Kalden slammed into his foes with the force of a rolling boulder. His blades spun like propellers, cutting through Constructs and Cloaks, tossing clouds of white mist into the air.

By now, he and Relia had taken out a full third of Blood Army. Another third had wisely fled, while the rest clustered around the command tent. Kalden rounded on the tent as he ran, and Relia moved with him—two birds in flight.

Blood Army’s leaders emerged from the opening a heartbeat later. Tori held a chainwhip in either hand, while Lyra held a pair of ice-mana javelins.

The first three soldiers braced for impact, forming a shieldwall of pure mana. Two more moved to either side, ready to surround them in a pincer maneuver.

Kalden had trained them well. Unfortunately, none of it would matter against Relia’s death mana. That green-gold mist could slip through the smallest holes. One touch, and—

Tori’s whips lashed out like vipers. In the same moment, Lyra threw her ice javelins, but they weren’t aimed at him. Instead, all four weapons struck the remaining Blood Army soldiers in their backs. Tori slashed her whips again, and the last two soldiers dropped.

What the hell?

Kalden skidded to a halt as the shield wall faded to mist. He’d expected Tori to use those soldiers as cannon fodder—to let everyone else exhaust their mana while she closed in for the last kill. But why give away the points when she could take them for herself?

Would her father approve of sacrificing her troops this way? Kalden didn’t know. Some days, Grandmaster Raizen would talk about trust and teamwork. Other times, he’d encourage this exact sort of ruthless pragmatism.

Tori seized the advantage, lunging forward in a whirlwind of blades. Kalden hurled his own blades forward, but only as a distraction. No sooner had they left his hands than he sent a pair of pure Missiles into the asphalt. Relia matched his movement, and the force threw them a dozen feet back.

“The rumors were true,” Tori shouted. “You were a team this whole time—you, Zeller, and Dawnfire.”

“It’s true,” Kalden said. No sense in denying it now. Deception had been a part of the game, but now that game was done. He’d meant to honor the alliance for longer, and he almost told Tori as much. But why would she believe him? Bringing Relia into Blood Army would have strengthened his position, and they all knew it.

Besides, the time for words had passed. Tori’s anger had already faded like smoke in the wind, and only calm clarity remained. She didn’t care what Kalden had done or why. She only cared about beating him.

Kalden kept his body loose as he took in the scene. He and Relia now stood in the middle of the parking lot, less than ten yards from the HAC’s back entrance. Broken cars and portable shield Constructs surrounded them in a loose circle, and plumes of dark smoke rose into the gray sky.

Tori and Lyra approached with far more caution this time. Both girls came from a traditional dueling background, and old habits were hard to break. Unfortunately, this fight was now closer to a duel than a battlefield. And Relia might be at the top of her class, but this was still an unfavorable match for her. Tori’s blades could destroy her death mana with ease, and she had enough mobility to keep her distance. Lyra was equally mobile, and her raw power could overwhelm Relia’s techniques.

As for Kalden, he saw three options, and they all played out in his mind’s eye.

He and Relia could retreat into the HAC, but their best techniques focused on offensive power. Even with Relia’s healing, they wouldn’t last two seconds with their backs turned.

Kalden could always fight with his pure mana blades. Those blades had gotten him through the KU admission exams, and they’d helped him earn all his victories between now and then.

But those blades weren’t enough to beat Tori Raizen. He’d dueled her several times this semester, and he’d never lasted more than a full minute. And while he’d stretched himself thin these past months, Tori had focused only on her martial prowess.

Kalden would lose if he fought Tori now. Then they’d both gang up on Relia, leaving Akari alone with no teammates.

The third option, then.

Kalden reached into the untouched portion of his soul and began cycling his second mana source. His body shone molten red as he flared his new Cloak technique.

Tori’s brow furrowed at the sight. Unlike Akari, Kalden hadn’t spent the past few weeks flaunting his new aspect. He had, however, called it a form of knowledge mana.

Many duelists used knowledge mana in battle. Arturo Kazalla used it to build equipment, make decisions, or use the arena to his advantage. Elend and Elise used it for deception, or to control the hearts and minds of their enemies.

