They walked back to the Akashic. She exchanged looks with Ursula and Melina. No words were needed, they knew they could not stop her. The decision had been made long since they arrived, it would be her hands covered in blood, no one else's. She came down off her horse and took off her breastplate. She then removed her gauntlets and the chainmail she wore. She disliked wearing her full armor set, it served more to be for show than protect her. She recanted Ursula telling her that it galvanized the spirits of her men and she scoffed then, as she did now. She did not need armor to galvanize; she would do it the only way she knew how. She gave her sisters one last look and turned around facing the gathered enemy in the distance. She inhaled, then leapt a great distance.

  As she landed she was surrounded before she finished exhaling. Bracca's men had already drawn their blades and advanced with overwhelming speed. She did not see the blades for she had no need to, she moved through them with such agility they couldn't reach her. Each man moved with the ferocity of a hundred battles, tearing the wind with each swing of their blade. She was glad they were only human. Had they been Stygian warriors, she could not afford to be this reckless. Guinevere leaped over them avoiding the wild slashes, in the air two more appeared behind her, both bringing down their blades. Maneuvering herself in the air she grabbed both their hands and flung them back towards the men below her. Those below dispersed as both men cratered the ground upon impact. Bathing the ground in a red mist. As she fell back down to the ground she braced herself as a barrage of icicles pierced her skin all over. Not even her padded shirt offered much protection. The barrage of cuts lasted long enough to cover her vision, giving an opening for another attack from behind.

  Had the man not hesitated in fear of getting caught in the barrage of icicles he would still have his head, instead, Guinevere held it by his hair. She gazed at Bracca who remained unmoved from his position. She threw the head at him and it was torn to shreds before it reached him, Davos made sure of that. The fight resumed with blistering speed, this time Guinevere took the lead, she crushed Bracca's men one by one, each blow she delivered at the point of contact an explosion of blood and guts. Body parts littered the ground. They slowed their approach, their wanton violence seeming to be subdued by the overwhelming intensity the general gave off. Their numbers had been cut in half, the air was filled with fear, Guinevere could smell it, it excited her. Before the man to her left had time to react, a golden hammer materialized itself in her hand and she smashed it into his face. Logging it. Numerous carvings covered the handle of the hammer within it; its name was written in the Stygian language: Heracles.

  Guinevere stood atop the long handle of Heracles with hands on her hip.

  "Surrender now and your deaths will be painless," Guinevere said unimpressed. She moved red hair from her face.

  Bracca's men began to back away, each one wary of moving forward. They had heard of the strength of the Red Wolf, but to experience the formidable fury was different, it was intoxicating.

  "Bring me her head!" Bracca barked.

  "You do not have to tell me twice." Davos unsheathed his blade and closed the distance to Guinevere. She kicked off Heracles as it flipped into her dominant hand.

  As they collided with weapons, a wicked explosion cracked throughout the air. Sending gusts of wind and rubble in every direction. Davos could not believe the mighty strength Guinevere possessed. She did tower over him, but he could not imagine a possibility that her height and size were a reflection of her strength. In fact he believed they did not accurately capture her might. He knew she was not exerting her full strength, a slight he would not forget.

  "Perhaps the stories about you were true," Davos gave Guinevere an unwelcoming grin.

  "Unfortunately I have heard nothing about you to compare," she said without expression.

  Davos' anger threatened to boil over.

  He had heard tales of Guinevere Xerxes and her rise as a mere princess, to a knight to leading her own army. Of course to him he held no stock in any of the claims. She was the daughter of that monster who disguised himself as mortal. Everything had been handed to her from the moment she was born, she was not like him and his brothers. The fires of war that had forged them, that they had survived could not compare to the fragility of today. She simply was a product of her birth, she was nothing more than a pretender.

  "You insolent brat, I will kill you!" Davos growled.

  He took his off hand and drew it across his blade.

  "Frost Arts: Ice Sheath."

  The air around Davos cooled rapidly and power poured from him. As he passed his hand across his blade, a rigid layer of ice began to form across the steel. Coating the blade in his anger, his disdain, his fear, his power. The blade glowed as the ice reflected the light all round.

  "You know you should take this as a sign of respect." Davos began swinging the sword around as though testing its weight. "It has been a while since I needed to use my abilities."

  Davos continued to talk unaware she was no longer listening. Guinevere planted her hammer on the ground and massaged her shoulders, nervousness had made her stiff. The cuts across her flesh from the icicles did not hurt, in fact had there not been marks across her body she would not have been aware she had been cut. In truth more than anything she was slightly disappointed at the strength of Davos, to have been the brother of Bracca and to show such weakness, it made her wonder if that is how others viewed her and Antares. She had grown disinterested with the duel. She got low and stretched her legs once more.

