Chapter 43 #2
I may not be able to tell Moe the truth, but I think I know what caused my first awakening.
Excitement. But it wasn’t just physical, since I get a fucking erection every night and morning and a few times in between when I see her smile at me.
No, it was something a little different.
It was that moment. The way she was looking at me, expectantly.
The way she seemed to want me to kiss her.
It was a mix of adrenaline, excitement and uncertainty. And the only way to recreate that, without pouncing on my currently platonic partner and fucking her within an inch of her mortal life, is to enter a life and death match.
So when I stand before the obelisk and see a challenge from a level three worth twelve points, I do not turn away. I study the listing only briefly before pressing my palm to the stone.
Lef Armoreli (159) Level Three. Twelve points.
If I could defeat a level two while I hadn’t even awakened, I think I can handle a level three now.
Moe gasps when she sees what I’ve done and she grabs my hand—but it’s too late.
“Nyk, twelve? He’s a level three! You shouldn’t—”
The world fractures. The arena rebuilds around me in a storm of crimson light and stone.
It’s a cavern. Everywhere I look, it’s vast and circular, with towering walls of black rock rising high overhead.
Jagged obsidian spires erupt from the floor at irregular intervals, some as thick as tree trunks, others thin as spears.
Molten cracks vein through the ground beneath my feet, their dim orange glow casting fractured light across the battlefield.
Good.
Light means shadow. I will have a chance to test my abilities here.
My opponent stands fifty feet away.
He is taller than me by half a head and built like a fortress, broad enough that his shoulders seem carved from the same stone around us.
He smirks at me, looking around and pushing his chin forward with a sense of pride.
Dark mineral veins run beneath his skin, pulsing faintly, mirrored in the stone walls all around.
Shit! If I’m not wrong, his domain is Obsidian. And the entire arena is made out of obsidian.
This isn’t just a bad match-up. It’s an unfair one since he clearly has the advantage.
The barrier rises behind me. Moe appears beyond it, her expression tense as she takes in the environment and my opponent. She quickly makes the connection and looks at me with worry in her eyes.
She was already tense when I accepted the challenge. Now she seems to be even more on edge.
“You’re crazy, Nyk,” she whispers, but her voice drifts to my ears. “If you don’t make it back, I will find a way to beat you even in death,” she mumbles.
I wink at her. “I’ll let you do anything you want to me after this is done,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes, but my humor doesn’t seem to ease her tension.
The male—Lef—grins at us.
“Well,” he says, rolling his shoulders. “You’re quite confident, aren’t you?”
No sooner did he speak than the ground erupted in dangerous ripples.
I throw myself sideways as a jagged spike of black stone explodes upward where I had stood a heartbeat earlier. It misses my ribs by mere inches.
Another stone bursts beneath my feet before I fully land.
I twist midair and hit the ground hard, rolling as obsidian lances spear up in rapid succession behind me.
He controls the battlefield. In this case, he needs no weapon when everything around him can be turned into one.
I should be able to do too with my shadows, except I have no idea how. Yet…
He thrusts his hand forward. The floor instantly fractures.
A wave of obsidian races toward me beneath the surface, stone bulging upward before rupturing into spikes.
I sprint. Until I can figure something out, I need to evade all attacks.
The cavern explodes behind me with every step.
He is stronger than anyone I have fought before. Faster too. His domain control is immediate, practiced, brutal.
Yet the definition of a level three echoes in my mind: this type of control over his domain requires a lot of energy that will, at some point, run out.
I duck behind a thick obsidian pillar just as another spear of stone punches through it, showering me with shards.
By the Seven.
Twelve points suddenly feels cheap for this. They should have added another twelve for giving him such a home advantage.
He laughs from across the arena. “Run all you like. You’re in my hands anyway.”
Another spike punches through the pillar.And another.
He wants to cage me so I have nowhere else to run.
My eyes dart to the shadows cast by the obsidian formations around me. The molten fissures glowing beneath the stone cast fractured light throughout the cavern, throwing long, uneven shadows across the floor and along the jagged obsidian spires.
