CHAPTER 10 â BIRTHRIGHT TO FREEDOM: PART II
âDonât blink. Theyâll miss your greatness if you do.â
Day 231 of the Twelvefold Cycle
Era of Concordance, Year 812 | Early Flamerest (September) | Nightfall
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The ring rippled with movement.
Rukiâs boots dragged a shallow crescent into the dirt as she slid backward, her heels grinding through packed earth and scattered stones. A dull shock pulsed through her braced arm, still hardened by Stonewall Skin, as she sank into a defensive crouch. She didnât fall, but her knees dipped, and for the first time since stepping onto the field, her health bar ticked. Not a devastating blow, but enough to sting.
Copper danced across her tongue. A bright slash of blood snuck from beneath her brigandineâs edge, tracing her ribs in silence.
The sting was real.
So was the crowdâs roar.
> [SYSTEM INTERFACE ALERT]
>
> Status: Ruki Yusato
>
> Class: Beast Lord
>
> Level: 14
>
> Mana: 950 â 940 (-10: Stonewall Skin)
>
> Health: ~700 â 650 (-50 HP: Combo Hit)
>
> Status Effect: STUNNED
âDamn it⦠Heâs not holding back.â
The thought hit harder than the strike. Ruki panted, hard. Moisture clung to her fox-like ears, sweat darkening the tufts at their tips. Her body still buzzed with the residual afterburn of Juizioâs attack. The STUNNED debuff blinked red in her UI, pulsing like a warning flare.
âThis⦠this is the first.â She gritted her teeth. Debuffs werenât foreign; sheâd used them herself against Malfur, but this wasnât what she expected from a so-called spar.
> âRuki⦠whatever your resolve is, I will follow it.â
Mar-Marâs voice rang in her skull, two full days without him. Technically, one, sheâd slept through half of it. But the absence ached. Her arm, light without his weight. Her mind, too quiet without his voice.
But she had a plan.
This all had to end with Victor losing control of her fate.
The plan had started with that letter. Selene would understand the code and the hidden meaning. She had to.
> âSelene⦠I hope you read that letter. What I do next only makes sense if you did.â
Ruki stood slowly.
The crowd leaned in. She could feel the weight of every eye. Dozens. Maybe more. Watching. Waiting.
âI know these eyes. The ones that want to use me.â
Just like Earth. Just like when her name rose to the top of the global PvP charts and sponsors turned her suffering into marketing.
Fame wasnât safety. But it was leverage. And leverage meant options.
If she looked strong enough, reckless enough, vital enough, maybe theyâd want to own her instead of kill her.
And if everyone wanted to own her?
Victor lost his monopoly.
She could live with being a prize. For now.
Across the makeshift ring, little more than a dirt sparring yard carved into the back of the Whining Moon tavern, Juizio straightened.
He stepped back two paces, hand lowering from the strike. Not in retreat. In admiration. His tail swung lazily once behind him, stirring the dust.
But his eyes? Wild. Focused. Hungry.
âShe didnât fold.â That thought cracked like thunder through his brain. That blow shouldâve dropped her. Shouldâve bent her at the ribs and smeared her across the dirt.
But she stood. Arms raised. Breath measured.
Bleeding but looking right at him like sheâd seen worse.
A crooked grin carved its way across his jaw.
âThis girl⦠is entertaining. This girl is exactly what I hoped sheâd be. Show me more.â
A scratchy laugh escaped his throat, low and raw. The kind he used to bury during off-the-books matches in the back alleys of the Fang Quarter. He didnât care that the crowd was shouting, or that coins clinked like rain behind the bleachers.
This wasnât for them. This was for him.
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On the bleachers, tension brewed.
Willow leaned in over the rail, arms crossed. She whispered something to a pair of older traders passing behind her. Within seconds, coin pouches jingled louder.
One of the local beastkin children a wiry boy with mossy green fur and oversized ears darted between groups, collecting slips. Near the ledger post, a few scaled Kaedryn diplomats watched with faint bioluminescent glows beneath their cloaks.
âTwo-to-one odds. Still favoring Juizio.â
âNot after that,â someone murmured, gesturing toward Ruki.
