Tales of the First World

With his eyes glazing over and the last of his breath wheezing out, Vauntuss' grip finally gave up. His arms swung beside him, listless and with no more struggle in him, Shynerai's hold on him did its due.

"Hmm." In less time than it took to blink, the Daumier that stood covered in dark metal plates and scales found something pressed against him, as if there was a force resisting him. 

His arms locking up and his fingers stiffening, his breath that flowed from the armored helm clouded into mist in the air.

Suddenly the dark steel was carved at, with his torso opening up and the wounds instantly freezing, stifling the armor's attempt to mend itself.

All the while, the temperature fell at an terrifying rate, noted by the mist now coalescing into snowfall clouds that covered the Arena in the wintry embrace. 

The very snow seems to rest atop some unseen figures at the side of the unconscious Vauntuss. Their outlines highlight feminine figures in various kinds of dress, before a piercing scream was released from Vauntuss' SoulArm.

The maze of discarded glaciers and toppled icy pillars burst apart in a shower of snow that hung in the air, suspended by the wounded knight's magic spewing forth from his blade. 

Akin to a ruptured dam, the flow only increased in ferocity as the temperature fell beyond what any normal person could withstand.

The Ward protecting the Arena glowed brighter for a moment, lit with various sigils appearing all across its surface before the orange hue dimed and faded. 

All within the boundary of the Arena fell still in the embrace of the piercing shrill as the touch of the blade's cold consumed everything around it. Not the air, the dirt or the blood of the armored Daumier were beyond its touch.

Shynerai's approach grew more labored with each step taken, forcing his body to continue, marching with his strength shattering the rime-laden bonds that persistently latched themselves onto him, as though he was slowly constricted by a Venom Aggressor. 

The breath that steamed as it left his mouth formed a veil of mist around his helm.

With dark metal sheared against the build of ice, scrapping as the cursed plates of steel moved against each other, bringing his pace to a grinding halt. Only the echo of his frustrated breathing demonstrated any signs of life. 

When the terrors of the wintry blight fell silent. Only the tintinnabulation of the icy formations suspended in the boundary of an advancing chill could be heard. 

From the weighted silence, rose a splendid tune. In unison, while still uniquely distinguishable, each voice was both sultry and inspiring, gripping the audience's attention as they calmed their celebrations to indulge in the performance.

Those with a keen ear or at the very least a grasp of the myriad of tongues that awed the spectators could make out some of the words,

ライムの卿はそのような侮辱を耐えることはできないでしょう

Ní inár láthair.

Vetr munu snæva undir blóðigrum lofti

所有人都将在残酷的寒冷中丧生

- برای جرم صدمه زدن به پادشاهمان، این تنبیه کافی است

Their song continued to fill the Arena, garnering even greater praise but such a melody had no gentleness to bely as the iron statue was torn to pieces with shards of dark metals being flung apart, blood drenched and steamed in a blinding flurry that slowly revealed the being of flesh within their accursed prison. 

"Silence!" A single word blared out of the armored helm, knocking the spirits out of their performative daze. 

In their stunned occupancy, the dark metal fiend began to free himself from the shackles of an eternal winter. The rime cracking and frost breaking, with more of the armor coming apart as he willed his body to take its first steps.

A struggle that was not without its rewards, however grim with the Daumier falling out of the armored shell, that stood frozen and crumbling. 

Falling onto the cold earth, the spirits collected themselves after watching him collapse, lifeless in his motions, succumbing to the deathly touch of their cold.

One of the spirits would begin their song once more as its sisters slowly joined, rousing Vauntuss out of his forced slumber and aiding him to his feet. 

Walking up to and taking hold of his blade, the icy formations began to fall, snowing in the Arena as it once did, while the spirits danced about him.

A look of frustration seemed to eat at him after witnessing the presence of the spirits. With a hesitant look at his blade, the young knight shook his head before focusing his attention on the collapsed foe. 

