The forest trembled from the echo of their battle.
Sir 8 launched himself backward again, boots slicing across the topsoil as another gust of wind burst beneath his feet. Chandler's relentless steps were growing faster—his patience thinning.
"Still running?" Chandler called, voice cool but edged with irritation.
Sir 8 didn't answer. He didn't need to. His mind was on every breath, every second of delay, every shift in wind pressure. All he had to do was survive. One more step. One more second.
But Chandler… was closing in.
Suddenly—he vanished.
Sir 8's body instinctively twisted left, eyes scanning for movement—
Boom!
A fist came from above.
Sir 8 crossed his arms and braced—just barely catching Chandler's descending elbow. The force cracked the ground beneath him, sending a shockwave into the trees.
He flew backward, flipping three times before kicking off a trunk.
"Level 3 Wind Art: Gale Wall!"
A concussive wall of spinning air erupted in front of him—just in time to block a fiery spear hurtling toward him like a missile.
Kai, watching from the far edge of the field, dropped his jaw.
"What the hell is happening right now?" he muttered.
Both men moved like blurs, every blow louder than thunder, every dodge a miracle. Kai stumbled closer behind a half-fallen tree, trying to understand. "That's not normal adventurer magic. This is—something else."
He watched as Chandler raised both arms, the sky darkening slightly.
"Level 4 Fire Art: Scorch Bloom."
The air ignited.
Five arcs of blazing crimson fire burst outward in a circle, exploding like phoenix feathers toward Sir 8 from all angles.
"Crap."
Sir 8 crossed his fingers.
"Level 3 Wind Art: Scatter Vault!"
He vanished upward in a spiral column of wind, dodging three of the flames—but one grazed his leg, burning through cloth and skin. He screamed but kept moving.
Kai's eyes widened. "Wait—what are these levels?!"
Sir 8 landed with a hard thud, panting, his hands glowing faintly green with wind residue.
He glanced back at Kai. "You really don't know?"
"No!" Kai yelled. "Y'all are doing movie scenes out here!"
Sir 8 grunted. "Magic in our world's broken into ten Primary Levels," he said between breaths. "Each level increases complexity, power, and reaction speed—but you don't just learn them. Each level has requirements."
"Like what?"
"Skill. Power. Soul stability. Some spells are so complex they'll kill you if you mess up the chant. And once you hit Level 5 and up? You need elemental resonance."
Kai blinked. "Elemental what?"
"Means your body and the element have to align on a spiritual level. You're not just casting spells—you're becoming part of it."
Sir 8 ducked as another flame rushed past his head.
"And there are unlimited styles," he added. "Some people use art-based magic. Others use kinetic chants. I use directional flow. Chandler? Pressure and sequence—he uses Royal Invocation Style. That stuff's trained into noble bloodlines."
Kai ducked again as heat singed the air nearby. "So what's yours called?"
"Wind-Laced Flow. But I'm not casting to win anymore."
Sir 8 threw his arms outward. Two circles of rotating wind formed around him, carrying debris and branches with them.
"I'm casting to stay alive."
Chandler descended through the smoke like a ghost, eyes now sharp, brows furrowed.
"I'm done playing."
His voice cracked the air like a whip.
Flames coiled around his arms now. The red and black kimono no longer just shimmered—it burned at the edges like living cloth.
"Level 4 Fire Art: Ember Bind."
Dozens of burning chains shot from the ground, racing toward Sir 8.
"Shit—!"
Sir 8 rolled and raised his arms.
"Wind Art: Whisper Escape!"
He vanished into a compressed stream of horizontal gusts, narrowly avoiding the chains that smashed into the dirt behind him.
From behind a burned log, Kai was on edge, sweat dripping down his neck.
"How long can he keep doing this?!"
Sir 8 landed again, this time slower. His eyes winced. His breathing was off.
"I can't…" he muttered. "I can't keep up like this…"
Chandler was walking again—calm, burning, lethal.
Sir 8 clenched his fists.
"I can't go to Level 5... Not without Ki..."
He looked at his shaking hand.
"But... there's still that."
His fingers trembled, the wind in the area began to spiral unnaturally.
Kai noticed. "What's going on?"
Sir 8 didn't answer.
He stared at his hand. The veins along his wrist glowed faintly—barely.
He remembered.
The last time he used it.
Sapient Mode.
A forbidden state of mind and spirit—a convergence of all his energy pathways into one streamlined focus, combining instinct, memory, and elemental resonance into one form.
It was exhausting. Dangerous. Unstable.
And Kai had no idea it existed.
Sir 8 took a shaky breath. "Don't make me do this…"
Chandler's eyes narrowed, catching the strange aura forming around his opponent.
"…You'd burn yourself out for a boy like him?"
Sir 8 gritted his teeth.
"I've done worse."
And with that…
He raised both hands—and the wind began to scream.