Julian…
The sword Sceawere looked and felt so fragile in his hands, like it would break just by merely swinging it too hard, but it was shockingly resilient as it blocked Hofud’s strike.
Despite the clear shock present on his face, Heimdall steeled himself and gripped the handle of his sword with both hands as he swung the blade with greater force and speed to overwhelm him.
Yet try as he might, Sceawere’s power was not only able to replicate Heimdall’s strength and power, but it also forced its user to mimic its opponent’s movements.
Ordinarily, using Sceawere against a god would be considered suicidal due to the overwhelming energy demand that the blade would require of its user. To replicate the abilities and actions of a god, it would drain its user of spiritual energy that would be necessary to perfectly replicate the enemy it faces against.
However, with Julian’s soul link ring, the energy between himself and Heimdall was split evenly between the two at all times, negating the risks of Sceawere’s use.
Julian’s power on its own was nowhere close to reaching the heights of the gods, but with the Sceawere blade and the soul link ring used in tandem, he could stand on equal footing with anyone.
However, if this was all he could do to stand against a god, then it would only force him into perpetual stalemates. It wouldn’t be nearly enough to end a battle, which is why Kayron had altered the nature of the blade to have two additional features.
It could also inverse the senses of his opponent to confuse and disorient them completely. Left becomes right, up becomes down, forward becomes backward. Not only that, but the effect of inverted senses could be applied at the user’s whim.
And finally, it could create a doppelganger that can switch places with the user at any time, as a defensive or offensive measure while hiding one or the other in a wavelength of light that would be invisible to the naked eye. When switched with the doppelganger, he could choose for it to copy the movements of his opponent so that he could move independently of it and land his own attack or vise versa.
With this information in mind, Julian worked on formulating a strategy around it to take Heimdall down.
As he did, he decided to provoke Heimdall as he asked, “I wonder, do your eyes really see everything, or do they simply absorb all the information that is available?”
“Cease your prattling!” he said as he pulled back both arms and thrust his sword forward just for Julian to do the exact same thing and their blades collided with each other once more.
“No, seriously. Do you see literally everything or is the range of your eyesight just infinite? Because infinite range does not account for being able to ‘see’ everything. What about different wavelengths of light? Mirages? What about trying to process multiple things at once, because I can imagine that would be incredibly difficult to process all of the happenings in a seemingly infinitely expanding universe all at once,” he said as he continued to match Heimdall’s every movement.
Despite his annoyed tone and frustrated expression, the god answered him and said, “Truthfully, both are correct and not. The range of my eyesight is infinite, but I can choose what my eyes can focus on. If I wanted to do so, I could take in all the information in the entire universe at once, but I will myself to focus on what I need to see rather than what I want to see. I can see many things happening at once, but choose only to see what is necessary.”
Seems he did not elaborate on whether he could see different wavelengths of light.
Julian grinned and said, “How fascinating…”
As Heimdall readied himself for another attack, Julian created a doppelganger, had it take his place and waited for Heimdall to act to test his hypothesis.
He stood very still so as not to disturb the ground around him too noticeably and give away any indication of his other abilities. If he were to assume that Heimdall had told him the truth of how much his eyes could see, limited only on what he needed to see with the possible exception of not being able to detect other wavelengths of light, then any physical disturbances to the environment would be seen very easily and he would catch on in an instant.
Thankfully his doppelganger had a tangible body as it made footprints in the ground where it stepped, so that alone may be enough to fool the god.
But much to his surprise, Heimdall’s eyes instantly turned to face him as it noticed the change in the dirt.
“What kind of sorcery is this?!” he shouted in confusion as he shifted his body so as to strike where he stood.
Before Heimdall’s sword could reach the apex of its swing, Julian quickly switched places with his doppelganger, forcing it to mimic the god’s actions in his place, and stabbed him in the chest with his sword.
Was he really able to see that small of a difference in the ground or did he sense my presence? Either way, it confirmed one thing, he didn’t immediately tell that I was there which means he can’t see different wavelengths of light.
