“He what?” Conor asked, pushing the medic away and wiping the saline off his face.

Conor was not that knowledgeable about every intricate detail of Kurlatra royal proceedings, but he did not need to be to understand roughly what was just asked. The right to be Eivaley's Champion was a cut-and-dry statement.

Sheruai was trying to use some obtuse law buried deep in Kurlatra history, all to take Eivaley away from him. What kind of no-good, Zlit-rat taint-sucking fuck would do that?

Why in all the universe would he want to take Eivaley from him? Kurelay had only died mere minutes ago; does he not need to grieve? Remorse, or even give a single fuck about his wife?

Until then, Conor had thought relatively highly of Sheruai, believing him to be philanthropic, stalwart, and loving. Was it all an act? Something to disarm Conor and make Eivaley vulnerable?

Even if it was all a lie, Conor knew he could count on the empress. There was no way she would actually consider humoring the man; he was just grasping at straws in desperation since his woman was dead, and Conor was not.

The empress knew how Eivaley felt about Conor, and he did her. It was unimaginable that she would do anything to rip them apart, old tradition or not. Euuurali was a mother first and the empress second; at least, Conor thought of the wise woman that way.

Euyurali turned around and cast a judgmental glare at Sheruai while slowly approaching the man. Her fists clenched as her venomous stare tore into the defeated warrior.

The look of pure contempt she cast was one that no one other than Vuraley had seen, and that was only behind closed doors.

The last time he had seen his dear wife look like that was a decade ago, when one of her daughters killed another in broad daylight and right in front of her.

She could still remember Rouyi crying and clutching at her while choking to death on her own blood. The worst part of that memory was Y’yulan and her Champion Oyin, celebrating their success nearby.

If the rules and laws of the crown were not a pair of golden shackles holding her in place, Euyurali likely would have had the pair killed then and there. But just like now, her hands were tied.

With what looked like almost agony, she glanced up at Conor and then Eivaley. A silent twinkle in her eyes almost begged them for forgiveness for what she had to do.

“What did you just say?” Euyurali asked, looking back at Sheruai. Her royal demeanor was restored, yet a fleck of her loathing was evident in the question. It was like she was almost begging Sheruai not to repeat himself.

“Empress, I challenge the Human for the right to be Eivaley's Champion,” Sheruai knelt, repeating his foolish, headstrong resolve.

“Despite him besting you already?” the empress sighed.

“Yes, empress,” Sheruia acknowledged, “that was merely a fluke. Besides, it should be a Kurlatra with the princess, not that---thing.”

“Very well. It is your funeral,” The empress shrugged before walking toward Conor.

At the same time, Sheruai scrambled to his feet, dragged a medic along with him by one hand, and rushed to Vuraley.

From where Conor was, he could see that Vuraley quickly told the man off and directed him to another noble. The look on Vuraleys face was one of abject disgust.

Although the empress addressed Conor and stole his attention, the Human was able to make out a few words from their conversation before that occurred.

He heard Vuraley tell Sheruai he should not have done that, and when Conor kills him, he will deserve it. Not that the headstrong warrior headed the advice. Instead, Sheruai went to another noble, seeking advice on how to slay the abomination in their court.

“Now, Conor,” the empress sighed, clearly thinking about how to explain the situation to the Human. However, there was no need to struggle; Conor had picked up enough details to understand precisely what would happen.

Their fight was not over, and now it was no longer Conor just subduing a rabid dog. He fully understood and was preparing himself to kill a man that he had broken bread with many times over the last few months.

Before Conor could respond, Eivaley ran up, grabbed his waist, and tried to stand between Conor and Euyurali as if she could protect her man from what was happening.

His little ruby tightly wrapped her tail around him, her claws digging into the ground, and in an act, he and the empress never expected from the Eivaley, she hissed at her mother. Now, it was not a regal warning that one would expect from one of her stations; no, it was more akin to the way Conor and Jurintik growled.

Without words, Eivaley expressed the bestial thought she had ever had. In that one primal hiss, she told the whole world, and especially the onlookers, that Conor was hers and that she would not lose him.

