The sound of laughter filled the air, mingling with the slowly dying heat. The air was filled with the orange light of fire.

  Melmarc rolled on his side, laughter spilling from his lips and winced. Pain flared in his side so terribly that he had to return to his position on his back. Still, he did not stop laughing. He could not stop laughing.

  “That bad?” Ark’s voice came from beside Melmarc.

  Melmarc turned his head to the side. His neck hurt a lot. He hoped he hadn’t broken anything important in there.

  I can still move.

  As far as he was concerned, it meant that he had not broken anything important.

  Ark was lying down next to him, sprawled on the ground just like Melmarc. He stared up at the ceiling laughing almost as loudly as Melmarc. His laughter slowly died off into a soft chuckle.

  Ark turned his head to look at Melmarc but didn’t wince. “That bad?” he repeated.

  Melmarc wanted to nod but the action hurt his neck. “I think we broke a rib.”

  Ark smiled and looked back up. “A rib?” He shook his head. “I think I broke more than a rib.”

  Something pressed against Melmarc’s side and he grunted in pain. The pressure increased and he had half the mind to activate [Knowledge is Power]. The skill was becoming something of a crutch. The thought of pain was becoming synonymous with the urge to activate the skill.

  Turning his head he found Uncle Dorthna standing over him, a foot against his side. His uncle’s foot pressed a little harder.

  Yep, Melmarc confirmed with a grimace. Definitely more than two broken ribs.

  Uncle Dorthna shoved Melmarc on his side with a push from his foot. Melmarc turned and groaned some more. The pain was unbecoming.

  Ark’s eyes shot up to their Uncle Dorthna and Melmarc thought he saw something threatening in them.

  “Careful, Ark,” Uncle Dorthna said unbothered. “At some point you’re going to have to learn how to control those heightened emotions. You don’t want to be known as the guy with mood swings.”

  At their uncle’s words, the threat in Ark’s eyes disappeared.

  Well, that’s new.

  “So,” Uncle Dorthna began, “what inspired that level of insanity?”

  Melmarc looked up at him. “What madness?”

  But even as the words left his mouth, he knew what their uncle was talking about. It was stupid of him to have faced Ark in a clash of strength.

  The fire was dying around them now. It took Melmarc a moment to realize that he could not feel the heat from the flames. To him, they were like a soft touch against his skin. There was something there but he could not feel exactly what it was.

  Uncle Dorthna was still looking at the flames, surveying how much of it there was. “As I was saying, this madness.” He looked down at Melmarc with a raised brow. “Why did you think that a mana class like you could take on a strength class like your brother?”

  Melmarc moved to shrug and he found out something was broken in his shoulder. Just how hard did we clash.

  Ark chuckled to his side. “In his defense, he broke my arm.”

  “You broke your arm,” Uncle Dorthna corrected. “What kind of fighter charges in with his arms in front of him. You charge with your shoulder.”

  Ark chuckled lightly. “No idea what you’re talking about, uncle.”

  Dorthna shook his head and sighed. “You know what, I just can’t with the both of you.”

  Melmarc did not miss the smile on his uncle’s face.

  Dorthna raised his hand and it glowed a soft purple. With a flick of his wrist there was a gust of wind and the flames were gone, blown away.

  “That’s trippy,” Ark muttered, impressed.

  “Magic does a lot of things.” Uncle Dorthna slapped his hands together. “Now, get up. Both of you.”

  Melmarc groaned. “Broken ribs and a busted shoulder.

  Ark raised up one hand. “Busted arm.”

  “I’m very much aware,” Dorthna said. “But if you want me to heal it, then you’ll look beyond the pain and get up. Did you allow your pain stop you in the portal, Mel?”

  Melmarc remembered when one of the [Damned] he’d faced in the portal had struck him in the chest and sent him flying. He’d been up on his feet before it had gotten the chance to get to him.

  He remembered saving the leader of the Delvers that had come for him when he had been in the chamber of the Demi-god. The thought of the demi-god brought his attention to the faces that had been in the walls.

  “Uncle D.” Melmarc turned on his side to get up, groaning in pain.

  Uncle Dorthna stepped back to give him some breathing space. “I’m listening, kid.”

  Melmarc groaned, a gasp leaving his lips as he pushed himself up with one of his arms. The pain translated to his shoulder and his arm almost gave out under him. Taking a moment to breathe, he looked up to find Ark already on his feet, watching him with a smile.

  “Not fair at all,” he said.

  Ark smiled. “Next time, don't go head on with a strength class.”

  Melmarc shook his head. His brother standing above him was all the motivation he needed to push himself up through the final motions.

