Chapter 615: I Need More

The instant Percy shifted his weight forward, the air itself seemed to tear.

Before either of them could properly commit to an opening strike, a crushing surge of glacial pressure erupted outward from Percy’s position. It wasn’t announced by sound or visible motion—it simply was, a sudden overwhelming presence that swallowed the space between them whole. The platform vanished beneath a violent bloom of frost mist, exploding outward in every direction. This wasn’t smoke, nor was it ordinary fog. It was dense and suffocating, layered with biting cold that clawed at exposed skin and dampened sound until even the echo of breath felt muted. In less than a blink, the entire stage was consumed, reduced to a white-blue void where distance collapsed, depth lost meaning, and direction became an unreliable concept.

Liam reacted on instinct alone.

Flames surged from his body in a tightly controlled burst, fire Myst roaring through his limbs, spine, and core as heat rippled outward in a violent wave. The sudden thermal shift cracked the stone beneath his boots with a faint but sharp report, orange light flaring briefly as the fire pushed against the encroaching cold. For a moment, the mist recoiled, edges thinning and warping as heat tried to burn a path through it.

But the fog didn’t disperse.

Instead, it shuddered—then surged back in, thicker than before. It clung to the air as though it had intent, curling and folding in on itself while the temperature dropped another degree. The fire didn’t fail outright, but it was smothered, absorbed, and rendered ineffective against something far more deliberate than simple environmental manipulation.

Liam’s eyes hardened.

’So it’s not just the terrain,’ he realized immediately. ’It’s anchored to his Myst.’

There was no point forcing it. The moment he accepted that brute heat wouldn’t clear the field, Liam shifted tactics without hesitation. He lowered into a guarded stance, knees bent, weight evenly distributed, with his daggers angled low and wide. His breathing slowed as he extended his awareness outward, pushing his senses beyond sight alone.

His gaze flicked through the mist, sharp and searching, while his instincts took the lead. Myst perception unfurled next, brushing against the fog like invisible feelers, while spatial awareness mapped what little it could of the warped environment.

He found nothing.

No—worse than that.

He found everything.

With his perception widened, Percy’s presence no longer registered as a point, or even a direction. It wasn’t a distinct signature like before. The frost mist distorted his Myst readings so completely that it felt as though Percy existed everywhere at once. Behind him. To his left. Above. Below. The pressure was omnipresent, pressing in from all sides, leaving no safe angle, no clear threat vector. The fog carried Percy’s Myst so evenly that there was no difference between empty air and imminent danger.

Liam’s jaw tightened.

’This feels like when Lady Seraphina and Mabel boxed me in their domains,’ he thought, memory flashing sharply as he compared the sensation. ’If that’s the case… then this is his domain.’ His eyes narrowed further. ’But how is he casting something like this at only fifty percent?’

The realization settled heavily, and the question gnawing at him even as his focus sharpened.

Then something shifted within the fog.

Liam didn’t think. His instincts screamed, raw and urgent, and his body obeyed instantly. He pivoted hard to the right, boots grinding against stone as his daggers snapped up into a tight cross-guard. He swung with precision, intercepting where his senses told him the strike would land.

His blades cut through nothing but freezing air.

His eyes narrowed sharply, confusion flashing for only a fraction of a second—

—and then his instincts screamed again.

But he was too late.

Pain detonated across his back as a searing line tore diagonally from his left shoulder down toward his right side. The sensation lagged by barely a heartbeat before the cold followed, vicious and invasive. Liam hissed through clenched teeth as frost instantly crawled over the wound, ice forming aggressively, threading outward like living veins searching for muscle and bone. The cold bit deeper with every second, threatening to lock his body from the inside out.

He disengaged immediately.

Liam surged backward, boots skidding as he created distance, fire Myst roaring inward this time. Heat flooded his body violently, his internal temperature spiking as flames coiled beneath his skin. Steam burst from his back in a violent plume as the forming ice cracked, splintered, and evaporated before it could spread further.

The wound burned, raw and unforgiving, but Liam ignored it, exhaling slowly as he forced his body back into equilibrium.

Then, without hesitation, he activated Shadow Sight.

Dark Myst bled into his eyes, vision shifting as the world layered itself into altered perception. Heat signatures flared faintly. Myst currents etched themselves into contrast. Shapes and silhouettes should have stood out clearly against the fog.

Normally, Percy would have been exposed instantly.

Instead, nothing changed.

The mist glowed uniformly, saturated from floor to ceiling with ice-aligned Myst. No distortions. No outlines. No core. Just an endless, shifting ocean of cold energy that erased distinction entirely.

Liam clicked his tongue softly, unease threading through his focus as he steadied his stance once more.

“…Tch. This really is a domain.”

