The battlefield dissolved into chaos.
Not the chaotic flailing of lesser mages—no. This was controlled devastation. Every movement, every spell, every flicker of power was deliberate. Calculated.
And I was everywhere.
Shadows split open beneath my feet—
—and I vanished.
A portal snapped shut just as a wave of golden eldritch energy tore through the space I had occupied.
I reappeared above him.
My hand was already raised.
Purple energy condensed instantly, crackling with compressed force as I unleashed a barrage of blasts downward—each one layered with shadow magic, each one bending unpredictably mid-flight.
"Too slow," I murmured.
Merlin didn't even look up.
His staff struck the ground once.
Golden sigils erupted around him—intricate, ancient, absolute.
My attacks collided with them—
—and shattered into harmless fragments.
I was already gone again.
Another portal.
Another shift.
Left. Right. Behind. Above.
Each reappearance was followed by another attack—blades of shadow, lances of violet energy, waves of crushing force. The battlefield became a storm of purple and gold, my movements impossible to predict, my attacks relentless.
This wasn't just power.
This was pressure.
Then I changed tactics.
My hand ignited.
Purple flames—unnatural, hungry, alive—coiled around my arm, growing denser, hotter, more unstable with every passing second.
I gathered it all into one point.
A sphere.
A miniature star of dark fire.
"Let's see you block this."
I hurled it.
The fireball screamed through the air, devouring everything in its path, warping the space around it as it surged toward him.
For a fraction of a second—
Even Merlin paused.
Then—
Green flames erupted from his hand.
Not wild. Not chaotic.
Perfectly controlled.
They met my attack head-on.
The collision was catastrophic.
Purple and green detonated into each other, a violent clash of opposing forces that sent shockwaves tearing through the throne room. Stone cracked. Pillars splintered. The very air screamed under the strain.
And then—
He countered.
Golden energy surged forward.
Not a blast.
A judgment.
Eldritch force condensed into a focused beam, tearing through the remnants of the explosion and racing straight toward me.
I didn't dodge.
I answered.
My own magic erupted forward—
A beam of pure violet power, laced with shadow and raw destructive energy, colliding directly with his.
The world narrowed.
Just the two of us.
And the beam.
Gold against purple.
Order against domination.
Control against will.
The ground beneath us cracked as the sheer force of our magic pushed outward. The air bent. Time itself flickered under the strain of two overwhelming forces colliding head-on.
I could feel it.
The difference.
Merlin was precise.
Refined.
Perfectly balanced.
But I—
I had more.
More power.
More energy.
More weight behind every ounce of magic I unleashed.
Slowly…
Inch by inch…
My beam began to push forward.
Merlin's eyes narrowed.
Good.
He felt it too.
The golden light faltered—just slightly.
And that was all I needed.
My power surged.
The violet beam intensified, darkening at its core as shadow magic reinforced it, amplifying its destructive force beyond anything a normal spell could achieve.
I overpowered him.
The beam tore forward—
And Merlin vanished.
The blast struck the ceiling instead.
The explosion was deafening.
Stone shattered instantly, the roof of the castle obliterated as the beam tore through it, carving a massive hole open to the sky above. Debris rained down, dust and fragments of ancient stone collapsing around us.
The throne room was no longer whole.
I lowered my hand slowly.
"…Predictable."
But I didn't relax.
Not for a second.
I summoned it instantly.
The shadows in my hand twisted, solidifying into a weapon I knew intimately.
Skathe-Hrün
The Shadow Staff.
I spun—
—and struck.
Merlin reappeared just in time to meet the blow.
His staff clashed against mine—
—and the impact cracked the air.
For a moment, we stood locked together.
Close.
Power against power.
Will against will.
Then the exchange began.
I drove forward, the Shadow Staff moving with lethal precision, each strike enhanced by shadow magic and raw force. He countered every blow, his movements fluid, effortless, backed by centuries of mastery.
Staff met staff.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Each clash sent shockwaves through the room, splintering what remained of the throne hall.
He shifted.
A blade formed in his hand—pure golden energy, condensed into a perfect weapon.
It came down toward me.
I blocked instantly.
The Shadow Staff caught the strike, violet energy flaring as I redirected the force and twisted—driving my weapon into him with brutal strength.
The impact sent him flying.
He crashed across the room, stone shattering beneath him as he skidded to a stop.
I didn't give him time.
My hand snapped forward.
Purple bolts—rapid, relentless—fired one after another, each one tracking him, each one infused with enough power to level entire sections of the castle.
He rose into them.
Golden shields formed instantly, intercepting the blasts as he counterattacked in the same motion—waves of eldritch energy surging toward me in return.
I stepped through a portal—
—and reappeared behind him.
Another volley.
Another clash.
Back and forth.
Attack. Counter. Adapt.
Neither of us yielding.
Neither of us falling behind.
We were evenly matched.
And yet…
As I stood there, shadows swirling around me, purple energy crackling at my fingertips…
I could feel it.
This wasn't my limit.
Not even close.
Less than a week in this world.
Still learning.
Still adapting.
Still holding back pieces of what I truly was.
And yet…
I was standing against Merlin.
Matching him.
Forcing him to fight seriously.
A slow smile spread across my face.
"Is this it?" I asked softly. "The great Merlin… the Sorcerer Supreme?"
Purple flames ignited around me once more.
Shadows deepened.
Time itself trembled faintly at the edges of my awareness.
"Because I'm not done yet."