  “That hurts like a motherfucker,” he swore once he was on his feet.

  “So,” Dorthna looked at him. “What did you want?”

  “What comes to mind when you hear bodies fused to the wall that can sing?”

  “Bound sacrifices,” their uncle said without missing a beat. “Personally, I think that’s a boring sacrificial method. Why?”

  “Saw something like that in the portal I went into.”

  Uncle Dorthna nodded slowly as he walked up to Ark. “Where does it hurt?”

  Ark raised his left arm. “I think I hit him the wrong way.”

  “Think?” Their uncle cocked a brow. “There’s no thinking to be had, you hit him the wrong way.” He touched a hand to Ark’s arm and the arm glowed a soft green.

  Melmarc watched red particles of mana seep from the arm until the arm started producing green particles. Each particle came to life, shooting away from Ark to hover in a void out of Uncle Dorthna’s reach. Even the green particles did the same.

  Uncle Dorthna dropped his hand and turned to Melmarc. “Your turn.”

  “Ribs and shoulder,” Melmarc said as his uncle approached him.

  “Got it.”

  His uncle placed a hand on his shoulder and Melmarc felt a warm trickle go through his shoulder. Curious, he looked down at his shoulder hoping to see particles of mana.

  Nothing.

  All he saw was a shoulder. It wasn’t even glowing green. As usual, there were no mana particles around him, all of them keeping a distance from him and his uncle.

  “[August Intruders] don’t let out mana in certain situations,” his uncle said. “You are more of an internal thing than your brother.”

  The tingle in his shoulder eased into nonexistence and his uncle took his hand away.

  “Lift your right arm,” Uncle Dorthna instructed.

  Even though the pain in his ribs was on the otherside, Melmarc raised his right arm. Uncle Dorthna placed a hand on his side, right on top of his rib.

  His arm was warm against Melmarc’s skin.

  “You lost a lot of clothes,” Uncle Dorthna said as a tingle spread all over Melmarc’s ribs.

  “Do you think I could win in such a clash?” Melmarc asked.

  Ark nodded, speaking before their uncle. “Yes. You can achieve anything you want to.”

  Uncle Dorthna sighed. “No, you can’t. You can’t achieve anything you want. Not even with hardwork. Your brother is a strength class, you’re a mana class. Unless you’re smart with it, he’ll beat you in a head on clash most of the time.”

  Their uncle took his hand from Melmarc and turned away only to stop short.

  “And he didn’t even use his own defensive skill,” he added. “He has a skill that gives him scales that heightens his defense. If he had used that, you would’ve lost terribly.”

  Melmarc shot Ark and accusatory look. There was still more about his brother’s skills that he didn’t know.

  He’s showing me everything when we get back home.

  “Alright then.” Uncle Dorthna stepped away from him. “Time to teach you two what I want to teach you.”

  “What you want to teach us or what mom and dad wants you to teach us?” Ark asked.

  Their uncle had a habit of doing things that their parents wanted him to do and passing it off as his own. Usually, it was always something that they wouldn’t like. At a younger age, he had refused a lot of Ark’s requests only for them to find out later on that he wasn’t rejecting them, instead, he was rejecting them because their parents didn’t want it.

  “Oh, no,” Dorthna said with a chuckle. “If your parents find out that I’m trying to teach it to you, they’ll lose their minds. So let’s treat this as our own little secret.”

  Ark and Melmarc shared a look. Being taught something that they weren’t supposed to learn was definitely intriguing.

  They could both agree that they definitely wanted to learn it.

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  “Why exactly won’t they want us to learn it?” Melmarc asked.

  Ark groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You don’t always have to know why, Mel.”

  Melmarc turned to his brother. “But there could be risks. We should know the risks.”

  “Sometimes you just have to live in the moment,” Ark refused. “You don’t always have to know the risks, just go for it. You know… like how you just went for it and allowed me run into you.”

  “Exactly,” Melmarc said. “And see what that got me.”

  Ark dismissed his words with a nonchalant wave. “But it was worth it. It was exhilarating.”

  Melmarc opened his mouth to give a response and paused. Ark was right, it had been exhilarating. But he hadn’t done it because it was exhilarating. He’d done it because there had been a challenge and he was in a safe enough place to meet the challenge head on.

  Right?

  Melmarc’s mouth closed slowly as realization dawned on him. Ark was right, he had actually not considered the risk. He hadn’t even thought about it. There was no safety or safe place, there was no logic or reasoning. He had been nothing but a small shadow of the child he had once been.

  Why had he taken Ark head on? The answer was simple. It was because at that point, he had been the strongest he had ever been physically, and he wanted to know if he could take his brother head on. He had seen the challenge, and he had taken it.

