PORT HARCOURT — BACK AT THE COVENANT BASE —THE NEXT COMPOUND
Ivie walked toward Ade.
Not fast. Not slow. Casually. Ade pushed himself off the ground, his lantern cracked, his ribs screaming. He didn't understand. He hadn't seen her move. He hadn't felt the impact until after he landed.
"How did you—"
She kept walking.
He raised Lure. The shutter opened. Black-white light erupted — a pillar of annihilation, thick as a tree trunk, bright as a collapsing star.
Ivie wasn't there.
The beam struck the ground where she had been. Concrete disintegrated. Dust exploded. Ade swept the beam across the compound, tracking, searching—
She appeared in front of him. Close. Too close.
Her fist connected with his nose.
Bone cracked. Blood sprayed. He stumbled backward, vomiting red, his vision blurring.
Why did Wisdom lie to me?
This woman isn't weak.
Am I really losing to someone without a gift?
Am I?
NO. I REFUSE.
He raised Lure again. She grabbed the lantern's chain and yanked. His arm extended. His guard broke. She hit him again. His jaw. His ribs. His temple.
"Who am I kidding," he gasped. "I'm losing—even with my Gift—"
He stood. Spat blood. Raised Lure with both hands.
"I have walked where light refuses.
I have carried the hunger that never sleeps.
The flame remembers what it has consumed.
It remembers what it wants.
There is no dawn here.
There is no mercy.
There is only the flame."
He opens the shutter.
"And the flame is hungry."
"Crusade: The Blackout."
Absolute darkness swallowed the compound.
Not night. Not shadow. Nothing. The sky vanished. The ground vanished. The only light was Ade's lantern — its black flame burning impossibly bright in the void.
"There is no light here," Ade said. His voice echoed from everywhere. "Only the flame. And the flame is hungry."
Ivie stood in the darkness. Her expression didn't change.
"Sure-Hit," Ade continued. "You can't dodge. You can't block. You can't survive."
A conviction flickered around Ivie—BLUE LIGHT — not a Crusade, not a Gift. Just her. The darkness pressed against her, trying to swallow the light she didn't have.
She kept walking.
"How—"
She hit him. Again. Again. His lantern cracked. His ribs cracked. His jaw cracked.
He tried to block. She punched through his guard.
He tried to retreat. She was already there.
He tried to use the darkness — to hide, to blind, to survive — but her conviction was stronger than his domain.
The Blackout crumbled.
Ade fell. Lure dematerialized beside him, the lantern's black flame sputtering, fading.
Ivie stood over him, not breathing hard, not bleeding.
She turned and walked away.
BACK AT THE BASE
She walked through the broken walls of the Covenant base, stepping over debris, ignoring the floating furniture still drifting upward from Chi Chi's Anti-Gravity.
The bag was there. Bed-sized. Heavy.
Ivie didn't slow down. She raised the Monarch's Gauntlet. Pale blue veins pulsed.
"Long sword."
The Sanctite greatsword shot from the bag — 5 feet of blade, wrapped hilt — and flew across the room. It slammed into her palm.
She caught it.
"Thank you," she said to no one.
She turned to leave.
Then she heard a voice
"Long time no see, little sister."
Ivie froze.
The voice was familiar. Too familiar. A voice she had buried years ago, in a grave she'd dug with her own hands.
She turned.
Wisdom stood behind her. 6ft3. Athletic build. Same face — but older, harder, the lines of cruelty etched around his eyes and mouth. He wore a white suit, pristine, unmarked. In his hands his gift, twin curved blades connected by a chain — Echo & Ruin. Blue light crackled along the metal.
"I'm surprised a weakling like you is still alive," he said.
Ivie's eyes widened. For a moment — just a moment — she was not the professional. Not the weapon.
FLASHBACK — TWENTY ONE YEARS AGO
She was small. Maybe ten. Her brother was taller, stronger, older. He held her arm behind her back, twisting, touching her inappropriately,smiling.
"You're so weak yet so developed," he said. "Baba should stop wasting his time on you."
She didn't cry. She never cried.
"Let go."
