Medici drew a slow, steady breath as the warmth of the artificial sun washed over him. His face remained expressionless as he tilted his head back, shielding his eyes from the harsh light.
Then he lowered his gaze and looked at Morgan. She stood casually in front of him, hands tucked into her pockets, sunglasses hiding her eyes. A smirk tugged at her lips as if the entire scene amused her.
The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat. The sand beneath their feet was stained a deep crimson, and the thunderous roar of the audience swallowed every other sound, turning the world into a single, deafening chaos.
Medici felt his heartbeat quicken, his blood boiling with anticipation. With a thought, he summoned his sword. His skin hardened into pale, alabaster marble, quite smooth, cold and inhuman if you asked him. Then obsidian armor grew over him like a second skin, plates forming seamlessly across his body. A dark helmet, reminiscent of an ancient knight's visor, concealed his face. Only his crimson hair remained exposed, cascading down his back like a lion's mane.
He flexed his gauntleted fist as a blood-soaked cape unfurled over his left side. A tattered, blood-stained banner materialized in his hand. He drove it into the arena sand, feeling a surge of newfound strength erupt through his veins. It felt raw, violent and monstrous.
Now that's what I'm talking about…
A grin spread beneath his helmet as he rested his sword on his shoulder and glanced at Morgan who was staring at him, genuinely surprised.
She did not expect this. Medici was radiating a domineering, bloodthirsty aura, as if he were a warmonger who lived only for the sake of war. She had to admit that his presence was oppressive, even for her, despite being ascended while he was a mere Awakened.
Still, Morgan wasn't any better. She too was starved for battle and blood. What greater bliss existed than facing powerful enemies and crushing them. The feeling was ecstatic, so overwhelming she began laughing loudly, wild and unrestrained.
This place, Moirai, was entertaining in its own twisted way. Perhaps because everyone here was insane. It wasn't surprising to her, since she had already taken notice of the people who lived here.
They had no interest in what was common or acceptable, they simply did whatever they wanted, living for nothing but their own freedom and pleasure. If that were not the case, what could possibly explain such a madness. They allowed nightmare creatures to race and placed bets on them like it was some kind of sport, and perhaps for them it truly was.
They fought each other for fame and the title of the strongest. She knew that whoever entered these tournaments did so either for money or for the pure satisfaction of proving themselves more powerful than everyone else.
Not to mention the heir of the king himself cared little about the opinions of others, doing whatever he pleased. He had built a place like this, after all, so it was only natural that he would be the most insane of them all, even if he hid it behind gentleness and politeness.
If Morgan was honest, she felt a little envious of them. No, she was truly envious of such a life. A life lived as a person, free and genuine, true to your own nature instead of being a sword wielded by your father.
She shook her head, pushing those thoughts away. Such a useless feelings wouldn't help her in battle. What she needed now was focus, nothing more.
With that in mind, a faint smile curved her lips as white sparks burst to life around her hand. Her sword materialized in a flash, and she mirrored Medici's unorthodox and arrogant posture, resting her blade on her shoulder just as he did.
But what she did not expect was his first comment.
"Hey? You are holding a sword? Meh, a broom would suit you more." Medici said, smirking behind his helmet as he deliberately provoked her to get under her skin.
For a moment Morgan was still and motionless, staring at him with wide eyes.
"W-what?"
"'W-what?' seriously? What are you even doing in the arena, woman? Go back to the kitchen and cook some sandwiches for me." Medici tsked, shaking his head in disbelief while muttering under his breath about how things were back in his days as if he were some elderly veteran.
"So that is how it is..." Morgan chuckled, shaking her head.
"Yeah, that is how it is. Go where you belong, woman. And please, use a knife, there is no need to use a sword on chicken and vegetables." Medici snorted, his voice dripping with mockery.
Morgan blinked, her eyes widening as she felt her expression involuntarily twist into a sneer. Her blood surged hot and violent, her vision tunneling until all she saw was him.
Insolent brat, I'm going to butcher you... she thought, her eyes burning with fiery, murderous intensity.
Her fingers trembled as she felt her restraint slowly disappear, leaving only the desire to crush him like a maggot.
And than, she vanished, her blade cut through the air with a sharp, furious whistle.
Medici's eyes widened just a fraction, enough to betray he hadn't expected her to move that fast. Their swords met with a jarring crash, the impact shaking up his arms, sparks scattering where metal scraped metal.
Morgan was surprised by his physical strength; it was quite astonishing, to the point that she was convinced he was the most powerful Awakened when it came to physical attributes.
But that didn't matter. She too had gained physical augmentation from her aspect and used the enchantment she had absorbed from her memory to further boost her strength, overwhelming Medici and sending him flying back from the force of her strike.
Medici quickly regained his balance. As he landed, he instantly kicked himself backward across the sand, Morgan already upon him, her boots digging furrows as he regained distance.
"I was right, the kitchen really suits you," he laughed, tilting his head, though his smug expression was hidden behind his helmet.
