Chapter 103: Fists
Golden blood spluttered from Azrael’s mouth as he hit the earth.
Prometheus leapt up, landing far from Azrael’s battered body.
His gaze shrank as he looked at him.
"Why do I feel this strange sense of familiarity with this boy?" He wondered, stroking his chin slowly.
There was neither urgency nor rush in his tone.
He spoke as if he had all the time in the world.
Azrael’s body began to heal.
The process was fast, but not faster than what Prometheus could track.
Still, he chose to wait.
Not out of something as simple as honor or nobility. That was far from it.
Prometheus had waited because he wanted answers.
As Azrael stood, Zareth hummed in his hand.
"This opponent is too strong. Use the manifestation art."
Azrael did not respond.
"Who are you?" The voice whispered softly in his ear.
Azrael slashed horizontally at the source, but Prometheus had already moved before the blade could reach.
He landed far away, body crouched.
His gaze narrowed slightly.
"Stubborn."
He said nothing further.
Azrael brandished his katana, white flames surging along the blade.
The flames glowed with a subtle ethereal blue from within.
So subtle that only a trained eye would catch it.
"Using flames to fight me?" Prometheus asked with a raised brow and a faint smirk.
Before Azrael could respond, something shifted in the air around him.
His body moved on instinct, pivoting just in time to avoid Prometheus’s punch to his ribs.
Azrael’s eyes narrowed. He had assumed it was a coincidence when Prometheus used his fist earlier.
But now it was clear. Prometheus was another person who fought with his fists.
With that realization, Azrael made his decision.
Zareth vanished from his hand instantly.
Lightning and flames surged through his body as he drove his fist toward Prometheus’s ribs from the side.
Prometheus kicked the fist out of its path.
He steadied himself before planting his own fist into Azrael’s chest.
Azrael was sent flying, his body breaking through the air as he was hurled backward.
A single punch had sent him back to the edge of where he had first appeared when he entered the dungeon.
His body skidded across the floor, dust and dirt clinging to his clothes as he rolled.
Azrael twisted quickly, narrowly avoiding the sharp chain that lashed down from above.
It pierced through the earth where he had just been, leaving a deep hole.
Azrael rose, lunging into the sky in the same motion.
Essence ran through his body, strengthening him beyond his normal ceiling.
Golden light enveloped his frame as he moved.
Prometheus was ready, yanking his chain free from the earth with a forceful pull.
His fist blazed with flames that made the surrounding air tremble.
Azrael did not block.
He met the fist head on with his own.
The point of collision condensed into a singularity before detonating outward, sending waves of flames and essence through space.
Both fighters moved in tandem, their exchanges releasing nothing but destruction in their wake.
They flashed through the sky at intervals, each collision carving further ruin into the earth below.
The ground was reduced to dust.
From a distance, the other students stopped whatever they were doing and turned toward that point.
Looking at the golden streak weaving against the brown one, they knew without question who it was.
"What did he do in those two years?"
Although none of them were together, it was the same thought across all of them when they saw Azrael.
Even though they had also grown over two years, what they were witnessing could not be measured against their own progress.
Azrael heaved, face twisting into a cruel smile as he matched Prometheus blow for blow.
’He is growing mid battle,’ Prometheus noted with wide eyes.
At the same time, he ducked beneath Azrael’s punch, delivering his own into Azrael’s chest from below. ’I must end this quickly.’
Azrael’s body folded from the blow, spit and golden blood spilling from his mouth.
But he did not care.
His smile only widened as he steadied himself.
Prometheus withdrew his hand, sending his leg crashing into Azrael’s face from the left.
Azrael’s hand shot upward, catching the leg just in time.
The wind groaned under the force of his return kick.
"Since flames and lightning do not work, what about plasma?" He asked with a smile.
The thick scent of charred flesh rose as he pulled his leg back.
Prometheus’s eyes narrowed as blood trickled from the burn across his chest.
Azrael did not give him time to dwell on it.
He pulled back and drove his plasma infused fist forward simultaneously.
Prometheus caught the arm.
A searing heat tore through his body but he held.
Black flames erupted on his palm as he struck Azrael squarely in the chest.
Azrael’s body shook from the impact.
His own body began to work against him.
"Argh," Azrael yelled as the burn spread.
It was not ordinary pain.
His mind nearly went numb, but he held on.
Ice bloomed into existence, covering the burn before it could spread further.
He twisted just in time to avoid Prometheus’s follow up kick.
Azrael ducked beneath it, his body a blur of golden light.
Zareth flashed back into his hand in a swirl of white flames as he swung upward.
A large pillar of light erupted along the blade’s path, threatening to consume everything in its way.
Prometheus leapt backward, narrowly clearing the attack.
His heart beat hard beneath his ribcage as the cold touch of death grazed him.
’Impossible,’ he thought.
"Boo." The voice came from behind him, cold and distant, exactly as he had whispered into Azrael’s ear earlier.
He turned.
What he saw was his own torso falling to the floor, brown blood spraying as it descended.
Prometheus’s eyes shook as he watched the other half of himself fall.
Azrael cleaved horizontally again, faster this time.
The sword sliced through the head, ending Prometheus before he could process what had happened to his torso.
"Ahh."
That was the last thing Azrael remembered saying before his vision went dark.