Linden had been a talented child. He held the sword like he was born with it, and he took to aura as naturally as breathing. The day his father brought his new siblings into the manor, Linden reached the Projection realm.

He’d rushed in from the training grounds to show his older brother, his heart pounding and an uncontrollable grin on his face. When he saw that his father had returned from his trip just in time to witness his achievement, it had felt like the luckiest day in the world.

Acacius had looked at him like he was an enemy.

Now, it seemed, he wasn’t even that much in Acacius’ eyes. The mutual hatred that once lent heat to his gaze had chilled into a cold and calculating expression, as if Linden was nothing but a problem he had to resolve

He looked so much like their father, it was revolting.

A deep crimson aura flowed down the length of Linden’s rapier, and he lunged.

Closing in at this distance, his Trajectory realm senses traced Acacius’ movements as if they were his own. He felt Acacius tilt his head, his fingers twitch as if he wanted to pull out a knife, his arms spread out as if welcoming Linden’s sword to his chest—

—And then Linden’s vision was engulfed in flames.

The explosion of heat seared his skin and knocked him back. He was burning. In the space of a thought, Linden layered aura over his clothes and body, imparting fire resistance to kill the flames’ ability to burn. As he hit the ground and rolled with the landing, he slashed out with his sword in an arc, aiming for where he’d felt Acacius’ trajectory last.

His projected aura attack flew into the distance and dissipated without contact.

Acacius wasn’t there.

With his eyes still recovering from the explosion of flames, Linden had to rely on his trajectory sense. It was clearest within one meter and grew fuzzier until it petered out at around fifteen meters, but it was more than sufficient to detect any attacks coming his way.

Within that range, there was no movement but him and the flames on his body that still hadn’t gone out.

Why… hadn’t they? With his aura protecting him, they should have lost all fuel to burn.

Acacius must be sustaining them with his ether, manually controlling where they existed and burned. If Linden just moved beyond Acacius’ predictions, he’d leave the flames behind, and then he could stop wasting aura protecting himself.

Linden got up, and the flames followed with him. The heat made it uncomfortable to breathe. He blinked away the spots in his vision, but he couldn’t see anything past them. His surroundings had gone completely dark. The flames on his body cast no light on his surroundings, as if he was standing in a void.

No matter. Linden had expected as much when a dark mage like Acacius suggested fighting at night.

He just needed to flush Acacius out of hiding and force him to move.

Picking a random direction, Linden zig-zagged forward and swung his sword in wide arcs, projecting a razor-sharp attacks through the air. Acacius’ flames fell behind him and went out. Of course; there was no way that a mage like Acacius could predict the movements of a martial artist like him.

The next moment, bloody gashes opened themselves all over his body.

Linden cursed and came to a halt. He released a pulse of red aura that clashed with dozens of sharp blades that had been condensed out of the darkness around him, hanging in the air along his intended path, faint as smudges on a mirror. Under his watch, they scattered back into intangible darkness.

Materializing ether alone wouldn’t trigger his senses. But for the blades to be placed so accurately—

Linden was wrong. Acacius had read his movements.

As if taunting him, flames appeared around him again, drying out his mouth and throat.

Linden clenched his jaw and raised his aura, imparting toughness and impact resistance to his body. His energy would drain faster maintaining this, and he’d lose even more if he used projected attacks. But materializing ether incurred an energy cost too, just as maintaining the materialized magic did, enough that most mages tried to reuse what they had already created.

In an endurance match, there was no way that Linden, who had trained himself exhaustively since childhood, would ever lose to him. And once Linden found Acacius—

There was no way that coward could match him in a straight fight.

Linden began moving again, sending out more projected attacks with his sword. If Acacius wanted to dodge his senses by staying still, he was too naive.

Sure enough, at the edge of his range, he felt a person-sized shape vaguely moving.

Got you.

Reinforcing his strength with aura, Linden burst forward, covering the distance between them in a flash.

Smalls cuts opened on his hands, his arms. He’d moved so fast his impact resistance couldn’t protect himself entirely from the hanging blades of darkness that Acacius had manifested.

It didn’t matter. His sword pierced through the darkness like a blood-red fang.

It stabbed straight through nothing more than a mass of materialized darkness, cutting through like it was sinking into mud.

