LCC Final: Super Awesome Fun Time, Best Pals Go! v Unreasonable Gentlemen

William paused, though he remained tense and ready to strike. Someone had targeted and deliberately pulled him into conflict with others like him. Rayse seemed to be an obvious choice. He was one of the most powerful men in Althanas, with contacts at his disposal in every corner of the world. He was wealthy, driven, and intelligent enough to have set this whole thing into motion. And, William thought as he listened to Rayse’s words, he was also an extremely accomplished manipulator.

Molten desire coursed through William’s veins, screaming at him to ignore the contractor’s words and just lash out, giving no quarter. Rayse had to be setting him up to catch him off-guard. But could William be sure? Everything was hitting him too hard right now and his thoughts were a jumble. How long had it been since he had slept? Two days? Three? Mix that with everything that he’d been through over the last two days and William wasn’t surprised he was on the verge of breaking.

So he kept his eyes on Rayse, sizing the man up and trying to decide what the truth was. There had been a time when Rayse had been given a choice between putting himself at risk to save William and helping himself by letting William die. Rayse had chosen the former. Shortly after that, William had been given the same choice and had chosen the later, leaving Rayse in the midst of a nightmarish horde to ensure his own escape. Rayse had survived somehow, and when he’d caught up to William their reckoning hadn’t been pleasant. Had Rayse been holding out for a moment like this, using his wealth and power for revenge?

Darkness coalesced as Talen oozed into existence opposite William. William’s eyes flickered to the shadowmancer for a heartbeat, acknowledging his partner. As they had planned, Talen was using him as a distraction to bring down their opponents as quickly as possible. Only the situation wasn’t as cut and dry as they’d first imagined. William instead found that he had a choice to make. He could err on the side of caution, protecting himself, and simply let Talen’s attack take Rayse. Then the two of them could work to bring Storm down. It would be simple; as easy as doing nothing. Or he could trust Rayse, and in doing so expose himself.

William made his decision.

“Dodge, rotter,” he yelled at Rayse, falling into the familiar cadence of the Plane of Unlife. It wasn’t much, but he hoped it would be enough to jar Rayse to action.

Alongside them, Storm too had dodged, but had replied to Talen’s attack with a blast of energy. William sprang into motion, trying to tackle the lightning mage before too much damage could be done and their conflict be made irreversible. He let his demonic form slough off as he did so, assuming a human guise once more in the hopes that Storm wouldn’t understand that this wasn’t an act of aggression. William would rather fight their true foe together, but if Storm pressed the matter he’d have no choice.

***

Above them, one of the colored men’s pieces tipped and rolled from the board.

After hatching a plan to escape the Plane of Unlife, or Undeath, depending on how optimistic you were, Rayse and William had endured trials and tribulations to get to the Halls of Fleeting Remnants. As part of one of the tallest towers of the Upper City, the halls were some of the oldest structures in the plane. They were maze-like in nature, with narrow corridors leading to four-way intersections. Navigating through them was a nightmare, as spatial concepts deteriorated the deeper they went, meaning that anyone attempting to go in one direction for too long will find themselves back where they started, or somewhere no one has ever been before. If it wasn’t for the map they procured earlier, they likely would have been trapped here forever.

It wasn’t a smooth infiltration. They stirred the hornet’s nest in their wake, and were now being pursued by a legion of Servitors. Their destination was a simple room with an arch-shaped artifact, which contained an ancient portal to a realm even more insulated than this one, but they figured that anywhere was better than here. The walls seemed to grow inward as they ran, and the only light they had was a weak torch that flickered the faster they moved. The stone around them was jagged and rough, almost growing like thorns into the passageways, a stark contrast fron the neatness and perfection of the Upper City.