  Melmarc let out a gentle breath. When his attention returned to Ark, Ark was grinning.

  “Sometimes,” Ark said, “you just have to grit your teeth, tell the world a massive fuck you, and do what you’ve got to do.”

  “And sometimes you just go get yourself killed.” Dorthna’s voice cut through everything and he smacked Ark over the head. “Don’t go corrupting your brother’s logical thinking with your charge in and violate everything mentality.”

  Ark winced, rubbing the back of his head. “I don’t violate anything,” he grumbled.

  “As for Mel’s question,” Dorthna continued. “Your parents will not be happy to hear that I’m teaching you this because it is technically an impossible skill to learn. Only a handful of people are capable of using it and your mother isn’t one of them.”

  “What of dad?” Ark asked.

  “He can because of his Oath.” Uncle Dorthna paused. “Well, if I’m being honest, I think your dad would still be able to do it without the Oath thing. He’s got a thing to him that has always been fun.”

  “Who else can do it?” Ark asked.

  “Some Oath of Inevitability. Mel will probably run into him at some point. Then the Oath of Life, but that’s only due to living for so long. That number one guy in your Delver ranking system.”

  “The guy with the [Unbound] class?” Mel asked.

  Dorthna nodded. “Then a handful of others.”

  “Which means we’ll be in the handful of people?” Ark asked, excited.

  Uncle Dorthna nodded.

  Ark gave Melmarc a taunting look. “And you wanted to know the risks. Imagine if he’d decided not to teach us again.”

  “That’s if you can learn it,” Dorthna emphasized. “You’ll need to learn it to be among the others. And I am of the opinion that the others weren’t taught. It’s more of something you learn on instinct.”

  “I’m guessing that this is another thing Ark is going to be better at,” Melmarc muttered rolling his shoulder. He was pleased to find no discomfort. Then he turned from side to side. His ribs were good, too. “So what’s it?”

  Uncle Dorthna took a step back and rolled both shoulders. “First, I’ll show you. Then I’ll tell you. Practical before theory.”

  Ark and Melmarc nodded. “Got it.”

  “Good.” Dorthna held both hands up, palm open. “Come at me.”

  Ark and Melmarc shared a look.

  “We should attack you?” Melmarc asked, unsure.

  “Yes.” Dorthna nodded. “And make sure you don’t hit my palm.”

  “Is this going to be some kind of practice where you end up putting us in some kind of confused state and we just end up only hitting your palm?” Ark asked with a touch of disappointment.

  Dorthna shook his head. “Nope.”

  Melmarc was about to take a step forward when he paused.

  Dissonant.

  A small smile touched his lips. Well, that’s going to be quite the neat trick.

  “Together?” Ark asked.

  Melmarc shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

  “Today, please,” Dorthna said.

  Ark threw the first punch, Melmarc coming up behind him. Ark aimed for their uncle’s shoulder, yet, Melmarc watched his hand somehow strike one of their uncle’s open palm. The moment the blow made contact, Ark was already moving to the side. Melmarc came in with a punch to the solar plexus.

  The moment his fist made contact, Melmarc had an odd feeling. It was as if his fist was guided away from Dorthna’s solar plexus. One minute he was aimed low, the next moment his fist was going over their uncle’s shoulder. Having thrown so much effort into the punch, Melmarc found himself staggering to the side.

  Ark did not follow up after his attack, however. He just stood there, staring.

  “What part of together did you not understand?” Dorthna asked, seeming bored. “You’ll need to put a little more teamwork into this.”

  “Aim high,” Ark suggested in a low voice, moving to stand next to Melmarc.

  Dorthna turned accordingly, keeping them in front of him.

  Melmarc nodded in response to Ark. It made sense. Uncle Dorthna wasn’t a short man, but he was shorter than the both of them.

  They’d initially aimed low because Dorthna had his palms held up. It had been the logical course of action if they didn’t want to hit his palms.

  “Aim for the head,” Melmarc said.

  Ark nodded and they struck at the same time. Melmarc went for Dorthna’s shoulder while Ark went straight for their uncle’s head.

  It made no difference. Melmarc’s fist struck the flesh of their uncle’s palm before being moved aside. However, unlike the last time, as he was directed away, he spun into it and followed up with a spinning elbow. His elbow struck flesh and was once more directed to the side.

  It was as if each strike was being guided upwards by the wind and straight into their uncle’s palm, but Melmarc was sure that it wasn’t the case. On different occasions he’d watched Uncle Dorthna’s palm and had gone for where he was certain that it was not, only to find his attack being deflected by the palm where it was. As if he had gone for the palm and not where he’d initially gone.

