CRACK!
CRACK!
CRAAAAK!!!

Ruslan fell to his knees, the ground rumbling beneath him. He clutched Yudhir tighter, shielding his body with his own.

“What do I do… what do I do!?”
“Big bro Avi’s trapped… the wall’s breaking… Big bro Yudhir—wake up—please…”

His voice cracked.

His hands trembled.

The flames reflected in his tear-filled eyes. Everything was falling apart.

Avi, still bound in Ostap’s rampage, tried freezing the vines—but his powers were being drained fast. Frost formed, then shattered just as quickly under the pressure.

“Ostap…! Snap out of it!” he gasped.

But Ostap was lost—his human voice screaming inside a wooden cage, his will splintering like the wall behind Ruslan.

The Volkazhar’s molten claws raised for one final strike—ready to destroy the ice shield, Ruslan, and Yudhir in a single blow.

“NO!” Ruslan cried.

But there was no one left to defend them.

Just before the final blow descended, the entire cavern felt like it inhaled—

A strange stillness in the midst of fire.

The water in the hot spring began to swirl.

The Volkazhar let out a howl so piercing, so violent, that the entire cavern shuddered with the echo.

The ice wall exploded—shattering into a hundred jagged shards, sent flying like glass blades. Steam roared in from all sides, and with a heaving breath of rage, the beast raised both claws to the sky. Flames spiraled around them, coiling like serpents, forming an immense fireball, larger than any before. Its heat distorted the air, turning it into a mirage of death.

Then—it launched.

The fireball carved through the cavern like a falling sun, aimed straight for Ruslan and the unconscious Yudhir.

There was no time to run. No shield left. No strength remaining.

Ruslan shut his eyes, clutching Yudhir’s scorched robes.

But—

BOOOOM!!!

A sudden crash of water slammed into the fireball mid-air with the force of a crashing meteor. Steam exploded in all directions, flooding the cavern in mist and vapor. The intense heat clashed with the freezing surge—hissing, screaming, evaporating on contact.

From within the mist… something moved.

A shadow.

A silhouette.

Then, a thunderous ripple in the water.

From the pool of hot springs, a cluster of water serpents rose—fluid, elegant, glowing with bioluminescent veins. They coiled, slithered, and danced through the air, converging toward a single point.

And in their shade, emerging from the steam like a mythical figure of legend—

Varun.

Alive.

Awake.

Transformed.

Water coiled protectively around him like living armor. His body was soaked, but his aura radiated calm intensity—a deep ocean-blue glow crackled softly around him. His eyes burned—not with rage, but with clarity. With conviction.

“So… you tossed me into that hot pool of water ?”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.

The Volkazhar turned, sensing the danger—but too late.

Varun flicked his hand—and the water serpents struck. They lunged forward, coiling around the beast’s limbs like chains of the sea. The creature roared, trying to shake them off, but the bindings held tight, infused with Varun’s will.

Then Varun moved.

With a graceful turn of his palm, high-pressured jets of water blasted from the remaining serpents—cutting through flame like spears, hammering the beast’s shoulders and chest.

The Volkazhar staggered, snarling, then retaliated—hurling molten fireballs, three at a time, spiraling at Varun.

But he didn’t flinch.

He stepped forward, water swirling around him like a cloak, and inhaled deeply. The air around him chilled—his mana focusing inward.

Then—

“Aaaaaaaahhhhh!!!”
A dragon’s roar.

A tidal spiral of water surged from his mouth—a beam of raw pressure, infused with his mana. It smashed into the incoming fireballs, disintegrating them mid-air, and surged forward—unstoppable, monumental.

The beam hit the Volkazhar squarely, carving through its flaming body, tearing half of it away in a spray of molten embers and steam. The shockwave sent cracks spidering across the floor and caused even the walls of the cavern to quake.

Yet… the beast didn’t fall.

It stood, half-destroyed, its body dripping lava and scorched bone. But its eyes—

Its eyes burned brighter.

Its howl now was no longer a battle cry. It was a scream of vengeance.

It lunged, desperate, hateful.

But Varun stood tall.

Behind him, Ruslan’s mouth hung open—half in awe, half in disbelief. He stared at his friend, reborn, standing in front of a collapsed ice wall, wreathed in coiling water and the steam of defiance.

“He’s back… Varun’s back…!”
A smile broke across his lips—but so did the tension.
“But… he’s not done yet.”

He knew—this wasn’t over.
The **Volkazhar wouldn’t fall that easily.

But now, they had hope.

And hope had a name.

Ruslan:
“Yes… we can fight back. Now if I can just wake up Big Bro Yudhir… or else this flaming mutt will roast us alive!”

Ruslan scrambled, slapping Yudhir’s cheeks lightly and shaking his shoulders with urgency.
All around him, the battlefield roared with chaos—Varun clashing like a tidal god against the colossal Volkazhar. Water serpents darted like comets. Fire and steam curled into clouds.

