Chapter 361: Blood and rage
The roar of the men continued unabated, their voices rolling through the clearing as fire torches burned high, casting restless light across the two warriors facing one another.
Ilya and the others watched from a distance as Baldon stood opposite a man of nearly the same stature. Unlike Baldon, however, the man carried no weapon.
There was magic within his opponent. Baldon could sense it without difficulty, yet the man’s presence was nowhere near comparable to that of his leader. The realization eased some of the tension coiling in Baldon’s chest.
’If I don’t do anything now, I’ll be nothing but a joke in the eyes of my people.’ he muttered inwardly.
And if he succeeded, he would not only earn their respect. He might also forge a favorable relationship with Kalish and, through him, lead his village toward a better future.
The man before him raised both hands before abruptly plunging one into the soil beneath his feet.
He scooped up the damp earth and smeared it across his face with the fervor of a mad beast, then lowered his head and growled.
"My name is Tarang. Once I’m done with you, your blood will be covering my face."
Baldon snickered.
So much spectacle from a tribe that knows little beyond brawling.
"Just start already!" Regath roared from behind.
Baldon flinched at the sudden command, but he recovered instantly.
A fist came hurtling toward his face.
Baldon ducked beneath it, feeling the wind of the blow brush past his hair.
He’s fast.
He swung his axe toward Tarang’s legs, but the man leapt over the blade and came down with both fists driving into Baldon’s shoulder.
"Agh!"
Pain shot through him as Baldon staggered backward, barely catching his balance before he could hit the ground.
Tarang did not give him a moment to recover.
He lunged forward with a guttural roar, driving his shoulder into Baldon’s chest.
Baldon grunted as the impact sent him stumbling backward. Tarang followed immediately, swinging a fist toward his jaw.
Baldon twisted aside.
The fist grazed his cheek instead, tearing the skin and leaving a thin line of blood.
"You’re too slow!" Tarang snarled and the men around them roared higher, clearly enjoying the battle.
He swung again.
Baldon raised his axe to block, but the sheer force behind the blow rattled his arms. Before he could counter, Tarang kicked him in the stomach.
Baldon doubled over.
Another fist came.
He managed to turn his head just enough for it to pass beside his ear, then brought his axe upward in a desperate slash.
Tarang recoiled, but not quickly enough.
The blade carved across his forearm.
Blood spilled.
Tarang stared at the wound for half a heartbeat.
Then he grinned.
"So you can bite."
He charged again.
Baldon’s eyes widened.
He’s not even afraid of the axe. Just what kind of monster he was?
Tarang threw himself forward like a beast, using his entire body behind every strike. Fist, elbow, knee, shoulder. There was no rhythm to his assault, only raw strength and an overwhelming desire to crush the man before him.
Baldon retreated, blocking what he could and avoiding what he couldn’t.
A fist split his lip.
An elbow grazed his ribs.
A knee struck his thigh hard enough to numb his leg.
Still, Baldon remained standing.
He waited.
Tarang roared and raised both fists above his head.
"This ends now!"
He brought them down with all his strength.
Baldon stepped aside at the last instant.
The ground cracked beneath Tarang’s fists.
For the first time, his balance broke.
Baldon’s eyes sharpened.
Now.
He pivoted on his wounded leg and swung his axe with everything he had.
The blade tore through the opening Tarang had left.
Tarang’s roar was swallowed by the sound of steel biting into flesh.
The clearing fell silent.
A deep gash had opened across Tarang’s back, blood spilling down his skin.
And then,
"Raaaahhh!"
The crowd erupted once more.
Baldon panted heavily, his legs trembling beneath him as he stared at the bleeding man.
There was no doubt the wound had affected Tarang, though Baldon knew the axe had not gone deep enough to cripple him.
This should at least slow him down...
His thought was cut short.
A rush of air swept past his face.
Something struck his stomach with enough force to fold him in half.
"Gaaaaha!"
Baldon was hurled backward by the impact, his feet leaving the ground as he crashed through the dirt.
Tarang was still standing.
No, wait.
His hand had moved.
But how?
Ah.
Baldon’s eyes widened as realization struck him.
