Lucian's grip tightened around Kael's skull.
Pain surged through Kael's head. His jaw locked. He felt the bones in his skull creak beneath the pressure, like stone under strain.
Acting on instinct, Kael shot his arm upward and seized Lucian's wrist.
The moment his fingers closed around it, a faint yellow glow sparked to life in his palm. It pulsed once
Lucian's eyes narrowed. His expression hardened.
Sensing danger, he jerked his arm back, but it was too late.
A golden rod burst from Kael's hand with explosive force. It tore clean through Lucian's wrist, narrowly missing tendons and bone. The rod continued, slamming deep into the library's stone wall behind him. It buried itself with a sharp, grinding sound, then dissolved into fading golden sparks.
Lucian staggered back, clutching his wrist.
He winced, shaking it out as though trying to fling the pain away. Blood ran down his forearm in thin lines.
He glanced back at Kael, eyes colder now, sharp with caution.
"So that's what you've been hiding..."
He tilted his head.
"I don't even recognize your pathway."
Lucian lunged forward, his hand snapping around Kael's throat in a crushing grip. His teeth clenched tight, jaw rigid with fury.
Without hesitation, he stepped in, planting one foot. His torso twisted, spine coiling.
Muscles shifted beneath his skin like drawn wire, rippling with every movement as he gathered momentum.
Then he unleashed it.
Lucian flung Kael with the full weight of his body behind the motion, as if hurling a weapon rather than a man.
Kael's feet barely touched the ground before he was airborne again, his body whipping through the air like dead weight caught in a storm.
Kael thrashed through the air, crashing through the corners of houses as he flew. His coat whipped violently behind him, snapping in the wind like a torn banner.
He finally slammed into a merchant stand at the edge of the market.
The wooden frame exploded on impact. Splinters and vegetables scattered in every direction.
Screams erupted. Mortals all around turned and fled, panicked by the chaos and the presence of something they couldn't understand.
Kael pushed himself up, legs trembling beneath his weight.
His vision swayed, and his body screamed in protest, but his thoughts were beginning to align. Even through the storm of pain, he was starting to regain control.
'Strength pathway. He has to be from the Strength pathway.
There's no way he could have that kind of physical power without using a mote.'
"I thought you were a little too good for a mere rank one," Lucian said, stepping over the rubble Kael had left in his wake. "But since you're from the Eireindaile bloodline, it all makes sense."
His voice was calm. Almost amused.
"Vael didn't dare touch you at first, not with your family name. But Aven… he was different. He dropped to his knees and begged me to kill you."
Lucian laughed under his breath as he kept walking.
"Said he'd pay me a fortune to make sure you didn't walk away."
Lucian casually brushed dust from his shoulder, then flashed a grin.
"So come on, let's have a little fun while we're at it. Show me that strength you had in the club."
Kael just stared back, eyes cold and unreadable.
His entire body throbbed with pain. His insides were a mess.
His face was ghost-pale, broken only by the blood trailing down from his mouth.
Without a word, he turned.
And then he ran.
Dust exploded behind him as he burst into a sprint, feet pounding the cobblestones, air tearing past him. The suddenness of it shocked even Lucian, who froze in place for a heartbeat, caught off guard.
Then he chuckled quietly to himself.
Lucian slid one foot forward, crouching low.
His muscles coiled tight, shoulders tense.
Boom.
The stones beneath his feet shattered, bursting outward in every direction. Debris ricocheted off walls and shattered nearby windows.
Then he moved.
A streak of motion, tearing through the air after Kael like a thrown spear.
Kael didn't look back.
He pushed his body to the limit, sprinting at full speed.
He took sharp turns around corners, vaulted fences, and crashed through anything in his way.
Lucian stayed close behind, relentless. He moved with terrifying speed, too fast for bystanders to even register before he had already passed them.
Kael's speed was impressive. He slipped through tight gaps between people, shoved some aside, leapt over others when he had to. But it was still no match for someone two ranks above him, especially from the Strength pathway.
"Come on, Kael. Stop running."
Lucian laughed as he plowed through the crowd behind him. He made no effort to slow down or hide his strength. Anyone in his way was thrown aside like a ragdoll.
