Who is he? Prt2

The room fills with pressure strong enough to crush skulls. Myles stares in awe, barely able to keep up with the impressive display of power. With a stoic expression, Rai extends her palms, index and middle fingers pointing upward, after managing to create distance between herself and her father. Suddenly, a blue light shines on both of them. Symbols in an alien language—at least alien to Myles—form from the light and wrap themselves around her arms.

Julian laughs. "Don't hold back anything in your evaluation, child. I might be old, but the word 'weak' will never be used to describe me."

"Hmm, is that what you think I'm doing?" she says, disappearing and reappearing behind Julian. "Goodness, I might be getting better after all." A loud bang erupts as she gently places her hands on his shoulder. The shockwave ripples outward, forcing Myles to grit his teeth just to stay standing.

"Here." Lia surrounds herself in her criole and gestures for Myles to do the same. As he follows her lead, strength returns to his body—he can now stand without issue. Lia smiles. "Be careful."

"Huh?" The breath barely leaves his mouth before a more powerful shockwave hits. Rai crashes into the ground beside them, and the force strips the criole veil from Myles, pulling him forward with it.

"I see," Myles groans, restoring his criole veil as he pushes himself to his feet. Lia laughs softly beside him, clearly enjoying his struggle.

As he steadies himself, Myles notices something strange—the floor, cracked and scorched from battle, is already repairing itself. The surface smooths over as if nothing had happened at all. Before he can dwell on it, a sharp yell cuts through the air.

Rai?

Everyone turns in surprise—but then it clicks. The source of the yell isn't Rai herself, but a clone golem—one of the constructs her runes allow her to create by placing her palms on any carbon-based surface, as long as it's not a living being. Myles stares, eyes wide, as he watches two Rais now standing in the arena. Lia just laughs at his expression, clearly unbothered.

Then two more appear.

Each clone manifests with a unique glow—distinct criole attributes revealed by their differing eye and horn colors.

One, marked by a glowing red horn, hurls flaming chains that crash down onto Julian's shoulders. The chains look heavy—oppressively so—but Julian barely flinches. Almost. In a flash, he destroys the clone with brutal precision.

Before the moment settles, another Rai, this one with a light green hue, darts forward and decks Julian in the face. Vines erupt from the ground around him, lashing out like snakes—but then, inexplicably, they catch fire, transforming the greenery into wild flames.

Then the real Rai steps forward, accompanied by another clone pulsing with a deep purple glow. Together, they summon and drop two massive boulders on Julian from above.

It doesn't stop there.

Rai dismisses her clone and replaces it with something new—a strange, luminous crystal. She presses it onto one of the boulders, and it instantly converts the massive stone into pure crystal. A moment later, she shrinks it in her hand, revealing a tiny, crystalized prison with Julian trapped inside—grinning like a fool.

Myles sighs. Even now, Julian finds a way to look amused.

But the victory is short-lived. The crystal begins to crack.

Without hesitation, Rai opens a gap of space between them, her stance shifting in preparation. The crystal shatters, and Myles can't keep up with what happens next. All he can do is watch, awestruck by the explosion of speed the two unleash.

Then—suddenly—they stop.

Julian stands tall. Rai has fallen into a defensive posture, arms raised. It's subtle, but clear—she's lost. Julian's palm rests gently against her abdomen. If that blow had landed with force, it would've ended her.

Julian laughs heartily. "Fret not, my dear young queen-to-be. You have done me proud. Throughout the fight, you stayed calm. Your enemies will fear you. Remember my defildon"—he gestures to the flower native to Phase 2—"breathe through it all. Soon enough, you'll surpass me and take my place. Soon enough."

With that, Julian exits.

Rai sighs, a bit worn from the spar. She turns to the pair and walks over.

"Amazing," is all Myles can utter, completely awestruck.

Rai glances away, a little shy—or at least that's how they perceive it. Just then, a few of the guards watching burst into cheers. One of them, green-haired and clad head-to-toe in armor, steps forward to greet Rai.

"My lady," the knight says, bowing deeply, "I wish to show my strength—and more importantly, how far I've come. It is my duty as a knight to handle what you needn't concern yourself with." The knight then shifts their gaze to Myles. "The suitor of the princess, though untrained, shows remarkable strength. I will use him as a demonstration assistant, with your permission."

Lia casts a sly look at Myles from the corner of her eye and smiles. "Of course. Have fun."

Myles sighs in quiet disdain—but he's been waiting for an opportunity to gauge himself. Rai gestures in polite affirmation.

"Tell me your name, Myles. Your family name," the knight asks suddenly, bowing low.

"Myles Blasck-Der Crim. And yours?" His voice comes out shadowy and low.

"Grace," the knight replies. Without warning, their fist narrowly misses Myles' face as they throw a powerful punch. Myles responds with a swift kick to the gut, sending the figure flying—or so it seems.

The airborne body suddenly crumbles into stone.

Myles barely dodges a follow-up slash. The same voice resounds, now from a semi-familiar face—dark-skinned, with curly black hair and dark orange eyes.

"My lady chooses well," the figure says.

Myles narrows his eyes but holds his ground. "What was the point of the disguise?" he growls.

"What matters," she replies, stepping forward, "is that it's gone."

She smirks. "For the record, I'm Daena."

In a blur, she moves to his side, aiming to strike his head with the hilt of her sword. Myles counters with an upward double-slash. Daena twists out of reach and chuckles.

"Those swords... they're made purely of criole. Who taught you that?"

"It's nothing special," he replies, swinging down at her. "It's just something I can do."

"Nothing special?" she repeats, laughing.

Suddenly, a crushing wave of criole pressure slams into Myles' chest. He staggers under its weight.

"We're done playing games," she says coldly.

She now stares him down like a lion eyeing its prey.