You'd think a mage obsessed with momentum would be easy to outmaneuver.

Speed in a straight line, maybe. But not him.

He hadn't moved like a projectile—he'd moved like a storm.

He walked with that eerie stillness. Bare feet. No armor. No visible weapon. But the air had hummed around him with authority, and his coat had rippled even without wind.

He had been storing movement with every breath. Every blink, every idle shift—potential energy tucked away like secrets. I'd known it going in. A mage like me has to know what they're facing.

He had smiled at me like I was an interesting puzzle.

That had been fine.

I too love solving dangerous problems.

I struck first. Illusions had flared in every direction:

One of me dashed left. Another leapt back. A third stood calmly still.

None were real.

The real me had slipped low and quiet to the side, cloaked in light-diffraction weave.

He blinked. Then grinned wider.

"Fun," he muttered.

Then he stomped—just once—and it echoed like thunder. He hadn't aimed at me. He'd banked it. Stored it. He always did.

A flick of his finger, and one of my illusions burst—wind and sand exploding from beneath it, kicked up by the released stomp. He was testing. Feeling me out.

He rolled his shoulder—charging up like a flywheel. The air had shimmered near his palm as he stored angular momentum.

Then, without warning, he slapped sideways—

—and vanished.

Not disappeared. Redirected.

He'd hurled himself with the force of the slap, swinging his body like a slingshot around some invisible axis. He curved through the air and landed behind another illusion.

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This time, no test. He slammed force down, exploded the ground beneath it.

He knew it was fake.

He was baiting me. Building tempo.

I had scattered a field of images—terrain warps, mirrored walls, flickering pits of shadow and light. My domain: perception.

The whole arena had twisted into something surreal.

He paused. Scanned.

But not with sight. With momentum sense. That uncanny awareness of direction—of motion—beyond the visible.

He stomped. Spun. Threw a punch into the air.

A shockwave had burst outward in all directions—displacing illusions, bending light, shredding camouflage.

He didn't dodge illusions. He steamrolled them.

I had ducked low and tried to flank.

By then, he had the rhythm. Every twitch of his body was a threat. Stored force waiting to be unleashed.

He'd dashed forward without moving his feet—releasing an earlier step like snapping a coiled spring.

I answered with a strobe burst—flashes of myself at staggered speeds.

He'd paused. One flickered slower.

He lunged.

Right into a spike of refracted Authority.

Not lethal. But it hurt him. One punch could be enough to win.

His breath had grown heavy. So had mine.

We circled.

He raised a hand. Slammed his fist into his chest.

And released everything.

Stored movement detonated outward—slamming ground, shattering stone, blowing illusions apart like brittle glass.

I had dived, tumbled, thrown up an image of myself falling—

—then reappeared beneath him just as he flew overhead.

He'd twisted in midair. Caught himself. Stored the spin.

But I was already behind the next mirage.

And by then, he couldn't trust what was real.

Stalemate.

We had stopped. Bruised. Sweating. No bows. Just grins.

But he hadn't known the truth.

I'd infused him. My Authority drilled into him during that one close strike. It had been a battle of will and soul since then. Mine had won.

My soulmark of Inversion had taken hold.

Now, I decided how his body moved.

I had launched left, charging Authority into a second skin of light wrapping my fist.

He had dodged right, but with his directions inverted, he'd met my punch head-on.

His right had become left. His balance had shifted. He moved, but everything was wrong. I could see him adapting, learning.

He was fast. I'll give him that.

I had thrown another illusion—made of light this time. Physical. Traceable. Easier for him to spot.

He had dodged. Smart.

But I was already behind it.

And my boot connected with his skull.

He'd gone down hard—but rose quickly. Slammed into the ground. Shot into the air. Clapped his hands and released a kinetic shockwave.

I had reinforced myself with raw Authority.

The blast scoured me, but I held.

We were both running on fumes.

He'd ducked behind a pillar.

But it wasn't real. I'd made sure of that.

I had charged forward and dispelled it at the last second.

He'd seen the truth—tried to dodge—

But I released my inversion.

His sense of direction returned instantly.

The shift confused him. Sent him stumbling toward me.

Right where I wanted him.

I focused all the freed Authority. Gathered it at my fingertips.

A blade of shadowlight bloomed in my hand.

And I cut across his face.

Half of his head fell away.

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