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Chapter 30 - Clash

  William secured the last circuit board into place, carefully aligning the delicate connections. A quiet click signaled that everything was back where it belonged. With a satisfied nod, he leaned back, exhaling softly.

  "Alright, that should do it," he said, setting his tools aside. "Try it now."

  Claire took the helmet from his hands, her fingers brushing against his momentarily. Without a word, she slipped it back on, adjusting the fit before powering it up. A faint hum vibrated through the material as the internal systems rebooted.

  A few seconds passed. Then—

  "Everything’s functional," Claire confirmed.

  William smiled. "Told you I could fix it."

  Claire turned to him, and for a moment, she hesitated. Then—without thinking, without understanding why—she reached up and lightly ran her fingers along his cheek.

  William froze.

  His brain completely shut down.

  What?

  The touch was brief, barely there, but warm. Delicate. It was the kind of gesture that didn’t belong in this moment, not from Claire, not toward him.

  Even Claire herself seemed just as shocked as he was.

  Her fingers twitched. Her breath hitched. Then, like a glitch in her own system, she stiffened, and without another word, she turned sharply on her heel and bolted out of the workroom.

  William sat there, unmoving, still processing what had just happened.

  He blinked once. Then twice.

  His thoughts caught up to him all at once.

  What the hell just happened?!

  For a full minute, he just sat there, staring at the door she had just rushed through, his face burning.

  He was certain of one thing— Claire had no idea why she did that either.

  And that? That was somehow even more terrifying.

  “What a way to wrap things up,” he muttered.

  Nyx and Sam watched as Nigel trained with the Reaper.

  "Your balance is off, kid," Sam noted, arms crossed as he observed Nigel’s movements. "Every time you go for a wide swing, your body shifts too much in the opposite direction. You lose stability. Widen your stance, plant your feet properly. I’d hate for something tragic to happen and have to deal with Nyx crying day and night."

  Nyx responded with a sharp slap to Sam’s back, making him grunt. Nigel, caught between amusement and discomfort, simply watched in silence.

  "Maybe you should experience it firsthand," Nyx suggested, a smirk playing on her lips. With a flicker of purple energy, she summoned her beloved halberd—Runebringer.

  She had adapted quickly to the inventory system integrated into the tournament’s wristbands. With just a thought, any stored item could materialize instantly, making the process effortless.

  Runebringer was a weapon of eerie beauty—its long shaft bathed in deep scarlet, its blade forged from obsidian-black metal. Just standing near it sent a chill through the air. Nigel still remembered Nyx’s mastery with the weapon nearly ten years ago, back when they had first crossed paths. The memory alone was enough to make him wonder just how much stronger she had become since then.

  "Alright," he said, hesitating for only a moment before gripping the Reaper more tightly. "Let’s do this."

  This was the perfect opportunity to see just how much he had improved.

  A breeze rolled through the training ground, kicking up faint swirls of dust between them. Nigel adjusted his grip on the Reaper, watching Nyx carefully. Neither moved. Seconds stretched into an eternity.

  Then, Nyx attacked.

  She moved like a phantom—silent, precise, impossibly fast. Runebringer’s crimson arc blurred through the air, cutting straight for his torso.

  Too fast.

  Nigel barely twisted away in time. The obsidian blade scraped across his chest, carving through fabric and skin alike. A burning sensation followed—a shallow wound, but a warning.

  No time to dwell on it.

  A fist drove into his stomach like a battering ram. His vision blurred with the impact, air exploding from his lungs as he was launched backward. His boots scraped the ground as he skidded, barely managing to stay upright before staggering to a stop.

  Damn. She hit just as hard as he remembered.

  Ignoring the pain, Nigel surged forward, flipping the Reaper into its scythe form. The vantablack blade curved through the air in a deadly sweep.

  Nyx didn’t flinch.

  A flick of her wrist sent Runebringer’s shaft colliding with the scythe’s handle, redirecting the strike effortlessly. The force nearly wrenched the weapon from Nigel’s grasp.

