Felix and I stood side by side, breathing in unison. We had fought together many times, but never against another opponent. Still, Avarus had taught us both the same techniques and habits. Perhaps, combined and working together, we had a chance if we could find our rhythm.

"Trust me," I said. "If I say something, listen."

He nodded.

I was unsure which of us charged first. The moment I saw my friend in motion, I was moving too, focusing on the air filling my lungs, the blood circulating through my body. When Felix veered to the left I went right, blades flickering. The Champion backpedaled, twisting his body to avoid my blow while catching Felix's sword on his own. Sparks flew. Clever of the Champion---knowing his sword was of superior make, he parried blade-to-blade, which would eventually whittle down our steel.

The hallway was too narrow to fully take advantage of flanking tactics. We pressed forward with quick, darting attacks, seeking any weakness in his defense. There was none. The Champion's blade was longer, giving him the reach advantage, and he lashed out along diagonal angles to keep us at a distance. But we had advantages of our own. While Jokul may be aware of Felix's luck, my time and void magics should give us an edge. I had kept the former power a secret for so long I was loathe to reveal it, but if there was any time to do so, it was now.

I kept the power of the void at the forefront of my consciousness. My magical awareness suffused the area but mostly focused on the Champion, watching for any surprises. As long as he did not instantly kill me, we would find a way eventually.

The sound of clashing steel rang through the halls as we engaged, disengaged, engaged again.

Once, the Champion stumbled, and I leapt forward to take advantage, utilizing my quick-step technique from the second legato: a twitch of the calves, a sideways chop directed at his neck. I fell right into his trap. The Champion's sword was in place to deflect before my blade even started moving. He guided my sword aside at an angle, throwing me off balance, and a casual kick slammed into my ribcage like a battering ram.

I reversed time immediately, back to the moment before I attacked. This time, I feinted the quick-step and leapt aside instead, leaving Jokul standing there awkwardly. Felix swooped in from the side, slashing at the Champion's wide-open gut. For a second I thought it would be that easy, then the Champion's hand snaked down and grabbed my friend's sword-wrist. The lazy arc of his blade took out Felix's throat in a spray of bright red blood.

Another time reversal.

"Stop!" I said to Felix before he moved in for the kill.

He shot me an aggrieved look but backed away, falling back into place at my side.

The Champion stalked forward, slow and menacing. A smug little grin twisted his lips. I half-expected him to gloat, but he must have thought his actions would speak for themselves. So far, he had only experienced a couple of teenagers flailing through second-legato movements. Nothing to be concerned with.

In my mind's eye, I slowed the water droplets.

When the Champion moved to the offensive, he came at me like a whirlwind, having identified the weaker opponent. Each parried blow sent jolts of pain down my arm. The reduced speed allowed me to hold my own against the onslaught for a few seconds before he picked apart my defenses; the Champion seized his moment and thrust at my heart.

Felix intercepted the blade, taking the lead while I recovered.

Their steel flickered in a beautiful sequence that almost seemed planned; in that moment I realized my friend was much better than I ever realized. Both seemed to predict the others' strikes perfectly, as if they possessed some sort of clairvoyance, lost in the rhythm as their bodies danced. Each movement was flawless, joints bent just so, the path of their blades unerringly straight.

I slipped around the Champion, coming at him from the side, certain we could pincer him between our two attacks. He leapt up and sideways, body corkscrewing through the air. He landed a safe distance away, unruffled. It felt like he was toying with us, as if this entire battle were a farce in some play.

Then, he tilted his head and smiled.

"Leones!" This time, Felix shouted. Time dilation elongated my name into one long, distressed sound.

The Champion flicked his wrist. A throwing knife flipped end-over-end.

I slowed the droplet even more in my mind's eye. Quarter-speed. Roaring, half in rage and half from the pain lancing through my head, I flung myself to the side. The knife buried itself in a painting hanging from the wall behind me.

Jokul rested a finger on his chin in contemplation before shrugging.

Another flick of his wrist, but this time there was no flash of steel.

A feint?

Something blossomed in my mental awareness: invisible, shaped like a knife, and fast. I jerked aside, taking the air-blade to the shoulder instead of the heart. It punched through flesh and bone easily.

Time reversal.

Void magic intercepted the blade of air. Instead of annihilating it from existence with an uncontrolled burst, I conserved my power, sending just enough to disrupt the magic into a gentle breeze.

The baffled look on the Champion's face made me laugh wildly. His eyes narrowed as Felix and I charged him again. This time he pivoted, presenting only one side to us, while rapidly backpedaling to maintain some distance. Smart of him, but the sheer cowardice of it only invigorated us. We pressed the advantage, our movements becoming more synchronized.

In the end, Jokul was still a seventh-legato blademaster. One of his counters skewered Felix though the gut. Another opened my throat, air wheezing out and blood filling my lungs until I reversed time. Afterwards I had to take a moment to reorient myself while Felix weathered the storm. We accumulated wounds as fast as I could reverse them, but as long as it was only a few seconds I could keep it up indefinitely. After each reversal I would bark directions to Felix. It felt like my friend responded right before the words left my mouth.

The problem was the quarter-speed slowing drained my reserves of time magic at an alarming rate. Less than half of the silver orb remained and we had not landed so much as a scratch on the Champion. I dropped back to half-speed, just enough to distinguish Jokul's lightning-fast movements.

