Respite

Death and Conversation II

Sorry for the slight delay. I was getting in touch with an editor and had to prepare for a party this weekend. More notes at the end.

(Warning for graphic depictions of violence.)

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It was the calm before the storm.

Arthur didn't blink. He didn't move. His body was still as a statue. But just like his encounter with the statues in the Relictombs, it felt like a monster was about to burst out at any moment.

Cadell remained stationary, standing tall and confident with his arms hanging by his side; his triumph all but assured. Or so it seemed...

There was no sign, no indication, that denoted the sudden shift.

One second, he was standing in front of what looked like a hopeless opponent. Then, he was hurtling, streaking at breakneck velocity toward the opposite side of the wall.

The impact was instant. A violent vibration shook the foundations, sending tremors all the way up the high box. Cadell coughed up blood and spittle, his vision dimming, as the air was knocked out of his lungs.

It took a moment to process the pain. Then another to understand what had happened.

The crowd watched with wide eyes and slacked jaws. The Scythes stared in shock at the unexpected turn of events. It was unlike anything they'd ever witnessed.

Cadell stepped out from the crater, his back groaning in protest as a mist of Soulfire swirled like a tempest around his body. His eyes flared and the horns on his head grew with the sudden influx of mana. He snarled and summoned an array of spells, back glowing, and leveled a glare at his challenger. 

In place of where Cadell previously stood, Arthur was pulling his arm back, the quintessential embodiment of equilibrium. He stared back at the Scythe, unflinching; his eyes never strayed for a single second. There was a palpable aura that surrounded him. A thick and heavy atmosphere emanated from his person, engulfing the whole stadium in a shroud of oppression.

The people in the lower seats were struggling to breathe. Some had already passed out from the pressure while others were visibly sweating.

Cadell sensed the change in the air and frowned. "Your tricks won't work twice, boy."

His body turned incorporeal, becoming more and more intangible like a shadow.

Arthur took a step forward. Then another. And then another.

Without hurry and without care, he simply strode closer, his eyes intently focused on the Scythe.

"Die," Cadell said.

With a single thought, he launched a hail of black metal and Soulfire.

Arthur avoided the projectiles with calculated calm and perfect precision. Some of the spikes glanced off his armor while others grazed him, leaving a thin line of blood trailing down his cheek. He continued his path, the rain of black unrelenting.

Cadell raised his hand and ushered forth a cloud of Soulfire which blew like a dark miasma.

Purple flames erupted to counter the spell. Arthur's silhouette was outlined by tendrils of Destruction. A voice spoke to him in his head. The same voice he heard when he first gained insight into the godrune—the same one he used to defeat the giant beast in the Relictombs.