by Lupine King
Beatrice was stunning. Long dark hair that fell in beautiful waves around her head and a very full figure that turned heads wherever she went. She had those classical beauty features coupled with a fit body. She was the sort whose beauty intimidated rather than attracted and she was made even more intimidating by the fact that she was incredibly tall for a female. Even Valerian was shorter than her. Then, there was the fact that she wore full plate armour and carried a massive kite shield at her back and a long sword at her side.
Valerian looked at her, waiting for her to say something but she simply stood there. Not wanting the silence to become drawn out, he asked. “Can I help you?”
“I…” she began, unexpectedly looking unsure of herself. Thankfully, that did not last long. “I just wanted to tell you to be careful up there. His fire, it does more than burn.”
“Noted!” Valerian replied. He was pleasantly surprised. He hadn’t guessed she would come over to warn him about his opponent. They weren’t exactly close though the same could be said about his relationship with the other Steelborn competitors. There was hope then.
“Thank you!” he told her truthfully. Not for the information. He already knew that but because she had cared enough to warn him. He gave a smile and she smiled weakly in return. Seeing the referee beckoning, he turned around and rushed up the stage, leaving his cousin standing there watching him go. A complicated expression on her face.
Beatrice had originally come to tell him to quit. To warn him that there was no chance of winning. That Tirenael Reed was a devil. But unfortunately, she just could not do it.
TWENTY
Overwhelming
When Valerian saw his opponent he could not help but think of the more stereotypical depictions of arcanists he had read growing up. Tireneal Reed fit them to his ‘t’. He was gaunt, sickly and pale. His eyes were red, appearing bloodshot at first but on closer inspection revealed a cruel, crimson light. His bony fingers clutched at a bone staff that honestly looked healthier and better fed than himself. Two horns from an unknown daemon were attached to the head of the staff forming a beautiful stylish ‘U’. This created space for the blue flame covered core that floated in the “U’s” bowl.
His robes were dark red and flamboyant. Fitting loosely on his overly skinny frame. He was the exact picture of the scholarly old arcanists that locked themselves up in towers and so neglected exercise and diet that they ended up emaciated and frail. As things stood, Valerian could not imagine any scenario where Tirenael would survive a punch from even a normal man without protection.
Even so, he never once thought of him as weak. Not even for a tenth of a second. This arcanist was dangerous. That much was clear. His senses were warning him, telling him to stay away. Valerian did not even have to look elsewhere for confirmation. Tirenael’s smile told him everything. It was an evil, perverse thing that completely twisted his face into something horrific. It was the smile sadistic children made as they tormented animals and twisted the limbs off insects. Only, this one was directed at him.
Obviously, the rumours about his character were true. Valerian knew he was going to have to be really careful in this battle. The referee announced the start of the battle and Valerian quickly got to work. He created a thick, strong [Mage Guard] to protect himself. Using [Valiant Armour] would be suicide against this kind of opponent.
“Are you not going to introduce yourself?” came his opponent’s voice. It was soft, soothing and completely not what he was expecting.
“Pardon?” he asked confused.
“Introduce yourself. You did so with the other fighters. Why not with me?” Tirenael asked.
Valerian appraised him before answering honestly, “I was under the impression that I would not be given the chance”.
A grin split Tirenael’s face. “You’ve been listening to what they say about me”, he accused.
“Listening? If you talking about the rumours being mongered then I am sorry but no. I’ve seen and heard for myself the treatment you give your opponents”, Valerian informed him.
“And still you choose to fight?” his opponent asked.
“Why should I not?” came Valerian’s response.
“Hahaha!” Tirenael laughed. Unlike his voice, this was a dark, screechy thing that disturbed the ears.
“You’re brave!” he said to Valerian. “I like that. Most brave people are stupid but not you. You are smart. But you are ignorant and a bit arrogant perhaps. You simply do not understand your place. It’s better that way. Makes it more fun to break you. When I drown you in despair you will know your place but by then it will be too late. You will already be burning!”
He followed this with even more laughter. Valerian looked at this and smiled.
“On the contrary, I think you will find at the end of this match that you will be the one burning” he declared.
“Oh! Is that so?” Tirenael asked. His laughter was gone and all the mirth had left his face. His eyes had hardened. Now, he looked at Valerian seriously.
“Quite!” Valerian affirmed. Then, he bowed slightly saying, “I am Valerian, son of Valiant. Surnamed Steelborn, Dual force possessor, Array master of the first circle, Circle master of three attributes, Arcane Disciple of the metal and wind attributes, Tellurian Practitioner of the same, Scion of the House of Cragsveil. May we begin?”
Tirenael did not bow. He laughed and raised his staff bringing it down hard to create a sharp thunk when it hit the platform. “I am Tirenael, son of Dernael. Surnamed Reed. Scion of the House of the same name. Third of my line to be titled “Brimstone”. Arcane Disciple of the fire attribute and today, I will hear you scream.”
