Daggers rained on the tower like meteors. Each strike chipped away at the realm, creating crater after crater. The overall size of the top had already shrunk by half. What was left was more scarred that a newbie hunter in a cutling pit.  

Dallion watched the destruction as he fell. Every second brought over a dozen strikes, all of them a safe distance away from Raven. The enemy echo made some attempts to limit the destruction, though not very successfully. Neither his skills nor his advanced weapon were able to effectively block the Nox dagger. Had this been the real person with his actual gear, things would have been different. Yet, no matter how impressive, everything seemed. It was nothing but a copy, and copies couldn’t be indestructible.

Nothing like a view of destruction, Nil said.

“Not funny, Nil,” Dallion whispered.

It wasn’t meant to be. This might seem like another realm to you, but it’s the boy’s domain. Without the reality chameleon, it will revert to normal once all this is over. He doesn’t have Nox to fix things up. Without the effects of the Moonstone and the mage echoes within his realm, it would take a lot to fix things. And that’s assuming the empire is even interested.

“You just don’t give up, do you?”

My personal issues aside, do you think that the empire would spare resources when parts of it are crumbling? I wasn’t lying when I said that no one can take on the emperor, but that doesn’t mean they can’t ruin the empire. History is full of powerful awakened. Some fury notables were said to be on par with Emperor Tamin I. What happened to them? I’m sure they lived long lives, though never prosperous.

“All I have to do is make sure their plan doesn’t succeed, then.”

Dear boy, “their” plan has already succeeded. You’ve limited the damage, no doubt, but the archmage was killed. Other planned events are also taking part throughout the empire. By the time the dust settles here, there will be—

A blur darted towards Dallion. He barely noticed it with one of his instances, before the harpsisword appeared on her own accord, guiding his hand to a perfect block.

Blades clashed, thrusting Dallion back, as he found himself unable to compensate for the raw strength.

“Always relying on others,” the echo of Grym hissed, twisting in the air while performing a series of slash attacks.

Using both his harpsisword and armadil shield to attack, Dallion called Lux back to him. This was something he hadn’t foreseen. The acrobatics skills of a high-level awakened allowed for impressive feats, but even they weren’t supposed to allow Grym to achieve what he had.

As Lux covered Dallion, granting him the ability of flight, there were no doubts left that the noble had something else up his sleeve. There was one thing that Dallion quickly noticed, though—while impressive, the speed of his opponent was nowhere as fast as it had been not too long ago.

Attack and guard markers started appearing, lagging events by seconds. Dallion swung his shield in an attempt to bash Grym, only to receive a stab in the right leg.

 

 

It took mere moments for Dallion’s health to get restored, but the combat difference was obvious. The gap wasn’t as large as he had feared it would be, though sizable just enough to force him to be on the defensive.

Dallion attempted to pull back, he tried to out combat split his opponent, even cast a spell or two, but no matter what he tried, Grym was one step ahead, mostly thanks to his weapon.

As if walking on air, the echo made a summersault, finishing it off with a vertical chop. The weapon changed from a saber to a massive axe, aiming to split Dallion’s head in two. At the very last moment, Dallion managed to block the attack with his shield. In thirty-three instances he failed to do so, causing them to fade away.

What’s his style? Dallion tried to go on the offensive, doing a three-sixty line attack, followed by a dozen piercing strikes in the direction of the echo. All of them got even close.

Combat acrobatics, Dallion thought. It had to be. The manner in which the echo’s body bent and twisted reminded him of the way Euryale used to fight.

Extending magic threads through his harpsisword, Dallion attempted to cast a spell or two while fighting, or at the very least, draw a weight symbol on his enemy. That changed the dynamic of the fight. It was unclear whether Grym had fought mages in real life, but blobs of caution appeared within him, making his attacks just a bit slower.

“How are you flying?” Dallion asked, attacking with his music skills as well. “You don’t have familiars, so you must be using some artifact?”

 

 

Grym’s blade twisted, turning into a sickle that pierced his lung. Anywhere else this would have ended the fight, if not his life. But these were the awakened realms. All that Dallion felt was a momentary sting before the fight returned to normal.

Not good! He thought. Grym was starting to figure out his pattern.

“One of the trinkets you took from your brother?” Dallion was moving his right arm so fast that the afterimage created the illusion he had three extra arms striking at the echo. “I found those, you know?”

That won’t work, Harp said. He’s using nymph combat style.

Nymph style? That was a bit exotic, although it clearly was efficient. Dallion had no ready answers against Grym’s attacks, having to improvise in the moment like a complete newbie. There was a time when he was naïve enough to think that gave him an edge. As he learned through centuries of practice and real-life experiences, learned combat sequences provided a huge advantage that no amount of improvisation could match.

Lux, pull me away! He ordered.

The firebird thrust him backwards at such speed that he felt like puking, and yet Grym was still there, continuing his attack from five feet away.

