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267. First Blood

  267. First Blood

  Ignius Lux Draconus, the armoured devil, wore the raging flame like a mystical cloak.

  The intricate, sharp-edged armour encased his body from head to toe, shielding every centimetre of his skin. He stood nearly two metres tall, his frame perfectly symmetrical — neither too broad nor as bulky as Celestius Whisper, yet radiating a dazzling, dangerous power.

  Ignius had become the herald of flame, a living symbol of destruction and war.

  Looking upward, he took a full minute to grace his laborious work with a look of triumph. Death-light danced in his glowing golden eyes, filtering through the jagged slits of his visor.

  A colossal stream of energy surged toward the heavens, reaching the surface of the split moon. Below, deep chasms reformed and unmade themselves as the surface flooded with crimson. Even the sky seemed to scream in agony; the Light of Redemption was as perfect as he had envisioned.

  The sixth apocalypse had arrived.

  The lone figure stood upon the arc-crafted platform, its base spreading far and wide to support pillars hundreds of metres high. Ignius opened his gloved palm, feeling the pull of D’Arcane as it bled from his body. The flow of ghastly white energy, echoing with the screams of the terrified, vibrated through the vast space.

  “The unmaking of mortalkind... A new world order where only the strong thrive and the weak are eliminated,” he chuckled deeply, savouring the thrill of the approaching future. “The true stage of natural selection. Only then will they evolve.”

  The sudden roar of an Arcanite engine shattered his peace. He snapped his hands closed, interrupting the ghastly mist. The armour wrapped around him like interlocking carapaces, chiming with power as its sleek, etched surfaces glowed white-hot.

  His gaze intensified as a comet drew a streak of light across the distance, hurtling toward him.

  “Very well. I suppose this won’t take long,” he sneered as the Armatus surged toward his location.

  He strode into the clearing, hands folded behind his back. Regal. Confident.

  The Armatus Celer cycled and spiralled through the air. Ignius kept his gaze firm on the machine even as the wind rocked the ground and whipped his flame-cloak into a frenzy.

  With a swift, mechanical motion, the flying steel giant drew its dual blades and swooped down.

  Ignius’s lips curled. He raised a single palm.

  “Perish!” Zetius roared from within the cockpit. He lunged at terminal velocity, a massive shockwave trailing in his wake.

  The ionised blade-tips collided with the enemy’s palm. The translucent barrier rippled, the titanium frame buckled instantly, disintegrating on impact. The entire leading edge of the blade was reduced to dust.

  Zetius pushed on with full throttle. The Celer curled its massive metal fist, pulling back for a killing strike.

  Ignius remained unfazed, his palm still extended.

  The Armatus Celer smashed forward. Metal screamed against the impact of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.

  Debris, dust, and sparks spiralled out in a maelstrom of destruction. The giant’s hand was reduced to unrecognisable junk and scrap. The force of the impact travelled up the frame to the cockpit; the entire mech shuddered and began to shred itself to pieces.

  Under the rising cloud of debris, Zetius emerged.

  The silver Artimas gauntlet was locked onto his arm, translucent blue thrusters flaring from his back. His body seemed engulfed in a majestic aura. Silver hair whipped wildly about his face, but his red eyes fixated on his former master.

  “EMPYRION!” Zetius chanted.

  A flame strike erupted, accelerating to a blur. Ignius countered with his palm, the hit connecting with a rupture of air that sent the impact vibrating up to his shoulder. It was far more force than he had anticipated.

  “Hmm.” Ignius’s grunt was the only registration of the blow.

  Zetius followed up with a brutal vertical swing. Ignius raised his forearm, shifting his stance. His footing was secure, his knees coiled for the counter.

  The impact delivered, sending Ignius skidding dozens of metres across the stone.

  “Did I get him?” Zetius murmured. He had put everything, every ounce of force and momentum, into that strike.

  The red devil straightened himself. His perfect stance had absorbed the impact completely.

  Their eyes locked, each studying the other’s movements. Nearby, the flaming remnants of the Armatus Celer groaned and crackled. The Celer had been no match for the Celestius of War. Zetius sucked his cheeks in, frustration mounting.

  “It appears you’ve been practising Warmongering...” Ignius eventually uttered, his tone dark and cold.

  Zetius stiffened, circling the standing suit of armour. Ignius appeared too relaxed. Too unbothered. The lack of effort unnerved Zetius, and a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek.

  “It appears to be Ignius,” Cubie’s voice chimed in his mind. “But be careful, Zetius.”

