Breen looked on at the Earth boy, impressed by the power he possessed for such an inexperienced alchemagist. He had managed to create a diffusion shield without any difficulty, and within the last second before he would’ve been completely crushed by the metal spires.

  “It worked…” Simon whispered as he caught his breath.

  “Well done,” Breen said. “Ah, yes, the almost mystical abilities of the solar… Including a field that completely nullifies all alchemagi that touches it. With that up, the only way I can get to you is by conventional weaponry—which I don’t carry. That said… I doubt you can maintain it for long. Tell me, Earth child, do you know what it means to be a solar adept?”

  Breen relinquished his metal spires, but Simon kept the diffusion barrier around his body up for his own safety. He was pouring his energy into it—and it was quickly draining him in the process.

  “Solar is in the bottom… spectrum of alchemagi influence. It is almost pure alchemagi in itself, its powers drawing from the one source that is always present. This makes it a pure, and rare alignment. Nova is at the opposite, and is so powerful that the human body cannot become adept to it. I respect a solar. But only because of their near non-existence. Some scholars believe that there are ten times as many solars on Earth than there on Aurra, although this is not proven. Still, that would be a low number—still lower than the other adepts in either world. But you’re not as unique as you may think. The twins merely got lucky when they picked you up.”

  “They didn’t pick me up. I helped them, and now they’re friends.”

  “Right. Your Aurrian ‘brethren.’ You have no idea just how different our worlds are. How would you know? You have yet to even see Hold or be judged. Do you know anything about paradigms?”

  “I know that you’re one of them.”

  “Yes. We represent the gathering of the elements within a physical vessel. Yet, there is one higher than paradigms… and he presides over us pretorians. We are the greatest legion to have come in a long time. Our combined lineage goes back thousands of years… And we are proud.”

  “Proud of what? You’re making your people suffer.”

  “They are suffering because your rebel friends ignited a war. And you are a sideshow, Earth child. You have no reason to be here. You should return to your own world and live out your meaningless Earth life. When you are—officially—granted your time in Aurra, only then will you begin to understand our world. Aurra is the center of the universe, my friend… Earth is only the dark side of the same coin.”

  “Sounds like a bunch of fanatical ravings. You act as if there is nothing on value on Earth.”

  “When you come here and have the memories of all your lives, you realize that there isn’t. All you can do on Earth is hope for a good upraising so that you have a chance of becoming a good person. All that matters is being judged. And even then, judgment is mostly inconsequential. You put your mind and will into it, and you can be anything here. I became the only active paradigm of the pretorians. That is my accomplishment.”

  “I don’t care. I have friends to protect, and even if I am a newsoul who has yet to live a full life, I’m going to prove that anyone can overcome anything, no matter how many lives they may have experienced.”

  “Now you’re the one preaching. Give me your best, Earthen. You may be of a graceful element, but as you will see, it is hardly fit for combat.”

  Simon released his barrier and stood up. He knew that he couldn’t hold back. It was almost as if Breen were giving him a free hit. Simon was being underestimated; but until he could prove otherwise, he understood that there was no way out of this battle. He had to use the most powerful technique he had been taught so far and hope that it was enough.

  The sun wasn’t as far up as it could be, but he worked with what he had and brought up three fingers to his chin, where he kept them steady and murmured the spell words in his mind. Above, the sky darkened as the light condensed into six separate arcs. A shadow was cast over a wide area and grew darker by the moment, despite the fact that nothing was actually blocking the sun’s dull light; it was simply all being redirected.

  The arcs then shot out, centering over Breen. They swirled into a singular ball of glowing vibrancy, and then like they would from a giant magnifying glass, they fired downward as a pillar of pure sunlight. Pinks and violets bounded off the stream, and the temperature rose dramatically in the area. Simon couldn’t help but smile at his work.

  But as his eyes adjusted to the brightness, a dark figure engulfed by light emerged. Standing still was Breen, holding above his head a shield that reflected the light, keeping him from harm. As if to insult him, he angled his shield down so that the ray chased its creator. Simon leapt back a few times from the beam of light before realizing that he should release the spell.

  As the light returned to the local area, Breen released his shield and stared at Simon. He didn’t know what to do next. Luminar, among the most powerful solar spells, wasn’t enough. He couldn’t even be sure if he would have hurt Breen at all, even if he didn’t resort to using the shield.