  Ark did not stick to the orthodox method of attacks. While Melmarc found his fists and elbows consistently being turned aside, Ark was more adventurous. He struck with his fists and elbows. When those did not work, he struck with his legs and found victory there.

  For every low kick, their uncle simply raised his leg and checked it, sometimes stopping the kick before it even left the ground.

  After what seemed like ten minutes but had most likely only been two, Melmarc and Ark staggered away from their uncle. Each of them bore a touch of disbelief. But their disbelief was also stained with excitement.

  “Voodoo,” Ark blurted suddenly, looking at Melmarc. “It’s got to be.”

  “So… in summary… Magic,” Melmarc said.

  Ark nodded. “I know it sounds preposterous but that’s the only explanation.

  “Ark.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Melmarc pointed between the both of them. “We are Gifted. We are magic. Of course, its magic.”

  Ark shook his head. “Not just magic. Voodoo.”

  Their uncle chuckled lightly at their conversation. “Are you guys done?”

  “Nope,” Ark answered quickly. Melmarc felt done, though. “Do we get another try?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Dorthna shrugged.

  “Can we use our powers?”

  Their uncle shook his head. “Not yet. That’s more advanced and I don’t want to have you distracted by it.”

  Ark nodded in acceptance, turned, and pulled Melmarc by the shoulder. They backed Dorthna and huddled together. “Remember that time Ninra had us look for her shell?”

  “The one you couldn’t stop playing with? How can I forget?”

  Ninra had gotten a shell from where they did not know even now and Ark had developed an unhealthy habit of stealing it from her room to play with it. His version of playing with it had simply been to toss the thing around.

  Ninra had hated his constant theft, so she’d taken to hiding it, until she’d forgotten where she’d hidden it. In the end, she’d employed their help in finding it. After hours of searching, Ninra had found the shell in the garden and Ark had demanded play time with it as compensation for having him look for it.

  Unwilling to agree, Ninra had decided that they would play a game. After minutes of losing, Melmarc had come up with a plan that had still failed. Regardless of its failure, Ark had come to give it a name.

  “Operation secure the shell,” Ark said with a wide smile, “is a go.”

  With that, they turned and faced their uncle once more.

  Melmarc wasn’t very sure of the plan and he was more than happy to voice it. “I don’t think that’s going to work in this situation.”

  Ark disagreed. “My low kicks didn’t hit his palm.”

  “Which means that…”

  “Whatever he’s doing has a loop hole.”

  Dorthna nodded slowly in confirmation. “It does. Everything thing has an exploitable weakness.”

  Melmarc let out a frustrated sigh. It was all part of the plan. Everything they’d been doing since Ark had said that the operation was a go was all part of the operation. That was Melmarc’s personal disapproval with the operation; he couldn’t say no to the operation once Ark put it in motion.

  “So what happens?” he asked.

  Ark squinted in thought before answering. “Up, down, up, down, left, left, right, up.”

  Melmarc cocked a brow. “That’s a lot of directions.”

  “Cheat code.” Ark winked. “Thank me when we win.”

  Personally, Melmarc didn’t think they were going to win. There was just something about how casually their uncle stood with his hands still held up, palm open.

  “You go high, I’ll go low,” Ark said, then he charged forward.

  Melmarc followed quickly, watching their uncle. Dorthna stood in place. His eyes moved between the both of them once before focusing on none of them.

  He’s not watching us.

  The moment they got to their uncle, Ark went low, striking with a low kick that their uncle countered easily, while Melmarc sent a fist flying at their uncle’s face. The result was the same.

  But operation secure the shell consisted of a series of moves with words and actions designed to throw off the opponent.

  Down, up, down, up, right, right, left, down.

  The thoughts filtered through Melmarc’s mind as he obeyed. He kicked low as Ark tried to weave his way around their uncle only to be grabbed by the elbow and thrown back in place as Melmarc’s kick was stopped by the sole of their uncle’s foot.

  Another of his punches was turned away by their uncle’s palm while Ark rushed him for a tackle. Dorthna raised a leg, predicting the attack. Ark’s shoulder ran into their uncle’s knee and he dropped to the ground in pain.

  Melmarc’s final attack was turned aside once more. With nothing in mind, he charged their uncle once more, his mind running through what he could do to outsmart his uncle. There weren’t enough ideas, punches and kicks weren’t working, and Ark had all but tackled Dorthna and failed.

  Melmarc doubted grappling would work since Ark had tried to weave around him only to be drawn back into place. It left with almost no—

  Bite him! Bite him! Bite him! Bite—Throw me!

  The thoughts erupted from the depths of his mind and Melmarc recognized them for what they were.

