That sharp tug came back, and Luth's heart felt heavier by the second. The same fimiliar feeling that came to his heart that arrived whenever death loomed closer towards him. His mind did not give in, death did not phase the moment; even though the line between the parallel worlds was thinner than it ever was. The world was motion-filled, the sky was hanging red and yet he saw nothing, he could see nothing, nothing but the hatchet aimed to his neck; prepared to give him death. He had came too far to yield, his had dreamed too much to give up. Not now, and never ever.
His arms compelled him, his sight short; hazier than he had ever felt. He could not feel anything inside his body, he was blind, but could see everything. It was torturous, but he would bear anything that came at the cost of his riddance.
His fingers turned, the threads weaving themselves. He knew no combat, neither did he ever wish to be in such perilous situation nor was he ever a boy to step into the jaws of dread willingly. yet, he knew, he forced himself to ensure, to understand that if he was ever to come out live, he had to kill.
Blood sprayed forth and ripped through the sky; the snow was tainted with impurity and the sun was roaring in the height. The assassin leaped back, covering his own bled arm. Thee hatchet flew over the distance, away from his sight and lodged in the ground somewhere in the snow.
Luth looked forth at his left arm, weaving threads that chapped his finger clean. His fingers seemed to stretch as if they were not of the same consciousness. It was not the first time; it had happened when he fought Alver back in that alley, but that did not mean that he knew what it meant.
He saw the blood dripping on the floor, leaking from his muscles as the assassin himself seemed to process what was going on but quickly got his mind back on the track; so did Luth. The latter stood up, rather shaky from the experience, it seemed that he dreaded himself more than death from all. Everything was blank for him; only the redness of the blood, starting to contrast with the vibrant sky stood visible, greater than anything
His mouth felt wet, making him swallow as the sharp, rusty taste of blood went down his throat like a bit medicine he drank. He took a large gulp, and his heart felt warmer. His body was going erratic by the second, heated further by the long-drawn combat.
"You act very fast," the assassin said, though it was full of contempt which further boosted his nervousness, "or it was just of pure instincts?" he drew another hatchet from his belt, "I do not care enough to inquire about that though." the assassin leaped down, the hatchet tearing through the air, and a bolt of light reined down, both aimed at the same location.
Luth stared for a moment, unsure of how to react to this, even then he felt contentment. He knew what it was. He could condense light to use, that must be his Second Ascension. He understood, and that was enough.
Threads enveloped him, and the hatchet, not the bold of light phased through.
"You have chose the worst of time to use your Miero" said Luth, gripping his Hatchet with the right arm, his grip loose and calm. He took a breath of relief when he was done, finally, he had won.
the assassin turned his head upwards, feeling coldness climbing on his shoulders. His eyes freezing in the moment; he felt it even before. The sky was plagued with dark clouds and all the light was either too weak to utilize for his Miero or not existent for that part. Luth saw the glimpse in his eyes, one that he himself was familiar with. Despair. It was unfair, so unfair.
Blood streaked his sword, and the body went limp with that single blow. The ascension had come to a fall and all brightness inside his eyes faded eyes, bitter than they ever were. Luth lifted his blade, holding it by the pommel. He was so weak, he was so fragile. He was glad it was over and gloomy because it happened.
Such was fate to rule, as cruel as it could get. His bones cracked when he tightened his grip on the sword.
The noon faded very quickly and Luth walked away from the forest with his shoulders weighted.
*****
The small piece of rock flew through his ear, barely missing Shari's lobe by an small fraction. He could tell that this was going to be hard, considering that his opponent had the Second Ascension. He took his longsword—which carried a large hole in between due to the thrown rock—in his arm and leaped, the air broke and stopped as Kol caught grip of his blade with his arms without even moving.
Shari felt it, the blade slowing down as it touched his arm. He could never even fathom the expansive nature of Miero, and for that reason it was not really easy to guess the abilities that Kol's own Miero brought.
All he knew was that Ascensions climbed upon the previous one, that meant that it would go further than what it previously was. This was a guessing game now with the bets of life.
Kol's fingers wrapped around Shari's blade, then slowly dragged his palm over the sharp sword, covering the fraction of the knight's blade with his own blood as it cascaded down, reaching his hilt. Shari quickly got hold of his own thoughts and thrust his sword forwards. The assassin moved aside easily hindering the strike and retreated his steps.
Shari still had to figure out his Miero, but he could not concentrate enough while he was engaged in such battle. The assassin had very well figured his own Miero since it was not something daunting and complex as a ability which was sound that his enemy possessed.
As he raised his blade, preparing for another strike, he felt it trembling. His grip was not weak, but in fact his longsword was indeed uncontrollably shaking with intensity. He felt immense warmth emitting from its edge. He held it tightly, trying to understand what was going on.
"Why is it vibrating?" he said to himself as a feeling of realization came over him.
