Chapter 47 – A Duel Beneath the Heavens II

The battle raged on, Prince Aerion and Shawn locked in a deadly dance of steel and strategy. Prince Aerion’s glaive flicked forward in precise, calculated thrusts, each one designed to force Shawn on the defensive. Shawn, with practised skill, parried each jab, his long sword meeting the glaive’s blade with a sharp metallic clang. Now and then, Prince Aerion would unleash a powerful wave of white energy, sending it crashing toward Shawn with a force that, while not devastating, packed enough of a punch to knock him off balance. Shawn met these energy bursts head-on, cutting through them with his sword or dodging to the side, though they left him increasingly winded.

Prince Aerion’s massive eagle, ever the opportunist, swooped in for sneak attacks whenever it sensed Shawn was vulnerable. But by now, Shawn had begun to recognise the patterns. The constant ripple effect in the mirage caused by their clashing blows made it easier for him to predict the bird’s movements. Each time the illusion wavered, Shawn could sense where the next attack would come from, allowing him to evade the eagle’s sharp talons just in time. Despite his ability to dodge and parry, Shawn found himself growing frustrated. Prince Aerion’s glaive was swift and long-reaching, always one step ahead of his attacks. Every time Shawn attempted to close the distance, Prince Aerion’s weapon swept in, deflecting his strikes with an almost effortless grace. Shawn could feel the growing rage building inside him. His movements became more aggressive, his strikes more forceful, but Prince Aerion only seemed to thrive under the pressure, countering each wild attack with calm precision.

Prince Aerion’s eyes glimmered with amusement as he noted Shawn’s escalating frustration. “Losing your cool, traveller?” he taunted, his voice dripping with superiority. Despite the growing intensity of their fight, Prince Aerion maintained the upper hand, deftly manoeuvring his glaive to keep Shawn at bay.

Shawn gritted his teeth, feeling his patience wearing thin. The rhythmic aggression of his attacks began to mirror his rising anger, each swing carrying more force, each parry becoming sharper. But no matter how hard he pushed, Prince Aerion was always just out of reach, his movements fluid and unyielding. It was like fighting a current, and the more Shawn struggled, the further away victory seemed.

As the battle stretched on, the massive eagle continued to dive in for its opportunistic strikes. But each time, the mirage’s ripples gave away the bird’s approach, and Shawn dodged it with increasing ease. The constant assaults from both Prince Aerion and his bird, however, were beginning to take their toll.

And then, without warning, something changed.

Shawn’s power, the dark-blue smoke that began to leak from his body, once again, without his knowledge. The wisps of smoke coiled around his arms, swirling around his sword, making it glow faintly. Prince Aerion noticed the smoke, his eyes narrowing as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. Yet even as he kept one eye on the strange phenomenon, he remained focused on the battle, looking for any gaps in Shawn’s defence.

Then, in a surge of pure instinct, Shawn’s sword engulfed in swirling dark blue smoke, its form shimmering with an otherworldly glow. Seizing the opening, Prince Aerion lunged forward, but Shawn met him head-on, raising his smoke-covered blade. Their weapons clashed with a force greater than anything they had unleashed before. The impact detonated in a shockwave that pulsed through the air, a deep resonance that hurled both of them back several feet in opposite directions. The blast was so powerful that even Prince Aerion’s eagle, emerging from the mirage for a sudden strike, was knocked off balance mid-swoop, its wings faltering as it fought to steady itself.

For a moment, everything went still.

The shockwave had done more than just throw them apart—it had disrupted the very fabric of the mirage around them. The illusion of the forest shimmered violently, its hold over reality loosening until, finally, it broke. The forest faded away, revealing a grand and ancient hall of what lay hidden: a vast, open castle hall, lined with towering stone pillars and an expansive sky visible through the open roof above.

Shawn stood in awe for a brief moment, taking in the sight of the true surroundings, but then, his eyes shifted back to Prince Aerion. The prince had risen from his defensive stance, his expression now a mixture of shock and fury. His cool demeanour had slipped, replaced with something far more intense. Shawn quickly realised Prince Aerion wasn’t looking at him—he was staring at something beside him. Shawn followed his gaze and froze, his breath catching in his throat.

His sword—the one he had summoned earlier—had changed.

In his hand now was not the thin longsword he had been fighting with, but a weapon nearly identical to Prince Aerion’s own glaive.

Prince Aerion’s eyes were wide with disbelief, his fists tightening around his own weapon as anger flared within him. His voice was low and seething as he spoke, each word carrying the weight of his fury.

“How… How did you—?” Prince Aerion’s voice faltered, disbelief clouding his usually confident tone. He shook his head, almost as if trying to deny what he was seeing. “That weapon…”

Shawn looked at the transformed weapon in his hand, still in shock himself, but something inside him told him that this was no coincidence. This was a response to Prince Aerion’s power, which he had been facing, and now the playing field has been levelled.

Shawn’s grip tightened around the glaive, his resolve solidifying. He met Prince Aerion’s gaze, unafraid, as the prince’s shock slowly gave way to rage.

Prince Aerion’s smirk was gone now, replaced by a deep scowl. “You think you can use my weapon against me?” His voice was dripping with menace, his pride clearly wounded.

Now armed with a weapon that could rival Prince Aerion’s, Shawn knew he could finally reach him, strike back with precision and force. Shawn took a stance, and his gaze narrowed as he locked eyes with Prince Aerion. His confidence surged as he replied, almost flippantly, “Now I can reach you.” He could feel the shift in momentum.

