CHAPTER 20: Reckoning at the Edge - Part 2

  Elsja discarded her torn cloak, revealing tight black long pants with a dark purple sleeveless shirt. “Stay put, Ryse. You wouldn't want to bruise your friend's pride by lending a hand, would you?”

  Varne sneered again. The wench really knew how to get up his nose, although it must be admitted she was far stronger than him. But strength was not the only determining factor in victory. If he could utilize the terrain and…

  “Aargh, damn it!” Thinking only made his head skin crawl. He released several Voidblades, forcing Elsja to stand still to parry, then appeared beside her with Ruin Fist bulging from his right hand.

  Elsja deflected his Ruin Fist with one hand, its explosion thundering in the open air. She then delivered a knee strike to his solar plexus, making him stagger backward.

  Gritting through the pain, he retaliated with Steel Fury. The clash against the iron staff sounded only two or three times, despite numerous strikes. He launched it again and again to break through her defense.

  Varne could not help but be astounded that she could block all of it. Lorn always said it was impossible for an enemy to fully counter Steel Fury, as it would be like bars trying to stop a rain. However, the disparity in strength between them allowed her not only to parry but also to start pushing back.

  His rate of attack increasingly lagged behind. As Elsja's movements were one beat faster, both diverged in their tactics. He activated Pale Thundercloud, while Elsja used this unblockable opportunity to land three stabs.

  Varne was thrown back, crashing into a tree. Pale Thundercloud cracked, and his muscles twitched at three points. Having endured bandits' blows without so much as a scratch, he had developed a false sense of invincibility, now corrected by her.

  Elsja disappeared from her spot. Varne struggled to follow her. Duels between Decimae were typically dominated by movement and speed. Therefore, Prana Decimae usually did not materialize head protectors that limited vision and hearing.

  When reappeared, she held the staff at both ends, pressing it against his throat. He managed to slip his sword between the staff and his neck, but her strength was greater. His airway was constricted, making breathing a laborious task, as if a tight rope bound his chest.

  Elsja was not done yet. Her thumb wore an iron ring, and when she flicked it against the body of the staff, sparks turned into flames, engulfing both Varne and the tree behind him. Its dry leaves fell like droplets of fire.

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  His nearly shut breath was now burdened further by the heat of the flames. Prana Armor offered him protection but did not make him invulnerable. Blisters bloomed one by one on his skin.

  Then he saw Ryse shooting a Gale Bolt towards... him? Was the bastard betraying him? He wanted to curse, but no sound came out. The Gale Bolt struck but did not injure him. Instead, the wind sphere shattered, wrapping his body in a wind cloak that drove away all the flames.

  Elsja loosened her grip. Varne fell to his knees, clutching his throat and coughing.

  “I didn't know Gale Bolt could be used like this.” She approached Ryse, dismissing Varne as if he were nothing.

  Varne could not stand. All the strength in his body evaporated. And since his breathing rhythm was disrupted, Pale Thundercloud vanished. His eyes watered, blurring his vision of Ryse and Elsja.

  “Sis, our mentor plans to activate an Alchemy weapon. It will mess all of us up. Help me put a stop to it.”

  “Alchemy? That's older than Artifica.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “I've told you, I trust you. But what you're hearing from him might not be the real deal. I've got my own urgent matters going on, and need to go to Cairdelis soon. I'm thinking of handing Marfas over to Terzion for a ride there. But even if that doesn't work, I'll figure something out.

  “So here's the deal. Beat me, and you can take Marfas. Show me you've got the strength to stop him, not just to throw your life away. I can't let you go if you're risking it all for nothing.”

  Ryse's hands clenched until his leather gloves creaked. “Fine.”

  Ryse materialized his Prana Armor. A burst of wind erupted as the armor took shape. A dull black armor with teal-colored patterns and edges covered his forearms, legs up to the knees, torso, and shoulders. Prana Armor was generally designed to cover only certain areas so as not to hinder movement.

  “When I took off, you couldn't activate it yet. What's its name?”

  “Stormridge,” Ryse replied, drawing the whip and letting its end spill beside his feet.

  They began the duel. From Varne's perspective, however, their fight was even lighter than a practice match. Like maypole dancing in the backyard.

  “Ryse! Don't forget we need to head east soon!” he shouted.

  “Don't interfere or I'll bash your head!” Elsja said.

  Yet his words had an effect. Ryse faced his sister with more determination. He executed that quick move – Somatic Drive – to circle around her and attempt to lock her from behind. Varne observed that Somatic Drive differed from Blast Rush. Blast Rush provided a push, while Somatic Drive accelerated the entire body's movements.

  She used the same technique, evading Ryse's grasp and then tripping him.

  “I’m quicker,” Elsja said, waiting for Ryse to rise.

  Ryse's whip cut through the air in golden arcs. Gale Bolts flickered. He used Mistral to slip Elsja, then repeated the same spell but this time as footing to swerve and attack from various angles.

  However, all those attacks were futile. Not only was Ryse outclassed, but he also was not committed. They should have fought her together, but Varne was still recovering.

  Ryse used Somatic Drive again, but instead of moving like a blur, his body halted as if hitting a wall, and he fell. When he got up, his movements were sluggish, as if waist-deep in quicksand.

  “You're overusing Somatic Drive. How many times now?”

  “This is the fifth...”

  “Then your limit is four. That's already good.”

  Blast Rush caught Elsja by surprise, Varne could see it in her eyes when she turned. Pale Thundercloud had returned, and Ruin Fist in his right hand was poised to shatter her ribs. One strike and she would roll on the ground like a pig in summer.