He’d been baited.

The mass of darkness split apart into dozens of sharp blades that turned to pierce him like a hunter’s arrows. Linden spun around, deflecting them all with his sword before they dissipated back into ether. He wiped his forehead with his free hand, and it came away completely dry. Of course. The fire had already dried off all his sweat.

Where was Acacius?

“Is this it?” Linden sneered. “I knew you wouldn’t have the guts to face me in a real fight. All you’ve ever had is your collection of petty tricks!”

There was only the sound of fire crackling and his strained breathing.

He circled about, occasionally sending out another projected attack. His sensing range didn’t cover the whole arena that Dalileh had encircled, but the arena wasn’t much larger than his range, either. Acacius couldn’t just move about outside Linden’s range in leisure. He had to be close.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why you haven’t gained our father’s favor?” Linden called.

Fire burned. New wounds accumulated as he brushed against hanging blade after hanging blade. The wrong blood was dripping to the ground.

“It’s because you have nothing besides your cleverness.”

Movement flickered along the edge of Linden’s sensing range.

“If you don’t have any real strength — if you can’t crush all the challenges that come your way — the only qualification you have is to be his tool!”

Twisting his face in anger, Linden feinted towards the movement ahead of him, then pivoted hard on his heel and leapt back the way he came. Something there moved, jerking away from him as if surprised.

That’s right. A coward like Acacius wouldn’t dare to create bait too close to himself. That’s why he would be here.

With a roar, Linden flashed forward and swung his sword.

He cleaved another mass of materialized darkness in two.

Then the first one must be the real one. Without hesitation, Linden turned and slashed out into the dark, projecting a slashing attack at the place he’d felt the first movement.

It hit nothing, dissipating into the air.

Damn it! All these years, and Acacius was still playing him like a fool!

If he was just stronger, if he could use the same sword style that his father had…

If he’d only been able to spill a single drop of familial blood when it mattered most.

Four trajectories of movement began tracing themselves at the edge of his sensing range, taunting him. Too far away to tell how large the movement sources were. It was like Acacius was waving a red flag before him, saying, You know my trick now, but so what? What can you do about it?

He must have been standing in the darkness somewhere, laughing at him. Linden could practically see his hateful eyes, hear his cruel laugh and the words he would surely say.

All these years, and you’re still easier to kill than your brother.

Linden felt dizzy with rage.

With a spinning slash, he projected an attack that cut all four sources of movements. A complete waste of aura. He was losing his cool.

The movements stopped, and then when they started again, they had multiplied to nine.

Wait. Nine?

If he’d cut all sources in two, and Acacius was reusing the materialized ether, then there should only be eight.

Had Acacius mixed himself in with them?

Ah.

Linden must have hit Acacius. And now, under the cover of his decoys, he wanted to move out of Linden’s range. That had to be it.

Linden smiled, and he attacked.

Light-headed, he cut them down one by one, heedless of the new wounds accumulating as he moved. Had he slowed down? Was that why Acacius’ fire was moving with him now? The air was too hot. It didn’t matter. As long as he found Acacius. As long as he killed him—

The last movement source was pierced by his rapier. Not the right resistance. No scream. No blood.

His aura was running low.

Linden wiped his dry forehead. His heart was racing, light and quick like a bird’s.

This couldn’t go on.

Why hadn’t Acacius’ field of darkness fallen yet?

As a fourth-circle, he couldn’t possibly have the ether reserves to maintain an active domain this size for so long. And it had to be an active domain, if he was materializing his spells in place instead of moving them there. Had Acacius secretly advanced without anyone noticing?

It couldn’t be… right?

But hiding his skills was just the sort of thing that a suspicious, untrusting, paranoid bastard like him would do.

Otherwise, how could he dare to accept Linden’s challenge, or have such control over his casting domain?

How could his battle sense be so sharp as to read all of Linden’s movements, bait him so well, and materialize traps in the dark too late for Linden to dodge ?

Fuck.

Maybe it wasn’t Acacius who had been arrogant, but him.

If Linden couldn’t find Acacius quickly, then—

Then Acacius would just get away with everything he’d ever done.

He’d become heir. Cynara would be alone, and then dead. Yarrow’s legacy would be discarded as if it was nothing more but garbage.

