(TLO) Chapter 150: Cold Steel (Patreon)

“You have two swords, Jabari, defend like you mean it!” Igor barked. “That you are up against a silver mage is no excuse.”

Seth grit his teeth as Forlorn slipped between his defense and cut his side. The pain flared and he staggered forward. He caught himself before he fell and swung his sword behind him. The swing forced his brother to increase the distance between them.

Forlorn had torn his cassock and scored another injury. The cut was clean and deep but Seth was more concerned with his cassock and the stain. It was another cassock he would have to stitch.

Training had begun in earnest only a week after their return. Not much was changed in their regimen except their lessons with Ivan and the venue of each of their training sessions. Igor continued to school them in the use of the sword. Oscar still made them face themselves with knives. Domitia still continued to show them they still had far too much to learn in unarmed combat. Everyday Emriss showed them one new gun or the other. According to her, if they never learned how to shoot, they should at least learn what was shooting at them.

Now that they were blessed with the strength of reia, they believed their training of the body under Typhon would be at least a bit easier. The Reverend, however, was more than eager to prove them wrong. He swam with them and ran with them and climbed with them. All these he did with his core unshrouded and his reia flared out. His very presence weighed on them and every task became a struggle. Steps were harder to take and their arms weighed more than anything should as they swam.

The pole ax and the staff were not Nehemiah’s only weapons of choice. Now he added the halberd to it and it displayed its deadliness in every minute swing.

But they found favor on their Saturdays when a new Reverend by the name of Max taught them to drive vehicles of every kind. Saturday and Sunday easily became their favorite.

Seth turned to face Forlorn once more and found a smirk on his brother’s face. Igor had informed them they were strong enough to spar with real weapons now. Any injuries they incurred would be treated to the best of the healer’s capabilities before they would be sent back to their rooms.

However, there were rules. There was to be no death, and there was to be no severe injuries. In summary, Forlorn was not permitted to maim him.

Seth prepared himself for combat again.

“You have two swords,” Igor continued. “Use them. You may not have twice the reach, but you have twice the attack. Two weapons against one. Use them properly.”

Seth was growing tired of the man’s constant ramblings. It was as if the man cared nothing for the fact that he was no more than an Iron facing a higher authority. Expecting him to win against any of his brothers was like begging a miracle from the devil of Christian myth.

“You know,” Forlorn said. “I don’t take pleasure in beating the weak.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Seth grumbled.

Around them the rest of his brothers continued to spar while Timi was relegated to watching. For reasons unknown to them, Timi was only permitted to spar with Igor. It wasn’t because he used a mountain of a greatsword, but because he had enough power cleave one of them in one swing, regardless of their defence. Luckily for them, the seminary had not given them the chance to experience it.

According to a part of the report on his performance Igor had been permitted to share with them after their constant nagging, he had been thrown into a fit of rage during his pastoral year and had actually cleaved a gold mage in two, in three hacks. He had still been Iron at the time. Whatever their brother had become, they were no longer his peers.

Barnabas sparred with an active Fin and Jason sparred with a boy named Jude from one of the other hostels. His presence was for no other reason than to even out their numbers.

In the chaos of the clanging of metals around them and the groans and grunts, Forlorn’s activation of a skill did not escape Seth’s notice.

[Death March]

Forlorn swung a casual hand and a wave of black reia erupted from the ground beneath him. It came at Seth in the form of growing spikes and he was forced to dive from their reach.

The skill soared up to the point where he had stood then rose like a tidal wave and buried the air there. He knew the skill well enough to know what would’ve become of him if he had been there. As he rolled to his feet, Forlorn was already on him.

He defended his brother’s attack with crossed blades. He continued to use shortswords to spar, however, they were not the twin blades gifted to him for his pastoral year. He had been forced to submit those on his return. In their place, he used normal shortswords that did not weigh as much.

Forlorn pressed down on him and he dropped to his knees.

“Don’t you think this is unfair to me?” Forlorn asked. “Fighting against the weak will do nothing for me.”

“Maybe,” Seth groaned, “it will do a lot for your control.”

The cut in his side had already closed up and he felt his strength returning. Without the sting in his side, he could move better.

“The powerful have no need for control,” Forlorn shot back. Then he activated another skill.

