Decisions (I)

Cyril desperately reached for his throat, groaning in anguish as he tossed about on the ground. His body felt heavy, and every breath brought him a vivid dose of suffocation rather than relief.

Sounds seemed to overlap, and the images split apart in his vision, granting him a second layer of misery. It was as if his senses were doing everything at once, and at the same time, nothing at all.

What's...going on? It feels like my organs are on fire.

His confusion surged alongside the agony; no amount of gasping seemed enough to overcome the terrible pain. Struggling for air, Cyril flipped onto his stomach and lifted his face, watching the scene before him in shock.

Percy, who had moments ago been staring down at him, turned away with an assured look and casually took aim at Victor. Foaming at the mouth, the defeated terrorist could hardly offer any resistance.

Apparently, Cyril wasn't the only one suffering from strange symptoms.

Victor somehow managed to raise his hand in protest as he mumbled a slew of indecipherable words, no doubt pleading for his life.

Unfortunately for him however, Percy was dead set on following through with his pragmatic approach. The words of a dying man would receive no assent.

[Alert. Cyril, the individual "Percy" has casted an area-interference type spell. Your body is suffering from a severe case of oxygen deprivation— I believe it is the condition commonly known as 'hypoxia'.]

Hypoxia… did Percy create a vacuum around here or something?

[Answer: No. The spell produces no such effect. Instead, the oxygen concentration in your bloodstream is rapidly being displaced by an influx of carbon dioxide. In practical terms, this means the spell manipulates the relative concentrations of gases in the environment rather than removing them outright. Under the present circumstances, the carbon dioxide level is now several times higher than the oxygen concentration.]

It all makes sense now. So that's why he needed the gas mask. But under these conditions....

Reaching his conclusion, Cyril suspended his futile respiratory efforts. Holding his breath, he watched as a bullet of air compressed before Percy's finger, morphing itself into a spherical shape.

Bearing witness to the spell that would inevitably lead to his own demise Victor thrashed and tossed about from his slumped position. His antics didn't get him very far, as soon as he began acting up, Percy slammed his foot into Victor's abdomen and pinned him in place.

It took only seconds for the spell to take shape. Without a word, Percy unleashed the spiraling bullet hovering at his fingertip. The sphere compressed tighter, then burst outward, releasing its stored rotational force in a single, focused direction. Splitting the air with a resonant hum, the attack tore a perfectly hollow path through the tree Victor leaned against before screaming off into the distance.

Everything in its way was left with a flawless, spherical cavity—the tree, the earth, and Victor himself were carved apart by the tremendous force. When the blast subsided, a gaping hole yawned through Victor's chest and the stump of the massive tree at his back.

Before the silence could linger, the ground trembled beneath Percy, torn apart by the tremendous force from the explosion at his back. Turning his head, Percy saw Cyril's body tumbling along the ground across from him.

Once he came to a stop, Cyril slowly straightened his body. His first true gulp of fresh air came with a fit of coughs and labored breaths. The distance he'd put between himself and Percy was just enough to escape the range of the spell. Its effects hadn't fully faded, but the agony that had gripped him moments earlier was gone.

Percy made a perplexed expression as he watched Cyril huffing in the distance. "I was still talking to that guy. You really did kill him just like that huh?" Cyril asked the question spontaneously, watching as Percy's shoulders deflated.

"We had no further use for him, that's all it was. I was saving you for last, but it seems you've still got a few tricks left up your sleeve. Have you and Angelica been holding out on me all this time?"

"Speak for yourself." Cyril countered him seriously. "I've more or less figured out your little trick. If I can't get answers from Victor anymore, I'll just have to beat them out of you instead."

"Beat them out of me, is it?" Parroting Cyril's words, Percy tilted his head and made a sardonic expression. He chuckled and flicked a few fingers at Cyril as if to say, "come on."

White flames erupted from Cyril's body, clinging to his form as they shimmered and arched outward. By now his breathing had stabilized, he gulped a deep breath of air and held his breath. In an instant, Cyril narrowed his eyes and launched his body forward with an explosive burst of speed.

Percy had apparently anticipated that much, but what his opponent did next left him baffled. Partway through his traversal, Cyril concentrated all the flames he'd conjured onto his right arm.

