No man can want for everything. There is always a limit, a quantifiable amount of things. A human cannot possibly comprehend 'everything', it's beyond them. But he is no man. My son... What we made, all of that effort to create him throughout the eras. Sometimes... I'm not quite sure we made the right choice.
Tyr felt his heart beating like an earthquake in his chest. Where his heart should be, it only seemed to be something he could sense at the oddest times. He'd reached inside himself to feel it, and it didn't beat in any other circumstance. The 'how' and 'why' were unknown to him, and he wasn't about to approach a healer and ask him how he was still alive with a heart that didn't beat. Blood flowed, his circulation never ceased, he breathed... But he didn't really need it. It was just something about him, it wasn't a question that needed answered.
And now...
Feeling the loss coming down on him, all of the burden placed on his shoulders, and it didn't even make sense. He had always intended to fight Kael, but then the team would follow. One at a time through Rafael and Goroshi, and then the rest all at once. Daito, naturally, refused to fight. He was here to provide enchantments and act as a bard and support mage, nothing else. That was the deal and it was a fair one considering most teams had an enchanter, it was pretty standard.
But... Waiting to be put down like a dog was not his style, whether he was the 'mutt' or not. Tyr made the first move, tracing a crescent approach with all of the speed his true freerunner's were capable of producing, which was to say... A lot. 30, perhaps a bit more, miles per hour, he could outrun a knight at full tilt and rip him from the saddle.
He didn't use blur, didn't need to. Blur was good for killing unaware enemies but it wasn't a spatial spell, it was a wind spell. His body existed in the same plane as the enemy throughout his entire use of it. Someone with the right sense to feel it could simply extend their blade, and he couldn't possibly react fast enough to stop himself from being skewered by it. Tiber had shown him that, in the most literal sense, and Tyr doubted he'd ever use it again after that particularly embarrassing encounter.
Aska was forged anew, better than ever, but Tyr didn't wield it as a sword – but as a glaive once again. He wheeled about in a storm of whistling steel, whipping the crescent edge around him like a living hurricane. A ring of twirling fire dense enough to act as both shield and offensive component.
Dancing along Kael's guard and frantically attempting to activate the song. It took time to do so, and he knew that once the customary arrogance of the professor faded away that he'd be little more than paste on the arena floor. Alexandros' rules would take a back seat to refusing to let the team down, or discard the opportunity to keep moving forward.
Kael responded with a flurry of parries, astonished by the speed of the young man. He had, as claimed, improved leaps and bounds over his previous self. Even as the magic on his boots faded along with the electrical effect, Tyr was so fast as to beggar belief – and it was all physical. If not for his lack of combining the martial and the magic, Tyr would have been a terrifying opponent. There was quite literally no infusion just yet, the boy was using his fire like a barrier to eat away and disrupt spells, he was this fast... Naturally. It wasn't human.
Would have been. Practically lazy in his defense of the the hammer blows raining into his guard, Kael filled himself with enchantment magic, chanting even as he moved, the way of the battlemage.
Meeting each strike with one of his own until, they were a flashing storm of counters and ripostes. Dazzling the crowd in the stands until they were all on their feet and roaring in approval of the insane spectacle unfolding before them. Duels of magic could be so boring, it was usually pretty obvious who the victor would be. You were either strong, or weak, or smarter than the other person. Flashy, visually gorgeous, but tiresome. Some lasted for over an hour and there might be no visual effect put on display to the crowd. Just barriers rubbing against one another before one participant started bleeding from the eyes and nose, collapsing.
It was in the swinging of swords and spilling of blood that got the common man's own blood hot and burning. Kael separated with a burst of energy, just kinetic force, but enough to send Tyr somersaulting backwards. Gracefully, no damage, Tyr had accepted the force and rode it rather than resisting it, flipping through the air and landing on his feet.
Kael met this separation with a near instantaneous level four spell. A belt of fire shot from his swinging blade, a scarlet crescent crackling at the air, and Tyr sheathed his own to meet it. His hands came together, an elegant whirling of his arms as he met the fire with fingers extended, splitting it apart and separating it, allowing the spell to flow past him. Tyr's magic might not reach the level of might Kael's was capable of, but he was using it in a way that left the archmage facing him confused. Only he would know, the feeling he got that there was something difference in the mana.
Followed up with a series of concentric barriers of air, condensed until they appeared as glass, Kael slammed it down into the man still performing that dance of his and frowned even harder when it was shattered. A level-4 compound spell with multiple layers and redundancies against an elemental counter. The fight ceased to make sense in that moment, even more so when Kael continued with a fire spell and Tyr extended his hand and slapped it to the side to explode on the barrier framing the arena.
Lernin's words... 'We have no idea what he is.' Had never felt more appropriate.
