The combustion of fire clung in the air like skin, the fumes spreading like a virus.
"Beast," Gabe repeated, allowing the word to linger in the fiery air. Still, his grin remained, the insult being taken in as a compliment. Perhaps it was crude, to be described as such in a way that made him less than the flesh that he was confined in.
To be reduced to a mere creature of mana.
But Gabe almost relished in it—he felt a thrill surge his bones every time he exacted his own violence onto the weak.
The two stood still, the tension akin to the blazing fire that was circulating Grav. Then, in the next beat, the remnant ashes of the lush grass lifted, a blur cruising.
Grav watched as a distinct green vestige was left in Gabe's wake, a gigantic green sickle descending from above and rising from below. Grav's eyes reflected the luminescent glow, his hand lurching forward.
Fwooooshhh!
The fire was willed in an instant, surrounding Grav and shaping into a dome.
"Come on out!" Beyond the fire, Grav could hear Gabe's voice ring. Clicking his tongue, Grav struck his arm upwards, upheaving a wave of fire.
Unveiling the rest of the dome, Grav immediately dashed to the right, his legs kicking off the burnt grass that he incinerated.
Gabe appeared to his side, having jumped from the side of a tree trunk. A luminescent green coiled in both of his hands.
Before the curvatures of wind could connect, Grav ushered down a trail of fire, colliding it with the arcs.
BOOM!
Smoke trailed all along them, obscuring their vision. And the the grass dispersed away, unveiling the ground that rose and flew into endless debris. However, even this did not hinder the sound of their footsteps. The reverberating sound never relented, each melody picked up by their ears. As their ears followed, destiny shaped as their figures emerged from the smoke and their eyes meeting. They didn't retreat—their feet moved with conviction.
Surprisingly, fire did not clash with wind. Rather, it was fist with fist, tremors being sent to each other's bones. Pain drew up from their forearms, traveling up to their shoulder.
Grav reeled away.
"Let's see how you keep up," Grav muttered, encasing his hand with fire. A vestige of fire was left as his fist was sauntered towards Gabe's ribs.
"Tch," Gabe clicked his tongue, taking a step back before wind began to churn around his hand. His veins bulged underneath his skin, throwing down his fist towards Grav's elbow joint.
Rotating his arm, Grav stepped to the side, allowing the fist of wind to heave pass.
Thump!
Extending his leg, Grav shot his leg up, pressing it underneath Gabe's chin.
Blood escaped from Gabe's mouth as he was forced back, the soil underneath being dragged along with him.
Exhaling and expelling the blood that boiled inside of his mouth, Gabe rushed back towards Grav, shrugging off the pain as though it were a trivial fly.
Gabe was a tyrannical fighter, someone who held the foundations back in the academy he was taught in, but honed through the true, unrelenting violence of the world. One that he had voluntarily put himself until he found a greater purpose through the God he beseeched.
I won't lose to some fucking noble bastard. He told himself as he ruptured the ground with his blades of wind. Debris flew, chunks of them obscuring Grav's vision.
Swoosh!
Swoosh!
Grav felt spikes of pain course through his body as the chunks slithered by, grazing his skin and drawing out blood. Gnashing his teeth, Grav motioned his hand with a hasty wave, unleashing a fire that incinerated the debris that was continuing to fly towards him.
Smoke surged through.
Sensing the shift in the air behind him, Grav turned around, the pages of his tome flipping wildly. As Gabe hovered before him, Grav directed his tome forward, the pages facing Gabe.
Fwossssshhh!
Faster than his own hands, fire manifested from the pages, rupturing and taking form of a massive spike. Grav's face contorted into a nasty strain, one that Gabe was able to witness right before he instinctively unleashed a massive wind curvature to counter the spike of fire.
BOOM!
This time they were blown away, their bodies crashing into nearby trees.
"AGHH!"
