ShadowBound: The Need For Power-Chapter 614: You Are Incredible

As those words left Liam’s mouth, the air around him seemed to fold inward, shadows tightening as if they had been waiting for permission. In the same breath, two arcs of darkness tore free from the sweep of his daggers, ripping through the space between him and Percy with a shrill, tearing sound that scraped against the ears. A heartbeat later, those two became many, the darkness fracturing and multiplying mid-flight until more than a dozen crescent-shaped slashes descended in a lethal rain, each one carrying enough force to maim or kill.

Percy reacted on instinct, Myst surging as frost bloomed violently around his body. Ice snapped into existence, forming a layered shield that wrapped him in jagged plates and crystalline barriers, thick enough to stop a siege weapon. The first dark arcs struck with a thunderous crack, exploding against the ice in showers of blackened frost and fractured shards. The impact alone forced Percy’s boots to grind against the stone floor, heels carving shallow trenches as he braced himself. Then came the rest. One after another, the arcs slammed down relentlessly, shattering entire sections of the shield and forcing Percy to reinforce it in real time, Myst pouring from him as rapidly as the ice was being destroyed.

The hall echoed with the sound of destruction—ice breaking, darkness tearing, Myst screaming under the strain of opposing forces. By the time the final arc landed, the shield was little more than a battered, uneven shell, cracked through and bleeding cold mist into the air. At nearly the same moment, Liam landed several meters away, boots touching down softly despite the violence he had unleashed. He straightened slowly, daggers still in hand, his red eyes locked forward as the dust and frost churned thickly between them.

A heavy silence fell over the hall. Students leaned forward without realizing it, instructors narrowed their eyes, and even those who had been whispering moments earlier now held their breath. The unspoken question hung thick in the air—had a first-year truly managed to bring down Percy, a third-year whose name alone carried weight and reputation? Had the duel already ended without anyone fully realizing it? 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

The dust began to settle, drifting downward in lazy spirals as the shattered remnants of ice melted and cracked apart. Gradually, Percy’s form came into view once more. He was still standing, shoulders squared, feet planted firmly against the stone as though rooted there by sheer will. But he didn’t look the same. Blood streaked down the side of his face from a gash near his temple, dripping from his jaw and spattering onto the floor below. Thin lines of red traced along his arms where the darkness had slipped through the failing shield, droplets falling steadily from his fingers.

Yet despite it all, Percy did not stagger. He did not collapse. His breathing was heavy, but controlled, and his eyes burned with a sharp, dangerous focus. The injuries looked less like wounds and more like insults—minor inconveniences carved into him by force rather than weakness. He rolled one shoulder slowly, ice reforming along his forearm with a quiet crackle, and lifted his gaze to meet Liam’s without flinching.

"Those count as two critical hits, right?" Liam said evenly, his voice steady and unraised as his gaze locked with Percy’s once more. There was no mockery in his tone, no pride either—only a calm, almost clinical assessment. "Because they seem to have done a fair amount of damage."

Percy didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stilled, holding Liam’s gaze for a brief moment longer before finally looking down at his own hand. Blood slid from his palm in slow, deliberate drops, splashing softly against the stone floor beneath him. He flexed his fingers once, watching the crimson trail as if confirming something for himself. Only then did he speak.

"Yeah," Percy said calmly, lifting his head again. His expression was composed, unbothered, though the blood on his face told a different story. "You’re right. Your fire orb earlier, combined with that dark magic strike just now, counts as two critical hits." A faint curve touched his lips—not a grin, but something close to respect. "And I’ll say this plainly, you truly are incredible."

The reaction was immediate, though silent. A ripple of disbelief spread through the watching students, particularly among the third-years. Whispers died in throats before they could form. For Percy Granger to openly praise someone was rare enough; for him to do so toward a first-year was nearly unheard of. It was the sort of moment people would talk about long after the duel ended, the kind that felt unreal even as it happened.

"For a High-Tier Five-star," Percy continued, his attention narrowing until it seemed as though the rest of the hall no longer existed, "your Myst reserves alone are impressive." His eyes sharpened, analytical. "But your Myst output—that’s what truly stands out. Drawing out that much Myst at once, operating on a level comparable to a Six-star while still being a High-Tier Five-star..." He paused briefly, then added, "That puts you above even some of the third-years here."

’Good eye,’ Liam thought inwardly, his expression unchanged. ’Though this clearly isn’t something new to the world.’ His thoughts shifted smoothly, precise as ever. ’Dark mages have always operated a tier or two above their stated level. It’s just a natural gift.’

"I’m glad you noticed," Liam said at last, breaking the silence. His voice carried a quiet firmness. "Because now I’m confident you’ll take me a little more seriously."

Percy tilted his head slightly at that, one brow lifting as a low murmur escaped him. "Sharp, and perceptive," he muttered under his breath, a faint smirk forming. Then his posture straightened. "Very well."

He placed one hand over the front of his uniform, and in the next instant, frost spread outward from his palm. The fabric stiffened, crystallized, and turned into solid ice. With a light, almost casual tap, the frozen uniform shattered apart, shards falling away and dissolving into mist before they touched the ground. Percy now stood in a black tank top paired with his uniform trousers, pale scars visible along his arms and stretching faintly across his shoulders—marks of past battles, earned rather than hidden.

Lowering himself into a looser stance, Percy raised his hands—not clenched into fists, but open, relaxed, and ready. His posture was fluid, balanced, deceptively casual.

Liam’s eyes narrowed slightly. ’That stance... it’s similar to Mabel’s,’ he noted inwardly. ’But not quite. There’s less looseness compared to Mabel.’

He didn’t hesitate. Liam shifted into his own stance, daggers sliding naturally into a reverse grip as his body angled forward. ’This is about to get complicated,’ he thought, already anticipating the escalation.

Frosty mist rolled steadily from Percy’s hands and spilled from his breath, the air around him visibly warping as the temperature plummeted. This wasn’t like before. The cold was denser and heavier. Even with Liam circulating flames internally to keep his body warm, he could feel it now; seeping in and testing his resistance.

Their eyes met again, both carrying the same sharpened intensity, the same unspoken understanding. The hall seemed to hold its breath with them, waiting for the inevitable collision.

A faint blue glow ignited within Percy’s eyes as frost thickened around his body, mist coiling like a living thing at his feet. Then his lips curved slightly as he spoke.

"Shall we?"