Chapter 205: A Clash of Wills

Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!

Arthur Leywin

Color rushed back into my vision as I disengaged Static Void. Time resumed once more as I appeared directly beside Spellsong, Dawn's Ballad shaking violently in my hands as I thrust it through his wrist.

The blade carved through his flesh with ease, causing him to drop the wriggling mass of black mana as his tendons were severed. Not wasting a single breath, I swung my fist, a gauntlet of earth and fire forming in that split instant before cracking the disoriented man across the jaw hard.

With the strength of my assimilated body and the torrent of mana rushing through my veins, the impact sounded like a thunderclap. Toren Daen rocketed away from me like a comet, crashing into a nearby spire of crystal. It exploded into a shower of shards, kicking up dust and obscuring his body from my sight.

Sylvie crashed down behind me like a black comet, roaring in defiance. The echo of her draconic bellow made the entire cavern shake as she unfurled her midnight wings, snarling in fury as she glared with eyes of the deepest amber at the cloud of dust. I didn't pay attention to that, though. No, my eyes were glued to Tessia as she coughed weakly at my feet.

"He hurt mama," Sylvie snarled, her fury matching my own over our telepathic bond. "How dare he," she hissed. Her black wings cast a long, dark shadow as they stretched toward infinity.

I knelt over Tess, meeting her eyes. I brought a hand down to brush away a lock of silver-gray hair from her battered and bruised face, inspecting her injuries. She stared up at me, her hand clasping my wrist weakly. "Art," she said, her voice strained. "Art, I–"

"Save your strength. You're going to get out of here. Now," I ordered, my voice serious. I traced the outlines of Tess' face. I noted the damage she'd sustained in battle and the wound directly over her core, feeling what I needed to do next cement within my mind. "Sylv, heal her with aether. Whatever you can manage."

Sylvie wrenched her massive, draconic maw away from where she'd glared at the settling dust, instead shifting to breathe purple motes of energy over Tess' body. I watched as Tess' cuts and bruises healed; how her bones reknit. Her eyes refocused as her wounds were washed away.

"Art," she pleaded, her hand grasping my own. "Be careful. Please! He's… He's powerful. Like you. I don't know what he was trying to do to me, but… It was strange. He was doing something to my core, and–"

I allowed my voice to be soft for a moment. "I'll be careful, princess," I said, my fingers pressing against her palm as my mana roved her for wounds. Yet I noted her words. Spellsong had tried to infect her core somehow, and before I'd reached this cavern from Rinia's instructions, I'd heard Tess' agonized screams. "But you need to get your squadmates and escape from here. Go directly to the castle–don't wait for me. Tell Virion that I'm engaging with Spellsong."

My childhood friend's eyes widened. "Spellsong?" she said, baffled as she used my arm to pull herself shakily to her feet. "You mean the Alacryan… The one who fought Aya?"

I nodded gravely, sensing out of the edges of my perception as the smoke finally cleared. "Go. Now!"

Tess scrambled away, her eyes looking back with a deep, inset worry as she moved toward her unconscious teammates. I saw so much in the lines of her face–her care, her fear, her hope…

Dawn's Ballad was no longer trying to rip itself free of my grasp, shaking with every twitch and pull. The edge still gleamed with fuschia splashed through by ochre, but as the blood that coated the blade was slowly absorbed into the structure, I could almost feel as the makeup within changed. From where I held the matte black handle, an alien energy flowed through the acclorite in my palm, making my hand feel warm and relaxed.

But that didn't matter. The rising anger–Grey's pure, focused anger–allowed me to stay in control even as I felt my body light up with strength as I siphoned mana from my core.

Spellsong–or as Uto had named him, Toren Daen–looked none the worse for wear as he held my gaze, aside from a few strands of hair out of place. Featherstem runes that glimmered like hot coals burned beneath his eyes, and the deep red chain inked along his left arm pulsed rhythmically. He wasn't wearing a mask like the last time I'd seen him, revealing the same features I'd seen in Uto's vision.

