The Class 3 Authority demon moved.
Not physically. It could not. Class 3 and above could not act directly in the physical world.
But Elias SAW it.
The demon placed one massive hand on Gregor's shoulder. And dark energy POURED into the old man. Not an attack. A gift. A sharing. The power flowing through their pact.
Gregor's body changed.
The gray flesh tightened. The weeping sores closed. His hunched posture straightened. Muscles that had been atrophied and weak SURGED with unnatural vitality.
When Gregor looked up, his eyes blazed with golden greed.
Twenty years ago, I made a deal. My soul for power. My humanity for strength. I am HIS slave. And He gives me EVERYTHING.
Energy crackled around Gregor's fists. Not fire. Not light. Something oily. Wrong. GREEDY.
Let me show you what a REAL pact bearer can do.
* * *
Gregor moved first.
POSITION: Ten meters from Elias.
One single step forward. The cobblestones beneath his foot EXPLODED. Not cracked. EXPLODED.
Stone fragments shot outward like shrapnel.
Gregor's body became a blur.
He was too fast for Elias to track.
One moment, Gregor stood ten meters away.
The next—he was RIGHT THERE.
Fist driving toward Elias's face.
Elias tried to block. Too slow.
The fist connected.
IMPACT.
Elias's head snapped back. His vision whited out. Pain exploded across his jaw. He flew backward—not stumbled, FLEW—ten meters through the air.
Slammed into a warehouse wall.
The stone CRATERED around him. Cracks spider-webbed outward three meters in every direction.
Elias dropped. Hit the ground. Coughed blood.
His jaw was broken. He could feel it. Bones grinding wrong.
He tried to stand. His legs shook.
And Gregor was already there.
* * *
Gregor grabbed Elias by the throat. Lifted a 70kg man one-handed like he weighed nothing
Elias clawed at Gregor's hand. Golden fire blazed around his fingers.
The fire burned Gregor's flesh. Smoke rose. Skin blistered.
Gregor did not flinch.
The wounds healed instantly. Flesh regenerating faster than the fire could burn.
You cannot hurt me, boy. My Master sustains me. Every wound heals. Every injury reverses. I am BEYOND death.
He threw Elias.
Not a toss. A LAUNCH.
Elias sailed fifteen meters. Crashed through a wooden crate. Rolled across wet cobblestones.
Came to a stop in a puddle. Face-down. Gasping.
His ribs were cracked. Again. His left arm would not move properly.
And Gregor walked toward him. Slowly. Methodically. No rush.
* * *
Elias pushed himself up. One-handed. The good arm.
His vision swam. Blood dripped from his mouth, his nose, his ears.
But he stood.
Golden fire blazed around both hands. Brighter than before. Desperate.
I am not done.
Gregor smiled. Oh, I know. That is what makes this fun.
Elias lunged three consecutives strikes.
Right hook → Left uppercut → Spinning back-fist
The form was perfect. Exactly as he had learned in the trial. He put everything into every shot.
Gregor blocked all three strikes.
With one hand.
Without moving his feet.
Then Gregor counter-attacked.
STRIKE ONE: Palm strike to Elias's chest.
Elias's sternum cracked. He doubled over.
STRIKE TWO: Knee to the face.
Elias's nose shattered. Blood sprayed. His head snapped back.
STRIKE THREE: Elbow drop to the spine.
Elias collapsed. Face-first into the cobblestones. Could not move.
Every breath was agony. His ribs. His jaw. His spine. Everything hurt.
Gregor stood over him. Not even breathing hard.
You fought well, boy. For an Awakened. But you are three weeks old. I have been doing this for TWENTY YEARS.
He crouched beside Elias. Grabbed his hair. Lifted his head so they were face-to-face.
I am TEN TIMES stronger than you. Ten times faster. Ten times more durable. My Master gives me power you cannot imagine. You never had a chance.
He raised his fist. Dark energy coalesced around it. Sharp. Lethal.
Any last words?
Elias tried to speak. Coughed blood. Tried again.
His voice was barely a whisper.
...Sanctus...
