Deus in Machina (a Warhammer 40K-setting inspired LitRPG)

Angar lurched across the dueling ring's scarred stone, leaving a crimson-speckled trail in his wake, blood oozing from his mangled eye and a dozen other wounds.

Zhaeryn Vexn's smoke engulfed him, blinding him, burning his nose, the chemical tang coating his mouth alongside the copper of his blood.

His leonine forearms, a curse now turned shield, burned with dull agony from catching the relentless pistol barrage, the hide charred black and split by sizzling wounds.

He was hurting, but that ember still blazed in his chest, unquenched and burning hotter. He'd only gotten one good hit in, and he was determined to get in another.

His breath came in rough gulps now. Sweat poured off him, mingling with blood to streak his face like war paint.

He was tired, having flipped and dodged for long enough already. So, holding the maul in his right hand, he used his left to catch pistol fire as he charged forward.

The haze couldn't stop him. The blazing streaks of the Pleiadean's shots tearing through the smoke lit his way. He'd follow the fire to its source.

Then, the smoke parted as Angar burst free of it.

Vexn glided backwards against the wall, his gaunt frame darting along it with that unnatural, eerie grace. His left arm hung limp under the shoulder armor crushed by Angar's hammer, but his right still wielded a pistol with relentless precision, spitting incandescent bolts.

With boots tearing across the stone, Angar barreled forward, his arm flying around, catching bolts, shielding his charge. Each shot struck with searing pain, but dulled beneath his arm's strange resilience, the agony far below what his other flesh would endure.

The Pleiadean's frigid eyes burned behind his crimson visor, locking onto his enemy closing the gap, charging as relentlessly as a storm.

He closed within ten meters of Vexn's retreating form, and the Pleiadean skidding to a halt in the blood-hued glow. His tendril-like fingers twitched. A violet flare from his forearm crystal unleashed Mind Flay, and a psychic lash raked Angar's mind with dizzying anguish.

His vision blurred under the power's blinding chaos. He staggered across the pitted stone as the arena reeled, but he clawed back focus, shaking it off quickly, his will like an unyielding bulwark, proving stronger.

He lunged forward with hammer primed, only for Vexn's elongated silhouette to vanish in a shimmer of Wrathful Withdrawal. Twenty-five meters away at the circle's rune-etched rim, his armor flashing like a sneer in the blood-hued light, pistol blazing.

Angar cursed silently, catching bolts on his arm as blood dripped, spattering the stone below, his body screaming with every movement.

He had to charge all over again, hoping the alien had run out of tricks. Angar believed all Vexn's Abilities were on cooldown. This was Angar's chance, his only chance.

He had held back Lightning Strike, attempting to make Vexn think his Energy Points were low. He activated it, and a shimmering shield enveloped him. He prayed it held for the full three seconds. His forearm had taken enough damage, and needed a reprieve.

He sprinted forward once more, his battered body almost done in, fueled by resolve and righteous wrath, while Vexn backpedaled, his lone pistol spewing fire, eroding the shield with each blazing shot.

Angar thundered across the arena, closing to fifteen meters before the shield burst, his boots pounding hard every stride, relentless, as he sprinted to within ten, catching bolts on his arm again.

Vexn's alien form stood ahead, and the claws on Angar's free hand flexed, itching to rend, though he knew they'd glance off even that thin Crusader Armor like rain on stone.

At seven meters, as Vexn furiously backpedaled, dropping his pistol with a clink lost in the crowd's roar, his right hand whipped to his back, snatching at the strange, alien weapon.

A hilt of ivory-like bone blazed into a blade glowing dark yellow. Segments of it unfurled until it snapped into ten-meter-long spear or lance, humming with an eerie power.

With a flick, it limped into a cord, and the strange whip lashed at Angar like a serpent of light slicing the air.

Instinct roared, and Angar snatched the whip with his free hand, his fur sizzling as it wrapped tight around his wrist.

Pain erupted as the cord burned deep into his flesh, a molten agony burrowing into muscle and bone, and he let out a surprise cry ringing across the rune-carved and prayer-etched arena.

Angar growled as he infused an Energy Point into his Modulux Striker Maul, and the runes flared under the Trey's unyielding gaze. He swung at the whip, with Lightning Strike's charge already crackling through the hammer's graviton-warped head. The maul struck with a thunderous crash as the pulse ripped outward and a bolt tore down.

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The yellow glow of the cord fractured as the whip snapped. The part coiled around Angar's hand twitching like a severed limb before dimming and falling away.

But the remaining length of whip slithered, lashing out as fast as a serpent's strike, binding Angar's hammer arm in searing coils, burning deep into his wrist until the hammer fell with a loud clank, narrowly missing his foot.

Vexn's elongated arm flexing unnaturally, tugging, trying to unbalance his foe. Angar's boots scraped against stone, finding purchase, rooted by his greater strength.

As he went to yank back, the whip slithered free with a hiss, leaving charred fur and raw flesh behind.

Vexn lashed again, aiming for Angar's face, the glowing whip a streak of death. Angar twisted into a side aerial, spinning through the air as the whip grazed a leg, scorching flesh and singeing muscle.

Angar's momentum carried him close, his hand reaching desperately, barely managing to snag Vexn's belt with those two remaining massive pistols and a sword dangling low as the alien leapt back, frantically hurling the whip's hilt at him.

