It wasn’t a straight path Corrin and Luscien took towards the base of the tree. Speed was important, but they would need every ounce of strength they had for the challenge ahead of them, and thus avoiding confrontation was paramount. By then, the city had been so choked with death, smoke, and monsters, that even Kita’s nose was having a hard time picking everything out. With every second that passed, the sun crept higher in the sky, falling deeper into the shadow of the moon. Still, Corrin held himself back from tearing ahead.

  Idleness wouldn’t do though, so his mind still worked, gears turning to solve a problem in the only subject he’d ever really excelled at—combat. Considering the unknown enemy ahead, what was he lacking? What did he need in that exact moment, how could he get stronger?

  First, my weaknesses. I have no way to control spacing effectively. The reach of Kieran’s spear, and the wind scythe technique of that cultist both neutered my ability to engage on my own terms. Even when I could engage, I couldn’t keep up. Ice is a slower aspect, which means that the gap in raw aura between me and Kieran was just that large. Could I have made up for it somehow?

  “Stop!” Luscien held out a hand as the two of them ground to halt. The tree was just up ahead, only another street or two. He held up a finger meaningfully. “The wind.”

  It took Corrin a second to understand, but the wind had shifted, now coming in from the north, where the tree awaited.

  Kita lifted his nose to the air, and Luscien did the same, sniffing twice before scowling. “Him again.”

  Corrin’s heart began to beat quicker. “Let’s get this party started.”

  “It’s up ahead,” Eia’s voice called down, as if carried on a breeze. “Just around the bend.”

  As the street gently curved around a small, natural pond, the elevated stone wall to his left fell away, leaving open the view of the mossy, ancient bark separated from the street by shops and homes, all seemingly untouched by the attack. There, nestled in an odd—but not conspicuous—gap in the buildings, was a simple wooden door, carved into the trunk.

  Kieran was leaning next to the door, his arms crossed. His silver eyes flicked up towards them, distant, as though he were looking elsewhere. After a moment, he grinned, spreading his arms in greeting.

  “I’m honestly surprised, Luscien! You actually came back for more?”

  Two more tails sprouted from Luscien’s body, flicking nervously as fire manifested around his hands and feet. “Why are you doing this Kieran? What are you trying to gain by working with the cult?”

  “They can help me get something I want,” Kieran said calmly. “That’s all that matters.”

  “Even if they kill thousands of innocent people in the process?”

  “Over and over again. A spoiled weakling like you who wants for nothing would never understand.”

  Corrin stepped forward. “Ignore him Luscien, we don’t have time for this. He’s just blocking the way.”

  Kieran rapped his knuckles against the door. “What? Trying to get in here? I don’t think so.”

  “And the academy reject is going to be the one to stop me?” Corrin smirked.

  The smile slid off of Kieran’s face. His eyes narrowed, and frost began to form on his skin, hardening into ice as his spear formed in his grasp.

  “Nothing left to say?” Corrin taunted. “Come on! Tell me how you’re going to kill me for that one.”

  Kieran took a few steps away from the door and settled into his stance as a shard of ice formed over his shoulder. Kita circled around to the far right, and Corrin to the left, until the three of them had him boxed in, but neither the fox nor its master made a move.

  With a cracking sound, Corrin rushed in, his blade tracing a path through Kieran’s neck. Kieran whirled his spear, casually deflecting the blow and countering with his shard. Corrin twisted to avoid the counter as Luscien and Kita unleashed attacks of their own.

  As Kieran turned the bulk of his attention to Luscien, his ice shard continued to relentlessly hound Corrin’s retreat, whistling through the air as he parried it again and again. With each exchange, he shaved off chunks of its mass, but it just repaired itself each time.

  “I’m not losing to a floating piece of ice,” Corrin grumbled. He dashed to the side, creating a separation between him and the weapon as he focused his attention on forming a ball of mana in his hand, denser than he’d tried before.

  Visualize it…

  Spinning, he hurled the condensed mana, catching the shard head on. The mana ball imploded with a crackling pop, and the shard shattered into dust.

