The forest was soaked in silence.
Water dripped from Kellan's robes, trailing down his fingers, falling to the muddy earth like beads of blood. He stood still, unmoving, his left eye glowing red with eerie intensity—a mark of his awakened bloodline, or perhaps something far older. His gaze fixed on Vorn, calm as still water, yet beneath that calm lay something coiled, waiting.
Across from him, Vorn narrowed his eyes. The mist hadn't faded entirely. It clung to the earth like a dying ghost, swirling in faint spirals around his boots.
"People always said you could mirror engravings," Vorn muttered, his tone low, tinged with caution. "But I know it's more than that... You don't just mimic, do you?"
Kellan offered no reply. His silence was not passive—it was judgmental, deliberate, as though words would be wasted on someone like Vorn.
Suddenly, both moved.
No more hesitation.
Each of their hands blurred into motion, fingers weaving across the air in practiced arcs. Symbols lit up around them, ancient and primal, drawn in glowing strokes of condensed essence.
Then—
"Water Engraving: Dragon of the River!"
Their voices thundered in unison.
The ground rumbled.
From the river behind them, water surged upwards, drawn by their matching engravings. Two massive serpentine forms rose from the current—water dragons with coiling bodies, serpents of liquid force that shimmered in the morning light. They clashed in mid-air with a boom that shattered branches and flung a spray of water in every direction.
Crash!
The force of the collision sent ripples through the entire battlefield. Trees groaned under the weight of pressure, and the mist was momentarily torn apart.
On the edge of the clearing, Tharic flinched, his face pale. Mira gripped her sleeve tightly, watching with wide eyes. Ryn, however, remained unmoved—eyes sharp, mind observing, calculating. He was no longer merely watching a duel; he was witnessing something foundational to the path of engravings. This wasn't just combat—it was mastery, domination through knowledge and control.
Vorn stumbled back, his mouth twisting into a grimace. Sweat ran down his temple.
"He's matching me stroke for stroke…" he thought bitterly. "No—he's faster."
He began a new sequence, shifting elements: now wind, now frost. Yet each time he moved, Kellan's fingers mirrored his, not even half a heartbeat behind—sometimes ahead.
It was as if he had become Vorn's reflection, anticipating every technique, every sequence of thought.
"Are you—reading my mind?!" Vorn roared, frustration leaking into his voice.
Kellan responded with a whisper, calm and devoid of mockery. "No. You're simply predictable."
Vorn's fury exploded. He charged, slicing down with his engraved blade—a water-forged weapon etched with imperial-level sigils. It could cut stone and bone alike, but Kellan met the blow with the flat of his own short blade, parrying in a perfect angle, then twisted.
Crack!
Kellan's fist struck Vorn's chest.
Boom!
A follow-up kick sent him crashing into a tree, bark cracking, roots shaking. Vorn slumped for a breathless moment, coughing up water and blood.
It wasn't just the impact. What wounded him more was realization.
"He's not simply reflecting my style. He's perfecting it."
In the distance, Tharic whispered, "He's toying with him…"
Ryn's brows furrowed. No longer was he seeing Kellan as just a capable fighter. He was seeing something deeper—a mind that could dissect your soul through your technique. He understood, now, the terrifying edge of an engraving master like Kellan.
This was what it meant to dominate another through knowledge.
And yet, Vorn rose.
Staggering, his breath ragged, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His engraved blade shimmered again, gathering mist and water from the air. His eyes were bloodshot, but not broken.
"I am Vorn Sablemist!" he shouted. "The Hidden Mist Fiend! You think I'll fall here?!"
With a roar, he sprinted forward, pulling in water and mist into a condensed spiral of pressure.
Kellan's fingers flashed. Calm, controlled.
"Lightning Engraving: Thunder Fang Slash."
There was no chant. No wasted motion.
Only lightning.
A jagged bolt erupted from Kellan's blade. It danced along the air like a living serpent and slammed into Vorn mid-charge.
CRACK!
Electricity surged through Vorn's limbs. His muscles spasmed, and his body convulsed as if possessed. He dropped to one knee... then another... before collapsing completely.
Still. Silent.
The clearing hushed again, save for the soft fall of rainwater and the lingering hum of energy.
But Kellan didn't approach.
Something was wrong.
A subtle sound—a whistle—pierced the air. Sharp, like a fang cutting flesh.
Thunk.
A slender needle embedded itself into Vorn's neck.
His body shuddered once, then crumpled completely—lifeless.
Gasps echoed from the team.
From the remaining mist emerged a figure cloaked in gray, wearing a smooth white mask that bore no features except a single crimson dot on the forehead. He walked casually, dragging a strange black chain in one hand.
"I'll take the body," the figure said, voice smooth and soft, like a child's, yet chillingly devoid of emotion. "He was a wanted target. I am from the Imperial Purge Division. Extraction and disposal are my responsibilities."
Mira took a step back. Even Ryn stiffened.
The aura around this masked figure was not that of a mere cleaner. It was cold... surgical.
Kellan said nothing. He stared for a long moment, then stepped aside. The masked operative bent, tied the chain around Vorn's neck, and dragged the corpse into the thickening mist behind him.
No trace of sound followed.
The moment was broken only by Tharic's tentative voice: "I-Is it over?"
No answer came.
Kellan's eyes rolled back, his knees buckled, and with a soft thud, the engraving master of reflection collapsed unconscious.
Silence returned once more.
But none of them could shake the feeling...
This was only the beginning.
* * * * * *
My university exams are finally over and we will come back stronger from now on.
There's another chapter coming soon.