Forged Destiny [Book 3: Ch. 14]

The Paladin caught my sword as it came around, his own moving with unnatural grace to parry mine and lock it before his face. One of his hands moved a little higher, pushing on the flat as he worked his incredible Strength against mine, pushing me back.

So close, I could finally see a little bit of his face, not that it helped me any. He had green eyes and black hair with a streak of grey. The lower half was masked, and he looked much older than the rest of us. My eyes were soon locked on his sword, however, as he pushed it ever closer to my face.

Sweat ran down my brow, and I knew the others weren't sitting by and watching me. I could hear their weapons crashing off his armour, and even see flashes of fire and ice from the corner of my eye. He ignored it all. It didn't bother him in the slightest.

His sword tickled my nose. It hummed with power, and several sections of it glowed ominously. If that cut me… no, it couldn't be allowed to. My muscles bulged as I tried to push it to the side, but it was just too much!

"I found it!"

The Paladin grunted as Ren's blade was dug into the back of his leg. Only a grunt, even from what had to be severed tendons or ligaments. He kicked back and knocked Ren down, but that gave me the moment I needed. With him on one foot, and distracted, I pushed with everything I had, and was rewarded by the monstrous sword crashing down to my left.

[...]

I crashed against the wall, and barely had time to get the remains of Crocea Mors back up before his sword pressed against me. Watts pushed with both hands, trying to force my own sword back to cut my throat.

"That… wasn't one free hit," I gasped.

"Why, of course it wasn't," he said. "I did lie, after all." He pushed a little harder, and I noticed with horror how his sword started to slowly cut through mine. "Interesting, no? It's not all a matter of my being stronger than you. The weapons and equipment we wield is a big part of being a Hero. It's what makes the difference between the Soldier Caste and ours, even if they can reach the same levels, and can be the same Classes. Their work trapped in the safety of the Kingdoms will ensure they can never find the kind of incredible equipment we can. Why, this runic blade is the culmination of decades for me. It was quite the find."

Runic…?

My eyes snapped down to it, and with the blade so close to my face, it wasn't hard to see the runes just above the cross guard. They flickered when the light caught them, but otherwise looked ornamental. I'd seen hundreds of amateur smiths add decorations like those, and some people even asked me and Dad for them.

Except that the discovery of my Runesmithing Skill meant it couldn't possibly be fake.

"Maybe if you had more time, you could find something like this for yourself. Alas, you never had the chance." Watts chuckled. "Don't worry, there will be many more people joining you in the afterlife soon. You won't be lonely."

Crocea Mors continued to give way, the cracks within the steel growing wider as his weapon sheared through it. He could have drawn back and ended it in one swing, but I'd have dodged. Safer for him to slowly kill me this way. Desperately, I wedged my sword between one hand and my shoulder, and used my free hand to try and break the grip on his own weapon.

My fingers scrabbled against his, but there was nothing I could do. Even using Stoke the Forge barely did enough to heat the metal around his gauntlets. It would take too long to burn through it, and the heat would be diffused across his armour. As a final gambit, my hand took hold of his sword, fingers cutting themselves on the unnaturally sharp edge.

Blood ran down it.

"Time to end this," Watts whispered.

No… not like this. Not now. I concentrated as best I could, my hand heating the metal until it glowed a dull red. There was something stopping me from breaking it, however – maybe some enchantment or one of those damned runes. My eyes fell to them once more.

Wait… the runes! My hand moved lower, thumb hovering near them. With all my strength I pressed in, thumb shaking against the hot metal.

"DIE!"

"No!" I growled.

"JAUNE!" someone cried.

Resistance gave way, both on my end – and on his. Crocea Mors shattered, and his blade came through, even as the friction against my thumb gave way and the digit smeared across the blood-soaked blade.

—Forged Destiny [Book 3: Ch. 14]