The gears of magic turned once more and with it the walls of the arena. Once more the colosseum grew in the capacity of its seat. “Something big is coming,” Tess observed. The eagerness with which the seats were filled was incredible. Angels and demons were competing for seats and, when those ran out, stairs and standing spots. Soon, the auditorium was a crowded mess of holy and unholy energy forms.
The gears locked into pce, the arena descended to a new slot. A short, intense buzz in the air betrayed an argument between gods that was cut through in an instant.
A golden sword descended from the false heaven above. The massive weapon was buried in the sand, spreading light and gssing the floor. The impact of its wielder a moment ter cracked the crystal structures.
An armored hand grabbed the sword, pulling the divine fme towards the handle. It was impossible to say where the hand ended and the sword began. Past the wrist, the humanoid body of the being became clear. Cd in gold-white armour, a red toga on top, stood a pale young man of impressive build. His blond hair was long for that of a man and moved in ethereal winds. A multi-yered halo hovered above his head. A steady beam of light descended on the avatar of the god of conquest. An apt aura for the Lord of Spreading Light. The only blemish to him was a mark under his left eye, curving like a tattooed war scar.
“Come to demand respect?” Rykard asked.
“I do not demand respect,” Marik answered. “I only demand exceptionalism.”
“Are we seriously about to fight a god?” Tess hissed.
“Fret not, this avatar has been built to be overcome.” The rge, brass sword was given a casual spin. “Provided you live up to my expectations, Rykard. Show me your growth, prodigy of Troyk, king of New Eden.” Pointing the tip of his sword at the dark-haired man first, then the two women by his side, the god added, “Or test me with your allies behind you. Those that carry the seed of conquerors should be conquerors in turn.”
“Come on, Marik, you know me better than that,” Rykard said and stepped forwards. “How could I refuse the chance to fight a god, even if it's just a lesser avatar?”
A short-lived smile appeared on the deity’s face. “I must express my respect for you. To face me alone.”
Rykard stopped a mere step away from Marik. The god was his equal in height and build. Blond and dark-haired men stared at each other, both smiling with lust for the battle ahead.
“Do not hold back,” Marik warned Rykard. “You will regret it!”
The avatar charged forwards. A human’s leg bones should have broken from the sudden acceleration put on them. What advanced towards Rykard was no man - and he was no mere man either.
As the gleaming sword of the god descended, Rykard answered with a swipe of his hand. The ft of his palm knocked aside the sword mid-motion. Left behind by the swipe was a streak of inky bck.
Pointed limbs of darkness jutted out and broke on the skin of the avatar. “Your favourite magic,” Marik commented and jumped back.
“Putting my best foot forward!” Rykard roared back. His hand csped around the dimensional tear. What was a tear in physics felt solid under his mana-soaked hands. Launching it like a spear, the king moved and expanded the rend.
Dark and rger things poured out. It was like a moving phanx of bck ooze. Every nce jabbed at the god, who deflected them all masterfully. The speed of the fight was such that every block and every counter strike created gusts of wind.
Rykard charged through it all. Marik always had his eyes on him, even as he kept blocking the attacks. Aware as the god was of what was going on, he was too busy to stop it. The king stopped behind the avatar and manifested another instrument of his will.
The Ferro-Mimic cackled for reasons unknown, putting itself as a wall behind the avatar. The sudden barrier robbed Marik of ways to retreat. The extra-dimensional phanx kept advancing, soon too close for the gold-haired avatar to swing his rge sword anymore. Spears rammed into divine steel. They failed to punch through - for now.
Marik let loose a valiant battle cry. The sound carried in it the might of the conqueror. The magic that kept the entities tethered was disrupted, and then tore entirely. An act that left even the avatar short of breath. The god was relying on his sword as a crutch, caught his breath and-
Rykard’s fist crashed into the god’s face with all of the honest brutality of a brawl. It was a strike of such power that the entirety of the arena shook. The angels above gasped, the women in the arena smiled, and Rykard grinned at the tactile feedback of having struck a god, even if it was in a lesser manifestation.
A grin that was mirrored on Marik’s face. The stoic expression of the god was compromised by his sheer lust for the fight. Control was swiftly recimed, but not quick enough for the avatar to nd a counterstrike. Rykard retreated rapidly, conjuring yet another entity in the distance. The new Ferro-Mimic grasped the sword that was swung into it.
