Liron and the Ch'riun stared each other down. Time was on the Qilesh's side. The beasts would not endure for much longer. Its reinforcement would hurry to its side, strengthened by their defeated enemies. Liron sprinted towards the Ch'riun, using tiny explosions to accelerate his run.
The Ch'riun hurled its dulled javelin at him. Liron gritted his teeth, dashing away. It struck the ground with blinding speed, shattering the spot Liron had stood on a moment ago. Dirt and chunks of the floor peppered Liron. He covered his eyes, stumbling. Giving him no time to recover, the Zrun sprang out from the crater, ramming into Liron.
He brought up his black blade, blocking the attack. Its head was as hard as stone, pressing the air out of his lungs. Despite the surprise attack, Liron kept the embers around his blade, letting them rotate. Dozens of tiny edges bit into the Zrun's head, carving away at it. Liron used his explosions around his feet to dance around the Qilesh, preparing for a counterattack.
Before his sword could decapitate the living weapon, the Ch'riun tugged it back. The rope crafted from the other Zruns allowed it greater control. Like a slim, stretched arm, retrieving the ram back to the Ch'riun's hands. While their constant adaptation allowed them to adjust to their enemies, it did cost them. The Qilesh had no experience wielding such a strange javelin. It lacked the sense and skill with which Ragner used his axes and chains. But the Qyoral had proven itself a quick learner, so it would improve with each attempt.
He needed to get rid of that thing.
Liron stomped twice on the ground, giving Emma the signal. He rushed forward, his feet leaving behind scorched prints in the ground. As he closed the distance, the Ch'riun preparing its next throw, Emma cast two illusions between the two. The first showed Liron leaping into the air. The second hid the real Liron, making his way toward his foes.
They would not be fooled for long, but it took only one mistake. The Ch'riun flung the ram into the air after the fake Liron. Having learned already, it used the rope in its hand to adjust the javelin's trajectory. At the same time, the thrown Zrun danced one pair of arms into wings, allowing it to follow the illusion. With its momentum, it would catch up to the spell.
Liron raised his blade high, letting the smoke ignite, boosting his hau. He unleashed a sickle, having twice the speed of his usual. His spell split through the illusion shield, aiming for the Ch'riun's head. The warrior noticed it at the last moment, twisting aside. It kept its head, but the sickle cut through its hand holding the rope, slashing off its fingers. The javelin relied on its master's guidance, losing balance with the connecting severed. It swirled, crash-landing into the head of a smaller temple.
Repaying his enemies, Liron gave them no time to wonder about their loss, sending out the next sickle. His bones rattled under the force of his explosion hau. Instead of attacking the Ch'riun, knowing it blocked the attack, he targeted the remaining Zruns. Unwilling to lose more, the Ch'riun countered the spell, striking at it with its two axes.
They withstood the slash, dispelling it, but they earned deep cracks as rewards. The Ch'riun paid no mind, turning its free hands into clubs. It barked at its three soldiers. They jumped up on its back, climbing onto the arms holding the axes. Sacrificing their bodies provided their master with the additional Mass to change.
As Liron had feared, the Qilesh had learned. The axeheads fell out of the Ch'riun's grasp, ropes attaching them to its arms. It tested its newest weapons, whipping them around itself. They tore through whatever stood in their way, destroying several houses and pillars.
Time was on its side, but it had grown tired of waiting. The Ch'riun roared, charging Liron. It used its club hands to run. As the Zruns, it could not keep a straight back. But unlike its subordinates, its sheer weight disabled it from carrying it on only two legs.
And despite its weight, the Qilesh accelerated, building momentum. Liron's entire body would shatter should he be hit by its charge alone. Forced to move, he blasted himself into the air. The Ch'riun never ceased its rush, whirling around the arms attached to the axes. The chains followed Liron, their motions too fast and unpredictable to keep track of.
He cast spell after spell, staying outside the axe's range, but the Qilesh hunted after him. Liron could simply rise higher into the sky, preparing a large cloud of smoke to kill it. But once he distanced himself, the Ch'riun would change tactics, going after Emma instead.
The axes came closer, creeping closer towards their mark. The chains cut past him, the wind kissing his skin, promising him a painful death. There was no true opening in the Ch'riun's assault for a larger counterattack. Liron didn't need one, though. As the two axes sliced into his clothes, missing him, he flung his sword at the Qilesh. Halfway towards his target, it burst apart into a surge of smoke, creating a screen between the two. Liron's black blade consisted of smoke pressed into shape. Once the outer rims disappeared, the contents would leap out.
