The silence was broken by a whisper of wind. Kev stood amid the shattered ruins of the eastern watchtower of Noctera, his breath calm—controlled. His right eye glowed crimson, but his left burned with an eerie violet, pulsing as though alive.
Dorell grinned from the edge of a collapsed archway, his boots crunching on broken stone. The smirk never left his face, even as a faint cut bled across his cheek. "That eye," he chuckled, voice amused, "You're finally using it. What does it show you, I wonder?"
Kev didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he let the Shadow Eye peer deeper. Information flooded his mind—not words, but impulses, sensations. Fear hidden beneath Dorell's laughter. Pressure points on his ribs. A sudden shift in stance suggesting a feint, not a real strike.
"Your smile trembles when you lie," Kev said coldly.
Dorell's eyes narrowed. "You think you've figured me out?"
"I don't think," Kev replied, "I know."
With a blur, Dorell moved. His body vanished into a streak of blood-red afterimages, closing the distance between them in a blink. But Kev had already anticipated it—Shadow Movement folded him into a mist of black, and he reappeared behind Dorell, blade of condensed shadow forming from his hand.
They clashed again, and the ruins trembled.
Dorell spun mid-air, catching the shadow blade with a hunter's dagger glowing in crimson bloodlight. Sparks flared as the two energies collided—Blood Aura pulsing violently against Kev's ether-infused shadows.
"You've gotten faster," Dorell admitted, arms strained. "But you're still one ranks beneath me."
"Ranks mean nothing when I see your every move."
Dorell's grin broke for the first time. "Tch… annoying."
With a roar, Dorell unleashed a shockwave of blood energy. The force shattered a nearby pillar and sent Kev flying into a wall. Dust clouded the air. But through it, a violet glow remained steady—his Shadow Eye never blinking.
Kev coughed, blood trailing from his lips, but he was smiling now. A thin, dangerous smile. "You're panicking."
The words hit harder than his blade.
Dorell was indeed growing cautious. The boy in front of him wasn't fighting wildly. He was dissecting every move, reading each emotion, every flaw. That wasn't a battle—it was an autopsy.
"You know…" Dorell said, stepping back, "I was told to drag you back barely alive. But maybe I'll rip out that eye instead."
He slashed downward with both blades, the ground erupting. Kev countered, shadows rising around him like a vortex, swallowing debris, redirecting attacks.
Still, Kev's breathing was uneven. The fight wasn't even. He was only peak soldier, and Dorell—a low general—was faster, stronger, and more experienced.
Kev needed an edge. His eye showed him Dorell's weakness, but landing the blow?
That would require something else.
Suddenly, Dorell's aura shifted. His dagger trembled with an unfamiliar energy.
He was preparing a unique skill.
Kev's eyes narrowed. If he didn't stop it now… this battle would end.
And not in his favor.