Taric waved his hand through the air.
The blades responded instantly, shooting out in every direction until they were scattered evenly across Velthoria like a net of gold.
Vael scoffed.
With that he was forced to spread his awareness across every direction a blade could come from. He raised a single finger toward Taric.
Taric staggered. A drop of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
A soft laugh followed.
The gravitation around him hadn't changed, but something else had. He wiped his mouth and straightened. He could feel it deep inside his inner realm, his Will had turned completely chaotic, drifting in directions that shouldn't have been possible. Even his Thoughts had been touched by it, his mind already growing sluggish.
"Attacking someone's inner realm is the lowest form of combat, Vael." He spat blood over his shoulder.
By a pathway's name, Luminaires could often draw accurate assumptions. Blade pathway focused on offensive power, using it to end battles quickly. Information pathway lacked raw output but compensated through knowledge, gathering what other pathways couldn't and carving its way to victory through advantage rather than force. But at higher ranks this stopped being reliable. The higher the motes climbed, the more the line between pathways blurred. At first glance Vael's technique looked closer to Mind pathway than anything else, yet it was entirely his own.
Taric was now certain. If neither of them moved to mote arts soon, there would be no winner.
The ground beneath them shook violently. Then a thunderclap roared.
A blade thick as a house shot up from the earth toward the heavens. A wall of yellow rose before Vael, and in the next instant his outstretched arm was simply gone. The blade kept going, climbing until it broke through the clouds above, and a low resonant hum followed. Then, like a tree growing branches, thorned swords spread outward from it, spidering across the sky in every direction until they stretched over the entire city like a colossal tree.
The swords covered Vael's entire body in surface wounds, but every vital remained untouched.
Vael clenched his teeth and grabbed his shoulder. He could manage most wounds well enough to stop the bleeding, but not this one. Something was different about it.
Suddenly Vael blurred, closing the distance in an instant with his arm outstretched.
Taric whipped his arm up to intercept, but before he could reach, Vael's fingers brushed him.
Taric launched toward the ground like a meteor, throwing up a explosion of dust and dirt on impact.
When he pushed himself upright it felt like a mountain was resting on his shoulders.
This was why Taric hated facing someone from Vael's pathway. The gravitational strain was constant, and without enough motes from the strength pathway a direct confrontation became close to impossible over time.
There was a clear ringing in his ears. Taric noticed how lightheaded he had become, a sign his heart was struggling to push blood through his body against the relentless downward pull.
Vael floated to the ground and looked at Taric.
"Is there any real meaning in continuing this?"
The two looked at each other.
Neither had used all of their motes, not even close to it. There was simply no reason to do so. When you faced someone of this rank, the absolute majority of the motes they had became obsolete.
Vael glanced over what remained of the mortal city, with a displeased expression.
It was absolutely foul of Eireindaile to start the fight on their ground. When it came to a one on one fight there was no such thing as home advantage. The longer they fought the more damage would everything that belonged to Valthorne take. And if Taric decided to suddenly stop fighting he would still be at an advantage. His city would still be up and running bringing in economical resources, while Vael would be stuck with rebuilding.
Taric let out a slow exhale.
"Finally afraid of dying?"
Before Vael could respond Taric extended two fingers and a needle of light appeared. He flicked his wrist as if throwing a card and it vanished.
A moment later Vael's hand clamped to his neck.
Taric appeared inside Vael's inner realm and raised his palm, exhaling a golden cloud of fiber-thin blades. The cloud drifted into Vael's river of Will and tore through the endless current of thoughts it carried, shredding hundreds of thousands in an instant.
Vael watched them disappear and pointed a finger upward. An immense pull erupted from within, dragging out every blade that remained, then drawing in the remnants of Taric's Will along with them. It all condensed into a dense ball no larger than a chestnut. Vael brought it to his mouth and chewed once.
When Taric returned from Vael's inner realm he summoned the needle again without hesitation and flicked it forward. Vael shifted his head to the side and listened to it whistle past him into the distance.
Vael floated upward, his arm hanging loosely at his side. Slowly he began to drift backward toward the Luminaire district.
Taric watched in silence and summoned a blade beneath his feet, following.
"Losing confidence already?"
Vael just shook his head.
"To think you preached so highly about not attacking inner realms… Just like the rest of Eireindaile."
Taric clasped his hands behind his back.
There were things considered cowardly among righteous Luminaires, and attacking someone's inner realm was among them. The inner realm was what made a Luminaire what they were, the seat of everything that set them apart, so when two righteous Luminaires clashed the outcome was supposed to be decided by honorable means. But then, why would anyone surrender an attack capable of crippling their opponent? The victorious were always the ones who wrote the history, after all.
"I would have refrained, but you insisted on opening with such despicable techniques." Taric said calmly.
"Blaming others is nothing more than excusing yourself." Vael responded.
The Luminaire district beneath them was in ruin. Thick black columns of smoke rose from every direction. Flashes of light erupted wherever you looked. Distant screams drifted up from below where the Eireindaile and Valthorne forces clashed.
Taric turned his gaze down.
The melting snow had such a deep crimson it looked black, dotted with the bodies of Luminaires.
His mind churned.
There was no reason for Vael to come here. None of the Luminaires below could help him in this fight. If anything it favored Taric. Being this close to the battlefield it wouldn't take much to redirect his blades toward Valthorne's Luminaires.
