The plan was simple: Don't let him breathe.
Vael blinked—appearing mid-air above Oculor—and slashed downward. The rapier's edge whispered past the serpent's retreating skull, missing by a hair's breadth.
His Universal Imposition had saved him from certain damage.
No hesitation. Another blink.
This time, behind Oculor—
Strike.
A flash of steel. A hiss of parting scales.
The blade bit deep enough to draw first blood, a thin red line blooming across white scales before Oculor twisted away.
Vael pressed forward—
But the serpent recoiled, putting distance between them, refusing to be cornered.
The fight hung on a razor's edge. Both combatants bore wounds. Both mana pools flickered like dying embers.
Only one exchange remained.
Vael's fingers tightened around his rapier as he committed three-quarters of his remaining mana into the blade. The weapon thrummed with power, its aura crackling like contained lightning. What little mana remained would fuel his final movements.
His mind raced through possibilities—every feint, every angle Oculor might exploit.
The serpent made different calculations. A shimmering veil of mana wrapped around his scaled form—half his reserves spent on protection. The rest surged through his Mana Pathway ability, manifesting as Phantom Fangs—translucent, sickle-shaped extensions dripping with magical venom.
They circled.
The night air hummed with pent-up energy.
One clash would decide it all.
In an instant, both fighters erupted into motion.
Vael charged head-on—no teleportation—rationing his final drops of mana. Oculor surged forward to meet him.
Steel shrieked against scale—
Then Vael was gone, blinking away before the impact could register. He reappeared to the left, rapier already mid-strike—
But Oculor's Eye of the Wise flared for a split second. Predicted. The serpent contorted, suffering only a shallow cut as his tail lashed out like a whip.
Vael ducked—
—only for the Phantom Fangs to charge toward him, jagged mana constructs gleaming like shards of blood.
Too close to blink.
He rolled, sparing his reserves, then activated Spatial Awareness for the first time in the fight. The world fractured into overlapping dimensions—Oculor's mana outline, the arcing fangs—
And there.
A single, needle-thin mana fang, nearly invisible, drifting to his right. A trap.
Clever bastard.
Vael teleported skyward, leaving the fangs to snap at empty air. The decoy projectile fizzled harmlessly below.
"I've got you," he thought, plunging downward—
Then his leg buckled. A razor-thin cut traced across his thigh.
One. Last. Hidden. Fang.
Numbness spread like liquid ice. His muscles locked.
Thud.
Face-first in the dirt, paralyzed.
"Rookie mistake, Contractor." Oculor's voice slithered through their mental link as the serpent shrank back to eye-socket size. "I didn't need foresight to predict that teleport. You played right into my sharp tongue the moment you assumed victory."
Vael's jaw clenched. The forest had taught him better than this.
Seems he'd gotten a bit too cocky.
"The paralysis will fade in a minute," Oculor added, almost amused.
Silence followed. The night air carried the scent of trampled grass and iron.
A good fight.
A better lesson.