The Forsaken Hero

Fyren and Enryst fought uninterrupted for a solid minute before finally getting some distance. They circled each other warily, yet none moved to strike first.

”Damn, he really was holding back,” LUke muttered, rubbing his horn.

Arantius offered a faint smile. ”Indeed. I questioned the demon’s skill once, but it seems there was no need. I am somewhat motivated to challenge him now, myself.”

”Are you even stronger?” Luke asked, eyes widening.

”Stronger? Yes, though in this context, I might not win against Ernyst, either. His skill with a sword is exceptional, matching the champions of War, though, admittedly, his expertise extends only to single combat. That either of these two decided to train you is nothing short of a miracle. It would be as if a ninth-level mage personally took on an apprentice who had only just connected with their mana.”

”Am I truly so far behind?” Luke asked.

He nodded. ”Do as the Oracle has, and place their moves in the arena of the mind. Could you, had you been fighting, have blocked even one of their attacks?”

Luke hesitated, falling silent. From his dark, brooding perspective, he must have come to the same conclusion as I.

”Why aren’t they fighting anymore?” I asked.

Arantius answered, ”The first bout was merely to evaluate the other’s skill. Right now, they are consolidating the experience and adjusting their own mind and mana to counter their opponent’s style. In an ordinary fight of such high skill, there would be no time for this, and the winner would be the first to figure the other out while trading blows, but here, in a duel, the purpose isn’t to kill the other, but to test the extent of their abilities. They have all the time in Haven to do so.”

Another few seconds of silence passed, the tension thickening until it was stifling. Swallowing hard, I looked up at Luke’s face, finding his jaw set in defiance. My tail stilled as I gathered my courage, shyly tugging on his sleeve.

”Hey, um...Luke?”

”He blinked, looking down as if breaking from a trance. ”Hmm?”

”Do you, um...like fighting? Like them?” I asked, timidly gesturing at Fyren and Ernyst.

He frowned thoughtfully, absently running a hand over his horn. ”Fighting? Like sparring, or in an actual battle?”

”Both?”

”I suppose so, though to me, it’s more a way of life than leisure. I fight because I must be strong. But honestly,” he let out a wry chuckle, ”after seeing these two, I realize I can’t ever truly be that. I knew Fyren was strong, but this...the peak is far higher than I could have guessed.”

”But then...” I swallowed hard, squeezing my hands into fists. ”What do you like?”

The question seemed to take him by surprise. He regarded me with an odd look, taking his attention from the circling duelists for the first time.

”What do I like?” he echoed faintly.

I nodded, blushing, but I’d come too far to back out now.

”I don’t know,” he finally admitted. ”I’ve never really thought about it before.”

A sudden clash caused my bones to shudder, setting my teeth on edge. My head snapped back to the sandy circle, where Fyren’s sword had come down on Ernyst’s blade. They ground against each other, releasing waves of sparks. Fyren grunted, leveraging the size of his sword to force Ernyst back a step. The moment the remnant’s foot landed, Fyren broke the deadlock, bringing his sword around in a shallow arc.

Eryst parried it again, sending the sword skittering off to the side. The tip of his blade darted forward, seeking Fyren’s chest, but the demon released his sword with one hand, bringing his bracer up against the point. Again, there was no movement in his soul, but the instant the sword struck him, his arm flared with mana, allowing him to deflect it without a scratch.

Recovering his sword, Fyren pressed the initiative, and the two were lost in a flurry of blows. As before, they limited their power to the peak of seventh, relying only on sheer technique and skill. Luke’s face tightened as he watched, his lips moving wordlessly—I knew he was doing as Arantius suggested. With every exchange, the look in his eye darkened, moving eventually from sharp frustration to resignation.

A small pit formed in my stomach, a sense of powerlessness building in my chest. My hand crept up Luke’s forearm, curling against the crook of his arm. He looked down, but his gaze was distant, looking at me without seeming to actually see me.

”It’s okay,” I whispered, biting my lip. ”You’re plenty strong, too.”

