Runes • Rifles • Reincarnation
144. A Desperate Grapple

Jin Shu fired two quick shots, each erupting from the barrel in a massive cloud of flame that rolled across the stage, radiating searing heat and melting Bing Hou’s ice. But her ice was forged from mystic cold flame, partially resistant to his fire. It was only thanks to his newly awakened fire affinity that he could hold her back at all.

Gold had likened it to something called Poké-something, where fire was super effective against ice—except in this case, her fusion of fire and ice made her defenses partially resistant to normal flames.

Jin Shu only half-understood the reference. He didn’t have time to dig through Gold's memories for the full explanation.

At some point, her cold flames had doubled—from five to ten—and now she was beginning to overwhelm him. Worse, he was running low on ammo.

It was now or never.

Let’s go, he declared inwardly.

He charged into the wall of flame, parting it with sheer will and what limited control he had over the fire element. Breaking through, he was immediately hit by a blast of glacial cold. He suppressed a shiver and pushed forward, even as the freezing energy latched onto him like a second skin.

Small blue flames converged from all sides, surrounding him in an inescapable net of icy fire. He pressed on, racing across the frost-covered arena with cold flames snapping at his heels. But they couldn't quite reach him—he was cloaked in a swirling vortex of fire, born of his True Dragon’s Breath rounds, the ambient fire element, and the wind element dancing together in defiance.

Yet with every half-step he took, that fiery shield withered. By the fourth step, the flames had nearly vanished, and the cold began to bite into his bones, slowing him to a crawl.

Gritting his teeth, he raised his shotgun and fired another True Dragon’s Breath round. It blasted through the wall of freezing flame ahead, carving a path and reigniting the fire that protected him.

Without pause, he swapped magazines—sliding in the twenty-round mag loaded with Dragon’s Breath slug rounds. He pulled the trigger twice, sending two explosive slugs hurtling across the short distance to Bing Hou.

The rounds slammed into the thick ice walls guarding her, burrowing halfway in before detonating. Ice shattered, great chunks blasted into the air, leaving a gaping, steaming crater in the wall.

Racking a third round into the chamber, Jin Shu fired—then racked and fired again. Two more slugs slammed into the crater left by the previous shots, blasting a deepening hole through the solid ice and revealing Bing Hou’s cold, expressionless face beyond.

Calmly, she raised a hand. More cold flames gathered at her fingertips, conjuring fresh ice to fill the gap. Slowly, the massive hole sealed shut, and she vanished once more, reduced to a silhouette behind the frosted barrier.

We can’t do it. Shuang’s voice echoed in his mind. The ice qi around her freezes the water element before we can construct the portal.

Jin Shu had tasked Shuang and Gold with creating two linked portals to bypass Bing Hou’s defenses, but that plan was quickly falling apart.

He considered having them try again using fire element to melt the ice while forming the ripples. But after his chaotic match with Tian Li—and their brief escapade in the strange hidden realm—he second-guessed the idea. The last thing he needed was to accidentally portal himself to Hell.

That’s fine. We’ll do it the old-fashioned way, he replied.

Raising his shotgun, he fired, racked, fired again, and then repeated some more, until half his remaining ammo was gone. Shell casings littered the ground. He kicked them aside as he burst forward, charging through the chaos wrought by his blasts. Ice walls detonated in front of him, bursting into glittering chunks and swirling snowflakes.

As he closed the distance—just a few feet away—Bing Hou abandoned her collapsing defenses. She gathered her smaller cold flames, merging them into a single large one that radiated a biting chill.

Waves of frost rolled out across the stage, encasing everything in rime—including Jin Shu. Despite pouring fire through his body, he couldn’t stop the frost from clinging to him.

He kept moving, firing his last slugs directly into the pulsing cold flame. It shuddered and shrank slightly, but the frost continued to spread.

Without missing a beat, he swapped back to the ten-round mag and unleashed the remaining True Dragon’s Breath rounds into the cold flame. Each blast forced it to contract further, and the frost slowed. When the pellets embedded in the cloud of flames finally detonated, the cold flame shrank again—until it was only twice the size of the original smaller ones.

The frost stopped advancing. But the cold flame still pulsed, sending waves of frigid air rolling across the stage.

Jin Shu let the shotgun fall from his hands and drew a pellet pistol from the holster at his side.

Two stray thoughts crossed his mind as the weapon clattered to the ground:

First, he really needed to make a sling.

