All three of us are ready to fight. I feel it like a charge in the air, and I'm not the only one; the Concept-Bound senses it, too. Phylus stills, and there's suddenly a note in his voice that sounds a lot like concern. "Something is different," he says, half-musing the words. Talking to himself, for some reason. "I can delay no longer." That's all the warning we get. The ropes that Ahkelios brought in—I don't know what they are, but those things are strong. They actually hold him back for about half a second, which is more warning than we would have had otherwise; they flare to an eye-searing brightness as Phylus brings everything he has to bear against it. They shatter and the devices generating them burst into flames and smoke, but it's more than enough time for Guard to get in front of Ahkelios and I, burning with the Breath of Life. The field of green glows bright as it deflects the sudden near-solid dark blue that crashes against us. Novi huddles in the center where it's safest. I'm closest to the edge—dark-blue Firmament brushes against my finger, just for a fraction of a second as it leaves the protective grasp of Guard's aura. That's enough for it to burn straight through my skin and down to the bone like it's concentrated acid. Very good thing Guard got in the way of that. When it dissipates, Phylus's eyes widen slightly, like he's both surprised and annoyed that all four of us are still there. He doesn't waste time talking like I expect him to, though. Instead, he attacks. He's faster than before. Three solid spikes, Bound with Regret, aimed directly at our throats; Guard's aura won't deflect something physical like that. So I Evolve faster than I ever have before. —and I blanch as he somehow balances a foot on my shoulder and uses me as a launching pad. "Ahkelios! You're not small enough to do that anymore!" "My bad!" he calls, but he's grinning. Little bastard. Or I guess I can't call him that anymore, if he's bigger than I am. That's going to be awkward. I watch as he crashes into the ceiling and slashes with an arm. A steel-gray blade of sharp Firmament bursts out of him like a sword summoned into existence; it blisters with an edge too sharp to be real, lined with the power of a Concept. I blink, and a vague memory comes back. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Find your next favorite novel on NovelHub today! "My Concept is that of the Sword," Ahkelios says. I hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but I guess he wasn't exactly an ordinary Trialgoer, either. Even if he was just at the second layer, the power of that Concept is enough for it to weaken the spikes being launched toward us—it doesn't stop them completely, but it breaks them down enough that a Crystallized Barrier does the rest. His strike, on the other hand, continues. The Sword he wields, pure Firmament and little else, tears straight through the blessed stone of the tunnel ceiling. Even without a skill, it turns the ceiling into a series of crumbling rocks. Ɽ� With nothing to stay attached to, Phylus falls—and Guard and I are there to catch him. With our fists, specifically. Amplified Gauntlet burns as it activates. Quite literally. The Form I'm in alters the skill, and when my arm transforms, six miniature engines emerge from beneath the plating just along my forearm. I feel it burn Firmament, feel it transform that Firmament into pure kinetic energy. How he's still able to move is beyond me, but Phylus lashes out with a wave of Firmament powerful enough to shatter Ahkelios's blades; the mantis—scirix?—leaps away before the shockwave can hurt him, landing nimbly back beside me. Guard takes point in front and shields us with another Breath of Life, his systems straining with the effort. I hear the whir of his fans as green Firmament streams from him. "Ahkelios," I say. He latches on to what I'm thinking with a simple flicker of intent through our bond, and we leap into action. He goes left. I go right. Firmament Control allows us each to grasp a small piece of Guard's shield—not enough to destabilize it, just enough to let us survive the wave of Firmament trying to crush us as we approach. Ahkelios borrows Primordial Foray from me, and I borrow his Sword Concept from him. They don't oppose one another, but they don't have to. The Sword cuts. That's the essence of the Concept, resonating through us both; a weapon that slices through any obstacle, wielded sometimes in defense, sometimes in offense, but always to cut. Primordial Foray turns into a sharp, cutting force that brims with Life; there's a mingling of two Concepts that don't quite match. We're not practiced enough for them to mesh perfectly, so some power is lost in that exchange, but not enough to matter. Phylus roars. There's a mixture of panic, frustration, and maybe a hint of approval mixed in with the agony—I see in his Firmament that he doesn't understand how this is happening, how he's losing. He's at the fourth layer of Firmament, and being overwhelmed by the three of us doesn't make sense to him. He tries to lash out again, but his body is falling apart. Twin blades of Firmament slice off his lower arms and cut into his torso, and wounded as he is, bleeding as he is, his strength is leaving him. He staggers. Tries to move, but collapses instead, no longer able to hold the weight of his body. He laughs a choked laugh. "Incredible," he murmurs. "Well done, Trialgoers." My eyes narrow at that word. Ahkelios starts. We glance at each other. [You have defeated Phylus, Bound by Regret (Rank SS)! +337 Strength credits. +100 Durability credits. +100 Reflex credits. +100 Speed credits. +500 Firmament credits.] "Yup," he says. He stares at the window in front of him. At the Interface. His own Interface, separate from mine. I can see it, though. The bond between us grants us that much. His credit distribution is different from mine, but all in all... A message hangs in the air in front of him, gleaming blue. [Welcome back, Trialgoer Ahkelios.]