Heat. The air distorted around the ivory great sword, and the young man’s brow began to bead sweat. He felt his heart beat violently in his throat, and although Eric stood almost ten paces away from him in the bare room, Ben remained wary of the man. He’d seen, or rather, failed to see, the handsome man’s movements back at the outpost in Moonvale when Ann had wounded him.
Eric pointed the Finger of Naevehulle at Ben with an arm held aloft. The tip of the blistering great sword was eerily still as the man spoke in a terrifyingly calm voice.
“There is no place for Old Worlders in this age. Despite this, you refuse my gift.” The Councilor paused and narrowed his brows at the young man. “I’ll ask you again. Will you give what I want willingly in exchange for your life?”
Ben clenched his jaw at the smothering power radiating from the blonde-haired man. He looked to Ann, who stood at his right, the ornate dagger drawn and her face, a scowl.
“Annie,” he said, and the Keeper met his eyes, brows raised in worry. “Whatever happens, don’t interfere.”
“My heart, I-” Ben interrupted her with a shake of his head.
She won’t run, no matter what I say.
“You swore yourself to me,” Ben said as the woman’s lip quivered, “So, I’m asking, no, I’m telling you to stay back.”
Ben saw her blue eyes begin to glisten before she closed them. She took three steps back and dipped her head. He turned to face the monster and flourished the plain spear.
“How about, fuck off,” he said with false bravado.
“I offered. Now my cousin’s wish has been satisfied.”
Eric lowered the great sword to rest its tip on the marble floor. The heat caused the stone to turn a dark yellow, and cracks formed from the weapon’s point of contact. He blurred. The young man’s instincts screamed at him, and he fell to a low crouch. A wave of heat assaulted the top of his head, and he smelled the acrid stench of burning hair.
Eric had closed the distance in a heartbeat, and Ben rolled to his side to create space. The monster stood calmly, cold eyes observing the Candidate with a subtle furrow of his brows. Eric took two slow steps toward Ben, who had recovered from the roll, and swung the great sword in a low lateral arc, intending to sever his legs. He jumped to avoid the attack and propelled his body forward as his feet met the floor, spear aimed at the man’s unarmored chest. Eric twisted his torso and evaded the thrust by a hair. His body kept the momentum and spun; the great sword followed in a blisteringly fast, diagonal, upward strike.
Ben fell backward ungracefully to dodge the terrifying blade, yet Eric stepped forward and threw a tight jab with his free arm at an exposed chin. The young man’s head snapped back as he tumbled to the floor, and his vision went white for a heartbeat. His eyes could see the attacks and, to an extent, his opponent's movements. Yet, his weak body couldn’t translate his experience, sparring in his domain, into actions as effectively as he could in the dream world.
He scrambled to his feet and readied his spear as the man approached.
He’s almost as good as Dee. Still…it’s impossible without drawing from my Avatar, and even if I do, I’ll be paste if I don’t kill him in that time.
Ben felt his hands tremble, and a thought brushed his mind. He remembered the closest he came to success when sparring with the first Herald was when he pressed her. When he had tried to observe and react to her attacks, he suffered for it. Ainsle had taught him how to dance. How to find the current of the battle and ride its tempo. He exhaled, willed the tension out of his shoulders, and met Eric’s gaze.
“Can we start again?” Ben said as he eased into the stance he had perfected through practice over countless days.
Eric didn’t react to the comment and maintained slow steps toward the young man. Ben grinned and felt the familiar current envelop him. The blonde man raised the ivory weapon above his head in a two-handed grip and took another step before bringing it down in a powerful strike. The young man sidestepped and spun on the balls of his feet. His spear twirled above his head in raised hands. He spun, and his plain spear sang in the air as its steel head whipped towards Eric’s face. Ben glimpsed the man’s eyes widen as he tilted his head backward to avoid the arc of the spear.
A rising swing of the great sword came as a reply, but the young man had already advanced into his attacker’s guard. He completed the rotation of the twirling spear, and a crack of wood against bone saw the Councilor’s head snap sideways in recoil from the impact to his temple.
