Fire Emblem if: Resonant Blood

by JustaSoulsFan

3 years after the Conquest Route, Corrin is still haunted from the war between Hoshido and Nohr. The sacrifices she made to expose Garon wear heavily on her. Yet she tries to fulfill her duty as Nohrian princess regardless. On a mission to solve a dispute between allies, she encounters the mysterious Hunter Abel Deville. Together they must confront new enemies and their dark past.

8. Frostbite II

Chapter 6 - Frostbite II

In the war room of Castle Krakenburg, a sense of urgency filled the air. Maps were sprawled across the table, illuminated by candlelight, while figures in dark armor moved swiftly around the hall, their faces set with a grim determination. Nohrian retainers gathered in their ranks, each one waiting for orders and preparing to take their positions. The retainers, who had stood by the royal family through countless battles, were prepared to face a new, deadly threat.

Standing by Xander's side were his trusted retainers: Peri, the unpredictable and bloodthirsty knight with her bright pink hair and unsettling smile, and Laslow, the charming mercenary with a knack for breaking the tension. Leo was flanked by his loyal followers, the eager and principled Odin and the enigmatic Niles, who kept a close watch on everyone with his ever-calculating gaze. Camilla's devoted attendants, the assassin Beruka and the proud warrior Selena, kept close, each ready to act on her lady's orders. Finally, Elise herself was attended by her retainers, Effie, the indomitable knight who matched her small stature with unbreakable strength, and Arthur, the brave yet unlucky hero known for his chivalrous demeanor.

Xander looked to his siblings, his face stern yet thoughtful as he addressed them. "We face an enemy unlike any before," he began, his eyes sweeping across his gathered family. "The Dead Apostles are not only capable of destruction but are driven by an ancient hunger that renders them both powerful and relentless. If we underestimate them, we risk not only our lives but the lives of everyone in Nohr."

Leo leaned over the map, tracing his gloved finger along the strategic points around Windmire. "From what we've gathered, these vampires use necromancy and dark powers far beyond conventional magic," he said, his voice cool and steady. "Standard weaponry may not be enough to hold them back."

"Perhaps," said Camilla, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, "but we have the advantage of familiarity with these lands. Nohr's darkness is our ally, as it has always been. We know how to fight in it; they do not. We need to set traps along the path into the city, use what we know to our advantage."

Laslow, always the tactician, added, "If we can predict where they'll strike, we might be able to limit their numbers before they reach the main gates. The undead may be endless, but they can be scattered if we weaken their lines."

Corrin glanced at Abel beside her, her expression torn between worry and determination. She spoke up, her voice carrying a note of hope. "Abel… you've faced creatures like this before. How did you fight them?" She looked around at her siblings, her gaze finally settling on Xander. "These Dead Apostles are powerful, yes, but they have their limits. Abel was able to fend off Malkav in the Ice Tribe village—there must be a way we can defend against them here."

Abel inclined his head, his dark eyes contemplative as he answered. "I've fought many Dead Apostles before. Their strength lies in manipulation and fear as much as in raw power. We mustn't give them the chance to spread terror among the troops. As for their physical resilience... silver is more effective than iron, and holy relics weaken them, particularly those that can invoke light or purification. You have a strong advantage in that they don't know your ways or your strategies. But be wary. They enjoy toying with their prey."

Leo exchanged a quick glance with Xander. "Then we should rely on defensive formations. We must minimize the chances of any soldiers breaking ranks—one hint of hesitation could create an opening for the Dead Apostles to break through."

Xander nodded, his brows furrowing as he took in Abel's words. "And we'll need to boost morale. The men should know that this enemy, while powerful, can be defeated if we work together. This threat is not invincible."

Peri, who had been listening with an unsettling grin, gripped her lance eagerly. "I say we let them come close and then cut 'em down before they know what hit 'em. They won't be so scary when they're in pieces on the ground."

Niles rolled his eyes but smirked. "Just remember, Peri, these aren't simple bandits—they'll likely have tricks up their sleeves. They're clever in ways even we aren't."

Selena stepped forward, crossing her arms. "This may not be a straightforward battle, but we've survived worse odds before. If we fight smart, we'll make it through this."

Elise, usually bright and cheerful, was uncharacteristically quiet, though her expression held a fierce determination. "If these monsters want to hurt innocent people, then I'll be right there with everyone, protecting them. I won't let them touch anyone in Nohr."

Arthur, puffing out his chest, nodded solemnly. "Exactly, Lady Elise! Justice will prevail. This vile foe will meet their downfall, no matter how terrifying they may be!"

Effie simply added, her voice a steady, comforting anchor, "I'll be at your side, Lady Elise. We won't let fear control us."

Leo raised his chin, his sharp gaze fixed on the room. "We have the advantage of foresight. Let's use it. If we set up defensive barricades here and here," he pointed to key points on the map, "we'll be able to draw their forces into traps and wear them down before they reach the castle."

Camilla placed a hand on Corrin's shoulder, smiling softly, her gaze filled with both worry and pride. "You've done well, little sister. Thanks to your bravery and your friend here, we're prepared." Her gaze shifted to Abel, her expression unreadable. "And we owe you our thanks, Abel. You've shown loyalty to Corrin—and to all of us."

Xander straightened, his resolve firm. "Then it's decided. We'll reinforce the city and prepare to face these Dead Apostles head-on. They may come with dark power, but we'll remind them that Nohr doesn't bow to fear."

Abel met Xander's gaze, nodding, and replied, "We may face the night, but together, we can bring the dawn."

The war room was silent for a moment, filled with determination and a fierce will to protect the realm they called home. Each of them, from the royalty to the retainers, felt the weight of the battle to come, and they would face it together.

Then, a guard burst into the war room, his face pale and his breath coming in gasps. "Your Majesty!" he stammered, clutching his helmet. "One of those monsters—a vampire—he's appeared in the heart of the capital! He has long, white hair, a dark green coat, and wields a sword that freezes everything it touches. He's attacking the citizens, and he… he's raising the dead from the very ground!"

Corrin's heart skipped a beat as her eyes widened. "Malkav…" she whispered, fear and recognition flashing across her face. "That has to be him." She glanced at Abel, seeking confirmation, her mind already racing with the horrors she had seen him unleash before.

Abel's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. "Yes. It's him," he confirmed, his voice like iron. "Malkav doesn't just kill—he revels in suffering and fear. If he's attacking openly, he's daring us to respond. He won't stop until he's brought ruin to Windmire."

Xander's jaw clenched, and his fist tightened on the hilt of Siegfried. His eyes burned with a fierce determination. "Then we will respond," he said, his voice a low growl. "No one brings chaos to our kingdom and threatens our people. He won't leave Windmire alive."

Leo, his face twisted in distaste, shook his head in frustration. "This is exactly the kind of disorder these Dead Apostles thrive on. He's not just after the lives of our citizens—he's trying to shake our stability, to show he can strike fear into the heart of Nohr itself." He gritted his teeth. "I'll see to it that he fails."

"Then let's get out there," Camilla said, her voice uncharacteristically harsh, though her eyes sparkled with a predatory gleam. "If this vampire wants a fight, we'll make him regret ever setting foot in our capital." Her smile was soft but deadly, and her grip on her axe tightened as she glanced protectively at her siblings. "We'll show him what it means to cross the royal family of Nohr."

Beside her, Elise's usual cheerful expression was gone, replaced by a determined scowl. "We have to stop him! He's hurting innocent people," she said, her small fists clenched tightly. "I'm not going to let some monster ruin my home and hurt everyone!"

Effie stepped forward, her voice steady. "We'll stop him, Lady Elise. You can count on us." She turned to Xander, her fierce loyalty clear. "Just give the word, and I'll go down there myself. No one harms the people of Nohr without facing us."

Arthur nodded, his usually buoyant voice grave. "This is no mere challenge; this is an assault on justice itself! Have no fear, Lady Elise—I'll stand by you against any evil that threatens our kingdom."

Odin's face was deadly serious as he crossed his arms and looked to Leo. "This creature may wield powers from the depths of nightmare itself, but we shall face him with the might of our own dark magic! No apostate fiend shall go unpunished under the vigilant eye of Odin Dark."

Niles chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with a certain sadistic delight. "I wouldn't mind giving him a taste of Nohr's hospitality."

Selena's gaze was intense, her mouth set in a firm line. "If this vampire thinks he can come into our home and do as he pleases, he's in for a surprise. We're not going to stand by and watch this city fall."

Laslow nodded, his usual smile replaced with grim resolve. "This isn't the first time we've faced a fight for our lives, and it won't be the last. Let's go make sure Nohr stands strong."

Xander stepped forward, his voice a commanding presence in the room. "All of you, listen closely. We will not let this abomination harm our people or disrupt our land. I'll lead the charge," he said, glancing at his siblings and retainers, his gaze hard but full of resolve. "Abel, your knowledge of this vampire's weaknesses will be crucial. Together, we'll bring this monster to justice."

Abel nodded, his eyes sharp and unyielding. "I'll stand by your side, King Xander," he promised. "We'll put an end to Malkav's terror tonight."

Xander drew Siegfried, the dark blade humming with power. "Then we march," he declared, his voice resolute. "Let Malkav feel the wrath of Nohr. For the kingdom, for our people—let's go!"

Windmire had transformed into a nightmare. The bustling capital, once vibrant with life, now lay cloaked in death and despair. Shadows stretched and writhed along the cobblestone streets, twisted by the flickering, smoldering light of overturned lanterns. Malkav Archangel strode through the city with a detached, chilling indifference, his long white hair flowing behind him like a banner of death. His dark green coat billowed, trailing an aura of frost that seeped into the ground with each step, leaving icicles and frost-rimed stones in his wake.

The streets were overrun by Malkav's summoned dead. Corpses, half-decayed and skeletal, clawed their way up from the soil, rising from cracks in the earth, graves long sealed, and crypts once undisturbed. Their empty eye sockets gleamed with an intense, bluish light, and their bones rattled as they staggered forward, driven by an unholy will to wreak havoc. Farmers, merchants, even children, screamed and fled, but the undead pursued relentlessly, indifferent to the horror they inspired. Anyone who stumbled or fell was immediately set upon, the skeletal hands of Malkav's undead legion grasping with inhuman strength, dragging them down as shadows swallowed their cries.

Malkav's cruel laughter echoed down the empty streets as he watched his horde spread like a plague, decimating everything in their path. He watched with a twisted glee, reveling in the chaos. "Look at them—scrambling like insects. So fragile. So easily broken," he sneered. His cold, calculating eyes took in every detail of the carnage around him, savoring it.

He strode into the heart of the city, moving slowly, savoring his work as though it was a work of art. Those who dared to face him in defiance were quickly dispatched; his sword lashed out with unnatural speed, and wherever it struck, his victims were left frozen in place, their final expressions of terror preserved in haunting statues of ice. In a single, fluid motion, he cut down a young soldier, his body freezing in place, mouth open in a silent scream, ice crawling up his limbs, sealing him forever in that instant of horror.

