With a sharp intake of breath, I snapped my eyes open and activated my Flux Burst. A powerful surge of flux was fired from my feet, launching me backward with no restraint on strength or distance.
Just as I collided with the barrier, an explosion of fire erupted beside me, heat radiating so close I could feel it searing the air. The circle’s barrier trembled, and my Astral Triad shielded me from the worst of the blast.
Too close.
Pivoting quickly, to avoid another potential attack, I infused my blade with as much flux as it could absorb, firing off several energy blades to probe Plaedus’ defenses. He blocked one and evaded the others with surprising ease.
He's better than I thought.
"What’s the matter, kid? Weren’t you cocky just a second ago?" Plaedus sneered.
"I wasn’t cocky—just confident. Still am," I replied, holding his gaze. "Though I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to be a dual mancer."
With another Flux Burst, I lunged forward. The Ten Shades technique was ready at my call, but I wouldn’t reveal my hidden moves just yet. My current skills were enough—for now.
Plaedus met my charge with his fire-laced spear, and the metallic clash echoed as we collided, his reach fighting to keep me at bay.
** From the crowd, the murmurs grew louder. “A dual mancer with fire and dust—Plaedus has a bright future,” someone remarked.
"I’ve heard dustmancers can drain the moisture from their opponent’s body in seconds. If that’s true, Girath’s boy doesn’t stand a chance—Plaedus is just toying with him!"
“Can’t be,” another argued. “That’s way beyond a 2nd Sky mancer’s ability.”
Marvin, watching from a distance, leaned toward Girath. “What do you think?”
“A 2nd Sky can’t drain body moisture like that,” Girath replied. “Dust is a rare element; it’s hard to find techniques for it. But it’s his fire abilities that could give Azy a challenge.”
“Do you think Azy will lose?”
Girath’s eyes narrowed. “No. If he’s forced to use that sword technique of his, he’ll win.”
“A sword technique?” Marvin frowned. “Isn’t that what he’s already using? Like those afterimages his hand leaves behind?”
Girath shook his head. “No. That’s not his sword art.”
As a healer with knowledge of herbs, Marvin had little understanding of the combat abilities. His untrained eyes being unable to recognize the difference between different skills. And he wasn't even aware of the type of mancer that Azyen was. **
As our weapons locked once more, Plaedus narrowed his eyes. "You handle the heat well," he muttered, almost in admiration.
My skin was burning, my breath quicker than usual. But I couldn’t back down. Not now. I pressed forward, unleashing a heavy downward strike.
** Plaedus spun his spear, summoning his secondary ability—Dust Wreath. Sand and grit erupted from the ground, forming a dense shield around him. Azyen drove his blade into the dust, scattering it in all directions, then slashed again, determined to reach his opponent. Unfortunately, attacking like that yielded no results.**
Enough with this charade. I have to use it.
I dropped into a low stance. Ten Shades, First Shade—Inora.
**
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The First Shade, Inora, is a relentless, precision-focused series of strikes designed to exponentially increase in damage with each successive blow. This technique demands complete control and unwavering focus to build power incrementally, strike after strike, until the final blow.
Mechanics of Inora:
Rhythmic Strikes: The swordsman initiates by setting an unpredictable rhythm, striking at irregular intervals to keep the target’s defenses destabilized. Each blow builds off the last, compounding its power.
Energy Accumulation: With each hit, the flux doubles, focusing on the target’s energetic channels and its form. The First Shade’s cruelty lies in its immense damage—each strike builds energy on the target, also destabilizing the target's energy flow.
Final Power Surge: After a series of hits, the swordsman channels all accumulated energy into a single, devastating strike. Targeting the opponent’s weakest point, this final blow bypasses many defenses, leaving the opponent critically wounded or even incapacitated.
Strategic use of the First Shade:
The First Shade technique is ideal for single target adversaries where the goal is to break down an opponent’s defenses quickly and efficiently. However, it requires continuous proximity to the target, making it costly on physique and mental power. Best suited for expert swordsmen who can maintain their focus and rhythm even under pressure.
By building exponential power, the First Shade is both a devastating opening move and a decisive finisher, leaving little room for the opponent to recover once it’s initiated.
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Annoyed by the instability of his shield forced to crumble before Azyen's attacks, Plaedus retreated, activating his first passive, Scorch Step, which left a blazing trail as he increased distance. Plaedus swept his spear low, flames licking the weapon’s edge as he brought it up in a swift, fiery arc. Azyen leapt back, narrowly avoiding the blaze that singed the edge of his robe. **
Using Flux Burst in my legs, I darted forward like a lightning bolt, prepared to strike. But Plaedus anticipated that, slamming his fiery spear into the ground. A wave of flame surged forth, barreling toward me, and I had no time, no space to evade it.