  “I assume that Vlad and Kerchief only taught you solar spells…” Breen said. “They wanted to get you out in the field as soon as possible. Probably thought that a powerful solar would be a boon to their rebel friends. But, light has little power against this armor. That said…”

  He released two latches on his chest plate. Steam poured out for a few seconds, and his entire suit of armor began to tremble and open up. Simon was surprised at how many layers it had, with one made up of gears and servos that must have given the suit its mobility. It was likely that no machine on Earth would be able to construct a replica of Breen’s armor.

  “That said… I wish to end this quickly, as I have little time for a meaningless one-on-one fight. So, for you, I’m going to engage in a form of combat that very few have seen…”

  Simon watched with curiosity as Breen’s armor folded over itself many times and condensed into a single rectangular shape on his combat suit’s back. Eventually, every component was compacted into the block of metal. Simon realized that Breen only truly had two pieces of equipment: the sphere for weaponry, and the cube for his suit. But what was even more astounding was the man himself, who commanded such metal mastery.

  He was scrawny, frail, and wrinkled—but not quite as old as Simon had assumed. Despite his fragile appearance, there was still enough there to deduct that Breen might have not been much older than the father of his opponent. But his visage was ghastly, almost deathly. The man was a small one, shaking like a starved animal. His hair was gray and thin, and it didn’t seem like he could smile if he wanted to—even if he did, no one could tell; there was a respirator coving half his face, which must have been the reason behind his distinct muffled voice.

  It was his height that stood out the most. He was no taller than Shin, but his suit was developed in such a way that he could control it as if it were his own body, and all together it stood a foot taller than most men.

  “Look on, Earthen,” he wheezed behind his breathing mask. “Since creation, this has been the curse of all iron paradigms. When metal becomes one with our bodies, the power robs of us of our sturdiness. The alignment saps necessary nutrients like biological iron… and this is the result. If you so much as touch me, I could bruise. If you were to kick me, my leg could shatter. I am little more than walking glass. My life depends on not letting anyone landing a single hit.”

  “I’m… I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t need your sympathy. Your techniques may be fast, but the speed of light is more than our minds can comprehend. You have to slow it down to control it. I need only to react, slightly faster. Out of my armor, you will never touch me. Now, gaze upon a true terror.”

  The ground rumbled. Simon stepped back and looked at the barrier surrounding the arena—it was sinking. Soon after it retreated underground fully, Breen returned the highly compacted metal sphere to his palm, while the cube remained on his back, unused. He kneeled, closed his eyes, and concentrated on something intensely—but his fingers weren’t out. Simon was unsure if he could use the moment to strike.

  His opportunity disappeared quickly, as the earth suddenly began to tear open. Metal spires sprouted out at Simon’s side, and when they started moving, he realized that they were shears—or rather, pincers. And they didn’t move as if they were mechanical; they moved as if they were alive and conscious. Moments later, another set erupted on his right.

  Simon withdrew to a safer distance as an enormous beast, coated in silicon, burrowed up from underground, shrieked into the air, and took its place at Breen’s side. Noticing the stinger on its tail, Simon realized that he was staring down a scorpion—one twenty feet long and made of metal.

  Its body was jagged. Looking as threatening as possible, every part of its structure was covered in sharp metal spines or blades. Its pincers and stinger seemed to have little more use than to simply define the creature as a scorpion, as it could easily use any part of its body to impale its target.

  “What—what is that?” Simon stuttered.

  “This is an elemental, the shape an alignment takes in its purest form. This beast is tied to and powered by my subconscious. The only thing keeping it from tearing you apart is my control over it.”

  Realizing the danger he was in, Simon created another diffusion barrier. He mustered enough energy to expand it a good distance until it encompassed the entire scorpion. But it quickly became obvious that there was no effect. After only a few seconds of keeping it up, he released it.

  “Won’t work. This creature is solid alchemagi and can’t be broken down. I understand that killing you here may not have much consequence, but I figure that if I give you the most violent, horrifying death imaginable, that you will never want to return. Perhaps the power found in Aurra will scare you for lifetimes to come. Now, please. Die.”

  The scorpion lunged forward, its pincers opening and closing ferociously. Simon worked to avoid them, only to forget about the stinger until it was too late. He looked up just in time to roll out of the way—but barely. The stinger slammed into the spot where he was standing, taking part of his heat cloak with him.

