His fist rocketed up like a missile, slamming into the Uthraki’s chin. The man staggered backwards, and Jonathan moved in, sending a barrage of punches into his torso. With a roar, the other fighter seized at the air, and the house around him started to warp. With a cracking noise, the stone rushed inwards, coating Jonathan in a layer of rock. He could feel the Uthraki’s will and elemental energy trying to crush him into oblivion.

In response, Jonathan flared his Void energy, sending a cloud of purple light out in all directions. With his natural strength, he flexed his muscles, shattering the stone. However, he was met with a stab from the sword, straight into a gap in his armor. The weapon slid in, puncturing his skin with ease. A cold feeling radiated from the wound, and Jonathan heard a laugh echo from the Uthraki’s mouth. He rushed back, pulling the sword out of himself, and staggered, clutching at the wound.

“Did you base your estimation of me on my brother? He was always the weakest of us,” the Uthraki said with a surprising bitterness. “No wonder he had to resort to treachery to found his own village.”

Before Jonathan could process this, the Uthraki was off again, his sword starting to blaze with light. Jonathan cycled his stamina through his body, and began to center himself. It was time to begin the creation of the technique he had envisioned earlier. Normally, he simply threw his energy into his fist, creating a toxic mix of power that fought to break loose. However, he knew that he possessed more skill than that.

First, his stamina rushed into his right arm, filling it with physical might. Next, concentrated mana coated his fist, creating a purple tinged glow around it. Divinity rushed into his runes, sending a reddish light expanding outwards from the weapon. Finally, the colorless power of his Hungering Decay skill created a spike of nothingness that would serve to pierce the durable skin of his opponent. This combination was far more stable than before, and Jonathan smiled slightly.

With a quick pulse of stamina to his legs, he was off, rocketing towards the Uthraki. The other man swung his sword to meet Jonathan’s blow, but he twisted at the last moment, letting the weapon slam into the ground.

Pivoting on his back leg, Jonathan drove his fist into the other man’s stomach with all of his might. First, his Void energy blasted a hole into the taut muscles. Next, his Divinity widened the hole, weakening the flesh. Finally, his mana detonated, blasting a hole through the man’s stomach. With a gurgling groan, the Uthraki staggered. Jonathan withdrew, wanting to negotiate, now that he was in a position of power.

“Why do you not kill me?” The other man spat, holding one hand over his wound. “I would have killed you.”

“Because, I need your help. I am not some soft, moral crusader that sees killing as wrong. Believe me, I would slay you in a heartbeat. However, there are few fighters of your caliber in the Ash Heaps that are allied to me. I need all the help I can get.”

“You are a fool, but a powerful one at that,” the man said, with grudging respect. His wound was already starting to heal over, but the memory would linger for a while. ‘Very well. I am Tukar. However, you would do well to keep me away from my brother. I might not be able to control myself. More importantly, I expect to be returned to my village as soon as this is all over. My people will need my protection.”

Jonathan nodded, and moved over, remaining wary of a trick. However, Tukar did not move, instead waiting for Jonathan to confer the boon upon him. Like with Hushar, Jonathan concealed his runic work with a series of misdirections, leading Tukar to believe that it was some sort of skill. Then he pulled out the token, and Tukar touched it.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

They both winked out of existence a moment later, appearing in the Ash Heaps. Tukar let out a gasp as he found himself standing under the light of the sun for the first time in his life. Although the sun was weakened by cloud cover, it was still something that would be shocking to the uninitiated. The man simply stared at it for a few minutes, before turning his gaze down towards the earth.

The endless expanse of ash and rock, far colder than the plains of Tartarus, must have been a confusing sight to the man. He was used to lava flows and an oppressive heat. Here, it was still hot, at least by Jonathan’s standards, but it was many times cooler than Tartarus. Being in Tartarus was like walking into an industrial oven. If not for his Tier 2 durability, Jonathan would have been cooked alive as soon as he entered the place. That was likely the reason behind the minimum level of the world.

“How do you live in such a place?” Tukar asked. “It is like a barren wasteland, devoid of everything that makes life worth living.”

“Well, it is a part of Hell for a reason,” Jonathan quipped. “It wouldn’t exactly be so if it was a nice place to live.”

As they spoke, Jonathan heard a noise from the small hut that Hushar was making his residence, behind the initial wall that the man was building. Over the last few hours, it had increased in size, and now ringed the front side of the city. A large moat had been dug in front of the wall, and would serve as a deterrent to most Tier 1s. However, Tukar’s eyes were drawn to the scene for a different reason.

Hushar walked out of the hut, not noticing his brother, and headed towards the wall. Before Jonathan could do anything, Tukar raced off, his face blazing with pure rage. Jonathan swore and ran after the enraged Uthraki, not sure exactly what had happened between the two brothers.

Hushar looked up a moment later, only managing to raise his fists in time to parry the incoming blow. By the looks of things, Tukar was trying to kill his brother. Jonathan shouted after the man, but he was lost in a bloody haze of rage. He reached Tukar a moment later, and bodily tore him off of his brother, throwing him to the ground.

“STOP!” Jonathan roared, imbuing his voice with his aura. A cone of purple light exploded outwards, washing over Tukar, and seeming to take some of the edge off. Panting heavily, Tukar lay there, hatred blazing in his eyes.

“Ask my dear brother why exactly I am this way,” Tukar spat.

Turning to Hushar, Jonathan raised an eyebrow.

“It was many years ago,” Hushar said, unwilling to elaborate more. However, Jonathan took a menacing step forwards, and the man continued. “My brother and I were weaker back then, trying to prove ourselves to our father. Both of us wanted a village of our own, but to do so, we would need to prove ourselves. One of the ways that our people traditionally do this is through a monster hunt. Taking a small warband with us, we tracked down a high level beast. However, Tukar was weaker, and I was forced to interceded to save his-”

“YOU FILTHY LIAR!” Tukar screamed, getting to his feet. “YOU THREW ME ASIDE SO THAT YOU WERE GUARANTEED THE LAST HIT ON THE BEAST!”

Before Jonathan could react, Tukar thrust his sword towards his brother, imbuing it with energy. Hushar raised a bulwark of stone in front of himself to block the blow, but it cracked apart under the force. With a groan of frustration, Jonathan grabbed the blade and pulled it away. There was a lot of familial drama here, and for everyone’s interest, it was better for it to not end in bloodshed.

Tukar growled, but let the sword go in the end, seeming content to glare at his brother. In the end, they were still family, and outside of bursts of uncontrollable rage, neither really wanted to kill the other.

“This is a problem,” Jonathan muttered.

“Indeed,” both of the other men said at the same time.

“Why don't you two stay apart for now? You only have a few days to prepare for Granath’s coming. Hatred of one another will only lead to our defeat.”