The screen did not last for long, the Ch'riun thrashing around with its chains. It tried to dispel them, separating them into dozens of smaller ones. If one could not find an opening, they had to create it themselves.
Liron coated himself in smoke, blasting him forward. The chains slapped against him, hitting him like a punch from a man twice his size. Ignoring the pain, he reached his smaller clouds. As with his exchange with Adenius, Liron hurled himself from cloud to cloud, igniting them. The world spun around him, and he struggled to keep up with his own momentum.
Once he had built up enough, he shot towards the Ch'riun. As expected, it retracted the axes, aiming to cut him down before he could reach it. But Liron adjusted his trajectory through countless tiny explosions around, coming at the Qilesh with an arc. The axes went nowhere, and Liron summoned his black blade again, enhancing his hau further by igniting the sword itself.
He shot past the Ch'riun, taking off both axe arms. His blade went with them, tearing apart as the explosion consumed it whole. Only its edge endured long enough to claim its target. Even a Wrathling would have failed to withstand such a strike. Liron's guts lacked any enthusiasm, rebelling. Tasting vomit in his mouth, Liron allowed himself no break, dashing around with another spell.
The Qilesh stared at its stumps. It could reattach the lost limbs, but the shock of losing them rattled the warrior. The Zruns inside its arms danced themselves free, their heads lurking out. Liron paid them no mind. He rushed the Ch'riun, summoning the cutting embers around his blade. He could not risk losing grip of his Conduit again.
A flawless downward hau, performed to spill out the Qilesh's guts. The Ch'riun had enough mind to bring up its club arms. Liron slammed his sword into the Qilesh. His innards jerked around as he came to a halt. Vomit poured out of his mouth, staining his coat. His bones cracked, and his muscles burned as if they had snapped all. But his body endured, and Liron had the mental fortitude to continue.
His momentum alone belted cracks into the clubs. The black blade cut into the hardened limbs but nothing more than a slim slit. His embers rotated, countless crimson knives chewing away at the outer layer. Liron dragged his sword free, showering the Ch'riun in haue. Shae had sharpened his fighting stance further. His dreams had yet to teach him the complicated techniques and sequences designed to slay Qilesh.
But against such a simple-minded foe, his basic slashes would suffice. Liron moved like water, a raging current that only knew how to move. How to press forward with the force inherent to its nature. His blade alone did no damage, but its embers sawed away at the clubs. Their positions had turned, and the Qilesh had no chance to counter. Any attempt would open itself for the killing strike.
Destroying the Ch'riun's defense hau by hau, the Zruns freed themselves from the lost arms, preparing a surprise attack against Liron. Sparring with Shae had taught Liron well. In this war, no one fought fair. Honor and chivalry were qualities of a fool keen to leave his loved ones heartbroken behind.
Emma had snuck up closer to the fight, hiding behind an illusion. Liron knew her to have his back. To be his warning eyes. And she did so.
"Behind you!" she screeched, her voice cracking.
Liron grinned, transitioning a downward slash into a stab into the ground. Smoke flooded out of the blade's tip, the embers close by blowing them up. A weak explosion, but one strong enough to hurl dust into the air. The Zruns yelped, the dirt getting into their opened mouths. Liron jerked around, detonating himself towards them.
His endless barrage of slashes, a ceaseless dance to end only in death, had brought his mind into absolute focus. Liron had become his blade. All else had vanished. The stench of vomit. The battle sounds from the dunes. Emma's calls. Liron moved like a wraith, cleaving apart the first Zrun. It was not clear-cut, the sharp ember ripping through the body.
The other two tried to fight back. Liron read their intentions with one glance, dodging them. The borders between his body, soul, and weapon disappeared. His heart beat faster, pumping sheer ecstasy through him. Liron countered another attack, the Zruns having turned their arms into cleavers.
Two slashes, flowing into each other as if they were conceptualized as one motion, and his foes perished. It was perfect. His footwork had no wasted motion. He did not overextend himself. His edge alignment left no room for improvement. For the first time, Liron had shown true mastery in real combat.
Turning around, Liron had forgotten all warnings about the Eternal War. The Ch'riun screamed at him, slamming his wounded arms into the ground. The skin had crumbled. Like dry dandruff, falling off flake by flake.
This fight would come to an end.
Liron whipped the grey blood from his face. He had found the place where he belonged.