The whip deactivated once free of Vexn's grasp. It struck Angar's forehead with a dull thud, doing little real damage, but the belt tore free, and Angar clutched it triumphantly.

The Pleiadean's visor burned a deeper crimson as Shrouded Retribution cloaked him, erasing him from sight and sense for three seconds. Silence filled the stands and pit, save for Angar's ragged breaths.

He froze, then scrambled to grab his hammer, clutching it in one hand, the belt in the other, his chest heaving as blood dripped steadily to the stone.

The smoke had nearly cleared, showing the arena's stark and unforgiving red glow in its wake. He scanned the pit with ears straining to catch any sound.

Lightning Strike was off cooldown, but the alien was unarmed. He activated it, just in case of a surprise.

Then, out of the peripheral vision of his eye implant, he spotted a blur. Vexn reappeared, desperately sprinting for his dropped blaster a way off.

Angar dropped the belt and triggered Ground Current, and his form unraveled into charged particles, surging through the stone.

He erupted beside Vexn as Geomagnetic Phenomena igniting with a blinding flash and a bolt lashing out, stunning the Pleiadean for a full second, locking his silvery frame mid-stride.

This was Angar's chance. There would be no more games. He had to end this before this slippery alien bastard pulled another stunt and escaped again.

Seizing the moment, Angar clasped the hammer with both hands, sending an Energy Point surging into its runes, the graviton conduits glowing with a fierce and violent light. He spun into Tempest, erupting into a cyclone of fury.

The very first spin slammed the maul into Vexn's helm. A resounding crack split the air as the graviton pulse caved the metal inward like tinfoil with a sickening crunch, followed by a lightning bolt streaking down.

Exposed now, those strange, frigid blue eyes widened in shock, then dimmed, pink alien blood seeping from the ruin in a grotesque flood.

The second spin crashed down before Angar could halt, the hammer thudding into Vexn's collapsing form, shattering the helm entirely with a spray of blood and crunching metal.

He ended Tempest as fast as he could, stepping back as the Pleiadean's towering and skeletal frame slumped to the stone, at last a broken giant.

Silence swallowed the chamber, and the crowd's roar faded to a stunned hush.

Angar stood, his hammer dripping with pink ichor, his own blood pooling beneath him.

He stood ravaged. His eye a bloody crater, his forearms, especially his left, charred and gashed messes, and the rest of his frame littered with oozing burns, scorched flesh, and torn muscle.

With the fight done, pain surged like a tidal wave. Each breath hurt, his legs trembling beneath him, threatening to buckle under the weight of his victory. Blood loss dizzied him, his vision blurring through the Infernus Oculus implant, and the world tilted as he fought to stay upright.

But he had won. He was the victor. He'd given the Lord a glorious tribute of battle and blood.

The Vitalulum harness pulsed with a steadying warmth, auto-treating his six worst injuries with the items of a basic medkit.

The sting in his eye dulled as the bleeding slowed, the gash above his collarbone knit shut with a prickling itch, some of the charred flesh on his forearms softened, though not by much.

But that relief wasn't enough, leaving him still a broken man.

A creaking door split the silence as Harc strode into the ring, his silk-and-leather garb out of place against the blood-streaked stone, a gaggle of clergywomen in strange habits trailing him.

The crowd above stirred with voices rising as Harc's oil-dark eyes fixed on Angar, filled with surprise.

He stopped a few paces off, arms crossed. "God and Empire, Sir Angar. You've defied every wager stacked against you, mine included. I've paid for healing. Let these sisters tend your wounds. We must rush."

The clergywomen moved forward, but Angar waved them off with a grimace. He had ended Tempest early because he didn't want to ruin any more of the armor.

As victor, he now owned all items Zhaeryn Vexn brought into the dueling chamber. The Crusader Armor could have good mods that could be salvaged, and the set itself could be sold for an absolute ton of credits.

The belt, pistols, broken whip, blaster, all of it, was now his. He hoped the creepy alien had good slot items Terrans could equip.

His hoarse and strained voice rasped out, "Hold. Tend me after I claim what's mine. And Maximillian must honor his word now."

He rested the maul on his shoulder, facing the chamber's shadowed stands outside and above the ring. His gaze locking onto the Duke's hoverchair, and Maximillian's hate-filled eyes burning brighter than ever.

"Sir Duke Maximillian Donnerdun, by the Holy Trinity, I demand you accept my apology publicly. This duel ends our rift born of miscommunication."

The Duke's mechanical laugh grated through the chamber. After a tense pause, his artificial voice conceded, "Very well, Sir Angar. Your blood has earned my word. I accept your apology, and publicly, as agreed."

The crowd murmured with a mix of shock and grudging respect, but Maximillian's eyes promised no peace.

Angar doubted this ended the animosity. If Maximillian was sincere, and moved on from this miscommunication, he wished the Duke a long and healthy life, along with that of his family.

But if not, since Angar couldn't challenge Maximillian, he'd challenge the son. If Leopold refused, more shame and dishonor would taint the Duke's name, house, and blood.

Harc stepped closer. With a voice filled with urgency, he said, "You've won glory and gear, but you need healing. Let these sisters mend you. I'll see your spoils secured. It's late, and Saint Hidetada isn't one to be kept waiting."