His teeth ground against each other so hard his jaw hurt. He tightened his hold on his sword, keeping Zhi-Xen's away from his neck. It had been close. Too close. With a grunt, he stepped back, letting her lean her weight against their crossed swords. Slowly, he twisted his sword so that the sharp side pointed away from him. Then, he used Zhi-Xen's weight against her and slashed.

His blade clashed against hers in a stringent shriek. He stumbled away from her as she recovered her stance and went for him again. Their movements were a blur of swings, parries, and thrusts. Nao-Zai's eyes never stayed in one place for more than a second. Zhi-Xen was that fast.

Her loose dark hair flitted with each of her movements, providing another curtain of distraction for Nao-Zai to sift through. All around them, the incapacitated soldiers were slowly coming to. The despairing man had started wiping the snot off his nose and the frozen one had just started to move his face. A curse rang from his lips as he met another of Zhi-Xen's blows. This was bad. He needed to finish this. Quickly.

And he couldn't do it if he just stayed on the defense.

But in between Zhi-Xen's powerful and relentless attacks, it was impossible to find the avenue to switch, even for Nao-Zai. Then, it clicked. Of course. She's giving him no time to think, to analyze her methods. That way, she'd tire him out before he could even think of attacking.

That's not how Nao-Zai was supposed to be playing. Zhi-Xen wanted a fair game. Might as well give her one.

With that, Nao-Zai leaped back, barely avoiding a slash aimed at his shoulder. It would have sliced off an arm or something. He turned and started running. Towards anywhere.

"You coward. Where are you going?" Zhi-Xen screamed as she thumped after him. Nao-Zai had been called by a lot of names since he left the fortress. It didn't matter if he was a coward now.

The foyer darkened as he went deeper into it. The light streaming from the hole blown up by the cannon was swallowed up by the upcoming dimness. Not exactly an ideal place to have a sword fight, but it's the best place he could think of—somewhere where the playing field was to his advantage. Somewhere where Zhi-Xen would need time adjusting to.

And while she was feeling out her surroundings, analyzing the rows of shelves filled with stacks of paper and bound books, Nao-Zai struck. Her sword went up to parry. Too slow. His blade streaked towards her neck, drawing a thin line of blood as it sailed between the strands of her hair. A warning. That's what it was.

Before she could recover from her shock, Nao-Zai swung. Again and again. She blocked every single time, letting him herd her towards a wall free of shelves and pockets of space where her sword could get stuck into. He knew what she was planning. She was simply waiting for another wide space. It's her ground. She always thrived in places where nothing could hold her back.

Or at least that's what Nao-Zai read from her.

It was all proven wrong when her fingers closed around a shelf's side just as she diverted one of Nao-Zai's swings. As he moved to attack again, her other hand yanked the shelf in the space between them. Pain exploded from the side of Nao-Zai's face as he stumbled away from his trajectory. The sound of sheets shuffling and crinkling as they hit the ground blared along with the ringing in his ears. Before he could figure out what hit him, Zhi-Xen bore down on him once more.

Just like that, the tables were back to how Nao-Zai found them. And this time, the lack of proper lighting, the cramp spaces between the shelves, and the unfamiliar ground worked against him.

Right. They weren't in a sparring session or a festival anymore. This was real life, where they stood at two warring sides. Nao-Zai should stop playing by the rules and start trying to care about his life. To Zhi-Xen, this was just one of her missions that she needed to complete. Maybe Nao-Zai had been stuck in his fantasies all this time and that's why he was losing.

It's time to stop thinking of this as a battle of principles and skill, because this game that they're playing...

It's a matter of survival.

Nao-Zai clenched his jaw and parried another of Zhi-Xen's blows. This time, he followed up with a quick hook to her jaw. She clicked her tongue and ducked under his swing. Then, she brought a fist up, catching his chin. He stumbled back, clutching his face. That punch contained enough force to snap his neck or something.

"Finally decided to take this seriously?" Zhi-Xen said, her shoulders rising and falling as she panted. Sweat plastered her hair to the sides of her face, dripping from her chin and neck, joining the slow trickle of blood from numerous cuts on her skin. After all this time of fighting her, those were the only things he was able to inflict her. How annoying.

Nao-Zai wiped against the thin stream of liquid on the top of his lips. The back of his hand came away red. A weak chuckle escaped his mouth. He leveled his sword at her. "Let's finish this," he said.

And then, the fight started anew.

Nao-Zai surged down as Zhi-Xen's sword cleaved through a shelf's corner. Paper, vases, and some weird trinkets clattered to the ground, knocked over to the other side as her blade passed through. Gold glinted in his periphery. He paid it no mind as he met Zhi-Xen's slash.