So many shadows. If only I knew how to use them…
Lef continues to attack and I’m forced to rely on my instinct.
I reach for the nearest shadow and to my shock, it responds.
The darkness at the base of the pillar ripples. It’s weak, but it moves. Yet instead of pulling me inside as it had before, this shadow behaves differently. Or, maybe, I wield it differently?
When the next stone lance shoots toward me, I yank the shadow upward. It rises like liquid darkness, thin and imperfect, forming a wavering black sheet between me and the incoming strike.
The obsidian pierces through it, slowing down as it seems to penetrate the moving darkness.
But it’s only for a second. The moment I lose my concentration, the shadow fails to respond anymore. Yet this is enough for me to avoid a deadly attack.
I leap aside as the spear tears past.
My pulse spikes as I breathe hard.
Interesting.
So I can use the shadows in this way, too. I wonder what else I can do… I don’t have time to think about it too much because Lef is once more on the move. He advances toward me, his expression deadpan.
The obsidian beneath his feet forms raised platforms, carrying him forward like a king upon his throne.
Fuck!
He raises both hands and he cavern floor detonates. Multiple spikes surge upward at once.
I weave between them, barely avoiding impalement, using the formations themselves as cover. My breathing grows harsher with every dodge. One mistake and I die.
Think.
Think.
Obsidian is everywhere. Light is everywhere. Shadows are everywhere.
An idea forms.
It’s dangerous. Probably idiotic.
I guess Moe might beat me to death even if I survive, after all.
I sprint not away from him, but toward him.
He blinks, surprised. Then he snarls and slams his palm downward.
The floor before me erupts.
I leap at the right time.
A spike of obsidian bursts beneath my feet and launches me higher instead of skewering me. Pain rattles through my legs from the impact, but I use the momentum.
Midair, I seize every shadow around him. Perhaps sensing my conviction, they don’t refuse me. They sway around, undulating to my will.
The darkness cast by his own body. The shadows of the surrounding pillars. The jagged silhouettes of the obsidian spikes he summoned. All those shadow surge toward him at once.
They coil around his limbs. They’re not solid, at least not truly, but they’re enough to slow him down and make him hesitate.
His next command falters and that is all I need.
I crash into him before he can recover.
We both slam to the ground in a brutal tangle of limbs.
He is stronger than me physically—far stronger—but domain users rarely expect close combat once their abilities mature.
Just like my other opponents, this is his weakness.
Where my wins were gained through actual blood, sweat, and multiple bruises, concussions, and semi-deadly injuries, his were probably neat ones from a distance.
I drive my elbow into his throat. He sputters and chokes. His concentration breaks.
It’s enough to make the obsidian around us still.
He throws me off with brute force, but I’ve already found the recipe for success. The moment his focus disappears, so does his control over his domain.
He gets to his feet. He’s furious now, stone veins blazing brighter beneath his skin, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull.
The entire cavern trembles.
Massive obsidian spikes begin forming around us, larger than before.
He’s using all his remaining energy into one massive strike. This can either end me, or work to my advantage.
I grin despite the blood in my mouth.
Do it.
The moment he unleashes the attack, I dive sideways. I don’t run away from him but toward the largest shadow in the arena—the one cast by the massive obsidian pillar behind him.
I wrench it upward with everything I have.
The shadow rises like a living thing, wrapping around his legs, his waist, his arms. It is not enough to hold him forever. In fact, it almost shatters as he struggles against it.
But it’s long enough for his concentration to snap.
The half-formed obsidian spikes collapse. And the backlash of his own unstable domain fractures the ground beneath him.
He stumbles, his expression filled with confusion. One moment he was close to killing me, and now he’s the one trapped.
Almost there. Almost…
I reach for my faithful dagger, the sharp blade glinting as I drive it into his throat.
His eyes widen. He gurgles once. Then he falls to the ground.
For several seconds I remain over him, my chest heaving. Every muscle burns from exertion. Sweat drips into my eyes.