Second, he’d forgotten to inscribe a self-repair rune on the shotgun. He’d have to fix that next chance he got. 

Hopefully, the gun wasn’t damaged. Though, with the materials he’d used to make it, Jin Shu doubted a small drop would do much.

Disregarding the shotgun, he raised the pellet gun and began pulling the trigger. His movements were so rapid it looked like the weapon had a built-in automatic mode. Pellets burst from the barrel in a rapid-fire stream.

But they never reached her.

Each pellet froze mid-air, shattering into icy flakes before they could hit.

He didn’t stop. He fired faster. Until the weapon ran dry, producing hollow clicks.

And when the pellets reached halfway across the field, he triggered the explosive runes inscribed into them.

Individually, the blasts were weak—but together, dozens—hundreds—of tiny explosions created a wave of heat. With his fire affinity, Jin Shu harnessed that heat, compressing it into a dense, swirling orb of flame. A tiny sun.

He thrust it forward, hurling it at Bing Hou’s cold flame.

The two forces clashed, fire against ice, each battling for dominance.

Jin Shu kept moving forward as the flames canceled each other out. Movements no longer hindered by the cold. 

But he had only taken two steps when—

A powerful force slammed into his back, knocking him off balance. He slid across the slick, frost-covered floor, skidding the remaining distance between him and Bing Hou.

He came to a stop flat on his back—staring up at her.

He didn’t know what had hit him, only that everything hurt. Nothing felt broken, but his limbs were slow to respond. He just needed a few seconds.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have them. He was directly beneath her.

“It was an ice lance,” Bing Hou said calmly, apparently noticing his confusion while stepping forward. Blue flame covered her hand as she reached down. “I’m only going to freeze you for a moment. Don’t worry, you shouldn’t die.”

She smiled for the first time.

Two white locks of hair slipped from behind her ears, brushing against his cheeks as she lowered her hand toward him.

Pretty, he thought.

Then forced his aching body to move.

Spinning on his back, he thrust his foot toward her leg and kicked, sweeping it out from under her.

She fell forward, landing hard against his chest.

“Oof!” he gasped, air driven from his lungs.

Her hand, meant for his chest, struck the floor beside his head instead—freezing the stone solid.

He shuddered. Partly from the cold. Partly from the thought of what could’ve happened if she hadn’t missed.

Groaning, Jin Shu forced himself to move. He drove a fist into her side. It felt wrong—hitting a woman—but there was no room for hesitation. No time for guilt. He struck again, in the same spot.

“Ah!” she cried out, the sound shrill in his ear. Her mouth had been right beside it, and the scream sent a piercing ring through his head.

Her pain twisted his stomach, but he didn’t stop. He hit harder, adding his other fist, hammering both sides of her torso.

But Bing Hou didn’t just lie there and take it. She shoved against him, trying to break their tangled hold.

He couldn’t let her escape.

Wrapping his legs around her waist, he locked one arm around her neck, holding her close.

“Let go!” she shouted, struggling. “Ah!”

He didn’t. His fists kept slamming into her ribs, over and over. He wasn’t trying to knock her out—he was trying to hurt her. Break her will. Force her to surrender through sheer pain.

But she didn’t yield. Far from it—she fought harder. Her head cracked against his nose, a flash of white pain exploding through his skull. Blood ran down his face, but his grip didn’t falter.

Still he punched.

Then her palms slammed into his chest—two icy bursts of qi spreading like frostbite over his body.

He channeled fire and heat instinctively, burning the ice away, but the cold came flooding back—stronger than before. His fire element affinity wasn’t enough. Not alone.

Desperate, he activated his body inscribing art, flooding his meridians with qi and forcing it to circulate wildly. Heat surged through him—not just melting the ice, but scorching his insides.

“Huh?” she gasped beside his ear, confused. Her cold energy was failing to take hold.

But he wasn’t immune.

The art wasn’t meant for this. It was designed to burn runes into his flesh, not keep him warm. He was cooking himself alive from within—flesh and spirit both aflame.

A desperate gambit.

He punched again, eyes flicking to her face. She’d pulled back slightly.

Her expression had changed.

Gone was the calm indifference from earlier in their duel. Now there was panic—real panic. Pain twisted her features, and unshed tears clung to the corners of her eyes.

He hesitated, faltering for a breath.

Then her hands clawed at his face.

Frost surged across his skin. His mind reeled from the sudden freeze.

He gritted his teeth, shoving the hesitation aside.

End it, he told himself.

And struck again.