While they were confident in their speed, the Servitors were threatening to catch up. It would only take one swing of their massive axes to split either of their heads in twain. But then, William sensed a presence far more dreadful than the Servitors, a familiar feeling. He looked back saw a floating set of robes in the distance, moving so fast that it was already ahead of the colossal skeletal enforcers on their trail. Rayse looked back as well, and while he could tell that they were in trouble, it was only his first time encountering The Grand Lich. Hardened by his years in torment, William felt the terror that haunted the dreams of every ghoul, except now it was invading his conscious mind.

They were both going to get caught at this rate. As much as he felt he owed a favor to Rayse, he felt much more entitled to leave. He paid his dues several times over, and any sins he committed in his previous life were repaid in full by now by his suffering.

It was nothing personal.

He tripped the pyromancer.

* * * * *

Rayse remembered what he felt that day. Unyielding rage that overwhelmed him, completely trumping any fear he thought he had. He didn’t care about Servitors, Grand Liches, or being undead. He wanted to rip a man named William Arcus apart.

Those feelings seemed like so long ago, but they stirred fresh in his mind by William’s glare. For a long time, Rayse’s hate seemed like mild malignity. It was a pretender’s hate, with no substance to it. Even if someone injured him, or destroyed one of his possessions, or ruined the lives of the people he cares about, something about it always circled back to something he did. He wasn’t careful enough, or maybe he deserved it. But the hate he felt for William that day was the real deal. It was honestly… refreshing.

The only reply that the warrior gave him was a warning, coupled with terminology of a place Rayse dearly wished to forget. The contractor turned around just in time to brace himself, although his body had reacted faster than him, allowing the glass to pass harmlessly through him, leaving several fiery holes in his body that closed up afterwards. This little punk was known to Rayse, although physical descriptions were obviously worthless. Why he was hanging around with William was a mystery, but he did note that their two antagonists weren’t wearing the same peasant clothes as them.

By the goddess, did they come here willingly or something? Didn’t wake up looking like farmers? Goddess-damn, now that I think about it, does this mean someone dressed me up while I was out? I think I’m going to be sick.

He looked over to Storm, who was considerably more vengeful due to the damage he took. Did they have to fight after all? Rayse didn’t know if he could negotiate with Talen, who completely unprovoked just tried to murder them. Even the almost meditative level of calm that Rayse tried to maintain was starting to become unraveled.

Fine Storm, have it your way.

He gave Storm his offer, he was satisfied even if it was rejected. Whatever happened to the lightning mage from this point forward was not his fault, but maybe it was still his responsibility. He would try to avoid getting his accomplice killed if possible. But since an attempt on his life was already made…

Rayse turned around and pointed his right index finger at Talen. If there’s one thing you should never, ever do under any circumstances, that was to piss off both Rayse and Storm at the same time. A small flame was produced on the tip of his outstretched finger, and by rubbing the ring on the finger with his thumb, the flame suddenly shot out like an arrow, aimed at the instigator’s feet. Even if it missed, it would produce an explosion near enough to cause serious burn damage. Right after the attack, Rayse caught William charging at Storm in a more reasonable form. He shifted his finger over to follow Arcus’ movement, threatening to fire off another round of his gun-like attack. This time, he was the one issuing warnings.

“I don’t know what your game is William, but back off!”

Talen drew his sword with a flourish. The dark blade caught the white flickering light that bathed the arena and metal seemed to emit a translucent shine. Talen was acting on instinct rather than thought as he moved the blade between himself and Storm. The child’s face twisted into an angry snarl as he realised his folly. His blade would conduct rather than deflect the attack. He brought the sword down towards the stonework beneath his feet as electricity met blade. The metal emitted a high pitched hum, similar to the large turbines of Alerar airships. A moment later Talen plunged the sword an inch into the ground, but it was a moment too late.

The child pulled his hand free of the hilt but threads of charred flesh remained attached. The audience erupted into another round of cheers as the smell of burnt skin wafted over the arena. Talen didn’t have time to act against Storm as the ground erupted beneath his feet. He launched himself backwards, but the explosion did most of the work for him. At first his small body seemed to ragdoll through the air, but his arms lifted out and his balance brought him to a sliding stop on knee and foot.

