Kieran drew Last Breath and immediately cast Death’s Arm. Drops of rain that made contact with the blade seemed to flash-freeze in an instant, then fall off and scatter onto the ground.
“Good. Good!” Kieran’s opponent exclaimed as he raised his glaive, each word gilded in arrogance. “I am Aivor, Line-Breaker. Tell me your name, Slayer. I would know whom I fight.”
Egotistic soldiers were among the few things that could really get under Kieran’s skin. He felt the distinct twinge of fury building in his heart, but he pushed it down. Now was not the time for anger.
Instead of replying to the other Contender, Kieran dropped low and dashed forward, swinging Last Breath towards Aivor’s legs. His opponent jumped backwards, out of range.
But Kieran didn’t intend for the blow to land. It served only as a warning to his opponent.
“So eager! Very well, if you so choose, then I —” Aivor began, but his words were cut short when Kieran launched another attack.
Stepping forward, he swung his blade at Aivor’s side, keeping careful control of the weapon. When his opponent moved to block, Kieran cut his momentum, swiveling to send the blade in the other direction.
Aivor barely reacted in time. Raising his arm, he managed to prevent Kieran’s blade from biting into his side. Yet Last Breath still carved through Aivor’s robe, sinking into flesh.
A moment later, Aivor jumped backwards again and readjusted his stance. This time, he offered no words, instead beginning to circle around with his weapon raised.
Kieran followed suit. It seemed that his previous aggression had caused Aivor to fall back into a defensive. Meanwhile, Kieran himself wanted to see what War’s Contender had up his sleeve.
The two fighters kept circling each other around the crossroads at the settlement’s entrance. After a few seconds of this stalemate, Aivor took the initiative. He raised his glaive to the sky. Lightning struck the weapon, wrapping the blade in electricity. Aivor then dropped low and lunged towards Kieran, swinging his weapon in a wide arc.
Kieran quickly considered his options. While ice was a bad conductor, he wasn’t eager to test if blocking an attack with Last Breath would lead to him getting electrocuted. So, he decided to be more aggressive.
Leaning into the offense, Kieran also lunged forward. He stepped past the glaive’s blade before Aivor swung it and kicked the weapon’s shaft to the side. Yet, while successful in redirecting the attack, Kieran had no opportunity to counter. Aivor didn’t cut his momentum and was about to crash into Kieran with full force.
Kieran lunged to the side and out of the way, forcing his opponent to stop his movement with a stumble. He then swung Last Breath low, aiming to cripple Aivor. Before Kieran’s strike could land, however, Aivor vanished with a flash of lightning.
Kieran heard the sound of electricity behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Aivor stabbing forward with his glaive, aiming for Kieran’s neck. Kieran acted on pure instinct. He cast Form of Death and moved away from his opponent, resetting the fight.
The exchange so far had been extremely fast, but it was obvious to both fighters that they were just trying to gauge each other’s capabilities. Each was well aware that the other was hiding their arsenal of spells. Neither wanted to show their hand first.
The two combatants began to circle again. Using the momentary reprieve to strategize, Kieran formed a plan. A risky plan, but one that could well see him through to victory.
He ran forward to break the stalemate. Closing the distance quickly, he grabbed Last Breath with both hands. Then he intentionally telegraphed his attack, swinging slower than he normally would.
Aivor moved to block using the shaft of his glaive. Kieran allowed his attack to be blocked, expecting his opponent to try and counter. He was correct. Aivor used his weapon to knock Kieran’s weapon aside.
From the beginning of the exchange, Kieran had started to gather his energy, forcing it all into his left hand. When Aivor pushed his blade away, Kieran let go of the weapon with that hand, freeing it for his gambit.
Next, Aivor raised the glaive high with the intent to bring it down in an overhead slash. Kieran couldn’t contain a wicked grin as he placed his hand on Aivor’s chest, unleashing a fully charged Maim into his opponent.
The glaive came down, but it was knocked slightly off-course by the onslaught of magically inflicted agony. Aivor’s attack slashed Kieran across the side of the shoulder and down the arm. White-hot pain coursed through Kieran’s mind, but not a sound escaped his lips.
Aivor’s cries, meanwhile, echoed louder than the distant thunder.
Both combatants stumbled away from each other. But while Kieran squared his shoulders in preparation, Aivor doubled over. Cuts appeared all over the Line-Breaker’s body, shredding his robes. First small, then larger and larger and larger, until the warrior fell to his knees. Only the support of his weapon kept him from falling completely. Blood dripped onto the ground, forming several small pools.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
Kieran turned to his opponent, flourishing Last Breath and trying to keep his shivering at bay. The spell had almost drained him of energy. He noted, however, that since his second successful meditation, his energy reserves were replenishing much more quickly.
His gambit had been thoroughly successful. His foe was broken. But Kieran knew better than to think this was the end of it.
He watched carefully as Aivor’s breathing grew heavy. The large figure went still for a moment.
Then Aivor began laughing, his body shaking with merriment.
“Not bad. Not bad at all,” Aivor exclaimed as he pushed himself to his feet. He rolled his shoulders, turning to face Kieran. “But not quite good enough.”
Aivor slammed the butt of his glaive into the ground and roared into the sky. In the distance, thunder answered. Theatrically, he lowered his hood to reveal the face of a lion. A long, white mane flowed down his shoulders, framing a face covered in scars.
