228. The Primordial Essence of Nyxphaos

In the back of the line, the royal guard, Fich, watched Zetius and Prima make it through the checkpoint. Realising the stones were the key, he turned to the remaining arcanists and bellowed, “Listen up! We need to break the golems into pieces and carry them over!”

“Everyone! Focus your fire!” he commanded. Left with no other option, the remaining five complied and cooperated.

A barrage of integrated fire shattered the lines of defence, breaking the wall of golems into manageable, basic shapes.

“Everyone! Grab a piece and run!” Fich threw his spear, the momentum carrying him towards the nearest rolling rock. “Shit!” After bargaining for a second, he abandoned his weapon, extending both hands towards a square chunk. With a grunt, he heaved it onto his shoulder and pushed through the chaos.

The others scrambled to do the same. Some managed it, but others lacked the strength and dropped their heavy burdens to the floor.

“GO!” Fich roared, his legs dragging through the maelstrom. The clash of retaliating golems rang out behind him. A percussive blast erupted so close he thought it was for him, but his gaze remained locked on his goal.

Fear gnawed at him, but his spirit drove him onward.

“Grrrr!” Fich mustered the last of his energy and dove through the shimmering gate.

The gate chimed aloud, then solidified back into the impermeable barrier of Phoros.

A golem arched its massive fist towards a fallen Novitcius, who screamed in terror. But just before impact, the fist froze in place.

The Novitcius opened his eyes, realising the trial was over for him. The rest of the participants could no longer pass through the wall.

On the last stretch of the fun run, Fich panted, his hands on his knees as he pushed himself to stand. Sweat collected on his chin before dripping to the ground.

Zetius and Prima — or Pree, as she preferred — stood nearby, catching their breath.

“From eight down to three. That’s brutal,” Zetius grumbled, glancing at the scoreboard. Zetius Zel Celerius, Prima Vel Rigellion, Fich Mayer. His gaze fell on the royal guard who had sacrificed his trusty spear for the mission. The trial called for tough, dedicated arcanists, and Fich had proven his mettle. For that, Zetius could respect him.

With that thought, Zetius extended a hand to the wheezing guard.

“Fich, is it?” Zetius asked, his voice resolute.

“T~thanks…” Fich took the offered hand and hauled himself upright.

“Welcome to the club!” Pree beamed widely, her eyes closed. “Well, wish you all the best of luck! You’re going to need it!” she quipped, dropping into a sprinter’s stance.

“Heh, gotta love that fire,” Zetius said, puffing out his chest as he readied himself.

A lone horn flared, drawing their attention. “And the finale!” Nyrethein’s voice echoed across the racetrack. “For our three brave, warmongering mages, shall begin… now!”

Black mist erupted in every direction, engulfing them and the entirety of the racetrack. The announcer’s voice drifted through the air, “The beautiful sea of black mist!”

A long, villainous laugh followed. Zetius’s shoulders stiffened. “Stay close!” he urged.

When he couldn’t hear Pree’s footsteps, he spun around. “Pree! What—”

Nothing.

Pree was nowhere to be found, only the thick mist that shifted and twirled in the air.

“Silly girl!” he muttered, a vein popping in his temple. “It’s not her fault, it’s not her fault.”

“It’s every person for themself…” a faint, husky voice whispered in his ear.

Zetius spun, fully alert. “Pree? That you?”

Emerging from the mist, Pree tilted her head down. Her ears were stiffened and pointed — a clear sign of hostility. “There can only be one winner.”

“What are you talking about—”

Before Zetius could finish, the mist around Pree erupted outward.

She reappeared in a flash, her Atramnéon-enhanced leg sweeping towards his torso.

“Magnetos!” he countered. The magnetic field strained for a fraction of a second. His lesser-tier spell was no match for this scale of power.

CLEAVE!

The thunderous impact launched Zetius tens of metres into the air before he crashed into the side barricade. As the black mist cleared momentarily, horror unfolded for the audience. Terrified shrieks erupted from the masses; some fainted at the bloody sight.

“What’s going on?!” Frain exclaimed, turning to Rhea, who was equally flabbergasted. “Lunarius, why is she attacking Zetius?!”

“I… I… Something is at play here! I swear, that’s not my disciple!” Rhea stammered, her voice shaking with disbelief.

“Some sort of mind-control arcane?” Canis hypothesised, his face protruding as he shifted into a large, muscular werewolf. “We must act now!”

“Certainly!” Willhelm agreed immediately.

“Everyone! Move out of the way!” Friederich commanded the crowds, his voice crisp. The group moved in perfect sync, crossing over the guardrails and making their way through the panicked spectators.

