Savage Awakening 118. Touch of Death (I) (Patreon)

(1/1)

There was a deathly silence. Then— “Emeka Eze!” said Cain. His voice came out shaky and about an octave higher than before. He cleared his throat, tried getting his voice under control. "What…What a lovely surprise!"

He was smiling, but he was actually quite spooked. You could even see it on his face—his smile was brittle; the color had drained from his face. All his confidence had been doused with cold water.

Eze nodded. He met Cain's eyes with a gaze so intense the man visibly shrank a little.

"You said right now you could beat any man in the world. Did you mean that?" He sounded strangely hopeful. Zane even felt a little excitement simmering in him.

Cain gulped. Zane felt a sinking, churning feeling from the guy—a feeling like nausea. Still—"Why—yes!" Cain blustered. "Of course I do! A man's got to believe in himself, eh?" He chuckled. No one else did.

Eze kept staring at him. But this time Cain managed to stay firm, keep his head high. He wasn't really fooling anyone, even himself. But he didn't back down, and for that Zane gave him some credit.

"A man should believe in himself," said Eze. "Precisely as much as he deserves." He paused. Then a trace of a smile came over his lips. "I hope you are correct in your assessment."

He held out a hand. "Shall we begin?"

"Eh? Ah—yes!" They shook. And Cain gave a brave if wobbly smile. "Best of luck!"

"Luck," said Eze. He was faintly amused. You couldn't really see it on his face, but Zane could feel it. "I don't believe in that."

***

Bout scheduled!

World Rank #3, Emeka Eze VS World Rank #9, Cain Hastings

Zane knew basically nothing about Cain Hastings. He knew Eze was meant to have this unstoppable death-touch or something? Avery made it sound pretty bad. He supposed he'd get a chance to see it.

In just the few minutes since the bout was agreed, word had somehow gotten out. The crowd was ballooning. Thousands of people were pouring into the little square; a lot of them noticed him too. Lots of gasps and stares—a few shouted his name. He ignored them. He was focused on the stage.

Cain's heart rate was skyrocketing. He was prowling around the ring like a caged animal; he couldn't seem to stand still. He was mumbling something to himself, over and over—a chant maybe? He was trying to hype himself up. His mustache quivered with nervousness.

He knew—just as well as anyone else—no one expected him to win. He was trying desperately to make himself believe. And Zane thought that was right, actually. This was going to go down—What else was he supposed to do? You had to give yourself your best shot, no matter what.

And it seemed to be working. When Cain looked up again, his nostrils flared. He turned up his lip. He had a new fragile confidence.

Eze, meanwhile, was perfectly calm. He just stood there waiting.

3...

2…

1…

Pale translucent wards flared up around the ring, blocking off the crowd. Trapping the fighters inside.

Begin!

Cain held out a hand and a spear dropped through. A hefty thing, taller than he was, a silver shaft leading up to a gleaming fist-sized tip.

Eze summoned his soul weapons too. Two gauntlets that looked like they were made for giants—too big for human fists; each was the size of his torso. They ended at his elbows, monstrosities of interlocking plate.

It was Cain who rushed out first. He gave a valiant roar and sprang out—his spear swept out; its tip flared red. And flames erupted in a brilliant burst; it all came crashing down on Eze. Fire Law in its finest, purest form. Not as fast as Stormfire, nor as bright—but it burned with a fury even Zane couldn't match. It felt like it could rage through anything.

But Eze watched it coming; he waited patiently. Then, when the time was right, he threw up his massive gauntlets. He sealed himself off. Elemental Earth flared down the plates—and there was that fathomless feeling again like Zane was staring down a bottomless fissure.

The Fire poured in; there was an eruption of it, an explosion, a blast of furious feeling—then it broke, petered out, screaming into the void. The gauntlets held firm.

Then Cain leaped back, tensing like he was expecting a counter.

But none came.

Eze just watched him with those bright intense eyes.

