Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Two: Vs Damon

Julien’s Okay.

Damon took care of him and he is currently watching Damon and I staring intently into each other's eyes romantical-, I mean watching each other for weakness across the arena Julien made for us to spar in.

It’s a fuckin mess from yesterday and Julian is too tired to be bothered to summon an elemental to clean it up or do it himself. Lazy bastard, it was only a concussion, not a coma, I get those all the time! And I’m a perfectly well adjusted young man… A decently well adjusted… Moderately well… Ok at least I’m not a rampaging serial killer.

No need to act like a spoiled noble because you got hurt…

Wait, he is one, so I guess it’s fine? No need to pretend be what you’re not.

Anyway back to the main topic, Damon he staring at me absolutely murderously with his twin silver daggers in either hand.

Wickedly sharp looking things with curved blades that almost go pass dagger territory into practical protection territory, almost seeming to glow despite the midday sun bearing down on us.

Great! He’s got magic weapons.

All the more fun. I can feel my blood boiling already, thinking about what they can do.

He’s foregone his normal dress in favor of a dizzyingly dark looking skin-tight bodysuit, which seems to compress his body down a size and give his body an overall smoother look, like clothes painted on a person in a picture, made on rather than for.

Over his chest though is a sleeveless vest that looks to be made of some sort of material that merges seamlessly into the bodysuit, with likely more than a few hidden surprises inside. Likely made as a force dampener rather than as armor against claws or blade.

He wears other such cloth over his arms, legs, and crotch. He came well prepared for this fight, and with how dark that armor is it’s likely also magic or at least magically treated.

I look down to my hands and mildly regret the arrogance of thinking I wouldn’t need my sword against Damon, but I have a strong feeling that my skill with a blade would be of little help against him. I only recently got a sword that I could use regularly without breaking, so It’s not like I’m any good as someone who has the confidence to dual wield two daggers.

Mars doesn't’ count, he doesn’t swing his blade at you, so much as punch you with the edge.

So anyway, no sword for this fight, just the manliest way of fighting, hand to hand, against a twiggy guy with two knives.

Just me, my two fists, mah aura, and my master crafted a suit of armor.

I like to think the odds are in my favor.

A shout from the center of the arena draws my attention, and my head swivels to attention.

George is standing in the middle with his constant smirky smile, looking all too happy to have the attention on himself.

“Alright, whoooo’s ready for a fight!?” He says to the only audience member we have.

Julien, a single bandage covering his bruised forehead from yesterday, lets out a half-hearted woo, and a “Yeah.”

George fixes him a level stare, till Julian relents and waves his hand summoning a swirling orb of wind that launches into the air and explodes lettings out a thunderous half-hearted ‘Woo,” and “yeah”.

“Yeah! That’s more I like it!” George says pumping his fist in the air, before turning his head towards me and Damon.

“Now, to our two handsome duelists, Damoooooon Tutor,” George says drawing his hand dramatically toward Damon, “A dutiful servant comes to avenge his master’s ignoble defeat against the towering brute, Atlas Muuule,” He says with a flourish towards me. “Who has come today to defend his reigning championship today against Damon, but that’s not the only reason these two murderous young men are here today! Tell them else we’re here today boys!!”

He turns to me first, “I ain’t about to apologize for a fight won,” I say with a bit a Mountainline accent while giving Damon toothy smirk, “and when I win, he’ll have to make me breakfast for the rest of the year.”

“What a purposeful reason to fight!” George says with an uncomfortable amount of excitement in his voice.

“Now for the challenger!” He swivels to Damon.

He all but hisses out to me and George from beneath his face mask and helmet, “He must regret his actions, and acknowledge his betters.” He pauses and stares at me, I wave back condescendingly. “If I must cut him to do so, I will with pleasure.”

I blow him a kiss and say with a laugh. “I love you too Damy boy.”

“Get castrated by a pair of rusty, red hot gelding knives you wretch!” This time he does hiss out.

I smirk at him from across the arena.

“Well folks, let's get to it! Gentlemen and brutes get take your stances and fight!” Georges says as he runs the fuck away from the center of the arena, and scrambles up the walls into the only other chair next to Julian.

