Rudeus took a step back.
His focus narrowed. Everything else the flickering candles, Sylvia's motionless form, the damp stone walls all of it faded to background noise. There was only Glen now.
Glen raised his dagger.
The blade caught the candlelight, gleaming like a predator's tooth in the darkness. It was a simple weapon. But the way Glen held it made rudeus tense he could see the years of practice in his hold. An assassin could turn a spoon into a deadly weapon.
This guy's a killer definitely.
Glen took a step forward then he launched. It was fast—!
Rudeus's hand shot out on instinct. Mana poured from his palm, hitting the ground directly in Glen's path. Ice spread across the stone floor in a crystalline sheet, turning the surface into a deadly skating rink.
Glen's foot came down on the ice.
And stomped hard. The ice shattered like glass. Shards exploded outward, glittering in the candlelight as Glen's momentum barely faltered. He kept coming, his grin widening.
"Shit!"
Rudeus backpedaled, his mind racing. He just broke through that like it was nothing and kept running. How strong is this bastard?
Rudeus had no time to think. He thrust both hands forward no, one hand, always one hand, he had forgotten for a bit.
He unleashed a barrage. Water bullets materialized in rapid succession, each one compressed and spinning like a drill bit.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Glen weaved.
Left. Right. Duck. Slide. Each movement was minimal and efficient, just barely enough to let the bullets whistle past. They struck the walls behind him, exploding into mist.
"That little trick won't work again," Glen said, his voice light, almost playful. "You'll have to do better than—"
Rudeus didn't let him finish. If water won't work, then
He shifted his stance, changed the mana circulation, felt the element transform in his mental grip. The air around his hand began to shimmer with heat. A fireball formed, growing from marble-size to fist-size in the span of a heartbeat.
He fired.
The fireball screamed through the corridor, leaving a trail of superheated air in its wake.
Glen's eyes widened the first sign of genuine surprise Rudeus had seen on his face. He twisted mid-step, his body contorting at an angle that shouldn't have been possible, and the fireball sailed past close enough to singe his hair.
It detonated against the far wall in a burst of flame and smoke.
Glen landed in a crouch, perfectly balanced. "Close! Very close. But—"
A gust of wind slammed into him like a battering ram.
Rudeus had been gathering the spell while Glen was monologuing, condensing air into a concentrated blast. Glen's words cut off as he flew backward, arms pinwheeling, his smirk finally breaking into something like shock.
Got you.
Another fireball, already formed, already launched.
Glen saw it coming. Even off-balance, even in mid-air, he somehow twisted his body. The fireball passed beneath him, close enough that Rudeus could see Glen's clothes ripple from the heat. He flipped actually flipped and landed on his feet without so much as a stumble.
Not a scratch on him.
"You know," Glen said, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulders, "why don't you just use the blade? Make this fight interesting."
Rudeus's jaw clenched his mana felt strange he was reduced to using low level spells if he could he would've used gravity magic a long time ago or something to level this building.
Rudeus eyed The blade. Ghislaine's blade.
His left hand twitched toward his side, where the familiar weight rested against his hip. One draw. One strike. That's all it would take to—
No.
He couldn't. Wouldn't. Not unless there was absolutely no other choice. That blade was truly a fail safe if nothing else worked he could beat this bastard without it.
Drawing it meant admitting he was truly desperate.
And I'm not there yet. I can still fight. Glen charged again.
Rudeus's hand slammed into the ground. Mana surged downward, into the stone, reshaping it according to his will. The floor beneath Glen erupted in a forest of spikes dozens of them, each as thick as a spear shaft and wickedly pointed.
Glen's eyes flashed. His body blurred.
He dodged. Somehow. His feet found the gaps between spikes, his momentum carrying him forward in a zigzag pattern that should have been impossible to calculate at that speed.
How? How is he—
He had to focused Glen was almost on top of him.
Rudeus gathered mana. More than before. Much more than before. Wind began to flow in a rapid fashion his hair flapping.
He released it all at once.
A massive wave of fire erupted from his palm. Not a fireball. But a stream of fire , incinerating everything in its path.
The temperature spiked. Rudeus felt his own skin blistering from proximity to the spell, felt the air itself burning in his lungs.
