Chapter 19: Lars vs Kivn

A/N: My longest chapter to date! Enjoy!

In her dishevelled, broken state, impaled on the end of Kivn's blade, Frida began to dream…

She was ten, standing in the training yard behind the Mertens estate, sweat dripping down her brow. The sun was high, casting long shadows as she held her amethyst crystal blade in hand, honing her magic. She could already control her magic without the use of a grimoire, no small feat. She had always been better, always stronger. At least, that's what everyone said. Frida was the star, the pride of the family.

Lars, three years younger in age at that time, stumbled over his own feet nearby, his Mind Magic barely flickering to life as he tried to keep up. He was awkward, clumsy, always struggling with the basics.

"Frida, you're a genius," her father had said that day, watching her with a gleam of pride in his eyes. "Lars could learn from you."

But Frida didn't want to teach him. She didn't want Lars to be around, shadowing her every move, always there, always watching her. He wasn't supposed to be a part of her spotlight, not even as a background figure. And it infuriated her when she caught her father looking at Lars with something other than disappointment—pity, perhaps. Or worse—hope.

That was when she first started to resent him. Lars had been nothing but a failure, yet their father—her father—still paid him attention.

Years later, Frida stood at the entrance of the arena, fifteen years old and at the peak of her training, 6 months from the Magic Knights entrance exam. It was the annual magic tournament in their area, a prestigious event where nobles from across the Clover Kingdom showcased their skills. She had trained relentlessly for this, pouring everything into her magic to prove her worth not only to the family but to everyone watching.

Lars, now thirteen, had somehow wormed his way into the junior category. His magic had grown, but not nearly to the level of hers. He was still clumsy, still unfocused. Yet, there he was, standing with that stupid, awkward smile on his face as if he belonged here.

Frida crushed her opponent in the first round with ease. The crowd roared her name.

But later that day, Lars stepped into the arena, and Frida watched in disbelief as he fought his opponent with strange, unconventional tactics. He used his Mind Magic in ways she hadn't thought of—throwing off his opponent's rhythm, predicting their movements, reading them like a book. And to her horror, he won.

When Lars walked off the field, he looked over at her, and for a moment, his gaze lingered. She expected him to gloat or smile in that annoying, boyish way he always did. But instead, he turned away, like she didn't even matter.

Frida's chest tightened with something she didn't want to name—envy. It didn't make sense. She had won her matches with power and grace. But all the nobles were whispering about was Lars—how clever, how unpredictable. Her victory felt hollow, and that bitter root inside her grew a little deeper.

The moment she decided to make Lars's life miserable was quiet, almost unremarkable. They had been at a family banquet, a celebration to commemorate Frida's achievement of joining the Magic Knights. Frida had been seated at the head of the table, as always, glowing in the praise from relatives and distant nobles. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lars. He was laughing, talking to their younger cousins, animated in a way she rarely saw him.

For a moment, her chest tightened, that familiar bitterness creeping up again. How could he be so carefree, so happy, when he was still beneath her?

That night, she made a promise to herself. No matter what he did, no matter how much he succeeded, she would never let Lars rise above her. If he did, it would mean all of her sacrifices, her discipline, her perfect image—it would all be for nothing.

And so, she began to sabotage him. Subtle at first—criticising him in front of her peers, spreading rumours, undermining his accomplishments. She made sure every success of his was met with a cold reminder of who was truly the better Mertens.

And she revelled in watching him struggle, in knowing that she had the power to make his life harder. Because Lars might have had potential, but Frida was a Mertens prodigy. And that was something she would never let him forget.

By the time she was eighteen, Frida had already become Vice Captain of the Silver Eagles, commanding the squad with flying colours. She was hailed as a prodigy, the youngest to ever wield Amethyst Crystal Magic with such control and elegance. Lars, now sixteen, had failed the exam. Twice. Their parents were even starting to reconsider letting him take the exam.

