The battle between Aro and Zahara raged on, the sky above Erantel a chaotic storm of darkness, lightning, and shattered magic.
Aro, still in control of Lucas's body, was a whirlwind of speed and precision, his black wings carrying him through the air as he dodged Zahara's relentless attacks.
Despite his Rule Breaker abilities, he was clearly outmatched in raw power.
Zahara's movements were calculated, her strikes precise, and her control over darkness and telekinesis was overwhelming.
But Aro wasn't fighting to win—he was fighting to survive, and to buy time.
As Zahara launched another wave of dark spikes at him, Aro smirked and muttered, "Rule Break: Your attacks do not travel."
The moment the words left his lips, the dark spikes froze in mid-air, their momentum halted as if they had hit an invisible wall.
Aro didn't waste the opportunity. With a flick of his wrist, his rapier-like longsword flashed, and the spikes shattered into nothingness.
He darted forward, closing the distance between them in an instant, his blade aimed at Zahara's heart.
But she was faster. She disappeared in a blur of darkness, reappearing behind him and slamming her staff into his back with enough force to send him crashing into the ground.
Aro groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, his wings flaring as he rose back into the air.
"You're really starting to annoy me," he said, his voice dripping with mock irritation.
Zahara didn't respond. Her expression was cold, her eyes empty as she raised her staff, summoning a massive wave of darkness to engulf him.
Aro's smirk returned as he muttered, "Rule Break: Within 5 meters of me, only I can use magic."
The moment the rule took effect, the wave of darkness dissipated, and Zahara's staff dimmed, its glow fading.
The ancient black runes on Aro's body flickered, their light growing faint as more than 75% of their power was drained.
This was a gamble—a huge one—but it was necessary. The rule was powerful, but it came at a cost.
Zahara's eyes narrowed as she realized what had happened. She tried to summon her magic, but nothing happened.
Within the 5-meter radius around Aro, she was powerless. Aro didn't waste the opportunity. He lunged forward, his blade flashing as he aimed for her heart.
Zahara moved to dodge, but without her magic, she was slower.
Aro's blade pierced her chest, the tip of the rapier-like longsword emerging from her back.
Her eyes widened, and for the first time, there was a flicker of emotion in them—surprise, pain, and something else. Something human.
Aro's smirk faded as he released control of Lucas's body, the black wings and runes disappearing as Lucas regained control.
Lucas stumbled back, his eyes wide as he looked at Zahara.
She coughed, blood spilling from her lips as she fell to her knees. Her eyes, once cold and empty, now glimmered with life—and regret.
"Zahara…" Lucas whispered, his voice trembling. He dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands shaking as he reached out to her. "I… I didn't want this."
Zahara choked on her own blood, her hand trembling as she reached up to touch the wound in her chest.
Her eyes darted around, taking in the destruction she had caused. The ruined city, the bodies, the flames—it was all her doing.
She remembered everything. She had been aware the entire time, but it was as if she had been a puppet, her body controlled by some unseen force.
She had been powerless to stop herself.
"Alex…" she whispered, her voice weak but filled with emotion. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't want this… any of this."
Tears streamed down Lucas's face as he shook his head. "It's not your fault. It's not your fault."
Zahara's hand reached up, trembling as she cupped his cheek. Her touch was cold, but there was a gentleness to it that Lucas hadn't felt in a long time.
"You… you've grown so much," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm proud of you."
Lucas's sobs grew louder, his body shaking as he gripped her hand. "Don't go. Please. I can't..."
Zahara smiled faintly, her eyes softening. "You're stronger than you think, Alex. You always have been."
She coughed again, more blood spilling from her lips. "Promise me… promise me you'll keep going. No matter what."
Lucas nodded, his tears falling onto her hand. "I promise. I promise."
Zahara's smile faded as her hand slipped from his cheek, falling limply to her side. Her eyes closed, and her body went still.
Lucas stared at her, his sobs echoing through the ruined city. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly saddened at someone's death.
The destruction around him was a grim reminder of the world he lived in—a world where the strong ruled and the weak were crushed.
But as he knelt there, holding Zahara's lifeless body, he made a silent vow. He would keep going.
He would get stronger. And he would find a way to protect the people he cared about. If any.
No matter what.