...Breathe...Just a few gasps of air, no matter how disgusting the taste in your mouth is...What is this..? Piss? Shit?..Blood? A tooth? No time to think about it, I just have to breathe.

Faint gasps clinging to life whispered from within the collapse, thoughts continuing to run through the battered mind of the young sorcerer who refused to accept the fate weaved for him by the blade of the cosmos as his hands began to dig his aching body out of the rubble—nails chipping and bleeding fingers as he struggled to lose himself from his bind.

As his hands began to navigate their way through the remnants and his skin could feel the cold kiss of the outside air, the outlaw started to draw breath once again as, after a grueling few moments of drowning in the hollow brick of the underworld, Ascel's head was finally out of the water—the air that flowed through his lungs now running clear as he stumbled his way atop the foundation of the collapse.

The mage began to regain his bearings, clothes ripped and coated in bruises and soon-to-be scars as he forced his malfunctioning bangle to activate, the intangible spellbook flickering as it appeared above his wrist.

As the device struggled to summon a glyph of verdant greens and elegant curves, the mage began to slowly revitalize themselves as each open wound was closed shut with the pain that filled each of his nerves numbing—not gone, but now bearable as his breathing slowed and his heartbeat eased. Even so, healing spells require incredible precision to use—something Ascel did not have the skill nor focus to employ, meaning broken bones and internal damage were seldom repaired

"There were more layers below us...Those were the first to go, seeing as there's still a 'roof' over my head, that means the city didn't go down with us..." He whispered to himself, each word accented with a dry cough of dust and blood as he struggled to speak, "...What a goddamned mes-" But amidst the calm of the dripping water and stirring brick, the silence was upended by the noise of metal clanging across the barren chambers, causing the bruised spellslinger to follow the sounds.

Climbing up the pile of rubble with broken bones and torn skin, once he reached the top of the mountain of debris, he saw that the champions of heaven and hell were far from being felled.

Below Ascel, the crater ran deeper, flows of stagnant water and piles of shattered brick filling the space as two figures of torn leather and dented metal clashed within the newly-formed ruins, trading blows relentlessly even through their weary breaths.

"Come on, where's that regal spirit of yours! I actually kind of liked it!" A voice still brimming with an unshakeable vigor taunted, simultaneously summoning a shield of brilliant blue above his bruised arm, resembling a triangular glyph, rigid while emitting a dull light.

"Silence, sorcerer." The Lodefist renounced, swinging his loathsome blade down upon the outlaw's defense, nearly shattering it as the collision caused sparks of indigo and azure to burst at the scene.

The cunning spellgun shakily held his ground, his heels digging into the bedrock as he received the heavy blow, the rune upon his arm barely maintaining its shape as it cracked like glass as bits of it fell and dissipated into the ground—his arm still trembling seconds after the impact.

The blackhat had lost all of their wiles and charms as their ensemble was tattered, torn, and dirtied, with their face swelling and painted with bleeding cuts, the silver lines upon their mane glistened slightly, scowling brows looking upon their enemy with palpable scorn.

However, this abandonment of poise was not reserved to hell's champion, as opposite him, the once pristine heavenly warrior stood with cracked armor tainted with the excrement of those he once considered lesser beings—markings of shame and indignity upon heaven's vessel.

"Come on!" Davi howled, holding his shuddering arm steady as his shattered guard replenished itself—energy flowing from his hand and into the aegis as its edge was restored, "Can't even break an old man's guard! Where's all your high and mighty bullshit now!?"

"Within each of my swings, criminal." Retorting without hesitation, the knight similarly imbued his armament with energy as sparks of mana condensed on the blade's edge as the knight's assault continued.

The aging spellgun remained flexible as he bobbed and weaved through the attacks, dodging broad sweeps to plunging stabs—all of which barely grazed him as the blade took threads off his coat and hairs off his head.

Bloodlust coated the atmosphere of the underworld thick as each missed swing electrified the air from the Paladin's might, and each fleetful evade whistled softly as the wind rode the coattails of the outlaw.

"You know not what it means to serve a purpose greater than yourself." With heavy words came heavier slashes as the noble-sent remained steadfast in their pursuit for their devil's neck.

Efraim pivoted in place, carrying their blade from the back of their waist and forward to build up for a massive cleave to tear its target asunder.

But such power was balanced by a sluggish execution, "And you don't know what it feels like to fight for your life every waking day!" Countering both the tongue and steel of the knight, the lawbreaker slid to the floor below the weapon before drawing a pair of handcannons that fired a tandem of drilling water and galvanic slugs—the twin firearms siphoning energy from the fingertips of the sorcerer as they crackled with mana loaded in their barrels.

Now crouched to the floor, the spellslinger's fingers pulled back as mystical bullets were loosed and collided with the dense hide of the Paladin—the wizened eyes of the mage locked into areas of the knight's armor that were weakened and chipped by the collapse—each shot thirsting to taste blood hidden beneath the impenetrable scales.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Metal was dented, and platings were fragmented as the ever-opportunistic sorcerer took advantage of the opening to sink their fangs into each kink in the knight's armor.

"Hng..." By some miracle, this attack managed to earn a masked grimace from the sentinel, whose grip ever-so-slightly weakened on their blade before balling their left into a fist to deliver a backhand at their aggressor, which was skilfully blocked with a runic shield summoned in response by the cunning desperado to guard their grin—the blow releasing an ear-piercing crackle of sound even as it was deflected by the spell.

With the sentry seeing yet another attack fail, he refused to leave further gaps in his offensive to be exploited—class and elegance disappearing as ruthlessness began to govern their actions.

