Chapter 95

Nick remained motionless. He didn’t move his hands, didn’t shift his weight. He barely breathed. This had to be perfect, as he had no idea just how far from the material plane they had been moved, and he certainly couldn’t afford a second chance.The fae were masters of trickery, and Dewdrop was no exception. Her beauty, charisma, and calculated smiles—everything about her was a performance designed to ensnare the mind.

Given her tendencies, he suspected she had positioned her realm quite close to the material world, allowing her to enter and exit with greater ease. Even for her, there was a cost to pay for traversing the layers of reality. Whether that was time, preparation, blood, or simply mana, it didn’t really matter. If she wanted to move in and out effortlessly, she couldn’t have placed them too far apart.

Still, Nick had to act as if they were very far. This meant adding as much detail to the ritual as possible, since he couldn’t start chanting and expect her to let him finish it.

Nick’s fingers itched, but he made no outward movement. Instead, he worked through the wind, manipulating the air in the subtlest, most delicate way possible.

He had runes to carve, and no one could see them. Worst of all, he had to do it without his wand.

Nick had never tried true dimensional manipulation before. Oh, he’d dabbled in astral projection, which could loosely be defined as such, but he had never aimed to influence an area so vast and with so many people.

It was dangerous, unstable, and he suspected it was the realm of far more experienced mages. Ingrid’s diary had mentioned it once—casually, offhand—as something that only those willing to risk their sanity should ever attempt. It was apparently only the Archmages that could reliably walk through the layers, and any who tried to do so without their supervision was liable to end up lost in the aether.

But Nick wasn’t trying to pierce dimensions, he just needed to undo a fae trap, and the simplest way to do that was to reaffirm reality.

Raidho was the rune of the traveler. The rune of voyages, of motion, of movement. To carve it upside-down meant a forced return from a journey.

That was the framework. The skeleton.

However, to execute it properly, Nick needed five people—five anchors standing at the five points of the rune.

Morris, the two scouts, and the two priests had successfully taken their places in those exact spots. That left only his role.

Nick had been afraid Dewdrop might notice his manipulation despite how careful he was, but she seemed engrossed in her verbal duel with his father. It almost looked like she was flirting at times, but she never quite crossed the line. Apparently, even fae knew better than to provoke his father so much.

After the framework was established, the true challenge was inscribing the runes without being seen. The air whispered to him, echoing his intent. Nick forced himself to tune out everything else, ignoring the flow of information that was feeding him to further enhance his precision.

Normally, a rune had to be etched, burned, or physically carved, but Nick couldn’t use the standard methods. Instead, he controlled the air, shaping it into razor-thin currents that sliced into the soft earth like invisible blades.

It was a process so precise and delicate that no one could possibly detect it. Slowly, the symbols took shape in between blades of grass, hidden from sight but perfectly functional. That was another daring move, as Dewdrop had shown perfectly capable of moving through the ground, which made it possible she had a sensory link with it, but given that she hadn’t reacted to his earlier moves, he suspected her way of interacting with the element was quite different from his.

Nick forced himself to breathe slow, even as his pulse pounded.

One mistake—one imperfection—and the ritual would fail. They would all die either way, so there wasn’t much at stake, he joked to himself. Finally, after what could only be a few minutes but felt more like hours, Nick allowed his focus to widen once more.

It was time. The framework was complete, and now he only needed to activate it.

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Nick didn’t wait for an opportunity. He made one. He bit his lip, hard. The sharp sting of pain was almost a relief. He let five drops of blood drip from his mouth, precisely onto the edges of the hidden rune. One drop for each anchor. One drop for each point of Raidho.

Light surged beneath their feet.

The runes ignited in a soft, golden glow, barely visible to the untrained eye—but unmistakable to the fae. Dewdrop’s head snapped toward him, immediately abandoning her attempts at needling his father.

For the first time since she appeared, her mask cracked. Her eyes widened.

Then, she moved. Nick was already bracing himself, having expected her to notice, but even knowing it was coming, he wasn’t fast enough.

She crossed the distance in an instant. There was no spell, no flicker of warning. Just raw, predatory speed. One moment, she stood poised and elegant. The next—she was a blur of movement, lunging straight at him.

Nick barely had time to draw a breath. He saw his life flash before his eyes, even as he poured more mana into the ritual, hoping against hope that he could complete the shift before she caught him.

CRASH.

Dewdrop didn’t reach him, as something intercepted her. Something wreathed in fire.

Eugene’s shoulder crashed into her like a meteor, and the impact sent a shockwave through the clearing. She was thrown backward, slamming into the dirt with such force that it caused cracks to spread through the ground.

