A Background Character’s Path to Power

"No, we won't abandon—"

Before the soldiers could voice their defiance, a sudden gust of powerful wind and snow erupted from the colossal Mistborn, slamming into them with concussive force.

"!" Elria's words died in her throat.

One attack. That was all it took. Her unit, scattered like rag dolls across the drifts, groaning in pain.

She turned, slow and stiff, toward the towering giant, her horror growing as its mouth seemed to curl into a mocking, silent sneer, a chilling expression of contempt for them and their useless resolve.

It barely deigned to glance at her, yet that dismissive gaze was enough.

With an imperceptible shift, it pointed a colossal, misty hand at them.

In the churning air before its palm, countless large, long, and impossibly sharp ice arrows began to form, each one around seven feet in length, shimmering with lethal intent.

Then, with a casual flick, they descended - a deadly barrage meant to annihilate everything in its wake.

The giant itself turned away, already sure of their complete and utter defeat.

Elria's muscles burned. Move! But her legs—

She looked down.

Frost crawled up her waist, glistening and merciless. When did—?

She looked up at the incoming rain of death, forcing her trembling aura to form a wind shield around herself. It was a futile gesture, she knew, but a desperate attempt to cling to even the tiniest chance of survival.

She heard the horrifying screams of pain and terror from all sides as the ice arrows began to land among her scattered soldiers, but she didn't dare to look, fearing the sight would break her, consume her last shred of courage.

Is this how we die?

Elria clenched her jaw, forcing herself to meet death head-on. If this were the end, she would face it with her eyes open.

The windshield flickered weakly around her, already cracking under the pressure of the descending arrows. She could feel the freezing air biting at her skin, the ice creeping higher up her torso.

Then—

A sound like a blade cutting through the storm.

Her eyes subconsciously flicked upwards. Through the swirling white, she saw it - a wide arc of crimson flames, a blazing slash that tore through the storm, flying directly at the descending ice arrows.

The fiery arc and the frozen projectiles clashed in mid-air, unleashing a series of violent explosions that momentarily lit up the blizzard, sending shockwaves of heat and force through the biting blizzard.

Elria gasped as a familiar warm aura washed over her, the frost on her legs fracturing and falling away.

Through the dissipating mist, a familiar figure emerged - Baron Nusayel, his spear ablaze, his expression grim.

"Stay back!" he barked, not even glancing at her as he stepped forward, placing himself between them and the giant.

Elria stood frozen, her body refusing to obey. The world had narrowed to the colossal Mistborn and the crimson afterimage of Baron's spear.

Then ice cracked in her ears.

"Move. Quickly."

Zephyr's voice cut through her stupor like a blade through snow. She whipped her head right - there he stood, eyes glinting with lethal focus, his usual cool and calm demeanor replaced by something predatory.

When his gaze flicked to her, the unspoken threat in those pale eyes sent her stumbling backward before conscious thought caught up.

A swirling portal yawned behind him, and others were already vanishing into its depths.

After a quick glance at the young man, she sprinted towards the vortex, a bitter taste in her mouth. She hated abandoning the fight, hated turning her back, but the raw truth burned within her: she would only be dead weight here, a liability.

Behind her, Zephyr turned back to the giant. His mind worked faster than the storm.

"..."

They were losing. Badly.

The monstrosity before them made every previous battle seem like child's play. Yet the plan's final gambit remained—if they could buy seconds, if they could shift the tide, if they had one more fighter who could stand beside the Baron without being crushed.

Zephyr's breath stilled.

"..."

The calculation took less than a heartbeat.

Though the serpent wasn't physically present, the power it gave thrummed in his veins. He reached for it, not with his hands, but with something deeper. A resonance through his loci.

In an instant, the power detonated through him.

Muscles reforged themselves. His senses sharpened until he could track individual snowflakes in the blizzard. Dark emerald energy erupted outward, forming a crackling shield that vaporized falling snow before it could touch him.

Both Baron Nusayel and the colossal Mistborn instantly reacted, their heads snapping toward Zephyr.

Nusayel's eyes widened in shock, a silent question forming on his lips. "You—!"

ROOOOAARRR!

The colossal Mistborn's loud roar tore through the air, disrupting Baron's shock. The creature had sensed the sudden, enormous surge of power, and its silent sneer was replaced by a snarl of fury and amusement.

Zephyr didn't so much as blink. The psychic fury that would have shattered lesser minds rolled off him like wind over stone. His eyes, now lit with that eerie green glow, remained locked on the Mistborn as he turned just enough to catch the Baron's gaze. A single nod. No words needed.

The message was clear.

Baron Nusayel's grip on his spear tightened, all questions burned away by battle instinct.

Above them, the Mistborn's claws flexed, sensing the atmosphere.

"GRRR-!"

The next moment, both Baron Nusayel and Zephyr launched themselves forward, a unified blur of motion. Baron's spear blazed with crimson fire, Zephyr's form cloaked in his verdant aura, as they hurtled toward the monster.

The Mistborn retaliated instantly.

Ice shards the size of cavalry spears materialized mid-air and shot toward them in a deadly wave. Simultaneously, its massive clawed hands swept down like falling siege towers, shadows swallowing the combatants whole. Every movement screamed primal fury - this wasn't just an attack, but the wrath of winter itself made manifest.

Yet neither fighter broke stride.

Baron Nusayel's spear became a whirling storm of fire, each rotation vaporizing incoming projectiles in bursts of steam. Zephyr moved like a liquid shadow between the remaining shards, his saber's emerald trail leaving afterimages that dissolved whatever ice they touched.

When the claws came crashing down, they met not flesh, but defiance - the Baron's spear intercepting one massive hand in an explosion of sparks, while Zephyr's aura-flared boot braced against the other, his entire body shuddering from the impact but holding firm.

For one impossible instant, the colossal force hung suspended between them.

Then the real battle began.