Tess landed in a low crouch, sword already drawn, her pale eyes locked onto Edmund's golden-flecked gaze. The room had fallen into a heavy, eerie silence—the kind that settled just before something terrible happened.
Edmund tilted his head slightly, studying her like one might observe a mildly interesting insect. His clothes were still pristine, save for a few specks of blood that had dotted the cuffs of his sleeves. His stance was relaxed, almost casual.
"You're not Syndicate," he said, voice calm and level. His tone wasn't mocking, but there was something off-puttingly assured about it. He wasn't even remotely concerned.
Tess rolled her shoulders, the tip of her blade tracing a lazy arc in the air. "And you're not as subtle as you think you are."
Edmund let out a breath of amusement. "I don't need to be."
Tess smirked. "No, I guess you don't."
Then she moved.
Char barely had time to blink before she lunged, a blur of motion as she closed the gap between them in an instant. Her blade sang through the air, striking out toward Edmund's throat.
He dodged. Not with effort, not with urgency, but smoothly, like he had already seen the attack coming.
Tess was relentless. She twisted, pivoting into a low slash toward his legs, then a feint before reversing her grip and thrusting up toward his ribs.
Edmund parried the strike with the barest tilt of his dagger, the clang of steel ringing through the blood-soaked hall.
Char watched, heart hammering, as Tess fought like hell.
She wasn't reckless—every strike was measured, every movement calculated. She fought like someone who had spent years learning the intricacies of combat, someone who knew exactly what she was doing.
And yet—Edmund wasn't even trying.
He dodged her blows with an almost lazy precision, stepping just out of reach, shifting his weight at the last second to let the blade whistle past him by mere inches.
Then, just as Tess pressed forward again, he vanished.
Shadow Shift.
Char barely had time to process the movement before Edmund reappeared behind her, already striking.
Tess reacted on instinct, twisting at the last second to block the incoming blade. Their weapons clashed with a sharp ring, and for a moment, they were locked together, inches apart.
Edmund smiled. "Impressive."
Tess grinned, breathless. "I get that a lot."
Then Edmund raised his free hand—and Char felt his stomach drop.
Sword Saint.
Blades materialized around them, six spectral swords hovering in the air, gleaming with an unnatural sheen.
Tess's expression didn't falter, but Char could see the muscles in her arms tense. She had no idea what was about to happen.
The swords moved on their own.
The first one darted forward, aimed directly at her heart. Tess barely managed to twist out of the way, but another came from her blind spot, forcing her into a rapid backstep. The third slashed downward, catching her shoulder and drawing a sharp cry from her lips.
Char gritted his teeth.
It wasn't fair.
Edmund wasn't fighting one-on-one. He was controlling an entire arsenal of weapons at once. All of them were more of those damned powers Char had given him at the beginning of his story, just trying to make the main character powerful. Now, it was backfiring.
And then—Golden Veil.
The air around Edmund shimmered, gold light coating his left arm as Tess, now desperate, drove her blade toward him.
The sword hit the glowing barrier—and stopped cold.
Tess's eyes widened in realization a second too late.
Edmund stepped in, fist slamming into her stomach.
The impact sent her flying backward, crashing into the Syndicate's meeting table. The wood splintered under the force, and Tess let out a choked breath as she slumped onto her side.
Char felt his entire body lock up.
No.
No, no, no—
Tess tried to push herself up, but her arms trembled. Blood dripped from her shoulder, her breath coming in ragged pulls.
Edmund strode forward, calm and unhurried. The floating swords hovered ominously behind him, waiting for his command.
Char couldn't move. Couldn't think.
Tess was going to die.
She was going to die because he had written Edmund this way.
Edmund lifted his dagger, and Tess—Tess bared her teeth in defiance, glaring up at him even as she struggled to stand.
"You're tough," Edmund mused. "I like that."
Tess spat blood onto the floor. "Fuck you."
He smiled. "Alright."
The dagger plunged downward.
The door burst open.
The world tilted.
And then—a blur of movement.
Char barely had time to register what was happening before a figure crashed into Edmund from the side, sending him skidding back across the floor.
Tess gasped for air, suddenly free.
Edmund came to a stop, boots sliding across the blood-slicked stone. His gaze flickered up toward the doorway, brows raising slightly.
Char's breath caught in his throat.
Ishmael.
He stood in the open doorway, blade resting on his shoulder, expression unreadable.
Beside him, Marin strode forward, knuckles cracking, eyes alight with cold fury.
Callen twirled his daggers, flashing a sharp grin. "You know, for someone so dramatic, you sure picked a bad time to try and kill our friend."
Tess laughed breathlessly, coughing. "Took you long enough."
Ishmael's gaze flickered to her briefly before returning to Edmund. He said nothing.Char felt his anger, even from by the skylight.
Edmund looked at them, then exhaled softly, rolling his shoulders.
"Well," he murmured, eyes gleaming. "This just got interesting."