At his words, a flare of blue flames burst from the ground beneath Valerian’s feet but when it dispersed Valerian was nowhere to be found. Tirenael swivelled searching for him but all he received was a quick wind scythe to his mage guard. The arcane shield shuddered but held easily. All the attack did was reveal Valerian’s location to his opponent. It did not matter though. He was not even bothering to hide.
He hung in the air, his giant essence-formed golden wings holding him aloft. He had been prepared for Tirenael’s surprise attacks from the very beginning. There was no way he was going to fall to it. Absentmindedly, he tucked in a strip of bandage that had come loose and reviewed his plan.
Tirenael’s title was Brimstone. Moreover, he was the third of his line to hold that title, the only other living one being his grandfather. The family had gained that title due to their famed cultivation method: [Torch of the Netherworld].
Once, a devil from one of the netherworld planes found itself in Cragsveil. It wreaked incredible havoc until a campaign was undertaken that put an end to it. It was during this campaign and due to his contributions that Tirenael’s twice great-grandfather, an elder of the Fire Sage School obtained the method. It was a method that allowed the user to cultivate an arcane vessel that would allow him or her to produce, hold and use flames similar to those of the lower planes. However, it did a bit more than that.
The fires of the hells were flames created with the express purpose of torturing souls. The devils and devils who used them were those who delighted not in its efficacy but in the torment they visited on their victims. This did not mean that it was a weak flame. Conversely, hellfire possessed incredible renown for its destructiveness and heat. That was the kind of fire that Tirenael wielded. Intense blue flames that carried with them the terrible choking smell of sulphur. This was the reasoning behind the esteemed family title as well as why his character was so twisted.
[Torch of the Netherworld] was a devil technique. It did not just allow the user to create hellfire it transformed him or her into a vessel for it. Any vessel that hoped to hold a devil flame would have to be devil as well. Therein lay the problem. After generations of practising this method, the family had been irrevocably twisted. His grandfather had even informed him that they could not stop using the method if they wanted to. Nothing else could help them control their
devil abilities. Abilities which only grew as the generations went by.
Tirenael was the prime example of this. He possessed incredible abilities as well as the greatest synergy with the method in his family. Unfortunately, he had also gained many of the negative things associated with devils. He could perceive souls and tormented spirits and he had also gained a penchant for sensing negative emotions. But most worrying of all he had developed the ability to feed off the torment of those around him. Something he had already become addicted to.
Honestly, Valerian did not know what to make of Tirenael after discovering all of this. His first reaction had been pity but Tirenael was not someone who deserved his sympathy. He delighted in it: his power and his abilities. He tortured his foes and his allies alike so he could feed on their fear, pain and despair. He was a devious, twisted individual who took pleasure in nothing but the pain of other people and the chaos he caused on a daily basis. That notwithstanding, Valerian did not hate him. He had no reason to. They were different kinds of people and one might even argue that Tirenael was not even completely human but part devil as well.
If so then his actions and proclivities should be expected. They weren’t to be excused though. Valerian for one did not care for it. He grasped the air, light appearing in his palm. He had a battle to win.
“Scorching flames of the pits”
Valerian looked down at his opponent, stunned. He felt the emanations of power when Tirenael uttered those words. Were these spellwyrds? That was all the warning he got. Flames burst into being around him. Channelling [Soaring through the heavens] Valerian barely managed to slip out before they completely surrounded him. Shocked, he appeared a few metres away watching the conflagration as the last few embers on his Mage Guard disappeared.
He had never encountered a user of spellwyrds before. He had heard of it but never seen it in action. The Steelborns did not approve of the method. Arcanists could cast their spells in a variety of ways. They could use set incantations and signs, focus them through arrays, use reagents, deploy them from talismans or craft them directly like Valerian did. The last was the Steelborn way. It forced the arcanist to control the world essence directly with his own and shape it to his desires. This was more will and essence intensive but ensured that when the user mastered forming a spell this way he would forever be able to cast it with will alone.
The others were different. Incantations and signs helped focus the power but in reality, the arcanist still did a portion of the crafting himself. All they did was guide the power and reduce the cost making it in some ways better than the traditional approach used by the Steelborns. The same with the other methods. Arrays took time to form or draw and they only received mainstream use in production arts and rituals. Reagents performed much the same way incantations did but actually boosted the power of the spells in addition to reducing cost and control requirements. Unfortunately, good ones were often expensive. However, talismans were the most expensive of all as they were basically spells sealed into containers that could be released and used by basically anyone with a hint of cultivating knowledge.
The drawback to using these methods was the reliance they created. The methods by which an arcanist trained and used his or her energy often stuck with him or her for life and that was the danger. The Steelborn method though old-fashioned and intensive made it such that they could cast at any time and under any condition. A Steelborn could be bound, gagged, sick, stripped bare or have any other similar condition applied to themselves but so long as they energy remained unbound and they could bring their will to bear, they would always be able to work their craft.