A massive construct of bronze metal loomed behind him, matching its burning eyes with Sylvie's. It looked charred and damaged from something, the feathers and intricate plating sloughing as if they had been dunked in acid. Though I felt a different sort of trepidation and uncertainty clutch at my mana core from how that massive creature's eyes twisted, I would have to trust my bond to handle it.

Uto's vision had made everything so much more complicated. Scythe Seris Vritra's allegiances and motives became even more murky and indistinct in the wake of that knowledge, but now I realized that that didn't matter. I'd spent the last month training to face an existential threat to all the other Lances, and here he was before me. I'd watched him hurt Tess, that black sludge poised to sink right into her core.

It doesn't matter what Seris is planning, I thought, gnashing my teeth as I leveled Dawn's Ballad at Toren. Realmheart Physique slipped to the forefront of my mind, turning my hair the color of snow. The wash of insight made the entire world feel more alive as color drained from my vision. Soon, all I could see amidst the grayscale were the red motes of fire mana, the green of wind, the yellow of earth, and the blue of water.

And one, final color. The purple of aether revealed itself to me, a veritable torrent of the energy streaming from Dawn's Ballad and into the acclorite in my palm.

But as my eyes drifted to Toren Daen's heart, I remembered my bond's terrified words from what felt like an age ago. "So much aether," she'd lamented. "So much."

Indeed, an overwhelming mass of purple particles flared and retreated around Toren's chest in time with his heartbeat.

"You shouldn't be here," Toren said, his voice carrying on currents of sound mana. I almost thought he looked uncertain. Afraid. "You should leave, Lance. Now."

My eyes–which I knew had turned purple under the effects of Realmheart Physique–narrowed. I felt a strange sort of pull from Sylvia's Will–a pulsing desire to move. To unfurl and become more. It resonated with something in the phoenix hybrid's words, or maybe his power.

After all, as I stared at the glowing runes under his eyes, I was certain he bore the Will of an asura as well.

"You've left me no choice but to be here, Toren Daen," I said, flourishing my weapon as I called mana from my core. It flowed exceptionally quickly, my insight and understanding amplified by this form. "Perhaps Seris has some plans. Perhaps she's really on our side. But with the danger you represent and the actions you've taken today…" I settled my stance, preparing to fight. My aura flared as the ambient mana trembled, the very air itself seeming to hold its breath. "You will die."

Sylvie roared once more, rising up onto her hind legs. In turn, the clockwork beast behind Toren puffed out its molten chest, screeching in challenge. 

Spellsong, however, still appeared unsure. "You don't want to do this, Godspell," he tried, and I thought I could sense fear in his tone. He took a step back from me as my aura washed over him.

I sneered, my eyes flashing like a shark smelling blood. "You can't escape the consequences of your actions so easily, Spellsong," I shot back. "You won't talk your way out of retribution for all your people have done to our continent."

Something in my words sparked a change in my enemy. His face twisted with anger as all fear bled away, his stance shifting as he resolved himself to fight at last. The fear didn't so much as leave him as it was devoured by something else.

Toren pressed something on his chest, and a layer of bronze armor–the color almost matching the creature behind him–overlaid his body. "So be it," he said in a growl that warped the air. "You want to fight for what you think is right? I'll fight you, Arthur Leywin. I'll prove your folly."

Yet neither of us moved. In the background, Tessia desperately hauled her comrades away toward one of the cavern exits. My aura flared and clashed with Toren Daen's as I waited with bated breath. I felt as if the world itself was a rubber band, stretching and stretching and stretching as two impossible forces strained within its confines, each demanding release.

Then Tessia finally left the cavern, hauling all three of her teammates behind her with conjured vines. For a bare instant, I met her eyes. Her turquoise eyes were painted in half a dozen different shades of green, each seeming to convey their own unique emotion. Fear, pain, worry, anger, something more…

And then she was gone, leaving my sight.