  Without hesitation he threw himself bodily at their uncle, flying at him horizontally and with his back.

  There was a moment of surprise on uncle Dorthna’s face as Melmarc left the ground. It was in the slight narrowing of his eyes. But it was all Melmarc could see before he was soaring through the air with his back against their uncle.

  It didn’t take long before he felt a firm palm against his back. Then he was turned aside and found himself crashing into the ground.

  Melmarc broke his fall with a roll that didn’t do much to reduce the pain of the impact. Still, he rolled until he was staggering back to his feet.

  Ark stared up at him with the widest smile from the ground where he still was while their uncle looked at him with a thoughtful expression.

  “Good to know that you’re still embodying the Oaths,” Uncle Dorthna said. “Hopefully, you’ll be able to handle the new once as they come. For now, you’re doing well with the ones you have.”

  “How did you know that that’s what happened?” Melmarc shook off his sense of combat and re-approached them.

  “Because it almost threw me off guard,” their uncle answered. “Coming from Ark, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. Coming from you, it was completely insane.”

  “Oh.” It was all Melmarc could say.

  “So, what was all that?” Ark was sitting on the floor, not ready to stand up.

  Dorthna looked between the both of them. His expression said that he either wanted Melmarc to sit down as Ark was or wanted Ark to stand up as Melmarc was. In the end, he settled for saying nothing on the matter.

  “It’s a skill I picked up long ago, during my ‘delving’ days.” He made air quotes for emphasis. “Like I said, it’s mostly instinctual, and I never named it. But as years went on by, I learnt that people came to learn it, too, and some of these people gave it a name.”

  He paused for dramatic effect. Everyone waited for him to continue, and it didn’t take Melmarc long to realize that that was the end.

  “What did they call it?” he pressed.

  “Oh, that.” Dorthna shrugged as if it was completely unimportant. “Seikukish?” he frowned, shook his head. “That’s not it. Seikura? Seikatri?” he scratched the back of his head. “It’s something Japanese. Give me a moment, I’ve got it on the tip of my tongue.”

  Dissonant.

  The thought erupted in Melmarc’s mind. He wasn’t sure if the dissonance was the part about having it at the tip of his tongue or pretending not to remember it or if it was the entire statement that was dissonant.

  I really need to learn how to differentiate it, he thought.

  Uncle Dorthna snapped his finger. “Got it. Seikuken.”

  “Does it have a meaning?” Ark asked.

  “Something about controlling the wind.” Dorthna dismissed the interpretation as unimportant with a gesture. “In summary, what it does is predicts your opponent’s attacks and your palm moves to intercept them. If you perfect it well enough, to your opponent it will feel like…”

  “Something is guiding their attacks straight to your palm,” Melmarc finished for his uncle.

  Dorthna nodded. “Exactly.”

  “But that’s not what’s happening,” Ark said, certainty in his voice.

  “It is not,” Dorthna agreed. “What is actually happening is that I am fully aware of what you want to do the moment you start doing it. Since you strike faster than your eye calculates, and I move faster than your strike, all your brain interprets is that my palm didn’t move.”

  “That way it just feels as if we punched your stomach and our fists were suddenly where your palm was,” Melmarc mused. “But how?”

  “It’s extremely easy for me to do it to you kids because I know you two very well.”

  “But you got thrown off when Mel threw himself at you because it isn’t something he would normally do,” Ark said.

  “Yes.”

  “But you handled it well, too.”

  “Because I have experience. And people doing insane things isn’t really new to me.”

  “Alright. Got it.” Ark got up from the ground and dusted of his pants, not that there was any dust on them. “How do we learn this voodoo of yours.”

  “Seikuken,” Melmarc corrected instinctively.

  “Well, you learn it with each other,” Dorthna said, stepping back. “The skill requires a certain level of understanding of your opponent, and I don’t think there is anyone the both of you understand better than each other.”

  “And what comes after understanding your opponent?” Melmarc asked.

  “Understanding fights,” Dorthna answered. “Understanding how to fight, how to find patterns, how fighting techniques work. There are generally two steps to it. Understanding your opponent, then understanding yourself.”

  “Sounds like a buck load of guru jargons,” Ark muttered.

  Dorthna nodded. “That’s because it is. Now, pay attention. You two are going to spar but at a very slow pace. Mel will be the attacker and you’ll be the defender, Ark. Now go.”

  Melmarc sucked in a deep breath and let it out.

  “Slow,” he said, talking to himself.

  “Slow,” Ark agreed.

  Melmarc nodded. He took a step towards his brother, his mind twitched.

  Fly!

  Melmarc flung himself bodily at his brother.