Talen’s right hand hung limply by his side. The charred flesh burnt through to tendons and bone dripped with fresh red blood. As the youth stood his legs hadn’t fared much better, with his shoes and pants shredded from the knees down from Rayse’s attack and burns lining all of the exposed flesh. Despite it all, Talen didn’t waver. He had been pulled apart and put together so many times before pain didn’t matter anymore. Compared to the embrace of N’Jal his wounds were a tickle. The only thing that had changed was the amount of force the child was going to use.

Beside Talen two pools of darkness twisted into life. From each portal a shadowy form burst forwards. The creatures were darkness, slowly hardening as they charged towards Rayse until their forms were that of twin black bulls. Their coats shone with a black malevolence and their forms dripped inky black shadows. Their bodies were thick and muscular, made for spending long days pulling ploughs on the farm, or in this case running down uppity fire mages. The creature’s hooves thundered as they charged past Talen’s sword and on their way past Storm and William.

Despite William charging towards Storm, Talen felt a thought niggle at the back of his head. William had warned Rayse of the first attack. Talen didn’t understand why he had done that, or why they would even stop to consider anything but to win. In the child’s mind the answers were simple, strike down all that stood in the way. Talen wasn’t sure where exactly William stood.

Storm’s assessment was correct; indeed Talen was more than anyone would assume just looking at the boy. His borderline artistic block of the lightning-based assault would have been beautiful if it weren’t so frustrating. The metal of the blade of course served as a lightning rod, attracting the beam with just an artistic flick of what appeared to be juvenile wrists. The angry shapeshifter appeared more furious with the onset of pain a lightning grounded itself in his hands, but it wasn’t as though he had actually appeared damaged.

Well, shit. If I can’t fry the little bastard, I’m pretty well screw…

A second blast had hit the earth beneath Talen, this one coming from Valentino. The earth erupted as loudly as the crowd as the boy was jettisoned backwards, landing deftly on his feet as though it were part of an orchestrated dance. Storm didn’t have time to marvel at the boy before feeling the impact of meat between his shoulder blades.

“Gyaah, f*ck me!”

Arcus had tackled him, wrapping his arms about Storm and encapsulating the wizard as he drove him to the stone below. The magician contorted enough to avoid catastrophic damage as he felt his own shoulder and side driven into the ground, snapping his head backwards in a futile attempt to catch William on the nose or otherwise unaware. His head caught nothing but air as the landing had separated the two, yet an absurd vision did enter his frame of view.

Have to give him credit, the boy has plenty of tricks.

Veritas was calmed for a split second as he watched two dark bulls charge directly past him, thundering hooves despite their ethereal appearance. They were heading directly towards Rayse, their fury and intent unmistakable. Frantically, Storm rolled hard away from the spot where William had taken him down, not bothering to look away from the great ebony beasts. How could he stop them?

When you’re a hammer, every problem is a nail.

Storm took one last lunging step hard to his right, firing a second bolt at the leftmost bull, landing roughly in some of the freshly upturned ground as he dove. If the thing were real, it would hurt or kill. If it were some sort of illusion, perhaps the image would dissipate. In either event, he had granted some physical distance from the man who had attacked him, and stayed the hell away from Talen while scrambling for his life.

“Rayse, to your left!”

It wasn’t masterful articulation, but it should have kept his friend free and clear of the crackling shot heading in his general direction.

William issued a startled exclamation as he and Storm hit the ground. It was a far harder landing than he’d intended to make and it jarred the larger man from his tentative grasp. William flailed wildly for something to anchor onto but caught nothing as he flew over Storm and back down the sloped chamber.

Each sliding bounce sent an electric jolt of pain through him, the rough gravel easily devouring the remains of his tattered shirt and slashing ribbons of skin from all over his body. Exuberant cries accompanied each hard slap of his flailing body, the mob chanting “oohs” and “aahs” after each painful bounce.