Aivor fixed his eyes on Kieran. “No more holding back, then.”
A moment later, lightning struck the lion directly. His eyes were left glowing with electricity as all of his wounds cauterized in an instant.
Kieran narrowed his eyes, casting Mend with the remnants of his energy. The combination of the pouring rain with the cold flowing through him made him feel like he might freeze, but he ignored it.
The wound across his arm stitched itself together, and the fight was reset again.
At the edge of his vision, Kieran saw Rah’Na standing beneath the awning of their home, arms crossed over her chest. The old wolf was watching the fight with great interest.
Kieran took a deep breath. Then he drew Defiant Aphelion and moved into a low stance.
In the next moment, Aivor vanished in a flash of lightning. Kieran instantly dropped to one knee. He heard the lightning-enveloped glaive cut through the air above him. Kieran spun around with both weapons, aiming to cripple his opponent once again, but his blades were blocked by the glaive’s shaft.
Aivor threw a kick at Kieran’s jaw. A fraction of a second before the strike connected, Kieran cast Form of Death and moved through his opponent. He felt a shock of electricity course through his body as the lion’s energy merged with his own, replenishing his reserves.
As soon as his feet touched the ground, Kieran flourished Last Breath and swiveled, throwing both blades in an arc towards his opponent. Even after stumbling from the sudden drain, Aivor raised his glaive in time to block. He pushed Kieran’s blades to the side with a roar.
The lion then used the butt of his spear to strike at Kieran’s shins. Failing to anticipate the attack, Kieran stumbled from the sudden pain. Aivor launched a backhanded slash to exploit the opening.
Thinking clearly even through the pain, Kieran cast Shield Counter with the last of his energy. The barrier sprang up around him. Yet as his opponent's blade crashed into the shield, the spell continued to pull energy from Kieran’s now empty reservoir. Kieran gasped in shock, his focus broken by the overwhelming cold.
Then the shield detonated, catching Aivor off guard and enveloping him briefly in celestial fire.
Both fighters were left gasping for breath as they staggered away from each other.
This needs to end quickly, Kieran thought.
He felt his energy replenishing itself swiftly. Before he could form a plan, however, Aivor roared again and struck the butt of his glaive against the ground. The sky rumbled.
Feeling the air around him fill with static, Kieran lunged to the side. Not even half a second later, the spot he had just been standing in was struck by lightning.
Aivor continued pushing his assault. Raising his weapon, he stabbed forward. Kieran dodged with a stumbling step, only barely avoiding the glaive. He felt his hair stand up as the electrified weapon went past his shoulder.
In the next moment, Kieran was caught off-guard. An image of Aivor, seemingly made of pure yellow energy, stabbed at him from the left. The phantasmal glaive sank into Kieran’s side, rending flesh and breaking bone. Another image appeared and immediately did the same from the right. Then the copies of Aivor vanished, leaving Kieran to fall to his knees.
Kieran gasped for air. He knew that his internals were, to put it lightly, scrambled. His vision tunneled. His sight was blurry with pain. His mind was in a complete mess.
Yet among the swirling storm of his scattered thoughts, Kieran saw glimpses of something… other, once again.
Light bent into nothing. The growth of an accretion disc. Celestial bodies drawn into oblivion.
Then the connection formed in Kieran’s mind minutes before the fight began suddenly flared up. He became aware of footsteps drawing closer, and instinct took over.
Kieran commanded his soul weapon to take shape.
A shield of pure energy formed over him as Aivor’s glaive came down, aimed at the small of Kieran’s back. With his weapon stopped in place, Aivor was caught off-guard.
Mend.
Pain faded, taking with it the warmth of freshly spilled blood. Cold which Kieran could only describe as cosmic rushed through his body, stiffening his limbs.
Form of Death.
Kieran moved to Aivor’s side, weapons held aloft.
Strike.
Last Breath and Defiant Aphelion sank into Aivor’s sides from right and left, almost mirroring the wounds Kieran had suffered moments before.
Roaring in pain, Aivor slammed his elbow into Kieran’s stomach. The two fighters separated again. Kieran only just managed to hold onto Last Breath, while Defiant Aphelion remained embedded in the lion’s side.
“What the hell are you?!” Aivor roared, his voice cracking.
Kieran offered him only a smile in response.
There, at the edge of death, Kieran felt truly alive. His breath was ragged, his body wracked with cold and pain. Yet he never felt more focused than when he was riding the event horizon. That perfect, oh-so-thin line where the desperate will to live met the inevitable gaze of death.
Aivor looked up at Kieran with genuine fear in his eyes. But he still pushed himself up to his feet and leaned against the glaive, prepared to fight to his last breath. The lion then pulled Defiant Aphelion from his side and threw it to the ground beside him.
Kieran briefly considered his next course of action. As much as the lion infuriated him, he didn’t want to kill him. He saw no benefit or purpose in taking the life of another Contender.
He stepped forward, causing Aivor to stumble backwards. Kieran then closed the distance and delivered a swift kick to Aivor’s side.
Combined with the general fatigue of combat and his existing wounds, the strike was sufficient to send the lion to the ground. His glaive slipped from his hands, clattering just loud enough to be heard over the rain.
Kieran retrieved Defiant Aphelion and pointed it down at his opponent’s chest. Then, for the first time since the fight started, he finally spoke.
“Yield, and I will spare you.”
Aivor’s voice was the low, rumbling growl of receding thunder.
“I yield!”