I burst forward, using a coating of wind to propel myself along strides of mana. Overhead, Sylvie and the strange bronze bird surged in tandem, rushing toward each other like two colossal titans. Toren summoned a blade of red plasma as I closed the distance, deftly deflecting a swipe from Dawn's Ballad. Mana flared and sparked as I thrust again, taking the initiative as energy swirled and roared around us.

High above, my bond collided with the metal construct, a resounding clash of rending bronze tearing through the cavern. I took a step forward, ironing my stance as I engaged my enemy in swordplay.

I swung downward, feinting with a high strike before pulling my arms back and driving my blade forward in a thrust.

Toren didn't fall for my initial feint. He seemed to know my intent before I did as he swept my blade to the side, the interlocking of our weapons a deadly hum. Red sparks flew as the swirl of mana imbued in my sword rebounded and pinged off the agitated fire, sound, and pure mana threading through my enemy's saber. Then he flowed forward, a nimbus of swirling energy building along his fist. It erupted near point-blank, but a simple wind spell was already pulling me to the side, closer inside his guard.

Before I could bury my blade in the phoenix hybrid's gut, though, a sparkle of whitish mana at the edge of my vision forced me to duck. That strange spell of his whipped at my hair.

I snarled, lashing out with a kick that I hoped would crater his knees. But with impressive speed, the Asclepius Retainer shifted to the side, waving a clenched hand. His orange eyes gleamed as his aura pulsed.

An array of tiny beads of plasma shot toward me from his palms with a thunderclap. I only had an instant to recognize their danger before I was moving again, conjuring a wall of water that hissed and steamed whenever that plasma hit it.

I emerged from my makeshift shield, all four elements of mana swirling around my blade as I blurred back into close range.

Toren was fast–faster than me, even. His saberwork was pristine and polished in a way I'd rarely ever encountered. His movements were focused on speed and precise counters that made me hesitate to overextend, lest I find a talon embedded in my gut.

But even if he was faster than me and physically stronger, my technique was superior. Even as his plasma saber weaved and snapped at Dawn's Ballad in flashes of red that hissed and sparked, I held the advantage through sheer skill.

I smashed Toren's weapon to the side, disrupting his balance. My eyes flashed as I sensed weakness, stomping my foot and conjuring a shell of earth around one of the mage's feet and trapping him.

Like a razor grimalkin honing in on a kill, I swiped my sword at my prone enemy, the blade glistening with all four attributes of mana. But I was forced to divert my attack as a flurry of stones and crystal shards–each outlined in white–surged in from the side.

Toren ripped his way free of the stone encasing his leg, then surged up into the air with a burst of fire and force. He twisted midair as his feet struck a spire that jutted from the ceiling, conjuring a score of plasma spheres around his head, each the size of a bowling ball. With the effects of Realmheart, I could see and feel as the mana coalesced at a frightening speed, sound mana agitating and goading the fire to absurd heights.

A barrage of solid plasma shot toward me, the air around the attack warping from the heat contained within. In response, I waved a hand, commanding the particles of ambient wind mana to obey my call.

A layer of wind magic intercepted Spellsong's attack, slowing its momentum by a frightening amount. Using Elder Camus' technique of altered air pressure allowed me to fundamentally halt most attacks in their tracks if I timed it correctly, but as sound magic was a deviant of wind, it wasn't nearly as affected as I wanted.

I ducked, avoiding the spheres of solid plasma as they burned holes into the earth around me in slow motion. I exhaled, concentrating on the mana reserves in my core. Then I coalesced a claw of ice around my palm, before imbuing it with a stream of white flames. The result was a blue-white blaze of frostfire that simultaneously froze and burned anything it touched as the mana formed a gauntlet that encased my arm.

So much power, I thought, feeling as I sank deeper into the embrace of Sylvia's Will. There was an almost lulling cadence radiating along my body as my white-tinged hair lengthened slightly, the familiar influence of my once-grandmother buoying my thoughts as her Will resonated with another. Let's see if you can counter this, Spellsong.

