Chapter 68

For a heartbeat after the Black Flame rips through the Heavenly Snake Lord, the world stands still. My legs tremble as if the mountain itself is shaking beneath me. The monster, split straight through the core, takes a single blind lunge before collapsing in two clean halves.

Black flames erupt from the cut, devouring every trace of blood and flesh.

Nothing remains except scorched bone and a trail of darkness that eats the daylight around it.

I drop to one knee. Sweat drips from my brow. The sword in my hand flickers, the last embers of black fire dying away. For a second, I see nothing but swirling gray. My vision narrows to a tunnel, and my heart stutters in my chest. The Grimoire pulses—my mana is nearly gone, every muscle aches, my soul feels half-consumed by the infernal technique.

The silence doesn’t last. The wind whips through the clearing, stirring ash where the monster used to be. My breathing slows, but I keep my hand wrapped around the sword. No one cheers. There’s just a ringing in my ears and the cold knowledge that it cost everything to make that attack land.

I want to savor the moment. I want to rest, just for a second. But the forest stirs behind me. A flash of blue sweeps through the trees. Adrienne steps out, blade drawn, eyes cold.

She wastes no time.

I stagger to my feet as she closes the distance, sword tip aimed at my throat.

But the next moment, I see Veyl, shrouded in lightning, running after Felisia.

“Impressive, Jacob Cloud. I should thank you for doing such a great job. I don’t know what kind of trick you used to win, but I commend your resourcefulness.” Her tone is cold, almost bored. “Sadly, you’re a threat and too much of an influence on my sister. Even if I won, I could see her wanting to trust you over me. That’s why you have to die.”

I grin and tilt my head, planting my feet even though every muscle screams for a break.

“You ally with that guy and you talk to me about bad influences?” I jerk my chin in the direction where Veyl ran after Felisia.

For a moment, Adrienne’s mask slips. A flicker of disgust creases her face.

“Veyl’s alliance is a matter of convenience. Clearwater and the Elves have traded for a long time. Offending them over one who behaves like him is not wise.”

I cock an eyebrow.

“You still dislike the guy, though.”

Adrienne’s grip on her sword tightens.

“It doesn’t matter. Politics are more important.”

I shrug.

“Why? Clearwater has good access to food, resources, and a pretty big port. I’m sure Elven money helps, but it’s not something you need. Or at least not something you should bear humiliation for. You’re supposed to be the next Duke, right? Someone who lets an idiot disrespect them just to win at all costs? That’s not a ruler, that’s a coward.”

Adrienne’s eyes narrow.

“Keep talking. It’s not going to save you.”

She raises her sword, the same style Felisia wields—a thin, elegant blade. Frost builds along the edge. With a flick, she slashes forward, conjuring a whirlwind of ice that howls across the clearing. I stumble, barely dodging as razor-sharp icicles slice through the air.

“Truth hurts, milady,” I say, exhaling hard. “I’ll spare your life, though. Maybe you could be reformed. Felisia shouldn’t exile you, but you will need to learn a few lessons—and I’ll be the one holding the first class.”

* * *

High above, the nobles crowd the rail. Most wear expressions of confusion or worry. The nobles murmur, eyes darting from Adrienne’s glittering sword to the way my knees buckle with each breath.

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“Why is he talking so much?” a portly merchant whispers. “He looks half-dead.”

“Doesn’t he know Lady Adrienne’s Skills are all Platinum Rank? He can’t possibly win if he’s this drained.”

A younger noble part of Adrienne’s circle pipes up, “Maybe he’s hoping she’ll collapse from boredom before he does!”

Another laughs, “Maybe he’s just distracting her from his next trick.”

A third suggests, “No, he’s just arrogant. The snake left him cocky.”

“Or he’s buying time for Felisia to get away,” says an older woman.

Lord Clearwater’s brow furrows.

“He shouldn’t be able to dodge anything at this point.”

* * *

Adrienne’s attack comes in waves—daggers of ice, spinning lances, arcs of frozen wind. Each step forward she takes, she drives me back, her blade flickering faster than sight. I keep moving, rolling, sidestepping. Every muscle feels hollow. I force myself not to freeze.

