Sigma Meets Sigma

Brain activity stimulated by the flow of mana, Kevin felt his senses elevate to a new realm.

Be it his perception or reflexes, both were heightened to an extreme. Although his current physique was a far cry from his top shape as Agent Elipsion, the minor enhancements brought about by the adrenaline alternate energy helped put things in perspective.

Taking advantage of his proportionally inconspicuous figure in the darkness of this outcast sky, he indulged in a feast of consecutive assassinations.

He quite enjoyed disrupting the tip of the battle by striking the blind spots of these inexperienced soldiers. There were too many openings to exploit; he could ignore half and still manage to assassinate a soldier every 5s.

Kevin hummed a happy-go tune while counting the bodies he dropped in pairs. It matched well with the striking steel and bells of misery from youngsters struggling to grapple with death while looking it in the eye.

"You seem quite happy, kid!"

A sword struck diagonally from Kevin's left flank, forcing the young baron to sidestep with a spin of the heel as his black hair ruffled, revealing a pair of glittering black eyes like that of a naughty cat caught playing with mice.

He paused.

"Whoa, you look familiar!"

The middle-aged man mirrored Kevin's thoughts as he stroked the shallow stubble on his chin. Humming in a stereotypical deep voice, the man snapped his fingers in realization.

"That's right! You're that kid I met the other day; your face struck me with a sense of estrangement back then so I struck up a conversation. Oh man, oh, man… Sigh, I didn't expect that you weren't just a spy— you must be the assassin as well."

Kevin pursed his lips, not responding directly but rather looking at this man from head to toe, whistling. "You looked much more approachable in a soldier's outfit, you know."

"Wearing all these trinkets and medals is a pain in the ass, trust me." The man shrugged helplessly, showcasing the noble coat of arms while expressing his heartfelt complaints, "I don't wear them unless I'm on official business, like today of all days."

Kevin nodded his head, shifting his center of gravity and tossing a small throwing knife, nailing it into the forehead of yet another young man.

"I could say the same thing," he spoke faintly, three knives spawning in between his digits as their edges trembled in anticipation; seeking a new home to settle in. "I wear these clothes on the days of my official business, too; call it an occupational disease."

The man rubbed the back of his head, annoyed. "you youngsters are quite the handful; here I thought the lass Jean would be quite troublesome to handle, never have I thought Baron Issac left a devil spawn like you behind."

The man unbuttoned his cape and coat of arms, allowing them to sink into the bloody snow beneath his feet while he fixed his wrists.

"I'm curious though," he cracked his neck and took a stance. "Your house should be under Armstrong while that lass over there should be under Louis, your interests are diametrically opposed, especially when merits are about to be tolled up.

"Why are you helping her raise her standing in the court? Hmm? I see potential in your eyes, kid. Let the grown-ups play their games and rot in their fancy chairs; you can settle in the military instead, and you'll fit right in."

Kevin laughed despite his attempt of maintaining a poker face.

As he laughed, his pupils suddenly dilated and he took a prompt step backward.

A heavy wind pressure washed his upper body as a curved blade barely swept his neck clean, missing by a margin of error.

A faint pulse of mana rippled along the sword's edge, rustling Kevin's hair and leaving behind a shallow cut on his throat.

He swallowed, a trickle of sweat rolling down the bridge of his nose.

"Pity— that should have been your head; I've grown rusty over time."

The man shook his head as the blade swayed hypnotically, in an odd rhythm while parallel to his braced leg.

Kevin gulped while his heart went thumping, and quite quickly at that. He was careless for a moment there; a bit of information swayed him into dropping his guard, almost costing him his head.

Not anymore though, he pushed these unnecessary thoughts to the back of his mind; Marquis Louis and Marquis Armstrong were the last of his worries right now, let alone the affairs of the court and its political warfare.

Seven Kings and one Preordained Empress; too far from his reach were these things at the moment. Right now, what mattered was the thrill of encountering a seasoned combatant adept in mana flow control.

This man seemed like a small pond of shallow water at first glance, calm and unfettered. However, who would have expected that beneath the shallow waters were layers and layers of dangers, simply well concealed?

This reminded Kevin that it was impossible for him to differentiate between normal people and awakened mages— a critical mistake.

One that almost cost him a second life; a last chance.

Tens of souls danced about in his third eye as the mana within flared up, combusting them for a boost in strength.

"Mhm?"

The man's eyes flashed as the air around Kevin changed; subtly.

Nigh imperceptible changes in aura yet perceived by the instincts of a seasoned warrior. Interesting, the man thought. This kid is just getting serious… Might as well.

He took a deep breath and with a faint hum, the curved blade split into two, each incredibly thin— no one would have thought this sword was two combined if it weren't for this sudden turn of events.

Kevin's digits clenched tightly on the few throwing knives at his disposal as his eyes focused. He could feel the mass of his body increasing, evident by the indentation on the fine layer of snow.

An indication of his lack of control when it came to the discharges of mana yet it could not be helped; this was his first time fighting like this, inspired by the sword strike that almost took his life in a flash.

As they had isolated their senses to the immediate vicinity of the ongoing battlefield, the two were unaware that both sides had stopped fighting at some point in time, splitting into two sections.

Everyone was focused on the tense standoff as the vapor of snow climbed dramatically to spiral around Kevin who was gently leaning his center of gravity forward and the man, supposedly named Kyle according to the whispers of the crowd, as he positioned both curved swords into a cross stance.

It was unknown who gulped first, but it was damn infectious.

Jean was the most worried of them all as she had already recognized Kyle, a fallen mage. Although his third eye was crippled in the past, he was no slouch to pick up a bone with.

She didn't know that Kevin had already crystallized his third eye, subconsciously putting him in an unfavorable position in her mind.

She clenched her rapier sword, praying.

The moment her gloves squeezed the metal, the two acted in a flash.

Kevin's body seemed to glitch on multiplier occasions with an inhuman acceleration in a linear path forward, direct and unrelenting.

Kyle took a step forward that seemed to throttle the land beneath his foot as the double swords descended like shadows from high and mighty, about to intercept Kevin and dice him apart despite the ferocity in the latter's eyes.