Chapter 53: The Moment Before Impact

  ?

  Jessica couldn’t see.

  The world was black.

  Not dim, not hazy—just nothing.

  No forms, no depth, no outlines of movement.

  Just the endless, suffocating void of the blindfold.

  But she could feel it.

  Edgar’s mana was sharp, volatile, crackling in the air like a live wire.

  She didn’t need her eyes to know where he was.

  That much had been obvious from the start—Thunder Magic was messy. Even when it was precise, even when it was focused, it still left ripples.

  Jessica had felt it before.

  Not directly, but in passing—that distinct, rolling pressure that came with his spells.

  And now? Now it was the only thing she had.

  The moment the match started, she felt the first shift in the air.

  The faintest hum of static gathering in one place.

  One.

  One source, one point of focus.

  The moment he released it, the arena came into focus.

  Not in a way the audience could understand—not in a way that made sense.

  The charged air around her pulsed outward, sending vibrations through the ground, across the walls, through the dust in the air.

  A single wave of energy—and suddenly, she had a shape.

  Not vision.

  Not clarity.

  But an outline. A structure. A sense of the world around her, bouncing back like sound through a canyon.

  It reminded her of something.

  Something she hadn’t experienced herself—but something that had happened deep in the forest, when a team was searching for the hidden relic.

  Edgar’s magic had done something similar then, hadn’t it?

  A wave of controlled lightning, pulsing through the earth, returning feedback from what lay beneath.

  That was how they had found it.

  Not by seeing, not by feeling, but by letting the ripples of his mana map out what they couldn’t detect themselves.

  And that was why this blindfold didn’t matter.

  Edgar had made this fight easier for her.

  Jessica flexed her fingers around the hilt of her sword, exhaling slowly.

  The next pulse of energy rippled across the field.

  She could feel him.

  The crowd saw one person standing against the darkness.

  Jessica saw everything.

  ?

  The first pulse of energy surged outward.

  Medium-sized. Fast. Controlled.

  Jessica felt the pressure wave hit her first—a rolling arc of heat and static, carrying the full brunt of its force slightly to her left.

  A feint.

  The blast itself wasn’t wide, but the majority of its force was skewed left, trying to push her right.

  She almost smirked.

  If she moved immediately, she’d lose.

  Jessica forced herself to stay planted, feeling the pulse scrape past the edge of her range. She didn’t dodge. Not yet.

  The second pulse was already coming.

  Smaller. Faster. Sharper.

  This one wasn’t aimed at center mass—it was targeting the exact space to her right.

  If she had dodged the first one normally, she’d be walking directly into it.

  She could feel it now—the distinct layering of Edgar’s magic.

  The smaller the blast, the more concentrated and fast it was.

  The broader the spell, the slower it traveled.

  That meant the third wave was already forming—and it was going to be big.

  Jessica finally moved—but only at the last second.

  She felt the pressure of the medium pulse about to slam into her face.

  Her feet shifted—split-step.

  A sharp, controlled movement, just before impact.

  Not to dodge the first wave. To stall.

  And because she waited, the second wave had already passed the opening to her right.

  If she had dodged immediately, it would have caught her clean.

  Because she hesitated, it was already gone.

  That left the third wave.

  Jessica could already feel the static field thickening.

  A wide, encompassing blast.

  Too big to dodge completely.

  But.

  Not too big to cut through.

  She only had one chance.

  Her feet adjusted—a sharp, minimal Flicker.

  Less than a foot.

  Jessica let out a breath and grinned.

  “Oh, that was cute.”

  ?

  Jessica felt the mana walls closing in.

  She had one shot.

  Her grip tightened like a vice.

  If she wasn’t a Moran, she would have lost her sword from the sheer resistance of the swing.

  But she wasn’t just anyone.

  Her blade found the weakest point in the cage and ripped through.

  The impact sent a violent backlash up her arm, her muscles locking as most of the feeling in her right hand went dead.

  Just enough to get one stab off.

  She didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

  Her blade continued its arc—hitting the second spell the moment it came into range.

  Jessica gritted her teeth through the discharge, barely keeping her footing.

  Then the real problem hit.

  The secondary discharge.

  A point-blank blast from Edgar’s body, a final fail-safe designed to fry anything that got too close.

  Electricity ripped through her body, numbing everything in an instant.

  She felt her muscles go dead—her entire body locking up.

  But her aura was just barely enough to keep her from fully collapsing.

  She locked every joint in place, holding her posture, keeping herself upright.

  She was completely numb.

  She couldn’t even move her fingers.

  But she made it look like she was in control.

  Jessica held the sword to Edgar’s throat.

