Steel met ice with a scream of metal, sparks skidding across the frozen ground as Cecilus and the demon collided, blades grinding. The contact didn't separate them immediately; for a heartbeat they slid locked together, boots scraping, breath fogging between snarled teeth.
Nerevrax's strength held solid. Cecilus felt the resistance like pushing against a glacier.
The demon abruptly released the bind and slammed his palm against the ground. A wall of jagged ice erupted upward between them. Cecilus struck it shoulder-first, pain jolting through bone, shards slicing skin. The wall cracked under impact.
Before he could rebound properly, Nerevrax bent his knees, sliding back on the slick surface as if the ice itself were pulling him to safety.
Cecilus… don't let him gain distance! If he recovers mana—
"I know!" Cecilus hissed and use the elemental's wind to launch forward.
The burst pushed him low across the ice, sword trailing sparks as he swung in a low, curving arc meant to catch Nerevrax mid-slide.
The demon reacted with infuriating ease—leaping, his coat whipping behind him. Cecilus slid under and past, boots fighting for control. The ice was not a floor; it was another opponent pushing and dragging him in directions he didn't want.
Wind was speed, but this fight demanded… balance.
Nerevrax pivoted, one heel tapping down lightly, then gliding. He closed distance suddenly—no gust of magic, just momentum and precision—his sword thrusting up in a snapping slice.
Cecilus twisted hard, the blade taking only his cheek, a hot line opening beneath his eye.
Blood hissed when it hit the cold.
He's not just fast… he's built for this terrain.
The plateau stretched in all directions, smooth, endless, treacherous. Even breathing too hard might change footing.
Nerevrax circled, blade humming with frost. His strides were weightless steps, no drag, no hesitation.
If I try to dodge, I lose ground. My advantage isn't grace. It's power.
Cecilus planted his stance low. He needed to let the attack come, predict the motion and then force a direct clash.
Nerevrax lunged again—this time feinting right then cutting low left, aiming for the wrist.
Cecilus didn't flinch.
He lifted his own sword higher, deliberately angling for control, meeting the strike not edge-to-edge but edge over edge.
Steel shrieked, blades locking again.
And his elemental answered—not with a forward push, but with a sudden downward pressure of wind, like the sky itself dropped a hammer on their locked weapons.
The force slammed them toward the ice. Nerevrax's knees buckled. Cecilus' position above gave him leverage, blade grinding down, inch by inch.
"C-coward!" Nerevrax spat, breath freezing in the air. "You dare resort to such trickery!"
His free hand trembled, fingers glowing white. Ice began forming—sloppy, uneven spikes growing in the sky.
Cecilus' elemental couldn't constantly create multiple bursts of wind in a row, let alone many at the same time. There was another who could protect him, though.
Cecilus braced for impact—
—and Xena materialized, slamming her body between them.
The spikes hit her hide with wet crunches. Pain ripped through Cecilus' nerves, searing down his ribs and thigh, but he did not move.
One spike punched through his leg. His vision flashed white. But he leaned harder, sword grinding closer to flesh.
"This is it…" he breathed through teeth. "Your last mistake."
A spike in his leg wasn't enough pain to deter him from the one way towards victory!
***
Nerevrax's mind was unraveling.
How! Soul mages are supposed to rely on summons! Why is this man so skilled with the blade? Shit! I should've retreated!
Why did the lord tell me this boy was easy prey? From what he said the strongest soul mage Ramon never used any weapon except his summons! Who is this mage!?
Why didn't I keep mana reserved? I should've taken the elf more seriously! I was too overconfident!
No!
How would anyone expect some child to be such a strong swordsman!? It didn't help that the elf woman was a high level beast mage!
"How would anyone expect some child to be such a strong swordsman? Is that the excuse you're going with?"
Nerevrax froze.
"…W-what?"
Cecilus' voice was calm.
"I can hear all your pitiful thoughts. The truth of the matter is you're weak."
