NOVEL NEXT B3 Chapter 2
In the studio, the buzz of the ship's innards croaked through the bulkheads like a giant beast's growl, while light strips glowed brightly overhead, casting long shadows
The training room was made to contain a Seraph's power, and reeked of sweat, machine oil, and spilled blood.
Nothing fancy, just cold steel plates underfoot and reinforced walls scarred from countless brutal lessons.
Angar hurled himself aside as steel claws whooshed through the space his chest had occupied a millisecond before.
He rolled, his breath rasping in his augmented lungs, pumping oxygen like bellows in an Underworld smithy, this round lasting much longer than usual.
He came up in a crouch, feet splaying for balance on the Pes Gyrostatic Tripodis. He wore no armor, as Hidetada had withheld his Tier 3 gear for some unknown reason, though he'd permitted a replacement Infernus Oculus, and installation of the Sanctapex Trivux head implant which required third Tier.
That was fine. It forced him to put his all into these spars.
Saint Thryna lunged like a graceful bulldozer, her skeletal frame a monstrous fusion of Holy relic and mechanized horror. Her blade-fingers slashed out, razor edges flashing under the lights.
There was no avoiding it, just picking what took the hit. Angar met them with a leonine forearm, the impact jarring him to the bone.
Deep furrows opened in his flesh, and blood splattered across the deck in a crimson arc. But the pain was muted, a distant noise dulled by the strange flesh of his hands.
As always, Thryna was relentless. Her spiked knuckle-gauntlet hammering down like a battering ram.
Angar caught it on his other arm, and barely, the force sending him tumbling across the floor, pain blooming through the dulled sensation.
His world spun as he tumbled between bulkheads and shadows, the hiss of Thryna's back-mounted engine venting steam as she leaped, one cybernetic leg pistoning out in a kick that could crumple his chest like cardboard.
Angar's tumble arrested as he twisted on the deck, his own metal shin banging into hers in a block, sending sparks erupting in a shower as metal shrieked against metal.
But she was too fast, constantly flowing into new relentless attacks. Her other leg whipped around, and he barely caught it on his other cybernetic.
The clash reverberated through the studio, and Thryna staggered back a step, her tripod feet scraping across the deck as gyroscopes whirred to stabilize her.
Angar knew she was holding back a tremendous amount, but he still didn't waste the opening.
Kipping up onto his feet, he surged forward, his fist barreling out, targeting her helm.
She twisted, serpentine despite her mechanical bulk, the blade-fingers of her left gauntlet whipping up to parry.
Steel met flesh with a wet slash, Angar's forearm splitting open on the razors, knocking the fist off-course.
But he readjusted to a new target, the force of the blow rattling her pauldrons but failing to budge her.
Still, he landed a solid blow.
Thryna's helm snapped toward him, the visor impassive, but he could almost feel the ghost of a grin behind it. This was just a spar, and holding back or not, he knew she reveled in the fray. It coursed through her veins, just as it did his own.
He'd gotten one hit in. He'd go for two.
Angar infused a leg with an Energy Point to activate its drill mode. The Digiti Terebrantes, twelve-centimeter talons extending from his tripod toes, began spinning.
The whine of high-penetration mechanisms filled the air as he launched into a spinning kick, his digitigrade stance propelling him with bestial speed.
The claws bored toward Thryna's midsection, aiming to pierce the half-breastplate that clung to her torso like a scarred trophy.
Her spiked knuckle slamming down to deflect, the impact reverberating up Angar's leg and a sting racing through his nerves, sending him stumbling backwards again.
He landed in a crouch, the claws' whine ending as he pivoted, using the Pes Gyrostatic Tripodis to distribute his weight across three points, gyroscopes countering the spin to keep him balanced on the uneven plating.
Thryna, as always, didn't let up. Her booster rockets ignited with a roar, and vapors hissed from shin-mounted vents as she rocketed forward, closing the gap in a blur.
Her blade-fingers raked lightly across his chest, carving shallow lines that wept crimson, his cybernetic eyes instinctively tracking her movements, seeing an opening.
Angar roared, grabbing her extended arm with both hands, his grip crushing down on the skeletal struts.
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Hydraulics ground in protest as he twisted, hurling her toward the bulkhead with all the force he could muster.
Her feet hit the wall with a clang, and Thryna rebounded like a coiled spring, flying at him in a blur, her engine venting steam in angry bursts.
She laughed, launching a flurry of strikes, her spiked knuckle jabbing like a piston, blade-fingers slashing in arcs that demanded Angar to go on complete defense, and forced him back step by step.
He blocked where he could, his forearms taking the brunt, blood slicking the deck and making his tripod feet slip slightly before the articulated struts adjusted to the terrain.
He feinted left, then drove right with a knee strike amplified by his Hydraulica Aucta, the jacks in his leg implant propelling him upward for added force.
It connected with her thigh, causing his own thigh to throb as he held in a grunt of pain.
Thryna added insult to injury with a light headbutt, her Crusader helm smashing into his forehead, the impact causing stars to explode in his vision.
He staggered, and they circled one another, his breaths heavy, blood constantly dripping off him, and as always, he tried predicting her next move.
She lunged again, blade-fingers thrusting at his throat. He sidestepped, his stride carrying him clear, and threw a sweeping kick, the blow cracking into her shin boosters. Metal ground together, sending sparks flying once again.
