The first minute of the fight was vicious. Krone’Dahl rained down blows, never letting up for a moment. Each time Bato thought he had fended off the worst of it, a new flurry of sweeps, hacks and kicks would begin. He took the brunt of the onslaught with his own weapon. Holding it out in front of him, one hand on the handle and one on the wide shaft, he could simply rock it side to side or angle it up to block whatever the larger hunter could throw at him.

But the weapon was extremely heavy, and growing ever more so with each passing moment. More and more he felt his defense slowing, getting ever closer to a strike on his body. He breathed heavily, trying to keep himself steady and upright. Each blow had the weight of a boulder behind it. After each consecutive hit, it took just ever so fractionally longer to recover. His arms were almost entirely numb after the first minute; his shoulders by the next.

He quickly found it hard to take a blow, then twist to take one from the opposite angle. He had to find a response. He stepped back diagonally; Krone’Dahls blade soared wildly through the air. An opening! He pushed against the haft of his weapon with all his might, twisting the handle to bring the blade to lead the swipe. He felt the weapon whip up into the air, flying above his head.

“Too slow!” Krone Dahl had easily avoided the attack. His own swing recovery had pulled his body clear and he now stood, poised to strike a vulnerable target. He dashed up and yanked hard on his greatsword's handle, a left to right slash that could cleave prey in two.

As his weapon began to fall, Bato pivoted around his right shoulder, pulling sideways with his arm. The maneuver worked, redirecting the falling arc of the weapon into a side slash aimed at the midsection of his opponent. If his armor served its purpose, he would be left standing and Krone’Dahl would be sent flying. If not, they would both die here today.

Instead, Krone’Dahl jumped up to align his outer thigh with the impact of Bato’s axe. Their weapons collided with their targets near simultaneously. Bato watched as the hinge halfway up his tool strained maddeningly under the pressure, letting out an ominous creak. Chips of the black, scaly covering over Krone’Dahl’s thigh burst out like fragments of flint when struck. The force of his swing, along with the weight of his weapon, pushed the hunter through the air, forcing him to tumble as he flew several yards away.

As Krone’Dahl landed on his hands, Bato garuffed and grabbed at his side. He could feel the caved in armor over his ribs. The pressure would make it hard to breathe. But more importantly, he could feel the line that had been cut through, and the sting of where his skin had been split open. He pulled his hand away to reveal thick, maroon blood. Despite Krone’Dahl's jumping maneuver having lowered the power of the attack, the armor had still been sheared through.

“Ahhhh,” Krone’Dahl stood shakily, testing his right leg. “That was unexpected. Truly, your brute strength is awe inspiring. But I never would have guessed you, the man with no agility, would be able to move so quickly.”

Bato stood, feeling for the latches at his side. He would need to drop that side of his armor if he wanted to keep fighting.

“But isn’t it odd I wouldn’t try to avoid the attack outright, even knowing you have the superior protection?” Bato felt for each clasp individually, never letting Krone’Dahl out of his sight.

“I felt your flesh on my blade, so I’m willing to let you in on a little secret,” he glanced from side to side mockingly. “The blade isn’t the main threat.”

Bato felt his blood freeze. That bastard! Poison was forbidden in trial by combat. It stopped the will of the gods. Even if you were in the right, the poison would ensure your defeat regardless of the outcome that should have been. It was not something used when hunting since it would taint the meat. That meant the poison had been prepared for this fight specifically. Krone’Dahl was a twisted man.

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“You disgust me.”

Krone’Dahl cackled wickedly.

“AHH I thank you for proving the effectiveness of my tactics.” He planted his weapon in the ground before taking a sweeping bow.

“But this conversation is now pointless. Words are wasted on a dead man.”

Whipping his sword back up he lunged out, even as Bato released the last latch on his armor. The side plates fell away just in time for him to dive back, barely avoiding the heavy impact.

“I wouldn’t move too much if I were you, it’ll only worsen the pain.”

Even as it was said, Bato could feel a fire lance through his side. The hunters surrounding the duel whooped and hollered as he scrambled back to his feet. All of them were too focused on the fight to hear the shrill, rumbling call of the forest’s true apex as it approached. All except Bato.

He quickly pulled the triggers in front of his middle and pinky fingers, while jerking his weapon back and slapping a latch with his free hand. A series of mechanical clunks, and the whirring of wire rang out as the weapon collapsed in on itself. A shield had formed from the axe, and a handle popped out of the back. Grabbing that in his left hand, he twisted the lower of the original two handles, allowing him to pull it out of the newly formed defensive tool. He lowered his stance behind the barrier as a lopsided sword came free of the contraption. Krone’Dahl and his companions jeered.

“You never cease to amaze! What our tribe could do with a man such as you arming us. I shiver at the thought.” Krone’Dahl took several steps forward. “Despite how sad it is you have to rely on such cowardly tactics, I do not blame you. Our difference is all too obvious!” He lunged out again, bashing against the wall Bato had set between the two of them.

The sound was deafening. The wide shield rang out like a gong, alerting even farther reaches of the forest to their location. A slight deflection at the last moment, forcing Krone’Dahl to carry through on a swing. A quick hack of his own. As little movement as possible to keep the poison at bay, but not so little as to become an easy target. Make his quarry work for it.

“Hurry up,” Bato grunted to himself.

“Hurry up? Are you taunting me Bato? Or are you that desperate for me to end this fight and put you out of your misery?” The swing that punctuated his verbal jab jarred Bato’s arm, forcing him to step back. Krone’Dahl’s voice lowered dramatically, forcing Bato to strain in order to hear him.

“I’ve never liked your tribe. But more than that, I’ve never liked you.” He raised his voice so that all could hear him. “You call it scavenging, and by the treaty of the four, you are free to do so. My father and Moor’Qual may pity you and allow you free passage.” The tempo of his attacks slowed, but each carried ever increasing force.

“They agree with your own elders. You are just helping your tribe, inventing new ways to complete simple tasks. They think you are trying to prove your worth in your own way.” He suddenly placed his foot on the shield, shoving Bato back. Bato took only a few short steps, grimacing as his side flared again.

“But you want to know what I think?” His voice dripped with hate and resentment. “I think you disrupt the workings of the gods. You desecrate their sacred sites, steal their precious instruments, and spit upon the memories of the great hunters that came before us!”

Bato was dripping sweat. His arms and legs shook uncontrollably, his side pulsing pain through his torso with every heartbeat. He could feel the warm blood dripping down his leg, and his breath came in great gasps. How much longer could he hold on?

“That is why I chased you. That is why you face me. So that I may bring divine retribution for your disgraceful treatment of our sacred world. But,” he once again lowered his voice so only Bato would hear, “between you and me, I just want to kill you.”

As Krone’Dahl once again raised his sword, a great, blood curdling screech ripped through the air. As everyone turned to see the source of the sound standing on the edge of the clearing, Bato grinned with unfettered relief. He had made it.