The Draconian tilted his head. “What makes you think otherwise? That you’ve been backed into a corner by slaying Radial, or Mathias and his feeble pet?” He waved a hand. “Mathias had grown weak as the dispersion spread from his partner into his own heart. You’ve earned the right to take his place.”

“And what of your own partner?” Tyrrick challenged. He shifted a step closer, sword ready.

“Radial chose to face you alone. He was proud, and he died a righteous death, in combat. However,” the fallen rider laughed, and finally laid a hand to his left hip, idly wrapping around the first hilt there. “He was my ally, and while I don’t begrudge his demise, I will avenge him. I just won’t be killing you to do so.”

And that was all of the warning that Tyrrick had, as the older man moved. His seemingly lax stance was replaced by a rush forward that caught their blades between them, and the force behind that clash shoved Tyrrick back and off-balance.

The Draconian was inside of his guard the next beat.

He gripped Tyrrick by the back of his head and smashed their skulls together, earning a cry of pain from the younger rider. Letting go, the man stepped back, twisted, and kicked out hard, his boot meeting Tyrrick in the ribs and knocking him from his feet. Tyrrick hit the floor and slid up against Aldrus.

“Come on, child. Gather your dragon’s strength and get up.” He drew a second sword and danced away as Agmentha landed where he had just been, putting herself between them with a growl.

“Better to focus that ire into him.” He lashed out with both swords, and she ducked her head and made to capture him in her jaws, only to find him spinning adeptly out of the way and placing both swords at her neck-- one above, and one below. A single continued stroke would bisect her cleanly. “I’ve no interest in dueling dragons. Behave.”

She froze. Tyrrick, she sent, a mixture of shock and uncertainty to her tone.

I’m coming, he answered, and there was no need to ask as he drew deeply from the bond. He climbed to his feet, and paused only when Aldrus gripped him by the wrist.

“Listen to me, Kand! He cannot chase after you if you flee. You aren’t a Deiman, your life still grows. Return to Mount Dracaena and inform the Grand Lord what has transpired!”

Tyrrick grimaced and shook his hand off. “And what if he chooses to take out his vengeance on you? Let me prove why I was chosen by Corina Dei to be a rider. I’m not leaving until we’ve won!”

“Fires consume you, Kand!”

Tyrrick brushed that off and stepped up to Agmentha’s side. “Let her go. I won’t run off.”

“Of course not. You’re already on the course of becoming one of us.” The Draconian spun away, putting up distance between himself and the dragon, and stowed his second sword away. “Come, child,” he repeated.

“Not yet. Our battleground is contaminated.”

Help Aldrus onto Kaikha-rin’s back, Tyrrick sent to her. And the two of you drag this immense corpse out of the way. I need space to fight him properly.

Don’t die. I won’t sit by and watch you fall to his sword.

She retreated and gently bit into Aldrus’ armor, and with little effort lifted the man onto his feet despite his protests, and then Kaikha-rin dipped his head as he understood what she was doing, and together they remounted Aldrus safely.

Both of them approached the Nexagon’s slowly disintegrating body and grappled it over the edge of the battlements. It hit the raging soil below and shook the tower. Agmentha returned to his side and nudged him, and Tyrrick rubbed behind her horns for a moment, then she retreated to the air.

“Finally ready?” the Draconian drawled.

“Yes,” Tyrrick bit out through clenched teeth, and then it was his turn to rush forward, and his iridescent sword flashed in the late morning’s light.

Their blades met and caught between them, yet only sparks flowed where contact skittered up and down.

Glittering pearl found no purchase against green, and Tyrrick relented only long enough to step back and then throw himself forward again from another angle. The Draconian flowed with his haste, serpentine speed and grace countering the aggressive blows.

“Better!” crowed the older rider, and when their swords were arrested yet again in mid-air, he reached out and caught Tyrrick by the edge of his armor and jerked him off balance again. “But not yet there,” the Draconian said.

Tyrrick stumbled and his furious stance came apart. That hand in his armor slid easily to the back of his head and gripped tightly, then their skulls were crashing together at an angle once more, and pain washed out his senses. A second, and then third such blow, and when at last the Draconian let go, Tyrrick was blinded by blood and agony. He could do nothing as the older man slammed a knee into his gut. He gasped and sank to his own knees, and his sword fell from his hand as he clutched at his stomach.

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The Draconian casually swiped the dark sludge from his brow and laid his sword across the back of Tyrrick’s bowed neck. “Fury is your servant, child, but tempered, ever strengthened by your guidance. Never let it wholly consume you and usurp control, or your life is forfeit and rightly so. We have no place in our ranks for reckless abandonment.” He grabbed Tyrrick by the hair again and forced him to match gazes. “This pain, every ache when you draw breath, remember it! Etch it into your bones, and overcome it. Now, get up!”

The younger rider clenched his teeth and tore himself free, reclaiming his sword from the ground, and then he was retreating to gather himself. “What... what sick game are you playing?” he bit out. “You act like an Instructor.” He scrubbed at his face and still blood leaked, if slower as the bond and enlightening sought to heal him.

