Chapter 302: Psychopath

Emily noted the suntke gesture, her face remaining expressionless even as they moved.

As they neared the exit, the young man in the navy suit passed within a few feet of them.

His eyes flicked casually toward Emily, taking in her appearance, her posture, and the garment bag hanging over her arm.

For a fraction of a second, his gaze locked onto her eyes. He paused slightly, a faint, condescending curve touching the corner of his lips, before continuing toward the counter without saying a word.

​One of his broad-shouldered guards cast a sharp, lingering look at Sebastian, his hand resting casually against his coat, before following his master.

Once they were well past the Vault’s security perimeter, Emily let out a quiet breath.

"Who was that?"

​"That," Sebastian said, his voice calm but measured as they walked toward their parked vehicle, "was Julian Vance. He’s descended from a long line of gifted Talented.

Emily stopped in her tracks, blinking.

"Vance..."

Sebastian explained, stopping to look back at her.

"The Vance lineage split several generations ago into main and collateral lines. Julian represents the primary, wealthy branch that maintained its standing within the world of the Talented."

"He is widely rumored to be entering the preparatory trials for the Veilrend Games as a representative of their family’s interests."

Emily looked back toward the Vault’s massive granite facade. "What was that...the way he looked at me..."

Of course, she’d recognized the arrogant look the youth had shot her, but not the reason behind it.

After all, there was no way he should have been able to recognize her. As far as she was concerned, this was the very first time they were meeting.

"Ah...I see," Sebastian said smoothly.

"He looked at you as an ordinary civilian who happened to possess a minor trace of Talented ability. He saw what his arrogance allowed him to see. "

Sebastian’s lips twisted into the faintest of smirks.

"He did not recognize you."

He opened the passenger door of their vehicle, gesturing for her to enter.

​"And that, Miss Whizen, is an advantage you would do well to preserve."

​Emily stood at the door for a moment, processing everything she had seen over the course of the morning.

She took a deep breath, feeling the faint, familiar hum of wind, her mind settling into a state of quiet, resolute focus.

She was no longer just a girl trying to survive her visions. She was Emily Whizen, apprentice to Merlin Hale Crest, daughter of Gregory Whizen and she was preparing to take her place on the grand stage of the Veilrend Games.

​"Let’s go home, Sebastian," Emily said, sliding into the front seat. "I have a lot of work to do before the Games begin."

​"As you wish, Miss Whizen," Sebastian replied, closing her door before taking his place behind the wheel.

​The vehicle powered up silently, exiting the subterranean bay and climbing the long, curving ramp back toward the open highway, carrying them away from Arcana City.

******

Lucian Ash moved without a sound. Every movement carried a silent lethal grace to it, flowing fluidly into the other.

He circled Xander at a low, measured crouch, his eyes fixed dead on the hollow of Xander’s throat.

Xander stepped in, testing the range with a sharp, fast precise jab.

Lucian didn’t even blink. He let the jab slide past his left cheek, the air whistling against his ear, and used the momentary delay in Xander’s retraction to drive his right elbow inward aiming beneath Xander’s ribs.

Xander’s eyes widened slightly. He brought his left forearm down just in time, blocking the point of the elbow but moving a step from the sheer force behind the blow.

Before Xander could regain his balance, Lucian’s foot swept out—a low, biting kick aimed directly at the inside of Xander’s knee.

Xander checked the kick with his shin, the bone shattering sound ringing sharply through the empty combat hall, and snapped a violent palm strike toward Lucian’s nose.

Lucian ducked, dipped under the blow, and drove his shoulder straight into Xander’s chest, wrapping his arms behind Xander’s thighs to take him down.

Sloppy," Xander grunted, his center of gravity dropping instantly. He sprawled, planting his hips onto the back of Lucian’s neck to pin him to the mat.

Before the Dark Maestro incident that would have been the end of it. Lucian would have groaned, tapped out, or made a self deprecating joke about his weight class.

Instead, Lucian didn’t fight the sprawl. He absorbed the weight, slid his left arm between Xander’s thighs, seized the ankle, and twisted his entire torso with violent motion.

Any other initiate would not have been able to exhibit the same amount of insane strength let alone go toe to toe with a novice.

But Lucian Ash wasn’t just your run of the mill Initiate. Xander knew this first hand and even now, he could see it in the youth’s eyes.

His brown eyes were entirely devoid of emotion, carrying an inhuman coldness within their depths.