"Make me. Don't you like it? I know you do. Don't let any boy but me do this."
She couldn't. He was stronger. He was always stronger.
The memory of that smile — the same smile he was wearing now — was the last thing she saw before he put a blade through their grandfather's chest.
Then she moved.
They Clashed.
Greatsword against twin blades. Steel against steel. Faith against Faith.
Wisdom's blades hummed — blue light trailing every arc, not cutting air, pushing it. Shockwaves erupted with every clash, shattering the remaining windows, cracking the walls. Ivie's greatsword was heavier, slower, but she swung it like it weighed nothing.
"You killed him," she said.
"He was weak."
"He raised us."
"He was weak," Wisdom repeated. "And the weak deserve to be culled."
He spun the chain. Echo & Ruin flew in wide arcs, blue light tracing circles in the air, controlling the space, forcing Ivie to retreat. She didn't. She stepped into the blades, greatsword sweeping sideways, knocking them off course.
"Thunderclap."
Wisdom clashed the blades together. The shockwave erupted — not from the metal, from him. Blue light exploded outward. Ivie flew backward, crashing through a wall, through another, before catching herself on a fallen beam.
She stood. Spat blood. Kept walking.
"You haven't changed," Wisdom said. "Still can't stay down."
"I learned from you."
They clashed again.
Three years ago, she had thrown a sword through his chest.
He still had the scar. She could see it — the white line across his sternum, visible through his torn white suit.
"You ran," she said.
"I regrouped."
"You're really a coward." She replied.
"And you were always the weak one letting me touch you."
She hit him. Greatsword across his chest, opening the scar. Blood sprayed. He spun, blades humming, and caught her arm. His Faith — blue, vibration, push — detonated against her elbow. Bone snapped. Her arm went limp.
She didn't scream.
She grabbed the greatsword with her other hand and swung.
He blocked. Blue light flared. The impact sent them both sliding backward.
Ivie's arm healed — not by vial, by her faith. Bone knitted. Muscle rewove. Skin sealed. She rolled her shoulder and raised the greatsword again.
"You have no Gift still," Wisdom said, blue light crackling along his chain. "How do you keep fighting?"
"I don't need one."
"You always were stubborn. Playing hard to get. But that doesn't work for me. You know Ivie."
They fought through the compound, through the rubble, through the floating debris. Wisdom used his chain to swing from walls, to change direction mid-air, to attack from angles that shouldn't exist — blue light trailing every movement. Ivie used her speed — not teleportation, just fast — to close distance, to stay inside his arc, to never let him breathe.
He pinned her.
His blades crossed at her throat. The chain wrapped around her arms, her chest, her legs. She couldn't move. Blue light hummed against her skin.
"Tell Baba I said Lamogun."
"No.Tell him yourself." She screamed.
She raised the Monarch's Gauntlet.
Weapons shot from the bag — spear, halberd, mace, war hammer, throwing knives, hand claws, wire saw, grappling hook — each one flying across the compound, aimed at her brother's back.
They struck.
Wisdom screamed. The spear pierced his shoulder. The halberd hooked his ribs. The mace cracked his spine.
FLASHBACK — NINTEEN YEARS AGO
He had pushed her down the stairs. She broke her arm. He stood at the top, watching her cry, smiling.
"Tell Baba you fell."
She told him she fell.
He smiled again. The same smile.
Wisdom tried to reinforce, to heal, to survive — blue light flaring around the wounds — but more weapons kept coming.
Ivie's eyes were wet.
"I didn't want to—"
"You were always weak," he spat, blood bubbling from his lips. "Even now—"
He coughed. Blue light sputtered.
"My Gift... I studied... I understood... how did you—"
"You never understood anything."
Wisdom vomited blood onto her face, her chest, the greatsword still in her hand. Blue light died completely.
"You're... not strong... on your own..."
He fell.
His body slumped against the chain. His blades clattered to the ground. The blue light faded to nothing.
Ivie stood there, covered in her brother's blood, the Monarch's Gauntlet still glowing, the weapons still embedded in his corpse.
She didn't move.
She didn't speak.
She just stood.