ShadowBound: The Need For Power-Chapter 612: They All Want To Know

The instant the second chime of the bell faded into the vaulted silence of the hall, Liam moved.

There was no warning breath, no shift of stance to announce intent. His body simply surged forward, low and sharp, boots skimming the stone as if the ground itself had ceased to resist him. Myst ignited within his core as controlled and focused flames bled from his limbs in tight streams, wrapping around his forearms and trailing behind him like burning ribbons pulled through the air.

Heat warped the space he passed through. The air hissed and folded inward, with the stone beneath his feet faintly glowing as his acceleration carved a scorched path straight toward Percy.

Percy reacted the moment Liam crossed the first third of the distance.

Cold answered heat.

A sharp exhale left Percy’s lips as frost snapped outward from his forearms, condensing with surgical precision. Ice formed fast—too fast—layering over itself in jagged, compact growths that shaped into twin daggers along his palms. The blades were narrow, needle-tipped, and slightly curved, built for puncture and close-quarter work rather than sweeping slashes. Mist rolled off them in thin, crawling tendrils as the temperature around Percy dropped sharply.

He didn’t retreat.

Instead, Percy shifted his footing half a step to the side, angling his body just enough to slip off Liam’s direct line while keeping his center guarded. His shoulders lowered, elbows tucked close with daggers held in reverse grip.

Liam closed the remaining distance in a blink.

His right arm snapped forward first, flames compressing along his forearm before erupting outward at the moment of extension. A concentrated jet—hot, fast, and narrow—shot straight for Percy’s upper torso. The fire screamed as it tore through the chilled air, the clash of temperatures producing a violent crack like splitting stone.

Percy twisted at the waist, letting the flame pass inches from his chest. The heat still kissed his uniform, scorching fabric and evaporating the frost mist around him, but he was already moving. His left dagger flashed up, carving through the lingering firestream, the ice blade shedding layers as it cut, shards exploding outward in glittering fragments.

With the same motion, Percy stepped inside Liam’s reach.

His right dagger stabbed forward straight toward Liam’s shoulder, with the aim to cripple his movement.

Liam pivoted on his lead foot, the turn sharp and abrupt. The dagger skimmed past, grazing the outer edge of his flame-wreathed arm. Ice hissed violently as it met fire, the contact detonating into a burst of steam and shattered frost. Liam used the momentum of his turn to swing his left leg around, flames surging down the limb as he delivered a low, sweeping kick aimed at Percy’s knees.

Percy anticipated it.

He hopped cleanly over the arc of the kick, boots clearing the flames by a narrow margin. While airborne, he crossed both daggers in front of him, slashing downward as he descended. The blades bit through fire first, dispersing it in bursts of steam, then sliced toward Liam’s shoulders.

Liam leaned back just enough for the strikes to miss flesh, then snapped forward again, his left hand opening as a compact sphere of fire formed in his palm. He thrust it upward at close range, releasing it as a sudden, concussive flare.

The blast detonated between them.

Heat and pressure slammed outward, forcing Percy back several steps as ice daggers cracked and reformed in his grip. Liam slid back as well, boots screeching against stone, but he recovered instantly, flames still coiled tightly around his arms, burning steadily.

Steam filled the space between them, swirling and thinning as the opposing elements tore at each other.

From the gathered crowd of students below the platform, murmurs of shock and disbelief rolled through the hall like a restless tide. Voices overlapped, some hushed and uncertain, others sharp with denial, as countless eyes struggled to reconcile what they were witnessing with everything they believed they knew about strength, hierarchy, and inevitability.

"Is that kid... is he really keeping up with Granger?" a third year muttered under his breath, arms crossed as he leaned slightly toward his friends, eyes fixed on the stage. There was no admiration in his tone, only disbelief edged with irritation, as though the sight itself offended him.

"As if," another scoffed, shaking his head with an exaggerated sense of confidence. "Granger’s only allowed to use fifty percent of his strength here. Anyone with eyes can tell that’s the only reason the kid hasn’t been flattened already. And besides," he added, voice lowering with smug certainty, "it doesn’t even look like our Rank One is trying yet."

