The Sun and the Inferno: Part I

The thunder split the sky in two, shaking the Earth to Hell and back as the winds enticed the desert sands to rise and dance throughout the night sky.

Another strike of lightning, followed by another reverberation - this time, the golden sands were shot to the ground and silenced.

However, no matter how many times the sky itself seemed to rage, it was inconsequential to the battle below.

The crimson cleric twisted his body, dodging the lethal strike aimed for his head. In response, the Sun King slammed his foot into the opposite man's shin, sweeping him off his feet.

Thinking fast, Gwyn gracefully landed on his gloved palms, propelling himself upward as his sword, moments before stuck in the ground, flew to his outstretched hand.

Flame erupted around the platinum blade, the longsword becoming the home of an inferno that was a twisted seedbed of life, with tails of flame flickering out every so often as if to snatch lost souls out of the crisp evening air. It didn't even take an instant for Astrum to retort with several well-placed jabs. No matter how much energy he put in, Gwyn always managed to bat them away, his hellish blade lashing out at Astrum's throat.

Yet in return, no matter how much fervor, how much speed and ferocity Gwyn delivered into his strikes, Astrum always deflected them by shaft of the lance, giving fierce counters.

They had already been battling like this for several minutes.

Neither showed any signs of fatigue, nor any signs of giving up. This battle had long awaited the two of them for years now. The spawn of the Crimson King, Perusha, to face off against the very sun-stricken man who took the sovereign's life.

This was fated. Destiny.

At least, Astrum thought so.

In truth, he didn't care. All he wanted was to finish the job he started, rip away the last legacy of that assailed tyrant.

Astrum was already meters away in the instant Gwyn's blade burned away at the dusty dryland in the arid landscape, lurching forward with unmatched ferocity less than a millisecond later.

His thrusts could split a house in two, his feet faster than lightning. Gwyn parried and dodged, being pushed back by the ferocity of the Bull of Heaven. Bull, indeed. Astrum was an unrelenting force, sweeping and prodding his lance at the astute defense of the Red Heir, who's single step backwards was enough to leave a meter wide crater.

Astrum flashed away in golden light, but Gwyn's eye of the mind knew well - duck eastward. And so he did, narrowly avoiding the blow that would've cleanly decapitated him.

Crimson flames burst around Gwyn, ferocious and twisted - demonic tendrils of hellish heat. Astrum jumped back, followed closely by Gwyn. He struck with his engulfed longsword, earning a quick deflect from the handle of Astrum's spear. A diagonal strike this time, coming from the left.

Astrum deflected and swept his spear again, but now Gwyn was behind him, lunging his blade forward in a strike aimed for the man's heart.

The blade cut through white, holy cloth - a gift from the Valley, for Astrum had by all means been one of their most prized possessions, a prodigy without equal. Gwyn visibly grit his teeth, running his palm against the crackling length of his blade as he pointed the flat of it upwards - blocking a torrential plunge.

The impact shook the Earth, causing lightning to crash down around the sight of impact, drawn to the magnificent power displayed by the men. The Earth literally split open between Gwyn's feet, a crack several meters deep threatening to swallow him whole if another blow was delivered.

Gwyn jumped backwards, only to find himself crashing against the dirt - a golden greave slammed into his stomach at his desperate retreat.

The Red Prince huffed as he got up, quickly deflecting another lunge from the golden spear. There, a sickly encounter began. Astrum thrust relentlessly, Gwyn's blade of flame moving to block and counterattack every time. They engaged in a cataclysmic duel, a vicious meeting of weapons that beckoned thunder down to Earth.

The show was impressive, surely the Gods must be taken aback, as each of Astrum's blows felt the Earth shake in agony. He spun his spear rapidly, a tornado of gold tracing death. Gwyn, once again, outstretched his blade with his palm at the flat of it - it was a mystery how the inferno didn't singe through his glove.

