Veil’s breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes locked onto the specter that never stopped moving. Every attack he launched was deflected, dodged, or absorbed into the wraith’s shifting, vaporous form.
Veil (internal, muscles tense): "It’s learning… It’s adapting to my attacks…"
He took a step back, narrowly avoiding a spectral claw that slashed past his face, leaving a trail of icy cold in its wake. The wraith was getting faster, more precise. Every new attempt Veil made ended in utter failure.
Veil (hissing): "This is ridiculous… It’s predicting my every move…"
He gathered mana in his hands, shaping a swirling whip of water. With a sharp crack, he lashed it toward the enemy at blinding speed—but the specter dissolved into mist, reappearing several meters to the left.
SWOOSH!
The wraith lunged. Veil barely managed to propel himself sideways with a burst of wind, but his landing was rough, his elbows slamming into the cold stone floor. He was losing his rhythm.
SHRAAAAK!
A direct hit. The specter’s claw tore through his guard, carving a deep gash across his chest. Agony exploded in his body. His breath hitched, eyes widening in sheer shock.
Veil (choking, gasping): "Argh…!"
His knees buckled. He felt the hot trickle of blood soaking his clothes, his vision blurring at the edges. Each breath was a sharp stab of pain, his lungs barely cooperating. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. His eyelids grew heavy.
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Veil (internal): "No… not like this…"
His body was shutting down, his consciousness slipping into darkness.
Then—heat.
No, not heat. A tingling. A strange vibration that started in his chest and spread outward. His entire body trembled as if unseen waves pulsed through him.
BOOM… BOOM… BOOM…
His heartbeat pounded in his ears. Slow at first, then steady, then stronger. Like the rhythmic pounding of a war drum. Something inside him was awakening.
Veil (internal, fighting through the haze): "Move… Move, damn it!"
His fingers twitched. Then his arm. Then his entire body. His ribs felt like they were on fire, but he sucked in a violent gasp, eyes snapping open.
A powerful surge of mana exploded from within him, forming a swirling vortex of green energy that lit up the chamber. The Shadow Wraith recoiled, hissing in discomfort.
SPLASH.
The blood pooling beneath Veil evaporated slightly, his veins glowing faintly as the wound on his chest slowly began to close. The pain didn’t vanish completely, but it dulled to something manageable. He could move again.
Veil (internal, breathless): "This… whatever this is… it saved me."
His eyes burned with newfound determination. The wraith turned toward him, its violet gaze gleaming in the dark. It had sensed the shift.
Veil (recalling Alynia’s words): "Raw power will never be enough. Feel with precision, not brute force."
He inhaled deeply. The wind coiled around him in a razor-thin spiral. Moisture gathered from the air, from the sweat on his skin. He shaped it.
He didn’t visualize a massive blade. Not a longsword. Not a greatsword. No, something finer. Lighter. Sharper than steel.
SHIING!
The ice took form. A thin, elongated blade—no thicker than a needle. A rapier of pure frost, seamlessly fused with the handle of his dagger.
Veil (murmuring, voice like ice): "I’ve got you now…"
The wraith reacted instantly. Four shadowy arms erupted from the ground, reaching for him in unison. But this time, Veil wasn’t too slow.
He ducked under the first, rolled to avoid the second, then slashed upward. His icy blade cut clean through the third arm—severing it completely. The limb disintegrated into dark mist.
Then he moved.
A gust of wind surged at his feet, launching him forward like a bullet.
Veil (roaring): "This ends now!"
CRASH!
The wraith tried to shift away, but Veil was too fast. The wind carried him like a storm, the ice sharper than ever. He struck. The blade of frost pierced through the wraith’s core, running it through completely.
A deafening, ethereal shriek shattered the air. The chamber trembled as violet energy exploded outward.
Veil crashed onto the floor, his limbs trembling from exhaustion. His breath was heavy, his vision swimming—but he forced himself to look ahead.
His eyes locked onto Alynia, still sprawled on the ground.