Zone A -- Lowlands

[Enel]

I check my Danteverse terminal. Tch. The old man’s right. While we were fighting here, some bastard has swooped in to grab the pickup!

I have to restrain myself from crushing the device in my hands. I look towards the bearded bastard. “You made me miss the pickup, you impudent old fool.”

I push Victor aside. “I’m going to make you pay for that.”

I take a step towards him.

Mantra.

He swings left.

I step to the right.

He swings right.

I step left and grab his wrist. He drops the spear and swings for me with his other hand, but I headbutt him before he has a chance.

I lean down and grab him by the scruff of the neck. “You knew we were coming. Why’d you get in our way? Why’d you throw your life away?”

The shrivelled old bastard just smiles.

Son of a bitch!

“Think you’re funny?!” I roar. “Think this is funny?!” I channel electricity through my hand into his throat, let loose the energy until his grey hair stands on end. “You’re going to die here!” I let more energy loose. “Die!” More. “Die!” More! “DIIIE!”

He falls back, and there’s blood in his eyes. The old man doesn’t want to die.

I raise my staff. “Come at me.”

He raises his spear.

For an old guy, he’s surprisingly fast. I’ve met younger men who were far slower. But with my mantra, there’s simply nothing he can do. I block his tired moves as though it were child’s play.

“Don’t you have anything else?” I grimace at him, almost pleading. “This is too easy. I want to feel it!” I parry another spear thrust. “Come on, show me something else!”

Could it be that …

He’s got nothing else?

“Pathetic.” I break off the assault with an open-palmed blast of electricity. It throws him back, though he’s still somehow on his feet. “Just why are you in this competition?”

He tries to say something through his broken jaw but it comes out as “Erger bur hum.”

“Fuckin’ dementia patient.” I bring my staff up into a golf swing aimed for his already-smashed jaw.

He catches it. Eh?

Then he pulls me towards him. I let go, refusing to get pulled into the range of his fists. But now he has my staff, and his spear.

He holds the staff out. An offering.

I snatch for it, but he moves his hand back, stepping away. God-damn it …

I leap for him, and my mantra doesn’t warn me of any incoming attack. All he does is move slightly.

And suddenly the damn spear is in my gut.

“God damn it!” I roar. I jumped right into his spear. As I grab for it, he swings my staff, and suddenly I’m seeing stars. I fall back, clutching my midriff, and roll as he moves to continue the assault.

He’s right in my face, swinging both weapons, and it’s all I can do to dodge – block – and retaliate. I grab him by both wrists. “Go down!” I scream, shocking him.

All I can see of his face is his lit-up skull. It’s grinning. “No,” he chokes, and headbutts me.

I stagger backwards. My head’s spinning. My sleep deprivation and rage is throwing my mantra all over the place. Left, right, down, left, up – it’s hard to keep track of where each weapon is, and I find myself getting battered by both the wooden haft of his spear and by my own staff.

God damn it, enough!

I plant my feet and blast electricity out of every pore. It’s enough to shock him backwards, and I take the initiative, diving into a right straight. He leans back and my fist only grazes him, then he roundhouse kicks me. I take a painful hit into my forearm, but it’s worth it only so I can hit him again. This next straight is a belter, and it lands right on his nose. I watch the claret spurt out of his nostrils as the back of his head connects with the ground.

“Huh!” I snatch up my staff, and with it, I smash his head into the ground. His face is a bloody mess. It’s all I can do to stop myself pummelling him again. But I’m tired. And I don’t want to kill him just yet.

“Hendy,” I say, walking back towards the edge of the clearing. “You take a turn. Make him suffer.”