Trash Like You

Hughoc charged forward like a raging bull. The air formed a semi spherical curtain around him, his speed and mass so disproportionate that sparks flew in the air.

To his back, his maces followed, sparking as they clashed with the wind.

In the blink of an eye, he appeared before Leonel, his shoulder swinging as though it was nothing more than a lever. The flexibility was obscene and the power behind it was even more so.

At that moment, Leonel's gaze shifted from Myghell back to Hughoc. His gaze was frighteningly cold and his body was completely unmoving. However, if one ignored the commotion around him and paid attention to the ground beneath his feet, it would be possible to see his toes hooking downward with such force that ten holes surrounded by spiderweb thin cracks had appeared.

The deepest and most important things to Leonel were Respect and Persistence. Even if he felt his opponent was far weaker than him, he would give them their due respect. Myghell was one matter, a matter he would deal with in due time. However, Hughoc was a different matter entirely.

Leonel's entire demeanor changed in a matter of a fraction of a moment. The last three meters between himself and Hughoc happened within the blink of an eye to everyone else. But, to him, everything had slowed so considerably that he could see the fierce twinkling light in his opponent's eyes, he could see the sizzling heat of the swinging mace as it scorched through the atmosphere as though a falling meteor, and he could see the steady drum of determination that reverberated through Hughoc's heart.

The mace appeared right above Leonel's head, its leading spike barely half a foot from connecting.

It was then that Leonel moved.

His right foot swiveled backward in a quarter circle, shifting his body to the side and allowing the mace to whiz right by him.

The harsh whistling was so grating on the ears that a lesser person with a weaker body might have felt their ears burst. But, Leonel had already reacted.

His anchor foot remained down, his right foot moving again and lifting into the air, stepping down with a vicious momentum. The descent of Leonel's sole made the previous meteoric assault of Hughoc's mace seem like nothing more than child's play.

There was something about the timing of Leonel's movements that felt incomparably smooth, something about the ease and conservation of energy that seem especially beautiful. He was like a well oiled machine, using only as much as he needed and nothing more.

BANG!

The polearm of the mace met Leonel's stomp. The instance was so perfectly timed that the mace had just crashed into the stage's stone platform. The result was Leonel's strength fusing with Hughoc's own, causing the latter's expression to change.

Hughoc felt his wrist nearly break, the skin of his fingers and palm suddenly experiencing so much pressure that that they ripped free from his muscle and bone, sending a shocking pain to his brain so severe that he froze for just a moment. The result was him missing a counter opportunity with his second mace even as he lost his grip on the first, his hand turning into a bloody mess.

BANG!

The stage imploded, a cloud of dust, rock and bits of stone rising into the air. But, that only hid the muffled bang that happened an instant afterward.

The crowd was stunned to find Hughoc's body flying out faster than it had come rampaging in. He shot out of the plume of debris so quickly that it became immediately obvious that he had lost consciousness.

The steel metal plate he wore on his chest was completely crumpled, a hole the size of a fist becoming its new centerpiece.

Hughoc crashed outside of the arena, his mouth violently erupting with a pillar of blood. There was no doubt who had won the battle. But, by this point, Myghell was already stepping off of his stage, his opponent standing frozen in place.

For a long while, the young woman didn't move, her expression staring out into blank space.

"Moxxi!"

It was unknown who had called out this name, but it became like a trigger for a chain reaction. The young woman's body crumbled piece by piece, her expression becoming one of helplessness and sadness in her final moments.

It felt as though she wanted to ask 'why did you have to kill me?'. But, whether because she didn't have the strength to do so, or realized there wasn't much of a point, she reserved the last of her strength to die with dignity.

Her face wilted and collapsed into a pile of ash, fluttering into the wind.

Leonel watched this with silence. He too could have killed his opponent easily. It was only a matter of using a little bit more force or a slight manipulation of his Force. He hadn't done so because he didn't see the point.

When he fought large groups of people, killing as a deterrent and to ensure the safety of his life was one matter. He had learned to accept that this was necessary and began to live with the result. However, in a one on one battle where there were no variables to account for outside of the man right before him, not to mention the fact they didn't have a grudge… He couldn't help but think…

Why?

Were lives really so worthless? Did they not mean anything? Even if they couldn't defeat you, couldn't they have still fought for their dreams against others? And even if they couldn't, so what? Were they worthless because they happened to be born with less talent than others? Because they happened to have weaker backers? Because luck hadn't shined down on them the same way?

Who could make such decisions? Who had the right to be the arbitrator of who lived and who died?

"Is this what you've been doing with my power?" Content is property © .

Leonel's voice seemed to carry a mysterious strength with it, so much so that there wasn't a single person who couldn't hear it.

"In that case I'll be sure to take it back. Trash like you is unworthy of having it."

Myghell's steps froze.