“Thaynes curse it,” William groaned as he finally came to a stop. His entire body stung furiously but nothing seemed to be broken. He was grateful for that. There was a lot of pain, but it was hardly debilitating, and his regeneration would seal the wounds within seconds. Far worse than the pain was the indignity of the whole situation, and William finally decided that he’d had enough.

Gritting his teeth, William rose against the stinging pain of his raw flesh and looked back up the slope. Rayse hovered over him in the same spot as before, not having moved. Only now the fire mage had a ringed finger pointed threateningly in William’s direction. His mouth was moving, so Rayse was obviously saying something to him, but it was a futile gesture and William caught none of it. Rayse was simply too far away for William to hear anything he had to say. There was only the roar of the crowd and the molten thrum of anger in his ears. Besides, the contractor’s general bearing and expression told William everything he needed to know about what Rayse had to say.

Above them all, the shielded platform rotated into view. It bobbed slightly as it moved, following a slow elliptical orbit around the chamber. William slumped back to the ground and focused his cursed, burning eyes on the magical shield surrounding the platform.

His attempt to disarm the fight had gone disastrously wrong. Not only had William utterly failed to save Talen from Storm’s lightning blast attack, he had also managed to hurt himself and draw Rayse’s hostility back to him at the same time. He was more than a little angry that he’d gone out of his way to warn Rayse only to find the man immediately threatening him afterward.

William was done trying to play the good guy.

“Fuck it,” William growled. “Fuck Rayse, fuck this fight, fuck all of it.” Molten power flooded William’s veins as he loosed the bands of his restraint and shifted back into his war form. Let Rayse shoot him. Let Talen trample both men under a nightmare stampede, let them all squabble to the delight of the crowd, just as the colored men wanted. It was time for William to finally vent the full fury of his wrath and he finally had a worthy target for it.

William’s hand blurred as it slung forward, hurling a handful of gathered gravel up as Rayse. The tremendous strength and speed that the revenant possessed propelled the stones up the slope like a shot from a sling, but even so they were too small to do any real damage. At worst they might scratch Rayse if they hit him in an unprotected area, but that wasn’t the intent. William only needed to distract Rayse just long enough to get back to his feet without taking a direct blast from Rayse’s ring shot.

“Let them sort themselves out for all I care,” William thought as he used the momentum of his throw to roll painfully over. The moment his legs were gathered beneath him, William sprang straight up towards the platform. “I’ll kill these bastards myself if I have to.”

Ugh…

He couldn’t do it. His level of revulsion for the situation was at an all-time high, and as satisfying as the notion was, he couldn’t blast William off the island. Also, he couldn’t get a good shot, so there was that. The collision with Storm worried him a bit, but both the men appeared to be fine.

Crazy molten men aside, Talen was unrelenting in his bloodlust. There were now two shadowy bulls charging him, whose properties Rayse could not discern. Were they solid? Were they bombs? Perhaps they were simple illusions.

“Reign in your goddess-damned Ixian!” Rayse yelled toward William, but to no avail. His voice was drowned out by the audience, and the pyromancer briefly considered changing his aim to them. “Oh, having fun, are we? By the goddess, I swear I’ll burn this whole shitty carnival down!”

I could really use a smoke right now.

The bulls didn’t care about his proclamation, their goal of collision unchanged. Storm tried to warn him about his attempt to help, but it was equally drowned out by the noise. However, the gesture was not unwelcome. The lightning mage's attack was fast, but somehow the bull being targeted managed to hop out of the way just in time, with the lightning hitting near its hooves with a loud CRACK. But while it dodged that attack, Rayse stomped his foot into the ground, sending a sizzling subterranean fire. From under the black bull that avoided Storm's attack, a pillar of flame emerged and engulfed it, causing it to burst into a shadowy mist. The floating platform loomed overhead, reminding Rayse of his true goal after dealing with this ludicrous attack.

