043 - Never Go Alone (Part 2)
“ROCKED BUT STILL EAGER TO GET BACK TO THE FIGHT, CONRAD IS BACK ON HIS FEET AND RE-ENTERING THE FRAY!
That attack had been no joke. Conrad was finished with half measures - there was no feeling this opponent out, it was all or nothing.
He sprinted forward, Offensive Aura still active he invoked the now off-cooldown Adrenaline Rush and Tireless, the extra power from Psych Up still coursing through him. Blade flashing in the magical white light of the Arena he went to work.
Immediately The Butcher turned, this time not bothering with its shield but swinging its sword with full intention of removing Conrad’s head. Wise to the move and reactions enhanced almost to the point of perceiving the wind cut by the weapon, Conrad moved only fractionally aside from the swing, holding his weapon crossways in front of his chest as the hand passed just above his face.
Using the thing’s strength and speed against it he nudged the blade of his weapon up at an angle and watched in the slow-motion induced by the skill as the steel began to cut through the only marginally protected fingers wrapped around the hilt of the weapon.
The Butcher completed the swing and, turning to continue the assault, noticed its sword, along with several fingers, flying through the air into the stands where it sank into a screaming fan, dropping the man and the weapon to the ground just outside the fighting pit.
“FIGHTS SO REAL YOU’LL SWEAR YOU CAN FEEL IT!” The Announcer quipped as the people surrounding the dead man recoiled momentarily before returning to excited cheering.
Seeing the creature distracted, Karno ran forward, a light similar to that of Imbued Strike but darker surged over his shield as he bashed it into the Butcher, sending it reeling backward.
Then it was Conrad’s turn, activating Imbued Strike he cut hard, severing thinning chains attaching plates to the longer hauberk protecting his enemy.
Back and forth they traded skilled attacks, pushing the Butcher back with each one. A Shockwave from Karno, followed by a second charge of Imbued Strike from Conrad, each skilled strike punctuated by an onslaught of mundane attacks.
Karno would hit him with another Shield Bash or Conrad an outthrust hand glowing with the power of Restrain, and always the other among them would be there, weapon flashing with the sparks of Offensive Aura and now beginning to find flesh beneath what had been impenetrable plate mail.
“THIS TAG TEAM ATTACK IS PUSHING THE BUTCHER TO HIS LIMIT! HE MIGHT AS WELL BE UNDERWATER BECAUSE THE DUO IS LEAVING HIM NO SPACE TO BREATHE!”
Then a shimmer of energy ran over the whole body of the four-armed monster. A flash of energy that Conrad knew all too well.
“Karno! BACK!” he shouted, too late.
Suddenly more than twice as fast as it had been moments before, the Butcher lashed out with the chain ax, forcing Karno into a clumsy ducking dodge. Enhanced by its own version of Adrenaline Rush, The Butcher swung wide with his larger shield, bashing Karno’s aside, leaving the man open for what would have been a killing thrust with his sword - if the creature still had fingers - but was still a full forced punch to the face that knocked Karno off his feet.
It rushed forward, killing spike on its buckler poised to strike when Conrad interposed himself, speed also enhanced and strength bolstered, he set to parrying blow after blow, pressing forward as hard as he could. But even with his marginally faster pace of attacks he was still facing a creature with multiple arms, and with the cooldown requirements for Imbued Strike and Restrain, there was little more Conrad could do than keep the monster back while Karno regained his feet.
The monster bellowed, kicking out with a booted foot the size of Conrad’s chest and sending him sprawling, knocking the wind from him completely. Karno was just finding his feet as the Butcher kicked him too, straight in the head and sending him flying, weapons left on the sand where he had been moments before.
The crowd moaned and the Announcer, almost giddy, called out, “THE TABLES HAVE TURNED!”
The Butcher bent down to retrieve Karno’s spear, taking it in two hands it broke the weapon over its knee and tossed it aside. Conrad had regained his feet, but it looked like Karno was the one who needed more than just a few moments to recover. The beast stalked forward, ready to finish the downed man but Conrad, a precious few seconds remaining in Adrenaline Rush, once again managed to stand in the way of The Butcher and his companion.
