Gaius Antonius Omake #69(nice) - Black Iron Crucible Part 5: Ordinary
The throne was hard.
The King wished to squirm, but held back to preserve his dignity; why did authority and comfort oppose one another so sharply?
The throne was cold.
The King pulled his cloak around him tighter, hairs raising up all over his skin. Why did power cast off passion so easily?
The crown was heavy.
The King's neck ached, cords standing out against the skin. Why did privilege not bring contentment?
Chapped, withered lips parted, revealing yellowed teeth and a red, wandering tongue. A voice echoed out, frail and feeble and yet carrying absolute force. "Spoils. Bring more spoils. Bring more glory too."
Ten million million million feet stomped, ten million million million hands saluted. Bathed in the black shadows of the King's towering throne, his subjects seemed as one, a mass of mediocrity, gathered to serve any function.
Clad in gold, plated in gold, adorned in gold, drowning in gold, the King rested his head on his fist and dreamed of yet more glory.
----
Light poured in through two slits in reality, piercing into Gaius' brain like two spears. The slits widened until they revealed a blurry world of whites and yellows, which gradually faded into a familiar room. His room, in a house in Seven Tourneys City. It was already the morning of the fourth round; the last fight before things would go back to normal. The finals could go to hell - maybe if he felt like it he would show up and throw the match. There was simply no way he would be up for a fifth match, when he didn't even feel up for a fourth.
No, thought Gaius as he sat up and rubbed his bleary eyes. Everything would end today. He didn't have to think about anything besides battle strategies. His joints creaked and ached as he pulled himself to his feet, and in a rare moment, Gaius was painfully reminded that he was past the midpoint of his lifespan. Which reminded him: how was the shoulder?
Flesh quivered unsteadily as Gaius flexed his arm, prompting a dull, sluggish soreness to radiate from the wound. Still not great, it seemed. That vivid circular pockmark remained, as did the dent in his flesh, though it had shrunk a good deal in the past two days. He flexed his arm, then threw a few jabs, with little issue. Gaius smiled; his left arm was still weaker than his right, but the risk of it failing on him was low.
Lipita greeted Gaius with breakfast and a smile, which was appreciated even if he couldn't think of much to say. He gave her a few pointers on her telekinesis to pass the time, and told her to treat her temporarily badly curtailed qi output as efficiency training. After the pleasantries, Gaius scratched out some musings in his journal, then wondered what to do with his remaining time.
Well, there was nothing wrong with starting his warm-up a little early. The Seeker took off, leisurely jogging through the city on a path he made up on the fly. As he went, Gaius found himself greeted again and again by enthusiastic locals.
"Gaius, give us a good show today!"
"I've got money riding on you Gaius, you'd better win!"
"Gaius, please teach me your strangling techniques!"
"Are all Devils as strong as you, Gaius? How do I get a Bronze infusion?"
How bizarre, thought The Seeker. He was the talk of Seven Tourneys City, or rather him and three others. Through his whole walk out to the city walls, people kept calling out to him with greetings, requests or encouragement. At this rate, he might get addicted to being a show-pony.
Each time his feet hit the pavement, his joints acted in perfect succession, propelling him with smooth, springy motions. Air whooshed in and out of Gaius' lungs with mechanical precision, keeping his body in equilibrium. He felt good, almost too good to be true - his conditioning was in top gear, injuries aside.
The winds of that good mood carries Gaius out of the city and into the surrounding craggy ground. He followed a lazy trail to the north, one which he had taken several times before.
Gaius' jog slowed down to a walk as he arrived at his destination: a gently sloping foothill bathed in sunlight. A beautiful view, but more importantly a nice, flat surface to do some combat forms on.
Without even thinking about it, Gaius smoothly exhaled, sinking down into a stance and beginning a complex series of defenses and counterattacks. Blocking, striking, throwing; attacking the legs, the face, the body. This, the science of destroying the human body, was perhaps the most well-trodden and widely practiced field of academic study in the known universe. Though he tried to focus, Gaius could not help but let's his thoughts wander and grow wistful as he practiced.
This hill… he'd met Long An on this hill, hadn't he? And Long An's son, what was his name again? Gaius could see why that boy liked to practice up here. The air was crisp, the ground was packed and steady, and there was even a bit of scruffy vegetation, making everything feel just a little bit less desolate.
One by one, Gaius went through an endless series of forms. After a century of practice, his body performed each and every one to perfection without conscious thought. His body ached all over, but at least his shoulder was in acceptable shape now. Sweat dripped down The Seeker's body as he continued to warm himself up and enjoy a measure of temporary peace, holding off the endless rumbling pressure of the situation. Just a little bit longer, just one more difficult feat, and this hurdle would be cleared; Gaius could sort out his feelings on his own time, once this unpleasant obligation was settled.
One hour until the entrance ceremony, and the arena was a forty-minute walk away. Time to go.
——
Hong Xuan Fang Tai did not experience dreams.
He placed no superstitious value on this phenomenon; his senses simply did not activate unless he was awake, leaving his sleep oppressively peaceful. If anything, this was a blessing; he was unbothered upon waking, and never started his day in a bad mood unless he'd already been in one the night before.
It was in this fashion that Fang Tai lived his life; everything had its place and its time. That wasn't to say that he never enjoyed himself, but leisure was something to be done in moderation and with discipline. He did not always
succeed in such regards, but making the attempt was important. Thus, when Fang Tai got out of bed on the morning of the Black Iron Crucible's fourth round, he did it in a practiced, almost mechanical fashion.
His knee and wrist, far from fully recovered, sent tiny jolts of pain up his back and into his brain. Nothing agonizing, simply warnings from the scion's body that things weren't quite right, warnings which he intently ignored. Turning to a plain, unadorned bedside table, Fang Tai saw a roll of bandages, and picked it up. Noting gratefully that no servants were bothering him and disrupting the absolute focus this day demanded, he bound his wounds tightly once more, so that they wouldn't swell up as he moved around.
To an untrained eye, Fang Tai's room might seem criminally underfurnished considering the wealth of his family, but it was all to his liking. The wood was of the highest quality, the clothes were soft and hand-washed, and the orchids by the window were changed every other day. He slipped into something simple, a blue robe with grey pants and black shoes, and opened his door to face the day.
Fang Tai's feet passed across a floor he had tread upon an untold number of times in his life. He had seen several generations of mortal servants come and go, sweeping and cleaning these floors for modest compensation. Today, however, he alone walked these halls, in his private wing of the Fang Branch estate.
Making his way to the dining room, Fang Tai was still alone. On the large table, suitable for seating fourty people, was only a single meal, fully prepared and still steaming. It was congee with spicy beef, one of his favorites, but this sight and smell didn't lift his spirits like it usually would. He sat down to eat, scarfing down the meal and ignoring how the room's spacious walls and high ceiling seemed to close in on him bit by bit.
"Kill me?" Fang Tai scoffed, though of course no one answered him. He shoved more rice and beef into his mouth, stewing in frustration. "Big bad Devil wants to kill me. Motherfucker ain't special."
He'd muttered such words to himself again and again over the past month. It simply made no sense to him. Revenge over petty slights, the reckless accumulation and distribution of suffering, and for what? What good is a person's life if all they do is cause trouble and hurt people?