She should have been content. She was the one people talked about, the one who was rising through the ranks. Yet, the way Lars shrugged off his failure, the way he seemed to take it in stride, infuriated her. She heard him laugh with his mother one day, saying something about "next time" and how he would "just keep going." That was Lars: always pushing forward, always getting back up no matter how many times he fell. It was pathetic, really. He didn't have what it took, yet he wouldn't quit.

And then, something else gnawed at her—a voice in the back of her mind. If Lars ever did succeed, if he ever stopped stumbling and rose to where he aimed to be…

would he one day overshadow her?

...

A lot of emotions ran through Lars as he saw his sister's most likely dead form.

Regret at the things not said.

Pain at seeing her sister's broken form.

Fear at the thought of being defeated by Lord Kivn.

But most of all… a burning desire for revenge, and a righteous anger.

Because even if Frida was horrible to him for a lot of his life, she was still his sister. And deep down, she loved him, and he loved her.

The primal urge to protect those you love burned inside of him, and he rushed at Kivn, naginata in hand.

"Mind Magic: Telekinetic Thrust!" he yelled, fury leaking out of his voice in gallons. He released the most powerful Telekinetic Thrust that he had in a while, which moved surprisingly faster than Kivn could block. He was pushed back by it, but Lars kept up the offensive.

He was aiming to kill.

The naginata penetrated the Diamond Kingdom noble's topaz armour, and noticing this, he used his next spell. "Sound Magic: Crescendo!"

The sound shockwave knocked Lars back. Kian started to go and join the fight and help his friend, but he was stopped by - surprisingly - Kirsch.

"What the hell? Why are you stopping me?" Kian said, displeased with the interruption.

"This is Lars's fight," Kirsch said, his voice and face deadly serious. "It would be an affront to his honour as a Mertens if we stepped in now."

Kian pouted, but reluctantly obliged.

Lars raised his hand to cast his mind blast. "Mind Magic: Kraftvoller Gedankenstoß!"

The normally pink ball of mana and mental energy was instead red, as it materialised and flew through the air with surprising power towards Kivn. Kivn dodged, not seeming to have a problem with Lars's attack, but Lars did something no one expected.

"Mind Magic: Homing Specter!"

He threw the blade of his naginata at Kivn with surprising intensity, which he dodged, but then Lars used telekinetic power to redirect its trajectory. Kivn dodged the blade again, but Lars did the same thing, redirecting the blade to hone in on Kivn once more.

In other words, as long as Lars kept using this spell, the blade would eventually meet its target.

And Kivn was about to find this out first hand.

The blade hurtled through the air towards the diamond kingdom noble, who resolved not to outrun it, but instead to stand his ground. "Topaz Magic: Crystal Cli-"

"Not today!" Lars yelled, pouring all his telekinetic power into controlling the blade. It gained a burst of speed, then broke through the crystalline barrier, heading towards Kivn.

The thing about him being a Shining General, however, was that he always learnt from his enemies' mistakes. And unlike Frida, he was not going to be impaled.

"Topaz Magic: Chrysalis!"

Kivn formed a topaz crystal around himself, protecting himself from any further onslaught. The blade rattled harmlessly against it, and Lars used his telekinetic power to return it to him.

Yet Kivn didn't come out of the chrysalis. Like a butterfly, he was transforming, moulding himself into a new form. He stood encased within the shimmering topaz chrysalis, its golden glow pulsing with energy as cracks began to form on its surface. The air around him grew thick with magical pressure, humming with a tension that Lars could feel in his bones. The Diamond Kingdom noble wasn't hiding; he was preparing.

The first crack split open the chrysalis, revealing a glimpse of his armour underneath, now sharper, more refined. Another crack split down the middle, and from within emerged Kivn, but he wasn't the same as before.

His topaz armour, which had once been rigid and dense, now gleamed like living crystal, each segment sharper and more angular, refracting the light in a dazzling display. The armour had become a perfect blend of elegance and lethality, enhancing his movements with greater fluidity and precision. The crystals embedded in the armour seemed to pulse, as if in tune with his heartbeat, their natural hardness fortified by the sheer force of his will.