"Pathetic," Malkav whispered to the frozen corpse, disdain dripping from his voice. "All this talk of loyalty and honor—yet you fall so easily, like leaves in winter."

With a mocking bow, he flourished his sword in a grand sweep, the ice-covered blade catching the pale light of the moon as he pressed forward. The freezing fog that trailed his movements swirled outward, chilling the air, coating walls and doorways in a slick frost, turning Windmire into a spectral city of ice and shadow. The very ground seemed to recoil from his presence, as if the stones themselves feared to bear his weight.

Around him, his undead soldiers were relentless in their pursuit of any survivors. They banged against doors and shutters, rattling them until they splintered, dragging terrified people from their hiding places. The moans of the undead mingled with the screams of the living, creating a cacophony of despair that reverberated off the cold stone walls. Malkav smirked at the sounds of anguish, breathing them in as if they were the finest of wines.

Yet amidst the carnage, a subtle melancholy flickered within him, buried under the layers of cruelty and cold calculation. Once, he had known life; he had felt its frailties, its fleeting joys. But those memories were faint now, dulled and buried under countless layers of hatred and despair. This twisted cruelty was his way of asserting control over the world, of wielding his immortality as both weapon and shield. In his mind, he was a god, shaping the world according to his dark vision.

Malkav paused, listening to the sounds of the dying city. He tilted his head, as though savoring each scream, each desperate plea. "Yes," he murmured to himself. "This is what it means to rule. To hold life and death in one's grasp… to shape a world of ice, devoid of weakness, devoid of hope."

But behind that satisfaction, there lingered a flash of something else—a craving for more. This display of power, while exhilarating, was not enough. The sense of purpose that had driven him to Nohr, the thirst for domination that had propelled him through the century, urged him onward. He felt an insatiable hunger, a yearning that no amount of terror or suffering could truly fulfill.

Brushing these thoughts aside, he turned his attention back to the city. A smug grin spread across his face as he thought of his true purpose here. Malkav's gaze drifted toward the castle, sheltered in the large crate. "And somewhere in there," he whispered to himself, "are the royals, cowering in fear… with their precious Nosferatu by their side. Like ants in an anthill."

With that, Malkav threw his head back and let out a laugh that echoed through the frozen streets, a sound filled with arrogance and malice. His mocking voice cut through the night as he called to his undead horde, his words laced with venom and dark delight.

"Onward, my servants! Tonight, Windmire belongs to the dead!"

Xander, standing tall at the head of his gathered forces, surveyed the frozen ruins of his beloved city with a face set like stone. But a dark storm brewed in his eyes, a glint of fury barely held in check as he took in the chaos Malkav had unleashed. "To bring this kind of devastation to Windmire… it's beyond forgiveness," he growled, his voice filled with grim determination. "This creature will not see another sunrise."

Beside him, Camilla's violet eyes blazed with an intense fury as she beheld the destruction tearing through her home. She gripped her axe tightly, the faintest tremor in her hands betraying her anger. "To threaten Nohr, our people…" she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. "I'll make him suffer for this. He'll regret ever setting foot in our kingdom."

Leo, typically composed and thoughtful, found himself struggling to maintain his calm demeanor. His brows furrowed deeply, and his eyes scanned the wreckage with an expression that betrayed both horror and disgust. "The arrogance," he muttered, gripping his spell tome until his knuckles turned white. "To send hordes of undead into our streets, to think he could stroll into Nohr and lay it to waste... we'll make him pay dearly for underestimating us."

Elise, the youngest of the Nohrian royals, had tears shining in her eyes as she took in the desolate scene around her. The sight of her people fleeing in terror, of the lifeless bodies scattered on the once-lively streets, was almost too much for her. "How... how could anyone do this?" she whispered, her voice small, barely audible as she clutched her staff. But even amidst her sadness, a spark of determination began to burn. "We have to stop him. We have to."

Corrin, who had seen Malkav's malice firsthand, closed her eyes for a brief moment, remembering the devastation he had left in the Ice Tribe village. She tightened her grip on her blade, her jaw set with fierce resolve. "He thinks he can spread fear and destruction wherever he goes… but we'll put an end to this," she said, her gaze steely. She felt a pang of guilt, knowing that the threat had followed her home, but she shook it off, channeling it into resolve.

Abel stood beside them, his face dark with frustration and anger. His fists were clenched tightly as he surveyed the hellish landscape. "This," he muttered bitterly, his eyes cold with resolve, "is what a fully realized Dead Apostle is capable of." His voice was grim as he added, "This is the true nature of the beast. They stop at nothing… they delight in corruption, death, and despair. The more destruction they sow, the stronger they become."

Xander placed a reassuring hand on Abel's shoulder, a rare display of camaraderie. "Then we'll show him what Nohrian steel is capable of," he said, his voice low and filled with iron. "We stand united. Whatever foul power he wields, we'll cut him down together."

Camilla nodded, stepping forward with a look of fierce resolve. "We'll meet his cruelty with strength," she said, her voice unyielding. "For the people of Nohr, and for the family he dares to threaten."

Leo closed his tome with a resolute snap, nodding toward the others. "We'll need all our strength, all our wits, and every resource we have," he said, already formulating a plan in his mind. "But we'll strike, and we'll bring him down."

Abel met each of their gazes in turn, a glimmer of hope sparking in his eyes. Though he was a stranger to Nohr, he could see the depth of the family's loyalty, their shared fury, and the strength of their bond. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, feeling as though—for the first time in ages—he wasn't facing the darkness alone.

"Then let's show Malkav exactly what happens when he threatens Nohr," he said, his voice filled with a fierce determination. He added, his expression was severe. "I'll face Malkav alone," he announced, his voice resonating with grim resolve. "The Nohrian army should focus on cutting down the undead, rescuing as many citizens as possible… and," he paused, looking at each of them with reluctance in his eyes, "I need you to set the city ablaze."

At this, the royals stared at him, each reacting in their own way. Xander's brow furrowed in stunned silence; this was the last thing he'd expected to hear. Leo's expression hardened, and Camilla raised an eyebrow, looking equally skeptical. Elise's face was a mixture of shock and distress, while Corrin looked to Abel in concern, searching his face for any hint of an explanation.

"Burn our own capital?" Xander's voice was measured but heavy, like a dam straining to hold back a torrent. "You can't be serious."

"It's the only way," Abel insisted, his gaze unwavering. "If I'm going to destroy Malkav, I need to use his own power against him. But for that, the air itself needs to be heated—stiflingly so. Fire, intense heat, will weaken his control over his cold-based necromancy. It will allow me to get close, to draw him in without his powers overwhelming me."

Leo's eyes narrowed, and he adjusted his grip on his tome thoughtfully. "You mean to turn his own strengths into weaknesses." A trace of intrigue appeared on his face as he considered the strategic brilliance of it. "Risky… but if it succeeds, it's brilliant."

Camilla crossed her arms, her piercing gaze fixed on Abel. "You're certain of this? Even if we take the fire to strategic areas, there's no guarantee that the flames won't spread. Our people… our city…" Her voice softened, her usual calm demeanor strained as she struggled to accept such a drastic measure.

"I don't ask this lightly," Abel said, his voice low but firm. "Believe me, if there were any other way… I'd do it. But Malkav thrives in cold and shadows. We need heat and light to push back his darkness. If we set controlled fires, we can concentrate the flames near him, turning the battlefield into a trap."

Elise looked to her siblings, anxiety clear in her wide eyes. "But… the citizens… what if it spreads too quickly? What if we can't save everyone in time?"

Xander put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Elise, listen to me. We'll protect them. We've faced impossible odds before, and we'll do it again," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. He then looked to Abel with a hardened gaze. "If this is the only way to stop him, then so be it. But we must proceed carefully. We'll need strategy if we're to minimize the damage and get as many people to safety as possible."

Leo nodded, his eyes alight with an idea. "We can use controlled bursts of fire," he suggested, holding up his tome. "We'll target specific areas, keeping the flames at the edges of the market and near open spaces. I can work with some of the sorcerers to channel the flames, focusing the heat where Malkav is strongest."

Camilla smirked, though her gaze held a flicker of worry. "And my wyverns can help keep it under control. We'll set up fire breaks to keep the flames from spreading too far, ensuring a path for the civilians to escape."

Corrin stepped forward, her expression resolute. "And I'll lead the way. I'll make sure that as many people as possible are moved to safety before the flames get close."

Abel looked at each of them, humbled by their willingness to go to such lengths to save their people—and to trust his judgment. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "With all of us working together, this will work."

Xander drew his sword, the blade glinting with fierce determination. "Then let's show Malkav what happens when he crosses into Nohr."

The Nohrian royals and Abel shared a resolute nod, readying themselves for the battle to come. They'd turn their city into a crucible, heating the battlefield itself into a weapon against the vampire and his army of the dead. The flames would serve as both shield and sword, driving Malkav back and giving Abel the chance to end him once and for all.

As the Nohrian royals departed, each moving to their specific tasks amidst the chaos, Abel stood alone for a moment, his gaze hardening as he drew his sword. With practiced precision, he combined the blade in his hand with the massive one on his back, forging it into the formidable Zweihänder.

He exhaled, reaching for the rosary around his wrist. The familiar weight of the chain held his darkest powers in check, a self-imposed restraint from the vampire he had once been. With a final look at his surroundings, he pulled on it. As he loosened the rosary's chain, a ripple of change washed over him. His eyes blazed into a feral, gleaming red, and the air around him grew heavy with an ominous, dark energy. This was the aura of a Dead Apostle—a creature whose very presence could drain the courage from those around him. And yet, unlike decades past, this aura would not be turned against the innocent, nor twisted to serve his own gain. Now, he wielded it as a defender.

He murmured softly to himself, almost as though in prayer, "Now then, Father Graham… let's see if these powers can really be used for good."

With that, he surged forward, channeling magical energy through his soles. In one powerful motion, he leapt onto a nearby rooftop, landing gracefully despite the weight of his sword. He bolted across the shingled surface, his feet barely touching the ground as he sprinted with inhuman speed. Reaching the edge, he gathered his strength and launched himself into the air. The world below dropped away, and for a split second, he was suspended high above the capital, looking down on Windmire's chaotic streets. His figure cut a shadow across the dimming sky as he ascended, becoming a dark silhouette backlit by the fires spreading below.

Far below, Corrin was guiding Elise and Jakob through the twisted streets, navigating the terrified citizens toward safety. Corrin's attention flickered constantly between her siblings and the dangers lurking around each corner. Her heart was pounding as she focused on clearing a path, urging people into alleyways and toward the edges of the city.

Then, a bright flash above caught her eye. Pausing, she looked up, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the sight overhead. There, high above the city, Abel hovered against the darkened sky, his form haloed by the intense glow of magic at his feet and along the length of his massive blade. His aura was palpable even from a distance—an energy that made her both uneasy and mesmerized. He looked like a figure from legend, a dark knight channeling raw power, but on the side of justice.

