Kael moved first.
Lucian barely had time to register the shift before steel was already flashing toward his throat.
He twisted, stepping back just as Kael's blade sliced through the air where he had stood. The force of the swing sent dust whipping around them, the sheer pressure rattling Lucian's bones.
Kael wasn't holding back.
"You—" Kael's voice was raw with fury, his stance sharp, precise—controlled rage. His next attack came faster, blade flickering like a silver ghost.
Lucian met it with his own, the clash of metal ringing through the ruins. Sparks scattered between them, a single instant of stillness—and then Kael pressed forward.
Lucian gritted his teeth. Kael had gotten faster.
And the worst part? He knew exactly how Lucian fought.
Because it was his own stolen skill.
"You think you can just take from me and walk away?" Kael hissed, forcing Lucian back with a brutal swing. "You think I'd forget?"
Lucian blocked, barely, the impact rattling his arms. He could see it in Kael's eyes—this wasn't a duel.
It was a reckoning.
---
Then—the air changed.
Lucian felt it before he saw it.
A shift. A weightless pause.
And then—he was standing alone.
Kael was gone.
No movement. No flash of magic. Just gone.
Lucian's blade remained raised, his breath steady, his senses sharp—but there was nothing.
Then—a voice.
Soft. Unhurried. Calculated.
"Still taking what isn't yours, I see."
Lucian turned sharply, but the figure was already there.
A man stood at the edge of the ruins, face obscured behind a smooth, expressionless mask. His presence was quiet, yet absolute.
He wasn't armed.
He didn't need to be.
Lucian felt his body tense, instincts screaming that something was wrong.
The masked man tilted his head slightly. "We'll be seeing each other soon, Kisaragi."
And then—he was gone.
Vanished.
Lucian exhaled slowly, lowering his blade.
No footsteps. No shift in air. No spell he could sense.
Just… gone.
His grip tightened.
What the hell just happened?