With a firm grip of his SoulArm, Vauntuss' stern gaze spoke of a fighter that was unwilling to underestimate him. With all he had witnessed, all he experienced, he knew that to take this opponent lightly would mean his certain defeat.

"Even in such a state, I cannot say with absolute certainty that my blade will be enough." 

"That has never been enough to stop me." Walking over to Shynerai, one of his wintry spirits rushed the Daumier, with an adolescent charm in its cheerful glee, the spirit raised a blade of invisible air before bringing down on the helpless figure.

Or so they all thought–

Burning in flames that were steeped in the darkness of the dark metal armor, the fires that sprouted from the body gave off no heat or any warmth to speak of, instead fires churned with an unbridled sense of hatred. 

So deep and vast was this darkness that while it may have gone beneath Vauntuss' notice with all the protection his Ice Magic provided, those that were not of the material plane were sufficiently at risk.

As if he was corpse, puppeteer-ed as a mockery of a person, the Daumier rose to his feet, with no signs of consciousness let alone a breath to lead one into believing that there was still alive, his hands that coursed with the dark flames grabbed ahold of the spirit and shattering it's fragile frame in a burst of intense cold wind and a piercing cry.

The crowd watched in horror as the figure's remnants faded and scattered to the wind. None knew how to react to this act of sudden cruelty but the slain figure's companions rushed ahead. 

Despite Vauntuss' concern and his stern command for them to stand down, they pursued him with all the fury of a hundred winters.

But they all fell–one after the other, their song grew quieter with the loss of each voice, leaving only a cry of misery and distress. With the last of them halting their pursuit as it spoke to Vauntuss for the last time,

Vor þokkaði Drottinn veturs, sorgið ekki yfir systur mínum og þeirra leit til að rétta skömmu ykkur, minnistu aðeins trúar þeirra, drauma þeirra og ástars þeirra til þín

The spirit that shared her heavy words before her form shattered into fragments that each grew into frost formations that shook off the onslaught of abyssal fires accompanying Shynerai's rush into Vauntuss, a strike from him shook the earth but was never met the knight who stood protected by the wall of ice.

Looking through the glassy veil between them, Vauntuss was resolute into the thought that followed what he was witnessing. 

"For whatever was left of a man, I will slay the beast that stands before me."

The young knight ran his hand through the loose bangs that blinded his gaze, revealing cold and fierce sterling eyes that glowed brighter than a full moon's light cast through a piece of blue glass.

His silence was followed by an azure light that instantly snuffed out the onyx flames, freezing Shynerai in place only his blade to carve through the icy veil, tearing into his side and launching him across the gaping chasm. 

His flight was so fierce, the moment Shynerai awoke from the impact against the Arena wall, that he struggled for several moments to gather the strength for a single breath.

A terrible cough of blood was spewed forth, bringing his mind to its senses as the burning chill of the sword's touch filled his mind. 

While the slash was true, it was not very deep. But with the biting cold flowing deeper into his body, he found less and less of it was responding.

"How long have I been gone?" Shynerai murmured to himself, while he tried to draw from his Atash, with the emerald flames sputtering with faint wisps burning out. 

The strength of his Will, the Force behind his determination kept his going. 

Shuffling to his feet with the help of the wall, his senses flared up as though all of his nerves were embraced in lightning.

'Argus.' He whispered with an unnoticed thought. While not requiring conscious focus to use, the technique benefited greatly from intentional application. All the muscles of his body shared in an absolute understanding, bringing his still wounded body out of the way of a massive arrow of blue glass-like frost.

Through a storm that began to rouse to life after Vauntuss began his approach. His assault took on a different feel as he descended upon Shynerai with blade in hand, each swing followed by a shockwave of absolute cold. 

While before each strike, slash or guard was rigid and fitting to a technique, with the only challenge the Daumier spied was how precisely the knight executed them, with little to no openings, he would have to rely on overwhelming strength to create one, but now– 

While Argus allowed him to keep his head and Shadowstep put a fair amount of distance between him and his sword, it was just barely enough to keep him in the fight.

