SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 77: Chasing Flames

Chapter 77: Chasing Flames

The horses galloped furiously toward the burning palace. Thick smoke billowed into the sky, and the acrid scent of fire filled the air. As they reached the entrance, Medas wasted no time. He leaped from his horse and sprinted toward the chaos.

"Your Majesty, wait—!" a guard called, but Medas was already gone.

Water magic users were stationed near the blaze, streams of glistening water swirling through the air to contain the flames. Morvane dismounted and stood at the palace entrance, breathing heavily as tension coiled in his chest.

His thoughts burned hotter than the fire itself. If I find out that you’re behind this, Esmael... I swear I’ll kill you.

Suddenly, a chilling voice emerged from behind him.

"Oh, my dear friend," the voice drawled. "How is it living without a loved one?"

Morvane’s eyes widened. He spun around instantly, fists clenched.

Esmael stood there, a twisted smile on his face. The flames reflecting in his eyes made him look almost otherworldly.

Without warning, Esmael raised his hand, a swirling blaze igniting in his palm. He thrust it toward Morvane, and in an instant, fire enveloped them both.

The heat was searing, but before Morvane could react, the surroundings twisted. The palace and the burning chaos vanished, replaced by an endless expanse of red. The sky, the ground—everything shimmered like molten fire.

Morvane steadied himself, eyes darting as he tried to find his footing. His breath came in ragged gasps.

Esmael’s voice echoed, smooth and mocking. "You might be wondering where we are, my friend." He spread his arms wide, grinning. "Welcome to a realm I created just for us. Here, no interruptions, no friends cutting me off. Just you and me."

Morvane’s muscles tensed, rage flickering in his eyes.

"You’ve made a grave mistake bringing me here, Esmael."

Esmael’s laughter echoed through the burning realm. "Oh, I’m scared," he sneered, spreading his arms mockingly.

Morvane’s jaw clenched as fury surged through him. He lunged forward, dagger in hand, aiming directly for Esmael’s chest. But the suffocating heat drained his strength. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes. His breath came in ragged gasps as the oppressive temperature sapped his energy.

Desperate, he bit his lip and slashed his palm open with the blade. Dark shadows slithered from the wound, twisting and coiling until his shadow beast emerged—a monstrous, writhing form with eyes glowing crimson.

Esmael’s grin widened. "Ah, so you’ve mastered that power now?" He laughed. "How impressive."

Suddenly, a shadowy crow screeched as it materialized beside Morvane, its wings crackling with dark energy. The air grew tense as both manifestations circled Esmael, ready to strike.

Morvane’s voice trembled with rage. "Why did you kill my grandmother? She was the only person I had left. Why did you do it?"

Esmael’s expression twisted into something raw and bitter. "Because I wanted you to feel the same hell I felt when I lost my mother," he spat. "The pain you made me feel. Instead of patting my back and consoling me, you—of all people—blamed me for it."

Morvane’s voice rose in defiance. "Because it’s true! You caused the fire in your house—that’s why your mother died."

Esmael’s face contorted with anguish and fury. "But it’s because I couldn’t control my power!" he roared.

Morvane’s eyes burned with anger. "Then you should’ve been more responsible!"

Their voices clashed like thunder, the realm trembling with the weight of their unresolved past. Both of them stood poised for a battle fueled not just by magic but by years of guilt, blame, and pain.

The air exploded with heat and fury as the battle ignited. Esmael unleashed torrents of flame, each wave crackling with ferocity. Morvane dodged and rolled, sweat dripping from his body, his breathing labored. Flames singed his cloak as Esmael’s laughter echoed through the fiery realm.

"You’re weak, Morvane," Esmael taunted, hurling another wall of fire. "Always hiding behind your grandmother’s love. Where’s your strength now?"

Morvane gritted his teeth and summoned his shadow beast. The dark wolf lunged at Esmael, snarling with raw aggression, while the crow swooped down with razor-sharp talons.

But Esmael was ready. With a sweep of his arm, a barrier of flames erupted, forcing the beasts back. He darted forward and landed a powerful blow to Morvane’s side, sending him crashing to the ground.

"You’ll never beat me," Esmael growled. "This realm bends to my will."

Morvane struggled to his feet, pain coursing through his body. His shadow beasts flickered, weakened by the oppressive heat. Desperation clawed at his chest. I can’t lose here. I won’t.

Taking a deep breath, Morvane forced himself to think clearly. He had to be smarter, faster. His powers weren’t just for brute force—he had the bad manifestation, an ability that bent fate itself.

Summoning every ounce of focus, he whispered a command. The crow and wolf moved in unison, their attacks synchronized like never before. The crow dove at Esmael’s face, blinding him momentarily, while the wolf lunged at his legs.

Esmael stumbled, fury twisting his features.

Morvane clenched his fists, blood still dripping from his wounded palm. Dark energy crackled around him as he unleashed his bad manifestation power. The very fabric of the realm seemed to shift. Flames wavered, and shadows thickened like living tendrils.

