Dudley lunged at with unexpected speed. The Black Gold Ball pulsed behind him, amplifying his movents as he thrust a golden spear I hadn't seen before. I barely dodged, feeling the weapon slice through the air where my chest had been a split second earlier.
"New toy?" I taunted, creating distance between us.
"A gift from my benefactor," Dudley replied, his voice deeper and more confident than I rembered. "The Sundering Spear. Perfect for dealing with pests like you."
I circled cautiously, noting how the weapon seed to extend his aura. This wasn't the sa Dudley I'd faced before. Sothing fundantal had changed about him—his movents more fluid, his eyes sharper with an unnatural golden glint.
"Kill him, Dudley!" Julian shouted from behind his desk. "End this threat once and for all!"
Dudley smiled, but it wasn't his smile. Sothing else seed to be stretching his lips unnaturally wide. "With pleasure, uncle."
He attacked again, the spear becoming a golden blur. I countered with my Chaotic Body technique, allowing my energy to flow in unpredictable patterns. Our clash sent shockwaves through the study, shattering glass cases and toppling bookshelves.
"You're stronger," I acknowledged, blocking a strike that numbed my forearm. "But borrowed power always cos with a price."
A flicker of sothing—uncertainty? fear?—crossed Dudley's face before vanishing. "This power is mine by right."
"Is it? Or is sothing using you?" This content is presented by *.
His eyes flashed with genuine anger. "Shut up!"
The next exchange was brutal. Dudley's spear carved through a marble pillar when I dodged, reducing it to rubble. The ceiling groaned ominously as structural supports splintered.
Julian cowered behind his desk, frantically gathering scrolls. "Careful with the artifacts! They're irreplaceable!"
Neither of us paid him any attention. This fight had escalated beyond concern for property damage. I needed to assess Dudley's new capabilities without revealing too much of my own strength.
The Black Gold Ball hovered nearby, occasionally intercepting my more devastating attacks when they neared Julian. Its presence forced to split my focus, making this a far more dangerous confrontation than I'd anticipated.
"What's wrong, Knight?" Dudley taunted, pressing his advantage. "Not so confident when facing a real opponent?"
I said nothing, conserving energy and looking for openings. His fighting style had changed dramatically—more aggressive, less disciplined, but undeniably more powerful. Whatever had enhanced him had sacrificed technique for raw strength.
A wild swing of his spear destroyed the remaining support column. The ceiling began to collapse in earnest now, chunks of stone raining down.
"This place is coming apart!" Julian shouted. "We need to move!"
Dudley ignored him, focused entirely on . "Running away again, Knight? Like the coward you are?"
I needed to make this look convincing. Ti to take a calculated risk.
I deliberately slowed my defense, allowing an opening. Dudley didn't miss it. His spear sliced across my side, drawing blood and genuine pain. Not deep enough to seriously injure, but enough to convince him he had the upper hand.
"First blood," he crowed, eyes wild with triumph.
I clutched my side, letting real pain show on my face. "Lucky strike."
"Luck has nothing to do with it. You're outmatched."
The floor beneath us shuddered as support beams gave way. Julian was frantically speaking into a communication device, his words almost lost in the chaos of collapsing architecture.
"President Bancroft! Send help imdiately! Knight is here—yes, at my residence! Dudley is engaging him, but we need reinforcents!"
Perfect. Just as I'd planned.
I staggered backward, feigning greater injury than I'd sustained. "This isn't over, Lowell."
"It is for tonight," he replied, advancing confidently. "Next ti, I'll take your head."
The ceiling between us collapsed completely, sending up clouds of dust. Through the chaos, I saw Julian pulling at Dudley's arm.
"We need to leave! The Guild forces will handle him!"
Dudley shook him off, his face contorted with rage. "No! I can finish this now!"
That's when I heard it—a whisper that shouldn't have been audible through the noise of destruction. A voice speaking to Dudley that wasn't Julian's.
"Not yet. Let him go. There will be ti later..."
Dudley froze, conflict evident in his expression. Then, reluctantly, he nodded. "Fine. Let the Guild clean up this ss."
I used the distraction to slip away through a shattered window, making my escape look desperate and unplanned. In reality, everything was proceeding exactly as I needed it to. Julian had contacted Bancroft directly—my presence would trigger exactly the response I wanted.
As I vanished into the night, I heard Julian's frantic questions.
"Who were you talking to? Dudley? Dudley!"
---
I moved swiftly through the darkened streets, monitoring my wound. The cut was painful but superficial—I'd heal quickly with my enhanced abilities. More concerning was the change in Dudley. Whatever had empowered him made him a far more dangerous opponent than before.
That voice I'd heard... sothing was using him as a vessel. The golden eyes, the unnatural strength—classic signs of possession by a higher entity. But what kind of being could rge with a human host like that?
I had no ti to dwell on it. My plan was in motion. Julian would have alerted Bancroft, who would dispatch his forces to hunt . Among them would be Nigel Reyes—the purple-robed enforcer Phoebe had warned about. And if I was right, he'd be directed to monitor potential eting points between and my known associates.
Including Erson Hols.
I needed to draw Erson out, and what better way than to make him believe I was targeting his colleagues one by one? The attack on Julian would force the Guild to either move Erson to a more secure location or surround him with guards I could track.
Either way, I'd find him.
I made my way to the western district, where Erson maintained a private residence separate from his Guild quarters. Unlike Julian's ostentatious villa, Erson's ho was modest and nondescript—a deliberate attempt to avoid drawing attention.
From a distance, I observed the house. No lights, no movent. Either he wasn't ho, or he was being exceptionally cautious. I needed to confirm his location without alerting the Guild to my presence.
Taking out my phone, I composed a text ssage to Erson:
"et at the old laboratory. One hour. Co alone or she dies. You know who this is."
Cryptic enough to demand a response, clear enough to suggest I had leverage. If Erson received it, he'd either panic and alert Guild security or attempt to handle the situation himself. Either reaction would tell sothing useful.
I was about to send the ssage when a cold voice spoke directly behind .
"Sending a eting invitation? How thoughtful."
I spun around, but it was too late. A hand like iron gripped my wrist, immobilizing with terrifying strength. Before stood a tall man in purple robes, his face impassive and eyes like chips of ice. Nigel Reyes had found before I could implent the next phase of my plan.
"Liam Knight," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "The man who refuses to die."
I tried to jerk away, but his grip was unnaturally strong. My phone screen still displayed the unsent text to Erson.
Nigel glanced at it with mild interest. "Co downstairs in one hour? It seems that Erson Hols has betrayed the Veridia City Martial Guild."
My heart sank. Not only was I captured, but my ssage had implicated Erson as a traitor—an unexpected complication that could destroy everything.
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