Liam dismissed the spell without hesitation, shadows peeling back from his vision as Shadow Sight collapsed inward. The layered perception faded, returning the world to its blinding, frost-choked normalcy. But the moment his senses recalibrated, another warning flared through his nerves, sharp and urgent.

This time, it wasn’t one.

It was two.

Liam moved before conscious thought could catch up, Unified Flow seizing full control. His body twisted and shifted in ways that defied any single line of logic—pivoting, dipping, rotating through angles that weren’t planned but felt right. His movement carried no wasted motion, no predictable rhythm, as though instinct itself had taken the reins.

Two shapes emerged from the fog at once.

Percy.

No—copies.

They stepped out of the frost mist in perfect unison, sculpted entirely from ice yet disturbingly lifelike. Their forms were flawless replicas, down to the calm set of their expressions and the relaxed confidence in their posture. Frost traced the seams of their joints, but they moved with terrifying fluidity, joints bending naturally, footwork crisp and precise. Each held a dagger of condensed ice, pale blue blades gleaming faintly as cold mist rolled off their edges.

They closed in from opposite sides.

Liam didn’t retreat.

He met them head-on.

Steel rang against ice as his daggers snapped upward, intercepting the first strike from the left clone. The impact sent sparks and shards flying as frost burst outward. In the same breath, Liam dipped low, torso folding as a horizontal slash from the right clone passed inches above his head. He spun between them, boots gliding over stone, his blades flashing in tight arcs as every movement flowed seamlessly into the next.

The left copy lunged again.

Liam parried, redirected the momentum, then stepped inside its guard with ruthless efficiency. His elbow drove forward, slamming into the clone’s chest with a dull, cracking impact. Ice fractured inward, spiderwebbing across its torso—but it didn’t fall.

The right copy struck immediately, blade descending in a brutal vertical arc meant to split him down the middle.

Liam rolled his wrist at the last second, catching the icy dagger against his own. The shock rattled his arm, cold biting through the steel. He kicked off the ground, flipping backward to create space, landing lightly as frost scraped across the stone where he’d been standing a heartbeat earlier.

They didn’t give him room to breathe.

The clones advanced in perfect coordination, mirroring Percy’s combat sense flawlessly. One pressed while the other repositioned, alternating pressure so there was never a true opening. Liam blocked, dodged, countered—his movements sharp yet fluid, instinct guiding him where logic alone would have failed. He slipped past a thrust, sliced upward, then reversed his grip mid-motion to intercept a follow-up slash aimed at his spine.

Then Liam saw it.

A fractional delay.

The smallest hesitation as both clones reset their footing at the exact same time, their synchronization slipping for less than a heartbeat.

’Got you.’

Liam surged forward for the opening, his daggers moving in perfect synchronicity. Steel traced precise arcs through the fog, blades humming as shadow curled faintly along their edges. He struck both copies almost simultaneously—one dagger driving cleanly into the left clone’s chest, piercing straight through its fractured core, while the other swept across the right clone’s neck in a flawless, decapitating slash.

For a single heartbeat, it looked over.

Then the clones detonated.

Ice erupted outward in a violent, concussive explosion, shards screaming through the air like shrapnel. The blast hit point-blank. Liam barely had time to throw his arms up before razor-sharp fragments slammed into him from every direction. Pain lanced through his limbs as ice pierced flesh—arms, legs, sides—each impact biting deep with numbing cold.

The force sent him staggering backward, boots scraping hard against stone as his breath was ripped from his lungs.

Almost instantly, ice began to spread from every puncture wound. Frost raced along muscle and skin, creeping fast and merciless, threatening to lock his body down piece by piece.

“I really hate the cold.”

Fire Myst erupted.

Heat roared through Liam violently, flames surging hotter than before, far more aggressive. The ice cracked with sharp reports, then shattered outright as steam burst off his body in thick, choking clouds. Residual frost hissed and evaporated under the sheer thermal force, the spreading cold burned away before it could seize him completely.

The pain was intensely sharp, but manageable.

Pain was nothing new to Liam.

He clenched his teeth, forcing the raging heat to stabilize, drawing it inward until his body stopped shaking. Then he moved again.

Glowing hands pressed briefly against the worst of the wounds, flames flaring as torn flesh was sealed just enough to halt the bleeding.

Shadows followed immediately.

Dark Myst flowed outward as Shadow Solidification took shape, thickening and hardening with purpose. Bandages formed from condensed shadow, wrapping tightly around his arms, legs, and torso. They reinforced damaged areas without restricting movement, dark bindings settling into place like a second skin.

As the last bandage locked into place, Liam straightened slowly, his breathing evening out.

His gaze lifted toward the fog once more, sharp, calculating, and utterly unshaken.

“Seems like Shadow Rend alone won’t cut it,” he murmured quietly, daggers lowering as fire flickered faintly around his forearms. “Guess I’ll have to use extra stuff.”

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