Frosk…
Man and God faced each other with their weapons held at the ready, to fight each other with everything they had at the announcer’s word.
Frosk slid his left foot forward while holding his shield at his front, resting the flat of his sword on its crest. Hoffnung’s edge grazed the side of his helmet as he looked at Hachiman while staring down its length.
Hachiman maintained the same pose as he stood with spear in both hands, primed to charge towards him. Even from all the way over there, well over twenty feet away from him, Frosk could tell that the god’s stance was perfect. His weapons, his armor, his technique, all of which seemed honed to perfection.
Hachiman may be recognized as a god of war, but it was clear to see that he is not the barbaric god of war that most would expect from the likes of Ares perhaps.
Regardless, Frosk could not afford to distract himself with such meaningless thoughts about his respect for such a god. He should be focused on the battle ahead.
He took in a sharp breath and held it as he waited for the call.
Not a moment later, the announcer’s voice echoed throughout the arena as he said, “With all being said, let today’s first match begin!”
Barely a second passed after they heard the call to battle when they both took off. They did not wait for the battlefield to finish unfolding around them as their feet left the ground. Neither side could wait a second longer to fight one another. Neither Hachiman, nor himself bothered to release their suppressed energy as they sought to test each other’s skill in battle.
It would be a clash of steel and flesh, swords and armor, of technique and experience.
Hachiman struck first as his thrust his spear forward in an attempt to pierce through the eye holes in Frosk’s helmet.
On reflex, he brought up his shield to block Hachiman’s spear and it absorbed the shock completely. The shield itself was designed with Alan Mercer, the former champion of Mordran, in mind. His magic allowed him to absorb any and all kinetic energy through contact with his skin which is why he was usually seen wearing very light armor. He could then redirect that energy to his sword and with its power to reflect that energy through its edge, it was the perfect weapon for him.
With his shield held in front of him to block, it obstructed his vision, but he could sense Hachiman’s movements as he spun his body and his spear around with him.
Frosk then swung Hoffnung over his shoulder in time to deflect the butt of Hachiman’s spear as he tried to strike him from behind.
With the energy stored in his shield, he diverted it into Hoffnung and when the spear made contact with its edge, it bounced away harmlessly.
Quickly stepping back, Hachiman took a new thrusting stance, pulling both of his arms back with his spear, and struck.
His thrusts flew at him like rapid cannon fire. He struck Frosk so fast that he could only manage to block a handful of thrusts that came his way. Hitting not just his shield but striking his legs, his helmet, his arms, his shoulders, and any other part that Frosk was unable to guard against.
However, he was not worried.
If anything, this was a good test to see if his armor could handle live combat. To see if it was really as good as Marcus claimed it was.
After a while of suffering Hachiman’s attacks, Frosk stopped holding up his shield to defend and tanked the hits like they were nothing.
He stood, undaunted in the face of each blow.
Upon seeing his unbothered stance, Hachiman cursed as he rested his spear against his shoulder.
“I see that my spear is not fazing you in that armor. My halfhearted attacks mean nothing to you, do they?” he asked as he paced around him.
“This armor is a new invention, of which Its sturdiness and combat prowess are yet to be fully determined. If we are to test its strength, then we should stop holding back,” Frosk replied.
Hachiman grunted in agreement as he said, “Very well. Then I shall show you all I have.”
He then swept his right foot behind him, extended his left arm in front of him with the palm facing outwards, and threaded his right arm around his spear as he held it out.
“Fujinn! Raijinn! I call upon thee to aid me in my battle!” he shouted as he held that stance while he continued, “Now, full release: Kamikaze[Divine Wind]!”
“O’ Nameless Lord of Wrath, grant me strength to destroy all that opposes your rule, to protect your faithful subjects, and to welcome you into this world. Grant me the blessing of your scarlet bolts of rage,” Frosk said as bolts of red lightning began to surge all across his body, “Full Release: Stygian Shroud!”
Both warriors stood, facing each other with power flowing through them.
On one side, gold colored lighting and powerful winds flowed around Hachiman’s body and spear. The pressure he was giving off would have nearly knocked Frosk off his feet if he hadn’t released his own power at the same time.
Red lighting surged through him with so much strength, unlike anything he had felt in the past. It was far stronger now than it ever was before. To add to that, his own magic cast thick shadows wrapping themselves around his armor. The imaginary mass given to the shadows made them feel like faint cloth clinging to his body. However, when used in battle, they would constrict, and harden, and transform into any shape he needed.
“Now come and face me at your peak!” Hachiman challenged.