Their blades shook. Cecilus' sword slid one more fraction downward, opening the demon's defense the way ice cracks under weight.
Nerevrax's pupils blew wide.
"H-how?"
"So your lord didn't tell you anything else?" Cecilus whispered. "Maybe he didn't know then…"
"What!? You—!"
Cecilus stared straight through him, eyes flat and bright.
"I see everything in you. Beneath that calm self… you have envy. Hatred. Fear."
Nerevrax's grip faltered at the word fear.
Cecilus struck.
Steel bit down through collar and chest, a burst of heat and crimson against the white world.
Nerevrax fell backward, body skidding in a long, red streak across the ice.
Silence. Only wind.
Cecilus stood, panting, leg trembling as the elemental pressure dissipated. Xena flickered away to heal. He stared at the corpse, waiting.
The demon's soul slid free—dark, crackling with frost—moving toward Cecilus' chest.
Then—
Pop.
It ruptured into a burst of white dust and vanished.
"What…?" Cecilus looked down, stunned. "White devil—did someone block the absorption?"
Cecilus was surprised. He was planning on absorbing the memories of the demon as well as having a powerful soul for future use. Since he heard from the white devil that souls from people with magic types could grant him power, he wanted to be able to have a bit more of an edge in combat.
As for the memories, Cecilus wanted to know why he was being targeted.
Someone must've prepared for this... Was it the "lord"? I thought the soul magic type was rare. How does this "lord" know?
A cough broke the quiet.
The blizzard was weakening, melting, revealing shattered homes and broken bodies beneath the slush of snow. Cecilus walked toward the sound.
Taeral lay twisted in a pool of thawing ice, breath thin, eyes unfocused.
The white devil's voice throbbed sharp in his mind:
Kill her.
Cecilus didn't hesitate. He drove his blade down into Taeral's heart.
He waited for a few seconds. There was no soul release.
So he stabbed again.
And again.
And again.
Then he hacked—mechanical, unhesitating—until what had been Taeral was an unrecognizable mound of meat.
Finally, a soul drifted forward, trembling, then slid into his chest.
It felt different.
"White devil… I don't feel her soul in my soul world."
"It's because this one overlapped with your old memories. It went… deeper. Into the region tied to your past."
Cecilus absorbed that, chest rising and falling slowly.
This makes sense... but why was it so adamant on killing her? Did it not want me to learn about my past from her?
It's also weird that this devil has never tried to aid me in battle... is it weak, or is it trying to hide its skills?
Doesn't really matter, though. If I didn't kill Taeral, there was a possibility that it would screw me over later on. There isn't a reason to take that risk, especially in this situation.
He looked down at the melting spike in his leg, blood starting to gush warm on freezing skin.
"Ice is keeping it closed," he muttered. "Soon as it melts—"
Pain flared. He stumbled.
And I killed the herbalist... thankfully, I have no more business here.
Xena still needed to heal from the ice spikes, so Cecilus had to wait a few minutes before leaving.
He shuffled toward his dropped bag, fingers clumsy, wrapping a bandage tight around the wound.
I didn't even notice that it had dropped... am I that unaware?
"White devil. Couldn't I just go to Taeral's hole and take the ointment from there?"
"Which ointment? There's probably hundreds there with different specific use cases... trying to pick a treatment without medical or plant knowledge is suicide..."
"Really? Didn't Taeral treat my leg wounds earlier? A leg wound should have a similar treatment, no matter the type, right?"
"No... that's not how it works... sadly..."
"Damn it! So I'm going to have to deal with limping everywhere until we reach a doctor."
"That seems to be the case. Also, weren't you cold?"
"Yeah, it felt awful. My entire body was numb. I can barely feel my fingers still."
"What?" The white devil's gaze snapped to Cecilus' hand. "…Wait. Look at your fingers."
Cecilus lifted his hand.
The tips were gray. Dead-looking. Red climbing up to meet it.
"…What's this?"
The devil stared.
"Frostbite."