The Grimoire and Architect’s Insight are the only thing keeping me alive.

She thrusts with the tip, sending a scatter of icy needles at my face. I duck, roll sideways, and answer with a feint, just to buy distance. My legs want to fold but

I grit my teeth and force my body to obey. Adrienne’s sword comes in low, sweeping for my knees, then high—overhead, down in a slash meant to split my skull. I twist, feeling the chill slice through the air.

She hurls a spear of ice, the size of a grown man’s arm. I catch its angle, dodge left, and it explodes into frost against a tree. Her footwork is relentless. She presses in, slicing at my arms, aiming for joints, for gaps in my defense. I parry, only when forced, but mostly I evade. Her breath is steady at first, then it begins to quicken.

I read the pattern.

She always doubles up after a feint, always leaves her right side open for a second after thrusting left. Her left hand tenses before she releases a big Skill.

She circles, and the temperature drops, breath misting in front of her lips. She swings, and icy wind rakes my skin. Her eyes burn with frustration as I dodge every strike, never quite where she wants me. My vision blurs at the edges, but I keep going.

She shouts, launching a barrage of spinning ice shards that carve up the grass. I leap through, twisting in midair, landing just past her guard. Her sword snaps up, almost catching my shoulder, but I tuck low and stumble out of range.

“How is he still standing?” a noble whispers.

“It’s not possible,” another murmurs. “She’s faster, stronger—he should have dropped by now.”

Adrienne’s breathing is ragged now. Sweat beads on her brow. I can see the tremble in her arms as she presses the attack. She thrusts, I sidestep, her blade whistling past my ear. I keep her guessing, never giving her the rhythm she wants.

She’s still out of Mana from the previous battle.

She glares, voice breaking.

“How are you dodging all of this? You should be dead!”

I grin, feeling the fire in my veins. “You don’t have the instincts yet. And you’re tired.”

“Shut up!” Adrienne shouts. Her sword erupts with energy, the ground freezing beneath her feet. She swings with both hands, summoning a dragon of ice that towers above us, scales glittering, breath a freezing wind. The beast lunges at me, jaws wide.

My body screams for rest. I drag every ounce of mana left, ignite the black flame again, and watch as the Grimoire highlights a weak point just behind the dragon’s head. I leap, dodging the monster’s freezing breath, and drive my blade through the glowing spot.

The dragon shatters in a storm of snow and ice. Adrienne collapses to one knee, breath gone, face pale as frost.

I stand over her, my own vision swimming. I let out a ragged sigh.

“It’s a pity that sisters couldn’t love each other more, you know?” I say, cracking my neck and looking up the slope, toward the bundle of light at the peak. “You—”

Adrienne tries to speak, but her voice fails.

“Me? I don’t have brothers. Nor sisters. Nor a mother, really. Sometimes I wish I did.” I stare off into the blue haze, not sure why I feel the ache in my chest. “You do, though, unlike me. So, treasure your sisters. Calantha might be going bald, but she’s not so bad.”

* * *

On the nobles’ peak, Calantha—who has just arrived, hair sticking up in all directions after escaping the trial—spins and shouts at the assembled crowd.

“I’M NOT GOING BALD!”

* * *

I glance back at Adrienne, who has fallen forward onto her hands, hair plastered to her face by sweat.

“Felisia is a bit of a brat, you know? I hope once you lose the claim to the dukedom, you’re going to be the big sister she needs.”

Adrienne’s shoulders shake. I can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying.

I unfurl my Infernal Wings of Ash, every feather burning with pain.

I grit my teeth, force my battered body to rise.

“If not—if you ever scheme or plot against her—I’ll kill you. I’ll raze this entire city to the ground if I have to.”

That said, I kick off, launching into the sky. Wind and embers trail behind me as I ascend, the last threads of mana keeping me airborne. The bundle of light at the peak grows nearer. Every muscle in my body screams. My vision swims with exhaustion and triumph both.

I am almost there. One last stretch to the throne.