TGW B4 Chapter 50: Second Match (Patreon)

(So some changes that I will fix later this week but should have done from the beginning. Strix was a placeholder name and shouldn't be used. It's obvious and stupid and easily traceable to Strax. So changes are: Strix---> Mordred. Yep. Anyway, Cyrus pulling a bit from Earth's legend, nobody can call him out on it.)

"You want to invite the guy who attacked you–and who you choked into unconsciousness--for dinner?" Isaac prodded.

"Well, when you say it like that, it's a little rough. But need I remind you that you threatened to stab me on numerous occasions before you settled down."

"Fair enough. Invite him. I'm sure it'll be fiiiine."

"Table the idea for later," Teddy said as he motioned to my wrist.

The bracelet vibrated and glowed.

Already?

"Huh, guess it's time for round two. See you guys in a bit," I said before muttering under my breath. "Hopefully."

"If you're going to crush them, then crush them!" Isaac shouted.

"We'll see,"

Before exiting the booth, I slipped my mask on and felt the comforting enchantments lock in place.

Another oddity. Even with my new skill constantly alerting my eyes and brain to runes, the mask was a swirling plane of scribbles.

The more I looked for a pattern to the mana, the less I understood.

It was both frustrating and good to know. If even my skill refused to play along, then others would have trouble piercing its defense. And more than anything on my person, including the awesome earrings that made me look like a beastkin, it gave me a sense of safety like no other.

I watched the crowd subdued but still chatting happily. Despite the long hours of constant bloodshed and amiable duels, they were hungry and ready for more.

My feet carried me down into the under arena and I noticed just how empty it looked. A few of the faces were people I recognized having fought earlier in the day, but the negative space gave ample room for the arena master to stand.

She was a towering statue who raised a hand the moment I came within conversation range.

"Yes?" I asked.

Myol beckoned me closer and I stopped just shy of planting my face into her hip spikes.

As I stopped, a barrier appeared around us, cutting off the ambient chatter from inside the room.

"You've got two choices," she said.

"What are my options?"

She grunted. "Still cocky? You claim lightning isn't your strongest. What is?"

I shrugged. "I can't answer that. You wouldn't believe me."

"You're right. I don't. You're not a beastkin, that's certain. If it's not lightning, then I'm guessing, fire. If, and only if you're from this continent."

My eyes narrowed and I watched her face. She continued to glare, but a hint of a grin tugged at her mouth.

"Why do you think I'm not a beastkin?"

"Not I think, it's I know. And I'll answer your question, whelp. Once, you answer mine."

Fine. Two can play this game.

The others in the room watched without shape. None bothered to pretend they were simply glancing around or hide their staring.

At least they can't hear us.

"I told you. You wouldn't believe me. I can't answer what my strongest element is. All I can tell you is that lightning isn't my second strongest or even the best I got. And neither is fire."

"So be it," she grumbled. At once, the barrier preventing the sound from entering and exiting our space disappeared and she took a step back while motioning to the tunnel. "Enter. Remember the rules."

I didn't budge.

"What about my question?"

"Win, and I'll tell you. Now put on a show, 'villain.'"

Villain? The fuck?

As I started walking down the tunnel I summoned my spear and waited for the noise to reach its crescendo.

Her words gave me a funny feeling that my announcement was going to sound different this time around.

And as soon as I neared the exit, the announcer's voice boomed across the walls, proving my predictions.

"The heartless. The crusher! A combatant who isn't afraid to bring nature's wrath against its wielder and turn their dreams to ash! Mordred!"

Why the fuck am I heartless? I didn't even know them!

Despite my inner grumbling, I pushed mana into the tip of my spear and let the acid spill into the stone while I dragged the bone head through the stone.

Outside the tunnels, the crowd's rumbling cheers reached my ears, once more filling my chest with an excited pulse. It continued to build until I reached the center and took in the reactions above.

Some booed, others cheered. There was even one person holding up a torn banner made from someone's shirt with my name scribbled on.

For good measure, I waved my fist and nodded their way. The resulting scream of excitement managed to pierce through the din and drown out the shouting voices around it.

"We have some excited fans for the villainous monster. But don't worry. There will be no delays this time!" the announcer boomed. "You saw them earlier, the knight of fire that burns eternal! With a blade as hot as a forgemaster's kiln; the one and the only, Wuldric Solcrest!"

