The storm had broken by the time Maika and Olga reached the outskirts of the Laginaple stronghold. The scent of damp earth mixed with ozone as the last rumble of thunder faded into the distance. But in its wake came a deeper threat—a silence not born of peace, but of expectation. The kind that settled over graves and battlefields. The stronghold, once a bastion of Loyalist resistance, now pulsed with the mark of Falzath corruption. Crimson banners stained with ichor hung from its walls, flapping in the wind like the wings of some cursed beast. The very stones seemed to throb with a malignant heartbeat, as if the fortress itself had come alive with hatred.
Maika narrowed her eyes, adjusting the Sunfire Mask atop her brow. The metal was warm, pulsing gently with her heartbeat. It had absorbed the sunlight from earlier that day, and now glowed faintly, golden runes sparking to life across its surface. Behind her, Olga cracked her knuckles, golden eyes narrowing beneath her thick brow. Her muscular frame shimmered with the remnants of a blessing spell cast at dawn, shielding her from weaker magicks.
"You ready to shake the walls, little sunbeam?" Olga asked, her voice gruff but charged with anticipation, her lips curling into a grin filled with challenge.
Maika smirked, the flicker of old confidence burning behind her eyes. "Let's turn this fortress inside out."
They moved as one.
Olga charged forward like a battering ram, fists alight with radiant energy, shattering the outer gate with a single slam. The ancient wood and rusted iron exploded into fragments. Splinters flew through the air like missiles, and alarms echoed within the stronghold. From the towers, Renegades spilled out—once-human soldiers now twisted by Falzath's dark magic. Their bodies were grotesque, skin sloughing in patches, eyes glowing with empty madness, mouths filled with black teeth. But Maika didn't falter.
The Sunfire Mask shimmered.
She raised her hand, conjuring a sphere of radiant light that pulsed like a miniature sun. With a flick of her wrist, the orb burst forward, splitting into lances of fox-fire that danced through the ranks of the corrupted. Screams erupted as the flames purged darkness, searing through illusions and enchantments alike. The very shadows recoiled as her light carved a path through the blight.
Olga launched herself into the fray, each punch creating shockwaves that sent enemies flying. Her style was wild but refined—a hammer wrapped in lightning. Each blow collapsed armor and bone alike. Maika covered her, fox-fire bolts sweeping the high ledges, turning would-be archers into ash. Together, they became a storm of vengeance—an unstoppable rhythm of fire and force.
Maika's crest flared on her shoulder, a radiant sigil glowing beneath her tunic. It pulsed in harmony with her heartbeat, reacting to her intent, her fury, her justice. Every time it shone, another Renegade fell, another relic cracked, another foul magic unraveled. Each step forward reclaimed ground. Each kill restored a sliver of light to a place long consumed by darkness.
Through the chaos, Maika's mind drifted to the past. To the betrayal she had once been part of. To the Loyalists who had trusted her before the fall. Their faces haunted her. Their blood stained her hands. This was not merely a mission. This was penance. And though her fire burned hot, it could not cleanse memory so easily.
They reached the central courtyard, a vast plaza of broken statues and corrupted fountains, where the corrupted captain stood.
Tall and draped in crimson robes, the captain bore a jagged crown of obsidian fused to his skull. His mouth split unnaturally wide, rows of teeth too sharp, too many. His flesh was inscribed with glowing runes that pulsed with infernal life. In his hands, he wielded a glaive twisted by Falzath runes, its blade whispering curses with every breath of wind.
"Maika of the Soma's Hi Okami," he hissed. "The traitor who plays at redemption. The fire in your heart is but guilt dressed in gold."
Maika stepped forward, the sun behind her casting a radiant aura, turning her silhouette into that of an avenging spirit.
"Maybe it is," she said, lifting her hand. "But guilt can be purifying. And this fire? It's justice."
The battle began.
The corrupted captain surged forward, glaive cutting arcs through the air, distorting space. Each swing tore at reality, ripping fissures that leaked black smoke. Maika ducked beneath the first swing, rolled across the bloodstained stones, and hurled a fox-fire orb into his path. It exploded on impact, staggering him with a burst of searing radiance. Olga capitalized, charging and slamming her fist into his side, cracking ribs with a single blow that echoed like thunder.
The glaive spun again, catching Olga in the shoulder. Blood sprayed, but she grinned through it, grabbing the weapon mid-swing and holding it fast with monstrous strength.
"Hit him!" she barked.
Maika didn't hesitate.
She launched upward, fox-fire blazing in her hands, and landed a searing palm strike to the captain's chest. Her crest flared, pouring energy into the blow. The runes etched into the captain's flesh burned away as radiant fire engulfed him. The light pierced through his corrupted form, revealing flashes of the man he once was—then reducing them to ash.
The scream was inhuman. The glaive disintegrated. And in a final blast of golden light, the corrupted form exploded, leaving behind nothing but scorched stone and silence.
The fortress was silent again. But this time, it was peace.
Maika dropped to one knee, breathing heavily, hands shaking. Olga knelt beside her, blood still dripping from her shoulder. Her grin had faded, replaced by somber calm.
"He mentioned your past," Olga said quietly. "You alright?"
Maika nodded slowly. "No. But I will be. This place… these people… they deserved to be freed. Even if it costs me."
Just then, one of the remaining Renegades crawled from the rubble, barely conscious. His body was broken, but his voice remained.
"You think you understand," he coughed, voice weak. "But Voryn was always there. In the shadows. Pulling the strings. Not just us. Even Tristan. Even the Soma Clan."
Maika's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
The Renegade laughed, a sound filled with sorrow and madness. "The Hi Okami were never ours. We were tools. Warnings. Your fall was orchestrated from the start. Everything you thought was choice... was illusion."
And with that, he died.
The revelation chilled Maika. The battle had been won, but something deeper had been unearthed. Redemption was no longer enough. They needed answers. They needed to unravel the truth.
Maika stood, her crest still glowing. Olga rose beside her, bloodied but unbowed. The wind carried away the last of the smoke, revealing the burning horizon.
"Let's report to Shin," Maika said. "The truth is unraveling, and we need to be ready."
Olga nodded. "We're with you. All the way. No matter what we find."
And together, they turned their backs on the ruined fortress and stepped into the sunlit path ahead, carrying both fire and fury into the battles yet to come. The war was far from over—but so was their will to see it through.