Frustrated, the Champion used his power again, this time without any sign except a flare in my magical awareness. I imagined the void rising in front of us in a shield thin as a hair. The disrupted wind felt refreshing against my sweat-soaked face. Jokul followed right behind, leveling a slash at my neck that would have taken my head. My blade intercepted his in time, but after so much abuse the steel finally snapped. Jokul's sword took a notch from my cheek; at the same time my fragments of my broken sword rained sharp around me.

At my side, Dasein pulsed.

I reversed time and threw my near-broken sword at Jokul; he knocked it aside contemptuously. When I unsheathed Dasein the weapon felt perfect in my hand. The porcelain blade held no edge but it was better than a sword one blow away from exploding.

In the distance, a demon shrieked.

For the first time, Jokul spoke. "What is that?"

At first I thought he meant the screaming, but his gaze was focused on Dasein.

No point in trading words with the bastard. I slowed my panting, ignoring the burning in my muscles and my growing migraine. Felix and I nodded at each other before charging back in. Though my sword could not cut, it would function well enough as a club.

This time Jokul was even faster. With his off hand he drew a dagger from his belt. Wind magic augmented his limbs with such speed and strength each blow threatened to disarm me.

More tricks. I had not yet revealed all of mine, though I did not want to waste all of my strength on a single threat.

I held out as best as I could, reversing severe injuries several times. Jokul buried his dagger in my gut. He slid his blade down mine and chopped through the fingers of my sword-hand. Once, when Felix circled around him, he tossed the dagger over his shoulder without looking and split my friend's skull in half.

Time and time again I reversed our wounds. The memory of them remained, phantom pains and aches my mind could not easily forget. There was always a moment or two where I had to readjust, and the more I used my power, the longer it took. Now that Jokul was serious he was, in essence, butchering us.

Deep breath. I focused inward, fighting for stillness against my rage and the ever-growing voice begging me to just escape with my friend. The placid lake appeared in my mind, water droplets falling at half speed. Dasein trembled in my hand. Usually I directed my willpower against the image to slow time. Instead I flooded the sword with my magical awareness, filling it with myself. And the sword responded, awakening---not a sentient being, more like an extension of my body. A third arm.

I directed my time magic into the sword. The porcelain blade absorbed the energy, amplified it, a prism of silver lattices that reflected my power back tenfold. Magic flooded my mind, euphoric, the world becoming more real than real around me. As if I had been living in a dream this whole time.

I slowed the fallings droplets. Slower. Until the movement was barely imperceptible, even the ripples subdued.

At such a dilated speed, I watched with detached interest as Jokul unleashed a somewhat familiar sequence against me. Moves from the fifth legato, far beyond my current mastery. I had only seen it illustrated in a book once. Though I could not do it, I could remember its refutation.

Void magic flooded through my hand, into Dasein. A risk, but if Paimon was right, this sword was special to me. The weapon accepted the void and likewise amplified it. A wave of pure negation washed over Jokul, stripping him of his magic. Even his face went blank for a moment, as if his mind itself was washed away.

Still he came forward. My body carried out my will exactly, if not gracefully. Dasein met a blow and held; then another; then another. Even without his magic, Jokul's strikes made my arm go numb. To him it looked effortless, my sword in the perfect position each time. For me it took ten tries. The entire time it felt as if my mind was being split apart.

And at the end, the most difficult part of the refutation: the counter. Visualizing what I needed to do, I thrust my sword forward. Parried. Deflected. On the third reversal I found the precise rotation and path of the blade. This time, Jokul blocked it, but I did not care. The strike, made as perfect as I could, knocked him off balance for a moment. And in that breath my friend slipped behind the Champion and slashed through his hamstrings.

Jokul fell to his knees, face twisted, his breath coming in heavy gasps. Seeing how defeated he looked broke through the numbness that had settled over me.

I released my magic. Time returned to normal.

The brilliancy from the sunset seared my eyes. I stumbled, supported myself with a hand against the wall.

"Do you want the honors?" said Felix to me, offering me his sword.

Jokul smiled, teeth bloody. "Fine deals you have made in exchange for those powers. I wish I could have granted you the mercy of ending you here."

"Your friend Barrow helped the demons this entire time," I said. It was hard to get the words out, but I could not stand the bastard's arrogance. "All of this is because of him. Who are you to speak of deals?"

"I am not Barrow. And I do not lose to children. You saw the gorgeous work I made of your friend Lyra, did you not?" The Champion paused to catch his breath. "In the end she was stronger than I thought. She refused to tell me where the paintings had been distributed. She must have known but...what a stubborn girl."

Felix lunged forward to kill him.

The Champion screamed. Blades of wind whipped outward, tearing long gouges from the walls. I nullified the magic heading in our direction. Everywhere else was shredded in the razor tempest, paintings and rugs disintegrating, doors exploding into storms of splinters.

Felix stumbled backwards and I stopped him with a steadying hand between his shoulders.

"I do want the honor," I said, sheathing Dasein. The fatigue weighed down my body, but some things need to be done personally.

Clenching his jaw, Felix shoved the sword into my hands.

The Champion had collapsed, barely managing to prop himself off the floor with his elbows. Strands of disheveled hair fell over his face as he glared up at me, panting heavily. One last feeble blade of wind shot my way. Though my magic was near exhausted, I still had enough to disrupt it.

Reversing the sword and holding it in both hands, I rested the tip of the blade onto his back. Up and slightly to the left; directly above the heart.

With a smile, I drove the sword downward.