The scion raised the spoon to his mouth again, then paused, putting the utensil back into the bowl and turning to face the mortal girl who had just walked in. No doubt the servant thought she had stepped quietly, but Fang Tai was so on edge he could probably hear a fly from one hundred paces.
Dressed in grey robes with blue trim and wearing a matching ribbon in her hair, the tall girl carried herself with a nervous demeanor. The servant almost seemed like a child adjusting to a growth spurt, though Fang Tai knew she was in her late 20's.
"Ye Ting." Fang Tai greeted flatly, wiping a speck of food on his bottom lip. "What brings you here?"
The servant snapped to attention and bowed deep, before slowly raising her head. Despite her best attempts to remain stoic, Ye Ting couldn't help but shuffle in place as she tried to find the courage to speak. "I just… wanted to wish you good luck, My Lord."
The lanky woman wasn't very convincing; her emotions were clear as day on her face, and many of them were troublesome ones. Fang Tai sighed and got to his feet, preparing to navigate another of the awkward conversations he had become so used to. "You're worried about me, right? It's only natural; my opponent wants to kill me, after all."
"Please forgive me. I know you wanted things to be quiet today, but…" the girl chewed her lip and knit her eyebrows together, anguished words caught in her throat. "We know you are doing this for the sake of your honor, and… we all want to give you our full support!" The servant concluded, tears coating her eyes and on the verge of streaming down her face.
The sight of this innocent person being so hurt by his bravado struck Fang Tai with a pang of guilt. He walked up to the servant and looked her right in the eye, which took her aback. If she was so broken up because of him, then he ought to comfort her a little.
"It wasn't silence I wanted, it was a lack of
drama." Fang Tai clarified, patting Ye Ting on her shoulder. "I'm committing an act of self-defense today, and I don't want to have other people's worries weighing me down." He managed to chuckle and smirk convincingly, looking down into her big brown eyes. "If you want to jabber at me, do it with words of praise, once the matter is settled."
"Very well, My Lord. I-I apologize for disturbing you. I… I…" Ye Ting bowed once again, freezing up as if bound in chains of her own emotions.
"It's the same as it always is, isn't it?" Fang Tai scoffed loudly, startling the servant and making her snap back to attention. "I lose my temper, throw my weight around and get in trouble, and then I have to fix my mess. All the while, people like you get caught in the crossfire." His gaze fell to the floor, the heir to the Fang Branch finding it difficult to look this mere servant in the eye. "I make you put up with a lot, don't I?"
With a soft pitter-patter, tears dripped from Ye Ting's face and onto the floor. "I-I'm so sorry My Lord, I…" The servant bit her lip and wiped her eyes. "I have faith in you; please win and come back to us." She looked like she wished to say more, much more, but held her tongue.
"Of course I'll come back, fool." Fang Tai smirked, puffing up his chest. "I'm the strongest Junior in the world. Soon I'll be the strongest Expert, and then the strongest Elder. So you've got nothing to worry about."
An obvious lie, but a bit of levity served to lessen the tension, and Ye Ting bowed once more, this time with straighter posture and renewed vigor. "It's as you say, My Lord. I shall eagerly await your victory." She replied in clipped tones. With that, the servant left, leaving Fang Tai to finish his meal.
Fang Tai checked the clock in the corner - two hours to go before the entrance ceremony. He strolled out of the dining room and toward his next destination without missing a beat. "For once in my life I have too much time." He quietly mused.
The trip to the other side of the estate's south wing felt far longer than it really was. Each time Fang Tai's braid brushed up against his back, he tensed up and ground his teeth a bit. In truth, these empty halls weren't helping him relax at all; they just made him feel paranoid. His steps grew faster and his breath more shallow as he hurried along to his destination.
After descending a long staircase, the Fang Branch heir found himself standing before a door of thick, sturdy iron, further reinforced with array inscriptions. This room was originally built as a bunker, and was secured as such. With a complex series of hand signs, Fang Tai commanded the door to open, which it did - loudly. There wasn't really any way to open a door like that with subtlety of any kind. He stepped into the dark room within, and sighed as he crossed the threshold into the safest and most supportive place he knew.
The heavy iron door creaked and groaned as Fang Tai shut it behind him, scraping a well-worn path into the stone floor. He clapped his hands, and in response, torchlight illuminated the basement, revealing his personal training area. Dummies, bags, bars, benches, weights of all shapes and sizes, bowls of iron sand and more exotic equipment besides all came into view. This was a place of great history, one in which Fang Tai had honed his body countless times. Stripping down to just his pants, Fang Tai bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, shaking his whole body. He felt his blood rushing through his veins, sending a pleasant warmth radiating out from his heart to his fingers and toes.
Like most Hong Xuan warriors, Fang Tai utilized Fire-aligned techniques. While for the most part he did not wield flame itself, heat was something intimately familiar to him. His family's body tempering methods had resulted in an internal body temperature of over 150 degrees. When it came time for athletic endeavors, this heat was converted into explosive movement which didn't use up much qi. This method of energy storage had its downsides, such as the deadly fevers that resulted when the tempering was done improperly, but like all other aspects of combat, it came to Fang Tai easily.
The scion blurred forward, his side kick sending the dummy careening back and bouncing off the wall. Immediately, the automaton activated, swinging its wooden limbs at Fang Tai in dizzying patterns, but he deftly avoided them all and struck back. Body, head, legs, head, body, body, body, head. He got closer and closer, driving the dummy toward the wall. Fang Tai clinched the dummy, battered it with his knees and elbows, threw it into the wall and punched its head it with all his might, driving it several inches into the reinforced stone.
"My life is simple! I know exactly how lucky I am! I never claimed to be a paragon!" Fang Tai shouted, pounding into the dummy over and over as he vented his feelings. "I won't be trampled on! I won't let you do as you please! Just! Leave! Me! Be!"
Fang Tai's fist pulled up short, just before it struck home against the dummy's head. He was training too intensely, given what was in store for him today. Already, steam had begun rising from Fang Tai's pores as his sweat vaporized from the heat coming off his body.
The Fang branch heir forced out a heavy, shaky sigh. As much as he wanted to ram his entire arm through that dummy and the wall behind it, he needed to calm down. There was no need to take out his frustration, go too hard and risk a training accident. The real deal was happening today, after all.
"I won't die." Fang Tai said to the dummy, which only stared back, blank face silent as ever. "I'm not the kind of person who dies like that; I won't be killed by someone like him."
----
The opening ceremony for the fourth round was, as expected, extremely lavish.
Dancers in flowing, colorful outfits and bearing painted faces. Loud music, performed live by some band or another. Even bigger fireworks than before, bursting thirty feet into the air. It was all quite ostentatious, but the crowd ate it up, especially the mortals - for those put-upon people, this would likely be the greatest spectacle of their life.
Fang Tai's fingers twitched as he was paraded through yet another showy entrance, impatience bubbling like bile in his throat. Far more than it had for the last three rounds, this felt like one big sham. Street fights, duels, tournaments, robberies, wars, all of it was the same shit, in the end: people using violence to get something for themselves, or to take something from someone else.