  In his effort to get away, Simon tugged hard on the cloak, ripping it off. The bitter cold quickly set in, piercing through the rest of his clothing; all designed for the far north, but nowhere near as strong as a heat cloak.

  He got to his feet in time to avoid more stinger strikes, ducked under one pincer at the last moment, and then dodged a slice from the other. The attacks came one right after the next, and there was little time to react, so he didn’t have a moment to properly initiate his light-dancing spell.

  But Breen gave him a brief respite, letting him compose himself at a safe distance. He breathed in the stinging freezing air and adjusted his glasses as Breen gaze over at him, his giant metal scorpion at his side.

  “You know…” Breen sighed and commanded his scorpion to grab hold of his metal orb. “I won’t be taking any risks with you. I don’t enjoy fighting like Trinqit or Palar; I don’t like wasting time and toying with my foe. Efficiency is what I prefer. So, you’ve just earned the full treatment.”

  The scorpion crushed the sphere in a claw, turning it into a liquid that quickly covered every part of the beast. It solidified into a very flexible, highly reflective metal. Simon may have been able to use a powerful attack to do anything at all to the scorpion before, but now its carapace looked impenetrable. The metal was like a mirror. No matter how much energy he might put into his light techniques, they would be reflected right off.

  He had no idea what to do. He could run and probably get away, but then Breen would be free to hunt his Aurrian friends—all of whom had only one life to live in their home world. Even if he died trying, Simon knew he was obligated to do everything he could while he was here. But at the same time, death still carried the same frightening reality. He had never experienced it before to begin with, but there was something else.

  If he were to return to Earth, would his friends be able to find him again? He knew he could wait in Hold’s hidden kingdom, but even if he did eventually reunite with someone there, he’d still have to start back on Earth again—right back in Toronto’s hospital, based off of what Garder had told him. That was a long distance to travel just to get back to Algiers or the Big Ben tavern; the only places those close to him would know where to look.

  Facing insurmountable odds, the only thing he could really do to improve his chances was to think of death here as a real finality. If he failed, he might never have a chance to help his new friends again.

  The frozen, rocky landscape was ablaze with combat. I’s military unit had an advantage, being on the home front and at the top of a large incline, but the Guard was a mighty presence. Few doubted that it was the king’s army. The tanks adorned traditional Guard flags, and after everything Milla’s group had been through, they looked like relics from a different age.

  But was this really supposed to be some grand new military force? It was more focused and armed than the fragile excuse for one sent to the Sahara, but it had yet to seem like Lontonkon was giving it his all. Or perhaps he just underestimated what it would take to invade the polar land.

  Still, the defenders had their work cut out for them, and relied on their alchemagi to slow the army while chipping away at it. With nearly everything equipped with alchemagi shields, they resorted to reshaping the landscape and picking individual battles just to slow the enemy’s progress.

  “They’re persistent, I’ll give them that!” Verim shouted out, his two swords swinging along with his arms. “Damn this cold… wish I could summon my plants… I’m getting tempted to self-destruct here.”

  “Would you be serious for once?” Shin called back as she clashed blades with three soldiers at once. “Any word on the other side?”

  “Garder and Kamsa must be doing something over there,” Pip responded. “Still no reports on the second battalion.”

  “Hope they’re having an easier time than we are,” Shin said and noticed more tanks approaching from the ridge. “Armor coming in!”

  “Milla, should we take out the airship?” Xavier asked at her side.

  “It’s not doing much but observing and keeping the area lit with that sun umbrella,” she replied. “If it fires on us, we’ll definitely target it. Just keep focused on the battle down here.”

  “Right. I’ll take care of the tanks this time.”

  Xavier grabbed onto the snow and ice under their treads, and then mixed it in with the earth. Following up with some earth manipulation, he blended ice with dirt and turned the ground into thick slurry. The tanks slowed to a crawl, leaving them vulnerable to rockets. Within a minute, they were blown apart after only firing out a few shells. But it had been this way on and off for the past hour now; whatever was lost was quickly replaced.

  “Didn’t know you were so decent at alchemagi,” Milla commented as she focused on cutting down incoming projectiles and spells with her vector lines. “You got a preference? Something you’re better at?”

