Savage Awakening 538. Man vs. Dragon (VIII)

A wall of gold came at him.

It was like watching sunrise over the face of the star core, and as it passed, it drove a furrow a mile deep. The blast could’ve spanned a continent. It was a blow to end the world.

It should’ve been overkill against a Minor God. But it felt like Haxorax was unleashing everything in that moment; all his rage, all his agony. All that made the dragon prince. It felt like an expression of his soul, shattered as it was… 

It was a blow Zane felt he ought to give his full attention.

The Patriarch, the crowd, even his irritation—it was all just background noise again, useless.

This was between him and the Prince now.

Zane locked back in.

He felt quite clear-eyed as he stared down that blow, more so than usual in a fight this heated. He could always keep an iron focus. But the only situation he could be this relaxed and curious, right at the climax of a duel, was when he already knew how it’d end. 

So right now, he could appreciate the effort for what it meant. He was pleased Haxorax would bare his soul like this—give all he had.

It made Zane feel he should do the same.

So he slashed.

Just a simple slash. Not too fast or too slow, but it was loaded with all the Destruction he could muster. A blow to match the dragon prince’s own.

A single jagged line of blinding white-red. It met that gold-black wall.

It was a very gentle kind of violence then. Gentle, in the way an extremely sharp blade might cleave a man clean in two without him even knowing it, not at first. Gentle in the way only the most destructive things were.

It sank like a wedge through that flame. Splitting it down either side, making of that wall two great rushing streams, blasting out to either side…

That line sank through to the end. Met Haxorax.

Then it was like all that pent-up violence manifested at once, delayed.

Then gentle turned very bloody very fast.

A grisly wound rent down the Prince several dozens of feet, wing-to-shoulder-to-hip, and blood fountained in geysers.

Haxorax screamed.

Stumbled away, shaking his head, eyes bloodshot, tried loosing another blast at Zane—this one not nearly as strong. He hadn’t loaded it up. It was a wild strike.

Zane slashed again. Split it right through and carved an X into the dragon’s side.

He heard the crowd’s reaction—could hear the Patriarch roaring something, but he kept his mind on the dragon.

Haxorax stumbled back, nearly losing his balance… then those vast wings unfurled, beat once. The dragon howled again, and in that sound was a fierce pride. It spurred Haxorax to new life.

It wouldn’t be an easy thing taking Haxorax down—not for anyone. That was what it meant to Zane, and he respected it.

“Show me what you’re about,” he told the prince. He was eager to see.

Haxorax did.

Claws slashed—but a brilliant line crushed through, and carved the prince deep again. Dragonflame fell—a slash crushed through. Meteors fell and Zane simply broke that too.

Sometimes, in special fights, you really got a sense of your enemy. You got a sense of yourself, clearer than anywhere else. 

“This is what I’m about,” Zane informed the prince.

He quite liked tactics; he liked working them into a fight, seizing the advantage. He liked testing new Skills, liked the back-and-forth of pitched battle. But if there was one type of fight that resonated with him at his core, one principle, it was this.   

In the next few exchanges he showed the prince a simple reality.

Haxorax fought his heart out. Law, and essence, and Skill, and physique… 

But none of it was enough. 

Zane was just too much. 

When the prince fell, he came slowly, then all at once, a sinking shadow… the ground was so dense here that there was no great dust cloud. Just a THUD of acknowledgment as the second-greatest talent in that galaxy—one of the greatest this galaxy had ever known—was broken.

Haxorax did not get back up. His dragonform trembled and shrank away.

Then he was just a man again. A man laid out bloody on the ground, chest still rising and falling, but barely. The mad dragon was gone.

By the end of it, Zane did feel a bit sorry for the prince.

He supposed sometimes you could try your very best, and it simply wouldn’t be enough. It felt a bit odd to be on the other side of that. It had to be the first time in Haxorax’s life that his level of talent, and his level of hard work, failed him. It had to be rough fighting a Zane.

It wasn’t a fully triumphant thing, cutting Haxorax down. It was a bit bittersweet—if only because he’d gained some sympathy for the prince in that last exchange. Could feel the striving, the suffering, and the fall.

He just felt grateful for the fight.

He put away his axes.

The sounds of the crowd filtered back in, as though he were coming out of a dream. He glanced up, blinking.

…One thing he didn’t have mixed feelings about was the look on the Patriarch’s face.

That, he enjoyed without any reservations.

***

You could scan hundreds of miles of upper stands, and you could hardly find a single person still sitting. Even the dragons were on their feet, though for different reasons. 

The Barbarian Sage chucked some random Steelheart disciple’s popcorn in the air. Not even the muffling wards could fully drown out his “Let’s Goooooo!!”

The disciple was so busy cheering he didn’t even notice.

Evan was running around in circles. Avery cheered so hard she fell overboard.

Scan the lower booths, and you’d find mostly slack faces. A few Elders in the Azure Flame booth were pale, even—like they were trying to process exactly what Zane had just done.

The Nameless King, Hegemon Rank #2, tapped two fingers to his palm in a kind of clap; you got the sense he was grinning behind that mask. Not far away stood the Deep Earth Hall’s stalwart Brondir, Rank #3, beady eyes wide, which was quite expressive for him. 

“Hells yeah! What do you make of that?” cried Thalia, Queen of Mount Thundercrest. She slapped the Frost Saintess on the shoulder, who was in a bit of a daze. The Frost Saintess blinked, a little aggrieved.

“…Why do you keep hitting me?”

“Huh? Oh—uh, sorry.”

The Frost Saintess huddled into her cloak. “Hmph.”

“I’m gonna head over to Reina,” said Thalia, a little abashed. “Doesn’t she just look happy as a bird?”

