Chapter 23 Yiran
Yiran
Yiran heaved painfully. Mere seconds had passed since the initial surge of spiritual energy in the arena. It had flowed into
him the moment he stretched his fingers, and he was bursting at the seams. The crimson flecks of light at his fingertips,
that searing warmth spreading inside him—was it really magic?
“Any last words?” Noah growled, a maniacal look in his eyes.
Fresh panic set in Yiran’s brain as Noah closed the distance. Run! Move! But where could he go? He was trapped in a death match, and even if he won, a band of Hybrids was waiting outside to get
him. He was doomed. This was the end. He couldn’t—
There’s only one solution to this. Stop fencing.
“Rui,” he gasped out loud. Why was he thinking of her now?
Stop fencing.
She was right. No more rules. But what could he—Tesha’s glove.
No. Song Yiran’s weapon.
He’d never been drawn to offensive moves when it came to magic. His instinct had always been to defend himself during sparring
sessions at the Academy or to protect his teammates so that they could launch their attacks. But there was a specific offensive spell that had stuck in his head after a class.
The spell was a cheat. Its incantation disguised its intent, making it impossible for an opponent to read. A successful casting
was a killing blow. There was no other outcome. Though effective, it was seldom used, and cadets were taught to avoid it even
when circumstances were dire. The difficulty of the spell didn’t lie only in its execution, but also in the sacrifice the
caster had to make. It drained every drop of spiritual energy from you, bringing you close to death’s door. And if you were
alone against more than one opponent, you would be completely vulnerable after.
Yiran’s circumstances were beyond dire now. He could put on his glove. Either the thing inside him was magic or it wasn’t. What else did he have to lose? Death in the form of a child soldier was heading his way.
There’s only one solution.
Yiran emptied his mind. Slipped his hand into his glove—
Stop fencing.
—and whispered the incantation.
Searing heat cascaded through his body. The world burned brighter in his eyes. The air dazzled with energy, and it flowed
through him and out of him. He channeled everything he could feel. Gave all he had. Through the crimson haze of delirium, he saw Noah’s feral
face, his eyes blazing with hate. . . .
The violet flashes stopped.
Something hit the sand.
Yiran saw Noah’s crumpled form. The boy wasn’t moving at all. And suddenly, it wasn’t Noah on the ground anymore.
It was Eddy.
Impaled against a tree. Bleeding. Dying.
White spots filled Yiran’s vision. Nausea rose in his throat. But he limped over and crouched down. Without his pincers and
spiked tail, Noah looked so young, so small.
So utterly human.
“Eddy,” Yiran breathed out. He shook his head. “Noah.”
There was no response.
“Noah?” he repeated, voice strangled.
He grabbed Noah’s arm. Flesh and bone. The Hybrid wasn’t turning into stone or crumbling into ash the way Aloysius did when
Rui vanquished him. Something had gone wrong with Yiran’s offensive spell. It’d knocked Noah out, but it hadn’t killed him.
No. Something went right. It was good that Yiran had failed. Noah was still alive.
“Finish the fight,” a voice commanded.
“It’s finished,” Yiran whispered.
“Finish. The. Fight.”
Was the Hybrid leader telling him to kill Noah while the boy lay helpless on the ground?
“I said, it’s finished,” Yiran repeated, his voice firmer this time. “I’ve won. He’s incapacitated.”
The simulated environment vanished.
Rough hands grabbed him. He didn’t have the energy to fight them off, and they dragged him unceremoniously back to the assembly
hall stage. A light shone in his face. He was blinded, seeing nothing but the glare.
The fire inside him had been doused, and he was entirely spent. His body throbbed with pain like never before. He couldn’t
channel magic now, but he was equally certain he had managed to use it earlier. It made no sense. Had it been an illusion that the Simulator conjured, or was something else going
on?
Yiran knew he should feel hopeful. Maybe the door wasn’t shut for him, and there was a way he could possess magic. But he
felt completely numb. He’d come close to murdering someone. Noah was a Hybrid, but he was also just a child.
And Yiran had done enough that it felt like he’d killed a part of himself instead. Was this power? When the high was gone, was the emptiness all that remained?
The slinky metal on his glove seemed to shine more brightly than before, as if violence had given it a new lease on life.
Yiran wasn’t sure why he had wanted to use it so badly. Sickened, he struggled to remove it, but his broken fingers refused
to cooperate. He pulled at the glove with his teeth, tugging at it uselessly. His pain only multiplied. He heard shuffling
footsteps behind him. Were they taking Noah away?
“Leave us,” the Hybrid leader commanded.
More shuffling and murmurs of discontent. The assembly hall fell quiet.
“I know what you’re thinking,” the Hybrid leader said when they were alone. He was a mysterious shadow behind the light’s glare. “You think you’re a monster. But let me assure you, Noah would have done the same to you—and more—if he were in your position. Survival is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“He’s just a kid,” Yiran said, his head hung low. This wasn’t the same as when he’d defended Eddy and Ada against the attacking
Hybrids. This was different. Noah and Yiran were two people manipulated into fighting. Into killing each other for no good
reason.
Power did not lie in their hands.
“Why didn’t you finish the fight?” the leader asked curiously. “Why didn’t you kill your enemy? Your spell might have failed,
but Noah was in no shape to defend himself. You could have had the final blow.”
“I told you. There was no need. I’d already won.”
“I’d already won?” The leader sounded offended. “This is the spawn the old man raised? I thought Song Wei’s progeny would be less . . . soft.”
Yiran seethed. “Take my grandfather’s name out of your filthy mouth. You don’t deserve to speak of him.”
The leader laughed. “I don’t deserve to speak of him? If there’s anyone alive who deserves to speak ill of Song Wei, it’s
me.”
What was that supposed to mean?
“Let me help you, Yiran. Let me show you who you truly are.”
“You don’t know me.” Yiran’s nausea intensified, and he hunched over, retching. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Oh, but I do.”
“Fuck off.” Pushing the leader’s hand away, Yiran stepped back, coughing hard. Blood splattered on the ground, and he wiped
his mouth with his sleeve. He felt a hand grabbing his chin, pulling his head up. Heard the leader’s voice speaking with more
emotion than expected.
“You know, you have your mother’s eyes.”
The man stepped away from the light’s glare, his silhouette filling out. And as Yiran’s vision adjusted, he found himself
staring into the face of a revered hero he had seen a thousand times, but never in person.
The father he never knew.