Chapter 49 #2
I tear free the shadow wrapped around his throat and drive it hard across his eyes instead, blinding him for one crucial heartbeat.
Then I drive my fist straight through the frost coating his sternum.
The ice shatters with a loud, sharp sound.
Bone follows, cracking under pressure.
Serrik’s body jerks. His mouth opens in silent shock as blood spills over his lips, steaming in the freezing air. His wound attempts to heal, but his energy is too low. Just to make sure he won’t suddenly rebound, I push my hand into the hole in his chest and yank his heart out.
He collapses, and the storm begins to die with him.
I stand there in the center of the ruined frozen battlefield, chest heaving, bruised and bloodied and half-covered in frost. But even as I feel close to crumbling, I still find the energy to harvest some soul particles.
The crowd beyond the barrier erupts in shocked gasps at Serrik’s defeat.
I tune everything out as I pull the particles over to me, careful so no one sees me ingesting them. At this level, five particles of soul energy form a massive sphere in my lower dantian—bigger than anything before—now just waiting to be absorbed.
I smile to myself. Little by little, soul by soul, I will get to a place where I won’t have to worry about being bested by anyone.
Of course, the first name that comes into mind is Lis.
Just how much would I have to improve to be on her level?
I have no answer to that question. I know she’s strong, but I don’t think I’ve seen the full extent of her strength before.
The arena collapses around me in a rush of crimson light.
The cold and wind vanish. The fractured ice, the storm, the blood steaming on frozen stone—all of it tears apart and folds inward until the world snaps violently back into place.
I reappear before the obelisk breathing hard. Frost still clings to my clothes and skin but it melts in rivulets down my arms the moment it meets the default heat of Aimaxion.
The crowd around the square murmurs in approval as they stare at me, some curious, some defiant.
This new stage of Aimaxion will likely bring on more hardships…more foes. Now that everyone can see me fight—see me as a threat—things will only get worse. And for that I need to prepare even more.
My name flashes across the stone.
Winner: Nykander v’Kyro; +17 Ascension Points; Total Ascension Points: 420
I barely have time to register it before Moe rushes toward me.
“Nyk!” She throws her arms around my neck, nearly knocking me backward. “You did it.”
“Of course I did,” I mutter, though my voice comes rougher than intended as I wrap an arm around her waist. My ribs protest immediately, though, as the wounds are slow to heal now that my energy is almost spent. “I promised you, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she says, smiling up at me. “You did.”
Warmth spreads through my chest. I want nothing more than whisk her away to our little room and have my way with her. Already, staring into those big and luminous eyes, all I can picture is her expression at the peak of her climax, coming as she cries out my name.
Fuck. I’m already getting hard.
Then Lis arrives.
Erection dead.
“Well,” she says dryly, folding her arms. “That was painful to watch.”
Every positive feeling I may have had before evaporates.
I stare at her. “Excuse me?”
She tilts her head. “You won. Congratulations. But it wasn’t a clean victory.”
My eye twitches. “I defeated a stronger opponent.”
“Eventually,” she replies. “After allowing him to dictate the pace of the entire fight, control the battlefield for far too long, strike you at least twelve unnecessary times, and force you into a reckless combat because you failed to identify his tactical objective early enough.”
I blink at the successive critiques she throws my way. Then scowl.
“You counted?”
“I was bored.” She shrugs.
Moe coughs into her hand, clearly hiding laughter.
I reiterate to Lis. “I won.”
“Yes,” she says. “Through stubbornness and physical durability. Not skill.”
“You are impossible.” I roll my eyes.
“And you are deeply untrained.” She steps closer, her expression losing some of its mockery. “You fight like someone who has gained power too quickly and has no idea what to do with it.”
My jaw tightens.
“Why exactly do you care?”
For the first time since this conversation began, her expression shifts.
The amusement fades as her gaze flicks briefly to Moe. Then she looks back to me.
“Because,” she says evenly, “you’re playing with her life.” Her tone is accusing, which in turn gets another rise out of me.
“You—” I grit out.
“And before you start again with your nonsense, I have no designs on your mate. None whatsoever.”
I narrow my eyes at her. What’s her angle now?
“Don’t bring Moe into this,” I growl.
“Why, when she’s at the crux of this?” She continues. “You have spent the last several days glaring at me like an overprotective beast because you think I am attempting to seduce her.”
“You have behaved suspiciously,” I grumble under my breath.
Lis ignores that entirely.
“I am doing you a service by giving you free advice, but you’re too stubborn to take it because you’re jealous.”
I glare at her. Moe shakes her head at me.
So… I may have been jealous, but who wouldn’t in these circumstances?
“I see her as I would a daughter,” Lis states matter-of-factly.
I snort. “A daughter?”
“Yes.” The answer comes so immediately, so flatly, that my amusement falters.
She holds my gaze, unblinking.
Then Lis continues in a more quiet voice, “I had one.”
Moe’s expression softens instantly.
My own suspicion wavers. Instead, I start feeling like a proper ass.
Lis glances toward Moe—not with hunger, not with possessiveness, but with something older. Sadder. Something I had not recognized before because I had been too busy seeing threats where there were none.
“She looked like her,” Lis says softly, a smile pulling at her lips.
For once, I have no immediate reply. Then my brain starts working overtime—hard, considering I have limited energy left. But I make do.
“You had a daughter,” I say aloud. “Which would require… a male.” Of course, my logic takes me there immediately, since her having a male, or any significant other for that matter, would make it less likely for her to have designs on my Moe.
Lis arches a brow. “How observant,” she says drily.
