Chapter 58: The Weight of the Throne (2)
The battle had long since surpassed the expectations of the spectators. Each clash of metal sent shockwaves rippling across the arena, powerful enough that the reinforced barriers shielding the audience shimmered with strain. Without the protective enchantments woven into the walls and floor, the entire structure would have crumbled under the sheer force of the Grandmasters’ duel.
Thutmose and Mankhaura battled fiercely, their clash shaking the ground beneath them. The once-pristine stone floor was now fractured beyond recognition, with craters and jagged pillars of earth scattered across the battlefield, remnants of their violent struggle. Dust and debris filled the air, swirling after their relentless attack.
Mankhaura fought like an earthquake-given form, his command over the earth raw and overwhelming. Every strike of his spear sent tremors through the ground, each movement aimed at breaking, overwhelming, and burying his opponent.
Massive rock formations surged at his command, rising and crumbling in an endless barrage meant to crush Thutmose under sheer force.
Thutmose, in contrast, was a control incarnate. He wielded the earth not as a weapon of destruction, but as an extension of himself, redirecting terrain shifts to his advantage and forcing the battlefield to obey his will.
When Mankhaura tried to bury him beneath a collapsing stone, he turned the rubble into stepping platforms, evading with fluid grace. When his brother sent a shockwave through the ground, Thutmose absorbed the force, dispersing it harmlessly beneath his feet.
For the first time in years, Thutmose was being forced to react.
A particularly powerful clash sent both warriors skidding backward, the impact carving deep trenches into the stone floor. The resulting shockwave rippled outward, battering against the reinforced barriers with enough force to make them flicker. Beyond the shield, the spectators felt the vibrations in their bones, their eyes locked onto the battlefield with silent intensity.
In the elevated viewing chambers, the elders observed with measured expressions.
"He’s holding his own against Thutmose?" one elder muttered, brows furrowed.
"He’s more than holding his own," another responded, watching as Mankhaura launched another devastating assault, forcing Thutmose onto the defensive. "He’s pushing him."