Marik was distracted by it for two seconds and that was all Rykard needed. An armament manifested in his hands, a bow with a singur arrow, woven of the esoteric purpose to harm a god. The string was drawn back, then loosened.
The god of conquest raised his head at the motion. A mistake that Rykard had bargained for. The arrow struck the avatar in the eye, sinking in deep.
Silence.
All stared at the god of conquest, bleeding divinity from the left socket. “Mhmhmhehehe…” A little chortle was all that was heard, as the god of conquest tore the projectile from his skull. His eye regenerated rapidly. An impressive feat, but doubtlessly taxing on the limited energy that was bound within this material manifestation.
“Satisfied?” Rykard asked.
“Far from it,” Marik answered and snapped the arrow in his clenched fist. A moment ter, he sent a shockwave of divine might through his sword, melting the Ferro-Mimic.
The fight resumed when they both charged. The god swung his sword with the recklessness of an immortal or the calcuted disregard of an expert killer of such. In a fight between titans, drawing things out was to no one’s benefit. Their bodies may have been tougher than steel, their wills as hard as adamantium, but time remained a forward flow for them both.
So they burned their energy at an accelerated rate, eager to deal devastating a wound, willing to take the additional damage, for all of that was better than spend three days gradually whittling each other down.
Their melee was one of rapid exchanges and bluffs. The god attempted to keep Rykard at the distance of his sword. When the king stepped into close range, he was greeted by an uppercut. It stopped suddenly at the suggestion of a portal being opened into the Conjuration Realm. The avatar stayed back and observed from a distance.
‘He’s staying on his toes,’ Rykard thought. ‘And he’s getting faster… I should remind him why he chose me.’
Rykard did not pursue his opponent. The two tall men beheld each other from a distance. Marik began to wander one way, turned on his heels, then walked the other direction. It was the prowl of an uncertain cat.
Cocking his head slightly, Rykard grinned smugly.
“Afraid?” he asked, hands in his pockets.
Whether it was the gesture or the taunt that did it, Marik returned to an offensive. Rykard kept the intensity of his glee off his face until the very st moment. The lunge aimed directly for his head. The tip of the bde was near his emerald eyes.
The next thing Rykard saw was the rippling of the air and the inside of the advancing sword. Marik barely managed to block his own weapon, as it emerged from a portal next to his head. A folding of this realm, rather than the invitation of another one. Alteration, rather than Conjuration. So simir to the unschooled eye yet entirely opposite in nature, execution, and to those that looked for telltale signs of such spells being woven.
Marik withdrew the length of his sword from the portal. Too slow. Rykard altered the ground under god’s feet. It was mana-intensive, but it was worth it. The avatar tilted forward, causing his sword to sink deeper. It further emerged from the portal in turn.
That wouldn’t have been enough force to hurt the god if Rykard hadn’t grabbed the emerging wrist and yanked it further. Marik reacted immediately, but the mage was already prepared. The punch heading for his stomach disappeared through another portal. The second arm emerged behind the head of the avatar.
To his credit, Marik tilted his head before he could hit himself. It hardly mattered. Grabbing the second wrist as well, Rykard pulled until he had the god in the world’s most complicated hold. Both shoulders were up to the portals. The re-manifested ground locked the god’s feet up, leaving him entirely at the mercy of the mage’s knee.
Again and again, Rykard smmed his leg into the pted stomach of the god. Divine metal cracked and leather groaned under the impacts of magically reinforced flesh and bone. Again and again, until the breastpte splintered like poorly worked stone. Again and again and again, until even Marik let out a groan of pain.
Then ripped himself free.
A stunt like that was not without its cost and it was not one Rykard could maintain. The mana he used to keep up the portals interfered with what he used to strengthen his muscles. One tug at that point and Marik managed to free himself.
Distance was bought. Breaths were gathered. Both sides grinned. “More,” the avatar demanded. “Show me more of what you are capable of, conqueror!”
Rykard took the challenge head-on. Pounding the pavement, he closed the distance, then swerved at the st second.
Marik was caught off guard, completely so. The overhead strike that had been meant to catch his opponent only got him off-bance. An embarrassing blunder, leaving the avatar wide open.