***

Cubie hovered in front of Zetius. “Zetius! Oh no!” she cried out in desperation. Blood painted the semi-translucent wall, so thick it was dripping. Zetius’s head slumped forward, his limbs outstretched awkwardly. His silver hair was tainted with red.

“I thought you were my friend!” Cubie growled at the attacker, manifesting a defensive shield.

Pree took slow, malicious steps, her boots clapping with cold confidence. She grimaced, pitying her enemy. “Don’t be daft. There can only be one victor. And that is me!” Her voice resonated, and behind her, Fich lay face-first in a pool of crimson. She had taken him out already.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Cubie…” Zetius rasped, his voice weak, “This isn’t Pree.”

“What?” Cubie spun around frantically, confused.

“Pree would never do that!” he forced out through gritted teeth. “Ah!”

Zetius’s eyes sparked with powerful electricity. “Astrapyion!”

A bolt of lightning flashed from his hand.

Her reflexes blared. The fake Pree double-stepped, her boot scraping the floor. “Tsk!” She clicked her tongue and switched her attack stance.

“Cubie, I’ll take it from here.” Zetius stood, blood dripping from a gash in his stomach, yet his feet were steady. With a soft chant, “Iasis!” a green glow enveloped the wound, stopping the bleeding. It was all he could manage for now.

“YAAAAAA!” The false Pree lunged at him, slashing with a sharp-edged arm.

Zetius spun with precise movement, narrowly avoiding the killing blow. He kicked the ground, launching his knee upward.

“Are you stupid?!” she yelled, tilting her body to evade.

“Gotcha!” Zetius shot an electrical discharge from his knee, ultimately extending the reach of his attack.

“AAAHH!” Pree screamed, taking the full shock. Her body and voice faded into mist.

“She’s an echo?” Cubie gasped.

Zetius’s hunch was right. It wasn’t the real Pree, but a dark twin cast by divine power — the same kind he had witnessed at the colosseum.

He smirked, eyeing the source of it all in the sky. “Nyrethein.” The Celestius of Gemini held the Primordial Essence of Nyxphaos between her palms, the black mist spiralling and spilling erratically onto the battlefield.

Footsteps echoed as another Pree emerged from the mist. “I think I heard some ruckus over here.” Her horse ears twitched.

Her eyes bulged. “Zetius! Wah? You’re bleeding!” she exclaimed in shock as his wound reopened from the swift movement earlier.

Being defensive, Cubie raised her shield between them. “Are you the real one or the fake one?”

“The real or the fake?” Pree pointed to her own lips and tilted her head, genuinely thinking. “As far as I know, there’s only one Pree. I don’t have a sibling, though.”

Zetius chuckled dryly. “That’s the real one, Cubie.”

“How can we be sure?” Cubie argued, distrustful.

“She’s an innocent airhead. That’s why,” Zetius rationalised with a wry grin, taking a deep breath to cast another healing spell on his head and torso.

“Hey! I’m not stupid!” Pree bantered, stamping her foot.

Behind her, the black mist coalesced and gained height, shaking into her form. Its eyes glinted red with killing intent.

Zetius’ heart skipped, his voice resonated, “WATCH OUT!”

He rushed forward, but his knee buckled and failed — Astrapyion had exacted its first toll. “DAMN IT!”

Time slowed.

Life flashed before his eyes as the echo’s sharp silver heel plunged toward the real Pree’s shoulder.

But the real Pree was already bracing for the impact, chanting her spell as she crossed her arms to block.

The two Atramnéon-enhanced limbs collided and ground against each other, sending sparks flying.

“Nice try!” Pree spun, sweeping the ground with a powerful kick.

The fake Pree bounced back, retreating to a safe distance as the mist swirled around her.

“Nice reflexes!” Zetius blurted, pushing himself to his feet and shaking the numbness from his knee. I must have given the girl too little credit.

“I’ll take it from here. I ain’t losing to some phony horse,” Pree smirked, her expression almost defiant.

“Tsk!” The fake Pree clicked her tongue, raising her guard. “No, I’m the upgrade!”

“Let’s dance!” Pree dashed forward, her leg a piercing spear.

Her enemy anticipated the move, sidestepping before countering with a hook.

Pree leaned back unnaturally far, her hair brushing the cobblestones.

“HA!” The foe’s hook sliced through empty air.

Pree twisted her body, channelling the centrifugal force into her leg.

The fake Pree crossed her arms to block. The kick connected, but stuck. She smiled widely and scissored Pree’s attacking leg, trapping it.