  "You talk a lot when you are nervous," she began. "It is unsightly."

  Before Davos could resume his assault he was met with a golden lion's head crashing down upon him, he reflexively defended himself, his blade and knees absorbing the impact. The ground around him splintered and cracked. She gripped the hammer with her second and the power of the attack tripled. To Davos the weight behind Guinevere's attack was far heavier than before, as though he took a blow from Bracca himself, no it was far stronger than anything he had displayed. Impossible, he thought. What is this strength? Does she use magic?

  "Sorry I have yet to use magic, or anything of the sort." She responded as though she could read his thoughts.

  She kicked him hard in the stomach. It sent him flying backwards, his vision blurred as he gathered himself, vomiting blood. The strength behind her kick surpassing his ability to protect himself, thoughts of his brother filled his mind. He turned to look back at Bracca whose expression was one full of fury. At that moment he realized his mistake. There was no time to turn back, he rolled out of the way as a golden light came crashing down next to him. The ground tore open and bits of earth flew in every direction. As they fell back to the ground Guinevere swung Heracles once more in his direction. The force of the swing propelling pieces of the ground towards Davos. Each piece fast enough to hit him before he could react to the death blow above his head.

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  "Frost Arts: Ice Age!" Davos willed all the magic within him into the ground itself.

  The ground shuddered under the immense magic that was coursing through it. Each break in the ground bore with it giant shards of ice in return. A layer of ice covered the ground for some distance, the only thing breaking the uniformity of it through the ground was the previous impact of Guinevere's hammer in the ground.

  Davos had unconsciously released so much magic upon the threat of imminent death. There was no time to react, Ice Age an ancient ability of his people created during the primordial wars. Magic that would freeze everything that came into contact with it. Its single purpose, to repel all who attacked the caster. The threat of such an attack came from its area of effect encompassing everything that opposed it. Ordinarily this would have resulted, with the entirety of the green fields covered in ice, but not this time. They stopped short of Bracca's feet.

  Where his head should have been, her golden hammer rested firmly on top of it. Squirts of blood shot out from what was left of his neck. Davos' arms were locked in a defensive position, as though his body still wished to protect a head that no longer existed in this world as it once was. She breathed heavily, she was not expecting him to use such an attack. There was no time for her to react, instead she followed through and hoped her hammer would kill him before his ice shards would pierce her. The familiarity of pain welcomed itself to her as she gazed upon the right side of her body. Massive ice shards around Davos' corpse had shot straight into her right shoulder, and her right kidney; various other shards had made home in her body, none of them lethal. The cold metallic taste of her blood filled her mouth. Holding it in caused her great pain and threw it up before her. She wished to catch her breath.

  Bracca slammed into her with enough force to send her flying a few hundred meters away. She tried as she might to slow herself by grabbing the ground but the force was enough to daze her, eyesight blurry. The second blow came directly at her torso puncturing a lung, the shock lifting her off the ground. The next blow came from behind her. She would make sure that never happened again. He buried his fist into the back of her skull, her momentum shattered the ground around them. Her body bounced off the ground, she was quickly losing consciousness. Without much effort he grabbed her ankle and repeatedly slammed her into the ground; the brutality of his attacks on full display, not giving her a moment to recompose herself. And still Guinevere was calm, never once faltering, as she bided her time.

  Bracca flung her into the air with such force, he could feel her ankle break as he let go. She hung in the air for a moment for all to see. Her thoughts were filled with the sky and her home, she wondered if this was the sight dragons saw flying so high above. Her herself never having seen a dragon, a painful smile came across her face. The firestorm in her eyes glowed dimly, as though it approached. From so high up she could see so far, she could see all her brother wished to protect and she too would do what was necessary. She would paint the green fields of Iliad blood red if it was what her brother asked for. As she fell back towards the ground in the face of defeat she found her resolve.

  "Frost Arts: Gauntlets of Bracca." Bracca smashed his knuckles together.

  Mana flowed around his arms, the violence of his powers were felt throughout the area, even Ursula and Melina were not immune to the pressure. Ice began to form and take root, coating all the way up to his forearms. What formed on Bracca's arms were more akin to those of beast-like claws than gauntlets. The Frost Arts had been a unique branch of Ice Manipulation that was subjected to use by those incapable of proper attunement of true Ice Manipulation done by Stygian Warriors. Still its destructive power was often highlighted as being far superior for such arts coming from a time when power was sought over skill and finesse.