Eric stumbled backward, dazed, yet Ben wasn’t taught how to relent. He took two light steps forward and feinted a thrust to his chest, eliciting a reaction to parry the attack. The young man dropped while twisting his hips and generated momentum with an outstretched leg that swept the floor in a half-circle. Ben thought of the bald Monk who had used a similar feint and sweep against him to great effect numerous times. The heel of his boot impacted Eric’s ankles and sent the man to the floor with a thud of flesh against the marble. The ivory great sword chipped the smooth stone before Ben as it followed its wielder.
The man snarled and rolled to his feet, settling into the stance the young man had observed him use at the outpost. Legs wide and body low. The great sword was held aloft in two hands, point facing downwards in front of the handsome man.
“Filth,” Eric spat. “I should’ve put you down like the rest of your kind in the Vale.”
Ben’s grin was wiped clean from his face, and he frowned at the man’s words. A deep rumble pervaded his being. He felt the weight of the Councilor’s presence grow unbearable. It felt tangible, as if his weak frame struggled to carry the burden. He flexed his thighs in a vain attempt to shrug off the oppressive aura, and his posture wavered for a heartbeat. Ben narrowed his gaze as he saw Eric’s eyes glow a pure radiant white. The rumble within the young man grew to a deafening tremor that felt physical.
Silence. Eric’s expression shifted from that of fury to that of a chilling impassiveness. He spoke without sound, and the word resonated deep within Ben’s bones.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“Judgement.”
He advanced with terrifying speed, yet Ben was able to track the movement. He took a panicked step aside to avoid a powerful blow that ended in an explosion of stone shards. A crater occupied the marble floor where he had stood. Eric blurred again, and Ben couldn’t completely dodge the rising slash of the artifact as he stumbled to create distance. He watched as the stout wooden haft of his plain spear was severed cleanly in two as he attempted to block the attack foolishly. Lazy tendrils of smoke wafted into the air from the blackened wooden ends of the cut. Ben discarded the broken weapon and raised his palms in the unarmed style of his former training partner.
The Councilor thrust the great sword, and Ben was too slow to dodge entirely. He felt a searing pain lance the side of his abdomen, and the black gambeson was set alight at the point of contact. He frantically patted the padded linen to smother the flames; an instinctual fear of being burnt alive allowed him to ignore his bubbling flesh. The gambeson smoldered, and he let out a grunt of pain. Adrenaline forced him to remain conscious.
Ben was alarmed by a foreign emotion that bloomed in his mind through his Keeper’s connection. A cry of pain interrupted the duel, and both men turned to see a bloodied Ann clutching a wound to her arm. She stood three paces from the writhing form of Luciana, whose dark skin began to lose color, on the cracked marble floor. The light on the ceiling started to dim, and the room was left in the ethereal glow of the early morning sun. Jor stood with her back against the wall next to the room’s exit with wide green eyes and a clenched jaw.
Eric pointed at the bleeding, blonde-haired Keeper, and Ben felt the familiar goosebumps of a spell being cast. The blonde man whispered.
“Rend flesh.”
A green light shot out from the tip of the man’s extended finger, and Ann reacted to the spell with a shout.
“Bone ward!”
A pale translucent wall of bones erupted from the marble floor and shattered instantly as the green bolt blew through its surface and struck the short woman in the chest above her breasts. Ann’s stained tunic was ripped apart in an explosion of blood and fragments of fabric. Her body was launched into the air and impacted against the room’s far wall. She fell in an ungraceful tumble to the floor. Her bloodied form lay motionless on the pure white marble.
Ben’s chest seared with pain from her weakening presence, as if a limb was cut off from his body. His mind cracked. And he faced the Councilor with a vacant stare. Eric turned his attention to the young man again and frowned at his slackened posture and empty gaze.
Ben’s vision went black, and he found himself standing in the clearing near the cave in the dark, foggy forest. He stood motionless, mind reeling at the loss of his Keeper.
Black smoke billowed from the forest in thick plumes. The trees were alight with the slow wafting flames he had seen wreath the form of his Avatar. The Beast materialized with crimson eyes, dripping the blackened-molten substance he had seen during their first few encounters. The obsidian feline lept into the clearing and landed with a loud tremor that shook the forest floor. It circled the young man, sniffing and assessing him.
“Give me your power,” Ben said, tone flat and emotionless. “Now.”
He stared vacantly at the cave. The halberd was missing. It no longer leaned against the stone wall in its regular place. The entity continued to circle the young man.