Gaius would try to kill him here because he could potentially get away with the deed without legal consequence. Fang Tai would try to kill Gaius here for the same reasons. He turned to the crowd and waved, forcing a charismatic smile onto his face, the kind that made the women swoon and the men cheer. Yes, that's all this really was; two mangy rats, killing each other in a gutter as a hundred thousand screaming fans watched with rapt attention.
In the betting pools, Fang Tai was the favorite to win over Gaius, with about 60% odds. This was not because overall ability(they were about equal under the Crucible's rules) but due to Gaius' injuries. Fang Tai was not unhurt himself, but Gaius had run headlong through two of the grueling wars in a row while already in poor health, and now stood poised to take on another. This was good; Fang Tai was glad to have an unearned advantage, because it would stop him from taking any pride in this farce.
Fang Tai would not tell his children about this battle. He wouldn't boast about it to anyone, actually. He would put this nonsense behind him and let the memory of Gaius Antonius fade into nothingness as fast as possible.
"Three rounds… for three rounds, we have seen martial arts, in their truest beauty and brutality, performed by those bearing only the greatest love for combat in their hearts. Thirty-two entrants from all walks of life, nobles and commoners, soldiers and scholars, chosen for one quality alone: strength!" Her voice rose little by little, like a swelling tide, filling the arena as if it were a titanic bowl.
For three rounds, those thirty-two warriors have turned their martial arts on one another, and now only four remain! Each and every one is a first-class fighter, whose skills are beyond reproach! And yet still the question remains: the very same question we've been asking our whole lives!" The crowd began to stomp their feet, a rapid-fire drumbeat that sounded almost like an explosion.
"When you see a group of people! When you see a company of soldiers! When you see a forest of wild beasts! When you compare yourself to your friends! When you compare one army to another! When two ancient sages meet face-to-face! When you think about your father, compared to yourself!" She rotated again and again as she spoke, as if to look every single spectator in the eye.
"ALL OF YOU IN THE STANDS, WHAT IS IT WE ASK!?"
As one, the chaotic noise of the crowd gave way, as all of the spectators joined their voices together in a frenzied shout.
"WHO IS THE STRONGEST!?"
Fang Tai smirked; that always was the question, wasn't it? Humans were apes, after all, and apes thrived off a pecking order. The biggest, loudest, fattest gorilla reigned supreme in the end, and all else came after - how unsightly. His lips split open, revealing a savage grin of perfect white teeth. But even if it was unsightly, it was just so thrilling, wasn't it? He turned to glance at Gaius, and wondered if the Devil felt the same way.
----
"So damn loud…" Gaius muttered, rubbing his eyes to try and soothe his growing headache; he really did have brain damage, didn't he? He hated fighting while already concussed. This last fight didn't feel as close as it was - had it seriously been two days already?
The opening ceremony finally done with, the fighters turned around to return to their booths. One hour to go, and then however long the first round lasted, then it would've be go-time. Gaius turned to his left, immediately locking eyes with Fang Tai, but strangely, it wasn't so intense, compared to their prior confrontation. He supposed neither of them had anything left to say to each other, and went in his way.
Gaius nodded at each of the guards one at a time as he traveled up to his booth. By this point, he'd spent enough time in here to have learned each of their names and faces. The hallway, the stairs, it was all a blur by this point, and soon enough The Seeker had staggered into that wonderfully soft chair.
"How are you holding up, partner?" Gaius asked Scylla, getting a noncommittal burble in response. "Sorry for making you sit through so much action; I guess you're used to that. I've made you live in this desert for a damn long time, haven't I?"
As Gaius pressed his hand against the glass, all the strength seemed to leave his body for a moment. He sunk to his knees, eyes wide, breath short and ragged. His hand, still pressed to the tank, slid down with him. On the other side of the glass, Scylla pressed her head up against where his hand was, as if holding it.
Gaius wasn't sure how much time passed in that fashion, but at some point the first match began. He glanced up, seeing a magnificent duel between two truly top-tier martial artists, and found himself unable to derive any enjoyment. In light of the circumstances, that incredibly sight could not even hold his attention.
"It's almost, almost, almost time…" Gaius muttered, finally getting back to his feet. "Scylla, I don't know if I've ever felt this way before. It's like my heart is going to explode from the pressure, yet..." He clutched his chest, struggling to articulate what he meant. "It's almost intoxicating. I shouldn't feel excited about risking everything I've built, should I?"
Scylla quietly watched as Gaius finally began changing into his combat outfit, too jittery to bother folding and pressing his usual clothes as he normally would. "I do like to fight, it's true, but… well, I doubt I can sort these feelings out now. It's as if I don't know who and what I am as well as I used to, ever since this whole business with Fang Tai started…"
Over in the tank, Scylla trashed her tail in annoyance. In one smooth motion, she phased through the glass and transformed in a blur of shimmering color and squelching, warping flesh.
"You really love the sound of your own voice, brother; stop rambling so much. Some things don't need to be said between friends, only felt."
"I suppose I do use you to sort out my own feelings…" Gaius sighed, sinking into his familiar comfy chair as Scylla once again raided the minibar. "I'll have to stop doing that once we ascend, since you'll be a real conversation partner.
Scylla guffawed, breaking up the somber mood a bit. Bits of fine liquor dripped from her toothy maw, and Gaius wanted to wince with each droplet that hit the floor.
"Oh, enough with the bellyaching! If you want to do me a courtesy, don't beat yourself up; get me a few hundred barrels of booze like this! Or at least take me on a nice trip!"
Gaius snickered, slapping his thigh in merriment. "Yeah, yeah, I'll take you out to the mountains as soon as I can." He responded with a roll of his eyes. "Once I've ascended, and once the war with Jingshen is over, we'll stay out there for a few years. You can have your first real laying season, instead of selling off the eggs." He paused for a moment then, considering something. "You know… if you transformed and then laid your eggs, would those count as Rainbow Carp eggs? Damn, should have thought of that sooner; we could sell them for more."
Scylla squirmed in displeasure, clearly annoyed at being commodified in such a fashion. Once more, a dark cloud of uncertainty hung over the pair, as the unavoidable truth reasserted itself. Clear and obvious concern lit up her face, as she once more grappled with the feeling of an uncertain future.
For a few more minutes, the two waited in silence for the match to end. Eventually, Scylla spoke up once more.
"How long do you think your body can hold up at full blast?" She asked with a tilt of her head.
"Hard to say, exactly; at least six minutes. After that it's less certain." Gaius mused after a moment of thought. "Hey, a lot can happen in six minutes, I can do good work in that time. And it's not like I'll explode after that time. It'll just…" He pondered all the ways his meridians might fail him, or his wounds might aggravate themselves. "Slowly get more complicated."
"So, effectively seven minutes, if you're being honest. That bastard's skills are comprehensive; you won't be able to keep up after a full minute of decline." Scylla shook her head in exasperation.
"Let me remind you, I could have just transformed and killed him earlier, outside the arena."
"And what good would that do?" Gaius sighed. "That wouldn't prove anything. It wouldn't be good enough. I have to personally punish him."
Scylla sighed, glancing out the window again to make sure the fight wasn't already over.
"Alright, alright. Well, we all end up cornered sometimes; a cornered creature has to fight harder than any other, so do that."
