Kiur heard the sound of a rope snap.

His mind needed a moment to process the words. Was he missing something in his translation?

“No, that can’t be it,” concluded Kiur, feeling the cold iron prick against his throat, tightening it. A lump of anger was stuck in Kiur, suffocating his words.

The nervous shuffle of feet against the sand rang behind him. Then the draw of bows and axes made his hair stand up. People murmured between themselves, worried about what was going on.

There wasn’t anything that could explain this situation to him now except one word.

Betrayal.

Flames flicked to life from his heart and travelled to the back of his eyes.

Ragnar had just enough time to leap out of the way before Kiur scorched the earth black. Stunned, Ragnar stared at the anger flaring out of Kiur’s body with a pressure that made him shiver.

“So this was it, huh?” Kiur asked, his red eyes darkened; the surrounding fire cracked bitterly. “You never meant to keep your word, didn’t you?”

Ragnar readied his sword in response. The Reiszer soldiers surrounded the remaining Escapees. None of them could fight. They were civilians who had put their trust in Kiur’s words, but it turned out to be nothing but false hope.

The veins in Kiur’s arms almost burst with fire. The ground beneath his feet trembled. He was so angry that he had trouble thinking straight.

“I need to get us out of here. Shabra was right. I can’t trust them.”

“Catch the Escapees,” commanded Ragnar, planting his feet forward. “Alive.”

“Get away from us!” Kiur’s shout broke the Reiszers’ advance.

Kiur buried his hands in the ground and the earth burst around them like a coiling snake, firing hot shrapnel their way, pelting against their cracked armour and throwing them back.

“RUN!” he yelled and sensed something rushing through the barrage. Scrapped by the shrapnel, Ragnar held the sword backwards and aimed at Kiur’s solar plexus with his pommel.

The centre of the body was a vital point to disrupt their magic flow. Archil occasionally would poke fun at others by hitting their core to train them how to stabilise it again.

However, it was far more dangerous when a Reiszer did it, as it was the centre of an individual’s magic. One right blow could cripple someone for life.

“I need to block it!” But there wasn’t much Kiur could do to stop it.

Reiszer were notorious for breaking through magic and inflicting damage and pain beyond comprehension. Ragnar was a powerful man and leader; he was far more dangerous than any ordinary Reiszer. Kiur, on the other hand, did not have a trained body or perfect control of his magic.

“Control?” Kiur wondered. “Why can I control my magic?”

“Don’t let your thoughts wander,” Gilgamesh’s voice rang out in Kiur’s head, and he felt his hands wander over his mind. Then it suddenly changed to Cylia’s whispering in his ear. “Trust your gut. Concentrate on the task ahead. Don’t think, but act. Consequences can be dealt with later. Do it.”

Why he heard their voices Kiur didn’t know, but they were right. “Less thinking, more doing.”

Reaching out to the nearby flying stones lingering in the air with his magic, Kiur pulled them in and moulded them around his arms like a shield. He braced himself for Ragnar’s attack.

The pommel shattered the stones without resistance, sending a ripple of pain through Kiur’s arms and cracking his bones. The pain didn’t fully register in Kiur’s head. Something was numbing his nerves so he could concentrate on the task ahead.

Ragnar gave Kiur a dumbfounded look. “Good,” thought Kiur, gritting his teeth. “There’s more of it.”

Kiur sent the ripple of pain back through his veins, and alongside it, a vortex of flames sent Ragnar packing.

He didn’t fly far, driving his boots and sword to the ground to steady himself. His dominant arm was blistered, but he was mostly unharmed.

“Not for long.”

The red gemstone hidden close to Kiur’s heart was glowing, channelling and amplifying his emotions. Raising his hand, the earth obeyed and unearthed a sizeable chunk of stone. Flinging it forward, Ragnar cut the stone to pieces and rushed forward.