Who?

Cheers exploded and my opponent marched through the opposing exit. Behind them trailed smoldering footsteps that burned the sand black. Their weapon–like mine had, trailed behind them and left flames in its wake.

He wore dark bronze armor that covered them from head to toe except his fingers. Where dark metal ended, tanned fingers gripped the metal shaft of a  full-metal halberd.

Wuldric stopped along the line and shifted his stance before raising his weapon with one hand. Its corkscrew tip gleamed in the light, the only part that was silvery and shiny.

"You may have thought yourself mighty in your first match. But now you face a member of house Solcrest! Prepare to beg for mercy, lightning thief."

Solcrest was another of the big noble houses. A fire-based Legacy family that had just spawned the last of their line. And as far I could remember, none of them were tier-one.

But that was besides the point.

"What the fuck are you yapping about? You speak like some two-bit villian. Less talk, more flames. Or is that all you got? Barely enough to tickle, I'm impressed."

Screw it. If I was being forced to play my role, I was going to lean all the way in. And I had zero interest in exchanging banter with an idiot if he ended up cowering like the Thunder Serpent.

Despite my provocation, Wuldric lowered his weapon and bowed.

"I see my words are wasted on the likes of you. Very well. I'll keep your suffering short."

You're wearing metal armor buddy. Even if I was using Sturmrorex, you'd be barbeque.

The first chime began, and to my surprise the mana around Wuldric's body remained calm. His stance shifted and he dropped low and swung his halberd forward like a spear.

I lifted my weapon with one hand and splayed the fingers in my other. My palm faced the sky and I tapped into the soul realm.

"Ready, Zharia?"

"We shall burn the metal bug! His flames are mine!" she screeched.

Mana twisted into threads and rose from the lake toward Zharia's skill wisp.

Resplendent Inferno followed by Spirit Lord's Invocation brought her spark into the back of my hood. Áine tapped Zharia's beak a second before her body broke down and rushed into my chest.

Plumage of gold, sapphire, emerald and vibrant orange sprouted from my arms and legs. It rippled across the skull and brought the ring of flames above my horns, tucked away underneath the illusion.

My tail grew feathers as well, adding a strange weight to its movements along with the changing of the flames surrounding the tip.

The only thing I allowed the crowd to see was the new feathers along with the ripples of golden flames around my body.

"And he's done it again! Mordred has decided to fight fire with fire! Who's flames are stronger? The sweltering heat of the Solcrest line, or the mysterious golden fire around our mystery fighter?!" the announcer shouted.

Wuldric growled and the fire around his boots jutted higher. "The Solcrest suffer no thieves. To commit such foolishness is to submit through a baptism of fire. I retract my statement, thief. Your suffering will not be short."

I chuckled. "Bring it."

The second chime rang and I watched Wuldric's mana change. Before it was calm, but now it raged and billowed out.

Like a hungry flame... He's actually angry, damn.

The bright flames around his feet swirled into the sand but the majority of his mana swelled around his arms and into the halberd.

I continued to keep my mana calm, letting Zharia guide the heat around my mask.

If he wanted to face a thief, then so be it. Who was I to deny his fun?

The third chime came and his arms raised high. The marble of flames I kept in my free hand flattened and I extended my arm.

But the hit never came.

I stood there, like a statue waiting; and so did he.

After five seconds passed and nothing happened, I cocked my head and lowered my hand.

"Are you seriously not going to attack?"

"Why haven't you moved, cur."

"Whatever," I sighed.

My feet kicked off the ground and I stabbed my spear forward. Acid streamed from its tip and I aimed for his thigh.

Wuldric deftly moved the halberd into a parry and he stepped forward, bringing his weapon in a tight arc across my shoulder.

Bone poised to meet metal, but the mana around his arms shot forward and his weapon slammed against my spear. It pushed into my side and I twisted out of the way.

His feet stood still as I stepped back.

The hit carried enough explosive power to have bruised my arm but Áine took care of that.

"Maybe not so foolish. I commend your strength. But there will be no second mistakes," he barked.

His voice started to irritate my ears.

Without responding, I dashed forward and shot flames into my feet. Lacking practice, I barely managed more than a couple of extra inches but it brought me within his guard.

My spear shot toward his armpit.

Bone met unprotected cloth and a loud clang echoed out.