I tap my finger against my chin as I continue with my very well thought out thought process. “Meaning you had relations with—”
She rolls her eyes at me, then throws a pitiful glance towards Moe, as if saying, your mate is an idiot.
“Meaning it would have been rather difficult to produce a daughter with a male if my interests lay with females, would it not?” She tilts her head. “According to your reasoning.”
At that point, Moe bursts into laughter.
My mouth opens. Then closes. Because—
I think deeply on a good comeback. Eventually I just press my lips together and nod.
Yeah, I have no response to that.
Lis watches me flounder for half a second more before laughing outright.
“Gods, you make this too easy.”
I scowl at her. So what… I may have hit my head in that battle, all right? Give some leeway to a poor, ailing fighter.
She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye and adds, far more gently than before, “Rest assured, Nykander. I have a mate. A male whom I love very much. He is the only one I have ever wanted, and the only one I ever will.”
Something in the way she says it quiets whatever retort I might have made.
“There will never be another for me,” she continues. “Male or female.”
She looks at Moe, then back at me.
“She has my regard. Nothing more, nothing less.” Then, after a pause, she adds. “And because of that, I will accept you as her mate.”
I bristle instantly. “I do not require your acceptance.”
“No,” she says mildly. “But you do require someone’s help since you’re clearly hopeless.”
My nostrils flare at yet another dig at me and my abilities.
“Your power has grown far too quickly for your skill level. Your body is adapting faster than your technique. Your domain is developing without structure. You are wasting potential every time you fight.”
I stare at her, ready to say something sharp, or maybe less idiotic. But I realize I’d better shut up.
Because she’s right.
I am doing things haphazardly, with no real aim. I have powers but no direction. And I can see how that affects me every fight.
“You will die if this continues,” she adds, her voice devoid of amusement.
Moe comes closer to me, sliding her hand in mine and squeezing in comfort.
Lis folds her arms once more and stares me right in the eye.
“You need instruction,” she says. “Real instruction.” She pauses. “I will train you.”
For a moment, I simply stare at her. Surely I misheard, right?
“You,” I say slowly, “wish to train me.”
Lis arches a brow. “That is generally what ‘I am offering to train you’ means, yes, though I can’t say it is my wish. ”
I look at Moe. She is already smiling.
Aha! They must have been discussing this behind my back, no? Is Moe worried about me? Does she think I may lose…and drag her down with me?
“Training with you sounds like a nightmare,” I reply bluntly.
Her lips curve with immediate satisfaction.“Correct.”
Moe laughs under her breath while I glare at both of them. They… They’ve banded together against me!
“I am serious,” I say. “You insult me every time you open your mouth.”
“And yet every insult has been nothing but the truth.”
“That is debatable,” I mutter.
“It is not.”
She steps closer as she studies me with the same ruthless scrutiny she had worn while dissecting my fight.
“You have excellent instincts,” she says, and I blink at the unexpected praise. “Exceptional raw potential. Ridiculous growth speed. A powerful domain with even stronger future applications.” Then her expression flattens. “And absolutely no idea what you are doing with any of it.”
Moe bites her lip, very obviously trying not to smile.
I point at her. “Do not encourage this.”
“I’m not doing anything,” she says innocently. “I’m merely your silent moral support.” She points to our joined hands.
“You are smiling,” I accuse.
“Because she’s right.”
Betrayal. How dare she?
She’s lucky she’s cute and adorable and...
I suppose I’ll forgive her.
Lis continues in her teacherly tone as if neither of us spoke.
“At your current rate, stronger fighters will begin noticing you long before you are ready for them. Your Culling already proved that. You survived because of luck, terrain, and outside intervention.” Her gaze sharpens. “Luck is not a strategy.”
My jaw tightens because I hate how true that is. I have been relying on luck far too much.
“You have power,” she continues. “What you lack is refinement. Discipline. Control. If you continue as you are, someone more experienced will exploit every flaw you possess and carve you open before you understand what happened.”
I bite my lip in annoyance at the truth staring me right in the face—mostly because it’s in the form of a very unappealing person.
Then Moe steps closer to me and gently nudges my side.
“Nyk,” she says softly, “she’s offering you something no one else here would. Something you’ve been yearning for, no?”
I know that. By the Seven, I know that. That is the problem.
Everything in me recoils at the idea of putting myself under Lis’s authority—of enduring her mockery while she tears apart everything I know and rebuilds it to her standards.
But I am not stupid enough to ignore opportunity when it presents itself. Even if that opportunity is insufferable.
I exhale sharply through my nose.
“If,” I say slowly, “I were to accept this deeply unfortunate arrangement—”
Lis smiles.
“Do not look so pleased,” I snap.
Her smile widens.
“—then I expect actual instruction,” I continue. “Not vague criticism and condescension disguised as wisdom.”
“You will receive instruction,” she says smoothly. “The condescension is complimentary.”
Moe laughs outright.
I groan. “This is already unbearable.”
Lis inclines her head. “Good. Then we begin tomorrow.”
My brows shoot upward. “Tomorrow?”
“You need improvement today. Tomorrow is already generous.”
I mutter something unflattering under my breath.
Lis’s eyes gleam. “Wear something you can bleed in.”
Then she turns and walks away, vanishing into the crowd with the same effortless confidence she does everything else.
Moe watches her go, then turns to me with entirely too much delight in her expression.
“This is going to be so fun.”
I stare after Lis’s retreating form.
“No,” I say grimly. “This is going to be torture.”
Moe rises onto her toes and kisses my cheek. It takes away some of the sting of that interaction.
“You’ll survive,” she whispers.
I grimace.
“Given who my new teacher is,” I mutter, “that remains to be seen.”