He blinked, his eyes focusing, finally staring into mine. Warmth tinged my cheeks, but I gripped him tighter, unable to look away. Gradually, like a sun dawning, his expression hardened, and resolve burned in his eyes.

”I’m not, Xiviyah, not yet. But I will be. If they have reached it, so can I. If not for my vengeance, then for you.”

He nodded sharply and returned his gaze to the fight, watching with a renewed sense of purpose. He seemed utterly oblivious to the fact that my tail had gone rigid, and I stared at him with lips parted, my voice caught in my throat. The fluttering of my heart made my pulse race, and my blush burned crimson. He couldn’t just say something like that and pretend it hadn’t happened—it wasn’t fair!

Flustered, I gripped him tighter, unable to concentrate on the fight. Every clash made me flinch, but nothing could shake Luke from my mind. He’d said something like that before, so why did it hit so much harder this time? Why couldn’t I just brush it off like every other promise anyone had ever made me? I wanted to believe him, of course, but...did I actually?

My breath caught as I realized that I did.

It seemed like just seconds passed before he turned to me again. With a start, I realized I was still staring at him, and the sounds of the fight had faded away. Had they already finished? How long has it been?

I quickly looked down, not wanting to be caught staring, tail curling around my leg.

”Why did you ask that?” he asked curiously.

”W-what?” I stammered, ”Ask what?”

”What I liked.”

I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down. When I could breath easily again, I looked up and immediately blushed again, but managed to hold his gaze.

”Well, um...” I squirmed, gripping him a little tighter. ”You went to see the flowers with me because I wanted to. I want to do something you like to do, too.”

His eyes widened, and a light pink tinged his cheeks. ”Oh, I, uh, see. Can you give me some time to think about it?”

I nodded quickly, eager to let the subject rest. Right now, all I wanted to do was run away and find somewhere dark and safe to let my heart stop racing. It hadn’t beaten this hard since I’d stood atop the skyship, looking down at Borealis, trying to muster the courage to jump.

”Well? What did you think?” Fyren’s voice came.

”Forgive me for my arrogance,” Luke said, lowering his head. ’I couldn’t even follow half of your moves.”

Fyren nodded, a pleased grin on his face. ”At least now you understand.”

”Perhaps you’ll listen to my advice a little closer,” Ernst said with a grunt.

The demon’s gaze shifted to me. ”What of you, Xiviyah? I wouldn’t have expected to find you here, of all places.”

”You were very good? I think?” I said uncertainly, playing with a lock of hair. ”How did you do that with your soul? I couldn’t see anything.”

”Ah, that. The soul is the third battlefield of a duel, mastered only after the body and mind. Just as one might reduce excess movements and remove any portents of their actions, techniques can be practiced for the soul. To attempt to fight an immortal without mastering this will guarantee loss, even should there be a significant level difference.”

”That’s why you have been capable of contributing to fights high above your reaction speed and awareness,” Arantius said. ”But as you just saw, that advantage wanes when your opponent is as skilled at hiding his mana as you are at reading it.”

”I would like to learn this skill,” Luke said.

Enryst let out a rough chuckle. ”Wait until you’re at ninth-level, then maybe. The soul changes so dramatically during the breakthrough from eighth to ninth, you’d just have to relearn it all anyway.”

”What brings you out here?” Fyren asked me.

My grip on my hair tightened. ”I was, um, looking for Luke.”

Luke gave me a gentle smile. ”Well, you found me. Was there something you wanted?”

”No, just...not anymore.”

”Then what do you say we head back to Enusia? It’s about evening, isn’t it?”

Avoiding their stares, I nodded and followed Luke out of the arena. No footsteps echoed behind us, and when I risked a look back, Ernyst, Fyren, and Arantius were watching us leave. My cheeks burned as Fyren raised an eyebrow, and I quickly turned and moved closer to Luke.

As we rounded a large rock and entered the canyon path separating the arena from the rest of Haven, I felt the cold, empty feeling in my hand. My fingers instinctively curled, the back of my hand brushing Luke’s knuckles.

”Ah, sorry,” he said, pulling his hand away.

My tail drooped, and my fingers tightened the rest of the way into a fist.