Esmael’s confidence faltered as Morvane’s powers intensified. Their attacks collided, fire against shadow, chaos against willpower. Sparks and embers filled the air, their battle now neck and neck.

Neither held back, each fighting with everything they had—driven by pain, vengeance, and a past that refused to be forgotten.

Outside the flaming sphere, Medas and the palace guards stood helpless. The fire pulsed and crackled like a living entity.

"Break it down!" Medas commanded.

Water mages unleashed torrents of water, but the flames only hissed and roared back, impenetrable. Medas clenched his fists, his heart racing. He knew Morvane was inside, and time was running out.

Inside the infernal realm, the battle raged on.

Morvane darted forward, sweat and blood mingling on his skin. But a momentary misstep gave Esmael the opening he needed. Flames licked across Morvane’s arm, searing flesh.

Morvane cried out, clutching his burned arm.

Esmael’s laughter rang through the fiery air. "You’re pathetic," he sneered. "Still thinking you can win?"

The shadow wolf let out a furious, guttural growl, its rage palpable. It lunged at Esmael, but he was too quick. A torrent of flame engulfed the beast, reducing it to ash.

The wolf vanished, drained of energy.

Esmael leaned closer to Morvane, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Look at you," he mocked. "Burnt, broken, weak. You’re nothing without your beasts. I should’ve killed you long ago."

But Esmael had made a fatal mistake—he underestimated Morvane’s resilience.

Morvane’s eyes hardened. Crimson had taught him to wait for an opening, and this was it. With a swift motion, Morvane twisted his body and slashed upward with his dagger. The blade caught Esmael off guard, knocking him to the ground.

In a blur, Morvane straddled him, the tip of the dagger pressed against Esmael’s throat.

"Do it!" Esmael hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "Kill me now. Isn’t that what you want? Or are you too weak to finish it?"

Morvane’s hand trembled. His heart pounded. He wanted to end it—wanted to stop Esmael’s madness once and for all. But memories of their childhood flooded back, moments when they were inseparable, best friends before pain and loss tore them apart.

"What happened to you, Esmael?" Morvane’s voice cracked. "What happened to us?"

Esmael’s eyes flickered, but his expression remained defiant. With a sudden burst of strength, he shoved Morvane off.

The shadow crow, watching from above, cawed sharply. Its cunning eyes gleamed as it noticed cracks forming within the realm. It dove toward the foundation, its beak tearing at the fragile fabric of the dimension.

With a final desperate strike, the realm shattered, flames dispersing into smoke. The crow dissolved, its energy spent like the wolf.

The scene before them unfolded in stark clarity. Medas and the guards saw the remnants of the battle.

Esmael, eyes blazing with fury, raised his hand to unleash one final, deadly flame toward Morvane.

"Morvane!" Medas shouted, his instincts taking over.

In a flash, Medas extended his hand, his telekinesis surging with raw power. Esmael’s movement froze, his fire extinguished before it could ignite.

"You will not harm him," Medas declared, his voice unwavering.

Esmael struggled against the invisible force, but Medas’ grip was absolute. The battle had turned.

Esmael’s eerie smile twisted as he gathered the last of his strength. Without warning, a massive surge of fire erupted from his body. The flames burst outward, consuming the air in an explosion of raw, violent heat.

The guards closest to him were caught in the inferno, their screams cut short as the flames incinerated them in an instant. Medas acted quickly, his telekinetic powers creating a barrier that shielded himself, Morvane, and a few remaining guards from the deadly fire.

But the damage was done. Morvane’s heart raced, and he could feel his strength waning. Esmael had found a way to escape, the fire swirling around him as he started to flee.

Morvane’s vision blurred, but his mind was determined. He wasn’t going to let Esmael run free.

With gritted teeth, Morvane attempted to use his bad manifestation once again. His voice was strained, barely a whisper as he spoke the words, "I manifest you to be paralyzed!"

But the magic didn’t take hold. Esmael continued to run, his form flickering like a fading shadow in the distance. Morvane’s exhaustion hit him like a wave, his energy depleted.

Desperation fueled him. "I manifest you to lose your arm!"

But again, nothing. Esmael’s limbs stayed intact as he moved farther away.

Frustration broke through Morvane’s resolve. He shouted, his voice raw with pain, "I manifest you to experience pain!"

Suddenly, Esmael screamed. His body jolted as if an invisible force had torn through him. A dark scar appeared across his face, the mark of Morvane’s manifestation. It seemed to burn into his flesh, causing him to stagger in agony, but Esmael didn’t stop.

Morvane, weakened by the effort, could barely stay upright. His eyes fluttered, and darkness closed in around him. The last thing he heard was Esmael’s pained shout as the scar twisted deeper.

And then, Morvane’s world went black.

Esmael, though wounded, gathered his strength. With a final burst of fire, he cloaked himself in flames. Little by little, the fire dissipated, leaving behind only the echo of his escape.