Reflection

The floor didn't even shake from the force of Venden's attacks. They stood upon a platform made to handle the duels of Masters, how could it fold to a Journeyman's strikes?

But Venden took no heed of this, pounding away at the ground over and over even as Fate's attacks smashed his right arm into a state not dissimilar to that of his left and shattered the bones in his right foot.

Venden dropped into a kneeling position, chest heaving as his arms dangled uselessly at his sides. Fate's attacks had ceased for the moment, and Venden only had enough Mana for a single shot. He wisely used this to keep his Skill active, mind racing through the possible timelines to find when Fate would break the lull.

The stadium grew silent, the audience watching with bated breath as they diligently captured every expression that crossed Venden's bloody face. The Febenochi siblings, who were there to make sure they were the first to report on this, leaned forward with earnest anticipation.

"If contestant Fate does not appear within the next five seconds, I will have no choice but to issue a loss for fleeing the duel," the referee said after ten seconds had passed.

And then it happened.

Fate exploded out of the ground at a diagonal angle with the speed of a loosed arrow, his Mage Grasp trailing in his wake as he used it to increase his speed even further. He crossed the thirty-foot distance between him and Venden in less than a second, throwing all of his kinetic energy into one punch.

Venden went limp, rag-dolling to the ground and narrowly avoiding Fate as he sailed overhead. Fate made a blob of Mana and pushed off of it to stop his flight, dropping lightly to the ground and striding over to the fallen Venden.

With both arms and a leg out of commission, Venden could only glare spitefully as Fate approached. Fate was in better shape than the fallen noble, but not by much.

A stray Mana ball had struck his foot, the one he hadn't used to stop his flight, in the earlier bombardment, smashing his calf and giving him a limp. His shirt was drenched in the blood that even now dripped down from his mouth and nose, and his right ear was a tattered mess, shorn off in the same way he injured his foot.

But at least he could still walk.

And walk he did, shambling his way over to Venden with all the determination and stubbornness of a goat. As he drew closer, Venden's quakes of rage turned to shudders of fear as his Skill told him every single way Fate could end this fight. And none of them were pretty.

As Fate crouched down beside Venden's fallen form, the noble got a better look at his eyes.

From afar, they were just blue circles in a field of black. Up close, they weren't much different. There was no swirling abyss hidden within Fate's eyes, no glimpse of some cosmic horror or the void of space itself. No, the only thing Venden saw…

Was pity.

In a blink, that pity folded in on itself, becoming a mirror into his own insecurities. His chances of losing the right to inherit his father. The disappointment he knew his parents felt when they looked upon him. His crippling need to feel validated, to feel valuable to the family that sees him as nothing but a blunt tool.

Yes, he was a genius, having become a Journeyman after only eight months from Awakening. But his little sister was on track to be even better than he was. She was already a month or two away from beating his record, becoming the first Mage in thousands of years to become a Journeyman in less than six months.

His cousins were less adept than he was, but they made up for it in spades with their ingenuity and persistence. He could never handle pain, not before today, but his cousins pushed themselves day after day to break past their limits.

In the end, he was worthless. He couldn't even take care of a commoner that tarnished the honor of the Grendeven family, how could he possibly hope to be a leader?

Fate was oblivious to Venden's inner turmoil as his pity turned to concern, the noble in front of him twitching and jerking like a fish caught on a hook and yet refusing to look away from his eyes. Fate's eyes had no powers, no capability to cause the strife tearing its way through Venden's psyche. His eyes were simply reflective like a typical person's.

The noble had seen himself in the reflection of Fate's eyes, seen the sorry state he was in, and broke.

As a Mage, Venden was born with an innate ability for self-reflection. When his Time Facet was Awakened, this ability grew in strength. As a Mage with the Time Facet, Venden's aptitude for self-reflection was perhaps only outshined by those with Emotional and Vice Facets.

How could you hope to understand something as complex as Time without first learning your place within it?

So it was with Venden. After seeing the state he had been reduced to, his mind delved into his past and what made him himself. Fate played no part in this process besides giving Venden the catalyst he needed.

The noble gritted his remaining teeth as he soared through the Journeyman Stage, going from near the beginning to about three-fourths of the way through in a single leap. Even though he suddenly became so much stronger than Fate, he only gnashed his teeth harder, trying to spit out the words he knew he needed to.

"I… I concede," he managed to say just as Fate raised a fist. Better to save what little reputation he had left. It was clear for even him to see that this was his loss. Fighting that fact would only make him look like a fool.

"Winner, Fate," the referee declared swiftly, silver-sleeved arm pointing at the victor.

The crowd did not cheer at this declaration, only nodding as they got up to leave. The Febenochi triplets lingered at the exit as they cast worried glances at Fate, only to be shooed along by Ventraga.

Fate let out a sigh of relief, and fell onto his side, he and Venden drifting off into sleep borne of sheer exhaustion.