Rise of the Living Forge

“No!” Hein screamed. “What have you done?”

Vix danced back as the man dove forward, but she wasn’t his target. It didn’t even look like Hein had even acknowledged her existence. His hands extended for the shards of shattered metal, extending as if to scoop them back into shape.

He never made it.

Kien’s hand shot out in a blur. He grabbed his brother’s hair and yanked back. Hien let out a scream of pain as he jerked to a halt, fingers falling just short of their target. His eyes burned with crazed anger and desperation as a sound like ringing glass echoed through the arena.

The fragments of both daggers fell to the ground and lay still. For one brief moment, there was nothing but silence. Even the crowd stared on, trying and failing to understand what had just happened. To figure out why Hein had reacted so badly to the breaking of his weapon. To determine how the fight had shifted on such a dime.

And then there was a wheeze, like the last breath of a dying man slipping free from his lungs. Thick black smoke exploded out from the shards of the daggers. It rolled out in clouds so thick that they could have supported Art’s weight.

The smoke bore a thick, rotting stench within it like that of rotting meat. Bile welled in Art’s throat and he took a step back. He’d never smelled something so vile in his life. It was like the scene was trying to force its way through every single orifice he had.

“What have you done?” Hein screamed again, but his voice was weaker this time. Ragged, desperate.

He thrashed against his brother’s grip, but Kien’s hold was relentless. No matter how hard Hein bucked and twisted, he didn’t so much as budge. He lashed out and struck with his elbows, knees, everything. Each strike passed so close to Kien that it could have brushed the hair on his arms, but not a single one connected. Nothing Hein did so much as brushed him.

For a moment, the thick smoke hung in the air before them all. Then it exploded up in a massive pillar, sending streams of power streaking out of the arena with a howl. Wind buffeted Art’s face and he raised a hand to protect his eyes.

“Careful!” Vix yelled. “Kien, look out!”

From between his fingers, Art saw one of the coils of smoke twist toward Kien. It hurtled toward the former hero in a blur — and then slammed to a halt an inch away from him as if it had smashed into an invisible barrier.

The smoke twisted in a circle around Kien, desperately trying to squeeze its way in. It found no path forward. All it could do was circle around him desperately.

A small smile drifted across Kien’s features and he shook his head as if he were speaking directly to the rancid energy. And, to Art’s surprise, it actually worked. The smoke’s panicked swirling stopped.

It gathered before him and formed into a pillar, rising up until it stood just as tall as he did. There was a moment of silence as the smoke simply hovered there. Hein’s thrashing did nothing to stop Kien from seemingly locking eyes with the column of magic.

Then the smoke exploded, ripping itself to shreds and sending twisting streamers off until it had completely vanished from the arena.

“No!” Hein yelled; begged. He let out a strangled sob and extended a hand for the silent dagger shards. “My magic!”

“It was not yours,” Kien said. “It was never yours. What have you become, Hein? How did this happen?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You could never understand,” Hein snarled. He jerked his head to the side and threw himself out of Kien’s grip. There was a loud tearing noise.

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Art winced. Hein had literally ripped the hair out of his own head to distance himself from his brother.

Hissing in pain and anger, Hein staggered back to his feet. Blood trickled down the back of his neck and his breaths came in ragged, furious gasps as he pointed a shaking finger at Kien. “You took everything from me.”

Vix shifted her stance. She readied her own daggers at her sides, but Art caught her eye and gave her a small shake of his head. This was not their fight. It had never been. The only role either of them had on this stage was making sure the Adventurer’s Guild didn’t interfere in the fight.

But, strangely enough, the two cloaked figures had yet to move. They didn’t seem to give a shit about the outcome of the fight at all. The cloaked men just watched on in silence. And, if anything, that made Art’s unease grow.

What do they want? Wasn’t the point of this to make Hein stronger for some reason? Why wouldn’t they be trying to interfere yet?

“How far you have fallen. I remember when we both wanted to be heroes,” Kien said. His eyes were sad and distant, shoulders hunched forward as if the weight of a mountain had settled upon his back. “What happened, Hein? Did I truly fail you so badly? You are like a rabid animal. Was I truly so caught up in my own work that I never saw this happening to you?”

“I’ll kill you. Everyone. I swear it. You’ll pay for this. You were jealous of me. That’s it. Jealous of the power that I had gained,” Hein rasped.

Kien stared sadly at the wretched, ranting man before him. Where Art had once been able to see some resemblance between the two, he now found none. They was nothing left of the men they had been.

Not anymore.

Kien’s hands tightened at his sides. His shoulders straightened, his jaw set. Grim determination gripped his features. “How have things come to the point where I must put down my own brother?”

The fury on Hein’s face evaporated as fear replaced it. He took a step back. “What? No. That’s — what are you talking about? Have you gone mad? This is a tournament, you fool.”

“Death is a known risk to all who enter this fight,” Kien said quietly. “And you have done far worse. You have taken what should never be taken. The people who came to this tournament came to prove themselves. You stole that opportunity from them. You, who could have anything he wanted if you had merely asked me. I acknowledge that part of the failiure is on me. I was blind. So focused upon my job that I neglected my only remaining family. But I would have taken you with me. Trained you. Gotten you the best equipment, had you only asked. You did not ask, Hein. And now… you have become this. I do not recognize you.”

“You will,” Hein whispered. “The Guild gave me what you never could. You can’t fix weakness, Kien. I’ll become strong again. And then I’ll take what’s mine. There’s nothing you can do to stop me, hero.”

“Do you think I will allow such a thing to happen?” Kien’s voice grew colder with every word. “After everything you know of me? You think I would allow others to suffer like that? To let you steal from them what you stole from me? From everyone in this tournament? Then you have lost sight entirely. Nothing remains of the man I once knew.”

“That’s right, brother. You’re a hero. And that means you have to follow rules. You’re righteous and beloved. So much better than me. Isn’t that right? And that means you can’t do anything about this. After all, I’m too weak to fight back now. There’s nothing I can do. This is the only logical move.” Hein’s lips twisted into a crazed, twitching smirk. Smug satisfaction warped his features into a caricature of themselves. Then he lifted both of his hands into the air. “I surrender. My team withdraws from the fight. Thornhelm has defeated us. It’s over.”

The blood drained from Art’s face.

Are you fucking kidding me? No way. After all this? He just surrenders? This craven, cowardly piece of shit!

There was a second of silence.

“Godspit,” Kraven said, his voice breaking for a moment as surprise forced its way through his professional demeanor. Then he had control of his voice once more. “Well, would you look at that? What a baffling fight! Never would have thought it, folks. But the fight is over! The winner of this round is—”

There was a wet crunch.

The smile on Hein’s face froze. Then, slowly, he looked down. He looked at his chest, where Kien’s hand had punched clean through to pierce directly into his heart.

“No, Hein. I’m not a hero anymore. You made sure of that.” Kien ripped his arm free. Blood splattered across the ground. It dripped from his hand, staining it a deep crimson. Kien drew in a shaky, breath. He reached out toward Hein, as if to hold him, then jerked to a halt an inch away from his brother’s skin. “Forgive me. But I cannot let you hurt anyone else.”

Hein’s lips worked. Blood bubbled up from within them as his mouth opened in a final attempt to speak. He took a staggering step toward Kien.

Then he pitched back. He hit the ground with a wet thud. Healers leapt down, landing on the stage and rushing toward him as screams tore through the crowd.

It didn’t matter.

Hein was already dead.