A mage fight. This is my worst nightmare realized. There’s nothing worse than a fight between magi! This punk must think I’m helpless in close range fighting.

The other bull was undeterred, its hooven harmony cracking the ground as it approached. Rayse aimed his right index finger at the dark beast, confident that a searing hot blast of fire was enough to cause it to join its brother in Haidia.

Before the contractor could take his shot, a stream of high-velocity rocks pelted him right in the face, causing him to lose focus right at the critical moment. He was disoriented long enough to fail to dodge the shadow construct, taking two bull horns directly into his chest. The pyromancer exhaled what little air he had, the shock of the pain completely stunning him. The force of impact was so great that upon puncturing his chest, the bull actually lifted Rayse into the air and carried it further with its momentum.

The next thing he knew, the creature was blindly leaping into the pit of flames in a sacrificial act of servitude, with contractor still attached. The flames roared around him as they consumed his form, and the crowd cheered wildly at the sight of a gladiator dispatched. Red and blue mixed in with the white of the inferno, blazing blindingly bright for a moment before returning to its illusory white form.

Talen was left alone while the others tumbled and flung themselves about. The youth watched with patient blue eyes as one of his bulls was shot down and the other found its mark. The creature carried both itself and Rayse into the white flames in the middle of the room to which the audience erupted into a symphony of cheers and hoots. Compared to the crowd, the bloodlust of the gathered fighters was little more than puddle next to an ocean. Talen didn’t waste the time he had as the action played out. Shadows had wrapped themselves around his arms and legs. They worked quickly, knitting new skin and muscle to replace that which had been burned and torn away. The shadows on Talen’s legs shifted onto his pants, forming new material where it had been torn. On his arms however the shadows hardened into metal. The youth form his viciously clawed punch gauntlets. The black metal that ran from shoulder to fingertip shimmered in the white flickering light.

“Not a chance Rayse…” muttered Talen, “… this isn’t my first party.”

Talen’s words were to himself more than anyone, sitting just above audible. The child remembered the first time he had seen Rayse. It had been in a similar fight to this one, but there had been no teams and a few more people. Back then Talen had been far less powerful, and it had been Sei Orlouge that had claimed his head. The blue-eyed child would not be so gullible to believe that the man of fire would be killed by that very thing he controlled so easy. Talen wanted to move towards the white flames and stop whatever Rayse was planning, but despite knowing it was an illusion he could not bring himself. It still looked like it could birth something in horrible contradiction with his own essence. Every fibre of his body screamed at him to stay away from the flame.

“… and I thought I was the one making bull.”

Talen smiled at his own pun, using the humour to cut through his own doubt even as groans came from the few observant viewers in the audience. With Rayse momentarily gone from sight, Talen was left with only one option; attacking Storm. The child’s feet lifted of the ground as he floated into the air. The youth’s hands lifted out to the sides with his metallic palms opened to the roof. Beneath dark clawed hands fire burst to life. At first it trailed into the air as natural and free as any flame, though lacking the brilliance of the fire in the middle of the room. Talen brought his hands together in front of himself and pushed the fires as one. The twin flames were smothered from sight, but as Talen pulled his hands apart each palm carried a ball of glowing red and white.

Talen didn’t wait to act, Storm had enough time to act as it was. He reach back and flung the first ball towards the lightning rouge. The magic would have carried more weight if it not for the white light that bathed the fighters from the central flame. The attack looked nearly insignificant as he fell towards its target. Talen held the second ready to follow up his attack, the explosion was small enough that he needed to place his second carefully or waste the display.

Each of ball was a compression of fire and force. While they lacked the simple effectiveness of Rayse’s attack, they carried enough heat to char flesh and enough force to crack rock. Encased in a fragile case of force, they would explode on first contact, regardless of how soft or hard it was. The resulting eruption would be enough to encase a man whole, but Talen didn’t think himself that lucky, nor his opponents that unskilled for that to occur.