  “Water and air techniques, somewhat. I’m trying to create an avalanche to bury them, but I don’t think I can muster it. If only Garder and Kamsa were here—or if I could borrow Temki…”

  The two looked over at the second group. Lechi was channeling her powers through Temki, greatly multiplying her otherwise weak iron spells. She was also focusing on defense, erecting walls of steel in front of advancing troops that were often blown apart moments later. Across from her was Wendell, who chose his targets and took down one soldier with one shot every ten seconds or so. Dak and Kyler used mind spells to stun soldiers with invisible mental blasts before taking them out with their rifles.

  “Mental warfare” was unorthodox and rarely used outside of the interrogation room, even by the Guard. But protecting I was deemed vital enough to call for it. The cousins’ spells were sometimes powerful enough to knock out their targets. Other times, during lulls in combat, they would attempt to hijack their enemies’ minds and make them attack one another.

  The City’s military force had been pushed back about a kilometer from their original defense point, and the outer light barrier of their home was almost at their backs. The Guard had begun a last-ditch final push and were sending in their remaining forces. The battlefield soon turned into a blizzard of activity, and with everything quickly becoming overwhelming, no one could absorb every little aspect of what was going on.

  Amid the noise, distinctive shots began ringing out. After the first barrage, the defenders noticed that several of their men had been killed despite the fact that they were supposed to be at a safe distance.

  “Dak!” Milla heard Kyler’s voice.

  She turned from behind the boulder she was using as cover to see Dak on the ground, his cousin near him. Pip took notice and joined them. After they lifted him, Milla could see that he had been hit in his right upper arm and was bleeding heavily. He fought the pain as Pip called for a medic.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “We’ve got snipers,” Milla said calmly through her radio. “Can someone find them and take them out? Everyone else, take cover. Until we get them—stay in cover.”

  “Got it,” Wendell replied. “I’ll see if I can spot them.”

  Lechi formed a thick steel barrier around her group to keep them safe while others rushed to cover. The soldiers that had been hit but not fatally crawled and rolled painfully across the ground, their moans echoing through the air. All Milla could do was stay behind her rock and feel the rumbling of the approaching army as the snipers kept them pinned.

  “Milla, this is something I can handle,” Shin came in. “But it requires some charge time, and I’m stuck out here with a platoon baring down on me. Need someone other than just Verim to cover me.”

  “Copy. I’m on my way.”

  “Sorry. Wouldn’t be like this if I didn’t always fight at the front…”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right there. Pip, is Dak okay?”

  “I think so, but he can’t concentrate is his state. If Shin can take care of the snipers, I think we’d be able to stop them here. They’re relying on those riflemen out there for this final push.”

  Milla took a deep breath and began her trek towards Shin and Verim, who were trapped at the army’s forward point. She ducked behind rocks, crawled through hastily made shallow trenches, and shifted her path whenever she could, but sniper fire followed her every step.

  As she drew near, she created tightly woven vector lines around her for protection. Some bullets hit the line and split in half, as others exploded in the dirt around her feet. One even managed to get through her defenses, only to end up hitting her single shoulder armor plate instead. The plate, really meant only for decoration, deformed and got covered in black soot. Milla skidded to a halt near Shin and caught her breath moments later.

  “Thanks for showing up,” Shin greeted, Verim hunkered down at her side. “How far is the next wave?”

  After peeking out from the boulder, Milla replied, “Hundred feet.”

  “Should be enough time. Okay, hold on…”

  Shin went into a trance state and kept both hands firmly on her sword. Electricity shimmered down its edge every few seconds, but it didn’t seem as if Shin was doing much, if anything at all.

  “What’s she prepping?” Milla asked.

  “Lightning Delta,” Verim replied. “A technique her clan developed. First, she’s locating the snipers by reading the electrical signals in the area.”

  “I get it. Our bodies emit pulses. Is she… finding those?”

  “Yeah, but that’s only half of it… If she can get a clear lock on unmoving targets, she can… Well, just watch. It’s pretty amazing.”

  Shin opened her eyes about ten seconds later, lowered her sword to combat ready, and then disappeared in a flash of light. Milla watched a trail of lightning darting off to a distant boulder, where it exploded into a bolt of indigo and then shot across the air again. She struck at another rock, and then did so again a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth time; each attack one right after the other, and followed by a booming crack in the air. Shin returned after the sixth strike, completely exhausted.

