CLANG!
A single hand caught the weapon mid-swing, halting the monstrous strength behind it. Korr stood planted before Varik, feet sunk deep into the snow. Steam curled faintly from his shoulders and along his metal-like arms. His lips pulled into the smallest of smiles, one that did not belong to someone worried about the danger but rather someone entirely in control of it.
"Fuck you," his voice deep, resounding in everyone's ears.
Gray's eyes went wide, breath catching in his chest. Even Varik, still kneeling in the snow, froze at the sight. Korr's presence radiated a quiet, undeniable power.
He remembered the words Korr had said before, spoken casually over the table, as if they were nothing at all. "It makes me stronger, that's all."
'Ironbody'… Varik's heart thudded hard in his chest. He wasn't exaggerating. Korr could turn his flesh into iron itself. Raw strength concentrated in every muscle, every joint, every fiber.
The Pale Maw snarled, a wet, low sound of frustration echoing through the frozen field, and wrenched against Korr's grip. Bone screeched and protested under the pressure, but it was no use. Then, with a sudden movement, it lashed with its free hand, clawed and savage, aimed to tear through Korr's skull in a single strike.
Korr's other hand rose smoothly, almost lazily, catching the blow midair. It seemed almost casual, the way he held it, but every inch of his posture was unyielding. For a heartbeat, the monster hung there, both arms pinned in his grip. Its eyeless face trembled with something alien and primal: fear.
Then came the sound.
Cracks, sharp and wet, echoed through the snowfield as Korr's grip tightened. The monster shrieked, unnatural and piercing, the sound slicing through the still air like a blade. Its wrists twisted beneath his fingers, bone beginning to splinter under the unrelenting pressure.
It lashed out with a clawed foot, desperate, slamming into Korr's chest with everything it had. The impact rang out like iron striking steel. Korr didn't flinch. Not a millimeter. The beast's foot simply bounced off as if striking a wall made of molten metal.
Varik's eyes widened further, disbelief etched across his face. He had seen strength, he had seen control, but this… this was something else entirely.
Korr inhaled deeply, shoulders swelling. Steam rose hotter now, curling in thick, visible tendrils as his body shone with that deep red heat. His smile widened, stretching just enough to be both terrifying and confident.
Then, with a guttural roar that seemed to resonate through every bone in the field, he tore the Pale Maw from its footing. Snow sprayed in every direction, glinting with frozen shards, as he spun the monster like it weighed nothing. Momentum built with every rotation. And with a final motion, he hurled the creature into the lone tree that marked the center of the snowfield.
CRASH!
The impact cracked bark and splintered wood, a booming, echoing crash that rippled across the empty field. Gray's jaw clenched as he watched. The Pale Maw staggered weakly to its feet, screeching. Its eyeless sockets glowed faintly red, pupils or not, they radiated anger and confusion in equal measure.
Korr spread his arms wide and taunted, voice sharp, precise, and goading. "Come on then! Don't just stand there! Come and get me!"
The monster answered. A blur of pale fury, it rushed, charging across the snow toward Korr. Its weapon swung sideways in a killing arc, aiming for the iron-wrapped body.
The strike landed with a deafening crash. A wave of snow erupted upward, forming a thick fog around the scene, almost choking the scene in white mist.
Gray squinted through the haze. He tried to get up but his movements froze as the storm of snow began to settle.
When the fog thinned, the scene was shocking.
Korr stood upright, unmoving, shoulders squared. The bone blade had struck his right side, shattering his armor. Yet beneath, the flesh gleamed faintly, red-hot, like molten iron made tangible. It didn't even mark him.
Varik's gaze sharpened. The blade had broken, struck true, and yet the skin, the body, remained untarnished. Korr's smile returned, slow and deliberate. He reached forward, hand wrapping around the Pale Maw's weapon
CRACK!
Evryone watched in silence, cracks webbing across the bone. Korr stared at the abominations face.
And with one last squeeze, it shattered entirely.
