Chapter 68: Memory of Youth

"Exactly what he tried to do to me."

I wasn't the smartest person in the world, b—

"You can say that again," Luna cut in.

I ignored her. "But I wasn't about to start holding back against someone who was obviously trying to kill me."

"Peter, you don't understand—" Callum started, but I held up a hand.

"Thanks."

"Thanks?" His expression shifted to confusion.

"I mean…" I glanced around at the battlefield, now eerily still, opponents standing awkwardly as if they had forgotten why they were fighting in the first place. "You didn't start fighting for nothing, right? I don't know many people who'd protect a stranger."

"I…" He hesitated, rubbing his tensed arms before sighing. "It's no problem."

Then his gaze sharpened, his posture stiffening with something heavier. "Even like this," he gestured to our ghost-like forms, "too many people know your face, Peter. I don't know where you are, but if you ever find yourself in the Kingdom of Voxter, look for the Bal family. Any branch will do. Tell them your name and then mine."

Something about the way he said it made my instincts bristle. Callum and Dain weren't just anyone.

"Thanks," I said, committing the name to memory. "I'll make sure to do that."

Wherever Voxter was, my name was about to start spreading. Whether it was as Peter, the stranger who participated in the trial, or as the guy who killed Dain… that part wasn't exactly clear to me yet.

Callum turned away, addressing his group. "Get back over here. The fight's over."

His people moved, separating from their former opponents.

I exhaled and shifted my focus inward. "Luna, how you holding up?"

"Better," she responded, her tone lighter. "I'm getting used to this. It seems like our systems are connected through a thin barrier."

"Oh? Is that just in here?"

A pause.

Callum's group returned, and just before I thought she had forgotten my question, Luna finally answered.

"Maybe."

I sat down, letting Luna rest while I resumed control of my own circulation. Something felt off.

The pressure. It was increasing.

Steadily.

Heavily.

Callum sat next to me, settling into his own concentration, though his boredom must've been getting to him, because he suddenly spoke.

"I've never seen someone use cultivation like that… well, maybe just a couple of people." He eyed me. "You're not a Bloodless, are you?"

"Bloodless?" I frowned. "Never heard of anything like that."

His expression didn't change, but suspicion grew behind his eyes.

"What Kingdom are you from?"

His tone had changed.

Caution?

"I, uhh…" I stalled. "I'm not really from anywhere, but… The State of Stars."

The shift in the group was instant.

Tension rolled through them like a ripple in a still lake.

The previous friendliness drained from their faces. Callum stiffened, his unease suddenly mirroring the rest of them.

"Something wrong?"

"You said you're not really from there? Then where?"

His voice had darkened, and I was really starting to get the feeling I should start moving away.

I held up my hands. "Just relax, guys. I'm from somewhere really far away. I was just kinda… I wouldn't say captured, but… anyway, I just found myself there."

The tension in Callum and his group eased slightly. Then another wave of pressure crashed down on us, and all of them tensed again.

"I—" Callum gritted his teeth. "You know of the Northern Continent?"

That sounded… familiar. Like something on the edge of my mind, just out of reach.

Wait. "Luna?"

"Yeah? What's up? There's a ton of energy here, I want to focus on absorbing it."

Could she even keep any of this power? Could I?

I shook the thoughts away. "How much of my memory did you see?"

"Mostly just entertainment. Some of your life too, but it was boring, so I hardly bothered."

Rude. I sighed. Resigned to my fate of having zero privacy with this sentient piece of grass.

I probably looked a bit weird to everyone else right now, but at least they weren't interrupting.

"Anything you remember about the Northern Continent?"

"Hmmm…" A thoughtful hum. "Something about war?"

I spoke out loud with the realization. "Oh." I adjusted my posture against the pressure. "Oooh."

I turned straight to Callum.

"We're, I mean not we personally, but we're at war."

Another spike of pressure crashed down. Somewhere in the distance, someone screamed then shattered.

Just gone. Lost forever.

I forced myself not to think about it.

"Luna, can you help?"

"I'm having a bit of trouble just with my own body," she called back.

