Emil

  Anna lost.

  Emil let out a sigh to lament her elimination.

  As much as he wanted to believe in his friend, this was the expected outcome. Liesel was just too formidable—the gulf between their abilities were too wide to be bridged by the rules of the Clash of Dawn alone.

  Regardless, he had the utmost respect for Anna’s tenacity. She had pushed herself to absolute limits, managed to find a single opening to victory, and tried her best to seize that chance. She came up short, but she spared no efforts and did everything she could. Undoubtedly, her showing today would have garnered some interest and attention from those in attendance.

  Liesel was headed to finals. She’ll be his last opponent—if he manages to overcome today’s matchup.

  I got lucky that I didn’t have to face her in the semifinals.

  As Melody introduced him to the Nautilus, Emil recited his objectives in his head.

  Gain access to the Consortium. Identify individuals affiliated with the Hidden Laboratories and find evidence to expose the insidious research being done in Azure City.

  If he wanted to make major strides towards his mission, he had to win today.

  If he wanted to keep Mia and Raz alive, he must be victorious.

  He thought back to that incident where everything changed. He pictured the worse case scenarios—Raz succumbing to his injuries and Mia left to fend for herself on the streets.

  I’m so close. I have to win.

  He stepped into the ring to thunderous applause. He closed his eyes briefly, settling himself into this boisterous environment. Soon, the cacophony of fanfare became subdued—muted. Emptying himself of all doubts and lingering thoughts, Emil fixated on his sole purpose for being here.

  There are no other options. There are no outs. No second chances. No backup plans.

  Desperation clawed along his back, haunting his subconscious like the wails of spectres and ghosts. Emil lowered his stance, ready to fight. His hands were outstretched, fingers quivering with anticipation. His eyes dilated with an intense focus as he eyed at his opponent across the stage.

  The only choice is to win.

  Failure was not allowed.

  Rory

  The field of the Nautilus suddenly grew tense. Rory felt shivers race down his spine as his instincts suddenly flared with danger. The source of his distress was his opponent—Emil Milligan. The protagonist of this Clash of Dawn was glaring daggers at him. A palatable bloodlust radiated in his savage gaze. His stance lacked the refinement of nobility, but the barbaric nature of it was no less threatening.

  Stop it.

  Rory admonished himself. He realized his hands were trembling.

  I cannot lose here.

  There was so much on the line. His dignity. His reputation. His purpose as the Second Prince of Ardair. For a chance to reclaim his marriage to the Ice Maiden of Belle, he cannot lose this match. To avoid embarrassing the royal family and earning the ire of his brother, he must not be eliminated.

  The announcer’s voice rang through the raucous colosseum. Rory bent his knees, gritted his teeth, and hovered his hand towards his side as if ready to draw a sword.

  The match began.

  His opponent immediately sprinted towards the center of the field. Rory channeled mana.

  “To me!”

  The air snapped with the cackle of mana as a majestic sword engraved with the royal family crest manifested into his hands.

  Rory von Astrea’s Gift was called Graveyard of Swords. A poetic name chosen by himself to signify his love for the mystifying art of swordplay. So strong was his obsession that his Gift inevitably took the form of his passion when he awakened.

  Emil suddenly screeched to a halt.

  Why did he stop?

  Rory raised an eye, confounded by his opponent’s decision. Emil’s strength as a monstrous combatant in close quarters was well-known at this point. Rory’s strategy for this fight had been to stay out of Emil’s range. Despite his desire to show off his splendid swordplay, he was not so prideful to willingly challenge his opponent where they were the strongest.

  The outcome of Gaius’s match replayed in his head—a somber remainder what would happen if he were to underestimate his opponent.

  Mana coalesced around Emil’s arms.

  “Fragment!” he shouted as he swung his arm upwards in a wide crescent.

  A chunk of earth from the Nautilus field suddenly separated from the floor, pried away as if it had been dragged by an invisible hand. As Emil reached the apex of his swing, the stone fragment flew, barreling towards Rory.

  “Sharpen!” Rory yelled, injecting his blade with a coat of mana.

  He brought his sword down, right as the stone missile entered his vicinity. Strengthened by mana, his sword cleaved through the projectile like butter.

  Shrapnel burst from the broken fragment. Rory narrowed his eyes, flinching at the shards—perplexed. This was the first time in the Clash of Dawn that Emil demonstrated this sort of ranged attack.

  He changed his approach! Was he hiding his potential this entire time?

  It didn’t make any sense. His match with Gaius was absurdly close—Emil would have to be a madman to be hiding his ability at this stage of the tournament.

