The world around them rippled in fractured moonlight.
Arthur's breath left him in measured bursts, the silver glow along his arms pulsing with the rhythm of his heartbeat. Lunar spirits swirled at his back, their outlines half-formed, their voices murmuring in a language older than the land beneath their feet. Lyra stood a step ahead, her hands tight at her sides, dark rose mana flaring in a heat that distorted the air.
Across the ruined plaza, Clyde waited. His expression was calm, almost bored — the kind of calm that meant he was already weighing them. Judging them.
A faint shimmer burst into existence between them. A chain. Thin, ethereal, yet its presence pressed against Arthur's chest like a physical weight.
So it begins.
Arthur shifted his stance, letting the spirits coil tighter around him. "He's already linked us. That thing's tethered to your core, Lyra. Don't let it tighten."
She didn't answer. She didn't need to. Her barrier erupted upward in a wall of translucent crimson, splitting the ground in its wake.
Clyde's voice was even. "I see the heart in your actions… and the stains."
The chain pulsed once — a heartbeat — and Arthur felt the pull. It wasn't muscle the chain tugged on. It was intent, will, everything that kept him steady. He dug in, sliding along the side of Lyra's wall, lunar spirits darting ahead to force Clyde back.
A second chain snapped from the air, curling toward Arthur's shoulder. This one was different — thicker, weightier. Clyde's hand flicked, and the link went taut.
Arthur's thoughts sharpened. Two separate sources…? No. Two techniques. He's running two cores at once.
That was impossible. No mage, no matter their talent, could split their essence and still maintain the purity of both techniques. Yet Clyde's movements were precise, his mana unwavering. The first chain remained spectral, unbreakable through magic alone, while the second struck like tempered steel.
Arthur's spirits lunged, lunar light searing the second chain just long enough for Lyra to strike. A spear of barrier-forged glass exploded from her palm, smashing against Clyde's guard. Heat rolled off her attack, the rosy hue darkening further as her rage bled through her magic.
Clyde stepped back only once, boots grinding against the stone. His gaze never wavered. "Judgement is not my only right," he said, giving the chain a violent pull.
Arthur's chest jerked forward involuntarily. His spirits shattered into light and reformed in a blur, intercepting the swing of Clyde's free hand.
Adapt. Keep his focus on me. Arthur dropped low, a crescent slash of moonlight ripping the ground toward Clyde's legs. Lyra moved with him, her barriers shifting from defense to offense, blooming into blades and hammers mid-swing. Each impact rang like a bell, the force reverberating through the plaza.
The first chain, the Judgement tether, stayed fixed, humming against his core with each of Clyde's words. The second lashed in arcs, smashing through walls and spirit alike.
Arthur's eyes narrowed. If he brings out that blade… we end this now or not at all.
Lyra's next wall closed in like the jaws of a trap. Arthur fed his mana into the spirits, the glow of the moon above intensifying as they dove as one. The plaza lit with silver and rose fire — and Clyde smiled.
"Come on Arthur, we could have been great allies. But now I am seeing the true greed for power and the shady actions you hid in your past. I am willing to bet no one else has ever known about it." Clyde's voice cut through the still air. He spun his chain in a wide arc, the links grinding against themselves until a fiery heat burst across the steel. The light reflected off the warped trees of the blight forest, throwing jagged shadows over the ground.
Arthur raised the tip of his sword. "Stand back, Lyra." He stepped forward, eyes locked on Clyde. "Being the judge was not enough for you, was it? You learned that changing the world would not be as easy as you thought, and you began to see that some things cannot be changed at all. So you decided to become the executioner too. The one to destroy those who were unjust or simply in your way."
The lunar spirits swirled tighter, wrapping the length of Arthur's sword in pale light. The blade began to glow, a pure white edged in silver. "That sounds corrupt to me. Obliterate."
A beam of lunar energy tore from his sword, not a narrow strike but a wide swath of light that split the air itself. Trees vaporized in its wake, the ground scorched black beneath its path. Clyde raised his arm to shield his eyes, walls of jagged earth surging up before him. A sudden hiss split the air as a barrier-forged arrow from Lyra smashed into the wall, shattering the defense in a spray of stone shards.
Clyde had only a heartbeat to react before the beam consumed the space where he stood. He slid sideways in a burst of chain-propelled momentum, the beam carving through the forest beyond. The glow of it still lit the bark of distant trees long after it passed.
"You speak as if you are above judgment," Clyde said, chains snapping into the ground around them. They embedded themselves into the soil, the ethereal links glowing faintly where they touched their cores. Arthur felt the tug in his chest again, stronger than before, as if Clyde's presence alone was weighing down his soul.