"Is that… Abel?" Corrin whispered in awe, her voice barely audible. Elise and Jakob turned to look as well, their eyes widening at the sight. Abel's transformation was both terrifying and beautiful, a force beyond anything they had seen before. For a moment, even the panicked cries of the citizens faded as they watched him.

Just then, Abel lifted his sword and, with a murmured prayer, redirected the energy beneath his feet. The gathered power ignited in an explosion of light and pressure, propelling him downward with tremendous speed. He became a streak of light cutting through the darkness, an arc of power hurtling straight toward the marketplace, where Malkav lurked amidst the carnage. Corrin couldn't tear her eyes away, watching as he descended like a bolt of living lightning.

With a deafening crash, Abel struck the ground in the heart of the square. The impact unleashed a shockwave that rattled buildings and shook the earth, sending debris flying in every direction. Corrin staggered back, bracing herself against the tremor as it reverberated down the street. Even from a distance, she could feel the power that had been unleashed, a force as intense as it was controlled.

"Stay back!" Corrin called out, instinctively stepping in front of Elise and Jakob as the dust cloud from the impact spread through the streets. Elise clung to Jakob's arm, both of them transfixed by the aftermath of the clash.

Through the settling dust, Corrin squinted to make out the figures within the square. A crater had been etched into the ground from the sheer force of the landing.

Elise spoke in a hushed, fearful tone, her voice trembling. "Corrin… Abel's power, it feels so… different. And Malkav… how could he survive that?"

Corrin's eyes narrowed as she watched them, her expression resolute. "Yes, Elise," she murmured, her voice steady. "Abel is different. He's wielding powers that could easily become monstrous… but right now, he's using them to defend us. To defend Nohr."

The dust began to settle, revealing Abel and Malkav facing each other in the center of the crater, each one unyielding, their auras clashing in a fierce battle of wills. Corrin felt a strange mixture of fear and hope as she watched. The scene was surreal, as though two ancient forces of nature had descended upon Windmire, locked in a contest that would determine the fate of the entire city.

"Come on," Corrin said, regaining her composure as she guided Elise and Jakob forward. "Abel's buying us time. We need to get as many people to safety as we can before this battle consumes everything."

But even as she pressed on, Corrin couldn't help but cast a final glance over her shoulder, her heart silently willing Abel to win—not only for the sake of Nohr, but for the fragile humanity he fought so desperately to protect within himself.

Abel and Malkav moved like shadows across the cracked stone of the square, their figures an intense blur as sparks flew from their clashing blades. Abel's red, glinting eyes locked onto Malkav's icy blue gaze, a stark contrast that echoed their opposing forces—lightning against frost, raw power against honed skill. Abel could feel the difference in their techniques with each swing. Malkav's strikes were precise, each one a testament to the skill of a fencer who, in life, had been a master beyond most others. His movements were sharp and efficient, a brutal dance of controlled cruelty.

Abel knew that, on pure technical skill, he was outmatched. He could see it in every counter Malkav delivered, every feint he narrowly avoided. Abel had always been a brawler, far from graceful. His power lay in channeling lightning through his limbs, not in perfect form. Elesia had drilled into him time and time again to compensate for his blunt techniques by pouring his magic into his attacks, and now, that strength was the only thing keeping him from being overwhelmed. Sparks danced across his body, crackling up his arms, and with each swing of his Zweihänder, he summoned the force of his magecraft, amplifying his strikes to a brutal edge that could cleave through matter at an atomic level.

Malkav, however, was swift and relentless, weaving through Abel's blows with an almost supernatural ease, his sword finding every gap, every weakness. Abel's mind raced as he pushed his body to its limits, pressing Malkav back, determined to hold his ground. He just needed to stall for time. The fires around the city were building, heat rising into the air. Soon, he'd have the catalyst he needed to unleash his final spell, the attack he hoped could break Malkav's defenses.

In his mind, Abel almost laughed at the thought. Here he was, struggling to keep up with Malkav—an arrogant, young Dead Apostle. He shuddered inwardly at the idea of ever crossing blades with more legendary Dead Apostles, like the ancient swordmaster known as Be'ze or the enigmatic Black Knight Strout. And Enhance… Abel had barely escaped him alive once. He pushed the thoughts away, focusing solely on his enemy.

With a fierce, sweeping slash, Abel forced Malkav back a few paces, lifting his Zweihänder defensively as he caught his breath. He felt the sweat on his brow, his breaths coming in harsh gasps. But he steadied his stance, his grip firm on the sword's hilt, waiting for Malkav to make his next move. His limbs buzzed with power, his body coiled with tension, ready for whatever came next. The heat was rising around them, the fires blazing hotter with each passing second. Just a bit longer. He only needed to hold on a little more, and then—

Abel's locked blades with Malkav once more. The icy chill that radiated off Malkav was unnerving, not just from his aura but from the uncanny resemblance to another—someone Abel had only heard of in whispered legends, someone whose power could freeze entire kingdoms in an instant.

Vlov Arkhangel. The 19th of the Dead Apostle Ancestors. Abel had studied his history before, especially after he learned how deadly the Dead Apostles could become. Vlov's rise to power had been as tragic as it was terrifying. A knight, exiled from his homeland under false accusations, wandering the world until he found Zaria Offenbaum, a powerful Dead Apostle, who took him in and made him her successor. Vlov had inherited her Principle—the Principle of Freezing, the ability to control ice and cold, draining warmth from his enemies until they died, dissolved into nothingness.

But Vlov's story ended in bloodshed, over a century ago. He had killed Zaria, cast aside the principles of his adoptive mother, and became the next Dead Apostle Ancestor, ruling over his domain with a cold, merciless hand. Yet, he had no successor. His death left a power vacuum within the ranks of the Dead Apostle Ancestors.

Now Abel realized that Malkav, despite being of an entirely different lineage—one born from the twisted experiments of Lululily A. Paranodahlia—had abilities far too similar to Vlov's. The cold that surrounded him, the way his attacks froze the very air as if he commanded it, it was almost identical. Abel could feel it in every strike, in every movement of Malkav's sword. There was something far more dangerous in front of him than the typical Dead Apostle.

Abel pushed back against Malkav's sword, the two locked in a fierce struggle. Their swords groaned under the pressure, sparks flaring as they clashed. Abel's chest tightened, the weight of the realization sinking in. Malkav was not just another upstart. He was something more, something far more sinister. Abel's grip on his blade tightened, but he could feel the strain on his limbs as the cold emanating from Malkav seeped into his muscles, weakening him.

"What the hell did Lululily do to you?" Abel gritted through clenched teeth, their swords grinding together. His red eyes blazed, yet there was a flicker of desperation in them. "You're no ordinary Dead Apostle, are you? You're... something far worse."

Malkav smirked, his icy blue eyes gleaming with an unsettling calm. "You're right, Nosferatu. Lululily did make me more than just another Dead Apostle. She saw the potential in me, and now, I'm something... much greater. Far more powerful than the likes of you could ever imagine."

Abel's heart skipped a beat. This was worse than he'd feared. Malkav's words echoed in his mind, and he finally understood the gravity of the situation. The experiments that Lululily had conducted, turning Malkav into this… entity that surpassed any normal Dead Apostle, were not just a twisted power grab. They were a step towards something even more horrifying. If this was true, then Malkav had fully mimicked Vlov's abilities, something that was thought impossible. And what stood now before Abel was a being of unimaginable destruction.

He cursed under his breath, his mind racing. The stakes had just escalated beyond anything he had prepared for. "You're not just a pawn. You're a goddamn monster." Abel's grip tightened around his Zweihänder, and he forced himself to take a step back, his sword raised in a defensive stance. "I have to end this now before you get any stronger."

Malkav laughed darkly, the sound like the echo of a blizzard. "You're amusing, Nosferatu. But you're already too late. The cold is already rising. And soon, Windmire—no, the entire kingdom—will be mine."

As he spoke, a surge of freezing air exploded from his form, a wave of necrotic cold spreading out from his body. Abel staggered back, his muscles stiffening from the sheer intensity of it, his breath freezing in the air. He could feel his body freezing from the inside out, but he fought to ignore it, pressing forward despite the weight of the cold.

Abel's mind reeled. This is bad. I underestimated him. He's already on the verge of wielding the power of an Ancestor. If I don't stop him soon... Windmire will fall, and Nohr along with it.

His eyes narrowed as he steadied his sword. I need to stall him. Just a little longer until the plan is in place...

Malkav lunged forward, his sword swinging in a deadly arc, faster than Abel had anticipated. Abel barely managed to deflect the blow, the clash of metal reverberating through the air. But Malkav didn't stop there. He pressed the attack, his every move calculated and efficient, his icy sword creating a storm of slashes, each one more vicious than the last.

Abel's instincts screamed at him to counter, but his body was slowing, the cold seeping into his bones, his vision blurring slightly as he fought to stay focused. He gritted his teeth, trying to push past the freezing agony that gripped his limbs.

Hold it together, Abel. You're almost there...

He needed time. Just a little more time. The temperature was rising across the battlefield, the fires of Windmire would soon start to affect the air around them. Then he could finally unleash the full force of his lightning-infused spell. But until then, he had to survive.

The clash continued, Malkav pressing relentlessly, and Abel blocking just as fiercely. Each strike felt like it could shatter his bones, yet he refused to give in. He had no choice. He had to protect Windmire—and everyone in it.

As Abel and Malkav continued their fierce battle, the rest of the Nohrian royal family and their retainers were not idle. Xander, Leo, Camilla, and Corrin—along with their loyal retainers—had already set their plan into motion. The time had come to fight, to save their kingdom, and to use every ounce of their strength to protect the people of Windmire from the monstrous plague that Malkav had brought upon the city.

Xander stood at the head of his forces, the imposing figure of the Nohrian prince cutting through the horde of undead with the mighty Siegfried in hand. His blade emanated a dark energy as he cleaved through the reanimated corpses. With each strike, the sword hummed with power, slicing through the air and sending limbs and bodies scattering. Xander's expression was set with grim determination. This was a battle for his kingdom, for his people, and he would see it through to the end. His black armor gleamed in the fiery glow of the city, and despite the chaos, his poise and discipline were unshaken.

Beside him, Effie was an unstoppable force. Her massive lance swung through the air, cutting down wave after wave of undead. With a battle cry, she swept through the masses, obliterating everything in her path. Each swing of her weapon was deliberate and precise, ensuring that no foe escaped her wrath.

Leo, standing a little further back, was focused on his magical attacks. With Brynhildr, his magical tome, in hand, he unleashed fireball after fireball, sending torrents of flame cascading through the undead horde. The fire magic exploded upon contact, searing the walking corpses to ash. His expressions were as cool and composed as ever, despite the chaos around him.

"Ah, nothing quite like the smell of charred undead in the morning," Leo mused with a self-satisfied smirk, raising a hand to call upon another blast of fire.

