Bizaya smiled wickedly. He took a step forward and the nails behind him disappeared and then reappeared above Tyren. They surrounded him and closed in. A round portal appeared and sucked both Tyren and the nails inside.

Bizaya laughed. He had just secured an easy victory against the most powerful opponent in the Jinzidal. "Your time starts now. You have fifty-nine seconds left."

The audience cheered excitedly. This was a match between two overconfident mages. They couldn't be more excited.

"Bizaya!"

"Bizaya!!"

"Bizaya!!!"

Bizaya was certain about his victory, after all, no mage below one thousand years could escape from his Nail Prison.

Tyren found himself in a pitch black room. He could sense multiple walls surrounding the room in a concentric manner. Each wall was built with the same diamond nails. The walls pierced the sky to the world beyond, so he couldn't even fly. And everything was engulfed in a homogeneous blackness.

So just like last time, huh?

He was chained up with more chains than he could count. Each chain at least one thousand meters long. Unlike before when the chains were fewer and shorter.

The only way out was to destroy the room and the surrounding walls. But for that, he needed to eliminate the chains first.

Pharaoh, Spell-repellants and Sword-clippers. He counted the enchantments empowering the chains. Pharaoh would negate any Djinn magic, Spell-repellants would make Magicians useless as it would repel all their spells, and Sword-clippers would bind any Sword.

Ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds... Tyren didn't even budge. The sixty seconds were far from sufficing, but now he'd thirty.

Tyren was surprisingly calm. His eyes stared deeply into the darkness.

"Hmmm... I was lucky I didn't show him that in our last battle. His focus with the dimension is getting better. But he got the wrong opponent." Tyren murmured calmly, as if his time wasn't running out, as if he controlled everything.

The Nail Prison was a pocket dimension that was cut off from the rest of the world. It was also separated from the material plane by a time barrier. Plus all the enchantments to spice things up.

"But even if I have shown it to him, I will still win." Tyren said. "My opponents are the self-proclaimed world creaters - the First Worlders. I have no time to waste on you, crown prince."

Forty seconds, forty-five seconds...

45,46,47,48,49...

"The empires laughed at the rebellion. They supported the First Worlders. I am coming for you."

52,53,54... The seconds kept going, and yet, he didn't weave any sign and he didn't called any spell.

But he called his Gift. "Shaibal-shísu!"

It translated to 'King Steps' in Aldurish. The problem with Gifts was general enchantments like Pharaoh didn't work on them. To counter a Gift, you had to create a Gift-specific Clipper - an enchantment which could only work on that particular Gift - and for that you needed the signature of the Gift.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"And you certainly don't have my signature, Bizaya." Tyren said. The sword on his back glowed and illuminated the room. Unlike the rest of the dimension, the room was built with a dark brown stone that had the same enchantments as the chains. But the sword flew into air, ignoring the enchantments and the time-space barrier around the chains and the room. It slashed all the chains binding Tyren's right arm and the chains dropped to the ground.

He extended his hand to his mouth and bit. Then he drew a circle on his forehead with the blood. The blood was absorbed into his body and a runic circle appeared on his forehead. At the centre of the circle there were three eyes surrounded by a circle of flame.

Tyren stood. He grabbed his sword and lifted his right leg to take a step forward. When his foot left the ground, all the remaining chains dropped to the ground. Then each chain transformed into a sword. And when his foot touched the ground, the swords slashed through the room and the walls beyond like butter. Everything crumbled into rubbles and dust. In just one step.

When the dust settled, the chains, the room and the walls were gone.

Fifty-eight seconds. That was all it took to bring the prison down. 

The audience didn't see what happened in the dimension. They just saw the eight nails reappeared and then they exploded.

Tyren appeared at the centre of the disappearing nails. His face calm and his eyes closed. He held his sword high in the sky like a Djinn.

"You... Impossible!" Bizaya stuttered. His knees buckled and he vomited a mouthful of blood.

Tyren said nothing.

Bizaya spat the remaining blood in his mouth and stood. He summoned his sword and walked toward Tyren with a vicious expression. The audience stared in silence. What would Bizaya do? Would he admit his failure? Or would he ignore the bet and fight?

He stood a few inches away from the still Tyren and whispered, "I know you were hiding something when we fought last time. But, don't think you are the only one hiding things. We will soon fight again. I... lost."

Bizaya staggered to the edge of the ring before he turned around to give Tyren one final look. Father was right. He thought.

Bizaya left the arena without sparing the audience any glance. Everyone was confused.

A few Dénizens rumored that Bizaya let Tyren won out of pity for the rebellion.

A day before the Jinzidal...

Underground empire

Central library (Restricted Area)

Emperor Iluru loved reading history more than anything, it would be difficult to find anyone in the lower worlds that loved history more than him. Because of this, he'd a separate section in the Central Library specially built for him. The books in this section were all special, forbidden even.

"Bizaya, listen to me," the emperor said, "it's entirely possible that this boy Tyren has what we need to finally live above the ground. Or at the very least, he's related to what we need."

"Please, father, don't tell me this is something you saw in your history books. I know you like them but it's obvious some of these books have been tempted over the years. For God's sake, these authors reported the history from someone who knew someone who knew what happened." Bizaya said exasperatedly.

"You are right." Iluru said, "but this one was specifically written by a first hand witness. It was something that happened between Tyren's ancestors and the First Worlders.

"It's a long story but I will cut it shot. I don't want you to win the Jinzidal, I want you to find out more about Tyren. Is he really a descendant of the people written in this scriptures? If you play your part well, I'll agree to your marriage with Nostalgia Nára. It's a deal."

Bizaya widened his eyes in shock. A wave of happiness washed over him. His reputation would be sullied if he lost to Tyren in front of the entire world, but some things were better than others. He would do anything to win over the Gifted daughter of the greatest swordsman alive.

The Dénizens and the underground empire as a whole used to live above the ground. It was after the first failed rebellion against the First Worlders that they were forced to live under the ground.

The truth about the matter was something passed down from one king to the next. Only Iluru knew about it. But the Dénizens had an instinctual desire to go back to the ground. It was difficult to explain, more or less like a predatory instinct.

"It all began in 352 Before The Descent." Deniz Iluru pulled a grey book out of his pocket. The years had surely made their mark on the papers.