"So I'm a cornered rat?" Gaius joked with a quirk of his eyebrow. "I'm sorry you have to bet it all on a rat, then. That's way too much risk."
"All cultivation is risk. I'm a runt, I would have been eaten by one of my largest siblings before I even left the nursery." Scylla vigorously slapped Gaius' back with a fin four feet across, nearly toppling him over.
"I've decided to hedge my bets on you. Stop thinking so much; you have my blessing, so how can you possibly lose?"
"My, what an auspicious blessing!" Gaius laughed, pounding his fists together and turning to head back down to the arena. "I really am invincible now. I'll see you in a bit."
——
One more time, Gaius entered the arena, his entire body a coiled spring on the edge of bursting. Fang Tai entered as well, eyes alight with determination and face drawn into a sneer. The announcer, perhaps sensing their violent intent and wanting to discourage a false start, moved a little bit to stand directly between them.
"We've seen one truly spectacular match today, haven't we!?" The announcer crooned, practically delirious with excitement.
"But this second one is looking to be just as exciting, if not more! Both of these men have become infamous for their endurance, and today they'll be crashing together!"
"On my left, we have the Man of Bronze from the East! In the last round, he proved his determination when he fought through a grueling endurance match! Can anything put this man down!? Standing 6'4" and weighing in at 183 pounds! Get ready for another dazzling show from THE SEEKER! GAIUS ANTONIUS~!
"On my right stands a truly phenomenal warrior! Anyone who stands before this man will be beaten down without hesitation or remorse! His sheer prowess overwhelms any mysterious techniques! Can the Bronze stand up to his relentless, unstoppable fists, or will this man tear his way into the finals!?. Standing 6'0" and weighing in at 204 pounds! MISTER DANGEROUS! FANG TAI~!."
The crowd seemed to hold this match in particularly high esteem, and they cheered all the harder for the fact it was really happening. Though Fang Tai and Gaius weren't exactly going around telling people, rumors were beginning to nonetheless ferment about the bad blood between the two fighters. After all, people always loved to see a brutal grudge match, in which resentment and hatred were let loose in a brutal catharsis for the world to see.
The referee stepped forth to officiate the match, and the noise from the stands vanished beneath the roar of blood in Gaius' ears. He took a defensive stance, and Fang Tai responded with a balanced one. Fang Tai's style relied on controlling the fight's momentum, crashing into the enemy harder and harder until they were too off-balance to fight back, at which point he battered down their guard and finished them off. The logical counter, then, was to shut down Fang Tai's offense before it could get going.
That would be a tricky balancing act, of course. It required his own skill on the defense to exceed his opponent's, and whittling Fang Tai down over the course of several minutes could go wrong at any moment. With Gaius' injuries, it would be problematic to let Fang Tai build up to one of those big, flashy kicks.
Gaius inched forward, and Fang Tai swayed back. Then the opposite happened, as Fang Tai took a step forward and Gaius took one back. They feinted and faked several times, testing out the exact range of engagement. Fang Tai opened the match with the first real attack, a low kick, and Gaius raised his leg to take it on the shin. He responded with a series of jabs, all of which Fang Tai parried aside or swayed away from. Bit by bit the two sped up, and strikes began to land.
Fang Tai's fist struck Gaius in the midsection just below his guard, then another struck him in the liver. Gaius' knees wobbled, and Fang Tai took the opportunity to slip behind, kicking the back of his knee and making him kneel. The scion then threw a kick, but Gaius caught it, throwing his opponent over his shoulder. Fang Tai rolled with the fall right back to his feet, only to catch a punch to the jaw from the Golden Devil, then respond in kind and kick Gaius in the hip.
The exchange of blows continued to intensify until it grew maddeningly rapid, an interplay of move and counter-move which left both men desperately attempting to get just a tenth of a second ahead. Punches audibly whizzed by Gaius' head, missing him by inches, and all the bruises and microfractures accumulated on his arms in the past week ached more and more. Each time he blocked or parried one of Fang Tai's strikes, his arms crept a little closer to collapsing into lumps of dead meat.
Eventually, an opening came; Fang Tai's stance collapsed ever so slightly, making him wobble and opening up his guard. Gaius capitalized and launched a spear-hand at his opponent's eye, only to realize too late that he had been baited.
Dodging to the side, Fang Tai transitioned seamlessly into a spinning back elbow to Gaius' temple, then seized his outstretched arm by the wrist and the shoulder. With a surge of motion, he threw Gaius over his shoulder and slammed The Seeker onto his back. Reacting with perfect clarity despite the impact, Gaius contorted his body to avoid a stomp from Fang Tai, then seized his leg and hip.
Enduring several punches and elbows to the face, Gaius surged forward, pitching Fang Tai onto his back. Fang Tai's feet lashed out repeatedly, denying Gaius the mount position, and the two traded ineffective blows for nearly half a minute. Gaius, eventually, was caught in the chest by a foot and forced back, and Fang Tai kicked up to his feet.
Gaius took a moment to catch his breath, keeping his distance as he and Fang Tai circled one another like tigers. His body ached, but more than that, his insides burned - his time was running out. Already, the shimmer coating was nearing the limits of its ability to hold his meridians together. He needed to put Fang Tai away, and soon.
Front kick, roundhouse kick, jab. Over and over, Gaius bombarded Fang Tai with long-range attacks just outside of his opponent's own attack range. He had to break this man down, had to waste as little time on the defense as possible. Harsh breaths shot out from the mouths of both fighters as Gaius attacked and Fang Tai defended it all perfectly. When the balance broke, it was once more not in Gaius' favor, as Fang Tai blocked a punch with his elbow. An intense shock shot up Gaius' arm as one of the small bones in his hand broke, and that momentary pause was all the Hong Xuan warrior needed.
Slipping into his ideal range, Fang Tai threw a straight punch which hit Gaius cleanly and snapped his head back. Once again, Gaius was pushed back, and despair began to creep up on him. Fang Tai was taking hits, but his opponent's endurance was too great to go down from damage like this.
Gaius wrapped his arms around Fang Tai, eating a punch to toss Fang Tai over his hip and slam him to the ground. Seeing the chance at victory finally arrive, The Seeker roared with effort, stomping on Fang Tai's chest and feeling a satisfying crack as two ribs fractured. He tried to stomp again, only for Fang Tai to catch his foot and kick out his other leg, sending Gaius to his back. Both men shot back to their feet immediately.
Equilibrium was established again. The finishing blow had failed; Fang Tai just seemed pissed off now, though his breathing was notably more ragged. Gaius was, in theory, fighting in top gear. In truth, every injury made every other injury harder to bear. Little by little his speed dropped, and he found himself being caught by more of Fang Tai's blows. He smashed the shorter fighter across the face with an elbow strike, only for the Scion to plant his feet instead of falling back, and strike Gaius in the solar plexus with a raised knuckle strike.
Trying to fall back and regain his breath, Gaius made the fatal mistake of compromising his footwork. The scion's foot hammered into Gaius' groin like a sledgehammer, causing him to double over. He screamed in his mind to get his guard back up, to react before that bastard could finish him off-
But it was already too late. Fang Tai was airborne, rushing at Gaius in a tight, compact leap with both feet chambered for a side kick. With all of the power his body could manifest, he slammed both feet into Gaius' face in a drop kick. Gaius was flung back several feet into the arena wall, rebounded off the stone, and fell down onto his face.