Their bellows could be heard deep into the forest. As the back of their bodies scraped down the tree bark, they both felt their vision flash in-and-out, before they ultimately grounded themselves back to their senses.
The smoke cleared away, unveiling them to each other like a red carpet. As their eyes met once they got on their two feet, Gabe slipped into the forest, his body submerging into the shadows that were being cast by the long, dominating trees.
Grav followed, entering the forest.
~~~
11:14 PM, Forest North.
They had thought the bodies they would find left behind by their killers would prove to have useful loot in order to arm themselves, but the cohort was left to be sourly disappointed.
A majority of the items that the dead had were already taken from their corpses. However, Grace did manage to get a few things.
Looking at his fingers, there was two rings attached on his index finger.
[Ring of Minor Agility]
[Ring of Minor Agility]
Two of the same rings. And the best part was that these artifacts were able to stack together for a greater boost in his agility.
Grace smirked as the blue gemstone on the rings reflected off of the minuscule moonlight that seeped through the tree leaves.
Grace looked back at David and Miller.
The former had taken an a ragged cloak from one of the mercenaries that had fallen. Grace walked up to them, nodding his head at them.
"Let's keep—"
Before he could continue, the sound of footsteps rustling against grass reached their ears, a dagger emerging from behind the trees.
"Dodge!" David yelled, diving to the side and rolling along the grass. Grace and Miller backed away, positioning themselves behind a tree in order to shield themselves from potential dangers.
David got up from the ground, dodging another dagger that scorched the air. He positioned himself directly parallel to Grace and Miller.
The steps could be heard again.
"It's okay," the feminine voice spoke, looming in the air. "Your death will be swift."
Confidence reverberated in her tone. Grace could almost picture the smirk that was glossing over this unknown lady.
Grace put his hand up, signaling to David and Miller.
"From the map, the shrine can't possibly be more than seven minutes away from us," Grace whispered loud enough for both of them to hear, despite David being further away.
"I'll handle it here," Grace stated, his eyes sharp.
Miller grabbed Grace's shoulder. "You shouldn't—" Before he could continue, Grace shook the hand off, his head shaking horizontally soon after.
"The plan stays in motion," Grace's voice was firm as if it were stone. "Reap the benefits of other people's labor. We clear the dungeon." His eyes turned towards Miller and then to David.
"Go."
Grace said nothing else, pushing Miller away, towards the direction of the shrine. Miller gnashed his teeth, but did not refute once David grabbed him by the shoulder and pulling him into the deep sea of trees.
The steps grew louder, closer.
Grace exhaled, placing his hand on his heart—the beats of his heart were like strikes of thunder.
He was afraid, no doubt.
Around him, the wind began to churn, a shadow appearing, eclipsing his left side.
A smirk revealed the woman's white teeth.
"Found you," she said in a whisper. Her hand, armed with a steel dagger, sauntered across her torso.
Slash!
The singular arc of sharp steel narrowly missed Grace, with the younger individual pressing off of the groin to reel away.
Fear—it was only natural for Grace to feel it.
After all, the consciousness that now lives in the body wasn't the most familiar with combat.
However, at the end of the day, he was now Grace Walker. In his mind, circulates the infinite fragments of a stranger's memories.
"Grace Walker," he said as the lady advanced her assault. "That is my name."
"Irene," she responded, her mouth forming a grin. "Just Irene." Her eyes drew from Grace's face to his hand.
A flash of luminescent blue, materializing into a dagger of translucent azure. Grace exhaled, sweat trickling down his cheek and clinging to his skin.
The fear slowly diminished.
For even just a moment of time, he plunged the despicable feeling to the deepest corners of his body. This body was inexperienced, not yet sharpened enough by the tragedies that occur within dungeons. Even more so as the new inhabitant of the body.
However, there lingers a truth about the body he inhabited now.
It was writhing in skill.
One yet to be tapped into, yet it radiated it, almost poisonously.
And he will place every ounce of his trust in the engravings that existed in the body of Grace Walker!