  “I will,” Zetius clipped. He couldn't ignore the sweet, rotten smell of D’Arcane in the air. It made him sick to his stomach.

  “The beam’s output is declining,” Cubie analysed, scanning the Light of Redemption.

  “That’s good. We can hold out until the others arrive,” Zetius whispered. I just need to keep him busy.

  “You seem distracted.” Ignius’s golden gaze fell on the gauntlet, lingering on the instrumentation. Zetius shifted uncomfortably. “And... I am disappointed. Have I ever endorsed such pitiful measures?”

  The harsh question struck Zetius like a physical blow. For a moment, he was a student again. His eyes squinted in rage. “What about you? Cowering for D’Arcane because of your own incompetence. Scheming like a snake.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Insolence!”

  Ignius’s cloak burst into a wave of flame, scorching the nearby stones. He raised a finger, the sharp steel tip pointing directly at Zetius.

  “I serve a higher purpose! I serve the deity! I am the prophet of Gaia!” His voice resounded with power, like a dark orchestra. “Your feeble mind cannot comprehend it!”

  “You’re serving Hades and a false Gaia!” Zetius screamed, his fists clenching until his knuckles whitened. “You’re blind to your own principles! You are nothing but Hera’s puppet!”

  A soft, maniacal laugh vibrated in Ignius’s throat. “No matter... The sixth apocalypse has commenced! And I shall be the god of the new world.”

  Pure evil. This was not the Ignius Zetius had known — the Celestius of Aries who had saved him during the envoy attack. This was a man far gone, spiralling into an obsession with power and the deepest pits of darkness.

  “Cubie, now!” Zetius boosted himself forward, his thrusters accelerating into a blur. Flame encased his hands as he closed the gap instantly.

  “EMPYRION!” Zetius struck at the man’s helmet.

  With calculated precision, Ignius sidestepped and countered with a backhand. Zetius jerked upward, rolling mid-air to hammer the heel of his boot down in a falling strike.

  “Flashy, but wasteful,” Ignius clicked his tongue. He caught Zetius’s leg mid-swing.

  “Bloody hell!” Zetius gasped, struggling to pull his boot free.

  Ignius swung him in a full circle, building momentum before hurling Zetius through the air.

  “Cubie!” Zetius saw the world spinning, the landscape blurring into lines of distorted colour.

  “Auto-stabilisation mode,” Cubie replied.

  An additional set of thrusters formed at Zetius’s heels. The throttle exuded a precise counter-force, halting his rotation. The moment he saw Ignius, he bolted.

  Fierce and focused, Zetius drew back his fist. Ignius shifted his stance, raising his gauntlet to guard. The clap of the impact rang out like a bell of destruction.

  Ignius angled his body to the right, his fingers weaving flames through the air. He was committing to an attack. Zetius’s mana rushed into the Artimas, lightning crackling as it shaped into a thin, buzzing blade.

  He didn't wait for the blade to fully form. “ASTRAPYION-SPATHA!”

  Zetius lunged, thrusting the blade at Ignius’s torso. The lightning knocked Ignius’s hand aside.

  Ignius’s eyes narrowed in surprise. His hands clasped at his chest. “PHOROS!”

  The spherical shield snapped into existence, but the tip of Astrapyion had already sliced through his shoulder plate. A loud, crackling discharge erupted next to his ear. His body jerked violently, and he was flung tens of metres through the air before crashing into the solid ground.

  Ignius rolled, his feet springing up to secure a foothold. Ignoring the throbbing pain, he fixated on his disciple. The azure blade held at Zetius’s side was thin and long, its tip snapping arcs of electricity onto the stone floor.

  Ignius’s shoulder plate had ruptured outward, exposing a dark, cauterised wound.

  Zetius had drawn first blood.

  “Astrapyion... I never knew such a rare essence existed,” Ignius murmured. “Impressive.” He seemed more enamoured with the magic than the wielder.

  Sucking in a deep breath, Ignius straightened himself, an index finger pointing skyward. “That could only happen once. Your failure to execute me with that strike will cost you dearly.”

  They studied one another. Zetius’s posture remained unyielding as he waited for an opening. In truth, he needed the moment to calm the frantic hammering of his heart.

  Ignius glanced at the crackling blade of light. “Was it Empress Aurora Vere Borealis who taught you the Omit Casting? And that gauntlet... to harness power you aren't supposed to use?” He shook his head, a chuckle escaping his throat. “She’s dead, isn't she?”

  The defamation was aimed to provoke. Rage boiled in Zetius's chest.

