He didn't consider that his attack could have injured or killed the person for whom he had walked almost 60 kilometers without rest, through toil and suffering. He didn't know how it was that he hadn't rested along the way. He remembered how terribly his back ached from carrying his sword, and how his feet, which, thanks to a mysterious force, had carried him this far. He didn't really know where he was. He had followed his instincts, which had unerringly led him straight to Waron's hideout.
Aside from a few details, he didn't remember much about how he had gotten there. It was as if something had clouded his mind and caused him to walk without the slightest awareness of what was happening around him.
Now he was here, and he had to do everything in his power to defeat this arrogant man who thought he was a mage. Naimad spat on the ground, still watching the burning pieces of wood that had collapsed part of the roof, just as if during a battle in the castle.
Suddenly, he saw the outline of a figure amidst the flames of the burning cottage. After a few seconds, the figure emerged, and the flames, as if afraid of something, died down as they passed. Naimad felt a cold wind blowing from the heavens, smothering every flame, extinguishing the fire the fire mage had ignited.
The warrior was surprised by how easily Waron summoned his power. Perhaps he had achieved a higher level of magic, or as they called it in the Academy, a "higher circle."
"Have you grown tired of creating spells with your hands?" Naimad sneered.
"There's nothing to be happy about. My power has doubled this week, and I've reached one of the highest circles," he replied proudly. "I've also made a few new friends."
While he was still speaking, an old woman with disheveled,
charred hair emerged from the burned-out cottage, leading a woman dressed in a soiled, white nightgown outside. Naimad didn't have to stare at the person for long. He recognized her immediately.
"Ksaia," he whispered softly, following the frightened girl with his eyes.
"May you not disappoint me," Waron warned the witch.
The old woman left her by a cut-down tree stump that served as a small
stool, then pulled a pendant from a pocket in her patched clothes, the function of which Naimad couldn't fathom.
She began waving it in the air, creating various figures and signs.
At the same time, she whispered something under her breath, but the warrior couldn't tell what it was, as he was standing too far away.
The air began to grow warmer. The fire mage felt it throughout his body. He felt terribly stuffy. He tried to take a deep breath, but only caused himself pain as the already hot air rushed into his lungs, irritating everything it touched in Naimad's body. He decided to take shallow breaths for his own safety. This was strange, because as a fire mage, he shouldn't feel such things due to his affinity for that element.
A few meters above the hut, the air began to vibrate. One could have sworn the gods were making signs in the sky to inform people of something important. The witch continued whispering, and Naimad realized these strange phenomena were her work. With a quick gesture of his right hand, he drew his sword from the sheath slung on his back and slowly approached to within a dozen meters of Varon, holding his weapon at the ready.
When he reached the spot, the vibrating air was gone. Instead, a figure as black as the bottom of an abyss, shaped like a cat's eye, appeared. Naimad was gripped by fear. What was this? He'd never seen such a weather phenomenon. This had to end as soon as possible, he thought.
At that very moment, several shapeless masses, roughly half the length of a fire adept's sword, flew out of the interdimensional portal. Naimad counted seven of them. They flew toward the warrior and surrounded him in a wide circle. Now he saw their true forms. From the shapeless masses, the forms of people, or rather, their cursed souls, had formed. Each specter looked more or less the same. The hideous face and wounded body were but a small addition to their persona. The very way they moved filled him with a fear that didn't leave him easily. After a few moments, two more figures emerged from the portal. Riders in navy blue hoods, mounted on their horses as black as the void of space, rushed out of the entrance, and the gate to another dimension closed. The hooded figures held tridents that gleamed in the sunlight. They stood in midair, level with the treetops, and began to observe what was happening below.
After a brief moment, Varon had another thought. If he defeated the warrior himself, he would gain enough experience to attack the Academy of Magic in Eclimicos, and the elemental masters would have to accept his rule if they weren't slain first.
"Wait!" Varon said to the witch, seeing the wraiths slowly tightening their circle around Naimad. "Call them off, I'll defeat him myself."
"You can't. He's more powerful than you imagine...
" "Call them off, or I'll rip your throat clean through, and you'll never be able to tell anyone anything." "The warrior threatened, squeezing her neck with his strong hand and bringing it closer to the blade of his sword. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded in approval. Waron released his grip and turned to Naimad, who was completely lost. A small ball of fire vibrated in his hand, ready to attack, now slowly fading.
The ghosts continued to form a circle, but they retreated far enough to allow
the mages to duel. They faced each other, swords poised.
"Your new acquaintances won't be much help to you," Naimad said, trying to buy time. "Their bodies will crumble to ash when sprinkled with the Holy Water of Hexunus. Spirits fear purity.
" "Perhaps you're right," the airbender replied, though he knew he was speaking the truth. "But you can't summon Holy Water. That's the domain of water adepts."
- Don't be surprised if a novice wizard destroys your entire army of ghosts.
"Enough talk!" Waron shouted, angered by his words, which were true, but he knew there weren't many water adepts in the world. It was a vanishing domain of wizards. Few studied it anymore, as it was difficult to master a higher level than verbal magic, and the techniques of this magic specialized more in defense than attack. He had once seen a powerful wizard use powerful, offensive spells, but he had only encountered him once in his life. He was probably dead by now, he consoled himself.
