Kan tossed in bed for a long time that night, piecing together the fragments of information he had gathered since his arrival at Skyward.

His Ichor had grown twice in the past two days. First when he touched the Artifact, then again when he strengthened its connection to Aura. The library book mentioned that Aura could be commanded through Ichor, but maybe the opposite was also true: Ichor could be awakened by Aura as well.

The puzzle was starting to come together. No matter what purpose lay behind the Temples’ invitation, Kan had at last found the way to fully cure his injuries and step back into the world of divine power.

His sleep was short but sound afterward, and he woke up to a glorious morning with golden sunlight pouring through his window. Finally a day without arguments and duels, he thought thankfully. He donned his apprentice outfit and—

An ear-shattering scream tore through the building. Then another. And another.

Kan darted for the door and swung it open. The hallway was filled with apprentices running and screaming for help. A boy he recognized from yesterday’s class was down on the floor, dragging himself forward with his arms. Blood soaked his breeches through a long wound at the thigh. He lifted his tear-covered face and saw Kan. “It was you!” His cry was filled with horror and hatred. “He came for you!”

Kan didn’t have time to process what the boy meant. With a loud smash, a door shattered behind them, and a body flew across the hall, slamming into the opposite wall. Another figure followed through the splintered hole, sword raised.

It was Nish, Kan realized alarmingly. Something was off about him. An acrid smell hung in the air where he stood. Kan found the scent familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on where he remembered it from.

The person lying limp on the floor was the muscled apprentice who tried to punch Kan the other night. “Brother, p-please …” he begged as Nish closed the distance between them, his trembling voice drowning in the shouts and panicked footsteps. “Please, it’s me … it’s Tavi …”

Tavi yelped at the sound of Nish’s sword slicing through the air. I’m going to die at the hands of my best brother, he thought helplessly and closed his eyes.

Metal met metal with a loud clank. The gust from the blow hit his face hard, yet death didn’t come. He heard someone ask, “What happened to him?”

He peeked warily. A tall figure stood before him, sword in both hands, blocking the deadly cut from Nish. Tavi’s eyes widened when he recognized his savior. “You … You—”

“What happened to him?” Kan demanded again. He didn’t save Tavi’s life out of goodwill, but out of the need for an answer. Nish had changed: his eyes were red, unfocused, and his strength had increased almost tenfold.

It was you! He came for you! The boy’s hateful cry resounded in Kan’s ears. What had he done? And what had Nish done?

“I-I don’t know,” Tavi whimpered, “he was like this when he came back this morning … doesn’t recognize us, doesn’t say anything … then he killed—” he cut off the sentence with a screech when Nish lifted his sword again and brought it down.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Get out of my way,” Kan said through clenched teeth as he met the strike, the impact so strong that he almost lost grip on his sword. Tavi crawled away frantically on all fours. Nish didn’t chase after him. His attention was fixed on Kan while he followed up with a wide slash from the side. Kan bent backward, narrowly avoiding the cut. The blade whooshed over his head and sliced a deep crevice into the wall behind him.

A chill climbed up his spine. The sword didn’t reach the wall—Nish had carried out the move with so much power that the damage penetrated the air and carved into the wall without even making direct contact. It was the power of Ichor.

How did he gain such skills within a day? Even when Kan was in Third Stage, his command of Ichor was barely above such level, and Nish was still First Stage yesterday morning.

There was no time for speculation. Before Kan could recover into fighting position, Nish attacked once more, thrusting his sword down. Kan dropped to the ground and rolled. The blade brushed past his shoulder and plunged through the floor. He heard muffled screams from downstairs drifting up from the slit.

He sprang to his feet, going through his options quickly in his mind. Ichor made a world of difference when it came to combat. No matter how much theoretical knowledge he gained at the library, he couldn’t wield that power at First Stage, which meant he didn’t stand a chance meeting Nish’s strikes head-on. He couldn’t dodge forever either. And if he simply fled, the frenzied Nish would likely kill off everyone else who crossed his path.

Kan decided to take a risk. If he moved fast, he might be able to score a hit before Nish pulls his weapon back up. He lunged forward. But the moment Nish gripped the hilt of his sword and glanced up, Kan knew he made a mistake.

Nish’s unfocused eyes glinted a savage hunger. His blade was back in the air with the slightest jerk of a hand, and in one effortless arc, swept over Kan’s out-stretched form.

Kan’s sword clattered onto the floor. He couldn’t retreat fast enough. Nish’s blade didn’t reach him, but the Ichor was enough to make a deep cut on his wrist. Blood gushed through his wound. As if encouraged by the sight of it, Nish let out a satisfied sigh and picked up speed even more, slashing and spinning and thrusting, leaving no room for respite.

The air hung thick with the smell of copper, and Kan could hear his heavy breaths echoing in the empty hallway. He dodged, clenching his injured wrist with the other hand to slow the bleeding. He wouldn’t be able to hold against Nish in his current state for long, especially not without a sword. His only way out might be the medicine man’s poison potions he stowed in his room.

Kan didn’t want to resort to those. He couldn’t care less about Nish’s life, though he wanted to find out the reason behind his sudden gain of power, and that would be more difficult if he died. On the other hand, Kan had already underestimated this power once. It was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make a second time.

Kan moved quickly. He feigned an attempted escape in the opposite direction, and Nish took the bait. The moment the blade sliced down, Kan reversed his steps and bolted for his door. A whoosh came behind him. He dropped into a tumble, rolling right back onto his feet without slowing. Then he slammed into his room.

His hands were sticky with blood as he reached for the bundle on his shelf. He plucked out the first vial he touched, turned, closed his fingers on the stopper—

A beam of light shone in through the doorway, wrapping around Nish like a cocoon. Kan blinked. The glow was warm and gentle. It calmed his senses, and he lowered the vial clutched in his hand. Nish stood frozen. Slowly, consciousness came back to his eyes, and he looked around in puzzlement as if just waking up from a dream.

A woman in white stepped into the room. “You need healing,” she frowned when she saw Kan. Kan looked down at his hands. He had forgotten to control the bleeding while handling the poison. Blood was dripping from his fist, pooling into a small puddle at his feet.

“I do feel a bit dizzy,” Kan admitted.

The woman waved a hand in an intricate pattern and uttered a spell. “I can only seal it temporarily,” she said as the wound visibly started to close. “We need to get you to the infirmary to treat it properly.”

Kan gestured at the still half-conscious Nish. “What about him?”

“We might as well bring him,” the woman answered, “though he’s likely past the point of saving.”