The air between them seemed to freeze, the tension hanging heavy and palpable. Varian couldn’t shake the deep unease settling in his gut. Lucas was usually loud and confident—this was unbecoming of him.

  Varian was about to break the silence when the sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the tension.

  “Don’t mind me, everyone. Rufus, would you be so kind as to let me through?” A short young man with wispy white hair flowing over his shoulders spoke languidly.

  Rufus turned to the young man, then stepped aside to let him through. Gerald was… a hard person to read. He rarely attended their sparring sessions, and even when he did, he never participated. Gerald’s gaze flicked between Lucas and Varian, his expression unreadable.

  “What’s gotten all of you in a tizzy? I know I’m hard to ignore, but please, do carry on with whatever you have planned,” he said with a light chuckle, attempting—but failing—to diffuse the tension.

  Lucas ignored Gerald entirely, his piercing gaze locked onto Varian.

  “We’ve got some unsettled business. Let’s not waste any time,” he said impatiently.

  Varian allowed himself a small smile, relieved to see Lucas behaving more like his usual self. He grunted in acknowledgment and moved to the center of the hall, his staff held firmly in hand.

  Lucas moved to select his weapon. However, instead of grabbing for his trusted sword, he selected a saber. Varian's eyebrows rose in surprise. Lucas was never one to hold back his opinions and had frequently mocked the saber for its perceived inferiority.

  Varian knew this would be a difficult spar. Still, instead of feeling shaken, he forced himself to act uninterested, intending to dampen Lucas' confidence.

  Lucas and Varian began circling each other, their eyes locked intensely. Ren took this moment to begin his countdown. Neither of them noticed it, though the clap marking the start of the spar echoed sharply in their ears.

  Varian began with a vertical chop, aiming to test Lucas’ skill with the sabre. Lucas parried the strike easily, then dashed forward without hesitation. Varian, anticipating this, tightened his grip on the staff and swung it horizontally towards his ribs, forcing Lucas to either retreat or take the hit.

  True to form, Lucas chose to take the hit, prioritizing his aggression over a cautious defense. Without warning, Lucas accelerated, charging toward Varian at a speed he knew would leave Varian no time to react. Varian frowned at this, but had no time to pay it any further attention—Lucas was already upon him.

  Lucas swung with all his might, fully intending on blasting through whatever defense Varian had planned. Varian braced for the hit, holding the staff in front of him to dampen the impact of Lucas’ sabre.

  Varian’s eyes widened as he was pushed back with a force he would have expected from Rufus, not Lucas. Varian knew time was sparse, however, and sought to stabilize himself before Lucas could engage once more.

  What followed was an onslaught of strike after strike, each sending ripples through Varian and his staff alike. Each blow felt like a strike from a warhammer. Varian felt his arms gradually weaken and knew something had to change. He had initially planned on outlasting Lucas. Despite the overwhelming barrage of strikes he was aiming at Varian, however, he did not seem to tire.

  Varian saw a silver lining in his situation, though. While Lucas didn’t seem to be tiring, his technique was becoming sloppier—less refined. Varian seized the opportunity to take advantage of Lucas' sloppiness, opting for an unexpected sweep rather than defending. Lucas clearly hadn’t expected it. His eyes widened in surprise as he stumbled to the floor.

  Varian knew the fight wasn’t over, judging by the look in Lucas’ eyes. He went in for a thrust to Lucas’ chest. Miraculously, Lucas managed to deflect it while wielding his saber one-handed. With his other hand, he pushed himself back up.

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  At this point there was no denying it; something was wrong with Lucas. While Varian hadn’t sparred with him since last winter, he’d seen Lucas spar the others occasionally. He was performing better than ever before. His attacks were sharper, faster, and more aggressive.

  Both fighters separated, their positions identical to the one they’d started with. Varian stared at Lucas intently, trying to figure out what was going on. Then it hit him.

  Varian focused on Lucas’ bloodshot eyes—far too bloodshot. As they circled, Varian tried to recall where he’d heard of something similar.

  The answer struck him like lightning, pulling his thoughts back to the compound where he had lived with his old man.

  ‘Son, I know you’re nervous,’ Varian’s foster father had said soothingly. ‘Don’t worry. It’s a big step, but don’t you hope to be a grand cultivator one day?’ He flashed his pearly white teeth. Varian remembered nodding eagerly. ‘So, let me teach you the basics before I send you off. Let’s see… Ah, the four cultivator professions...’

  One of these professions was alchemy—the art of refining spiritual materials into pills for consumption. Though their effects varied, all pills had one thing in common.

  Using a pill too potent for the body always caused backlash, Varian thought grimly.Though Varian didn’t know all the forms of pill backlash, it was clear that Lucas was suffering from some form of it.

  Both servants and servant disciples were forbidden from taking pills. Mortal bodies weren’t meant to absorb more Qi than they held naturally. Varian grimaced, knowing Lucas had done something very foolish in his desire to triumph over him.

  He knew he couldn’t afford to give Lucas an inch. Varian’s eyes sharpened as he began targeting Lucas' vital areas—neck, collarbone, kneecaps. Lucas defended himself desperately, knowing he couldn’t afford to get hit.

  Varian’s friends watched with rapt attention. William grinned at Varian’s switch in tactics. Arthur, on the other hand, frowned. “It’s not like Varian to be this ruthless, even if he got his ass handed to him just a couple of minutes ago,” he said worriedly. William narrowed his eyes, realizing the truth in Arthur’s words.

  “Do you think he noticed something?” Ren asked conspiratorially. William responded, “Perhaps, but we should only intervene if something dire happens.” The teenagers nodded in agreement.

  Across the hall, Gerald raised his brow slowly, a playful smirk on his face. “It seems he has finally noticed,” the young man muttered to himself before turning to leave the hall.

  Varian and Lucas were locked in their fight—Varian on the offense, Lucas on defense, their roles reversed.

  Varian felt his energy waning, knowing he had to end it soon. He took a deep breath, then transitioned a parried thrust into a devastating chop, putting all his strength behind it. Throughout the fight, Lucas’ focus and technique had been flagging. Varian intended to capitalize on that.

  His hope was realized when Lucas reacted just a second too slowly, his sabre not rising in time to fully absorb the blow. The sound of wood hitting flesh resounded through the hall, leaving no room as to the intensity of the blow. The blow sent Lucas staggering to his knees, panting heavily.

  Varian held his staff, its end just inches from Lucas’ neck. With a tired smile, Varian declared, “I win.” He felt accomplished, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. They stared at each other for a moment before Varian extended a hand to pull Lucas up. Lucas looked at his hand, seemingly hesitating before grabbing onto Varian’s hand and pulling himself up.

  “I can’t say I’m happy with how it ended, but good spar, Varian,” he spat out begrudgingly. Varian smiled at him in turn and faced his friends, a triumphant grin firmly placed on his face. “See? Didn’t I tell you I had this in the bag?” Varian joked. Instead of the happy—or even frustrated—expressions he expected, though, all he saw were wide eyes.

  He turned, but it was too late. Lucas swung his sabre horizontally, aiming for his head with a vicious grin painted on his face. Varian managed to get his arm in front of his head just in time, but the blow sent him crashing to the floor.

  Varian noticed his friends rushing at Lucas angrily, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Even Claire and Yue seemed shocked, Varian noted distractedly.

  His arm throbbed painfully, but Varian couldn’t focus before everything faded to black.