Page 13

Twelv e

A lesser man might have gone running from the monstrously tall male that stepped into the light, but West was not a lesser man. He was a Saint. One that faced this particular beast before and lived to tell the tale. Sure, he gained the scar on his neck from it, and a story that could rival others, but he was here.

“You think that you’re better than I?” War raged, fury brighter than any newborn star that could be conjured. “Then let’s see how you can handle this!”

He should have seen it coming.

Years of staying with the Saint, of learning his very moves and power, the way he jumped and fought, yet he hadn’t. The burning sting of steel, the flash of agony and a warm trickle began down his neck.

“I never said that.” West gasped, clapping his hand over the wound before it could temporarily immobilise him as he succumbed to the normally mortal shell of death that the humans gave over too quickly. It wouldn’t kill him, but render him unconscious for a few hours whilst his immortal body knit itself back together and everything processed correctly.

But the blood still ran.

As did the tensions that pricked the air.

West gritted his teeth and found the nearest weapon, dragging it down diagonally towards the towering male before him. The smell of salt and power burst into the arena as War started to bleed as well.

Fair was fair.

But War wouldn’t see it that way.

He lifted his monstrous blade once more and the battle began, one that was pointless thanks to the misunderstanding of cheap ale and bloodlust that the Saint was constantly high off of like expensive opium.

West was the one that walked away in the end, panting and sweating like a dog as he chucked the sword aside and left his fellow Saint in the sandy area. His own sword protruded from his center, one that he’d wake to remove, only to pass out once more and awaken as good as new.

By that point in time, West would be far away.

He curled his fingers into a tight fist at his thigh, out of Warrior’s sight. “That serves my memory correct as well.”

“Then why in the Saint’s name, our name, are you here, in my fighting pits of all places?” War snarled with the ferocity of a rampant beast, dripping from the maw, “Looking for all the world and beyond like you have a favour to ask from me.”

“It seems your perception hasn’t altered over the years either.” West commented in a bored tone, refusing to back down from his stance before the gate. “You are correct, however. I do have a favour to ask of you. ”

“Tell me quickly, before I decide to lop your head off. Or try to, again. I may have failed the first time, but trust me when I say that I’m aching for a second chance.” He pulled a lever within, the gate shuddering violently before grinding and cracking upwards into a slit in the stone ceiling where it would remain until forced back down.

“It’s not an easy manner of conversation. It concerns Red Lyric.” He poured the sentence from his mouth like freshly collected honey, almost singing her name.

“What about him?”

Her, West mentally corrected him but didn’t dare to speak it. He knew that War wasn’t blind, but perhaps he truly didn’t know what lay underneath the red fighting leathers. Where Crimson managed to learn his moves became another delectable mystery to West. One to figure out later, as she was most likely waiting for him outside the tavern by now.

“I need to break his contract with you.”

The vicious Saint scoffed, a hacking chuckle following. “He’s signed on for another year and a half. He’s not breaking it any time soon if I have anything to say about it. As you’ve clearly been sulking around my lovely establishment the last few days, I know you’ve seen him fight. I would be beyond idiodic to let him go after the amount of money his rounds bring into the Pits.”

“Tell me what it’ll take to break it. This isn’t something I’m willing to negotiate on.” West put all of his weight on his back foot, crossing one arm over the other in front of his muscular chest. He wasn’t anywhere near as large as the seven foot male before him, but he wasn’t lacking either. “It’s for the good of the Empire so it will be happening. Now, tell me your price, otherwise I’ll get Muse involved.”

“You always did like to hide behind her pretty skirts when things become too complex and hard to reach for you.” He complained and strode out of the tunnels below the arena. “Fine. You want Red Lyric?”

“I do.” West confirmed.

War motioned towards the circular field where the competition took place. “Then fight me for him. Win, and I’ll let you leave without any repercussions. It’s not like we can kill each other.”

Because unless they had one of the few, rare Saint made weapons, any mortal looking blow would not kill them in the end. They might be temporarily disposed of for a good few hours, but they would return eventually.

“If I lose,” He began to counter his offer, “Then I’ll take up his fights in his place. But after tonight, Lyric is done here.”

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, because War madly grinned and made for the empty arena. “I see nothing wrong with this arrangement. I hope you’ve dusted off that sword you carry, North. You’ll be needing it after tonight.”

“If you dig into your vast expansion of memory, Grimm, you’ll recall that it was you who taught me how to use a sword in the first place.” West pulled it free of his waist, letting the candlelight hit it just right in certain spots. “I assure you that I’ve continuously practised every day since our departure, and have only gotten better.”

“Then this should be a fair fight.” He thumbed free the two savage knives at his sides, jagged and serrated edges gleaming in what seemed to be excitement. As if the blades themselves carried a seed of a Saint’s soul and were alive.

“As long as you keep your word in the end, I agree.” The captain flipped the finely crafted weapon in front of him twice, then behind him in a circular motion .

There were no more common folk, no mortals watching from the ramparts to overlook the two Saints as they engaged in a battle of skills, of talents, of wits.

Save for one.

Because there, on the Silver Balcony, West caught sight of her garnet braid from afar. It was hard to miss, after all. She was white-knuckled, but she was glued to that spot in the veranda as she witnessed them circling each other. He almost imperceptibly dipped his head at her, silently asking her to stay put while he handled this. If Crimson understood what he asked, she made no sign of it.

But she didn’t move, either.

“If I win, will you tell me why Red Lyric is so important to you?” War questioned as he feinted right, only to go left. West was ready and waiting for him, used to his tricks. He parried, striking hard and true.

