The moment Nero placed the card case on the chair, he completed the first step of the plan. Now he had to retreat before proceeding to the second step, but just in case he felt like he had to hurry, he pulled out two cards.

With the completion of the first step of his plan, Nero felt tempted to retreat faster. There was an almost overwhelming urge to increase his speed and build up the distance between him and the stage.

But through sheer force of will, Nero kept his hands steady. This was not his first time experiencing a life and death situation. He knew well the importance of being meticulous. The feeling that safety lay in hurrying away from the enemy was naught but an illusion, one his body could not see through. Only in his mind did he know that if he moved too fast, he would inevitably catch the eye of those on the stage, and that would render his plan moot.

As he slowly climbed the steps, Nero heard the attacker taunt and jab the Herald. To distract himself from thoughts of running. Nero dissected the villain’s words.

“We’ve waited so long, Invictus. We fought, and we fought, but no one has come to your aid. I’ve been holding back, just in case some reinforcements came. After all, regardless of who you pissed off, I thought someone would value your talent at least. But it seems I was wrong. You’re all alone, Invictus. You have no friends, no allies. This is what you get for stepping out of line.”

The words were targeted and hurtful. They were not creative as far as insults went, but they were designed to make the Herald feel alone. Feel abandoned. Feel defeated. The enemy did not need to be this cruel if he was only out to kill the Herald, as he claimed.

No, if Nero had to guess, he would say that the attacker was purposefully seeking pleasure in making the Herald suffer. Either he was psychotic or had a personal vendetta against him.

The words hurt Nero, too. Was that how Patrick felt when he was betrayed? Did he feel alone when he was sent to the front lines? Did he lose faith in Kolar after the betrayal, the way Nero had?

If there was one benefit, it was that the attacker’s words drove out the fear that was gripping his body and ruling his instincts. Instead, he filled Nero with anger. Either way, he had to maintain control over his actions, but he would much rather deal with anger than fear.

Now all he had to do was get into position.

“You lived alone as an orphan, and now you will die alone too, abandoned by your comrades,” the attacker said. Nero could not imagine how the Herald must have felt upon hearing those words, but they lit a fire in Nero’s heart.

No matter how corrupt the superiors of this country became, a Kolari soldier was never alone!

Nero looked down at the cards in his hand. One of them was Darkness, as he had taken to calling the innate card. The other was called Endless echoes.

Endless echoes was an extremely common 0 star card, and its image was the musical symbol ‘La’ repeated three times. Its ability was very predictable.

[Repeat a sound on a loop for a time. The duration depends on the amount aether provided.]

Nero had to take a risk – something he had been trying to avoid doing. But when faced with an Arcanist everything was a risk. He needed to control the distraction.

He squeezed the Darkness card between his fingers as he visualised the effects he wanted it to produce. He was not sure if that was how controlling cards worked, but at the moment, that was all he could do.

He remembered the card’s description, which was simple. It merely said that he was the darkness. If he was the darkness, then it should not be an issue for him to control it.

He flooded the card with aether and imagined the cloud of darkness encompassing the attacker. He recalled how the Herald had hidden the hole in the wall using a dark cloud. If he could do that, there was no reason Nero couldn’t surround the attacker in a dark cloud as well.

It seemed to work, and the attacker was instantly surrounded by a dark cloud, taking him by surprise. But if Nero gave him time to think and study, he would quickly realise what was happening.

Instead, Nero flooded the remainder of the aether in his body into Endless echoes and imagined the thunderous sounds of multiple spears banging on the floor.

BOOM!

The sound nearly deafened him, but it startled the attacker, who could not figure out what was happening. He immediately began looking around the room, as if searching for where the wall had been knocked down by reinforcements.

Fortunately, he had not pinpointed Nero’s location. Nero himself felt incredibly feeble and out of breath, but his plan was far from over. Holding Endless echoes between his index and middle finger, he flung the card to the other side of the room.

Mid-flight, it released another earsplitting ‘boom’, but due to the unique design of the room, the sound bounced around the walls, making it difficult to pinpoint where the sound was coming from.

Nero’s distraction tactics had, maybe, bought a few seconds of time. During this period, the enemy was confused, but the familiar sound coming from Endless echoes should have been a hint for the Herald that an ally had come, and he was not alone.

Like the Heralds stood beside him as honour guards while he walked the trail of blood, he was standing beside the Herald in this life and death moment. But in both situations, everyone had to walk their own path. The Heralds could not walk the blood trail for him, and Nero could not fight off the Arcanist for the Herald.

The attacker was surrounded by a cloud of black fog, reducing his visibility and making it hard for him to distinguish the details of his surroundings. But when the Herald looked around, searching for the potential ally or possibly a few other Heralds, an object glinting caught his eye.

A metallic case, placed on a black chair, was extremely prominent when it was placed in a way to reflect the little light that came off the stage. Even from so far away, the Herald recognised his own card case.