But Morgan didn't react to his provocation. Though, it felt like she was already furious, to the point that she didn't give a damn about anything other than beating him.
From the swirling embers Medici summoned came fiery ravens shooting toward her. Each one detonated in a plume of heat the moment it made contact, sending sand and sparks flying like shrapnel.
But Morgan didn't stop.
The explosions lit her silhouette in strobe-like flashes. She ignored the flames, keeping her head low, her blade tight in her hands, and charged straight through the fire ravens without caring about the damage.
She had used another enchantment she had absorbed from her memory, granting her high resistance to fire attacks. Then she used another that gave her resistance to elemental attacks, and yet another that made her body more adaptable to her environment, rendering Medici's flames insignificant. Morgan's sword glowed in a bizarre manner, as if absorbing the light itself.
Light coiled along its length, brightening with a pale, gentle glow until it blazed with the fiery radiance of the day. In the span of a heartbeat, she thrust it forward, and the blade unleashed a blinding white beam that ripped through the air, aimed at Medici's face.
But before the beam could reach him, a fire raven shrieked into its path. The collision caused the beam to change its trajectory, striking the arena and detonating in a violent, white flash, leaving only a crater behind as the shockwave sent sand flying high into the air.
Morgan blinked at the interception, but she didn't falter. After all, who said Morgan wanted the beam to hit? It was only a distraction to hide her real attack.
The moment the explosion faded, she was already there, closing the distance with impressive speed gained from another enchantment. Her sword carved a wide, horizontal arc toward Medici's abdomen.
But Medici, sensing the attack with his Hunter's instincts, lowered his arm and deflected the blade with a strike from his gauntleted fist.
Morgan's brow furrowed; she didn't like her strike being blocked, but she didn't slow down. Instead, she pursued him with even more determination.
The two exchanged numerous attacks, each one precise and brutal. But Morgan's fighting style was far more graceful than Medici's, who fought like a lunatic.
Summoning his shield, he dashed forward without hesitation, laughing, and slammed the Dusk Shard against her body, pushing her back.
But Morgan quickly composed herself, using her superior speed to get behind him and slash his back.
She was like a living sword… no, she was exactly that, the sharpest sword that ever existed. Medici's seemingly invincible defense, granted by the Underworld's Armament, was finally broken.
Not to mention, Morgan used a very special enchantment this time to make sure that bastard would bleed to death.
A geyser of blood gushed from the wound, painting the yellow sand crimson. And not just the sand, Morgan's face was soaked as well, blood drenching her body and clothes.
As Medici struggled to control his muscles and somehow slow the bleeding, he noticed the look in her eyes. It was the same expression, the same eyes, the same twisted grin he had seen in his own reflection on the golden armor of Gunlaug after being pierced by his spear.
Seeing this, he felt his blood boil with ecstasy and elation, laughing wildly as he clutched his head, hidden beneath his helmet. Then:
BOOM!
A roaring wave of flames erupted from Medici, consuming everything around him, including himself. The helmet shattered in the blast, molten lines of fire racing across his form like glowing veins. His armor began to melt, fusing with his skin, while half of his face, including his hair, was burned away. It was as if he willingly sacrificed his own body, burning himself alive to drown her in the same searing hell.
But Morgan, fortunately, had another enchantment she had absorbed that allowed her to teleport short distances. Using it, she quickly escaped the destruction. Medici continued laughing, though his expression was now filled with rage, his form consumed by blazing inferno. He held his flaming spear with a certain arrogance that made him beautiful, despite his scorched and horrific state.
Morgan's smile widened, finding his courage admirable even though she was almost injured.
Morgan reacted on instinct, burning her essence to fuel another enchantment. Her boots skidded across the sand as she hurled herself backward, arms rising. The enchantment she had torn from her memory surged through her bloodstream, cold and sharp.
She felt a faint pulse as she looked up at the blazing golden flames advancing toward her and smiled. Water exploded from her palms in spiraling torrents, unfurling into a massive wave that surged outward with explosive force. It collided with Medici's flames mid-air and devoured them. Fire hissed and sputtered, clawing desperately against the overwhelming surge, but the water crushed it flat, the clash erupting into plumes of steam that billowed like storm clouds.
But Medici did not stop. Two flaming serpents burst forth, coiling around each other as they shot toward the incoming tide. Their jaws snapped, trails of fire whipping behind them as they slammed into the wave, instantly erupting into towering walls of flame, attempting to partition the water and slow its advance.
For a moment, the arena became a battlefield of opposing elements, water and fire clashing for dominance.
Then Medici exhaled sharply and clenched his fists.
The walls of flame hardened.
The fire crystallized, line by line, folding inward until it solidified into gleaming steel. An immense, jagged barricade formed in the path of the water, resembling a triangular pyramid but only half-built, designed to intercept the attack and split the wave so Medici could avoid its full force.
