Every footstep echoing in his ears, Zenith approached the door. By now, the dark Levia had grown so thick he could barely breathe.
One final step. If he lifted his hand, he would touch the door – yet he hesitated. Beneath that deep, throbbing darkness, a different Levia was beginning to rise. This one felt even colder, but in a sharper, more brittle way....
At that moment, a cluster of enormous ice crystals erupted from the floor. He leaped out of the way, but couldn't avoid bumping them with his right leg. With a sound like crackling glass, ice spread across the armor and encased it in a solid layer.
Unbalanced, Zenith hit the floor hard. His frozen leg thudded uselessly behind him, heavy and numb as a log.
And he didn't get a chance to recover before icicles rained from the ceiling above. Snarling, he rolled out of the way – but not fast enough. Several icicles struck his helmet and pauldrons, piercing through metal like needles.
Gritting his teeth, Zenith flung up his shield and crouched beneath it. But he couldn't stay stuck on the defense. As the icicles drove into the shield, causing it to buckle in his grip, he bashed the hilt of his sword against his frozen leg. Each impact drove pins and needles through his muscles, but it didn't take long before the ice shattered.
Drawing on his Levia, he summoned an arc of light-blades. They ricocheted across the narrow landing, slicing apart icicles in their path.
When he no longer felt anything slamming against his shield, Zenith leaped back to his feet. The light-blades rushed back toward him, settling into a slowly revolving ring around his body.
The icy Levia spiked, but Zenith was ready. Just as another cluster of ice crystals burst from the floor, he sent three light-blades racing forward. They sliced the ice into glittering shards, and now nothing blocked him from the door.
Putting all his strength into his arm, he swung his shield into the door. Once, twice. With a satisfying screech, the ice shattered and the door caved in.
Brushing aside the falling shards, he stepped inside. A vaulted ceiling soared above him, while four huge mirrors along the walls reflected the dozen ice spears floating in the air, each at least as long and deadly as Ryllis's weapon.
The spears gathered thickest around the demon in the center of the chamber. His hair, swept back from a widow's peak and falling to his waist, was the same bluish white as the snowcapped mountain, while his horns were as translucent as the ice spears.
Anticipation crackled through Zenith's core. This could be none but General Serac.
Serac lifted his hand and every ice spear revolved midair, twisting to point directly at Zenith. Undaunted, Zenith drew on the light pouring from his core, and once again glowing blades surrounded his body. Far fewer than Serac's spears, but he hardly needed more.
Whistling through the air, the ice spears raced toward him. Zenith slashed his sword, directing his light-blades forward. They streaked across the chamber in a storm of brilliant light, slicing apart the spears before they could strike.
Even so, they couldn't catch every single one. So Zenith crouched behind his shield, imbuing it with his Levia as well. Amazement sparked through him when a massive fount of white light flared in front of the shield, forming a protective wall.
Until now, he hadn't known he could do that. This must be another elemental ability of his – one Cyrias had unlocked, not Theo.
Guarded by the light shield, Zenith charged forward. Serac kept stepping backward and summoning more ice spears, but he had nowhere to escape in the narrow chamber.
When less than two yards separated them, Serac gestured wildly and the remaining ice spears clustered in front of him, melding together to form a single gigantic one. Zenith plunged onward, but when the giant spear struck his light shield, the impact sent him skidding backward.
Snarling, he charged forward again. Once again, the spear slammed into the light shield. To his dismay, the light began to flicker.
His core wrenched when the wall of light shattered into sparks. The spear kept flying, and with no other choice, Zenith swung his physical shield. An awful screech of tearing metal assaulted his ears, and the next thing he knew, the tip of the spear quivered to a stop mere inches from his nose.
His head whirling, Zenith released the shield. It hung uselessly in the air, suspended from the spear. But with an ominous rumble, the spear began sliding forward again.
Before it could strike, Zenith flung himself to the floor. The spear tilted, aiming at his unguarded back.