If there was one consistent feature of the group of four, it was inconsistency. Four elite warriors, drawn from remote reaches of Althana, were acting as four isolated units, with no coordination nor semblance of any sort of orchestrated ensemble. Such was the melody of chaos, and it was likely the Puppeteers would have it no other way.

Rayse had allowed himself to be enveloped in the great white fire. Storm was certain that his actions were intentional. He had seen the pyromancer disappear in a fashion not different than Talen; had Valentino assessed real danger in his the mighty ivory blaze, he never would have been driven back into the flames.

William had inexplicably been honest during his exposition. He was interested in ceasing the game, and leapt up to defeat the Game Masters upon the floating pedestal. It would cause true anarchy; exactly the type of foray that would normally be a perfect fit for the elemental magicians. Unfortunately for Storm Veritas, his hands were very much full with the boy-apparition.

This F*CKING KID…

Talen had proven himself to be an immutable force of nature; a projectile wielding savant who seemed intent on nothing but dealing death, and doing so with an endless arsenal of brutality. Instead of joining his partner, or lamenting the loss of his conjured bulls, the shadowy figure produced a great ball of gleaming pinkish energy. For an instant, Storm hoped it some form of power electric, as the automaton blasted away and the wiry wizard instinctively leapt. Of course, there was no such luck.

The first ball was hot, searing and splitting the stone floor beneath Storm. Storm controlled his fall by producing a small magnetic field drawn forth from the metallic deposits in the stone, but it did little more than drop him a foot from dead-center, in a red hot spray of what appeared to be newborn lava. The second ball, naturally, was lobbed directly at his chest.

“Oh, for f*cks sake!”

Storm’s hand rifled to his satchel, finding the cold, unyielding presence of metal instantly. He pressed his finger through the smooth orifice, feeling an instant paralysis. The Might of Moxxilus, a plan golden trinket he had once called “more useless than tits on a bull” instantly consumed him with its power, encasing Storm Veritas in a hard crusted shell of green stone. The mass of jade crystallized in a blink, protecting him like an ancient KaBoom Beetle encrusted in Concordian Blood Willow sap. The second orb of red and white splashed harmlessly off the side of the jade. The shell metaphorically laughed at the fireball as it remained intact, unflinching.

Unscathed to the now-howling audience, Storm was in the midst of a full blown panic attack. He had managed brilliantly to put the ring on with the deft and precision of a master craftsman, but had no earthly idea how to get the damned thing off. So tightly compressed in his emerald cocoon was the warrior that he couldn’t breathe, let alone retract his finger. It was mildly encouraging that he could widen his eyelids in fear, but for the life of him, his finger was not moving an iota.

In a moment of absolute brilliance, the world-weary traveler discovered the tailor-made escape route.

The ring IS made of metal, you stupid asshole…

Generating the pulse of electromagnetic energy took precisely zero movement, and sent the ring rocketing through the green stone like a hot knife through fresh bread. Immediately, the green stone crumbled about him, dropping Storm to the ground in a splay of exhaustion and incredulous awareness of his own stupidity. He gasped for the thick, chalky air, enjoying the gritty taste of stone-dust on his tongue as panic hit him once more.

Have to get up, you know that little bastard has some other shit cookin’ already.

Hot winds whipped around William as the revenant focused his molten core in on itself. The winds caught him up and bore him aloft, adding to the momentum from his jump and bringing the platform quickly within reach. William lashed out as soon as he was able, slamming into the magical barrier around it with all the force he could muster. But though a blow like that from William’s enhanced strength would have been enough to powder rock or crush steel, the shield remained firm. So William struck again, and when that blow landed with no appreciable result, he struck again.

No surprised, William yielded. He fell away from the barrier to assess the damage that he’d done. All that he had to show for his display of aggression was a spider web of cracks against the amber surface which were already sealing themselves. William growled in frustration at the sight, then matched the slow, rolling speed of the pedestal’s orbit around the chamber to better study what he was up against.

