“They’re still not back?” Yvain asked, perched on the desk, his legs finally long enough to fit adult furniture.
“No, sir,” Finn replied. “I’d say sending them to meet the Vision Resonator inventor’s representative was… a bit risky.”
“Oh? And what was my alternative?” Yvain shot back. “Sit here twiddling my thumbs until something goes wrong?”
“But we’re here to take over Inkia from those politicians!” Finn sighed. “I know I might sound cold, but do we really need to care about some random device?”
Yvain sighed. Maybe it did seem unrelated to the whole conquering-Inkia business, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Even if he was wrong, at worst, he’d still end up saving the academy kids, especially the Vision users.
But the fact that something potentially dangerous was just sitting in an educational institution? That was insanity. He couldn’t fathom how anyone could make such a colossal blunder.
And if it really was just a huge blunder and nothing more, the Vision Resonator was still too groundbreaking to ignore. A device that could help unawakened people to awaken? Something that could manipulate mana without the need for awakening?
What was the medium? How could something connect someone to mana without using their soul?
“I think the real question,” Yvain muttered, “isn’t how this device made its way to Saint Lucia. It’s how something this miraculous hasn’t spread to the world yet. Why only Inkia?”
***
“I lov—”
CLASH!
Ahlgrath’s mind reeled as they switched places in an instant, leaving him face-to-face with the grinning Yvolt once more. The leader of the black-clad guards hadn’t missed it—every switch followed that whispered phrase, “I love you.” But the timing was unpredictable, catching him off guard at the most crucial moments.
With a swift, forceful step forward, Yvolt lunged, her rapier gleaming with lethal intent. Ahlgrath barely managed to sidestep, deflecting her blade just in time, yet her attack didn’t relent. Her strikes came at him in rapid succession, like a storm of steel and finesse, each one probing for an opening in his defense.
As he countered, Ahlgrath raised his blade to deflect an overhead thrust from Yvolt, but before he could recover, Tristan was suddenly in her place, his bow drawn and aimed at Ahlgrath’s heart. The force arrow crackled with energy, and in a split second, Tristan released it, sending a burst of mana straight at Ahlgrath.
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“Nice try,” Ahlgrath snarled, twisting to the side as the arrow flew past, exploding against the chimney behind him. He swung back, aiming to retaliate against Tristan, “I lo—” only for Yvolt to reappear, her rapier darting forward like a serpent. Her strikes, precise and deadly, forced him back as he parried each one with gritted teeth.
The constant teleportation was maddening; there was no pattern to follow, no way to anticipate who he’d face next. Each time Tristan said those words, they shifted like ghosts, reappearing in one another’s place at random intervals—even in the middle of their attacks.
Ahlgrath growled, bracing himself as Tristan reappeared mid-air, firing another force arrow while simultaneously throwing three gleaming knives from his free hand.
Ahlgrath twisted, barely evading the deadly projectiles. The knives whistled past, embedding themselves in the walls behind him with a metallic thud. But Ahlgrath’s moment of reprieve was short-lived.
“I love you!” Tristan, as if chasing the knives he just threw, said the words once more, and Yvolt materialized just inches from Ahlgrath, grinning with vicious delight as she raised her rapier high.
She drove it down in a powerful, fluid motion, her stance so sure it was as if she’d never missed a target in her life. He deflected, but her rapier caught his shoulder, drawing blood as he staggered back.
Ahlgrath winced, narrowing his eyes as the duo’s strategy became clear. Their teleportation was more than just a nuisance—it was a form of spatial manipulation that allowed them to control the field, pressing him into a relentless offensive without ever giving him a chance to counter.
Another “I love you” filled the air from afar, and Ahlgrath knew another switch was coming. But this time, he was ready. He dropped to one knee, his sword raised in anticipation, hoping to catch Tristan off guard.
Yet Tristan had already fired another arrow before he’d even fully materialized, the force behind it nearly explosive. Ahlgrath deflected it with a hasty swing, but the impact reverberated down his arm, nearly throwing him off balance.
Just as he steadied himself, Yvolt was there again, her rapier flashing in a deadly arc aimed straight for his throat.
The barrage was overwhelming. Each time he found a rhythm, the pair switched seamlessly, creating a maddening illusion of omnipresence. He recognized the absurdity of their battle style—it was strategic chaos, executed with a precision that bordered on the supernatural.
“As strong as Gawain? I don’t think so anymore,” Tristan taunted, firing another arrow in rapid succession. Ahlgrath dodged, only to be struck across his back by Yvolt’s blade, the pain sharp and sudden. He barely registered her mocking words as she quipped, “You don’t look half as terrifying.”
Ahlgrath’s mind raced. He wasn’t just up against two fighters—he was up against two who moved as one, their movements so synchronized that they seemed to share the same heartbeat.
Their combined strength rivaled some of the most feared knights in the realm. And with each step back he took, each blow he deflected, he felt his odds dwindling.
Just then, another switch caught him mid-stride. Yvolt’s rapier slipped past his defense, grazing his thigh with a vicious cut. She danced back, smirking as Ahlgrath winced in pain.
“I can see the frustration in your eyes,” she teased, circling him like a predator with its prey. “Doesn’t feel great to be outmatched, does it?”
Ahlgrath let out a snarl, summoning a dark aura that rippled with menace as he readied himself for another assault. Yet his opponents remained unfazed, matching his glare with those infuriating heart-shaped eyes and cocky smiles.
Unless he managed to shatter their perfect rhythm, Ahlgrath realized he wouldn’t stand a chance. Or…
“That potion must have a time limit,” Ahlgrath said with a grin.
No matter what kind of potion it was, the effect must not be forever.