The crowd got loud for that one; landing an actual, clean drop kick in a real fight was an extremely rare thing. Fang Tai took a wide, low stance, approaching his downed opponent half a foot at a time. The referee also approached, prepared to call the match if Gaius didn't give a sign of consciousness before Fang Tai attacked.
A spasm shook Gaius' body, and he got his hands under him, yet anyone watching could see something was wrong in his movements. He rose up stiffly and jerkily, lacking his usual grace and athleticism. Every one of The Seeker's senses remained shrouded in fog, his mostly-unconscious body moving on instinct and determination alone.
In these dire straits which threatened to destroy Gaius, something squirmed and stirred. His glazed-over eyes suddenly laser-focused on Fang Tai - all of them.
----
Gaius stood up.
Or rather, his body stood up. There was no denying that Gaius' torso returned to an upright posture. There was no denying that his body stood the way a human's is mean to, with the feet on the bottom and the head on top. And yet, Fang Tai questioned if the person he was looking at was really the same one who had just been knocked down.
In an explosive burst of motion, the Devil rushed at Fang Tai, moving as if he wasn't hurt at all. He threw a wild right straight with all of his might, crashing into the Hong Xuan's guard and sending his feet skidding back. He followed up immediately, throwing a barrage of punches and kicks with his full body weight behind them, seemingly heedless of stamina or defense. Fang Tai hit Gaius with several jabs to the face in the gaps between these attacks, but still The Seeker kept coming, pressing him farther and farther back.
Suddenly, Gaius' motion erratically stopped, and he stood stock-still. Fang Tai's frantic backstepping carried him nearly ten feet away before he stopped himself and slid to a halt. Gaius didn't put up a guard, didn't attack and didn't take a stance. Fang Tai momentarily wondered if the Devil had passed out standing up, before catching a glimpse of those bright, fiercely intelligent eyes. They seemed different somehow; focused yet unaware.
What was he even fighting? What was this thing, this living dead, this sick parody of willpower forcing a pile of meat to keep moving no matter how much punishment it took?
Was Gaius Antonius even human?
Blood, thick and dark, spilled forth from the rent in The Seeker's forehead as he staggered to his feet yet again. A cold, imperious hatred boiled forth from within him, so intense as to feel like a physical force. No, wait - it
was a force! What was Fang Tai feeling? What was it that was wrapped around him, threatening to crush him to death, to squeeze him until his guts spilled out?
Fang Tai's body took three steps back, entirely without his consent, then moved no more. It was as if his joints were coated in a thick layer of rust. As his limbs were frostbitten and about to fall off. The sensation was deeply unpleasant, more sickening and unsettling than any physical injury.
Gaius' lips parted, and a few words rasped out. "Don't run, Fang Tai." Something else dwelled in Gaius' eyes in that moment, and Fang Tai realized something terrifying: his opponent was not conscious. The micro-movements of a person in the waking world - blinking sweat out of one's eyes, favoring a wounded limb, brushing hair out of one's face - were entirely absent. But if this wasn't consciousness, what was it? "Take responsibility." Said Gaius, whose words struck Fang Tai like meteors.
Whereas before it felt like he was being squeezed by a giant, now it was like the giant was trying to rattle him to death, shaking him until his insides liquefied. It was as if every part of his body had begun to hate every other part, and desired to be alone. Through this haze of terror, the Hong Xuan warrior caught a glimpse of something inside that monster's head.
Beneath a thick coating of blood, there was a flash of white bone. Beneath even that, was a thing of horrible wonder. Some presence, too massive to possibly fit inside a human head and yet packed tightly into the confines of Gaius' skull nonetheless. Wrapped snugly around the Devil's brain, the formless, unphysical horror looked out into the light, and focused its gaze upon Fang Tai.
Was that the source of Gaius' malice? The reason for The Seeker's mood swings? Or was it a manifestation of his own anxiety, putting a semblance of individuality on Fang Tai's own fear of death? Whatever was pouting out of Gaius' head, it was in that moment, more than he had ever known anything, that Fang Tai knew he stood before his doom.
With a heroic effort, he poured everything he was and everything he wished to be into his muscles, forcing them to move. He took a step, and the field around him seemed to recoil at the resistance. He took a second, longer step, getting into a deep, aggressive stance meant for offense.
There would be no coming back, thought Fang Tai, if he let himself be conquered. Deep in his soul he understood this. Whatever was emerging from Gaius' head wished for nothing more than to crush his will, make him less than nothing, and its assault had sent his mind teetering on the brink. If he lost, he would never psychologically recover; he would be a broken man, doomed to a lifetime of mediocrity.
Distantly, Fang Tai wondered why the referee wasn't getting involved with this obvious violation of the rules. Whatever the hell this was, it certainly wasn't a body technique. The scion ground his teeth in frustration; whatever this was, a Foundation Expert was totally oblivious to its existence.
"You're dying. You can barely stand up." Fang Tai said to Gaius. The Seeker didn't seem to acknowledge his words, continuing to stand perfectly still, arms slack and hanging down at his sides. "You're drawing mental strength from somewhere, so what? Everybody can dig deep. You're just a charlatan."
Those eyes held no malice anymore, gleaming dispassionately down at the Hong Xuan scion. "Come closer." The Seeker intoned, with a curious little tilt of his head. No, there
was malice there, thought Fang Tai - what was gone was the hatred. Hatred was what you felt for another person, or a group of people. This was the sort of negativity one felt toward a termite.
"Shut up!" Fang Tai shouted. His front foot slid forward as he inched ever so slightly closer. "I'll approach at my own damned pace, 'Your Highness'. You're bluffing. You haven't gotten any stronger. This is just a psychic attack to unbalance me." The words were mostly for Fang Tai's benefit and he knew this too.
The mood was shifting. The crowd was growing anxious, perturbed by the pause in the action. That didn't matter. All that mattered was landing the perfect blow. And he would do it…
Another step closer. One foot outside of Gaius' reach.
Fang Tai's face contorted into a deranged mixture of fear and rage. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you." He ranted under his breath, forging his courage into a blade and cutting through the miasma around him.
Another step. Two inches outside of Gaius' reach. Sweat poured down Fang Tai's face. The thing in Gaius' head once more Sought him, aimed to wrap its tendrils around Fang Tai and wring him dry with its phantasmagoric power. He looked into the face of this walking corpse, this so-called King, and
glared.
"I'm not afraid of you."
"Yes you are."
NOW!
Gaius' fist, thrown with unfathomable speed, grazed the side of Fang Tai's cheek as the Hong Xuan fighter rushed in. Instantaneously the hand turned, seizing the back of Fang Tai's head as Gaius' knee shot out in an explosive motion. It crashed into a pair of raised arms, making Fang Tai's bones ache. In that moment, he hopped and struck Gaius' standing leg with a two-legged kick, sending The Seeker falling onto his back.