I swung my hand upward, a violent claw of frostfire rippling out as it expanded. It hissed and popped and seared as it surged unerringly toward Toren Daen, who hastily thrust both hands in front of himself. I saw the mana coalescing there; felt as it built and built and built. A sphere of plasma slowly expanded over his palms as he prepared to try and meet my claws of frostfire as they roared toward him.

Then he released it, the beam of red plasma surging toward my spell. They met in the middle, meshing in an intricate dance as they intertwined for a moment. A pulsing interplay of red, white, and blue hummed through the atmosphere, the ambient mana shearing apart from the clash. Fire, ice, and sound mana dueled for utmost supremacy.

And then they exploded, a spherical turbulence of frostfire and shimmering plasma radiating outward in an expanding sphere as the tension snapped. I hastily conjured a thick wall of earth in front of me as the effects neared, bracing myself against the stone as the ground grew red-hot from the heat in the atmosphere. The spires of crystal froze over, then heated again in equal measure as the vortex of power expanded.

I felt Sylvie's anger and frustration as she clashed with the creature Toren Daen kept as a companion. Intermittent flashes of black wings and the hum of sound and fire mana in the air kept me conscious of their battle.

What kind of beast can keep up with an asura, I wondered with gritted teeth, much less a dragon? 

Sylv, are you alright? I thought to her as the wave of exploding power washed over my bunker, whipping at my white hair.

"I'm fine, Arthur," Sylvie shot back quickly, uncharacteristically determined. "Focus on your own fight!"

I engaged Thunderclap Impulse on instinct, the internal lightning mana–tinged black from the effects of Realmheart–surging along my nerves and accelerating my perception of everything. The billowing waves of frostfire and plasma ground almost to a halt as the speed of my brain overclocked, giving me heightened awareness.

I watched as Toren Daen burst through the cloud of mana particles. He was singed all over, more than a few signs of frostbite on his arms and legs from rushing through the spells. He wasn't moving slowly like everything else, his determined orange eyes locked on me as he cocked back his arm. The Asclepius hybrid's plasma saber elongated, shifting form as crystalline plates overlapped it to become a massive hammer. Fire bled from it, leaving only sound. With my nerves enhanced, I could see as the purple particles of aether supported and bolstered the mana around them, unnaturally providing structured support for the entire conjured weapon. Sound mana traveled along the hammer as he prepared to bring it down on me.

My mind flashed with a hundred different options as I calculated the best way to meet this attack. I settled on one in a nanosecond, raising Dawn's Ballad as fast as I could and bracing it against my other palm. I envisioned a tunnel of earth mana flowing along my veins and muscles and into the floor beneath me as I stood rigidly, prepared for the pain that would follow.

Even under the effects of my spell, my speed only barely allowed me to react to Spellsong's surprise attack. His crystalline hammer smashed into the flat of Dawn's Ballad, and for an instant, I feared my weapon might break as the sheer force of the attack rippled throughout my body.

I'd been struck hard before. I faced Elder Buhndemog's titanic blows every single day, honing my body and learning how to apply his force dispersion technique. I'd faced General Varay constantly during my training, preparing myself exactly for this moment. Kordri had made sport of obliterating me at every moment within the aether orb until I could finally match his preplanned movements.

But the amount of power behind the hammer's swing still made my entire body tremble and shake. The crash of Toren's conjured hammer and the scream of my sword on impact resounded throughout the cavern like the sound of an asura's gong. A shockwave rippled out from the epicenter, obliterating every spike of crystal in a fifty-foot radius around us.

The majority of the force was successfully funneled into the stone beneath me as I diverted the impact. The ground cracked and shattered, a crater the size of a house opening beneath me as the force dispersed.

I felt my body tremble and ache from the effort of it, but Spellsong didn't even give me time to reorient. I spotted a flare of mana appearing on the ground around me like stilts, before he twisted unnaturally in the air. A punch laden with sound mana thundered for my face.

