Vir spat out dirt and blood, then shakily rose to his feet, gritting through the pain that throbbed all over his body. If he took any more hits like that, he doubted he’d have the strength to even get back up.
Maybe he’d have a chance one-on-one. But these two worked with perfect coordination, covering for each other’s weaknesses, shutting Vir down and putting him on the defensive without giving him a single opportunity.
He had no chance. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide, with no one to help him, out here in the middle of the Godshollow.
Vir whispered a prayer. Not to the gods, but to Rudvik. He dove back in, Leaping right up to the talwar wielder, his katar a flurry of slices and thrusts.
For the first time since the beginning of the duel, he pushed the man back, forcing him to block the attacks with his shield.
As small as it was, the shield could only do so much. The man took a hit to his cuirass, though no damage was done. Vir grimaced. Hitting the man had taken so much effort, and even when he’d landed a blow, he couldn’t even deal damage.
He’d have to aim for their faces.
To his surprise, the talwar wielder only attacked him once, instead of pressuring him. Vir deflected the blade with the hilt of his katar and struck back, aiming for the man’s eyes.
His opponent adapted to the change in his tactics, stepping back whenever Vir approached, using both his shield and the greater range of his talwar to keep himself safe from Vir’s flurry.
Though he wasn’t dealing damage this way, Vir was at least no longer on the defensive. That gave him options.
He used the brief lull after a strike to risk a glance at the poleaxe wielder—and blanched.
In the man’s hand was a glowing green orb, slotted into a mejai aiming bracer, pointed directly at him.
Vir looked back at the talwar wielder just in time to see a flash of his blade. His chest burned and blood went flying.
He took a knee as the wound opened up, sending pain ripping through his body. It was shallow—nothing deep or life-threatening, but it was enough to distract him for a split second.
Instinctively, Vir lashed out with his katar, expecting a follow-up strike. To his horror, the talwar wielder jumped away… which could only mean one thing.
Magic! The poleax wielder!
Panicking, Vir snapped his head to the other soldier just in time to see the Wind orb fire.
Time slowed. For a long moment, his entire world comprised just him and the blazing blade of Wind prana that cut through the air, promising sure death.
A single glance told him all he needed to know. This was not the kind of attack that could be blocked. If he tried, he’d lose his arms.
Neither could he dodge. Caught flat-footed on one knee, he simply lacked the energy to hurl himself out of the way in time.
This… This is the end, isn’t it?
He’d exhausted every option. He’d fought to his last… If only there was something. Anything.
Vir’s last thoughts weren’t of Maiya, or Rudvik, or Neel… No, all he thought about was how he wanted Ekanai to possess his body.
Take over! It’s what you want, isn’t it?
But his mental plea was returned only with silence.
The Wind Blade edged closer, and Vir prepared himself for the worst.
‘I hear and recognize your resolve,’ said a voice inside Vir’s head. ‘But only this once.’
In a moment that felt like an eternity, something changed. Vir was no longer Vir. Something—someone—else had taken control. But it wasn’t Ekanai.
The being who controlled his body now was not the Reaper. It was another entity entirely.
The world faded away, and memories flooded into his head. Recollections of times long past. He was no longer in the Godshollow. He was… somewhere else, long ago.
Unlike Reaper Ekanai, this person’s arms were normal—like Vir’s, but thicker and more powerful. In each, he held a beautiful seric steel chakram, carved with intricate designs.
In this memory, the man wore jet black plate armor inscribed with the white symbol of the Akh Nara. A matching cape billowed behind him as he stood atop a mountain of corpses.
He was Shardul the Vicious. The Akh Nara. Chosen Hero of the Garga tribe.
The one to lead them to a new age of prosperity… and instead, he had led them straight to ruin. Now he was on one last, desperate mission to save what remained of his clan.
The weight of a century of sorrow and regret assaulted Vir, drowning his very soul.
‘To wield Shadow prana to its fullest, one must be partners with tragedy,’ Shardul said. ‘This applies equally to those of us blessed enough to tap into the vast power of Ash prana. The primordial form of all prana.’
Ash prana? Vir comprehended that the voice referred to the black prana which lived within his body.
In the vision, a horde of demons charged at Shardul from dozens of paces away, their glowing red eyes full of bloodlust. They numbered over a hundred, all clad in bright green armor. The colors of the Chitran.
Shardul allowed his enemies to come. He waited. Right until they were on top of him. Then… He sank.
Vir tried to understand what he was seeing. Shardul sank into the ground below him, disappearing into a world of darkness. A moment later, he reappeared. Behind his enemies.
A geometric tattoo on Shardul’s legs blazed bright green, and he pounced upon their backs, cleaving into his foes with the brutal efficiency of an executioner.
Vir would never have believed that someone could use chakrams so effectively as melee weapons… until Shardul showed him.
The vision faded, and the world came back into focus. The Wind Blade was right on top of him.
Like Ekanai had done, Shardul took control of his body and sank into the ground.
Into his own shadow.
Down and down, he went, falling into a world where light dared not penetrate. He could not see, but Prana Vision showed him all the exits. A myriad of potential destinations, all accessible to him. All he had to do was will himself toward one, and he’d pop right out.
Shardul chose a distant one, and left the world of darkness, reappearing under the shadow of a Godhollow, some twenty paces away.
What was that! Vir asked the entity in his head. He’d never seen anything like it. And, unlike Prana Vision and Ekanai’s Chakram Arts, Vir had no idea how Shardul pulled it off. It had all happened so quickly, he didn’t know what to make of it. And if he couldn’t analyze it, how could he possibly replicate it in the future?
‘Dance of the Shadow Demon is a powerful ability, but you will not be able to learn from me as you have from the Reaper. If you wish to have my ability, then heed my words. You have a mission to fulfill, Ekavir. Seek the Ashen Realm. Within it, great strength awaits.’
If I go to the Ashen Realm, you’ll show me? Vir asked Shardul. This demon took a different approach from Ekanai. Rather than threatening him, he was offering something in return.
‘I swear it. This is the last time, Ekavir. We shall aid you no more,’ Shardul said, fading away. ‘Not until you accept your destiny…’
And then Vir was alone in his head once again. He had so many questions he lost count, but he forced his thoughts under control. Even now, his enemies shouted in the distance, looking for him.