Water surged from every direction, drawn forth by Lukas's call. It roared upward, circling around them in towering arcs, droplets scattering light into a thousand fractured colors. Each breath he took was laced with power—his Divinity pulsing like a heartbeat that echoed through the currents.

As battle-hungry Lukas was, he did not want this fight.

Anriette was not his enemy and she did not deserve the fate most of his enemies had met.

All he needed was the Mandate.

If he could restrain her—just stop her long enough to make her listen—this would not have to end with bloodshed.

But that begged the question.

Why did she wish to participate in the Tournament of Khaitish?

What question was it she wished to ask the High Septon?

But Anriette was already moving. Her grip on the sword tightened, the Codex at her side flickering with faint, shifting light. Lukas' focus sharpened. He sent the water forward in a rush, a rising tide meant to hold her still, to wrap her in a prison of his making. The force behind it did not carry all of the strength Lukas could muster through the waters, restrained and controlled.

Before the water could reach her, with a single motion, Anriette reached out with an open palm.

The ground beneath them pulsed.

The glyphs that had lain dormant—etched in spirals across the sand from the spell of Interrogation—flared to life. Lukas saw the symbols rise, a lattice of light and ancient geometry lifting off the earth as if gravity no longer bound them.

Before he could react, they struck.

Chains—glimmering and translucent—snapped into existence around him.

One coiled around his wrist, another at his throat, then his chest, his legs.

In less than a heartbeat, Lukas Drakos was bound by the Divinity of Justice.

He had once asked her about this magic, this strange Divinity that relied on this Codex that she had brought around everywhere she went. It was unlike any form of magic that he had ever come across.

But Anriette had never given him a straight answer, she had simply laughed as she shook her head. "You should hope that you never find out." That was the only reply she had given him.

Now that time had finally come.

The chains constricted and hummed with power, thrumming through his veins, through the very air he breathed.

Lukas tried to draw upon his Divinity, to call the sea once more to his side.

But nothing came.

His heart pounded faster.

The water that had been poised above them—those vast, shimmering walls—suddenly lost their form. They crashed to the ground in a dull, anti-climatic collapse, soaking the sand. The scent of salt and steel filled the air, the sound of waves dying against the sand echoing faintly in his ears. They pulsed faintly, invisible cords woven of glyph and light, threading through his limbs and preventing his magic from being released in the form of spells. Every time he tried to call the sea, to reach for that familiar vastness, he found only silence.

His Divinity was not gone, it was bound by these chains, locked away in a prison of Anriette's making.

The voice of Linemall's Seas had been silenced once more.

Lukas cursed as Anriette's blade cut through the air, tracing a silver arc, twisting free from the path of her strike.

The dragon had hoped to restrain her but instead it was he who had become restrained.

These chains had shifted and tightened around him, not to halt movement but to contain what lay within. That was when he understood. The glyphs had not taken his freedom of motion, they had taken his ability to call upon his own magic.

The realization should have filled him with dread, but instead it made something else stir deep within him.

Lukas grinned.

It was a raw, fierce thing, born of adrenaline and the sheer thrill of facing an opponent who he had underestimated since the moment they had crossed paths within the open seas. His pulse quickened, his body alive with tension and purpose.

Lukas' hands moved first, his instincts urging him to tear free. He could feel the chains coiling around his limbs but they were not of the physical world. As he tried to peel the glyphs off, fingers digging through empty air that felt thick and electric. The sigils shimmered under his touch, lines of light rearranging themselves as if mocking his efforts.

For every fragment he disrupted, another replaced it in perfect symmetry.

Anriette did not allow this opportunity to pass by, moving fast.

Lukas caught only a blur—the flash of her blade, the brief flare of her own Divinity that seemed to act through that Codex—and then the wind shifted with the force of her strike. He twisted, narrowly avoiding the arc that would have opened his throat.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Her speed was astonishing, greater than anything Lukas expected from her.

No, it was more than just astonishing, it was highly unnatural.

Anriette was faster than she had ever been, faster than any human should be. The Codex must have been feeding her, amplifying her body with that same unearthly power that had sealed away his Divinity.

The Divinity of Justice, in the sight of one who had broken the law, had turned Anriette Vale into a warrior of the law and Lukas could almost sense the reason in her movements. She deemed him a criminal, one who had broken the law, whose actions had crossed the invisible boundary that defined right and wrong. Anriette had said it herself; when she witnessed a crime, only when guilt was beyond dispute, that was when she would have to resort to combat.

Magic had always been volatile, a living force that answered not to reason but to will and Anriette's will was iron.

