"Durkhann-Ye. Are you certain that is a wise course of action? I can't help but feel like we are playing with dangerous matters here." Durkhann's old friend, Aekhron, was staring intently at the glowing green sphere carved with runes lying on the other runeweaver's workbench.

"-Ye? Are we back to formalities Aekhron? Did the cook spike your porridge?" The younger scientist Durkhann had his raven-black hair tied up in a ponytail. He was presently using a hammer and chisel to carve more runes on said sphere. "Hardly anything I do is wise. You have to know that." He smiled. Doesn't mean I'm ever wrong though.

Aekhron had matte magenta skin and his sclerae and irises were of an inquisitive bright yellow color. He looked like he always had a question in mind. His short hair was the color of embers in wood. Dark brown with bright orange accents.

"We're bound for execution should the Council get wind of our… Exploits. They see what you're doing here, you're liable for torture as well."Aekhron said.

Durkhann stopped carving for a second, laying both tools onto his workbench and turning to his old friend. "Yes well, I suppose we ought not let the council get wind of our exploits then." He smiled broadly. Aekhron hated that smile. A smile of arrogance, overconfidence…

"A smile of Durkhann…" Was Aekhron's mantra for whenever his friend was being callous about putting his own life in peril. "You keep this up, I'll torture you myself, you malfunctioning fire rune."

How dare you, geezer. Durkhann portrayed mock offense at Aekhron's taunt. "Next you'll be telling me we should have not killed Your Divine Assholeness."

"I had better kill you myself, should you speak this openly about it." The older runeweaver sighed. "Fine. Why don't you tell me exactly what it is you're doing here?" He approached the workbench cautiously. Durkhann noticed his apprehension.

"It won't hurt you, 'Worrywart-Ye'. It's inert. Here:" he pointed towards a specific cluster of runes, arranged in a pattern. "This is the important part. My magnum opus." Durkhann smiled his cocky smile again. "Do you know what they're for?"

"I'm sure you'll tell me." Aekhron tried to sound exasperated but you're really bad at hiding your excitement before my genius, Durkhann thought.

"You know me so well. What did we discover by examining the Scar, about his runes and about his manipulation of Paracausality?" The younger scientist was setting himself up.

"In order to keep himself quasi immortal he meddled with it in a way as to revert any wounds or illnesses that befell him." Aekhron began. "Healing magic."

"Which as we both know, isn't possible. Right?" Durkhann was giddy as a kid in a sweets kiosk at this point. "I was able to stabilize them, old friend. This core, as soon as I mold it, will be the first Laraweian construct capable of Paracausal healing.

"Right." Aekhron sounded unconvinced. "I'm sure you'll be eager to show all the others your breakthrough. But I can hear your stomach grumbling from here." Cursed old man and your hearing, the younger friend thought. "Go eat your porridge. I'm not asking."

"Yes mommy, would you like me to drink milk as well so my bones grow strong?" Durkhann taunted.

Aekhron laughed. "Go, ‘Pain-In-My-Behind-Ye’. Grab Kraelitha-Ya too, she must be starving by now."The scholar with the black hole eyes undid his ponytail and stored his green orb back in his locker. Together with a mask with a fiend's face carved upon it.

– – – –

Aekhron… I couldn't save you. Couldn't save any of you. I can at least right some of my wrongs here and now.

In the present, Durkhann's creation, the Bestial Shell, lay face down after being struck by the Concussive Fist Technique runes. I broke his arm.

He knew his creation very well, so he just grimaced again as it set the researcher's arm back into place. Caldor hadn't spoken since the suit took control, but the runeweaver knew he could hear and see and feel everything. Durkhann kept grimacing. “Caldor-Ye, I apologize for any further injury I’m about to cause you. The only way to stop the Bestial Shell from moving at this point is forcing it to exhaust whatever energy sources it has left. That would be you, and its divine core.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The researcher donning the suit of armor was slowly circling Durkhann, arms low and close to the ground. Hard light claws dragging on the orichalcum floor, producing sparks. Both the runeweaver and the product of his work were sizing each other up before the next clash. Every few seconds, Durkhann would flare up his runes, like it is - was - customary for duels in Larawe.

The Bestial Shell moved first. It dashed towards its creator with killing intent. A sphere of hard, green light formed in front of the artifact’s mask, but instead of shooting it at Durkhann, the Shell grabbed it with one of its hands. It moved that hand in a swipe, to explode the energy orb against Durkhann’s face. No parrying, he thought.

The scholar slid under the arm that swiped at him, and grabbed it near the base, his back now turned towards the creature’s body. He swept Caldor’s feet and used the armor’s weight to throw him over his shoulder. The armor produced a loud sound as it hit the metal floor. Durkhann could hear Caldor’s heavy breathing.