But this Cloak enhanced his mental focus rather than his body, bringing all his thoughts and emotions into order. The world narrowed to a few key pieces—himself, his opponents, and their mana. At the same time, his surroundings became clearer than ever. Every obstacle was another piece on the board. Every breath and gust of wind was part of a larger puzzle.

Tori lashed out with her whips, and Kalden pushed the battle mana to his open palms. Currents of blood red wove with electric blue, coalescing into two shimmering blades. Kalden had formed these blades more than a thousand times in the past weeks, and even that was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Like all his new techniques, these were mere shadows of what they’d someday become. Using them in combat was a gamble, but also his only hope.

Kalden raised his weapons on instinct—two lines of dark violet in front of his face. They rang like anvils as they deflected Tori’s whips.

Such a thing should have been impossible. Battle mana was less than five percent metal, and the result should have been too abstract to take solid form. But souls were complicated things, working with the mind and body in ways the experts couldn’t explain. Kalden’s old aspect was gone, but his skill was more than a pattern of lines on a soulscan. Years of practice had etched these techniques into his very being, and now this new aspect dragged them to the surface.

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Tori’s whip glanced to the side, and Kalden charged forward. Their blades met several more times —too fast for the untrained eye to see. Relia engaged Lyra in the same moment, and water and death mana clashed at the edges of his vision.

Kalden leapt over the rubble on the battlefield, guided by the instincts of his Battle Cloak. This left his body weaker than a Pure Cloak, but that wouldn’t matter. His opponent only needed one strike to bring him down.

Tori attacked from a hundred directions at once. One second, she stood in front of him. The next, she wrapped a whip around a light post and flung her body around it, slashing at his back. Her weapons changed their shape and direction with every swing, becoming shorter or longer to suit her needs.

Kalden had no defense against these techniques. He would have lost this battle several times if he hadn’t predicted each trap in advance.

Mana sparks flew as their blades broke and reformed. His vision was a blur of violet and silver. Barely a minute had passed since the fight began, but it already felt like the longest of his life.

For all that, the Battle Cloak kept his senses alive, absorbing every detail of the terrain. His camouflage unit remained active, roughly ten feet behind him. If Kalden stepped into that field at the right moment, he’d gain a short advantage. After all, most duels between experts came down to the finest details—even a single blink or badly timed breath.

Another group emerged from his left. It looked like a joint assault between Sun Army and Moon Army. Damnit, he should have predicted that sooner. Those groups had been careful before, but they wouldn’t ignore this chance.

Kalden waited for the group to close in, keeping Tori busy while Relia engaged Lyra across the parking lot. Finally, the enemy techniques rained from the sky, and Kalden stepped back into the camouflage unit.

Tori stumbled just as a wave of fire mana closed in around her. She immediately raised a blade and broke the technique to mist.

His thoughts raced in the span of a breath. Kalden could close in for the killing blow, but Tori might take him down with her. Not to mention the other Mana Artists closing in.

No … survival mattered more. Kalden didn’t know his exact score—much less Akari’s and Relia’s—but it was too soon to risk everything on one victory.

So instead of attacking, Kalden spun on his heel, grabbed the camouflage unit, and sprinted toward Relia. Lyra had frozen the ground around their feet, and Relia shot several tiny Missiles as she slid on the ice.

“Inside!” he shouted as he ran toward the stairs of the Healing Arts Center. He felt Tori follow him, but she couldn’t commit to a true attack—not with that other squad closing in.

Relia shot a pure Missile to alter her course, then she slid back and away from her opponent. Kalden heaved open the double doors and rushed inside the HAC.

“They’ll be right behind us,” Relia said as she jogged beside him. Their footsteps thundered down the dark corridors, and the lights flickered ominously above.

“I know,” Kalden said. “Any way to lock the place down?” Even if they only slowed their opponents, that would still buy them time to set a proper trap.

They turned right at a junction, and Relia pointed to a keypad on the wall. “This lowers the blast doors, but you need a password.”

More footsteps echoed down the hall as someone burst through the back doors—probably Tori and Lyra. He doubted the other squad would venture this far from their territory. Tori shouldn’t have followed him either, but few duelists could resist the chase.

“Cover me,” he told Relia.

“You better hurry,” she said as she gathered pure mana in her palms.