But then again… so could Vael.
The two floated in silence.
Taric raised a finger toward Vael.
"Let's not fin—"
A wet, sickening crack rang out.
Taric snapped his hand to his chest and closed his fingers around a blade protruding from it.
"You!?"
Blood had already begun to darken his uniform. His own blade. He tried to dismiss it, but nothing happened.
'My own blade… how?'
He clenched his fingers around it and pulled. Blood ran between his fingers as it came free. He tossed it aside and watched it spin aimlessly before clattering onto a street below.
'How is this possible.'
The blade had been created from his own Will and mote, he was certain of that. So why had it moved on its own? Had it been Vael's attack he would have sensed it and dodged. But because it was his own, it had slipped past his senses entirely and gone straight through his back.
Taric began drifting away from Vael.
'That must be it…'
Thinking back, he had found it strange when Vael consumed his Will. But that must have been where it went wrong. Vael must have a mote that allows him to seize control of another's Will once consumed, and use it to turn their own techniques against them. Just the once, but once was more often than not enough to turn the tide of a battle.
Vael pulled Taric toward him and dashed forward in the same motion. The distance between them collapsed at once.
Taric moved to dodge but the pain nearly paralyzed him.
Vael's fist struck his chest.
Taric shot down into the street.
Every Luminaire in the vicinity froze the moment Taric's rank five aura washed over them.
One stared directly at him.
"That's…!? That's Taric Eireindaile." He started to run, then stopped and looked again. "He's wounded…" he whispered, his gaze lifting upward.
Vael was descending onto the street like an unhurried angel.
"It's Lord Vael!" the Luminaire said, breaking into a smile. "Valthorne is winning! To think the cowards from Eireindaile—"
The pressure from Vael's descent flattened him into the ground. Nothing remained but a smear.
"This is the end, Taric… How disappointing."
Vael stepped onto the street and walked toward him.
The same golden blade that had betrayed Taric rose from the ground and drifted to Vael's side, levitating beside him.
"Would it be poetic or tragic that you die by your own blade?"
Taric scoffed. "Both?"
The blade drove down through his throat.
When Taric reached up to apply pressure, Vael increased the downward pull until his arm sat useless in his lap. Blood ran in a continuous steady stream.
Above them, the sea of blades that had hung over the city began to fall. A rain of gold descending all at once. A metallic roar drowned out everything as they clattered against streets and rooftops.
Vael looked at him for a moment, then turned toward a distant sound. Explosion after explosion, cloud after cloud erupting somewhere beyond sight. Something was moving toward him.
He was just about to evade when the wall beside him burst open. A bloodied mass of bone, flesh and cloth shot through and seized Vael by the face, clamping down like a vice.
Threads tore free from its skin and drove toward every opening in Vael's body. Every wound, every orifice, thin threads forcing their way in.
Taric's eyes rolled back, then snapped forward onto Vael. He reached back above his shoulder and formed a finger sword. Dust scattered from the pressure as he cut a sharp arc through the air.
Like a wave moving through a still sea, a golden arc swept across the entire Luminaire district. Every house collapsed inward. Every Luminaire caught in its wake was cut clean in half.
Without the flesh holding him in place Vael would have collapsed the moment his legs fell away from his body.
Vael clenched his teeth and seized the arm. It gave way, toppling to the ground like a domino, smashing down street after street for two thousand steps until it reached the main mass, and the giant blob of flesh splattered across the ground.
Vael dropped to his knees, teeth clenched, threads that had snapped loose still trailing from every opening.
Taric rose and passed his hand over his throat. A small needle moved on its own, stitching the wound shut.
"You're done." He rasped through damaged vocal cords.
Vael dragged himself down the street with the only limb he had left, leaving a dark trail behind him.
Taric walked alongside him, studying his own condition. He was still standing, but the damage was real, and it hurt like hell.
He reached down and lifted Vael by the hair.
A blade fell from the sky and drove through his shoulder, exiting through his side. Vael's hand went limp.
Another came down.
Then another. Then another. One after one they fell like stars, passing through Vael's body until there was nothing left to recognize.
Taric let him go and made his way to a standing wall, lowering himself against it.
'There's that…' he murmured, rubbing his throat.
Then something changed.
Luminaire bodies, both alive and dead, began sliding down the street pulled by an invisible force.
Taric glanced to the side. A Luminaire rolled past like something had caught it in a strong wind.
'Must be Maria's body regenerating…'
Maria had been planted intentionally. It was a shame she'd had to die, but the creature her body could produce had incredible value. The original plan had been to let it roam freely across Valthorne, killing everything in sight. But once Taric understood how difficult Vael would be to bring down, he had orchestrated things differently. Keep Vael's attention fixed on him, and order it to attack to create an opportunity.
He was still unfamiliar with it, though. With it originating from the Soul pathway, he had never been able to test it in real combat.
Taric closed his eyes.
A familiar feeling stirred almost immediately. Someone was attacking his inner realm.
He rose and turned his head toward where Vael had fallen.
A body, something that had once been a Luminaire, pressed itself against Vael and vanished into him with a wet crack.
Vael rolled his newly formed arms and tested his legs, then turned to face Taric. His eyes were cold as ice.
Taric froze.
"Soul pathway…?"