Chapter 35 : THE SECOND ASSAULT — PART 2
Pangborn was better than me.
The realization came in the first exchange — his blade meeting mine with the fluid economy of someone who'd been killing since before my current body was born. Every strike was precise. Every defense was positioned exactly where it needed to be. He moved with the terrible grace of mastery, and I understood why Valentine had kept this man as his champion.
But I wasn't fighting alone.
Jace.
Through the parabatai bond, I borrowed his combat instincts. Not his body, not his skills — but the way he read opponents, the micro-tells that telegraphed attacks, the ruthless efficiency of his fighting style.
My blade shifted. A strike I'd never practiced, guided by borrowed knowledge.
Pangborn's eyes widened. "What—"
Izzy.
The secondary bond offered something different. Her fluidity, her ability to turn defense into offense, the way she used her opponent's momentum against them.
I ducked under Pangborn's riposte and let his own force carry him past me.
Clary.
The tertiary connection was weaker, but Clary's gift had something the others lacked — an instinctive understanding of runes that defied conventional teaching. I touched that understanding and let it guide my evolved iratze, sending healing energy to muscles that were already tearing under the strain of borrowed techniques.
Three people's combat knowledge. One body trying to contain it all.
My next attack drove Pangborn back three steps.
"Impossible," he snarled. "You're channeling multiple fighters."
"I'm doing what it takes to win."
Our blades crashed together. Once. Twice. A third time that sent sparks flying in the torchlight.
Pangborn was stronger than me. More experienced. More skilled. But I had a network feeding me information he couldn't match, and every exchange taught me something new about his patterns.
There. A slight favor of his left side. An old injury, maybe, or just a decades-old habit.
I feinted high and struck low.
My blade opened a gash across his thigh. Not fatal, but the blood flow would weaken him. The pain would slow him.
"You're not a normal Shadowhunter," Pangborn said, retreating slightly. "Valentine was right about you."
"Valentine's been wrong about a lot of things."
"Has he?" The Circle champion smiled, the expression sharp with dark humor. "He said you'd be worth studying. Said whatever made you special could be replicated, if properly understood." Pangborn raised his blade again. "He'll be disappointed to receive you in pieces."
The attack that followed was the most vicious yet.
Pangborn abandoned his careful precision for raw aggression, trading defense for overwhelming offense. His blade became a blur of silver, striking from angles I could barely track, forcing me back step by step.
I felt the network strain. Jace's attention was split — he was fighting his own battles across the courtyard. Izzy had engaged a pack of Raveners near the armory. Clary was running low on runic energy.
I was alone.
No. I was never alone.
I reached deeper into the bonds than I ever had before. Not borrowing knowledge anymore — pulling on the connections themselves, drawing strength from the people who trusted me.
The network blazed.
White light erupted from my evolved iratze, spreading through my body like fire through dry wood. Pain became meaningless. Exhaustion became irrelevant. For one perfect moment, I was more than human — a conduit for collective will, powered by bonds that should never have existed.
My blade moved.
Jace's thrust. Izzy's twist. My precision. Clary's instinctive understanding of where an enemy's runic defenses were weakest.
The combination hit Pangborn's guard from four directions at once.
His blade went wide. My blade went through his chest.
For a heartbeat, we stood frozen — the Circle's champion impaled on my sword, surprise and something like respect in his dying eyes.
"Valentine was right," he whispered. "You're not a Shadowhunter."
He died before he could say what I was instead.
I pulled my blade free and watched Pangborn fall.
Around me, the battle shifted. The Circle forces had seen their champion die. The impossible coordinated defense, the white light that had blazed from my rune — fear spread through their ranks like wildfire.
"They're retreating!" someone shouted.
The Circle ran. Those who could flee did, pouring through portals and disappearing into the dawn light. Those who couldn't were cut down by defenders who'd been barely holding moments before.
Victory.
The word felt hollow as I stood over Pangborn's body, breathing hard, feeling the network collapse back to normal intensity. My hands shook. Blood dripped from my nose and ears — the cost of channeling that much power through bonds not designed for it.
But we'd won.
Valentine's assault had broken against the Institute's walls. His forces were scattered. His champion was dead.
Jace reached me first, parabatai bond flaring with concern as he took in my condition.
"Alec? Are you—"
"Fine." The lie came automatically. "Just tired."
Through the bond, he knew it wasn't true. But he didn't challenge it — not here, not in front of witnesses who were already staring at me with expressions that mixed awe and fear.
Izzy arrived next, whip finally retracted, relief and worry warring on her face.
"That light," she said quietly. "When you were fighting Pangborn. What was that?"
"I don't know." Also not entirely a lie. I'd reached deeper into the network than ever before, and I didn't fully understand what I'd found.
Magnus and Clary approached together, the warlock's arm around the exhausted girl. Magnus's eyes found the blood on my face, the trembling in my hands, and his expression went carefully neutral — hiding his fear behind centuries of practiced composure.
"The Circle is retreating," he reported. "My wards show their portal signatures scattering across the northeast. They're running."
"Valentine?"
"No confirmed sighting. He wasn't leading this assault personally."
Of course not. Valentine was too smart to risk himself in a battle he might lose. He'd sent his best forces, his champion, his demons — and held himself back to rebuild if they failed.
The war wasn't over.
But this battle was.
"Secure the Institute," I ordered, my voice steadier than I felt. "Treat the wounded. Count the dead." I looked at Pangborn's corpse, still bleeding onto the courtyard stones. "And get this cleaned up. We have work to do."
I walked away before anyone could see my legs almost give out.
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