Every attack was precise and corrected for with the next, drawing more blood as his steely gaze cast his azure light, cornering him at each turn. His speed meant very little if his opponent could freeze him in place with just a glance, while his strength would not grant him a victory without any way to defend himself. 

Battling against his SoulArm and his magic, Shynerai was slowly losing ground with Vauntuss seemingly growing with each clash.

His slashes turned into a torrent while his thrusts became a flurry that was getting harder to keep track of even with his enhanced senses. Avoiding a strike that would have cleaved through him, Shynerai backed up only to be forced into Vauntuss' way by shifting the icy terrain and launching him into a barrage of flaming bolts. 

Each riddling his body and driving him into the ground allowing for a single blow to end it all. 

The magic flowing his SoulArm carved at him but split the Arena grounds into two with a massive glacier wind flowing through the chasm creating a towering wall of ice dividing the Arena in two.

"Fall dammit!" Vauntuss scoffed after noticing the glint of steel shimmering from beneath the mountain of ice.

Vauntuss found himself in awe of what he witnessed, despite everything he had thrown at him, he wouldn't die. 

"What is it that I lack?" He wondered as he got into a stance and held his guard, meeting the explosion of ice that was followed by a wave of heat, a fire that burned true with no assumptions of its strength.

"Hmph. First green, then black and now you see fit to bring forth your White flames." Vauntuss remarked as the warmth ate at the garden of rime, with the snow being snuffed out, now within the Arena what ground wasn't host to the growth of a first garden or bearing the true fires that burnt even the earth itself, was rained upon by the descending storm clouds.

Advancing on him, the assault almost put Shynerai in the dirt, as he was close to death, he remembered her words…in his weakened state his thoughts finally calmed wherein his Atash passively kicked in. 

From within the silver-metal embrace of the Beowulf Battle Armor, something truly special happened.

Meeting Vauntuss' attack, the armor remained untouched by the fierce cold, with the metal spewing emerald flames.

The power of Will Force is the Atash of unbridled tenacity. Even in his battered state, he still believed that he had to succeed. 

The flames of Atash, keeping him going until he found the strength to return to his senses.

"This probably won't last for very long, so I'll make full use of it." Shynerai proclaimed, after noticing the cracks in his armor. 

"You don't seem to be a slave to the armor you are now wearing, still, it changes nothing. You will not win this fight, so come."

"And receive your defeat." Vauntuss claimed with an uncharacteristic smile following his words.

The Daumier responded as best he could with a worn grin. Both fighters were beaten, battered and broken, however they had both reached new heights. Vauntuss took up his sword, and Shynerai used his Atash-imbued battle armor. 

Clashing against each other, Vauntuss' attacks become more refined with his use of magic, where his openings allowed Shynerai to land his blows, slowly coming into his mind and bettering his grasp on the absurd amount of strength flowing through.

To try and match the power of the emerald flames, Vauntuss pushed himself to use his magic in as of yet unknown ways, crafting his nigh-indestructible ice into forms that varied from clones that took his place and warding fatal blows to tower sized swords raining from the sky.

The power of his azure light took on even more life, allowing him to instantly freeze him place before knocking him into the air, so significant was this change due to the spells need to have unobscured sight of the target, his magic was operating at such a peak that Shynerai couldn't even detect the azure light.

Using his magic to craft a structure that drove him towards him, the terrain was now another weapon at his mercy, with Shynerai narrowly avoiding it, only for the knight to sneak upon him from beneath the structure.

Defending against his SoulArm with one of his greaves exploding in the clash and being knocked out of the way, Vauntuss head a clean opening to drive his blade through–

'Not yet…' The Daumier's silver armor vanished from the rest of his body before the golden and white flames bound themselves to this body with even thicker plates shifting in place, clashing against the blade, facing no resistance, allowing his strike through his open guard. 

