Chapter 63: Severance of Form IV

Vaeron shifted subtly, adjusting his weight and stance as his eyes scanned his opponents, calculating his next move. Despite the calm he exuded, Lucrezia could tell his entire body was burning from fatigue.

The roar from the spectators thundered in the arena, causing the ground pulsing by its pressure. She knew that sound; it was half a cheer, and half condemning, an impulse to the combatants who stood still in measure.

As if on cue, the axe-wielder charged again, bringing the weapon down with brute force. Vaeron was quick to sidestep, letting the man overextend.

He twisted, sending the flail-wielder forward, and the spear-wielder lost his footing while trying to intercept. His movements were smaller now, more precise, as though trying to conserve his energy wherever possible.

She caught the strain in his face as his arms burned from repeated blocks, his legs screaming from pivots and evasions. Her chest ached as she watched him fight against overwhelming odds.

He ducked low to avoid a sweep from the sabers, rolling between the legs of the spear-wielder. He rose quickly, twisting to thrust his sword at the flail-wielder, deflecting the weapon and forcing him to step back. Vaeron’s body trembled slightly with every motion demanding more than it had minutes ago.

He was visibly weakening, but still, he maintained the initiative.

The four men adjusted, coordinating their attacks to cut off his retreat. Each weapon now moved like a single unit, forcing him to fight in a narrower space.

Steel flashed in a clean, practiced arc meant to draw blood immediately. Vaeron twisted aside, the blade grazing his ribs instead of cleaving them. A sharp pain flared in his features as blood followed, and Lucrezia felt herself gasp with the crowd that exhaled as one.

Without wavering, he struck back. Bare-handed, she watched him close the distance in two steps, driving his elbow toward the opponent’s throat.

The man ducked, countering with a brutal sweep that caught Vaeron behind the knee and sent him crashing down onto the obsidian.

The arena seemed to close in with its brutality, knocking the breath from Lucrezia’s lungs. The more she tried to look away, the more she found herself trapped by it, compelled to witness how it would end.

Thankfully, he rose to his feet after an effort when they thrusted without delay. Vaeron parried, twisted, blocked, and countered in rapid succession. His movements were faster than the eye could follow, but Lucrezia noticed the strain in his shoulders, the tremor in his arms, and the flinch in his stance whenever steel collided with steel. Each blow left him marked and each effort brought him closer and closer to collapse.

Each opponent that came at him was met with a combination of speed, strategy, and sheer physical mastery. Stripped of his essence, he relied entirely on his body, his mind, and instincts honed through countless battles, but they were relentless.

The challengers were coordinated and trained to test the limits of any warrior. Vaeron’s movements began to pull more from experience than power as he dodged, deflected, and countered. A low grunt escaped him as one attacker landed a solid blow to his shoulder, but he absorbed it, twisting through the strike and redirecting momentum into a forceful knee to the man’s chest.

Lucrezia felt herself leaning forward, hands gripping the edge of her seat. The fight was mesmerizing in its brutality, yet terrifying in its intimacy. With each strike, each pivot, she could see the strain in his muscles, the minute adjustments, and the tension of endurance without his usual, overwhelming essence. The thrill of his raw skill was undeniable, but so was the peril.

For a moment, it looked like he could not continue. The axe came down again, and he barely twisted in time to avoid a crushing blow. The spear’s tip grazed his leg, and the flail hit the ground where he had been standing seconds before, leaving a shockwave that rattled his ribs.

With that impediment, the sabers slashed near his face, successfully grazing his skin. His breathing was shallow now, each inhalation a battle in itself as blood trickled from the cut when he stepped away.

Lucrezia’s stomach knotted and her fingers clenched the folds of her coat to ground herself from the tension curling inside of her.

In the manner his body trembled from the pain, she thought he might fall at any second. Her spine ached badly as a result of straining too much for a better view, and at that moment, Lucrezia forgot the pain and strained even more when she felt him finally move after seconds of stillness.

Vaeron’s eyes shifted, and he could tell that she too had noticed the object they were guarding. The four men had formed a living barrier around it, relying on their weapons and strength, baring their teeth in open menace.

Likewise, despite his broad figure, he wasn’t compared to the brute strength they all seemed to possess. Even with their towering height and muscular sculpture, he remained less intimidated.

Vaeron assessed their positioning carefully, before moving, although not striking immediately. He feigned retreat, stepping backward with his sword held low.

The challengers surged again, sensing blood and fatigue from him. The axe-wielder roared, lifting his weapon for a killing blow, while the spear advanced in perfect alignment, its serrated tip poised to pin Vaeron in place. The sabers closed in from the sides, and the flail circled wide, waiting to strike where defense would falter.

They moved as one and he exhaled, moving forward which stunned her.

The shift was so sudden, so decisively against instinct, shattering their formation.

Vaeron slipped inside the spear’s reach, the serrated tip slicing air where his chest had been a heartbeat before. His sword flashed in a sharp, efficient cut across the spear-wielder’s grip until his fingers split, bone cracked, and the spear clattered uselessly to the stone.

But that did not prevent him from defending himself when the axe-wielder came after him next.

Pivoting on the ball of his foot, he drove his shoulder into his chest before the man could bring the weapon down. The impact knocked the breath from him, and Vaeron followed through with a brutal hilt-strike to the jaw which caused the axe to slip from his numb hands as its wielder collapsed in a heap.

The sabers struck next, too fast, yet too close and steel kissed flesh. Lucrezia gasped as one blade bit into Vaeron’s side, drawing blood. His body jerked with the pain, but his response was immediate and merciless as he trapped the attacker’s wrist, twisted hard, and the sabers fell.

A knee to the sternum sent the man skidding backward, coughing blood against the obsidian floor.

On cue, the flail screamed through the air

as chains wrapped around Vaeron’s sword arm, yanking it wide with bone-rattling force. Pain lanced up his shoulder that blinded him for a moment when he staggered, dragged a step closer as the flail-wielder bared his teeth in a victorious snarl.

“End it!” someone in the crowd screamed and Lucrezia couldn’t breathe. No…

Vaeron’s knees wobbled and he went down. Lucrezia gasped without thinking, eyes stretched to infinity, so loud she couldn’t stop. The flail wielder didn’t hesitate when the chain snapped tight as it arced back for the killing pull.

For one hollow, unbearable moment, she saw the end as clearly as if it had already happened where he was off balance. She would have hoped if there was space left to escape, but there wasn’t even a miracle left to beg for.

This couldn’t be happening… Her chest locked, breath trapped, eyes wide with the certainty of loss, and at the last possible second, someone lunges forward, closing the distance so violently that the flail’s momentum worked against its master.

It took an impossible second to realize he had gained the advantage, and an unmistakable sigh of relief rippled through her.

Vaeron slammed his forehead into the man’s face. The impact crushed cartilage, and blood sprayed across the floor.

Before the challenger could recover, he wrapped the chain around his forearm and pulled, wrenching the man off balance and driving his sword straight through the space beneath the ribs.

Lucrezia’s eyes nearly bulged at the brutality of a clean death that rattled her to the bone. The flail-wielder collapsed with a strangled sound as his chains pooled uselessly beside him.

At once, thick silence fell in the arena, a type that carried the weight of disbelief. He stood panting, a mixture of sweat and blood trailing down his face, wet ink-dark hair pooling over his shoulders, and coldness that exuded from him like a dark fragrance.

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