This confirmation of Heimdall’s limitations would be more than enough to counter his attacks and put him down for good.
However, even as Julian had stabbed him directly in the heart, the god merely looked at him and smiled with a wide toothy grin.
“You’ll need more than that to put me down,” he said as he pulled back his head and slammed it into Julian’s nose.
Shit, he fuckin broke it!
Blood began to gush from his nose and as he tried to wipe it away, Heimdall started sniffing the air and said, “Now that I have your scent, that little copy of you won’t be able to fool me. Only one of you is bleeding from what I can tell.”
“Is that so…?” Julian replied with an unamused tone as he swung his sword at Heimdall, to which the god moved to meet his strike only to have his left hand severed.
With his left hand gone, he could not brace himself nearly as well as before with his own power and movements mimicked back at him as Julian broke his guard and slashed at his chest.
“Tricky little bastard!” Heimdall grunted as he stumbled back for a moment before making a wide sweeping slash with his blade in an attempt to cut Julian’s head off only for him to strike empty air.
With his senses inverted, he was seeing Julian on the right side of his vision but instead, he was on the left as he lunged forward and swung his sword at the god’s throat.
Heimdall tried to pull his head back to avoid the attack but instead put his head forward which inadvertently saved him from having his throat slit as his helmet took the brunt of the attack.
His helmet was sent flying off of his head and he was knocked to the ground in a daze, but before he could recover, Julian stabbed Sceawere into his shoulder and deep into the ground.
He then pulled out one of his bladed knuckledusters and stabbed it into his right hand before grabbing hold of Hofud.
The blade was heavy, far heavier than any of his other weapons. It was as if he were trying to pick up a sledgehammer.
With his boot placed on his left arm, he had Heimdall completely pinned to the ground as he raised Hofud high into the air and split the god’s head in two.
Yet despite being very obviously dead, he did not stop as he raised the sword once more and brought it down upon the god over and over and over again until his body looked like a bloody mutilated mess of flesh, now unrecognizable from the form of a man.
Huffing from exhaustion of butchering the god so completely, he dropped the sword and looked up into the sky as he called out, “Well…? He’s dead! I don’t see him coming back from that, do you?”
“We must wait the required amount of time until it is determined that he cannot continue any longer,” the announcer said to which Julian clicked his tongue in annoyance.
After a full two minutes had passed, with Heimdall’s unmoving corpse lying on the ground, the spatial battlefield finally unraveled and he was declared the winner, much to the disgust and anger of the Ambassador of the SUK.
“ARREST THAT UNWORTHY SON OF A BITCH AT ONCE!” he shouted as his retainer struggled to hold him back from going after him himself.
Julian then turned to face him and held up his fist to the man and, flipped him off, and said, “Fuck you old man. This sword is mine now and I’m not giving it back.”
He then turned around and left, ignoring the Ambassador’s shout of anger as he teleported away.
Or at least, he was trying to as he was walking through the hallway but found that he was grounded.
“What the hell…?” he muttered as he tried again but went still as he heard footsteps from the end of the hallway.
For some reason, he couldn’t seem to see who was approaching him despite the hallway being well lit by torches.
The footsteps grew louder as it was clear the person was getting closer, but still he couldn’t see them or even sense the spiritual energy in the air.
What he could sense though, was a growing feel of crushing dread as rage began to fill the air. It felt so thick that Julian could feel his throat start to close up as the thick rage in the air became suffocating. He wrapped his hand around his own throat as he coughed and struggled to breathe, feeling light headed the heavier the rage felt until a firm hand took hold of the hem of his shirt and raised him off the ground.
It was only when the person had touched him was he able to see who it was as he came face to face with Marcus, whose usually blue eyes were now colored blood red.
“M-Marcus…,” he struggled to speak as he looked the man in the eyes.
“It looks like you’re moving on to the next fight. You better not be late, because if you are…,” he trailed off as he activated the curse that he had placed on Julian’s head and tendrils of deathroot began worming their way through his skin, tearing its way through him and ripping his flesh apart from the inside out.
He couldn’t even scream out in pain as the rage emanating from Marcus was making it impossible for him to breathe.
