The heat surged the moment the words left his mouth. The corridor turned into a furnace almost instantly. The stone beneath their boots darkened as the temperature climbed, thin cracks spreading along the floor where the foundation had already begun to weaken.

  “Move,” Seris said quickly.

  Taren lifted the last villager whose legs refused to hold him. The man barely reacted, his head hanging forward as Taren forced him toward the stairwell. Shizume guided another woman up the steps, one hand steadying her as they climbed.

  “Keep going,” Taren muttered.

  Breathing already burned. One by one the villagers disappeared up the narrow stairwell until the corridor finally emptied. Seris stepped backward toward the stairs, sweat running down the side of her face. Taren followed, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. Even standing this far away, the heat clawed into their lungs. Shizume leaned against the wall near the stairwell entrance, forcing her breathing to slow. The man at the far end of the corridor didn’t rush them. He walked forward slowly. Each step scorched the stone beneath his boots.

  Raizō didn’t move. Sovereign End settled across the corridor. The weight pushed outward, pressing against the rising heat. Sweat ran down his temple. The metal on his gloves had begun to heat against his skin. The man stopped several paces away. His eyes remained on Raizō. Raizō stepped forward first. The heat worsened immediately. Every step closer made the air thicker, hotter. His lungs burned with every breath. The sword lifted, then came down fast. Raizō stepped inside the swing before the edge could reach him. His glove slammed against the flat of the blade and forced it just far enough away from his body. Heat burned through the metal. Pain shot through his arm but he ignored it. His other fist drove forward toward the man’s side. The man turned his shoulder and blocked the strike with his forearm. The impact still forced him half a step sideways. Raizō followed with a low kick. The man lifted his leg and avoided it, already shifting his stance. The sword came back around in a short motion toward Raizō’s shoulder. Raizō slipped under it. The blade struck the stone floor. The rock softened instantly where it touched. Raizō drove forward again. His fist landed solidly against the man’s torso and forced him back a step.

  From the stairwell, Seris watched closely. Something was different. Raizō wasn’t moving the way he usually did. He wasn’t rushing his strikes anymore the way he had earlier in the church. The movements were smoother now, shorter, more controlled. Each motion flowed into the next without pause. Taren noticed it too.

  “He’s changed again,” he muttered.

  Shizume’s eyes narrowed. Raizō’s movements looked calmer, but the pressure behind them hadn’t lessened. If anything, it felt sharper. The man across from him steadied himself. Heat rolled outward from the sword and filled the corridor like a blast from an open furnace. The stone beneath their feet cracked slightly from the pressure. Raizō slid backward several steps as the air became nearly impossible to breathe. The exposed skin along his neck burned. The man raised the blade again.

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  “…Annoying,” he said calmly. “That pressure of yours makes things... inconvenient.”

  Raizō stepped forward once more. The closer he came, the worse the heat became. The air around the sword felt like standing beside molten metal. Still, he advanced. The sword moved again. Raizō slipped inside the strike. His glove knocked the blade aside. The heat caught him fully this time. The metal of the glove burned into his palm. Raizō felt the skin blister beneath it. He forced the movement through the pain and drove his fist forward again. The strike landed against the man’s side. The impact pushed him back another step. The man steadied himself again. Raizō watched him carefully now.

  “I don’t know what you’re doing,” Raizō said through the burning air. “But it’s not consistent.”

  The corridor fell quiet for a moment. The man’s eyes narrowed. From the stairwell, Seris looked toward Taren. They had both noticed it. The heat around the man rose and fell in short bursts. Every time he moved, every time the sword swung, the pressure around him changed for a brief moment before rising again. Taren nodded slowly.

  “I thought I was imagining it.”

  Across the corridor, the man studied Raizō for a few seconds longer.

  “…Bold words,” he said. “From someone burning alive.”

  Raizō exhaled slowly, chest aching. “Doesn’t change what’s happening.”

  The man stared at him for a long moment, then he spoke.

  “Cael.”

  The name carried weight of its own.

  “Remember it,” the man continued. “You are facing Cael, Legate Executive of Aseran’s church.”

  Raizō didn’t answer. He raised his hands again, Sovereign End pressing down harder now, adapting to the rhythm of surge and collapse, pain and pressure. For the first time, Cael’s expression shifted. He was feeling irritated. The heat around him surged unevenly, flaring a fraction too hard before settling again. Cael stepped forward.

  “This ends,” he said.

  Raizō planted his feet, burned, shaking, but still standing.

  “Then do it,” he replied.

  And stepped into the fire once more. Taren clenched his fists, muscles shifting under his skin. The urge to charge screamed at him, but his feet stayed planted. His breath came shallow, smoke curling faintly from his sleeves. Seris’s grip tightened until her knuckles whitened. She took a half step forward, then stopped. Her body remembered the pain. Her lungs remembered what happened last time. Shizume watched Cael without blinking. She stayed still, waiting for something that never came.

  “This is suicide,” Seris muttered.

  Cael took one slow step forward. The heat surged back, harsher than before. Raizō staggered but stayed upright.

  “I could use some help,” he said quietly.

  The words landed harder than any attack. The longer they waited, the worse this would be for Raizō.

  Taren sucked in a breath, jaw tight. “Damnit! If we go in…”

  “We’re going to get burned,” Seris finished.

  Shizume’s fingers flexed. “Badly.”

  Cael raised his blade. The chamber brightened. There wouldn’t be another chance.

  Taren growled low in his throat. “I’m not watching him die.”

  And that was when they all decided to move.