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  She pressed forward, hand darting out to snatch his throat.

  Instinct roared through him. Move. Now.

  Nigel ducked and twisted away, her fingers barely brushing his skin before he leapt out of reach. He landed a few feet back, muscles tensed, breath steadying.

  Nyx rolled her shoulders, her expression unreadable. She hadn’t broken a sweat.

  Of course she hasn’t.

  Nigel exhaled sharply, adjusting his stance. This is how she fights. Ruthless. Relentless. No hesitation, no wasted movement.

  And deep down, beneath the adrenaline, he was relieved. Thank the gods she was not an enemy.

  They clashed again—strike after strike, Nyx pushing forward with overwhelming aggression. Each attack forced him back, each parry barely enough to keep him standing. His movements felt sluggish compared to hers, his footwork faltering.

  I’m losing.

  Then—abruptly—Nyx stopped.

  Nigel blinked, breathing hard. “What…?”

  She tilted her head, unimpressed. “You’re holding back.”

  He stiffened.

  “Whether you realize it or not,” she continued, her grip tightening on Runebringer. “You fight like someone with shackles around his wrists. Your body hesitates. Your attacks lack intent. This isn’t you.”

  A voice slithered into his mind, smooth as silk.

  She’s right, you know.

  Nigel’s breath caught in his throat.

  Let me take control.

  The whisper coiled around his thoughts, sinking into the edges of his mind like oil into parchment.

  You need to teach her a lesson.

  Nigel’s jaw clenched. Not now.

  You’ll never improve like this.

  The voice was almost amused.

  You’re not even half the fighter you used to be.

  He shoved the whisper aside.

  Nyx was still watching him, arms crossed. She knew. Maybe not about the voice in his head, but about something.

  “You weren’t always like this,” she said. “Your technique, your power—nothing about you is the same as before.”

  Nigel said nothing.

  She continued. “You hesitate. You get desperate too easily. You’re not fighting to win. You’re fighting not to lose.”

  The words hit harder than any of her punches. His fingers curled around the Reaper’s handle. He knew she was right.

  Every fight since that day had felt like this. Every motion was wrong, every instinct dulled. He had spent years training, sharpening his skills, but ever since Martin’s death, something in him refused to function the way it used to.

  He had lost his edge.

  Nyx sighed, shaking her head. “You should use that skill.”

  His heart lurched.

  Serenus.

  “No,” Nigel muttered. “If I can’t focus without it, then—”

  “Then what?” Nyx cut in. “You’re weak? A failure?”

  His silence was answer enough.

  Nyx clicked her tongue. “You’re an idiot, Nigel.”

  He glanced up, frowning.

  “There’s nothing wrong with using every tool at your disposal,” she said. “You think you’ll just magically get better if you keep struggling like this? The only way to improve is to try. Again and again. Until your body remembers how to move the way it’s supposed to.”

  Nigel exhaled, gripping his wristband.

  She wasn’t wrong. A few seconds passed in silence. Then, finally, he willed it to activate. The wristband pulsed. A faint blue glow traced up his arm as the message flickered to life:

  [SERENUS – 23% ACTIVATED]

  The moment it took effect, everything around him sharpened—his breath steadied, his heartbeat slowed, and for the first time in a long time…His mind felt clear.

  Then, he raised his weapon.

  “Alright,” Nigel muttered, rolling his shoulders. “Let’s try this again.”

  Nyx grinned. “Now we’re talking.”

  Nyx struck first.

  Runebringer’s purple arc tore through the space between them like a streak of molten light.

  This time, Nigel was ready.

  The Reaper’s shaft clashed against the halberd’s blade, steel meeting steel in a violent burst of sparks. His grip trembled under the force, feet digging into the dirt to keep from being thrown back. He barely held his ground—but he held it.

  Nyx grinned. “Better.”

  She didn’t let up.

