CHAPTER 377: THE FIGHTS WITH THE CONTRACTORS

The clouds thinned as I rose higher.

Wind rushed past my ears as the castle below shrank into the distance. After fifteen minutes of raining down destructive arrows, there was nothing left for me to do, so I turned to witness the fight I knew would be epic.

The sky stretched out in all directions, gray and wide, filled with drifting clouds and flickers of golden light from the sun breaking through.

And above it all... the battles had already begun.

The first one I saw was the tiger.

He stood in the sky like it was solid ground. A towering humanoid, striped gold and white with deep black cuts across his fur. His shoulders were broad, his hands thick with claws. He wore a sharp navy-blue suit, tailored to his beast-like body, complete with a tie fluttering in the wind.

He looked... calm.

Then lightning cracked.

Arkas shot past the clouds like a bolt, straight down from a higher cloudbank. His descent lit up the sky, the sound chasing him like a drumroll. The moment he reached the tiger, he didn’t pause, he struck, a flash of blue crashing into fur and muscle.

The air shook.

The tiger grunted and slid back through the sky, boots skimming invisible lines of force. He didn’t fall. He didn’t even look hurt. His eyes, bright and golden, locked onto Arkas and he laughed loudly to vibrate the air itself.

Then Cilian arrived.

He looked slightly hurt, a dark bruise on his cheek, and his expression was serious. He stepped through the air, each foot landing on a frozen platform that formed and vanished beneath him. With a wave of his hand, sharp gusts of snow swirled into the air.

A wall of frost raced toward the tiger.

But the Feran didn’t move.

The ice slammed into him, needles, shards, and spiraling winds and wrapped around his legs, arms, even his chest.

But the Feran scoffed and then the frost cracked.

Steam hissed from his body. He flexed, and the ice shattered like thin glass. Cold mist spilled into the sky, but he walked forward through it, claws twitching.

Then he disappeared.

A blur. Gone.

Cilian turned too late.

He reappeared behind him, claws already mid-swing.

But Arkas was faster.

A lightning barrier sparked into place between them, the impact throwing both fighters apart. The tiger twisted mid-air and landed upright. Cilian spun backward and caught himself on another ice platform.

The tiger stood straight again.

His suit was torn, steam rising from his chest, but he was still smiling.

I shifted my gaze.

Farther west, deeper into the clouds, a second battle lit the sky.

At first, I only saw flashes. Bursts of golden light, long beams that cut through the clouds like spears. The sky there was burning.

Cassian, the general himself stood in the air like a statue carved from sunlight. Rays pulsed from his chest and hands, sharp and clean. His whole body looked like it had been built to reflect the sun. Every move he made caused beams to erupt, short bursts, long lines, curved arcs of solar fire.

Edgar was barely visible.

He was a shadow flitting between clouds.

Every time the light hit a patch of air, Edgar moved to the darkness behind it. He vanished and reappeared, just a whisper of black silk gliding through the gaps. When the bird-man dove, Edgar rose.

This Feran had wings. Wide ones. White feathers, clean and sharp, long and curved like a blade. His armor was bone-white, shaped tight against his limbs. His eyes were strange, unblinking and round, more like a hawk’s than a man’s.

He circled them from above, fast and smooth.

Cassian fired another beam.

The bird-man folded his wings and dropped straight down. Light sliced past him. He spun once mid-air and kept falling, right toward Edgar.

But Edgar was gone.

Only a ripple of shadow remained. It reached up like a hand from the clouds, forming a blade of blackness. The bird-man flared his wings and stopped his fall, dodging just in time. The shadow-blade cut a line through his armor, drawing a thin line of red.

Cassian followed.

No pause. No warning. He raised both arms and fired two wide arcs of light that curved and closed like a trap. The bird-man dodged again, barely.

Wind whipped through the sky.

While they played a game of chase, the tiger was moving again.

This time he leapt through the air toward Arkas. Each jump was explosive, a burst of raw strength that shook the clouds. Arkas met him in mid-air, and their fists clashed with thunder.

Cilian stayed back.

He was weaving a storm now.

Tiny snowflakes had gathered around him. They weren’t falling, they were spinning. Dozens of them, then hundreds. Soon the entire sky around him looked like a swirling cyclone of white needles.

Then he pointed.

All of them shot forward.

The tiger roared.

His fur lit up in gold. His claws glowed gold, his chest shimmered. The frost struck hi —but this time, it didn’t stick. It melted on contact.

He stepped through the storm.

And punched.

The blow compressed the air and a beam hit Arkas in the gut, breaking the lightning shield and sending him crashing back through several layers of cloud. Arkas didn’t fall, he twisted, caught himself, and roared back with a burst of pure voltage.

Lightning and golden fur crashed against each other again, loud as thunder in the sky.

Arkas threw a punch straight into the tiger’s chest. The impact shook the air, and the Feran Grandmaster grunted, but didn’t back down.

Instead, he drove his knee up hard into Arkas’s gut. The blow was strong, but Arkas twisted just in time to lessen the damage, his body bending slightly before straightening again with a crackle of electricity running along his arms.

Then he roared, loud and wild.

A surge of lightning burst from his open mouth, forming a thick beam that shot straight into the tiger’s face.

The Feran’s golden fur lit up under the blast, his head snapping back as the beam slammed into him like a cannon. Sparks exploded in all directions, and the sky around them lit up like a storm.