Shadow slave: In The Eye of The Beholder

Silas stood motionless, facing Caster across the arena. The usual buzz of the crowd had faded, leaving only a tense hum as every Sleeper's gaze locked onto the two of them. For the first time, Silas felt the weight of their attention. His heart pounded in his chest—faster than he'd expected. Activating [Beholder's Eye], the strings of fate began to weave in front of him. Caster's thread flowed effortlessly, a dance of fluid movement. Unlike Nephis or Caster, Silas hadn't mastered the flow of battle yet, but he could compensate for it with his aspect. He clenched his fists, feeling the potential surge of [Empowered] course through him. Every advantage would be crucial.

Caster remained calm, his stance simple but confident—no arrogance, just quiet control. He was a wall Silas needed to break. Silas took a deep breath and focused on the golden threads before him. Today wasn't just about winning; it was about challenging the legacy in front of him. His doubts melted away as he settled into his stance. Rebellion was in his blood, and he would weave his fate just like the threads he saw.

This wasn't just a duel—it was his chance to make a Legacy bleed

Instructor Rock's voice cut through the silence.

"Begin."

And with that, Caster moved.

Caster wasted no time, launching forward, his eyes locked onto Silas. His fist was drawn back, ready to strike with a force typical of a sleeper. But to Silas, it felt slow—painfully slow. Where was the blistering speed he had seen before? Now, Caster's movements were deliberate, lacking the supernatural swiftness his aspect granted him.

'Am I not even worth his full strength? 'The thought ignited a flash of anger in Silas, followed by a surge of joy. If Caster was underestimating him, he'd soon regret it. The anticipation of wiping that smug certainty from Caster's face fuelled Silas's resolve. [Empowerment] flared within him, pushing his body as desperation and willpower mingled, soaring into a burning desire to prove his worth.

This was it—the moment to shatter Caster's expectations.

Silas had already seen through Caster's plan. The golden thread from his [Beholder's Eye] mapped out a feint—an attack aimed at misdirection, curving right before doubling back to catch him off guard. But the intricacies of Caster's strategy were laid bare, the trick fully anticipated.

With his [Empowered] strength surging, Silas launched a reckless haymaker—a move meant to look desperate and undisciplined, baiting Caster further into a false sense of superiority. Caster's eyes narrowed, his confidence rising as he saw the apparent mistake. He paused, keeping his distance, ready to punish Silas's overextension.

Silas's wild haymaker swung through the air, but Caster stepped back just in time, ready to punish the reckless move—until Silas's body followed through into a sudden flip. Caster looked stunned for a second quickly taking a step back—but then, in a fluid motion, Silas flipped with the force, hands hitting the ground as he lashed out with a fierce overhead kick that whistled through the air. 

The unexpected shift in attack had caught him off guard.

Caster saw his opponents heel inches away from his face, and instinctively his aspect kicked in, sending him speeding backwards back towards his starting position, slight shock hitting the stalwart legacy. 

Sials recovered instantly, with his two feet planted on the floor, his grin could not seem to grow any wider, of course Silas did not have the built-up skill and choreography of a style, but he still knew how to move his body, if needed he could direct his own weight into a weapon. 

Though new strings burst out towards Silas, there golden ethereal bloom flew towards him, in a matter of seconds the upcoming battle was decided, and this time it showed the same speed that he had held once before with nephis. 

It seems like the caster wanted to end this one early, to quell his rebellion. 

Silas got into a stance as he prepared to face what the strings had foretold the assault of the ethereal weaves were causing some dread, in a matter of seconds he would have to account for them all.

Caster blurred as he instantly travelled the distance, Silas not even paying attention to him as he quickly memorised the pattern of the assault that had formed.

Caster's fists blurred as he launched a barrage of punches at Silas, each strike swift and precise. The first blow landed squarely on Silas's ribs, sending a shockwave of pain through his body. Before he could even register the hit, another punch crashed into his shoulder, staggering him backward. Caster's onslaught continued relentlessly.

A jab to the gut, a hook to the side of Silas's jaw, and a sharp uppercut that left his vision momentarily blurry. Each punch felt like a hammer, and Silas could barely keep up with the speed and precision, his body absorbing the force with every impact.