Sending the two flying apart.

"It seems like the knight of House Strum isn't the only one evolving." The Headmistress commented on the exchange, a statement that left Reiss and Ulrich shooting harsh glares at one another.

Due to the damage caused by the Gilgamesh incantation he unconsciously understood that using his other Words of Power at full power would do more harm than good. 

And so he thought of a new implementation of them, whether or not he could put his theory into work would mean a definite end for the battle.

"Partial Armament." 

Swapping between using his Atash to recover, while attacking and defending with only parts of his body utilizing all of the Beowulf incantation. 

While crude, it meant that what parts were clad in the silver metal possessed immense strength and the speed at which he could call on the battle armor was greatly increased. 

The longer the battle continued, the more polished their techniques became, trying their best to outmaneuver their opponent.

For the first time since the Cross Gardens Tournament began, the audience could only sit and take in the display, no amount of cheering and screaming could manifest glee or awe born from witnessing such a battle. 

The flames of Atash and Beowulf were starting to make an impact, pushing him to make a choice. 

Their classmates were to bear witness to what would happen next, seeing how resolved they were. But both of their classmates held their breath, as they both prepared a final clash.

Sharing no words, they went at it, fending each other off, with insanity that was ripping the Arena apart, the Wards only shielding the crowd but barely, while the Arena began falling apart, as they each developed a good grasp of each other's skills. 

The speed of which shocked all who watched, Vauntuss using his spells with such finesse that the nature of each one became unknown until he actually cast them, but Shynerai's speed and strength put him ahead of any attempt, tearing through his defense as he used his full incantation. 

Bringing the good doctor to his feet, in terror, as he noted the flames and the damage of arms.

Shynerai ignored all fears, and doubt, consumed by the marriage of emerald and white and flames, his emboldened assault turned him into a bolt of golden lightning, ripping through the remnants of the Arena and carving through the earth and destroying all of his defenses. 

Overwhelming Vantuss and ending his fierce assault, he felt the fires eat at him. 

Unconsciously lighting his Atash even further, as it sputtered through the gaps in the armor, the battle armor burst forth with the more intense flames, pushing his strength and speed to shocking levels as the armor itself failed to keep up with his strength, the plates and steel warping and falling apart.

Shynerai prepared his last attack, reminded of the last time he felt this much strength when facing the Necromancer back in White water Port:

"Everyone…Sarah, Vaceris…I'm sorry!"

Her voice and that of all the others calling for his restraint were drowned out and sundered into the voice, the last of her pleas faded into the growing void of darkness that spawned from out of Shynerai.

Launching into the air, all that encountered the void disintegrated was erased with no trace, Vauntuss fell into the embrace of the darkness.

Soul Art: Niflheim. Rime of the Last Night. 

Freezing everything in a radius of the Arena.

With Shynerai mere inches from him, the ten seconds of absolute freedom allowed Vauntuss to avoid his final blow.

"Now fall." Slashing through him as the spell wore off. 

His final slash, cleaved the Arena into, splitting it and birthing a wall of forest in its place, with Shynerai falling from the sky.

Vauntuss landed with the aid of his ice, while Shynerai crashed into the dirt, shattering the scattered pillars and cracked glaciers strewn about.

The crowd waited with bated breath, until they could see the last one standing. 

Vauntuss sheathing his blade before resting on his knee. With the growing noise of cheers and celebrations as his name was chanted. Vauntuss looked up, through the light of the afternoon sun, past the manic cheers, he saw a terrifying sight.

The Ward was blasted straight through, causing him to clench his jaw in frustration as he glanced at the crater nearby. 

The sky was pierced with the clouds folding in on those around a void that brought on gathering clouds letting out a shower. 

'How can one person have so much power?'

Beneath the rains, the only part of it of the arena that was untouched by the rain was the crater.

"The Winner of the Cross Gardens Tournament: Vauntuss Strum of Class 1A."