STRONG
WILL
WEAK
VESSEL
“I don’t care,” Ben said softly. “He will die.”
“He will die. He will die. He will die. He will die. He will die-”
“HE WILL DIE.”
The young man’s fractured mind scattered across the clearing with the wind of the Oath. The beast roared in a burst of sickening laughter that echoed and shook the trees of the slowly burning forest. He felt his veins sear with the smoldering intent of the entity. Agony wracked his being, yet Ben’s hatred overwhelmed his senses and numbed the pain.
CALL
UPON
ME
The entity conveyed its intent with a trace of amusement. Ben lifted his head with a slackened jaw to stare at the beast’s crimson eyes.
CALL
UPON
“Domination.”
Ben’s thin form erupted in black flames that billowed ethereally slowly. He stood in the room where his Keeper lay dead on the floor and opened his eyes to see Eric’s frown grow severe.
“Impossible-” the Councilor began before a boney hand impacted his face with a slap and gripped his skull.
Ben’s body screamed at him, yet his face remained impassive. His meager muscles felt as if they ripped and tore from his frame with each movement he made. He gazed at a wide blue eye between his index finger and thumb.
“You will die,” he said in a whisper.
His free hand balled into a fist and whipped in a low arc; the air droned in protest to the unnatural speed before impacting against the muscular flank of the Councilor in a loud thud. Eric clawed at the hand gripped tightly on his face, frantically trying to break the seemingly iron grip. Ben struck him. Again and again and again. Eric kicked and stomped at his midsection and legs before suddenly growing still.
Ben drew back his mangled fist for another strike, yet the blonde man caught his wrist and drew his knees close to his chest, still held aloft by the young man. Ben watched as the man pulled on his arms and extended his legs, causing well-made boots to impact his sternum. Eric’s eyes shone the same brilliant white light he’d seen earlier, once more granting the noble bastard strength beyond what his mortal form should be capable of as he wrenched himself free from Ben’s flaming grip. Both men fell to the chipped marble floor before scrambling to their feet.
“That power,” Eric said between deep breaths. “Wasted in such a weak vessel.”
He watched the Councilor raise a hand toward the discarded artifact before he launched himself at the monster. His shoulder slammed into the bruised ribs of the blonde man, eliciting a frustrated grunt as they hit the floor. Less than a heartbeat prior, Ben had felt the air displaced behind his head, undoubtedly the passage of the large greatsword being recalled to its wielder, yet missing the mark due to the displacement of his position.
The men grappled and rolled in the debris of the once pristine marble floor. They struggled as wrists were gripped, and short blows were exchanged between the pair of combatants. Ben felt bitter rage as Eric’s raw strength and experience proved to be superior to his will —he was being overpowered. The councilor bucked his hips, and the young man found himself with his back on the floor, being straddled by the blonde man. Powerful blows began to rain down on his head, shoulders, and arms.
He roared with a voice that didn’t belong to himself. The black, slow, billowing flames intensified. An intangible force repelled his attacker, and Eric was propelled through the air. A crash and a glittering explosion revealed the pale morning sky as the Councilor smashed into the opaque glass window and fell to the cobbled streets below.
Ben scrambled to his feet and ambled over to the edge of the broken glass wall. He peered out to see the blond man stand and recall his artifact to a bloodied hand. The ivory weapon whipped past his head with a drone and a gust of scalding air. The young man didn’t question how he survived the fall. Eric Vasylius still breathed. And that would need to change.
The Councilor stood in the empty street and aimed the ivory great sword at Ben. He felt power coalesce around the man, and a blinding white light erupted from its tip, straight toward his position. He rolled to avoid the cone of destruction, and shards of debris rained down around him. He rose to a crouch and leaned forward to gaze at the tall, blonde man in the street.
Ben felt an itch in his chest as he stepped back to leap down to meet Eric. He looked down to see an arrowhead protrude from his gambeson. Another sprouted next to the first, then another, and another.
He turned to face the room entrance and saw the green-eyed, raven-haired woman standing with her bow drawn.
Tears ran down pale, lightly freckled cheeks from bloodshot eyes as she laughed hysterically.
“Ben,” she said in a giddy voice. “I'm sorry.”