Nyx, by his side, couldn't help but roll her eyes. "If you didn't enjoy your own theatrics so much, Prince Leo, maybe we could focus on the actual battle."

Leo grinned at her with mock innocence. "You wound me, Nyx. I'm merely enjoying the results of my work. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from me?"

Nyx merely shrugged. "I don't need your help to deal with these pests."

With that, she extended her hand and dark tendrils of shadow magic erupted from her fingertips, slicing through the ranks of undead with ruthless efficiency. The dark magic coiled around the enemies, snuffing out their existence in a single sweep.

"You do know I'm only keeping pace with you, right?" Nyx remarked with a raised eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling slightly.

Camilla, mounted upon her wyvern, soared above the battlefield. Her axe shimmered with deadly intent as she dove through the air, cleaving through the undead ranks. Her movements were graceful, yet brutal, as if she were dancing through the air, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake.

"Oh, I do so love a good fight," Camilla purred, her voice soft but filled with dark amusement. "It's just so terribly fun watching them scatter before me."

Beruka, standing beside Camilla on the ground, shot her a sideways glance, her cold expression never changing. "Focus, Camilla. You're going to let your pride get the best of you."

Camilla shot Beruka a playful wink before thrusting her lance through the chest of a particularly large group of undead. "Oh, don't worry about me, Beruka. I'm always focused."

Beruka just sighed. "I hope you're right."

Meanwhile, Corrin was channeling her Dragon Vein abilities. The land itself seemed to respond to her command as the ground beneath her feet began to quake. The Dragon Veins, a power unique to the royal family, were able to manipulate the very earth they walked on. With a surge of energy, she raised her hands to the sky and summoned volcanic eruptions from the ground, scorching the undead in a ring of fire. The lava burst from cracks in the earth, burning the undead alive as they were overwhelmed by the heat.

"Stay focused, everyone!" Corrin called to her family, her voice both commanding and full of care. "We're not just fighting to save Windmire—we're fighting to protect everything we hold dear!"

Jakob, who had been keeping pace with Corrin, slashed through the undead with his usual grace and precision. His daggers glinted as he moved swiftly and efficiently, dispatching the undead with a deadly ease. "Lady Corrin," he called, his tone calm as always. "I suggest we clear a path to the castle for the civilians. We cannot allow this madness to continue much longer."

"Agreed," Corrin replied, her eyes scanning the battlefield with a practiced focus. "We'll protect them all. Keep fighting, everyone. The castle will hold—we just need to push them back long enough."

As the city erupted into chaos, the royal family and their retainers fought with everything they had. The city of Windmire had become a battlefield, and as the flames from the Dragon Veins continued to spread through the streets, the heat in the air began to rise. Abel's plan was starting to take shape, and soon, they would have the upper hand.

Abel's warning about the importance of the air's temperature began to make sense. As the fire and heat spread through the city, it was only a matter of time before Malkav would meet the full force of Abel's abilities. And when that moment came, the entire battle would hinge on one final confrontation.

Abel's every movement was growing more desperate as he fought against Malkav's relentless swordplay. The pale glow of Malkav's rapier shimmered like ice, the very air around it thick with the biting cold. Each strike that Malkav landed forced Abel to retreat just a step further, his Zweihänder trembling under the weight of his own frustration. He wasn't used to being on the defensive—not against an opponent of this caliber.

Malkav's rapier was light and precise, like a venomous snake striking with unerring accuracy. The bladed tip shimmered with the cold, sending slashes of freezing energy that lanced through Abel's defenses. Each of Malkav's blows seemed to freeze the very air, and Abel could feel the sharp sting of frost creeping into his limbs with every passing moment.

Abel, driven by desperation, threw himself into an all-out assault, thrashing with his Zweihänder in a flurry of wild strikes. He was hoping to overwhelm Malkav with sheer power, but Malkav was too skilled. His rapier danced through the air with an eerie grace, parrying and deflecting each swing of the much larger blade with ease. Abel's arms burned from the strain, but he could not afford to relent.

In a last-ditch attempt to disorient Malkav, Abel tossed aside his heavy coat, sending it billowing into the air. The motion was intended to confuse his opponent, to throw off his timing, but Malkav didn't falter for a moment. With a glint in his eyes, he lashed out—his rapier cutting through the air with the precision of a seasoned swordsman.

Abel's eyes widened as he felt a sharp pain in his hand. The next thing he knew, his Zweihänder was no longer in his grasp. The massive blade was sent flying across the battlefield, out of reach. Abel stood there, breathless, his body shaking from the intensity of the moment. He tried to backpedal, but Malkav was too quick, too calculated.

The coldness around him seemed to intensify, seeping deep into his bones. His coat—his only layer of protection—was gone, and with it, the small measure of defense he had from Malkav's biting cold. Abel gritted his teeth, forcing his hands to steady despite the shock of the freezing air.

Even as the frost began to creep into his limbs, his regenerative abilities worked furiously to mend the damage done by the rapier. The lightning magic coursing through his body helped to keep the freezing effects at bay, but even that would not be enough for long. The cold, like a weight pressing on his chest, was making it harder to concentrate. It was only a matter of time before the freezing effects of Malkav's strikes overcame him.

Malkav's eyes glinted with sadistic satisfaction as he taunted Abel, the sneer on his lips unmistakable. "Look at you, Nosferatu," Malkav said with a chuckle, his voice smooth and venomous. "Once the most feared of our kind, and now… reduced to this. How the mighty have fallen. To think you once dreamed of becoming the most powerful of the Dead Apostles… how utterly laughable."

Abel's eyes narrowed, the anger in his chest rising despite the cold, despite the pain. His fists clenched at his sides, and he forced his voice to remain steady.

"At least I fight with my own power," Abel growled, his voice cutting through the air like a blade of its own. "I don't need to steal someone else's strength. You're nothing but a Faker, Malkav."

Malkav tilted his head, a cold smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Faker?" he repeated, his voice rich with condescension. "Is that what you think? Power is power, Abel. It doesn't matter if you acquire it through training, through stealing, or through inheritance. The result is the same. I have the power. You don't. That's the only truth that matters."

Abel's scoffed, his eyes burning with rage. "You're nothing more than a parasite. You use the strength of those who came before you, trying to rewrite the history of the Dead Apostles. You can never truly own that power, because you didn't earn it."

Malkav's lips curled into a smile, but there was no humor in it. "And you, Kain, you're just a filthy hunter now. You don't understand. All those years of chasing down creatures like us, believing you're some kind of noble defender. You've softened, haven't you? Too sentimental. It's made you weak."

Abel's expression flickered for just a moment, the weight of Malkav's words gnawing at him. His dark past, his purpose as a hunter, was being called into question. But in the depths of his heart, he knew that Malkav was wrong. No matter how powerful Malkav had become, he would never understand the true essence of fighting for something greater than himself.

"No," Abel said softly, but with deadly conviction. "I fight for humanity now. I fight because they don't deserve the darkness that creatures like us bring. And I'll fight until my last breath to make sure that darkness is driven back. I will stop you."

Malkav's icy blue eyes flashed with contempt. "And yet, here you are, using the powers of these creatures to fight me. You can claim to have overcome your past as much as you like, you're still rely on it. You're truly pathetic, Kain."

Abel let out a slow, steady breath, the energy of the battle surging through him. "No. What's pathetic is you. You act like you're equal to the Dead Apostle Ancestors, but all you've done is proving you're nothing more than a pale imitation of those who came before you."

With that, Abel pushed forward once again, his body alight with the power of the lightning magic coursing through him. Despite his injuries, despite the overwhelming cold, he wouldn't back down. Not now. Not ever. His focus sharpened. He wasn't fighting just for himself anymore—he was fighting for the future of Nohr.

Abel's heart pounded in his chest as he let the raw power of his vampire form surge through him. His fingers elongated into deadly claws, sharp and gleaming like jagged steel, each tip crackling with the raw energy of lightning magic. It coursed through him, lending an unearthly speed and precision to his movements. His body radiated power, his aura darkening and twisting as he prepared to launch himself at Malkav with everything he had left.

"I will fight with everything I have," Abel snarled, his voice low and filled with unshakable determination. The storm of magical energy inside him thundered, surging through his veins like wildfire. His glowing red eyes burned with intensity. He wouldn't allow Malkav's words, his power, or his arrogance to break him. This was the moment. The moment he would prove that his fight was not in vain.

Malkav, however, remained utterly unfazed. His cold, icy blue eyes narrowed in amusement as he stepped back, effortlessly sidestepping Abel's strike. The air between them seemed to freeze with the intensity of their confrontation. He sneered, mocking Abel with his usual condescending tone.

"Kain," Malkav scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "Is that what you've become? A leashed dog for humanity, fighting to save this pathetic little kingdom? How laughable. You can never defeat me. I am the perfect imitation of a Dead Apostle Ancestor, the culmination of all that came before me. You, Nosferatu, are nothing but an incomplete experiment of the Serpent—a failed dream."

Abel's teeth ground together as Malkav's words dug into his resolve, each syllable a reminder of the power disparity between them. But Abel didn't falter. He had faced overwhelming odds before, and he would face them again.

Malkav's smile widened, his rapier raised as he casually paced around Abel, his movements cold and calculated. "Your bloodline will end here tonight. Nohr will fall, and in its ashes, I will build my kingdom of ice. The warmth of your pathetic existence will be crushed beneath my heel. You cannot fight me, and you will kneel before my might."

Abel's fists clenched, the crackling energy inside him rising with each word Malkav spat. The threat of losing everything, of innocent people dying to this monstrous creature, was too great. There was no choice but to fight—to give everything, to unleash every ounce of his strength. He would not let Nohr fall. He would not let Malkav's icy reign take root in this land.

With a primal roar, Abel lunged forward, his claws extended in a savage arc. Lightning surged through his limbs, the force of the attack sending crackling arcs of electricity trailing behind him. His movement was faster than a mortal eye could follow, but Malkav was ready. His rapier met Abel's claws with a sound like ice shattering against steel, and the force of the clash sent shockwaves through the ground beneath them.

Abel's claws scraped across Malkav's rapier, the tip of the blade glowing as it intercepted the strike. The air around them was charged with energy, the heat of Abel's lightning magic battling against the biting cold of Malkav's freezing aura. The impact of their blows reverberated, sending gusts of wind whipping through the street.

"You can try, Kain," Malkav said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But all you'll accomplish is prolonging your inevitable death."

Abel's mind raced, his heart still pounding as the cold of Malkav's power began to press in on him. He felt the weight of the fight, the exhaustion pulling at his limbs, but he refused to give in. He could feel the power of the lightning coursing through him, and it would be enough. He would find a way to make it work.

