The forest loomed dense and silent, draped in mist and shadow. Twisted trees with bark like gnarled flesh formed a maze of darkness, their skeletal branches clawing at the fading sunlight. Even the wind held its breath. Only the faint crunch of boots over damp earth disturbed the uneasy stillness.
Takeshi Ryuzaki moved to the center of the trio, his cloak swaying behind him like a whisper of flame. Diana walked to his left, her blade drawn and gleaming with residual magic, while Masumi, ever the quiet sentinel, covered their flank with clenched fists charged with flickering sparks.
They had left their campsite behind before dawn, drawn deeper by the pulsing resonance of the green shards they had uncovered near the ruins. The cursed remains of the once-proud guild—now a crater of ash and scorched memory—still weighed heavily on their minds.
Takeshi clenched his jaw. The fire in his core hadn't dimmed. If anything, it had grown heavier with purpose.
"We're close," Diana murmured, brushing her fingers over a tree bearing a freshly scorched rune. The arcane symbol glowed faintly green, humming with forbidden power.
Masumi's hands flexed, faint arcs of blue lightning dancing between his knuckles. "I feel it too. Something… wrong. It's like the air's watching us."
Takeshi's emerald eyes narrowed. "Then let's make sure we're the ones watching it back."
They moved forward another twenty paces before it happened.
A low hum, then a guttural chant echoed from the shadows—dissonant and cold, like a hymn whispered by the dead. The air grew thick, pressing in around them like invisible hands. Then, without warning, the underbrush stirred.
Figures emerged—cloaked and hooded cultists, dozens of them, their movements slow and deliberate. Robes tattered and damp with earth, skin etched with pulsing symbols carved directly into flesh. Their eyes burned, not with magic, but with madness.
They moved in a coordinated circle, encasing the trio within a ring of bodies and intent.
The lead cultist stepped forward. He was taller than the rest, his body adorned with bones of strange beasts. A jagged crown of green crystal jutted from his forehead like a malformed antler.
"The Green Flame shall consume the rot of this world," he hissed. "Through us, the vessels awaken. The cleansing begins now."
Takeshi's fists lit with emerald fire. It coiled around his arms like living serpents, heat pulsing with his heartbeat.
"Try it," he spat. "See how quickly you burn."
With a sudden surge, he charged. The fire flared brighter as he leapt forward, right fist pulled back. "Green Fire Dragon's Iron Fist!" he roared, slamming it into the lead cultist's chest with enough force to shatter bone and hurl the man back into a tree, which exploded from the impact.
The circle broke, chaos erupting.
Takeshi landed in a crouch and flowed into his next move. Spinning low, he kicked up a sheet of emerald fire with Green Fire Dragon's Freestyle, weaving together swift jabs, kicks, and pivots. Each strike left behind trails of flame that danced like angry spirits.
To his left, Diana's sword carved through the first wave of cultists, her movements graceful and brutal. Spells burst from her free hand—shields, force blasts, and pinpoint arcane bolts—all woven with her unique combat rhythm.
Masumi, ever the storm's fist, dove into their ranks with a primal growl. Every punch cracked bones and left burn marks of lightning along the cultists' skin. He moved like a boulder in a landslide—unstoppable.
Takeshi spun again, rising with a sweeping upward strike. "Green Fire Dragon's Wing Attack!" he bellowed. His flame erupted in a wide arc from his back, taking the shape of massive dragon wings made of green fire. They exploded outward, throwing back half a dozen enemies like leaves in a hurricane.
But the ritual continued.
A strange hum pulsed from the ground, vibrating up through their boots. The broken seal at the center of the clearing—jagged and partially buried—began to glow. Not red. Not purple. Green.
The chant intensified. Then, the earth split open.
From the fracture, a twisted beast emerged—a massive dragon-like creature, scales blackened with corruption, green flames leaking from its maw and sockets where eyes once were. Its tail whipped wildly, flattening trees. Its roar sent birds screaming from the sky.
Masumi's voice was sharp. "Takeshi—!"
"I see it!" Takeshi shouted.
The dragon lunged.
With a shout, Takeshi met it mid-charge, thrusting both palms forward. "Green Fire Dragon's Roar!"
An inferno blasted from his mouth, an unrelenting torrent of emerald fire that slammed into the creature's face. The impact halted the beast's momentum, forcing it to dig its clawed limbs into the ground.
It roared in rage, pushing back against the flame.
Takeshi gritted his teeth, digging deep. He leapt again, flames spiralling around his legs. As he twisted mid-air, he slashed downward with twin blazing kicks. "Green Fire Dragon's Claw!"
His boots struck true, raking across the monster's neck in an X-pattern. Black blood hissed and steamed on contact.
The beast reeled.
Now. Takeshi felt it—something deep inside calling him to rise. Not a system. Not an outside force. His will. His flame. His instinct.
He channelled it all.
Drawing in a long breath, he shouted, "Secret Art: Green Fire Dragon's Final Ascent!"
The flames surged around him, taking shape—a spectral green dragon coiling around his body, its wings spanning wide, its jaw open in silent defiance.
He rushed forward one last time, fire spiralling around his elbow. "Green Fire Dragon's Flame Elbow!"
He struck the beast square between its horns. The force detonated with a boom that cracked the seal beneath their feet. Fire surged through the monster's body, consuming the corruption, purging it with roaring emerald light.
It screamed one last time—then fell.
The corrupted beast collapsed, lifeless. Its burning corpse illuminated the clearing like a funeral pyre. Cultists, panicked and broken, fled into the forest; their chants dissolved into cries of terror.
Takeshi staggered, dropping to one knee, panting. Smoke curled off his shoulders. His fists still glowed faintly.
Diana was at his side in seconds, hand steady on his back. "Are you okay?"
He nodded, then looked up at the fractured seal. It had stopped pulsing, but it remained cracked, though not shattered.
"Not over yet," Takeshi said quietly.
Masumi joined them, eyes on the horizon. "Then we keep moving."
The wind shifted again, colder now. The trees whispered something darker still.
But none of them flinched.
They stood scarred, united, and burning with resolve as the shadows prepared their next move.