Taking the mount position, Fang Tai pummeled Gaius' chest and face with chain punches. He didn't mind his endurance, simply bearing down on Gaius with all the violence and fury he could physically muster. With each blow, he struck down his own fear alongside his opponent. Gaius Antonius was only a man. He was just an insane man, and Fang Tai had nothing to fear from him.
Heedless of the repeated blows to his head, Gaius placed one palm on the inside of both of Fang Tai's thighs, pushing them apart and slipping his legs out. Like two striking serpents, his legs aimed to close around his opponent's body and gain the guard position. Fang Tai, unwilling to grapple with his opponent after these mysterious events, pulled away at the last second. Gaius took this opening to kick back up to his feet, finally taking a stance; this time, a neutral one.
Fang Tai gritted his teeth in frustration. Where was this stamina coming from? Was Gaius actually a zombie? Immediately, that damnable pressure began to return, threatening to steal his courage and tear apart his soul.
Gaius spat out a mouthful of blood as casually as if it were some water, splattering yet more ichor into the arena floor. "It won't work." He quietly muttered. Almost instantly, the Devil was in front of Fang Tai again, battering his guard with renewed strength. All the fatigue seemed gone, which made the scion suspect a hidden spirit stone. No, Gaius' qi supply didn't seem replenished. So how was that body moving unburdened?
Fang Tai parried aside Gaius' punches and threw a high roundhouse kick at his head, but The Seeker caught it on his forearm. In that moment, as Gaius pushed back and flung his leg aside, Fang Tai felt almost no muscle tension. Gaius was barely moving, physically at least.
A bronze leg crashed into Fang Tai's injured knee, and the flesh did not ripple with the impact as Fang Tai's did. He then blocked a powerful front kick and was driven back several steps, and realized that Gaius' abs weren't tensing up, even though his leg was in the air.
That technique from round two? That would explain the jittery movements, but how was Gaius using it on his whole body at once? He'd watched the jade slips over and over, and Gaius had never done anything remotely like it. Had the Devil hidden this ability?
Fang Tai leapt and spun as Gaius charged, catching him in the head with a sobat. The undying enemy stumbled back, then advanced once more, catching Fang Tai's incoming punch and slamming a shoulder check into his injured ribs. An uppercut crashed into Fang Tai's solar plexus, driving his body several inches up into the air. Finally, his guard dropped a bit, and Gaius' fist found its mark square on his temple. The world began spinning, and a roundhouse kick caught him on the other side of his head, knocking him to the ground.
Without any conscious command from his mind, his body got to its feet and scrambled backwards. Fang Tai wanted to go home. He wanted to go to bed and return to a world where he was not standing in front of this undying man, this mass of malevolent will.
"Don't run, Fang Tai."
And just as soon as they began moving, Fang Tai's legs stopped again. Try as he might, he couldn't back up at all. Damn it, why was this even happening? What had he done to deserve this? What was he even fighting for? He inhaled through chattering teeth, then tried to force words into existence. "I sur-"
"Don't run."
The terrified fighter's throat closed up, choking the phrase out of existence. He tried again, but only gurgles and wheezes emanated from him. Gaius glared in open hatred as he advanced on the paralyzed Fang Tai, so far past his limits that blood was beginning to seep from the pores on his cheeks. And yet the Golden Devil was the picture of imminent, unstoppable brutality.
Why was Fang Tai standing here?
The world seemed to slow to 1% of its usual speed, as despite the extreme danger, the scion couldn't help but ponder on the road that had led him here. In his 130 years of life, had he ever once felt such turmoil? He watched, from seemingly an outside perspective, as he parried aside Gaius' punch with his forearm.
He fought to make his father proud, to bring glory to himself and increase his standing. He was not so self-conscious a man as to claim otherwise. In the eternal cauldron of competition that was the Cultivation World, there was no point in trying to rise above it all even as one scrabbled and scraped for a piece of the pie. Attain strength, win glory, ponder celestial mysteries, and uphold one's moral principles whilst doing so; that was any Cultivator's purpose.
But why did
he do these things? As Fang Tai pondered this, Gaius chambered a punch, prompting him to counter. His vertical fist darted forward like an arrow, striking Gaius in the chin. The Devil, however, did not falter, pushing through the impact and landing his own punch to Fang Tai's jaw. Both pitched back for a moment, but their feet didn't move. Neither man could fully trust his own feet, and thus abandoned footwork to instead take neutral stances less than three feet from each other.
Fang Tai didn't need to unravel the entire world for the metaphysical threads that bound the universe. He didn't need to justify his own self down to mathematical principles. He'd always been confident, always been brazen; a man ought to be that way, after all. Fang Tai saw things as they were and called it that way. He'd always lived like that, even if it caused problems for others and himself. He just couldn't stand fakeness or pretension; he wanted to live boldly. The Dao of Boldness meant something to him, didn't it? He'd mulled it over so many times, pondered its many convolutions, drawn strength from it in hard times. Wasn't that a good enough thing to live for?
Blood dripped into Gaius' left eye, but he, or the unknowable thing swinging his fists, didn't even react, even as it oozed right down the center of his eyeball. Fang Tai winced as a bronze fist struck his ribs like a battering ram, and responded with a raised-knuckle strike to Gaius' throat. The Devil nearly pitched backward, but grabbed onto Fang Tai's wrist to stay standing, slamming another bodyblow home - this one to Fang Tai's stomach.
The Hong Xuan grit his teeth to hold back the pain, slipping his wrist free and grabbing the side of Gaius' head. He drew his other hand back, only for Gaius' fist to drill into the middle of his face and break his nose. The pain seemed to open up a crack in his soul, through which cold, dark nihilism slipped in. The principles by which he had lived his life, by which he planned to live the rest of it… did any of them make him happy? They motivated him, kept him from giving up, but could any of Fang Tai's contentment be attributed to these things?
Snarling like a blood-drunk ogre, Fang Tai swung his palm with more ferocity than he'd done anything in his life, striking the side of Gaius' head like he was ringing a drum. Blood gushed from one of the bronze monster's ears. A pity; he'd wanted to rupture both. Gaius was stunned for a moment, and Fang Tai drove an uppercut into his chin which gruesomely stretched The Seeker's neck. The subdermal technique shattered, and blood squirted from Gaius' many cuts as his out-of-control qi threatened to tear his body apart.
As Gaius pitched backward, Fang Tai wondered if the Devil was finally dead. No such luck, those horrible eyes focused on the scion once more, and the technique re-formed. Gaius planted his feet and surged forward again to smash a hook into Fang Tai's cheek.
As the euphoric rush of adrenaline and other endorphins kept Fang Tai on his feet, spectral figures danced before his vision.
His father stood before him, morose and businesslike.
"I don't need to see everything."
"Then what is your eye for?"
His mother stood before him, strict but supportive.
"I want to leave room for others, to connect with those I value."
"Then what is your heart for?"
His teachers stood before him, people of many shapes and sizes, all judging him as if he were a show-pony.
"I want to hold that which is dear, and destroy that which is evil."
"Then what is your fist for?"
His friends stood before him, egging him on to impress them, to lead them, to be proud of them.
"I don't want to throw away my humanity, no matter how high I climb; otherwise it's not worth it."
"Then what is your life for?"
