Kan arrived at the arena the next morning to find Luya already there. They exchanged a simple greeting, then waited in silence as the stars gave way to the milky white spreading across the sky. When the first wisp of scarlet appeared on the eastern horizon, Nish showed up with a handful of followers, all dressed in gray.

He scowled when he saw Luya. “More warnings for us, discipline enforcer?”

Luya crossed her arms. “I’m your overseer today unless you invited someone else from one of the main temples.”

Nish cursed under his breath. He hadn’t planned to go by the books, and it would be a bad start for him if Luya was on Kan’s side. He couldn’t outwardly show his annoyance though. “Of course, miss,” his smile was all teeth, “we are honored to have you.”

Kan darted a questioning look at Luya. She cleared her throat and raised her voice, “The arena grants challenges between same stage apprentices and poses the following rules. One: the use of hidden weapons or poison is forbidden; offenders will be declared vanquished and face punishment. Two: the challenge is restricted within the raised platform; stepping or falling out of the perimeter is equal to withdrawal. Three: the challenge ends when either side yields; no further harm shall come to the defeated. By entering the arena, you abide by the aforementioned rules and accept the risk of unforeseeable consequences, including death. Are we in agreement?”

Nish grunted an unwilling acknowledgment. With Luya watching, he would have to be cautious using that poisoned blade he hid under his belt.

Kan gave his confirmation as well. He now understood why Luya was here—not to see him win as she told him, but to make sure Nish didn’t keep him in the dark and harm him backhandedly. He stopped by her side before following Nish onto the platform and added, “Thank you, Luya.”

“I brought this challenge on you …” Luya said sheepishly. “This is the least I can do to help.”

The two contestants took their places. With sunrise still a good half an hour away, the practice field was otherwise empty, and all was quiet except for the occasional sound of the wind flapping their robes. Nish’s gang kept a contemptuous silence, ready to congratulate his victory against the brand new First Stage any moment.

Luya pronounced the duel begun.

Nish wasted no time drawing his sword. It was a longer and wider blade than Kan’s, the kind that relied on strength more than speed, and he aimed straight for his opponent’s life. Kan sidestepped, blocking with a low guard. Their swords crossed with a high-pitched clang, and the impact sent a resounding vibration down their arms.

Kan gave a silent thanks to his unforeseen breakthrough the day before. Strength had always been his weak point ever since his Ichor depleted. He made up for it with tremendous speed and precision, but that could only go so far as giving him an edge over commoners, and he knew he would never be strong enough to fend off a strike from a shaman or priest. He got lucky against Wy—talisman wielders focused their training on the mind instead of the body—and the same luck wouldn’t hold against sword apprentices like Nish. Not until he entered First Stage.

He flexed his wrist, and their blades met again on the other side. Nish favored wide side sweeps, powerful though too slow to pose a threat given Kan’s agility. Kan took his time, staying on the defensive and tuning his control over the return of his power.

First Stage wasn’t advanced enough for wielding Ichor at will. Even so, with the trickling flow of Ichor coming back to life in his body, Kan could start to recall the old feeling when his sword danced weightlessly at his command as if it was part of himself. The steel grew lighter in his hand. He held on to that feeling, engaging and disengaging at ease, faster and faster.

Their blades clicked and rang like bells. The smugness on Nish’s face began to crumble. Both his weapon and techniques were ill-suited to speed, and Kan was setting the rhythm of the game. Nish took a step back, trying to open up space between them to allow for a high thrust. But Kan’s footwork was flawless. He kept their distance at close range, advancing and striking with meticulous measure.

Sweat broke on Nish’s forehead. At the peak of First Stage, his strength and stamina should be well above the newcomer, yet he knew he was losing the initiative. How did the Southerner gain such control and coordination over his movements? Those weren’t skills that Ichor alone could provide, let alone at First Stage.

He couldn’t let this continue. It would be an insult. Nish changed his tactics at the next opportunity, spinning to slice a diagonal cut. The momentum of the spin would make it harder to block, which would buy him time to follow up with another blow straight to the head.

As he expected, Kan intercepted the slash with a parry to the center. Nish congratulated himself. Now he’d seize the chance to launch the next attack—

Kan reversed his swing in the blink of an eye. The block turned into a counter cut, and before Nish could process what had happened, the tip of Kan’s sword was pointing right at his throat.

Fast, deadly, all in one smooth move.

“You saw it coming?” Nish realized in retrospect. Kan had simply knocked off the blow instead of going full force in defense. He didn’t need to slow down to recover his position, and that was how he managed to change directions so quickly.

Kan didn’t answer. “You lost,” he said.

The audience was dead silent. This was even faster than Nish’s friends had anticipated, only with the wrong person on the winning side.

“I …” Nish tasted bile in his mouth. I failed you, brother Wy.

He lowered his head. But this is not the end of it. “I suppose … You’re right—”

“Kan!” Luya’s terrified scream sliced through the silence of the arena.

One moment Nish was standing with his shoulders drooping, the next he had taken a step back, slid the hidden dagger off his belt, and sent it flying at Kan’s chest. At the close distance between them, it’d be almost a sure kill.

“Die!” Nish laughed maniacally.

The blade flashed in Kan’s vision, an arrow shooting towards him, its polished surface glinting red under the flaming dawn sky. The rest of the world drowned in an echo of screams and laughter.

Fast as he might be, there wasn’t enough time to fully clear the dagger’s path. He could move enough to avoid its tip piercing his heart, but knowing Wy and his gang, Kan was almost certain the weapon was poisoned, which meant a mere scrape of his skin could still cost him life. He needed a different way out.

How?

He told himself to focus, shutting out the noises and echoes from his mind. Time slowed. Colors faded. His consciousness soared, and he was back in the realm of light and darkness. He searched, parting layers of gray shadows until a puff of black smoke blocked his path.

Die, it hissed in Nish’s voice.

Kan reached out and squeezed it in his hand. Light flowed through his palm, blazing the smoke from its core. It twirled and screeched, then shrank into a handful of ashes in his grip.

Kan opened his eyes. He had caught the hilt of the dagger in the air.

He lowered the weapon and gazed into Nish’s disbelieving eyes. “You lost,” he repeated, as the first ray of sunlight broke free of the horizon, gilding his figure in a golden halo, “again.”