“No.” He responded and slashed upwards in a fluid way. “Because it’s none of your concern. Nor was it part of the bargain.”

The bloodthirsty immortal adjusted out of the attack, but the tip of his sword caught in his tunic and sliced through a thread. It fluttered to the ground, forgotten and unimportant.

“If I didn’t know better, I might say that you’re infatuated with my most esteemed warrior.” He cut through the air thrice, swiping and aiming for West’s chest. Three precise movements that had him fumbling back before the knives took a chunk out of him. “Have you switched sides at last?”

West thrusted forward, only to hit nothing. “Then you don’t. And no, but you don’t need to think about my levels of attraction, either.”

He knew he could challenge the Warrior, and potentially even win. But the viewer from the balcony created a nervous aura around him that was hard to ignore, almost impossible to brush off.

“I don’t what?” War dodged a second set of moves with ease that only belonged to the immortal known and praised for his killing talents and blood spilling thrill.

“ Know better. ” He grunted as War’s knife ripped through his left bicep and through his bronzed skin. It would heal by morning, but it still hurt like a bitch in the meantime. “I’m only doing what I’ve always done.”

The Saint took advantage of that, slashing towards him with unrefined strength. “Which is what?”

“Protect us, and the sake of the Empire.” He jumped out of the way as his blood hit the sand. He swore even within the crimson liquid, he saw stars exploding.

Little bursts of white that rapidly collided with others, creating nebula’s of undefined power.

“Always the best of us, the little Star . No matter what, you never could be anything other than a righteous pain in my ass .” He stepped back and avoided a hit to his large gut. His feet dragged along the sand as he rounded West.

“What’s the point of never doing anything good, in a life that never ends? I understand the need for chaos, the want for mischief and the desire for upheaval when it provides a certain style of entertainment to a bunch of bored immortals, but still.” He struck, hitting metal with metal. “There’s more to living forever than creating a terrible world for those behind us. For those who have to live in it for a short period of time.”

A clash sounded.

War hit him hard then, sending him flying back into the wall. A crack rang out into the empty space, and West grimaced as pain lanced his entire form. He groaned as he rose from the ground, a hand braced in the golden sand as he pushed upwards. He managed to get on his feet before the slam of a knife came down, only inches from where he’d just been.

He rubbed at his ribs but pulled away just in time to brace his weight against an attack. West pushed everything he had into it, and he could feel the pulse of his skin beneath his clothes. It didn’t matter how much of a glamour Dream set upon him, it could never truly hide what he was underneath.

An eternal, forever glowing star.

He gritted his teeth as his feet were shoved back further and further, pressing him flat against the railing and between War’s hair-ridden chest. The blades slowly angled downwards with every inch lost, and he was struggling to keep it up. The steel would bite into him soon, but at least Crimson would be free of this horrible life and Altivar wouldn’t be able to figure her out.

He could handle a life in the ring, if it came down to that. It wasn’t like any of the humans could kill him, after all.

War hefted all his sheer size into the blow, adding even more pressure to it than West could handle. His sword slipped from the crossing of steel and he ducked just in time before War slammed the knives into his tanned throat. He spun out of the way, scuffing through the sand as he flipped back around to face the giant.

“Close call.” He chuckled with a carnage laced laugh. “I almost had you there.”

“ Almost , being the key world.” West playfully winked, hoping for the male to see nothing but red and that he could use it to his advantage. “You’ll have to move faster than that if you aim to catch me.”

“Brave words, for someone who’s losing.” He growled, a slight snarl in the back end as he charged. West was ready, prepared for it even. He met him blow for blow, shoving off each assault with a grunt of pain from the leftover torment that rippled over his ribcage.

Yet he didn’t back down, nor did he give in.

“Am I losing?” He tsked, “And here I thought I was winning.”

The Warriors power lay in his pure strength, his bulking mass and his towering height. All things that he was currently using. So if War could cheat and use his Saintly gifts in order to help him win, then West would use his as an advantage as well.

“ CRIMSON !” He roared at the balcony, barely making out her red hair in his peripherals. “ CLOSE YOUR EYES AND COVER THEM. ”

West didn’t have time to make sure she listened to his command as he began to burn. He reached into the very center of himself and tugged on the light that made his russet skin gleam like a freshly fallen star. He wrapped his fingers around the flashbang that would ultimately blind the warrior and dragged it up into himself.

“You wouldn’t.” His opponent hissed through clenched teeth. If he looked close enough, he could spot genuine fear there. Something that West delighted in seeing.

“Oh,” West let out a low laugh, “You shouldn’t underestimate me, because I would. Happily , too. In fact, I think I will. ”

He did.

West unleashed his magic, letting it sizzle into his skin until he became a glowing, incandescent thing to behold. The sun and the moon and the stars erupted through the surface of his flesh, blasting into the world. He heard a gasp from the balcony and prayed to himself, as well as the other five Saints, that she didn’t look. That she dove under the railing as he filled the entire arena with his brilliant powers.

War screamed in frustration and released his attack, stumbling back as he dropped his daggers and covered his face with both meaty hands. He stumbled back, searching blindly for a way to escape the fire bright room.

West could see perfectly fine through his own gifts, able to make everything out in perfect clarity. He didn’t need any help as he stalked towards the mountain of a man and lifted his sword up into the air. He didn’t dare dull his powers either as he brought it down, straight through his gut. Scarlet spurted, spraying him as he pushed it in even deeper but he didn’t care.

As he finally called his magic back into himself, he whispered, “Red Lyric is no longer on the roster for the Blades of Blood. Nor does he belong to the Pits, or you anymore. As of tonight, he belongs to me .”

The room fell and everything tumbled into pitch black.