Gregor laughed. Your god cannot save you now.
The fist descended.
And a blade of crystalline light severed Gregor's arm at the elbow.
* * *
Gregor's scream tore through the rain.
His arm—still wreathed in dark energy—fell to the cobblestones. Blood sprayed from the stump. Black ichor mixed with red.
He staggered back, clutching the wound, eyes wide with shock and rage.
MAREN HOLT stood between him and Elias.
Not running. Not rushing. Simply THERE. As if she had teleported.
Her right hand extended forward, palm open. From it, a blade of pure crystalline light—one meter long, edges so sharp they seemed to cut reality itself.
Rain evaporated before it could touch her. Steam rose from her shoulders.
Her eyes—calm, cold, absolute—fixed on Gregor.
"Gregor Vess. Pact bearer to a Class 3 Authority of Greed."
Her voice was quiet. But it carried the weight of twenty years of mastery.
"Step. Away. From. My. Student."
* * *
Gregor's arm regenerated.
Flesh sprouted from the stump. Bones grew. Muscle wove itself back together. In seconds, his arm was whole again.
He flexed his fingers. Smiled through the pain.
"Instructor Maren Holt. I have heard of you. Saint-rank. Aspencrest's prodigy. Twenty years serving Sanctus."
His yellow eyes gleamed with greed.
"But I serve a greater master. And HE gives me power you cannot match."
The Class 3 Authority demon loomed behind him. Poured more energy into Gregor's body.
Dark power surged. Gregor's muscles bulged. His presence intensified.
POSITION:
Gregor - Northern end of alley, demon channeling power
Maren - Center of alley, standing over Elias
Distance - Eight meters
Gregor exploded forward.
Speed? The same impossible blur that had overwhelmed Elias.
Fist driving toward Maren's head. Dark energy trailing like a comet.
Maren did not move.
She raised her left hand. Palm forward.
THE SOVEREIGN MIRROR
A shield manifested. Not metal. Not energy. CRYSTALLIZED LIGHT—geometric, impossibly complex, thousands of interlocking facets that reflected everything.
Gregor's fist hit the shield.
IMPACT.
The dark energy struck the crystalline surface—and INVERTED.
The corruption reversed. Darkness became light. Death became life. Destruction became creation.
The inverted energy shot back at Gregor.
Twice as fast.
Twice as powerful.
It hit him in the chest.
EXPLOSION.
Gregor flew backward. Ten meters. Fifteen. Slammed into the warehouse wall so hard the entire structure shook. Stones cracked. A section of wall collapsed.
He fell to the ground. Coughing. Bleeding.
For the first time in twenty years, Gregor Vess felt pain that did not heal instantly.
Maren lowered her hand. The shield dissolved.
She spoke. Still quiet. Still calm.
"My Aspect is Sovereign Mirror. I do not block attacks. I reflect them. Invert them. Return them."
She took one step forward.
"The stronger your strike, the harder you fall."
* * *
Gregor pushed himself up. Slowly. Painfully.
The demon behind him ROARED. Silent to normal ears. But Maren heard it.
More dark energy poured into Gregor. His wounds began to heal again.
He stood. Hunched. Breathing hard. But standing.
"You... are strong. But I am not alone."
The Class 3 Authority demon moved forward. As close as it could without manifesting physically.
Dark energy gathered. Massive. Overwhelming. The demon was preparing something.
Gregor smiled through broken teeth.
My Master will destroy you. And then—
Maren moved.
TECHNIQUE: Flash Step
DISTANCE: Eight meters
TIME: Instantaneous
One moment she stood over Elias. The next—
She was in front of Gregor.
The blade in her right hand blazed brighter.
STRIKE.
Horizontal slash. Perfect form. Years of mastery in a single motion.
Gregor tried to block. Too slow.
The crystalline blade passed through his guard. Through his chest. Through his spine.
But it did not kill him.
Instead—
The blade SEVERED the connection.
The spiritual chains linking Gregor to the Class 3 Authority—visible only to disciples—snapped. Golden light blazed where the blade cut. The pact shattered.