Pivoting his left foot, Kiur made the earth rise before Ragnar’s feet—he dodged out of the way. Circling his arm left and right, Kiur made the earth rise and drop rapidly, forcing Ragnar to sidestep repeatedly.

“How does it feel to be led on?” Kiur asked Ragnar inside his head, imagining that the Reiszer had nothing to respond. “It’s not great, is it?”

Creating a flame in his palm, Kiur expanded it into a vortex, fuelling all his anger into it.

“I trusted you,” Kiur said with tears strolling down his eyes. “Why did I have to trust you?”

Ragnar’s eyes widened at Kiur’s words and the miniature sun levitating in his hand, large enough to envelop Ragnar fully and potentially half of the hideout. The soldiers and Escapees remained frozen in place.

“So, what now?” Gilgamesh asked, standing next to Kiur with his arms crossed. “Big ol’ ball of flames you got there. Fancy using it?”

“Didn’t you say I should think less? What changed?” Kiur huffed, feeling his body draining.

“You’ve got the upper hand.” Cylia sat on a piece of stone Kiur had unearthed in the fight. She rested her head in her hands and bobbed with her feet. “Now you are allowed to think, no?”

“Think? Now? What’s there to think about? I trusted him, and he… he betrayed it.” Kiur glanced over at Cylia, spotting the dancing blue flame flicker inside her chest. “Wasn’t he the reason you died too? Right, he’s at fault for everything.”

Kiur’s flames sparked. His nerves tensed up. After being taken from home, losing his brother, and witnessing all the pain he and everyone else endured, Kiur didn’t know what else to do.

He was so close to falling down that line and just let go. His hand was about to slip, but before he could let go, a stream of water doused out his flames and enveloped them in a misty haze.

Kiur fell to the ground and covered his face in surprise. Water rained down on his face, drenching him.

“Quick! Incapacitate him before he resists!” Kiur heard a familiar voice shout. Then he felt hands move all over his body. Two pairs pulling on each of his arms. A knee on his neck and a hand grabbing his hair and shoving his face to the ground.

Kiur was too stunned to resist when he saw who shouted the order. “Xander. Why?”

Xander looked down at him. His hair and clothes were wet and clung to his clothes. He didn’t even bother to wipe them back as his gaze didn’t meet Kiur’s.

“Don’t look at me like this,” said Xander. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what!” Kiur shouted and was pushed further to the ground. “Explain yourself. What is this? What!”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Kiur resisted. More flames sputtered out of his arms. The soldiers grew anxious until Ragnar gave them the word. Kiur lost consciousness, watching with blurry eyes as Ragnar put a hand on Xander’s shoulder.

“Sonny, know that you made the right decision.”

Xander watched as they hauled Kiur’s body and the rest of the Escapees inside. He regarded their anxious faces, knowing that they trusted the wrong horse. Xander bit his lip, feeling nothing but regret as he betrayed Kiur.

Xander covered his face and clawed at it with his gloved hands. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, collapsing to his knees. Ragnar put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but it helped little to help his turmoil. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for my mistakes.”

— ☽ —

“Stop apologising,” warned Argus, holding the broken contraption in his massive gloved hand. He intensified the vacuum field he imprisoned Xander with. “Break out, boy. Or I will break your body just like you ruined this artefact.”

Xander gagged. The blood vessels in his eyes bulged. He grabbed himself by the throat and pleaded, apologising for his mistakes, but his father wouldn’t listen—he couldn’t hear it.

“Body parts are replaceable,” Argus said. “This tower specialises in Human Creation Magic. A new arm or eye isn’t an issue, although they still lack full body functionality.”

The air was getting thin. The sphere shrank in size until it pressured Xander from all sides. He dug his fingers into the stone floor. Xander gripped the fabric of magic in his hands and tore at it.

If there was one thing Argus was good at as a father, it was to teach Xander magic. The magic circle broke, and Xander directed the aftermath of the wind magic upwards and through the opened ceiling.

