His lips twitched in an answering smile. “No powers?” He asked, knowing she disliked giving away how strong she was. They'd shown off Anastasia's power to pull the students into the myth they were creating around the Harab Serapel. The school had to see her as unstoppable, a creature of elemental power, a goddess born to flesh. Alexandra already had that reputation, to show them anything other than total devastation would lessen her in their eyes, unless they did it without powers.
Grimacing, she nodded reluctantly as they made for the fenced arena. She wasn’t a hand to hand fighter. She knew the basics and given her vampiric speed and strength could butcher any meat that crossed her path without using a drop of blood. He survived the spars by never being where she thought he'd be, always on the flanks, never taking a blow straight, only ever diverting the flow of murderous intent. When she was in the fullness of her power, she was an engine of destruction, unstoppable, uncaring, a killing thing that knew only slaughter. The one thing that plagued his mind with equal parts wonder and terror was what she was like with a weapon in her hand.
Walking into the pen, his body fell easily into his stance, a wild violence pumping through him. Alexandra met his eyes with a crazy smile of her own. She didn’t care that she couldn't use her power, it only added to the excitement. It meant she could cut lose and go for his throat without worrying about killing him.
Anastasia leaned on the fence with a long suffering expression. “Your both as crazy as honey badgers on meth.”
It was in that moment that Alexandra flashed forward, her kick snapping into his ribs, lifting him slightly from the force. Her follow up hook punch tore through the air. Cesare ducked, shifted to the side with a sliding glide, elbow smashing into her lower ribs, causing her to curl back in a flinch.
Following him, her knees rocketed into his stomach, folding him over with an explosion of air. Powering down, her fist clipped his face, even the slight hit enough to send the world roiling around him. Spinning along her body, Cesare forced her to turn to keep him in sight. A bloody smile stretched across Alexandra’s face, basking in his pain, her eyes fired with an almost sexual light.
Fighting defensively, Cesare couldn't attack until she missed, and so far she was pretty damn dead on. He’d known she'd adapt to his style; it had only been a matter of time. Her attacks were simple, the bare bones of technique, packed with the power of an angry sledgehammer. Even without powers, she was the strongest person he’d ever faced.
Blasting through his guard, her fist rocked his head back in a blaze of red pain. Ducking under the follow up punch, Cesare slid under her guard, widening his stance, body dropping and compressing, uncoiling in a rush. The elbow cracked her chin, staggering the vampire, a thin tendril of blood spilling from split lips, dripping off blade sharp chin.
Smiling with blood smeared teeth, arousal burned her eyes. Surging forward she led with an over the guard punch, she liked to use her power to bully through his guard. Why change what was working? Leaning back, he let her punch race past him. Coming in behind it he laid a spearing blade hand into her arm pit, Alexandra recoiled in pain, body clamping down over the hit.
Swinging wildly, she threw a sweeping haymaker meant to keep him away while she recovered. Dodging her arm he speared the other arm pit, tearing a grown from her lips. Stumbling back, Alexandra rolled her shoulders stretching her arms with a grimace.
While she had power and speed his precise strikes evened out the fight. When she hit, she hit hard, and there was no way to mitigate that. He hit places that caused damage far out of proportion to the power put into them. Cesare relied on technique, a fickle master at the best of times while Alexandra’s depended on raw power.
A crimson grin split the psychopaths face, eagerly pushing back into the gauntlet, but she’d used up what credit she had with Lady Luck. Cesare ravaged her, flowing around her attacks with an ease that brought a hiss of frustrated anger. Every mistake she made was punished, cutting fists slicing into soft tissue, hammering elbows breaking down the steel of her body.
Cesare knew she was using her vampiric skills to heal from the strikes. Alexandra couldn’t seem to be anything less than untouchable. But they knew who was winning. Desire wove in the air as they fought, the spiteful twin to lust. It was rage and fury bound to a sadistic need that hungered for pain. He liked hurting her as much as she liked hurting him, loved her more every time she violated his body with her brutal need to see him bleed.