Lines of power formed across the barrier’s surface as William watched, his destructive enlightenment scouring the magical shield for its secrets. What he saw was an incredibly complex and interwoven conjuration, something specially crafted to thwart himself and the other combatants who’d been assembled to be the playthings of the men inside.

William concentrated and let his sight delve deeper into the shield. Awareness of the outside world fell away as he slipped further into the magic’s depths. The roaring of the crowd, the chaos going on beneath him, and even the colored men he so desperately wanted to kill faded to a distant murmur in the back of William’s consciousness.

As brazen as the colored men might be to present themselves in front of their combatants, they weren’t stupid. It became apparent to William that the colored men had studied Talen, Rayse, Storm, and himself with serious intensity. The interlocking wards that made up the bulk of the shield were extremely resistant to the fire and lightning elemental magic that the majority of them possessed, plus the darker shadow magic that Talen employed. Such a working would be all but immune to their magic.

Physically, the enchantments had not only been laid out atop each other, but they’d been woven together like a suit of mail. Striking one point pulled energy from the areas of the shield around it as well, so that to strike one part of the shield was to strike the whole thing. It would take a concerted effort of force across the shield’s entire surface to crack the thing, something which William doubted that even four such talented warriors could accomplish.

Still, for all its built-in resilience, the shield had a weak spot. A thread existed in the barrier’s magic, traced across the surface in black lines and woven throughout its structure. It was a single point of failure that had been deliberately built into the magic. All it would take to bring the shield down would be a single command. The correct command.

Knowing this just made William angrier. His destructive enlightenment only showed him that a phrase was needed to break the shield, it didn’t tell him what the phrase was. It could literally be anything. He hurled himself back into the barrier with a snarl, hammering at it with futile effort.

His renewed assault finally caught the notice of the colored men. They paused their game and looked at the burning warrior with a mixture of surprise and amusement. The man in the white made a mocking gesture and said something to his companion, though William couldn’t hear it through the shield. The man in black shrugged and stepped back to scan the floor beneath the board. He laughed when he saw the fallen game piece then casually picked it up put it back on the edge of the board. The two men gave William a contemptuous nod and then resumed play.

“Thaynes curse it all,” William roared. He needed help is he was going to have any chance of getting to the colored men. Still hovering next to the pedestal, William looked down and took stock of the situation.

Talen and Storm were still trading magic back and forth, and Rayse was nowhere to be seen. Had Talen killed the contractor? If that were the case then he and Talen could simply finish this stinking affair by killing Storm and then working together against their next set of foes. Just like they’d done since being reunited in Scara Brae.

William coalesced his power into a shot of liquid fire and gripped it in his molten claws. He watched Storm intently, waiting for the perfect opportunity to hurl the fiery explosive. It would all be over soon. The staged matches, the travel, the cryptic messages delivered by shadowy figures, none of it would matter in a few minutes. He’d finally be free from being a pawn in this sordid affair. All he’d have to do would be to release his magma shot at Storm’s unprotected back.

A staggering realization hit William. He and Talen had been given a message in Scara Brae at the start of all this. A single phrase which both of them had received. It had brought them together and then driven them to Lornius. William paused for a single moment, looking between Storm and the amber shield hovering next to him. Then he placed his free hand against the magical field and said, “Artur Eld 1124.”

The barrier shattered.

This time it was confusion that reigned on the colored men’s faces as they whipped around towards him. The confusion quickly turned to terror as they saw the glowing orb of liquid fire clutched in William’s hand. Both men reached for the weapons sheathed at their hips, but William was faster. Snarling in victorious rage, William’s hand shot forward, releasing the magma shot directly at them.

Out of Character:

Bunnying of Revenant approved.

Alsacia was the realm of angels and nebulosity. The translucent sky was an endless ocean of water that floated overhead, allowing an endless day but also the threat of rain, whose destructive properties forced the inhabitants of the plane to construct elaborate ways of redirecting the water from their cloud kingdom. Rayse and William were on on of those clouds, which like the others had the unique property of being able to support the weight of land on it. Below the cloud were more floating landmasses, and deeper and darker was an endless abyss.