Despite that, she somehow retained her unnatural beauty as she slowly picked herself up. The only difference was that now her face was marred by rage.

Her delicate hands clenched into fists, and her elegant composure shattered. When she rose, her fingers twisted into sharp, clawed branches. A sword formed in her grasp, woven from dark vines that pulsed with unnatural energy.

The pressure in the air multiplied, and Nick knew deep in his gut that if he were to be hit by that, there would be nothing he could do to survive.

Dewdrop’s power began to unravel, spilling into the clearing like a rising tide.

Still, he had one last trick up his sleeve. With how deeply invested in the ritual he was, he couldn’t exactly use more magic, but he could make sure the shift happened in the right moment.

Dewdrop took a step forward, lifting her sword in Eugene’s direction with a look that promised murder. Just as she prepared to meet his blade, golden lines surged across the clearing, forming the inverted Raidho like a brand upon reality.

The very air tore apart at the seams, and Dewdrop’s attack never landed. Instead, a sound like a shrieking storm filled the space, and the world twisted violently.

Nick felt the sickening lurch of space folding in on itself. He heard Dewdrop scream. The men fell to the ground, desperately attempting to hold onto something as the fake gravity disappeared and they crashed through the veils.

The clearing collapsed upon itself with a sound like shattering glass, leaving them in complete darkness for half a second, before light bloomed once more, and they were thrust back into the real world.

Nick staggered, blinking rapidly. Everything looked the same.

The trees still surrounded them, and the few visible spots of sky remained unchanged. To an unknowing onlooker, it might have appeared as if nothing had happened.

But Nick could feel the wind outside the clearing again. Even the other scouts, who lacked his sensory skills, visibly reacted to the change.

Morris muttered under his breath. “We’re really back…”

Nick had done it—he had pulled them back. Unfortunately, there was no time to celebrate, because Dewdrop was still moving. She had recovered in an instant, seamlessly resuming her attack, which Eugene barely had time to block.

CLANG!

The impact shook the clearing.

She pressed forward, striking faster, her vine sword twisting unnaturally around Eugene’s blade like a living serpent. Somehow, despite being knocked off balance by the shift, she still forced his father back. Even wreathed in fire, Eugene wasn’t overpowering her.

Nick watched, looking for an explanation. Then, he saw it. Dewdrop wasn’t necessarily stronger than his father. She just wasn’t being burned. Her elegant dress should have ignited instantly. Her pale skin should have blackened under Eugene’s heat, but the flames licked harmlessly around her.

Still, Nick hesitated. His father and Dewdrop were moving too fast, and even with active, hitting her without risking Eugene was impossible. He ground his teeth, trying to find a way to help even as he knew nothing in his arsenal could make the difference.

While he stood there, frozen, the others weren’t so hesitant. The soldiers spread out, forming a circle around the duelists, carefully avoiding to come between them. Once they were all in position, they planted their swords into the ground.

Nick felt it before he saw it. A pulse of power rippled through the air.

His experience told him that whatever this was, it was somehow binding his father and Dewdrop. In a way, it reminded him of the contract he imposed upon the Vine Wraith, though its underlying framework was completely different.

All of a sudden, his father stopped being pushed back, and Dewdrop faltered, her momentum slipping as her expression changed. For the first time, she looked uncertain.

Nick was honest enough to admit that had no idea what just happened. Morris, standing next to him, grunted in satisfaction.

“Smart move,” the old ranger muttered. “They invoked their Class skill as the Captain’s subordinates.”

Nick turned so fast he felt his neck crack. “What?”

Morris nodded toward the soldiers. “They’re using one of the oldest tricks in the Watch’s playbook. A skill passed down through generations.”

Nick still didn’t understand.

Morris smirked. “They’re enforcing the .”

Nick blinked, slowly starting to get it.

Morris continued, low and pleased. “The skill forces a simple rule—only the fighters’ own strength can be used. No outside influence. No borrowed power.”

Nick quickly processed the implications of that. Dewdrop's sudden weakness meant she had been gaining strength elsewhere.

Her movements weren’t as fast, and her attacks weren’t hitting as hard. Dewdrop realized it too late. She snarled, shifting her grip on her sword—

And Eugene moved. In a fiery step forward, he closed the gap instantly, his sword shining brighter than ever. The mana surged. The air crackled. His lips opened, “”.

A single thrust. A jet of fire.

The sword punched clean through Dewdrop’s chest. For a moment, she didn’t react. She merely blinked, stunned. Then, the fire exploded outward.

Nick barely had time to shield his eyes as a hundred-foot scar was carved through the forest behind her. Dıscover more novels at N0velFire.ɴet

Dewdrop staggered. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound came.