Order of the Fang guards leaned lazily on their halberds. Not reporting. Betting.
A long-eared noblewoman in obsidian lace clutched her tea too tightly, her saucer trembling.
From the alley shadows, a cluster of beastkin traders conversed in clipped dialects,hard consonants, breathy vowels, a language only half the crowd recognized.
An adventurer human woman, arms folded over her chestplate watched with narrowed eyes beneath her iron helm. Behind her, a few cloaked elves and two pale dwarves whispered low, uninterested in coin but locked on the fight.
Even a few tall men in Syndicate blue silent, arms behind their backs watched from the far corner. No cheer. No wager. Just eyes.
High up on a broken crate stack, the Gazette writer hunched over his enchanted parchment.
Not a journalist tonight.
A tactician with a quill.
Each stroke wasnât truth it was theater.
âUnnamed beastkin female engages rogue Fang regular in unauthorized duel.
Unlicensed magic possible. Intent unclear. Crowd uninjured. Conflict escalation suspected.â
His brow furrowed. He dipped his pen again.
Selene had asked him to write a lie.
One that hid her. Hid Ethel. Hid the kids.
And for once? He didnât mind doing it.
âLet the city believe sheâs unbound. That sheâs dangerous. That sheâs no oneâs burden.â
âThat gives Ethel cover. That keeps the Whining Moon neutral.â
He scribbled faster. This wasnât a report. This was a mask.
âFirst propaganda piece Iâm proud of.â he thought to himself.
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Down in the ring, the tension thickened.
The night air reeked of torch smoke, rusted metal, and sweat. Somewhere nearby, a pair of alley foxes barked. A feral squirrel darted up a rotted fencepost. The wind picked up just enough to rattle loose slats on the far wall.
Ruki scanned the crowd. Their eyes, the angles, the spacing. Her gaze snapped back to Juizio, who had begun to circle again.
She saw his smirk. His shoulders were loose. Ready.
She raised her chin and muttered just loud enough for him to hear:
âIâll be damned if I lose to an NPCâ¦â
The words didnât register for anyone else.
But that wasnât the point. This wasnât for them. This was her gamer mode.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Kite used to laugh about it, said Rukiâs whole trash talk style came from being coached by someone who taught a terminally ill girl how to go full PvP psycho. The cadence, the tilt, the jabs? That was his legacy in her.
âSince you wanna play games⦠how about I make the rules?â
Her voice shifted from venom to volume.
Juizio cocked his head. âNPC?â he echoed, genuinely confused.
But the edge in her tone? That made him grin.
Wide. âI donât know what this NPC is you speak ofâ¦
But a game with rules? Whereâs the fun in that?â He smirked
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He lunged. Three bounding steps. Faster this time.
Rukiâs eyes narrowed. âThirteen meters⦠huh.â She didnât meet him.
She scanned the field: The ringâs shape. The barrels. The open gate. The bleachers. The weapon stands stacked near the estate wall. Roughly thirty-five people watched, now some leaning against the stone, others on the benches. All locked in.
âPerfectâ¦â she thought. Her weight shifted backward again.
One step. Two. She raised her arms as if bracing again. Let him think it was another block. She needed contact. She needed him close.
Just one more time.
> [Passive Skill Activated: Stonewall Skin]
The hardening shimmer spread across her arms and ribs again. Heat bloomed beneath her skin as the layer of defense returned.
Selene narrowed her eyes in the crowd.
Willowâs ears twitched, and her mouth parted.
âSheâs baiting him,â Willow whispered.
âAnd planning something,â Selene added, voice tight. âThat wasnât desperation. That was placement.â
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Juizio slowed barely. He saw her preparing.
âShe wants me in close,â he thought.
Sheâs setting something up. But that made it better.
He welcomed it.
âLetâs see what youâve got, fox-girl.â With a burst of speed, he dropped his shoulder, muscles coiled. He moved like a brawler but thought like a predator. He let instinct take over.
> [Skill Activated: Howlform Dash]
He moved like a rupture through the air.