The two warriors charged at each other, their weapons gleaming under the sky light filtering through the open ceiling. Steel clashed with steel as they exchanged blow after blow, each strike more powerful than the last, but with Shawn’s newfound weapon, the tides of battle shifted in his favour. His strikes became faster, more deliberate. As his weapon sliced through the air, keeping Prince Aerion on the defensive, and within moments, he began to land shallow cuts on the Prince’s body.

Even the giant eagle, Prince Aerion’s companion, struggled to find an opening. Its calculated dive-bomb attacks, once perfectly timed to catch Shawn off guard, now failed to find an opening and circled outside around the open long hallway.

Prince Aerion, normally so composed, felt the creeping tendrils of frustration claw at him. The cuts Shawn inflicted weren’t deep, but they were enough to throw him off balance. His previously precise and fluid attack patterns grew sloppy as his frustration mounted. For the first time, Prince Aerion felt a pang of doubt. He knew if he made one critical mistake, Shawn could land a devastating blow—one that might end this fight.

Meanwhile, Shawn’s assault only intensified. His movements became sharper, his confidence undeniable as he drove Prince Aerion further back. Each swing of his glaive was met with the prince’s weakening defence. The giant eagle, once a deadly advantage, now failed to attempt a coordinated, successful combo attack. It screeched overhead, frustrated, sensing its master’s distress but unable to land a strike.

Prince Aerion knew he had to act fast. If he didn’t change the flow of this fight, he would lose. A thought crept into his mind—his core power. He hadn’t intended to use it, but desperation was starting to cloud his judgement.

With a new plan forming in his mind, Prince Aerion signalled his eagle with a whistle after he feigned another attack from Shawn. Hearing the signal, his eagle dove toward Shawn with its claws extended, just as Prince Aerion swung his glaive in an arc aimed at Shawn’s midsection. Shawn, having already grown used to their pattern, dodged the eagle’s strike easily and moved to counter the prince’s swing. Their weapons collided once more and continued the momentum of his glaive, preparing for the finishing blow. But then—something was off. Just as Shawn halted his swing midway, a sharp pain exploded in his right shoulder like he had been pierced. His breath caught, and his body tensed in shock. For a split second, everything seemed to slow down. Shawn saw it wasn’t Prince Aerion’s glaive that had pierced him, and his weapon was still far from making contact.

Shawn’s eyes followed the source of the piercing sensation, tracing it to a foreign object protruding from his shoulder. His heart sank as he realised what had happened. His gaze moved over Prince Aerion’s shoulder back, where his once-white scarf had transformed into a pair of radiant wings. The feathers gleamed with an eerie, divine light as they extended outward, one of them piercing Shawn’s shoulder like a spear.

With a fluid motion, Prince Aerion pulled the wing-spike back, pushing Shawn away in the process. The force sent Shawn stumbling a few feet, his knees buckling as he dropped to one, and he used his glaive to plant it firmly in the ground for support. His other hand instinctively pressed against the wound, though no blood flowed. Instead, a thick dark blue smoke began to leak from the injury, trying to close it as quickly as it had appeared. But the pain…the pain was undeniable.

Breathing heavily, Shawn’s chest heaved as he struggled to steady himself. His vision blurred for a moment, but he fought to focus. He wasn’t used to being wounded this deeply, and it took everything in him to stay grounded.

Across from him, Prince Aerion turned, his wings fully extended behind him. They were magnificent and terrifying, pulsing with raw energy. The once-calm and regal prince now stood before Shawn like an angel of war. His glaive rested at his side, planted in the ground, as his eyes glinted with satisfaction. He gave a small, cruel smile, seeing the toll his transformation had taken on Shawn.

“I was wondering how long it would take before you finally bled,” Prince Aerion said, his voice calm but edged with malice. His wings fluttered slightly, the tips of his feathers rustling from the force that had pierced Shawn’s shoulder.”

Shawn gritted his teeth, still clutching his wound. The smoke continued to swirl around him, trying to mend the damage, but the depth of the strike made it difficult. His mind raced, calculating his next move as he stared at Prince Aerion’s spread wings.

Prince Aerion’s smirk widened, his confidence restored. He spread out his wings further, casting a shadow over Shawn.

Shawn rose shakily to his feet using the support of his glaive, his eyes locking onto Prince Aerion. Despite his power healing him, the pain was still there. With one final deep breath, Shawn prepared for the next clash by holding his glaive by taking an offensive stance.

Prince Aerion turned his gaze towards Shawn, his sharp eyes narrowing as he observed the wound he had inflicted. There was something deeply unnatural about it—no blood, no visceral evidence of damage, only that thick, dark blue smoke continuing to curl and swirl around the wound he had inflicted on Shawn’s body, healing the wound. Confusion flickered across Prince Aerion’s face, but only briefly, as it was quickly overtaken by anger.

“There are only a few who have seen my wings,” Prince Aerion began, his voice dark and menacing, each word heavy with intent. “And the few who have glimpsed it ended up seeing my wings drenched in their own blood. But you…” He trailed off, his gaze hardening on Shawn. “You don’t bleed, and you fight like no one that I’ve ever fought. It almost seems as if you’re healing, and that…that must be one of your powers. But I promise you,” his voice grew aggressive, almost feral, “by the end of this fight, my wings will be painted in your blood!“