Seeing his little ruby act so threatening warmed Conor's artificial heart. It seemed a little bit of that training he preached to her about taking a stand when in a fight was taken to heart. Granted, hissing like a savage at your mother was not his intent, but hey, he would take what he could get.

Euyurali was taken abak. She could never imagine her timid little girl acting like that to anyone, especially her.

She could still remember Eivaley crying when Mulaney hissed at her when she was little. This development was virtually inconceivable.

A strange combination of pride and amazement filled her chest, flooding her mind with questions about how much her little girl had grown. At this point, Eivaley was her own woman, which was clearly on display as she bared open claws against her mother's role.

“It’s alright,” Conor gently whispered into Eivaleys ear, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“No, it’s not,” Eivaley snapped and looked up at Conor. “He is trying to take me away from you. and she is---”

“I know, my little ruby,” Conor leaned down and nuzzled against her. “Please, trust me.”

She looked up at him, a look of defiance in her eyes. Without words, she effortlessly argued that she had been doing that, and it had gotten them here. She had put in the work because she wanted him; he was worth it. But her defiance gradually faded, eased to comfort by Conor's impassioned stare as she once again placed her trust firmly in his care.

Conor smiled, seeing the strength and bratty defiance he loved so much in her. She was his ruby; they both knew it. Now, it was time for Conor to put his money where his mouth was.

“So, I take it's to the death?” Conor asked, looking back up at Euyurali.

The empress, clearly still surprised by her daughter, took a moment to compose herself by coughing to relieve tension, but she did confirm that the duel was to the death and explained the entire situation.

Former champions had the right to challenge so long as the assigned champion was in the same bloodline. She did mention it was a rare circumstance, but the right was well documented throughout Kurlatra history.

“So, is there any way out of it?” Conor asked.

“Not unless you surrender your ability to be with Eivaley and go into exile," the empress admitted sheepishly, having never expected to have to explain this.

After Conor's actions at the Gala, she assumed that the Human would have taken the final steps with her daughter and become a full Champion by now, but he just kept dragging his feet. Now, the choice was taken away from him.

She had wondered what had kept him, but whenever the topic was brought up to Eivaley, her daughter would gush about how it would be any day now, that Conor was just adjusting. So she trusted the young couple to work it out.

Eyurali prayed her inaction would not cause them to be ripped apart; she could never forgive herself if their love was not allowed to blossom. Especially after all the reposts of them sneaking around the palace the last two months. The pair might have thought they were slick and acting under the table. But she and Vuraley were well aware of almost everything they had done, what went on in Conor's bedroom withstanding.

Did they not realize how many cameras were in the palace or that every staff member would tell the empress what they saw? One would have assumed they were both smart enough to, but love blinds and all that.

All the empress could do now was look back on how she could have pushed them together and assured that Conor stayed with Eivaley.

She knew the Human was best for her daughter; now, the most significant light in her daughter's life could be snuffed out.

“Not going to happen,” Conor replied, pulling Eivaley tighter like the thought alone would take her away.

“I figured,” Eyurali replied. “Then let me explain the rules–or the lack thereof.”

—-

Conor stood ten meters away from Sheruia. Both were sizing the other up. Conor had his arms crossed and stared at Sheruia with contempt. At the same time, Sheruai smirked like he was looking at a wounded animal, ready to be killed.

Both had stripped down to nothing but their skivvies, as tradition dictated in such a duel. This was a matter of honor and the gods' favor, so they would face one another man to man, with as little assistance as possible.

Sheruai understood Conor was wired up; it was plain to see. The man had an artificial arm and eyes that shifted color. But Conor needed those to live, so Sheruai accepted them as parts of Conor's base state.

They were still in the same courtyard, but most of the onlookers had been sent away. This duel was considered a royal affair and, therefore, could only be watched by those of regal bloodlines.

The two dozen or so remaining observers muttered to one another about how they expected this to go. It was unsurprising that they all assumed Conor would win, much to Sheruia’s anger.

