A(n) (un)godly spar session

Beatrice's hair waved in the wind current coursing throughout the plains. The short grass, reaching to about her knees, brushed against her exposed calves, taking with itself the droplets of sweat. The skin of her face was pink-red, her small lips exhaling sharply with every second. Her hands, gripping the greatsword tightly, felt slightly numb. Her bronze eyes were focused on her opponent, standing roughly ten meters ahead of her.

His green skin marked him as an orc. The towering height of over two meters made him appear even more giant against the tiny elf woman. An imposing plate armor covered his chest, accompanied by gauntlets and leggings made of the same mineral, adamantium - all made as the same set of armor. A tower shield in one hand was gigantic enough to hide him completely should he bend over just a little. Numerous spikes that covered its surface allowed it to double as a weapon. In the orc's other hand, a massive bludgeon rested, ready to be used.

Unlike Beatrice, the man appeared hardly tired, his breathing stable as his dark eyes scanned her posture. Noticing her flinching, he smirked and took a step forth. The earth shook from the very gesture.

However, Rulebreaker spread her legs and raised the blade in her hands, taking a stance. An exhale left her mouth as she smirked.

"That stamina of yours is something else, Trigal," she commented before shooting forth. The sheer **** of her action sent dirt flying, her speed blinding.

The man in front of her only chuckled, lifting his shield. His action was just fast enough to block Rulebreaker's ****.

"This much is nothing," he replied, his voice heavy. However, his tone was as smiling as he was. "Going against Ardu can take a whole day. You should try sometime."

Beatrice smirked, avoiding a strike from the orc's main weapon. The spot where she had just been was left completely devastated, the **** of the strike enough to send over a cubic meter of dirt flying everywhere.

Coming to a halt a couple of meters away, the elf woman lowered her blade slightly. Her eyes scrutinized her opponent as she gave him a chance to strike.

*TANG!*

The clear sound rang through the air, punctuated by its metallic tang. Beatrice felt a strong shock go up her entire elbow, making her muscles tense up to her shoulder. Her hand felt numb, her fingers barely able to clasp anymore. However, her expression did not change.

"Maybe if he gets off his hammock," she said.

Sidestepping, Beatrice rapidly stepped in a fluid motion, her weapon a blur that made a clear arc. As Trigal blocked, she relented ever so slightly, taking a quick stance before connecting a few steps and ending the movement in a powerful stab. The dance back and forth continued for a few more moments.

Trigal's responses were swift and powerful, but he couldn't quite catch Rulebreaker with just that. The elf woman moved erratically, making her every next motion chaotic and unpredictable. That made her difficult to hit. However, those blows that connected, although blocked, visibly shook her body. Using that, he eventually bashed at her with his shield when the distance was just low enough to not allow her to escape.

"!" Beatrice's eyes widened in surprise as the metal surface approached. Dropping her sword, she jumped, using Trigal's shield as leverage to get away.

"Hooh," he rumbled as she landed, barely a speck to his towering figure. "Leaving your weapon behind?" he chuckled, resting his bludgeon on the ground and hefting her greatsword, examining it with a critical eye. "Quite a blade for someone of your stature. Good craftsmanship, too."

Beatrice didn't answer. Her pose, although relaxed, showed signs of fatigue, the sweat on her skin trickling and her breathing somewhat labored. The bronze of her eyes glimmered with curiosity as she saw Trigal take a stance not dissimilar to her own from just now.

"Who did you say made it? Wolqa's Apostle?"

Rulebreaker nodded, getting some hair out of her face. Stretching a hand, she summoned a new weapon. A long whip, no less than five times her height, appeared. Its cracker was about a meter long, its ends adorned with small extensions in the shape of crescent moons, their shining edges proof of their sharpness. The entire weapon was almost black, and it let out a jingling sound as its owner swung it around to test its movements.

"Most of my arsenal was made by Duncler," she spoke, backpedaling a little and preparing for Trigal's offensive.

The huge orc smiled warmly, seemingly at the mention of the man. "Now, then... how did you do that one..." he spoke with a ponder, his eyes closing for a blink as though he planned his next move.