The floor cracked from the pressure of his launch, shards of tile and fractured dust flared outward beneath his leap. A crescent of displaced debris followed his feet, his motion bending the space between them like a snapped bowstring. His claws shimmered with residual heat, coated in that iron-red glow that hummed like it wanted to break something vital.
He closed the ten meters in less than a breath.
Boom!
Ruki saw him coming this time. No wide-eyed panic. No helpless flinch.
Her vision tracked the blur, catching just enough motion, the faint bend in his right shoulder, the sudden shift in foot angle to know heâd aim center mass again.
This time, not to shock her, but to shatter her stance. She let him. Just enough. Her boots gripped the edge of a broken tile, grounding her.
Her breath hitched tight in her chest, core braced.
> [Skill Activated: Iron Pulse â Initiated]
>
> [HP -37] â Direct Hit (Ribcage / Lower Sternum)
>
> [Mana Disturbance â Minor]
>
> [Bleed: Suppressed â Crest Resistance Applied]
The blow slammed her backward, not clean off her feet, but enough to hurl her into a low slide across the uneven tavern stone. Her boots skidded. Knees trembled.
Her arm snapped up just in time to block a secondary strike, the momentum enough to draw blood even through Aegis Codeâs passive veil.
But her eyes? They never blinked.
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âHis patterns are cleaner now. No pauses. Heâs not testing me anymore heâs closing.
And if I keep reacting late⦠Iâm going to die.â
Her heel caught friction against a cracked plank embedded in the floor slowing her just long enough.
Just enough to bait. She didnât dodge.She blocked.
She let him strike again. The blow landed square against her ribs, hard enough to jolt the breath from her chest But in that instant, her fingers brushed his side.
Not to strike. To mark.
> [Skill Activated: Shade Mark â Planted]
>
> Target: Juizio
>
> Method: Contact Cast (Manual Placement)
>
> Latency: 0.3s Delay | Activation: Conditional / Triggered
Only Selene noticed.
She tensed the slight inhale sharp enough to betray a warriorâs trained instinct. Her fingers curled slightly against the railing, knuckles pale. Her eyes narrowed.
That markâ¦Thatâs Kaeliraâs she thought reconizing the same magic used
âShe learned that from Kaeliraâ¦She took the hit just to plant it.â
Seleneâs breath caught for real this time. It wasnât surprise. It was recognition. That same tactical signature.
That same risk Kaelira once made to mark a rogue stalker three ranks above her.
And Ruki had done it mid-stagger. Mid-bleed.
That girl⦠sheâs not just reacting. Sheâs ten steps ahead.
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Meanwhile, Ruki could barely breathe. Every part of her body screamed.
The hit rattled down to her bones, her lungs hitching as she forced herself upright. This wasnât like Untold Eternity. The pain wasnât just haptic. It was visceral. The taste of blood.The sting along her ribs. The swelling ache in her thigh where sheâd twisted wrong on the landing. There had been no pain sliders in her old life. No scent modifiers. No taste packs. No reason to know what dying felt likeâ¦But here? Here I know.
She blinked hard, jaw tight.
âI canât keep playing defense⦠Iâll break if I do. And heâs not even serious yet.âHer grip clenched. Her fingers trembled not from fear, but from restraint.
The time for measuring distance and waiting for the tells was gone.
âI wouldnât care if this was a match back home⦠but this is my 2v7.â
A shaky breath left her throat. âI canât lose. I need to leave a statement.â
As if answering her call, lightning stirred around her.
Two arcane rings flared to life at her flanks, left and right, crackling with azure current.
A third circle lit beneath her boots, thrumming with latent energy.
The mist of her mana rose like a breath held too long.
Her Durecast Elven earrings pulsed once.
Then shimmered with arc-light as her aura thickened like a rising storm.
> [Skill Activated: Illusion Mist]
>
> Illusion Mist (Tier 5 Field â New)
>
> Creates deep fog, slows enemies, causes confusion.
>
> Only those with high DEX can see through.
>
> Combos with lightning attacks.
>
> Duration scales with INT.
