Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 161: The Ram

Narinder fixed his eyes on the ram after hearing its declaration. From the outside, its bearing was still firm and stoic, the reflection of a seasoned predator, but inside he was excited like a child learning a new kind of candy, hearing the name of his opponent. Ramael... what a lovely name, he thought, as he fought to keep from letting out a satisfied smile. Something about the seriousness of that name and the nobility of the one who bore it made him feel an almost childlike excitement, as if knowing that name brought him a little closer to the enigmatic figure before him.

Still, Narinder didn't let his emotions betray him. Instead, he smiled a malicious smile, as intimidating as the mask of a dark god, because he knew that playing on the ram's fear was his only real advantage in this duel. "So you're a god who goes beyond, huh?" he said with a sarcastic tone that dripped with venom. "I admit that you are powerful... but I suppose that such impressive power could have come from the bishops." Narinder watched as the words sank into Ramael, noting the slight frown that appeared on his face as he pulled his axe back from the ground.

Narinder continued his taunt as he walked arrogantly, leaning on his sickle as if it were a cane, feigning nonchalance. "It's strange... why is the difference in power so great? Were the bishops of your world so superior to those of this one?" The ram didn't respond, but his actions spoke louder than any words. With strength and precision, he raised his axe and delivered a direct blow towards Narinder, so forceful that the air seemed to vibrate.

Narinder managed to dodge it, though not through skill, but because the attack was too direct. However, the impact of the axe on the ground left a crater so deep that Narinder was forced to retreat even further. He felt the air pressure cut through him like invisible blades, and his mind filled with a disturbing thought: What kind of madness is this? Even the air pressure from his blow can cause me harm...

Gritting his teeth, Narinder composed himself, his voice echoing with a mix of sarcasm and malice. "That relic you took out... it's Leshy's eye, isn't it? It's impressive, I must admit. I suppose the bishops of your world were very strong... much stronger than mine." His eyes glowed a deep red as his voice grew deeper, more intimidating. "In my world, I corrupted their relics, forcibly absorbed their powers, and then sealed them away, chaining them in the Veil. I took away all the power that resided in their souls," he declared with a laugh laden with malice, though the echo of his own words weighed on his heart. Everything he had said was true, but remembering it hurt, as if each word opened old wounds.

Ramael did not react with more fear as Narinder had expected, however. Instead, he looked at him with sadness, a deep, sincere sadness that made Narinder stop in his tracks. The ram looked down, gripping the handle of his axe tightly. "So that was your resolution..." he said quietly, his tone laced with a mix of understanding and regret.

Narinder felt a rush of emotions that he could not control. He wanted to scream at the ram, to tell him not to look at him with pity, that he hated being judged. But he could not.

Instead, he stood paralyzed, caught up in the kindness emanating from the ram, a kindness that was not condescending, but genuine. In Ramael's eyes he saw something that left him speechless: the soul of someone who had suffered so much that he could understand even the deepest pain of another being. That look reminded him of Lambert and Goliath, two hearts that had touched his life in ways he could never have imagined. And so, for the first time in that fight, Narinder felt like he couldn't hide behind his mask of arrogance.

Narinder hesitated for a moment, his thoughts caught between whether to continue the fight or stop to face something deeper and more confusing at that moment. However, he was abruptly torn from his reflections when the ram launched a devastating kick aimed at his torso. Through sheer agility, Narinder managed to dodge it, but his concentration was not enough to foresee what would come next: one of the floating orbs surrounding the ram hit him when it brushed against him as it moved. The force of the impact sent him flying backwards, rolling violently on the ground. Narinder grunted, feeling a sharp pain in his body as he shook off the dust and dirt, getting up with effort.

Despite the pain, his gaze hardened. This is no longer a simple duel... he thought with a hint of irritation, and reluctantly pulled out his relic: a claw surrounded by corrupted chains that emanated an eerie presence. However, what puzzled him was the ram's reaction.

