Ozborne’s fist rocketed her way faster than a speeding bullet. Sydney spun around and blocked it with her left arm, but the jolt of the impact still shook her bones all the way up to her shoulder. She grunted, skidding back across the sandy ground.

An excited cheer rose up from his underlings, chanting his name in a rising fervours.

“Lord Ozborne is the best!”

“Show that stinkin’ Qithari why we rule the Badlands!”

“Knock her damn head off!”

Ozborne swept toward her, swift and lethal, trying to close the gap in a flurry of harsh punches. Sydney danced around his attacks with fluid grace, her body moving in a practised rhythm. Admittedly Ozborne was more lethal than the opponents she used to spar with, but he wasn’t as skilled or disciplined as they were.

His punches were wild and violent, and he was certainly far faster than any of his kin. But there was a sluggishness to his swings, and he telegraphed each one. Sydney had no doubt he’d relied entirely on his natural strength to beat his enemies into submission, where no normal Kothiri could hope to keep up with him.

Her footwork was quick and agile, dancing around his swings as she tried to keep within the flickering firelight of the camp. More than once he got close enough to barely graze her, but he didn’t catch her off guard enough to make her block again.

Sydney sidestepped another punch and countered, clocking Ozborne in the jaw and sending him skidding backward. A flood of gasps broke out among his followers, who proceeded to watch on in horrified silence. Ozborne staggered, caught himself, and jumped back to avoid another strike from Sydney.

“You’re… fast,” he huffed, rubbing the bruise on his jaw. Deep red against his purple skin. “I’ll give you that much.”

“Yeah, you’re quick too,” Sydney replied. And rather tough too, if he was still standing after a direct hit from her. Him being some kind of sorcerer didn’t feel so far-fetched now. Sydney smiled. This fight actually felt kind of fun now.

She swept toward him in a blur, testing the waters with a series of flicker jabs. Focused, lightning fast jerks of her arm. They closed the distance with ease, and Ozborne only barely blocked the first three as they crashed against his forearms. His hide was tough, harsher on her knuckles than a heavy bag.

Her fourth punch was on the mark, striking Ozborne’s jaw and snapping his head to one side. Blood sprayed from his lips in an arc, a pained wheeze escaping him. He stumbled only to quickly right himself and throw his weight at Sydney with renewed ferocity.

His fist met her gut like a sledgehammer, nearly driving the air from Sydney’s lungs. She stumbled, briefly stunned by the clean strike. Enough that Ozborne could close the gap and uppercut her in the chin. Her vision swam from the jolt, and she barely even noticed the renewed cheers kicked up by the Sons of Speed.

Soon the two were dancing back and forth, trading blocks and dodges. Sydney was still holding back significantly, not wanting to knock his block clean off. But, in doing so, it made it easier for Ozborne to apply pressure in his own attacks.

To an extent, at least. Sydney was testing the waters to see what he was actually capable of, but it seemed that he was already at the limits of his own strength. Not able to break her guard or bypass her reflexes once Sydney started to draw more power from her Divine Brand.

The back of her knuckles met Ozborne’s cheek, flinging him off his feet into a whirling cartwheel. He landed roughly a few meters from her, a pained cry rising in his throat.

Sydney exhaled and came to a halt. “You put up a good fight, but let’s call it here. You aren’t beating me.”

“Hah…” Ozborne pushed himself to his feet. The darkness around him shimmered with greater intensity, waves of heat pouring off his purple flesh. “I ain’t done yet.”

An explosive wave of power erupted from his body, the ensuing gale forcing Sydney to wince against it. Suddenly, Ozborne’s emaciated body began to grow and bulk up, muscles surging and expanding beneath his skin until it grew taut from the rising mass. He grew more than half a foot in the blink of an eye, veins distending on his shoulders and forearms.

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“Lord Ozborne’s going all out!”

“N-never seen him use this much strength before!”

Sydney ignored the gawking of the others, focusing on the newly transformed Kothiri. Ozborne hissed as he raised his gnarled right hand. His aura coalesced around his fingers, like an ignited flame. It grew larger and brighter, until a blade of blazing orange energy had fully wreathed his hand.

When he spoke, his voice had become deeper and harsher. A rasp, where each breath was a straining effort. “You’re… done for!”

He closed the distance in a blur, so fast that Sydney’s eyes widened and she only barely jerked aside to avoid a slash from the Kothiri. The glowing blade skimmed close enough to slide a few stray locks of hair in passing.