He was the God of Close Combat; how could they think one brawl where he was emotional would determine the duel's outcome? All he had to do was fight like he had always had, and it was assured. He would rip Conor apart.

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The lesser nobles' opinions were painful to his pride, to be sure, but the part that really twisted the knife was hearing Eivaley and Mulaney. How could the First Princess speak about him like that?

Mulaney talked about Sheruia like he was a dead man walking. She repeatedly told everyone that he was nothing and that Conor would rip his other arm off.

If Sheruai did not have to stay focused, he would tell the upity bitch right where she could shove her opinions.

Eivaley was at least staying quiet and keeping her opinions to herself; all she did was repeatedly look at Conor while holding her tail like a safety blanket.

That was something Sheruai always liked about the fifth princess. She was timid and reserved and never stood up to any royals. She would be an acceptable replacement for Kurelay.

Would he miss Kurelay? Of course, he had spent years with her and undoubtedly cared for her. But one thing that mattered more than care was power, and having that little ruby to manipulate and control would surely bring him that.

Sheruai suffered to become the God of Close Combat for power and married Kuraley for the same reason. She was his way of gaining influence and a fast track to an easy life.

Would Eivaley ever look at him with the same longing that she did the Human? It was not likely, but he could live with that if it meant he would not lose his station and save face.

The only thing in his way from keeping his cushy life was some wire-up cyborg with eyes that unsettled him. Even now, the Human stared calmly at him.

Conor's eyes seemed to bore through his soul, judging him. The look that conveyed a million ways to kill him for fun ate at him, but he had to focus and remain calm.

Despite consciously understanding he could not become prey in that predator's eyes, he could not help but hear a whisper of how small he was boiling up from his subconscious.

That the Human seemed so unbothered was eating at him like a pack of ravenous hounds. It was not natural. It was as if Conor did not understand that he would be dead in a few minutes.

Just as Vuraley started to move to the center of the sand between the two combatants, the final sister still at the palace arrived, Thuraley. She took her place next to Eivaley and was hugged by her sister.

When Therulay scanned the scene, her reaction was strange. Despite having just arrived, she did not seem shocked by anything going on. If anything, the only flittering glimpse of surprise was cast his way; she likely could not believe the God of Close Combat had lost an arm to that Human freak.

Well, her judgment did not matter for now. Sheruai was about to prove to all the royals that his title was still his. No sapient could take it from him. Especially some mutt from a backwater shithole who got lucky.

“Everyone, it is with great honor that I can arbitrate this duel,” Vuraley started, his golden armor shimmering in the midday sun's bright light.

The area fell silent at his booming voice, everyone keying in on what the High Champion would say.

That Vuraley was disappointed in Sheruai was a shock to him. He was the High Champion; if anyone should have been glad to be rid of the Human, it should have been him. But when Sheruai went to him for advice on how to beat the Human, he was told to fuck off.

Vuralay said he could not be partial to anyone in the matter. It was his duty to oversee the fight; the moment Sheruai declared the challenge to claim Eivaley, any familial care or advice was locked away and was until the battle was decided.

It was the same for Conor; he was offered no advice. But unlike Sheruai, he had not even asked. Conor simply stood where he was told and kept glaring at Sheruai; even when Sheruai was not looking at him, he could feel the pressure of the man's indignance.

“The two warriors have been instructed on the rules and the stakes for this, but for those who do not know, they are simple. Both combatants will fight until the other expires; there is no time limit, and no outside interference will be tolerated.” Vuraley boomed, scanning everyone present, waiting for nods.

The crowd did not need to be told the rules; they were noble and knew them by heart, but Vuraley was thorough and ensured there would be no lapses in judgment for something so vital.

“You two are both clear on everything?” Vuraley questioned, looking at the two for a response.

“Of course!” Sheruia shouted.

Conor nodded, not even bothering to uncross his arms. He looked languidly at Eivaley and smiled softly, causing the princess to wag her tail.

