The Wrath of Dire: Endgame at Silver City [Part-2]
But just as his fingers curled into the ground— A warm hand grabbed his and stop him from standing.
It was Lira. She stood in front of him, silver hair catching the heat-haze light, almost glowing. Her blue eyes didn’t waver, sharp and steady, locked onto his golden stare.
Her fingers wrapped tighter around his—soft, but unrelenting. Like silk with steel underneath.
"You’re not recovered yet, darling," she said, voice quiet, but solid as a wall.
He tried—damn, he tried—to rise again. But she pressed him down, firm yet tender, her body shielding his.
Leon’s eyes widened. His chest trembled with rage and helplessness. He loathed this feeling—being grounded, forced to watch.
But the fire in Lira’s eyes... the commanding strength in her touch... something inside him quieted. He exhaled hard, his back settling against the scorched ground and rock.
Behind her, his other wives stood like goddesses of war—unmoving, watching the battlefield unfold. Their faces were sharp with fury. Grave. Determined.
They had seen him try to rise. They had seen Lira stop him. And in silent acknowledgment, they gave the smallest nods. Yet their expressions grew darker. They understood it too well—if those three didn’t get help soon, they wouldn’t survive.
Rias glanced sideways, her crimson eyes sharp. Cynthia. Aria. Tsubaki. Syra. Kyra. All of them met her gaze. Six stunning women shared silent looks. No words were needed. Just glances, subtle shifts of breath, eyes that spoke louder than speech.
They had reached an agreement.
They nodded in unison.
Rias stepped closer, her voice gentle but smoldering with power. "Daddy... you stay here until you’re completely recovered," she said, lips curving with a faint smile. Her crimson gaze shimmered with fire. "Let your girls handle this. Just for a little while."
Leon’s lips parted like he was about to speak—
but no words came out.
His eyes drifted back to the battlefield. Back to the chaos still tearing through it.
Dire—that molten monster—was slamming into his three wounded men like some god of destruction.
Leon clenched his fists. Shut his eyes for a moment. Opened them again.
Then exhaled, a slow, bitter sigh.
"...Go," he said at last, voice low. "But be careful. He’s... powerful."
Without hesitation, the six women moved.
Rias led the charge, her crimson sword flashing into her hand from her spatial ring. Fire licked along the blade’s length as she whispered her spell: [Inferno Coat]. Flames burst to life beneath her feet, lifting her like a phoenix reborn.
Beside her, Aria’s hands glided through the air, drawing ribbons of wind and water—two colors of runes glowing around her, blue on one palm, green on the other. Magic swirled like a storm forming in her breath.
Cynthia followed next, calm as a tide before a flood. Her black staff glimmered, the crescent moon atop it radiating cool blue light. Water coiled behind her in a protective wall, ready to shield or strike.
Then came Syra and Kyra—the twin comets with emerald hair. Their blades gleamed, one humming with earth, the other whispering wind. They moved as one, like dancers trained in war.
Tsubaki stepped forward last, dragging her greatsword from the earth. Her armor bore fresh scratches, and her dark eyes were colder than steel. Around her, the very ground rumbled—earth element surging like waves to meet her will.
Together, the six became one force. They charged forward—flashes of power, streaks of elegance and destruction.
The battlefield trembled beneath their arrival.
Dire turned, alerted by the thundering rhythm of their steps. His molten face cracked into a sneer, lava dripping from his grin.
"Oh? So now the Duke sends his wives to fight?" he roared, voice thick with mockery. "Cute. Is this the legend of Leon? Hiding behind his women?"
He licked a drop of lava from his lip, smoke curling from his arms as he raised them.
"Fine then! Come! I’ll melt every last one of you! I planned to kill Leon first then you all. Anyway, but now I’ll enjoy burning you first."
But Rias didn’t flinch.
Mid-run, she spun her blade and snapped back, voice like a war cry: "Why don’t you shut up and die instead?"
With a burst of heat, she shot into the air, voice rising in a sharp, defiant chant— [Flame Spiral – Crimson Hell!]
Her blade cut the air with a sharp howl—then she cast it. A twisting, furious tornado of fire broke loose, roaring straight at Dire. It hit him hard, full force, with a sound like the sky tearing open. Flames burst out in a wide column, lighting up the battlefield like it was the middle of the day.
For a second, it felt like the fire was gonna swallow the whole world. Dire leapt back instinctively, but the moment’s hope was short-lived.
From within the flames, a figure emerged—skin aglow, radiating unbearable heat. Dire’s charred form walked out laughing, unshaken, unfazed.
Aria’s eyes narrowed. She raised her hands, voice sharp. [Water Bind – Veil Chains!]
Streams of water burst forth, twisting around Dire’s legs like serpents, dragging at him, slowing his stride. Without pause, Kyra stepped in beside her, breath steady, tone cold.
A vicious gust tore from her palms and slammed against his chest, slicing through his skin with a wet rip—but it wasn’t deep enough. Bone still stood firm.
Then Cynthia’s voice cut through the chaos—clear, steady, almost haunting. Like a sacred hymn whispered right into a storm. "[Tide Pulse – Mirror’s End.]"
From the tip of her staff, a wave shimmered to life and blasted forward, crashing into the beast with a force that felt holy. Water coiled around his monstrous body, wrapping tight like a second skin, alive and thrumming.
Syra didn’t hesitate. Her sword burst with wild energy as she rushed in, her voice sharp, filled with fury. "[Meteor Strike!]"
She swung hard, wide—the blade smashed into the earth, and the ground let out a groan before it exploded. The shockwave tore through stone, sending jagged shards flying straight at Dire’s massive form. Kyra joined her again, already casting another spell, wind swirling at her feet.
A crescent of slicing air arched forward, cutting into Dire’s flank. It tore through cloth, skin, and muscle—clean, sharp, punishing.
Tsubaki gave no warning. With a wordless roar, she dashed ahead, blade lifted high.
Her body crashed into Dire like a battering ram, her blade embedded deep into his chest. The force behind it was monstrous, backed by the full strength of the earth. The ground beneath them split open with the impact, cracks rippling outward like spiderwebs.
And for the briefest moment—
The monster stumbled.
From the sidelines, three more figures rose through the dust. Black. Johny. Ronan. Their armor bloodied, their bodies bruised—but their eyes still sharp. They stood tall again, refusing to fall.
Nine now faced the creature.
Nine warriors standing shoulder to shoulder, their wills united.
Dire, overwhelmed by their combined assault, was forced to retreat a step. His feet scraped across broken stone as he deflected yet another strike. But the arrogance in his eyes had dimmed. The mocking grin? Gone.
Rias stepped forward, fire curling around her sword, her lips curling into a confident smirk.
"No more smiling," she murmured. "You know why?" Her eyes locked onto his. "Because you talk too much."
She tilted her sword, and flames wrapped around the blade like a living serpent.
It was nine against one.
Dire’s fists lifted, cracked and steaming. His chest heaved. He knew what was coming.
Rias spun her sword again, fire licking up the strands of her hair, blazing with unholy beauty.
"Let’s show him how real monsters fight."
The battlefield erupted with furious light.
The final clash began.
And the monster roared.