The sound of fists striking flesh echoed through the arena, and Silas, though enduring, felt the weight of each blow driving him further down, his defences barely holding under the storm of strikes.

'He's too fast!' Silas thought, frustration flickering beneath the surface. The threads showed him what was coming, but reacting in time was another challenge altogether. His mind raced for a solution, anything to turn the tide of this beating.

Though Silas peeked through his guard, a golden string swerved right to his head, it seemed the thread showed casters attempt at a knockout, Silas broke from the defensive grabbed the string despite and pulled it across, his lack of block allowing caster to push forward with a punch to his stomach, Silas lurched forward but managed to keep his ground. 

Caster saw his weakened opponent and sped up to a blur, Silas instead of defending immediately lashed out with an uppercut to his left, though it was completely off target, so caster rushed in without any regrets.

But his form followed the altered thread, in his blitz he suddenly curved left in the dash, his face now being in the exact spot where Silas uppercut was coming. In the fraction of a second, he saw the danger but couldn't avoid it, he was bound by his inertia and couldn't escape.

The impact of Silas's fist crashing into Caster's jaw reverberated through his knuckles, the shock of the strike almost jolting him back to reality. For a brief second, the entire world seemed to still—Caster's head snapped back, the blurred intensity of the fight breaking as his opponent stumbled. Silas could hardly believe it; his fist, empowered by sheer will and desperation, had landed. The grin on his face widened.

The tall legacy was halted and using the time Silas powered through his battered body and bolted at him, with the assault gone he could finally get a proper look at the threads, it seemed Caster was soon to recover, though Silas saw the piece Infront of him. 

With the strings on his side, he was free to alter the fight to his liking, Caster recovered from his daze and immediately prepared to counter, he brought his hand up to catch Silas fist then to use the moment to brutally leg kick him. 

Silas's calf met Caster's leg with a sharp thud, checking the kick before it could do any real damage. In the same fluid motion, he twisted his torso, his left hand darting out to latch onto Caster's arm. With a quick yank, Silas peeled away the defending hand, opening up just enough space for his right fist to swing through, crashing against casters nose. 

As Silas's right hook collided with Caster's nose, there was a brief but unmistakable crunch. Caster staggered, the flawless composure of the legacy breaking for the first time. Blood trickled from his nose, bright red against his pale skin. For a split second, Silas stared, almost in disbelief, before a grin tugged at his lips.

'I did that.'

A surge of glee bubbled up inside him. Here he was, making the legacy—the epitome of control and grace—bleed. That was the outcome he had weaved yet seeing it with his own eyes was something else entirely. The perfectly sculpted image of Caster was cracking, and Silas was the one pulling at the seams.

'You're not untouchable.'

The sight fuelled Silas's determination. His body ached, but his mind was alight with the realization: he could break more than just Caster's nose. He could make him feel it, the same way Silas had felt the weight of the legacy's superiority since the beginning.

Every time Silas landed a blow on Caster, [Empowerment] surged within him, feeding off the damage he dealt. It wasn't just a rush of power—it was as if the pain he inflicted on his opponent was turning into raw strength, coursing through his muscles. Each hit felt lighter, more natural, and the force behind them grew. The pain of his own injuries dulled, fading into the background as the euphoria of battle took hold.

They clashed again and again, fists and bodies colliding in a brutal, frenzied dance. The crowd watched in disbelief. Caster—the calm, collected legacy—was being pushed to the edge. But there was something more—something none of them could quite understand. Every time it seemed Caster would dodge or counter, he was pulled back into Silas's path, as if some invisible force was guiding him straight into the attacks. Silas, once frantic and reckless, now seemed to be steering the fight with eerie precision.

Nephis's gaze sharpened, her eyes narrowing as she leaned forward slightly. There was a flicker of something—something the crowd might've missed if they weren't watching closely. But it was there. Curiosity? Concern? Something else entirely? None of the cohort noticed. All eyes were glued to the violent, chaotic display before them—a battle that was anything, but the polished, graceful duels Nephis had shown them earlier.

Caster's expression had faltered. Blood streamed from his nose, and his once flawless skin was marred with bruises. The legacy was visibly stressed, his composure cracking under the relentless pressure. Silas, on the other hand, wore his own myriads of miscoloured bruises like badges of honour, grinning devilishly despite the obvious toll the fight was taking on his body. His injuries were severe, but unlike Caster, he didn't show it. The grin never left his face.