With a sudden shift, Abel broke off from the clash, his feet digging into the ground as he jumped backward, narrowly avoiding another freezing swipe from Malkav's rapier. He landed gracefully several dozen meters away, his glowing red eyes never leaving Malkav. He wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

Malkav, as always, was unfazed. "You really are pathetic. But I suppose I should thank you. Your bloodline, your ideals—they make for such delicious entertainment. But in the end, it's futile. You are nothing but a fleeting dream of what could have been."

Abel's chest heaved as he steadied himself, glaring down at Malkav with fire in his eyes. Every word Malkav spoke only fueled the fire in his soul. The fight wasn't over. Not yet.

"You can call me whatever you want," Abel shot back, his voice sharp and cold. "But I'm not here to play your games. I'm here to end this."

Above them, the air grew heavy, thick with the biting chill of impending death. The sky above churned with swirling clouds, dark and ominous, as if the heavens themselves were caught in the grip of some ancient, untamable rage. The first flakes of snow began to drift lazily from the heavens, tiny specks of frozen crystal that danced and swirled upon the bitter wind. But soon, the flurry intensified, becoming a furious storm that swept across the land in a wild fury. Visibility was all but lost, the landscape swallowed by the blizzard's madness.

The only light came from flashes of lightning that cracked through the storm's blackened belly, casting eerie shadows over the frozen, shattered earth. Each bolt was brief but powerful, a jagged flare of blue-white light that illuminated the fury of the tempest, followed by the thunder's deep, rumbling growl—a sound that echoed like the growl of some ancient beast disturbed from its lair. The storm was not just a harbinger of nature's wrath, but of something far darker, something far more dangerous.

Abel's lips curved into a grin, his eyes gleaming with a fierce intensity. They made it.

As the chaotic storm raged on above, the Nohrian royals had gathered in the castle courtyard, their eyes fixed on the swirling storm in the distance. Their gazes were filled with both awe and concern. Abel and Malkav's battle had become something far more than a mere clash of swords—it was a fight that threatened to tear apart the very air itself.

Corrin stood at the edge of the courtyard, her heart heavy with uncertainty. She had just finished overseeing the evacuation of the remaining citizens, ensuring they were safely locked inside the castle. But her thoughts were consumed by one person. Abel. She couldn't just stand idly by while he fought—no matter how powerful he was, no matter the storm that brewed above them. She couldn't allow him to face Malkav alone.

"Corrin?" Leo's voice broke through her thoughts, his tone uncertain as he placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "You can't go out there. It's too dangerous."

Corrin turned to face her brother, her expression softening but resolute. "I know," she said, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest. "But I can't just wait here while he's out there… I won't."

Her mind was made up, and before anyone could stop her, she turned sharply and began to move toward the edge of the courtyard. Her heart raced, the urgency of the situation pressing down on her like a weight, but she had no time to second-guess herself. She had to reach him—she had to do something. Anything.

Leo, Camilla, and Xander exchanged glances, but none of them tried to stop her. They could see the fire in her eyes, the same unyielding determination that had always driven her to protect those she loved. If anyone could make a difference in this battle, it would be Abel—but she wouldn't just stand by and let him fight alone.

"Wait, Corrin!" Elise called out, her voice desperate as she rushed to catch up with her sister. "It's too dangerous! You'll get caught in the middle of it!"

Corrin didn't stop. She knew the risk, but it didn't matter. Abel had already made his stand—now she would make hers. "I won't let him fight alone, Elise," she called back over her shoulder, her voice filled with conviction.

The cold wind cut through the streets as Corrin sprinted toward the heart of chaos. The storm was growing stronger, the snow blinding, the thunder crashing like a warning to all who dared approach. But Corrin pressed on, each step echoing in her chest.

Finally, she reached the edge of the battlefield, the place where Abel and Malkav's deadly duel had torn open the world around them. Abel was a flash of lightning, a silhouette against the storm, his body brimming with power as he fought Malkav, whose icy presence was almost overwhelming. Abel's claws and Malkav's sword clashed with a force that sent shockwaves through the air, and Abel's body was streaked with scars, yet he remained unyielding, pushing forward with a fierce determination that seemed to mirror the storm itself.

"Abel!" Corrin shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Abel's eyes flickered to her for a brief moment, his expression filled with both determination and a touch of concern. His lips curled into a grin despite the peril. "Corrin... what are you doing here?" His voice was strained, but he didn't falter in his attack.

"I'm not going to let you face this alone," she said firmly, stepping into the fray. "We'll finish this together."

For a split second, Abel's eyes softened. But just as quickly, he returned to his stance, his focus narrowing back onto Malkav. "Stay back. This is my fight."

Corrin didn't listen. She had already seen too much. The air grew colder with every swing of Malkav's blade, his ice magic relentless. Corrin, however, couldn't just watch from the sidelines. She knew she had to act, but how?

Before she could decide, the battle shifted. Abel was pushed back, and Malkav's rapier gleamed with the chilling energy as he pressed the attack. Abel's strike faltered, his strength weakening against the onslaught of Malkav's freezing power.

Corrin couldn't let that happen. She dashed forward, drawing her sword with a swift motion. "Abel, I'll hold him off!" she shouted, but her voice was drowned out by the wind and the clash of steel.

Abel's eyes widened as Corrin rushed in to help. But he didn't have time to stop her. In the heat of battle, he needed her strength, her resolve. "Corrin!" he yelled, though this time, it was more in recognition than in protest.

Malkav merely sneered, the coldness in his eyes intensifying as he turned his blade toward the new threat. "The princess foolishly intervenes. You truly are weak, Nosferatu. Can you not even fight your own battles?"

Abel retorted with a smirk. "You'll regret underestimating her."

Before Malkav could strike, Abel lunged, his claw cut through the storm like a blade. Lightning sparked from the hand, illuminating the shadows in a blinding flash. With a roar, he slashed at Malkav, sending a surge of energy in every direction. It wasn't enough to defeat him, but it bought Corrin the moment she needed to close the distance. With a powerful, synchronized swing, she joined the fray, her blade matching Abel's intensity.

Malkav sidestepped with an effortless grace, a mocking grin spreading across his face. He observed her with an amused, almost pitying expression as her strike missed him by inches.

"Ah, the Nohrian princess," he sneered, his icy blue eyes glinting in the dim light of the storm, "such fire in your heart, yet so… pathetically misplaced." He chuckled, his voice dripping with contempt. "Did you think you'd face me so easily? That you'd raise your little sword, and I'd fall? You haven't the faintest idea what it is to battle a Dead Apostle."

Corrin tightened her grip, refusing to let his words rattle her. "You're terrorizing innocents!" she shouted back, her voice unwavering. "And I'll stop you, no matter what it takes."

Malkav laughed, the sound low and chilling, resonating with a twisted pleasure. "Oh, how quaint," he mocked, eyes narrowing as he took a step back. "But very well. Since you seem so eager, I'll let you experience something… unique. A taste of my own world."

Abel's expression darkened as he realized what Malkav intended. "No… Malkav, don't do this!" he cried, desperation edging his voice.

Malkav's smirk only grew as he raised one hand, gesturing dramatically. "It's far too late for pleading, Nosferatu," he declared. "Reality Marble… 'Congelatio et Frigus.'"

Instantly, the air thickened, and a supernatural silence fell upon the battleground. The world around them began to shift and dissolve, twisting as if reality itself was unraveling under Malkav's command. The ground vanished, replaced by a desolate, icy wasteland stretching as far as the eye could see. Snow and frost covered every surface, and a biting, endless wind swept across the landscape. Temperatures plummeted in an instant, and with each passing moment, the chill deepened, as if some primal coldness was seeping into their very bones.

Corrin's breath hitched as the realization of the transformation hit her. She looked around, wide-eyed, at the bleak, frozen expanse that had replaced the city's streets.

"What… what is this place?" she stammered, her voice a whisper of confusion and dread.

Abel swallowed, his gaze fixed on Malkav, but he answered Corrin, his tone dark and laced with fear. "This is Malkav's Reality Marble. It's… a projection of his mind, his inner world forced onto reality itself. Within this place, he can control everything; he makes the rules here. We're in his domain, and the entire world around us is bound to his will."

Malkav grinned, savoring the fear that crept into Corrin's face. "Precisely," he sneered. "It's a frozen wasteland. My personal haven of cold and silence. And I assure you, it's an experience few live to tell about."

The first flakes of snow began to fall, tiny, sharp crystals that danced lazily through the biting wind before gathering momentum. Soon, the snowfall intensified, swelling into a furious blizzard that howled through the air, blinding and relentless. The ground beneath them froze over, cracks forming as the temperature continued to plummet.

Meanwhile, far away, the change was felt even within the fortified walls of Windmire's castle. Inside, the Nohrian royals looked around in confusion and alarm as a sudden, unnatural chill spread through the fortress, touching every stone, every corner, as though Malkav's realm had cast a freezing shadow over the entire capital.

Xander looked around, feeling the unnatural cold creeping into the castle's very walls. "This isn't just some passing storm," he muttered, gripping Siegfried tightly. "Whatever that fiend has done… it's affecting the entire capital."

Leo pulled his cloak tighter, his teeth gritting as the frost-laden air bit into his skin. "This magic… It's nothing like I've ever felt. This must be Malkav's work, something beyond what we've prepared for."

Camilla shuddered, her breath visible in the icy air, a grim look in her eyes. "If he can bring this level of terror with just his presence… Abel and Corrin may be facing more than they can handle. But we must stay strong. For them—and for Nohr."

Elise huddled close, shivering as she looked to her siblings with fear. "Corrin… Abel…" Her voice was barely a whisper, her worry clear in her expression. "I hope they're okay out there."

Back within Malkav's frozen domain, Abel glared at the Dead Apostle, forcing himself to stand firm as the cold gnawed at him, reaching past his flesh and into his very spirit. It took all of his strength to remain focused, pushing past the numbing sensation creeping through him. He steeled himself and glanced at Corrin, his red eyes gleaming with determination.

Corrin tightened her grip on the Shadow Yato, her breath crystallizing in the frigid air. The cold gnawed at her resolve, but she refused to show weakness. "Abel, how do we fight this?" she asked, her voice sharp to mask her rising unease.

Abel's crimson eyes scanned the desolate wasteland, his expression grim. The shiver on his clawed hands betrayed his struggle to fight off the cold. "The only way to break a Reality Marble is to overpower its creator. But here…" He hesitated, his voice faltering as the icy wind howled around them. "Here, he's stronger than ever."

Malkav chuckled, stepping forward with deliberate, mocking slowness. Each footfall left the ground coated in frost. "Indeed, Nosferatu. This land is my domain now. And the place where you and your princess will meet your end, Kain."

Corrin turned her head toward Abel. He was trembling—not from fear, but from the cold leeching his strength. The lightning he engulfed his hands with flickered, their glowing patterns dimming under the assault of Malkav's power.

"Abel…" she began, but he cut her off.

"I'm fine," he growled, his voice hoarse but determined. "Focus on the fight. Don't worry about me."