There was no doubt that he was using some trick to remain loose. Focusing, Dallion tried to use layer vision to find out what was going on. Then he found it: thin, almost invisible threads made of water were wrapped all around him, keeping him and the echo linked. That explained why the echo remained in the air without being able to fly. Thanks to these threads and his acrobatic skills, he was clinking on to the bitter end.

 

 

 

Two red rectangles emerged, as Grym’s blade changed shape, slicing through his leg. Dallion braced himself for any permanent effects, but thankfully, none emerged. He was lucky.

The echo’s successful attack had created a slight opening. Dallion immediately took advantage, aiming to pierce through his left shoulder. The attack was flawless. Alas, before it could strike, crystal scales formed on Grym’s shirt, causing the blade to bounce off without creating any damage.

More artefacts?! Dallion cursed. And to think that people were accusing him of relying on others. Even as an echo, the noble had more artifacts than a Mirror Pool treasury.

Taking advantage of the momentary momentum, Dallion did three point attacks in immediate succession. The force ripped part of the water threads, though were quickly deflected by the echo. From this distance, Dallion managed to get a glimpse of the counter. The shocking truth was that the echo never countered, not even once. For that matter, Dallion had never targeted it; what he had been attacking was Grym’s afterimage.

One hit, he kept telling himself. I just need one hit.

It seemed so simple. He had defeated far greater foes: dragons, Moon echoes, even the Star himself! There was no way he would be defeated by an ordinary person, and yet that was precisely what was happening.

Leave the realm, dear boy, Nil said. You have no chance of success.

Why the sudden change of heart? Dallion kept on attacking. Lacking a leg didn’t seem to impede him terribly, with Lux taking care of all movement. However, exhaustion was starting to kick in. Each strike required a bit more stamina, causing him to need just a bit more air. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, yet the signs of fatigue were no different than blood in the water. Noticing them as well, Grym kicked it up a notch.

 

 

 

The harpsisword fell to the darkness below, along with the rest of his arm.

At this point, it was obvious that he had lost. Nothing prevented the echo from chasing him out of Raven’s realm, then continuing the fight in the archmage’s room.

So close and yet so far away, Dallion said to himself. Did he have a real chance of winning? Maybe if he had kept further away during the “bombardment” of the tower, Grym wouldn’t have managed to attach to him. Maybe if his traits were a bit better, he might have put up a better fight.

Bitterness filled Dallion like purple vines.

“Felyg, if you don’t want to help me, at least help the kid,” Dallion said.

With the fight effectively over, so was Raven’s sanity. The moment Dallion was back in the real world, he’d be left with the boy’s husk. He no longer feared continuing a fight in the real world; he was terrified of what his classmate would become. They weren’t close by any means; they weren’t even friends, but the hostilities couldn’t be said to be entirely Raven’s fault. Quite the start difference from the day he had set foot in the Academy. Back then, Dallion would barely have cared. Now he did once more.

Do you really want to save him? Nil asked. He tried to kill you. Several times and on his own accord.

He never had his own accord, Dallion thought. That was the price for being a pawn. Even the important ones were moved about with barely any idea what was going on.

You really won’t change a thing.

Probably.

You still don’t trust me, do you?

I’ll never be able to trust you, Nil. You’re only a guest now.

I understand.

Purple symbols appeared in the air, causing both Dallion and Grym to move away. The interesting thing was that neither of them was the reason for such an occurrence.

A ball of pruple light formed, then slowly stretched, changing shape. Soon enough, Nil was there, floating between them as if it were the most normal thing there wasy.

“You?” Grym asked, brimming with anger. “Don’t forget your Moon vow!”

“I remember it very well, thank you. Just as I remember the one you made. None of us can harm the others. That’s why it’s a good thing that you’re actually an echo.”

Nil’s hands moved throughout the air, leaving multiple five-circle spell patterns as they did. Unlike most of the usual spells, these just remain there without coming into effect, as if the echo was stacking them up, slowly building a mega spell.

“I still think you’re making a big mistake.” Nil turned to Dallion. “You’ve so many options provided, and yet you’re determined to pick the worst one. Still, it’s time you make your own choices. Let this be my final gift to you.”

Grym burst into hundreds of instances, all of them striking the mage with his shapeshifting weapon. The saber extended, piercing through the old man. However, nothing changed.

“Magic,” Nil explained in an almost bored fashion as he continued with his spell. “There always are exceptions.”

Suddenly, all spell patterns flew towards one another, merging into a sphere. The purple glow changed into green, as the sphere shrunk, getting smaller and smaller, until it was no larger than the head of a pin. Then an explosion followed.

Light burst in all directions, sweeping through everything like a supernova.

 

 

A green rectangle emerged—the only thing visible within the incandescent light.

Goodbye, dear boy, the old echo said. Take care of yourself.

Reality shifted.