  “That was amazing,” Milla murmured.

  “Y-yeah… took ‘em all out…”

  “Multiple strike, partial elemental travel attack,” Verim explained. “She locks onto targets, goes to them, takes them out, continues.”

  “Like a bouncing arc of lighting,” Milla replied and spoke into her radio. “Snipers are down. I want full power on the remaining units.”

  The only reply was the sound of synchronized alchemagi of all alignments being fired outward. The ground was ripped apart, taking with it soldiers and tanks despite their protective shields. With the enemy being so close, Milla, Shin, and Verim were right in the thick of it. They made haste to retreat back to the others as the battlefield was demolished behind them.

  “Pip, what’s our status?” Milla asked over the thunder.

  “Dak’s patched up, but we’ve lost about half the force. We only had about sixty men to begin with… so I think this was a good effort.”

  “I’ll be right there. Hold on.”

  The sky full of color and smoke, Milla regrouped with the others as they condensed and fell back towards the City while covering their front. The enemy tanks, overwhelmed by the pounding alchemagi, fired on I in desperation. The facades of abandoned skyscrapers exploded into flaming debris, but by this point in the City’s evacuation, any damage was trivial.

  “The Guard doesn’t seem well equipped for these big battles,” Pip commented. “All of those tanks were mostly for show of force once. They just can’t stand up to alchemagi barrages… Milla, we’re falling back to the City now. I figure we can stop them completely if they try to come in.”

  The radios fizzed, and the voice of a sentry posted at one of I’s bordering towers came in with a report. “Lieutenant Montag, the enemy is retreating. The tanks are just trying to cover the foot soldiers.”

  “Retreating? Are you sure?”

  “Definitely, sir. Unless they’re regrouping elsewhere.”

  “Well… copy that. Thank you.”

  “Why would they retreat? They still outnumber us,” Milla asked.

  “Unclear,” the sentry replied. “Maybe the other battalion failed.”

  “Garder and Kamsa? They stopped the other army alone?”

  “We don’t know yet what’s going on over there. Hold on, I think I’m getting our first report… wait a minute… Okay, the other force is led by two—or more—pretorians. Trying to get some names…”

  “Pretorians,” Pip muttered into the radio. “Figures. The forward assault was probably diversionary.”

  “What do we do, sir?”

  “Get everyone on the City border on the other side.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll work with the other sentries to get our men placed.”

  “There’s no way we’ll make it out there in time…” Pip groaned as he watched Dak being taken away via stretcher. “I’m more concerned for Kamsa, Garder, and Jeryn. They’re out there with at least two pretorians.”

  “My group will go after them,” Milla said. “We’ve stood up to pretorians before, and we can get there more quickly than your men.”

  “They could be in great danger,” Shin stated. “They’re all that stand in the way of a pretorian-led battalion. We’ve got to move out right away.”

  “I understand,” Pip replied. “Thanks for your help on this side. We’ll keep in touch.”

  “Good luck to you and the wounded,” Milla said. “Sorry that we’ve got to separate, but we can’t waste any time.”

  Pip nodded and turned to leave.

  “Shin, Verim, Wendell—on me. Everyone else, go to Tess’ place.”

  “Got it,” Xavier replied. “Good luck, Milla. Bring them back.”

  “Don’t worry. I will.”

  Kamsa fought with a determination and power Garder didn’t think that she could possess. Growing mounds of blown apart armor were strewn across the battlefield ahead, alongside smoldering tanks and impact craters.

  She was a beast with air and water. She generated waves of piercing air, turned ice into spears, blasted out frozen shrapnel, made avalanches bury entire platoons, and did all of this while deflecting projectiles and alchemagi. No matter what the army did, they progressed little through the narrow pass, and the buildup of debris only slowed them further.

  But Garder found that he couldn’t fight. He only ever countered someone that directly threatened him or otherwise simply managed to get too close to the pair. He weakly held his sword out in front of him as he looked over at Kamsa and observed the brutality she was unleashing. There was no doubt left in his mind that she was built as a weapon, and until a powerful alchemagist dueled her directly, she would continue to decimate the slow-moving army that was little more than a giant, metal target.

