well here is my meager attempt at a write in, the beginning are taken directly from previous quest when it fits better.
[x]Kill Flame
- [x] then get the hell out with Zao's secret help.
Even as the last words of Flame's mantra echo out into the Coliseum, your eyes are fixed on him. He did not learn so quickly from nothing. He had examples, people to imitate and follow. And by the mundane movements of his legs, the way he positioned his stance, it was clear - he had copied the foundation of his skills from memories of his battle with you. In any other scenario, you wouldn't have had a chance. But if his fighting style is based on yours, you can predict the exact location of his arm at the moment of impact. There won't be precious fractions of a second wasted aiming or adjusting. All you need to do is act. All you need to do is the impossible.
You explode forward, a raw eruption of speed, rocketing off the front of the box, pumping with bone-crunching force across the glass-streaked sands, muscles pushed to tearing, each step a conflagration of jarring, juddering force. Molten blisters spread across your face; char blackens your hair and skin; you smell the boiling and bubbling of fat. But nothing penetrates the circle of your concentration until the movement is complete. A single flawless counter to Resolute Flame's attack, executed in a split-second blind spot Zao had stamped out of you after training.
There is the sound of metal against metal, a ringing sound that reverberated across the entirety of the Colosseum, drowning out even the fury of Flame's Anima, and the fire dragon's blow was redirected into the sand of the stadium. The area around your feet was immediately turned to black glass, and the melted steel of your sword splashed against your chest and face, setting your cloth alight.
You knew that you cannot withstood the radiant heat of your opponent's flame, you knew that you should have been blinded beyond even the greatest healer of the realm by the molten steel in your eye. But none of that seems to matter compared to the soft warmth in your chest, as you breath out, for the first time in your life.
It was a titanic display of might that burst out of your body. Golden light of dawn that shined so bright, as if a second sun has risen in Seacrown. A golden horse that towered over the spires of the city raced through the streets causing untold panic among the citizens, and the golden bonfire of your soul could be seen for miles. Your opponent's flame, so hot that the master work steel of your sword was turned to a melted bar of slag in a single parry, was snuffed out like a candle in the midst of a hurricane.
For a single instant in time, no one moved within the Colosseum, the varies dynasts stood before their respective seats, too stunned by such a turnaround. For 5 precious heart beats, there was absolutely no sound within the stadium, not even a single breath was taken by those watching the match. Your opponent stared at you in slack jawed amazement, unable to believe what his eyes are telling him.
It was Resolute Flame that eventually broke the silence, his gazed move away from your eyes to gaze upon your brow. His eyes widened, as if in fear, before fury ignited within and he let out a roar and charged.
"ANATHEMA!"
A white thunderbolt of focus struck your brain, racing along the length of your spine, seizing upon your beating heart, radiating out - out from every capillary, out to every synapse, out through every pore. You stood alone, unarmed against a prodigy among the prince of earth. Your opponent called up his flames, burning away his own lifeforce like oil to empower his strike. His daiklaive, made of the finest red jade, all but disappeared under flame so hot that it turned into a white pillar. Resolute Flame moved to strike you down, but he is slow, and his attack was filled with flaws in your gaze.
With a gesture that was more instinct than anything else, a blade appeared in your hands. It was dark and dull, appeared to be made of the roughest pig iron, and its edge was visibly dull. But the grip in your hand called to you as if greeting an old friend, and the weight and balance of the blade fits you so perfectly, its as if you have had it for your entire life. You took up a stance complete unfamiliar to any school of blade arts that you know, but yet feels so incredibly right, and met Resolute Flame head on, blade against blade.
There was no clash, no sound of blade against blade. There wasn't even any feeling or resistance as your blade tore through that of your opponent's and then your opponent himself like the first ray of dawn through the shadow of night. Resolute Flamers upper torso and both severed arm, as well as pieces of his blade tumbled through the air, arcing beautifully into the stands, before it fell into the laps of one of the watching dynast.
There were panic in the audience now. Your exchange against Flame had lasted but a single moment. But at its end, you know that your are doomed this day. Even now, the guards of the attending family have brandished their weapons and advanced toward the arena. Elder terristorials, the most powerful beings of the realm. Out numbered you 50 to 1 and already surrounded, you had no hope of winning and further fights will only catch the already wounded Moon in the cross fire.
Zao was the first to enter the arena, having moved to murder Flame before you took it up yourself to stop him. Your turned to your teacher, who have taught you all that you know, and who have used up enormous amount of his own influence to allow your attendance to the Academy. The lightning bolts of his Anima filled the stadium as he walked toward you with not a iota of hurry, and the expression on his face unreadable. You lowered your blade. There is no chance for you against the oldest of the dragons, and if by dying at Zao's hand, you can help your friends, then so be it. You are Seuses Ulysseus heir of a Dynast, and you will die standing instead of wailing uselessly against your death like some animal.
You opened your mouth, to say your final words of good bye to your teacher and friend. But before the first syllable was out of your throat, you found a fist buried in your diaphragm, and the only thing to emerge was spittle and blood. You didn't even register a second blow. One second, you were trying to force air into your lung, the next, you were buried half way into the stone walls of the arena. Your vision is blurred and you find that you could barely stand. A strong hand grabbed hold of the front of your robe and pulled you out of the wall. Zao lifted you off your feet before walked slowly back to the center of the arena, you could feel some sort of soft object settling down the front of your shirt, you briefly wonder what it is. With your head lulled back, and you can see that no one else has set foot onto the sand of the arena. content to watch the last shogun perform the execution.
Honestly, you were a bit put out by the show that Zao is putting on. You has already lowered your blade in surrender, all you had hoped for is a quick death. But it seemed that Zao is going to drag it out for the crowd. The hits he has landed on you so far seemed brutal, but really no real damage has been done yet. Having made his way to the center of the arena, Zao stopped, then drop kicked you in the gut. A spray of blood and offal painted the sand of the arena like a burst water balloon and you find yourself flying. You would have felt rather indignant about it, but the world is spinning so fast that you do your best not to throw up your lung.
1 heart beat ... 2 heart beat.
hmm, you really should have smashed into something by now, the stadium wasn't THAT big.
5 heart ... 6 heart beat.
10 heart beat ... 11 heart beat.
You smash into the western ocean like a lame duck. Your cloth are ripped apart and smothered with a layer of blood and bits of meaty chunks, but you are perfectly alright. The only major damage had been to your ego.