“As you wish,” he replied as he raised his sword above his head and struck it upon the ground. Dust rose from the ground and created a smokescreen.
Without a second to waste, Frosk rushed forward and thrust out his sword.
However, before he could make use of the dust cloud, Hachiman slammed the but of his spear upon the ground and a gust of wind cleared the air.
The god spotted the sword reaching towards him at blinding speed and stepped out of danger effortlessly.
Hachiman then stepped back, spun his body around, and then leapt high into the air.
He then shouted, “Fujinn!” as he raised his spear above his head. Powerful winds wrapped around the shaft and head of the spear as he raised it high. The winds spun faster and faster until it looked as if he had harnessed the power of a cyclone in his hands.
The god aimed to take advantage of Frosk’s poor stance and lack of balance in that very moment to strike him down, yet the Forrosan would not fall so easily.
Using the shadows that wrapped around him, he anchored his feet firmly to the ground and pulled himself upright and into a proper defensive position. He then swung his sword in an upwards slash as Hachiman’s spear fell upon him.
Hoffnung’s edge cut through the fierce winds and dispersed them. Yet despite deflecting his strike perfectly, the impact of his spear still succeeded in its intended purpose.
The winds from his spear buffeted the area around Frosk and created an even larger dust cloud than what he had made earlier.
Well whatever, I can still sense him...he thought to himself before he noticed arcs of gold lightning sparking through the dust cloud. As it sparked through the dust cloud, the winds themselves also began to pick up speed. They condensed and spun around Frosk to the point he could feel his feet begin to lift off the ground.
Before the cyclone could send him flying through the air, he anchored himself with his shadows and tried to concentrate on Hachiman but the roaring noise of the winds became too loud and distracting.
The air then began to grow uncomfortably cold and the air pressure dropped so much that he was having trouble breathing.
The winds started spinning faster and faster, and the air became colder and colder.
Yet in spite of the current situation, Frosk felt disappointed.
This was less than what he was expecting for a battle with a god.
Then, in the corner of his eye, he could spot Hachiman darting around the tornado with his bow and arrow.
The god loosed over a dozen arrows, all of which were coated in golden lighting, flying towards him.
Frosk did nothing to block or defend from each arrow that struck him as they bounced off his armor and the lightning barely tickled.
Compared to the shock that came with first using the scarlet bolt, Hachiman’s lighting was nothing to him.
The only thing that seemed to effect him right now was the low air pressure and the chill of the cold air inside the cyclone, but even then it was only as bad as standing on the highest mountain peaks.
If anything, this god’s showing was just so immensely...disappointing.
He knew that even just from the brief exchange of blows that they’ve had since the match started that this would become an effortless, risk-less victory.
Frosk’s weapons and armor, along with his own magic and abilities were too perfectly matched against Hachiman.
Even if he lacked the bare minimum of swordsmanship skill, he doubted that he would lose before the god exhausted himself.
It would have been obvious for anyone to see that his armor was so absurdly powerful, that it could defend against anything that Hachiman could throw at him. For that reason alone, there was no glory to gain from defeating the god. He could not test his strength while he wore this nigh-invincible armor and he could not bear the shame of being dependent on it for success.
If he did that, it would serve as nothing more than a crutch.
This is no growth and no glory to gain without a struggle to overcome.
Coming to this realization, Frosk gritted his teeth and shouted, “ENOUGH!”
His voice carried even beyond the ferocious roaring winds, and red electric sparks shot out from his body.
Hachiman, who was observing Frosk from within the cyclone, froze up upon hearing the man shout loud enough to drown out the wind.
He turned around to face the god and slowly walked towards him.
“Look upon my armor. Do you see? Do you see that it is unmarred by your attacks? Do you see that even at your full strength, the few attacks that you’ve landed did nothing? A battle like this is a pointless one,” he said, to which the God seemed to misunderstand.
“Are you attempting to persuade me to surrender peacefully? Because if you are then I must say I refuse,” he replied.
Frosk scoffed as he began removing pieces of his armor while saying, “Hardly. That would be an insult to both of us. I am just thinking that this armor is too powerful for me right now. I cannot struggle in battle and enjoy the thrill of the fight while I wear it. So I think I will try to fight you with nothing but my sword and bare flesh to defend me.”
The pieces of armor he removed dissolved into spiritual energy and was reabsorbed by the mark on his chest, and he had even abandoned his shield.
“Now come on. Show me a real battle,” Frosk said as he raised his blade at the god.