I had to brace myself.
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In the last moment before the searing heat reached me, I summoned my Phantom Armor, cloaking myself in a spectral, purple hue that shimmered like a mirage. The next thing I knew, I was pressed hard against the circle’s barrier, but I’d held my ground.
I took damage, I was burned. But I endured the pain as it was nothing considerable. Finding his technique to be nothing more then a waste of energy, I stepped forward once more.
“This move must've been costly on your flux reserves,” I taunted, smirking through the violet haze of my armor. “Tell me, was it worth it?”
"Tsss."
I launched forward, the Phantom Armor protecting me from the scorching remnants of Plaedus' attack. My blade clashed against his spear in a barrage of sparks. Plaedus found his footing quickly, twisting his spear and throwing me off balance before swinging a heavy, dust-coated fist toward me.
His punch hit hard, showering me in a cloud of dust and forcing me to stagger back. But I grinned, accepting the pain resulting from my mistake. I surged forward instantly, catching Plaedus' off balance. This time, I didn’t waste the opportunity; I stabbed my blade into his side, avoiding vital areas but deep enough to make him understand he was defeated.
“Yield,” I murmured, confident in my victory.
...But it was a mistake. A mistake that my inexperienced self couldn't foresee.
Never let your guard down, never show mercy in a fight, I told myself in that instance.
In Plaedus’ hand appeared an ability card, its runic seal glowing with an ominous green light. I had no time to react when a storm erupted from the card, hurling me backward like a feather. I crashed into the barrier with bone-jarring force, feeling it shatter behind me as I continued to fly through the air.
I tumbled into the crowd, villagers breaking my fall. The impact on the barrier tore through my Phantom Armor, and pain overwhelmed my senses after landing. My back throbbed, a cold fear gripping me as I wondered if my spine had been damaged.
I couldn't bare to be immobilized for a few more months, I couldn't accept such fate.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to sit up despite the pain and the stiffness in my back. My heart pounded as I watched Plaedus brandish the ability card. Dust poured from his side, spilling out of the wound I’d inflicted, yet he didn’t bleed.
Special constitution? I realized.
“How dare you use such tactics in a duel?” my master’s voice thundered.
Girath appeared at my side, inspecting my injuries with a frown. “You good?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I muttered, clambering to my feet. But then I noticed the stinging pain across my chest and face. I looked down, realizing I was bleeding. My hands trembled as I lifted them, crimson smearing my fingers.
“You got hit by the wind blades,” Girath said, his sharp gaze catching every detail. “Marvin!” he called over his shoulder.
I clenched my bloodied hands, and for a strange moment, I felt an urge to taste my own blood. Girath’s concerned eyes narrowed, but before I could think twice, something shifted in my mind. A familiar darkness emerged from the depths of my consciousness, overriding my control: my self-defense program, Astaroth State.
Heal! My mind commanded, and I felt my cells stir in response, working to repair the wounds. My body stepped forward, fingers tightening on the hilt of my sword with newfound strength. But I was no longer the one controlling my movements.
** “Azy!” Girath’s voice cut through, his hand extended to stop the boy. “He broke the rules. The win is yours.”
Azyen’s consciousness floated at the edges of the Astaroth State, his master’s voice faint and distant. Under the Astaroth State, Azyen could not speak, could not respond; he could only listen.
Ignoring Girath’s words, Astaroth nudged aside the blocking hand with the flat of his sword, then surged forward in a flash of Flux Burst, closing the distance to Plaedus with emotionless precision.
Plaedus, catching sight of Azyen’s cold, unwavering gaze, swiftly drew another ability card, channeling his remaining flux into it. A blue rune flared to life, and a shimmering barrier materialized in an instant.
Astaroth’s blade struck the barrier and halted, but he stepped to the side, slipping past its edge with fluid ease, then lashed out with a series of precise attacks aimed directly at Plaedus. With his flux nearly depleted, the fire in Plaedus’ spear had long since faded, and he struggled to block each attack.
A few he managed to deflect, but most found their mark, cutting across his body and causing wounds that released sand instead of blood—a result of his Dust Body, a passive ability meant to mitigate harm. But even with it active, he could only absorb so much.
