The two swordsmen first—swift, close footwork, slashing angles to drive them apart.
Seris met the left one face-to-face, blades flashing in brief bursts. The right pushed Reth hard, short sword snapping for his throat.
Reth spun under the swing, steel raking his hair, and crushed an elbow into the man’s ribs. The swordsman grunted but did not flag. These were not amateurs.
The mage remained behind, hands manipulating, dark tendrils spreading farther across the floor. Observing.
Seris grabbed her opponent’s wrist and pulled him toward Reth. One strike—Reth’s dagger thrust beneath the man’s chin. Dead weight crashed to the floor.
The remaining swordsman let out a shout and attacked Seris. She closed in, punched her pommel into his jaw, then plunged her blade into his abdomen. He fell silently.
The two swordsmen were defeated.
The mage hadn’t budged yet. Shadows wrapped around his boots, twisting like water smoke. His gaze pinned Reth.
There was a slow smile on his face. "You smell like him."
Reth scowled. [Threat Perception] would have gone off by now. Nothing.
"What did you say?"
The mage cocked his head. "He’ll be happy you’re alive. But... not for long."
Seris looked back and forth between them. "Who the hell are you talking about?
The mage disregarded her. His smile grew harder. "And when you’re dead... she’ll follow."
Reth’s hand on his sword tightened. "Try it."
The marble turned dark under the mage’s feet as he took a step forward. "You fight as if you think you might win," he said. "That’s... adorable."
Seris’s tone was toneless. "I’ve killed men who could crush you for breakfast."
The mage’s face grew cold. "Ah. There it is. The conceit."
Shadows swelled up his arms. He bunched them into a ball no larger than a coin, the air around it distorting.
"Go!" Reth shouted.
The globe leapt through the gap in a flash, sizzling with purple arcs.
Seris dodged to one side. The blast ripped through her pauldron and exploded against the wall with a hard, bone-piercing crack. Chunks of marble showered across the floor. Heat seared her skin.
Another sphere expanded in the mage’s hands, arcs sizzling. The air condensed. Reth’s [Threat Perception] continued to remain silent.
Time became concentrated on the mage’s eyes and the sphere of deathly light. Seris’s stance faltered, blood streaming down her shoulder. She would not flinch from this one.
The orb shot.
Reth advanced. Black fires blazed to life down his sword, seared with red molten lines, the chill fire burning into his bones. He swept his sword high—the orb did not shatter, it melted, its power consumed whole.
The sigh of spent mana hung heavy in the quiet.
Seris’s breathing was harsh, her gaze holding Reth’s. He remained frozen, sword up, fire licking the steel, mask set like granite.
The mage leaned his head. "Interesting," he croaked. "You’re more than you appear."
"Stay behind me," Reth murmured, low and even.
Seris nodded once.
The mage spread both hands, shadows coalescing into something thicker. Violet arcs shrieked.
Reth’s grip tightened. Still nothing?
That bristling heavy prickle at the nape of his neck never materialized. No red flash, no mana spike alerts, not even a light twitch from [Threat Perception]. All his instincts screamed that this guy was going to kill them—yet the System remained mute.
Why?
The globe in the mage’s hand ballooned to the size of a skull, distorting the torchlight. The air slammed against Reth’s flesh like a storm front.
The mage’s gaze met his, as if gauging his mind. "Let’s see how long that blaze holds out."
He threw the sphere.
It arrived sooner than thought—space snapping around it, the floor cracking from the pressure. Reth acted before he could choose, before he could even draw breath. The black flame blazed once more, consuming his sight, his concentration narrowed to a pinpoint: slice it down.
The knife struck the globe. The fire drank deep, sucking in the violet arcs until the sphere imploded to nothing.
Heat shimmered off his cheeks. The marble beneath his feet hissed where flying sparks touched down.
The mage did not waver. A new sphere began shaping in a moment, this one blacker, denser, its rim unraveling like ragged fabric.
Reth pushed forward before the next sphere had fully coalesced. His boots scraped over shattered marble, each step deliberate, the cold flame along his sword whispering in ravening licks. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel⦿fire.net
The mage hurled the half-formed orb anyway—sloppy, rushed. Reth cut through it in one swing, violet arcs scattering like dying fireflies.
"You’re slow," Reth said.
The mage’s smile twitched. "You think this is—"
Reth stepped in, forcing him back with a flurry of cuts. The black flames chewed through the mage’s shadow-formed guard, eating at the magic until it frayed.
The mage grunted, retreating another step. His next spell faltered.
Reth saw the opening. He had his sword raised for the death stroke—
—and agony burst through his back.
His breath caught. The cold fire on his blade died.
He looked down. A point of steel rammed into his chest, just below the collarbone, wet with his blood.
As Reth felt when he turned his head.
Seris was behind him, hands on the hilt, face flat, unreadable.
"Sorry," she said softly.
She ripped the blade out.
Reth staggered ahead, knees collapsing, vision dimming at the periphery. The mage’s eyes flashed with sudden, cruel mirth. Shadows sprang back to power around him.
Reth fell to one knee, gasping for breath, the System remaining mute. No warnings. No damage reports. Nothing.
Only the feel of his own blood flowing down his chest, and the sound of Seris backing away from him—toward the mage.
Reth’s breathing entered in jerky gasps. Blood—or what would have been blood—ran warm along his chest. But his hold didn’t falter as it should have. His sight didn’t contract. The System... still didn’t speak.
No warnings of pain. No signs of vitality. Not a flicker, even.
His gaze fell to the black fire still licking along his blade, their cold heat curling against his skin. Corrupted Intent. Was this. what it actually looked like?
The mage’s voice came from somewhere distant now. Seris’ footsteps too. Everything was muffled, colors thinned at the edges like wet paint bleeding across paper.