No. Linden wouldn’t allow it.

He couldn’t die here, and he definitely couldn’t die to Acacius.

And if he wanted to survive—

He grit his teeth.

Sorry, Cynara.

He reached into his coat and took out his emergency vials of blood.

This was the last time. It really would be this time.

He called for his World Proof, and it answered, its laugh echoing in his head.

A black and bony mask formed over his nose and mouth, baring its fangs in a vicious smile. He uncapped the first vial of blood and poured it down its maw.

The beast drank, and it howled.

With a deep inhale, it sucked in all the flames that burned around him. The heat died down, and Linden’s breathing eased. The cuts on his body began to close, but his World Proof did nothing more to restore his physical condition. That hateful thing.

It wanted more.

Linden uncapped the second vial and poured it down.

His World Proof laughed. Shadows rose around him and pulled away into the phantom form of a great four-legged beast, darkness flickering along its many spines and its long, prehensile tail. Its white eyes gleamed as it tore at the darkness.

Nothing happened. The darkness around him wasn’t created by ether; there was nothing to consume. Linden looked up. The phantom beast moved with his intent and bit down.

A thin veil of darkness was torn down from where it encircled him mere meters away, falling into the phantom beast’s jaws. Light filtered from the stadium lights through Dalileh’s water barrier onto a cocoon of darkness at the arena edge. It slowly unraveled and dissipated to reveal Acacius, completely untouched.

As Acacius’ calculating eyes swept over him, Linden felt a sweep of humiliation. All his energy had been sapped away, but Acacius had barely wasted any energy maintaining a domain at all.

Had he been laughing at Linden as he baited him away from his hiding place?

Linden raised the third, and last, vial of blood.

A precise conflagration of white-hot flame ignited around his hand. The blood sizzled.

Linden threw in the evaporating liquid before it could disappear, choking down the burning blood. Not enough. He needed more blood. Linden pointed, sending the phantom rushing at Acacius in a bid to make the most of his sacrifice.

Acacius sighed. With a flick of his hands, two black knives appeared in his grasp, and a faint black aura rose around him. He caught the phantom beast’s jaws with the blades. The force pushed him backwards, leaving deep skid marks in the dirt, but Acacius didn’t fall.

And more importantly, Acacius didn’t bleed.

With a twist of his arms, Acacius redirected the phantom beast’s attack, wrenching it off balance and throwing it to the side. Without more blood to sustain it, the phantom beast’s figure dissipated. Acacius tilted his head, meeting Linden’s eyes. The faint demon’s faces etched on his knives grinned out at him.

In a burst of black aura, Acacius appeared before him and swung his knife.

Since when did Acacius have any skill at aura at all?

Linden brought up his rapier to parry. To his shock, Acacius let go of his knife and grabbed Linden’s wrist instead, pulling Linden off balance and right into Acacius’ stabbing range.

But there was no stab to the torso with Acacius’ remaining knife, as Linden expected. Instead, Acacius lowered his stance, stepped back, and twisted, sending Linden stumbling away. The follow-up kick to his knee sent him tumbling to the ground. His wounds reopened with the impact, and blood smeared along the dirt.

Acacius’ aura was nothing impressive; their brief exchange showed that he was only at the Initiate stage, reinforcing his own body’s strength and durability. But it also showed that Linden was exhausted enough that even a novice like that was able to keep up with him.

It didn’t matter. Linden had a sword. Its reach was far longer than Acacius’ knife. He had the advantage. He just needed to make Acacius bleed. Just once.

Dragging himself back to his feet, he charged at Acacius, who didn’t hide behind any of his cowardly tricks this time. He clashed with Linden calmly, methodically, and with a theatrical flair to his knife tricks that made Linden want to kill him more.

The knife tricks should’ve been nothing. Acacius’ aura shouldn’t have been strong enough to reinforce his weapons, either. But for some reason, they wouldn’t break, no matter how Linden struck.

Linden pushed himself to attack faster and faster, despite his bleeding, exhausted body.

It wasn’t over. Victory was within reach.

As long as he could cut Acacius — even just once—

His vision dimmed as a bout of dizziness struck him. Acacius didn’t miss the opportunity. He kicked him in the side, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Acacius didn’t chase after him, though.