But amidst it all, another battle raged—quieter, deadlier.

Avi.

His breaths were shallow now. The vines—thick as rope, bristling with thorns—were coiled around his limbs, his neck, his chest. They tightened with every second, thorns digging into skin, crushing bone.

Ostap, still trapped in his tree-beast form, had become a vessel of relentless fury.

But Avi… did not panic.

Even as blood trickled from the corners of his lips, even as darkness crept into the corners of his vision—his eyes remained still, glowing like frozen stars.

He closed them—once.

And then—

CRACK.

Ice exploded outward.

The vines around his right arm froze instantly, their green sheen turning brittle and white, veins of ice racing across their surface like lightning.

With a grunt, Avi ripped his arm free, shards of frozen bark flying.

His palm grasped the rest of the vines coiling his neck—and tore them apart.

Ostap stumbled back.

The monstrous figure that had seconds ago tried to strangle a man was now shaking, like a cornered animal.

But his face—

It wasn’t fear.

It was something… wrong.

Behind the trembling body… someone else was watching. Controlling.

And Avi saw it.

He stepped forward, his aura flaring, white and deathly cold.

Avi (low, glacial voice):
“I know you can see me. You’re not hiding anymore.”

Snow began to swirl around him, despite the searing heat of the battlefield.
His eyes locked with Ostap’s—but through them, he stared into the soul of the invader.

“I may seem as serene as snow…
…but never forget how fast I can become a blizzard.”

He raised his palm.

“Judging by that twitch in your puppet’s eye…
…my magic is hurting your real body, isn’t it?”

A sharp gust burst from Avi’s feet, sending shards of frost skittering across the ground.

“I’m giving you one chance. Release Ostap. Or face a storm you won’t survive.”

Ostap twitched, like a puppet having its strings yanked.

Then, with a screech of rage, the vines re-emerged from his back. He charged forward—but his legs froze in place. The ice was already there, creeping up like a rising tide.

Ostap:
“BOY… YOU DARE…!”

His voice had changed.

Deeper. Older.
A second presence, layered under Ostap’s own, now fought to hold control.

“YOU’VE RUINED EVERYTHING! YOU’LL PAY—ALL OF YOU WILL PAY!!”

Avi’s palm opened wide—and the ice surged.

Faster than sight, it enveloped Ostap in a cocoon of crystalline frost, silencing his vines, locking his rage in a prison of stillness. His body glimmered like a frozen statue under the broken sky.

But just before the final layer reached his mouth—

Ostap (possessed, shrieking):
“I WILL REMEMBER THIS, BOY!! YOU MESSED MY PLANS!
WHEN THIS BODY BREAKS FREE—
I’LL KILL YOU ALL!
I’LL KILL YOU WITH MY OWN HANDS…
ESPECIALLY YOU… SUBZERO!!!”

The name echoed—laced with hatred, seared into memory.

Avi (calm, deadly whisper):
“Try it. I dare you.”

He stepped closer, placing a palm on the frozen surface, staring deep into Ostap’s still face, and the eyes of the puppet master behind him.

“You used Ostap like a toy…
Made Ruslan cry...
If you ever hurt my little brother again…
I swear to every god above—
I will shatter you into ice so fine, even the wind will forget your name.”

The cocoon sealed.

Silence returned.

Avi stood alone in the mist and ruin.

But something inside him twisted—a void he couldn’t fill.

He knew this feeling. The frustration.
The inability to feel true anger. To explode with wrath.

Something… or someone… had stolen it from him.

And yet, he did not scream. He could not.

Instead, he turned back toward the battlefield—eyes full of cold, his aura burning white like frostbitten flame.

“I’ll protect them… no matter what.”

The wind howled again—but this time, it sounded like a dragon’s breath over the snow.

Scene 5 : Calmness of the Wraith

The battlefield had become a boiling cauldron of chaos and heat. Steam hissed, water sizzled, fire clashed against water again and again—but Varun’s strength was fading.

His water serpents, once fierce and fluid, were being incinerated one by one, their serpentine forms bursting into steam before even making contact with the Volkazhar.

The monstrous beast, though charred and cracked from earlier assaults, refused to fall.
Its entire body glowed, as if its own bones were burning from within.

Varun (gritting his teeth):
“Tch… Damn mutt won’t die… And now it’s burning its own life force?”

The air warped around the Volkazhar. The already scorching battlefield spiked in temperature as the beast ignited its final reserves.

With every heartbeat, its flames grew brighter, wilder, more feral.

A red sun with fangs.

Varun (eyes widening):
“That’s not normal flame... That’s death incarnate.”

Ruslan, unable to resist the overwhelming heat and pressure, collapsed beside the still-unconscious Yudhir. His chest barely rose and fell.

Varun:
“Shit—Ruslan?! Not now!”

