B6 Chapter 638: The Pit, pt. 2

Kaius stared at the back of Ivar’s head as the Gold shoved his helm on and walked ahead. In the flickering yellow wardlights that lit the arena tunnel, Ivar took on a predatory grace. Light glinted off the curves of his snarling helm, calling out to Kaius in fury and delight.

Ivar the fucking Bleeding?

The man was a legend; a twin-bladed demon who empowered himself with his own blood — going so far as to hack at himself if he needed to. Hells, even in Deadacre he’d heard the story of how Ivar had held the Sweetmust Pass in northern Greenseed by himself when a full blown swarm of boggarts had spilled out of the mountains.

And now he was lucky enough to fight Ivar and win!

“You coming?”

Kaius laughed, running after him.

Crossing through the tunnel, they passed into the bright lights of the arena. Sand crunched under Kaius’s feet, more felt than heard as more than dozen voices lit up in a roar. He saw his friends immediately. They were sitting on the left-centre of the stands. All three of them had wide grins on their faces, eager to see how he would do. Helena and her team sat just next to them, all of them talking in hushed voices that were drowned out by the crowd.

The rest of Baanswell’s strongest delvers were spread through the stands. Some groups were small, with only two or three — but there were a few larger groups where multiple full teams sat in a huddle. Kaius could barely wrap his head around it. There were more second tiers in this one room than he’d ever even met before. Yet they all acted like this was a simple, common circus. Drinks appeared from storage rings, only to slosh onto the ground as delvers jostled and cheered at his and Ivar’s entrance.

“Give him hell!” Porkchop said as the rest of his team waved excitedly.

“Oh, I intend to.”

Ivar kicked off, sailing over the area in three quick bounds. He landed in a spray of sand, smoothly spinning on the balls of his feet to turn and face Kaius.

Staring down that snarling helm, Kaius felt the heat inside him stoke hotter. He knew he should plan — but he didn’t want to. Ivar had said it himself, this was just a bit of fun. What better than to hurl everything he had at the man and see who came out on top.

“No helm?” Ivar shouted over.

“Don’t need it if you’re not going to stab me in the face now, do I?” Kaius yelled back.

Ivar barked a laugh. “Fair!”

To their right, a sharp eyed ranger in dyed black leathers got to their feet. “What’s it gonna be?!”

“Forfiet!” Ivar called.

Half the arena groaned.

“Healers get ready, this is gonna get messy!” someone yelled.

Kaius saw Ianmus raise his eyebrow. He nodded back. The mage just sighed and started casting, the golden lines of his keyseal spooling out from the tip of his staff. They had an accord. Just had to let it play out until Ianmus’s Triage was ready — he didn’t trust anyone else's spell.

Focusing on the battle ahead, Kaius wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword. It was firm. Sturdy. Everything he needed was right there, from the screaming rush that built in his heart, to the magic burning on his skin, to the azure dragonscale that stuck to his palm like glue.

“Draw!”

They did.

Ivar’s blades were jagged, wretched things. Pitted and brown, like iron dipped in blood and left to rust, the curved edges of the sabers were hooked and barbed with hungry teeth. His own blade shone with killing purity in comparison, soaking in the light of the arena as the crystalline edge of his sword dissolved.

Sliding low into his stance, Kaius readied himself to move. His blade drifted down, the point almost tracing the sands — a wide open invitation to strike.

Ivar spun his sabers, sliding into a strange fencer’s stance — one blade thrust out, and the other thrust high.

“Fight!”

A typhoon of ripping sands exploded behind Kaius as he cast Shunt to hurl himself forward. Another detonated a heartbeat later, sending him up high. Ivar bled, rich red rivulets running between every scale of his armour, coating him like a second skin. The man tore a crimson streak across the sands.

Three Nails ripped out of Kaius’s outstretched hand. He hit nothing but steel, ringing peals drowning the arena as Ivar whipped each saber in a staggered tempo.

Another Shunt sent Kaius down, Slipstep burning before he even touched the ground. Ivar slashed twice, bloody arcs cleaving through the space between them. Maelstrom ripped out, tearing at the Skill — slowing it enough for Kaius to cut clean through both half-moon arcs.

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Lightning cracked, blood boiled, but Ivar barely flinched. They clashed.

Crystal met iron with a howling screech. Ivar’s second saber cleaved for Kaius’s thigh. He let it come, Compelling Ivar’s aggression. The Gold roared, and Kaius felt the ripping touch as his armour screamed and his flesh tore. Heat roared through his leg, pain forgotten as the Gold’s blade pulled on Kaius’s blood.

He slipped a hand from his hilt and blew a Nail through the Gold’s forearm. One-handed, he maintained his bind on the Gold’s saber and kicked Ivar in the chest. The Gold flew back, roaring.

“You’re strong,” Kaius hissed, the world warping around him as he sprinted forward. The ragged wound in his leg pulsed in time with his health.

