Silence swallowed the world around them. Veyl vanished right before Kieran's eyes. Not by speed but through absence.
Kieran's boots hit the stone without sound. His breathing was there; he could feel it, chest rising and falling, but it made no noise. Even the scrape of steel was gone. The Colosseum might as well have ceased to exist.
Only Veyl stood behind him.
Aurelian Veyl exhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded. In the void of sound, his movements looked unreal. Cleaner, smoother, like a painting animated frame by frame.
"This is where most people lose," Veyl said.
Kieran didn't hear it. He understood by the way he looked at him and the way his throat moved.
Veyl stepped forward towards Kieran from behind.
Each step reduced the distance between them disproportionately. Three metres became one. Seven metres became two.
The foil launched at him, and Kieran raised his blade on instinct.
The clash didn't create a single bit of noise. But it hurt more than any sound ever would.
Force clawed through his arms. His prana flared desperately, reinforcing muscles already tearing. His boots skidded upon cracked stone beneath him. Not from the impact but from the sheer energy of it all.
Kieran's vision began to blur.
Was he changing the magnitude of light? No. Kieran was slowly losing his ability to see.
But from what?
Think.
He remembers a conversation earlier before they got to the station while walking with Roy.
Think. Roy's voice echoed in his head, a memory, not a sound. He can scale magnitude. Not control it. Not directing it.
Magnitude: How much something is.
Kieran's breathing slowed.
He started to wonder. If he should reveal the ace up his sleeve, that would ultimately confirm this match's destiny.
But what were the repercussions of doing that?
His future opponent would know what his Soul Art is and could maybe find a way of defeating him.
But what if? Just what if? He could make it seem like it was something else. Something it wasn't but close to.
So, Kieran decided in that moment he would lie to the world for a little bit.
Reflect.
Kieran let his blade drop.
Not fully from his grasp, but just enough that the tip is touching the floor.
To anyone listening, if anyone could hear in this senseless void that I am in, it would sound like I'm exhausted.
Veyl noticed the stance immediately and assumed he gave up. He sighed and decided that he would give the decisive blow to end this round.
But all of a sudden. Aurelian's eyes sharpened, boredom peeling away layer by layer. He adjusted his grip, wrist angling minutely.
Mercy was not something he practised.
But he felt like something was amiss.
The next thrust came straight for Kieran's chest.
Kieran exhaled and accepted his fate. He corrected his grip and raised it to block that attack. The moment the foil touched his blade, Kieran did not resist the impact of the force behind it.
He returned it to the sender.
The force snapped back along the line of contact, perfectly inverted. The magnitude Veyl had poured into the strike recoiled, folded, and surged the other way like a mirror catching light.
The silence cracked.
Veyl was hurled backwards. Thrown by the magnitude.
His boots dug into the stone as he skidded, arms crossing on instinct as his own attack slammed into him. The pressure detonated outward, fracturing the stage in a spiderweb pattern beneath his feet.
The void shattered.
Sound came back all at once.
The Colosseum exploded into noise. Screams. Chants. Gasps and disbelief crashing down like a wave.
"What?!?" Brock shouted
"He reflected it?!" Tanaka yelled over the roar. "That's his Soul Art? That is sick!"
"No," Roy said quietly. "It is not."
His eyes hadn't left Kieran.
"... It's clever."
On the stage, Veyl dropped to one knee, breathing hard for the first time in the match. His eyes flicked to his trembling hand, then back to Kieran.
"…A reflection-type Soul Art," Veyl said slowly, standing. "You let the attack land… then returned the magnitude."
Kieran straightened, chest heaving, sword trembling in his grip.
"Something like that," he said.
It wasn't a lie.
It just wasn't the truth.
Veyl smiled. Not bored. Not polite.
Genuinely delighted.
"Magnificent," he said. "To think I missed something so simple."
He raised his foil again, but the edge was gone. The dominance and the certainty/
Because now… Every attack was a question for Veyl.
Veyl struck again, this time cautiously, scaling the magnitude down, probing.
Kieran reflected it. Not fully, but just enough to throw the attack off balance.
Then again.
Each clash sent force skittering back at odd angles, never quite symmetrical, never quite predictable. The crowd watched as the undefeated previous year's champion was slowly forced backward. Not by strength but through hesitation.
Veyl tried one last gambit.
He snapped his fingers. The ground beneath Kieran surged in weight. Kieran slammed his blade into the stone.
The magnitude reflected onto the stone stage.
The floor beneath Veyl became an anchor.
For a single, fatal heartbeat, his movement lagged.
Kieran lunged. The touch was light.
But it did pierce him.
Blood splattered out.