Misazel’s gold and silver rings had been replaced with spiked plate gauntlets. The right was golden with silver spikes, while the left was silver with golden spikes. Long animated chains of silver and gold extended from the wrist of each gauntlet. They writhed and circled all around Misazel like serpents.

“Uh oh...” Tarithiel said, apparently now able to see through Zell’s eyes. “It seems we’ve run into my little brother: The Divided Devil Astarot-Oribis. Astarot is the lord of Pride, Oribis is the lord of Envy. He is a single devil with two distinct minds and bodies.”

“And what’s that mean in a fight?” Zell thought worriedly as he eyed the intimidating gauntlets and the incredible fighter that wore them.

“The Silver Envy Gauntlet can perfectly copy any enchantment or spell it contacts as long as the wearer’s body can handle using it. He won’t be able to copy my abilities since they are above his level but we must beware of anything he has copied up to this point. The golden Pride Gauntlet can destroy any material object seven times after being manifested. He was created to eventually destroy the seven seals that divide the realms of existence.” Tarithiel’s explanation was interrupted as Zell suddenly was forced to defend himself.

“Gold gauntlet bad. Got it.” He over simplified the explanation and focused on parrying strikes from the golden gauntlet on Misazel’s right hand.

Unfortunately Misazel had many other dangerous points of his body to also worry about, and they were landing strike after devastating strike.

“You’re only blocking my right hand? Do you know about Astarot somehow?” Misazel asked with genuine curiosity as he delivered a left front kick to Zell’s abdomen.

“Someone kinda filled me in.” Zell managed to gasp after he straightened back up. He was injured in at least five places, but this was home for him. Compared to the beatings Agitha had delivered, this was still just a harsh warm up.

“Interesting, and you don’t use any magic. You’re awfully tough for a human. Makes me wonder how far you can go!” Misazel laughed cheerfully as he delivered another flurry of punches, kicks, knees, and elbows.

Zell evaded or blocked the three strikes from Astarot but the damage from the other strikes was really adding up. He was beginning to slip into his pain induced trance when an idea suddenly formed. It was a silly and risky idea, and if it didn’t work he would absolutely lose and maybe even die. In other words it was perfectly in line with most of Zell’s ideas. He decided to go for it, after all this method of only being able to defend against one stupid gauntlet and never counter attacking was getting him nowhere.

When a roundhouse kick sent him crashing sidelong into the underbrush, Zell picked up a twig about as thick as his thumb and a little shorter than his forearm. He concealed it from Misazel’s view by tucking it against his inside forearm and holding it in place with his thumb. As he turned to rise, Misazel was there predictably leading with a strike from Astarot and expecting Zell to evade it as he had done each time up to that point. At the last possible instant, Zell turned his wrist to allow Astarot to impact the stick. His heart froze and he began regretting his stupid decision when a cloud of sawdust exploded into Misazel’s face from the disintegrated stick.

It had worked. The stick had discharged Astarot’s power of destruction and had left Zell unharmed. Even better, Misazel was temporarily blinded and coughing from the sawdust. Zell took the opportunity to finally swing Tarithiel in the form of the Deicide Guillotine.

The horizontal, chest high swing started slow, agonizingly so. It was as if some invisible force of drag were acting on the blade. However, with each inch of travel, it doubled in speed. By the time the blade had passed twelve inches, it was the speed of a normal swing and still accelerating.

Misazel’s warrior instincts fired a thousand alarms as the weapon he had completely disregarded as merely a hard nuisance that Astarot refused to destroy began to move. The atmosphere was becoming disturbed and the very reality of the world seemed to be struggling with the event. His lightning fast reflexes saved his life in that moment. Misazel dropped flat to his back as the Deicide Guillotine passed above him. A wave of heat that reminded him of his uncle Dalazog’s breath smote him in the face. The friction of the air against the passing blade was literally combusting the atmosphere. The world went silent around them as a vacuum formed before a chaotic explosion of flying trees spread around them in a full three hundred and sixty degree arc.

It took several moments for the ringing in their ears to fade and air to return to their lungs. When they were able to see once more, the devastation around them was simply staggering. Where before they had fought in the shade of a thick forest, they now stood in full afternoon sunlight. In an instant, nearly an acre of trees had been blasted away in a perfect circle. The closest stumps were sheared cleanly, further away from Zell they were splintered and had been knocked down by the compounded force of other trees crashing against them.

Both fighters were rendered momentarily speechless, when a distant familiar voice reached them from the edge of the blasted clearing.

“I think maybe we call it there.” Agitha nimbly picked her way around the fallen trees as she spoke. “You’re both disqualified for ditching the arena anyways.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Still reeling from the explosion, Zell looked down at the weapon in his hand. Tarithiel had returned to her usual battleaxe form.

“It may be just a tie in the arena.” Misazel solemnly spoke. “But I was at your mercy, this was my loss.” He extended a hand to Zell, the gauntlets had once again been replaced with gold and silver rings.

“Are you kidding? You were kicking my ass all over the forest!” Zell laughed, accepting the handshake.

“Say what you will, but I know when I’ve met my new boss. You’re tough as bedrock and leveled a forest with one swing. I’ve got your back now whether you like it or not. I’ve always wanted a rival, so look forward to more fun!” With those parting words and a toothy smile, the elf took flight with his mysterious ghostly blue wings.

“So... this seems pretty damn awesome.” Agitha mused as she looked around.

“Doing it wiped out more than half of my mana though, and that guy Misazel...” Zell paused before he continued. “He’s almost as strong as you, Teacher. I even got the feeling he was holding back.”