Kivn's face was still human, but now his eyes shone with a cold, calculating light, and his posture radiated a confidence that bordered on invulnerability. His once metallic gauntlets now glistened with sharpened edges, and the topaz crystal on his chest radiated power, like a furnace of pure magical energy.

There were no monstrous features—no grotesque alterations—but the aura of strength was undeniable. His transformation wasn't one of losing humanity but of refining it, honing his body and magic to an apex of perfection. Kivn's very presence became overwhelming, as if the weight of his crystallised form exerted its own gravity, pressing down on the battlefield.

"Topaz Magic: Magnum Opus," he murmured, his voice deep and resonant, almost vibrating with power. With a single step forward, the ground beneath him fractured as if the world itself could not contain his strength.

Kivn was not just a noble any longer; he was a living embodiment of the Diamond Kingdom's scientific advancement.

"Fancy me having to use my full power against you! Disgraceful." Lord Kivn's voice dripped with contempt as he raised his hand, a palpable weight of magic energy pressing down on the battlefield. Lars could feel it—the oppressive, crushing pressure of Kivn's raw magical power. It was suffocating, as if the air itself had grown thicker, heavier under the sheer magnitude of his aura. Kian and Kirsch, standing to the side, visibly staggered, their knees almost buckling under the weight. Even Lars, with his heightened mental focus, felt the strain creeping into his muscles, tightening his grip on his naginata.

Kivn's cold, calculating eyes scanned the room, lingering on each of the magic knights with a predator's gaze. He smirked, enjoying the look of strain and fatigue on their faces. "I'm going to make your death slow and painful," he murmured, his voice like the distant rumble of thunder. "But first…"

In a blur of motion that Lars barely registered, Kivn was gone from his spot, appearing beside Kian in an instant. His speed was overwhelming, his movements so fluid that it seemed like time itself bent to his will. Kivn's gemstone sword gleamed in the dim light as he raised it high above his head.

Before Kian could react, the blade came down with brutal efficiency. "No!" Lars yelled, his voice breaking through the rising panic in his chest, but it was too late. The sword sliced cleanly through Kian's wrist, severing his hand in one swift motion. Kian's scream tore through the air, raw and visceral, as he clutched the bleeding stump where his hand had been, his eyes wide with shock and pain. His body convulsed as the agony overwhelmed him, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

The world seemed to slow for Lars as he watched his friend fall. His pulse thundered in his ears, each heartbeat echoing with fury and helplessness. He wanted to move, to rush to Kian's side, but before he could take a step, Kivn was already moving again.

Kirsch barely had time to raise his arm in a defensive gesture when Kivn unleashed a concentrated blast of sound magic. "Sound Magic: Auxillary," Kivn muttered with eerie calm, his voice drowned out by the deafening shockwave that followed. The force of the sound blast hit Kirsch like a freight train, throwing him back with violent force. His body collided with the stone wall at the far end of the room, the impact so hard it cracked the stone behind him. He slumped to the floor, coughing up blood, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

"Kirsch!" Lars shouted, his voice hoarse, panic clawing at his throat. Both of his allies were down—Kian, maimed and unconscious; Kirsch, barely clinging to consciousness. Lars' chest tightened, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He couldn't lose them. He couldn't lose any more people.

His heart pounded with a violent intensity, each beat fueling the fire that now raged within him. The world around him seemed to blur as his fury took over. His grip on the naginata tightened until his knuckles turned white, his vision narrowing on Kivn—his target, his enemy, the man who had hurt his friends.

"I'll kill you," Lars whispered under his breath, his voice trembling with barely-contained rage. His magic flared to life around him, crackling with a surge of energy that rippled through the room. Without hesitation, he charged at Kivn, his movements fueled by a primal instinct to protect.

Lars swung his naginata in a wide arc, the blade cutting through the air with a sharp whistle. "Mind Magic: Telekinetic Sweep!" he roared, pouring his magic into the attack. The sweeping rend of telekinetic energy surged toward Kivn, tearing up the ground as it hurtled forward with destructive force.

