Kravitz had sealed the entire arena within a pitch-black, all-consuming shadow dome. This wasn't ordinary darkness; it was a sickly mass of aether that choked out the light and made it hard to breathe, pulsing like a living entity.
Vane lightly extended his hand toward the dense wall of darkness forming the dome. The exact second his fingertips brushed the shadow membrane, he felt a horrific pain, as if thousands of invisible razors were slicing his skin. He pulled his hand back quickly, thin beads of blood oozing from his knuckles.
The cold, noble voice instantly echoed inside his head. "Vane, that boy cannot control his aether. He must be in some kind of crisis, a dangerous trance. Be careful." Lysandra's warning was clear.
Even in the middle of a battle, Vane's mind operated with that cold, calculating speed. If I can't see the outside, they can't see the inside. For better or worse, Kravitz is the heir of the 7th Pillar. His aether arts must serve exactly this kind of lethal isolation purpose.
"Vane, he's coming!" Lysandra's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
Kravitz didn't lunge like a shadow, but like a rabid hound that had lost its mind. The pitch-black aether daggers in his hands cut through the air with a shrill whistle, aiming straight for Vane's neck. Vane sidestepped at the last possible second, but couldn't prevent a deep gash from tearing into his left shoulder, slicing down to the muscle. He gritted his teeth against the pain. The fabric of his shirt was torn, and his blood began dripping onto the stone floor of the arena.
Not like last time... Vane thought, barely dodging Kravitz's relentless, savage swings. These aren't superficial scratches; he's going straight for my jugular. Kravitz didn't pause. Spinning on his heel, he tried to plunge the dagger in his right hand directly into Vane's chest. Vane gripped his rusty dagger in a reverse hold, parrying the strike mere inches from his heart. CLANG! Blinding sparks and droplets of black aether scattered from the clash of the two weapons. The sheer force of the impact numbed Vane's arms.
But Vane still needed one final confirmation before unleashing his forbidden power. "Lysandra," he called out in his mind, deflecting another lethal knee strike from Kravitz with his dagger. "Is it possible for you to pass through these shadows in your spirit form and check the outside?"
Lysandra hesitated for a moment. "The distance I can freely wander has shortened considerably since I forged that bond with you, Vane. But this arena dome... It shouldn't be a problem."
The center of the arena was a massive area. After all, this was a battlefield where aether bugs, tornados of flame, and artificial earthquakes constantly clashed.
"Go and check," Vane grunted. He stumbled backward from a backhand strike to his face, spitting the blood pooling in his mouth onto the floor. "Find out if they can see this fight from the outside!"
Driven by his aether crisis, Kravitz attacked with pitch-black eyes, possessing absolutely zero thought of defense, driven only by a pure killing instinct. Vane was absolutely determined to keep his true power hidden until he was one hundred percent sure no one was watching.
This isn't a school duel anymore; it's a cage fight that's going to end in blood, Vane thought. For the first time in his life, he felt truly grateful that the old man's weapon of choice had been a swift military dirk during those brutal childhood sparring sessions. He was using every step, every wrist maneuver he had learned from Kael in this life-or-death battle. He deflected attacks with his own rusty dagger, and with every clash of blades, he stealthily siphoned micro-amounts of Kravitz's aether—amounts so small no one would ever notice.
"Vane!" Lysandra's voice echoed in his mind. "Anyone trying to get in, even the other heirs, is getting hurt by this dense shadow barrier. No one can slip through, and nothing can be seen from the outside. They are completely blind. You can use everything you have!"
At that moment, a dark, chilling smirk crept onto Vane's blood-and-sweat-stained face.
When Kravitz raised his dagger once more and brought it down with all his might, Vane didn't dodge or parry. He met the blade directly with his own rusty dagger. As the two steels locked, Vane stared dead into Kravitz's hollow, black eyes and whispered internally:
"Devour."
Vane began to savagely siphon Kravitz's chaotic aether. The dark, venomous energy flowed from the tip of the rusty dagger down Vane's arm, rushing into his veins like boiling pitch.
But he instantly realized something was horribly wrong. He couldn't stop the absorption! The massive, unstable aether of the shadows was rushing into Vane's soul like a collapsed dam. Vane's muscles spasmed violently; his veins bulged beneath his skin, glowing a sickly purple.
"VANE, STOP!" Lysandra screamed. For the first time, there was pure panic in her noble voice. "YOU'RE DEVOURING RECKLESSLY! LET IT GO!"
But Vane's body was locked. His fingers felt as if they were welded to the hilt. His eyes began to glow with a blinding, feral purple light that could pierce even those pitch-black shadows.
Outside, the students surrounding the arena watched in horror as eerie beams of purple light leaked out of the shadow dome, desperately trying to make sense of what the hell was going on inside.
Right then, Professor Vespera reached the edge of the arena. "Damn it, what is happening inside that dome?!"
A student beside her, voice trembling, summarized what had just occurred. The worry on Vespera's face vanished in seconds, replaced by a faint, dangerous smile on her lips.
This is incredible... I must report this result to our King immediately, Vespera thought.
Back inside the shadows, a monumental reaction was taking place on the rusty dagger in Vane's hand. Under the crushing pressure of the massive aether being devoured, the centuries-old layer of rust on the dagger formed deep cracks. It began to peel and fall off like dead scabs, and from beneath every fallen flake of rust, the cold surface of an ancient metal emerged, shining bright enough to blind the eye. The young man's entire body was burning with that lethal purple light.
"DAMN IT VANE, FIGHT IT!" Lysandra shrieked.
But Vane couldn't hear her. His mind was crushed under this colossal energy storm; he had long lost his control and consciousness. The world darkened around him, the purple light detonated with a deafening boom, and then... Nothing.
Where am I? Vane thought.
His eyelids felt heavy as lead. The familiar chirping of birds reached his ears. The smell filling his nose... wasn't blood, sweat, or the throat-burning ozone stench of scorched aether. It was the scent of fresh hay and animal dung.
"Vane! Vane!"
That voice...
"Sweetie, how many times have I told you not to fall asleep in the barn."
The young man slowly fluttered his eyes open. Right in front of him... stood the flawless face he had missed so agonizingly much, the face he would gladly burn the world and his own soul just to see one more time, just to breathe in her scent once more.
"M-Mom..."