The Pale Maw shrieked in horror. Its weapon, the instrument of its savagery, broken in an instant. Its eyes, or the faint glow where they should be, widened in pure disbelief.
Korr twisted, arm cocking back. The fist that had burned red from exertion now gathered momentum, the glow intensifying across his knuckles. With one smooth motion, he drove it into the monster's gut.
The sound was thunderous. The Pale Maw's body bent around the blow, then was hurled backward across the snow. It hit hard, tumbling, twitching silently as though the fight had ended, but Gray knew better.
Korr staggered forward, teeth gritted, chest heaving. Steam poured off him in thick, visible clouds, the tips of his fingers shining silver against the red-hot glow.
Just then a hand landed on his shoulder. Varik's. The older man nodded once, serious and firm. "Don't overdo it. You've done more than enough. Thank you. But this one… I need to finish."
Korr said nothing. He only gave a sharp nod and stumbled back, chest heaving, sweat and snow mixing along his brow.
Varik stepped forward. Greatsword dragging along the snow, cutting a shallow furrow as he moved.
The Pale Maw twitched, rising slowly. Blood poured from the gaping wound in its stomach where Korr's punch had connected. Purple-stained snow soaked the ground beneath it. With a violent hiss, it plunged its hand into the wound and tore free another jagged rib, curved and sharp, bone slick with blood. A weapon formed from its own body.
The creature limped toward Varik, each step hesitant, unsteady. Rage simmered in its body, frustration and pain merging into something terrifying.
Varik exhaled slowly. His gaze dropped for a moment. "I didn't want to do this," he muttered. His eyes closed briefly, and the snow around him stirred as if responding to the tension in his body.
Gray's heart stopped.
'No way. He hadn't even touched Vyre this entire fight...'
Images flashed through his mind: his own reckless channeling, the way he had nearly drained himself to nothing, the way every strike had burned him and left him weak, losing ground to the creature even when he thought he was ready. Yet when Varik uad fought it earleir, he had stood on the edge of victory, without a single flicker of Vyre, relying only on skill, experience, and raw strength.
And now…
He was going to win.
Varik opened his eyes again. A pressure rolled across the snowfield, subtle at first, then growing, swallowing the world around Gray, Korr, and even the Pale Maw itself. It pressed down on Gray's chest, suffocating, absolute, bending the air. The snow stirred violently, as if reacting to a force far larger than the eye could see.
Varik lifted the greatsword, both hands tightening around the hilt. His muscles tensed visibly, shoulders straining. The blade gleamed faintly as it caught the diffuse light of the snow. The weight in his hands, the sheer presence of the weapon, pressed into the field like a living thing.
Gray's mind raced. He could see the tension, the strain in Varik's stance, the faint quiver in his muscles. He could hear the tiny, almost imperceptible grinding of bone and metal as the sword seemed to hum in his hands.
Varik's teeth clenched. Pain radiated through his body, shooting from his shoulders down his arms, along his spine, deep into his legs. His core screamed in protest at the strain. Every sinew burned, but he didn't falter.
The pressure deepened. It was as if the field itself had shrunk around them, the snow becoming heavier, the air thicker. Even the Pale Maw hesitated, a pause in its limp forward as it took measure of this new, overwhelming presence.
Varik's grip tightened further. The muscles in his forearms bulged, veins darkening against the frost, as if the weight of the world itself pressed into him. The snow beneath his boots sank slightly, reacting to his weight, but he didn't move an inch.
A low, reverberating hum began to fill the air, faint at first, then growing, vibrating across the snowfield. The very earth seemed to respond to his intent, bending subtly under the weight of his presence. The Pale Maw hissed, unnerved by this unfamiliar power, and its steps faltered.
Gray could only watch, frozen in awe and fear, as the man who had not relied on Vyre, who had refused to expend magical energy, now dominated the battlefield with nothing but sheer force of will and the greatsword in his hands.
The snowfield was silent, save for the faint hiss of the wind and the irregular breathing of the combatants.