Then, timing it perfectly, Gwyn struck his blow horizontally whilst the spear was mid-rotation, leaving both weapons to aim towards the northwest as the impact left a condensed arc of wind to singe and cut through the Earth, creating a clearing in the harsh sands of the desert several dozen meters long.

Golden flames erupted from Astrum as he brought his spear back from the left, the blade aiming to cut through Gwyn's midsection. But still, even though the blow was five times faster, and five times stronger than the average, Gwyn managed to block it, however barely - even if he was sent flying a kilometer backwards, crashing through dunes of sand whilst his blade flew into the air, clanging on the dry and cracked ground soon afterwards.

Astrum twirled his spear, resting it against his shoulder with a huff. He managed to block even that, huh?

Of course, Astrum understood.

Gwyn wasn't his equal in physical competition. If he were any other man, his body would've been annihilated from the sheer force of one of Astrum's blows several clashes before.

Gwyn was not an outstanding Mercenary with his physique - above average, no doubt, a prodigy - but not nearly to the same degree as the Sun King, Astrum Aevitas.

No, Gwyn's skill lied in a very different aspect - his precognition.

The Red Heir's raw instinct could see forward several seconds, so it was no mystery that he was capable of dodging the blows from the Golden Bull.

Gwyn shook his head, rising out of the chilling sands whilst his lithe and coated fingers kneaded through scarlet locks of hair.

His intuition warning him, his amber hues shot above, glaring at the man perched on a hill only meters away, balancing himself on the shaft of his lance as it pierced Mother Earth.

"You are impressive, demon spawn. The valley raised you well." The baritone vocals of the Sun Child cut through the night, as cold as the pale moonlight that blushed upon the land.

Gwyn narrowed his eyes, taking note then that his blade wasn't in his hand. Fuck.

"And you for a dog so devoted to the Gods above. Tell me, for one as devoted to your cause as you are, why do you continue to serve the ones up above, who have forsaken you and your kind? Is that not hypocrisy?" Gwyn's question came with the straightening of his stance, right palm finding refuge on his hip.

A wry chuckle, unamused at the attempt by the Crimson King's heir to provoke him, left between parted lips. "Hypocrisy, hm? No, of course not. We are the chosen ones - didn't your lord Perusha preach such? If anything, I am correcting his work."

"If that were the case, should we not be allies? Yet here you stand, attacking a simple Knight without reproach." A sardonic grin had placed itself among the Red Heir's mouth, eyes nervously glancing in the direction of his blade - a full kilometer away.

"Did you not hear that bit, 'correcting'? Maybe he had proper ideas locked within, but his method of achieving them left only heresy. I am surprised the Gods did not strike him down themselves," Astrum paused, narrowing his honey-hued orbs. "Though, I suppose they did. After all-" Astrum's lips curled mischievously, pearly whites flashing. "I am the one who killed him."

Gwyn narrowed his own gaze, smirk growing. A slight twitch of his finger. Good. That was all he needed. The Red Heir didn't visibly react malignantly, for he was far too used to this game. If the prophesied 'Savior of Mutants,' he almost physically threw up, wished to tease him into a rage, he would have to try far harder than that.

"Indeed, I suppose you're right." The crimson boy shook his head. "I suppose you and I will never get along."

That much was true. No matter how much either preached allegiance to the Gods above, their philosophies were too different.

The Sun King was blunt and straight to the point - charming his followers with his honest lifestyle, a true saint of virtue; Gwyn, on the other hand, could be likened to a snake - ambitious and slimy, he would slip past and manipulate through any means necessary.

They were incompatible. Even if they wanted to work together, it wouldn't take long for one to try and betray the other.

Astrum's eyes narrowed further not at the retort, or even the thought, but at the man now in front of him. Astrum dodged the blow in an instant - the balled fist leaving a streak of crimson flame in it's wake as it thrust past the head of his opponent.

Astrum noticed every minute detail, moving to strike with his lance. The blade aimed for his liver, but would surely skewer the demon spawn's stomach as well. It was an instant kill move, the offensive speed comparable to lightning. Even the Crimson Heir's keen intuition could not prepare his body for a blow delivered the same time he strikes himself.