They danced, caught in their game of dominance. This is where they found their truth. This back and forth, blood and pain, walking the straight razor's bloody edge, leaving bits of flesh along its blade. This was the world of animals and beasts, butchers and killers. The lion met him with all her ferocity, claws seeking tender flesh as the wolf kept just out of reach, a taunting target snapping at the lion’s flanks.
Alexandra could heal, but Cesare had to deal with every bruise and ripped muscle. Stepping back, he ended the spar with a greedy smile, a tongue of blood dripping off his chin. Stepping forward with a deranged smile, Alexandra's eyes swam with psychotic madness that was only slowly reigned in. It was never a sure thing, more than once she'd lunged for him after he'd ended the spar. He couldn't control her, even she couldn't control her, but relationships were complicated. Licking the blood off her teeth, Alexandra’s eyes ran over Cesare’s body hungrily.
He met her eyes with a desire equal to hers, matching her readiness with his own. He wanted to keep fighting, but if they went any further it would turn into a drag out no holds barred fight. Something that would settle the issue between them once and for all. But he’d lose, and there was no way he'd start that fight until he was ready, some fights had too much on the line to leave up to your dick.
She stepped back with a knowing smile. Applause roared around them; only now did they notice the crowd jammed along the fence. Cesare's students were front and center, clapping and cheering. Pushing around them and lining the fence were the gladiators, cheering as loudly if not louder. Sampson was easy to pick out, standing with his army around him, whistling loudly into the applause. Elizabeth and Anastasia were given more than enough room as they leaned causally on the fence, adding their more subdued cheering to the cacophony.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Cesare snagged the towel Sampson threw him, cleaning off his sweat streaked face. Coming up next to him, Alexandra was fresh as when they'd started. Laying down her back, the golden pure hair was as immaculately braided as when they'd met this morning.
Walking to where the women waited at the fence, Elizabeth smiled as she exchanged his towel with a damp one to scrub the dirt and caked blood off his face. “Seems you’ve made an impression.”
“It’s not me they’re impressed with,” Cesare said, draping the towel over the fence. “Alexandra took everything I could throw at her without missing a step. That’s what’s got them hot.”
Shaking her head, Elizabeth looked at him in exasperation. “You have no idea how you affect people.” She gave a tight gesture that took in the gladiators milling around talking excitedly about the fight. “They watched you go toe to toe with Alexandra Dracul in a sparring match, that to my untrained eye, looked a lot like you beating the tar out of her. You faced her with nothing but your fists and stopped her.”
“I didn’t win,” Cesare said looking between the three intense woman.
“They knew you weren’t going to beat her, Cesare.” Anastasia cut in, trading looks with Elizabeth. “What impressed them was you held her, meeting her blow for blow.” Turning to the vampire, her question was as pointed as it was simple. “How many do you think could've held you off?”
The question caught the vampire by surprise, the two almost never addressed the other. Alexandra rested her eyes on the akatharton for a long second before sweeping the still talking gladiators with a considering look. “In hand to hand, none,” she said meditatively, dissecting the gladiators. “They wouldn’t know how to deal with my strength and speed. They’d come thinking they could stand and bang and I’d kill them. Even those with the skills, don’t have Cesare's style. They've never fought someone that can tear them apart with their bare hands. They're used to being matched up, not hunted.”
Anastasia nodded. “That’s what has them talking. You faced her, held her, and are still walking. That’s what’s impressed them, not that a vampire they all know is strong turned out to be strong.” Cesare shrugged; he didn’t agree but he wasn’t going to fight about it either.
The mass of Cherries and gladiators had wandered over to the dummies, posing the bamboo men. Excited at the change in their area, the Cherries lapped up the envy of the others as greedily as mothers’ milk. Dressed in paper thin armor, black from years of sweating students, stitches crisscrossing frayed leather, they were dressed in what they were, cast off garbage. This was the only time the gladiators had ever paid attention to them without being told to.
