The afternoon sun had shifted position since the trials began, casting longer shadows across
the Trial Yard while wisps of cloud began gathering overhead. The perpetual mist of Mistfall
seemed to thicken with each passing hour, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere that made
the runic barriers glow more prominently around the dueling area. The weather itself seemed to
be responding to the intensity of the trials, as if the very essence of Vilaris was drawn to witness
these displays of emerging power.
Instructor Amari Unil stood at the edge of the warded dueling circle, his scroll unfurling with
practiced precision as the crowd settled into expectant silence. The previous matches had
established a rhythm—moments of breathless tension punctuated by explosive displays of
ability and skill. Each duel had revealed new facets of the participants' potential, and the
watching Drifters had grown increasingly focused as they studied their potential opponents.
"The next match," Amari announced, his voice carrying clearly across the yard, "will be Itsuki
Naoya versus Drayce Harkin."
A ripple of interest swept through the gathered crowd. Itsuki's mysterious reading from the
Eclipser had marked him as something unusual, while Drayce's reputation as a skilled
combatant from a neighboring town had preceded him. This promised to be a fascinating clash
of styles—the unknown quantity against proven competence.
Itsuki stepped forward with his characteristic calm, his white hair catching the filtered sunlight as
he moved. The thin scar over his left eyebrow seemed more prominent in the dueling circle's
enhanced lighting, a reminder that despite his composed demeanor, he was no stranger to
conflict. His dark-blue robes with silver embroidery rustled softly as he took his position, and his
ice-blue eyes held the same focused intensity that had impressed his father that morning.
Drayce Harkin approached from the opposite side with considerably more swagger. At eighteen,
he was slightly older than most of the other participants, and his stocky build suggested
someone who had spent considerable time honing his physical strength alongside his essence
abilities. His brown hair was cropped short in a military style, and his training gear bore the
practical modifications of someone who expected his battles to be decided by direct
confrontation.
"Drayce Harkin," the older boy said as they faced each other across the dueling circle, his voice
carrying the confidence of someone accustomed to winning. "I've heard stories about your
mysterious ability, Naoya. Looking forward to seeing if the reality lives up to the rumors."
"Stories have a way of growing in the telling," Itsuki replied diplomatically. "I'm sure you'll form
your own opinion soon enough."
"That I will." Drayce's grin held an edge of anticipation that suggested he was genuinely excited
about the challenge ahead. Despite his bravado, there was nothing malicious in his
demeanor—he simply possessed the straightforward confidence of a warrior who believed in
the strength of his abilities.
From the sidelines, Itsuki could hear his friends offering quiet encouragement. Takumi's voice
carried over the crowd noise, calling out something about "showing them what Abstract Shift
can really do," while Kairo's more subdued but no less supportive presence was a steadying
influence. Shion remained characteristically silent, but his teal eyes were fixed on the dueling
circle with the intense focus that suggested he was already cataloging potential tactical insights.
"Combatants," Amari called out, "are you ready?"
"Ready," they answered in unison, though the word carried different undertones from each
fighter. Drayce's response was sharp and eager, while Itsuki's held the steady calm of deep
waters.
"Begin!"
Drayce exploded into motion immediately, his Forcewell ability manifesting as a visible distortion
in the air around his clenched fists. The kinetic essence gathered and concentrated, turning his
strikes into devastating impacts that could shatter stone without requiring actual physical
contact. He charged across the dueling circle with impressive speed, his first attack aimed at
ending the match quickly and decisively.
It was a sound strategy. Many opponents would be overwhelmed by such an aggressive
opening, forced into a purely defensive posture that would gradually break down under
sustained assault. Drayce's combat experience had clearly taught him the value of seizing
initiative and maintaining pressure.
Itsuki, however, was not most opponents.
As Drayce's first strike swept toward him—a devastating haymaker enhanced by concentrated
kinetic force—Itsuki simply wasn't there anymore. He had moved with fluid grace, stepping
aside at precisely the right moment to avoid the attack while positioning himself for a potential
counter. But more than that, something about the space around him seemed slightly... wrong.