The same could not be said for the other methods. Take away a person’s reagents or talismans and you would have basically crippled them. Prevent some from speaking or making hand signs and the result would be the same. And there was something worse. Interrupt one of these methods or prevent the user from being unable to use it properly and chaos would ensue. There were numerous examples of arcanists who had their incantations interrupted. All their stories had one common end. They all lost control of their spells, sometimes comically, others disastrously. Replace a reagent in a spell and the effects would no longer be predictable. As for those who begun casting only to realise that they had run out of an essential reagent. Their tombstones could be used to pave hundreds of roads. This was the one weakness that spellwyrds shared with the rest of the other casting methods.
Spellwyrds were powerful tools. They were not incantations but litanies. Incantations were used to focus the mind and guide the magic. Spellwyrds made it that each word uttered was charged with power such that you were not guiding the magic but effectively casting a spell on the magic you were already casting. These were often personal arias that allowed an arcanist to reinforce his magic or apply certain effects to it. It had a high power requirement. Higher than even will shaping but its returns more than made up for it. It also did not help with control but rather compounded it. Using spellwyrds while casting spells could produce great effects but if the user lost control the results were guaranteed to be disastrous. Valerian only hoped that Tirenael could not employ them to their full potential and that he would not lose control.
“Thy master has need of thee”
Flames erupted around Valerian again but he was already expecting that. Ordinarily, he should be able to feel the build-up in essence before the magic took effect but he guessed that one of the effects of the spellwyrds was to take that advantage from him. As it were, flames continued to burst into existence in the air. It was making it impossible for him to stay at one place. Whenever he stopped for even a split second, they would be around him. The audience was being treated to an amazing sight. A gold blur was zipping around the stage with bursts of fire blossoming around and behind him.
“There is a sinner we are to address”
By this time, even the spectators had begun to notice. Many were standing from their seats pointing and yelling. Why? Tirenael’s flames had yet to disperse. None of the fires he started when Valerian took to the air had gone anywhere. They just hung in the air, continuing to give off their scorching heat and sulphuric stench. Slowly but surely they were crowding the air above the platform. If this kept up then eventually, Valerian would have no place room to escape.
“Come deliver your welcoming embrace”
With these final words, every single bit of hellfire shot towards Valerian. Streaks of blue heat raced towards the golden one that was him. They came from every direction and from every angle. There were no openings just waves of blue fire that threatened to wash upon him. They were just the opportunity Valerian was waiting for. He shot downwards as if purposely aiming for the flames below him. People screeched in fear thinking they were going to see him burnt horrifically yet again. That was if he was lucky. Tirenael was never good to those who went against him.
Just as Valerian was about to go through the flames numerous sheets of steel appeared in front of him. Using them as a makeshift shield Valerian dived through unscathed. Just as quickly as they appeared the metallic sheets disappeared again. He was through the wall of flames. However, he had not escaped. The flames were still behind him seeking to embrace him like their master ordered. Valerian paid them no mind. He was faster than them. Far faster. That was why Tirenael had to resort to stealth and wave tactics. Once they were behind him they would never catch up. Besides he had more important matters.
Pushing his movement skill to the limit, Valerian all but disappeared from the sights of most people. Those who could make him out saw he shoot towards his adversary like an arrow launched from the bow. As he grew closer, Valerian drew his arm backwards. His [Rending Talons] coated it with nary a word and he punched forward, piercing through Tirenael’s arcane defences like they were made of paper.
[Rending Talons] was a technique that had allowed Valerian to butcher a high tier dragon whose kind were particularly known for their defence. How could a [Mage Guard] put up by an Arcane Disciple compare? He h
ad barely scratched the surface of the technique and already nothing thus far had been able to resist his talons. Add that to the momentum he had gathered due to his speed and you had an incredible attack. Tirenael was just lucky that Valerian did not want to kill him. Even so, the fight was over.
The entire arena watched stunned as the unbeatable devil, Brimstone, screamed like the hounds of hell were after him. Pain, like he had never known, erupted from his abdomen. Not surprising given that the talons of Valerian’s left hand had pierced through there and out his back. The second hand had its talons positioned in front of his throat. Panicky and irrational, Tirenael tried to shove his opponent away. His physical strength was pitiful by Valerian was careful not to hurt him too much so dismissing the talons of his right, he slammed his palm into his opponent’s chest.
There was a flash of white light and Tirenael was sent flying away. He lay there for a moment clutching at his bleeding belly in disbelief. The arena was quiet. Everyone remained deathly still as collectively they tried to make sense of what had happened. One minute Valerian was about to lose the next he had snatched victory. Many had not even seen what happened in those last moments.
Ignoring the weight of the stares that were upon him Valerian turned to his referee. His intentions were obvious. The man in question stepped forward ready to do his duty when a cry of rage rang through the air.
“I’LL KILL YOU!”
The voice was nothing like Tirenael’s had been earlier. All it held was dark promises and rage. It was painful to hear and quite literally buffeted the area with dark energies. Many spectators had to clamp their hands over their ears in an attempt to block it. Conversely, the person that voice was directed at merely turned to look at the crier for a moment before turning back to the referee.