I barely had the wherewithal to hastily pull myself down, the Asclepius hybrid's unnatural maneuverability and absurd speed keeping me on the backfoot even with Thunderclap Impulse engaged. The vibrating assault whizzed past my ear, clipping a lock of hair and causing it to fall in electrically charged slow motion.

He's used fire, sound, and that strange telekinesis, I thought quickly as I pivoted, conjuring interlocking tendrils of black lightning over my hands. I let the spell fly, the electricity seeking my foe like a tidal wave.

He didn't even try to dodge it. Instead, the sparks surged throughout his body, electrifying every nerve and setting his hair on end. The Asclepius Retainer's teeth were clenched as he spasmed. For a moment, I thought that this was it: that I'd managed a solid blow.

Except I watched as purple aether particles surged from the Asclepius hybrid's heart, following the path where my spell had damaged him. In real-time, I sensed as the damage I'd done to him healed over.

And then his fist struck my face.

My mana shroud shattered as I rocketed off toward the edge of the cavern. My vision flashed and my consciousness winked in and out as I hit the edge of the crater, a long furrow of dirt and debris trailing in the wake of my body. Thunderclap Impulse sputtered out as I lost focus, the black lightning fizzling away.

It was only that strange current of aether that flowed from my sword that kept me fully awake and alert. I snarled, spitting out a mouthful of blood as I kipped back to my feet. My body ached and protested at the movement: the act of diverting the hammer blow earlier had left me boneless and tired, and I could already feel a bruise forming from the cut along my jaw. I felt like I'd run a marathon after being hit by a dozen landslides. My core throbbed from the effort of maintaining Realmheart, but for some reason, it wasn't nearly as strenuous as it usually was.

In the depths of my subconscious, I knew it was because something was… unraveling. Waking up.

The runes along my arms glowed a deep yellow as I stared at Spellsong. His breathing was slightly uneven, and from how the aether in his chest flowed, I could tell he'd healed the physical damage he'd taken.

He's willing to take hits just to deal me damage, I thought with narrowed eyes. Because he can afford to heal them back over with his strange vivum arts. Part of his phoenix heritage, I'm guessing. Or maybe something he can do because of his Will.

I'd spent the last month in training focusing on increasing not just the power of my elemental magic, but my versatility and tactical thinking as well. Spellsong was physically stronger than me, faster, and showed an ability to maneuver and control his body in a way that boggled the mind. He used fire, sound, and telekinetic magic to his advantage in a deadly style, each attack as graceful as an asura in a hunter's dance.

Think, Arthur, I berated myself as my hands clenched over my sword. Something was happening between the acclorite in my palm and my treasured weapon, but I couldn't afford to focus on that. How can you circumvent this? What strategy will allow you to come out on top?

Spellsong suddenly looked upward, his eyes widening behind his bronze mask. I felt a spike of pain and agony, but it wasn't my own. No, it was Sylvie's.

My bond's draconic bulk crashed into the ground between Spellsong and me. And the ground shattered.

Stones crumbled as the several tons of Sylvie's bloodied body obliterated the earth, opening a hole deeper into the dungeon. The cavern floor trembled and cracked, before the entire floor caved in.

Sylvie! I thought with mounting worry, my eyes widening in panic and fear as we all hurtled into a blackened abyss. We tumbled in tandem for a moment, the pit beneath us a yawning maw. Sylvie, speak to me!

I didn't get a response outside of pain. A streak of decimated bronze surged downward with the lithe grace of a predator seeking prey, and the construct of metal slammed into my bond with the force of a train. Draconic blood sprayed across the falling stones, my bond bellowing in pain. The clockwork construct–which was torn apart in a hundred different places by Sylvie's claws and melted in more–screeched in triumph as they both surged further down into the blackness of this pit, its talons around my bond's throat. My bond bit and clawed and tried to wrestle her way out, but despite how many attacks she landed, the clockwork bird didn't seem to feel pain.

Spellsong didn't let my fear and worry pass. He planted his feet on one of the falling pieces of rubble, a swirl of mana building along the soles of his boots. Then he shot toward me in a burst of fire and pure force. The rock beneath his feet shattered, the remnants spraying into the darkness.

