Rivers of the Night

"Dammit. We're so close, but it feels fucking impossible."

"Hold your ground. It's not fully mature yet and isn't used to this level of heat. We can slowly wear it down. Who cares about the competition—focus!"

Theron's gaze flickered. He recognized those voices. But considering the noise they had just been making, how was it possible for him to have only just heard them? Even if he couldn't use his Third Eye, it didn't make—

Theron immediately leapt to the side.

BOOM.

An arc of flames landed right where he had just been, but the fire couldn't seem to burn away the foliage at all. Instead, it licked against the greenery for a moment before it was snuffed out in plumes of steam.

Even so, the shrubs Theron had been hiding behind were completely leveled, exposing Theron, who weakly pulled himself back up to his feet.

"You?"

Theron could finally see the full scene ahead. A group of three stood around what looked like a small pond. The pond radiated an icy blue, flashing into an ice rink and then back to flowing waters continuously.

Deep within, there was a bead of bright whitish blue—the core of something that was far more substantial than anything else in the region.

Tyran looked at Theron a bit incredulously. He had no idea how a Silver Mancer managed to make it so far. But he had also taken a few glances at the leaderboard, so he found it just as ridiculous that Theron had managed to maintain either first or second place this entire time as well.

Were the disciples of the Hall of Ice and Heart really so incompetent?

Because Tyran and his disciple brothers hadn't participated in any battles, they didn't know the point distribution or the strength of the Ice Spirit Beasts very well, so they didn't have a measuring stick for how impressive Theron was.

Even so, the fact Theron managed to make it so far made them far more serious. However… they could also see that Theron was heavily injured all the same.

"Hurry up and kill him before he can escape, Tyran. We can't have anyone knowing what's happening here," Rauther called out. "Ophan and I will keep it suppressed for now. Don't mess around, he's probably strong. Hurry it up."

Tyran looked at Theron for an extra beat and then reached for his scythes. The pair of them arced like crescent moons on his back, and when they unsheathed, it looked like spinning flames had lit in the air.

Without a word, Tyran tapped a foot and flashed before Theron, swinging down.

Chi.

BANG!

Theron stepped back heavily, his inner organs rattling. Blood flowed down his chin as he crossed a black, foggy dagger in his hand.

BOOM.

A black box on Theron's back fell to the ground heavily, shaking the earth and leaving a crater.

SHIIIIIING!

A radiant blade of blue appeared in Theron's dominant hand. The short sword thrummed with life, absorbing Theron's new Resonance like roaring waves.

Theron's father's short sword seemed to have gained new life, the aura of a Celestial feeding it like water to a desert. However, its change in power hardly helped Theron at all. If anything, it made him weaker.

But Theron's backward momentum stopped by his own spear box. He crossed his blades before him, using them as an anchor.

His aura seemed to change, his eyes flashing with a dense cold. He didn't say a word—he didn't need to.

Tyran paused, blinking as he looked at his own scythe. What the fuck…?

Flames were wrapped around the curve of the blade, so it was hard to see clearly, but he could feel it.

His blade had chipped just now.

Slowly, his gaze turned toward the blade in Theron's hand and the waves radiating off of his short sword.

Tyran's scythes weren't weak. They were Ascended Cloud Resonance Blades of the Arcane Grade. They were probably more powerful than weapons that even the best disciples of the Hall of Ice and Heart would have—other than maybe Orin, Rose, and Ailon, the top three Core Disciples.

Yet a single exchange where Theron could only weakly defend had chipped his blade?

What Tyran didn't know was that the dagger in Theron's hand was on the same level as the spear he had just dropped from his back—a Treading Cloud Resonance Blade of the Arcane Grade.

But it was his short sword that was a true oddity.

A Peak Celestial Grade Blade of Silver Resonance. On the one hand, its Resonance was incredibly low, but its Grade was shockingly high, being beyond anything even the Matriarch of the Hall of Ice and Heart would have.

However, Tyran couldn't recognize this. All he felt was that the dagger was dangerous and capable of shattering his scythes.

"His weapon is powerful!" Tyran called out.

"Stop aiming for his weapon and aim for his head, then!" Rauther shouted back, clearly straining.

It was easy to suppress the Ice Spirit when it was the three of them, but having lost one of their prongs, it was far more troublesome.

Tyran's gaze turned more serious and he stomped a foot to the ground, leaping into the air and spinning. His scythes arched around him, forming a cyclone of flames.

He roared, his Mana rushing out in a torrent as he wildly slashed at Theron, who didn't move an inch.

Stabilizing himself with his back against his spear box, Theron dug deep.

His soul might be depleted, and his body might be injured, but his Mana reserves were still at above 60% capacity.

[Water Prison].

[Shadow Flush].

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Tiny movements in Theron's wrist fought against the torrent of flames, the wheeling scythes clashing against his sphere of water again and again while the impact dispersed into the ground beneath his feet.

Tyran landed on the ground heavily after his barrage, his hands rattling and his scythes looking like they were on the verge of collapsing.

Shock painted his irises. He couldn't believe Theron was still standing… albeit barely.

The [Water Prison] crumbled around Theron, blood falling from his lips in a rain. He didn't look as though he could survive another exchange like that.