The beast roared, its cry a sound of vengeance beyond reason.

“RRRRRAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

The very earth trembled. Craters opened beneath its steps. It was beyond wounded—but possessed. Its hatred held it together. Its death would be explosive.

Varun’s arms trembled. His lungs burned. His mana—near empty.

Varun (desperate):
“I… have to protect them.”

With trembling fingers, he dismissed his serpents and redirected his fading strength.
A whirlpool of water erupted around Ruslan and Yudhir—a barrier, swirling and roaring like a living shield. The flames licked at its surface but couldn’t pierce it.

Then, with what mana he had left, he summoned dozens of razor-thin water blades, each forged with precision and pure will. They howled toward the Volkazhar like a storm of scythes.

They struck. They tore. But—

Volkazhar... endured.

Bleeding, scorched, barely clinging to existence—
It still stood.

And then, with a breath that sounded like the final heartbeat of a dying god, it opened its mouth and launched a torrent of pure fire—
A dragon’s breath of annihilation.

Varun dropped to one knee.

His mana was gone.

Varun (helpless, teeth clenched):
“No… I can’t… move…”

The flames raced forward—unstoppable, blinding—consuming everything in their path.

Varun could only watch.

Then—

CRRRRRRRRRRRSSHHH!!

A wall of glacial brilliance rose between them—
An immense sheet of ice, thick as stone and clear as crystal, halting the inferno in its tracks.

Steam exploded outward, covering the battlefield in a blinding fog.
The ground beneath the Volkazhar froze instantly, transforming into a mirror-like lake of ice. The beast stumbled, its paws skidding.

And then—a shadow.

A single figure, standing above them all.
High on a rocky ridge, backlit by the pale light of frost magic.

His cloak fluttered.

His presence silenced the storm.

Avi.

White hair tousled by wind. Eyes glowing like twin glaciers. His body wrapped in a veil of mist and ice crystals.

He wasn’t smiling.

He wasn’t angry.

He was simply—there. As if the world had decided to stop the flames itself.

Varun (barely breathing, watching):
“You… You’re here…”

His vision was swimming—but even now, he remembered.

The fight.

The clash.

That boy… never once lost control.
There was no fury in his face. No madness. But each strike was a tempest. Every movement carried the weight of buried wrath.

And now—he returned.

Varun (heart pounding):
“So you finally showed your face, Avi …”

The flames tried to roar again—
But even fire, hesitated in his presence.

Avi stepped forward slowly, one foot pressing down on the frozen ground—ice blooming under his step.

He looked down at the snarling Volkazhar, head tilted slightly.

Avi (quietly, to himself):
“I’ve had enough of things trying to burn what I care about…”

And then—his aura flared.

Not in a blast. Not in a surge.

But in a slow, unstoppable spread—like snowfall swallowing a battlefield.

The steam had thinned. The battlefield lay in eerie silence—cracks of melted earth beside frozen scars, chaos caught between two elements. And in that stillness… stood him.

Avi stepped forward, a quiet figure wrapped in power.

His presence was neither blinding nor boastful. But it drew the eye, pulled at the air like a coming storm.

The tunic he wore, dark as obsidian yet threaded with golden embroidery, clung to his form like armor born of patience and frost. The patterns shimmered subtly—sigils of ancient runes that whispered with restrained magic.

From his left shoulder draped a sash, weightless yet radiant, catching the pale gleam of ice like moonlight on snowfall. It shimmered like a frozen aurora, a mirror to the volatile storm he carried within.

His modern combat pants, reinforced with fluid armor lines, were built for war—yet they moved like fabric woven from cloud and steel. Around his waist, layers of protective folds hinted at a past stitched with battles.
His boots, scuffed and scored by a hundred terrains, struck the frozen ground with certainty—each step an oath.

Metallic bracers lined his arms, pulsing softly with icy mana. The light in them flickered like distant stars—waiting.

And as the wind shifted, markings—cryptic, ancient, beautiful—bloomed along his skin. They glowed beneath the surface like embers beneath snow, humming with dormant wrath.

A still storm… waiting to awaken.

Varun, lying partially against a broken shard of stone, could hardly believe what he was seeing. For a long moment, he said nothing. His gaze stayed locked on Avi, wide and stunned—not from fear, but something deeper.

Recognition.

Varun (weakly, to himself):
“So it’s true…”

The pieces clicked into place. The silent strength. The unnatural calm. The way the battlefield itself bowed to his presence—not from fear, but inevitability.

Varun:
“You… You’re the one we were meant to find…”

He remembered the words from long ago. A boy untouched by flame, who walks where frost obeys.
A leader cloaked in silence, whose wrath freezes stars.

Prophesied by their dragon king fathers.

Varun (smiling faintly):
“You’re the one… Yudhir and I were searching for…”

His body, drained of every drop of mana, no longer answered to will. But his heart—
his heart finally found peace.