Chapter 172: The Crusader vs the Assassin
Zeris’s Cottage, Lounge Room
Everybody clears out of the room, leaving only Armaros and Kane as they walk to opposite sides of the training room. After taking the survivors to the lounge, Zeris switches on the television. Flipping through the channels, the survivors watch as their rooms' visuals go by.
Ember clicks her tongue, “Dude–”
“You’re acting like I didn’t watch all of you in stage one,” says Zeris, finally landing on a live recording of the training room.
“Wait, you brought us here so we could watch their fight like some kind of sporting event?” asks Quinn.
“Uh, yeah. We got multiple angles, too, so the broadcast will change to whatever it thinks best.”
“Seriously… you’re messed up, man,” voices Ember, arms crossed and staring at the television.
“Doesn’t this feel… wrong to you?” adds Forest, glancing at Zeris. “You said Armaros killed that man’s wife and daughter. This is personal, and you even brought Alex here.”
The survivors all look back toward Alex, who is bent forward, resting his arms on the top of the couch.
His eyes transferring between each person, Alex says, “Zeris and my father stopped me from avenging my mom and sister. As long as my father doesn’t kill him… I don’t mind the two beating the shit out of each other right now.”
“See? Everything is fine,” says Zeris, walking to the kitchen area. “Now, is anybody hungry? Still got plenty of leftovers from last night.”
Most in disbelief, the survivors all remain mute.
Zeris shrugs and opens the fridge, “Alright. Help yourselves if you hear a growl.”
***
Zeris’s Cottage, Training Room
Standing about thirty yards apart from one another, Kane’s golden suit glimmers, his eyes still sheening with amber. A sharp, silver aura oozes off Armaros’s silhouette as his shattered mirror appears beside him. Reaching inside, the assassin retrieves his trademark weapons: two fang-like glass daggers.
Armed and prepared for battle, the mirror vanishes as Armaros decides to start things off. With iris circulated into his feet, he pushes himself off the ground, throwing himself toward Kane. Kane responds by boosting himself forward with an intense gust of wind whirling behind him.
Fiercely meeting each other in the middle of the room, Kane’s forearms block Armaros’s blades, the hardened glass chittering against the gilded armor. Emitting a grunt, Armaros channels more iris into his arms, attempting to amplify his strength and cut through the armor.
Continuing to resist Armaros’s daggers without needing to defend himself further, Kane taunts the assassin, “Is that really the best you can do?”
Recognizing Kane was hardly even struggling, Armaros leaps back, knowing he needs to take on a new strategy. However, Kane goes on the offensive, using ventus surge to cast himself at Armaros. Throwing a punch at Armaros’s face, Armaros weaves out of the way and tries to slash at the armor of Kane’s extended right arm. Using his left elbow, Kane violently knocks the glass dagger out of Armaros’s right hand.
Bouncing along the concrete floor, the glass dagger disintegrates while Armaros recirculates iris into his left hand. Wrapping his left arm around Kane’s right, the assassin attempts to plunge his other dagger into Kane’s neck. Slamming it into the armor at full force, a small dent is made, but nothing severe enough to raise Kane’s concern.
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Suddenly, Kane adjusts his right arm to grab Armaros’s left wrist. Channeling iris into his right arm, Kane uses his amplified strength to fling Armaros’s left arm to the side. Swiftly circulating iris back to his left arm, Kane’s fist slams into Armaros’s chest. Wheezing, Armaros is sent tumbling back, and he loses his grip on his second dagger.
Worried about being hurled into the concrete walls, Armaros braces for impact as he feels a powerful gale fly past his body. His momentum slows, and Armaros suddenly slingshots back toward Kane, who catches him by the throat and slams him into the ground.
“My wife may have been lacking as an iris wielder, but even she would’ve beat you in this state,” hisses Kane, slowly dragging Armaros off the ground by the neck.