  Emil didn’t give him any more time to think. More fragments were flung in his direction in quick bursts. Rory swung without rest to fend off the attacks. His wrist was already beginning to throb, battered by the repeated clash against the weight and momentum of the heavy chunks of rock.

  He’s not stopping.

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  Rory jumped back, conceding his position. Indignation burned in his throat at the shame of retreating. He lashed out his off-hand, drawing a circular array around his body.

  Swords morphed out of thin air, forming a lattice construct above his head.

  “Sword rain!”

  The swords meticulously fired one-by-one like arrows, clashing against Emil’s stone projectiles head-on.

  The crowd roared at the tantalizing exchange.

  “What a spectacle! Emil has completely changed his style for the semifinal of the Clash of Dawn! With the unveiling of his new ability, Rory is forced on the backfoot as he tries to match Emil’s attacks blow for blow!”

  Rory winced as the latest stone fragment exploded in his face. He waved his hand, trying to push away the heavy cloud of dust blocking his field of view. Meanwhile, his ears suddenly caught the rush of another missile hurtling towards him.

  He was forced to take another step back to evade the oncoming blast of rock.

  I’m slowly getting pushed back.

  Rory clicked his tongue. The startling realization crept in. Sweat drenched the side of his neck from the relentless pressure. It was becoming obvious that he was outmatched at range.

  I don’t have a good way to defend against his attacks. It takes two swords of mine to destroy one of his stones. And while I have to create the swords manually from mana, all he has to do pry a chunk of the field away and throw it.

  The complexity of the phenomenon led to the difference in the speed of their attacks.

  My only solace is that his range is more limited. His effective range seems to be twenty meters, while my attacks can go double that twice. However—

  He glanced back in his periphery. The edge of the Nautilus field was just few steps away. There was almost no more room to retreat.

  I don’t have a choice anymore.

  He had to do something drastic to flip the pressure. Emil had all the momentum right now—sooner or later, Rory will be forced into an impossible situation.

  “En garde!” Rory cried as he stabbed his sword into the ground.

  Pockets of mana emerged along the surface. From them, a field of swords phased into existence—implanted into the space before him in a dense array. The array of swords formed into a formidable construct, serving as a makeshift shield to block Emil’s oncoming attacks. This wasn’t how this ability was meant to be used, but Rory had no other options if he wanted to buy time.

  As soon as his makeshift shield was created, he discarded the sword in his hand and raised his arms skyward. Mana surged out of his brooch, condensing rapidly in his palms.

  Emil wasted no time. The rock bombardments continued to rain down, peppering the shield of swords ferociously. In an instant, the fickle shield was smashed apart by the relentless blows. Shrapnel flew, grazing the sides of Rory’s cheeks, torso, and legs. It burned. The ferric taste of blood smeared the top of his lips. His legs buckled at the sudden agony screeching in his thighs.

  No matter!

  He gritted his teeth, bearing the pain, staring at the oncoming barrage aimed at his head. His sword of shield barely brought a second, but a second was all he needed.

  “Excalibur!”

  The mana gathered in his palms shot upwards, manifesting into a colossal azure blade. Without hesitating, he swung. The sword arced down from the skies, descending rapidly as it gained speed and momentum. The bombardment of rocks threatening his defeat were obliterated without resistance. The colossal blade of mana continued to fall, until it struck the Nautilus field.

  Shockwaves surged from the epicenter of the sword strike. The entire stadium seemed to tremble as gasps and cries rippled through the crowd. The mana blade extended nearly over the half of the length of the battlefield. Dust and sand suffused the air, displaced by the aftermath of the enormous attack, shrouding the field in a dense veil.

  Rory heaved, his chest scalding as the ethereal blade faded from his hands. Excalibur consumed an absurd amount of mana to create. The result was undoubtedly effective, but it always left him in a vulnerable state. He winced, trudging forward, trying to take back the space that he conceded during the initial exchange against Emil.

  Did I get him?

  The sandy veil obfuscated most of his surroundings. Rory couldn’t no see more than several feet in his immediate vicinity.

  No, the announcer’s silent. She would have definitely said something by now if I knocked him out. But maybe, in this sand—

  Footsteps suddenly thundered to his left. Rory spun towards the direction of the sound and swiped the air. A sword manifested above his head and slashed at the area of the footsteps.

  Nothing. A dull clank of steel against stone resounded.

  In the corner of his eyes, a silhouette suddenly lunged from the veil. Dread seized the back of his neck as Rory threw himself to the ground in a panic. Emil’s punch blasted through the sand, striking the air with a resounding force that stirred the shroud clear.

