Date: February 21, 543 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
The arena exploded into motion.
The Herald didn't take a single step — he simply vanished from where he stood and appeared three meters in front of Datuk. The spear, long and thin, its tip shimmering with white light, was already flying toward the dwarf's chest. The strike was so fast that Datuk had no time to dodge or raise his axe. Only instincts honed by months of training made him lurch aside. The spear tip grazed his ribs, leaving a deep, bleeding gash.
Datuk stumbled back, pressing his hand to his side. Blood seeped through his fingers, but he didn't even look at the wound. His eyes were fixed on the white figure, already drawing back the spear for another strike.
"Faster than I thought," he rasped, shifting his axe.
Ulvia attacked from the flank. Her left arm shot up, and from her palm burst eight whips — long, flexible, studded with thorns. They lashed toward the Herald from all sides, trying to entangle him, bind his movements, force him to stop.
The Herald didn't even turn his head. He simply took a step sideways — one short, almost casual step — and all eight whips swept past, stabbing into the black stone floor. The thorns struck sparks but didn't even graze the edge of his white robe.
Ulvia pulled back her whips, changing trajectory. She made them writhe, strike from below, above, the sides — but the Herald moved between them like a shadow, a ghost, something for which the laws of physics were merely an annoying hindrance.
"He's too fast!" she shouted, retreating.
Datuk was already beside her. He kicked Skopid to full power, and energy streamed through his legs, accelerating his blood, making his heart beat faster. His Spirit of the Berserker, dormant deep in his Vessel, awoke — the skin on his hands turned red, veins bulged, and molten metal seemed to race through them.
He lunged forward, and the axe, tracing a wide arc, crashed down on the Herald's head.
The spear met the blade halfway.
The sound was like two mountains colliding. Sparks flew, and Datuk, losing his balance, was thrown back several steps. His hands shook, and the axe nearly slipped from his weakening fingers. The Herald hadn't even staggered.
"Strong," Datuk exhaled, spitting blood. "But not invincible."
He charged again. Ulvia backed him up — her whips struck from different directions, forcing the Herald to divert, dodge, expend energy on defense. But even together, even using Skopid and the Spirit of the Berserker, they couldn't break his defense.
The Herald's spear moved with terrifying ease. It parried axe blows, severed whips, and every thrust found its mark. Datuk took two more deep gashes — on his shoulder and thigh. Ulvia barely dodged a strike meant to pierce her chest — the spear only grazed her left arm, leaving a line on the living vine.
The fight became a dance of death. Datuk attacked again and again, putting all his strength, all his rage into each blow. His Spirit of the Berserker worked at its limit, and his body, accelerated by Skopid, moved faster than ever. He struck from different angles, changed trajectory at the last moment, tried feints — but the Herald's spear was everywhere.
Ulvia kept pace. She changed the shape of her arm every second — whips, spears, hammers, spiked maces. She tried to entangle the Herald, strike from a blind spot, make him err. But the white figure remained impervious.
At one moment, Datuk spotted a gap. Just a fraction of a second — when the Herald parried an axe blow and simultaneously dodged three of Ulvia's whips, his left side opened up.
Datuk didn't think. He just lunged, putting everything he had into the strike.
The axe sank into the Herald's side.
But instead of blood, white light gushed from the wound — blinding, searing, it hit Datuk in the face, making him recoil. The Herald didn't even cry out. He simply stepped back, and his wound began to close before their eyes.
"He regenerates," Ulvia whispered. "Like the first one."
"Then we need to hit harder," Datuk answered. "So he can't heal."
They attacked again. But the Herald seemed tired of playing. He raised his spear overhead and drove it into the black stone floor with force.
The ground shuddered.
From the cracks spreading across the arena, spears began to erupt — dozens, hundreds of sharp stone spikes growing straight out of the floor. They were black, with white veins, their tips pointing up, sideways, in every direction at once.
Ulvia barely managed to jump back. A spear grew right beside her, and only luck saved her from being impaled. She rolled, sprang up — and dodged another spike that sprouted behind her.
Datuk was less fortunate. A sharp stone spike pierced his left thigh, and the dwarf, roaring in pain, ripped it out, leaving a deep, bleeding hole. Blood gushed, but the Spirit of the Berserker was already accelerating his regeneration, and the pain began to recede.
"He can summon spears from the ground!" Ulvia shouted, dodging another spike.
"I see!" Datuk answered, leaping over three spears that grew before him.
The Herald stood in the center of the arena, his spear still embedded in the ground, pulsing with white light. Now the attacks grew even more dangerous — not only spears erupted from the floor, but huge stone balls that rolled toward them, threatening to crush. The Herald waved his hand, and a protective dome of black stone rose before him, deflecting Ulvia's whips and Datuk's axe strikes.
Datuk lunged forward, using Skopid for a sharp burst, and his axe crashed into the protective dome. The stone cracked but didn't break. He struck again — and again. On the third try, the dome crumbled, but the Herald had already wrenched his spear from the ground and met him with a new attack.
The ground under Datuk's feet heaved, and he barely leaped back as a whole palisade of stone spears erupted from beneath him.
"He won't let us get close!" Ulvia shouted.
"Then we'll strike from afar!" Datuk replied.
She understood. Her left arm shot up, and instead of whips, long, thin spears of living vine, sharp as needles, burst from her palm. She hurled them at the Herald — one, two, three. The spears pierced the protective dome that the Herald had raised a second before and stuck there, causing no harm.
Datuk meanwhile circled the arena from the other side. He used Skopid for sharp bursts, and his axe hammered against the Herald's defense again and again. The stone cracked but didn't fall.
"He's too strong," Ulvia said when they momentarily retreated to the wall. "We can't break his defense."
"We can," Datuk answered. "We just haven't found the way yet."
He looked at his hands. Blood flowed from a dozen wounds, but the Spirit of the Berserker accelerated his regeneration, and the pain receded. His axe was intact. His will — not.
"One more push," he said. "All or nothing."
Ulvia nodded. Her left arm changed — a long, wide shield covered in spikes grew from it. She stood beside Datuk, covering him.