Arconis didn't possess any vision-enhancing abilities. But even without them, he knew how extraordinary Vael's feat was.
Mana constructs were exceedingly rare.
And Arconis would bet his life that Vael had pulled it off entirely on his own.
Crude as the design was, fragile enough to shatter against his beloved Yirda, it was still remarkable. Especially for a first attempt—under pressure, in the middle of combat.
The clash resumed. Arconis could have let Yirda's weight swell with Early Dawn, or ignored Vael's weapon altogether with Blood Moon.
But he didn't.
Why? Because he wanted to see where this would go.
The weapons collided. As expected, Vael's construct shattered on impact.
Predictable, thought Arconis with a smirk.
Until he felt a sting on his leg.
Shit. Forgot about that little bugger.
Oculor had sunk his fangs into him. Normally useless against his regeneration.
Only, this time, it wasn't.
Tiny, no bigger than a finger, the serpent bit again and again. Each bite enhanced with mana, tearing deeper.
Arconis' regeneration had one flaw: it could only begin once all the damage was taken.
Oculor intended to make that impossible.
Vael pressed forward bare-handed, keeping Arconis occupied. Not his specialty—he took more than a few cuts for it—but it was enough.
Meanwhile, Oculor burrowed into the widening wound, forcing his way through muscle, until he scraped bone.
Then he struck.
Like a bomb set to detonate.
The serpent expanded, swelling to ten centimeters thick and half a meter long.
And then—he exploded.
Not outward, but from within, his scales shooting upright, akin to a porcupine, every single one coated in mana.
"Thousand Blades."
The result?
Unimaginable pain.
Arconis was effectively stunned. Even he, who was more tolerant to pain than most, had to interrupt his attack, wincing in agony.
Blink.
A strike to the back of the leg, bringing Arconis down on one knee.
Blink.
Vael reappeared behind him, finally pulling his rapier out.
Oculor, however, still wasn't done.
The last gift was poison. Since he was already well integrated in Arconis' body, spreading it was a piece of cake.
The venom didn't aim to kill, nor to paralyze.
Its purpose was simpler, crueler—unending damage, eating away at flesh like acid.
With that task complete, Vael blinked Oculor out of Arconis' body before the healing could fully take hold. Already, the wound was knitting shut, muscle twisting to eject what remained of the toxin.
Time was slipping.
They had poured too much mana into this gambit to let it fade. Now came the payoff. The final offensive.
Arconis stood bloodied, his body marred by cuts, his weight resting on a single leg. Pain throbbed through him with every breath, every heartbeat. Still, he refused to falter. He knew just as well as they did—this clash had to end now.
Vael wasn't much better off. His body was a patchwork of cuts, blood staining his coat. Two fingers gone, his grip trembled with every motion. But he ignored the agony, forcing precision where his body faltered.
Oculor, by contrast, remained the least damaged. His scales were dulled and cracked, but his reserves still brimmed with mana. Enough for one last gambit.
'Eye of the Wise.'
The serpent's lone eye gleamed, threads of alien perception unfurling. Despite being the strongest piece on the board, Oculor chose not to strike. Not directly. Instead, he offered everything to Vael—clarity, foresight, understanding.
For the first time, Vael saw the battlefield as Oculor did. Every future, every action, movement…laid bare.
Like a God watching an ant.