Drayce's follow-up strike, a quick jab that should have caught Itsuki before he could fully recover
his balance, instead passed harmlessly through empty air. The older boy's expression showed a
flicker of confusion—his targeting had been perfect, his timing precise, but somehow his
opponent had moved in a way that defied his calculations.
"Interesting footwork," Drayce muttered, resetting his stance. "Let's see how you handle this."
His next assault was a combination attack—three rapid strikes enhanced by Forcewell, each
one aimed at a different target zone to limit Itsuki's evasive options. The kinetic distortions
around his fists intensified, and the very air seemed to ripple with contained violence.
Again, Itsuki moved with that same fluid precision, but this time the watching crowd could see
something that made several of them gasp in surprise. As Drayce's attacks swept through the
space where Itsuki had been, the very concepts underlying the strikes seemed to shift subtly.
"Devastating impact" became "gentle push." "Bone-breaking force" became "friendly pat." The
attacks maintained their visual intensity, but their essential nature had been quietly transformed.
This was Abstract Shift in action—not flashy or dramatic, but profoundly unsettling to anyone
who understood what they were witnessing.
"What are you doing?" Drayce demanded, his confusion evident. His strikes felt correct, looked
correct, but they weren't connecting with the force they should have possessed.
"Redefining the terms of our engagement," Itsuki replied calmly, finally moving to the offensive.
His counter-attack was a thing of beauty—a series of precise strikes that flowed like water, each
movement connected to the next in an unbroken chain of motion. But like everything else about
Itsuki's fighting style, there was more happening than met the eye. As he moved, he was
constantly adjusting the abstract properties of the combat itself, shifting concepts like "distance,"
"timing," and "targeting" in ways that made his attacks unnaturally difficult to defend against.
Drayce found himself trying to block strikes that arrived faster than they should have, from
angles that geometry insisted were impossible. His Forcewell ability allowed him to enhance his
defensive capabilities as well as his attacks, but how could you defend against an opponent
who was rewriting the fundamental rules of the engagement?
The critical moment came when Drayce, frustrated by his inability to land a solid hit, committed
fully to a massive Forcewell-enhanced strike that contained enough kinetic force to crater the
ground. It was a desperation move—powerful enough to end the match if it connected, but
leaving him completely exposed if it failed.
Itsuki caught Drayce's wrist as the attack reached its peak, and for a heartbeat they stood
frozen in a tableau of opposing forces. Then, with a subtle application of his Abstract Shift
ability, Itsuki transformed "devastating attack" into "helpful momentum" and used Drayce's own
kinetic force to flip him cleanly through the air.
The older boy hit the ground with a solid thud that drew gasps and cheers from the watching
crowd. The technique had been executed with such perfect timing and control that it looked
almost effortless—a master-class demonstration of using an opponent's strength against them.
"Impressive!" someone called out from the crowd.
"How did he do that?" came another voice.
But Drayce wasn't finished. He rolled back to his feet with admirable resilience, his brown eyes
now holding a respect for his opponent that hadn't been there at the match's beginning. "I
underestimated you," he admitted. "That won't happen again."
His response was Forcewell Burst—a technique that channeled kinetic essence not into his
strikes, but into the ground beneath their feet. The stone surface of the dueling circle cracked
and shattered under the concentrated force, sending chunks of debris flying in all directions
while creating an unstable battlefield that would challenge both fighters' footing.
It was a clever adaptation. If Itsuki's advantage came from precise positioning and fluid
movement, then destroying the stable ground would force him to fight under less favorable
conditions. The flying debris also created multiple moving targets, making it harder to predict
where the next threat might come from.
Itsuki responded by retreating skillfully, his movements adapting to the changed battlefield with
the same fluid grace he'd shown throughout the match. He leaped from stone to stone with
perfect balance, occasionally reaching out with his ability to shift the abstract properties of
"unstable footing" into "reliable support" when necessary.
