"Power is not the strike nor the shield, but the will that survives both. To walk the path of the Nex is to be unbroken by your own becoming."
The Nexium Sanctuary breathed like a living cathedral. Setting light filtered down through its tiered gardens in cascading bands, gleaming off crystalline veins that ran through the walls as if the mountain itself carried rivers of frozen lightning. Mist unfurled among the bioluminescent flora, coiling in soft spirals as if drawn by the pulse of the Nex. And within this sacred hall of power—where nature and geometry interwove like the pages of an eternal manuscript—the air trembled.
Two Nexomancers were locked in battle.
A circle of glasslike matter exploded outward with a sound like a shattering star. Artemis erupted from its centre, a silhouette framed in drifting shards. Each floating fragment caught the blue radiance of her aura, scattering fractal reflections across the stone floor. Her eyes—focused, bright, and burning with inherited brilliance—locked onto her opponent with a mixture of determination and the faintest spark of competitive mischief.
"Again," she murmured under her breath.
Her hands rose. Nexirial sigils bloomed around her in a rapid halo—cobalt lines weaving themselves into intricate patterns, geometric frameworks rotating with clockwork precision. They shone like miniature constellations, symbols crafted from the raw intelligence that defined her training.
Across the training hall, Kallus stood unmoving.
The Keeper of the Nex did not need to adopt a stance. His presence itself was one. His weapon—Tranquility—rested lightly in his hand, a short black cylinder for the moment inert. His cloak barely shifted as a breeze passed. His grey hair, framed a face carved from patience and quiet authority.
He had seen countless battles.
He had trained countless students.
And yet, Artemis was always his favourite opponent—not because she was his daughter, but because she challenged him with the unpredictability of youth sharpened by brilliance.
"Your sigils are more stable today," Kallus observed calmly, as though commenting on the weather rather than the swarm of imminent threats orbiting her.
Artemis exhaled sharply—and the sigils launched.
They elongated into spirals of energy, crackling with refined Prime Nexomancy, each ribbon twisting mid-flight into a pointed spear. Their whistling arcs filled the hall, the rush of magic echoing through the Sanctuary like a tempest.
Kallus lifted his free hand.
A dome of shimmering blue light blossomed around him, a barrier so thin it looked like a soap bubble gilded with starfire. The first spear struck, and the entire dome rippled in concentric rings. The second shattered into harmless sparks. The third dissolved into mist before it could make contact.
He hadn't even blinked.
Artemis didn't slow. She took a single step back and vanished—no, folded—into the Echo Realm.
Reality fractured around her with a crystalline note. Her silhouette collapsed into a web of molten glass, light bending inward until her presence slipped entirely out of the physical plane. The air quivered. Shadows warped.
And she emerged behind her father in the split-second between breaths.
Her palms lifted—
"I see you," Kallus said before she could strike.
His weapon blazed to life.
Twin beams of radiant blue ignited with a hiss, a staff of pure Nexirial energy stretching out on both ends. Tranquility spun in his grasp with a speed that defied the expected weight of such a weapon, tracing arcs of light that painted the room like strokes of an artist's brush.
Artemis yelped—only once—before she summoned a crescent shield of Nex-light. It curved around her forearm, translucent and elegant, catching the staff's blow with a thunderous crack. The force sent her sliding backward across the polished stone, sparks dancing beneath her boots.
She steadied herself, breathing fast. "You always counter my Echo that quickly. Honestly, father—you're unfair."
"And you," he answered, stepping forward with deliberate calm, "are readable."
Their clash resumed with renewed ferocity.
Artemis split into three copies—glasslike projections bursting outward with luminous clarity. Each mirrored her movements perfectly, weaving sigils, launching beams, sprinting in a coordinated assault that could overwhelm lesser Nexomancers.
Kallus moved as though walking through falling leaves.
Effortlessly.
Beautifully.
He struck through illusions without hesitation, dismantling each with precise sweeps of Tranquility. The constructs shattered into prismatic fragments, dissolving like morning frost. Artemis darted forward in the chaos, her staff‑length beam of Nexomantic energy meeting her father's in a flash of blinding light.
The Sanctuary shook.
Veins of Nexium pulsed brighter in the walls as though feeding off the clash of their power. The very air vibrated, charged with luminous tension.
Artemis pivoted, leaping, conjuring sigils mid-flight.
Kallus anticipated her landing—he was already there.
Tranquility's non‑ignited end tapped her shoulder gently.
A signal of defeat.
The radiance faded. Artemis sighed, half annoyed, half amused, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Every time," she muttered.
"You are improving," Kallus replied, extinguishing his staff with a soft hiss. "But mastery is not speed nor strength. It is foresight. It is knowing the battle long before it begins."
Artemis bowed with reluctant grace. "I'll get there."
"I know you will."
