From Felix's point of view, it wasn't the first time he'd seen Sylvain and Miklan in the same room or vicinity. But it was, however, the first time he'd actually seen them fighting each other.
Or rather, it was the first time he'd seen Sylvain fighting back.
The bandits who had tried to attack from the rear had proven themselves wildly outmatched. The combination of Felix and Petra's deadly dexterity and Caspar's overwhelming brute force caused the bandits to flee before many of them could even join the fray. As a result, the blue-haired swordsman was able to regroup with the company at the top floor just as the duel between the Gautier brothers began, with Petra nearly having to drag Caspar along by the ear when he attempted to chase the fleeing bandits.
Once he pushed past the soldiers at the top of the stairs leading to the final floor, even Fraldarius couldn't help but react at the shock and confusion of seeing one of his childhood friends engaging in a one-on-one duel with the bandit's leader.
From the sidelines, he could already see that the two brothers differed wildly in terms of how they carried themselves. Miklan's stance was unrefined and sloppy, relying on his larger frame for intimidation and taking wide jabs with the Lance of Ruin. Sylvain, on the other hand, kept himself low, hiding as much of his body as possible behind his shield, with his lance always pointed directly at his older brother.
The fight had started simple enough. While Miklan didn't commit to a full-on offense, he took every opportunity he could to try and bypass Sylvain's defenses. The younger Gautier, in turn, avoided committing to any offense at all, merely letting his disowned brother take his shots while only using a counterattack to force Miklan to back off.
For a fleeting moment, Felix thought he was looking at a younger version of their professor. It didn't take long for him to realize that Sylvain was using everything the Spartan had taught him over the past four months. Though not as refined as the ashen skinned warrior, there was not a single wasted effort in Sylvain's movement while he stayed on the defense in an attempt to have Miklan make a mistake.
The older Gautier, however, wasn't taking the bait, and the duel had swiftly turned into a stalemate.
"You can stand there and play porcupine all you want, you little shit," Miklan spat, circling his brother with the Lance of Ruin at the ready. "And here I thought you'd actually grown a pair."
Sylvain blocked one last jab before speaking low enough for only Miklan to hear, "You're about to find out."
He suddenly burst forward, shield and spear raised, catching Miklan off guard. The older Gautier managed to react just in time, bracing himself as their shields clashed with a resounding impact. The two brothers pushed against each other through gritted teeth, yet neither of them was willing to give an inch.
Sylvain shifted his stance and brought his spear up, aiming to stab down over Miklan's shield. But Miklan saw the move and twisted away. Using his momentum, he swung the Lance of Ruin in a wide, sweeping arc toward his younger brother, who managed to jump back just in time as the tip of the spear carved a deep scratch into his shield.
Sylvain let out a heavy "phoof," his face hidden behind his shield as he caught his breath. For a brief moment, his grip tightened on the handle, steadying himself. He willed his racing thoughts to slow, forcing himself into the calm and collected demeanor so as to appear brave and in control towards his friends and professors.
Lowering the shield, he faced Miklan again, who sneered as the Lance of Ruin resting casually at his side. "Not bad for a spoiled, rotten child," he mocked, once again circling Sylvain.
This time, Sylvain followed suit, matching his brother's steps. "Funny, coming from someone who threw tantrums every time things didn't go his way," He shot back.
"Tantrums?" Miklan barked out a bitter laugh. "You think I had tantrums? Do you have any idea what it was like to watch everything go to you while I got nothing? Father made sure of that."
"Right," The younger redhead said, his tone sharpening. "Just like he made sure you tried to kill me… how many times? The river, the well, the wild dogs, that 'accident' on the cliff?"
"You can thank him for that," The bandit's leader spat, his sneer widening. "He taught me early on that you were worth more to him than I'd ever be. Do you know what it's like to be thrown away? To know the only thing that mattered was a damn Crest?"
Sylvain's grip on his lance tightened, his jaw clenching briefly before he responded. "I already have," he said firmly. "And that's why I'm here now- to thank you for proving to me that you don't even need a Crest to become something so pitiful and depraved." He then drove the final nail home, "Even for the wrong reasons, Father was right. You didn't deserve to inherit that Relic."