He drove her back, slamming her against yet another shelf. She cried out as something inside her cracked. Her spine? Neck? Whatever. He pressed his sword deeper into her defense, the sharp side coming close to her throat enough to draw blood. That's when she sliced her sword up, Nao-Zai barely catching it.

He leaped back just as Zhi-Xen invaded his space once more. His vision tunneled just then. Warmth flooded his system—a foreign yet somehow comforting feeling. Something gripped the back of his mind, turning his attention towards somewhere important. Somewhere...

Kai-Se. He's calling Nao-Zai. But...how? Where was he? What happened to Shin-Ki and the ritual? Where—

His shoulder exploded into a world of pain. He went back to the real world in time to see Zhi-Xen press her sword deeper into his body, twisting it a little bit more. His back pressed against a shelf, the point of her sword peeking through the opposite side of the niche. A river of warm and thick liquid ran down his sleeve and fingers.

He bit down on his lip just to keep himself from crying out in pain. Zhi-Xen was laughing. "What's got your trousers in a knot?" she jeered. She won and she knew it. "You dare look away from a fight? With me? How much of a fool have you become?"

Nao-Zai cursed, attempting to raise his sword, to at least plunge it into Zhi-Xen mutually. He found out he couldn't. It's like he had just lost control over his dominant limb. She got his sword arm.

It soon became final when Zhi-Xen twisted her blade and pain surged up his neck, his head, and his heart. His fingers shook and opened on their own, his sword slipping free from his hold. The clatter of the metal against the temple's wooden floorboards was the most haunting noise in Nao-Zai's ears as of late.

The warmth still hasn't faded in his system, but now, he's having a hard time discerning if it was from the blood seeping out of his system or from the ritual finally taking effect. Was it time to smear his blood on the ribbon?

A gasp filtered out of his lips. The ribbon. Slowly, despite the sharp pain gripping his neck, he looked down to his arms. The yellow string was still there. Zhi-Xen had stabbed him on the other side. Relief flooded over him. The hall's dimness started creeping over his vision...

No. Not yet. He squirmed against Zhi-Xen's hold, bringing his legs up to his chest. Then, he kicked with what's left of his strength. His boots slammed into sternum, driving her back. She didn't let go of her sword, so even the blade came out with a clean squelch.

Nao-Zai crashed to the floor, hitting his injured shoulder in the process. The pain that exploded knocked the air out of his lungs and sent his ears ringing. He coughed, and something dripped from the corner of his mouth. Zhi-Xen, herself, on her way backwards, slammed against another shelf. More items rained to the ground, each clatter increasing the pain shrieking in Nao-Zai's head.

"You..." the sound of metal skidding against the floor was loud. Too loud. Zhi-Xen's shadow fell over him as she dragged the tip of her sword against the wood. His eyes flicked to where his sword fell. It was far. He wouldn't be able to reach it even if he crawled. What's next? The vase rolling a few inches away?

Zhi-Xen pointed her sword at his head. With the goal to keep his blood inside his body taking most of his attention, he couldn't even look up at her. "You deserve to die a death without honor," she hissed.

Then, she brought her blade down.

His arm shot up, an object enclosed in it. Before his failing vision, he saw a wall of force slam into Zhi-Xen, plucking her off her feet and sending her flying to the side. The unmistakable jangle of bells defeated the static humming in Nao-Zai's ears. What...

He inhaled sharply, using his good arm to push himself up. On his grip was the stalk filled with bells he had stuck into his belt when he got it from Shin-Ki's room. He...what did he do?

A series of grunts and vulgar cursing bled into his ears. He turned to the sound to find Zhi-Xen tossing scrolls away from her lap. She shot up, retrieved her sword, and wailed. Just a full, wild shriek pierced his already blaring hearing as she lunged at him again. His heart leaped to his throat as he swung the bells again.

Nothing happened. No magical forces saving him from Zhi-Xen's wrath. He tried again. And again. Come on.

"I will kill you, Paekdora Nao-Zai!" Zhi-Xen slammed into him, pinning him to the ground. The bells slipped from Nao-Zai's grip, clattering somewhere in the growing darkness. Her fingers closed around his throat, her thumbs pressing down on his windpipe. His fingers clawed against hers as she squeezed the air out of his lungs. His vision blackened, his legs kicked and flailed in resistance.

Resistance...

Kai-Se. He needed Nao-Zai. He needed Nao-Zai.

It wouldn't end here. Not yet.

With the last of his strength, he felt around his belt for something—anything—he could use to save himself. His fingers closed around a stick. Or something that felt like one. Before his consciousness completely fizzled out, he struck at the oppressive weight on top of him. The object connected with a wall of flesh. The metallic grip around his throat loosened.

