Each snapping flick of his obsidian blade and every savage tearing claw swipe served only to stoke the rage inside William. Though the fox was nearly twice William’s size, it quickly became apparent that the molten warrior was the more savage predator. Once it became apparent that a stand-up fight would be suicide, the fox beat a hasty retreat across the Dancing Stones. This thrilled William, who was eager to do away with the magic spears and tendrils and to simply get himself stuck into the thick of the fighting.
That wasn’t to say that the fox fled blindly from William, or that it didn’t get in a few snapping bites of its own against the revenant. Every new platform the fox leapt to was either already dropping in order to discourage direct pursuit, or else it was angled to force William back into a portion of the field where stable footing was already sparse. By the time William finally cornered the beast, a quick glance showed him that over half the pillars in the arena had already been taken out. Things were moving to the endgame.
However the drawn out chase did serve to allow William’s rapid regeneration to put him back together into a more or less uninjured state. His chest still ached from where the tentacle had crushed him and there was still some stiffness in his shoulder where the mage’s ice spear had impaled him. Barring that, even the fresh wounds that the fox had given him had sealed, not being significant enough to overcome his innate capabilities.
A look of pure panic shone in the creature’s eyes the moment it realized that it had leaped to the wrong pillar and had nowhere left to retreat. William savored that fear but knew that he couldn’t afford to drag it out for too long. He himself would have to retreat three pillars back and turn into the largely unaffected portion of the goat monster’s field where it met up with his. That was, of course, assuming the goat hadn’t moved to cut off his escape by dropping the pillars around him while he’d been busy attending to her fox.
That was one of the dangers of the Dancing Stones, and it sent a thrill up William’s spine. There were too many fighters in the Citadel who thought that the only proper way to fight was to simply stand in front of one another and throw punches until someone fell. True it was a more realistic approach to training, but William had long since grown tired of simply laying into his enemies and tearing them apart. Where was the fun in overwhelming an obviously inferior foe? William had only ever been able to count the number of people who could stand up to him in a straight-up brawl in the single digits. Most of those people had long since departed from public life in Althanas. Given that, how else was William supposed to enjoy himself?
Having said that, William wasn’t a fool. Knowing that his opponent was cornered and bleeding from a half a dozen slashes he took a moment to look around in hopes of catching sight of the goat monster or her dragon. As if to answer his question the fox lunged recklessly at him. William’s attention reflexively snapped back to the beast and he whipped his scythe to meet the creature’s lunge.
Deadly as it was on its own, William’s scythe also possessed a powerful enchantment. The stronger version of this enchantment allowed the weapon to pass through incredibly powerful magical shields and armor as if they weren’t there, but even the minor version could cut steel like paper. An expression of frustration crossed his charred features as William ignited the lesser version of the enchantment and levelled the blade at the fox. One final swing would simply part the beast in two and then he could turn his attention to the goat.
It didn’t occur to William that the creature’s final lunge was a distraction until he felt the goat monster’s sword slam into his back. The thick, tough skin held against the pressure for a fraction of a second before the weight of the charging dragon and the blade’s razor edge punched through him like an awl. He didn’t have time to see if his attack had killed the fox, but it didn’t matter as the momentum of the attack hitting him lifted him bodily and carried him into the sky.
A ball of red-hot steel blazed in William’s chest as the goat woman lifted him, but strangely enough he could only think about how the much stronger the chamber’s gusting winds tore at him while he flew into the air. Some dim, rational part of his mind realized that he must be flying now and not simply up in a jumping arc given how much more aggressively the arena was treating him.
The pain collapsed in on William in an instant and he looked down to see two inches of metal jutting from the front of his chest. The attack had struck his squarely, but luckily the blow had missed his heart. Unluckily, it had not done the same for one lung, his stomach, and a handful of other internal organs. The realization brought a painful spasm with it and William retched, vomiting bright, molten blood in a fountain that was immediately snatched by the violent winds and sprayed out in a fanning arc.
Much to his approval, he realized that a single hand had risen to grip the steel protruding from the front of his chest. He’d clamped down on the end of the blade hard enough that he felt the mythril tip bending beneath the pressure. It wouldn’t exactly solve the problem of having six inches of metal speared through his chest, but it would keep any more from coming in or, spirits forbid, the blade from withdrawing and simply dumping him into the abyss.
That accomplished, William twisted around feebly to meet the triumphant eyes of the goat woman behind him. Beneath her the massive dragon snarled and snapped its jaws a hand span from his dangling, bone-covered legs. The pain was mind-numbing, but pain was an old comrade of William’s and he struggled to put it aside so that he could focus. William focused on the energy in his molten core, much of which was currently escaping, and drew it inwards. It was the same sort of thing he’d done when he’d formed the magma shot that had exploded the mage’s pillar. This time though, he didn’t stop when he’d gathered enough energy for a magma shot and instead kept drawing until he held a double-portion of the power. He curled his lips at the goat-woman, hoping to steal her look of triumph and said, "my name is William." Then he released his gathered energy in a powerful magma explosion centered on himself.