He took a calculated step forward. Golden-colored energy raised around his posture, focusing on the blade after the man took another step forward. His steps continued fluidly, almost perfectly mimicking Beatrice's moves she'd shown throughout their spar so far. Suddenly, he shot forward, aiming a piercing blow.

But Beatrice saw through Trigal's intention. She immediately ducked and dashed right outside of his range. Then, she swung, her whip extending all the way behind the man before she pulled it back. Unable to evade in time, the huge orc was marked by small cuts near his neck.

Trigal hardly even winced, instead planting his feet firmly on the ground. He raised the sword in his hands, pointing it to the sky briefly before stepping forth and slashing. Blades of aura poured with his every swing, accompanied by air-splitting energy that sounded like explosions. The grass nearby was blown away by powerful gusts with his every motion.

Rulebreaker just barely managed to retreat, avoiding a strike or two. However, her evasion was imperfect, and the following three blows struck her.

"Oof!" she let out a pained sound as the **** of Trigal's **** sent her flying. Rolling on the ground a little over a dozen meters away, she could confirm that the energy blades from the god had marked several cuts on her body. It felt like every slash of his consisted of ten smaller ones.

Trigal stopped his attack. Planting Beatrice's greatsword in the ground, he raised a brow.

"You don't look too good," he commented as the woman raised. "Want to call it quits for now?

Beatrice sighed, wiping some blood from her shoulder. Her attire was now covered in cuts, her body screaming for her to stop. The painful reverberance of what just happened almost made her stagger.

"...Yeah," she replied after a long second. Quickly rolling up her whip, she dropped it to the side, letting it disappear. With a swipe of a hand, all her injuries disappeared, and her attire was fixed anew, a long cloak of blue color swinging down her shoulders.

"Not bad, in any case," Trigal nodded. "For someone halfway relying on mana, to do as much without it is commendable."

"My, a genuine compliment from the God of War," Beatrice snorted, looking up at the towering man. "Yet the world remains unturned."

Trigal smirked with a chuckle, going toward a large house in the distance as he slowly undid more and more hinges of his armor. Beatrice followed in his tracks, lifting her greatsword before putting it away as she did with the whip.

"Tea?" the orc turned mid-step.

"I'm more of a coffee person, really," Beatrice shrugged. "Just a plain black will be great."

"Well, I'll see what I have."

It took them just a short while to reach Trigal's home. The large house - which begged to be called a mansion at this point - seemed made to suit someone of his stature. The massive front door looked like it was made of pure iron, its reflective surface thick and heavy as he pulled at it whilst gesturing her inside.

'Opulence has many names.' thought Beatrice as she took the invitation, going inside.

Trigal quickly undid most of his armor, exposing his muscular body better. Then, seemingly randomly, he picked a large piece of cloth from a massive couch and donned it before saying, "Make yourself at home."

Beatrice sighed, glancing around the room. Everything looked polished, from the marble-like floor to tall walls of some material she couldn't recognize at first glance. Looking down a corridor, she noticed what appeared to be a small armory, several different sets of armor on racks, and dozens of weapons, ranging from leather armor and halberds to plate armor and long swords.

'You'd imagine someone like that would live in an earthen hut or something...'

"Here we go," she heard Trigal speak from an adjacent room. "Over here, if you please," he beckoned.

Rulebreaker followed the orc's voice, walking into a room she discerned to be a kitchen connected with a dining room. The grand and large scale of everything was constantly apparent, from the chairs that were higher than she'd typically see to her mug of dark coffee that was closer to a pint of beer.

She almost immediately took a small sip of the hot liquid, relishing in its bitter taste. "Thanks, Trigal."

He grinned, raising his own drink. "Not at all. I'm actually the one grateful to you, Beatrice. I was not expecting to be sparring with the Rulebreaker of all people. Why the interest, I wonder?" his brow raised, a brief puzzlement evident.

"Well, I wanted to train my base form a little. I figured, what better opponent than the only god who doesn't use mana?"

"Good choice. I've wanted to see your clan's techniques for quite a while, so I gained something as well."

Beatrice's brow shot up slightly. "My, I wasn't expecting you to be interested in that. Why's that?"

