"[Soul Pool: 25%]"
Ash stopped, hands on his knees, breath ragged. His clothes were torn, edges singed, coated in ash. The streets behind him were littered with broken beams and bodies. Smoke curled around twisted steel. Fire crackled in the distance.
He'd pulled out as many as he could—children from collapsed rooftops, old guards trapped under rubble. He'd dodged falling stone and rivers of molten heat. Still, screams followed him. Some he couldn't save.
That guilt didn't reach him now.
'I'm not a hero.'
His eyes flicked to the numbers burning at the edge of his sight.
'I've got a quarter left. That's for Max and Keal. If everything burns, we leave.'
Ash stood straighter, wiping grime from his face with the back of his hand. His eyes locked on the monster standing at the heart of the chaos. The creature had stopped moving. Its molten form radiated heat, lighting the ruin of Ironhold with a deep red glow.
It wasn't attacking. Not yet.
Ash turned to Max.
