They couldn’t stay here and yet Kentai couldn’t bring himself to drag Wujun away yet. He stood nearby, keeping watch as the young man was overcome by sorrow. Soki had slipped into the shadows with the barest explanation that she was going to salvage supplies. He figured when she returned would be the time to interrupt Wujun.
A hazy breeze wafted up from the town, carrying with it the grit and smoke, the scent of blood and charred flesh. Kentai shivered, not from any sort of chill in the air, but for the atrocities being committed at that very moment. He had seen towns and villages after they were plundered. He hoped their group would be far away from Tiguri before the sun came up and shed its light on all the foul deeds committed during the night.
“Such tragedy…” The ever-mocking voice of Naizen was the last thing Kentai wanted to hear at the moment. “The poor boy…”
Kentai rounded on the fire Zosara, adjusting his stance so he was prepared for an attack and also blocking his former ally from taking any cheap shots at Wujun. “I’m warning you, Naizen,” he growled, “fuck off. This isn’t the time to settle our shit.”
Naizen shifted a couple of steps, using the maneuver to put Kentai in a dangerous position if he wanted to protect Wujun. He was boxed in here, fire on his right, the young man behind him on the ground. The only way to escape an attack would be to meet it head on or dodge left, but that would mean exposing his comrade.
“I think now is the perfect time,” Naizen contradicted him. His eyes gleamed with malevolence, his lips twisting into a sly, cruel grin that made him look like a predatory beast. “What are you going to do, hm? Protect the boy… or let him die?”
Fire crackled in Naizen’s palms, licking up his arms. He swirled his hands in a circular motion, combining the flames into one ball that he launched directly at Kentai.
All of this took place in seconds. Gritting his teeth, the swordsman stood his ground, raising his arms up to ward off the worst of the blast.
It never came.
He was suddenly aware of Wujun standing beside him, his hands thrust out in front of his chest, his cheeks glistening with wet tears. He looked fierce, like he had when fighting Tzulan’s soldiers, except now the quiet power that had hummed beneath the surface was manifested. It glowed cyan in his eyes, made the air around him quiver and spark. Unnatural wind stirred his platinum bangs, making them dance across his ash-smudged forehead.
For a split second, he thought Wujun’s magical attunement was air and then he realized how wrong he was. He saw why the fireball hadn’t connected; it was hovering in the space between Kentai and Naizen, held there by a bright, cyan aura.
“No more fire,” Wujun proclaimed, his voice as radiant as the magic swirling unseen around him. “No more death.” His expression darkened as he turned his hand over, his thumb and middle finger touching. “Except yours.” He snapped his fingers, and the swirl of flames was snuffed out like a candle.
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Surprised, Naizen tried to conjure another blast of fire and found with obvious horror he couldn’t. “What is this devilry?” he demanded. For once the lilt was gone from his voice. “What have you done to me?”
Kentai didn’t question. His instincts bade him to attack, to seize the moment, and so he did. He charged forward and drew his sword in the same motion, swinging it in a powerful stroke that would have lopped Naizen’s head off his shoulders had the fire Zosara not dodged at the last moment.
He pressed the assault, noticing his former ally was not as swift without his magic to aid him. For a moment, Kentai wondered if his ability to cast spells was gone entirely, but he dismissed the notion. He could still sense the inferno inside Naizen, though it felt as though it were hidden across a great chasm of darkness and fog.
What power could do this to a Zosara? Is this some new trick from the Circle of Shadows?
Kentai forced the questions from his mind and focused instead on delivering a relentless barrage of attacks to Naizen. He wasn’t sure how long his abilities would be suppressed, but he was determined to end their fight before they returned. Finally, he saw his opening and lunged, thrusting the blade forward. In a last ditch effort to save himself, Naizen caught the flat of the blade between his palms, though he staggered backward a step from the sheer force of the blow.
There was fear in his eyes and the pounding of his heart could be heard in the blade-length space between the two Zosara. Naizen tried to hide it with a goading smile. “I bet you weren’t expecting that, huh, Ironfang…?”
“No, I wasn’t. Not that it matters…” Kentai grinned back, his eyes glinting with triumph. Naizen might have lost his magic, but the swordsman still had his. He could sense the metal of his curved utzu yearning for blood, longing to perform the act it was forged to carry out. With Kentai’s power, the blade’s thirst was quenched.
A second too late, Naizen saw his mistake.
The sword’s tip extended in the blink of an eye, piercing the fire Zosara’s throat before he could slip away again. He gasped, his eyes wide with shock as they stared down at the elongated metal and the streak of red flowing down his neck.
“Ken… tai…” he gurgled the name as he sank slowly to his knees.
The blade slipped from his body and as it did, returned to its original length. Kentai stood above him, eyes locked with the blazing orange gaze of his former ally. There was no need for words between them now, in this last moment. Raising the weapon, he slashed again, the blow ringing with finality as it severed the fire Zosara’s head from his shoulders.
His face passive, the swordsman wiped his blade clean and then slid it methodically back into the sheath at his side.
So, that’s it, then… Goodbye, Naizen.
Kentai’s eyes were on the decapitated body at his feet. Part of him was expecting the man to appear as a ghost, intent on haunting him as a last act of vengeance. The thought made him shudder. Either Naizen had no cause to linger or whatever Wujun had done was preventing him from manifesting. He might have sighed in relief, had he not suddenly remembered his comrade’s impressive, startling feat of magic.
He whirled, his eyes darting to Wujun who was rooted to the same spot. The power was gone from his eyes, leaving only their alluring aqua shade. The kid looked drained and confused. When he realized Kentai was staring at him, tears slipped down his cheeks. “Did I really do that? How? How did I…?”
It was not Kentai who answered, but another voice, flat and droning. “It would seem, young Master, that you are the void Zosara.”