Some flew across the street.
Some hit walls and didn't get back up.
Some never got the chance to move at all.
Tall stone walls rose around Kael on all sides. The only way forward was a narrow window just ahead.
Without hesitation, he leapt into the air, curling his body tightly as he crashed through the glass.
Shards sliced across his face and arms, drawing streaks of red as he burst into the room beyond.
He stumbled on landing, boots scraping against the polished floor, but caught himself in a breath and pushed forward, breaking into a sprint again.
The open interior was filled with merchants, scribes, locals, all now staring in stunned silence.
Someone gasped. A woman dropped a plate that shattered against the floor.
A man near the corner backed into a table, knocking over a stack of books.
Chairs scraped. Voices stammered. No one moved fast enough to understand what was happening.
Kael didn't look at any of them.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't care.
Kael raised his hand, and in the same instant, a golden rod shot out from his palm, extending to its full length.
He kept running. Every step purposeful, every breath controlled.
Reaching the far wall, he dove through another window without slowing.
Glass exploded around him as he twisted mid-air. His body rotated, eyes scanning behind him.
Still airborne, he pulled his arm back and drew a sharp breath.
With everything he had left, he flung the golden rod backward.
It screamed through the air like a javelin launched by a war god.
Lucian looked up at the shattered window.
Without hesitation, he launched himself upward. His body cut through the air, soaring cleanly through the opening.
The sudden shift from daylight to interior gloom stole his vision for a split second. The light dimmed, the walls closed in, and everything vanished into haze.
That moment was all it took.
Still midair, as his eyes began to adjust, something caught in his vision.
A glint. Fast and sharp.
His eyes widened.
A golden rod was screaming through the air toward him, the tip honed with terrifying precision. It wasn't just fast, it was perfect.
"Ah—"
The breath left him.
Suspended in the air, there was no space to dodge, no leverage to twist away.
He had one option.
Lucian crossed his arms over his chest, bracing for impact. His mind screamed, but his body reacted with instinct.
Time slowed.
The rod closed the distance like a thread snapping tight.
It hit.
The golden rod punched through the leather of his coat, shredding it as if it were silk. It didn't pause.
It tore through the skin of his left forearm like wet parchment, sliced deep into muscle, and crushed clean through the bone with a wet crack. The rod exited and plunged straight through his right arm next, repeating the same violence, flesh torn open, bone shattered.
Only then did it lose momentum.
It veered slightly from its path, now weakened, but still slammed forward and collided with his chest.
The rod struck his ribs and finally stopped, embedded against the cage of bone just centimeters from his heart.
Lucian crashed to the floor a heartbeat later.
Blood poured freely from both arms, dripping down in thick rivulets. His coat clung to his frame, soaked and tattered. He lay there for a moment, breath short, teeth clenched. His heart still beat. His mind still raced.
But the shock had landed.
Kael had aimed to kill. And he had come terrifyingly close.
The golden rod vanished as quickly as it had struck.
What remained was Lucian, kneeling in the open hall, a growing pool of blood spreading beneath him.
He hunched forward, breath ragged, his arms limp at his sides.
His face had gone pale, drained of color by the sharp edge of pain and shock.
"I was nearly killed by a rank one..."
All around him, the mortals stood frozen.
Not a word was spoken. Not a breath.
They had seen nothing clearly. Only motion, destruction, and now this figure bleeding on the floor.
From behind clenched teeth, a sound escaped him.
A low, muffled scream, raw and tight in his throat, refusing to rise to full voice.
In an alleyway between two abandoned pieces of furniture, Kael lay on the ground, rain falling on him like the heavens were trying to drown him.
His chest rose and fell in jagged rhythm, breath uneven.
His face was pale, smeared with a thin layer of crimson that shifted and streaked beneath the rain.
He didn't move.
There was nothing left he could do, except one thing.
With a silent command, he activated his rank two mote. He didn't hold back.
In an instant, a hundred thousand thoughts were consumed.
His presence faded, thinned to nearly nothing.
Barely a trace remained.
Then he simply lay there, sprawled in the mud and stone, gasping for air, letting the rain run down his face.