“You’re the ghost of my past. I don’t intend on letting you remain on to the future. Much like the source of your sapience, you’re unworthy of living.” Durkhann directed this at his own failure, to reinforce his will, but didn’t realize that those words were really meant for him. His right arm’s runes shone their red light again, and he used his Vacuous Palm Technique. A vacuum was formed in front of his hand, and the Bestial Shell’s face was pulled towards it. He clutched his fingers around the fiendish mask and lifted his arm above his head.

Clenching his teeth, Durkhann slammed the suit, with Caldor inside it, on the floor. He could hear the man inside gasping for air. Quickly to avoid letting his conscience take over, due to the fact that a mostly innocent man was being hurt by his necessary violence, the runeweaver lifted the suit again, tossing it above him. He took a step back and with his left arm, delivered a Concussive Fist Technique blow against the lower back of the Bestial Shell. He could hear the sound of bones snapping inside it again.

“You and yours are hypocrites, creator. You claim to fight the tyranny of God and of the Council. But as soon as you realized that you created new life, you tried to do the same as them. You tried to control us, then when that didn’t work, tried to kill us.” The Shell said, using Caldor’s voice, as it healed his spine from Durkhann’s punch. It got up again, and assumed the same crouching stance as before. Ports all along the suit opened up, releasing that same green light. It looked like fire now, and propelled the Bestial Shell as it dashed towards Durkhann. When it reached him, it used all the momentum of the dash and the green fire boost to twist around and kick his chin upwards.

Durkhann could feel several of his teeth crack under the pressure of the strike, as well as a hairline fracture that spread like a fractal through his jawbone. He noticed that the only reason his jaw hadn’t been dislocated was the fact that he was clenching his teeth. Forcing himself to move through the blinding pain, he grabbed the now outstretched leg with his Vacuous Palm, to avoid letting it slip his grasp. Then, he punched the knee joint, sideways, with the Concussive Fist. He heard Caldor’s kneecap snap out of place and splinter like an old piece of wood. As the Shell attempted to heal that wound, Durkhann dropped the leg and moved towards its back.

He lifted Caldor from behind, holding the researcher’s arms, then said: “I’m sorry.” He locked Caldor’s arms behind his own head, and forced. He could hear both of his shoulder sockets snap out of place, and the suit’s influence wasn’t strong enough to suppress the Lens’ scream of agony. Durkhann dropped him again and could hear, and see, the suit spending more energy to revert the wounds. He saw the hard light claws shimmer faintly.

A turn went by, as creator and creation traded blows, with Durkhann creating injuries whenever he could in his attempt to force the Bestial Shell to exhaust itself. The runeweaver was bleeding from several deep cuts that the armor had inflicted, and determined that he had to end this soon, or I will pass out from exhaustion and blood loss.

As he breathed heavily, he looked into the bags he had stolen from the warrior he met in the lab some time ago. He noticed a short sword protected by a bundle of cloth inside the largest one. That sword, he realized, had cold runes etched along its blade. He had an idea.

Durkhann grabbed the sword and held it close to his body with his left hand. Then he waited. The Bestial Shell sprinted towards him and lept in a pounce, planning on grappling, then goring him. But as soon as it reached the air, he took a large step back, and using his Vacuous Palm, grabbed its headpiece - the fiendish visage. He slammed the armor and Caldor on the floor again, and used his Concussive Fist to drive Fiannah’s ice sword like a stake into the construct’s chest.

It shattered on impact, but he had already activated its runes. Each shard of steel shone a bright white light as the water in the air condensed, then froze around the Shell, encasing it in ice. He could hear the researcher’s heavy breathing again, and noticed the green runes becoming increasingly dimmer as man and armor both ran out of energy. Durkhann involuntarily sat on the floor, exhausted.

The Bestial Shell attempted to melt the ice around it by spending what little energy there was left to generate heat. “You won’t be in position to kill me if you do that. By the time you escape, my current strength will be more than enough to lock you down more definitely.

Durkhann said, trying to goad the suit into doing just that. He watched for half a turn as the ice slowly melted away. He got up when the suit was almost free.

It broke off the last bit of ice that was pinning its hand down, and looked at Durkhann, its green fiend’s eyes shining in rage. Durkhann immediately dashed to grab it, but he had misjudged how much energy he himself had left. He was too slow, and the suit managed to jump back. It looked above them at an air vent at the top of the amphitheater, and sprinted towards a wall. Using its claws to climb the wall, the suit crawled into the vent and disappeared, taking Caldor with it.

“I’ll put your souls to rest, I promise.” Durkhann said, alone, staring at the retreating artifact. “If it’s the last thing I do, I will fix my mistake. Then, I will join you all.”