Chapter 34 — Sylan Kyle Von Noctis vs Elias Vaughn, 3
The world broke apart in a flood of light.
Elias's sword came crashing down, trails of pure, glowing energy ripping through the air like cracks in the sky. The Radiant Severance roared as it fell—a beam of holy power that lit up the whole arena, hot and bright enough to burn away shadows. It wasn't just a swing; it was like the sun itself had been squeezed into that blade, turning the air thick with heat and a strange, buzzing hum that made the ground shake. The crowd went dead quiet for a split second, everyone holding their breath, eyes wide as the light swallowed everything in front of it. Sylan dug his feet into the sand and stone mix of the arena floor, knees bent, every muscle locked tight like a coiled spring. His sword was up, ready to block or dodge, but deep down, he knew this wasn't something you just pushed away. His heart hammered hard against his ribs, sweat stinging his eyes, but his mind stayed laser-focused—watch the swing, feel the air shift, move when it counts.
Then, in a blink, the light just... stopped.
Not blocked by his sword. Not dodged with some quick step.
Just gone. Like someone flipped a switch and erased it from existence.
Sylan blinked hard, his breath caught tight in his throat, chest burning from the effort. The huge stadium, with its towering marble walls carved like ancient beasts and banners whipping in the wind, faded out. The screaming crowd—thousands of faces twisted in shock, nobles in their fancy boxes clutching pearls and goblets, common folk on their feet with fists pumping—vanished like smoke. Even Elias, frozen mid-swing with that fierce look in his eyes and his sword arm locked back, blinked out of sight. A heavy silence wrapped around him, pressing in from all sides like being buried under a mountain of black cloth. He floated there, no weight pulling him down, no ground to plant his boots on. It was an endless black nothing, darker than the deepest cave at midnight, stretching out forever with no walls, no floor, no stars twinkling in the distance. Just pure, empty space that made his skin crawl. No echo of his breathing, no hum of magic in the air. Nothing.
Then a voice cut through the quiet, smooth and familiar in a way that twisted his gut.
"Soowhi... It's been a while since I last saw you here."
Sylvian's eyes narrowed to slits. His soldier's gut twisted with warning—danger close, get ready to move, scan for threats. But that name... it hit him like ice water dumped over his head. No one in this world knew that name. It was from before, from a life that got ripped away and thrown into this messed-up game. His blood turned cold, a chill running down his spine that had nothing to do with the empty dark.
"...Plague Doctor?" His words bounced back at him, echoing weirdly in the empty dark, like yelling into a bottomless pit. He spun around slow, scanning the blackness, his red eyes pushing against the nothing, hunting for any shape or movement. "What the hell am I doing here? Did that hit kill me? No, that can't be right. I felt it coming— I was ready."
A shape started to form out of the shadows, slow and deliberate, like ink spreading in water. It was a tall figure in a long, dark robe that hung loose like old funeral clothes, face hidden behind a creepy mask with a long, hooked beak like a plague doctor's from those old stories. The mask caught a faint glow, almost like it was laughing at him in the dark. The figure walked forward casual as anything, like there was solid ground under his feet even though Sylan couldn't see a thing, hands folded neat behind his back. His voice came out light and teasing, almost like a song from a twisted storyteller around a campfire, full of that mocking lilt that always set Sylvian's teeth on edge.
"No, no, no," the Plague Doctor said, shaking one gloved hand side to side like he was scolding a kid who spilled milk. The glove was leather, stained dark, and it moved with this lazy wave that felt way too calm for the situation. "You're not dead. Far from it—you're alive and kicking, heart beating strong, blood still pumping. I just... borrowed you for a second. Pulled you out of there like yanking a thread from a tapestry, zapped you here to this little pocket of nothing, you know, to say congrats. After all, it's not every day I drop someone into a world like this—full of scripted heroes and pretty plots—and watch them fight their way up so damn well, tooth and nail, no handouts."
Sylvian's jaw tightened, teeth grinding together hard enough to ache. He kept his stance loose but ready, fists clenched at his sides, even though there was no ground to fight on. "Congrats? For what? Getting my ass handed to me in front of half the empire?"
"Yes, yes!" The Doctor's voice got all excited, jumping up like a kid talking about his favorite toy, that singsong turning bubbly and fast. "I figured you'd make it through the early crap, sure— the weak kid routine, the family drama—but you've gone way beyond what I planned, Soowhi. You've got this loyal sidekick now, glued to your side like she's got nothing better to do—Virelle, right? Sweet kid, tough as nails. And that Crest? Oh man, you've locked down the biggest power-up in the whole story—the one thing even the big-shot guys with their perfect smiles or that shiny main girl with her destiny glow could never get their hands on. It's like you stole the keys to the kingdom while everyone else is still knocking on the door. It's perfect. Delicious, even. And today? Right in the thick of it, you went up against the hotshot Future Sword Saint—the guy's got a whole arc built around being unbeatable—without even tapping into the Crest. Just you, your sword, and that old soldier grit. Ha! That's why I dragged you here, mid-fight and all. To give you a little pat on the back. Good job, boy. Who's a clever pup?"