  It didn’t matter where she targeted, as every time she did something, another group of soldiers met their end. Sometimes, she created a fatal explosion of air just a dozen meters away to clear the approaching soldiers and tanks. Other times, she unleashed whatever deadly spell she felt like right in the middle of a large group. Whenever a tank shell came her way, she deflected or redirected it. They would detonate in the air, or drop straight down and erupt into flame, blasting soldiers into orange smoke.

  The enemy had become little more than a mass of a thousand men trying desperately to get through a bottle. Garder could see that they were doing little more than lining up for their turn to be slaughtered.

  Kamsa, looking over at his wide eyes even as she continued her assault, asked simply, “Garder, what are you doing?”

  “I… I can’t do this…”

  “Why not?”

  “They’re just being butchered. I… can’t participate in that.”

  “This is your enemy! They would show you equal mercy.”

  “What is this, Kamsa? You call this combat? You fire off another round of your overpowered spells, and another twenty men die helplessly.”

  “This is warfare. This is my training. Just because you have the advantage does not mean you owe your enemy their own.”

  “There’s nothing right or just about this… It’s just the murder of hundreds of human beings…”

  “They all chose to join the Guard. And they knew what it meant when their officers ordered them to come here and go up against a pretorian. Their superiors are responsible for such losses.”

  “I thought you said I taught you how to feel, Kamsa.”

  “You did.”

  “Then do you feel no remorse for this?”

  “I do. I am sorry for them, but that is no excuse to back down until they surrender. The entire City is at stake here. I am fighting for innocent people on the other side.”

  “I know… It’s just… Well, you know how I think…”

  “You try to see the middle ground. I respect that. But we can’t negotiate our way out of this. It’s them or us.”

  “You’re… you’re scaring me. I had no idea you were so strong.”

  “Yes, but it is not limitless. I will tire soon. You must assist me. Please, Garder. Just until reinforcements come. People are relying on us.”

  “Damn it…” Garder moaned. “I hate battles… I hate war.”

  “I know. But what will change here, right now, just because you feel that way?”

  He sighed and reluctantly unleashed his own powers against the approaching army, though he barely had his heart in it. He released blades of air with his sword, effortlessly taking out at least a dozen men who had little defense against the penetrating weapon. He did it several more times, each instance making him feel sicker inside. He didn’t want to become a mass murderer, and he feared that if Kamsa continued down this path, that all of his progress with her would be lost; that she’d stop feeling altogether.

  Suddenly, the two noticed that the army had ceased their attempts to move forward. They instead condensed and treated their wounded, while the forward units stood completely still, as if awaiting an order. The air fell into an ominous silence. There was a presence, but with Kamsa so focused on the battle, she wasn’t even aware of it.

  “What are they doing?” Garder asked.

  “Perhaps they are surrendering…”

  “I hope so.”

  Kamsa looked over at Garder. “We should speak to them.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I will not fire upon them so long as they are not being aggressive.”

  “Then… then talk to them. Tell them to retreat if you can. They know what you can do… maybe they finally came to their senses.”

  Kamsa nodded, turned back to the battalion, and called out to them, “Noble Guardsmen, I ask that you throw down your weapons and fall back. This City will not be yours. It is time to—”

  Garder felt a tingle of energy streak right by him, coupled with a vibrant flash in the corner of his eye. At first, it didn’t seem like anything of importance. But then he experienced rising disbelief as he looked at Kamsa.

  She was bleeding. But from where, or how badly, he couldn’t tell at first. She placed her hand on her bloodstained chest, where she had been punctured cleanly by some kind of precision weapon.

  She stared at the blood in her hand as it weren’t her own, and then turned around weakly—as did Garder. All was silent. Neither could understand the gravity of what had just happened until they saw her.

  Cloaked in solid black and standing in a military pose was Trinqit. Three fingers were extended at her side, while the palm of her other hand was open and facing Kamsa.

  “L-Lady Trinqit?” Kamsa murmured.

  Trinqit replied with a second attack. A small vector mandala formed in her palm, shrunk into a small sphere, and then shot outward in a solid beam of bright blue. The line streamed right through Kamsa’s side as if she weren’t even in its way. She gasped lightly, stumbled forward a bit, and then fell to her knees. Trinqit still said nothing, and released her hands and crossed her arms while glaring at her former subordinate.

  Garder finally snapped out of his trance, realizing in full what he had just witnessed. With no regard to Trinqit or the quiet army behind him, he quickly lowered himself and caught Kamsa as she fell towards the ice.

