Gevena's thoughts sharpened with every movement the twins made. Each breath they took felt like a mirror to her own—an echo, maybe, or a warning. As her blade returned to guard, she glanced sideways at Geveno. For once, his expression wasn't cloaked in arrogance or indifference.
It was focused. Almost… reverent.
That's when she felt it—the tether.
Something subtle. Ethereal. Like a violin string being plucked inside her soul. At first, it was faint. But it hummed in tune with every perfect strike Jacob and Connor unleashed.
Her fingers twitched. Her vision widened.
Soul Skill: Mirror Synapse - Attunement Drift
You have witnessed unity. Now you seek it. Your soul attempts to synchronize with dominant soul harmonics nearby. Temporary combat alignment with enemy soul techniques becomes possible.
Her heart skipped. The gift was rare—half instinct, half theft.
But it was real.
A new pulse raced down her spine. She moved again—but this time, she didn't think how to strike. She simply knew. When she advanced, Geveno matched her tempo without a word. When she ducked, he stepped. When she twisted, his sword was already there to cover her flank.
Something clicked.
Not as perfect as the twins—but approaching it. Their movements still faltered on occasion, but there was intent. A proto-rhythm. A hunger for cohesion.
Soul Skill Upgraded: Mirror Synapse – Gemini Inversion
You may now project simulated unity. While within range of synchronized soul links, you may mimic their style at partial efficiency. Combat synchronicity with bonded allies increases dramatically.
And suddenly… the tide began to turn.
Jacob's next strike was blocked—not cleanly, but enough to slow him. Connor's footwork misread Geneva's new timing by a breath. Their perfect flow stumbled.
Markus, watching from the edge, whispered aloud, "They're adapting."
No. They were attuning.
Connor's eyes narrowed. He caught Jacob's arm as they backstepped in unison, readjusting their stance.
"They're not just mirroring us," Jacob murmured, voice low. "They're building something new."
Geveno's flames surged again—not wild this time, but focused. Harmonized with Gevena's steps. Her blade flowed in time with his fire, their strikes not doubling over, but alternating like a duelist's heartbeat. Pressure built like a vice.
For the first time, Jacob and Connor were not pressing forward.
They were being pushed.
System Notice: Soul-State Clash Detected
Gemini Coil vs. Gemini Inversion – Instability Threshold Reached.Convergence Event: Duel of the Doubled Path
A new arena shimmered around them—temporal echo zones forged from their clashing soul bonds. The battlefield shimmered with afterimages, flickers of past strikes and alternate decisions. It became harder to tell what was real—what would happen, or what might have.
Gevena smiled—blood on her lip, eyes locked.
"You're not the only ones who can dance."
And the fight, once decided, was reset.
Now it was unity versus imitation.
Harmony against hunger.
And somewhere—back at the camp—Varzan felt the ripple reach him. Like a silent bell ringing in the bones.
Veyzrick, watching the horizon, only smiled.
"That one feral beast if do say to my self.
The twins were being pushed back. Genevo and Geneva stood side by side, but it was Genevo who took the rear position. He always wanted to protect her, to stand at the front—but right now, they needed each other. Geneva held the line, dealing with the conjoined warriors, while Genevo adapted.
His sister's soul skill, Mirror Synapses, let him absorb and replicate physical combat styles in real time. With every clash and every motion the twins made, Genevo wasn't merely defending—he was analyzing, dissecting their techniques, and storing them as future drills for him and his sister. But this wasn't practice. There'd be no second chance. Finishing this fight meant one thing: going home.
Genevo readied himself to strike—but before he could move, Aria stepped forward, staff in hand. She hadn't used it in a long time. Unfortunately, her spells were only for healing—nothing offensive. She couldn't stop him.
Then Markus leapt in.
He charged at Genevo, blades drawn. While everyone else used soul skills, Markus had always lagged behind. He wasn't skilled enough to use his effectively—not yet. But there was no time left. He had to figure it out now.
Soul Skill: Phantom's Edge.
He began his assault. It wasn't going well. Without relying on his soul skill, he was forced to use ordinary strikes. In the background, Ramsey, Finn, and Rowan watched, remembering what it was like the last time they fought Genevo. It hadn't gone well.
The twins were losing ground, and Markus knew it.