Sylvian's eyes felt like they were on fire, anger bubbling up hot in his chest, fists itching to swing even at empty air. But he kept his voice even, low and steady, like he was talking down a jumpy recruit in the middle of a firefight—calm words to keep the panic from spreading. "Got it. Flattery's nice, but I see through the crap. So let's skip the games and backhanded compliments. What do you really want from me this time? Another twist? Another test?"
The Plague Doctor tilted his head to one side, the beak of the mask shining dull in the faint light, like it was hiding a grin no one could see but everyone could feel. It was that same old trick—making you think he was your buddy while twisting the knife. "Ah, always cutting right to it, Soowhi. Never one for the pretty words or the slow build. Love that about you—keeps things spicy. Fine, no more fooling around. I'll give you a present. A new trick, fresh out of the workshop. Something made just for you—a perfect shield against Elias's big flashy move. It'll let you survive that Radiant Severance, no sweat. Hell, maybe even turn it back on him, give him a taste of his own light show. But..."
His voice dropped low all of a sudden, turning dark and biting, like a knife sliding out of its sheath slow and quiet, the edge catching just enough light to warn you. The singsong was gone; now it was all sharp edges, the kind of tone that made the hairs on your neck stand up.
"...don't go too far with it. Don't break him. Not right here, not right now in front of all those eyes. Shattering him completely—turning the golden boy into a broken mess—would mess up the whole story's rhythm, throw the balance off-kilter. And I've already bent things enough just to yank you in for this chat, twisting the threads of reality like a bad knot. Things have to stay balanced, see? The plot needs its heroes, its flow. Beat him? Sure, make him bleed a little respect. Destroy him? Nope. Leave some pieces for the next act."
Sylvian's mouth twisted into a flat smile, no real humor in it—just the cold pull of his lips, like he was tasting something bitter. He wasn't sure if it was gratitude or just another layer of the trap, but either way, he'd take the edge it gave him. "Yeah... thanks, I guess? For the heads-up and the cheat code."
The Plague Doctor threw his arms out wide, like he was showing off a miracle to a doubtful crowd, his voice booming now like he was preaching from some old stone pulpit, full of that dramatic flair that made everything feel bigger than it was. The robe billowed around him, even though there was no wind, shadows playing tricks at the edges.
"Feast your eyes, then! The gift I hand you straight from the shadows: The Void Who Devours Both Light and Darkness! It's pure nothing—a hungry emptiness that eats up light and shadow the same way, no favorites. A black hole mouth that swallows everything in its path, no questions asked. Grab it, Soowhi. Take it deep and show me how much you can shake up this tiny little world—push it, bend it, make it scream."
The blackness around them shook hard, like the whole empty space was cracking at the seams. Dark swirls spun up fast around Sylan, pulling in tight and tight, like a star sucking itself inside out in one big crunch. It tugged at his clothes, his skin, making his ears pop from the pressure. But in the middle of that crush, something weird flickered to life—bits of golden morning light flashing quick and bright, deep night shadows twisting and fighting like they were alive, both getting gobbled up whole by a hunger that didn't make a lick of sense. It wasn't just power; it felt alive, wrong, like staring into a crack in the universe. The emptiness pushed into his blood slow at first, then all at once—heavy like lead weights dragging him down, going on forever without end, scary as hell because it whispered that nothing could stand against it. His veins burned, his chest tightened, and for a second, he wondered if this "gift" would eat him too.
And then—
Snap. The world rushed back in like a slap.
WHHRRROOOMMMMM!
The arena hit him all at once, colors and noise slamming into his senses. The crowd's roar, stuck in that frozen moment of shock, exploded back to life—a wall of sound that shook the stone seats. Elias, still swinging with everything he had, his sword coming down in a wave of angry, glowing light that lit up his face like a ghost. Radiant Severance sliced the air like God's own hammer, the heat of it washing over Sylan even from feet away, the ground cracking under the pressure.
But Sylvian's red eyes glowed now with something new, something raw and strong, like fire mixed with ice. His hand came up fast, fingers locked tight on his sword hilt the way he'd done a thousand times in the dirt and rain of old fights—steady, no shake, just pure soldier grip. And right then, the emptiness burst open like a dam breaking.
A black hole ripped right in front of him, space folding in on itself with a suck that pulled at the air, making dust and loose stones fly toward it. Bits of gold light from Elias's attack danced on its edge, along with deep, twisting dark that seemed to come from nowhere, both shimmering wild before they got sucked away into the nothing.
SHRRAAAKKKKK!
The glow from Radiant Severance let out a scream, high and tearing, as it slammed straight into the impossible hole. The light twisted and bent like it was alive, fighting to break free—the noise cut off sharp, gone in a heartbeat, the whole holy blast vanishing into dead, empty quiet. The crowd sucked in a breath all at once, half-blind and rubbing their eyes as the stadium flipped from bright day to pitch black and back again in one crazy heartbeat, shadows jumping wild on the walls.
Sylan stood solid as a rock, his sword steady in his hand, red eyes locked ahead without a single flinch, like he'd seen worse in his nightmares.
The Void Who Devours Both Light and Darkness had come alive.