Chapter Five
Ash and Claws
The first scream cut through the mountain air like torn cloth.
Afi turned before the sound finished echoing, her body already in motion. Stone cracked beneath her feet as she leapt across the ravine, landing in a crouch on the opposite ledge. Heat stirred beneath her skin, not flaring outward but tightening inward, coiled and ready.
Below, smoke drifted between the rocks.
She moved downhill silently, using the terrain as cover. The mountains of Big Flame Island were treacherous to outsiders. Narrow passes, unstable slopes, and sharp volcanic stone punished careless movement.
To Afi, it was familiar ground.
She reached the clearing just as the second scream ended.
Three bodies lay scattered near the remains of a crude camp. Two were already still. The third twitched weakly, blood soaking into the dirt beneath him. A fire leopard cub crouched near a boulder, fur bristling, teeth bared in a soundless snarl.
Three men stood between Afi and the cub.
They wore patched leather armor reinforced with metal plates, scorched and scarred from previous hunts. Each carried a different weapon.
A short spear.
A curved blade.
A heavy cleaver blackened by flame.
Muscle stage.
Afi recognized it immediately in the way they moved. Strong, fast, but unrefined. Their Inner Energy leaked with each breath, undisciplined and aggressive.
They had not sensed her yet.
One of them stepped forward, raising his weapon toward the cub.
“Careful,” another muttered. “This one’s different.”
Afi exhaled.
Then she stepped into the clearing.
The heat shifted.
All three turned at once.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
Afi stood between them and the cub, posture relaxed, hands empty. Her bronze skin caught the light, crimson eyes calm and steady. She did not flare her Inner Energy. She did not summon flame.
She looked young.
The man with the spear laughed first.
“A girl,” he said, disbelief edging into mockery. “You get lost?”
The cleaver wielder snorted.
“Doesn’t matter. Kill her.”
They rushed her together.
Afi moved.
She stepped into the spear’s path, body twisting sideways as the point slid past her ribs by a finger’s width. Her left hand snapped up, fingers locking around the shaft. She pivoted, using the man’s momentum against him, driving her knee into his abdomen.
There was a dull crack.
The man folded, air exploding from his lungs as he collapsed to the ground.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
The second attacker was already swinging.
Afi ducked under the curved blade, feeling heat brush her hair as it passed overhead. She drove her elbow backward into the man’s ribs, then followed with a short punch to his throat.
Inner Energy surged.
The strike landed with a concussive thud. The man was thrown backward, body skidding across the stone before slamming into a rock face.
He did not rise.
The third hesitated.
That hesitation killed him.
Afi closed the distance in a single step. Her fist drove into his chest, not with flame but with pure force.
His armor dented inward as if struck by a hammer. He flew back several meters and landed hard, unmoving.
Silence returned to the clearing.
Afi stood still, breath steady.
Three muscle stage cultivators.
Gone.
She turned her attention just in time to see movement at the edge of the clearing.
A fourth man stepped forward cautiously.
This one was different.
His Inner Energy was tighter, better contained. His stance was low and balanced. He held a long blade in both hands, its edge worn but carefully maintained.
Early Viscera stage.
His eyes flicked over the fallen bodies, then settled on Afi.
“You killed them fast,” he said slowly.
“They attacked first,” Afi replied.
The man studied her, then nodded once.
“Fair.”
He raised his blade.
They circled each other, boots scraping against stone.
The man struck first, blade slicing through the air in a controlled arc aimed at her shoulder.
Afi met it head on.
She twisted her wrist, parrying with her forearm reinforced by Inner Energy. The impact sent a shock through her bones, but she held firm.
She countered with a low kick, forcing him to retreat.
They exchanged blows in quick succession.
His technique was disciplined, honed through experience rather than talent. Each strike flowed into the next. Afi felt the pressure building, her body responding instinctively, Inner Energy reinforcing her movements.
She adapted.
She began to press him.
A feint drew his guard high. A palm strike to the chest disrupted his balance. A spinning kick knocked his blade aside.
The fight ended when Afi drove her knee into his sternum and followed with a downward strike to the back of his neck.
The man collapsed, breathing shallow but alive.
Afi stepped back, heart pounding.
That was when the air changed.
A heavy presence descended on the clearing, oppressive and deliberate. Each breath felt thicker, weighted with intent.
Afi turned.
The final man stood at the edge of the camp.
He was tall, broad shouldered, scars crisscrossing his arms and face. A long polearm rested against his shoulder, its blade nicked and darkened. His Inner Energy was dense, coiled tight beneath his skin.
Late Viscera.
His eyes moved from body to body, then to the cub, then to Afi.
“So,” he said quietly. “You’re the one.”
Afi did not answer.
The man stepped forward, pressure rolling off him in waves. The ground beneath his feet cracked slightly with each step.
“You killed my men,” he said.
“They were poachers,” Afi replied.
The man smiled then.
It was not wide.
Not amused.
It was cruel.
“So we are.”
He raised his weapon.
The moment stretched.
Then he attacked.
His strike was brutal, direct, powered by years of battle. Afi barely managed to block, the impact sending her skidding backward across the stone. Pain flared in her arms.
She had underestimated him.
They clashed again.
Each exchange forced Afi to dig deeper, her Inner Energy flaring brighter, flame threatening to spill free. The man pressed relentlessly, exploiting openings, forcing her onto the defensive.
She took a blow to the ribs.
Another grazed her shoulder.
Blood stained the ground.
Afi gritted her teeth.
This was not like before.
She centered herself, heart steady, flame restrained but present.
When the man overextended on a heavy strike, she stepped inside his guard and released a controlled burst of heat.
Flame flared along her forearm, red edged with gold.
The impact sent the man staggering back.
He laughed.
“Good,” he said. “Now show me.”
They charged again.
Neither yielded.
The fight ended not with a single decisive blow but with exhaustion layered upon pain.
When Afi finally struck true, her flame burned through resistance and bone alike.
The man fell.
This time, he did not rise.
Silence returned to the mountain.
Afi stood over him, chest heaving.
Then her hands began to shake.
She looked down.
Blood coated her knuckles, dark and real.
Not beast blood.
Not training injuries.
Human blood.
Her stomach twisted violently.
She staggered back and dropped to her knees, breath coming in short, uneven gasps. The world felt too sharp, too loud. Her flame receded instinctively, heat draining from her limbs as a hollow ache settled into her chest.
She had killed beasts before.
This was different.
Her throat tightened. Her vision blurred.
“I didn’t want this,” she whispered, the words breaking as they left her.
Something warm pressed against her hand.
She looked down.
The cub had padded forward on unsteady legs, eyes bright. It nudged her fingers with its nose, then licked her knuckles clumsily, its tongue rough and warm.
Once.
Twice.
Afi let out a broken laugh that dissolved into a sob.
She pulled the cub close, burying her face in its fur as the mountain wind carried away the smoke and ash.
The flame within her burned on.
Not triumphant.
Not cruel.
But steady.