So many times, Waron had wished for Naimada to be swallowed by the abyss or for
some other misfortune to befall him, now he longed to end his life himself. He was confident in his abilities and trusted in his power, which had never failed him before. He noticed how haggard the warrior who had come to kill him looked. He was pale, his hair limp, and he seemed very tired. Now he would repay him for destroying the castle and disfiguring his face. If not for a miracle, he would now look like a man whose face had been run over by a miniature plow, leaving permanent wounds that would never heal.
Naimad attacked first. A swift uppercut was effectively blocked by Varon's sword. He didn't hesitate, striking the mage from the side. The mage managed to dodge before the blade reached his armor and made a shallow scratch.
He launched a counterattack, striking seemingly blindly with his sword. Varon was forced to recoil under the blows, but he didn't let any blow reach him. He struck from the right, and seeing his blow blocked, he dodged the incoming counterattack. When Naimad's blade missed his head, Varon rose and struck his enemy's cheek with his fist, then with a single kick, knocked the fire mage to the ground.
He wanted to seize the opportunity to end this duel, and without waiting, he grabbed his sword and threw it at the fallen man. Naimad, in the impact of the fall, dropped his sword and, seeing the blade approaching his heart, rolled to the left, narrowly avoiding the blow. Waron's weapon dug shallowly into the ground, allowing him to quickly withdraw it, but he didn't have time to defend himself from the kick flying towards him. Naimad struck him in the stomach, causing the sorcerer to cringe slightly. This gave him the opportunity to land another blow, this time striking his enemy squarely in the chin.
Waron staggered and would have fallen had he not fallen backward and leaned on his sword. Naimad straightened and ran for the sword lying on the ground. When he turned, he noticed that Waron disliked his blow, as he was holding his stomach with one hand. But seeing the warrior watching him, he quickly attacked him with a powerful blow from above. Naimad managed to block the blow, but the force of it surprised him immensely.
So he had become more powerful than before. But how could that be? What had he been doing all week? Naimad looked into his face and didn't notice any of the wounds he'd inflicted on him in the castle that day. No doctor in the Academy could heal a wound without leaving a trace; usually, a smudge or a barely perceptible scar remained, and his face showed no trace of any injury.
They both strained to defeat their opponent in this melee, but they couldn't achieve any significant effect beyond shaking their swords. Waron looked into Naimad's eyes. He saw an unfamiliar light in them, one he hadn't detected in their last clash. He saw hatred, bitterness, and something more. The latter terrified him. It reminded him of his past with the Academy in the city of Eclimicos. He didn't want to remember it, but he knew that sooner or later, responsibility would catch up with him.
Suddenly, Naimad's eyes flashed with a fiery light. He began to unleash his hatred and direct it directly at Varon, who stood before him. Something unexpected happened. The warrior's entire blade ignited with a living flame that made Varon's heart beat faster. "He wants to scare me," he thought. "I can also make lightning shoot from my sword, which would be a nice fake."
Naimad screamed with all his might, which gave him additional strength, allowing him to push Varon away and launch an attack. The sorcerer, pushed back with unprecedented force, fell to his knees, still clutching his sword. Contrary to his expectations, the warrior's blade didn't extinguish, and he could have sworn it began to burn with even greater flame. What was happening? This isn't normal, what he was doing, the thought flashed through his mind like an arrow.
The air around the sword quivered, as if in a desert. This was due to the hot air, which was moving, heated by the sun's rays.
The airbender had miraculously blocked the blow Naimad had landed on him immediately after his fall. He felt it now—the heat radiating from the fire. It wasn't meant to frighten him. The firebender, summoning his power, had inadvertently set his sword ablaze. It's not difficult to tap into a mage's dormant energy reserves in battle, but such phenomena are rare; Naimad isn't powerful enough to achieve such a thing. No, never in his life, Waron assured himself.
Hatred grew, and the firebender delivered increasingly powerful blows. His opponent was astonished, unable to land a single blow, yet seemed helpless in a situation where he had to constantly block the enemy's attacks.
As their swords clashed, individual flames fell on the trampled grass, breaking away from the main flame that Naimad's blade held. More and more often, the tip of the fire adept's weapon narrowly missed Waron's armor, causing pain that normally wouldn't have occurred if the blade hadn't been hotter than the hearth. This wasn't a swordfight now, but a life-saving attempt.
They clashed again, and the impact of their blades caused several flames to break free, landing on Waron's arm, searing him despite his iron chainmail. He didn't withdraw his hand, but tried with all his might to forget the pain. They both pushed each other away, and the sorcerer decided to seize the opportunity, leaping several feet into the air and somersaulting backward. Naimad slashed, but his blow missed. He landed softly on the grass, then drove his sword into the ground and crouched.
Naimad didn't suspect any trap, so he slowly approached the air adept, swinging his sword in front of him. Waron noticed the warrior creating rings of fire around himself. He remembered this was his favorite tactic for throwing his opponent off balance and unsettling them, as he formed figures in the air and closed in to deliver the final blow. But he didn't expect one thing. The sorcerer now possessed greater power than before; Naimad would surely be surprised, if not dead, thanks to Waron's trick.