My vision starts to swim.
Then his body dissolves. Ash lifts into the cavern air and soul energy blooms from it in luminous streams.
Focus, Nyk! You can’t lose consciousness now.
It’s so hard though. I haven’t even exerted that much strength or effort, but it seems just trying to control a few shadows drains my spiritual energy extremely quick.
I get to my feet. Focusing on the light from his soul, I will a few specks to come toward me. They dance in the air: one, two…five. That’s how many I manage to consume.
To my surprise, the shadows around me shiver in response.
Warmth suffuses me, traveling through my entire body. A sense of pure euphoria overtakes me and—
My face is moved to the side with force and a resounding thud. A red handprint appears on my cheek.
“You’re such an idiot, Nyk.” Moe stands in front of me, crossing her arms over her chest.
We’re back at the obelisk. People all around us stop what they’re doing to watch the show—us.
“I am?” I blink.
“How could you take such a risk? Are you daft?”
“I’m alive, aren’t I? We’re both alive.
“Barely,” she mumbles. Then, reluctantly, she comes to my side and pats me on the shoulder. “You did well, though.”
“Then why the slap?” I ask with a pout.
“Because sometimes you drive me to violence.”
“And other times?” I smile innocently at her.
She narrows her eyes at me. Raising herself on the tips of her toes, she tries to get closer to me, but she’s still too short. I lean toward her. The distance between our faces narrows to mere breaths.
“Other times…” Her lips twitch. “You make me want to give you a brain transplant.”
She brings her fingers to my forehead and gives me a poke.
“So you’ll never do anything without consulting with me first.”
“Yes, Chief!” I say in a loud and clear voice as I present her with a military salute. She lets out a laugh.
On the obelisk, my stats appear.
Nykander v’Kyro. Level Unassigned. +12 Ascension Points. Total points: 150
We both nod, satisfied with this new advance.
“Let’s go get something to eat,” I say as I pull her arm through the crook of my elbow.
But just as we turn to leave, a shrill siren erupts across the entire realm.
The sound is unlike anything I have ever heard—high-pitched, metallic, and so piercing it seems to vibrate through bone rather than air. Around us, every conversation dies instantly. Every head snaps upward.
Then the sky splits as a figure descends from above.
A wraith.
He hovers high above the marketplace, suspended impossibly in the air as his voice booms across the entirety of Aimaxion, magnified until it seems to come from every direction at once.
“Attention, combatants of Aimaxion.”
Silence falls. Even the ever-restless market stills.
“The Culling Cycle has been initiated.”
A ripple of unease tears through the crowd. Some curse immediately. Others begin backing away from the open streets. A few simply go pale.
The wraith speaks again.
“Growth irregularities have been detected. Fighters whose ascension rate exceeds acceptable thresholds have been designated Open Bounties.”
The obelisks around the square flash in unison.
“During the next three hours, all marked targets may be attacked without restriction.”
My stomach drops.
The wraith continues, utterly emotionless.
“Upon termination of a marked target, the victorious combatant shall receive the entirety of the target’s accumulated Ascension Points.”
Gasps and murmurs erupt through the crowd, everyone excited for this opportunity.
“All obelisks will have the marked targets’ details.”
My blood turns to ice.
No. No, no…
The obelisk in front of us shifts again. Its surface goes black. Then new words carve themselves into the stone.
Marked Target Identified: Nykander v’Kyro. Level Unassigned. 150 Ascension Points
The world seems to stop. For one impossible second, there is no sound at all. Then every gaze in the square seems to turn toward me.
Moe grabs my arm. “Nyk—”
The wraith’s voice cuts through the chaos once more.
“Combatants are reminded: only the individual who lands the killing blow shall claim the bounty reward.”
The crowd ripples. Everyone draws their weapons.
“To marked targets,” the wraith says, its hollow gaze seeming to settle directly on me despite the distance, “survive the cycle and double your points… or be harvested.”
Then, he disappears.
And pandemonium erupts.