A horned giant, cloaked in shadow, loomed above Fang Tai. A tail lashed carelessly about the giant's waist, and thorny vines wreathed its brawny limbs. The maddening pressure grew tenfold, scraping around inside Fang Tai's mouth, bouncing around the inside of his skull. The spiritual pain was unbearable, as if his very sense of self was about to burst.
"STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE, STOP!"
"Hong Xuan Fang Tai, you have failed the test. You are no Immortal, you are ordinary. You have no rights, no self, no Will. Begone."
The glass shattered and the ceiling came down. Deep inside himself, Fang Tai felt something collapse as that tendril of malevolent will pierced into him. He yelled at the top of his lungs and redoubled his efforts, scraping up every bit of strength he could to beat down Gaius, but he knew it would not work. He was finished.
Fang Tai didn't give up, didn't stop attacking; his hardwired survival instincts remained sharp. But while the animal part of him fought to survive, the human part came upon the terrible reality: that Gaius was not going to fall before he did, and there was nothing he could do to change that outcome. He would die at The Seeker's hands. Either he would die right now, or die of his wounds later, or he would die in seventy years, having not accomplished anything at all. Either way, he would never be human again.
----
All of a sudden, Gaius once more became aware of his surroundings. Immediately, Fang Tai's fist struck him in the jaw, and he blindly struck back, hammering into the other man's cheek. His skin tingled, and he caught the feeling of a dissipating technique, but hadn't the faintest clue what technique it was. Hell he had no idea he had even gotten here - a sobering thought, and probably indicating severe damage. Had he simply lost a few minutes' worth of short term memory from sheer blunt force a moment prior, or had he been fighting unconscious for some period of time?
More importantly, it seemed that, at some point, the fight had become a slugfest. Both men were so exhausted, so beaten down, that they simply couldn't fight any other way. Neither man even tried to pull his face back, since leaning back would cause the one who did to to fall backwards. The only choice was to just kill each other with sloppy, sluggish punches.
There was no more room for strategy, no more room for combat skill, for words, in this desolate state beyond the limits of their stamina. Fang Tai swung his fists to preserve his sense of self, to affirm his identity and independence. Gaius swung his fists for the opposite reason; to assert that no, Fang Tai is not a real person. He was never real, just a passing, unpleasant thought which happened to disturb a King. They struck each other in the face, mostly. They just took the blows, turning their heads each time to lessen the impact.
In a contest like this, Fang Tai should have won; he was simply a better striker than Gaius, who had dedicated about 40% of his hand-to-hand training toward wrestling, and thus couldn't out-slug a man of equal talent who was more dedicated to striking. In particular, Gaius, as an outfighter, shouldn't have been out-slugging Fang Tai, who had shorter and thicker arms designed more for full-strength killing blows than elegant jabs. On top of that, Gaius was suffering from a nasty crack in his skull which was only growing larger with the repeated trauma, causing blood to pour down Gaius' face in a gruesome display, thickly staining his chest, the ground and Fang Tai's fists.
Yet despite these disadvantages, Gaius was holding his ground. No, he was
gaining ground, impossibly. What was it that made this miracle happen? Because Gaius wanted it to happen; because he commanded it to happen. This, Gaius understood intuitively: he had commanded Fang Tai to lose and himself to win, and when the King gives a command, it is made so.
"Go away."
"Begone."
"I don't want you, so what good are you?"
These were not words that were spoken; they were ideas. Slices and fragments of an absolute, unquestionable Authority, carried through the battered and bleeding fists of Gaius. More than half of his fingers were broken, and he knew that the moment he unclenched his fists, he would be unable to clench them again. His bones, his flesh, his lungs, his kidneys, his liver, everything ached, especially his brain.
But he was there. It was almost over. Fang Tai's fist struck Gaius one last time in the middle of his face, completely unguarded. Gaius' already broken nose shattered, breaking sideways as it was mashed against his face. His remaining front tooth was blown clean out of his mouth. The world turned white as the crack in his skull grew longer and wider. And yet, this made him happy.
He knew that this was the last punch Fang Tai would ever throw as a free man.
Gaius fist struck Fang Tai in the same moment. Fang Tai stopped moving, and fell backward,
This was it. The referee rushed forward, reaching for Gaius to pull him back. He had time for one more punch before the match was called. One more strike with which to further hurt a defeated, helpless opponent. Exactly what he had been waiting for. He drew his fist back, chambering a punch.
Gaius, a Cultivator known for having no real specialty beyond his signature defensive technique, the Aegis, actually had one other area of intense focus. Rather than a discipline, it was a single move. Zhan Zhuang stance; a less rigid, more flexible adaptation of the Horse Stance, designed to make it more practical for real combat. Middle punch; a strike with a closed, vertical fist, thrown at chest height. The vertical position could be substituted for a corkscrew motion to increase its destructive power at the cost of a bit of accuracy, but Gaius used the vertical variant.
This punch was notable only for being the first and only thing his father had taught him about martial arts. While some children started martial arts as young as three, Liu Fei had waited until Gaius was seven, so that he could instruct him verbally and cut down on the development of potential bad habits. Gaius only had one lesson before his family was destroyed and his father vanished. For the purpose of mourning and remembrance, Gaius practiced the move relentlessly every day, after all of his other training was done. What he hadn't known was that Liu Fei chose that punch for a reason.
That punch, that middle punch with no name, honed for one hundred years, was special, because the Hong Xuan used it to train something else. After a century, Gaius had grown to understand the first layer of its principles, though he was far from a full master.
It was the foundation of all hard styles, the purest expression of force. It was not any one strike, but a vehicle through which a truly divine power could be developed. The perfect transfer of force; the greatest possible impact to the most precise possible area over the smallest possible distance. A principle which, once perfected, could be applied to any strike to double its power. Explosive athleticism pared down to the smallest motions. With further mastery, even melee weapons could carry the impact.
Mortals, through decades of hard work, could grasp the rudimentary essence of this skill, for it was one which had nothing to do with qi. True kinesthetic geniuses of melee combat could perfect the underlying principles in a mere fifty years, compared to the less specialized Gaius, who took a century. There were no shortcuts to this unstoppable impact; only perfectionistic dedication could grasp its unforgiving precision.
Its name was
Fa Jin. Erupting Force.
Gaius' final punch, the one he had been saving up for the whole tournament, hit cleanly, striking Fang Tai in the center of his chest. Every muscle in Gaius' body snapped into absolute tension at the moment of impact, delivering kinetic energy all the way from the ground and into Gaius' fist. He put all the qi he could muster into it, a full tenth of his capacity, saved up just for this. The force was great enough to lift Gaius himself a few inches off the ground. The punch was so perfect, it was like an illustration in a technique manual, demonstrating the platonic ideal of a Fa Jin punch.
Rather than just knock out his opponent and trulty end the fight, Gaius' punch, which delivered over twice as much force as expected, imploded the fighter's sternum. His chest caved in, several ribs shattering and one of his lungs collapsing. Fang Tai's central meridian line, along with two neighboring meridians, burst. This kicked off a chain reaction which sent the man's remaining qi out of control. Fang Tai's body violently spasmed, then went limp.