"You're full of surprises," Drayce called out as he pressed his advantage, using his Forcewell
ability to hurl chunks of broken stone with deadly accuracy. "But let's see how you handle
sustained pressure!"
What followed was a display of tactical brilliance from both fighters. Drayce's assault was
relentless and creative—he used his kinetic manipulation to create a constant barrage of
projectiles while simultaneously closing distance for direct combat. His years of training showed
in the way he maintained pressure without overextending, always keeping options open for
defensive responses.
Itsuki's counter-strategy was subtler but no less effective. As he moved through the debris field,
he was constantly adjusting the abstract nature of the threats around him. "Sharp-edged
projectile" became "harmless pebble." "Bone-breaking impact" became "gentle nudge." He
didn't need to dodge every attack if he could transform dangerous strikes into harmless contact.
But Abstract Shift required concentration and precise control. The more actively Itsuki used his
ability, the more mental energy it consumed. And Drayce, despite his confusion about the
mechanics of what was happening, was beginning to adapt his tactics to account for the strange
phenomena he was experiencing.
The match reached its climax when both fighters found themselves in close quarters, trading
rapid exchanges with skill that drew appreciative murmurs from the watching instructors.
Drayce's Forcewell-enhanced strikes were devastating when they connected, while Itsuki's
flowing combinations seemed to come from impossible angles and timing.
Then, in a moment that would be discussed in Mistfall's dojos for years to come, Itsuki launched
into what observers would later describe as a "disjointed flurry"—a rapid sequence of attacks
that seemed to violate every principle of martial arts they'd ever learned. His strikes came from
multiple directions simultaneously, at speeds that defied normal human limitations, with timing
that made no logical sense.
It was Abstract Shift pushed to its limits. Itsuki was manipulating concepts like "sequential,"
"linear," and "causality" itself, creating a combination attack that existed partially outside normal
space and time. The visual effect was deeply unsettling—like watching someone fight their own
reflection in a broken mirror.
Drayce's defense, no matter how skilled, couldn't account for attacks that weren't bound by
conventional physics. He found himself struck from behind by a punch that had been thrown in
front of him, knocked off balance by a kick that came from his own footstep, and finally
overwhelmed by the sheer impossibility of what he was trying to defend against.
The finishing move was something Itsuki had apparently decided to call "Sit Down"—a
technique that seemed simple on the surface but contained layers of abstract manipulation that
made resistance impossible. Drayce found himself compelled to the ground not by physical
force, but by a shift in the fundamental concept of "standing." One moment he was upright and
fighting, the next he was seated on the cracked stone with no memory of how he'd gotten there.
"Yield," he said after a moment of stunned silence, his voice holding a mixture of bewilderment
and admiration. "I don't understand half of what just happened, but I know when I'm beaten."
"Victory to Itsuki Naoya," Amari announced, though his own expression suggested he was trying
to process what he'd witnessed. "An... unconventional display of tactical adaptation and ability
application."
The crowd erupted in appreciation, though the cheers were mixed with confused murmurs as
people tried to understand what they'd seen. Itsuki's fighting style defied easy categorization,
and his Abstract Shift ability seemed to operate by rules that challenged conventional
understanding of essence manipulation.
"That was incredible!" Takumi called out from the sidelines, his golden eyes bright with
excitement. "I've never seen anything like that combination sequence!"
"Neither had anyone else," Kairo added with a grin. "Pretty sure you just invented about five
new martial arts principles."
Drayce stood and approached Itsuki with a respectful bow. "That was an honor to experience,
even if I couldn't match it. Your ability is unlike anything I've encountered—I can see why the
Eclipser had trouble categorizing it."
"You pushed me further than I expected," Itsuki replied with genuine respect. "Your adaptability
and resilience are remarkable. Any instructor would be fortunate to have you as a student."
As the two fighters left the dueling circle, the crowd's attention was already turning to what
promised to be another fascinating matchup. The trials were building toward something special,
and everyone present could feel the growing intensity.
"Next match," Amari announced, consulting his scroll. "Kairo Huisji versus Reima Syl."