There was no hesitation in his actions. With a loud, aggressive roar, he charged at the attacker with his spear, as if intent on killing him with the very next blow. The attacker quickly brought up his sword to defend while he controlled his spell to block the incoming attack.

But he could not block with his sword, or his spell, for the attack never came.

After throwing a feint, the Herald leaped off stage at the fastest speed and ran for the card case.

“I didn’t know you were a coward, Invictus! What would your namesake think?” the attacker yelled, before giving chase while laughing. He thought the Herald was running away.

Nero had to duck down to avoid being spotted. By now, he had crawled back to his spear, but he was forced to deactivate Darkness.

His aether had run dangerously low, and Nero was incredibly dizzy. There were spots appearing in his vision, and his chest was feeling incredibly cold, as if he was being affected by his own innate ability.

Of course, he knew that was impossible, but it didn’t help the situation.

Nero grabbed onto the spear as he lay on the ground between the rows of seats, holding it tightly as if it were the only solid thing, keeping him from floating adrift, pulled by a powerful river current.

He… he tried to use his brain… to guide his thoughts. He was suffering from… aether deprivation. This was… incredibly dangerous given that his body had only just stabilised a few hours ago.

He did not know how to absorb aether from the air either, so he could only wait till it naturally returned.

At the same time, he had to do his best to prevent himself from groaning or moaning in pain. Faintly, he could hear the fight still continue around him. It was much louder and fiercer now, probably since they were much closer.

He had to stay hidden, or in his condition, he’d die from a single attack.

Nero suffered from muscle spasms, nausea, hallucinations, and blackouts. He had no idea how much time had passed by the time he recovered somewhat, but the first thing he did once the dizziness withdrew was vomit.

For all his self control, he could not keep his breakfast in. Then came the shivers.

But that didn’t matter. Nero had recovered barely enough where he could pay attention to his surroundings.

He looked around and saw the hall was utterly destroyed. In fact, many chairs around him were utterly crushed as well, and Nero had barely managed to avoid whatever attack had struck him.

He searched for the Herald, and quickly dropped back on the floor! They were fighting right beside him, and he was almost spotted. The attacker and the Herald both were panting heavily and covered in multiple wounds.

Nero had no idea if the attacker had already used up his Arcanist form by now or not, but he looked incredibly exhausted.

As Nero’s trembling began to worsen, he did his best to pay attention to the fight using only sound. He was really close, so the chances of getting hurt were much greater. He had to… he had to…

His eyes closed and his mind began to drift away to darkness, but the little that remained still focused on the fight. Through sound alone, Nero began visualising what the fight might have looked like, though he had long entered a semiconscious state. It was sheer obsession that kept his brain working the way it did.

Suddenly, out of pure instinct, Nero extended the spear out as quickly as he could, while still holding onto it as tightly as possible. He felt something, as if someone had stumbled on the body of the spear.

He heard a scream, but could not tell who it was from. Darkness consumed his mind as he completely lost consciousness.

Just a couple of metres away from him, Invictus stood over the attacker who had tripped over the spear, and looked the defeated man in his eyes.

“I guess I was not as alone as you thought,” Invictus said, after a very long and arduous fight.

The attacker did not make a snarky comeback, for he knew death was awaiting him. Rage and bitterness ate at his mind before it turned into unwillingness. He was a mighty Arcanist. How could he lose to a mere Initiate?

But the answer to that was simple. Invictus had blocked his Arcanist form somehow. It was supposed to be impossible. There was no precedent for such a thing, nor could he even begin to imagine how a mere teenager controlled such an unbelievable power.

Invictus, the Herald, did not give him much time to think either. In one swift motion, he stabbed the attacker in the neck, tearing his carotid arteries.

Then he turned and looked at his unexpected ally. Right up until the end, Invictus had not discovered his location. Unbelievably, it was the very Neophyte who he had stood as honour guard for.

The kid lay unconscious in his own vomit, his body trembling even in his unconscious state. Uncaring about anything else, Invictus kneeled and checked up on the kid. A solemn expression painted his face as soon as he completed the checkup.

His innate ability was unravelling as the kid was heading towards destabilisation due to expending all his aether.

Unlike what many people assumed, the stabilisation process, and especially the synchronisation process, did not end quickly. It was a process that continued for hours, sometimes even taking a full day. It was just that the majority of it took a short time, which is what people mistook for the process being completed.

Ordinarily, it did not matter either. But in situations where the body, which was still using aether to finish its stabilisation, was deprived of said aether, it destabilised instead. In essence, the mutation that gave humans power, would instead kill him.

Wasting no time, Invictus opened his card case and pulled out a golden card, one that looked different from all the rest of the cards in his case.

“Halt!” he said, holding a hand over Nero, and as if he were a Monarch with complete control, everything in Nero’s body stopped. His heart stopped beating, his ability stopped unravelling, he stopped dying.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep