Steel clashed against steel, the sound reverberating through the throne hall like thunder. Sparks burst each time Zejidiah's blade met the conjured sword the parasite wielded through Althurd's faltering body.
Zejidiah's movements were controlled, precise—every strike aimed to kill. His eyes, though unreadable, burned with something deeper, a wrath buried so cold it had turned to ice.
The mage-dweller countered with unnatural speed, his borrowed limbs jerking with the sharp precision of a puppeteer pulling frayed strings. Black veins crawled beneath Althurd's skin, creeping higher each second, his body rotting from within under the parasite's strain.
What's wrong, you shitty mage dweller? Why are you losing to this kid?! Althurd barked inside his mind, furious.
Will you shut up? the parasite snapped, parrying Zejidiah's blade with a shuddering clang. It's because of your carelessness you ended up poisoned in the first place. I'm patching up a sinking ship while fighting your brother!
Zejidiah pressed forward, each step deliberate, forcing Althurd's body back. His blade cut a clean arc toward the parasite-controlled host's chest. The mage-dweller twisted away, but the edge still scraped across flesh—blood spattered against the marble, sizzling where it touched the tainted black veins.
Althurd screamed inside. Don't let him push you back! Kill him already!
This body is already crumbling! the parasite roared. Your bones are splintering, your organs shutting down. You are nothing but dead weight on my blade arm!
Zejidiah didn't relent. He spun, sword whipping in a brutal downswing that cracked against the parasite's conjured weapon. The force drove Althurd's body to its knees, joints buckling under the strain. The floor trembled.
Still, the parasite forced him up, his sword rising again with a shriek of raw magic. Black wisps curled from the weapon, corroding the air itself.
Zejidiah's expression didn't change. His heterochromatic eyes locked onto Althurd—no, onto the thing wearing his brother's skin—and with one clean step, he lunged again, their blades shrieking as they met.
Althurd coughed blood as his vision swam. Don't you dare give up now!
If you wanted victory, you should have listened when I warned you, the parasite hissed, voice dark and venomous. Now, we'll both burn out together in this corpse you call a body.
The throne hall echoed with the relentless clash of swords, marble dust raining from the high ceiling. Brother against brother—one unreadable, one already dead, and between them, the parasite's furious will to survive.
Fuck! Just where the hell is he getting all this strength?! Althurd spat inside his mind, panic curling under the rage. His vision flickered, body trembling with every parried strike.
We're losing, the parasite growled. I need to use my power.
Fuck you! Althurd snapped. I don't care if I end up dead—just fucking kill him!
Argh, this kid, the parasite snarled, its irritation bleeding into the marrow of his bones.
Then it unleashed. A tide of dark magic surged through Althurd's veins, black energy crawling across his skin like writhing chains. The sword in his grip warped, its edge jagged, pulsating with a corrosive light. The air thickened, the scent of iron and ash choking the throne hall.
The marble beneath his feet cracked as he stepped forward with newfound force, driving his cursed blade toward Zejidiah. Each swing carried the weight of something inhuman, a sick tide that threatened to drown the hall in corruption.
But Zejidiah did not falter.
He stopped, boots grinding against fractured marble, his unreadable face finally shifting—his eyes narrowing as a quiet storm gathered around him. Then, with one breath, he released it.
Light flared.
Zejidiah's aura surged like a rising dawn, silver and gold twisting together, sharp and brilliant. His hair and cloak whipped under the force as royal magic poured from his frame. The marble cracked further, unable to withstand the pressure radiating from him.
Althurd's eyes widened, blood running down his chin. No way… that's—
Their father's crushing imperial flame.
Their mother's untamed silver light.
Combined, woven seamlessly into one terrifying presence that seemed to swallow the throne hall whole.
The parasite hissed in Althurd's mind, its voice jagged. Impossible! How could a single host wield both?
Zejidiah lifted his blade, no longer just steel but a vessel of pure magic. Silver fire raced along the edge, gold arcs crackling like thunder around it.
The next clash was not of steel but of worlds colliding.