  Corrin didn’t waste the chance, racing back in towards the main fight. Luscien was holding his own, but it didn’t look like it had gotten serious yet either.

  Luscien dropped low and tried to sweep Kieran’s legs out as Kita leapt from behind—a perfect synchronized attack. Kieran didn’t even look back as the fox’s jaws found no purchase on his armor, and Luscien’s leg slammed into the haft of Kieran’s spear, which flicked out and snapped across his jaw.

  Corrin’s blade flashed downwards, but Kieran slapped its flat side, knocking it off course.

  “Too slow.”

  Corrin stumbled a single step, and a gauntleted fist slammed upwards into his gut, and even with his mantle it tore the air from his lungs, knocking him off his feet.

  As his vision flashed white, Corrin rolled backwards, springing to his feet and deflecting the newly-reformed ice shard on instinct, just barely avoiding being skewered. Only Luscien’s follow-up prevented Kieran from finishing him right then.

  Dashing back into the open to use his trick again, Corrin kept his eyes on the fight. Fire and ice clashed so rapidly it was almost hard to follow. There was no doubt they were both far stronger than he was. But it was just as obvious that Luscien was on the backfoot. If it wasn’t for Kita forcing Kieran to invest mana into his defenses, he might have overwhelmed them with raw power.

  Wait.

  Corrin’s steps faltered for a second, and the shard caught up, tearing past his side, opening a hole in his mantle, and leaving a shallow cut across his waist before crashing into the ground behind him. He spun and dove onto it, pinning it down as it tried to get back into the air.

  He began to form another ball of aura with his palm already pressed against the ice. Cracks spiderwebbed along its surface, and then all at once, it shattered, leaving behind a small crater.

  With the short respite he’d bought, Corrin breathed. He pulled mana inwards from his mantle, draining two thirds of what had been there until it only remained in his sword and left arm.

  His laughter grew louder, relishing in his own genius. Maintaining a mantle was useless in a situation like this, especially when it limited his own enhancement. Spreading out his power only diluted it. “Limitation! Eryndor was right! Hey, Kieran!”

  Silver eyes slid towards him, then widened in alarm, too late.

  Corrin moved.

  Skidding to a stop on the other side of Kieran, Corrin grinned. From the tip of his blade, a drop of blood fell into the dirt.

  Luscien jumped back, taking advantage of Kieran’s lapse to replenish his mana. “That’s risky Corrin, but a good idea.”

  “Annoying,” Kieran growled, touching the shallow wound on his back where his armor had been broken. “Sacrificing all of your defenses to focus on speed and power… stop butting in, gnat.”

  “I should thank you,” Corrin said, his voice trembling. His body was tingling, like it was on fire, but he didn’t feel any pain. No, he felt amazing. His mind was clear, and he knew exactly what he had to do. It was something he’d felt a few times before, but never so strongly. “I’d fallen into a trap in my way of thinking. But what I need, is to fight more freely, without any restraint! I’m on the verge of evolving… and you’re going to be my stepping stool! I’m going to use you to surpass myself, right here and now!”

  Oddly, Kieran actually smiled. “Is that so?” He spun his spear lazily, regaining his confidence. “Maybe you are more fun than Luscien here, but a little boost in strength isn’t going to save you. You’ll have to go much further than this.”

  Corrin charged in again, his body alight with power, feinting a low cut before stabbing at Kieran's neck. Kieran read him, parrying, but Corrin was already transitioning into his next move, taking the dense ash mana swirling around his left arm and slamming it into Kieran's side.

  Icy armor cracked under the explosive force, and Kieran was driven back a few feet with a pained grunt.

  Corrin pressed further, drawing more mana to keep up the relentless assault. Even with smaller reserves, his aspect was faster, and destructive enough to break through. Like Tor with his earth aspect, Kieran was defensively oriented—ash was a terrible matchup for him.

  As the seconds ticked by though, Kieran’s armor thinned, and his movements became sharper to match Corrin’s own.

  He kicked out, and Corrin’s knee hit the ground with a jolt. The spear followed, and Corrin managed to twist out of its way. Pain blossomed in his side, just below his ribs, and Corrin's eyes went wide, snatching the ice shard before it could go any deeper. This one was sharper, cutting into his hand, but he tightened his grip anyways, struggling against it.

