Marcus has now gotten half of what he wanted… Permission granted, he really needed to tell them where he was going. It would be bad if camp got attacked and no one knew where he was.
Provided he had asked… he could do what ever he wanted. Who could have stopped him? Noah and Milo were gone.
After some time had passed… Grey saw a familiar figure walking towards him with purpose, his composure faltere.
A faint smirk appeared on Marcus's face as he spoke.
"Get up, Brave… it's time."
Hearing this, Grey frowned… 'What have I gotten myself into?'
The cadets watched in visible confusion as Marcus just walked there… only to call Grey. Grey noticed their expressions and allowed himself a faint smile. 'Well… at least he kept his side of the deal.' 'Since Milo didn't stump in to question or worst, Noah.' He felt chills traveling down his spine. 'It's only fair that I keep to my side as well.'
Without saying a word, he stepped away from camp and followed Marcus. As the two walked away, Darrin narrowed his eyes… raised an eye brow, then turned towards Natasha.
"What's that all about?"
She clicked her tongue, folding her arms. "I don't know… and I don't care." The two boys ventured deeper into the Ivory Waste.
The pale forest stretched endlessly around them, strange white trees standing tall against the silent landscape while brittle grass swayed gently beneath the wind. The deeper they ventured, the more bone-white colossal trees surrounded them. Their bleach branches silently reaching out to the dreadful unchanging sky that harbored unspeakable horrors.
For a while, neigther of them spoke. Then, somewhere along the middle of their journey, Grey finally broke the silence. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"Uhm… Marcus?"
Marcus stopped walking. Slowly, he turned his head.
Grey hesitated for a second before asking- "Where the hell are we going?" Marcus closed his eyes, as though considering the answer for the very first time.
Then he replied casually… as though he was going to say something reasonable. For the long pause he took him to arrive at the answer… Grey never expected the statement to be such an unsettling and reluctant response.
Marcus answered:
"Somewhere… where we won't cause any disturbance." Grey froze, staring at him for what felt like an eternity… How did he not know how wrong that sounded. It was likes saying... somewhere no one will here your screams.
'What…? What's up with this guy.' He raised his eyebrows... His comprehension was being overwhelmed.
How well he understood what was unfolding would ultimately determine his survival.
"…What did you mean by that?"
Grey asked, forcing his voice to remain steady… unfortunately the same couldn't be said about his thoughts.
'Is this guy dangerous… or what?'
The cold thought settled more in his mind.
If Marcus decided to do something to him here… no one would care enough to search.
They had entered the depths of the Ivory Waste together. So he picked his own grave... Even if They were asked by the adults, most cadets would be indifferent if someone they didn't really know went missing.... After all who was Grey Lucas anyway… he wasn't nobility or had a family relationship with any authority figures.
'Would anyone even look for me if I disappeared here?'
The answer was an obvious no. 'That was delusional.' He was thinking of an answer against his better judgment… that was wrong.
Grey had no friends in camp. Most would likely even back Marcus if things went wrong.
Above them, the sky remained grim and unchanging.
Marcus stood still for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then his demeanor shifted.
The faint, almost cheerful air around him vanished.
Crimson light flickered across his dark skin as if the sky itself was bleeding into him.
"We are going to have a battle, aren't we?" Marcus said calmly.
"It would be better to move further from the camp. The noise might attract unwanted attention."
He smiled.
But something about it felt wrong.
'Shit… shit! Shit!'
Grey pressed his teeth down, together and forced himself to speak.
"…Whatever."
He turned away and walked, stopping beside a towering pale tree before sitting down casually as if he wasn't calculating how not to die… slumped against the ancient tree, Grey looked absurdly small beneath its towering frame. After a brief silence, he spoke again.
"I've been thinking about the rules of our duel."
Marcus's eyes lit up faintly. Not with curiosity—
but expectation.
"Oh? Do tell."
Grey exhaled slowly.
'Let's see if he takes the bait of my misdirection arts.
He raised his head and met Marcus's gaze.
"We don't make this a fight."
They watched each other for a brief amount of time.
"…We make it a race."
For the first time, a faint, sharp grin appeared on Grey's face.
But before anything else could follow—
A blur.
Pain exploded through his body.
Grey didn't even register the movement before his body left the ground.
His back slammed into a colossal tree... crashing into the tree in a thunderous crack.
Wood cracked, but the tree held—massive beyond normal scale, like something meant for giants.
Blood spilled from his mouth as he slumped forward, barely keeping himself upright.
Marcus stood where he had been moments before.
But the smile was gone.
Completely.
His expression was now calm… cold… almost disappointed.
