thief of fate-Chapter 82: Valerian vs. Sigard

"It’s the third stage..."

He said it inwardly, with no sign of tension showing on his face. Only his eyes, lit with a faint flicker, were watching the arena before him, its edges still stained by the remnants of past battles.

The opponent stood there, on the opposite side, holding a longbow gleaming with shades of dark blue. His eyes more like carvings etched into his face did not move. Precise and steady, they tracked every pulse, every breath.

His name... was Sigard. A fighter known for using a rare skill: "Embodiment." He could convert his energy into physical arrows, shooting them with incredible accuracy. His right eye was closed, and his left glowed with a vertical line of light, as if it were a thermal gauge analyzing everything before him.

In the upper corner of the stands sat Kyle, his brows furrowed, watching silently. Beside him sat Alistair, hands clasped together, eyes shifting between Valerian and the opponent.

"He’s late..." Kyle whispered. "He’s still taking time to evaluate the opponent... like he’s on a stroll."

Alistair replied, "Maybe he’s waiting for the right moment."

Kyle growled without looking at him. "This is a fight, not a walk. End it quickly or you’ll be crushed."

The referee raised the flag.

"Let the battle begin!"

And before the echo of the words faded, the first arrow launched.

Valerian saw the tip of the bow move, and the energy gather like liquid light, then condense into a real arrow. Fast. No sound, no warning just a flash.

But he wasn’t there.

Valerian had appeared behind the marked line of the arena, slightly crouched, eyes narrowed, his first dagger in his right hand, the second barely visible in his left.

"Faster than I expected..." he thought. "His energy lets him form arrows instantly... If I don’t break his focus, he’ll wear me down from afar."

Sigard fired another arrow, then another. Three, four... five.

But Valerian was no easy target.

He moved lightly, like a shadow gliding through light sometimes retreating, sometimes closing in, never following a straight path, leaving no trace of footsteps to analyze.

Then something happened that confused everyone.

He disappeared.

No, not completely more like his body split into layers, a phantom moving within a phantom, a shadow among shadows. The Mirage Thrust.

The audience stood as one, shouts rising: 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

"Did you see that?!"

"He moved like smoke!"

"Where did he go?!"

Sigard had seen the move... or thought he had.

His eyes didn’t blink. They were locked on a specific point, and he fired an arrow there.

But it passed through air.

"Huh?!" he muttered to himself, as the phantom reappeared behind him.

Sigard spun quickly, but not quickly enough.

Valerian was there, dagger at his throat.

But...

"Stop!" shouted the referee. "No one has been touched, continue the fight!"

Valerian stepped back once, twice and gave a faint smirk. "He hesitated. That’s enough for now."

Up above, Kyle raised his eyebrows.

"He could’ve ended it."

"Why...?" Alistair said softly.

Kyle roared, "Idiot...! No time for showboating!"

But Valerian knew.

"He’s not a simple opponent. I deceived his eye once... but the second time might be my last."

Sigard growled lowly, reshaping his energy.

"Now I’ll show you..." he said through clenched teeth.

He raised his bow, and this time, the arrows weren’t fired one by one. The energy around him surged, condensing in the air into thirty arrows at once, swirling like they orbited a hidden sun.

"Cage of a Thousand Arrows!"

And the firing began.

When the arrows launched, there was no sound only sharp light piercing from every angle, as if the arena had become a field of stabbing beams instead of weapons. The arrows moved like they had minds of their own, each one tracking a potential path of Valerian’s movements.

But he wasn’t running.

He was... thinking.

Cage of a Thousand Arrows... At this rate, I won’t find an opening without risking injury. Even the Mirage Thrust won’t be effective with this much visual tracking and regenerating energy.

He cut through the storm with a body that bent, twisted, crawled, then leapt over one arrow only to land on another as if the air beneath him was fragile.

He’s consuming a lot of energy. This skill can’t last long... but

An idea came. It slipped into his mind like a whisper, as if it wasn’t even his own.

What if... I stole his skill? Just for a moment... disrupt his embodiment and end the fight with a single strike.