“I told you, this is vengeance for Radial’s demise. But as the foremost swordsman among my kin, the initiation rites fall upon my shoulders to enact. You will be one of us, child. Embrace your hatred for me. Draw deeply from the flow of rage, drink of that wrath, yet keep your eyes clear. Now come!”

Tyrrick scowled and shook his head. Further words would only confuse him more, and he felt something on the edge of his attention, Agmentha’s restless concern and anger. That he latched upon. Together, he sent to her. Meld the bond even deeper!

And she settled to the edge of the watchtower and shared her attention with his own. His breath grew labored, feeling her lungs, her greater vision narrowed down to the man across from him, her strength bleeding into his already taxed muscles. They took a hesitant step forward, and then another, and lifted their head in defiance. The sword in their hands began to hum as Dei’s Grace washed through them like the ebbing of a river.

“So even now you choose to cling to your old confinement. So be it. This will hurt in ways you cannot yet imagine.” The Draconian grinned, a feral and unnerving expression, and he bolted forward like lightning once again.

Their sword intercepted the descending blow. Blessed steel screeched and sparks showered the floor. When a limb lashed out, seeking to grapple again, they saw the movement coming and disengaged, thrusting their own hand out to knock the Draconian’s wrist aside.

That green blade came up at them, seeking to carve through their exposed arm. They retreated with several swift steps, and then circled around, and the Draconian rushed forward.

Sparks. Glittering pearl chipped, and chipped away at green in turn. Retreat, roll aside, rise. Slash, inside of their foe’s guard, drawing sludge in lieu of blood. Sparks, chips, disengage, spin. A hard blow to the ribs, in order to grit their teeth and scream out their pain and ire, and bring their blade in a jagged diagonal stroke. Sparks, a crack, and green shattered, drawing more sludge to the surface.

Excitement, then, and righteous condemnation as they brought their sword overhead to deliver the finishing blow.

A flash of blue, drawn from the hip and thrust up, whole and hale, unchipped. The briefest of sparks. And then a second crack, as pearl shattered.

And the world as they knew it was afire with pain so true and deep that they knew they were dying, their spirits wounded as the bond was set ablaze. Every enhanced sense burned. Every strengthened muscle twisted in agony. The tether to Dei’s Grace lay broken before them.

Tyrrick collapsed on the spot with a wordless howl. Thought was impossible then, only the unending pain radiating across his entire being. Had he been able to rationalize any connection with his dragon, he would have realized that he could no longer feel her.

The blow to the back of his head, finally knocking him unconscious, was an act of mercy.

Nothing of the sort could be offered to the crazed dragon clawing the watchtower apart in her own frenzied agony.

The Draconian returned his second sword to its sheath and dragged the younger rider into the alcove leading down, out of the way, and returned to watch those still present.

Kaikha had landed and pinned the smaller dragon down, while Aldrus stood unsteadily to the side with grim determination ablaze in his eyes.

“That was a mistake,” the Deiman called over the roaring dragons. “I swear it on Corvos-dei’s grave, you will regret inflicting this kind of pain upon them.”

The Draconian just laughed. “I taught the boy a lesson he won’t soon forget. Use regular steel, or claim another’s blade when forced into combat. Why do you think I carried four swords? I learned this pain long, long ago, I assure you.”

Aldrus took a slow step ahead. Most of his available strength had gone toward stopping Kaikha’s bleeding, and even with three healthy limbs, keeping Agmentha from destroying the tower around them was a challenge for the red. The Deiman barely had the remaining energy to stay on his feet.

But he would not allow Kand’s spiritual and psychological wounding to pass, even if it did cost him his own life.

He winced as his dragon snapped at him through the bond for that careless thought. Then he took another slow step forward.

“Those swords aren’t the usual corruptive blades your kind wield. Those are Coronacruxes,” Aldrus stated as he took in the hilts and guards.

“Taken from those who thought they were better than me in combat,” the fallen man laughed again. “Are you all words, Deiman? I’ve broken your fellow and his mount. Now there is just you. I hardly need a sword to finish what Radial started.”

Aldrus drew a deep breath and exhaled. “Then prove it, if you think I will succumb so easily.”

The Draconian grinned again. Then he was dashing forward, and mercurial red met his charge as Aldrus went down on one knee and his sword flashed out. Another diagonal cut joined Tyrrick’s strokes, and the older rider drew back with a quiet hiss of pain.

“You’re used to being faster than those around you. You should have paid more attention to Mathias’ downfall.”

Aldrus stayed in his kneeling position, but he returned his sword to the sheath and waited. “Well? Are you all words, Draconian? Come!” he echoed.

Those sunset yellow eyes flared. Blue filled one hand as he drew and paced from side to side for a moment, eyes glancing to the dragons and back. Judging them no threat, he circled closer and then flew at Aldrus again from the side.

The Deiman drew upon enlightening as Kaikha released Agmentha from their grappling hold, and the stonework underfoot finally gave way to the combined thrashing. The Draconian’s footsteps gave way to stumbling, and he was met by Aldrus own final charge, and red struck true ere they were all falling.