Ycius stared at the assailant. This man was dangerous; his form was perfect. Ycius had the advantage in terms of strength and reach, but he could tell this man was used to fighting with those disadvantages. He was tall by human standards, around 6'3. Both men were watching the other for the slightest movement from the other one. Ycius brings his tail towards the man's feet with blinding speed, but it is not fast enough. the cloaked man jumped up, and again Ycius heard the sound of music in the air as the man swung his sword. "Song of severing." He says Ycius watched as the music he was hearing became visible slices of light and wind racing at him, but Ycius was ready for them. "Not going to work. Scale of Draca!" Ycius calls as the spikes on his body extended and glows with a holy golden light, the wind slices bounced off of him, leaving him unscathed or so he thought. Ycius looks at a cut on his shoulder and up at the man sitting on a bench. "Well then…." He says, looking up at him. Ycius flexed his shoulder, the cut shallow but bleeding. That sword… it wasn't ordinary. No, it sang with a will of its own. He could still hear the final note of the "Song of Severing" fading in the air like a bell tolling at sunset.
The cloaked man gave a faint, knowing smile. He sat there, one leg over the other, blade resting against his shoulder as if the fight was a mild distraction, something to pass the time between meals. "You Cragonans always think yourselves invincible. That trick with the scales—it was beautiful, radiant even. But light can only reflect so much before it bends."
Ycius growled low in his throat. "You're stalling. Why?"
"To test you," the man said, standing again in one fluid motion. "And maybe, if I'm lucky, to kill you."
With that, he moved. Not a dash, not a sprint—he glided, as if the ground itself recoiled from touching him. His cloak fluttered behind him like the wings of some dark bird of prey. Ycius widened his stance, anticipating a strike from the front, but the man vanished mid-step.
Ycius turned, only for his tail to catch a faint weight behind him. He spun just as the man came down from above, sword raised in both hands.
Clang!
Their weapons met, and the air shook with the force. Ycius had used his arm blade to parry, and sparks showered the ground. The man didn't retreat—he pushed forward, twisting in midair and planting a foot against Ycius's chest. He kicked off and flipped backwards, landing gracefully several feet away.
Ycius coughed, stumbling slightly. That kick had more strength behind it than he expected. The man was lean, but not weak. Every motion he made had been measured, efficient, purposeful.
"So who are you?" Ycius asked, rolling his shoulders as the wound began to clot under the warmth of his holy aura. "You fight like a priest of the old orders. The way you move, the way you chant... But your sword sings the dirge of demons."
The man didn't answer. Instead, he raised his sword again, holding it sideways, both palms against the flat of the blade. He whispered, and the wind obeyed.
"Refrain of Dusk."
The clouds above shivered.
Ycius's eyes narrowed. The wind around the field shifted, sudden and cold. Grass bowed in all directions. The ground beneath them darkened, as though a shadow passed over the sun. Then came the music—soft at first, then rising, a string melody laced with grief and rage.
The man lunged. This time, faster.
Ycius blocked once, twice—barely. The man wasn't trying to overpower; he was building rhythm, tempo. Each strike fed into the next. A symphony of death. Metal met scale, over and over, until Ycius realized the man was pushing him back with nothing more than flow.
He had to break it.
With a roar, Ycius ducked under a wide swing and countered with a backhanded sweep of his tail—not to hit, but to displace the rhythm. The man leapt again, but Ycius followed, launching himself with wings flaring behind him like golden fire. They collided mid-air, a brutal tangle of claw, steel, and teeth.
This time, Ycius won the exchange. He landed on top of the man as they slammed into the earth. The force cratered the soil around them. Dust erupted. Ycius reached to grab the man's throat, but his hand caught nothing.
A faint click echoed behind him.
Ycius turned his head. The man was already standing—somehow. He wiped a smear of blood from his mouth and smirked. "Nice try."
Ycius stood slowly, eyes fixed on him. "You're fast. But not invincible."
"Nor are you." The man pointed to Ycius's chest.
He looked down.
Another cut. Not deep—but deeper than the first. He hadn't even felt it land.
Ycius breathed in sharply, steadying his heart.
He had to end this.
Golden light pulsed from his spine to his chest, curling along his arms. "Divine Pulse: Heart of Solus!" he shouted. The ground shone with radiant symbols, old words in the Cragonan tongue, lost to most. The temperature rose. Birds fled from the trees nearby. Even the shadows dared not move closer.
The man didn't flinch. Instead, he planted his sword in the ground and kneeled beside it. "Crescendo: Third Movement."
Wind and silence clashed as light exploded from Ycius, a beam of divine fury arcing toward the man. Trees bent and snapped. Earth cracked. The force of the spell could level a mountain village.
But the man had sung a different song.
A dome of swirling air and harmonics shielded him, the sound spinning faster than light. The divine energy split across it like water on glass, dispersing around him.
Ycius panted. His wings dimmed.
The man stood again, retrieving his sword.
"You're strong," he admitted, brushing dust from his shoulder. "But you don't listen. That's why you're bleeding. That's why you're losing."
Ycius let the words hang in the air. He did not deny them.
But he smiled.
A deep, dangerous grin.
"Maybe," Ycius said, extending both arms, his claws crackling with charged light. "But I don't need to hear your song to silence it."
A sphere of searing golden energy ignited between his hands. A low hum vibrated in the bones of the earth.
"Judgment: Voice of the First Flame."
Ycius had to time his spell perfectly. He couldn't risk putting the cabin—or Clara—in danger from this attack. He had been holding back most of his skills, knowing they could destroy the entire area, but this had to end. Just as the spell reached the point of no return, when he could no longer hold it back, he was about to release it—
—that's when he saw it. A flick of white hair off to the right in his peripheral vision.
Clara.
What in all the hells was she doing out here?
He couldn't stop the spell. Ycius panicked.
"Papa, stop! He's not a bad—"
Clara froze when she saw a cloaked figure step in front of her. The very man Ycius had been fighting.
He wrapped his cloak around her. "Aria of Aegis," he said, as a hauntingly beautiful melody rose in the air and enveloped them just as the attack struck.
"Damn it… I guess my joke went a bit too far, huh, little one?" the cloaked man muttered as he fell forward, a terrible wound stretching across his back.
"Papa! He's hurt! We need to help him!" she cried.