  Their weapons clashed again and again, each strike sharper, faster, testing the limits of Nigel’s reaction speed. Serenus allowed his mind to flow effortlessly with his body, sharpening his reflexes, clearing the noise.

  For the first time, he wasn’t just enduring—he was fighting back.

  He parried a downward slash, twisting his body into a counterattack, the Reaper’s blade sweeping toward Nyx’s side. She dodged by a hair’s breadth, her footwork flawless, her stance never breaking.

  Still, Nigel pressed forward.

  His strikes came faster, more precise. Each movement followed the next like water, his mind fully immersed in the rhythm of battle.

  Serenus is good… but it’s not a miracle.

  Despite the clarity, despite his improved focus, the gap between them remained. She was still stronger. Still faster. Not a single one of his attacks connected.

  And yet—it didn’t matter.

  For the first time in years, his body felt right.

  The burden was still there, that weight pressing down on his chest, the hesitation still lurking in the depths of his mind. But now, it was lessened.

  Then—a mistake.

  Not in the fight, not in his movements, but in his thoughts.

  A flicker of something unwanted slipped through his mind. A different fight. A different battlefield.

  His foot missed its mark.

  Nyx took the opening instantly, her halberd whistling toward his ribs. Nigel barely managed to twist away, but it was sloppy—his focus slipping, his stance faltering.

  More images flashed through his mind. Uninvited. Unrelenting.

  Pain.

  Screaming.

  Chains clinking as someone thrashed against them. A jagged blade descending.

  Blood. So much blood.

  His chest tightened, the world blurred.

  No. No, not now…

  A sharp beep echoed from his wristband.

  [SERENUS DEACTIVATED]

  Before he could register it, Nyx’s knee slammed into his stomach.

  The impact sent him to the ground hard. He barely had time to react before she was on top of him, Runebringer’s blade pressed against his throat.

  “Nigel,” she said, frowning. “What the hell was—”

  Then she saw his face.

  His eyes were wide, unfocused—somewhere else entirely.

  His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his hands clutching at the dirt beneath him like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

  And—worse—something dark flickered in his gaze.

  A ripple of something other. A presence clawing at the edges of his mind.

  Let me in.

  Nigel’s body trembled. His fingers twitched. He felt himself slipping.

  The pressure in his head was unbearable—like something was tearing through his skull from the inside out.

  Let go.

  The whisper coiled around his thoughts, smooth, patient.

  Let me show her how it’s done.

  His grip loosened. His mind—

  “NIGEL, YOU DRAMATIC SHIT, BREATHE!”

  The voice hit him like a slap to the face.

  A heavy weight ripped Nyx off him, and suddenly Sam was there, towering over him, arms crossed, his expression somewhere between unimpressed and mildly annoyed.

  Nigel blinked rapidly, struggling to anchor himself back to reality. His vision was still swimming, his body still locked in that moment, trapped between past and present.

  But then Sam squatted down next to him, nudging him roughly with his elbow.

  “Hey,” he said, tone casual, as if Nigel wasn’t in the middle of a breakdown. “I get that Nyx is scary, but if you’re gonna have a panic attack, at least do it after I place my bets, alright?”

  Nigel blinked.

  A shaky, disbelieving breath escaped him.

  His mind had been on the verge of snapping. He had been this close to giving in—to losing himself entirely.

  And here was Sam. Just… talking shit.

  Something inside him cracked—not in a breaking way, but in a way that pulled him back.

  Sam smirked, nudging him again. “There you go. You’re looking less like a dying fish now.”

  A sharp exhale left Nigel’s lips. Not quite a laugh, but close.

  Nyx was still staring, her face unreadable. The shock was gone, replaced by something else—something heavier.

  Her voice, when she spoke, was softer. “Nigel…”

  He shook his head, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He felt exhausted, like he had just sprinted through hell and back. His heartbeat was still too fast, his body still too tense.

  But he was here, and he was himself.

  For now.

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