  The army didn’t cheer, and Trinqit didn’t offer any remarks. Maybe they were all taking the moment to lament what had just happened.

  “Garder… Lady Trinqit… no longer sees me as valuable,” Kamsa said with a blank stare. “But… I suppose she had already decided that…”

  “Kamsa, don’t speak! Your wounds are… they’re bad, but you’re hardly bleeding.”

  “Vector mostly cauterizes on contact… it sees much use in the field when the capturing of prisoners is required… But if it hits vital…”

  “Shut up! Stop talking like that!”

  “Garder, I am sorry… I have troubled you…”

  “Just shut up!” Garder teared up and held onto Kamsa tightly. “You’re not going to die on me! I promise!”

  “I have troubled you…” Kamsa repeated with no emotion.

  For a moment, time froze on the battlefield. Everything around the two disappeared, and only they existed. He could feel her life’s energy flowing through him, and he knew that she was going to be all right. His team had gotten through worse, he thought to himself. He could get her to Earth and go to Hold’s kingdom with her. If he couldn’t manage that, then he’d make sure that her wounds were treated right away.

  He had too many excuses against her departing. As far as he could see and believe, there was no reason for these moments to be her last.

  Garder knew it. Losing Kamsa was an absolute impossibility.

  The atmosphere had been reduced to little more than heat and flame. Palar’s rock spires put out Jeryn’s fire, only to be repeatedly lit ablaze and turned against their creator as miniature meteors. The landscape had been become a wasteland devoid of water. Jeryn’s heat cloak had burnt off long ago, and Palar’s ax had been blackened by the flames it had absorbed.

  As much as Jeryn tried to hit Palar, every attack had been avoided or consumed by his weapon. Three massive craters from Palar’s charged up attacks dotted the expansive battlefield, and with both duelists at their limits, the end of the battle was likely coming quickly.

  Palar removed his torn-up mask and breathed deeply as he and his foe took a brief respite. With the airship’s sun umbrella out of range, both of them had multiple targets: their opponent, or their pair of sunlamps; crushing both would mean instant disintegration by the haze. And with one of his lamps having been crushed under Palar’s ax earlier on, Jeryn was already one down. Unlike the incident in the Sahara, they were fighting for their lives, and Palar was pulling ahead of Jeryn—who was starting to accept that he had no trump card or way of escape this time around.

  “Time to end this…” Palar huffed.

  He planted his ax into the ground and used some basic manipulation to bury it underneath the earth. He then raised three fingers to his chest and stared down Jeryn with his large, sharp eyes.

  “I never got much of a chance to use my alchemagi last we met.”

  “Because you prefer not to,” Jeyrn replied. “It was always that oversized cudgel with you, Palar… Why let it rest?”

  “You have nothing to counter it, and I wish to battle you as an equal. For the first time, I will go all out on someone with alchemagi alone.”

  “Very well…” Jeryn said and removed his goggles. “Then let’s—”

  Jeryn could already feel the gravity under him—Palar was using any means to destroy him, however dishonorable they may be. But now knowing what his technique could do, Jeryn reacted before it got worse.

  Using his left hand, he used an earth-shattering spell to break apart the ground, disrupting the well. He condensed a mound of rock together to form a spire under him, using it to rocket himself upward to brief safety.

  Before he took to the air, Jeryn took out half of his oil spheres—six in all—and threw them down into the pit of broken rock. They burst open, releasing the pressurized oil and spreading it all over.

  Using his right hand to duel cast, he lit the oil ablaze, and clumped the rocks together to form a pile of burning rocks. He landed right in the center of the pit, took control of them, and launched them into the air before bringing them down at Palar in a volcanic-like storm.

  Jeryn was truly pushing his limits by this point, and knew that he couldn’t waver from his efforts in the slightest. He watched as Palar evaded most of the meteoric storm, blocked some rocks with slabs of stone, and took control of others to drop them from the sky—all at the same time.

  Seeing that he had a chance to overwhelm Palar, Jeryn released the meteors from his grasp, which didn’t change their trajectories and speed. He took out his second pouch where the remaining six oil capsules were kept, threw them in front of him, and detonated the batch at close range.