Kairo stepped forward with his characteristic easy confidence, ember-orange hair catching the
light as he moved. His amber eyes held their usual warmth, but there was a focused intensity
beneath the surface that suggested he had been studying his upcoming opponent carefully. The
cracked hourglass pendant at his throat seemed to pulse with its own inner light—a reminder of
his missing mother and the legacy of void manipulation she had passed down to him.
Reima Syl approached from the opposite side with the fluid grace of someone whose abilities
were tied to air and movement. His brown hair was longer than most of the other participants',
and it seemed to move in breezes that didn't affect anyone else. His training clothes were cut to
allow maximum freedom of movement, and there was something about his posture that
suggested he was constantly aware of air currents and spatial relationships around him.
"Kairo Huisji," Reima said as they faced each other. "I've seen your Void Step in action during
training sessions. Impressive mobility."
"And I've heard about your Vane Point technique," Kairo replied. "They say you can slice
through steel with concentrated wind. Should make this interesting."
"That's the idea."
The contrast between their abilities was immediately apparent to anyone familiar with essence
manipulation. Kairo's Void Step allowed him to move through dimensional gaps—brief
teleportations that could confuse opponents and create tactical advantages. Reima's Vane Point
manipulated air currents into razor-sharp blades that could strike from unexpected angles and
distances.
"Combatants, are you ready?" Amari called.
"Ready," they responded, and this time both voices carried the same focused intensity.
"Begin!"
The opening moments of the duel showcased the tactical complexity that both fighters brought
to the engagement. Rather than rushing into direct confrontation, they began circling each other
while probing for weaknesses and testing ranges. Kairo would occasionally flicker out of
existence for a split second, reappearing a few feet away to gauge Reima's reaction time.
Reima responded by sending brief gusts of sharpened air across the dueling circle, not aimed to
hit but to establish his range and accuracy.
It was like watching two master chess players work through their opening moves, each decision
carrying implications for the entire match.
The first real exchange came when Kairo attempted a flanking maneuver, using Void Step to
appear at Reima's left side while launching a quick strike aimed at his ribs. But Reima had been
tracking the subtle distortions that preceded Kairo's dimensional movement, and his counter
was immediate—a focused blast of cutting wind that forced Kairo to abandon his attack and
step back into normal space.
"Nice reflexes," Kairo admitted, resetting his position.
"You telegraph your destinations," Reima replied with a slight smile. "The void gaps create
ripples in the air currents. Once you know what to look for, they're fairly obvious."
That observation changed the entire dynamic of the match. If Reima could predict where Kairo's
teleportation would place him, then the Void Step ability lost much of its tactical advantage.
Kairo would need to find new ways to use his power, or risk being systematically dismantled by
an opponent who could counter his primary strength.
His response was to embrace unpredictability. Instead of using Void Step for positioning, Kairo
began employing it rhythmically—flickering in and out of existence without necessarily changing
location, creating a stroboscopic effect that made it difficult to track his movements even when
he wasn't actually teleporting.
The visual effect was mesmerizing. Kairo seemed to exist in multiple states
simultaneously—solid, translucent, absent, present—creating the impression of a fighter who
was only partially anchored to normal reality. His attacks came from this state of temporal flux,
making them difficult to time or predict.
But Reima adapted with impressive speed. If he couldn't predict where Kairo would appear, he
could fill the entire combat area with cutting winds, creating a defensive matrix that would
damage his opponent regardless of positioning. The air around him became a visible distortion
as razor-sharp currents crisscrossed the dueling circle in complex patterns.
Kairo found himself forced to be increasingly creative with his Void Step usage, not just to
position for attacks but to avoid the deadly web of cutting wind that Reima was weaving around
them both. Each teleportation had to be precisely timed to avoid materialization in a space
occupied by sharpened air currents.
The match reached a turning point when one of Reima's wind blades caught Kairo during a
transition between void spaces, sending him tumbling across the stone floor with a shallow cut
along his shoulder. It was the first blood of the match, and it demonstrated that Reima's tactical
analysis was working.