Dark magic screamed as Zejidiah's light cleaved through it, dispersing the parasite's conjured blade like smoke. The impact hurled Althurd's body back, cracks spiderwebbing across his arms where the dark energy faltered under the superior force.
Althurd coughed violently, blood splattering the floor, his mind spiraling. No… no, this isn't right! He's just my weakling little brother!
Zejidiah advanced, each step steady, unstoppable. His blade swung again, silver and gold arcs tearing through the dark mist surrounding Althurd like sunlight piercing storm clouds.
The parasite gritted its metaphysical teeth, forcing the corrupted body to hold, summoning more shadows, more black flame—but it was like trying to stop a flood with broken hands. Every clash pushed them back, every strike left fractures across Althurd's failing vessel.
The throne hall echoed with their battle, light and darkness colliding, shaking the very pillars.
Still, Zejidiah's voice, calm and edged like steel, cut through the chaos.
"You can borrow his body, you can claw with all the shadows you want—but you'll never surpass me. Not you. Not him."
"YOU FUCKER! I'LL KILL YOU!" Althurd roared, his voice shredding against the throne hall walls.
But his body twitched unnaturally, his lips curling as another voice slipped through—the parasite's voice, cold and commanding.
"Stop interfering."
For a moment, the two fought for dominance even in their shared throat, their words overlapping, faces twitching, expression torn between rage and blank malice.
Zejidiah's grip tightened on his sword. His gaze, unflinching, held nothing but disgust.
The parasite steadied Althurd's faltering stance, shadows surging up his legs and coiling around his arms to force the broken vessel forward. His sword, darkened and jagged, clashed violently against Zeji's blade once more. Sparks scattered. Magic slammed against magic.
Yet even in the exchange, Althurd's vessel wavered. His strikes grew uneven, corrupted magic bleeding from the cracks in his skin, sizzling against the marble floor like acid. His breaths came ragged, mouth spilling more blood than curses.
If only you weren't poisoned, the mage dweller hissed within. I could've unleashed my full power. Your rotting body is a cage.
"Shut up!" Althurd snapped inwardly, though his jaw clenched outwardly in silence, every muscle twitching with fury.
The duel raged on. Zejidiah moved with an economy of motion, his steps sharp, each strike precise—like he had been waiting years for this. His sword cleaved through waves of dark magic, tearing holes in the parasite's constructs as if they were made of paper.
Finally, Zejidiah spoke, his voice even, quiet, but sharper than the edge of his blade.
"You're older than me… and yet, even with a parasite inside you, you're still nothing."
The words struck harder than the clash of steel.
Althurd's pupils shrank. His hands trembled. The blade in his grip grew wild, every swing laced with desperation instead of precision.
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" he screamed, forcing his body forward, black veins writhing across his skin as more shadow poured from him. His movements lost rhythm, turning rabid, sloppy— driven by wounded pride rather than strength.
Inside, his thoughts spiraled. Nothing? Me? The one who should have been the heir? The stronger, smarter, better than all of you? I AM NOT NOTHING!
But every clash proved the opposite. Zejidiah's blade beat him back, again and again, like a steady tide eroding stone. Sparks rained each time they met. Marble shattered under their boots. Yet one brother stood tall, unwavering, while the other stumbled, coughing blood, his body failing beneath the weight of corruption and poison.
The parasite hissed in his mind. Pathetic. Your hatred feeds me, but your weakness wastes it all. Perhaps I should abandon this body and find another.
"No!" Althurd bellowed both aloud and inside. "This is MY body! MY throne! I won't— I WON'T BE NOTHING!"
He lunged again, reckless, teeth bared. But Zejidiah met him with calm precision, his aura burning brighter, gold and silver magic wrapping his blade like divine judgment. Each strike from Zeji was deliberate, slicing through shadow, battering Althurd back, step by step, until the elder prince's body looked less like a warrior's and more like a corpse being propped up by rage and parasite strings.
And still, Zejidiah's calm voice cut through the chaos.
"You always feared being nothing, Brother. That fear made you weak. It's why Mother pitied you. It's why Father ignored you. And it's why, now—"
His blade raised high, radiant. "—you will lose to me."