This continued for some time, both combatants putting on their show – and that was all it was. Kael was an archmage, but he'd been an adventurer for so long that he'd learned to play the crowd. More than that, he was stuck in the process of figuring out how Tyr was doing this. Kael loved magic more than any man or woman or physical possession, it was his passion. Perhaps not an academic like Lernin, but this... Tyr wasn't casting spells, he was pushing his own energy against the magic at precise angles to break it rather than counter or disperse it via barriers and wards. This wasn't how a mage dueled, this was how monsters capable of magic fought.
Kael would know, he'd been an adventurer for over a decade, studying the phenomena of monstrous beings throughout. That was his thesis, even ahead of blending the schools of blade and magic.
Their light show was impressive, but it was only at the standard of a regular mage. Not something uncommon, even among his rank. Even an archmage couldn't always instantaneously cast level five or six spells without effort or the time or incantation necessary. They'd test the elemental proficiency of the opponent and think of a solution rather than blast them with everything they had.
Whistling darts of light magic, blades of air and water, beams of fire. Tyr either weaved between them, or slapped those with tracking components from the air.
Everyone wanted to believe they could think magic into existence, and sometimes they could, but 'archmage' was a general title. There was a depth to it, and while Kael was able among their numbers, it was better to utilize lower level magic before digging deeper so as not to exhaust oneself.
Tyr felt the waves of fire washing over him. Had they been of the same prime element, he felt that he'd have been overwhelmed, but this fire was something he could handle... For now. He activated the freerunner's again, sprinting at a breakneck pace along the wall in a defiance of gravity, answering with a barrage of level two equivalent spells. He could break Kael's own up with the use of his spira, but overcoming his wards on the man was not possible. He had to bring the playing field into melee range again, Aska could cut through them, even if Kael's mana was dense enough to disperse Tyr's shaper magic.
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He cratered the wall in a stone shattering leap, surprising the professor. Accepting the full brunt of a level four fire spell and arriving on the other side with his armor wreathed in smoke – swinging his glaive overhead to meet Kael's kriegsmesser to recommence the duel. People roared again, seeing the mix of bright and vibrant magic along with the clash of blades. Almost too perfect. Tyr felt it, just an inkling, their... Approval? Supped from it, noticing it was only a trickle this time. Daito, likely, was controlling the flow as best he could. Perhaps even trying to stop it if the sensation he got from the clashes was any indicator, but for whatever reason – it would come.
Tyr smashed the lower half of his hilt into the professors stomach, finding that even though he'd managed to inflict slight injuries on the man – Kael was unflagging. Barely registering the impacts thanks to his enchanted armor, returning attacks of his own. Managing to separate a few of Tyr's fingers and an ear along with them.
Tyr alternated between strokes from the lightning, panther, and sword doctrine of Krieg – Tyr managed to stay relatively even with him. Wild and unpredictable, the mix of styles only someone with a body like his could achieve. Making use of speed to keep up with Kael's twirling barriers and crackling blade.
Biting away at his defenses and managing to match every ten injuries of his own to one on Kael. But his style was crude, there was no synergy to it. His physicality made up for most of it, almost allowing him to dodge the riposte that sent the tip of Kael's sword into his eye socket.
Almost.
Tyr roared in pain as his eye was pulverized and brain pierced – gripping at his head just long enough to allow for Kael to disengage and smash him to a pulpy mess on the floor of the arena. Just a single element level four spell, that's all it took, a very simple wind barrier made a weapon of kinetic force. Tyr was mulched, all red and twisted armor, taken by surprise.
That's when the cheering stopped. A haunting silence. The professor looked at the twitching mass of broken flesh, nervous. He knew that Tyr was capable of regeneration, but... This kind of thing was not supposed to happen here. The wards about the arena were such that no serious or lasting injury could afflict a participant. Fifty archmages wouldn't be a match for the device that made it so, let alone Kael himself who was fairly novice in comparison to many of those who carried that title.
“I...”
Loud wailing began to sound out from the crowd, people were panicking at the sight of such brutality – and Kael was responsible. They didn't boo, but even the orcish viewers were pale in the face and wide in the eyes. This kind of thing... It was impossible. Before they could erupt in a full blown panic, Daito marched forward with his shamisen in hand. There was no magic, it was just a song – a collection of chords that captured their attention before falling silent again.
“Tyr.” He said. Nobody could process what was actually happening, and even less the calm faces of the mans comrades. A man who had just been killed before their very eyes. Or maimed... There were so many rumors, but imagine hearing those. Could one truly believe that someone could regrow limbs? Stand immortal?
“Tyr.” He repeated, stomping his feet.
“Tyr!” The others repeated, doing the same until it became a rhythm that caught the attention of the crowd.
“Tyr. Tyr. Tyr. Tyr.” Every repetition of his name was met with a stomping of a boot, a clap, or a slamming of fist against the stands. Kael approached the mass nervously, not quite understanding what was happening. He prodded it with his foot and the mess that was the man twitched in response.