  “And you cowered under a rock like a roach, too scared to face her in mortal combat! You aren't the Ignius I knew.” He pointed his blade in condemnation. “Because under that suit of armour hides a pitiful weakling!”

  The flame hissed and burst from Ignius’s cloak, pouring turbulently into the ground. Zetius was quick on his feet, stepping back just in time.

  “There is a difference between cowardice and knowing the disparity of strength. That is the lesson you will learn today.” Ignius’s voice was surprisingly, terrifyingly calm.

  As Ignius raised his hand for Iasis, Zetius charged. His blade became a long streak of lightning.

  Ignius smirked. “Phoros-Iasis!”

  The humming field stopped the blade cold. The shock sent a sharp jolt up Zetius's arm. As Ignius’s wound began to mend and the red armour weaved itself back together, Zetius growled. “Damn it!” He swung at the barrier again and again. Blinding flashes erupted with every strike. The duel devolved into a desperate brawl.

  Sweat flew off Zetius’s skin and evaporated instantly. On his third strike, the spherical shield finally shattered into flecks of light.

  But a fiery fist countered with imperceptible speed.

  Zetius acted on pure instinct. His blade took the brunt of the impact, but the momentum flung him fifty metres away. Ignius’s attack was fast, but Zetius had seen faster.

  “IGNIUS!” Zetius roared.

  Moving at physics-defying speeds, the two combatants abandoned sophisticated technique. They converged with primal intent. Zetius’s months of practice were realised as they brawled as equals. Zetius’s attacks were acute and decisively swift; Ignius was calculated and majestically controlled, each strike carrying immense force.

  It was a battle of speed versus strength.

  Seconds stretched as Zetius entered a state of flow. He angled his blade and thrust at his foe’s heart. Ignius twisted his torso, jerking his shoulder away while his flame-hand swung back. The reach of the fire was as long as Zetius's blade. Zetius anticipated it, parrying the blow.

  Ignius’s calm finally shattered. He countered with a feinting backhand.

  Zetius pushed on, certain he could land another hit.

  But it wasn't a feint.

  Overcommitted, he couldn't dodge. The blow, which had seemed weak, knocked the wind from his lungs. Sharp pain shot through his cheek as he rolled across the ground, his off-hand sprawling for stability.

  “Hang on!” Cubie generated a lift to counter the slide, helping Zetius to his knees.

  Zetius swallowed, wiping blood from the corner of his lip. Half of his face felt prickly and numb. He plunged his blade into the ground to steady himself as his vision regained its sharpness.

  “Your swordplay is... horrific and barbaric,” Ignius sneered, opening his palms. “Your mastery relies on speed. Your instinct has become nothing more than a mindless attack. You are no match for me.”

  The sting on his cheek dissipated as the verbal barb hit home. It was true. His training with Empress Aurora had been far too brief. They had only laid the foundation. To reach his full potential would take years.

  Seeing Zetius’s grimace, Ignius continued, “You are not worthy of the new world, Zetius Zel Celerius.” A wicked grin was audible under the helmet.

  “I will stop you as long as I live.” Zetius re-gripped the handle of his blade, falling into a tail stance — the tip pointing backward and toward the ground.

  Suddenly, the red beam stuttered. It pulsed erratically, disconnected, and the deep hum died away. Night reclaimed the sky, and the starlight and crimson moon painted the canvas once more.

  Ignius half-spun, his shoulders stiffening. “Sparring time is over.” He turned back to confront Zetius, casually adjusting his wrist.

  Zetius observed, his mind reeling. It seemed Ignius needed to manually jumpstart the tower.

  “The next lesson will be your last. Take this fire to your grave,” Ignius’s towering stature illuminated the dark. “There will be no rebirth for you, Zetius.”

  He raised his palm high, a gesture symbolising a torch. His eyes glowed with a menacing, golden light.

  Zetius recognised the stance: the quick footstep, the lifted heels, the low centre of gravity.

  Ignius snuffed his flame. “Dynamis-Empyrion!”

  A golden scarab materialised in his palm. He clenched it shut.

  “No!”

  Too late. Zetius was knocked back by a whirlwind of pressure. He flared his thrusters just to stay upright.

  An immense surge of strength coursed through Ignius. His armour gleamed, radiating a divine, terrible light. The devil in red was no longer fighting a battle of attrition.

  He was cashing in on a full frontal execution.

  solo novella!

  Stay tune!

  CoverArt by Freyrienne, you can check her Vgen out here!

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