Several students nodded along at those words, eager to cling to an explanation that preserved the natural order they were comfortable with. To them, this wasn’t a challenge to Percy Granger’s dominance—it was an illusion, a temporary distortion that would soon correct itself.

Yet not everyone joined in.

Among the third years, a boy with sharp eyes and a rigid posture remained silent, his gaze locked onto the platform as his mind replayed every exchange he had just seen. The timing. The footwork. The intent behind each strike.

’Bunch of fools,’ he thought coldly. ’Percy might be restricted to fifty percent, but that doesn’t mean he’s holding back the way they think.’ His jaw tightened slightly. ’He never does. Not with anyone. Percy doesn’t "play around." If he’s still standing like that, it’s because he deems his opponent worth meeting head-on.’

Elsewhere in the crowd, Liam’s friends watched with expressions ranging from disbelief to raw awe.

"Damn," Dylan breathed, eyes wide as he leaned forward unconsciously. "I knew Liam was strong, sure, but this?" He let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Fighting Percy Granger like this? That’s insane. Don’t you think, Sheila?"

Beside him, Sheila stood utterly still, her gaze locked onto the platform with such intensity it was as if the rest of the hall had ceased to exist. The sounds around her blurred into nothing, replaced by the sharp rhythm of her own thoughts and the clash unfolding before her.

"Huh?" she replied faintly when Dylan’s voice finally cut through her focus. She blinked once, as though surfacing from deep water. "Oh... yeah." The uncertainty in her tone betrayed how far her mind truly was from the conversation.

Dylan glanced at her for a moment longer, clearly noticing the distraction, but said nothing more. He turned his attention back to the match just as Sheila did, both of them once again absorbed by the unfolding battle. Around them, Max watched with his brows furrowed in thought, Ariana stood with her hands clasped tightly together, eyes flicking rapidly between every movement, and Charlotte wore a faint, dangerous smile, her interest unmistakably piqued.

Asher, however, was different.

His eyes never left Liam.

’That bastard’s faster,’ Asher thought, lips curling slightly as his focus sharpened. ’Way faster than before.’ A quiet scoff followed the realization. ’Figures. Not like he’d ever slack off.’ His gaze narrowed, a mixture of irritation and admiration twisting together. ’Damn it... I should be the one up there right now. Not that royal idiot.’

On the platform itself, the noise of the crowd might as well have been nonexistent.

Liam and Percy faced one another in silence, both standing tall, both utterly composed, their eyes cold and calculating as they dissected every detail from their brief but violent exchange. Each breath, each shift of weight, each subtle tension in muscle was noted and filed away.

’So this is him,’ Percy thought as he observed Liam with renewed interest. ’Just as Lady Seraphina praised.’ His gaze sharpened. ’His movement, his decision-making, his reaction speed... none of it is wasted. Everything is deliberate.’ A flicker of intrigue surfaced beneath his icy calm. ’And for someone whose core is a tier lower than Sheila’s, he’s clearly stronger than she is.’ 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Percy’s eyes lingered on Liam a moment longer. ’And that assessment is based solely on his flames,’ he realized. ’He hasn’t even touched his dark magic yet.’ A quiet scoff escaped him, more amused than dismissive. ’For some reason... this is actually exciting. I’ll make today worth remembering.’

At the same time, Liam’s thoughts moved with equal clarity.

’Just as I expected,’ he mused, crimson eyes steady on Percy. ’A Low Tier seven-star using only fifty percent against me isn’t an insult. It’s balance.’ His gaze hardened slightly. ’But he’s not even using all of that fifty yet, and the reason is obvious.’

Without turning his head, Liam let his awareness stretch outward, briefly acknowledging the authoritative figures seated on the elevated stage to the side of the hall. Their eyes were sharp. Evaluating and hungry.

’They all want to see it,’ he thought calmly. ’The students want to know what a dark mage can really do.’ A faint edge crept into his thoughts. ’And those old bastards... they want to measure how far I’ve developed my dark magic.’

Liam remained motionless for a brief heartbeat, a quiet scoff slipping past his lips as if the very idea amused him. Then his body shifted, lowering into a grounded stance as his daggers rose once more, their edges catching the light.

’Unfortunately for them,’ he thought, resolve settling cold and certain within his chest, ’that won’t be happening today.’