Cain gritted his teeth. Zane could guess what he was thinking; something like—Alright, fine! Try this on for size!

He leaped in again, roaring a battle-cry, launched another thrust. And again Eze just blocked. But this time Cain followed with a looping slash; Eze stepped calmly aside, let a fuming red-yellow line splatter into the wards.

Still he stood there and watched. Still waiting. The crowd started to murmur. Cain was also getting a little confused—what was the guy doing? Why wasn't he attacking?

In the end, he decided it didn't matter. If Eze wasn't doing anything—fine. He'd press his advantage! He went at it again; this time he unleashed a flurry—stab-stab-stab, each brighter and fiercer than the last. And each time Eze just block-block-blocked. There was a deep reverberating THUDDING as Fire met Earth. It tried to explode, to catch, to scorch; it wanted so badly to tear through. But Cain could find no gaps in Eze's defense.

And still Eze refused to strike.

Something odd, though—the first time Eze blocked, he'd thrown up something like a blanket shield. The second time, his block shot up just as the spear was falling. The third and the fourth were perfect parries. The timing was just right. Not a drop of essence wasted.

It was almost like he had Sage Mind too. But that wasn't quite it. He didn't feel things coming; he didn't know Cain's soul like Zane did. He just…saw them coming. And with every strike, the picture only grew clearer.

In his own way, he was slowly comprehending his enemy. But Zane did it by feeling. For Eze there was something mechanical about it, something coldly logical…

No one else seemed aware of it, not even Cain. Cain was actually slowly gaining confidence, gaining momentum. His determination was rising; he was starting to get into a flow. All this time he hadn't stopped attacking. One eruption gave way to the next, gave way to the next, each raging over the last, growing hotter, brighter, fiercer; soon each blast shook the whole arena, plastered bright walls of heat against the ward walls.

Eze narrowed his eyes. He kept blocking and blocking—but Cain wouldn't stop climbing. He was reaching a crescendo; he roared valiantly, thrust out a scorcher of a spear—

And this time, it felt so powerful it felt like one of Zane's meteors.

It struck Eze's guard. And even with perfect timing, seamless defense—the man was shoved a step back.

Gasps ran through the crowd—he'd broken through!

And Cain wasn't done.

He stabbed again, fiercer yet, and the sheer force of the blow buckled Eze's knees, made him stumble back another step. And now, everyone was genuinely in shock. Cain pressed forward, seizing his advantage.

And everyone was holding their breaths. A few started to cheer. It was just dawning on them what they were witnessing. Eze had screwed around a little too long. He'd taken his enemy a little too lightly—he should never have let Cain build up like this! But by now it was too late.

Two more dominating thrusts and Eze had his back against the wards. There was almost nowhere left to go. A fierce hope bloomed in Cain's heart. He let out a joyful roar. His aura swelled like a rising tide; a truly monstrous amount of essence—the crowd got swept up in it. A breathless awe gripped them all. They knew they were witnessing something special. They knew they were witnessing the fall of a titan!

Well—everyone except Zane.

Zane was still frowning. Because though Eze was forced back, though his shields were starting to crack against that brutal heat, his mind was exactly like it'd been at the start.

Ice cold.

He hadn't changed a single thing. He was still watching. Still waiting. For what?

Then something struck him. A joy.

An epiphany.

As everyone else looked to the falling inferno of a spear, Zane watched Eze's eyes.

He watched them change color.

One moment his pupils were black—the next a vibrant purple. And whatever he'd been comprehending was complete.

Zane felt a ripple in the air. Something very, very odd—like a gravitational ripple in the astral plane.

Emeka Eze smiled.

By now Cain's aura had been building so long it was getting out of hand; there was essence in each strike it was approaching Zane's Wish Upon a Star. Cain pressed forth, mustache quivering fiercely; the poor guy couldn't believe it—he was doing it—he was winning! As it dawned on him he started getting emotional. In that moment of triumph, he felt a intense joy, a fierce pride, a feeling of blissful redemption—

For the first time that fight, Eze struck back.