[Rot]

A greenish black mist oozed from his open mouth and Seth didn’t need his minds to tell him he wanted no part of it. He turned his body to the side so that he redirected the force of his brother’s attack. He found the faintest bit of freedom on took it.

He activated [Quick Step] and it carried him away from his brother.

Forlorn closed his mouth and cut off his skill. Where Seth had been kneeling was now filled with the dissipating mist. The ground was left stained black.

Seth breathed in trepidation. He understood that they were allowed to use skills in all their fights now. He also understood that all of Forlorn’s skills were designed for the sole purpose of killing. But this was glaringly intentional. His brother looked as if he was trying to kill him.

He raised his swords again in preparation for whatever would come next when his minds groaned.

This is bad, one thought.

Really bad, another agreed.

Seth turned his attention to what they were noticing and frowned. One of his sword was rusting as he watched it. Somewhere in their last altercation [Rot] had touched it.

He tossed the blade hurriedly to the ground for fear it’s growing rust would somehow affect him and found himself wielding only one blade.

“Your opponent will not care how many weapons you have,” Igor said on cue.

“Of course not,” Seth grumbled. “He is trying to kill me, after all.”

Forlorn crossed the distance, sword swinging. Seth raised his blade to meet the strike. He didn’t defend against it. A silver had too much strength for an Iron to face. Instead, he tilted his sword slightly so that Forlorn’s strike slid along its length. With the attack redirected, he stepped around Forlorn and struck at him.

His blade met air.

Forlorn had moved out of reach already. His silver speed was annoying to face off. Without [Quick Step] Seth was not as fast as him. His only chance at hitting his brother was to counter each strike.

It was, in the simplest sense, a tall order.

Forlorn came at him again. He swung cuts and slashes and Seth weaved and parried. He weaved away from two slashes only for one to nick him in the thigh. It hurt but wasn’t enough to impair him. The follow up strike came like lightning and he ducked his head to the side to avoid it. If he had been a moment late it would’ve skewered his eye.

Forlorn grinned as Seth came back to his feet.

“Is this all there is to you, brother?” he asked. “Running and hiding, like a scrawny rat. Put up a fight, brother! Where’s that seminarian spirit?!”

Seth deflected another slash and stepped into Forlorn, narrowing the space between them. With only one sword he had one free hand, but so did his brother. Forlorn didn’t even deem him worthy of using two hands.

With his free hand, he reached forward and grabbed Forlorn by the chest of his cassock. He took as much of the clothe in his hand as he could, pulled his brother to him and drove his head into his nose.

The force of the collision staggered both of them. Seth stepped back with a ringing head while Forlorn reeled from a bloody nose.

We’ve got to move faster, his mind shouted through the ringing in his head and Seth listened.

He clenched his teeth from the pain and rushed forward. He cut at his brother’s face, forcing him backwards as he dodged. Now he had Forlorn off balance. All he had to do was score a winning blow, something strong enough to put his brother down but not so strong it would prove lethal.

He charged on, throwing strike after strike. Off balance, Forlorn was forced on the defensive. He staggered with each blow he parried or dodged. He leaned away from anything beyond his defensive reach and stumbled each time.

Seth chased after him like a prey after a cornered predator. He knew this was his chance. If he missed it, the fight was over. He scored a superficial cut along Forlorn’s cheek that only served to annoy his brother yet didn’t stop.

Then, in the heat of his defense, Forlorn activated a skill Seth hadn’t seen or heard before.

[Death Rain]

Within Seth’s senses, he felt the air above him shimmer. Unwilling to take any chances, he activated [Quick Step] and it carried him away from his brother.

Spikes of green struck down to the ground from a pool of green reia that hovered in the air like a body of water in a particularly putrid swamp even the dead would turn their nose from.

Where the spikes hit, it spread an erosion of green and black that released a toxic smoke.

Seth spared a panicked look at Igor and found the Reverend watching their fight. If the events of his near death worried the man, he did not show it.

Are we going to die here? A mind asked seriously.

Seth shook his head as Forlorn got to his feet. “I won’t allow it.”

Forlorn stepped forward, swinging his sword from side to side. “You do understand I’m taking it easy on you, right?”

Unlike Seth’s injuries, his were not healing.