“Hades!” Pree struggled, unable to break free.

“Told ya,” the fake Pree whispered. She hurled Pree into the ground with full force, cracking the cobblestones below. The loud thundering shock rang out.

Pree wheezed, the air forced from her lungs as she struggled to move. It was too late. Her foe was already on top of her, pressing her down.

Pulling a hand back, the fake Pree muttered, a murderous smile painting her face. “Time to die!”

“Atramnéon!” her echo shouted, punching Pree squarely in the face. Numbness spread from her nose as warm blood flowed, blurring her senses.

“Cubie! Now!” Zetius commanded, boosting himself into the air. He arched his body, bringing a fist wreathed in fire down at the echo’s face. His enemy reflexed, chanting Phoros to block.

Relentlessly, Zetius chased her down with a barrage of fire, but none of his attacks landed. She was too nimble.

Behind the chaotic brawl, Pree blew blood from her nose. “I’m not done with you!” she shouted, rejoining the fray.

Grunts and screams filled the racetrack. Fire spilled, flashes of silver cleaved the air — a desperate two-on-one battle against a single, relentless foe.

Nyrethein watched the battle from the sky, a spiteful remark on her tongue. “Look! The non-arcanists are catching up now! Don’t tell me the arcanists are going to lose?” She was right. On the non-arcanist track, the runners were finally making their way to the second checkpoint. Much slower than the arcanists, but with far more certainty.

Surrounded by a curious crowd, Willhelm led his party to the semi-translucent wall that separated them from their disciples.

Rhea extended her stubby hands and pushed. The barrier rippled but didn’t give way. “The arcane matrix is incredibly dense. I suspect something is powering it. It must be nearby.”

Sweeping his eyes over the barrier, Canis tapped his hammer against its surface, analysing the components. “That won’t matter. We can brute-force an entry and momentarily open a path!” He spun to face Willhelm, the highest damage-dealer among them.

“Alright. Lampi, Frain, Friederich, clear the area!” Willhelm bellowed. They nodded, already moving accordingly.

“Step back! I’ll tear this bloody wall down!” Willhelm’s voice was firm and resolute as he weaved his hands elegantly in the air. As he mustered his mana, a swarm of red butterflies twirled around him.

“Halt!” A mountain of muscle, a tiger Animori, interrupted, putting his body between them and the wall. His big arms crossed over his chest. He was Luger, one of the most trusted Lunarius of Gemini, directly under Nyrethein’s command.

“Lunarius Luger…” Rhea narrowed her eyes, her fists clenching reactively.

“What is the meaning of this?” Willhelm shouted, his shoulders stiffening as he dismissed the charging attack into harmless mana sparks. The battle still raged on the other side. Zetius and Pree were having a hard time fighting the Dreamless echo.

“What a pitiful look. Three Lunarius mages trying their hardest to save their endearing disciples,” the Magnus Primarch of Britainia spoke calmly, his hands folded neatly behind his back.

“I didn’t think arcanists were so soft these days… even the relatively high echelons of power,” the dark elven ruler taunted.

“I will not let you lot taint this race!” the tiger roared, raising his claws. “Their proof of warmongering mages.”

Canis tightened his grip on his hammer in response. He couldn’t fathom that the entire Britainia escort was in on this debacle.

Rhea’s expression darkened, her throat rattling with a guttural noise. She extended her arm and summoned her mythic arc weapon — a morning star with a massive, wracking ball of steel that glistened in the light. It was the weapon of a punisher, its brutal size a menacing contrast to her small frame.

“I don’t give a crap!” The angry Animori cursed.

“Of course, you never do, Rhea,” Luger spoke in a calm, unbothered tone. “Do you wish to fight me on this eve? Do you think it is wise to jeopardise and hinder the progress your disciples have made?”

“I told you I don’t care!” Rhea shouted, taking a step forward. The sight of her disciple’s blood spattered on the cobblestones had pushed her past her limit.

Luger didn’t back down. “Really? So you think they aren’t competent enough to fight against their own echo?”

“Your lack of faith is simply amusing to me,” Stephen quipped. He didn’t laugh; instead, he shielded his face with a gloved hand.

That seemed to strike home. Rhea choked on her words, her hands trembling on her weapon’s hilt.

The tension rose, but none dared to move.

“Screw this!” Rhea muttered, dismissing her weapon. The move surprised them all. Even Canis and Willhelm gave her an odd look.

She sat down, crossing her legs and arms, and gave her final verdict to her allies. “My disciple is strong. She’ll win.”