Malkav's grin faltered for a moment before he composed himself, his voice dripping with mockery. "Brave words, but meaningless here. Shall we see how long your courage lasts?" He raised his rapier, its edge gleaming with frost, and lunged.

Corrin met his attack head-on, her blade clashing against his with a burst of radiant energy. The Yato's light burned against Malkav's icy blade, sending cracks spidering through the air around them. Corrin gritted her teeth, pushing back against the immense force of his strike.

Abel surged forward, his claw igniting with dark energy as he aimed for Malkav's flank. "Don't forget about me!" he snarled, swiping with deadly precision. The strike forced Malkav to disengage and leap back, his icy domain rippling in response to his movements.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Malkav said, his smirk returning. "But persistence alone won't save you."

"We're not backing down," Abel shouted, his tone resolute. "You may control this place, Malkav, but we will bring you down."

Malkav's smirk only grew, his voice dripping with condescension. "We shall see, Nosferatu. You've stepped into my world now—and here, I am death incarnate."

Corrin and Abel stood firm against the blizzard's fury, the snow and icy winds whipping around them as if nature itself sought to tear them apart. Corrin clutched the Shadow Yato tightly, its glow casting a faint purple light through the relentless white of Malkav's Reality Marble. Malkav's gaze shifted to her weapon, his lips curling in amusement.

"So, the princess has a trick up her sleeve," he sneered. "And here I was worried I'd already broken your spirit. Perhaps this will make things interesting."

Abel shifted in front of Corrin, positioning himself as a shield between her and Malkav's freezing aura. He could feel the overwhelming chill trying to claw its way into his body, but he ignored it, forcing himself to remain steady, every muscle taut with purpose. Malkav's taunts grated on him, but he kept his focus, sparing only a glance over his shoulder to speak to Corrin.

"Corrin," he murmured, his voice low but clear above the storm. "Do you remember what I told you? The only way to kill a Dead Apostle?"

Corrin nodded, her expression fierce despite the faint tremble in her limbs from the cold. "Yes… we have to remove the heart and destroy it completely," she answered, her voice carrying a quiet strength.

Abel gave her a grim nod of approval. "Exactly. That's our only way out of here. We go for his heart, and we don't stop until it's reduced to ashes." He tightened his grip on his claw, the crackling energy of his lightning magic sparking up his arms, adding a faint warmth against the numbing cold. "Are you ready for this?"

Corrin straightened, the Shadow Yato's glow intensifying as she steadied herself, meeting Abel's gaze. "I'm ready. Let's end this."

Malkav's smile widened, a predatory gleam in his icy eyes. "Ah, so the little princess has done her homework. But knowledge alone is no weapon. Let me teach you what it truly means to face despair."

He raised his rapier, its blade gleaming with an unnatural frost, and the air around him seemed to still. For a moment, the wind paused, the snowflakes suspended mid-air, shimmering like frozen stars. Then, with a sinister grin, Malkav whispered a single word that reverberated through the frozen domain: "Glacies Tempus."

The world froze.

Corrin gasped as her breath turned to ice in her throat, her body locked in place, unable to move even a fraction of an inch. Time itself seemed shackled by Malkav's will, the Reality Marble now fully bending to his command. She could only watch, her eyes wide with horror, as Malkav turned his gaze to Abel.

Abel staggered, fighting against the immobilizing force with every ounce of his strength. His own magecraft sparked against the oppressive cold, but even his monstrous resilience faltered. His crimson eyes darted toward Corrin, flickering with panic as he realized she was just as helpless as he was.

Malkav moved leisurely through the frozen storm, as though savoring his complete control. "Do you understand now, Nosferatu?" he purred, circling Abel like a predator. "In this domain, I am a god. Even your so-called strength is meaningless before my will."

Abel snarled, managing to force his clawed hand to twitch. "If you think… I'll let you win…" he growled through clenched teeth, his voice strained.

Malkav chuckled, amused by the futile defiance. "Oh, you'll let me win?" he mocked. "How generous of you. But I think I'll take my victory, all the same."

In a blur of motion, Malkav struck. His rapier flashed with deadly precision, slicing through Abel's defenses in an instant. Time resumed just long enough for Abel to feel the blade pierce his side, a sharp, burning cold radiating outward as the rapier withdrew.

Corrin cried out, the spell holding her breaking as she saw Abel stagger backward, blood blooming across his shirt and staining the snow beneath him. "Abel!" she screamed, rushing to his side.

Abel fell to one knee, clutching his wound as frost crept along the edges of the injury, threatening to spread. He gritted his teeth, his clawed hand digging into the ice for support.

Malkav chuckled darkly, his blade glistening with Abel's blood. "The frost of my rapier isn't so easily shaken off, Nosferatu. You'll find that it does more than merely wound. It lingers, eating away at you, bit by bit. You're already finished."

Corrin stepped in front of Abel, her grip on the Shadow Yato firm despite the fear twisting in her chest. "No," she said, her voice steady. "He's not finished. And neither am I."

The Shadow Yato's glow intensified, the purple light shifting to a fierce crimson as Corrin's determination fueled the blade and pushed back the oppressive cold.

Malkav's eyes narrowed, his amusement fading. "So, the little princess still has some bravado left in her," he said, his tone hardening. "Very well. Show me what that blade can do."

Corrin didn't hesitate. She charged, the Yato blazing as she brought it down in a sweeping arc. Malkav blocked the strike, but the force of the impact sent a shockwave through the icy terrain, cracking the ground beneath their feet.

Abel, still on his knee, struggled to rise, his claw trembling as he forced himself to stand. The frost spreading from his wound was relentless, sapping his strength, but he refused to let it stop him.

"Corrin!" he called, his voice hoarse but resolute. "Keep him focused on you! I'll… find an opening."

She nodded, her movements growing sharper as the Shadow Yato's power surged. Each strike sent ripples of heat through the frozen battlefield, slowly chipping away at Malkav's control.

But Malkav's grin returned, colder and sharper than ever. "Foolish," he sneered. "Do you think I haven't planned for this?"

With a flourish, he summoned another surge of frost, the icy wind swirling around him like a living force. Abel's eyes widened as he saw the storm forming, and he clenched his claw, summoning the last vestiges of his strength.

"Not this time," Abel growled. "Snap!" With a roar, he unleashed a magic projectile from his claw, the energy cutting through the storm and hitting Malkav, forcing him to falter.

The opening was small but enough. Corrin seized the moment, her blade glowing brighter than ever as she lunged at Malkav. "This ends now!" she cried, her voice ringing with resolve.

The Shadow Yato met Malkav's rapier in a clash that sent shockwaves through the battlefield, shattering the icy spires around them.

Malkav staggered back slightly, his breath visible in the icy air as Corrin's last strike nearly broke through his guard. His cold, calculating demeanor faltered, replaced by a flicker of irritation. "Persistent," he muttered, his tone clipped. Then, with a sharp twist of his wrist, he parried her next strike and leapt back, a smirk forming on his lips. "But ultimately, futile."

Before Corrin could press the attack further, Malkav raised his free hand, his fingers splayed as a freezing aura gathered around him. "Glacies Tempus," he intoned, his voice a chilling whisper that reverberated across the battlefield.

Once again, the world froze.

Corrin's body locked mid-strike, her expression frozen in determination. The crimson glow of the Shadow Yato dimmed as it, too, was caught in the suspended moment. Snowflakes hung in the air like scattered diamonds, and the howling wind ceased entirely, leaving a haunting silence in its wake.

Malkav approached her slowly, his rapier gleaming with frost as he raised it for the killing blow. "You fought valiantly, princess," he said, his voice mocking. "But all things must come to an end. Yours, I'm afraid, comes now."

The tip of his rapier descended toward Corrin's heart.

Suddenly, a brilliant flash of light pierced the Reality Marble, followed by the deafening crack of thunder. A lightning projectile streaked through the frozen world, slamming into Malkav with a force that sent him hurtling backward. The impact seared through his torso, tearing his elegant coat and leaving a smoldering wound.

"What?" Malkav snarled, clutching his side as he staggered to his feet. His icy blue eyes darted to the sky, then to the jagged, darkened edges of his Reality Marble. A gaping hole now marred the perfect, frozen wasteland, and fractures began to creep outward like spiderwebs, disrupting his control.

Malkav, bewildered, looked around. Outside of the princess, the Nosferatu and him, nobody else was in his domain. He looked at Abel, but like the last time, he was frozen in place as well.

"This power…" Malkav muttered, his voice a low growl. "If this wasn't Kain. Then who…" He trailed off, his expression darkening as his confidence wavered. His wound healed, but it was just a matter of time, until his Reality Marble crumbled.

The time-lock shattered, releasing Corrin from her frozen state. She gasped, stumbling slightly as her body regained movement. The Shadow Yato reignited in her grip, and she quickly scanned her surroundings before her eyes landed on Abel, who had forced himself to his feet and staggered toward her.

"Abel!" she exclaimed, rushing to his side.

He placed a clawed hand on her shoulder, his crimson eyes blazing despite the frost that continued to spread from his wound. "Corrin," he said, his voice strained but firm. "We don't have much time." He winced, clutching his side as the frost crept higher, his movements growing slower. "If we don't kill Malkav soon… this wound… it'll freeze me completely. I'll… die."

Corrin's breath caught, her grip on her sword tightening. She met Abel's gaze and nodded, her resolve hardening. "Then we end this. Together."

Abel's lips curled into a faint grin despite his pain. "That's the spirit."

Malkav straightened, his expression twisted in both rage and unease. He clenched his teeth, his free hand trembling as he gripped his rapier tighter. Internally, he cursed himself. Damn it… At my current level, I can use 'Glacies Tempus' twice in succession. I can't stop them now.

He forced a sneer onto his face, masking his frustration with bravado. "It seems I underestimated you both," he spat, his voice venomous. "But this changes nothing. I will not allow vermin like you to destroy me."

The cracks in the Reality Marble widened, the icy wasteland flickering as its hold on reality weakened. Corrin stepped forward, her Shadow Yato glowing fiercely. Abel joined her, his claws sparking with lightning despite the frost spreading from his wound, slowly consuming his body.

Malkav laughed at their resolve, cold and scornful. "You weaklings think you can break me, end me? You can't even survive the cold of this realm, let alone take my heart."

Abel took a step forward, his lightning-charged claws glowing bright, carving through the storm with a fierce energy that seemed to resist the Reality Marble's cold. "I've encountered worse Dead Apostles than you, Malkav," he shot back, his tone unwavering. "This world of yours doesn't scare me. And soon, it won't even be here."

Abel lunged, his claws glistening with energy as he slashed at Malkav, aiming for his chest. Malkav dodged with ease, twisting to the side with an almost lazy grace, his rapier flashing with frost-tipped energy. Each clash between them sent sprays of ice and lightning into the air, the contrast of freezing and searing energies igniting the snow around them in bursts of steam.