Glen's eyes widened. Really widened this time.
The fire was too big to dodge.
He did the only thing he could he ran.
Straight at the wall.
His foot hit stone and he jumped, using his momentum to run along the vertical surface like gravity was merely a suggestion. The wave of fire chased him, licking at his heels, close enough that Rudeus could see smoke rising from Glen's boots.
Glen leaped to the opposite wall.
Rudeus tracked him, adjusted his aim, twisted his body to follow. The fire stream turned with him, a deadly spotlight searching for its target.
Glen bounced back to the first wall. Then the second. Then the ceiling, impossibly, defying every law of physics Rudeus understood.
He's toying with me. This bastard is actually messing with me.
I have to kill him this battle is going drag on too long my body might give out before it ends.
He stopped tracking. Instead, he spread his arm wide and poured fire everywhere.
The entire corridor became an inferno.
Flames covered every surface walls, floor, ceiling turning the space into the inside of a furnace. There was nowhere to dodge.
Nowhere to run. Only fire and more fire and the promise of death in every direction.
Glen's laughter cut through the roar of flames.
"And here I thought you were merciful!"
The fire parted.
Just… parted. By his blade like a curtain being drawn aside.
Glen burst through, wreathed in smoke but somehow not burning. His clothes were singed, his skin reddened, but he was grinning. Actually grinning as he slid under another gout of flame and closed the distance.
That should have killed him what power does he possess.
The dagger flashed.
Rudeus tried to dodge. His body screamed the command to move, to twist, to do anything.
But his legs wouldn't obey.
Too slow and too exhausted from maintaining that massive fire spell. His body had reached its limit and and now the bill was coming due.
The blade bit into his torso.
Pain exploded across his chest. Hot and sharp and it hurt like hell. Blood welled from the slash, soaking into his already filthy shirt.
My neck he was aiming for my neck
Rudeus had managed to dodge just enough. Just barely enough. Instead of a killing blow to the throat, Glen's blade had caught his chest. Deep, but not fatal at least not yet.
His hand came up on pure instinct. Mana gathered, compressing, condensing into a sphere no larger than his eye.
Glen's face was right there. Close enough to see the emptiness in those dead eyes. Their eyes locked for a second empty and blank eyes met both locked into an intense glare but at the same time their eyes radiated no emotion.
Rudeus released the spell point-blank.
The fireball was tiny. Condensed. All that power compressed into a space the size of a marble.
It hit Glen square in the chest.
The explosion threw him backward like a ragdoll. He flew across the corridor and slammed into the far wall with a crack that echoed through the space. Stone cracked. Dust rained down from the ceiling.
Rudeus collapsed to his knees. It hurt God, it hurts so much.
The slash across his chest burned like someone had pressed a hot iron against his skin. Blood ran down his torso, pooling at his waist. His vision swam. His lungs couldn't seem to draw enough air.
Get up. I need to get up. He's not dead. That didn't kill him. Get UP—
Movement in the dust and smoke.
Glen emerged from the debris, slowly, almost leisurely. His chest was scorched, his clothes half-destroyed. But he was standing. Still smiling that horrible, empty and cold smile
"You barely survived death," Glen said, brushing stone dust from his shoulders like this was all just a minor inconvenience.
"Seems like you're on a lucky streak." He took a step forward, twirling his dagger. "Shall we try again?"
Rudeus's hand pressed against his wound. Blood seeped between his fingers.
I can't… I can't win like this.
His eye drifted to Sylvia's still form.
He was going to die. She wasn't awake to defend him, would he be able to save eris how could he fail so early.
Glen took another step closer.
I can't… I really cant I won't be able to see sylphie.
His left hand touched the blade at his side.
Ghislaine's blade.
The one he swore he wouldn't draw.
Glen's smile widened, as if he could read Rudeus's thoughts. "It's a pity you're going to die today."
The candles flickered.
Blood dripped onto stone.
And somewhere deep in Rudeus's chest, beneath the pain and exhaustion and fear, something hard and cold began to crystallize.
I'm sorry, Ghislaine. His fingers closed around the hilt.
But I don't have a choice anymore.