Seeing this, Hachiman shook his head in both irritation and amusement as he said, “Let us both shed our armor then and let our flesh and steel do the talking.”
Frosk flashed him a wide grin in anticipation as Hachiman’s armor vanished into spiritual energy.
The god that stared at him from underneath the many metal plates of armor looked more like a man than he would like to accept.
Perhaps it was due to his own inflated perception of what he thought the God of Wrath might look like, but Hachiman looked more like a man than a god to him, yet still retained the appearance of a veteran warrior.
The god’s head was shaved almost completely bald save for a bit of black hair tied up at the back. His eyes were narrow and almond shaped, much like that of the woman Moyako, yet they were fierce and shone with white light. His skin was dark and tanned, likely from the many battles spent fighting under the sun. His muscular build was impressive as well, yet slim to be a nimble fighter.
Hachiman then retook his stance with his spear, calling the winds along its length and around his body and limbs.
The god’s eyes then became wide with blood lust as he leapt into the air, arcing sideways as he flew. With his spear in hand, he pulled it back and plunged downwards.
Seeing it coming, Frosk stepped to the side to avoid its path. Yet just as Hachiman passed him by, the moment his feet touched the ground, he spun himself around and nearly took Frosk’s head clean off. However, he did not completely avoid it unscathed as the tip of the spear grazed his forehead when he pulled his body back.
Despite the close call, he quickly regained his composure as he gripped the handle of his sword with both hands, held it close to his chest and point aimed at the sky. He then raised his left foot off the ground before slamming it back down.
The shadows wrapped around his body dug into the dirt and with the darkness of the earth adding to his shadows, his range extended even further.
Like skeletal arms of Draugr reaching through the dirt in a graveyard, the black masses of his shadows erupted from the ground. His shadows shot up with frighting speed, trying to skewer Hachiman, and catch him off guard.
However, the god’s reflexes were impressive as he managed to avoid each shadow, even using his spear to give him an extra boost.
While Hachiman was busy avoiding each shadow, Frosk used the opportunity to charge up the scarlet lighting within his soul and coated his flesh with it. While he stood there preparing his next attack, the cut on his forehead bled enough that it leaked into his mouth. Without thinking about it, he licked the blood off the side of his mouth and the metallic taste gave him chills.
This is the battle what he wanted.
The very moment that Hachiman managed to escape his shadows’ range, he sprinted forward.
Like a thunderbolt, he reached the god in the blink of an eye and swung his sword.
Hachiman saw the attack coming but was seemingly unaware of Hoffnung’s ability as it cleaved through the shaft of the spear without resistance.
The energy released from Hoffnung breaking his spear was what allowed him to avoid a fatal blow. It caused his body to arch back and his blade only grazed the god’s skin.
Frosk’s strike also cut the string that kept his bow around his chest, however Hachiman decided to use it as a club as he gripped it in his right hand and struck the man clean in the face.
He then quickly discarded his destroyed club and pulled out his two sheathed swords. Both swords were almost identical in design to Moyako and Dean Smith’s swords.
Showing Frosk a wild and wide eyed expression, grinning in the face of danger, the god shouted, “Come on then!”
However, he knew that Hachiman was nearly out of options. Those two swords of his were clearly made of cheap steel and he had no other visible weapons.
His display of bravado did little to hide his exhaustion from their fight, but it was admirable. Unfortunately for him, he never had the chance to swing his swords.
Frosk quickly closed the gap between them, swung his sword in a horizontal arc, and the god’s swords shattered instantly when they met Hoffnung’s edge.
They did little also, to defend him further as his throat was slit and he was sent flying back, choking on his own blood.
However, even with his throat slit, the god refused to surrender, not that he could anyways. He got back to his feet, grinning and bearing the pain as he held his fists up.
Seeing this, Frosk was genuinely impressed by his resilience as he said, “You truly are a god if you are able to shake off such a wound that would be lethal for most men, but this fight is your loss. I will end this quickly.”
Hearing this, Hachiman smiled and showed his blood soaked teeth while beckoning Frosk with his extended hand.
Accepting his challenge, he ran towards the god full throttle as he thrust his sword forward.
Hachiman stepped out of Hoffnung’s path, jumped into the air, and punched him in the face. The powerful wind and lightning coating his fist.
The punch rattled his brain, yet the God did not throw another punch as Frosk’s shadows pierced through his chest and kept him suspended in the air.
Realizing that he had lost for good, Hachiman closes his eyes as Hoffnung cut of his head.
When the god’s head rolled on the ground at his feet, Frosk raised his blade above his head and roared his victory.