That final verbal jab was enough to set Miklan off, who let out a snarl and bellowed, "If you really want it that badly," He then charged at his younger brother. "THEN I'LL GIVE IT TO YOU- STRAIGHT THROUGH YOUR THROAT!"
Sylvain steeled himself, gripping his lance tightly as he braced for the attack. With a sharp inhale, he launched himself forward, meeting Miklan head-on. Both brothers leapt into the air, their weapons raised to strike, but their spears clashed against each other's shields with a resounding clang as they flew past one another.
Immediately upon landing, they swerved to face one another again, and the distance between them vanished again in seconds. Spears jabbed, swung, and deflected as the two brothers engaged each other with nauseating speed. Miklan's raw strength powered his strikes, each one aimed to crush and overpower Sylvain.
Sylvain, however, relied on precision and speed, ducking and weaving as he blocked and parried each of Miklan's blows. He retaliated with quick thrusts of his own, forcing his older brother to go back on the defensive between each attempt to overwhelm him.
Through the chaos, each brother was determined to outmatch the other. The sound of metal against metal echoed through the chamber as their spears struck shields and deflected off one another's weapons. Sparks flew with each collision, and the onlookers could only watch as the brothers pushed each other to their limits.
"You've got nothing without that Crest!" Miklan growled, jabbing his lance forward, only for Sylvain to sidestep and counter with a thrust that barely missed.
"And you've got nothing but excuses!" Sylvain shot back, twisting his shield to block another heavy blow. "Your entire pathetic life, you always blamed everybody else but yourself!"
"SHUT UP!"
With a wild swing of the Lance of Ruin, Miklan struck Sylvain's spear hard enough to knock it from his hands and the weapon clattered to the floor and slid across the chamber. Seizing the opening, Miklan delivered a savage kick to Sylvain's shield, sending the younger Gautier stumbling back before falling flat on his back.
Miklan tossed his own shield aside, gripping the Lance of Ruin with both hands. He let out a furious roar and charged, his intent clear as he barreled toward his brother with the aim to skewer him. Sylvain scrambled to his knees, barely having enough time to raise his shield.
The impact came like a thunderclap.
The force of Miklan's charge drove the Lance straight through the metal shield, and in a flash, the tip of the Lance shot right past Sylvain's face. He felt a slight tingle in his cheek before warm liquid began to spill from the cut it had made.
His breathing hitched. From the corner of his eye, Sylvain saw most of the female students gasp, with Annette in particular looking like she was about to faint. Everyone else gripped their weapons tightly, clearly prepared to step in if necessary, and to his surprise, even Felix appeared unnerved, his usual composure strained by the close call.
However, it was mainly Kratos' expression that caught his attention. Unlike everyone else, his professor showed no signs of worry and seemed entirely unfazed by how close Sylvain had come to death. Had it been anyone else in his shoes, they might have thought the towering, otherworldly warrior simply didn't care about what happened to his students. But Sylvain knew better. He knew his professor still had faith in him to carry this out to the end.
With a sharp inhale, Sylvain shot back up to his feet before Miklan had the chance to pull the Lance free from the shield. With the spear tip wedged into the metal, he used his shield as leverage, twisting hard to wrench the Lance of Ruin from his brother's hands. The strain caused both the shield and the weapon to break free as they were thrown to the side.
Before Miklan could react, Sylvain closed the distance between them, using the opening to strike first. He delivered a quick punch to the jaw, causing his brother to stagger back, who'd been caught off guard by the sudden aggression. Wasting no time, Sylvain followed up with two more jabs, delivered exactly as his professor had taught him during their unarmed seminars.
The blows landed cleanly before the bandit leader recovered enough to raise his arms and protect himself, bracing for Sylvain's next move.
As Sylvain tried to swing around Miklan's guard with a hook, the older Gautier countered and deflected Sylvain's arm with a hard swipe. Without hesitation, Miklan grabbed the collar of Sylvain's armor with one hand and delivered two savage punches straight into his younger brother's head.
Sylvain stumbled, the force of the blows making his vision blur, but he refused to back down. As Miklan raised his arm for a third strike, Sylvain shot his own arm up, catching his brother's mid-swing.
But Miklan did not relent. Using his larger body mass to his advantage, he pressed forward, forcing Sylvain to give ground. Sylvain's boots skidded against the stone as he struggled to hold his ground, but his foot caught on an uneven stone. He lost his balance and fell to the floor, with Miklan crashing down on top of him.