Gregor's eyes widened.
The dark energy vanished. The regeneration stopped. The power drained away.
He collapsed to his knees. Suddenly frail. Suddenly old. Suddenly human.
"What... what did you do?"
Maren did not answer him.
She spun. Faced the Class 3 Authority demon directly.
The demon ROARED. Silent to normal ears. But it shook the spiritual realm.
It tried to retreat. To fade. To escape back into the abyss before she could act.
Too late.
* * *
THE SEALING
Maren raised her left hand. Palm forward.
Her Aspect blazed. Not just the blade. Her ENTIRE presence.
The Sovereign Mirror manifested differently now. Not a shield. Not a blade. A SEAL—crystalline light forming geometric patterns in the air, thousands of interlocking symbols that rotated, compressed, converged.
The demon felt it. Understood. Tried to flee.
The seal EXPANDED. Surrounded it. Trapped it.
Maren's voice rang out. Clear. Absolute. Unwavering.
AUTHORITY OF GREED. BY THE POWER GRANTED TO ME AS A SAINT OF SANCTUS—
The seal tightened. The demon thrashed. Clawed at the crystalline light.
—I SEAL YOU IN THE NAME OF THE DIVINE!
IMPACT.
The seal COLLAPSED inward. The demon shrieked—a sound like reality tearing, like a thousand voices screaming in unison. Its massive form compressed, forced into a single point of crystalline light.
And then—Silence.
The light faded. The demon was GONE. Not destroyed—Class 3 and above were immortal—but sealed. Imprisoned. Cast into the abyss.
For ten years, it would remain trapped. Unable to act. Unable to manifest.
Unable to claim new bearers.
Maren lowered her hand. Breathed out slowly.
The Sovereign Mirror faded. The rain returned to normal. Reality stabilized.
She turned. Looked at Gregor's collapsed form.
He was unconscious. Broken. Without the demon's power sustaining him, his body had shut down.
In twenty years, the pact had rotted him from the inside. Without constant regeneration, he would die within hours.
Maren knelt beside him. Placed two fingers on his neck. Checked his pulse.
Faint. Failing.
She stood. Made her decision.
We do not spare demons. Never.
But Gregor was no longer a bearer. The pact was severed. The demon was sealed.
He was just a dying old man now. A slave freed from his master.
She placed her hand on his chest. Golden healing light—different from Elias's fire, softer—flowed.
Enough to stabilize him. Not enough to restore him. Just enough to survive.
The city guard would find him. The Tribunal would judge him for his crimes. That was not her concern.
Her concern was the boy bleeding in the alley.
* * *
Maren walked back to Elias. Knelt beside him.
He was conscious. Barely. Staring at her with wide, gray eyes.
"You... sealed it. You actually sealed a Class 3."
Maren nodded. "That is what Saints do."
She placed her hand on his chest. The healing light flowed again. Stronger this time.
HEALING.
His ribs knitted. His jaw realigned. His spine corrected. The internal bleeding stopped. The pain faded. Strength returned.
Elias gasped. Sat up slowly. Looked at his hands.
I... I was useless. My fire did nothing. I could not even—
"You fought well, Maren interrupted. For three weeks of experience."
She helped him to his feet.
"Gregor has twenty years of training through his pact. A Class 3 Authority empowering him. You are newly Awakened. You should not have survived at all."
"But I did not win."
"No. You did not. And that is why you need training."
She met his eyes. Held his gaze.
"At Aspencrest, you will learn to fight bearers. To seal demons. To work with a team. To become more than just a boy with fire in his hands."
Elias looked at Gregor's unconscious form. At the empty space where the demon had been.
"When do we leave?"
Maren smiled slightly.
"Tomorrow morning. Pack light. Your real training begins at Aspencrest."
She turned to walk away. Paused.
"One more thing, Elias. We do not spare demons. Never. Remember that. They may offer deals. Promise mercy. Beg for release."
She looked back at him. Her eyes were hard. Absolute.
"We seal them. Every time. No exceptions."
Elias nodded. "Understood."
"Good. Now come. We have much to do before dawn."