  She kept her expression neutral.

  Not showing weakness.

  Not showing pain.

  Edgar was still processing what just happened.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  His own spell had backfired on him.

  And Jessica was still standing.

  The silence in the arena stretched.

  Edgar’s lips pressed together.

  Jessica waited.

  Finally, he let out a short, frustrated exhale.

  “I yield.”

  The moment he said it—

  Jessica still didn’t move.

  Not out of dominance.

  Not out of arrogance.

  Because she literally couldn’t.

  Her arms stayed locked in place.

  Her legs weren’t responding.

  The only thing keeping her from falling over was sheer instinct.

  If the blindfold wasn’t on, the audience would have seen the glaze in her eyes.

  She was barely conscious.

  Her aura had carried her just long enough to survive.

  Now?

  Now she was seconds from passing out.

  But it was too late.

  She’d already won.

  Volume 54: The Moment After Victory

  ________________________________________

  Lucien was entertained.

  And a little nervous.

  Because he saw it.

  Jessica had Flickered. Twice.

  The first movement was sharp, precise, barely a foot of distance—but impossibly clean. A movement so controlled it looked effortless.

  The second was longer, three feet, nearly hidden within the thick sheet of static that erupted from Edgar’s final attack.

  Most of the crowd hadn’t caught it.

  They just saw her emerge on the other side of the lightning wall.

  But Lucien saw it.

  And the Vampire Duke standing in the noble box had seen it too.

  That was what made him nervous.

  Lucien didn’t let it show. He kept his posture relaxed, expression smooth, but his fingers flexed slightly. He already knew what the Duke must have realized.

  No one should be able to do that.

  And yet, Jessica had.

  Lucien exhaled lightly, adjusting his jacket as he took a step forward. Wind Magic gathered beneath his feet, controlled, quiet.

  With a flicker of air pressure, he descended toward the arena.

  As he did, the murmurs in the crowd grew louder.

  ________________________________________

  The fight had ended.

  Edgar had yielded.

  Jessica had won.

  And yet—her sword was still raised.

  She wasn’t lowering it.

  She wasn’t moving at all.

  The spectators started to notice.

  The murmurs spread like wildfire.

  “Why isn’t she putting her sword down?”

  “Is she just trying to intimidate him?”

  “Wait… is she trembling?”

  From the stands, the nobles were finally getting a better look.

  Her shoulders were shaking.

  Her muscles were locked into place, spasming slightly.

  The only thing keeping the sword up was sheer willpower.

  Moran family tenacity.

  A refusal to let go.

  ________________________________________

  Lucien let his Wind Magic dissipate as he stepped onto the arena floor, his expression still relaxed—but his eyes scanning every detail.

  Jessica’s body was a mess.

  Every muscle tensed beyond control.

  The blindfold still wrapped tightly around her eyes.

  Her breath was shallow, but steady.

  Lucien could see it.

  And from the sharp inhale Edgar just took—so could he.

  The realization hit him like a blow.

  Wait.

  She’s paralyzed.

  She wasn’t holding the sword up on purpose.

  She couldn’t lower it.

  Edgar’s expression shifted instantly, from frustration to disbelief, to indignation.

  “You—” His voice caught. His teeth clenched. “You mean to tell me—”

  He turned sharply toward the referee, toward Lucien, toward anyone in the stadium who was watching.

  “—that she was completely locked up this whole time!?”

  More murmurs.

  Confusion.

  Shock.

  Because now?

  Now the audience was starting to see it too.

  Jessica wasn’t standing because she was fine.

  She was standing because she had forced her body to.

  And she had made sure no one saw the difference.

  ________________________________________

  Jessica was glad Edgar fell for the trick.

  Because if he hadn’t—

  She had no way of winning.

  She couldn’t move.

  She couldn’t fight.

  She was already completely done.

  And now that her Aura had faded, she could feel everything.

  Oh yeah. This sucked.

  Still, she was grateful for one thing.

  Self-hypnosis worked.

  A small victory.

  She had no idea how she pulled it off so easily, but thank god it came naturally—because if she had tried to force it, she probably would’ve just stood there awkwardly until Edgar shocked her into the ground.

  Self-hypnosis wasn’t a power.

  It was just battle meditation.

  A mental state that tricked the body into thinking it could go further.

  And Aura was based entirely on belief.

  That was the reason it was considered so unreliable.

  Even in its early stages, it was purely mental.

  The moment doubt crept in, your Aura became weaker.

  Jessica had seen it firsthand—her Aura was strongest when she fully believed in what she was doing.

  It wasn’t like magic.

  It wasn’t like elemental control.

  It was a spiritual art.