Corrin seized the moment, circling behind Malkav with swift, silent steps, aiming the Shadow Yato's blade toward his back. The sword seemed to pulse in her hands, as if eager to sink into her foe. She swung the weapon with deadly precision, but Malkav twisted just in time, raising his rapier to parry her strike.

"You'll have to do better than that, little princess," he taunted, his voice a cruel whisper as he forced her blade back. "This is child's play."

But Abel didn't give him a chance to finish his insult. He lunged forward, lightning trailing his every movement, and aimed for Malkav's exposed side. Malkav barely managed to deflect, his expression flashing with a brief hint of irritation before returning to its usual, mocking calm.

"Come on!" Abel shouted to Corrin; his voice filled with fierce resolve. "We have to keep the pressure on him—he's only strong if we give him room to breathe!"

The two of them fell into a brutal rhythm, their combined attacks forcing Malkav to step back, each swing and strike denying him the control he once had over the fight. Malkav's taunts grew fewer, his face darkening with a cold fury as the realization dawned on him that this wasn't a game for him anymore—they were relentless, determined, even desperate to bring him down.

Finally, as Malkav faltered, Corrin saw her chance. With a fierce shout, she plunged the Shadow Yato forward, its blade glowing, fueled by her own fierce determination. The strike was aimed true, heading directly for Malkav's chest, right where his heart lay. Malkav snarled, his own weapon rising to counter, but he was a fraction too late.

The Shadow Yato pierced through his chest, embedding itself deep. The glow of the sword seemed to intensify, filling the icy air with a searing warmth that cut through the Reality Marble's chilling cold. Malkav's eyes widened, shock and disbelief flaring in his expression as he looked down at the weapon driven into him. He kicked Corrin and sent her flying. She flinched in pain from the impact, but she transformed her limbs into their dragon forms. She slithered across the ground, looking at Malkav in anger and defiance. After she transformed her limb back, she darted towards the hunter and the dreaded Dead Apostle, unyielding.

Malkav screamed in pain as he pulled the Shadow Yato out and threw it on the ground. He staggered, clutching his chest where the Shadow Yato had struck him. Blood trickled between his fingers, staining the pristine snow. His face contorted with anger and bewilderment as he coughed, his breaths shallow and ragged. The disbelief in his eyes was unmistakable—this was impossible. A mere blade in human hands couldn't touch him like this. He was a Dead Apostle, a creature fundamentally opposed to humanity's very nature. No weapon wielded by a human could possibly penetrate him so deeply.

"What… how?" he rasped, his voice a mixture of rage and panic. He stumbled backward as Abel lunged, his claws sparking with lightning, forcing Malkav to defend himself. The vampire parried desperately, though his usual elegance was slipping with each blow. Abel's relentless assault kept him on the defensive, inch by inch driving him back across the icy expanse of the Reality Marble.

Despite his ferocity, Abel was beginning to falter. The wound and the frost gnawed at him, cutting through his supernatural defenses with a merciless persistence. He could feel his muscles tightening under the frostbite creeping into his bones, every motion growing slower, every breath growing heavier. The Reality Marble was beginning to exert its full power, its brutal, paralyzing chill sapping his energy and threatening to overwhelm him. The cold was absolute, seeping through the energy coursing through his limbs, numbing his senses and dulling his reactions.

"Damn it," Abel muttered under his breath, struggling to suppress a shiver. He could feel the frigid pressure pressing down on him like an unyielding force, each swing of his claws slower than the last. Malkav's Reality Marble wasn't simply a cold spell or an environmental shift. It was an entire realm bent to Malkav's will—a prison of ice and frost that grew stronger with every passing moment, choking all life and warmth until nothing could withstand it. Even magical abilities, enhanced senses, and superhuman resilience would inevitably buckle under this unnatural freeze.

He glanced over at Corrin, who had managed to pick up her sword and steady herself, determination burning in her gaze despite her trembling. Her grip on the Shadow Yato was firm, but even she seemed to struggle against the unrelenting cold, her breath coming in shuddering gasps as her fingers fought to hold steady against the weapon's hilt.

"Corrin," Abel called out, his voice taut with urgency, "we have to finish this now, and fast. The longer we're in this Reality Marble, the more we're at his mercy. If we don't take him down now, we won't last."

Corrin nodded, her gaze fierce despite the frost clinging to her lashes and her labored breaths in the chill. "I'm with you," she replied, her voice steady. She raised the Shadow Yato once more, its glow undimmed even as the cold bit into her skin, almost as if it recognized the dire stakes and shared her determination.

Malkav's face twisted in fury, clutched his bleeding chest. His icy blue eyes narrowed, shifting between the two of them, hatred flickering in their depths.

"You… you think you can defy me?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt, though there was a faint tremor in his tone. "I am beyond humanity, beyond mortality itself! Your little tricks will do nothing but prolong your agony!"

Without another word, Malkav raised his hand, and the chill in the air deepened, the biting cold intensifying. The very air seemed to freeze around them, ice crystallizing on every surface, turning even the ground beneath their feet into a slick sheet of frost. The Shadow Yato flickered, struggling against the overwhelming power of Malkav's Reality Marble as he channeled even more of his energy into it, his desperation and rage fueling his power.

Abel clenched his jaw, forcing himself to steady his trembling hands. His vampiric strength was faltering under the crushing weight of the cold, but he refused to give in. He let out a low growl, his red eyes glinting fiercely as he glanced at Corrin, signaling her to prepare for their final assault.

"Corrin, we need to strike together," he said, his voice barely a whisper but resolute. "You aim for his heart again, and I'll keep him distracted. We only have one chance."

The sky in Malkav's Reality Marble cracked completely, splitting across the top as though the very fabric of his domain was beginning to collapse. The stormy clouds of the world outside were revealed once more—

Corrin tightened her grip on the Shadow Yato, determination blazing in her eyes despite the shivers wracking her frame. She nodded, taking a steady breath, ready to fight through the pain of the cold for one last, decisive strike.

The ice groaned and fissures snaked outward, widening with each moment. Abel's eyes flickered with intense focus; whatever had weakened the Reality Marble, it was the opportunity he needed. Without hesitation, he raised his hands to the darkened, storm-laden sky beyond Malkav's freezing world. His voice echoed across the broken expanse, laced with raw power.

"Kirin!" Abel shouted, his voice booming as he summoned the wrath of the storm clouds above. His plan to heat up the air was finally paying off.

A blinding bolt of lightning tore through the dark sky, smashing into Abel's outstretched hand with an earth-shattering crack. The lightning hissed and sparked, coiling above him like a living thing, then surged into a new form—a vast, serpentine eastern dragon of pure lightning, its body twisting and writhing, radiating an aura of electric energy that lit the entire realm. The dragon's eyes glowed like fierce stars, and its roar shook the Reality Marble, shattering the silence with a sound like thunder unleashed.

Malkav's expression twisted from shock to pure rage, his icy blue eyes narrowing as he took in the monstrous being before him. He raised his rapier, frost and magic emanating from the blade as he summoned every drop of strength he had left. "Nosferatu! You think this can defeat me? This frozen realm is mine!" He raised his rapier high, frost cascading from its length as he summoned every ounce of his remaining strength. With a sharp, defiant slash, he unleashed a colossal tornado of freezing energy. The ground beneath him cracked and groaned as the icy vortex spiraled upward, a towering cyclone of blinding frost and razor-sharp winds.

"Glacial Maelstrom!" he roared, his voice echoing with chilling finality.

Abel, his face set with fierce determination, dropped his arm, sending the dragon forward. The lightning dragon roared again, and with a burst of radiant energy, it lunged. Its jaws opened wide as it met the icy maelstrom head-on, the two forces colliding with an earth-shaking explosion.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

The Kirin's blazing light clashed with the swirling frost, sparks and shards of ice flying in every direction. The storm of frost hissed and crackled against the dragon's searing heat, and the Reality Marble quaked under the strain of their battle. Abel gritted his teeth, his body shaking as he struggled to maintain control.

"More!" Malkav bellowed, his frost-covered form gleaming with dark energy. He poured everything into his tornado, the icy winds growing fiercer, biting through the dragon's electric scales. The Kirin dimmed, its form flickering as frost crackled over its radiant body.

"No… you don't!" Abel growled, planting his feet and forcing the Kirin forward with all his might. The his body burning up as he poured all magical energy he had left into this one attack. His nerves were turning like crazy, like he was burning from inside.

The dragon roared once more, its brilliance intensifying. Lightning erupted from its core, shattering the frost encasing its form. With renewed fury, the Kirin surged against the maelstrom, its jaws snapping inches from Malkav's icy whirlwind. Sparks and frost filled the air, the frozen ground cracking under the strain of their cataclysmic battle.

The tornado of frost lost momentum and as it vanished, Malkav stormed forward, his blade glowed a deadly blue as he stormed at the Kirin's radiant body, grabbing his rapier with both hands. "Enough!" Malkav screamed, meeting the dragon head-on with a full-powered thrust, his rapier blazing with an unnatural cold.

In a desperate final effort, Malkav roared and forced the lightning dragon to dissipate in a blinding, earth-shaking explosion that seemed to rip the very sky. The dragon's form broke into jagged bolts of lightning, fading into showers of sparks that rained down like shattered stars. Malkav remained standing, but only barely, his body shaking, his face drenched in sweat and fury.

In that moment, while Malkav staggered, Corrin saw her opening.

With a determined shout, she surged forward, the Shadow Yato blazing in her hands, and struck. The blade cleaved through the air, severing both of Malkav's arms in a single, fluid strike. Blood splattered across the icy ground, steaming against the intense cold, as Malkav staggered, dropping to his knees, his face contorted in rage and agony.

"You… miserable insects!" Malkav snarled, his voice hoarse and venomous as he glared up at Corrin, his eyes blazing with hatred even as pain coursed through him. "You think… this will be enough to end me? To challenge the power of a Dead Apostle with… pathetic mortal weapons and borrowed lightning?"

But Abel didn't waste any time. He stepped forward and thrusted his claw forward, piercing Malkav's chest. He pulled back and ripped out the Dead Apostle's still beating heart. Malkav growled in pain and fell on his back. He spit blood and looked at Abel and Corrin, flabbergasted... "You…. Nohrian princess…How…? Why do you have so much power?" Malkav coughed.

Corrin took a step forward, undeterred. "It's not just about power, Malkav. It's about what we stand for… the people we're protecting… and the future we're fighting for." Her voice was steady, each word filled with resolve.

"Don't waste your breath on him, Corrin," Abel murmured, his red eyes narrowed as he kept a careful watch on Malkav's every move. "He's beyond reason, beyond salvation. Let's finish this now." He laid Malkav's heart before Corrin's feet.

Corrin raised the Shadow Yato high, its dark glow pulsing with energy as she prepared to deliver the final blow. She stared down at Malkav, her expression resolute, though her grip on the blade tightened slightly. "You chose this path, Malkav. But your reign of terror ends here."

With a swift motion, she plunged the Shadow Yato into his heart.

