Chapter 24: Chapter 24: The Way.
Cire dashed forward, his eyes locked on Praesul. The masked man stepped back, his movements precise, maintaining an unchanging distance. No matter how hard Cire pushed, the gap remained constant, teasing him with its impossibility.
'Focus your senses on him,' Cire thought, his frustration mounting. Praesul moved with deliberate steps, retreating toward the cave's far end. Cire's eyes scanned him, searching for a flicker of purple hue—something, anything—but Praesul remained a mystery. The only constant was the cave itself, the faint echo of footsteps reverberating in its hollow depths.
Cire tightened his grip on his dagger. 'He's getting close to the end of the cave. This is where it starts.'
Byru dashed forward, her wolf form illuminating the cave like a streak of light. She veered to Praesul's left, cutting off his escape route. Cire, with practiced precision, mirrored her move and blocked Praesul's right. This strategy hadn't worked before, so Cire knew it wouldn't hold. Praesul was too quick, too unpredictable. As expected, the masked man sprinted through the middle, his speed almost imperceptible to the naked eye.
'Blast. He can escape whenever he wants,' Cire thought, gritting his teeth. But he didn't stop. Instead, he focused on staying close, watching every move, trying to sense the masked man's intent. 'What do you want to do? You surely want to escape.' He waited, hoping for a reaction, but his mark stayed dormant, refusing to reveal anything.
Praesul slipped through their formation, and Cire dismissed the plan, launching a direct attack instead. His left hand darted forward, aiming to cut Praesul's body, but the masked man moved like water, evading every punch and kick with frustrating ease.
'Blast, I can't sense a thing,' Cire thought, his patience unraveling.
Byru shifted forms, transforming into a bird and diving toward Praesul. The masked man caught her effortlessly with one hand, his glove glowing with intense light. Byru twisted into her snake form, attempting to constrict him, but before her serpent body could tighten, Praesul kicked her upward, slamming her into the ceiling.
Cire's breath came in ragged gasps. His chest burned with effort. 'Blast. What does he want? What do you desire?'
The young Key Master faltered, his movements growing erratic. He couldn't read Praesul the way he had read the bear. A beast's desires were simple, primal. But Praesul? He was human—a far more complex opponent.
Praesul's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Wrong, boy. You are wrong. This is not the way."
Before Cire could react, Praesul lunged, delivering a brutal combination of punches and kicks. The strikes hit like thunderclaps, sending Cire flying across the cave. His body collided with the cold spray of the waterfall, and he crumpled to the ground, pain radiating through every limb.
Cire groaned, his arms numb and a sharp agony stabbing at his ribs. This was the first time Praesul had hit him with such force—enough to break bones.
'Blast, blast, what do you wish for?' Despair clawed at his mind. 'I just want to beat you!'
But then, his heart pulsed, breaking through the despair. It vibrated with a steady rhythm, resonating with his thoughts. 'Wait. I can't read him, but I know what I want. What I wish. What I desire. I want to beat him.
His chest burned, and his mark flared with light. 'Of course. I have my desires, too.'
With newfound clarity, Cire channeled all of his remaining Virtus into his heart. His eyes glowed a vibrant purple, and suddenly, he saw it—a trail of faint purple hues stretching ahead, each one leading toward Praesul. The hues flickered, like a path illuminated just for him.
Cire's body shivered under the strain. His Virtus drained at a terrifying speed, but he pushed forward. 'I have to do it now.'
He sprinted, stepping onto the first hue, and immediately his speed increased. Time seemed to slow as he followed the glowing trail, one step after another, each movement precise and powerful. The end of the trail drew closer, and there, unmoving, was Praesul.
Cire surged forward, his hand outstretched. He was just a step away, but his strength began to falter. The purple hues flickered and dimmed. 'I don't have enough Virtus.' He felt his body give out, the trail fading from his vision.
But then, a low, harmonic hum filled the air. Byru's serpent body, still embedded in the ceiling, began to glow. A surge of pure, raw white Virtus flowed into Cire, revitalizing him. His heart raced, and the purple trail blazed brighter than ever, the hues almost tangible.
With renewed strength, Cire took the final step. His hand reached out, grazing Praesul's shoulder.
Cire collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. His heart ached, and his entire body screamed in pain, but he had done it.
Praesul stepped closer, placing a gloved hand on Cire's head. His voice, though as cold as ever, carried a hint of approval. "Well done, Cire. This is the way."