Standing at the god’s side, Rykard pointed two fingers at the temple of his opponent. A tiny sphere of crackling blue energy twitched and vibrated. The proverbial trigger was pulled. The concentrated energy unloaded.
A ray of lightning hit the avatar straight in the head. Electric energies surged downwards from the top, causing seizures in the entirety of the divine muscuture. The voltage was in such excess that some of the energy manifested in scattering arcs.
Rykard adjusted the electric output. The storm of lightning around him and the god diminished and diminished further. From the outside, it looked like the attack was getting weaker. In reality, it was getting more and more devastating.
Completely helpless, the god kept vibrating involuntarily. Here and there, bits of blue and yellow lightning surfaced on the surface of the divine armour. His skin had forking, jagged patterns seared into it.
The torrent of energy stopped only when all the skin had been charred. Rykard withdrew his hand and shook out the wrist, getting the numbness of the magic out of his fingers. The avatar of Marik toppled over after a few seconds. The body within the armour broke, turning into chunks of fine ash.
“Not your finest showing,” Rykard dared to ridicule the god, before stepping away. Lyvia and Tess stood at the edge of the arena. He could spot their arousal from a distance. To say he had dominated that fight would have been an understatement. ‘It is disappointing,’ he thought. ‘That dragon put up a better fight.’
“We’re not done yet.”
A grin spread on Rykard’s face before he turned around. The armour rose. Ash swirled. Divine energy extended the metal of the ptes. No flesh was regenerated, for that would have been a waste of divine energy. Burning with radiant incandescence, the sword was lifted off the ground. The halo of the avatar colpsed into a urel-esque ornament for the gapless surface of the helmet. Fming hair cascaded down the back. Then, ash spread as feathered wings of grey and gold.
“This challenge was not worthy of you, Rykard!” Marik decred. “I apologize for that waste of time! Let’s see if this is a fitting battle for a king!” Beating wings accelerated the god’s charge.
The renewed aggression left Rykard cold. A slice through the air opened a portal. Marik rushed straight through, emerging at the side, right into a spinning kick of the king. The smming impact threw the avatar back the way he came.
The portal set colpsed the moment Marik was through, leaving the disoriented god facing Rykard. Quickly, the avatar raised his sword. He brought it down, only for Rykard to catch him by the the wrist.
Teeth were gritted as the two tall men engaged in a struggle of strength. They circled on the spot, trying to get advantageous footing. Divine fire scorched the palm of Rykard’s hand. Alchemical concoctions in the blood restored the flesh in equal measure.
Rykard’s arm gave slightly. That was all the invitation Marik needed to swing his off-hand. The punch disappeared into a portal. The gauntleted fist emerged next to the avatar’s head. This time he did not dodge.
There was a pure, sadistic joy in making a divine avatar punch itself. The blow made Marik’s head fly to the side. Frustrated, he ripped his hand back, ripping the spatial distortion apart in the process. “You love your tricks!”
“They’re just so funny,” Rykard defended himself, figuratively and literally. A wave of divine light exploded outwards. It sent the king flying, blinding him for a moment. He nded effortlessly back on his feet, then fell backwards deliberately.
The bde of the avatar swung wide, missing Rykard by a hand’s width. The king felt the force of gravity pull him one way, then another. He had fallen through a portal of his own design and was now falling feet first.
Marik caught him at the st moment and stepped aside. The swung bde missed Rykard again. The king had never nded, just dropped on through another portal. A second time this pyed out, then a third.
Gravity kept accelerating Rykard. Each portal became harder to time, but he kept on going. Marik focused entirely on dodging. It was a game where Rykard lost the moment he messed up and smmed into the ground at maximum velocity.
Marik anticipated the attack from above. He even anticipated the attack from the side. He failed to anticipate the attack from below. Rykard shot upwards with all of the gathered speed. His extended heel smmed into the armpit of Marik’s sword arm. Bones in Rykard’s leg cracked and creaked from the sheer force. Marik had it worse.
The avatar’s arm was ripped off at the joint. Divine energy and ash formed a stretching mass that kept the inside of the armour connected to the dismembered limb. Like a rubber band stretched to its maximum, it reached a point and then snapped back.