Ramael, seeing that relic, jumped back, increasing the distance between them, and transformed his axe into an imposing shield, as if he wanted to protect himself from something terrifying. The ram's eyes were fixed on the relic, and his hands trembled as he held the shield. He even brought one of them to his ears, as if trying to block out an unbearable noise.

Narinder narrowed his eyes in surprise. "Why is he reacting like that?" he muttered quietly, more to himself. That relic, although powerful, was nothing compared to the overwhelming power that Ramael emanated. Then, the ram broke the silence, his voice full of horror and repulsion. "How could you create such an aberration?" he screamed, his words filled with genuine fear. To him, the claw was not just a weapon, but a living manifestation of pain and resentment. He could hear the wails and sighs filled with suffering pouring out of it, as if the souls trapped in their chains were begging for release.

Before Narinder could respond, Ramael pulled out another relic. It was a pure, shining looking bottle, which when activated flooded the ram with an energy completely opposite to that of the claw. The purity and balance emanating from that relic was overwhelming, even for someone like Narinder. For an instant, he felt trapped in the beauty of that energy, a strange feeling of "satiation" filling his being. It is beautiful..., he thought, fascinated by something he had never felt before. But that moment of distraction cost him dearly.

Ramael, with renewed speed and strength thanks to the power of the relic, charged towards Narinder, using his shield as a battering ram. Narinder barely had time to react before the impact sent him flying across the room, slamming him into the wall with such violence that a cracking sound echoed through his left arm. Pain shot through him like lightning, and as he slowly stood up, he knew that arm would no longer be functional for the rest of the fight. Panting, Narinder looked at Ramael, who was now glowing with a godly intensity. This... this is beyond anything he has ever faced before, he thought, as he quickly assessed his next move with the pressure of being at a disadvantage.

Narinder breathed slowly and deeply, trying to calm the tremors that ran through his body after the impact. His left arm was shattered, even the broken bone of his shoulder could be seen while the rest of it hung limply, useless for the rest of the fight, while his right arm held tightly to his sickle and the corrupted relic. Each inhalation was heavy and labored, but he kept his bearing steady, his gaze fixed on the ram at a safe distance. Despite his obvious advantage, Ramael remained motionless, his shield raised as if expecting the worst of the attacks. The tension between them was palpable, the air seemed charged with an unbearable energy.

"I thought my speed would be my advantage... but he is faster than me. Stronger, more resilient, and his power is at a level I cannot reach...," Narinder thought, with a strange mix of respect and frustration. He watched every movement of the ram, every tremor that ran through his figure as he held his shield tightly. He could defeat me here and now, by firing a couple of those rays of light. Why doesn't he do it?" The words echoed in his mind as he tried to make sense of his opponent's behavior.

Ramael, though at the absolute advantage, seemed petrified behind his shield. His eyes dripped with fear and doubt. Narinder couldn't help but notice the tremors in the ram's hands and the way they tensed whenever he looked directly at him. Still, that fear held a resolve that made him dangerous, like a rope stretched to the limit, ready to snap at any moment.

Transforming his sickle into the red crown, Narinder tightened his grip on the corrupted claw. The sharp, disturbing sound that arose from the rubbing of the relic's chains made the ram instinctively step back, his hands covering his ears as his body trembled even more. "That thing..." Ramael thought, feeling the weight of the wails and screams coming from the relic echoing.

Narinder knew his position was hopeless. Even with all his wits, the chance of victory seemed a mere 50/50 just because of his opponent's psychological weakness, but he clung to it like it was all he had left. He was aware of his disadvantage, of the abysmal difference in power between them. But he had no other choice. As he looked at the trembling ram, he felt a strange echo of his own fear reflected back at him, but he also understood that Ramael was only one step away from defeating him.

Smiling defiantly, Narinder raised his voice with authority. "I hope you're ready... because now it's my turn." His tone was strong, but a part of him knew that the statement was as much to instill self-confidence as it was to intimidate his opponent. No matter the outcome, he would not give up.