She turned to depart the hall, heading toward the upper terraces where her own training awaited. On her way out, she paused—eyes drifting to the figure who had been watching silently from the shadows.
The Voidwalker stepped forward.
He had watched every movement, every spark of power, as though memorising the fabric of how magic itself breathed. Cold Justice hung at his hip, its colourless blade glimmering with an otherworldly chill. An instrument of judgement. It gleamed like starlight trapped within winter.
Artemis offered him a knowing nod before she departed.
And then all attention turned to him.
Kallus faced the Voidwalker fully now. His expression shifted—not stern, but purposeful. Measured. The way one regards a page on the brink of being written upon.
"Now," Kallus said. "Let us discover what the Nex has chosen in you."
The Voidwalker inhaled. Every muscle tightened. Every thought sharpened. He reached for the hilt of Cold Justice, fingers brushing the cold metal.
When the blade left its sheath, the temperature seemed to drop.
A single note, soft and reverberating, rang through the air like the chime of distant glass.
The Sanctuary fell silent.
Even the wind outside paused as though in reverence.
Kallus ignited Tranquility again, blue flames reflecting off the silver blade.
"Begin."
The Voidwalker moved.
He lunged not with elegance but instinct—a raw, unrefined but powerful motion. Cold Justice sliced through the air in a downward strike, a silver arc meant to catch Kallus off-guard.
It did not.
Kallus' staff met the blade with a flash of blue light. The Keeper twisted once, using minimum force, and redirected the Voidwalker's momentum. The Voidwalker stumbled but recovered quickly, circling, blade raised defensively.
"Do not let the weapon dictate your thoughts," Kallus lectured as he advanced. "A blade is an extension—not a master."
He swept Tranquility low. The Voidwalker jumped back, barely avoiding the strike, sparks erupting where the staff grazed the stone floor. Kallus pressed forward with a rapid series of strikes—a whirlwind of blue trails—each one forcing the Voidwalker to retreat, block, sidestep, or duck.
But he adapted.
Faster this time.
His eyes tracked Kallus' movements with increasing clarity. His grip tightened around Cold Justice. His footwork steadied. At last—an opening.
He exhaled.
The Nex responded.
A warmth spiralled through him—a thread of energy winding through muscle and bone like a river discovering its bed. Cold Justice shimmered faintly, the blade frosting over with white-blue radiance.
Kallus raised an eyebrow. "Good. Now strike. With intention."
The Voidwalker attacked.
This time the blade glowed, a streak of pale starlight that collided with Tranquility in a burst of sparks. The impact rippled across the room, sending leaves from nearby vines fluttering to the floor. The Voidwalker pressed harder, pushing through the clash—briefly, impossibly, matching Kallus.
For a heartbeat, he felt powerful.
Kallus' expression softened—not with pride, but with acknowledgement. The kind given to someone who had taken their first true step.
Then, with a quick twist and an upward sweep, he disarmed the Voidwalker.
Cold Justice flew from his grip, clattering across the stone floor, the blade's glow dissipating instantly.
The Voidwalker froze, breath ragged.
"Do not mourn a lost weapon," Kallus said as he approached. "A Nexomancer is never truly unarmed."
He retrieved the sword and handed it back with surprising gentleness.
"Again."
And so it continued.
Their duel stretched on—minutes becoming a slow unravelling of the Voidwalker's weaknesses and the cultivation of his strengths. Kallus' strikes were deliberate tests. The Voidwalker's counters became answers—some right, some not, but all honest.
He learned to step before thinking.
To think before striking.
To channel the Nex without forcing it.
Their final clash ended with neither victory nor failure—merely an exhausted exhale from the Voidwalker and a nod of approval from the Keeper of the Nex.
"That will do," Kallus said quietly.
The Voidwalker straightened, wiping sweat from his brow. "Was I… satisfactory?"
"No."
His heart dropped.
Kallus rested a hand on his shoulder.
"You were promising."
Footsteps echoed lightly from above.
Artemis had returned, leaning casually against a pillar. She had observed the last moments of the duel with crossed arms and an expression caught between critique and amusement.
"You're rough," she said, tilting her head. "Wild, even. But that's not always a weakness. If you survive my father's training, you might actually become dangerous."
The Voidwalker wasn't sure whether to feel encouraged or terrified.
Outside the sanctuary's open arches, Eldrath Prime's sun lowered toward the horizon. The mist thickened in soft waves. The jungle canopy shimmered beneath the amber glow, casting long shadows that danced between the terraces.
Kallus stepped to the edge of the platform, turning his face toward the descending sun. The light caught the patterns of Nexium running through the mountain, illuminating them like a network of glowing veins.
He inhaled slowly.
The Nex whispered.
"There is one more task before this day ends," he said at last.
He turned back, eyes shining with quiet power.
"Prepare yourself, Voidwalker. What comes next will test more than your blade."