This time, Vael took the offensive.
Until now, he had always played the role of primary damage dealer when fighting alongside Kiera or Oculor. But against Arconis, that dynamic had to shift.
They would need to adapt—assistant and assistee flowing back and forth, no longer fixed roles.
Blink.
In front of Arconis.
Sword Aura—Vael's rapier came down in a vicious vertical slash.
TCHINK!
Blocked. The scythe caught it clean, sending Vael's blade recoiling skyward, his guard wide open.
Exactly as planned.
Arconis lunged in, scythe sweeping horizontally toward Vael's abdomen.
And just as the strike was about to land—
Blink.
Behind Arconis. Vael reversed the situation, his rapier already in motion to skewer the man's exposed flank.
From the side, Oculor surged. The serpent's body ballooned, tripling in size, scales shifting into a violent blood-red hue. An ability that granted explosive bursts of speed.
Layered with a thin film of mana for defense, Oculor's charge turned into a wall of scale and muscle, a threat too large to ignore.
Until—
A haze of purple mist spread like a stain across the conjured battlefield.
Midnight Requiem.
Vael recognized it instantly. Through their mental link, he dumped everything he knew about the ability into Oculor's mind in a fraction of a second.
Before their eyes, Arconis' scythe dissolved into nothingness—replaced by a near-perfect copy of himself.
But Vael and Oculor had already accounted for the possibility of failure. Neither faltered.
Vael's strike still connected with the real Arconis, his rapier punching deep into the man's shoulder.
Oculor, meanwhile, slammed into the clone. But its response was not a mirror of its master's fate.
The replica gathered ambient mana, funneling it into its arms—then caught Oculor by the jaw. Like a puppy in a vice.
The sheer impact drove the clone back across the stone floor, yet it didn't relent, slamming its fist into Oculor's side before dispersing into smoke.
It wasn't lethal. Just a warning.
Oculor hissed, shrinking back to his miniature form and slithering away, opting for a different tactic.
Vael, however, had his own problem. His rapier was still lodged in Arconis' shoulder, muscles locking around the blade like a vise.
Vael tugged hard—no use.
With a sharp twist, Arconis spun, wrenching Vael off-balance and leaving the weapon stuck behind him.
When he faced Vael again, the grin was back.
His Divine Relic had already reformed in his hands, obsidian edge gleaming, ready to carve Vael apart.
That was most definitely unexpected.
Vael now had two choices: fight bare-handed, gambling on a chance to reclaim his rapier… or adapt.
He chose the latter.
With a blink, Vael slipped out of Arconis' reach, space folding him several meters away. His breathing steadied as he activated his Spatial Awareness, the world around him slowing into crystalline detail.
Not instinct. Calculate.
He pulled mana inward, condensing it into a single point, refining it particle by particle. Slowly, the formless shimmer of energy compacted into the shape of a sphere.
Then he stretched it. Lengthened it. Shaped it. His awareness traced every filament, aligning threads of space until the object hardened into something tangible.
When he finally opened his eyes, a weapon lay in his grip—nearly invisible, like glass reflecting nothing. Not quite a sword, not quite a whip. A strange fusion of both, vibrating faintly with unstable energy.
Vael exhaled, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face.
He had done it.
The whole process lasted less than ten seconds, but it felt like minutes of concentration.
Now armed once again, the fight resumed.