But Kivn was ready. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, he summoned a towering crystal wall, gleaming with a dazzling topaz hue. The telekinetic sweep collided with the wall, sending cracks splintering through its surface, but the wall held firm.

Kivn's lips curled into a smirk as the crystal barrier began to shatter, breaking apart into hundreds of razor-sharp shards. "Topaz Magic: Shattered Daggers," he intoned coolly, and with a simple gesture, the shards exploded toward Lars, transforming into a storm of crystalline daggers that filled the air like deadly rain.

Lars gritted his teeth, refusing to back down. He thrust his left hand forward, summoning the full extent of his mental power. "Mind Magic: Infinite Thought Shield!" An invisible, shimmering barrier of psychic energy materialised around him just in time. The crystalline daggers struck the shield with rapid precision, but each one was stopped in its tracks, frozen in mid-air before disintegrating into harmless dust.

Lars didn't waste a second. He shifted his stance, raising his left hand again, channelling all his fury and determination into his next spell. "Mind Magic: Kraftvoller Gedankenstoß!" A ball of pure mental energy, swirling with violent intent, formed in the palm of his hand. It glowed with an eerie pinkish-red hue, crackling with unstable power as it launched toward Kivn with terrifying speed.

Kivn's expression darkened as the blast of mental energy raced toward him. He quickly raised his hand, summoning a wave of sound magic to meet it. "Sound Magic: Auxiliary!" A powerful, resonant wave of sound erupted from his outstretched hand, clashing with Lars' mind blast in mid-air. The two forces collided with an explosion of raw magic, sending a shockwave through the room that cracked the very walls around them. Smoke and dust filled the air, obscuring the battlefield.

Lars' mind raced, adrenaline flooding his veins. He knew he had only seconds to act. Through the smoke, he sensed Kivn's presence—closer, more dangerous than ever. His instincts screamed at him, and without thinking, Lars spun on his heel, bringing the staff end of his naginata up just in time.

Kivn's gemstone sword came down with brutal force, aiming to cleave Lars in half, but Lars was ready. He blocked the strike with the staff of his naginata, the impact sending a jarring vibration up his arms. His muscles strained under the weight of Kivn's attack, but Lars pushed back, gritting his teeth as he fought to hold his ground.

With a sharp, focused movement, Lars thrust the blade of his naginata upward, calling upon his telekinetic magic. "Mind Magic: Telekinetic Thrust!" The naginata surged forward with explosive force, driving into Kivn's armor. The impact sent the Diamond Kingdom noble flying upward, crashing into the ceiling with a sickening crack.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, as Lars watched Kivn's form hanging in the air. But Kivn wasn't finished. He twisted in mid-air, using Accelerando to slow his descent, landing gracefully on the ground, his cold eyes fixed on Lars.

Lars stood his ground, his chest heaving as he prepared for the next onslaught. He knew this wasn't over, not by a long shot. But something had changed. His magic was stronger than it had ever been, fueled by the sheer force of his emotions, by his need to protect those he cared about.

Kivn's expression shifted—just slightly—but it was enough for Lars to see. It wasn't just confidence anymore. There was something else. Caution.

You may be wondering, how was Lars able to keep up with a literal Shining General?

For Mind Magic users, there are two ways to fight at optimum potential for a short time. The first is by forsaking all worldly emotions and thoughts. This would give their attacks a lot of speed and precision rather than a power boost, as due to the completely stable mental energy radiating from the user, the attacks would be more efficient and stable. In Lars's case, this would be done through repeated use of Grand Catharsis. However, there is another way, as I said before.

To give in to your emotions, and to let them guide you in battle, boost you to the next level of power. And as in this case, precision and power were inversely proportional, Lars was putting 100% of his mental energy into beating this man.