A roar of mist exploded outward, dense, swirling, alive. In seconds, the entire training yard disappeared into grey. The bleachers blurred. The crowd gasped. Stone walls flickered behind the haze. The only clear center was the girl who cast it. Now obscured in a shroud that bent the senses.
Seleneâs eyes widened. âRuki⦠Thatâs Tier 5.â
A whisper of alarm flickered behind her calm. Even among spellcasters, Tier 5 was rarely displayed outside guild trials or battlefield emergencies.
Tier 5 could clear a plaza. Tier 5 could cause panic. Three rings means T5⦠Four means T7⦠Five means Crestboundâ¦
Even if it was a field-type spell, it still meant one thing: That girl wasnât normal Selene thought.
Around them, the world changed. Gasps broke like glass across the stands as the first layer of mist rippled out thick, cold, and wet. It clung to clothes, soaked into hair, kissed skin with a chill that didnât belong in Flamerest. The torches along the colonnade hissed as their flames blurred, their glow muted by the fogâs creeping fingers.
Visibility dropped to near nothing. Even those in the front row couldnât see the ring anymore.
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One of the traders cursed and stepped back, nearly tripping over the bleachers. His parchment slips were scattered in the haze. The young beastkin runner skidded to a halt mid-step, ears twitching as his eyes darted through the gray, confused.
âWhat the hell is this?!â someone barked from the upper row. Willowâs hand went to her hip blade instinctively. Her ears pinned flat, not from fear, but from tension. Her body knew something was off before her brain caught up. âThis isnât just smokeâ¦â she muttered. âItâs suppressing sound, tooâ¦â Willow thought
Near the wall, the Gazette writer nearly dropped his quill. He squinted through the fog but could barely make out the ringâs outline.
âItâs not just field magic,â he whispered. âItâs field control⦠sheâs manipulating perception.â
A few of the Syndicate men stepped forward, shifting uneasily. Their stances remained still, but their eyes betrayed discomfort.
One of them nudged the other and muttered low: âDid you tag her? Sheâs not registered. Thatâs illegal-tier mistworkâ¦â
The noblewomanâs teacup shook in her hand. She couldnât see the arena anymore- only shifting gray and that hum.
The whole crowd could hear it now. That low, electric resonance building beneath the field.
A pressure. A pulse. Not panic yet - but close. The kind of tension that made coin-bettors hold their breath.
The kind that made mercenaries shift their grip on their weapons.
And Juizio? He didnât move. He smiled.
Down in the mist, Ruki exhaled low, venomous. Her stance adjusted. A slow coil into controlled motion. The cast was done. The trap was set. She didnât need to match him hit for hit. She just needed to take away the one thing he couldnât strike without. His sight. The gray swallowed everything. Even the torchlight looked like distant glimmers behind wet cotton. Sound dulled. Edges blurred. Footfalls softened into suggestion.
This was the battlefield she wanted. Not for victory. For control. The crowdâs roars faded into nervous hushes. Even the gamblers didnât shout anymore. They were too busy trying to figure out if the match was still happening.
Selene didnât speak. She only watched. Her gaze was sharp enough to cut through the fog in front of her. Her mind ran the equation faster than anyone else on the bleachers.
Three rings. Illusion-based spell. Tier 5 verified. No visible catalyst. Only one outcome: Ruki planned this. The girl wasnât casting for spectacle. She was changing the terrain. "So this is what you was planning Ruki
From above, the fog looked like a storm cell sitting on the ring. A slow-moving eye of war magic stretching thirty feet in every direction The Gazette writerâs quill had paused. Willow stood still.
And Ruki? She was ready now. She could feel every drop of her mana cycle through the air. Like threads she could pluck, like strings on a loom. This wasnât a panic spell. It was a statement. Juizio had raw power. Strength.Instinct. But in this haze, with that mark on him, with his sight stolen from her, Heâd have to think. Thatâs where she will beat him.
And then, softly cutting through the fog like a blade, she spoke. Her voice didnât rise. It didnât echo. It simply reached him.
> âCheckmate. Howâs it feel⦠The hunter becoming the hunted?â
END OF CHAPTER TEN
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