Rykard caught himself on hands and shoulders, then vaulted off to the side. Marik stuck to the ground where he had been with his re-attached arm. Liquid gold oozed from the gaps in the armour. Whatever physiology was inside that godly metal, it had been damaged.
“Ready for more?” the king asked, once he was back on his feet.
“Always,” Marik decred.
More divine might poured into the vessel. The avatar raised his hand, to receive it all. The bleeding was staunched in that minuscule moment. The might kept on flowing.
‘So desperate to put up a good challenge that he leaves himself wide open,’ Rykard thought. One more portal bridged most of the distance. The ambient mana made it difficult to rip open a tear right next to him, but Rykard did not need to get far to-
The storm of divine energy blew the king back before he could attack. Annoyed, he wove a nce of fire and lightning and unched it at the empowering avatar. The Destruction spell was disintegrated before contact.
Rykard took one moment to analyze what he was looking at. ‘A barrier against harm?’ he guessed after beholding the flow of magic. ‘Can’t approach with the intention to hurt… ah, well,’ a devilish pn formed in the king’s head. ‘I won’t then!’
Slowly, he stepped forward, clearing his mind. All of his being was focused on a singur intent: that to heal his opponent. He wished to restore, nothing else. He wished to restore, nothing else. He wished to restore, nothing else.
Marik tilted his head curiously when Rykard stepped through the invisible threshold without difficulty. Gently, he pced his hand on the chest pte of the avatar and sent forth a wave of powerful healing energies.
A true scream of pain scratched the insides of Rykard’s ears and skull. The god nded an immediate retaliating punch, but it was too weak to do any sting damage. Taking a few steps backwards, Rykard watched the golden blood pour out of every gap in the armour. The front of the helmet fell off, revealing a mass of red and gold that parted to desperately draw in breath.
“Sorry, I thought being ash was bothersome! Looks like I forgot the skin and bones while putting you back together, my bad!” Rykard knocked the side of his head as if he were some kind of cute clutz. All the while, Marik was forced to spend an enormous amount of energy to restore his suddenly recimed physical vessel.
“I respect your craftiness,” the gold-haired avatar growled once his lungs were fully working again.
“And I respect you feeding my ego.” Rykard spread out his arms. “You haven’t nded a single proper hit on me! Those were all little hits or bothersome winds.”
“You have the potential to be a truly great conqueror.” Marik raised his burning bde up once more. “If your ego is fed in equal measure to your ability, then all is right!”
Rykard grinned. “Then let’s see if I can end this with a clean sweep!”
The mage ripped open a giant tear into the Conjuration Realm. Esoteric concepts brayed in the darkness of unformuted potential. The gathered angels shivered at the sheer might at the dispy. Marik himself took a step backwards, pulling yet more of his vast and bodiless might into this avatar.
A rhythmic sound filled the room. It was akin to a dozen little waves hitting the shore. It was akin to a hundred sisters hissing at their unruly, little brothers. It was akin to a thousand bristles brushing over a surface - for that was what it was.
Out of the portal swept a massive broom. Rushing towards the god with destructive intent. Rykard caught the avatar lowering his sword for a moment. ‘You always win in style,’ he thought and put his hands into his pockets.
“No.”
A vertical line of fire and radiance split the giant broom in two.
“None of that.”
Marik zapped through the colpsing halves at ridiculous speed.
“Shame on you.”
Rykard tried to get his hands up to defend himself. Marik gripped him by the throat. It would have been easy for the avatar to stab the unruly follower at that moment. Instead, the sword was pced in the middle of the air.
The fist smmed into Rykard’s face. One punch, then another one, then another one. Each rattled Rykard’s head. By the tenth, he wasn’t even sure if it was the tenth. There was just dull pain and throbbing optic nerves. His sense of sight was a mess of jumbled colours.
A surge of Restoration energy restored his orientation. He grabbed the hand and pried it open. He fell, his legs too weak to keep him standing. A hard kick flung him across the room. His back met the wall of the arena. Coughing and wheezing, he nded on the ground.
Rykard got on his feet. “Alright, message received,” he groaned, circling his jaw. “You know, if I didn’t have healing magic in my blood, I would have lost half my teeth there. I need those to smile seductively.”