Rayse had managed to escape The Plane of Undeath despite William’s betrayal, and now he was fighting William to the death. They fought for several hours, neither of them gaining the upper hand. The small cloud they were on was the host to ancient ruins for the winged civilization that lived here, but by now nothing was left besides a few decayed, rudimentary stone structures. Being two beings of fire, their battle had set the whole place on fire several times over. Rayse was dumbfounded that William had improved this much since their first meeting, and Arcus was equally astounded that he was getting a harder fight than even his duels with Jensen Ambrose.

However, Rayse wasn’t here to have a fair fight. It would have been nice to humiliate William before killing him, but ultimately as long as the man died he was satisfied. The plateau they were on started to shake and crumble. Despite the special features of the cloud, enough heat caused it to start dissipating. Everything on top of it was starting to fall through. William accused Rayse of being suicidal by stoking the flames this much, but Rayse grinned and put on his special gloves. As the enchanted gloves granted him large, white wings, the land gave way and the older man descended into the abyss.

* * * * *

Of course, this was not enough to kill William, and despite their mutual hate for each other, they found a target far more deserving of their entity: The winged bastard who threw them into the nightmare in the first place. After escaping Alsacia and wandering the planes, they finally made their way back to Althanas. Rayse wasn’t gone too long, but William felt like he endured a lifetime in the planes, and had no intention of going back.

The contractor finally clawed his way out of the pit, once again mentally ridiculing the fakeness of this fire. Sure, it was hot, but it was not the fabled White Fire of Annihiliation, which would have simple wiped him from existence rather than burning him. An arm reached up and slammed down on the stone of the arena, with his head and shoulder being lifted up behind it. He was partially hidden by the flames, but he was so short of breath that he could hardly make use of that advantage.

Luckily, this pit was not endless. Once they reached the bottom, the bull burst into a shadowy mess after being consumed by flames. Rayse’s resistance had afforded him immunity to such a fate, but he was still bleeding out from the chest wounds and was forced to use a memory of his form to restore himself. With very little power left, Rayse wasnted to end this quick and aimed his right index finger at Talen. He had the element of surprise, and it would only take one clean hit to incinerate the little punk.

Yet, he grit his teeth and tried to subdue his rage. William’s actions intrigued him. Rayse didn’t know when he learned to fly, but now he was attacking the magical barrier. It was looking fruitless for a while, but then suddenly he somehow broke it. Rayse couldn’t help but laugh, somehow William had all the luck, but this was luck that the pyromancer could benefit from. He finally pulled himself from the pit and got up, the holes in his clothes in the front and back now visible. He left most of his weapons in the chamber foolishly, but his knife was still strapped to his ankle, and some of his spices were in his pockets.

He could have either tried to fight and keep the restoration as a last resort, or use the rest of his power to get onto the floating platform with William and those chess assholes.

The decision was easy.

He jumped up into the air, his body turning red and bursting into hundreds of tiny wisps of fire. William’s molten attack hit the man in white, causing him to fall to the floor in agony as the lava attack melted away his insides. The man in black backed up nervously, "It wasn't supposed to be like this! You were supposed to fight to the death!"

He was ready to attempt an escape, but then found a knife in his back.

Rayse pulled the weapon out, whispering, “That’s what you get for taking my shoes.”

A man without good shoes was no man at all, and Rayse could not forgive such a disgrace. As the man in black collapsed, the contractor burned off the blood with fire, glaring at William, pointing his right index finger at him. It was hard to tell whenever they met if they were enemies or not. They seemed to ebb and flow between foe and ally, and now was no different.

The crowd began chanting, “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!”

The warriors continued staring at each other, but then Rayse pointed his index finger at the crowd for once.

“Say, William, are you up for a spot of the old ultra-violence?”