  The blow delivered by Bracca as Guinevere fell in front of him should have killed her. Bracca had killed enough Stygians during his time to know how much force was needed to deliver such a final blow and still, before him as the smoke cleared and all that surrounded them was complete carnage from a single blast of his fits. Had he not been able to hear her faint heartbeat and labored breathing he would have thought her dead. Fucking Giant's blood, he thought.

  He jumped into the hole he had created and dragged the general by her fiery hair and threw her out for all to see. Guinevere struggled to her knees coughing up blood and bile. Her ears were ringing, jaw cracked, her sight was lost in one eye, blurry in the other. Yet still she could feel the presence of Bracca behind him. A large man covered in scars, she turned to gaze up at him but all she could see was a vile grin.

  "This is who your king brings to challenge me?" He roared, lifting her by her throat. "I who took part in the unification wars? I have bled and spilled oceans of blood for my kingdom and I am to be killed in such a manner? By a whore masquerading as a general? Is there none among you who can challenge me?"

  None spoke. Nor did anyone react. For none would desecrate the battle of their general. They had not once shown doubt throughout the fight. They had all stood tall and watched with eyes unblinking. Many of them here today had fought with Guinevere over the last five years. Many of them had seen their general in combat and seldom few were her equal. And yet still they knew Bracca stronger than her and all the same it meant nothing. They would not interfere for as long as she drew breath; they knew their general would not fall. The men had long since been made aware the last time King Barranagan took to the battlefield was a time before the birth of their general and yet, to those old enough to remember the last time the king bared his fangs, that sensation of death now filled the very air around them.

  Guinevere watched as Bracca spoke but she could not hear. She feigned speech and he brought his head closer to her.

  "Oh finally ready to plead for your life?" Bracca could not hide the excitement, "Look as your general begs for her life. Remember this day." He brought her closer to his face.

  Guinevere spat blood in Bracca's eyes, suddenly blinding him, in that moment he loosened his grip on her torn shirt ever so slightly. It was more than enough for Guinevere, she swung her body and firmly clasped on to his arm with her legs. She slipped one hand over and one hand underneath his large hand and and with all her might she ripped flesh and tendons off bone. Bracca quickly followed with a blow with his good arm, she expected it. She lunged forward to close the gap as her face met his. She bit off his nose in one clean motion. He reeled in pain for the first time, he swung his hands blindly, she easily sidestepped and extended her middle finger. Her ankle finally gave out due to the stress it was under so her killing blow missed Bracca's eardrum and instead her finger punctured his throat. Ice began to form where she pierced him. Shit, I missed, she thought through gritted teeth. She tried to pull her finger but Bracca grabbed onto her logged arm with his one working arm and instantly crushed it. The pain sent shockwaves throughout her body, vision in one eye had only returned.

  Bracca still held on to her and smashed her back against the ground this time he flung her away from him with all the force he could muster. Guinevere crashed across the floor and struggled to her feet, her wounds throbbing all over. She looked down at her ankle that bled profusely. Her right arm broken, she steeled herself and entered her fighting stance once more.

  "You- you think this is enough?" Bracca said looking at his misshapen hand. "I will fucking kill you, you fucking bitch!" blood continued to pour out from where his nose called home.

  The ground rumbled, not as it did like before with Davos. This was different, raw power burst from Bracca, she had heard he was meant to be a Lord of War like her brother. Even though she would never acknowledge it, Bracca had the power to garner such comparisons. His strength greater than hers in this moment, but nowhere comparable to that of Typhon or the others. Had he not underestimated her from the beginning and attacked when Davos and the others did, she would have lost. It made her sick to be so weak.

  "You think you can compare to me? To my strength? Then have at it, little general," a sinister grin came across Bracca's face. Pools of mana circled around his hand. The sheer amount of them growing by the second. The blue particles were becoming very visible.

  Guinevere immediately became aware of what it was he was trying to do, rather than intercept, she lowered her stance and brought her hands closer to her chest. She shifted her weight to compensate for the broken ankle and broken hand. Eyes unblinking, she was ready. This annoyed Bracca even more, for he was aware of what she was attempting to do. It was madness. It was an insult. He would not allow his honor to further suffer the indignation of this battle or worse yet the possibility of defeat.

  "Sacred Technique: Ice Spear"

  Those words spoken sent shivers down her spine. Crystalline ice began to form suspended in the air above Bracca's open palmed hand. Each piece of ice interlocking, giving way to form. Said interlocking ice gave way to ability as a spear materialized. And as the spear crystallized and hardened, it gave way to prodigious power.