  Luscien saved him, attacking ferociously and forcing Kieran back onto the defensive for a moment.

  Gritting his teeth, Corrin wrenched the shard from his body before more ice mana could seep in, then crushed it in his hand. He attacked anew, the three of them fighting desperately to overwhelm Kieran. The street tore around them from the force of countless parried blows, but with Corrin’s increased speed and power, they’d reached a stalemate, with neither side able to land a decisive blow.

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  This is a problem.

  Kieran was an ice channeler—he’d have larger reserves and more stamina than either of them. Already, Corrin could feel his channels starting to strain. Next to him, sweat was evaporating from Luscien’s skin, and fire was even harder to hold than ash.

  I have to go further. I have to take the next step!

  Lusicen managed to grab the spear’s shaft, twisting to deliver two swift kicks to the side of Kieran’s head. Kieran lost his grip on the spear and tumbled across the dirt. He came up onto a knee, thrusting out a hand, and Lusicen shouted in pain as spikes grew through his hands and the weapon flew back to its master.

  Corrin shot towards their unarmed opponent. Aura drained from his left arm to gather on the edge of his blade.

  The ice shard came from the side, and he twisted, just barely avoiding it. Shit! The spear was too fast, and dodging had cost him a single step. He wasn’t going to make it.

  Take the next step! Reach them! His focus sharpened on the energy around his blade, and he let half of it drain away. Luscien had thinned his armor, and Corrin wouldn’t need as much power to affect him anymore. Limit the power, and focus purely on cohesion, with the blade as an anchor. Denser… Denser!

  Corrin was fifteen feet away. The spear caught up and began to pass him—Kieran was holding out his hand. Twelve feet, ten, seven… Corrin drew the sword back, and the air warped and twisted around it.

  He let out a breath, and swung, letting the mana fly ahead.

  Just as Kieran’s fingers closed around the shaft, Corrin’s attack landed on his chest, a shadow of the original swing. As the technique fell apart, it didn’t cut, but instead erupted against his chest, shattering the ice and tearing the robes beneath. Kieran was pitched back another few feet by the impact, but when he recovered, it seemed the armor had taken the worst of it.

  “White-haired kid.” He pushed himself up with the base of his spear. What’s your name?”

  Corrin frowned. “You’ve heard it before.”

  “I’m sure I have. However, I didn’t care to remember it before now.”

  “It’s Corrin. Just Corrin.”

  “My name is Kieran Dunet, rightful heir to house Dunet, and the instrument of its death. In truth, you’ve earned my respect Corrin, and you’ve shown me something important. I don’t want to kill you. If you turn around right now, I’ll bear no grudge against you.”

  “I try not to make running from fights a habit.” Corrin held up his sword.

  Kieran grinned, as if he’d expected just such an answer. “You’re right. Yes! That’s how a warrior should be! Corrin, that fire in your eyes burns so much brighter than theirs!” Kieran planted his spear in the ground. He held his hands out to the side, then slapped them together, clasped at the fingers. “I’ve heard it said that there’s no surer way to push your limits than a fight to the death, but I had never experienced it until now! Thank you Corrin! I, too, am going to evolve. Armory of Frost.”

  In the air by Kieran, two more blades condensed from the frost. As the third drifted back to join them, Kieran began to laugh, a manic smile stretching his lips. “I could never do this before!” He grabbed his spear and held it out. “Come! Let’s kill each other properly!”

  ***

  Corrin’s lungs burned as he fought, the intensity of the battle only ramping up. Three blades of ice now danced in the air, moving in deadly concert with Kieran's spear, and it was all he could do to avoid being impaled.

  How long had they been fighting now? The sun had dimmed even further as the total eclipse was quickly approaching. It felt like hours, but it couldn’t have been.

  Still, Corrin had never fought so hard for so long before. He'd managed to avoid a fatal blow, but he was covered in small wounds, and his channels ached as he forced mana into them again and again. He couldn't stop for even an instant. The only reason none of them had collapsed were the butterfly shikigami, which healed without bias, helping to stem the accumulation of injuries.

