Reborn As The Barbarian God

He dodged.

He blocked when he couldn't dodge, using his divine energy to absorb impacts that would have killed a normal being. He retreated, circling the cavern's edge, looking for any advantage he could find.

There was none.

Vaskaroth was too experienced and too skilled. The Guardian had fought gods before, and not all those gods had win, and even though it was only the shadow of itself, the bastard this is still strong!

Whatever tricks Galthor might try, Vaskaroth had probably seen them a thousand times.

But Vaskaroth hadn't seen Galthor's new powers.

"You fight well for something so young," the Guardian said, pausing in its assault. Its golden eyes studied Galthor with what might have been respect. "Most would have died by now. You have potential."

"I'm just getting started."

Galthor reached inside himself, touching the power he'd absorbed from the Weeping Canyon. It responded eagerly, hungry to be used, to prove itself in combat. He had been holding it back, testing Vaskaroth's abilities first, to learn the Guardian's patterns.

Now it was time to change the rules.

Fog erupted from Galthor's body.

It wasn't natural fog, wasn't the simple condensation of water vapor. This was the fog of the Weeping Canyon, thick and cloying, saturated with grief and shadow. It billowed outward in all directions, filling the cavern with impossible speed, turning the air white and grey and impenetrable.

Vaskaroth roared in surprise. "What is this? What have you done?"

"Leveled the playing field."

The Guardian thrashed, trying to disperse the fog with the wind from its movements. But this fog didn't disperse. It clung to everything it touched, absorbed into scales and stone alike, reducing visibility to nothing.

For the first time in millennia, Vaskaroth couldn't see.

"Clever," the Guardian snarled, voice rumbling. "But I don't need eyes to find you. I can smell your blood, little god. I can feel the vibration of your heartbeat. You cannot hide from...."

Galthor struck from the shadows.

His new power wasn't just fog. It was shadow, the deeper darkness that existed in the spaces between things. And in a cavern filled with fog, there were shadows everywhere.

He emerged from the darkness behind Vaskaroth's head and drove his fist into the Guardian's skull with every ounce of divine strength he possessed.

The impact rang like a bell, sending shockwaves through the fog. Vaskaroth's head snapped to the side, and for the first time, the Guardian made a sound of pain.

"You...."

Galthor was already gone, melting back into the shadows, appearing again on Vaskaroth's flank. Another strike, this one targeting the joints where the Guardian's coils connected. The obsidian scales cracked under the blow.

"This is the power of Weeping One," Vaskaroth growled.

"Its power, yeah. Its understanding of shadow and grief." Galthor's voice came from everywhere at once, echoing through the fog. "I even got some of those grief creatures. You've been alone down here for so long, Guardian. You don't know what's changed in the world above."

Galthor was trying to distract it and so, he kept talking.

Vaskaroth's response was violence.

The Guardian exploded into motion, no longer trying to strike with precision but simply filling the space with its massive body. Coils whipped through the fog, crashing into stone, creating shockwaves that should have pulverized anything nearby.

Galthor danced between the strikes.

He was there and not there, solid and shadow, a flickering presence that Vaskaroth couldn't pin down.

Every time the Guardian thought it had him, he vanished, reappearing somewhere else, striking at vulnerable points and then disappearing again.

Each individual blow did minimal damage. Vaskaroth's scales were too hard and its body too massive for Galthor to end the fight quickly.

But the damage accumulated, with cracks spreading across the obsidian armor. Ichor began to leak from wounds that didn't heal as fast as they should have.

"Stand and fight!" Vaskaroth roared. Frustration was creeping into its voice now, mixing with the pain. "Face me properly! This is not honorable combat!"

"You wanted me to fight," Galthor replied from the shadows. "You and I both know this isn't an honorable fight!"

The Guardian's response was a blast of power.

The runes on its scales lit up in dull yellow, the yellow light that rapidly condensed in its throat before blasting out in a bellow.

Galthor was caught in the blast.

Pain erupted across his entire being as the energy tore through his defenses. He was thrown backward, crashing into the cavern wall hard enough to crater the stone. For a moment, his vision went white, his thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.

"Did you think I had no answer to your tricks?" Vaskaroth advanced through the cleared space, its golden eyes blazing with renewed confidence. "I told you, little god. I have fought things that have no name. I know a thousand ways to kill, and a thousand more to die."

Galthor forced himself to his feet. Blood ran from his nose, his ears, the corners of his eyes. That blast had hurt him on a fundamental level, not just his body but his divine spirit as well.

"Good hit," he admitted.

"The first of many."

Vaskaroth struck again, a direct lunge that Galthor couldn't fully dodge. The Guardian's head caught him in the side, sending him flying across the cavern. He crashed into the black water of the underground lake, and the cold hit him like a physical force.

Beneath the surface, he could feel things moving.

Lesser creatures, drawn by the disturbance, circling in the darkness below. They wouldn't attack while Vaskaroth was present, but if Galthor showed weakness...

He swam upward, breaking the surface just in time to see Vaskaroth's coils descending toward him.

He dove again, barely avoiding the crushing weight. The water churned as the Guardian's body plunged in after him, turning the lake into a maelstrom of violence.

Underwater, Vaskaroth was even more dangerous. The Guardian moved with serpentine grace, its body cutting through the water faster than Galthor could swim. Coils wrapped around him before he could react, tightening with pressure that threatened to shatter his bones.

"You fought well," Vaskaroth said. Its voice was muffled by the water but still audible, vibrating through the liquid medium. "Better than most. But this is where it ends."

The coils tightened further. Galthor felt his ribs creak, his spine compress. In seconds, he would be crushed.

He had one option left.