[Elaine]
A pleasant warmth stirred me from my brief lapse into unconsciousness.
It was almost comforting.
Almost.
The moment I began to regain my senses, the agonizing pain that had gripped my body returned in full force.
"Princess…"
A voice called out to me, distant and muffled.
"Princess…"
It grew clearer as I struggled towards consciousness, the familiar voice gradually taking shape in my mind.
"Princess!"
My eyelids fluttered open. The first thing I saw was a pair of fiery golden eyes staring down at me.
"Vicaris," I managed before a cough interrupted me. The metallic taste of blood coated my tongue.
I was cradled in the glowing arms of my Ignis familiar. His body was composed entirely of flames, contained within jagged silver armor that shimmered in the heat.
His gaze softened for a moment before he turned towards the commotion behind him.
I followed his gaze.
My eyes widened.
"Equin."
Another cough escaped me.
My second familiar was an Aqua spirit, her body formed from flowing water beneath jagged armor of deep azure.
Where Vicaris burned like a living inferno, Equin carried the quiet, relentless presence of the sea.
Unfortunately, she was currently on the receiving end of a rather unpleasant beating.
Mordred moved between her attacks with infuriating ease. Every time Equin tried to catch him off guard, he slipped past her defenses and struck before she could recover. His blows landed with such vicious precision that I winced whenever one connected.
And he showed no sign of slowing down.
"Why did you let her fight him?" I asked, turning towards Vicaris.
The Ignis spirit sighed.
"She insisted that I protect you until you woke up."
His golden eyes narrowed as he watched the fight.
"She wasn't wrong, either. Your brother unleashed quite a few attacks in your direction while fighting her."
"Ah."
I looked back at the two combatants.
That made sense. This was Mordred we were talking about.
Still, Equin was an S-ranker. She wasn't some helpless spirit who would fold the moment an opponent got serious.
Yet Mordred was dismantling her defenses with alarming ease.
Equin was skilled enough to keep him occupied, but every opening she created seemed to disappear before she could take advantage of it.
He was simply too fast, too precise, and far too vicious.
I couldn't help wondering whether he was even trying to hold back.
Then I remembered who I was thinking about.
Probably not.
I glanced down at the primary source of my agony and immediately regretted it.
My right foot was hanging from my ankle by a literal thread of flesh. Blood seeped from the wound, its flow slowing as it congealed and spread across my jeans.
I stared at it for a moment.
Great.
My jeans are ruined.
Thanks, Mordred.
"Things are not going well."
My foot throbbed with every heartbeat, and watching Mordred pummel my familiar wasn't helping.
I turned towards Vicaris. "Switch with Equin and buy me some time."
Then I glanced at my brother, hardening my gaze.
"I may have to use my cards."
"Don't."
Vicaris's response caught me off guard.
He had never objected to my using my stigma before.
Not until now.
"Pardon?" I asked, meeting his flaming gaze.
His expression was firm and resolute.
Vicaris lowered his head. "Forgive me for contradicting you, Princess. But you cannot toy with the emotions of someone whose heart and mind have been flayed by horrors beyond our comprehension."
He paused, his gaze shifting towards Mordred.
"If you use your cards on him…"
Vicaris paused. He seemed reluctant to continue.
"He will kill you, regardless of what it costs him."
A sudden chill crept over me.
My gaze drifted back to Mordred, and I began noticing things I hadn't paid attention to before.
The way he checked the force of his strikes at the last moment, holding back just enough to avoid inflicting the full extent of the damage he could cause.
The sudden surge of ardor as he invoked a powerful code, followed by its immediate reduction once the attack was complete.
The absence of the bloodlust one would expect from a seasoned Deathwalker.
And then there was his face.
The twitching of his lips and cheeks as he struggled to suppress a smile.
A smile that made him look like a deranged patient who desperately needed to be locked up.
Oh.
I understood.
Mordred wasn't simply overpowering Equin. He was restraining himself, controlling his strength and ardor with unnerving precision, all while struggling to contain something behind that almost-smile.
And Vicaris was telling me that if I used my cards on him, I might unleash it.
I swallowed.
If I played my cards, I might not survive the game.
I didn't want to die.
I was too much of a coward for that.
That was why I'd picked this fight with Mordred in the first place, wasn't it?
I'd wanted him to stop me. To force me to confront the person I was becoming.
But now that I was faced with the possibility of death, all I could think about was surviving.
I was too afraid to confront myself.
The bile rising in my throat threatened to spill over, but I forced it down and turned towards Vicaris.
"Switch with Equin. She'll heal me while you buy us some time."
My gaze returned to Mordred.
"I need time to recover and figure out how to counter him."
"Very well."
Vicaris gently lowered me onto the padded floor before bursting into flames and launching himself towards Mordred.
"What the-"
My brother's startled exclamation was cut short by the clash of blades.
At the same time, a cool sensation washed over my legs, flowing around my almost severed foot.
Water-like tendrils enveloped the mangled flesh, and a faint tingling sensation spread through the wound.
"Ease yourself, Princess."
Equin knelt beside me, her voice soothing despite the strain in it. Her hands hovered over my battered body as her power flowed into the injury.
Up close, the state of her armor was even worse than I'd realized. Deep gashes marred the azure plates, and the ardor flowing through her body felt noticeably weaker than usual.
Yet she barely spared herself a glance, concentrating entirely on repairing my foot.
I couldn't help feeling a little guilty.
She'd taken that beating while protecting me, and now she was using what little strength she had left to heal me.
"Your brother."
Her smooth, swirling eyes met mine.