“You would find a way to repce them,” Marik answered dismissively. “Back to the fight, Rykard.”
“Yes, yes,” the king rolled his shoulders, then fixated on the god. ‘Taking one hit against a divine avatar is probably acceptable,’ he joked to himself.
That sudden burst of speed had zapped much of the energy the avatar had been granted. More importantly, now that he had finally nded a hit, it seemed Marik was no longer reinforcing that vessel. Between the damage already done and that fact, Rykard reckoned that one more solid blow would do it.
Inhaling slowly, Rykard circled his hands in an esoteric weave. “Pushing the advantage? A fine choice,” Marik complimented and grabbed his sword. “Then test the excess of your power on this worthy target!”
Lightning, fire, and frost were overpping. An impossible mixture of energies, scorching hot and freezing cold, all concentrating in a single spot - then unleashed with a thrust of Rykard’s left hand.
The ray crossed the distance and met the ft of Marik’s bde. On impact, the energy scattered, like water that met a rock at high velocity. At first, the avatar was driven back. After a few metres, he stabilized. Marik began to march. Two golden dots burned through the destructive, scattering energies. The avatar had his eyes on target.
Step by gruesome step, Marik got closer. The ray failed to push past the guard of the divine bde. Fist against the back of his weapon, the god of conquest kept it stabilized.
‘A little bit closer… a little bit closer,’ Rykard thought. Mana kept streaming down both of his arms. ‘Now!’
He hurled the hidden sphere of consolidated power from his right hand. Marik could not see it coming until it had curved its way around the ray he was still blocking. On impact with his side, the bolt spell exploded. The air was set alight, then fsh frozen, then subjected to a local thunderstorm, only to be frozen again.
Marik’s avatar was scorched, penetrated by ice crystals, incinerated by lightning all over again, and finally encapsuted by a fsh freeze. The avatar within the seal of solidified water smiled, before the face and the armour together began to dissolve into golden particles. They floated through the solid material as if it wasn’t there, then disappeared entirely.
“Great fight.” Ryakrd rolled his jaw again. “Seriously, did he have to go for the face?” he mumbled to himself.
Lyvia rushed over and got down on one knee before him. “Your magnificence knows no end, Sir,” she complimented, looking up at him like a very, very well-trained and thoroughly happy dog.
“I know,” Rykard answered and took the chin of the kneeling woman. The tip of her tail flopped left to right.
Tess approached with more decorum. “That was impressive,” she said with earnest approval. It was as much of a compliment he would get out of her without fucking her sarcastic nature out of her first.
Behind the walls of the arena, the sliding mechanisms loosened again. The entire structure descended deeper into the temple complex.
The arena kept sliding and sliding for several minutes. “Another fight?” Tess asked when they were starting to slow down.
“I don’t think they can top an avatar,” Rykard answered.
The bck gate appeared behind a segment of the spinning wall a moment ter. Up above, the angels and demons mumbled amongst themselves, then disappeared one after another. The event had concluded.
Rykard lead the way to the door. Behind the door was another one of the underwater domes. At the centre of the dome was an elevator. Down the elevator was a rge chamber - in it a single podium and the teleportation back.
The treasure of this segment was a sphere. It was not a solid thing. Arguably it was not a thing at all. Under a translucent, barely visible surface swirled strings of unreadable words and signs. They changed as Rykard tried to read them. Only the word ‘Starlight’ was repeatedly spotted.
“What is that?” Tes wanted to know.
“A sphere of esoteric energy,” Rykard said and carefully picked it up. He thought that he wanted to store it. It responded by disappearing. “Not very useful to us, I believe, but the celestial stag will find it interesting. It may even lead me to negotiate a better speed on the contract.”
“Time saved is a treasure,” Lyvia stated.
“Quite so,” Rykard yawned and stepped forward.
One activated teleporter ter, they were back in the main chamber. Only the Circle gate now remained. “Do we push on?” Tess asked.
“I did get a bit of a beating,” Rykard thought out loud. Outwardly he was fine, but even his mana had a limit between rests. Once it ran out, all of the regeneration that was counteracting the damage he had taken and took would be undone. “It was, however, much faster than anticipated, so let’s go with yes.”
The group headed towards the st of the segments.
