The Old City

0.41: Marcus vs Marek Part 2

The Storeroom of the Grand Bazaar

"Arrogance is the greatest sin in this world. Repent."

Marek's blade was at Marcus's throat again and time was slowing down. Two inches from his neck and Marcus began to dodge but Marek already had momentum. One inch from his neck and Marcus began to twist away, to bend Schnitter to intercept, but the halberd was too far to do anything. With final desperation, Marcus concentrated his aura to form a heavy callous at the front of his neck and diverted asmall amount around the muscles so it wouldn't snap under the pressure. When the sword connected, it was halted and ground against Marcus's shield like it was trying to cut through stone. Marcus managed to turn and slide off its edge, pulling away.

I'm too slow, be realized, touching the top of his head again where a stone had drawn blood. Marcus's eyes darted about the room, searching for any hint to explain why parts of the ceiling had collapsed. I need to catch my breath.

Marek's blade still glowed with that silvery light, though the liquid was now streaked with the crimson of Marcus's blood. The magic was far from overpowering, but the roughness from earlier was now gone. In its place was cold, efficient bloodlust.

Marcus needed time to regroup so he jumped back to hide behind one of the silos. Then he kept running as tendrils of water continued to pursue him like awhip.

His range is about fifty meters, Marcus determined. Either be doesn't have the water or control to extend farther. But... the ceiling is higher than that. WAIT! The ceiling —it happened when be pulled the water out of the ceiling! His water out into the stone and gravity took care of the rest - so it wasn't anotber spell. That crafty sbithead can take advantage of this terrain...

"You can't hide from me!" Marek bellowed, jumping into sight.

What other traps are you waitin' to spring?

Marcus slid to a halt and shouted, "Fortorging!"

A wall of flame erupted behind him, which he directed toward his foe. Realizing it would evaporate his water, Marek stepped back.

"How long can you keep this up?"

"Until you figure out a way through." Marcus stepped back and considered the spells in front of him. Marek's whip of water was not of the caliber of magic he would have expected. It was annoying but slow, too weak to be the Primary magic of a Gang Lord. Marcus himself was no Elmentalist, but he knew the tenets of Fire magic from basic training. He adjusted the wall to burn taller but less hot so it would not drain his aura too quickly.

"Why don't you just take some crystals and leave. Take however much you and your friends can carry. Surely there's a compromise here."

"This isn't a negotiation. You are ruinin' my home, and I will no longer stand for it. I don't want my brothers and sisters to fear the whims of you gangs. Your warfare leads to nothing but bloodshed. I don't want mothers to weep for their children. I'll start with you, then Lucien, then I'll break Timoleon and the Crimson Lotus."

"Foolishness. We outnumber your band a thousand t o one. You won't get away from this battle unscathed. Should you by some miracle defeat one of us, the others will take you at your most vulnerable. Timoleon isn't the time to let new threats emerge unchallenged."

"Speakin' from experience?"

Marek snorted. "You have no idea what it took to make even a small dent in this city. Tread carefully, boy. The path trying to walk is dapping with blood."

"My path is already drenched in blood. I returned from the dead so I could clean these streets, not so I could become a tyrant. I won't barter souls on a whim. I won't slaughter indiscriminately, and my war is not over petty territory disputes - it's to end all the fightin'. I will be the one to end the violence. I will bring peace to these streets."