“Shit!” Sydney’s foot snapped out, the impact of her heel like a boom of thunder against Ozborne’s ribs. The ground shook, and he was shunted a few meters back. Yet he recovered quickly, as if he’d barely felt the blow at all.

His attacks were swift and brutal, always leading with that blazing knife of energy wreathing his digits. More than once Sydney dodged a downward slash, only for Ozborne’s hand to carve a deep scar in the ground where she’d been standing. Bit by bit, their fight was leading them away from the main body of the camp, into the darkness of the surrounding night.

A few of the Sons of Speed followed after, carrying lanterns affixed to long poles. These barely cut into the dark. But the blaze in Ozborne’s hand was able to cast a bright glow for quite a distance.

Another slash only barely missed her. But Ozborne reacted quickly, spinning and booting Sydney in the chest. She skidded back, grunting at the flash of pain. She felt that one alright… Perhaps she’d have to hold back less, even if the thought of killing was still distasteful to her.

Ozborne lunged at her with a sweeping slash. Sydney rolled away, her eyes widening as his blazing energy blade cleaved clean through a boulder near where she’d been standing. Tiny streams of molten rock briefly dribbled from the wound, before cooling and hardening in place.

The Kothiri was huffing for breath, each movement belching a cloud of steam from his mouth. The protruding veins on his body pulsed powerfully, and he looked increasingly misshapen.

“Whatever you’re doing to yourself, it’s made you crazy strong… but you’re burning out fast, big guy. Better give up, before you hurt yourself.”

“I just need… to beat you before the strain gets too strong,” Ozborne growled. His muscles bulged again before he hurled his weight at he with a renewed ferocity. This time the edge of his blade nicked Sydney’s shoulder, the Chosen crying out at the sudden pain. Blood hissed from the fresh wound, forming thin streams down to her elbow.

Sydney struck back faster than she expected, a flicker jab that caught Ozborne off guard and knocked him off balance. She pressed the assault, catching his ankle while he was in mid-flight. She flung and thrashed him about, smashing him into the ground again and again, each impact uprooting a chunk of earth. The thunderous crashes drowned out his pained cries.

She flung him into the scarred boulder, which shattered apart as his body collided with it. Sydney huffed, trying to ignore the burning pain in her shoulder. It wasn’t the first time she’d been cut by a blade, as unpleasant as the memory was. But there was a world of difference between being slashed by a jibbering crackhead, and being cut by some burning energy blade.

The remnants of the boulder exploded into a cloud of dust. Ozborne snarled, blood oozing from a myriad of small cuts that had been carved into his flesh. “I… won my throne with strength. And I… won’t… lose!”

His aura blazed to life, like a fire that just had a splash of gasoline tossed onto it. His muscles swelled and bulked up further, triggering squirts of blood from his fresh wounds. He grew larger and larger, snarling like a mad beast, and Sydney found herself recoiling in shock. Then, suddenly, he seized up and went rigid.

And hit the ground with a dull thud, dead as a doornail.

All fell silent. Sydney stared at Ozborne’s corpse for several moments. “You… good?” She inched closer and nudged him with her foot. No response. “Did… you give yourself a heart attack?” His muscles expanding like that could not have been healthy.

“Well… shit…” She looked toward his slackjawed henchmen, who were staring wide-eyed at their dead leader.

“She… killed the Speed King,” Kalmer muttered.

“What… do we do now?”

“Well… uh…” another one at the head of the pack trailed off, looking uncomfortably at the fur cloak held in his hands. “The title is always passed down to whoever can kill the old leader. Which means that this Qithari is… technically… now the king of the Sons of Speed.”

“W-what?! A Qithari?!”

Sydney blinked a few times. She wanted to protest. If anything Ozborne had killed himself. But when she looked beyond the crowd, to all the resources in their camp… this certainly beat sweeping floors to scrounge up a few coins. Especially if she got a bike out of this. And this way she could make sure the Elpeth went unharmed.

Before she knew it, several of the Kothiri had approached her. The lead knelt and offered the cloak to her. “We’ve… never been led by a non-Kothiri. But there’s a first time for everything. So please, noble King, lead us well.”

This day was just getting weirder and weirder. But, in a good way.

So, casually, she lifted the cloak and flung the pale white fur around her shoulders. “Yeah yeah. You need a king? Then I’m your gal.”