It was only when he had let go of his shirt and Julian fell to the floor, coughing and bleeding from where the death root had torn its way through him, did it subside as he could breathe again.
He gasped and coughed as he looked up at Marcus, who in turn, looked down on him as if he were a pathetic insect to be crushed.
“You may have defeated a god now, but I can promise you this, you will not survive against me. I’ll be waiting,” he said as he turned around and made his way to the arena floor.
As Marcus’s footsteps got quieter and quieter as he walked away from him, it felt as if death itself had spoken through him and was turning its back on him in its mockery of Julian.
Yet in spite of this, he refused to let go of his own anger that he felt towards the man as he grit his teeth, stood up, and promised himself that he would make that bastard eat his words.
Marcus…
For some reason, he felt happy that Julian had won his battle.
He didn’t want to feel happy for that piece of shit winning or succeeding at anything, but he was glad Julian had won, if only so that his participation in the next match was certain and he could inflict the harshest of punishments imaginable.
The only thing he was concerned about now was facing off against Ares, one of the few gods he actually dreaded facing off against.
Ares, the Greek God of War.
He could only imagine what kind of horrible powers he might have at his disposal in the coming battle.
As he stood at the center of the battlefield, waiting for the god’s arrival, he was a little surprised that he was not already here before him.
Where is he-he thought to himself but quickly found out the answer as Ares dropped right out of the sky and landed right in front of him.
He landed on his feet as he stood up and towered over Marcus at a staggering six foot eight inches tall.
He was bald, with various scars marring the top of his head and all over his body. His eyes, which were hollowed, were filled with raging flames as he stared at Marcus with a look of anticipation on his face. He wore Black Iron armor shaped to look like various spartan soldiers huddled together in a shield wall as a part of his chest plate. His arm bracers had a Greek Lambda displayed proudly on his bulging biceps, and both his leg bracers were engraved with an image of Atlas holding up the sky.
His boots and gloves both were studded with spikes, and he had a helm tied to his waist, a sheathed sword at his waist, and two unusual metal rods attached on his back. One had three small pointed ends and a wider blunt end, while the other had two pointed ends, with both angled in opposite directions.
“So we meet at last, Son of Hestia…,” Ares said, speaking in a harsh tone, but very clearly enjoying himself.
“Hello Ares,” Marcus replied as he mustered up the grit in his voice to try and match the god’s energy.
As the god of war took a closer look at him, he started to frown as he asked, “Are you...truly a son of Hestia?”
Confused, Marcus tilted his head and said, “What makes you ask that?”
“Your hair and your very soul are...absent of fire. I smell only lightning and stone from you, yet your face is very obviously the same as Hestia’s. Would you perhaps be a child of Hestia and Zeus? I would be pleasantly surprised if you were a brother of mine. That might make things more interesting.”
“I can assure you, Zeus is not my father. My father’s name is Lucien Wright,” Marcus said, firmly dismissing the idea.
“Lucien…? Hm…that sounds like a human name but...I can tell that you are no human. I have to wonder, what kind of god are you?” he asked.
Hearing that caused Marcus to take a startled step back as he asked, “What are you talking about?”
“As a child of Hestia and...whatever else this Lucien fellow is, a being such as you would have to be a god. The problem, however, is trying to figure out what kind of god you are. There is...so many different aspects that make up what you are Marcus, that it is frankly very difficult to tell,” Ares mused as he held his chin in his hands.
“Elaborate,” Marcus said as he felt nervous about what he was going to hear but he knew he needed to hear it nonetheless.
“You, Marcus, are not just one god. You are a God of Death, War, Blood, Misery, and Rage. As well as Advancement, Judgment, Honor, and Strength. A god like myself, who represents only War and all aspects relating to War, could not hope to encapsulate all the many aspects of creation that you do, I can sense it. So I must ask you, what kind of god are you, truly?”
Feeling disturbed by what he just heard, he reached for Light Taker and pulled it from its sheathe, and pointed at Ares as he said, “I have no idea. Why don’t we find out together then?”