Pinned to the floor and trapped between his brother's thighs, all the younger Gautier could do in that moment was shield his face with his arms as Miklan continued to wail down on him; but Sylvain kept a cool head as he waited for an opening.
When Miklan threw a wide hook, Sylvain bent his torso to the side, letting the punch miss its mark entirely. The sudden shift caused Miklan to lean forward, his weight tipping off balance. Sylvain seized the opportunity immediately. Sitting up, he reached around his brother's torso, locking his arms beneath Miklan's in a tight bear hug.
With a grunt of effort, Sylvain planted his left leg firmly against the ground and pushed, using the leverage to roll both of them over. In one swift motion, their positions reversed, and now it was Miklan who found himself pinned beneath his younger brother.
However, the older Gautier kept his legs tightly wrapped around Sylvain's midsection, using his larger frame to his advantage. Despite being pinned, he managed to pull Sylvain closer, trying to hook his arm around his neck into a headlock.
Sylvain quickly realized that grappling with Miklan's size and strength was a losing battle. Frustrated but focused, he gave up on punching down and shifted his attention entirely to breaking free from Miklan's legs. Using one arm, he pressed his forearm firmly against Miklan's throat, keeping his brother from pulling him closer. The force of the push strained against Miklan's attempts to close the gap, giving Sylvain just enough room to act.
With his free arm, Sylvain drove his elbow repeatedly into the sensitive spot on Miklan's inner thigh, a technique Kratos had drilled into him for situations just like this. It was a vulnerable area even the toughest warriors couldn't ignore, and Miklan was no exception.
The first strike made Miklan flinch, and by the third, he let out a pained cry. His grip on Sylvain's midsection slackened, and finally, he was forced to release him entirely. Sylvain wasted no time pulling free, his breathing heavy as he scrambled to regain his footing.
It wasn't long before the bandit leader was back on his feet as well. Frustrated that his opponent had managed to survive for this long, Miklan let out a furious growl. Without warning, he charged at his younger brother again, intent on overwhelming Sylvain with sheer brute force and a flurry of relentless attacks.
But this time, Sylvain was ready for him.
The very first punch Miklan threw was met with a simple parry. Sylvain deflected it cleanly before countering with a fast, straightforward strike to the nose. Blood spurted from Miklan's nostrils as he reeled back, his face twisting in pain and anger. But rage quickly overtook him, and he came after Sylvain again with even more ferocity.
As Miklan threw another wild swing, Sylvain sidestepped, using his forearm to redirect the blow harmlessly to the side. He followed with a quick knee to Miklan's side, drawing a grunt of pain. Miklan lashed out again, this time aiming low, but Sylvain shifted his weight, avoiding the strike entirely and retaliating with an elbow to Miklan's jaw.
The more Miklan pressed, the more Sylvain seemed to anticipate him. His breathing steadied, and his movements became almost instinctive with every step and strike as they fell into place; almost as though he'd rehearsed this exact fight a hundred times. Finally, when Miklan aimed a heavy blow at Sylvain's head, Sylvain ducked beneath it with ease, closing the gap and delivering a devastating uppercut.
The force of the punch rocked Miklan, sending him stumbling back. He teetered for a moment, his balance lost, before finally collapsing to the floor.
Behind Sylvain, the company erupted into cheers. The Blue Lions shouted his name, their voices filled with pride and relief as they witnessed his hard-fought victory. The young Gautier bent down, his hands resting on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He flexed his gloved hands, rubbing them together to ease the painful soreness from the recent exchange.
On the other side of the chamber, he could see the remaining bandits staring in stunned silence. Their expressions shifted from shock to despair as they realized what had just happened. Their leader had fallen, and with him, any hope they had of winning.
But the fight was not over yet.
"Sylvain!" he heard Annette scream from behind him.
Immediately, Sylvain's eyes snapped to Miklan.
His older brother had flipped onto his stomach and was crawling toward the Lance of Ruin, his hand outstretched. The realization struck Sylvain like a bolt of ice, and he broke into a sprint, closing the gap as fast as he could.
Miklan's fingers wrapped around the shaft of the Lance just as Sylvain reached him. The older Gautier groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, gripping the Relic and turning to face his younger brother once more.