The pressure was getting unbearable. Callum and I abandoned the conversation entirely, redirecting all our focus inward.

If I had my Precursor Sense… or even my Grand Channel… this would've been uncomfortable, sure, but manageable.

But these circuits with their thin, intricate venules running through every inch of me, lacked auto circulation. Lacked efficiency. And that was a serious problem.

The pressure kept mounting.

Screams. Agonized and unwilling.

I couldn't even tell how many of us were left.

I was forced to close my eyes at some point in an attempt to block out any distractions.

Luna trembled in my mind, on the verge of breaking, and I wasn't far behind.

Then it stopped.

Vanished suddenly and my body was freed.

Collective breaths echoed in the silence, relief crashing down on everyone at once.

"You have done well." The old man had returned.

I opened my eyes and scanned the area.

It was obvious that many had perished.

But some remained. Flickering figures, barely holding themselves together. Some looked like a single breath would be enough to shatter them completely.

One of them was Synthia's friend. She, however, looked fine.

"To have this many survive… I am impressed." The old man's voice carried through the space, cold and distant. "Each of you will receive a reward for passing the first test."

A collective gasp rippled through the remaining participants.

I leaned toward Callum, lowering my voice. "Is it special to receive a reward?"

He shot me a quick look, like a studious kid annoyed at being pestered while trying to listen to the teacher. "I don't think so. Just wait, man."

Then he turned his attention back, uninterested in explaining further.

Alright then. Maybe they were just gasping from happiness. Who knows.

Before I could dwell on it, a massive orange bolt of energy erupted from the old man, splitting apart in perfect, precise lines.

The fragments hovered in the air, swirling around him like they had a will of their own.

I barely had time to react before a smaller bolt shot straight into me.

The world shifted. I blinked.

A cabin.

"Luna?"

No response.

Something was wrong.

I couldn't move, couldn't blink and couldn't talk.

Not even a twitch.

I could only watch as a prisoner behind someone else's eyes.

"Kazriel!"

A voice called from outside the small hut, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.

The door swung open, and a boy no older than a junior high student rushed inside.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Once you step in, there's no going back."

I felt the body I was inhabiting nod.

"I am confident. Give me a bit more time. Make sure everyone knows I won't run."

The boy hesitated, uncertainty flashing across his face. But he gave a sharp nod before turning and sprinting off.

I felt myself move, no, Kazriel moved, sitting down and closing his eyes.

I could feel everything but I couldn't control a thing.

His energy was different. Unlike the circuits or my Grand Channel. It flowed in a way that was entirely foreign.

Organized branches stretching from the single focal point, spreading outward like the roots of a vast, unseen tree.

It moved fast. Just as fast as my energy did when I carved inscriptions.

But then he did something strange.

He started gathering it in a way I knew was dangerous. Pulling in as much as he could, forcing it toward his extended hand.

I felt his body waver. Nausea clawed at his consciousness, trying to drag him under.

But he fought to stay awake.

The energy remained tethered to his body by a single, delicate thread, and somehow, through that thread, he began to condense the energy.

Folding it. Refining it.

Forging it.

And as I watched, unable to look away, it began to change.

It became denser.

Sharper.

And eventually it became a blade.

A flawless, golden saber.

As long as his arm.

Perfectly smooth and transparent, like a still lake, gleaming with a power I could barely comprehend.

"They will regr—"

Static.

My mind warped.

Dizziness crashed into me like a tidal wave.

I barely had time to brace before everything shifted again.

The next thing I saw was a tiled arena, its surface smooth like polished marble, gleaming under a searing sun.

Across from me, a young man, probably not even old enough to be in high school, glared at me with an intensity far beyond his years.

Way too much hatred for a child.

His silver blade gleamed as he pointed it at me.

"The fact that something like you was ever allowed in here is a stain on this academy. I will correct its mistakes."

Kazriel stepped forward, up the smooth stone steps and onto the stage.

"I will not forgive you. You will regret what you did to Fresyn"

The response was immediate.

Laughter. Jeers. Mockery.

Curses thrown like they would make you money, the kind of slurs that stung deep, laced with a venom only meant to cause pain.