His movements carried a cold, ruthless efficiency.

"Oh shit!"

It was precisely because Xander was familiar with the opponent he was facing that he knew what Lucian was attempting wasn’t a textbook takedown reversal.

It was an awkward, brutal heel hook setup designed to tear ligaments.

"This lunatic!"

Because of the monstrous strength of the scion of House Ash, a maneuver that ordinarily wouldn’t have phased Xander spooked him.

Even with him being a novice, he just wasn’t ready to risk experiencing that monstrous strength himself even for the sake of satiating his curiosity.

A split second later, Xander felt the immediate, dangerous tension in his knee joint. He cursed, let go of the neck pin, and rolled backward across the mat to disengage, coming up on his feet.

"What a tricky brat..."

Silence reclaimed the hall, broken only by Xander’s heavy breathing.

Lucian didn’t rush in.

He simply rose to his feet in one fluid motion, wiped a thin smear of blood from his upper lip with the back of his hand, and changed his stance.

His posture remained loose, his expression utterly blank.

Across the mat, Xander’s chest rose and fell.

His posture had changed. The relaxed, almost dismissive posture he had held at the start of the session was gone.

His shoulder muscles were tight, his feet planted with absolute intention.

​Sitting on a low bench against the far wall, a tablet resting flat across her knees, Talia Varas watched them.

She wore her black Initiate coat over her grey training clothes, her arms folded across her chest.

You’re dragging your feet, Lucian," Talia said calmly, her voice echoing in the empty combat hall.

"If Xander hadn’t sprawled, he could have stepped over your hips and broken your collarbone with a single elbow."

​Lucian didn’t look at her.

"He sprawled," he said simply. His voice was flat, devoid of irritation

​"Because he expected you to fight like an Initiate," Talia replied.

​Xander rolled his shoulders, a tight smile touching his lips for the first time.

"She’s right. The party’s over, Ash."

​Xander closed the distance instantly.

He exploded forward with the terrifying efficiency that made him one of the most formidable young assassins in Pyreptar Academy.

Within the blink of an eye, he executed a blinding three-punch combination —a jab, cross and a liver hook, all executed with lethal speed.

Lucian slipped the jab, blocked the cross with his forearm, but the liver hook landed solidly.

The force of the blow echoed painfully.

​Lucian’s breath hitched, a sharp spike of agony tearing through his side, but he refused to drop.

Instead of falling back to recover, he leaned directly into the pain, using the momentum of Xander’s follow through to wrap his right arm around Xander’s neck, driving two vicious, close range knee strikes directly into Xander’s thigh.

"Psychopath bastard!"

​Xander gritted his teeth, feeling the brutal impact shock the muscle in his thigh. He refused to pull away.

"Two can play this game!"

His eyes shone with a muderous light, his lips pursing into a dark grin. He grabbed Lucian’s collar, stepped inside Lucian’s hip, and executed a hip throw.

​Lucian hit the mat hard, the air driven completely from his lungs.

​Before he could roll, Xander was over him, driving his knee onto Lucian’s chest to pin his sternum, his right hand seizing Lucian’s wrist and locking the elbow in an iron grip that left zero room for movement.

Lucian stared up at the ceiling, his ribs expanding painfully against the pressure of Xander’s knee.

Instead of tapping out, he simply stopped moving.

Xander held the lock for three full seconds, waiting for a counter that never came, before relaxing his grip and stepping back.

He offered a hand down to Lucian.

Lucian ignored the hand, rolled onto his side, and pushed himself up onto his knees, coughing slightly before standing up.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the hem of his dark grey shirt.

​"You’re stronger," Xander said, holding his side where Lucian’s knees had struck his thigh. He was limping slightly as he walked toward the water bottles resting on the bench.

​Lucian picked up a grey towel from the edge of the mat.

"Still lost."

That’s not the point," Xander said, grabbing a bottle and unscrewing the cap. He took a long drink, his eyes fixed on Lucian over the plastic rim.

"Two months ago, I could have cleared you off the mat in forty seconds without taking a hit. You just nearly tore off my leg on a blind reversal."

​Xander set the bottle down, his tone turning serious.

​"No. You don’t understand. You’re much stronger, Lucian."

​Lucian tossed the towel back onto the bench, turning his lifeless stare to Xander.

No, you don’t understand. It doesn’t mean much if it doesn’t win the fight."