He sent his shield into his inventory, defense was not the play today, and pulled out Mara’s knife, the steel weapon feeling trustworthy and familiar as it entered his hand.
Trading blows was not going to work and so Conrad put everything he had into movement. Footwork was part of what Troy had given him with that fighting skill book from so long before but at this point, Conrad was fully innovating. He took long steps, jumped, spun, everything he could do to make use of his greater speed and agility and keep the freakishly strong Butcher from catching hold of him.
“COME ON!” He yelled, cutting at wrists and fingers with his knife at the same time as he cut wide and hard with his sword, adding new wounds to exposed areas and cutting more plates away from the monster.
It dropped its shield as Conrad swiped with his knife, taking a thumb. The chain ax became entangled in Conrad’s sword and, with a flick, it came loose from an already damaged hand but the weight of it and lack of balance in the movement sent both weapons careening away.
In a knife fighters crouch and breathing heavily, praying for an activation from Second Wind, Conrad passed his knife from hand to hand as the Butcher stalked him, weaponless now except for the spiked buckler.
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“Karno get the hell up!” Conrad called out, but the man seemed to be out cold.
The crowd grew quiet as the two fighters circled, not daring to breathe lest they be the ones to break the tension and send the monster barrelling down on Conrad to finish the execution started so many days before.
The Butcher gripped the tattered remnants of its armor and pulled them from its body, sending ringlets of chain mail flying. It slammed fists against its chest and roared at the surrounding crowd, settling its gaze back on Conrad as it prepared to end things.
Everything on cooldown, Conrad looked around for options. Behind him, Karno still lay unconscious. Defenseless.
The thought occurred to him that he could let The Butcher have him. He could step aside, retrieve his sword, and maybe even catch his breath while keeping his distance from the monster if he didn’t have Karno to defend.
It was the rational thing to do. Joining Conrad in the Arena on its own was not enough to make up for sending him here to begin with, and a few hours of training together and conversation hardly constituted the kind of friendship he had with Mara and Troy.
But didn’t it? Was friendship in a world torn between Order and Chaos measured so easily in time, as simple hours spent together? If that was the truth he should be out here with Mitch or even Jace, but neither of them had stood up to join The Tower or even suggested that they be given a chance to enter the Arena with Conrad as Troy had. And the time spent with The Shards of Order wasn’t more than a handful of battles, a night at a pub, and sundry tasks or training.
No, time made no difference, not here where the swing of a sword made a mockery of the years men thought they were born to live out.
The Butcher considered him cooly, savoring the moment before it attacked as Conrad’s brain raced back and forth between his choices - leave Karno to die, or stand in the way and give up his chance… to live?
To live. That was Conrad’s only responsibility. But what was a life lived in the knowledge of having left a man to die, a man who stood up to fight by his side knowing full well survival was far from a foregone conclusion?
Memory and time could be a traitorous duo - they robbed men of good moments or blurred them to the simple conclusion that, yes, that moment was good. While simultaneously where the greatest shames, failures, and worst defeats were concerned they burned the memories in, etched them permanently on man’s soul, and brought them up to be relived over and over in agonizing detail.
And Conrad knew he would never forget it. Every meal he ate, friendship he shared, monster her slew, or gold piece he spent would be tainted by the memory and knowledge that absent contract, compulsion, or even the semblance of an incentive a warrior stood by his side to fight against Chaos and Conrad had stepped aside.
That was not how adventurers lived.
That was not how men lived.
And even if it meant his death, in the final moment Conrad would look back at his decision and know that that was not how he had lived.
The Butcher attacked. And Conrad stood to meet him.
As the two struggled, Karno began to rise to his feet. The crowd roared their approval, cheering the first hero of Great Pines as he steadied his shaking knees. Weaponless, he looked on as The Butcher grabbed hold of Conrad, three arms gripping neck, tunic, and one of his flailing arms, the fourth preparing his spiked buckler to end The Merchant of Death. Conrad struggled madly, cutting viciously at everything in range of his short knife, desperate to break free.