Malkav's icy blue eyes widened, his face frozen in a moment of surprise. For an instant, it seemed as though he might scream, but no sound came. Instead, his body began to waver, the edges dissolving into pale ash that swirled upward into the fading storm winds.

Malkav glanced at the sword embedded in his heart. He blinked, confusion flickering across his face. "I… don't feel anything," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the hum of the Shadow Yato's energy. His lips twitched into a strange, almost serene smile. "How strange. No pain… nothing at all."

He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, the icy contempt that had always lingered there was gone, replaced by a quiet relief. "Perhaps… this is better," he whispered, his voice lighter than it had ever been. "An end… at last."

Corrin hesitated for a moment, her brow furrowing as she watched him. The change in Malkav's demeanor left her slightly bewildered. "He doesn't seem angry or afraid," she thought. Her grip loosened on the hilt of the Shadow Yato as she took a step back, her expression softening slightly.

Abel, clutching his side where the icy wound continued to spread, stood beside her. He, too, observed Malkav with a curious stillness. His crimson eyes narrowed, but there was no triumph in them—only quiet acknowledgment.

Malkav's form continued to disintegrate, ash swirling higher into the air, caught by the faint traces of wind that remained from the storm. His face was the last to dissolve, his lips still curled in that faint, relieved smile. And then, he was gone.

The remnants of the Reality Marble, already fractured and fragile, shattered completely. The oppressive cold and endless expanse of ice disappeared, replaced by the familiar, battered streets of Windmire. Snow from Malkav's frozen world melted instantly, leaving only water pooling around the cracked stones of the city.

For a moment, there was only silence. Abel let out a slow breath, his posture relaxing slightly, though his face betrayed the pain of his injuries. Corrin lowered the Shadow Yato, her fingers brushing against its hilt thoughtfully as she stared at the spot where Malkav had stood.

"He seemed... relieved," Corrin said softly, her voice tinged with confusion.

Abel nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Sometimes, the strongest monsters are the ones who've been fighting for far too long," he said quietly. "Malkav… might have been waiting for this."

Corrin remained quiet, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. She didn't know whether to feel pity, anger, or simply relief. But the battle was over, and for now, that was enough.

She turned to Abel, her expression hardening with renewed focus. "We need to get you help. That wound—"

As Corrin knelt beside Abel, her concern etched across her face, the frost creeping over his wound began to shimmer faintly. The jagged tendrils of ice that had threatened to consume him flickered like melting snow. Slowly but steadily, the frost receded, retracting into nothingness as if time itself had chosen to undo the damage wrought by Malkav's icy magic.

Abel's breathing steadied, his expression relaxing as warmth returned to his skin. The gash on his side, once deep and frozen, began to close, the torn flesh knitting itself back together. Corrin stared in awe, her heart racing. "Abel… it's healing," she whispered, her voice caught between disbelief and hope. "It's like… time's rewinding."

Abel raised a trembling hand to touch his side, feeling the smooth skin where moments ago there had been a deadly wound. "Yes... These are my natural healing abilities as a Dead Apostle."

The heavy, darkened clouds began to drift apart, torn by the winds of a clearing night. Above them, a vast and endless sky emerged, painted a deep, tranquil blue. The stars glittered like countless diamonds scattered across velvet, their light serene and ancient.

The full moon hung high, casting its silver radiance over the battered land. Its gentle glow seemed to cleanse the traces of Malkav's frozen malice, illuminating the ruins of the battlefield with a soothing, almost otherworldly beauty. The air was still, filled only with the quiet hum of nature reclaiming the silence.

Abel lifted his gaze skyward, his crimson eyes watching the celestial light. A faint, tired smile tugged at his lips. "The moon…" he murmured, his voice barely audible, "...it shines beautifully tonight." His words carried a quiet reverence, as though he were speaking to the heavens themselves.

Corrin turned to him, her silver hair glimmering under the moonlight, but before she could respond, Abel's knees buckled, and he collapsed.

"Abel!" Corrin cried, rushing to catch him. She knelt beside him again, her hands gripping his shoulders. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Abel gave her a faint, reassuring smile, though his exhaustion was evident. "I… I overdid it," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "That much magic... it always takes a toll."

His trembling hand moved to the rosary around his wrist. As the chain tightened, coiling snugly around his arm, the faint crimson that had lingered in his eyes vanished completely, replaced by a gentle green. The vampire's predatory edge faded away, leaving only the man behind.

Corrin's shoulders relaxed as she saw the change. Relief washed over her, and she offered him a small, tender smile. "Thank you, Abel," she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude. "For everything. We couldn't have done this without you."

Abel chuckled quietly, the sound rough but genuine. He shook his head. "No, Corrin," he said, his voice tinged with humility. "I'm the one who should thank you."

He shifted slightly, grimacing as he leaned back to meet her gaze. "When I summoned Kirin, that was supposed to be it—everything I had left. I didn't think I'd make it. Malkav… he endured it, pushed through. If you hadn't stepped in with the Shadow Yato…" He trailed off, his expression heavy with the weight of what could have been.

Corrin shook her head, her silver hair falling over her shoulders. "You fought with everything you had," she said gently. "More than anyone could have asked. I didn't save you, Abel. I only did what I could… what anyone would have done."

Abel smirked faintly, his fatigue evident but his spirit undiminished. "Maybe," he said, his tone lightening. "But it means something to me, Corrin. Knowing there are people like you—people I can trust to fight beside me..."

He looked toward the horizon, his gaze softening as a warmth grew in his expression. "It's been a long time since I felt that," he admitted, his voice carrying a note of vulnerability.

Corrin placed a hand on his shoulder, the gesture both steadying and comforting. Her smile was warm, filled with quiet understanding. "You'll always have a place among us, Abel," she said firmly. "You're one of us now. We stand together, no matter what."

Abel closed his eyes for a moment, letting her words sink in. When he opened them again, the faintest of smiles remained on his lips. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, but it carried a world of meaning.

Together, they sat beneath the light of the moon, the quiet night embracing them as allies forged through battle, bound by trust and a newfound sense of belonging. Neither of them spoke, simply sharing the quiet beauty of the moonlit sky, the peaceful silence settling over them like a comforting blanket. The weight of the night, the hardships they'd endured, all seemed to fade away under the moon's glow.

Abel closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion wash over him, but he wore a small, contented smile, one that Corrin mirrored as she sat beside him, watching the stars twinkle above them, each one like a silent witness to the strength of their bond. The events of the day played over in her mind, vivid and relentless. They had faced an unimaginable foe, fought side by side, and in doing so, she had seen a side of Abel that caught her off guard. He was not just the stoic, powerful warrior he appeared to be. Beneath the unyielding exterior lay something deeper, something she hadn't expected—and she found herself wanting to uncover it.

Her gaze shifted to Abel, lying beside her, his body finally given over to rest. In sleep, the hard edges of his face softened, the lines of strain and exhaustion smoothing away, leaving behind a serenity she hadn't seen before. Corrin's breath caught as she studied him, her heart fluttering inexplicably. There was something about the sight of him like this—vulnerable, at peace—that made her chest tighten.

Her thoughts wandered. What was Abel like beyond the battlefield? What dreams or fears did he carry with him? What had it been like for him as a vampire, living in the shadows of humanity? The questions swirled in her mind, igniting a curiosity tinged with a strange and unfamiliar affection.

Almost without realizing it, Corrin shifted closer, careful not to disturb him. She told herself it was just to check if he was comfortable, but her heart pounded faster as her gaze lingered. Her eyes traced the sharp curve of his jaw, the faint flicker of his lashes against his cheek, and the quiet rise and fall of his chest. The mix of emotions she felt was confusing—gratitude, admiration, and something softer, deeper, that she didn't quite have the courage to name.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke the quiet.

"Corrin… Are you alright?"

She startled slightly, looking up to see Xander approaching, with Leo, Camilla, and Elise close behind. Relief was evident on their faces, but their eyes flicked between her and Abel with a mix of curiosity and concern. Corrin scrambled to her feet, her heart racing as she tried to mask the strange emotions stirring inside her.

"I'm fine," she replied quickly, though her voice wavered slightly. She glanced back at Abel, who lay undisturbed, the sight of him pulling at something in her chest. She forced herself to push those feelings aside.

Xander's gaze shifted to Abel, his expression firm but thoughtful. "So you made it? The vampire is dead?"

Corrin hesitated, her thoughts still tangled, before nodding. "We did," she said softly. "Without Abel… I'm not sure we could have." Her voice carried an unshakable sincerity.

Xander's lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded in acknowledgment. "Our new hunter friend has proven himself tonight. We owe him a great deal."

Corrin smiled faintly, her heart warming at the recognition. She glanced back at Abel again, her admiration for him growing as she remembered how fiercely he had fought, how he had pushed himself beyond his limits for their sake.

"He really is remarkable," she murmured, almost to herself.

Leo sharp gazed at Abel's unconscious form. "Remarkable or not, even someone like him needs proper rest," he pointed out. "We should take him back to the castle before he overexerts himself further."

Corrin nodded, her resolve firming. "You're right. Let's get him somewhere safe."

As the group moved to lift Abel, Corrin found herself lingering, her gaze lingering on him for just a moment longer than necessary. The strange, fluttering feeling in her chest returned, but she pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand.

Together, they carried Abel and began the journey back to the castle. The ride was quiet, save for the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the occasional whisper of the wind. Corrin, seated beside Abel as they rode, found her thoughts drifting again. The image of him summoning that lightning dragon, of him standing steadfast against Malkav's freezing fury, was etched into her memory. But more than that, she couldn't stop thinking about the strain she had seen in him—the way he pushed himself beyond reason to protect her, to protect them all.

What neither of them noticed was that their hard-fought battle against Malkav was observed with keen interest. From a rooftop a few houses away, the sharp glint of moonlight revealed a tall, imposing figure. Lord Rolent stood with an air of practiced nonchalance; his arms crossed over his chest as the faint breeze toyed with the edges of his noble attire. His smirk, sharp and condescending, cut through the tranquil aftermath like a blade.

"Such is the fate of those who defy me," Rolent called out, his voice smooth and laced with venom, carrying effortlessly through the still night. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, betraying the immense power he held within. "Alaric Weisreich… how utterly predictable. I warned you, didn't I? But you couldn't resist. Ambition blinded you, and now…" He gestured dismissively toward the spot where Malkav had met his end, his tone dripping with disdain. "This is the price of your hubris."

When they arrived at the castle, Corrin led the way to one of the guest chambers. Carefully, they set Abel down on the soft bed, his breathing steady but his exhaustion evident. Corrin stayed by his side, adjusting the blankets to make sure he was comfortable.

She lingered for a moment, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face, her hand trembling slightly as it hovered above his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her gaze softened as she looked at him, and for the first time, she allowed herself to acknowledge the strange warmth growing in her chest.

Even as the others called her away, Corrin found it hard to leave. But as she walked from the room, she promised herself she would be there when he woke—ready to face whatever came next, together.