Arthur held his ground, forcing his breath steady. "You believe justice means crushing those who do wrong. I believe it means guiding them to do right. If you cannot see the difference, then you have already failed your own creed."
Clyde's reply was a sharp yank on the chains. The pull dragged Arthur forward, boots tearing a path through the moss. Lyra intercepted, her barriers blooming in layers between Arthur and the oncoming assault. Clyde's next strike hit like a meteor, shattering the first two layers and cracking the third.
Arthur's sword flashed upward in a crescent, scattering silver motes through the air. His spirits darted forward, each one slamming into Clyde's chains in rapid bursts, forcing them to slacken. "Your chains do not measure justice. They measure control. And control over all is nothing more than tyranny."
Clyde's eyes narrowed. He yanked both hands and the ground erupted with a surge of new chains, these heavier, less spectral, forged of mana and metal alike. They snaked through the earth like living things, slamming into Lyra's barriers with such force the shockwave flattened the surrounding trees.
Arthur froze for a second. These chains felt different. Denser. Hungrier.
Two distinct flows of mana… impossible.
Clyde smirked at Arthur's expression. "Judgment was only my first gift." The second set of chains lashed outward, wrapping around Arthur's sword arm and ripping him sideways into a blight-warped tree trunk. The impact sent shards of rotting bark spiraling through the air.
Lyra retaliated without hesitation, her barrier shifting into a massive hammer that she brought down with enough force to crater the ground. Clyde blocked with crossed chains, the impact ringing like steel on steel. The second set of chains braced him as the first set flickered, tightening again around their cores.
Arthur pushed himself free of the shattered trunk. "Two core techniques…? That should be impossible." His grip tightened. "You are risking your soul for the sake of a perfect justice that does not exist."
"Then I will burn my soul to ash if it means ending corruption," Clyde said. The second chains retracted, spinning in controlled arcs before launching at Arthur again, faster this time.
The forest around them bent beneath the force of the fight. Bark stripped from trees, the earth carved into trenches by silver light, crimson barriers, and roaring chains. In the distance, through the swaying shadows, the outline of a lone building loomed. Every movement drew them closer.
Arthur's jaw set. "Then I will break every link in your chain until you understand."
Arthur lunged forward, silver light bursting from his blade in a sweeping arc. Clyde's first set of ethereal chains coiled upward to block, but the strike cleaved through three of them in a single blow, scattering motes of pale light into the air.
Before Clyde could counter, Lyra stepped in. Her mana flared, the dark rose hue igniting with blistering heat. She thrust her palm forward, and a spear formed instantly from the barrier's force, its edges vibrating with destructive pressure. She hurled it with a sound like cracking glass.
Clyde caught the spear between two of his second chains, but the instant they tightened around it, the weapon detonated into a shockwave of burning petals. The blast sent him skidding backward, his boots tearing through soil and roots until he crashed into a warped tree that splintered under the impact.
Arthur pressed the advantage. Lunar spirits spiraled around him, weaving between Lyra's constructs to harry Clyde from multiple angles. Each spirit's touch left faint scars of silver light across the ground, the air shivering from their heatless energy.
Clyde's glare sharpened. He slammed both palms into the earth, and dozens of chains erupted outward in a storm, coiling through the forest like striking serpents. Some lashed toward Arthur, others toward Lyra, and several anchored themselves into the ground to pull Clyde forward like a catapult.
He closed the gap in an instant. The Judgement Chains hooked around Arthur's ankle, yanking him upward, while two more wrapped around Lyra's waist. She twisted her mana, forming a spinning disc barrier that cut through the chains like a buzzsaw, the heat so intense it left molten furrows in the dirt.
Arthur swung his sword downward mid-air, sending a crescent beam of lunar energy toward Clyde's head. Clyde crossed both sets of chains to block, the impact ringing like a cathedral bell and sending a dome-shaped shockwave across the forest. The trees in its radius bent backward and snapped, leaves turning to ash before hitting the ground.
The blast opened a path forward, the distant building now looming in full view. Black stone walls climbed high, carved with alien glyphs that pulsed faintly in the dim light.
Clyde grinned as he backed toward it. "Let us finish this where your spirits cannot hide behind the moonlight."
Arthur landed hard, knees bending to absorb the impact. "I do not need moonlight to stop you."
They surged toward the building together, the ground between them tearing apart from every strike. Lyra vaulted over a chain with inhuman grace, her barrier morphing into a massive hammer she brought down on the earth. The impact sent a shockwave through the soil, tossing Clyde off-balance for the first time.
Arthur seized the moment, spirits clustering to form a drill-like spiral around his blade. He thrust forward, piercing through Clyde's guard. The strike grazed Clyde's shoulder, cutting through armor and flesh alike. The wound glowed faint silver, the lunar energy searing into him, marking him with a scar that would never fade.