Instead, a ring of flames rose up around him, filling his vision with light.

Linden staggered to his feet. He felt unbearably thirsty. His head was spinning.

When had he gotten so hot?

When blades of darkness fell on him from above, Linden blearily struggled to parry them.

Just a bit more.

If only he could use his own blood. If only his World Proof would accept it.

If only he’d been better.

Linden lifted his sword up. Beyond the smudging of the flaming ring’s heat field, he could feel Acacius lowering his knives.

Linden squeezed out the last of his aura and poured it into one last move. Blood-red light arced out like a tempest, aiming for Acacius’ life.

If only he could cut the Duvals away from the throne.

With that last thought, Linden’s consciousness became blurry.

He fell.

---

“…as requested, please cool him down.”

“No one’s dead yet, boy. The mediator shouldn’t intervene in an ongoing duel.”

“Do you actually respect that rule?”

He knew those voices. His body didn’t feel hot anymore.

Why was he still alive?

Linden struggled to open his eyes.

“Linden,” Master Dalileh’s voice whispered in his ear. “I’m watching a very interesting show right now. Don’t move, or I’ll have to knock you out again.”

What?

But Linden trusted Dalileh, and he was still alive. He laid still on the ground with his eyes closed, struggling to focus and hanging onto his consciousness by a thread.

“There are no witnesses besides us,” said Acacius, a faint thread of annoyance in his usually indifferent tone. “What more do you need to act?”

There was a smile in Dalileh’s voice. “A secret’s no secret as long as there are two who know. Besides, this is hardly a convincing state of affairs, is it?”

“So, what? I have to do this the above-board way now?”

Linden cracked an eye open.

He saw Acacius standing some distance away. He flipped a black knife in one hand as he thought, eyes creased with faint displeasure, before he sighed and caught it by the handle.

“Someone told me something interesting the other day,” he said. “The duel is simply about appearances. So to stop it, all you have to do is create the appearance of an excuse.”

Black aura gathered on the blade.

“Did you see Linden’s last strike just now?” he asked.

“Of course. What a spectacular move.”

“I think so too. He put his whole will into it. How could someone escape that strike unscathed?”

Acacius flipped the knife.

Then he drew a long, deep slash from one shoulder to the bottom of his ribcage on the opposite side.

Blood spattered on the ground.

“Help, Master Dalileh,” Acacius said insincerely. “I don’t want to die.”

Linden forced himself to keep breathing calmly as his mind spun.

Acacius was afraid of pain. Acacius was afraid of dying. And Acacius definitely wasn’t the type of person who could be so ruthless to himself — especially with no apparent benefits in sight.

So what were the benefits?

“That’s not the voice of a dying man,” said Dalileh.

“Are you the one who’s dying right now? Stop nitpicking.”

But Acacius did lie down on the ground next to Linden. Linden hastily shut his eyes and listened to the rustle of Acacius’ clothes as he adjusted his position on the ground.

Then Acacius let out a pained moan and a choke.

Despite everything, Linden’s stomach dropped.

“Help. Master Dalileh,” Acacius called, voice strained. He coughed wetly and gasped for breath. “I… don’t want to die…”

…

If Linden didn’t want to kill him before, he definitely would now.

Dalileh chuckled. Her footsteps drew near to Linden and Acacius.

“Very well. No more talking now, Acacius. You’ll ruin the show.”

Linden felt water gather to cradle his and Acacius’ bodies. It was soothing and cool on his skin, and he had to hold in a sigh as his wounds began to heal.

Moments later, he felt the water barrier fall away. He heard the gasps of waiting onlookers. He heard Xander shouting his name.

“I declare the duel a temporary draw!” Dalileh shouted, voice ringing over the crowd. “Both Linden and Acacius are unfit for battle. Take them to the infirmary and give them the Dragon’s blessings. Whosoever awakens first shall lay claim to victory!”

Then Dalileh’s whisper came to Linden’s ears. “You can wake up whenever you want to now. The show is over.”

But Linden didn’t open his eyes. He pretended to be unconscious, even as Xander rushed over calling for him to wake up and roared for people to help move him already.

Acacius had won.

So what the hell was he playing at?

Chapter 14 Chapter 16