I barely brought Dawn's Ballad up in time, the clash of his plasma saber and my purple-tinged weapon sending me spinning through the dark. I caught a flash of his burning eyes and gritted teeth as our weapons collided, before he darted to another bit of falling rock.

Sensing what was coming, I used a hasty twist of wind mana to try and change my trajectory. Just in time, Spellsong blurred back toward me. I sent out a wave of electrically charged air, meshing the black lightning with Elder Camus' air pressure technique. Toren hit the spell, but with a flex of sound mana, he blurred through it again, lightning burns littering his skin and making his armor flash as he swung at me again.

As we fell through the abyss, I desperately tried to keep up with the Asclepius hybrid's speed and maneuverability, trying to keep him at bay as he darted around in the darkness, using each of the bits of rubble as footholds to anchor himself and shoot toward me. Our blades flashed and arced as we exchanged spell after spell, my fevered attempts to slow him down and halt his movement falling short as he willingly took whatever damage he needed and his armor turned away anything worse. Intermittent uses of Thunderclap Impulse and wind magic were all that allowed me to keep my head as each attack came closer and closer to relieving me of it.

And far, far below, my bond's struggles had gone silent.

I yelled in anger, the ambient mana trembling as the runes along my body shifted. Realmheart cloaked me like a shroud as I caught Toren's wrist on his next attack, then used his momentum against him to hurl him downward. Just like I'd trained with Kordri–using my enemy's strength against them. Toren tried to use his telekinetic spell to latch onto more falling rubble, but I denied him. With a twist of mental effort, I forced every bit of rubble away, using the earth mana within to grab hold of them.

I glared daggers at Toren as we hurtled downward. My body screamed at me, my muscles burning and my breath coming up short from how I'd been pushing myself. Yet at the same time, it felt… strange. Reinforced; invigorated in a way I'd never experienced before. The aether flowing along the course of Dawn's Ballad flared brightly.

I have it, I thought, gritting my teeth as a strategy finally cemented itself into my mind. I know how to win this.

A light bloomed from below as we finally reached the end of our fall. I felt my eyes widen as the subsequent expanse revealed itself to me.

A hundred buildings littered a cave below. I might have compared them to the dwarven craft, except the architecture was nothing like them. Vines and trees and other plants entirely subsumed the small city we were falling toward, creating a jungle of a forgotten civilization. The aether in the air–visible as purple particles that moved without any clear pattern–was dense and alive in a way I'd never felt before.

But I couldn't afford to divert my attention too much. The ground was fast approaching, and my mana reserves were beginning to run low. If I wanted to win this battle, I needed to act now.

I thrust a hand out, calling to the ambient mana. Far below me, ice crystallized from the waiting particles of water mana. The frost flowed and solidified, rising a dozen yards to meet me in an inverted crescent. My feet hit the ramp, the slight gradient slowly changing the direction of my downward fall as I arced toward Toren Daen.

I slid on boots of ice as I hefted my sword, my downward tumble changed to a near-horizontal change in an instant. Toren's eyes widened in surprise and fear as my blade–covered in a cutting edge of water–swung toward his head as I prepared to intercept his own fall. It wasn't a graceful cut: no, I was swinging for all I was worth, using the momentum and leveraging both my arms to strike like I was swinging a tree-felling axe.

The phoenix hybrid brought his saber of conjured plasma in between us. This time, he was the one who was forced to brace as Dawn's Ballad smashed into his sword. For an instant, we were locked in time as our blades collided.

As the water around my weapon evaporated from contact with the searing plasma, I called on another technique I'd begun to utilize when sparring with Lance Varay in particular. Steam billowed out quickly as my muscles strained, my bones creaking from the force I exerted.

I gritted my teeth, then followed through. The steam that had gathered in that split instant exploded along the course of Dawn's Ballad, the exponential size increase of the evaporating liquid adding another layer of power to my attack.