"I'll hold him off," Markus shouted. "Help Jacob and Connor! If they get back on their feet, we've got a real chance. She's the crest bearer—take her out, and none of this matters!"
With that, he drew a second blade—a prize from a beast he once slew. Markus didn't have a strategy, only theories. Phantom's Edge allowed him to phase anything he held for 1.25 seconds. It sounded like an advantage. But phasing a weapon wasn't just a boon—it was a risk. Time it wrong, and your own blade could slip away. Move carelessly, and you leave yourself open to death.
That's why he wielded two blades—one to defend, one to phase.
He took a deep breath, and moved in. Genevo struck him repeatedly, landing kicks and sudden swipes with conjured flame weapons. Markus was taking a beating, his guard slipping. But amid the pain, something shifted.
He didn't want to be outdone by the twins—Jacob and Connor had Gemini Coil. They had their own style. Markus needed his own. One that was deadlier. One that fit him.
And as he fought, something inside him crystallized—not just instinct, but philosophy.
Genevo began to get serious. He noticed Markus adjusting, improving, evolving.
Lyle, watching from the sidelines, saw it too. So did Finn, who ignored Markus's earlier command and rushed to his aid. Rowan veered off to help the twins. Lyle rose and fired arrows from a distance.
And then, at the height of his struggle—
As Markus moved, not like a man flailing but like one becoming—
[SKILL UNLOCKED: Phasebreak Form – Mythic]
The battlefield burns. Smoke coils. Geveno stands unscathed, flame-axe crackling in hand.
Finn lunged at him—brave but predictable.
WHAM.
A flaming warhammer replaced the axe. Geveno caught Finn mid-swing and launched him back like dead weight.
Before Finn could hit the ground, Markus stepped forward.
No announcement. No battle cry.
Just a man walking with two blades—one steel, one mythic. His eyes fixed on Geveno.
⸻
Geveno scoffed. "You again?"
The warhammer shattered into fire, reshaping into a curved scimitar. "Fine. Let's see if you've learned anything."
⸻
The Duel Begins
Geveno struck first—an arcing flame slash from the right.
Markus didn't parry.
He walked through the edge.
His right-hand blade phased an inch before contact—then rematerialized as he twisted his body, sidestepping Geveno's blow and striking toward the exposed ribs.
Intent Syncing.
Steel met flame—or should have.
Geveno's blade hit nothing. He blinked.
Markus's blade connected.
A hiss of blood met the air.
Geveno hissed, flame-form shifting again—now into twin daggers. He lunged, spinning.
⸻
Markus met the flurry with Echo Lash—a horizontal swing that phased through both daggers, then curved upward mid-motion, solidifying just beneath Geveno's jaw.
The elder warrior barely ducked—but the tip still grazed his cheek.
"You're not the same," Geveno muttered, backing away.
⸻
But Markus didn't stop.
He dashed forward—Ghost Drive—a linear thrust phasing through Geveno's desperate guard. The sword materialized just as it reached the flame-armor at the shoulder. Pierced.
Geveno roared. His body turned molten for a second and the weapons shifted again—becoming a glaive. He swept wide.
Markus let the blow come—then slid under it, phasing his blade while locking Geveno's shafted weapon with his solid offhand sword.
Cutless Bind.
He pressed forward, letting the phase blade pass harmlessly by Geveno's own. Their bodies slammed together.
Geveno stumbled. Markus's blade reappeared behind him.
Only a quick flame burst saved Geveno—detonating outward in a desperate escape.
⸻
Markus rolled free, and rose spinning—Phase Spiral.
His body became a cyclone of unpredictability—one blade phasing, the other solid, switching places with every rotation. Sparks, wind, pressure.
Geveno was forced to retreat—flame weapons melting and reshaping in rapid succession. A spear. A sword. A bow. None held.
⸻
Geveno grit his teeth.
"You're forcing me to fight without my blade…"
Markus finally spoke.
"You don't fight the sword. You fight the intent."
⸻
The clash reignited.
Every time Geveno tried to parry, the blade phased.
Every time he relied on instinct, Markus delayed.
Every stance he took was useless—Phasebreak made it so.
By the time Lyle's arrow pierced the edge of Geveno's shoulder, and Finn charged in to flank—
Geveno was bleeding.
Breathing.
And for the first time… retreating.