Gwyn's fist opened into a palm, a ghastly shadow masking his features as Astrum's eyes opened wide.

Then, mid-thrust, he turned his spear at an angle as he clutched the shaft with both hands, sent flying into the ground.

"Clever bastard-!" Astrum skid along the sand, the Earth rumbling with the pressure. In Gwyn's hands before him was his signature blade, his sword of inferno. Had he summoned it back to him while they were conversing? He must have.

There were 20 meters between them. Such a distance would take only an instant to close, but such a timeframe was too slow.

Gwyn would've seen the strike coming even if there were 60 meters between them.

Then, the Crimson Heir went on the offense himself - dashing forward. His blade narrowly missed the top of the Mutant savior's sun-kissed head, whilst the crouched Messiah lurched backwards, before springing up.

Gwyn gripped his blade with both hands at his side, such a distance wouldn't matter. With a single lunge, he would cut through the arrogant 'king's' throat and end this farce.

Before that.

His eyes widened, body twisting backwards with sword still in hand, a golden streak of death cutting through the night sky like a bullet. landing only meters away.

Still thrown away by the encompassing explostion, Gwyn sucked his teeth as the golden inferno of the sun burned the side of his face, before digging his blade into the ground to halt his momentum, heaving it upwards, and skidding back to re-face the direction of the Sun King.

He gave a sidelong glance at the golden spear currently stuck in the ground, heart beating faster than the hammer of the blacksmith deity as he watched it dissipate into golden mist.

There, again, Gwyn's amber hues widened in a mix of disbelief and irritation whilst his brow furrowed, watching in literal milliseconds as Astrum strung his bow.

The bow was long and golden - clearly of divine origin. It was beautiful, without a doubt - a symbol of Astrum's devout service to the Gods. A gift from the Thunder God himself.

Every instant felt like it's own condensed eternity, and Gwyn's body forced his sword to raise as the first arrow cut through the moonlight shining above them, aimed directly for the Crimson Heir's forehead.

His blade slammed against the arrow in retort, but the sheer deflection of the arrow left his heels digging into the dry ground as both hands gripped the blade now held over his head, teeth gnashing together.

Move.

He did as his body told him then, leaping to the side as another arrow crashed into the Earth. Without mercy, they rained down one by one - a parade of sun-kissed death, amber hued points of endless slumber.

Every impact, the Earth screamed - thunder roaring as every arrow created it's own burst of power, cracking the Earth as they traced along in a serpentine-esque shape, the same path that Gwyn was running.

Gwyn sprinted like he had never before, legs bounding across the desert. Every step was practically 30 meters wide, as Astrum's arrows became engulfed by lightning one after another - the sky literally crashing down to remove the multitude of gross violations pierced into the Earth itself.

Then, following the commands of his senses, Gwyn swung his blade horizontally in a spin - deflecting another arrow at the same time his blade erupted into flame once more, adding the necessary power to counter such attacks competently.

He was like a blood-filled stream, an elegant dance of red as his blade streaked red throughout the night. It was like witnessing a figure-skater, as their body seemed to trace along the air itself, arms moving in precious, timeless rhythm.

More arrows rained down, with Gwyn moving like a dancer. His body twisted and twirled, deflecting every arrow, each streak of gold capable of annihilating a two-story household. His Eye of the Mind did not fail him, warning him in advance where ever arrow would be.

Gwyn hopped backwards, deflecting a single arrow within 0.0001% of second repeatedly - no end in sight, no final deflection that would ensure him the match. He knew if he was to succeed, he had to go on the offensive, and so, as his body moved to split the final arrow in two -

Gwyn's eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing as he looked upon the Sun King.

Bathed in the moon's glory, he was almost beautiful - a splendid prince of the Sun, the likes of which wouldn't be seen again for another millenia.

And in his hands, an equally as precious bow - of which, an arrow streaked with far more gold than the last, decorated with an amber inferno, loaded against the bowstring.

And Gwyn fell.