Lilian, who had just finished administering basic healing to Iona Veska, came into the room, looking to regroup with Lars and the rest. Immediately, she saw Frida, Kian and Kirsch injured, two of them seriously bleeding, and did the best thing she could do as a healer. Healing them.

My mana's running low, she thought. But I must heal my friends!

…and Frida, I guess.

Lilian rushed to Frida's side, hands glowing with healing magic. She muttered an incantation under her breath, her palms glowing with a soft, warm light. "Hang in there," she whispered, pushing her own exhaustion to the back of her mind. Frida's shallow breaths were unsettling, her pale face a stark contrast to the battlefield around them.

Meanwhile, Lars and Kivn were still locked in their deadly dance. Each clash of magic was more brutal, more intense than the last. Lars could feel his body protesting, but his mind was laser-focused. He couldn't afford to lose—not when his sister lay broken behind him, not when Kian and Kirsch had been taken down. His vision blurred slightly from the strain, but he forced it back, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Kivn smirked, his eyes gleaming with confidence. "You're starting to crack, boy," he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. His Topaz Magic pulsed, and the ground around him splintered, jagged crystals rising from the earth as he prepared for another assault.

Lars didn't respond. Instead, he concentrated, drawing every ounce of his mental energy into his next move. His naginata spun in his hand, faster and faster, blurring until it became little more than a silver streak. He took a deep breath, steadying his mind for what he was about to do.

"Mind Magic: Brain Surgeon!"

It was a spell Lars rarely used, and for good reason. It directly interfered with an opponent's perception, distorting their senses and making it impossible for them to focus. For most mages, it was devastating.

Kivn stumbled, his eyes widening as his surroundings twisted and warped. The crystal daggers he had summoned earlier wavered in midair, their sharp edges flickering like mirages. His hand instinctively went to his head as if trying to force his mind to clear.

Lars didn't hesitate. "Mind Magic: Telekinetic Sweep!"

With a sharp, almost invisible sweep, Lars sent a blade of pure mental energy slicing through the air. It slashed through Kivn's crystal armour, cutting deep into the shimmering topaz. Kivn roared in anger, staggering back as cracks spread across his once-impenetrable defences.

"You... dare!" Kivn spat, his eyes blazing. His armour was failing, but his power wasn't diminishing. If anything, the pain only seemed to enrage him further. He slammed his hand into the ground. "Topaz Magic: Judgement Prism!"

Golden crystals erupted around Lars, encasing him in a cage of jagged topaz shards. Each one hummed with deadly energy, ready to pierce him from all sides. But Lars was prepared for this.

"Mind Magic: Grand Catharsis!"

The air around Lars vibrated with an intense, mental pressure, and the cage began to crack under the strain of his magic. With a roar, Lars shattered the prison of crystals, sending shards flying in every direction. His naginata glowed with telekinetic energy as he dashed forward, aiming directly for Kivn's heart.

But Kivn wasn't finished. With a final surge of power, he raised his hand, and the topaz crystal in his chest flared with brilliant light. "Topaz Sound Magic: Final Orchestral Requiem!"

The ground quaked, and a massive wave of sound energy, propelling multiple topaz blades identical to the ones currently inside Frida surged toward Lars, threatening to consume him whole. It was Kivn's most powerful spell, a blast capable of obliterating anything in its path.

Lars's heart raced. This was it. He could feel the immense pressure bearing down on him, the weight of Kivn's magic threatening to crush him. But he wasn't going to back down.

He thought of Frida, of Kian, of Kirsch, and everyone who had fallen to this monster. He thought of his own struggles, his failures, and his desire to prove himself.

With a deep breath, Lars raised his naginata one final time. "Mind Magic: Neural Rapture!"

In an instant, the world seemed to still. Time slowed as Lars channelled every ounce of his mental and physical strength into a single, focused attack. His naginata gleamed with brilliant, red mental energy, and he swung it forward with all his might.

The two forces collided with a deafening crash, the sheer power of their magic ripping through the battlefield. For a moment, it seemed as though both attacks would cancel each other out, locked in a deadly stalemate.