His mind flinched at the thought. His heart didn’t stop it accelerated... not from fear, but temptation.

"Fate Theft."

He raised his hand slightly, as if preparing to release something from within... then stopped.

No. Not now.

I won’t give in to my urges and be his puppet. Besides, this isn’t the right time or the right opponent.

He lowered his hand again, breathing calmly, though his body was twisting between life and death every second.

Not yet, Valerian. Don’t reveal all your cards for a bow and some arrows.

From the storm of energy, an arrow lunged toward his chest.

He dodged.

Then another came from his left.

He ducked.

And the third?

It neared his face, so close the skin almost tore.

And at that moment he stilled.

Everything within him suddenly quieted. The sound, the light, the arrows...

The confusion vanished.

Now.

His feet lunged forward not like a runaway, but an attacker. Sigard’s eyes widened; he hadn’t expected such an advance at the peak of his fiercest assault.

Again, Valerian used the Mirage Thrust.

But this time it was amplified.

His body seemed to dissolve into the air, splitting into five copies, all moving like the original.

He can’t track them all...

And before Sigard could shoot another arrow, he felt a cold point on his neck.

The dagger was there.

And it wasn’t an illusion.

The arrows around them froze, then vanished.

The referee didn’t speak a word he simply stared in shock, as did the entire crowd.

Their breath held in their chests then burst out with the announcement:

"Winner: Valerian Lockard!"

The stands shook with cheers a mix of awe, admiration, and tension.

But above...

Kyle didn’t clap.

He stood in anger and hurled the glass cup in his hand to the floor.

"He could’ve ended it from the start!"

He looked at Alistair and said:

"He’s hiding something. Those movements weren’t all for show. He was testing something... and stopped himself."

As for Valerian, walking out of the arena he didn’t look back.

I avoided exposing it... today.

But how many times can I repeat that? And... when will I stop holding myself back?

Finally, Valerian stepped out of the arena to the applause of the crowd, but he didn’t glance at them. He didn’t raise his hand, didn’t smile, didn’t feel what the others around him felt.

His steps were calm, but his chest rose and fell slowly.

And when he climbed the arena stairs and reached the seating area for the qualifiers, Kyle wasn’t far.

He stood, arms crossed, eyes watching him with that look devoid of any joy or pride. His gaze was cold... predatory.

He spoke in a low voice, filled with restrained fury:

"Perhaps... I’ve gone too easy on your training."

Valerian stopped in front of him but didn’t respond.

Kyle continued, stepping forward until their faces were almost aligned:

"You took longer than you should’ve. You know that’s unacceptable. And when we return..."

He raised his voice slightly, eyes blazing with sternness:

"There will be no mercy."

A silent moment passed not heavy, but personal.

Kyle wasn’t threatening... he was declaring judgment.

Valerian nodded once not in submission, but in acknowledgment.

Then looked away, and smirked faintly a smirk that never reached his lips.

When were you ever merciful?

Since I started training under you, I haven’t known mercy. Not in the morning, nor at midnight, not even when I bled.

But you’re right... I took too long.

He sat in silence, watching the arena being prepared for the next match. The minor wounds on his arm didn’t hurt, but his eyes remained fixed on the spot where Sigard once stood contemplating the place that almost forced him to use what shouldn’t be used.

Fate Theft... One wrong move, and I lose everything.

Then he heard the voice.

"My turn."

He turned and saw Alistair approaching, setting aside his heavy gray coat, revealing a slim but steady body, and eyes not unlike Kyle’s gaze moments ago... except calmer, and more cunning.

Valerian asked as he looked at him:

"Your opponent?"

Alistair answered without looking back:

"Doesn’t matter. As long as it’s not him, I’m sure I’ll win."

Then he gave a light side smile not a smile of joy, but of calculated confidence:

"I’ll make it quick."

And didn’t wait for a reply.

"You never seem to give up, Alastair"

Valerian looked at him as Aleister advanced and smiled because he knew that Aleister would not lose in this fight and would be his rival