Planting his foot with a heavy stomp, he drew his arm back and unleashed a charged wave of hellfire at Percy.

The white blaze streaked across the earth, tearing toward him in a blinding surge. Percy met it with nothing more than a raised hand, holding his breath as he clenched his fist, twisting the atmospheric conditions in an instant.

His intention remained the same as before—reversing the concentrations of oxygen and carbon dioxide in the environment. Logically, fire couldn't burn without oxygen, but the flames Cyril had just unleashed were not the product of ordinary combustion.

Percy's eyes widened as he watched the blaze inch closer, flaring brighter by the second. The current conditions should have made combustion nearly impossible, yet Cyril's attack seemed to defy that reality.

Realizing his mistake, he changed tactics and compressed a swirl of howling gales between his palms. Despite his quick adjustments, he was still too late—the cone of flames was already upon him, threatening to swallow his entire body whole.

Percy's hands shot forward and unleashed his half-done spell on instinct, the blast of wind barreled into wave of flames, but the incomplete spell couldn't hold a candle to a fully deployed skill.

Most skills in general had next to no casting time—one of the few ranged advantages Strikers actually had against Magicians.

Percy experienced the brutal imbalance firsthand as Cyril's flames quickly overwhelmed his wind spell. At the last moment, he willed the surrounding air currents to hurl his body aside, flinging him out of reach. A direct hit from such an attack would have been nothing short of a death sentence.

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Cyril's attack narrowly missed Percy, but it was by no means a clean escape.

"Grrrgh!!" The young magician let out a stifled cry as he rolled across the ground. His agony stemmed not from the impact itself, but from the chilling sensation creeping into his arm. It had lasted only an instant, but Cyril's attack had made contact—if only barely.

Now, one of Percy's arms was completely coated in white, thick trails of frost curling upward as though the entire limb were dissolving into mist.

He got me, these flames don't burn—they freeze. I should have known after seeing Victor like tha —!!

Percy's trail of thought suddenly derailed, buried under a mountain of shock.

Frostbite had already begun to set in, but that was far from the worst of his problems. Cyril appeared behind him without warning, shifting his weight onto his right leg as he drew it back for a kick.

Fear shot through every nerve in Percy's body as he braced himself. With only the simplest of calculations, he conjured the densest wall of air he could manage, throwing it up around his body in the precious seconds he had left.

His attempt could certainly be called 'decent', but that wasn't enough to defend against a blow carrying force equivalent to a moving truck. Cyril's kick slammed into the dense wall of air like a wrecking ball, its form collapsed on impact, though only after absorbing a good brunt of the force Cyril had channeled into his strike.

Percy's body was hurled into the dirt, tumbling like a skipping stone as he skidded across the ground. Rolling onto his side, Percy shot to his feet as fast as his body would allow, glaring at Cyril as he wiped the trails of blood flowing down his face.

"Your little trick is useless without your mask, isn't it?" Cyril asked coldly. "If you have to hold your breath as well, then all I need to do is outpace you."

"Heh, that is somewhat true," Percy replied as he removed the cracked glasses from his face and tossed them aside. It wasn't a drastic change, but for some reason Cyril felt like he was looking at an entirely different person now.

"It seems I've underestimated you Cyril—you truly are full of surprises."

As he said that, Percy reached under his coat and removed a small marble shaped object unlike the ones he'd seen mere moments ago. This was different, it drew his mind back to the events of that fateful day.

"A Virstone?" The word slipped from Cyril's lips unconsciously.

A thin smile appeared on Percy's face as he tightened his grip on the small stone. He slicked his hair back and tilted his head, sighing as though he were at a loss.

"I guess this is enough. I've already achieved my objective here, there's no need to take any risks with an irregular like you—at least, not yet."

"You think I'm going to just let you leave here?"

"You don't have a choice." Percy replied, snapping his fingers.

[Alert. Cyril, the opponent's throughput has declined significantly.]

Nothing happened, but the sly smile had yet to fade from Percy's face. Aided by the surrounding wind currents, he leapt several meters into the air and landed atop one of the giant oak trees.

