The frozen lake stretched out beneath them like a sheet of cracked glass.
Snow had swept across it in uneven patterns, smoothing the surface until it looked deceptively calm.
The ice below was thick, but cold still bled through their boots, seeping upward like a countdown.
Ryn stood at the center.
Fritz and Alia faced him from opposite sides, the distance between them deliberate. Not far enough to be completely safe, but not close enough to commit to sothing.
Alia exhaled slowly, steadying herself. The Phoenix Feather had long since dissolved into her body.
And it showed.
A calm aura now radiated her entire being, almost like she was a small fire to which warmth spread in all directions.
She had advanced to Low-Knight Rank, stepping into the realms of the influential.
Fritz rolled his shoulders once, feeling the Wind Essence he’d absorb from the Wyvern’s Scale, perate through his body.
Gusts of wind orbited his body, almost like willful summons he could command at any ti.
He’d also advanced into Low-Master Rank. Becoming part of the ten percent of people in the world and one of its stronger combatants.
Even so, he was still a whole head below Kharvos, which lead Ryn to wonder.
How was soone so strong not noticed within the Bloodmane community until recently?
Ryn shook the thought away and decided to focus on the task at hand.
"You’ve both advanced," he said. "Good."
He turned slightly, boots scraping against the ice.
"Team up," Ryn continued. "Fight ."
The words landed wrong.
Both frowned at him, clearly hesitant.
"...What?" Fritz said.
Ryn didn’t repeat himself.
"You want us to—" Alia started, then stopped. "Ryn, this is supposed to be training."
"It is," Ryn replied.
Fritz’s jaw tightened. "You’re asking us to fight you together."
"You know you’re the lowest Essence Rank amongst the fighters in our party, right?" Fritz said matter-of-factly.
The words stung Ryn, but he wasn’t wrong at all. Ryn was the lowest in terms of pure combat potential.
He wasn’t as fast as Fritz, nor did he have Alia’s firepower. On paper, the matchup made no sense.
But there was one thing Ryn had absolute confidence in.
Experience.
Ten years of it.
"...Fine," Ryn said at last. "If you don’t make the first move—"
He stepped forward, boots scraping softly across the ice.
"—then I will."
[Limited Foresight]
His eyes went dark as his pupils suddenly erupted into a glowing star. The world tightened around him.
He wasn’t seeing what had happened—he was seeing what would.
A before-image, instead of an after.
The first image blood in front of Ryn’s eyes.
Alia stepped forward, gathering a ball of fire within her hand.
Ryn dashed before either of them was able to react.
The ice creaked.
Alia reacted instantly, fire flaring at her palm as she slid sideways, boots carving a line through the frozen lake.
Fritz surged forward, sword low as he closed the distance.
The second image ford, Ryn clutched his head as his eye strained in pain.
An arc of fire aid at his legs to make him jump, which would create an opening for Fritz to end the fight. A similar tactic they had used against Kharik.
But Ryn knew it now.
As the wave of fire tore toward his legs, he didn’t leap upward.
He twisted.
His body spun horizontally instead, letting the flas pass beneath him as he rotated in midair. One palm slapped down against the ice, fingers splaying as he caught himself and redirected the montum.
Fritz lunged exactly as predicted—blade flashing upward through empty space.
He struck nothing.
Ryn was already moving.
Using Aquila’s speed, he closed the distance between himself and her in a single step.
[Essence Burst]
A wave of his Cold Essence surged as he stomped on the thick ice.
"—Ryn!" she snapped, but it was too late.
The ice gave way.
It didn’t shatter outward. It collapsed inward, the surface caving beneath her boot with a sharp, cracking roar. Alia yelped as her footing vanished, balance stolen in an instant.
She dropped and cold swallowed her whole.
The lake surged up, dragging her under as the broken ice closed above her. Fire flared instinctively around her body—
—and died the mont it touched the water.
Alia kicked hard, heat roaring beneath her skin as she forced it out to cover her body. Steam blood around her as she twisted, arms breaking the surface in a spray of freezing water.
"RYNN!"
She slapped a hand onto the ice and hauled herself halfway out, steam pouring off her clothes as her fire kept the worst of the cold at bay.
"I swear— I swear when I get out of here—!"
Ryn winced.
Just a little.
"...In my defense," he said carefully, "you were too dangerous to leave alone."
Her glare could have lted steel.
The ice groaned beneath them.
Ryn’s gaze snapped away.
Because the before-image had already shifted—and Fritz was no longer where Ryn expected him to be.
Fritz crossed the distance in a blur, blade already in motion.