That was too bad, thought Gaius; he had hoped for a more spectacular result. Ideally, he'd wanted to punch all the way through Fang Tai's chest, feel the man's heart burst across his knuckles. Write it off as Fang Tai's body arts completely failing at a critical moment. No one would have been able to prove the murder was intentional, given it was the heat of battle. Too bad; he just didn't have much of anything left in the tank.
And yet… as Gaius, drenched in blood and on the brink of death, looked upon this conquered enemy, he felt the grinding internal pressure from his Dao subside. Fang Tai was clearly still alive, still choking out breath, yet Gaius knew in his heart that all was forgiven, and his job was done.
He also knew for a fact, somehow, that Fang Tai was permanently defeated. Even if the scion's wounds were perfectly healed, he would never be a man of any merit to speak of. This wretch, with no future at all, was no longer something to fret about.
"You are nothing." The Seeker said down to the body of Fang Tai, swaying on his feet as the effort of just standing began to overtax him. "Never show your face before me again. Never rise up against me. This is where you belong."
Cheers and boos exploded in equal measure as the referee declared Gaius the winner. Immediately, Gaius collapsed onto his side, unable to do anything but quake under the force of his pain as medics rushed onto the scene to carry both men out. He'd never felt so tired, so
used up in his life, save for the Qiguai incident, which he had blissfully little memory of.
He'd also never felt more like a King.
——
"Why… why, why, why did you have to go so far, you idiot!?" Long An raged and ranted as he watched the fight from up in the cheap seats. He gripped the stone railing before him tightly - too tightly, in fact. It shattered to gravel in his broad hands and he didn't even notice
The giant had chosen to watch from so far away because of his own anxiety and mixed feelings. Perhaps it was overly weak-willed of him, but Ling An couldn't bear to see that bloodbath from the front seats. Nonetheless, Foundation Establishment vision ensured he caught every detail even from this far away.
Gaius had done that intentionally. He'd staged everything, held back that enormous punch, so that he could main Fang Tai as badly as possible and make it look like an accident. No doubt Gaius had been hoping to punch straight through his opponent's chest with that blow, but his injuries had curtailed his striking power a bit.
"How could you do something so shameful?" He asked, staring down at Gaius from far above. "Are Kings really such fools?"
——
"No doubt about it." Muttered a sour-faced man with close-cut black hair and a prominent scar across his face. "That Devil hid that punch for the whole tournament, even while he was on the verge of death, just to take out Fang Tai. That's no pretender; he's a King-to-be." He crossed his arms and glared, bitterness in his eyes. "Just what is it about them? Why is fate weighed so heavily in their favor now?"
Gaius may not be a King yet, but that didn't mean there was nothing to learn from observing the Devil, even so, this man had found himself surprised more than once as The Seeker stretched the limits of what was possible.
Five Kings, with another definitely on the way. When his people had produced just one, it had felt like a miracle. By contrast, the Golden Devils, facing tribulations far more dangerous than the norm by default, had given rise to so many. Something so astronomically unlikely couldn't be a coincidence.
The mysterious watcher sighed wistfully and leaned back into his seat. The attendants on either side of him cheered, oblivious. "And of all of them, of every single Devil, his fate is the strangest of all."
As suspected, Gaius Antonius would need to be investigated far more deeply. There was a lot of work to be done, and it couldn't wait. Worst of all, he could tell right away that this Devil was the kind of guy who pissed him off.
——
Hidden from the sight of all present, a little ghost, deformed beyond any possible recognition of its living form, floated high above the arena, holding a silver mirror. On the other side of Seven Tourneys City, a thin woman, skin wrapped in bandages beneath her shabby, loose-fitting robes, held an identical mirror, viewing the arena from within its surface.
She sat secluded, in the back of a dingy, cheap tavern, a single cup of wine sitting mostly untouched before her. One green eye peered out intensely from the bandages covering the woman's face, and a few small splotches of blood stained the off-white cloth as she focused more intently. Even from a distance, one could feel the pressure of an extraordinary person from the stranger, no matter how she tried to stay low-key.
"One grudge is settled, and the seeds of many more are planted. But that's not enough; a scandal like this couldn't account for what I was feeling…" as the woman rambled to herself, the tiny ghost of a mouse burrowed beneath her bandages and sank into her flesh, mending the opened wounds. "Gaius Antonius, you haven't done anything that would create grudges like these."
Indeed, there they were, if she looked for them - swirling around the Devil in a cloud so thick and putrid that she couldn't even see the man himself until she focused her sight back on the mundane. It was so massive, in fact, that she had felt it from hundreds of miles away, only to arrive here and see… this. In every color under the sky, an unfathomable deluge of resentment roared and snarled at a mere Qi Condensation Cultivator. She ran the tips of her fingers along the mirror's surface, as if this would help her feel out the origin of the phenomenon. This was not the hatred one might feel toward a people; it was too sharp, too focused.
No matter how long this wretched-looking stranger thought, she just couldn't puzzle it out. It just didn't make sense. She ran her hand through the tufts of wispy brown hair beginning to poke through the gaps in her bandages, clicking her tongue in disappointment. "To think you even stumped me. You annoying bastard, you've wasted my time."
Idly, she noticed her own grudge, a dark purple resulting from a mixture of two parts depression and one part anger, coiling around Gaius' body. Immediately, she lost track of it amidst the chaotic swarm surrounding the Devil. How bizarre - even a grudge born from a King's own soul was cast adrift in that maelstrom.
"So very puzzling…"
——
Ooh, so mysterious. Many mysteries abound as the Black Iron Crucible reaches it climax. Gaius has finally claimed his revenge, at great cost to his body and reputation. But just who are these people watching him? And what is the presence hiding in Gaius' head?
Also, you didn't think I'd have a big violent tournament arc and not throw in a secret move kept in secret until the later rounds, did you? I had to include that, it's iconic for a reason. Though in this case, I put a pretty dark spin on it. Imagine being so angry at someone that you'll hold back a useful ability through life-threatening danger, just so you can kill them and make it look like an accident.
This tournament is meant to mark a major turning point in Gaius' life, as he hits his lowest point of his time in Qi Condensation and displays the savage cruelty a King is capable of to the Hong Xuan at large and through them, the Golden Devils. Kings are tyrants, after all, and the Virtuous Flipper Region has never before had Kings, let alone so many.
And because this climactic event is such a big deal both personally to Gaius and narratively to his story, and because it happens in a big spectacle, I decided to use it to introduce a couple of major NPC's who, alongside Axia and Long An, will actually be relevant to a Single-Pillar Gaius, power-wise. They're not just rivals though; the complex interplay between all of these figures will form the backbone of Gaius' story going forward. Of course, everything here still needs to be wrapped up, which will come in the epilogue.
There are certain things in this chapter that I'm not happy with, even though I went through so many versions. For example, while I feel like I did a good job foreshadowing things without giving too much away, Gaius' convenient knowledge of what's happened and how actually he doesn't have to kill Fang Tai anymore does come out of nowhere. There is a reason why his Dao tells him this is 'enough' , but it's something that'll be articulated upon later on.
In general, my feelings on the Black iron Crucible are mixed. I'm proud of some of the things I did here, but I'm also very glad to be done with the tournament so that I can get back to intrigue and character-building
you guys have your own OCC and IC reasons 