Julian lets out a lazy cheer from the stands. “Do well Damon, and bring me honor.”

Then adds a couple of seconds later. “Also, please don’t die, good servants are harder to acquire if they aren’t with you from birth.”

Damon gives his lord a nod and turns his head back to me.

I drop my attention on the rest of the arena as I zone out to hyperfocus on the dark clothed servant before me, a mere dozen or so yards away from me.

That dozen or so yards disappeared as I made my move.

I don’t have the luxury of knowing how Damon fights, but he does use daggers and so likely relies on speed in a fight, but based on his reserved personality he would likely wait for me to make the first move. So, the best option would be to rely on the torn up arena to slow him down and pelt him with rocks till he falls… But that would be boring.

So, taking a running start towards him and stop right before him, twisting and turning my body and taking all the momentum I just built up to unleash a lightning quick right jab towards his throat to test the waters, and then followed up with a haymaker powered up by the twisting of my waist from the jab aimed at his center torso.

Damon, true to my expectations, lithely moves his neck out of view and responds with a quick one-two lash of his daggers at my throat, and right armpit, where the armor is weaker.

His blow is slow enough to dodge, for me to move my neck out of the way, but I catch his dagger across my right shoulder, tearing a gouge across the leather armor and barely biting my skin.

My haymaker then connects with no time for him to dodge and he is launched away from me into the arena wall with a resounding boom, but my keen ears don’t pick the sound of bones crackings or the telling sound of bones breaking.

He peels himself off the wall and lands on his feet. He looks to his daggers and back to me, checking for damage and his eyes land on the small slice on my shoulder, he smiles viciously.

I let out a sigh at that, he really should have not been standing still, and I punish that with a brutal kick to the head.

He flips a couple of times before he hits the ground in a crouch, his black aura flaring over where I just hit him.

He really should have expected that when I can cover hundreds of feet in seconds, a couple is like breathing.

Showing his lesson he backs away a couple more feet towards the other end of the arena, no doubt analyzing my movements and figuring out the best way to counter when I move.

He wouldn’t wait long for me then, as I sprint towards him, unable to help but wonder how much damage his suit could absorb before it fails to tank anymore blows from me and if I would have to start adding an aura to my blows if I’m not getting through.

I felt a flash of energy though, and Damon appeared beside me mid-stride daggers outstretched towards my right side as I was moving past him.

I tried to stop my movement and twist away from the daggers, but the feeling of impact hit my sides.

But, with the lack of pain, it must have failed to cut through my armor.

I kicked away from him to gain some distance and to get into form to counter his daggers.

Damon wouldn’t let me though, the moment I started to move away from him he was on me like a leech on blood.

Lashing out with his daggers like a man, he was coming at me fast and with a surprising amount of power behind his blows, continuing to feel small splashes of power emerging and disappearing in between blows.

I was forced on the defensive as I was backpedaling away from his cuts and slashes, and blocking wherever I could and to the best of my ability, but Damon is better than I gave him credit for and managed to score some cuts on my armor, but once again, it seems they failed to get through my armor.

The backpedaling stopped once my left foot hit a rock and immediately smelled an opportunity.

Waiting till Damon was mid-jab, I dodge backward under his stab and flip kicked my feet into his chin and catching my other foot under his arm knocking him off balance and off to the side.

Snatching the rock off the ground, well more like a small boulder, I drew it back and let it soar the through the air at him.

Damon was still recovering as it hit him, and the boulder turned out to be a dirt clump, betrayal hit me like a shot of whiskey as the clump of dirt sent him falling backward.

And a hitting us both with a blast of dirt and dust.

Pain immediately took over my senses, as I whited out for a second.

Wait for what?

Where did that pain come from?

Tearing my eyes away from the dust cloud and Damon for a mere fraction of a second, I looked down to see my body covered in blood.

My blood.

I was spring blood from more wounds then I thought I could bleed from.

Huh, I thought sagely as I elegantly fell on my behind.

I could already feel the wounds beginning to close as I entered a brief moment of inactivity.

Damon came out from the dust cloud like a red-eyed wraith, a low thrum of energy following him, his aura already following him like a dark outline.