Magic.
He wiped the blood from his lips and forced himself back onto his feet, using his axe as a crutch. His breathing was ragged as he glared across the clearing at Tarang.
"You are tough. I will give you that."
Tarang grinned, nodding at him with genuine appreciation.
On the sidelines, Kalish and Ilya exchanged worried glances. Just when they had thought Baldon had gained the upper hand, Tarang had leveled the field with that unexpected strike.
Farther away, Luke’s brows drew together.
He had clearly seen it. The air itself had compressed before striking Baldon.
Impressive.
Magic alone should not have been capable of producing that much force.
Luke’s gaze shifted toward the axe-wielding warrior.
"He is one hell of a guy."
His eyes narrowed.
"Can you win this, Baldon?"
Baldon responded to that by finally bringing his greatest weapon into play.
Gamma coiled around his body in dense waves, flowing through his limbs and reinforcing every inch of him. Tarang could feel the change as well, which was why the grin slowly faded from his face and his eyes narrowed with newfound caution.
Baldon straightened, no longer allowing his injuries to dictate his posture. He wielded his axe with renewed confidence and leveled his gaze with the enemy standing before him.
Tarang snickered. "Bold of you to stay standing there when I am your opponent!" he roared before driving his fist into the open air.
TNG!
The resulting shockwave struck Baldon head-on, forcing him to stagger several steps backward. His boots scraped across the dirt, but he quickly planted his feet again and exhaled through clenched teeth. "Haah..." Despite the force behind the attack, his composure remained intact.
He had spent years mastering what little his magic could provide him. It possessed none of the versatility or destructive potential that others might have considered impressive. The only thing Baldon was capable of was enhancing himself, reinforcing his body to such an extent that once his Gamma was fully concentrated, trying to move him was little different from trying to move a boulder.
"You!" Tarang roared, throwing another punch through the air before following it with another, sending shockwave after shockwave hurtling toward Baldon.
The man snarled and continued walking forward. Each strike forced him back a few steps, sometimes nearly breaking his footing altogether, but Baldon never stopped advancing nor made any attempt to dodge. Whatever distance Tarang’s attacks created between them, he stubbornly reclaimed it.
TNG! TNG! TNG!
Every strike was gradually taking its toll on Tarang’s arms, the repeated exertion causing fatigue to creep into his muscles.
Baldon, meanwhile, seemed to be growing increasingly resistant to the punishment. His body was adjusting to the force, his footing becoming firmer with every shockwave he endured.
Eventually, the difference became impossible to ignore. Where the first few strikes had driven Baldon several steps backward, the later ones barely halted his advance.
At some point, a shockwave would strike him and Baldon would pause for no longer than a blink before continuing forward in the very next moment, his grip tightening around his axe as the distance between them steadily disappeared.
When Baldon finally reached Tarang, he was panting heavily, his chest rising and falling with each strained breath, yet the hatred in his eyes had not diminished in the slightest.
Baldon sneered at him. "Should have finished me when you had the chance."
With those words, he raised his axe and let out a thunderous roar.
The crowd that had surrounded the clearing had fallen completely silent, leaving his voice to resonate through the stillness.
SQUELCH!
The axe came down with brutal force, cleaving through Tarang’s neck. Blood erupted from the wound, spraying into the air like a geyser as his body began to collapse.
Baldon released his grip on the axe and turned away, convinced the battle was over.
He looked toward the silent crowd, raised his hand triumphantly, and roared once more.
"HAAAAAA..."
"Ghuk!"
The sound abruptly died in his throat.
Baldon’s expression twisted in confusion as both hands flew to his neck. Warm blood began spilling between his fingers, running down his arms as his eyes widened in disbelief.
He slowly turned around.
Tarang was still kneeling.
Barely supporting himself.
The man had already accepted death, yet a faint smile remained on his face as he yielded to the wound that would soon claim him.
Baldon’s face grew pale.
His vision began to darken at the edges, the world around him fading into a distant blur as his legs weakened beneath him.
Through his fading vision, he barely managed to see Luke appear beside him.
But it was already too late.
~~~~~~
A/N:- Thanks for reading.