Seth nodded without believing his brother. “I thank you for your kindness.”

“You just don’t get it.” Forlorn shook his head, then touched a hand to the cut on his face and cleaned the line of blood. “Mockery will take you nowhere with me.”

Seth lowered his stance and held the single shortsword to his side. He held it down and away from him, then flared his senses all around him. His awareness was good but he knew it could be better. If he could score a hit with [Quick Strike] it would be enough to conclude this spar.

You think we can take him? a mind asked.

His answer was simple. “No. But it doesn’t mean we can’t try.”

Forlorn stopped his advance and narrowed his eyes. “What was that again? Your convergent skill? I’ve forgotten its name but I will commend it as formidable. But do you think it can beat me?”

Forlorn loosened his arms and hopped lightly. Then he indicated a nonexistent line in front of him with his sword. “How far was its reach again?” he asked. “Ten feet? Twenty? Am I standing within it? Would you like me to step forward?”

He’s goading you, one of Seth’s minds warned him. Don’t fall for it.

“Why?” he asked it under his breath. “He’s stronger, and I need to survive this fight, seeing as Igor is all but willing to watch my skin melt.”

You were going for quick strike, another mind thought. Don’t let him make you change your decision.

“Which of us do you think will be faster?” Forlorn asked, raising a single hand.

Around them the others continued to spar, but the ringing of metals was decreasing. Their focus wasn’t as strong as it had once been.

The air around Forlorn’s raised hand began to ripple. His brother was already activating his convergent skill. A skill Seth knew well. He had seen it decay an entire target board in one touch at Iron. He could only imagine what it would do at Silver.

Seth, another mind pleaded. We are not making the right decision right now.

“What would you have me do, then? Roll over and submit?”

Doesn’t sound like a bad idea right now, though.

“Since when did you guys ask me away from a fight?”

Since your opponent was a silver than could rot everything with a single touch.

“You’re talking to yourself again, weakling,” Forlorn said, taking a step forward. “I know something’s wrong with your head but that’s no excuse. Are we doing this or not?”

“I know you don’t like [Fractured Mind],” Seth told his minds, ignoring Forlorn. “So I won’t use it. But I don’t think I can take him without [Echo Draw].”

You could always call it quits, a mind answered. Calling it quits sounds like the wise decision right about now. Can someone please talk some sense into him? We’re trying over here and he’s not listening.

“You’re wasting time, brother,” Forlorn sneered. “Are we doing this or not?”

Seth’s grip on his sword tightened and his minds sighed collectively. We guess they’re doing it.

Forlorn’s sneer turned into an impish grin. “Oh,” he dragged the single word in growing euphoria, “how I’ve been waiting for this.”

The words had barely left his mouth when he charged forward.

Seth reacted immediately. He felt his core lose a good portion of reia and felt it expel from him in all directions. It had been a long time since he’d used it in the real world. But within the consequence he used it almost every night. It was the only way he survived them, putting his life on the line each night for no more reason than his need for power.

He felt the world break out around him. In his senses it was as clear as anything could ever be. It was a part of him now. An extension of himself.

It was his.

His senses reached forward and blasted past his brother like a strong wind and he watched the ripple around Forlorn’s hand dim. He watched his brother’s face contort in a mild frown yet the boy did not slow his approach. He charged forth like a battering ram with a weak gate in sight.

His reia spread around him and established his domain.

In his domain Seth was king and God, and god showed no mercy to sinners who would go against him. His brother had intruded upon his domain without permission. Worse, he had presented himself with an attack ready. Forlorn challenged him in his own land, threatened him in his world. Forlorn was not simply a sinner. He was a mortal sinner.

Forlorn roared his skill into activation as if the louder it was, the stronger the skill would be. The dimming ripple around his hand burst into a raging one like a fire of colorless flames.

[DIE].

Seth knew only a single thing: He would not forgive his brother’s intrusion. Be they silver or gold, be they Baron. In this world, in his domain, he would bring wrath upon every intruder. He would strike down all who sinned against him.

His decision was cold steel.

Skill [Heart of Winter] is in Effect.

He stepped forward, unfazed by the notification, and let his convergent skill sing. He moved through the distance and his sword left his side.

His skill activated.

[Echo Draw].