Vibration, he thought, yes, yes, that is exactly it! His Miero is not sound, it is vibration. His Second Ascension is not related to sound at all, it is vibration.
From the rock to his sword bring halted so easily, it all made sense to him now. His Miero allowed him to accelerate or deaccelerate the pace of any motion that was touched by his hand, or for that fact any of his body part, including his blood.
He took notice of his shaking blade quickly and knew what it meant. At this rate the warming edge would explode from all the vibration. He plunged the blade away from him, which flew over and landed in the snow, sinking down before shattering into tiny bits of metal and spreading in all directions. A rather large piece flew straight towards Kol's face which he avoided by placing his hand forth his own face.
Shari knew staining things with his own blood would only benefit his opponent. His ability allowed his to manipulate the practical movement of anything that was in his touch and his blood would only extend his reach. He had to get rid of him as soon as possible before Kol's abilities turned beyond threatening.
The latter proceeded with the battle, launching the shard at extreme speed towards the knight, who barely avoided the shard with his movement. It was getting really tiresome and he had to conclude his battle, mixed with half-concern for his ally and the rest was built upon facing the troublesome opponent in front of his face. There was no other way, none which he could recognize, he had to take an gamble.
The molded the ashes swiftly into a large orb and shot it towards Kol. The assassin took the rods on his belt and launched them onward in the same fashion; the rod caught intense speed due its shape, made to be used as a projectile. It broke through the ashes with ease and got itself though his defenses, out-speeding him and getting stuck between his chest. Shari collapsed onto his knees, his breath in lapse while the blood fell from his mouth, dripping down his cheek as he coughed it out harshly.
Kol walked closer, his guard lowered by the certainty of Shari's bleak condition. The blood spilled from his chest without any control, and he atmosphere became disorienting by it. The assassin took hold of the rod and pulled it back; the liquid exited alongside the rod, and soon the place became a gory scene.
"You were competent." he praised his opponent, but the scorn was clear. "It was an honor. My older brother would have ended your companions life by now with swiftness. I shall sent you to the same plane. I will meet you, in the higher plane," the assassin maintained his calmness, placing the rod onto his neck and resting his palm at the end of it. "if Sudit ever let me."
He recoiled his arm to plan the finishing blow when the hilt of the broken longsword came rushing back to the assassin and pierced through him. The blade rested in his back as he stayed in a daze.
"Of course" he muttered slowly, each syllable plastered in pain, "you too have a Second Ascension." he began to put pressure onto the rob as ashes emerged out of his veins, stopping him. The assassin laid there motion-ceased. Tears got hold of his eyes, and come out mixed with his blood through the sockets. They dripped down, melting the snow beneath where his head laid. Shari used his hand to gently shut the assassin's eye while feeling the warmth of his skin fade into nothingness.
"Sudit will surely allow such a soul to pass the gates of light." Shari said, more to him than his own self, he searched his own pockets and found a golden coin, the only one he had. It was a luxury for someone like him, but it suited the honorable more. He straightened his body and pressed the golden coin onto his forehead, "Here is your toll, may the sailors fare you well."
He stood up, hearing he sounds of his surrounding, it was pleasant. Sadness took over him, only by a bit, yet joy proceeded it as he walked out of the forest, knowing that he fought the more honorable.
The edges of the grass and the faint smell of the wildness disappeared as the scape of Flocia came back into the view. He walked through the retreating marketplace, some eyes stared at him, others cautious with their own life. this was to be expected by his current looks and the impression he was likely making. But he did not care, he had to see if Luth was safe.
His ambulating led him back to the building where he found Bala, he caressed the horse's head while looking around; Cassovin's chariot was not anywhere in the view, it was likely that he left thinking that Luth and Shari had left. He did not care about Cassovin at this point though. His eyes searched all around, now looking for his companion, but no one else was in sight. Just then, soft hooves rang behind him and he gazed over his shoulder to see Luth, who sat on top of Mehir, looking in the direction opposite to the Province Gate towards the road that led them here.
"I inquired," Luth spoke, his gaze never-turning, "Cassovin is going over to the Province head, I must go as well, for I know not what awaits. You, Shari, rest. Rest your wounds and bones, you are in no condition to continue."
"Do not be ridiculous, Luth. I am to venture with you." He retorted, not wanting to leave Luth on his own,
"Can you even ride your horse?" asked Luth, finally meeting Shari's eyes. It was clear that Shari could not, but still he tried to speak. Luth interrupted him quickly, "There is one more thing that I require from you. For that you must rest here for the night, in Flocia. Mehir cannot carry the weight of two people, and there is someone I require you to bring alongside with you next morning. I have spoken to the official, you will find him in the quarters here. For now, I shall away. Rest well. Away, away."
Saying such, Luth went away and Shari could not speak further, for he was none to deny rest and Luth was in a much better shape than him.
"When did he become so demanding?" said Shari, now to himself. He lowered his head and turned back, and looked for a place of rest.