What does he think he’s doing? Nimirea frowns. He has no chance against me.

  Still, the fact that, once again, she got played, gets under her skin. She can’t believe that Jacob has somehow figured how to get the key while she was uselessly looking around this throne room. If she had to guess, he figured out some mechanism and found it in the room before.

  He must have found it in the forging room. That’s why he wanted to get some ‘scraps’ there. It would make absolutely no sense otherwise. He was under my eyes all the time in the room, right? He couldn’t have found it here.

  But now, looking at the same form that Jacob’s body had assumed when Baalrek took over his body back in the Celestial Tower, Nimirea frowns.

  [Eye of the Prophet]

  Her Rainbow Skill scans the Skill he’s using.

  [Domain of Ruin and Bones]

  A Domain Skill? Nimirea is shocked. He’s weak. How is he able to create a Domain? And… that doesn’t look like a Domain at all.

  She frowns, narrows her eyes, and tries to power through whatever for surrounds Jacob’s Skill, but she can’t see anything even with the Eye of the Prophet.

  There’s only one logical explanation: this is not the result of a Domain Skill alone. He must have used Primordial Magic with it.

  Two large wings appear behind Jacob, one covered in grey-white feathers and one webbed, like a bat’s. Horns sprout from his head and his hands become clawed. His skin tinges slightly, giving him more color, but not putting him at the color of an Infernal.

  Nimirea readies herself, feeling a massive increase in power in her archenemy.

  You’re a fool, Jacob. But a bold fool, I’ll give you that.

  “And you think this little parlor’s trick is going to scare me?!” Filr’etk laughs madly as the giant sword he just took out starts levitating. Suddenly, the blade becomes liquid and the one blade becomes dozens. “Unlike your little friends, I’m a real Champion.” The red-skinned Goblin taunts him. “I’ve heard of this transformation of yours before, and I’ve even heard that you were apparently apprenticed to some reject of the Infernals. Is there anything about you, Fake Champion, that belongs among heroes of justice? It seems to me that you cling to every possible scrap of power because you were born useless—even going as far as taking a monster as your master to get a little more power and this pathetic little transformation.”

  “You really love running your mouth,” Jacob says, with no smile on his face now.

  “Do everything a favor and die!” The red-skinned Goblin shouts and sends a rain of sharp blades against Jacob.

  In response, Jacob starts running to the side, almost hugging the wall of the throne’s room. The blades, moving faster than crossbow bolts, land in the wall, creating scary craters in the room, kicking up dust and debris in their wake. Each of them hits as if it was the giant sword hitting the wall.

  “This is hyperdense metal!” The red-skinned Goblin cackles. “As soon as you take one wrong step, they will pulverize your body!”

  Narfikara, from the side, is not looking very excited. However, she knows better than letting her disgust for her teammate and his manners stop her from destroying the competition.

  She cocks the revolver, relaxes her muscles and fires.

  Nimirea’s muscles tense, feeling the terrifying speed and power behind Narfikara’s bullet.

  He’s going to get hurt.

  However, almost as if Jacob had predicted the trajectory of the projectile the second it left the gun, he sidesteps a bullet, which leaves a deep hole right where his left leg had been moments before.

  Did he use the Grimoire for that? But how? He would have had to look at the trajectory instants before Narfikara fired. The Grimoire is not that useful for such things. Despite being much better than the Eye of the Prophet to spot flaws, it’s not able to predict the future like my Skill…

  Nimirea suddenly realizes that she has completely underestimated Jacob’s proficiency and ingenuity with his own Rainbow Skill.

  I keep underestimating him because he’s weak and foolish. But his foolishness seems to be the key to his genius.

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  Now, activating Eye of the Prophet, she sees three seconds into the future and her jaw clenches.

  Smart.

  Narfikara and Filr’etk both throw a tempest of blades and bullets at Jacob. Yet, the Fake Champion dodges every single one perfectly, without even blinking. And he keeps dodging and dodging, until, a couple of seconds later, he’s exactly in the middle of the two, which stops them from firing for the briefest moment.

  Yet, in that moment, Jacob charges at Nimirea.

  “You two, stop,” Nimirea says, widening her stance. “You’ll just be in my way.”

  She doesn’t know what Skills exactly Jacob learned after his Class Rank Up, which means that he might have a short-distance teleportation Skill that would put her in a tough spot. So, before he can even think about using it, she runs to meet him at the very center of the room.

  “Damn,” Jacob says, raising his silvery sword to par one of Nimirea’s punches, which sends him skidding back. “What the hell? Did you Rank Up too?”

  Nimirea cracks her neck and raises her right fist.