Clyde roared, his second chains erupting in a frenzy. They lashed at the walls of the building, ripping stone free as the fighters crashed through the entrance.
Inside, the air was thick and humming with strange energy. The floor was an intricate mosaic of pale stone, and as their feet struck it, glowing veins of light raced along the patterns. The ceiling arched impossibly high, its surface painted with constellations that shifted and shimmered with each blow exchanged.
Lyra darted to Arthur's flank, barriers forming in rapid succession as shields, spikes, and swords, each intercepting the whirlwind of chains. Arthur's sword danced in silver arcs, cutting through some while deflecting others, his spirits weaving through the chaos to strike from blind angles.
Clyde stood in the center of the chamber, chains spiraling around him like a cyclone. His eyes burned brighter than ever. "If you think that scar will change anything, you have already lost."
Arthur steadied his breath. "No, Clyde. That scar is just the first crack in your armor."
The ground trembled. The mosaic at their feet split open, and a shaft of pure light surged upward, bathing Clyde in radiance. His chains tightened and brightened, their glow reaching a blinding peak.
The chains roared to life. They spun around Clyde in a perfect sphere, glowing with yellow light and hissing with heat. Each rotation cut the air like a saw. Sparks rained down as they scraped against the shattered stone.
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "He is burning mana faster than he realizes."
Lyra raised a barrier in front of them. The cyclone of chains struck it in a shower of sparks, the sound like a dozen grinding blades. The barrier warped but held.
Arthur spoke over the grinding noise. "He cannot keep this pace. Push him."
They moved together. Arthur stepped into the barrier's shadow, sending his spirits forward. Silver shapes darted between the spinning chains, each carrying a sliver of lunar light. Lyra charged beside him, barriers forming under her feet to give her a path through the broken floor.
Clyde lashed out. Several chains shot forward from the dome, each snapping toward them like striking cobras. Lyra cut through one, her rose-colored blade leaving molten edges behind. Arthur deflected another with the flat of his sword, the impact rattling through his arm.
The dome shrank as Clyde condensed it, focusing the spin tighter around himself. Arthur's gaze sharpened. "He is closing the gap for one decisive strike."
The floor beneath Clyde erupted in darkness. Arthur stepped out of it, his blade already in motion. Lunar light arced in a clean, horizontal slash. The blow met the chain wall, sending a shockwave through the room. Pillars cracked and collapsed. The force hurled dust and debris into the air.
Through the haze, Lyra descended from above. She had built a platform of barriers high in the air, then launched herself down like a meteor. Her sword flared brighter than ever, striking the dome's top with a single, precise blow. The chains there split just enough for Arthur's spirits to slip inside.
Clyde blocked with the Judgement Blade. Sparks of yellow and silver danced in the dark. His chains lashed at both of them in wild arcs, but his movements were slower now. The constant strain was eating at his mana reserves.
Arthur's voice was calm. "You see the world in black and white, Clyde. Justice without compassion is tyranny."
Clyde snarled. "And mercy without judgment is weakness."
Arthur's next strike came low, sweeping for Clyde's legs. Clyde deflected, but Arthur had already stepped in close. The spirits swirled around him, then slammed into Clyde's chest in a burst of blinding light. The impact forced Clyde back, his heels carving deep grooves in the stone.
The chain dome faltered. Several links collapsed into nothing as Clyde struggled to keep his footing.
Arthur could have finished it there. Instead, he let his sword fall to his side. "I will not kill you. But you will stop here."
Mana flared one last time around Arthur's blade. He drew in a deep breath, then struck. The attack was not meant to pierce or cut — it exploded outward in a wave of crushing lunar force. It slammed into Clyde with the weight of the night sky itself.
The Judgement Blade shattered into fragments of light. Clyde dropped to one knee, his chains dissolving into sparks around him. His breaths were ragged, his eyes still filled with defiance, but his mana was gone.
Arthur stepped back, chest heaving. "You leave me no choice but to let you live with your own convictions."
Lyra moved to his side, her sword fading away. The building fell silent except for the soft sound of settling debris. Clyde remained kneeling, unmoving, his head bowed.
"You cling to your convictions like a shield, but to change the world, you must first change yourself." Arthur's gaze bore into Clyde's defeated form. Clyde's eyes refused to meet his.
"I hope this second chance is more than survival," Arthur said softly, voice steady but heavy. "It's a chance to become what you were truly meant to be."
His fingers brushed the worn leather of the pouch at his belt before pulling out a small crystal, pale and pulsing faintly. The air around them grew thick with silence.
"We've lingered too long in this forsaken place." Arthur closed his eyes, a breath escaping like a quiet prayer. The crystal shattered in his palm, scattering shards that caught the faint moonlight like fractured stars.