Tristan stared at the immaculately dressed, silver-haired nobleman blocking the hallway, deeply regretting every life choice that had led him to this exact moment. He really had absolutely rotten luck.
"Now cousin. I won’t lie. I’m genuinely surprised. I didn’t think you had the spine to even attempt an escape." Caelan said, the silver embroidery on his doublet caught the ambient moonlight.
"I got bored of the decor," Tristan shot back, leaning heavily against the wall to take the weight off his screaming calf. "Though looking at that ridiculous midnight-blue velvet you’re wearing, I see your taste is still just as tragic as I remember."
Caelan’s smug smile twitched.
"You’ve always had a sharp tongue for a cripple," Caelan sneered. "But the family is tired of your embarrassments. I’m going to do us all a favor. I’ll pierce your heart and take your position rightfully But first, I think I’ll sever a few tendons in your good leg, just to make sure you stay put while you watch me kill you"
He leveled the point of the rapier at Tristan’s chest. "To make it sporting, since you are still tragically mundane, I won’t even use my unique skill. Just my blade. Think of it as an act of pity."
"Oh, you shouldn’t have," Tristan muttered, drawing the bone-white Prowler’s Claw.
Caelan didn’t wait. He pushed forward.
They were roughly the same age, but Caelan had been Awakened for over a year and a half. The physical gap was immense. Even without using his unique skills, Caelan was faster, stronger, and most importantly, completely fresh.
Tristan barely managed to parry the first thrust with his dagger, the impact jarring his wrist all the way to the shoulder. Caelan laughed, a short, cruel sound, and immediately pivoted. He wasn’t even aiming for his vitals, he was just toying with him. The rapier whipped down, intentionally striking Tristan’s injured, bandaged calf.
Tristan bit back a scream as the blunt edge of the blade slammed directly into the deep gash. His leg buckled, dropping him to one knee on the velvet carpet.
"Pathetic," Caelan sighed, stepping in for the crippling blow. He raised the rapier, aiming directly for Tristan’s collarbone to pin him to the floor.
’Now’
Tristan’s left hand shot out of his pocket.
He hurled the handful of crushed, jagged rocks he had harvested from the cavern wall straight into Caelan’s face.
"What the—!" Caelan flinched violently, instinctively jerking his head back, but he wasn’t fast enough. A sharp cloud of granite dust and stone shrapnel caught him squarely in the left eye.
"Gah!" Caelan shrieked, his winning strike going completely wide and embedding itself harmlessly into the wooden wall paneling. He stumbled backward, clutching the left side of his face.
Tristan scrambled back to his feet, panting heavily.
When Caelan looked up, his one good eye was practically vibrating with absolute, murderous rage. Any semblance of rationality gone.
"You tiny rodent" snarled Caelan. Ripping his rapier from the wall. The air around the blade suddenly began to warp and hum as he actively broke his own rule, flooding the steel with his Awakened essence. "I’m going to carve you to pieces!"
He charged, his speed doubling. This wasn’t some kind of playful strike. It was a killing blow aimed straight at Tristan’s heart.
Tristan didn’t even try to dodge. Instead, he reached deep into his core and grabbed the concept he had stolen earlier from the entrance hall. In the dungeon, he had Reaved the concept of light, absorbing the illumination to plunge the room into darkness.
Now, he forcefully expelled that stored payload.
[Concept Released: Light]
A localized, miniature sun detonated directly between them.
The flashbang was utterly blinding, accompanied by a sharp, searing crack of pure energy. Caelan, whose right eye was wide open and entirely focused on the kill, caught the absolute brunt of the magical flare at point-blank range.
"Aaaaaagh!"
Caelan dropped his rapier. The steel clattered loudly against the floor as the nobleman collapsed to his knees, pressing both hands over his face. He writhed on the carpet, screaming about his burning eyes and the sand grinding against his retinas.
Tristan stood over him, blinking away the spots in his own vision, and let out a breathless, adrenaline-fueled laugh.
"What happened to the act of pity, Caelan?" Tristan taunted, kicking the fallen rapier down the hallway. "Not so perceptive now, are we? Guess you should’ve kept your eyes peeled."
"I’ll kill you! I’ll blind you!" Caelan sobbed on the floor, completely neutralized.
Tristan raised his bone dagger, hesitating whether or not he should actually finish the job while he had the chance.
"Lady Jasmine! Thank the heavens I found you!"
Tristan froze. The frantic voice of a maid echoed from the adjoining corridor.
He spun around, raising his dagger defensively, just as a young maid practically threw herself out of a side hallway, panting in relief. But she wasn’t looking at him. She was running toward a figure standing quietly in the shadows just a few paces behind Tristan.
Tristan took a step back, his golden eyes narrowing.
Stepping out into the ambient moonlight was a girl of roughly his own age, possessing a beauty so striking it momentarily stole the remaining breath from Tristan’s lungs. She bore the unmistakable features of the Southerner, but refined to an almost lethal perfection. Her skin was a flawless, warm bronze that seemed to softly glow in the pale light, and her long, silken dark hair framed a face of devastating, aristocratic elegance, high cheekbones, a delicate jawline, and full lips painted a faint, dusky red.
Intricate golden needles pinned back her hair, and her lithe, graceful frame was draped in an elegant, flowing dress of crimson and black silk that perfectly accentuated her captivating presence, marking her as a high-ranking visiting noble. She looked less like a person and more like a masterful, breathtaking work of art.
But it was her eyes that caught Tristan off guard. They were a vivid, piercing amber, sharp and impossibly clear.
Jasmine Suna.
She simply stared directly at Tristan, her breathtaking features curving into a slow and highly dangerous smile.