That was the most emotion Conor had shown since the fight was declared about twenty minutes earlier. A fact everyone noted; they especially noticed Eivaley's reaction to his smile.

“Very well. Empress, please declare the start,” Vuraley said, stepping back to the empress's side.

“I wish the two of you the best of luck. May the best man win,” Euyurali commanded, her motherly tone holding more weight than even the Vuraley booming voice.

She raised her hand into the air, her bracelets chiming like the bells of heaven. She paused, looked over the hushed crowd, and took a deep breath. The world was silent as a feather falling to earth. A pin-drop would have boomed like thunder in the tension.

“Begin!” Euyurali yelled, dropping her hand.

Sheruai raised his one good hand and assumed a fighting position, reading himself for the human approach. “Alright, let’s—”

The Human's unaugmented fist collided with Sheruai’s jaw, cutting off the bolstering he was about to do and causing him to stumble back nearly a meter.

How is he so fast? Was the only thought that Sheruai rattled managed to conjure up before he felt a heavy strike to his chest, crushing several of his ribs and collapsing a lung.

That hit beyond shook the mans resolve. It fractured his bravado and felt more akin to being hit by a car than a fist.

“Shut up and fight!” Conor demanded, pressing his attack.

The Human began to pummel him in a flurry of blows that Sheruai could not keep track of while on the backfoot.

Each punch, kick, and knee brought new pains and broken bones. For each strike Sheruai attempted to block, three more found their mark. If Sheruai did not know better, he could have sworn he was being jumped in a back alley by a gang.

In desperation the God of war backed up feebily kicking at the Human.

he managed to claw at Conor's thigh, but the slash barely was even a flesh wound.

The pitiable attack bought him half a meter of distance, but that meant nothing. He tried to retaliate, but Conor was already upon him once again.

Before the beating resumed, all he managed to do was toss a punch that Conor did not even bother to avoid. Conor's momentum carried him into the attack, magnifying the recoil.

Sheruai’s knuckles shattered like glass when he punched Conor's chest. It felt like he had just attacked a tank. Sure, Sheruai understood that the Human had metal covering half of his chest, but that was not the whole story.

Conor's bones and muscles were also replaced with sturdy materials that caused the attack to do more damage to himself than the target.

Looking at his exposed finger bones, Sheruai could not help but frantically wonder; where did this speed and ferocity come from? When they had fought a few minutes earlier, Sheruai could keep track of the Human.

He was not this quick. At the time, the Human seemed to be only as speedy as any other warrior; now, Sheruai could not even see where the attacks were coming from.

With more broken bones than he could count and more being made every second, Shuruai attempted to envenom Conor once again. It would be a sure victory once his toxins flowed through the Human.

All he would have to do at that point is keep his distance and wait for the Human to die from his venom.

The Human's demise would be slow and painful. It would be a fitting end to such a detestable freak. His death would also serve as a reminder to the entire Kurlatra empire of what happens when you reach above your station.

With all the might he could mu, Sheruainged lunged forward, roaring, his fangs proudly displayed. This would assuredly be his salvation. The stupid animal he was fighting would finally be put in its place.

His roar was cut short, and all the dreams of greatness beyond what he had were shut down in one move he had never seen coming.

It took Shurais brain a moment to comprehend why both he and the Human had stopped moving. It was as if he had suddenly run into a wall that prevented him from moving forward.

“Since you wanna bite me, I figured I should make it easy,” Conor sneered.

It was only then that Sheruai realized the reason he was not tasting succulent blood; instead, the cold metal of the Humans augmented forearm molested his pallet.

In one swift motion, the Human had shoved his arm down Sheruais throat. His hand was already clasping at the back of his tongue, grabbing it like a slick rope and holding the God of Close Combat in place.

"You are all mine," Conor said.

Sheruai vomited in reflex, adding to the frantic choking. He groped at the Humans arm, pushing away like a fish attempting to spit out a hook, but he was caught completely.

The God of Close Combats' mind went nearly blank. Any semblance of higher thought retreated, leaving only a basal, animalistic need to survive. All of his years of training and fighting meant nothing. The Human had truly driven him into a corner, and there was no escape.