Ryn moved first.
Drawing his own blade and eting the Hero’s head-on.
Steel t steel with a sharp, ringing crack that echoed across the frozen lake.
Fritz’s brows knit.
He shifted angles imdiately, aiming for spots Ryn wouldn’t usually defend—his shoulder, knees, and arms.
But Ryn already knew.
Their swords clashed again, sparks flying across the ice.
Fritz pressed harder.
Another strike, then a feint—his wind Essence bursting mid swing to change the blade’s trajectory.
Ryn parried it anyway.
Every ti.
Fritz felt it then.
"...You’re not reacting," he muttered.
Ryn didn’t answer.
Because his vision was screaming.
The world fractured into overlapping paths, Fritz’s foot slipped half an inch too far, the exact angle of his shoulder before a thrust, the mont his grip tightened before a real strike.
Too many images.
Ryn ducked under a horizontal slash that hadn’t happened yet, countering into empty air as Fritz twisted away at the last second.
Pain flared.
Warmth trickled down his cheek.
Ryn wiped at his eye without looking, his fingers ca away red.
Fritz saw it.
His next strike hesitated, just a fraction, but enough for Ryn to capitalize on it.
He stepped inside Fritz’s guard, blade snapping up toward his wrist—
—and stopped a hair’s breadth short.
The ice cracked beneath their feet.
They froze.
"...Your eye," Fritz said quietly.
Ryn exhaled through clenched teeth.
"Focus."
Fritz didn’t.
He pulled his next swing, just slightly.
"Don’t," Ryn snapped, blood streaking down the side of his face. "Fight properly."
Fritz grit his teeth. "You’re bleeding."
"And you’re holding back," Ryn shot back.
His foot snapped out low, a compact leg kick driven straight into Fritz’s lead knee. No wind-up nor warning.
Fritz gasped as his leg buckled, balance vanishing in an instant.
He hit the ice hard.
Ryn followed, plunging his sword down hard onto the fallen Fritz.
Well...
The blade punched into the ice with a violent crack, stopping less than an inch from Fritz’s temple.
Fritz froze.
Ryn leaned in, blood still streaking from the corner of his eye, breath steady despite the pain.
"Never," he said quietly, "take pity on an enemy."
Fritz swallowed.
"Not in a real fight," Ryn continued. "Because next ti—"
He twisted the blade slightly.
"—it won’t be the ice."
Ryn withdrew his sword and stepped back.
Fritz lay there for a mont longer, staring up at the sky, heart hamring.
Then he exhaled.
"...I understand," he said.
Ryn studied him for a heartbeat longer, long enough to be sure the lesson had sunk in—then extended a hand.
Fritz took it.
Ice cracked as Alia hauled herself fully out of the lake. Water stread from her clothes, steam rolling off her in thick waves as her fire pushed back the cold.
She ran a hand through her soaked hair and fixed Ryn with a glare that promised future consequences.
"...I hope you know," she said flatly, "you’re buying new clothes."
Ryn winced. "Put it on my tab."
She snorted, stomping past him to shake most of the water from her sleeves.
Turning over to Taylor, who was hanging around on a nearby camp, Ryn asked.
"How long?"
"Three minutes," she replied.
Ryn’s breath caught. His legs suddenly felt... distant. Like they’d been carrying more weight than they should have.
"...That long," he murmured.
Taylor folded her arms. "That’s your ceiling."
Ryn exhaled slowly.
Three minutes.
That was all the world would give him without ripping his body apart.
Blood dripped from his chin onto the ice.
Alia noticed.
Her expression shifted, anger giving way to concern. "Ryn—your eye—"
"I know," he said, wiping at it again.
Ryn wiped the blood from beneath his eye again.
It kept coming back.
He stared at his fingers for a mont longer than necessary, then let his hand fall.
Limited Foresight.
The na sat wrong.
Enhanced Senses had been with him his entire previous life. The first Blessing he’d ever received—and the only one that had stayed with him until the end.
But never once did it show any signs of evolving.
Ryn frowned.
"...Why now?" he murmured.
Ryn exhaled slowly and let the sensation fade, calling upon the system as he was doing so.
[Na: Ryn Eden Arctis]
[Title: The Constellation’s Blade]
[Blessings:
Aquila (S-Rank)
Orion (S-Rank),
Limited Foresight (S-Rank)
...]
Ryn’s brow furrowed.
Staring at the interface, a chill crawled up his spine that nothing to do with the cold.
"...Did the Constellation To do this?"
Reviews
All reviews (0)