Kalden pressed a hand to the keypad and surrounded the device in a cloud of blood-red mana. He immediately pulled the cloud back and cycled it to his brain. The results hit him in a rush, but he calmed his thoughts and focused on the problem.

As always, knowledge mana couldn’t pull information from thin air. It could, however, bring up relevant memories and make connections between ideas.

Ten numbers on the keypad. Assuming this was a four-digit passcode, that left him ten thousand different combinations.

Akari had once shown him a list of the most common passwords, including a special list for four digit passcodes. Realistically, the Artegium would never use anything from that list, but realism wasn’t the priority here. This arena had been made by a team of Dream Artists and sigilcrafters. Every piece was meant to be used, and this keypad was no exception.

Kalden typed in the first password from the list: 1234.

The light glowed red, buzzing back at him like a swarm of angry bees. Relia threw several Missiles down the hall, then she leapt back as a blade came spinning past her head.

Damnit. Kalden typed in the next code: 1111.

Another red light, followed by another sigh from the machine. Several pipes burst above his head, drenching them with water. Thanks, Lyra.

Kalden blew out a breath as he entered in the next password: 0000.

The light turned green, and the blast doors slid shut with a thunderous clap. Kalden’s shoulders sagged with relief, and he stepped back from the leaking pipe, wiping the cold water from his eyes.

Unfortunately, this wouldn’t hold Tori for long. This building was running on a backup power supply, and Blade Artists could cut through most mundane materials.

Still, this might give them time to—

“Down!” Relia shouted.

Kalden barely heard the warning before Relia slammed her body into his. They hit the floor together, and a massive aluminum tank flew over their heads. He watched as the tank soared down the hall before crashing into the building’s outer wall.

Talek. Who could throw an oxygen tank that fast?

The answer hit him a second later, and he pushed himself up on his elbows. “Akari?”

Akari popped her head around another junction, and her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh. Didn’t know it was you.” She ducked her head in a rare show of embarrassment as she hobbled closer, using the wall for support.

“What happened to you?” Relia asked as she sprang up from the floor.

“Broke my leg,” Akari said with an annoyed frown. “Some hospital this is. I—”

Relia immediately pulled her into a mana-filled hug. Akari endured it for about half a second before squirming away.

Kalden couldn’t think of anything clever to say, so he settled for a smile and a nod. This was another side effect of battle mana; the non-combat parts of his brain took a backseat until the effects wore off.

Instead, he took advantage of that mental state and eyed the cracked oxygen tank at the end of the corridor. Mana shot out from the crack—probably restoration, judging by their current location.

“Were there any more tanks like that?” he asked Akari.

“Sure,” she said with a glint of mischief in her eye.

“Good,” he said, “because I have an idea.”

They set to work over the next two minutes. Akari led them back to the storage room, then they hauled a tank to the nearest stairwell. There, they released the pressure valve and added another ingredient to the mix.

“Okay,” Kalden closed the valve, then turned to Relia. “Go stand watch by the blast door. Tell us when they break through.” It wasn’t a question of “if” at this point. Tori was using a mana-forged circular saw to cut her way through. Judging by her progress, he’d give her ten more seconds.

Relia nodded and jogged off toward the junction where Akari had placed the first portal.

Kalden and Akari waited for several heartbeats as the saw ground against the door.

“Get ready,” Relia said. “And … now!”

Akari shot a Missile at the floor, conjuring a portal beneath the oxygen tank. This carried it to another portal at the top of the stairwell, a hundred feet above their heads. It gained momentum as it fell, reaching a speed of roughly fifty miles per hour.

Akari dismissed the portal by her feet and conjured a second one that led to the front corridor. A few weeks ago, she never could have made a portal chain this complex. No Apprentice Space Artist could. But her new aspect was several times more efficient than ordinary space mana, and this was only the beginning.

The oxygen tank fell through the portal on the floor, and Kalden threw a violet blade in its wake.

Tori and Lyra both dodged the tank, but it didn’t matter. It struck the blast door beside them, and Kalden’s blade pierced a hole for good measure.

Relia’s death mana exploded from the hole, forming a green and gold mist around them. Tori and Lyra had nowhere to run, and clouds of white mingled with the mist as they fell.