Lukas dodged another strike, his arm shifting just enough to avoid the edge. Her blade sang through the air again, faster this time, each movement fluid and precise. He found himself driven backward, sand kicking up around his feet as she pressed the attack. Every swing carried weight, not just of strength but conviction.

Anriette was beyond what he had believed her to be capable of.

Each strike, each motion, carried a clarity that could only come from someone who had devoted everything—body, mind, and soul—to the art of battle. It was clear that with the amplification that her Divinity had now granted her, she was in a league above even the likes of Celina the Divine Knight.

If not for the Draconic Arts, Lukas knew her sword would have already tasted his blood. He seemed to blur the line between man and dragon. His senses sharpened; his pupils narrowed, movements becoming more instinctive, less human. His body shifted just enough to twist around the next strike, scales flickering along his arm for the briefest instant before fading.

It was almost exhilarating.

The thrill of battle, the rush of danger—it filled him, even as logic screamed at him to stop. He had not seen all that the world's magic could offer, and in Anriette's relentless onslaught, he was reminded of that truth. She was living proof of how unpredictable and boundless magic could be. Perhaps Lukas should have known that Anriette was always capable of such power. When she had placed her hand on the crystal ball, it had shone bright, perhaps almost as bright as when Lukas himself had been put to the test.

Her potential had always been there.

Now, it was unleashed and being fully realized.

If this continued, Lukas would no longer be fighting for the Mandate.

Lukas would be fighting for his life.

A small, sharp laugh escaped him, not a laugh of mockery, but of recognition. Perhaps the chains weren't a curse after all. They stripped him of the Divinity of the Seas, yes, but in doing so, they forced him into a different kind of clarity.

He could no longer rely on what he had always known.

Lukas hoped that the Priest of Pan was watching him from the Underworld because he was about to make that beastman proud.

Sand burst beneath their feet as Lukas moved, each motion fluid, precise, deliberate—almost graceful. The chains of glyphs that still clung to him seemed forgotten, rendered useless in the face of something deeper taking hold. His body flowed with motion, every step measured as though he were dancing upon water itself.

Anriette pressed forward, relentless. Her strikes came one after another, precise arcs of steel and light, each meant to cut through his guard. But Lukas was already gone before the next blow landed—bending, pivoting, sliding past her reach in movements that were neither wholly human nor entirely draconic. It was as though he had found rhythm within chaos, a cadence between stillness and speed.

Then, without warning, it began.

The magical energy that was forced to lay dormant within his newly gifted arm began to move. Power coiled and surged through him, not outwards through spell-casting but inwards, threading itself through his very flesh.

Lukas's breath hitched.

The glow began beneath his skin, faint at first, then burning bright enough to illuminate the marks of his scales. The energy coursed through his veins, washing through every sinew, every strand of muscle, until his entire form pulsed with restrained vitality.

It was unlike anything he had ever known.

Once, he would not have been able to hold such strength within his mortal vessel. But his body had been reforged, rebuilt and reformed within the waters of the Underworld's Rivers. Strength, speed and precision fused into one seamless current.

This was the Internal Arts.

The change was instant.

Anriette's eyes widened as Lukas vanished from her sight entirely.

One moment he was before her, the next he was gone—his movement so swift it left the air trembling in his wake.

Had he disappeared?

No.

He was behind her.

A faint whoosh brushed against her ear, instinct forcing her to turn, her blade already swinging in reflex.

The clash came and ended in the same heartbeat.

Her sword struck Lukas' arm and it shattered.

The impact sent a sharp metallic cry through the air as shards of her weapon scattered across the sand. Only the hilt remained in her grasp, trembling slightly from the recoil. Lukas stood behind her, motionless save for the faint glow that still pulsed along his arm. The strength of a dragon had always surpassed that of man, but now, enhanced by the Internal Arts, the difference between them had become immeasurable, one that even Anriette's Divinity could not help her close.

Still, Anriette met his gaze without fear.

In that moment, she knew that she could not rely on strength alone.

She realized now what she was facing.

To keep the Mandate, she could not afford restraint.

The Codex lifted behind her, rising into the air of its own accord. Its pages began to turn, one after another, faster and faster, until their fluttering became a steady hum. Light gathered around her open palm, her expression calm, resolute.

Lukas tensed, ready to move.

He became a blur once more, his body coiling like a serpent poised to strike, intent on ending this before it escalated further.

But the spell had already been cast.

Anriette's voice cut through the sound of rushing air—clear, commanding, and cold.

"Lukas Drakos," she declared, her eyes blazing with conviction, "by the will of the Codex and the laws you have gone against, I summon you to stand before the Tribunal. Let judgment be rendered upon your soul!"

Light burst outward, swallowing them both in Anriette's magic, bringing them into another reality altogether.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.