Reina looked like she’d relaxed for the first time that fight. She was beaming.

“She does,” said the Frost Saintess, smiling softly.

Patriarch Azure Flame let out a howl, but it was drowned out by the cheers.

***

By the time Zane made his way to Haxorax, the prince was stirring again. He groaned, shook his head… but it was clear to Zane that the fight had been beaten out of him.

He was smiling, eyes closed. He looked relieved, surprisingly. At peace.

“I never had a chance,” rasped Haxorax. “Did I?”

“…No,” said Zane.

He felt a bit embarrassed about it, actually. He honestly didn’t think there’d be that much Destruction in the store.

He wasn’t sure how he was allowed to buy that much at Minor God. Maybe they just didn’t think a Minor God could get that many System Credits. Or take that much Destruction, for that matter.

Actually, he wasn’t sure why he was complaining. He stopped complaining.

Haxorax opened his eyes, and they were only lightly bloodshot. He looked… grateful? Though it wasn’t the same gratefulness Zane felt, he sensed. Zane was grateful for the fight.

He could kind of guess what the fellow was feeling. Haxorax had been through some rough stuff lately, and that was before what’d happened this fight.

“If you had a little more Creation, it would’ve been more of a fair fight,” Zane offered. “Especially if you were in your right mind. It would’ve been fun to have fought you then.”

Haxorax just shook his head. “It wouldn’t have made a difference,” said Haxorax softly. He smiled. “You’ve won, Zane Walker.”

“Alright.” 

Haxorax leaned back, closing his eyes again, and took a rattling breath. He really did look like the hero of some kind of story then. You didn’t have to know he was a prince to assume it; he just had that look.

“There were times,” Haxorax said. “In that blood pool, when I was myself, in fleeting moments… when the beast didn’t have me…that I hoped to die in this fight,” he said. “That you would end me. And this all might… finally be over.”

Zane’s brow furrowed. “Wouldn’t it be over if you won, too?”

Haxorax shook his head. “That would only have fed the beast. But it always hungers again. It would only have dragged this on longer…”

Zane felt there was some context he was missing—he didn’t fully understand. But he got what the fellow was feeling.

“Thank you, Zane Walker.”

“Why? What’s up?”

“…I don’t know why,” said Haxorax. He smiled a very simple smile. “But right now I feel… free.”

There were tears in the prince’s eyes, to Zane’s surprise. “For the first time, I feel free… it’s wonderful.”

“It must’ve been a rough prep,” said Zane, nodding. “I’m glad you’re better now.”

“I’ve never felt this way.”

“…Ever since you saw me coming up?” He knew the Patriarch had planted some kind of Zane heart-demon in the fellow.

“Since I was a child,” whispered Haxorax. He looked a little faraway, and Zane got the feeling he was reminiscing. “Since I can remember.”

Zane blinked.

That did make sense.

The Patriarch must’ve gotten his hooks in the prince early. Before Zane came along, it made sense there must’ve been someone else. And someone before that.

…He had it rough for a lot longer than Zane thought.

“It’s over,” said Haxorax again.

Zane just let the fellow chill there. A few heartbeats passed.

“What does it feel like?” He was a bit curious; Haxorax looked like he was having the time of his life down there.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” said Haxorax. “…Is this what men feel, all their lives? …It’s… beautiful…”

This was some pretty screwed-up stuff.

He let the fellow stay down there a bit longer. Have his moment. It must’ve felt like having a spike finally taken out of his head, or something. Zane didn’t have much experience with that level of heart demon, but he assumed it felt something like that.

“So,” said Zane at last. “I don’t mean to bother, but the fight’s to death or submission. You seem like a pretty chill guy. …I don’t really want to kill you.”

“Ah.” Haxorax blinked. He seemed to realize only then where he was. “Sorry. I submit.”

“Thanks. …Will you be alright down there?” 

Haxorax’s wounds had stabilized. The fellow had some healing factor. But there was still some Destruction in there. “I can call you a healer.”

Haxorax closed his eyes. “I will be just fine, Zane Walker.”

***

Jake Land was on his feet, like everyone else. He took a moment to compose himself. He felt quite emotional.

“There are times,” he said, “when you see a fight. And you know you’re witnessing history unfold before your eyes… there are times when you witness legends crowned, in a legendary display of might and will—in any other galaxy, this would’ve been Haxorax’s crowning moment! We would’ve have hailed him as a talent to match the likes of Salazar.”

Jake took a deep breath. “…But it is his great misfortune to be born in the same era as Zane Walker. What Haxorax just showed would contend with any new Empyrean in Dragonspire history… he could reach back in time and strike down Shen. He could outwrestle Leonidas or out-gun the Archmage… but not Zane. It is growing increasingly clear to me—it was a suspicion before, but it is clear now—that Zane Walker is simply not of this galaxy.”

He shook his head. “This may be Zane’s starting point. This may be the place that gave him wings! But what we just witnessed today was a Universe-level talent dropped into our backwater pond… that was the conclusion in my mind after witnessing the first nine-tenths of the fight. Even after he failed to bring it all together, or so it seemed. Then he went and finished it like that.”

Mox was silent, just shaking his head.

“The only thing in this galaxy that might be able to claim that title—to fight on a universal standard—is Malzareth,” said Mox at last.

“All these years, Dragonspire never had an answer. The best we could hope for was to survive… era after era, shining star after shining star would come along. And that six-winged serpent would strike them down, one after another! After watching that, you’ve got to think… have we finally found our answer?”

***

Amid all the celebrations, one dragon was silent. Still as stone. Then—

“Do you imagine,” snarled the Patriarch, eyes bloodshot, “that this is over?”