"First touch to me," Reima said, though his expression remained respectfully focused rather
than triumphant.
Kairo rolled back to his feet, absently checking the cut on his shoulder. "Good hit. But the match
isn't over yet."
What happened next was a display of adaptation that drew impressed murmurs from the
watching instructors. Instead of continuing to use Void Step as a positioning tool, Kairo began
employing it to create afterimages—brief temporal echoes of his presence that lingered for a
fraction of a second after he teleported away.
The effect was to multiply his apparent presence across the battlefield. Reima found himself
trying to target a half-dozen Kairos simultaneously, only to discover that most of them were
phantom images left by rapid void transitions. The real Kairo could attack from any direction
while his opponent was distracted by false targets.
"Clever," Reima admitted as he spun to deflect a strike from the real Kairo while wind blades
passed harmlessly through two afterimages. "But I can still track the air disturbances from your
real body."
"Can you?" Kairo asked with a grin that held more confidence than it had a few minutes earlier.
The answer became clear over the next exchange. Kairo wasn't just creating visual
afterimages—he was manipulating the dimensional gaps to create actual air disturbances that
mimicked his presence. Reima's ability to track him through atmospheric changes was being
systematically compromised by false positives and phantom signatures.
The decisive moment came when Reima, frustrated by the proliferation of false targets,
attempted to clear the battlefield with a massive Vane Point technique that filled the entire
dueling circle with cutting winds. It was a powerful move that should have forced Kairo back to
conventional fighting, but it also required Reima to remain stationary while channeling the
complex air manipulations.
Kairo's response was to void-step not around the wind barrier, but through it—using the
dimensional gaps to briefly exist outside normal space where Reima's atmospheric manipulation
couldn't reach him. He emerged directly behind his opponent, landing a clean series of strikes
that left Reima dazed and off-balance.
"Yield," Reima said after a moment, his voice holding genuine respect. "That last technique was
brilliant—I didn't know void manipulation could bypass atmospheric effects entirely."
"Neither did I until about ten seconds ago," Kairo admitted with a laugh. "Sometimes the best
discoveries come from desperation."
"Victory to Kairo Huisji," Amari announced, and this time his expression showed clear approval
of both fighters' tactical evolution during the match.
As Kairo returned to his friends, accepting their congratulations with characteristic modesty, the
afternoon sky continued its gradual transformation. The wisps of cloud that had been gathering
throughout the trials were coalescing into something more substantial, and the air itself seemed
to carry a charge that made essence-sensitive individuals increasingly alert.
"Nice work," Itsuki said as Kairo rejoined them. "That dimensional bypass technique was
inspired."
"Lucky improvisation," Kairo replied, though his grin suggested he was already thinking about
how to refine and expand on what he'd discovered. "Reima's good—if he'd had a few more
minutes to adapt to the afterimage strategy, things might have gone differently."
"That's what separates good fighters from great ones," Takumi observed, his golden eyes still
reflecting the excitement of watching high-level tactical combat. "The ability to innovate under
pressure."
Shion remained characteristically quiet, but his teal gaze was distant in a way that suggested he
was processing more than just the immediate tactical lessons. As someone whose Spectral
Refrain ability let him see echoes of past events, he often picked up on patterns and
implications that others missed.
"Something's coming," he said quietly, his voice carrying the certainty of someone who had
glimpsed fragments of near future through his power. "The trials aren't going to continue as
expected."
As if summoned by his words, a rumble of distant thunder rolled across the sky, though no
lightning had been visible. The essence-charged air seemed to thicken, and several of the
watching Drifters looked up at the darkening clouds with expressions of concern.
The trials were far from over, but something was changing in the atmosphere around
them—something that suggested the afternoon's challenges were about to become far more
complex than anyone had anticipated.
Whatever was coming, the young warriors of Silverstone would face it together, their bonds
strengthened by the trials they had already overcome and their abilities sharpened by the
challenges that lay ahead.