Chapter 12 – The Laugh That Split the Earth
The forest groaned under the weight of silence.
Steam rose in thin coils from the snow where Rigorus stood, halo burning like a wound in the world. Ten paces away, Dreadmaul rolled his shoulders, the grin on his face wide enough to split stone.
Neither man moved.
Then, in the space between breaths, they were gone.
The first impact was sound before sight.
White Fang slashed upward, catching Dreadmaul's wrist before the giant's hammering fist could land. The clash rang like struck iron, sending ripples through the air.
Dreadmaul's counter came without pause — a backhand that tore the bark from a tree as Rigorus twisted away. His boots carved lines into the snow as he slid, his aura focusing to a needlepoint.
He's fast for his size.
Rigorus stepped in low, Black Fang darting toward the ribs. Dreadmaul caught the blade with his bare palm, blood running freely down his arm as if it didn't matter. His other fist swung — a sledgehammer blow that forced Rigorus to vault backward, the snow exploding where he'd just stood.
Every strike from Dreadmaul shook the ground.
Every movement from Rigorus was a whisper, the kind of speed that left afterimages in the cold air.
The forest was tearing itself apart around them — trees toppling, roots splitting, the earth coughing up clouds of frost and dirt.
From the treeline, voices rose.
"The Saint fights alone!"
"For the Draeven!"
Soldiers in the clan's black-and-crimson armor poured in, weapons drawn, eyes burning with rage.
Rigorus's jaw tightened. "Stay back!" His voice cut through the chaos. "You don't stand a chance. Leave now."
But they didn't listen.
One soldier stepped forward, sword trembling in his grip. "That thing killed my brother!" he screamed. "I'll gut you myself!"
He took one step — just one — into the five-meter ring around Dreadmaul.
It was over before anyone saw the movement.
A flash of silver in the winter air. SHANG!!!!!
The soldier's head rolled into the snow, eyes still wide. His body collapsed a heartbeat later, blood hissing against the frost.
No one breathed.
The Draeven soldiers' rage drained into horror, their weapons lowering as the truth settled in. One by one, they backed away — some stumbling, some running, all shaking.
Rigorus's eyes never left Dreadmaul. "Your fight is with me."
Dreadmaul's grin widened. "Good. Because I'm done waiting."
The giant stepped in, and his fist came up from the ground like a rising mountain. It connected under Rigorus's chin with a crack that split the air, lifting him clear off his feet.
Rigorus landed hard, but in the next heartbeat he was gone — the snow erupting behind him as he used that same blinding speed from the start, twin blades cutting toward Dreadmaul's right arm.
The giant didn't dodge.
Instead, his left hand shot out like a steel trap, closing around Rigorus's neck. His grip crushed the air from Rigorus's lungs as he lifted him high, like a parent scolding a child.
"Got you," Dreadmaul said.
The first slam cracked the earth. The second sent up a spray of ice and dirt. Rigorus twisted, stabbing White Fang deep into the giant's shoulder, hot blood running down his arm. But the wound closed almost instantly.
Again, Dreadmaul raised him and slammed him down. And again. And again. Each impact shook the forest, echoing like war drums.
Rigorus could feel his halo dimming, every breath heavier than the last.
Then came the voice.
A shout in his mind, cutting through the haze — images of the Hollow Saints, of the children, brothers, and sisters who had fallen. And the face of the one who killed them… Vaelus the Heavenpiercer, the man who turned the church into ash without ever looking down.
Is this the end?
His halo flickered, weaker. Will I die by the hands of the bastard who killed my sister? Hell no. How will I avenge my brothers and sisters if I can't even take revenge for my own blood?
Something broke inside him.
As Dreadmaul slammed him again, Rigorus started laughing. At first, it was low, almost silent — but it grew, shaking in his chest. Tears slid down his face, cutting hot lines through the cold.
Dreadmaul paused mid-swing. "Ohh… you've finally gone crazy," he said — and then he laughed too. A deep, booming sound that sent shockwaves through the snow.
The two of them — saint and giant — laughed together while the earth cracked beneath them, each slam of Dreadmaul's arm sending tremors through the forest.
Somewhere in the Draeven lands, people stopped what they were doing, looking toward the mountains as the sound reached them — not knowing if it was a battle or something far worse.