  “You thought you’d be the only one? The Karma of the Dark Champions is intrinsically tied to your side’s weak Champions. That means that while you get upgrades, we do too.”

  “Not sure what that implies, honestly,” Jacob says, grabbing his sword with both hands. “I don’t think it matters, though. You’re going to lose.”

  “Lose?” Nimirea feels fury coursing down her body, making her tremble. “HOW? How can you be so arrogant?! You know I’m stronger, you know I’m better! Why would you lie to yourself and spout such nonsense?!”

  The fact that Jacob refuses to see the fact that, indeed, Nimirea is so much stronger than him, makes her furious. The sheer refusal of reality, the fact that it feels like he’s making fun of her, taking her as a joke, which is something her own father made her feel like when he left her behind, makes Nimirea’s aura expand and fill the whole room.

  “That is one scary monster,” Narfikara mutters, taking a few steps back from the sheer shockwave of the aura.

  Filr’etk, usually smug and arrogant, is shocked into silence, not able to say one single sword. He briefly grits his teeth and tches, but even then he does not dare do it too loudly. There’s a difference between him and Nimirea that even a prideful fool can see as clear as day.

  But that’s how the red-skinned Goblin knows, without the shadow of a doubt, that the Fake Champion is not even close to her power level.

  Nimirea explodes forward and, predicting Jacob’s dodge as he tries to evade, grabs his shirt and throws him into the ground, creating a deep gash into the pavement. Thick granite tiles fly and shatter on impact, revealing hard stone beneath.

  “Do you take anything seriously?” Nimirea asks, feeling her blood boil as Jacob gets back up with the same smug grin she has learned to truly hate. “Anything?!”

  She dashes forward and kicks Jacob’s right arm, making him fly like an arrow leaving a giant bow, right into the wall next to the entrance.

  She walks slowly toward him as he falls from the crater he created in the wall with his body, hitting the ground with a thud. Her footsteps leave behind sharp sounds as her heeled boots clap the pavement. She can feel his power starting to ebb. She has already delivered enough damage to break whatever Primordial Spell he’s using.

  “Baalrek left you some power, Jacob, but you never paid the price for it. You never paid any real price!” Nimirea takes him from rubbles, grabbing him by the neck. “You’re weak, you’re a fool. Stop fighting!”

  “Technically,” Jacob wheezes, “I haven’t even started… y—you did everything so far.”

  With an inhumane shout, Nimirea throws it to the side wall. This time, Jacob bounces from it, vomiting blood on his way to the wall and then on his way to the ground.

  Jacob slowly gets up, trembling from the exertion.

  “Give up. Give me the key and I’ll stop.”

  “Make me,” Jacob says weakly.

  Nimirea palms his chest, making him the wall close-by again. His eyes briefly roll into the back of his head and, finally, the Primordial Spell fizzles out. The Infernal traits recede and Jacob becomes fully human again.

  “Look at how pathetic he is,” Filr’etk smiles.

  “SILENCE!” Nimirea roars, turning with bloodshot eyes toward the red-skinned Goblin, who’s fully taken by surprised by her behavior.

  “I—”

  “I SAID, SILENCE!”

  Nimirea then doesn’t wait for the Goblin to get the message and she turns to Jacob again as he gets up. Once again, she comes to rest in front of him. She doesn’t touch him, this time. She’s afraid that her own rage would have her snap his neck if she grabbed him again. She truly doesn’t understand how he cannot see reason.

  “This is not a game!” Nimirea shouts. “Why must you be so idiotic!? Do you understand that the power you gained is nothing to me?! Do you un

  derstand who my master is?!”

  Jacob doesn’t smile anymore when he hears the last words.

  “I do, Nimirea.”

  “Then why do you think you can beat me?!”

  “Beat you?” Jacob stumbles forward, almost bumping into her. Before she can realize it, she’s holding him up so that he doesn’t fall to the ground.

  “I don’t plan on just beating you. I’m after your master. I’ll take him for all his money, his divinity, anything he has. Including you.”

  “You’re not even able to win against me,” Nimirea says, almost sad for him.

  But Jacob leans forward, now resting against her, and says, “are you sure?”

  Before Nimirea can even process the meaning of those words, the loudest explosion resounds through the throne hall and Nimirea hears a sonic boom as a figure shoots impossible fast through the threshold. Before she can react and use Eye of the Prophet to see what’s about to happen, a figure has slammed into the throne and an arm shoots forward from toward the keyhole. Under Nimirea’s stunned gaze, the figure has just jammed a key into the keyhole and a click fills the hall in the aftermath of the explosion.

  “I hope you’re not a sore loser,” Jacob says and passes out from the injuries.