  It existed in that strange, gray area between willpower and reality.

  And that was why the Academy had completely abandoned it.

  ________________________________________

  Jessica knew that Aura wasn’t like magic—it couldn’t just ignore the laws of the world.

  You couldn’t just believe you could lift a mountain and suddenly lift a mountain.

  That wasn’t how it worked.

  Belief had to be grounded in near reality.

  It wasn’t about making the impossible happen.

  It was about pushing your body past its natural 100% limit.

  If you trained your body to 120%, Aura might be able to push it to 150%—but only if you truly believed you could do it.

  And if your body couldn’t handle it?

  It would break.

  Aura had to be built slowly.

  Your 100% had to become stronger first.

  That was why Aura wasn’t reliable.

  And that was why Jessica never used it to enhance her strength.

  She didn’t need brute force.

  She needed speed. Reflexes. Reaction time that could keep up with her mind.

  That was all she ever used it for.

  And tonight?

  It had worked.

  But the cost was hitting her all at once.

  Her fingers wouldn’t unclench.

  Her legs were numb.

  Her jaw was locked.

  And Lucien was getting way too damn close for her comfort.

  ________________________________________

  Lucien took his time.

  He circled her slowly, his steps light, thoughtful, before finally stopping just behind her.

  Jessica could feel him circling her, his overwhelming mana feeling much more apparent with the blindfold.

  Jessica didn’t move.

  She couldn’t.

  She felt his fingers brush against the knot of the blindfold.

  And before she could react, he pulled it away.

  Light flooded her vision.

  The sudden clarity made her blink rapidly, her body still unresponsive.

  The first thing she saw?

  Lucien’s smirk, entirely too pleased with himself.

  The second?

  The arena.

  The crowd.

  The nobles watching with mixed expressions of admiration and confusion.

  But then—her gaze drifted toward the demon delegation.

  Zyrenia wasn’t watching.

  Jessica frowned slightly.

  She was expecting the little vampire to be cheering or staring in awe.

  Instead—she wasn’t there at all.

  Her expression didn’t change, but the thought settled in her mind.

  Odd.

  She exhaled slightly, rationalizing.

  The fight had been less than ten seconds.

  Maybe she was eating and missed it.

  Maybe she got distracted by something else.

  Jessica didn’t immediately assume the worst.

  But something about it bothered her.

  And then she noticed Duke Vaelora.

  He was staring directly at her.

  No, not just staring—his gaze kept flicking between her and something else.

  Something behind him.

  His body language was wrong.

  Jessica recognized concern.

  She also recognized anger.

  And it was directed at her.

  Jessica sighed internally.

  I know that look.

  She already knew what would happen next.

  She’d hear about it later.

  ________________________________________

  Lucien didn’t stop at just taking her blindfold.

  Instead, he scooped her up.

  Jessica twitched slightly. She had enough feeling back to move now—just not enough to stop this.

  “Are you taking me somewhere?” she asked, completely dry.

  Lucien’s smirk widened. “You’re not hurt?”

  “I’m not hurt.”

  “Then why aren’t you walking?”

  Jessica gave him the most unimpressed look she could manage. “Because someone is carrying me.”

  Lucien chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.

  Jessica exhaled sharply. She could already feel her limbs recovering.

  She was annoyed.

  Not just by being carried, but by the fact that Lucien was obviously flirting.

  And worse—he was taking her to an infirmary.

  But not the one where Tobias and Hannelore were.

  Jessica’s brow furrowed slightly.

  “Why are we not going to the main infirmary?”

  Lucien’s expression didn’t change. Too smooth. Too casual.

  Jessica immediately didn’t trust it.

  Was he trying to keep her away from them?

  Or was he trying to keep himself away?

  She narrowed her eyes slightly.

  Lucien, she said flatly, “why are you flirting with a political reject?”

  Lucien made a thoughtful sound. “Hmm. Who knows?”

  Jessica rolled her eyes.

  Then he smirked. “But do you really think you’re a political reject?”

  Jessica frowned slightly.

  “Your name comes up a lot,” he continued, watching her reaction carefully. “I’m not so sure you’re a reject anymore.”

  Jessica didn’t respond.

  Instead, she looked around as Lucien carried her into one of the upper noble infirmary rooms.

  Jessica immediately felt tense.

  Being alone in a room with Lucien while he was being like this was irritating.

  But before she could call him out, he casually leaned against the wall and spoke.

  “You must not have gotten a higher historical education to use that gap closer so boldly in front of everyone,” he mused.

  Jessica narrowed her eyes.

  She felt her irritation shift into curiosity.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Lucien tilted his head slightly. “Do you really not know?”

