Then plunged it through his own shoulder—and into Malachite's heart.
The force drove them both back, pinning Malachite to the wall like a grotesque trophy.
Mary rushed to Hael's side, her hands fluttering over the jagged spear jutting from his side. Blood seeped through his fingers as he clutched the wound, his breaths ragged.
"Are you all right?" she demanded, her voice thin with panic.
Hael didn't answer at first. His gaze was locked on Malachite's fallen form, the warlord's chest stilled, his eyes wide and unseeing. A kill earned at terrible cost.
Mary grabbed the spear's shaft. "Why would you do this? You could have died—"
Hael snarled as the movement sent fresh agony through him. "It was the only way," he ground out. "Couldn't match his strength. His speed."His hands joined hers, fingers slick with blood. "Had to risk it."
With a brutal yank, he tore the spear free.
Mary turned her face away, stomach churning at the wet, tearing sound. Hael crumpled to his knees with a guttural groan, the weapon clattering to the dirt beside him. For a heartbeat, she was certain he would collapse entirely—but then his arm hooked around her shoulders, hauling himself up with a warrior's stubbornness.
"Still," Mary whispered, half-supporting his weight as they staggered forward, "that was going too far."
She didn't know what unnerved her more—the fact he'd impale himself, or how calmly he'd accepted the price.
Hael's voice was a pained huff. "It worked. That's all that matters."
Then— a loud sigh slithered through the night, dripping with malice.
Mary froze. Hael's grip on her tightened.
Slowly, they came to a stand still.
A cold sensation ran down their spine, as they heard a voice,one they thought they would never hear again.
"Round three."