He threw a punch. It wasn't a very impressive punch. There was no way in hell that was the most essence he could draw out; it was a mediocre strike for even your average World Ranker. There wasn't much Law on it at all. And it was rising against a tumbling avalanche of exploding essence.

It should be crushed in an instant.

Yet…

Zane frowned. There was something about the intent behind the blow.

That was an ordinary punch. But where it went was not ordinary at all. It went exactly where Eze wanted it to go. And the way Eze felt right now—he had an unnatural confidence—the kind of confidence one has in history. Like the fight was in the past; like he'd already won; like he'd seen it happen. And what followed was just replay.

He was so confident something about it infected Zane. Zane wasn't even shocked by what happened next.

The spear met the fist. BANG!

And the fist broke through.

There was an explosion alright—but not in the direction anyone expected. Cain gave a shocked cry; he went stumbling back, swerving with the force of it, as all his flames bowed inward. Just collapsed in on themselves. As the Skill tore apart at the seams and imploded in a brilliant fireball.

Zane had felt it coming, and even he took a moment to understand what just happened.

That punch struck Cain's Skill at the exact place it was weakest—and broke it.

Which should have been impossible. Unless you knew two things: exactly where the enemy strike would be. And exactly how the essence in it would flow.

With Sage Mind Zane could know the first. But even he'd be clueless about the second.

Something else that was interesting. He just realized—Eze's gauntlet stopped exactly at the point of contact. There was no essence backlash. No essence leaking out into the world.

The reason he'd thrown that much essence was simple. It was exactly how much he needed to break Cain's strike.

The crowd was still catching up. They had no clue what they were seeing. So was Cain; he was shocked but he still spun around, salvaged most of his momentum, chucked it into another shot—

And Eze stepped forward, cool as can be. He wasn't moving particularly quickly. He wasn't throwing particularly hard. His next punch came out almost casually. BANG!

Cain cried out and went spinning back again. And the crowd stared in dumb shock. Cain tried again, throwing the full heft of his essence into this one—BANG! And he flew halfway down the ring.

And Eze closed in on him.

Cain was still off-balance; he didn't understand what was going on—he was doing so well! He started to panic, and bad; he flailed out a thrust—BANG! By then Cain was falling over himself; he tried blocking with the spear-tip—BANG!—then, desperately, with the shaft—BANG!

And his spear went flying out of his hands. He spun all the way around, wailing out—"NO!"

It was then that Zane remembered.

Eze threw one last punch.

It felt like the whole world holds it breath; everything stilled. The only thing that existed, the only thing that moved, was the fist. Not hurrying, not lagging. An ordinary, everyday thing. It moved through the air like death, or like fate—arriving, inevitably. Cain tried getting out of the way.

But somehow every single person watching knew there was no getting out of the way.

Even Cain.

Zane tapped into his feelings then, and felt an infinite blackness yawning before him. And it swallowed him. Cain was made to feel very, very small. A speck caught in the pitiless grasp of some cosmic force he could never comprehend. There was nothing he could do; nothing at all.

Cain opened his mouth to scream.

Eze's fist grazed his chin, soft as a kiss.

BANG.

***

Horror and awe reigned. The crowd was frozen in shock. All except for one man—one man striding with purpose for the ring, breathing heavy, blood running hot…

***

Challenger: Cain Hastings, World Rank #9, has been defeated!

And then, a long silence.

Emeka sighed.

Yet another disappointment.

The healers carried the man off on a stretcher. Emeka shook his head, turned to go—

“Wait," rumbled a voice.

He stilled. Turned.

Someone else had gotten in the ring. Someone whose eyes were burning with fighting spirit.

“I’m next,” said Zane Walker.

//

A/N: to people who read the chapter 10 mins after upload, just added that last chunk