A sonic boom echoed out as Toren's body shot backward in a blur. He smashed through a vine-covered building's walls, disappearing beyond in a cavalcade of dust and debris. But I knew he was still alive.

I skated to a halt, my eyes scanning the cavern frantically. Sylv! I thought, feeling the acute absence of my bond's presence. Sylv, where are you?!

I couldn't see her or the massive construct of bronze metal, but–

I jumped upward, twisting to avoid three slashes of plasma as they cut through nearby buildings with ease. I threw myself at my enemy with a mix of anger and exhaustion, my body demanding I do anything but. I had to physically restrain my limbs from shaking as I began to close the distance with a mix of fire and wind erupting from the soles of my feet.

A flurry of rocks and debris flew at me, controlled by the Asclepius hybrid's telekinetic magic. I swatted some away. Cut through others. And others I met with a chain of black lightning that made each bit of earth evaporate into dust as it bounced from stone to stone. A half dozen spheres of sound detonated around me, but I enhanced my ears and covered them with a layer of wind mana that blocked it out.

And then I was upon him. Toren tried to gain distance on me again, knowing he couldn't hope to win in a battle of pure swordsmanship. That telekinetic magic of his appeared insanely fast, just like Uto's black spikes. It seemed to phase into existence without a second of thought.

But one of the greatest techniques that I'd trained in the past month was my ability to counter other mage's spells. With the effects of Realmheart connecting me to the physical realm in a way no others could replicate and granting me insane sense for the ambient mana, I could influence and affect other spells as they were being formed.

Like now.

I engaged Thunderclap Impulse, my nerves screaming in protest as lightning funneled down their length once more. My perception of the world slowed as my eyes tracked the formation of Toren's telekinetic pulls. Then I sent a few specks of specific mana out toward it.

And his spell imploded before it could even form in a resounding pop.

Toren's eyes widened in panic as I thrust my sword at him. He tried to conjure half a dozen more spells, but each time they appeared, I intercepted them. My mind burned and spun with the effort of it all, but it was necessary.

Unable to run and unable to hide, Toren was forced onto my playing field. For all that he was faster and stronger than me, I was the better swordsman. This was a game I'd played in every battle as King Grey. When my foes were destined to be stronger, I held to skill.

And when Toren was unable to rely on his maneuverability, he was a lamb waiting for the slaughter.

Our blades flashed as they collided in an intricate dance, humming and sparking. Each time the edges met in the intimate way only swords could, Toren left the exchange with a little more damage. A cut here. A tear to his armor there. An attack that would nearly sever his vitals. Half a dozen wounds along his body glimmered with different mana attributes.

It's working, I thought, feeling my lips curve up into a grin as my eyes danced. Toren's face was a mask of concentration and resigned anger as I gradually wore him down. Our blades were crescents of red and blue as Dawn's Ballad demanded more of his blood, absorbing each speck that coated it and making the aether that coursed through it flare even brighter.

I heard a resounding screech echo throughout the cavern. I chanced the barest glance to the side, feeling my stomach plummet as I saw the monstrous metal bird surging toward me. It looked like it had been through hell: slags of metal had melted in odd places, and all across its body it bore signs of its struggle with my bond.

And Sylvie… Sylvie lay prone a hundred yards away, blood streaming from a hundred wounds. She was a tapestry of broken black scales.

The construct's claws extended, familiar plasma burning along their edge. I was forced to divert from Toren as I blocked the swipe of those talons, several tons of metal trying to crush me to the ground. I was forced onto my back as one of the talons wrapped around Dawn's Ballad. I felt a snarl build in the back of my throat as I avoided the creature's gnashing beak, before weaving my blade out from the thing's plasma talons. I rolled over my shoulder, coming to my feet as my bones ached. In the same movement, I swept my sword upward.

When my blade tore a streak through the bronze metal, I was surprised to hear the thing scream in pain. As it did so, it didn't sound nearly as beastlike–more like the agonizing cry of a woman. I couldn't tell if it was more from surprise or agony as it stumbled backward on massive talons, the gash I'd torn leaking aetheric light.

