SSS Rank: Spellcraft Sovereign-Chapter 98: Level 20 (4)

Clash.

Light.

Redirect.

But Lucen was already preparing the sixth.

His hand didn’t lift.

He didn’t speak.

The system did it for him.

[Loop Cast Triggered — Shockweave Bolt (Variant VI)]

[Mana Cost: 0]

[Form Adjustment: Chain Lash / Autotrack Enabled]

[Casting: INSTANT]

The bolt detonated from Lucen’s palm without warning. It split mid-air, forked, and the first branch snapped behind Varik, catching wall. The second curved, impossibly tight—and struck low. Just enough for the blade to miss it.

Varik shifted his foot.

Only slightly.

The impact struck clean across his shin. No real damage. But it connected.

Lucen didn’t gloat. Didn’t smile this time.

He shifted his weight forward and let the rhythm change.

The spell was spent. The loop broke.

He chose a new one.

[Frost Spire]

The glyph formed fast, easier than usual. His system recognized the intent now, didn’t force precision. It just helped.

The spire grew sharp under Varik’s boots.

Not a trap this time. A pattern seed.

Lucen cast it again, wide arc, forced misplacement.

The third version came quicker.

Then the fourth. Smaller.

By the fifth?

They were scattered across the floor in a loose semi-ring, irregular and uneven.

To anyone else, it looked like bad casting.

To Lucen?

It was path control.

[Frost Spire — 5th Use Logged]

[Loop Cast Armed — Ready on Next Use]

He didn’t fire it immediately.

He waited.

Watched.

Varik moved again, slow now, like pacing through a training kata. Testing space.

His boot landed within half a foot of one of the spires.

Lucen triggered the sixth.

Instant.

Zero cast.

The spire didn’t just form, it erupted.

Beneath the one Varik was about to step into.

No warning.

The spike caught the heel of his boot and twisted his step just enough to break the pattern.

Varik moved back, this time with weight. A real dodge.

Lucen advanced. Not fast. Not cocky. Just pressing the edge of something no one else had touched before.

"I get it now," Lucen said, low, more to himself than anyone else.

Varik didn’t ask what.

Didn’t need to.

Lucen’s voice barely rose above the pulse of his mana.

"I don’t have to be better than you."

He stepped forward again.

Hands loose. Casting clean.

"I just have to make every spell feel like the last one all over again."

Varik lifted the sword, not for defense, for offense.

Lucen smiled, small and sharp.

’Then I’ll start playing with sequence.’

—

Lucen didn’t blink.

He moved sideways, boot dragging slow through the dust, eyes locked to the gap in Varik’s stance. He didn’t need a full opening. Just a mistake to aim at.

His right hand rose again.

[Shockweave Bolt] cast mid-turn, smooth, unspoken.

The fourth iteration. Cast speed high enough that it didn’t even flicker—just launched.

Varik deflected with his blade, not even looking.

Lucen was already moving.

His other hand swept low. Glyphs spilled like muscle memory.

[Frost Spire], number three.

He cast again before it even finished. Number four, then five.

Sharp. Scattered. Purposeful.

He cast the sixth. Didn’t draw it. Didn’t speak it. It simply appeared, centered beneath Varik’s path, timed to the shift in his weight from that last sidestep.

The ice ruptured upward.

Varik jumped.

Lucen was already rotating left.

[Threadmask] deployed mid-motion.

The false echo pulled left. Lucen slipped right—not to hide, but to force a moment of misread.

Varik adjusted fast, too fast, but Lucen was already casting again.

Shockweave, version six. It curved this time, a trained trajectory from earlier attempts.

[Chain Detected — Sovereign’s Loop Active on Multiple Spells]

[Mana Cost Suppression Engaged]

[Adaptive Cast Speed Syncing: +36%]

He wasn’t faster than Varik.

But he was stacking.

Frost. Thread. Shock.

Each one looping deeper. Tighter. Sharper.

Varik stepped through the next bolt. Sword turned.

He didn’t strike Lucen.

He struck the air to his left.

Lucen twisted.

Just in time to watch the displacement field collapse behind him.

His clone shattered.

And Varik’s sword swept up, real now, no more pulling his strikes.

Lucen backpedaled, tripped on the edge of a spire he’d forgotten to cancel, and barely caught his stance before the blade came down, flat again, but this time? With weight.

Lucen slammed to the ground.

Hard.

[Health Warning: 8%]

[Sovereign’s Loop Stalled — No Combat Cast In 5s]

He wheezed once. Just air. Just pain.

Then he laughed. Soft.

Not bitter. Not proud.

Just tired.

"I’m out," he said, voice rough in his throat.

Varik didn’t press.

He stepped back. Sword lowered.

Lucen rolled onto his back, exhaling hard.

"You were going to finish that one."

"I was going to stop it," Varik replied. "Big difference."

Lucen stared at the ceiling. A pipe dripped faintly nearby. His body buzzed from mana drag.

The system pinged.

[Duel Ended — Sparring Zone Terminated]

[EXP GAINED: 3,840]

[EXP MODIFIER: Elite Opponent + High Tier Activity]

[NEW TOTAL: 1,512 / 2,200]

[Condition: Injured / Recovering]

Lucen muttered, "Not bad for losing."

Varik turned. Walked toward the far end of the room, where the door hadn’t shut all the way.

He paused once, half-glancing over his shoulder.

"You didn’t lose."

Lucen frowned. "Sure felt like I did."

"You made me move a lot," Varik said.

Then walked out.

Lucen pushed himself up with his left arm, hand dragging grit across the floor, shoulder complaining the whole way. The bruises on his ribs felt like they were setting up permanent residence, and his legs didn’t want to straighten.

Didn’t matter.

He stood anyway.

Not tall. Not proud. Just upright.

The room still hummed faintly—residual mana, half-cooled. The lights above flickered once, then held. His boot scraped as he stepped forward.

No dramatic exit.

Just gravity.

He followed the path Varik took, past a splintered wall brace, over a half-melted line of sigils, through the same door Varik had left ajar. The hinges creaked as he pushed it open wider.

Varik stood at the end of the hall. Back half-turned. One hand adjusting the sleeve of his coat like nothing had just happened. No sweat on his brow. No mark on his body. Just the quiet rhythm of a man whose pulse hadn’t risen even once during the fight.

Lucen caught up slowly.

His steps were uneven, breath sharp. His system pinged minor injury tags, but he muted them one by one. He didn’t need to hear it.

Varik waited until he was close before speaking.

"You held together longer than I thought."

Lucen rolled one shoulder. Winced. "You hit harder than you look."

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