Even the adult standing to the side looked as if he might break down with laughter in sheer disbelief at what he heard.

The boy sneered, his long, silky black hair shifting with the tilt of his head. "Don't tell me you're upset about that worm."

The moment he said it, something broke inside Kazriel.

I felt it.

A change in the presence of the body I inhabited.

A fury unlike anything I had ever known. A tangled mess of grief and rage, grief so deep it threatened to drown me, so thick it burned my essence inhabiting his being.

The adult stepped forward, ignoring the insult, his voice steady. "You have both signed the contract. The arena will be sealed. Only one can step out. I will ask again. Do you agree?"

What?! These are kids. Is he insane?!

The opponent smirked. "I agree."

Kazriel didn't hesitate. "Agree."

The referee stepped out.

The moment he did, a massive dome shimmered into existence around them. A low hum of power vibrated through the air, its sheer force distorting reality, mirages echoing around its edges.

It was as if even air itself would struggle to pass through.

"You made a mistake." Kazriel's voice resonated in a low growl.

Before another insult could be lodged, he reached into himself.

The blade from before erupted back into existence.

He had drawn it from somewhere deep within. Pulled from his very being. It was formed instantly, condensed perfectly.

His opponent's eyes went wide.

"Ho—That's impossible!"

His gaze flickered, sharp and panicked. "You. THIEF! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT MANUAL!"

Kazriel didn't answer.

Instead, he charged.

The young noble wasn't an amateur. His sword flicked up in an instant, bracing for impact.

CLANG!

The moment the blades met, I sensed the impact.

It rattled through Kazriel's arms, the shock traveling deep through his bones.

But his opponent's face twisted in something close to horror and pain.

The force from Kaz's saber didn't just hit the opposing blade, it struck something inside him.

His sword shuddered under the strike, a hairline crack forming near the edge.

Kazriel smiled. "Do you regret it?"

"Shut up!" The boy lunged with a roar.

A sharp, brutal kick slammed into Kazriel's ribs.

I felt the air rush from his lungs.

Pain shot through my chest, my vision blurred for just a moment, but Kazriel held firm, even as his feet slid back across the marble.

A blade was already swinging down at him.

"A beast like you deserves to die!"

Kazriel moved.

With a breath and a few lost strands of hair, he barely slipped out of the way. He stumbled twice before catching himself from falling.

His opponent followed through, twisting the strike, blade flicking toward Kazriel's throat.

Kazriel ducked low, pivoting on instinct. His free hand flashed out, internal strength already settled into it. 

Wind roared as a pulse of energy exploded outward.

The noble's feet slipped from under him.

He crashed onto his back, hard.

From outside the dome, the instructor pounded on the barrier.

"STOP THIS! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!"

He threw himself at it, hands shaking, but nothing gave.

"The duel is over!" Despite his corruption, the fight had to continue.

Kazriel didn't stop. He sprinted forward and his blade sang through the air, slicing toward the boy's legs.

The noble twisted away, but not fast enough.

A clean strike. A gut-wrenching cry and a red crescent splattered across the pristine marble.

The boy screamed.

A sound that pierced the air, shaking with agony, thick with disbelief.

Kazriel's fury shifted and something seemed to break in his mind.

His rage had blinded him, but now, in the aftermath, in the silence following that one brutal strike, he wasn't sure anymore.

The boy gasped, his breath shaky, his eyes wild.

"Stop!" His voice cracked, half sob, half desperation. "If you cont—" He sucked in a sharp breath, adrenaline the only thing keeping him sober and awake.

Kazriel hesitated.

His grip tightened, then loosened.

Just for a second.

Then the noble sneered through the pain.

"Good. If you don't, I'll have your family kil—"

The blade pierced his throat.

Silence.

His opponent's eyes went wide with disbelief. The last sound that escaped his lips, a gurgling choke.

The final, shuddering exhale of someone who didn't expect this would be the end.

I closed my eyes to avoid the grim sight of someone so young snuffed out in an instant.

The air shifted around me.

I opened my eyes.

I was back.

Staring into the strange rift of the trial once more.