In the midst of the chaotic exchange, Caster suddenly shifted his stance and unleashed a powerful leg kick. It sliced through the flurry of blows with precision, catching Silas off guard. The kick landed with a thud against Silas's side, knocking him off balance and giving Caster a much-needed opening. Silas stumbled, his grin faltering for the briefest moment, and Caster seized the opportunity.

His fist seemed to vanish for a split second, only to reappear inches from Silas's face, moving too fast for Silas to react. The strike barrelled toward him, and with no time to block, Silas made a desperate decision. He opened his mouth and caught Caster's fist between his teeth, clamping down with all his might.

Caster's eyes widened in shock as Silas bit down hard, teeth sinking into flesh. The punch had connected, but [Empowerment] surged within Silas, preventing his teeth from shattering on impact. Instead, it was Caster who cried out, the pain evident as blood seeped from where Silas's teeth dug into his skin. Silas, his grin now feral, tightened his jaw, feeling the flesh and bone between his teeth, taking savage delight in the pain he was causing.

With Caster trapped and unable to free his hand, Silas saw his opening. He grasped the thread that guided his movements, locking onto Caster's other hand before it could strike. Using his left, he gripped the hand caught between his jaws, teeth still gnashing into the skin, and wrenched it violently, trying to break bone.

Caster roared, the sound thick with desperation, his snake-like emerald eyes wide with panic. Desperation fuelled his speed as he slammed into Silas, their bodies lifted off the ground for a brief second by the force of impact. Silas, reacting on instinct, released his hold just in time to brace himself, his arms propping him up mere inches from the ground. If his back hit the floor, it would spell defeat.

But in that moment, something struck him. He hadn't been looking at Caster. He hadn't watched the strings, too focused on keeping himself from falling. His advantage had slipped. The sudden realization hit just as Caster, with newfound freedom, surged forward.

Before Silas could react, Caster grabbed his leg, his frustration and determination carved into the gritted lines of his face. The beat-up legacy, bruised and battered, was fighting for his pride, and Silas saw it all in his eyes. For a moment, Silas was stunned—not by the pain, but by the sight before him.

It was beautiful. The cracks in Caster's perfection, the desperation that marred his flawless veneer—this was what Silas had wanted to see for years. This legacy, once untouchable, now saw Silas as a threat, someone who could undo decades of carefully built superiority. The thought made Silas's grin widen.

Though the bliss was short-lived, as suddenly everything felt lighter. The legacy swung him into the air by his leg, and time seemed to stretch, gravity momentarily forgotten. He was rewarded with a second to think—just enough time to understand what was happening, but not enough to prevent it.

Caster was too fast. As soon as Silas lost his advantage, it was over in a matter of seconds. The inertia took him, and the world rushed back to full speed. With a final burst of strength, Caster lifted him up and slammed him into the floor.

CRASH

The wooden floor shattered beneath him, splinters flying everywhere. Silas's breath was stolen, the pain coursing through him like a wildfire. His back hit the ground—he had lost. The duel was over.

A crushing disappointment settled in his chest, the realization that his back had touched the floor hitting harder than the physical impact. He lay there, chest heaving as the remnants of [Empowerment] ebbed away, leaving him raw and aching. He could feel the bruises, the exhaustion, every strike Caster had landed on him now screaming for attention.

But then, through the haze of pain, he caught sight of Caster—bruised, bloodied, and panting, his perfect facade cracked. The legacy stood over him, triumphant in stance but barely holding himself together. His emerald eyes, once so confident, now glimmered with something closer to disbelief… and fear.

Silas's lips twitched into a grin.

The crowd, too, was silent—none of them were cheering for Caster's victory. Instead, they stared at Silas, wide-eyed, like they had witnessed something extraordinary. Nephis, always unreadable, now watched him with a new intensity. Even Instructor Rock seemed at a loss, his eyes fixed on the bruised outsider who had nearly toppled a legacy.

Who am I kidding? Silas thought, biting back a chuckle as joy bubbled inside him. His body was battered, his back had touched the ground, but looking at Caster's dishevelled form and the shock written on the faces around him… It didn't feel like he had lost.

No. In this moment, he had won.