His father nodded approvingly. He threw the broken pieces before Xander. “I give you a month. Come up with a solution for what you broke, boy.”

Argus’ body dissipated in a haze, leaving Xander alone in the upper areas of the wide and open space of their study. Xander picked up the pieces, trying to steady his breathing and wipe away his tears from close suffocation—just another day as a wizard.

“33 minutes. Damn, you’re slow.”

“Tch, shut up,” Xander clicked his tongue. He got a headache when he heard his sister taunting him—mind him, his step-sister.

She was Argus’ biological daughter and was as much of a bane to Xander as a sister could be. Just like him, she was 12 and looked like their father. She had ginger-red hair parted at the left side, reached up to her jawline and styled via wind magic. Her green eyes and smile were as haughty as any wizard was, and it would only grow with time.

She and Xander were rivals and sworn archenemies—typical sibling stuff.

“I bet I could have done it in 32 seconds,” she bragged.

“Shut up, Xenia.”

“I told you not to call me by my name!” She shouted, jumping off the railing of the third floor and landing with a flop with her coat and skirt dancing in the wind. She pushed Xander with her gloved hands into a bookshelf. “You’re absolutely forbidden to call me Xenia!”

“Whatever, I DON’T CARE!” Xander yelled at her and hurled a nearby book at her.

Xenia dodged it. “Missed me,” she chuckled. “Also, you’re not allowed to call yourself ‘Xander’. You hear me? Alexander-”

The book returned like a boomerang and hit Xenia over the head. Xander caught it with a smirk. “Tough luck, sister. Go cry to Father.”

Xenia rubbed the back of her head with tears streaming from her eyes. "GO TO HADES!"

"I live with you, THAT'S PLENTY!"

They shouted at each other some more until Xander walked away to his room. He didn't hate his sister, but he sure didn't like her. Xander knew that when Argus adopted him, Xenia wouldn’t like him. It wasn’t a mere aggressive form of sibling rivalry where they fought for their father's attention.

Xenia sabotaged Xander’s work to look better. She refused to be called by Xander with any name. Both were headstrong and stubborn in class, on projects, and at the dinner table. And she regularly put spells on his door to either lock him out or send him flying.

Today was option C with a bucket of water.

"Funny," said Xander and gathered the water with a flick of his wrist. He locked the door to his room with a regular knob turn and returned to his study, laying out the broken whatever.

"So, what did you break?" His sister asked and bypassed all the locks Xander didn't bother to update after her last break-in to take his lunch—this time, he spiked his food with something in case she tried to take it.

"Considering you're the reason I broke it, you ought to know,” Xander retorted, sorting through the pile.

"Please," Xenia rolled her head back with an amused groan, "I gave you the right instructions to access Father’s bookshelf. You just accidentally triggered the spell."

"A spell that suspiciously looked like your penmanship."

"Oops," she stuck out her tongue, "should have walked to the library tower at the other end of the academy then."

Xander turned around with a huff, his long, navy-blue hair falling over his shoulders. "Leave my room, you pest."

"GO away on your own, blue boy."

"Shut it, you motherless-"

Xenia shouted, "Bring my mother one more time into this, and I will-"

"What? Call me an orphan with a dead family?" Xander exclaimed. "Do that! At least I didn't kill my mother at birth!"

Xenia's face was mottled in a deeper shade of red than her hair already was. Xander knew he messed up. "YOU'RE DEAD MEAT!"

It had always been like this. Both went at each other’s throats and threw insults until it crossed a line. And it was always Xander who threw the nastiest punch.

Xenia leapt at Xander, pulling at his hair. He fought back, hitting and kicking her in the most painful places he could. She bit him. He slapped her.

They broke his workbench and flew, tumbling through the door and over the railing. They passed the sound barrier to the lower levels, threw spells at each other, and destroyed the works of other wizards who were unlucky enough to get in their way.