Wuldric spun and chopped across my hip, forcing me to jump back.

When he pulled the axe out of the sand, his arm raised and exposed the underside revealing a metallic layer that slowly receded into its previous shape.

"We are the forgerites. The smiths of the kingdom. To face a Solcrest is to fight against fire and steel. Now that you've seen the depth of your idiocy, it's time to end this."

His mana ballooned into a tide that engulfed his form. I understood why his weapon was made entirely of metal.

Dark bronze turned cherry red and yellow flames sparked across its edge. His arms took on the same appearance as did his legs–leaving his chest and helm with a dull glow.

Despite the grandiose speech, I grinned. My blood sang with the cheers.

"Enough talk. Let's see who burns hotter," I teased.

The noble stomped and his front foot slid forward with his weapon held in a high thrust. I dodged, and slammed my spear around his and willed it to wrap around.

Like I wanted, the yellow flames bubbled and pushed it away while Wuldric slid into another thrust, this one lower.

Each jab I tried to take his flames but he kept his attacks short and tight. Zharia's frustration grew with mine and I bit my cheek.

The fight was what I wanted, and far better than the first. But I hungered to see who was stronger.

And those flames looked tasty.

When he stomped again, I moved into his path. The flames around his boot speared the ground and created an anchor for his foot to follow. Wuldric's thrust turned high and I leaned forward.

My spear dropped and his strike faltered, but the momentum continued and I let the silver corkscrew tear a gash into my right bicep.

"Gotcha," I growled.

Before he could retract I wrapped my fingers around the shaft and pulled the flames over my arm. My jaw opened wide and I inhaled.

Yellow fire. Yellow that burned with sulfur infusing its smoke. I inhaled deep and sucked them in, feeling the roiling heat burn its way down.

Wuldric tugged his weapon back and I slid with it. As he swung to his side I pulled myself closer and grabbed his collar.

"Unhand me, filth!" he shouted.

His arm came free and the cherry-red gauntlet smashed into the side of my face.

But I didn't care.

Only one thing ran through my thoughts.

Disgusting.

Foreign mana reached my veins. It spread its tendrils, a slimy, acrid rot that tried to incinerate me from the inside out.

Wrath shook his cage and clawed control. Zharia's skill, my flames, rushed upward in a cone of fire that purged the stench.

Outside my body, my head rocked with the blow. Fire scorched the ground as it spewed from my mouth. Where they met Wuldric's foot, the gold overtook the yellow.

"What is this? What is thi-" his scream cut short.

My claws wrapped around his neck. The metal expanded, pushing away my fingers, so I curled them upward and reached under the jaw.

The metal rushed to repel me, and the flames ate at the thread of my clothes before Zharia's feathers burst with golden fire.

Where his flames met mine, they disappeared underneath its fury. Heat remained in the wake, and my flames drew them in, empowering my own.

"Stop!" he screamed.

My claws found purchase underneath the helm and I yanked upward. Black hair spilled out, and I cut a line across a rugged cheek.

His eyes bore into mine like a frightened animal.

"You call this filth fire? You think this is hot enough to stand against mine?" I shouted. He winced and I pulled his head closer, his nose slamming into my mask. "You were supposed to be better. Fuck you."

Mana crashed through my arms and compressed inside the tips of my fingers. Metal spikes punched through the feathers and tore into my flesh, the heated metal sizzling as my blood came into contact.

He opened his mouth then shouted something stupid, and I unleashed the pent-up fury in pinpricks of golden flames that tore through his padded clothes and burned through the metal. Upon his skin the golden flames bit and gnashed, spreading across his body in a pulsing wave.

Wuldric screamed, and screamed until that faded and all that was left was the sizzling pops of charred flesh. I let go and he collapsed to the ground in a smoking heap.

No more were the yellow flames, in its place was black smoke and molten slag.

With the spike of anger subsiding I swiped my claws forward and drew in the heat, tearing the remnants of Zharia's fire into my arm.

Wuldric's armor cooled and the smoke lessened, but I stayed still and waited.

Slowly, his chest continued to rise and a healing circle sprang into existence around his body, the golden light diving in between the burnt gore.

"And the winner is Mordred!"

Sound returned to my ears and the cheering thundered inside my head.

My fists tightened and I turned around, grabbing my spear before marching out of the arena and into the tunnel.

Away from the noise; away from the smell.