Tossing the object aside, he watched as its glow landed near his feet. The countdown to his escape had begun.

In response to Percy's attempt, Cyril launched himself into the air immediately, it wasn't long before the artificial gate would appear, after all.

I can't let him leave!!

Sparks erupted from the Virstone, the energy seeping out seemed to weave and churn as it clawed its way through dimensional borders.

Seconds seemed to lag as Cyril closed in closed in, he scaled the tree span in record time, but this time his opponent was prepared. Percy clasped both hands together and interlocked his fingers, the next thing Cyril heard was a faint rumbling from above before a massive column of compressed air slammed into him without warning.

The sheer force caused him to plummet just as fast as he'd ascended, forcing him to the ground with a thunderous boom.

The Virstone glowing at Percy's feet was finally prepped for use, now was his chance to escape — or so he'd thought.

The Virstone's energy was completely spent, and yet nothing happened. The luminous glow emanating from within fell into a monotone rhythm as it began to subside, gradually dimming until the object reverted to nothing more than a polished stone.

Watching his escape ticket slowly power down sent a wave of shock into Percy's body. His fists burled reflexively, heightening his despair severalfold as he recalled the words of the previous owner.

"Coincidentally, that just so happens to be the last one I had. They're rather hard to come by, so I suggest you use it wisely."

"Damn that Ginny...she gave me a dud."

Bang

The giant tree shuddered beneath Percy's feet, its bark cracking and splintering as the entire trunk gave way beneath him. He hopped lightly from the collapsing structure, landing amid the billowing dust.

"This must be my lucky day." Cyril stepped out of the haze, his fist still clenched after smashing through the massive stump.

Percy sighed and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not Cyril. My work is done here."

"I told you, you're not leaving here."

"Are you sure I'm you're top priority right now?" Percy asked in a skeptical tone. "You mentioned something about that woman Carissa to Victor a little while ago, didn't you?"

Cyril held his breath, gulping hard as he imbued more authority into his tone.

"Where is she?"

"Well...that's a tricky question. Allow me to give you a clue—do you remember what Ralph said about the dungeon we entered on the day of the final assessment, about how it hasn't been cleared because no one has found the core?"

"What about it?"

"Well as it turns out, the core of Ba'als Labyrinth wasn't hidden. Someone or something sealed it away for whatever reason, and based on what I've heard, one would need quite the remarkable enchanter to lift such a seal."

Cyril felt a thorny pressure clamping down on his heart, his brain wanted to deny every word, but his gut instincts wouldn't allow it.

"Speaking of which, some Phoenix guild members have been stockpiling quite a bit of Nectar recently—the very same guild the chairman mentioned was negotiating the rights to clear Ba'als Labyrinth today. I wonder what they could be up to."

Percy tone carried a slight hint of cynical glee, his smile hadn't stretched any further across his face, but it didn't take much to see that he was enjoying this.

"Ah, looks like times up."

Cyril's body flinched at the surge of bloodlust saturating the air. Strange sounds echoed in the distance, mingling with faint tremors that signaled something was charging straight toward them.

That's…

With a thunderous crash, several therianthropes burst onto the scene. They moved with uncanny coordination, falling into what looked like a prearranged formation as they encircled him from all sides.

He was completely cut off from Percy by the towering brutes itching to wreak havoc.

I messed up, he was just buying time with that story.

"What will you do, Cyril?" Percy's voice echoed from beyond the wall of giants. "Will you play the hero and chase me down, or will you rush to the side of your strongest bond? With Alice gone, Carissa is all you have left, isn't she? She's your only family."

At the same time, the therianthropes received the signal to launch their assault on Cyril, giving him the cover he needed to escape. Percy knew they wouldn't hold out for long, but a few minutes was all he needed to reach the gate.

As his enemies charged, Cyril stood frozen, crushed under the weight of Percy's taunt. The words sparked a jolt through his mind—his answer was already decided; there was no room for compromise. Still, he hated how things had turned out. Being bested by words instead of blows was a bitter pill he couldn't swallow.

Finally, reality snapped back. Cyril clenched his fists and barreled forward with a roar, cursing himself under his breath.

"Damn it..."

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