A few moments earlier

Somewhere within the city of Fjore, Pyromaethé was suddenly hurled through the wall of a massive building. As the Scythian finally brought his momentum to a halt by driving his flaming sword into the ground, he couldn’t help but notice the state Jessabiel’s body was in. Despite shielding her with his aura and continuously regenerating her through his powers since the beginning of his encounter with “the” Harvester, blood was still streaming from every opening in her face. A battle of this magnitude was simply too much for a mere mortal.

“I need to finish this with the Harvester as soon as possible. Jessabiel’s body won’t hold much longer…”

He barely had time to finish the thought before debris suddenly came hurtling toward him. Pyromaethé pointed his weapon forward, preparing to counterattack. With a single horizontal sweep of his arm, every rock and improvised projectile in front of him was cleaved apart and instantly reduced to ashes. But the assault didn’t stop. More debris appeared immediately after his first counter.

“Useless.”

Once again, Pyromaethé made a simple motion, and the barrage before him was incinerated. However, something black suddenly pierced through the wall of blood-red flames he had just created and streaked past his face, tearing slightly through his aura. Behind him, embedded in the ground, lay a stone—a simple stone coated in black energy.

More debris appeared at once. This time, every single piece was enveloped in the same dark energy as the stone that had just injured him.

“Harvester!!!”

Pyromaethé jumped forward and split the first projectile in two with his blade. The impact, however, reverberated violently through Jessabiel’s body, sending a sharp pain through her arm—so intense it felt as though her wrist might shatter at any moment.

“I can’t stop now…”

One by one, he destroyed the projectiles hurled at him by Harvester.

“I just need to hold on until everything is ready.”

The pain he felt through Jessabiel was unbearable, yet he had no choice but to keep moving forward. Both their lives depended on it. And just as he destroyed the final piece of debris, a massive boot—Harvester’s—suddenly appeared right in front of his face. Once again, Pyromaethé was sent flying, though he managed to halt himself before crashing completely.

“I managed to block her strike at the last second… but the cost was enormous.”

Because he was channeling his powers through Jessabiel’s body—a vessel far weaker than that of a Scythian—fighting at this level, especially against another Scythian, placed unbearable strain on her entire organism. As a result, several of her bones were now broken, including those in the arm wielding the sword with. Numerous muscles were also torn and lacerations covered all of her limbs.

“Just 90 more seconds to hold on, Jessabiel. In 90 seconds, this situation will turn in our favor…”

Pyromaethé narrowly dodged another attack—this time, a wave of black energy that looked like countless thin lines slicing through everything in their path.

“You should’ve kept your damn mouth shut, Pyromaethé. Now it’ll never spew bullshit again.”

Harvester appeared before him, wielding her weapon—a colossal, magnificent double-bladed black scythe. At its center was a circular mechanism with a diametrical handle she was using to control it. The weapon radiated energy continuously, flowing from her hand to the tips of both blades.

“Big words coming from the Harvester. But silencing me forever won’t be that easy. 85 seconds.”

“That confidence must come from whatever you’re hiding behind your back. Unfortunately for you, no matter what you’re preparing, it won’t work on me. This planet will be your grave.”

“79 seconds.”

With that, the woman charged toward Pyromaethé with the intent of ending not only his existence—but Jessabiel’s as well.

*

The city of Fjore was unrecognizable. Only minutes had passed since the battle began, yet its towering buildings, magnificent monuments, and lush parks had already been completely annihilated. All that remained was a vast field of ruins—and at its center, Harvester and Pyromaethé, two Scythians exchanging blows of scythe and sword: one fighting to end a life, the other fighting to buy time.

Harvester launched another attack. With a deft swing of her scythe, she aimed to rip Pyromaethé’s entire left arm away. He blocked the strike, but the impact was so immense that his body sank several centimeters into the ground—and everything behind him was obliterated.

Pyromaethé was in agony. He hated using the body of an inferior creature like Jessabiel. He hated feeling sensations that weren’t his own. But he endured it. His survival depended on it.

“60… seconds!”

With great difficulty, Pyromaethé forced Harvester’s weapon away. Using the momentum, however, she spun her scythe and attacked this time from below. He couldn’t block this strike—not with one hand pinned behind his back and the other still in the air.

There was only one option.

He leapt backward, narrowly avoiding the blade, though it still grazed his chin. A shockwave followed, generating thin lines of energy that would have sliced his head apart had he been any slower.

“60 seconds? Do you really think you can last that long in your current state?” Harvester taunted, flashing a twisted smile.

Pyromaethé despised her. He despised everything she stood for, and especially that smile. Still, he refused to play her game. He needed to regenerate the damage Jessabiel’s body had just suffered.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have the time. The moment Harvester finished speaking, she launched another assault.

What remained of Fjore echoed once more with the clashes between flaming sword and double-bladed scythe, and the devastating collateral damage that followed. Pyromaethé stayed on the defensive, deflecting and evading as best as he could. In his condition, it was all he could manage—while trying to preserve Jessabiel’s body as much as possible.

“55… seconds.”

Harvester attacked relentlessly. Every strike was filled with rage and unwavering intent to erase Pyromaethé from existence. Though he had managed to evade her so far, it was only a matter of time before Jessabiel’s mortal body gave out under the strain.

Still, Harvester was curious about what would happen in the next fifty-three seconds. He was preparing something—an attack that required an immense amount of time to be ready. She had no intention of letting him finish.

Suddenly, she vanished from Pyromaethé’s field of vision—and reappeared behind him.

“Let’s see what that hand of yours is hiding!”

Without hesitation, she struck from behind, the massive scythe arcing straight toward his wrist. Faced with imminent danger, Pyromaethé’s instincts took over and he moved faster than even Harvester had moments before.

“Hahahaha! Look at the state you’re in now. You really should’ve let me see what you were hiding in that hand…” she mocked.

Pyromaethé’s maneuver had devastating consequences for Jessabiel’s body. Moving like that had shattered all of her bones and torn every muscle apart. She remained standing—and alive—only because Pyromaethé’s powers continuously healed her. Even so, the pain was unbearable—so intense that he was tempted to sever their connection he had with her and return to his own body.

“Let’s end this game. It’s time for XJGBTRDTVS to say goodbye to its Scythian.”

At that moment, Harvester’s double-bladed scythe transformed into a single-bladed weapon, its cutting edge now twice as large as before. Simultaneously, the energy radiating from her hands surged violently through the weapon, emitting an ominous sound.

Pyromaethé knew he wouldn’t be able to block, deflect, or evade the attack she was about to unleash. Jessabiel’s body wouldn’t survive it. Worse still, his own attack wasn’t ready yet—he needed thirty-four more seconds.

For a brief moment, he considered abandoning this inferior being. His survival mattered more than hers.

“He’s so fucking weak! How can someone be so useless!”

The energy surrounding Harvester’s scythe suddenly stabilized and she released her attack in a single, devastating swing. But it wasn’t aimed at Pyromaethé. Instead, it flew toward a seemingly random location.

Pyromaethé immediately understood. The attack was directed at the location of their ship—more precisely, where Jessabiel’s brother and the other boy were fighting. She had been keeping an eye on him all along and intervened the moment he was in danger.

Pyromaethé had gained precious time—two seconds. Just enough to repair some of the damage he himself had inflicted. It wasn’t enough to turn the tide, but it allowed him to move properly again.

“30 seconds.”

Harvester swung her weapon a second time, sending another attack toward Gadriel and Reigns. And as the energy left the blade of her scythe, Pyromaethé raised his own sword toward Jessabiel’s brother and unleashed a horizontal slash of his own—interfering directly with Harvester’s attack.