Fight L
The battle stopped being elegant a long time ago.
It stopped being martial, or structured, or anything that could be called "combat" in the traditional sense.
It became survival.
Jacob and Ifrit collided again in the center of the shattered hall, the force of their impact snapping marble tiles upward like broken teeth. Ifrit's flames licked across Jacob's skin with every grab, every shove, every failed attempt to create distance. Each touch left burning marks that should have ended the fight outright.
But Jacob didn't stop.
He couldn't afford to.
Golden light pulsed through him in uneven bursts, no longer stable enough to form clean strikes. So he abandoned clean entirely.
Ifrit swung down with a clawed hand, aiming to crush Jacob into the floor.
Jacob didn't block it.
He stepped into it.
Let it hit.
Used the opening.
And drove his teeth into Ifrit's neck.
The hall went silent for half a heartbeat.
Even the fire seemed to hesitate.
Ifrit froze.
Not from pain alone, though there was plenty of that. Holy energy didn't behave like normal damage against him. It burned through layers that weren't physical. It reached into the places flame wasn't supposed to exist.
His eyes widened slightly.
Then narrowed.
"…You-"
Jacob didn't let go.
He bit harder.
Scraping, tearing, refusing to release even as Ifrit's flames surged around them in reflexive fury. The heat intensified, but something in Jacob resisted it in a way that made no sense. His blood steamed where it spilled, hissing against the demon's fire instead of simply evaporating.
Ifrit grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him backward.
Jacob hit the ground, rolled once, and was back on his feet immediately.
Not clean.
Not graceful.
Just up again.
Something shifted in Ifrit's expression.
The amusement was still there, faintly, like a background instinct he couldn't fully turn off.
But now there was something else beneath it.
Attention sharpened.
Jacob lunged again.
Not with technique.
With instinct.
He grabbed Ifrit's arm, pulled himself in, and started hitting anything he could reach. Short strikes. Elbows. Headbutts. Fingers digging into cuts. Teeth again when he got close enough. Every impact came with that fractured golden light, each one interfering with Ifrit's regeneration of heat and forcing him to actually work to keep up.
Ifrit struck back, of course.
A knee drove into Jacob's ribs, cracking bone.
A blast of flame forced him backward through a pillar.
A claw raked across his chest, opening long burning cuts.
But Jacob kept coming back wrong.
Not refined.
Not controlled.
Just relentless.
And that was when it changed.
Ifrit paused mid-motion.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Jacob had him by the arm again, teeth near his forearm, eyes lit gold and wild with exhaustion and divine pressure.
And Ifrit felt it.
Something he hadn't felt in centuries.
Not strength.
Not technique.
Not even danger in the usual sense.
It was the realization that this child did not care how much it cost him.
That he would keep tearing until either the demon broke…
or he did.
For the first time in a very long time, Ifrit felt it clearly.
A flicker of something dangerously close to uncertainty.
Jacob used that moment.
He drove his fist into Ifrit's chest at point-blank range.
Golden light detonated outward.
Not like fire.
Not like an explosion.
Like something correcting what shouldn't exist.
The impact folded the air between them and blew the wall behind Ifrit apart in a violent shockwave. Stone ruptured, pillars split, and the entire side of the hall gave way as if the castle itself had decided it was done hosting this nonsense.
They went through it together.
Man and monster.
Flame and light.
The world tore open around them.
They crashed into the outer courtyard in a storm of debris, skidding across shattered stone as fire rolled outward in unstable waves. Smoke swallowed the sky, turning it into a dim, flickering canvas of orange and black.
For a moment—
silence.
Jacob didn't move.
Then he inhaled.
Sharp. Painful. Real.
He forced himself up.
Every part of him protested. Burns stretched across his arms and chest, cracked skin glowing faintly where divine energy had burned too hot for too long. Blood ran freely, mixing with ash and soot until he barely looked human anymore.
But he stood.
Because apparently that's his whole personality now.
His hand trembled as he raised it.
Something rested in his palm.
A small orange gem.
Still warm.
Still alive.
Still him.
Behind him, rubble shifted.
Ifrit.
Half-buried, flames flickering unevenly around his body like a dying storm.
Jacob took a step toward him.
Slow.
Heavy.
Each movement felt like dragging himself through fire again.
"…You're… still standing…" Ifrit rasped, voice lower now, unstable. "What are you…?"
Jacob didn't answer immediately.
Because something else hit him first.
The moment his fingers tightened around the gem, the world… slipped.
Just for a second.
Not a vision.
Not fully.
Fragments.
Fire in a controlled chamber. A younger man shaping it carefully, smiling when it obeyed. Pride. Discovery.
Laughter.
A family crest.
Then-
darkness.
A board of black stone.
Flames being removed one by one.
A voice that didn't belong anywhere.
And something taking.
Not asking.
Not offering.
Taking.
Jacob staggered slightly, breath catching.
"Grandfather" he muttered under his breath.
Ifrit stilled.
Just for a fraction.
Jacob looked up at him.
Not with fear.
Not even anger.
Something worse.
Understanding.
"You didn't choose all of this…" Jacob said, voice rough. "You lost."
Ifrit's flames flared weakly in response, unstable, defensive.
"Don't," he growled. "Don't you dare pretend to understand."
"I don't," Jacob cut in, taking another step forward. "But I saw enough."
His grip tightened around the gem.
"I'm not here to kill you."
That made Ifrit laugh.
It came out broken.
Half-burned.
"I'm already dead boy," he said, weakly gesturing to his body. "Look at me."
Jacob shook his head.
"No," he said. "I'm putting you back."
Ifrit's eyes narrowed.
"…What?"
Jacob exhaled slowly, forcing his shaking legs to hold.
"I'm not strong enough to fix you," he admitted. "Not now."
Honest. Brutal. Annoyingly reasonable for someone who just tried to bite a demon to death.
"But I will be."
The golden light around him flickered again.
Faint now.
Dying.
"I'm gonna figure out what happened to you," Jacob said, voice steady despite everything breaking inside him. "And when I do…"
He looked down at the gem.
"…I'll fix it."
For a moment, Ifrit said nothing.
Just stared.
At this burned, half-dead child standing in front of him making promises that sounded like suicide wrapped in optimism.
"…You're insane," Ifrit muttered.
Jacob gave the faintest, exhausted smile.
"Yeah," he said. "Probably."
The flames around Ifrit faltered, then folded inward, drawn tight as if the fire itself had been given a command it could not refuse.
His form cracked at the edges, burning away into strands of ember-light that tore free and rushed toward the gem in Jacob's hand, spiraling into it until the last flicker of his presence vanished inside, leaving the stone glowing faintly… alive.
He took one more step forward.
Then another.
Each one slower than the last.
The golden light around him flickered-
once.
Twice.
Then failed.
Completely.
His legs gave out.
The gem slipped slightly in his hand as his body collapsed forward onto the broken stone.
He hit the ground hard.
Didn't catch himself.
Didn't move.
No dramatic finish.
No victory pose.
Just a kid who pushed too far and paid for it.
The courtyard burned quietly around him, flames settling into low, restless flickers.
Above him, the sky was barely visible through the smoke.
His vision blurred.
Darkened.
And as everything started to fade, one last thought drifted through his mind, stubborn and painfully human.
"I hope the others are doing better than me."
ike You Mean It: Part 3