Each strike landed like a tail, each slash pushing Plaedus further to the brink as the First Shade, Inara, compounded its damage. The unrelenting timing of Astaroth’s blows wore Plaedus down, leaving him slower, bleeding sand, and barely able to withstand the assault.
“Azy, stop!” Girath shouted, panic threading his voice. He knew all too well where this technique was headed. He knew that Azyen, or rather, Astaroth, was preparing for the final strike of Inara—a blow that could easily turn fatal for an opponent as exhausted as Plaedus.
Seeing that his call went unanswered, Girath moved to intervene, but before he could reach Azyen, another mancer leapt in from the side, disrupting the technique. The stranger’s fist collided with Astaroth’s guard, and in response, Astaroth immediately shifted his focus to this new enemy.
His blade thrust toward the man in a deadly line, though the stranger managed to dodge, escaping the tip. But Astaroth was stubborn, his blade snapping back in a swift, curved slash, forcing the man to activate a defensive skill that deflected it. The stranger punched forward, unleashing a fist of wind that threw Astaroth back.
Astaroth twisted midair, swinging his sword in a delayed strike. By the time he landed, the stranger stumbled, clutching his leg. Pain rippled through him—he had been struck by the Second Shade, Spectral Edge, an ethereal slash that targeted the energetic body rather than the physical, leaving a deep wound on his spiritual form.
Tilting his head, Astaroth observed the damage, processing it with clinical interest before shifting back into his stance, ready to attack once more.
“Enough!” Girath’s voice boomed as he stepped between Azyen and the stranger, meeting Astaroth’s empty gaze with a hardened glare. Gradually, Astaroth’s grip on Azyen’s mind faded. Azyen’s awareness returned, and he felt the burning pain across his chest as he reined in the violent state. **
“Master.” I managed a formal bow, ignoring the stinging wounds on my torso.
“It is Plaedus’ defeat,” the man who had intervened announced, offering me a respectful nod. “We apologize for using underhand tactics in a duel.” He cast a sharp look at Plaedus, who scowled.
"Master!" Plaedus called, startling everyone.
“You good for nothing used two ability cards in a simple duel,” the man rebuked him. “I’ll see to it that you replace twice as many runic seals for this wastefulness.”
Plaedus visibly flinched, offering no further protest, bowing his head in anger and shame.
The man’s gaze shifted back to me, his stern expression softening. “You’re quite a talented young mancer,” he said with a nod, then turned to Girath, who stepped forward with a reserved look.
“I’m unfamiliar with Plaedus’ master,” Girath said, his voice carefully neutral.
“Forgive me. I seldom visit the village.” The man gave a respectful bow. “I am Flaudorin, head guard of House Aquilis. And you, sir—who has the honor of training such a promising swordsman?”
“Girath, retired Hound,” he replied calmly.
“A retired mercenary?” Flaudorin’s brows raised in mild surprise. “I was under the impression that Hounds never retire.”
“I’m one of the few exceptions.”
Flaudorin nodded thoughtfully. “Then I’ll get to the point, Master Girath. It’s clear that under your training, this young man has become quite skilled. With the right resources and guidance, I believe he could match even the high ranking mancers from the noble houses across the kingdom.”
** Plaedus lifted his head, startled by the words of his master. He thought of himself to be special, yet now his master was praising another youth. **
Flaudorin’s tone shifted, taking on a formal gravity. “House Aquilis, one of the kingdom’s twelve principal houses, has the means to nurture his abilities. We can offer him the tools to ascend to the level of a 4th Sky mancer and above. Master Girath, would you consider allowing him to return with me to House Aquilis?”
Girath looked over to me, his gaze probing, silently asking for my decision.
Are you serious? I thought to myself, wrestling with the implications. How could I agree to this? I know nothing about their intentions, and my survival depends on keeping a low profile. If word gets out that I’m alive, the emperor’s agents will hunt me down like a wild pig. I wasn’t about to risk my life by entangling myself with powerful houses. I preferred allies I could trust, not the strings and expectations that came with nobility.
I shook my head firmly, declining the offer without a word.
Girath’s lips curved into a slight smile, and he turned to Flaudorin with an apologetic nod. “Thank you for the generous offer, Lord Flaudorin, but the boy is still under my care. I promised his late parents that I will not let him out of my sight until Lord Mauro, Head of the Mercenary Hall in Luang Du city comes to take him.”
It was a lie, nobody was supposed to come and take me. Guess that in order to give Flaudorin second thoughts on trying something underhandedly to take me in, my master spoke the name of a person with a high status and power.
Looking at Flaudorin's surprised expression, it seemed to work.