“Huhuhu,” I let out a low laugh as my wounds scabbed over, looks like he was done playing games. Too bad, I didn’t say play time was over.

Jumping up from the ground the second Damon was in hitting distance, I launched a double knee strike toward his chin and chest.

It caught him hard, and I felt the breath leave him and as he fell down on the ground, with me falling onto him with both my knees falling onto his stomach.

His aura flashed hard, but that weird thrum of power I had been hearing disappeared.

I looked to Damon just in time to watch his lunch get caught in his face mask.

Heh, gross.

But, then getting back to the main thing I wanted to do, I pinned him down with my knees so he couldn’t get up, followed by liberally coating my fist with aura and then striking down with a haymaker towards both of his shoulders where I knew some pressure points lied that make hands open.

His aura slowed me down briefly before getting torn through, followed by a sickly snap as my first hit him.

Damon let out a muffled cry of pain behind his mask, but I wasn’t interested in that, no his hand opened enough for me to grab his daggers.

I hopped off of him and followed up with a swift kick to his head, likely knocking him out.

But the other three confirmed it, as his aura stopped flashing, and slowed to a crawl.

At least he’s breathing.

I ran my aura over the daggers, and immediately felt the telling sign of magic from the resistance it gave.

I looked to Julian giving George a silvery card with a scowl, who looked exceptionally smug.

I called out to him, “Hey, what do these daggers do? I didn’t notice my wound till some dust got in them.”

George called out helpfully. “Sure it wasn’t the adrenaline keeping you going? I’ve heard of warriors not dying till after a battle and then realizing like ‘Oh, shit I’ve been stabbed like a thousand times,’ and the pain hits them all at once.”

I called back. “Maybe? I don’t know, but these,” I hold up the daggers. “Are definitely enchanted.” I look at Julian. “So, what do these do?”

Julian raises a thin brow at. “What good is that knowledge to you?”

I shrug. “I’m curious, to know what stabbed me, asshole!”

He lets out a small laugh, and shrugs. “I don’t particularly know, that my grandfather's work, he does it for all the bond-servants. So, Damon probably knows more about them than me.”

I look over to Damon, twitching on the floor.

I look back to Julian who shrugs.

The twitching got really bad till it went on to full-on seizure mood, his limbs flailing wildly on the ground and pounding craters into the ground.

I-I, didn’t cause that did I?

I made my move over towards him only for Julian to call out, “Wait!” He said in a tone of firm authority, that raked against my senses.

I had half a mind to move anyway, but he knew his servant better than I did.

Turning towards him I asked, “What in the bleeding empty is that about!?”

Julian put a hand to his head and sighed. “I don’t know, but I can see my grandfathers magics at work here. I think Damon will be fine, but I do not advise going near anything that has my grandfather's signature on it, magic or otherwise,” He takes a breath, at the sudden use of his weak vocal muscles. “lest you would wish to find yourself a hundred miles into the vacuum,” He says pointing to the sky, and then to me “Or find an organ gone, atropified into dust, or have a limb atrophied into uselessness.”

I cringe at the sound of the effects and look over to Damon whos limb look to be trying to find the right rhythm to dance their way off his body.

George speaks up. “Don’t you care what happens to him?” He says carefully.

“I do, just trying to figure out the best way to not get killed by rogue magic, but, It seems unnecessary.” He says pained at first only to ease into relief as his hand moves to Damon, rising up from the ground like a revenant.

“Yes, I’m fine thanks for asking.” He says dusting himself off.

I look at him with a bemused expression, questioning him.

He looks at me with a scowl, which deepens when he looks at his daggers in my hands.

I smirk and say, “Tell me about that and these,” I say pointing at him and the daggers. “And you can have them back.”

With a sigh, he nods his head, and in a blur of motion takes off his top half

Revealing his slight, lean and pale chest… With likely the largest series of interconnecting tattoos I’ve ever seen, and it just occurred to me I’ve never seen him without his shirt on before… Have I seen anybody else here without a shirt on before? I’m pretty sure they’ve all seen me naked at some point.

Beginning from his collar bone and circling around the base of his neck is a series of black lines that branch out across his body over his arms, down his chest, onto his stomach and beneath, likely covering his whole body.