“Well, I mean that’s probably on account of him being a dragon.” Agitha said casually.

Zell stared at her as if struck senseless. “A dragon? Like a real dragon?”

“As opposed to a fake one?” Agitha chuckled. “His aura is nearly identical to that red dragon pet your mom took in, and the wings are a dead give away.”

“It doesn’t seem fair that a dragon would get to use one of the devil weapons...” Zell looked down and rubbed his forehead as he grumbled.

“I imagine he and the little royal girl are here to eventually take me down and recover Onigoro and Tarithiel.” Agitha mused, drawing another alarmed look from Zell.

“I didn’t get the feeling that Misazel cared about anything but a good fight.” Zell said.

“Yep, and he no doubt was told I was the best fight out there. You can’t subjugate a dragon, but you can aim one pretty well if you convince them it’s for their benefit.” Agitha looked at Tarithiel in Zell’s hand as she spoke, and suddenly changed the subject. “What kind of power does that weapon have to cause this?” She gestured to the blasted landscape and began walking toward the city.

“She turned into a sword called the Deicide Guillotine. It was so heavy I could barely move it, but when I swung, it went faster and faster and then...” Zell trailed off when he noticed Agitha had turned to him with a look of disbelief.

“The Deicide Guillotine is a fairy tale weapon. It was used to execute the precursor gods according to the old myths. Remember The Tear?” She asked.

“Nope. What’s that?” Zell couldn’t help but quip sarcastically. He earned a rough slug to the shoulder as he caught up to her but it was still worth it.

“In the center of The Tear is a temple where no one can enter. They say that’s where Zamael executed the last Precursor god, and that’s supposedly what caused the mana anomalies there. If she really copied a weapon like that, then you were literally holding one of the most overpowered objects ever.” Agitha said shaking her head. It was only then that she noticed Zell’s limp, and labored breath. “Oh yeah, here you go.” She tossed him a potion. “Keep up.”

“Oh come to think of it.” Tarithiel chimed in his mind. “I don’t think you were actually supposed to be able to use that sword. It’s some requirement supposedly unique to Celestials. My husband was ordered to try once and it wouldn’t even move. Oh well! No harm done, right?”

”...I’m not talking to you right now.” Zell answered. He drank the potion and winced as the expected wave of agony assaulted him from his body rapidly healing.

When the two of them finally returned to the arena they found Misazel waiting for them at the entrance. Judging by the sound echoing from within, the crowd was still in an uproar.

“All right c’mon you two lets go straighten this out.” Agitha sighed.

Misazel patted Zell roughly on the back and walked next to him as though they were the best of friends as they both followed Agitha.

The crowd fell silent as the trio approached the cracked platform. After a brief conversation with the officiating third year student, an announcement rang out.

“Due to both students exiting the platform simultaneously, the match has ended in a double disqualification and neither will advance to the next round!” The announcement made the crowd murmur, still in a state of confusion.

Zell quietly ascended the stands, returning to where his group was seated. He noted that his father was now with them, and smiled sheepishly at their hard stares.

He was just about to open his mouth to give an explanation when another announcement from the platform stopped him.

“The final match of the day will now commence. Cora Balfonse and Rin Corso please report to the platform!” The announcement sent a shiver up Zell’s spine as he saw his sister and girlfriend look at each other in dismay.

“Guess there’s no helping it.” Cora lamented as she stood up.

Rin nodded silently and began to follow her down the stone steps to the arena floor. A minute later they stood across from one another with an inch wide crack in the platform seemingly connecting them.

Cora’s mind worked frantically to remember everything she had learned from Karakis. Time was not on her side as the signal to begin sounded loud and clear.

She could hear Rin’s kind voice chanting a spell, one that she dimly recognized. “Frost Bite.” She muttered as the memory came into focus.

As expected, a swirling torrent of icy air burst forth from Rin’s palm even as her face was sympathetic.

“Pity?...” A growling voice in Cora’s mind sounded positively furious. Oddly enough, a large part of Cora agreed this time. Rin pitied her. Why shouldn’t she? Cora was weak, always depressed, a pathetic mess. Even as she moved to evade the cloud of frost, a pain erupted in her ankle. Her toe had caught in the damned crack and twisted her foot badly.

Rin groaned as Cora took the full blast of icy air with a yelp of pain. She had chosen Frost Bite because it was slow moving and easy to evade. She had planned to beat Cora just by exhausting her but now...

The pain of her newly sprained ankle, combined with the freezing and pelting ice attack caused Cora to lose herself once again, dragged into darkness by Vira’s will.

“So cold hearted! Haha, get it!? Oh talk about a cold shoulder!” Vira cackled from Cora’s mouth with a tilted head and crooked smile.

“Cora...?” Rin asked, suddenly very afraid. Something was stirring in her stomach. It was dread and fear not just for herself but for Cora whom she considered a precious friend.

“That would be a lucky break for you.” Vira spat back in reply. “I’ve been watching you, little cockroach. You ‘favor’ this girl with the condescending pig shit you consider to be kindness. I’ll do her a favor and teach you your place in this world.”

Vira’s stolen feet left the platform then as she levitated without enacting any spells as far as Rin could tell. Rin’s warrior instincts told her to do something now before whatever this thing was could do anything else. She fired off a mana bolt with the intention of stunning Cora back to her senses. It shattered a foot before it hit.

“A pebble? There are limits to how much you can insult me.” Vira scoffed even as she raised her hand over her head. A giant rune circle appeared in the air above her, glowing green and rotating slowly. It formed a translucent field. The arena fell silent as two giant bone claws emerged followed by the horned head of a skeletal dragon.