Asteria stepped into the centre of the hall, her presence a cold, heavy anchor that seemed to drag the very air down with her. She stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Nephis, their silhouettes a stark contrast against the garish, light-soaked opulence of the throne room. Opposite them stood the Bright Lord.
Gunlaug was a statue of living opulence. His armour was a terrifying marvel – a substance that appeared both solid and liquid, flowing like molten gold over the contours of his powerful frame.
It spared no inch of his skin; where a face should have been, there was only a seamless, polished expanse of gold.
It was a mirror that reflected the desperate, sunken faces of the onlookers back at them, distorted and small.
Even looking at him made Asteria's skin prickle. A murderous, oppressive aura radiated from the metal, a weight that tried to bypass the physical and assault the mind directly.
"And who might you be?" Gunlaug's voice slithered out from behind the mask, sounding like a serpent sliding over silk.
"Asteria, Queen of Nightmare," she replied, her voice steady despite the atmospheric pressure. She tilted her head, her iridescent hair catching the golden light. "I'd like to know the man I'm fighting today. Care to introduce yourself?"
"You're quite bold, aren't you?" He asked. It was a rhetorical question that made her pulse quicken with irritation. "Well, I suppose it is only polite. After all, I value fairness above all else!" Gunlaug chuckled, a dry, hollow sound.
"You may call me your Lord," he began, the smugness practically dripping from his hidden lips. "The strongest Sleeper in the Forgotten Shore."
Asteria nodded slowly, then leaned slightly toward Nephis. "So, what's the deal here exactly?" she whispered, a sheepish, misplaced smile tugging at her mouth.
"He's a tyrant. Do what you want," Nephis replied with a weary sigh. "If you really want the history, ask me later."
"What? Are you plotting in front of me now?" The man in gold scoffed. "This little girl invoked the ancient tradition – the right of challenge! And you're telling me she'll run with her tail tucked?"
Nephis remained a statue of indifference. Asteria, however, felt the spark of a year's worth of built-up defiance ignite.
"Great! Then I wish to invoke the right of challenge as well!" Her voice boomed, the sound ricocheting off the white stone walls and making the gathered Sleepers flinch.
"It matters not. Your skull would look quite pretty in my collection," Gunlaug said, his tone condescending. "I'm sure you saw the trophies lining the gates? They belonged to those who challenged me and failed... most pitifully."
"You're a sick man," Asteria spat, her grip tightening on the hilt of [Sentinel's Heart]. "At least I won't feel bad about killing you."
He flexed his broad shoulders, his presence expanding until it sent tremors through the hearts of the hundreds watching. "Fine! I accept your challenge. I'll be sure to wipe that insolence right out of your mouth."
The Sleepers pressed themselves against the walls, creating a wide, fearful circle for the duel. A singular, suffocating thought permeated the room:
She's going to die.
Everyone assumed it – aside from Changing Star, of course – who watched with eyes as calm as the morning.
"You appear to be unarmed," Asteria probed, her eyes scanning the liquid gold. "Am I to take it you're underestimating me?"
"Not at all." He rolled his shoulders, and the liquid gold of his pauldrons flowed down his arm, pooling in his palm before hardening into a massive, ornate battle-axe. He swung it over his shoulder with terrifying ease.
Asteria's eyes widened. "What... what is that?"
"Is this your final question before you die?"
"Depends on the answer, honestly."
"This is a gift. This is why I am the undisputed master of this shore," Gunlaug's voice was full of a twisted kind of mirth. "Who dares fight a transcendent echo?"
"I do," she replied instantly. Her violet eyes locked onto the gold. "If I best you, I want that echo. Or I'll pry it out of your cold, dead hands."
Gunlaug let out a hearty, booming laugh. "Have it your way! You are a very interesting creature, aren't you?"
Without another word, the man in gold exploded forward.
The floor groaned and cracked beneath his weight. He was a blur of golden light, moving with an agility that defied his massive frame. He swung the axe in a horizontal arc meant to cleave Asteria in two.