Water crashed against the steel construct, geysers erupting before splitting apart, rushing in different directions, one to the right, another to the left, leaving Medici unharmed in the center.
Medici didn't hesitate. He vanished into the thick, swirling steam, letting it cloak him like a shadow, and used every ounce of his hunter's instinct to strike at Morgan before she could react.
But Morgan was no ordinary target. Her senses were even more heightened than his, amplified now by another enchantment. She opened her vibrant, vermilion eyes, now tinged with a hint of gray, and went completely wide in focus, observing the entire battlefield and spotting Medici's silhouette rapidly advancing while holding his blazing spear.
White sparks flickered across her back. They solidified, folding and stretching until they became delicate, radiant blue wings, butterfly-like in shape. With a powerful flap, she rose above the battlefield, avoiding the flaming spear Medici hurled with lethal precision. The weapon detonated where she had been a heartbeat before, painting the arena in molten orange sparks.
From her elevated vantage, Morgan's gaze swept across the arena, cold and calculating. In one fluid motion, she summoned her weapon, Morgan's Warbow, too massive to be wielded by any ordinary human. She burned almost half of her essence, leaving only a 30% for emergencies, and drew forth a single arrow, glowing bright yellow as if it had trapped a bolt of lightning within its core.
She nocked it with ease, closing her left eye and channeling all her senses into the tiniest detail. The bow was monstrous in size, the string resisting her pull with the weight of solid steel, yet her Awakened abilities made her superhuman, her body resilient and powerful like tempered steel.
What would be impossible for anyone else was effortless for her. The string pulled taut, the arrow quivering with kinetic energy. Her wings beat steadily as she held herself aloft, her body coiled like a spring, senses sharpened to a razor's edge, ready to unleash a strike that could turn the tide of battle.
Medici, hidden in the mist below, had no idea the literal storm he was about to face.
The moment came. Morgan's fingers loosened, and the arrow launched.
Arrow sliced through steam, smoke, and chaos, it cut in a perfect, unbroken line. The air itself seemed to bend around it, pressure crackling, forcing the arrow onward faster than any ordinary projectile could hope to travel.
Medici's instincts screamed at him before his eyes could fully register the threat. He gritted his teeth and reacted instinctively: a swarm of fire ravens burst from his hands, raking toward the arrow, while a wall of flames erupted beneath, forming what he thought would be an unbreachable shield. With a snap of his fingers, the fire solidified into steel, gleaming and impenetrable, the perfect conductor for the lightning bolt he assumed would discharge upon impact.
But the arrow ignored them all. The fire ravens disintegrated in flashes of white light as if they were nothing more than smoke, and the steel wall groaned and split as the arrow tore through it.
Medici stopped, his eyebrow raised as he looked up. He had miscalculated. He had misunderstood how the arrow's enchantment worked.
The lightning didn't react to the wall, nor did it react to the arrow's impact. Because it wasn't autonomous. Morgan was the one deciding when the bolt of lightning trapped in the arrow would be released from its shackles.
Medici grinned, and instinctively deactivated the galvanization in his body, willing his flesh to turn to stone and creating a brittle, earthen barrier to prevent the lightning from using his previously iron-like body as a conduit.
But unfortunately, he wasn't faster than lightning.
The bolt struck, and a blinding flash ripped across the arena, followed by a thunderous roar that shattered eardrums and rattled sand across the ground. The force of it was like being caught inside a collapsing sky.
Medici's vision blurred instantly, black spots racing across his eyes. What remained of his onyx armor groaned under the assault; cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, some pieces exploding outward in molten sparks. He had prepared as best he could, but nothing could make him entirely immune to a strike like that.
Heat seared across his body. Sweat vaporized as electricity branched beneath his stony skin, crackling like molten veins. If he hadn't hardened his body in time, if even a fraction of a second had faltered, the lightning would have stopped his heart, or paralyzed the centers in his brain that controlled breathing. Death would have come faster than thought.
Yet, he survived.
He staggered, limbs trembling, lungs burning as he forced himself to remain upright. The arena smelled of ozone and scorched earth. His instincts, honed through countless battles, had carried him through, and his battle IQ had allowed him to understand the danger before it became fatal.
His entire body was scorched and blackened from the attack, his crimson hair gone, leaving behind burned skin on his head, while half of his face was destroyed, the bone of his jaw and teeth visibly exposed.
Meanwhile, Morgan had already loosed another arrow, her intent clear: finish the fight.
But it vanished mid-flight. A cold yet strangely gentle voice echoed across the arena, cutting through the tension like a knife.
"Theft…"
Amon, walking back from his meeting with Ki Song, glanced at the arena, his crystal monocle gleaming with an unsettling luster. His face was straight and expressionless as he held the arrow Morgan had just released in his left hand, while his right hand rested on his cane.
"I think that is enough, my lady…" he said in a neutral tone, then added, "Winner, Morgan of Valor!"
***
[A/N: Let's pretend nothing happened yesterday…]
**