In this moment, the Cherries could pretend to belong. It didn’t matter that the others were only cared because of what they had. They’d rather lie to themselves for a few minutes then face they’d never belong.
The crowd parted, a hush rushing over the kids as Jerold walked through them, inspecting the wooden men for himself. Cesare stopped Elizabeth before she’d taken more than a step, wanting to see how this played out. With a word from Jerold, the murmillo fanned out, each matching up with a priceless work of art. No one was training anymore, they'd watched Anastasia's display and stayed for Cesare's fight, now all eyes were on Jerold and his elite.
The three murmillo were the best fighters at Primrose, coming from families that had pushed them into fighting before they could talk. Years of training, day after day, hours stretching into the thousands, they were born and breed to fight. In the prime of their physical lives, beyond this point they'd get technically better, but their bodies would never be more adaptive.
In a flash of silver, swords sliced air, hitting the bamboo in a unified boom of precise power. Running through a dizzying array of combinations, the three fighters danced around the dummies, swords diving, slashing, and piercing. Serpents of steel, their swords wove a spiders web of silver traceries through the air.
Alexandra gave a low whistle of appreciation. “That’s some hard-core talent right there.”
“Good enough to hold you?” Cesare asked with a smirk.
She met his smirk with a serious look. “No, but not because of skill. It’s why they'll never be more than talented athletes. They lack my raw power and the skill of the Scientiam Sanguine. If we fought as humans, they might be able to hold me for a time, but I'm stronger than any human, faster than they'll ever be, eventually that edge would kill. There's is no way they could match my natural gifts, mendacium or Umbrae Lunae, I'll always be faster and stronger. The lion doesn't fear the rabbit.”
Watching the controlled frenzy of movement, her voice turned thoughtful. “That’s the real difference between us and them. They’re practicing an art; we’re learning to kill. They think they're warriors, but they’re athletes. We kill because it’s who we are. It might be to save someone or avenge a hurt, but that's just the pretty paper we dress the reason up in, we kill because we don't hold life sacred. We know people are only flesh and meat, nothing more than fancy cows. They don’t understand, they’re fighters, not soldiers.”
The others eyed them with uneasy expressions. They couldn’t understand, neither of them felt the wild pull to hurt others. Alexandra knew the dark needs that threaded Cesare’s skin, the sadistic flare of arousal at dealing agonies sacraments. The barbarous joy at being hurt by a worthy opponent. They couldn't understand that cruel part of him.
The murmillo finished with a synchronized steely rasp of sheathing blades. The fighters parted so Jerold could inspect the green men. Starting forward, Elizabeth fell into step at Cesare's side.
Grouped around the icy man, the murmillo were deep in conversation. “… it’s amazing, not even a scratch. We could use them to simulate any attack or defense. No more worrying about going full out in a spar to get a counter perfect,” the gladiatrix said, fingers tracing the grain of the dummy.
“Or when we’re working on the timing for a capture and cut,” the pretty blond Murmillo said.
“But can we trust anything that comes from a thing like her?” the tanned boy’s tone was heavy with suspicion.
The group turned as one at Cesare's approach. Jerold’s eyes skipped him to look at Elizabeth. “This is superior work. If I'd known you could do work like this, I would've asked for a few to outfit my better students.” Jerold paused, studying the bamboo men with satisfaction. “They're too fine to waste on the … Cherries. The palus will be fine for them.”
The excited, proud expressions of Cesare’s students shattered under the blow of Jerold’s words. For a time, they’d had something bright and shining, something new and special. That gift had been stripped away and given to the ones that already had everything.
“Don’t worry, I’ll set aside a new place for Cesare to teach the Cherries.” Jerold eyed the garden of carnage with an avid smile. “This will be a kingdom for the murmillo alone. It's fitting that they should have the best place to train. They've given their lives over to the Sanguinem Nativitate, had their bodies shaped into weapons, this will be their reward for that dedication.” The murmillo turned triumphant smile's on Cesare and the Cherries.