They rolled down the flights of stairs, still fighting. Xenia pulled out a tuft of Xander's hair and he kicked her right in the middle of her pelvis. Their fight only ended when nearby teachers broke them up and put them into a stasis spell, floating them to their father's doorstep.

He was busy holding class, so the two—plus the teacher—waited at least three hours until he came out, ate a muffin and read his favourite journal of ‘Best Fashion Wizards - Thiva Issue'.

"Ahem, Sir Gallanis-" Argus stopped the teacher with a raised finger and pointed at his muffin. He finished it after 15 minutes and put down the journal. The teacher excused herself, dropping the troublemakers. Xander and Xenia stood dejected before their father. Argus inclined his head and folded his hands.

"Speak."

"IT’S HIS/HER FAULT-"

Argus silenced them with a draw of his fingers and magic. "Don’t care. Xenia, talk."

His daughter shrugged off the spell and straightened her coat and skirt. "Aleksandre talked badly about Mom again!"

“Xenia set me up breaking your stuff!” Xander protested and pointed at his sister. “It's her fault!"

"I will put a sock in your mouth," Xenia grumbled at Xander, her fists shaking at her side.

"Bite me! You're just jealous that I'm smarter than you since the teachers rejected your stupid fish project!"

"Do not dare to bring Gerald into this, you blue-haired blowhard!"

“Witch.”

“That’s not an insult, you idiot!”

“SHUT UP!” Argus hit the table with his fist, sending out ripples throughout the tower and momentarily tilting it to become the famous leaning tower of Hellas. Their father calmed down and pointed at Xander. “Did you figure out what the contraption does?”

“I-” Xander hesitated and looked at Xenia, who was just as flabbergasted.

“But father, he-”

“Xenia, I didn’t ask you,” he reprimanded her sternly, and she became quiet, her face growing red in restrained anger.

There were a few things Xander didn’t understand about their father. Xander was not his biological son. Yet he treated him the same way he treated Xenia. But the oddest thing was that Argus never cared when Xander insulted Xenia’s mother. He simply rolled it under the rug.

“I don’t know what it does,” Xander confessed. “Besides, Xenia set me up to break it!”

“I didn’t!” she lied. “Aleksandre did it and-”

“Quiet, you two.” Argus held the bridge of his nose. “Both of you’ll be punished.”

“Why-!?” Argus silenced them with a spell again.

“Boy, I forbid you to touch my bookshelf, didn’t I?” Xander looked away. “And Xenia,” she looked away, too, “your clumsy penmanship is an embarrassment. I'll assign you two together for the Hellien Tower Exam."

"What, no- / But, dad-"

"Quiet."

Argus drew a line with his finger again. Every wizard in Hellas who was part of the Tower Constitutions had to finish a final project and invent a new formula or series of spells. It would be a testimony of their skill as a Wizard of Hellas.

Many would attempt simple cleaning or maintenance spells since they were the easiest to create. Other maniacs would find ways to increase the destructive power of fire spells. That’s why the fire tower department was on the other end of the constitution, but still too close to the tower Xander lived in—he had too many sleepless nights, and Xenia refused to share her sound-cancelling spell.

Argus was a recreation wizard. His studies focused on creating artificial human life—homunculi. Many of the tower servants were artificial humans with extremely low life expectancy, diminished cognitive functions and easily deteriorating bodies. It took a Hellien Wizard to not care about ethics and create a life for servitude.

As much as Xander knew and respected the principles of his previous life, he also grew up in the current one. He was not above participating in such an inhumane study—and neither was his sister.

"I’ll be in my room," she said as they returned to their quarters. She sobbed on her way back, but Xander didn't have it in him to apologise.

"We still have to prepare the workplace," said Xander. "Ask the teachers for material, get father's research papers and-"

Xenia waved him away. "I'm not in the mood to talk to you today, brother. Don't talk about my mother, you promised."

Xander nodded and heard the door close behind his back. He muttered under his breath, "I'm sorry."