Asteria didn't dodge. She lazily lifted her arm, bracing [Sentinel's Heart]. The starlight longsword met the golden axe with a deafening clang that echoed like a bell.
Asteria didn't budge an inch. Gunlaug, however, was staggered back by the sheer, immovable density of her block.
"What? What trick is this?!" he roared.
Asteria looked genuinely confused. "Was I not supposed to block that? I'd quite like to keep my torso attached to my legs, thank you." She frowned, her flawless face – marred only by the dried blood of the guards – pulling into a look of disappointment.
Then, she lunged.
Her blade was a streak of incandescent light. Every time [Sentinel's Heart] struck, the sound of cracking stone filled the room. She carved into the liquid gold as if it were parchment, pushing the lord of the shore back step by step. It wasn't a duel; it was a one sided massacre.
"I thought you'd be more impressive, Bright Lord!" She laughed, that manic, high-altitude edge returning to her voice.
He coughed, a wet, metallic sound splattering from behind his mask.
"Is that all?" she chuckled, throwing his own condescension back at him. "Strongest in the shore? What happened?" Her glass-like eyes showed only a chilling determination to see him end.
That determination began to manifest, her blade lighting up with a pulsing, red brilliance that beat in time with her own heart.
She crouched down near the now-immobile Gunlaug. "I asked the trash outside if they had any last words. I'd ask you the same, but... I'm having too much fun. I don't want it to end yet."
She turned to the room. "Can anyone heal him?"
Nephis stepped forward, a grim, knowing smile on her lips. She placed her hands upon the golden shell, white flames erupting from her palms. Her face immediately twisted into a mask of pure agony.
"Don't take too long," was all Asteria heard as Nephis retreated. Asteria watched her, a pang of sympathy hitting her. 'Is that her Flaw? To feel the pain of her own flames? What a cruel fate.'
She turned back to Gunlaug. "What are you doing?" he coughed. "Why go to such lengths?"
"No reason," Asteria lied. "I just really, really want that echo."
"I'd rather die than give it to you," he stammered, forced back to his feet by the healing fire. "I'll kill you, I swear it!"
He didn't even get to raise his axe before she cut him down again.
"Do I have to spell it out for you?" she sighed. "You have no chance. Just give me the echo."
"Wait! Wait- I'll give it!"
In a flash of speed that looked like a lightning strike to the audience, Asteria was in front of him. "Oh? You'll give it to me?"
'He's going to try to slit my throat the second I drop my guard,' she lampooned. 'I'll play along.'
To her shock, the Spell's voice whispered in her mind.
[You have received an Echo: Carapace Scavenger.]
The golden armor remained on Gunlaug's body. He had tried to trick her with a lesser prize.
"Hahaha! You actually tried to bait me!" Asteria laughed, leaning her head in her hands, genuine tears of mirth pricking her eyes.
Then, her face went cold. Her breath steadied. "Die for me, Gunlaug."
'Spell, I beseech thee... give me that gold,' she thought. She lifted her sword.
"I tried, you know?" Gunlaug's voice was small now. "I tried to save them. But there was an invisible wall... it hated us."
"Is this the part where I'm supposed to pity you?"
"No... just a dead man's last words."
"Rest in hell," she whispered. "Your nightmare is over."
She brought the starlight blade down with the absolute Will to divide. The unbreakable golden armour split like silk under her edge, cleaving the man within.
[You have slain: Dormant Human, Gunlaug.]
[Your dream grows stronger.]
Asteria waited, her heart hammering.
[...You have received an Echo: Might of Gold.]
A surge of triumph flared, but it was instantly snuffed out by a crushing wave of exhaustion. It felt as though her very life-force was being drained through a sieve. Her muscles turned to lead, her vision swam, and she collapsed to the floor.
As her consciousness slipped into blackness, the last things she heard were the frantic clashing of steel, the roar of a riot, and then – at long last – a heavy, absolute silence.