He focused his power on a single point at eye level and began preparing for an attack. In an instant, the air in front of him began to flash, as if a concentration of lightning were within it. White discharges spread throughout his body, making him an extremely menacing figure.
Naimad was now close enough to launch an attack. He leaped into the air, gripping his sword with both hands, and delivered a battle-ending blow. While he was in the air, Waron reached out his arms, as if to catch him and prevent him from falling. When the warrior approached at the right distance, all the power accumulated before the sorcerer was released in an instant.
The fire adept couldn't remember what he had felt. Most of his body was paralyzed. A tangle of white and blue struck the sorcerer with the force of a thunderbolt. The sorcerer, struck by a terrifying force, flew higher than before, spinning around until he finally hit the hard ground with his back.
Despite all this, he still had his sword with him, but its flame had faded. Naimad lay limp, slowly losing consciousness.
Waron, seeing that his powerful attack had passed, decided to finish what he should have done long ago. With a single movement of his hand, he ripped his sword from the ground and leaped towards his defeated opponent. He stood confidently on his feet right next to the warrior, then, circling his sword in classic circles in the air, and when the point landed just above Naimad's heart, Waron grabbed it with both hands and delivered the final blow.
As far as his consciousness allowed, the sorcerer, through half-closed eyes, saw the inevitable defeat. In the last moment of his life, he found the strength to lift what seemed to him to be a terribly heavy sword and try to parry the attack.
The force of his final move wasn't strong enough to protect him from the blow. However, he managed to deflect the blade enough to avoid hitting the heart. His sword fell, lacking the strength to hold it steady. A terrible pain shot through his entire body. He felt as if hundreds of needles were being stabbed into him at once. He screamed with all his might as Waron's sword sliced through his skin, shattered several ribs, and pierced through, burying himself deep in the earth. The unbearable pain, the likes of which he had never experienced, nearly caused him to lose consciousness.
The ruthless sorcerer braced himself against the wounded warrior's shoulder, then with one powerful movement, ripped his sword from his body. The scream he heard next gave him immense satisfaction. He had finally defeated the great Naimad, whom he had feared since he had taken Ksaia from his life.
Naimad spat blood, staining his beard with red ichor. He looked at the sorcerer. There was no hatred in his eyes anymore, but despair and pain, not physical but mental. He had been defeated and gravely wounded by his rival from his academic days. It was over.
"I warned you!" The sorcerer had barely uttered the words before he sighed with relief and added, "Your death was unnecessary." You could have lived with the belief that Ksaia was with the one she loved. – Naimad spat blood at him in protest, but the drops of red goo did not reach Waron.
– She… doesn't love you! – Naimad choked out, then turned his head to the side, as his strength was slowly fading.
– Poor man. You don't even know the truth! She never loved you! – he said the last words with superiority in his voice. – Anyway, it doesn't matter. – He turned his back on him and walked towards the cottage. Halfway there, he turned to the wraiths, still waiting at the ready. – You can tear him apart!
The witch said something in an incomprehensible language, and after a moment the wraiths began to scream.
They slowly flew towards the helpless mage. Where their hands should have been, there were only the long, torn sleeves of some black robe. However, just because they were currently weaponless didn't mean they were helpless. Varon watched as the air around those sleeves began to vibrate, just like with his spell. He saw a flash accompanying the strange sound that suddenly emanated from each ghost. There was no joking around with such things. He blinked, then his mouth dropped open in astonishment. Each ghost now wielded a short sword, its blade protruding beyond the ends of its dingy robe.
Naimad saw a beautiful sight. A majestic golden dragon flew just above the canopy of the distant forest, its scales gleaming like diamonds in the morning sun. The mage thought he was already dead; now the dragon would take him to the meadows of Artesion, where all worries and suffering would vanish from him. He would finally be happy.
The dragon sat gently on the edge of the clearing. He let out a terrifying roar and spread his great wings, giving the impression of a divine creature. A dark silhouette moved on the legendary creature's back. Oh no! This is not that dragon! No one has the right to ride the messenger of the gods! He himself comes for those with pure hearts and takes their souls to paradise. No one can help him. So why was this man riding him?
He felt a surge of energy. It wasn't his own, nor Varona's, for it came from an entirely different realm. The water adept was using it! Suddenly, out of nowhere, icicles appeared near the ghosts' figures, piercing their bodies in an instant, then emerging and repeating the attack several more times. Finally, the bodies of the terrifying spirits crumbled into gray powder, which, driven by the wind, spread across the entire area around them, blanketing the grass with a layer of ash.
From behind the golden dragon, a second dragon rose into the air, this time silver, but its majesty was no less impressive. It rose to a suitable height and briefly obscured the sun's disc with its great wings. The first dragon, with its rider on its back, also lifted its powerful body into the air and moved toward the second dragon.
"Take them!" shouted Varon, glancing at the hooded figures still mounted on their horses. "You must kill them!"
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