While Souta clashed with Silmure, Stingara was swallowed by the suffocating heat of Ignarok.

  The ground cracked, rivers of magma burst forth, and the air burned as if the world itself were combusting.

  Ignarok raised his incandescent sword, the blade pulsing like living magma.

  — “Ano. The flame that never dies. You shall burn until nothing but ash remains.”

  Stingara lifted her hand, her crimson aura expanding like a blood?red sunset.

  Solar Spheres exploded against Ignarok’s walls of fire, painting the battlefield in red and orange.

  She charged forward, unleashing an Ultraviolet Ray that sliced through the air like a spear of light.

  But Ignarok did not retreat.

  He advanced in a straight line, crushing everything with brute force.

  The impact was devastating.

  Stingara was hurled to the ground, her body dragged for meters, stones and embers scorching her skin.

  Ignarok laughed, fanatical:

  — “Weak! A sun that never reaches its zenith is nothing but a dying dusk!”

  Stingara tried to stand, but her knees trembled.

  The heat suffocated her, the air burned her lungs.

  — “No… I can’t… I’m not like Mom…”

  Ignarok raised his blazing sword, ready to crush her.

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  — “Burn as an offering to our lord!”

  Souta intervened for a moment, even while trapped by Silmure’s threads.

  Spoon Tornado: a whirlwind of wind erupted, pushing Ignarok back a few meters.

  — “Hey, fireball! Hitting a fallen princess isn’t fair. That’s against shonen rules.”

  Stingara looked at him, panting, tears in her eyes.

  — “Souta… I can’t… I’m going to die here…”

  — “Relax. If you’re gonna die, at least die with style.”

  Void…

  At 13 years old, Stingara trained in the royal courtyard.

  Sweat dripped down her face, but her magic was weak, unstable.

  The sun she summoned never rose beyond a dying sunset, a crimson glow that faded before reaching its peak.

  On the other side, Meliora, only 8 years old, already mastered solar magic flawlessly.

  Her golden rays lit the field like a true zenith.

  Queen Beatrix watched in silence.

  Her cold eyes turned to Stingara.

  A look of silent disdain.

  — “Useless…” her mother muttered before turning to praise Meliora.

  Stingara fell to her knees, her heart crushed.

  That day, she understood:

  her sun would never shine like the others’.

  Back in the present, Ignarok advanced like a wall of fire.

  Each strike of his incandescent sword was like a meteor.

  Each step made the ground tremble.

  Stingara tried to resist:

  Solar Spheres were crushed by the black flames.Ultraviolet Ray was swallowed by a wall of fire.Aggressive Gravity failed, the heat distorting space.

  Ignarok struck her brutally.

  Her body was thrown against rocks, burns spreading across her skin.

  She coughed blood, her dress torn, her crimson aura nearly extinguished.

  Ignarok raised his sword, laughing in fanatical ecstasy:

  — “You are but a shadow before true fire! Your sun will never rise!”

  Stingara, fallen, remembered her mother’s gaze.

  Meliora’s smile.

  The disdain.

  The failure.

  Tears fell, mixing with blood.

  — “I… was never enough… never anything but a fading sunset…”

  Ignarok charged for the final blow.

  The heat was unbearable.

  The world seemed to collapse.

  But inside her, something still pulsed.

  A dying sun… yet one that refused to die.