Shelim waited for me at the end of the maze, arms folded, standing on a plinth in one of the three arenas I'd constructed during our duels. It was oval-shaped, with high walls to keep the fighting in—mostly. The stone had been compressed and continually soaked in Curse Energy, making the arena more durable than most, but it was by no means unbreakable.
"I still can't believe you're actually doing this." He leaped from the pillar, cracking the arena floor on impact. "You really don't think you stand a chance?"
Taking a step forward, I lifted my entire body into the air, my feet skimming an inch or so above the dirt, a bony longsword and shield in hand.
"Only one way to find out," I answered, hunching slightly as I triggered a secondary self-made technique—Red Rush. My blood circulation sped up, filling my cells with oxygen and greatly enhancing my physical abilities.
There was a flash of black and blue lightning as we moved, the world narrowing into a tunnel.
Black-tipped claws curved out from Shelim's nails, crawling with lightning. I twisted just before impact, his claw attack carving deep furrows into my bone shield, and spun on my heels, pushing toward him with speed greatly enhanced by Red Rush and manual Body Control.
He shot at me again, moving even faster than before, his entire body wreathed in lightning. I leaned further into my charge, repairing my bone shield and tipping it with spikes. At the last possible moment, I flipped over his speeding body, aided by my Body Control and the subskill of my Acrobatics skill.
Air Step
Eject a burst of energy from the soles of your feet to maneuver midair.
My blade lit up with a dull red light as it came down, lined with my Swordsmanship subskill—Sword Aura. Blood spurted from Shelim's back.
Sword Aura
By channeling stamina into your blade, greatly boost the cutting power of all sword-related attacks.
He stumbled, clutching his injured shoulder blade, and I attacked the instant I landed, bouncing off the ground with a mix of Red Rush and Body Control.
I rained down a flurry of blows on him. At first, he barely managed to parry them, flesh and blood flying free. Then he recovered, parrying more confidently, before finally driving me back with a bolt of lightning that locked my muscles for a brief moment and hurled me through the wall of the arena.
He was on me immediately, slamming a second bolt into my stomach with an elbow strike that fried my armor completely, and followed it up with a palm strike. I barely recovered in time to summon Summon Maw just above my chest.
His palm sank in, much to his shock, and I lopped it off by shutting down the technique.
While he was still recovering, I punched him in the liver, activating my Hand-to-Hand Combat subskill—Power Strike.
The blow punted him across the arena, burying him in a hole nearly as deep as mine.
Power Strike
Boost the power of your strike by a factor of five at the cost of stamina.
He clawed his way out of the hole, regenerating his lost arm in a flash while he started transforming.
I was down a quarter of my health and fifty percent of my stamina, and I was unsure how much longer I could keep up the pressure, but hell, if I wasn't enjoying myself.
Black horns jutted out from Shelim's head, his muscles swelled, blue skin replaced his brown, tanned skin, and his canines grew by several centimeters.
"You know," he said, "I'm beginning to regret getting out before Artisan started passing out meta-genes like candy. Yours is ridiculous."
"Well, your technique is bullshit too," I argued back, pulling myself free from the wall.
"True," he agreed. "I'm about to stop holding back. You sure you don't want to switch to Shrine or something more aggressive? I won't hold it against you."
"In your dreams," I snorted, summoning a bony spear to go along with my shield. When I'd started this run, both were at level five; now they were at six. With any luck, I'd hit seven today and then start the long slog to nine and ten.
"I'm afraid I'll have to put a stop to the excitement, boys," Constantine's accented voice came from the plinth at the edge of the arena, the very same one Shelim had been standing on.
"The twins are ready to portal over. It's time to meet the rest of your dream team."
I groaned.
"Your timing sucks," Shelim shouted to Constantine. "You know that!"
"Quit your complaining and meet me by the beach," he said offhandedly.
—
Gina was different from how I remembered her. Taller, stronger, yet somehow less confident. She wore a casual tank top, loose pants, and combat boots, likely in case she needed to fight, and had a jean jacket slung over one shoulder, along with a backpack likely filled with clothes. She was missing her eyepatch, using her straightened hair to cover the missing eye instead.
"Hey, what are you looking at, Red Eyes?"
Her brother caught me staring. He was nothing like the bully I remembered with his strange blue hair, loud, poppy clothes, and new eyes—but he looked at me the same way.
He looked down on me, even though I was taller now, with more Curse Energy, techniques, and experience. Never mind the fact that they came crawling to me to fix their problem.
George had an unconscious body floating behind him, held in the air by his Curse Technique—no, my father's Curse Technique.
"I said, what are you staring—"
"You brought them to her, didn't you?" I cut George off, stepping forward.
"Who?"
"His family," Gina answered in a small voice. "Sasha and Candice."
His eyes lit up.
"The girls I snagged from Australia, right?" The sorcerer's body slipped from George's influence and thudded into the sand. "Gina would probably want me to apologize and make nice, but I'm not gonna. Not after spending nearly a decade as a meat puppet for a megalomaniac. You butchered dozens of our people. People I grew up with. You deserve what you got."
"And they got off too easily," I hissed. "How many people have you and your sycophants murdered for her? And don't lie to yourself that you didn't have a choice either. The Vows might restrict us, but they can't really force us to do anything."
George scowled.
"Look whose balls finally dropped. You want a fight, big boy? Gina told me you were decent now."
"Don't you dare." Gina shot him a look that didn't seem to bother her brother as he began to gather Curse Energy.
A spear manifested in my free hand as I did the same, and Shelim stepped between us and looked directly at George.
"Let's try to remember why we're here. Artisan. Freedom. Revenge. Does any of that ring a bell?"
"You're in my way, Number Three," George said with a sneer, and the constant smile on Shelim's face vanished.
For a moment, I was sure he was about to attack until Gina slapped her brother upside the head.
"What do you think you're doing? Tossing Nathan into the sand like he's garbage, picking fights, calling people's numbers!"
Her face was red, and she was shouting. My jaw nearly fell open. It was like staring at an alien. I didn't even think she could get angry.
"I was just—"
"You said you wanted out. Well, this is what it looks like," she said, poking him in the chest.
He looked like he had more to say, but realized it probably wouldn't go the way he wanted, so he kept his mouth shut.
The portal that had brought the twins here winked open again—a massive golden pentagram hanging vertically in the sky—and Constantine stepped out, puffing smoke from a freshly lit cigarette, before pausing when he saw us.
"The island is still here?" he said. "Nice to see you can play nice. I've got news, and none of it is good."
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