Thryna laughed, a hollow, rattling bellow that shook her frame. She pivoted on her tripod-feet, unleashing a new barrage of kicks, punches, and slashes in a whirlwind that drove Angar across the deck.
He blocked and dodged what he could, constantly tuning out the pain, on the lookout for an opening.
The biggest challenge in fighting her unarmored was that every attack he landed hurt him more than her, often causing himself damage.
Life seldom offered fair fights, and as Angar was superior to all others, he saw fair fights as beneath him anyway.
He caught her spiked knuckle mid-air, the points puncturing into his palm, and twisting it aside, driving his elbow into her engine pack, trying to knock it off.
The vents sputtered, and steam exploded in a cloud that burned his skin, but that was a distraction. He knew she'd swipe her fist at his head, forcing him back.
She did. He ducked, then sprung, grabbing her around the waist. With a titanic effort, roaring out, he hefted her up and slammed her down, enduring a barrage of painful hits in the process.
The deck buckled under the impact, her skeletal limbs flailing as he mounted. For a moment, surprisingly, he had the upper hand, pinning her with his weight, knees on her skeletal arms, his hands controlling her helm.
But his claws couldn't do anything to her armor, and he knew he couldn't hold her for long. So, fully aware it'd hurt him and not her, he thudded his fist into her helm anyway, causing his knuckles to scream out in pain.
She bucked, getting an arm free, whipped it up, the knuckle-fist piercing his side with a splatter of crimson, knocking him flying.
The world spun again as he rolled to his feet near the wall, his chest heaving, bloodier and more battered.
Thryna rose, then charged, her movements a blur of vengeance.
She kicked him before he could block or react in any way, only pulling the blow right at the end.
Pulled or not, the impact blasted him into the wall across the room, his skull cracking against the unyielding plate with a loud thud that reverberated through his whole body, and his vision swam, the world becoming a haze.
She was upon him in an instant, her giant knuckle-fist crashing into his face. Blood exploded from his brow, nose, and split lips, sending his head cracking back into the wall again.
Darkness clawed at the edges of his consciousness. It took a moment to realize the Visio Aeterna vibrated as nanites surged to maintain function, repairing the optics. A spike must've punctured too deeply into the implant.
Angar slumped, realizing only then that he was seated, propped against the wall by Thryna's rigid grip.
He gasped for air, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth as the adrenaline ebbed, leaving only the throb of wounds.
She released her hold with a mechanical whir, stepping back to give him space, and settled nearby, her metal clanking as she folded skeletal limbs, the battered Crusader pauldrons on her shoulders creaking like ancient hinges.
Her dented helm regarded him with that unnerving weight, the visor a blank mask hiding whatever remnants of humanity lingered beneath.
Healing pulsed through him, his Vitalulum harness spreading warmth, knitting flesh, while the Vinculeparo necklace thrummed against his chest, mending the cybernetics, especially his legs, damaged against Thryna's Mechanoid-like form.
As far as he could tell, the necklace didn't really affect the Visio Aeterna implant. Once its optics shattered and nanites took over, recharge seemed to take about three days, depending on damage extent.
No matter. That was three minutes banked toward First Aid and Mechanical Repair. This was the third bout of the day, and they usually pushed to five. He'd have six more by session's end.
After this, he'd try puzzling out the secret to re-entering the Mindscape, a task he spent some time on every day.
He'd spar with Garioch later, in the late evening hours when Iyita forced Slavo to haunt the saloon. Once the couple retired, he'd enter, continuing his conquest of the aerospace-mechanicum's record holders through the night.
"Apologies," Thryna croaked mechanically. "You've been fighting well. Sometimes I forget how much to hold back."
"Think nothing of it, Madame," Angar rumbled out. "Thank you for taking the time to spar with me."
She nodded, the motion sending a hiss from her engine vents. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the ship's growls.
A minute or two later, with words he'd weighed carefully, Angar said, "Would you mind if I asked a question, Madame?"
"Just call me by my name," she grated out annoyedly. "I dislike being questioned. But if it's related to the Glorious Path, I suppose I should."
"Thank you…uh, Thryna." Worry flared in him, as his questions strayed from Knightly wisdom, but he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to get some answers. "Two, if you would. When might Saint Hidetada release my new armor and gear? And is Saint Garioch joining the Smallest Spark?"
"Ash doesn't act out of spite," she replied sourly, her blade-fingers scraping blood off her chest. "If he's withholding, there's some lesson in it, I'd wager. As for Garioch, I'd say not unless Ash can use him somehow, so I doubt it. He was supposed to fly to Abyssalhome on Sal's ship, but that grouchy bastard refused him entry."
Thryna's aversion to questioning was almost palpable, a wall as unyielding as her mechanized form.
He wouldn't press for more, and possibly risk ruining his best source of training. As well as his best source of accruing minutes to his First Aid and Mechanical Repair Skills.
When he did talk to Hidetada, he'd demand a stop en route to Abyssalhome, as he was owed two sacred blessings.
He reached for a rag, wiping the congealing blood from his face, hands, forearms, and side, the effort mostly wasted as new blood welled, then bandaged what he could.
He rose, his digitigrade stance steady, his tripod-feet adjusting seamlessly to the studio's dented plating.
Signaling readiness for round four, he squared his shoulders, glad he healed so quickly now. He could scarcely tell his face had been melted away merely three months prior.