“You’re a freak!” Ivar laughed, spinning around a lashing crack of lightning. In an instant, he fell on Kaius like a storm. Blood and iron flew from every angle, slipping through his defence to rip open his chest and legs.

Stamina surged through his blade, Hellblade Investiture erupting with baelfire. Crushing aside the Gold’s defence, Kaius realised he was stronger. Physically, he was the man’s superior — as ridiculous as it felt. Leveraging the advantage, he smashed Ivar’s sabers aside and headbutted him. Something crunched in his forehead, but health whisked away the injury before he could even register it. Ignoring the saber that sprouted in his belly, Kaius grabbed his sword halfway down the blade and rammed it into the man’s ribs. Ivar coughed, blood splattering in Kaius’s face. It sizzled — fucking bastard weaponised his own wounds.

Ignoring the growing burn as more of Ivar’s blood coated him, Kaius kept the man close. Of either of them, Kaius trusted his healing the most. Ivar seemed to be supporting himself through injury with blood-based magic — but his wounds weren’t closing all that much faster than explained by normal health.

Again and again they hacked at each other. There was no finesse or grace, only an onslaught of cleaving hacks, bloody lashes, and bright flashes of magic.

“Show it to me!” Ivar hissed, trapping Kaius’s blade between his ribs to rake his own saber across Kaius’s belly. “Your Authority!”

Kaius obliged. His soul was already screaming with the fight — an all-consuming inferno that roared out of his pillars and bolstered a steady stream of essence. Commanding hyperreality tore out from him in an explosion, swallowing the entire area. The shock of it made Ivar gasp, even if Kaius lacked the true crushing weight of a tyrant, or the intimidation of a dragon. He smashed the Gold in the jaw with his pommel.

Gritting his teeth, Ivar roared and fought back. In moments, they were hacking at each other again.

Gods, Kaius loved every moment of it. Nothing but raw brutality. He didn’t need to think, or worry for his friends’ safety, or ensure his own survival. He just had to fight. What a glorious thing!

He laughed, maniacal and free as a wide grin stretched across his face. Ivar echoed the sound, burying his saber deep into Kaius’s collar bone. The sound of the crowd fell away, even the scent of heavy iron grew distant. The waltz consumed him.

Red flames burned as Investiture took its due.

Fractured and molted glass swelled, endless in its hunger as it tore deep into Ivar’s unending well of vitality.

Lightning ruptured and steel screamed as he cast spell after spell.

And Ivar. Would. Not. Go. Down.

The man was a demon-sent hellion in his own right, spinning through an endless typhoon of bloodsoaked slashes. Every cut soaked through Kaius’s armour to open him up to the bone. Every parry sent needles of red iron ripping through their bind to punch through Kaius’s chest.

On and on they went, until the area sands were painted a bright crimson.

But it was almost time to end this. He still needed to test his sword.

“Triage is ready,” Porkchop said, a vicious enjoyment colouring the message.

Kaius slammed his Authority into the Slayer’s Ire. Every scrap of his being, his hungry fury, the blood he had spilled, and the lives he had torn away flooded into his aura as it clenched around his blade — so solid it shimmered in the very air.

Ivar gasped, wide eyes visible through the slits in his helm. Just for the briefest moment, he froze.

Fractured Warp shattered space, and an instant later Kaius stood behind the man. A thousand fine cuts tore open in his body, scalpel-sharp spatial disruption shredding him from within. He barely noticed. Slamming a Nail into Hymnfocus, Kaius joined A Father’s Gift in a twin howl as it sprouted ripping teeth.

At the very last moment, he banished his Authority. Slayer’s Ire gave him the lingering sense it would leave difficult to heal wounds, and this was a friendly bout.

Ivar exploded forward the second the restriction vanished. Shunt hurled Kaius after him — the Gold wouldn’t get away that easy! Driving through his hips, Kaius thrust his blade through Ivar’s spine. Blood gouted over him, chunks of meat and bone flung free by the violent motion of the churning teeth. Ivar roared as a stride of hungry crystal sprouted from his belly — dropping bonelessly as his spinal corn was severed like cotton twine.

“Yield!” Ivar yelled, before he started laughing and ripped off his helmet.

Kaius dismissed his skill and ripped his sword free. Panting hard, he fell onto the sands next to the Gold, enjoying the warmth as a ring of familiar healing light sprouted around the two of them. Six more spells crashed over Kaius a moment later. His health erupted upwards, drinking deep from the revitalising magics.

“Gods’ damned monster,” Ivar said over the roar of the crowd, shaking his head as he twitched his foot. “Fucking teleport bullshit, fuck you.”

“It’s how I beat the Tyrant, you must have known it was coming!”

“Shut up, bastard.”

“Someone sour they lost to a Silver?”

“Fuck off.”

“Didn’t even have to use any Warmagic.”

“Don’t rub it in!”

Kaius just laughed harder. No way he was ever going to tell the man how low his health got.