"He's a nightmare, even when he's holding back."
"Yeah." I nodded, immediately regretting it when the movement sent another jolt of pain through me.
I watched as Equin's power worked its way through my foot, drawing the torn flesh together and restoring what had nearly been severed.
The pain gradually subsided, though the lingering ache made it clear that I wasn't going to be running anywhere anytime soon.
"I noticed."
With Equin occupied, I turned my attention inward and began streaming a considerable amount of ardor into my catalyst.
There was no point pretending I could win this fight by playing it safe.
I needed something powerful enough to counter Mordred, something dangerous enough that Mom would probably give me a lecture for even considering it.
Well, I'd deal with that later.
Assuming I survived long enough to get the lecture.
*******
[Back to Mordred]
I'm feeling quite hot right now.
And I don't mean in a romantic sense.
I guess I have to blame the fire spirit before me.
"I didn't realize spirits could take humanoid forms!" I exclaimed, sliding my blade against the fiery knight's in a flurry of sparks and flames.
"Like how you warlocks rank yourselves, we have ranks as well," the spirit replied, stepping forward and locking blades with me.
"I am Vicaris," he declared, his regal, distorted voice unsettlingly reminiscent of Naberiax. "A Master Spirit of Ignis. Ardor is my existence, and fire is my blood."
"Nice to meet you," I muttered, summoning multiple Bloodflare Lances and launching them at his face.
With a grunt, Vicaris leaped backwards, parrying every lance with apparent ease.
I dashed forward, meeting his blade in a dance of steel surrounded by a whirlwind of golden flames and Bloodfire.
Vicaris blocked and parried my strikes with impressive precision. He was considerably more formidable than his Aqua counterpart, both in strength and swordsmanship.
But he wasn't Naberiax or Kay, and I could see the difference.
His movements were skilled, his timing impeccable, but I could read his attacks. None had come close to reaching me.
Still, I couldn't afford to underestimate him.
My gaze briefly flickered past his shoulder.
Elaine was still recovering. Her Aqua spirit had been battered protecting her, and Vicaris was now keeping me occupied. It wasn't difficult to guess what that meant.
He was buying her time.
I needed to finish this quickly before my sister could recover enough to become a problem again.
With that in mind, I pressed harder, weaving around Vicaris's fiery sword slashes. I ducked beneath a sweeping strike, sidestepped his follow-up, and slashed low at his torso.
Vicaris immediately brought his blade down to block mine.
Unfortunately for him, I had something else up my sleeve.
Clarent appeared in my other hand.
I reversed my grip and swung upward. The blade struck his armor, slicing through the flaming metal and, more importantly, the ardor sustaining it.
A gasp escaped him, accompanied by a gust of hot air, as the Sword of Peace sheared away a substantial portion of his shoulder.
Even I was surprised.
Wounding a spirit was notoriously difficult. To inflict even a scratch, one usually had to imbue a weapon with the same frequency as the spirit's ardor.
Yet Clarent had cut through Vicaris's defenses like a hot knife through butter.
For a moment, I frowned.
Then it clicked.
Vicaris was a spirit, but that wasn't what mattered. He was directing his attacks at me, and Clarent nullified any attack aimed in my direction.
A grin spread across my face.
Well, wasn't that convenient?
I adjusted my grip and swung down with renewed confidence.
Vicaris immediately recognized the danger. Rather than risk another exchange of blades, he drove a kick into my chest, unleashing a powerful pulse of ardor with the impact.
The force sent me stumbling backwards, knocking the air from my lungs. The heat washed over me, and the acrid smell of smoldering fabric reached my nose.
I recovered quickly, but Vicaris was already moving. His sword came sweeping down towards my head.
I twisted aside as multiple blood tendrils erupted from my back, intercepting the blade before it could reach me.
They coiled around his arm, their surfaces hissing and burning under the intense heat.
I hardened them into crystalline restraints, locking his arm in place.
Then I used blood acceleration to propel myself forward.
My white sword vanished, replaced by Clarent.
Vicaris's eyes widened behind his helm.
Before he could wrench himself free, my blood tendrils contracted, dragging him towards me.
Another gasp escaped him as Clarent plunged into his chest.
His flames flared violently before gradually dimming. His armored body slumped forward, the light within him fading as he lost the strength to stand.
"You can revive, right?" I asked calmly.
"We spirits are quite difficult to be rid of, even with a Divine Instrument," Vicaris replied, strangely unfazed. "As long as our master is alive, the concept of an end is meaningless to us."
I shrugged.
"That's good. Otherwise, it'd be pretty awkward if I faced Elaine again."
"Indeed." Vicaris chuckled. "It's a good thing I was quite the distraction."
I frowned.
"So you were the distraction."
I could have sworn I saw the Ignis spirit smiling behind his helm.
"I hope I have provided enough time, Princess."
"You have, my dear friend," Elaine's voice answered from behind me.
A powerful surge of ardor shook the air.
My smile faded.
I'd known Vicaris was buying her time. I'd even reminded myself that Elaine was still a threat.
And yet, the moment I'd discovered Clarent's advantage, my attention had narrowed to the fight in front of me.
I'd become so absorbed in figuring out how to dismantle Vicaris that I'd stopped paying attention to what my sister was doing.
Rookie mistake. Dammit.
Two lifetimes of experience, and I still got carried away whenever a fight became interesting.
As Vicaris's body dissipated in a flurry of flames, I turned towards Elaine.
Waves of ardor crashed into me like the waves of a stormy sea hitting a beach.
"Shit."