Sylvain didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, grabbing the Lance's shaft with both hands. The two brothers clashed again in a struggle for control over the weapon.
As soon as Sylvain's hands came into contact with the Relic, the small orb bearing the Crest of Gautier began to glow faintly red. At first, he struggled to get a proper foothold against the larger man, until he felt a sudden boost that allowed him to push back against Miklan with equal strength. The two eventually became locked in another stalemate, with the Lance of Ruin caught between them in the center of the room.
Noticing the glowing orb and Sylvain's abrupt boost in leverage, Miklan once more sneered through the blood dripping from his broken nose. "You see, little brother? If not for your precious Crest, this would've been a fair fight. And if this had been a fair fight, I would've crushed you beneath my boot!"
Sylvain, however, didn't even bother with a response. Gritting his teeth, he willed himself to draw more power from the Lance of Ruin, and more energy began to course through him. Slowly but surely, Miklan started to lose traction, his feet sliding as Sylvain forced him back.
But that sense of power only lasted for a brief moment before a completely different feeling surged through both brothers, one that caused every hair on their body to stand on end. The red orb grew even brighter this time, and became noticeable to every individual in the room. The brothers stopped in their struggle as the ominous energy became more potent, and both pairs of eyes shifted downward just in time to see a black, gelatinous string of substance oozing out from the crest stone embedded in the Lance of Ruin.
A sudden, sharp pain shot through Sylvain's arms, and both brothers cried out as the ooze began to creep along the shaft of the weapon toward them. They instinctively tried to release their grip, but somehow an unseen force held them in place, refusing to let them pull away.
The pain intensified as the substance latched onto their hands as it crawled its way up their arms, inch by inch, as though it had a mind of its own.
Meanwhile, Miklan's larger form prevented the students from being able to see exactly what was going on, but they were still able to get a clear view of the spearhead that continued to glow bright red and could see the ooze pouring out of it in growing proportions.
"SYLVAIN!" Annette screamed, and attempted to break away from the group towards her classmate, but Felix was quick to stop her as he grabbed her by the arm.
"No!" He told her forcefully. "Don't go anywhere near them."
Annette struggled against him, her wide eyes locked on Sylvain as the grotesque substance continued to spread, but Felix's grip didn't falter. Desperate, she turned to Kratos with pleading eyes. "Professor, please, do something!" she cried, her voice trembling.
"Brother, what's happening?!" Mimir called out from the Spartan's hip.
But it was already too late. By the time Kratos had realized he needed to step in, the string of goo had already almost reached the brothers' elbows.
Desperation completely overtook Miklan as he thrashed and cried out like a frightened child, his struggles growing wilder and more erratic. When his frantic attempts to escape failed, the bandit leader's eyes locked onto his younger brother. What he saw on the other end of the spear left him dumbfounded.
Sylvain's expression wasn't one of fear or panic like Miklan's. Instead, he looked at the pathetic sight in front of him with a mix of scorn and pity. And from Kratos' perspective, he noticed something different about his student's demeanor, as though Sylvain had eventually accepted the dire situation he now found himself in.
Sylvain took a deep breath and, without any more hesitation, raised his right leg before delivering a powerful kick to Miklan's armored chest. The force of the strike sent Miklan reeling backward, tearing his hands free of the Lance and the ooze, and the bandit leader landed hard on his back, skidding across the chamber floor.
As he came to a stop, the parts of his arms that had been covered in cloth and armor were now exposed, torn away to reveal the bloody flesh where the ooze had latched onto him. Miklan groaned in pain, barely able to move as the realization of what had just happened began to sink in.
Sylvain continued to hold the Lance of Ruin, standing motionless and breathing heavily as he braced himself for what was to come.
The room fell deathly silent as the onlookers froze in place, their faces filled with absolute horror. All eyes remained locked on Sylvain as the ooze began to consume him entirely. Spreading even faster now, it crawled over his arms and shoulders, and his face twisted in anguish as he tried to endure the pain.
But the pain became too much. Unable to hold it in any longer, Sylvain let out a blood-curdling scream towards the high ceiling and echoed through the chamber. Soon, his entire body was engulfed by the grotesque substance. It began to grow larger and take shape, and Sylvain José Gautier's scream was replaced by that of an inhuman, and demonic roar.