No more running or hiding. As the spear plummeted, Zenith flipped onto his back and thrust his sword before him. His Levia glowed within the blade, dancing off the mirrors until the entire room blazed with light.
Forcing all his strength into his arms, all his will into his blade, he slashed the sword upward.
It carved through the spear without resistance, leaving behind a trail of brilliant light. The shards of the spear clattered to the floor like frozen rain, glittering with a rainbow of colors beneath the light.
That done, Zenith rose to his feet and faced Serac. The demon lifted his hands, clearly about to summon more ice spears, but Zenith wouldn't let him.
In a single bound, he crossed the room. His sword still aglow with power, he slashed the Grand General in the chest.
The sword cut through him as easily as it did the ice spear – and without a trace of blood. Numb with disbelief, Zenith watched as Serac split neatly in half down the center. As the two halves tumbled to the floor, skin and hair and cloth transformed into cold blue ice.
The ice shattered when it hit the floor, scattering chunks across the room. One clinked to a stop at Zenith's foot. Bending down, he picked it up. If he squinted, he could make out the ridges and whorls of Serac's horn....
What had happened? The demon couldn't be made of ice, could he? No, Zenith realized: he had never fought the real Serac in the first place.
He glanced wildly around the room, but only his own face stared back from the mirrors. Aside from the ice shards littering the floor, there was no sign the battle had ever taken place.
Had he fallen into a trap? But there was no mistake – the dark Levia was stronger here than anywhere else in the castle. Zenith took a deep breath, centering himself, before focusing on the Levia again. This time he reached beneath the shrouding darkness, grasping for the cold, sharp Levia hiding deep within.
It felt like trying to swim through tar, but he refused to give up. Perhaps if he had been on his own, or with Theo, he would not have been able to do it. But thanks to Cyrias, his ability to sense Levia was stronger than ever.
Soon enough, he felt it – a prickle of ice amidst the darkness. Following it to its source, he discovered it felt the coldest behind the mirror opposite him.
Satisfaction settled into his bones. Step by step, he approached the mirror.
The icy Levia grew slightly fainter as if it was fleeing, but not fast enough. Once he stood within inches of the mirror, Zenith drew back his sword and stabbed.
Though he met resistance, he continued pushing. Cracks webbed the ice, slicing apart his reflection, before the mirror shattered with an earsplitting screech.
Beyond it stretched a narrow tunnel. His pale hair shining like a beacon, a demon stumbled down the tunnel while his hysterical voice echoed off the walls. "My Lord, please! We need you! My Lord – augh!"
His voice cut off when Zenith caught up, hooked a foot around his ankle, and flipped him over. A blank hand mirror spilled out of his fingers. For good measure, Zenith stomped on it.
Gasping and sputtering, Serac stared up at him. Pathetic. Nothing at all like the composed ice clone Zenith had defeated.
"W-wait," Serac choked out. "There's no need to do anything rash. I – I can give you information."
Disgust clenched Zenith's stomach. He pushed down the sword until its tip pierced Serac's coat, and the demon's body snapped taut.
"No? I promise I can make it worth it," he said breathlessly. "Surely your liege would appreciate it."
Yes, she would. After all, wasn't information why she had allied with Mirage and Victor?
But Zenith wasn't Darian. Looking Serac in the eye, he said, "I have only come to kill you."
"H-how, how did you even find this place?" Serac burst out. "It was hidden, warded – we never even saw your skycraft! What did Prince Darian – "
His voice cut off in a rattling gasp when the sword pierced his chest. This time it struck with the dull thud of metal meeting flesh and bone. Blood bubbled at Serac's lips, but the blood that spilled around the glowing blade swirled into wisps like ash in the wind.
Serac drew one last shuddering breath. Then he fell still, his eyes dimming. Not wanting to stain it with the demon's flesh, Zenith yanked his sword free.
He stood above Serac, feeling nothing but a cold, alien kind of satisfaction. After failing to defeat Hellebore, he had personally brought an end to another Grand General.
He had restored his pride.