  Jessica didn’t see anything special about using Flicker.

  She didn’t even use Multi-Flicker.

  But apparently, she had done something historically wrong.

  And that was something she did not like not knowing.

  ________________________________________

  Lucien studied her.

  Jessica felt it.

  That strange, unnerving sensation of being picked apart like a puzzle.

  Then, without warning, he leaned in—far too close.

  Jessica froze.

  His eyes searched hers, sharp, intrusive.

  Like he was looking for something beneath the surface.

  “Where did you learn self-hypnosis?”

  Jessica’s brow twitched.

  Not because of the question.

  Because of how the hell he even knew.

  Lucien’s expression was too calm. Too knowing.

  Jessica leaned back slightly, but he followed the movement.

  She tensed. “No one taught me,” she said quickly. “No one even talks about Aura anymore. It’s not—”

  “Not something taught,” Lucien finished for her. His voice was too smooth, too casual. “Then why do you know it?”

  Jessica felt an actual headache forming.

  Something about his tone made her stomach twist. Like he already knew the answer.

  Lucien didn’t pull back.

  “That’s something old mercenary kings do before battle,” he continued, as if explaining it to himself. “They meditate for an hour to mentally steel themselves. Then, right before they fight—”

  He tapped her forehead lightly.

  Jessica flinched.

  “—their eyes start glowing.”

  Lucien leaned in slightly more.

  “And you can just flip it like a switch?”

  Jessica’s hands curled into fists.

  “It takes them decades to do that,” he murmured. “Isn’t that strange?”

  Jessica gritted her teeth.

  Her mind was racing now.

  Why was he asking this? WHY?

  Does he want answers, or does he want to see my response?

  But that doesn’t make sense either. Why would he care and know this much?

  And then—

  “Who taught you to Flicker?”

  Jessica’s breathing hitched.

  She tried to shove it aside. Tried to ignore it.

  But the name—Flicker.

  That was her name for it.

  Or at least… she thought it was.

  Wait. Wait.

  She had a mana network before her accident.

  That meant—she wouldn’t have been able to use Flicker.

  Mana friction would have made it impossible.

  So how did she know it?

  Jessica’s headache sharpened. The logic didn’t work.

  Her thoughts started tripping over themselves.

  I made the name up. Right?

  But he’s using it like it’s already a known thing.

  Like he’s heard it before.

  Jessica’s vision pulsed—her skull throbbed as if something was pressing down on her brain.

  Why haven’t I asked myself this before?

  She analyzes everything. She always notices the smallest inconsistencies.

  So why didn’t I question this?

  Her breath turned shallow, too quick.

  It was like her own thoughts were trying to shut her down before she got any further.

  Her head ached, as if trying to push past a wall that had been there all along—one she hadn’t noticed until now.

  Lucien didn’t miss that.

  His grip on her face tightened slightly, thumb brushing against her cheek as if trying to keep her focus locked in place.

  Jessica barely processed it.

  Her mind was slamming into something, like an invisible force stopping her from asking the right questions.

  She swallowed hard. Why does this hurt?

  Lucien was still watching her too closely.

  Waiting.

  His expression didn’t soften.

  If anything, he looked more satisfied.

  Jessica’s entire body felt wrong.

  This wasn’t normal.

  This wasn’t just stress.

  She could feel her own mind resisting, actively shutting her down the more she tried to push past it.

  Lucien inhaled slowly.

  And then—he let out a breath.

  A breath of relief.

  Jessica barely registered the way his lips parted slightly, his expression shifting.

  Something about him changed.

  Like he had been waiting for this.

  Like he had been uncertain—until now.

  The tension in his shoulders eased, and for the first time since he started pressing her for answers, he looked satisfied.

  Relieved.

  Why?

  Jessica wanted to demand an explanation.

  But she couldn’t, because—

  Why was he smiling?

  It wasn’t his usual teasing smirk.

  No, this was different.

  Something almost... hopeful.

  But wrong.

  There was something obsessive in it.

  Like watching a missing puzzle piece click into place.

  Like he had just confirmed something he had suspected for a long time.

  Jessica’s breath hitched.

  Her stomach twisted in discomfort.

  He was so close that she could feel his breath against her lips.

  And then—finally—he let go of her face.

  Jessica immediately leaned back, shaking off the shudder that had crawled up her spine.

  Her skin still burned where his fingers had been.

  Lucien leaned back as well, straightening his posture, and running a hand through his hair like he had just won a bet with himself.

  Jessica swallowed, her pulse hammering against her throat.

  “...What the hell was that?” she rasped.

  Lucien only smiled.

  And that wasn’t comforting at all.