  How did he get behind me?!

  Rory couldn’t reconcile the difference between the footsteps he heard and Emil’s sudden emergence. Nor did he have the time. Emil continued his relentless pursuit. Like a predator, he pounced, lashing out with another violent hook. Still struggling to get on his feet, Rory tossed his head back in desperation.

  The punch never came.

  Huh?

  Emil’s attack stopped short. A feint. Now caught off-balance, Rory was suddenly helpless as his opponent unleashed a vicious jab.

  Blood sprayed. Pain exploded from his nose. Tears drenched his eyes as his skull rattled from the heavy blow. Rory grimaced, seeing stars, until Emil once again filled his vision.

  “Enough!”

  He swiped his arms across his chest. A sword morphed into his grasp—extending his reach. With an ironclad grip, Rory swung the sword with reckless abandon, frantically trying to push Emil back and create some semblance of space.

  Squelch!

  His sword suddenly stopped—stuck in place. The edge of the blade was embedded into Emil’s left arm. Rory’s eyes widened with disbelief. Rather than dodge out of the way, his opponent decided to take the hit head-on to continue his onslaught. With his sword jammed, Rory watched as Emil stomped forward to deliver the finishing blow.

  “Sword rain!” he yelled as he jumped backwards.

  His head throbbed as mana was pried out of his Azurite brooch. Azure bloomed above him, creating a garden of swords. Like a flooded river, the swords poured out of the blue light.

  Emil immediately pressed his hands against the earth.

  “Bastion!” Rory overheard the chant amidst the chaotic stream of metal whizzing by his ears. A crude fortification of stone erupted out of the ground in the path of the flying swords. A melodic crunch rang through the air as the swords buried deep into the stone bastion. Any damage to the bastion’s integrity were instantly restored from Emil’s mana.

  Realizing the futile effort, Rory ceased his attack. Silence. Finally, there was a lull from Emil’s relentless pressure. He grabbed his head, feeling the onset of Overclock. Not good. He was near his limits.

  His desperate use of Excalibur to end the fight early sorely backfired. Emil was ready for it. Rory began to regret his outburst during the quarterfinals. Excalibur wasn’t necessary to defeat his quarterfinal opponent, but his heightened emotions had gotten the best of him. If he was of sound mind, he would have kept his trump card closer to heart.

  Damn you, Liesel.

  He cursed his ex-fiancée for delivering the shocking news to him on the night before the Clash of Dawn’s knockout rounds. The timing was too convenient—almost as if she was aiming for his humiliating downfall from the very beginning.

  Stop it. It’s not over yet.

  He conjured another sword in his hand, grimacing as his head protested the use of mana. The field remained quiet. His line of sight from Emil was cut off by the stone bastion. The sand in the air was gradually dissipating. Rory cautiously approached the bastion this time, looming in silence. Finally, he managed to reset the momentum of the fight. He had to go on the offensive.

  Slowly, he crept up against the stone fortification. He poked his head around the corner. Empty. Emil was nowhere to be seen. Sensing danger, Rory immediately turned his body on a swivel, unleashing a desperate swing behind him. Emil was there, stalking close. The boy dipped his head as Rory’s sword cleaved the air, smashing into the stone bastion.

  Rory immediately abandoned the sword and conjured another one. He dashed in, a rabid look on his face as he swung with a maniac fervor. Despite his desperation, his movements were short and concise. His body naturally settled into his years of training—keeping the sword close to the center, while delivering short jabs and thrusts to keep his opponent overwhelmed. The result was evident. Emil was suddenly on the backfoot, ducking and evading, unable to get an attack in.

  A familiar pattern was starting to emerge. Anticipating Emil’s next move, Rory lashed out with his off-hand. A sword emerged in his left as he aimed at Emil’s torso.

  Thud!

  His wrist throbbed. His attack suddenly bounced off, colliding against a layer of stone that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Did he expect me to attack there?! Rory was reeling—the loss of momentum was fatal as Emil immediately seized back the initiative with a stomp. A stone column protruded beneath his foot, forcing him to step back and yield the space.

  “Fragment!” Emil screamed.

  Expecting another barrage of stones to arrive, Rory pushed off to the side. The ground where he was supposed to land suddenly cratered instead. Stepping into empty air, he was caught off-balance as he stumbled onto the field. Confused, he noticed the faint trace of mana below his foot. The stone barrage from Emil never arrived.

  He tricked me!

  The “fragment” chant was another feint. Realizing that he had been duped, Rory could only watch as Emil pounced with a raised fist.