  The result was a wall of flame that blasted outward like it would from the bottom of a rocket. The heat was so intense that Jeryn had to partially change his body to fire for elemental travel to avoid being burned. He whipped out his javelin, ignited it, and entered the fiery jet.

  The world inside the intense plume was one of pure flame. In the hellish sky, the meteors were turning molten. Jeryn sought out Palar as he navigated the inferno—and he was easy to find.

  Palar had covered himself in rock for protection, and was entirely encompassed in a black mineral similar to volcanic stone. Just as the flame jet began to dissipate, Jeryn slammed his javelin into the mound of obsidian. It punctured straight through to the other side, and for a moment, he thought about the possibility that he had just achieved victory.

  But it didn’t last long. As the flames died out, he saw the other mounds of nearly identical rock formations; seven in all, each spaced out equally. He pulled out his javelin. It didn’t have a drop of blood on it.

  Drained and exhausted, he couldn’t react in time to the spire of rock that had just sprung up from the nearly molten ground under him. It wrapped tightly around his left arm, immobilizing him.

  The seven mounds of obsidian broke apart and scattered. It turned out that Palar had shielded himself in the mound farthest from the center. With steam rising from the cooling landscape, Palar calmly walked up to Jeryn, struggling to free himself. He tried combating the control Palar kept on the spire, but he simply didn’t have enough energy left to override it.

  “You always had a tendency to overdo everything,” Palar stated. “The beauty of alchemagi, is that it can work efficiently via simplicity. You think that by going ‘all out’ assures you a victory? No. You just tire yourself and let your enemy act decisively. That isn’t what real alchemagi combat is about. If I wanted to see a performance, I’d have paid a visit to the arena.”

  Jeryn said nothing, only focusing on his efforts to free himself from the rock that kept him trapped. Palar laughed at his struggle.

  “I certainly wasn’t going to let you get me in the back again, sir. Sad thing watching someone as talented as yourself fail. I don’t think you’re going to be rejoining us after all.”

  Palar tensed his arm muscles, and Jeryn could do nothing but brace for the coming pain. The rock spire hardened to a crushing pressure, sending a wave of agony up to his neck as his bones turned into dust. In seconds, he felt no pain in his arm at all, and he had to turn his focus away from it. He didn’t want to think about what it looked like.

  “That takes care of your dual-casting.”

  Palar finally released the spire, bringing more pain to Jeryn. With teeth clenched, he tried to keep himself from falling over as he used his good arm to move his mangled one under his robes and fasten it down. Blood dripped from the limb, soaking his clothes and the ground below. He took a few steps forward, only to fall on his knees onto the searing earth.

  “Come on, surely you have more left in you? You didn’t dual cast against me last time, and you still won. What’s the difference now?”

  “You…” Jeryn groaned. “I have to kill you…”

  “I thought all that mattered to you was Drides. Did that change?”

  “No… all that matters… All that matters to me is my friends…”

  Jeryn got his feet and looked around at the charred landscape. He couldn’t comprehend how he had carried around with him such strength all of this time, only to have the knowledge of it lost. If his friends could see him now, they would certainly realize that he was no ordinary person.

  “As a fellow pretorian, I will grant you an honorable death.”

  “I’m not like you anymore. Rivia had me protect some important people… who now mean a great deal to me. I am them. I am not you.”

  “How nonsensical. I think that’s the blood loss talking.”

  “I care for those people. You have no idea how hard it was for me to attack Garder like I did… If I fail to kill you now, then he will never know the truth. I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.”

  “You’re on the verge of death, yet wish to prolong your suffering?”

  “This isn’t suffering… This is willpower…” he said defiantly. “I have the will power to stop you from doing all of this to others. If I can’t defend them anymore… If I can’t stop Drides… Then at least you’re here.”

  “Very well,” Palar sighed. “Then show me what you can do with a broken body and this so called will. I’ll grant you the chance.”

  Fighting great pain, Jeryn felt a second wind arrive and vowed to continue—even if all he could do was restore the respect of his comrades.

  “Reht Palar!” he shouted. “Your superior commands you to die!”

  Palar stared at him, and had to take a step back. The ferocity in his eyes alone was a power itself. This was not the man that he once knew. His memories may have returned, but the old Jeryn had not.

  And because of that, Palar’s expectations no longer had meaning. Jeryn was capable, for one moment in time, of anything and everything.