Tossing him in the air, Kane jumps up and strikes the assassin right in the gut. Coughing up blood, Armaros is sent hurtling into the concrete wall, barely having time to disperse iris around his body to defend himself. After crashing through the wall, Armaros quickly tries to get to his feet, the wind knocked out of him.
“There you go. That’s the resilience of a paragon right there,” mocks a hovering Kane, using ventus surge to pitch Armaros’s body back up into the air. “As an operator for Stryde…”
Kane easily dodges Armaros’s feeble attempt at a punch, the assassin attempting to get used to Kane’s elemental ability. His foot enhanced with iris, Kane kicks Armaros in the torso, the assassin plummeting through another concrete wall.
“You should know they only send their best on missions. Their strongest.”
Blood spilling out of his nose and his forehead, Armaros gets to his feet even faster this time.
“Rift flow…” wheezes Armaros, disappearing from sight with a silver flash.
“And you,” says Kane, following Armaros’s unique iris trace.
Retrieving two new daggers from his Kathos realm, Armaros remains in an intangible state as he positions himself high up on the wall. Channeling iris into his feet, he jumps off the wall directly at Kane, who is looking in the opposite direction. Exiting rift flow at a lightning-fast velocity, Armaros is about to thrust his two enhanced arms across his body to slash his opponent.
Raising a singular hand, Kane emits a massive surge of wind, completely halting Armaros’s momentum. Rotating to look at Armaros, Kane’s hand twists, and Armaros’s body shrivels up. Forced to release his daggers, they fall to the ground as Armaros is suspended in the air, only supported by Kane’s ventus surge ability.
“Are far too weak to be useful.”
Armaros’s eyes whip around for some sort of out.
“Ah ah, eyes on me. The only way you’re getting down from here is if I release you,” says Kane.
The assassin’s eyes meet the crusader’s, and Kane’s eyes spark for an instant. Armaros suddenly feels his throat constrict, and his breathing becomes significantly inhibited. Honed cherry-red veins appear in the assassin’s watery eyes before long, and Armaros desperately starts trying to reach out and grab Kane.
His legs flailing in the air; that was the only thing the assassin could do in a futile attempt to live.
“You mentioned to me before… that your purpose in life right now is to go back to Racafi. Because there you will receive a punishment for failing, and then they will fix you. You said that, right?”
Giving the general a faint nod, Kane continues, “But earlier, you spoke as if you have a choice now. And you claimed that you didn’t know what you wanted to do. Tell me. Do you have the right to choose?”
Not knowing how to reply, Armaros stares at Kane, struggling to breathe.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked that differently,” says Kane, getting closer to Armaros. “For all those people you killed… did you offer them the right to choose whether they wanted to live… or die?”
After a second, the assassin slowly shakes his head. Kane slowly raises his chin.
“Right now, are you scared?”
Armaros nods.
“Why?” asks Kane, easing up a little on his grasp.
“I– I don’t…” gasps Armaros.
“You don’t want to die?”
Armaros nods again.
“But Stryde didn’t tell you to be scared when your life is in danger. So, why are you? If you senselessly killed people before because of Stryde’s orders, why do you fear me now? Why are you scared to die if you’re nothing but a tool to them?”
The assassin doesn’t give the general a reaction, so Kane answers for him.
“Human nature. It’s in your blood to want to live, because you’re not a robot. That’s also why you held back against my son. Stryde may have attempted to bury your emotions in the past to make you strong, but you made a connection with Alex, and now I’m seeing how much of a broken toy you are,” Kane sighs. “In this world where the strongest sits at the top of the food chain, those beneath them have to listen to what they say. The strong choose what to do with the weak; our lives are in their hands. So, listening to them is the way we survive. You listened like a loyal dog, and they turned you into a murderer. An infamous assassin who didn’t even know what it felt like to be on the verge of death.”
“What… are you trying… to say?”
“I believe we… are more alike than I want to admit.”