Dawn's Ballad came away burning. Aether rushed along my veins in a way that defied possibility as it enmeshed with the acclorite in my palm, absorbed into it. And in turn, the acclorite was starting to change, too–a steady warmth spread along my muscles and bones that contrasted the burning of fatigue and the aching twinge of my depleting core.

I stumbled, feeling woozy and dizzy as the acclorite began to… spread across my body, infusing my physique and—

"Arthur!" Sylvie's voice rolled across my mind, raw and hurt and barely conscious. "Arthur, you need to dodge!" she cried. "Move! Now, please! Or you'll die!"

I blinked, the world coming back into focus for an instant. And I suddenly felt it. Over the past minute or so, an absolutely absurd concentration of mana had been building. Sound and fire and telekinesis made the entire atmosphere tremble as they were just about to—

I used Static Void in a panic, the world around me freezing as aevum separated me from the world's flow of time. The particles of ambient mana around me froze in place as I engaged part of Sylvia's Will.

As I fell to my knees on the earth, the backlash of forcing such a strenuous technique into the air making itself known, I thought I could hear her. Sylvia, my grandmother. She… She called to me. Told me that this was not my fight. It… It was hers. Within my core, she told me that she could handle this.

I lifted my head, turning toward where I'd felt that horrible conglomeration of mana.

And came face to face with a spear of red plasma. I could see the still shockwave trailing behind it as it utterly obliterated the sound barrier, an inch off from striking my chest. Toren Daen's hand was frozen in the act of a throw, his arm spraying blood from a rebound of mana. A stream of mana particles stretched in front of him, almost like a guiding rail for this spear that had nearly burrowed through me.

I stumbled to the side, my body feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and rejuvenation as the acclorite in my palm spread. I didn't know what was happening to the weapon Wren had said would form from the little stone, but I couldn't afford to think now.

Move, Arthur! I screamed at myself. Move!

I shifted myself clear of the streaking spear, then allowed time to resume. I slumped from the recoil of using Sylvia's aether art, my core nearing empty.

I didn't even see the spear of plasma move as a single spell, only a streak of solid red as it melted through two dozen buildings without ceasing. My eyes widened in surprise and fear as I witnessed the destructive capabilities of the attack. The rims of the holes in the stone gleamed from the heat.

If that had hit me, I thought, feeling my body go cold, then there wouldn't even be anything left.

"I'm fucking done," I heard a ragged voice say behind me. "Done holding back. Done hiding away and biding my time. Done trying and trying and trying to stay myself!" Toren Daen yelled, anger and grief assaulting me from the ambient mana itself. "You want to fight me, Arthur Leywin? You want to face me, Lance of Dicathen?"

I felt my face drain of color as a foreboding feeling rose from the very depths of Sylvia's Will, the resonance within becoming a thundering heartbeat. Toren's fists clenched as he stared at me, the runic tattoos under his eyes beginning to expand as he snarled in fury. I saw as his golden-blonde hair began to shift to a deep, deep red that seemed to shift in a wind none could feel.

And his eyes… They began to glow, as if melting under the weight of a star.

"And you know what?" he said, his voice a raw, agonized whisper. "I can complete my oath. Right here, right now. I only need to kill one. One anchor."

I engaged Static Void once more, knowing that I couldn't allow this transformation to complete. Sylvia rose up within me as the world froze to a halt, and–

A heartbeat like thunder echoed through the frozen time, seeming to rattle me to my core and shaking the frozen world itself. I stared in a mix of horror and uncomprehension at Toren Daen, the aether around his heart flaring in rejection of my spell. He hadn't turned gray like the rest of the world. No, the pulse of his heart allowed him to move in this stopped time.

His eyes–each like suns–burned a hole straight into my soul. Runes like intricate feathers covered his arms, glowing in rejection of the aevum spell. Toren's voice was a melody that promised searing death. "I can simply kill you, King Grey."