He gasped uncontrollably as air flooded his nose, his lungs, and his brain. His uninjured hand flew to his throat, like it was reveling at the fact it was still there. He collapsed back, letting his chest heave to catch his breath. Where's Zhi-Xen?

His neck swiveled to his side. One of her legs was draped over his stomach. The rest of her body was sprawled on her back, facing the ceiling. Her eyes were closed and an angry red welt blossomed at one of her temples. He knitted his eyebrows. What happened?

His gaze traveled down to the object still in his grip. Somehow, it slipped his mind that this hand was still attached to his busted shoulder, because he had the folded fan, the last of the objects he got from Shin-Ki's room, lying between his fingers. By some miracle, he was able to draw it, hit Zhi-Xen with it, and knock her off. What...did the fan do anyway? It didn't kill her, right?

That was the last of his worries though. With painstaking slowness, he dragged his body to Zhi-Xen's side and proceeded to tie her to the nearest rack he could get her to without passing out. His shoulder screamed in pain, demanding attention, but he bound it with the other half of the twine he found lying around. The first half now found their home in Zhi-Xen's wrists.

Then, he braced one of the shelves that managed to survive standing and pulled himself up. His world swirled, but he forced himself to keep walking, to go back to Kai-Se's side as Shin-Ki completed the ritual. He retrieved both his and Zhi-Xen's swords and moved forward. One foot of the other.

Don't pass out. Don't pass out. Don't pass out.

"Nao-Zai?" Shin-Ki's voice speared through his thoughts. He raised his eyes to find the shaman in front of him. What...did he walk all the way from the temple's foyer? The shaman had a look of concern on their face as he walked past them into the room. "What happened?"

He glanced at Shin-Ki, at their otherwise pristine clothes. "Nothing much," he said, his words slurring. "I dealt with them. They're gone now. Where are we with the ritual?"

Shin-Ki pressed their lips into a thin, thin line. Their dark eyes scanned Nao-Zai's frame from head to toe. "Are you sure about this?" they asked. "You don't look fine."

Nao-Zai would have rolled his eyes if he didn't feel like his world was already spinning. "Just tell me what to do," he dropped next to a table and leaned all his weight against it. "I'll do it."

Shin-Ki handed him the dagger. "This blade is enchanted with the tears of an ancestral spirit," they said. "Blood drawn by this blade will be potent enough to bind Kai-Se's korza to you and yours to his. Are you ready? It's going to hurt."

"What? I'm already bleeding to death over here," Nao-Zai had the nerve to laugh. Maybe it was the delirium talking. "Make it quick."

The shaman nodded gravely. They positioned the blade by the spot where Nao-Zai tied the ribbon. They were about to make the cut when the door to the room exploded into splinters. Shin-Ki whipped his hand out, a barrier forming in front of them and Nao-Zai.

And out from the debris stepped out none other than Pyeongjeon Jang-Ho.

"Ah, Paekdora Nao-Zai," he greeted just as Nai-Zai raised his head from being stooped too low. It required too much energy to keep it that way. "It seems like Zhi-Xen has done a number on you. Excellent! I don't even have to exert any strength, like what the Empress intended. Looks like you'd keel over on your own."

Shin-Ki stepped forward. "Why do you have Amatesu's korza?" they snarled. For someone whose voice sounded like brushing one's hand against a silk sheet, this grate in their tone awakened some idling part in Nao-Zai's mind. "Do you have relations with the Spirit Empress?"

Nao-Zai rested his head against the table. It hasn't stopped pounding since he made it inside the room. Amatesu? Spirit Empress? This dream was becoming weirder by the second.

In response, Jang-Ho threw his head back and laughed. "That's right," he said before waving his hand in the air. "Man, I want to leave Xuijae alone and just focus on ruling Yomaura and Izeryeo, but the woman just won't leave it. She wanted something from the Imperial Palace—I believe it to be the Crown Prince himself—so we struck a deal. She'd help me take over the Imperial Palace and I'd give her the Crown Prince on a silver platter."

Nao-Zai was about to push back against the table and lunge at the general when Jang-Ho frowned. His gaze turned hazy. Shin-Ki clicked his tongue. "He's contacting Amatesu," they said. "Unbelievable. This is the kind of magic that's outlawed."

"Change of plans," Jang-Ho announced, his eyes focusing back at them once more. "You and Kai-See, Amatesu said you both need to die. Now."

With that, the general raised his hand, and from his palms, a bolt of white-hot energy speared forward. No. Kai-Se! Nao-Zai, with whatever miracle strength he acquired at that moment, scrambled over the table and threw himself all over the prince.

All that's left for him to do was wait for one final storm of pain.