Without drawing back his fist, he raised one leg up, causing sounds of scraping metal as his interlocking plates turned and twisted before slamming his foot down with an aftershock of royal purple, cratering the ground and causing an uplift of bedrock and debris.

Not wanting their legacy to end underfoot, Davi jumped away at the last second—but even so, the sheer force of the stomp launched him back like a shockwave, causing the mage to draw a glyph of curving whites and hazy lines upon his bangle to summon gusts of wind below his feet to catch his fall.

As his tumble became a glide, and clouds cushioned his descent, the soft sound of an autumnal breeze echoed wistfully in the catacombs before the sorcerer planted his feet back to the earth—legs firm with grace fleeting as the runic symbols above his bangle began to shift.

"For you, this is just your day job." The mage began, the glyphs above his wrist turning into jagged reds, which gleamed brilliantly as the veins in his arm became visible with a dull orange hue, "But for me, this is the fight of life. Keep that in mind when you try underestimating me again." The energy began to condense into his palm as a blistering ball of fire was conjured forth from nothing.

Davi looked at the noble with a dancing flame in his eyes, embers falling from his fingers as he contained the light before eyeing his target and releasing it from his grasp towards the titan.

The blazing orb flew through the air, trailing cinders as it swelled with each second it flew and illuminating the underworld like an artificial sun in orbit.

Stalwart, the Paladin stared at the incoming inferno, emotions absent on his mask and in his stance even as the ball dared to engulf him—orange light beginning to paint his reflective mail.

And without a word, he raised his sword to his helm like a shield, imbuing it with a massive amount of mana as its glow battled the flame for luminous dominance in the darkness.

Lilac and vermillion radiance clashed before the spell finally made contact with the blade, and the air between the pair became superheated— thundering shockwave expanding forth as water was boiled and cobble brick was melted by the blast.

The air returned to its stagnant calm after a few seconds—the sounds of smoldering and dust settling filled the space before the heavy breaths of the exhausted sorcerer followed—his arms dropping to his sides as his body was pushed to its limit.

"How's...that for a rat..." And through uneasy breaths, the entire body of the mage soon followed as he fell to the floor on his knees, sweat, blood, and perhaps even tears dripping from his wrinkled face.

But in the silence that followed, hell did not sing for its triumphant victory over heaven's champion. Instead, an uneasy quiet was all that sounded in the abyss of Gaksi.

But the song was not yet over.

"If that is all you see in your pitiful life, then let me grant you one mercy," Within the crater of rubble and dust cloud echoed a deep voice akin to that of grating metal, "May this be your last day fighting." The Lodefist decreed as an outline of violet appeared within the haze—drawing back their blade and plunging it into the ground, causing the dust to dissipate and the very earth to shake.

Davi rushed to get back to his feet, but as his legs barely had time to take a stance, the cosmic blade released a surging fissure of amethyst light that cut a path toward the hellbound, “Gravity Flare.”

The veteran outlaw reacted best he could, summoning a pair of shielding sapphire glyphs beneath his feet right before the eruption of energy could pulverize his legs. Even so, this defense failed to completely nullify the force of the attack as the foundation underneath the sorcerer crumbled, sending him hurdling upwards as gravity practically reversed.

But the attack was not yet over.

Dodging is an impossibility when airborne. With no surfaces to use as leverage, one was left only to the whims of their opposing belligerent as they tumbled back down to the ground.

And this was a fact the Paladin knew well to exploit, as within the few moments that Davi was airborne, he released his armament from the earth and took a stance, planting himself firmly in place before raising his blade behind his shoulder and then hurling it like a spear at ludicrous speed that the space around it almost looked warped as it crackled with indigo glares.

But even as death hurtled towards him, the sorcerer was far from surrendering for as long as he drew breath and mana flowed through his blood, he was not yielding the life he had been so fiercely protecting to a hunk of metal.

In a split second of thought, the mage concentrated as much of his remaining energy into his chest as each vein and artery glowed a blinding blue through his skin and cloth as multiple azure shields appeared before his vitals, layering themselves and interlocking to create a defense with the beauty of cathedral glass and the strength of adamantine steel.

The blade whistled as it carved forth the air, searching for the embrace of the devil's flesh as its tip inched closer and closer to the opposing aegis.

Until the two energies finally met.

As the energies of sapphire and amethyst clashed like tidal currents, the blade shattered the first few layers with fragmenting echoes before losing its momentum right before the last shield—transferring its remaining kineticism as a shockwave that sent the sorcerer hurtling back as the sword fell to the earth.

Now crashing through the air like a helpless doll, the outlaw once again received the blessing of the bedrock as his body was careened earthbound, tumbling as bones were broken and skin was torn with each second that his body slowly and painfully struggled to stop.

One could see his hands glow a dull blue during this, a desperate attempt to protect himself as his battered mind reverberated in his skull.

After traveling a massive distance as a living projectile, friction finally took its toll as the lawbreaker screeched to a halt—his donned fabric coated in dust, sewage, and blood as he laid still with feeble breaths and scarred skin.

A cloud of dust was raised from the exchange, emerging through the darkness as the rotten air became veiled in a mist of debris, which, just as quickly as it settled, was cleared as a heavy mass whizzed through the air, returning to the hand of its silver sovereign.

The blade was welcomed into the iron grip of the knight, remaining unsullied and in prime condition as it reflected the little light that filled the space. The Paladin dropped its edge to the ground, pacing forward as he dragged it behind him, hewing a path with the blade's weight with each step.