They seem to make images of pseudo organs on the opposite side of the body on where they should be, and pulse with a dim, sickly, but vibrant purple like that runs across his body like some sort of blood system.

He points to himself and says briskly, “Magic tattoos,” He points at the tattoo of a heart. “Life support and healing magic,” he points to the veins. “Carries magic and a self-updating chart of my body to set itself to,” Touches the lungs, liver, and stomachs, “Combat reinforcement, poison detoxification, and power storage.”

He cocks his head at me and asks. “Happy?”

I point an at the dozens of other minor tattoos across his body.

“They all work together to enhance the powers of the others.”

“Where do they draw their energy to fuel you?” I ask. You get something from nothing, even an idiot like me knows that. A body needs fuel to move and so does magic.

He grimaces and scowls, “Nowhere important. The daggers please.”

I grin a little and toss a single dagger back to him.

He catches it like a pro and seems a little more at ease once he has it in his hands looking over it. He does a once over, and then seems happy before tucking it away somewhere.

He points a dagger in my other hand. “That dagger was crafted by a master black alchemist, or if you don’t what that is a blacksmith is a close enough approximation and enchanted by my lord's grandfather, the Lord Patriarch of the noble house Dormis.”

“Doesn’t explain what they do though.”

“I was getting to that.”

“Then get to it then.”

He scowls but continues, “I’m… Not entirely sure, as I myself am not a mage or direct magic user, even these tattoos I wield must be updated and maintained by my lord by a formula that only my masters family is privy too… But, I do know a small number of their capabilities, they cut well and numb any wound they cause, slow down healing, resist temperature change well and losing their edge, only needing the bare minimum of maintenance to be serviceable.”

He’s probably lying about how much he knows, but I don’t have any way of calling him out on that, so I toss the dagger at his feet, not like he has to worry about them losing their edge right?

With a quick grab, he picked up the knife and it disappeared.

I walk over to him and grab him by the shoulder and offer my hand.

“Good show, not many people can wound me as much as you did.”

Squirming under my grip he tries to lose my grip before relaxing under my words.

He sighs and shakes it.

“No hard feelings right?” I asked taking my hand off his shoulder.

“Yes, I doubt I’ve ever met a more brutish and violent person than you, but I will not let it interfere with our future interactions.”

I shrug, “That’s all I can ask for, right?”

He nods. “Yes, but my ego will heal in time and this is only a lesson to show I’ve much to grow, which will only help but aid me in protecting my lord. So… Thank you, Atlas, you fought well, and you terrify me.”

I cock my head at him with a smirk. “Now, why would that be?”

Staring at me in a way that shouts ‘Are you an idiot?!’, he says softly. “Because, not many men can survive a dozen bleeding wounds, have then healed mid-fight, and then win.”

“Oh, and here I thought it was my stunning good looks.”

That actually draws a laugh out of him.

“Yeah, sure.” He says with a bit of sarcasm.

He then starts to walk away, and I clap him on the shoulder as he does so and says. “Now, remember what I was fighting for right?” With just the barest hint of a threatening tone.

He sighs. “Yes, breakfast for a full year.”

I pump my fist up. “Yeah, now remember what I said about poison-”

“Yes double the amount that would kill a man.”

I let him go, only to suddenly hear.

“Now isn’t that great folk, the servant and the mule have made up! But will he be ready for his next challenger for tomorrow?”

From behind me, I see, George, standing on the edge of the arena with a manic smile.

“Big G is looking for a fight tomorrow, and he wants to know if the Mule is all kick or just a load of ass?”

A rock hits him in the head and knocks him back.

“Yes,” I shout to him.

“Ow, ok, you could have just said yes, but, anyway Big G vs Mule tomorrow!”

I shrug, “Eh, maybe, I’m still bleeding over here so I might need to put it off for a day or two.”

George gives me a look like I just kicked his puppy. “Aww, come on, you just fought Julian and Damon, you need to fight me too to complete the trilogy!”

“Well It’s not like I’m never going to fight you, it’s just like I said, kinda bleeding out so I’m going to need some time to recover my fluids.”