“This fight is over. I don't want to do this anymore, this is disgusting... That has to hurt, no? At least...?” Kael spoke to Daito, but the other man ignored him. He was trying to imagine... Sure, Tyr was alive – he could feel it. Kael wasn't scared that he'd just killed the man. Rather, he was incredibly uncomfortable with inflicting that much pain on a person – and none of his so-called companions seemed to care. This... Blob that was Tyr must have been in incredible pain. It was twitching, hot, groaning in discomfort. Unbelievable agony, the kind that sent men into madness must be all the young man could feel at this moment... “You did great, Tyr. Very impressive, for your age I knew of very few who could equal you. Be proud of that.”
Tyr had no eyes to see, nor ears to hear. He understood then that there was a limit to the amount of force his body could resist. Granted... Perhaps he'd grow back as long as even a single bit of him remained, but his 'self' was blurry. Growing clearer over time. Slowly. It took time, he knew, to process what had happened and see it through, but he could feel like never before. The pain, yes, but also all the lights. The thrumming and the song, a deep and steady breathing, pounding against him like the winds of a storm. Like something was watching him, assessing him.
He heard his name, from what sounded like a million mouths. Even without ears, he could hear and he could feel them. Never before had he felt the song from this perspective. It was so natural and... Real. The deprivation of having every sensory organ in his body destroyed had made it so.
Music but not music, the staccato beating of a heart in metronome. Math, something intently connecting to the greater fabric of reality. He wanted to win, wanted it so bad that it hurt, and it answered him. Taking the energy around him and making it real. Giving him form again, life again. He saw Benny, Xavier, Abe... All of them standing amidst a crowd of people lost in shadow, but they were all nodding to him.
Waiting... Waiting for something. Tyr could feel it, he was so close to that something but he wasn't there yet. He needed to be more, to do more. To go further. There was always another step, and many more beyond that.
Become infinite.
–
“Wow!” Micah said, sitting on the edge of his seat and pointing. “Look!”
“I'm looking at the same thing you are, you idiot.” Sigi swatted him playfully on the shoulder. Micah was a good friend, and if not for him, she never would've come this far... Though she'd never admit it. Her muse of sorts, the one who inspired her to keep working on that chair and attempt to improve it, in anticipation of moving onto other more ambitious projects. Inspiration, or something similar.
“It's very beautiful.” Astrid was as excited as anyone else. Tyr had improved so much in terms of technique, to the point where he was giving a display worthy of a true blade master. And in doing so... “It almost looks like they are dancing.”
It looked nice, true enough, but Tyr was decidedly losing. Alex knew that, but even she was as taken aback as the others as Tyr effortlessly dispersed a level four spell and returned a series of his own at the level three standard. Pumping his fists and silently casting level three fire spells, his hands striking through the air with calm composure, a display that would impress any student at the academy. So flashy, all scarlet and beautiful in his display of elemental mastery. A wash of bright crimson spraying every time he thrust his hands forward, cool and composed.
Kael struck at him with a tidal wave of lightning wreathed fire, and Tyr would leap right into it, hammering his heel into the ground and splitting it apart.
One moment they appeared as swordsmen, and the next they were magi boxing in a style not so dissimilar to men and women on the elemento field. Crossing the space as fast as a galloping horse, pounding around in vicious circles, Kael's calculating mind and Tyr's unbridled violence matched against one another on full display. His sword appearing in and out of his hand with barely any delay to allow him both arms for magic.
“I can't believe it.” Brenn breathed in wonder. Winning against Kael in a duel of swords, or only achieving a draw, was incredibly impressive as it was. But magic? That was insane for someone so young. Kael wasn't the strongest mage in the world, but he was one of the youngest archmages of all time to reach that standard, and his specialty was combat. Which was rare among archmages, in the modern era at least. Tyr had always been clumsy, lacking in obvious talent, his grades were relatively poor and he'd even failed some classes outright. “Could he actually win?”
“Does it even matter!?” Micah asked, awe struck and gaping alongside his friends. So far, the matches had mostly been mages standing still and engaging one another with spells, most of which were not so easily discerned by eye. Sure, the technique was there, but it was so boring, nothing compared to this mixture of techniques battlemages were so celebrated for. “This is awesome!”
Before anyone could comment further, and Alex most certainly thought to do so in the negative – Tyr closed the distance again and was promptly flattened.
Instantly.
His body crumpled, becoming a pancake of gore and pulverized organs. Jartor frowned hard at that, his flinty eyes squinted, clenching the arms of his throne until they began to crack. Up until now, he'd been observing the bout with unmatched focus, barely even breathing. Alex was sure that it wasn't out of concern for his son, Jartor wasn't like that. More like disappointment near the point of rage at his House losing in a duel against a mortal man.
They heard them. The crowd. The crowd loved the famed adventurers, but everyone loved an underdog – why wouldn't they? They chanted his name after the westerner approached the center of the ring to catch their attention. Again and again until it was an thunderclap every time they stomped their feet. It sent chills down Alex's back. Something was coming, and now all of them could feel it.
An egg cracking.
A sunrise.
A beginning to something that sent the downy hairs on the back of the necks of every mana capable individual in the arena standing on end. Even on the other side of the barrier... All they could feel was fear.