  Luscien managed to get a tail around Kieran's arm and throw him upwards, where he crashed into the platform above. Stones rained down from the impact site, and Kieran dislodged a second later.

  Luscien roared. “Hit him while he falls!”

  Corrin focused the mana around his blade again and swung. His thrown slashes only held together for a few feet, but he couldn't miss in this situation. Kieran roared defiantly, and the shards drew together in front of him, forming an aegis that smashed through Corrin's attack before crashing into the ground. As the dust settled, he and Luscien caught their breaths.

  “We need a plan,” Corrin panted, sweat dripping down his face. He'd been fighting so intensely his vision was going red. “This is getting us nowhere, and I don't know about you, but I'm approaching my limit.”

  “I’ve thrown everything I have at him,” Luscien gasped for air. His eyes were darkened with defeat. “You fought incredibly, but we're losing ground. I don't see a path forward.”

  Kieran's spear blasted out from the cloud of dust, catching Corrin completely off guard. He tried to defend, but his response was sluggish. Luscien was quicker, lunging in front and catching the spearhead in his claws. Corrin managed to brace him against the force of the throw, but Luscien still got cut down the arm where the spear had slipped through his grasp. Kieran summoned the spear back.

  “Thanks,” Corrin said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. He must be more tired than he thought—it felt like he was overheating.

  “It's fine. It's time for us to bow out.” Luscien let his arm hang limply as he let out a long breath.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Look around Corrin, don't you feel that?”

  “Feel what?”

  “The fire.”

  Corrin's brow furrowed for a moment, until he realized that he wasn't just ‘seeing red’. The air was growing thick with fire mana, heating up further with each second.

  “Don't breathe it in,” Luscien advised. “You'll burn your channels.”

  Kieran had gotten quiet, and he was no longer looking at them. His eyes went past them, out into the streets. He began to shake slightly, his fist clenching and unclenching again, and he let out a dark chuckle. “That’s just not fair.”

  “Life often isn’t,” a confident voice replied from behind them. Eryndor’s pristine white coat gleamed even in the dimming sun, trimmed in brilliant gold. With each step, flames roiled under his feet, and the air continued to grow uncomfortably hot. “But the mark of a true man is how he responds to that unfairness. Lusicen, Corrin. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

  “Sir!” Lusicen stood up straighter, a look of relief breaking out on his face. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

  Eryndor smiled. “It’s all thanks to the two of you. Good work in my absence.”

  Corrin preened under the praise. “Well… it was nothing really. Glad you’re here to clean things up though.”

  “If only things would be so easy,” Eryndor sighed. His eyes turned ahead. “Now, you I recognize. The heir to the Dunet family, isn't that right?”

  “Former heir,” Kieran spat.

  “I see. Nonetheless, I’ll ask you only once to step aside.”

  Kieran snarled and brandished his spear. “If you think I’m just going to—”

  In a singular burst of flame, too quick for Corrin to see what happened, Eryndor moved, and Kieran vanished, sent flying through the wall of a nearby building. Corrin heard three more distinct crashes before he finally fell silent. All that remained was a trail of flame, leading from where Eryndor had been standing an instant before.

  “First form, Burning Wake.”

  Without wasting another second, Eryndor took a step towards the door. But the handle was already turning, and it swung open silently as a hulking figure emerged from inside.

  The three-armed man stood almost seven feet tall, with a narrow face topped by spiky black hair. His skin, as before, was grey as the clouds before a storm, and he was dressed sparsely, wearing a knee-length loincloth held around his waist by a thick rope. His eyes were a deep, molten gold, and utterly inhuman. As his gaze moved across them, Corrin’s bravado fizzled out like a candle in the rain. He was back in the Founder’s Tomb, as the leviathan stared at him from outside the crack.

  His body shook, trembling uncontrollably, but he gripped his sword tighter, forcing it up.

  Eryndor held up a hand. “This isn’t your fight Corrin. It’s mine.”