But then, slowly, Lars's Neural Rapture began to push through.

Kivn's eyes widened in shock as the sound wave faltered, cracks spreading through it. He gritted his teeth, pouring more magic into his attack, but it was too late. Lars's willpower, his raw determination, was too much to overcome.

With a final burst of energy, Lars's attack broke through, slamming into Kivn with unstoppable force. The impact sent the Shining General flying, his armour shattering into fragments as he crashed into the far wall with a thunderous impact.

Silence fell over the battlefield.

Lars stood panting, his body trembling from the effort. His naginata clattered to the ground as he fell to one knee, exhaustion finally catching up with him. But as he looked over at Kivn's motionless form, a small, satisfied smile crossed his face.

It was over. He had won.

Lilian, now finished with healing Frida, rushed over to Lars, worry etched on her face. "Are you okay?" she asked, her hands already glowing with healing magic.

Lars nodded weakly. "Yeah… I'm fine. Just… tired." He was not fine, sustaining several injuries from Kivn's beatdown.

Frida, still pale but conscious, stirred. She blinked up at the sky, her mind foggy but starting to clear. As she turned her head, she saw Lars, standing victorious over the enemy that had nearly killed her.

For the first time in a long while, she felt something other than resentment toward her brother. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't the failure she had always thought him to be.

And deep down, even if she'd never admit it…

She was proud. Lars had slightly won her over. It might not have fixed their relationship in the short term, but it would surely do something over time.

Lars looked toward the thing they had come here for: the Primordial Core. His gaze hardened, and he strode forward with slow, deliberate steps, his body weary from the battle, but his resolve unwavering. Reaching out, he grasped it firmly, the core feeling unnaturally cold against his skin. He held it up, staring at it intensely, as if he could see through its gleaming surface into the heart of the mystery it held. "So this is the thing that caused so much strife…" he muttered, his voice low and filled with lingering frustration.

The Primordial Core pulsed faintly, an eerie glow emanating from within its depths. Lars furrowed his brow. There was something… unsettling about it. The core had been coveted for so long by so many, rumored to be an ancient source of power, the key to unlocking unimaginable magic. But now, holding it in his hands, Lars sensed something darker, something far more sinister lurking beneath its shimmering facade.

"What are we supposed to do with it now?" He cast a quick glance toward Kirsch, who was still recovering from the brutal blow Kivn had landed earlier, then toward Kian, his hand still severed, but he was conscious once again, groaning in pain. It felt anticlimactic in a way—this object, this thing, had been the source of so much conflict, the reason they had fought so hard. And yet now, in the aftermath, it felt... wrong.

Lars couldn't shake the unease gnawing at him. As if on instinct, he began to scrutinise the chamber they stood in. It was old—far older than any place he'd ever been. Strange runes were carved into the stone, faint but still visible under centuries of wear. And then his eyes drifted upward to the ceiling, where a jagged piece of topaz had embedded itself during their battle.

The gem glittered weakly, still vibrating from the energy of the fight. Lars' eyes narrowed. Something wasn't right. His instincts screamed at him as he realised the topaz was no ordinary shard. It glowed faintly, and just before he could call out a warning, a high-pitched crack rang through the chamber.

The ceiling groaned as the topaz lodged within began to sink deeper, the vibrations rippling outward. Lars' grip on the Primordial Core tightened as cracks began spidering through the walls, growing larger with each passing second. Then, with a sickening lurch, the ceiling caved inward.

The Primordial Core trembled in Lars' hands, its light flickering erratically. He watched in horror as the topaz, now fully dislodged, fell with precision straight toward the core. Time seemed to slow as the shard made contact. The moment the topaz pierced the surface of the core, a sharp, deafening noise filled the air, like glass shattering under immense pressure.

"No!" Lars shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the cataclysmic eruption. The core shattered into a thousand pieces, fragments of it flung across the room in a blinding explosion of light and energy.

A/N: This was painful to write... all Lars's hard work gone, so many injuries to squadmates, and for what?