Chapter Two: Fire Beneath the Split (Part Two)
Date: May 22, Year 204 PCR (Maelis 22)
Location: Trial Arena – Harmonic Lyceum
Time: Midday, Trial Phase Two
The dust had barely settled from Kaelen's last strike when the next names rang out—no pause, no reprieve.
"Selka.
Vessa.
Enter the ring."
No squad. No title. No applause.
Just names.
Selka exhaled once through her nose and stepped forward. Her boots left no sound against the cracked arena floor. She walked like the ground had already memorized her weight.
Across from her, Vessa rolled her shoulders. Taller. Broader. Her stance sharp, pulse markings already threading faintly beneath her collar. There was heat behind her posture—but no arrogance. Vessa didn't underestimate Selka.
She simply wanted to crush her.
Selka reached the center line and stopped. She didn't bow. Didn't raise her hands. Her fingers flexed once, then settled against her sides like they didn't need to remember the stance—they were the stance.
"NO VEILMARK LIMITATIONS.
MATCH TWO—COMMENCE."
The moment the word fell, Vessa launched.
No wind-up. No tell. Just motion. A slide-step forward, blade unsheathed at the hip—her Veilmark flaring pale violet with every breath.
"VEILMARK ART — RIPPLERISE: Seven-Tide Severance!"
Seven mirrored arcs split the air between them—blades of pressure stacked in curving waves, each one stronger than the last. The glyph trailed behind her like a serpentine whip of air and intent.
Selka didn't move.
The first arc hit nothing.
The second passed through an afterimage.
By the third, Vessa slowed. Her eyes twitched sideways—confused.
Selka stood to her left now, twenty feet away, untouched.
No glyph shimmer. No pulse flare. Just movement.
Vessa growled and redirected mid-dash. She spun, dragging the final arc down like a cleaver—
"VEILMARK ART — WAVEBREAK FEINT: Staggerfall Descent!"
This time, the pressure compressed.
Selka raised her left hand. Not to block.
To listen.
Then she stepped inside the arc, so close her cheek grazed the edge of the glyph, and—
broke it.
The pressure folded around her but didn't touch her. The glyph flickered and collapsed as if ashamed.
Vessa backpedaled, sweat now beading at her jawline.
Selka's voice came quiet.
"VEILMARK ART — THREADGLIDE FORM: Stillcurrent Fold."
There was no flash. No light.
Just her. Walking.
And when she passed Vessa—
The taller girl buckled.
Her ankle gave out first. Then her right shoulder dropped. Glyphwork on her ribs dimmed, as if something had been disconnected inside her.
She landed on one knee, blade still in hand, but her breath ragged—uncontrolled.
Selka turned around without facing her.
"Your Pulsework's unbalanced," she said. "You fire too quickly. No restraint in your lateral weave."
Vessa coughed once—choked, more like. Not from pain. From recognition.
Selka continued, each word weightless but irreversible.
"You move like a storm.
I was raised in silence."
Her hand opened, palm facing the sky.
The air bent.
Only once. Like the surface of a pool responding to a falling leaf.
"VEILMARK ART — SHATTERBIND: Hollow Thread Bloom."
The sound that followed wasn't a bang. It was a snap—precise, internal, personal. Vessa's glyph flared—then shut off. Her blade dropped. Her knees hit stone.
Still, she didn't collapse. She looked up—eyes red. Teeth clenched.
But she couldn't move.
As Selka turned around to walk off back to the line a faint voice came from behind her
" I'm not done yet."