  The three-armed man glanced at the collapsed wall, in the direction where Kieran had been sent flying. “My apprentice. You didn’t kill him. I thank you for that.”

  Eryndor shook his head. “He managed to defend, even if only barely. You have an impressive disciple.”

  “So I do. What’s your name, spirit knight?”

  “I am Eryndor Kaelburn, second-class spirit knight and heir to house Kaelburn. Your honor surprises me, cultist.”

  “I have no grudge against you,” the man shrugged. “You may call me Vaeril, first of the asura, serving Acedia.”

  “Asura?” Eryndor asked. “An arrogant appellation.”

  “Yet apt. I have taken the first steps towards godhood, and achieved perfection beyond the human form.”

  “For what reason are you attempting to kill the tree?”

  “Our motives need not concern the dead.”

  Eryndor’s gaze was steady. “I’m dead am I?”

  “Soon enough.” Vaeril held up his upper two hands, revealing a ring on each, one gold, one silver. The rings turned to liquid, reshaping themselves into twin curved blades, wickedly sharp.

  “Where did you get those blades?” Eryndor asked harshly.

  “Ah, you recognize them? That Sepal fought hard. I have him to thank for taking my fourth arm. They are weapons too fine to be left to rust.”

  “And yet far too fine to be wielded by someone like you,” Eryndor said.

  “We will see.” Vaeril smiled tranquilly. “Before we begin, allow me to repay you for my apprentice.” With his third arm, he made an empty palm and thrust it downwards.

  Eryndor spun, eyes going wide. “Defend yourselves!”

  A crushing force slammed into Corrin from above, and he crumpled against the ground, screaming as it shattered around him. He couldn’t fight back, or brace himself—the force was so overwhelming he couldn’t even breathe. Something inside him began to crack.

  But as quickly as the pressure came, it vanished, and he greedily sucked in the scorching air. Flames filled his lungs as mana rushed in with the breath, scorching his channels even further. With a force of will, he smothered them under his own aura, barely getting it under control. Sight slowly returned to him, his vision flickering as he looked up.

  What even hit me? He felt like a bug, smashed against a wall.

  Only an oddly-shaped crater remained, encompassing both him and Luscien, who seemed only a little better off.

  Ahead of them, Eryndor had locked blades with Vaeril, gritting his teeth as they jostled for an opening.

  “Shall we take this elsewhere, Eryndor?” Vaeril boomed. “Let our apprentices settle their own battle! Or do you think you can defeat me and protect them all at once? Look at that one, he can hardly even channel with you here!”

  “Do what you have to do!” Corrin shouted back, ignoring the pain in his chest. “We’ll be fine sir!”

  Eryndor broke away from the bind, his cape fluttering as the air around them was whipped up by the intense heat. He glanced to the side, where Kieran was emerging from the rubble. His armor was crumbling and reforming, like he was struggling to keep it together, but his eyes hadn’t lost even an ounce of fight.

  “Luscien,” Eryndor finally said. “You are not his lesser. Trust in your own strength, and you will win. Of that, I have no doubt.”

  Luscien stiffened. “But sir I—” He grit his teeth, biting back his words. “ I will try.”

  “Parting words for your apprentice?” Vaeril laughed. “Kieran! There is nothing I can say to you. I know your will is already firm. Your strength is without question.”

  Kieran nodded. “I’ll slaughter them.”

  “I believe in you, apprentice.” Vaeril said. “Should I fall, I entrust you with finishing what I have started. Now, shall we change scenery, Eryndor?”

  The two shot away faster than Corrin could believe, tearing up the streets with their passing, and then only the three students remained. Corrin breathed carefully, letting his channels refill without burning himself. The fire mana in the air was dispersing again now that Eryndor had gone, but it was a slow process.

  Buildings crumbled around them as the four of them regathered their strengths. Kieran clasped his hands together, and the ice shards slowly formed as blood ran from his nose. Corrin took a pained breath, and beat his fist against his shaking leg until it stilled. Luscien wiped his lips, flaming claws reigniting as Kita let out a low growl.

  “Don’t give out on me,” Kieran said, his voice rising. “Let’s keep dancing until the end!”