Suddenly, the spike posed to end Conrad froze as a bellow and a blast of energy came from the bloodied Tower. Battered, bruised, and forgotten, Conrad dropped to the ground as the Taunt skill overcame the senses of The Butcher and it marched forward to take on The Tower.
Stumbling upright Conrad moved to follow, slipping over legs and feet numb with fatigue, blood loss, and more pains than he could keep track of. Karno rushed forward and activated another skill, one Conrad could only guess was Defend as a sort of metallic sheen ran over the length of the Shield Bearer. Much slower but much harder to damage, Karno strode forward and, striking his chest, sent a magical Shockwave forward that staggered the oncoming Butcher just as the creature reached him.
Karno gripped the final weapon the thing held in both hands and wrenched it free. He raised it to stab into the monster but, not ready to die, the Butcher punched out, striking Karno in his skill-hardened skull and causing him to lose hold of the weapon.
The Tower caught hold of the next fist, the top right, and crushed it in his massive hand. He did the same with the top left and the two combatants glared into each other’s faces, grimacing and snarling as they struggled. But a smile split the monstrous face of the butcher, both hands of his enemy occupied, it began to pummel Karno’s unprotected ribs. Blow after blow rained in as the two bellowed, Karno unable to do more than accept the punches as the damage ratcheted up, quickly driving away the strength that kept him standing.
The crowd screamed, the Announcer bellowed, and Conrad Dren leaped onto the exposed back of the last thing standing between him and the outside world.
Knife in hand he began stabbing, wildly, blindly, unthinkingly. Neck, eyes, face, every piece of soft flesh he could reach he stabbed repeatedly, engaging Adrenaline Rush and Imbued Strike, and kept on stabbing. Then a massive hand had hold of his leg and he was airborne.
With a crash he hit the earth, Contender Armor coming loose and falling from him as he rolled. He looked around for it, stupidly, when he came to a stop. Metal glinted in the sand nearby, not his armor, but his sword. Snatching it up he regained his feet and saw that Karno had taken up the knife, left sticking from The Butcher, and had reinitiated the attack that Conrad had begun.
The man was stabbing with abandon, shrugging off head strikes and body blows as the nearly blind Butcher let loose with all it had left, the two massive forms kept upright by impossibly high strength and endurance.
The crowd had forgotten Conrad, the Announcer too, so focused on the pummeling giants at the center of the Arena, and so it was as if Conrad came from nowhere as he ran forward, sword flashing in the magical white light of the upgraded Arena.
Karno lost his footing and fell to his knees and the Butcher, hands clasped above its head, prepared a finishing smash. Red light reflected off the blade of the steel dagger stuck in its chest and with what remained of its eyes, it looked on as Conrad, leaping off the back of his downed comrade and carrying in two hands a sword coursing with the red light of killing magic, thrust forward.
The blade sank deep into The Butcher’s black heart, piercing through and exploding out the back in a gush of imbued weapon propelled gore.
There was no scream. Like a candle blown out, the life simply vanished from The Butcher’s face as it fell backward, Conrad on top of it, sword gripped in both hands, riding it to the ground where it crashed, billowing out a cloudy shockwave of dirt and sand.
Cheers, so loud not even the Announcer could be heard above them echoed throughout the Arena as Conrad stood, slowly straightening, and turned to see what had become of the man who had saved his life.
Karno was on his knees, breathing heavily, face a mess of swollen, bloody, and torn flesh, but alive. He made eye contact with Conrad as he said, “Told you somebody would be dying.”
And to the cheers of the crowd, Conrad strode forward and put out his hand, heaving backward with all his strength as Karno clasped hold of it. Dragging the much larger man to his feet, he said, “Do this two or three more times, and I’ll forgive you for getting me into it.”
Karno smiled, “You want to do this more than once?”
“No,” Conrad said with a sardonic grin, “I think once was enough.”
And with what composure he could muster and against the protestations of his broken and aching hand, made a fist and put it to his chest in salute of The Tower.
Cheers beat against them palpably, almost knocking Conrad off his feat as Karno saluted back, and together, the two of them raised their hands in victory as they looked around at the roiling crowd.
It was over.