He walked slowly toward Grey.
"So you're one of them."
He coughed, wiping blood from his lips as Marcus closed the distance.
"…Why?" Grey muttered hoarsely.
"I only said that, because you presented… that option..." He coughed forcing his body through pain.
Marcus didn't stop walking.
"Disappointing."
His voice carried no emotion.
Then he spoke again.
"There are two kinds of people in my eyes."
His fist tightened at his side.
"Those who endure hardship and grow stronger…"
He slowed for a second…
"…and those who seek shortcuts. Who never truly try."
The air around him grew heavier.
"I believe... you already know which one I despise."
Grey thought he could change the details of their dual. Provided he met the condition to use Marcus's option against him. Marcus voice echoed in his mind... Beat me in anyway you can.
In truth Marcus had actually planted the idea as a sneer... Misdirecting Grey's Misdirection in the process.
He tried to explain, but then Marcus's fist cracked through air scattering splinters of wood, flying in shads as Grey dove off the attack path. His eyes were now serious as the last storm born's mark appeared on his skin.
As he rolled down, Marcus's eyes followed him gently as though time was giving them a moment. In an instant he slided.
Firm-footed… one leg stretched back while his hand scraped violently across the pale earth, then he grabbed the bone-like golden sword on his waist. His thoughts sharpened instantly.
'Now that I think about it… this guy has been saying battle from the very beginning.'
Marcus stretched out his hand then reached out for his runic dagger... a elegant blade of versatile shape, forged for both precision and brutality, with strange sigils carved along its steel.
It flashed through the air creating a mess of branches and scattered rubble, Grey moved a heartbeat before impact. He did not just move by instinct or gut feeling, rather he read every attack.
It was risky, but his Zone Ability was now in effect. His view of the world changed… making his perception shift into a analytical graphic field, mapping everything within its radius — even objects that vanished from normal sight.
Marcus could feel it too… Grey's desperate evasions, his gritted teeth, the constant struggle to survive.
His feet dug into the ground as he surged forward again and again, closing distance in an instant. Then—he darted.
A brutal hit to Grey's side.
The impact landed before Grey even fully registered it. It felt less like movement and more like Marcus had simply appeared there—erasing the distance Grey relied on.
Grey's perception twisted. The spacing he had been reading… no longer made sense.
Still, he did not falter.
He kept watching.
Waiting.
As though searching for the exact moment he had already planned.
Grey was sent flying through the air like a ragdoll.
Marcus pressed forward without pause, relentless. It was almost impressive that Grey hadn't been killed yet.
The runic dagger flashed again.
But this time—
Grey reacted.
He pivoted on one foot, his body twisting mid-air. A faint glow flickered across him—like the phantom silhouette of lightning and eagle wings.
Then he struck back.
A violent counter that sent Marcus skidding away with terrifying force.
The sound of impact was tremendous.
But Grey paid the price.
His fist trembled violently, muscles spasming under the recoil… as though he had attacked himself. He glanced down briefly.
Rough. Bruised. Bloodied.
Then his gaze snapped back up.
Marcus had already regained his stance.
He stepped out from the slope behind him, almost casually, as though the terrain itself had simply moved to accommodate him.
A faint smile touched his face—barely noticeable, as if even he hadn't intended it.
"…That's good." Marcus said quietly.
"The only way you survive this… is if you fight like that."
He moved again.
Faster.
Heavier.
The ground cracked beneath his steps as he closed in.
Grey tried to predict it—calculate it—but the motion was too refined, too inconsistent to read properly.
Then—
Pain exploded in his shoulder.
The dagger had already pierced him.
Marcus had blocked Grey's blade with one hand while switching the dagger to his free hand mid-motion. The transition was seamless—inhumanly precise.
He twisted the blade, tearing through flesh—
Then pulled it free.
A brutal knee followed immediately after, slamming into Grey's torso and stealing the air from his lungs.
Grey spun upward uncontrollably, trying to regain balance before hitting the ground—but the pain in his shoulder disrupted everything. The shock alone made his vision blur.
He crashed down hard.
For a moment, he thought his neck had snapped.
Using what little stamina and healing ability he could activate, he forced his body to respond.
But even as the wound closed slightly, the pain remained sharp—real—unforgiving.
Grey slowly pushed himself up.
Each movement felt heavy.
Unnatural.
Blood dripped from his left shoulder down his chest.
Across from him, Marcus stood ready—already preparing to strike again.
Grey's thoughts stalled for a fraction of a second.
Are you kidding me right now…?
The idea of dying here—so abruptly—flashed through his mind.