The Kurlatra man trashed wildly against the Human, savagely clawing and kicking as the Human remained calm and let his will be done.

Gradually, Sheruai's fight began to fade. His attacks became weak, and his mind went blank. His vision collapsed to near pinpricks; all he could see was the cold, unyielding eyes of a man truly better than him.

Moments before Sheruais consciousness entirely left him, Conor grabbed hold of Sheruais upper jaw and began to pull. Too weak and too close to unconsciousness, all Shurai could do was listen to the dull popping and ripping as the top of his jaw and upper head were torn away.

The last vestiges of Sheruai's thought were filled with the taste of his own blood pooling in his mouth.

—-

Not a single observer made a sound. They were not watching a duel or a beatdown; this was a predator toying with prey it knew could not survive.

They had at least expected some sort of fight, but there was none.

The moment the duel began, Conor took the initiative, covering the ten meters in less than a second. From there, it was a nonstop barrage of gunshot-like strikes.

The observers felt every impact, heard each bone snap, and heard every pitiful yelp.

They thought Sheruai might have made a comeback when he punched Conor, but that was quickly dismissed upon seeing his mangled hand.

The ending to the so-called duel would haunt their minds and ring in the annals of Kurlatra history forever. It was a duel that would be remembered as a pitiful example of what pride will get you. Teachers would refer to its whisperings to teach their students humility.

Conor grabbed hold of Sheruais jaw and pulled. The Human made no sound or even reactions as his opponent thrashed wildly or when he dislocated his jaw. Most thought that was the end of it because Sheruai had gone limp.

Oh, how wrong they were.

The Human kept pulling, and they watched in shocked horror as Sheruais cheeks ripped open, followed quickly by a dull crunch. Sheruais head was halfways ripped off, his head crown rested against his back as blood poured over the two combatants.

Like he was throwing away a cigarette butt, Conor threw Sheruai away. The corpse tumbled and landed lifeless in the reddening sands several meters away.

No one spoke as the Human began to move toward the body. Conor was calm and only did what he was instructed to do: fight until the empress concluded the duel. Only Vuraley and Burlai knew what the Human was about to do.

They could see the essence of the mantra, never shall I fail oozing out of Conor. He was going to keep fighting and bludgeon the corpse until Euyuali managed to compose herself and declare him the winner.

Thankfully, Vuraley was able to advise her about stopping the event before more members of the crowd were scarred by the day's events.

“Stop!” Euyuraly yelled.

Like he was about to step on a landmine, Conor froze midstep. The fight was over, and he had come out on top.

Conor stood upright and took a deep breath before looking over at Euyurali. He rolled his shoulders as if that were little more than a warmup. To him it was. He was built for combat; By Urla, sparring Vuraley took more effort.

That Sheruai was spoken of so highly yet could only survive that long against Conor was pathetic. If anything, Conor felt pity. He might as well have fought an infant.

The empress shuddered, seeing the Human sopped in blood and looking at her like the last fifteen seconds had not occurred.

Vuraley thought differently of the man. Sure, he and Conor had trained with weapons, but now even Vuraley could recognize a vital detail about those sparring matches. Conor had been holding back from day one.

During all those countless hours, Conor was training and knew the point of it. He was there to learn, not to win. If Conor and Vuraley fought no holds bar, even the High Champion wondered if he could win without being maimed.

“I declare this duel concluded. Conor, the Lord of War, God of Close Combat, and the Wolf of Heavalun, shall continue to be Eivaleys assigned champion. You all are witness. Now, please return to your homes,” Eyurali said.

Conor nodded at her and Therulay before turning to see Eivaley approaching him. She looked as beautiful as ever, but he could not help but glimpse the faintest fleck of worry in her eyes, and she reached for his hand.

“Are you alright?” Eivaley asked.

“I am,” Conor smiled, holding her hand tight.

That same look he had given her over the last few months shone brightly through the blood and gore.

“Let's go get cleaned up,” Conor replied.