"A couple of reasons," Trigal shrugged, his dark eyes glancing at his tea. "When you fought Olrand, I became initially curious. You overwhelmed him within minutes. It was a good showcase of why your clan was the strongest in Minnael. I wanted to watch your clan a little after the Competition ended, but... well... you know what happened," the orc closed his eyes for a few seconds, a tinge of sorrow, or perhaps regret, crossing his features. "My condolences, Beatrice. I know it's late, but we never got to speak after the Competition finished."

Beatrice sighed. Her complexion darkened faintly, a bit of unease stirring in her spirit. "It's alright, Trigal. You couldn't have done anything anyway. Nobody could've," she said, every word underlined with faint tension.

Trigal cleared his throat. "That aside, as I said, I was interested in those techniques. They are rather unique, but still carry power."

"They aren't all milk and honey, honestly," Rulebreaker shook her head. "They're hella costly for one. Barely anyone outside of our clan, let alone Minnael, could use them in their original form."

"Yes, I recall Redion saying something about that. Still, it is a shame. If there were at least recordings of those techniques, but alas..." the orc sighed heavily before taking a sip.

Beatrice hummed. Her mug was already halfway empty, the coffee already losing its heat. She glanced around for a long moment, taking in the grandness of the place.

"That aside," Trigal eventually broke the silence. "How is the Competition looking as a whole?"

"You know I can't tell you, right?" her brow raised.

"No, I didn't mean it like that," the man shook his head. "I heard about the situation with Jua, is all. I wondered what you thought about that?"

"News travel, I see," Beatrice gave the man a faint smile. "Well, there's not much to be told. Her previous Apostle was too bold for her own good, and she became frustrated."

"I see greed has consumed her," Trigal frowned, visible discontent on his face. "I thought Vivian kept her in check."

"Last time I checked, I needed to substitute."

The God of War snorted. The smile breaking on his face was as easily conveyed through his mouth as it was through his eyes. "I also heard you took Sia down a peg. Serves her right."

Beatrice responded with a slightly cocky grin. She drank the last of her coffee before standing from her seat. Her cloak fluttered slightly as she turned around. However, her motion stopped partway, her bronze eyes glancing at Trigal with more scrutiny.

"I should be going. It's about to be my shift in watching the Competition. Thanks for the coffee, and the spar."

"Oh, sure thing. Thank you for your visit, Beatrice. Feel free to reach out to me in the future."

"I'll remember that. Later."

The orc shuffled in his seat, standing up and collecting the containers. However, before he or Beatrice managed to leave the room, a clear knocking sound pierced the air, stopping them.

"Come in," Trigal's response was immediate.

The sound of the door opening was faint but easily discernable. Likewise, the solitary steps of a middle-aged man entering Trigal's home were punctuated by quiet yet hearable clicks. Within seconds, the newcomer entered the dining room.

He was about a head taller than Beatrice, with blonde hair no longer than a finger. His creamy carnation was mildly accentuated by his beige robe. The light clothes on him seemed just barely oversized, a long tunic and loose pants donning his frame. However, his bodily features were somewhat defined.

"Oh, Ardu," Trigal was the first one to break the silence. "Welcome."

"Hello, comrade," the blonde nodded with a smile. "Rulebreaker," he repeated the gesture toward the woman.

"Hi. Didn't know you were coming," Beatrice commented, eyeing Ardu. "I was just leaving."

The man gave her a sly smile. His bright hair waved as he shrugged with an innocent look.

"Need I inform the referees when I wish to have a talk with my comrade?"

"No, but that's not my point," the red-haired elf shrugged. "I'm just surprised you decided to wake up at this hour."

"My, but what does time matter to the timeless?" the god's brow raised almost daringly. "Mornings and evenings are all the same to us."

"Bold words for someone who rivals Gintoki with his laziness."

Ardu's smile widened, seemingly unbothered by Rulebreaker's remark. Rather, he turned to Trigal, their eyes meeting. "May I ask for a nice cup of tea before we begin?"

"Of course. I was just about to get a refill," Trigal responded.

As the God of War left the room, Beatrice released a faint sigh and took her steps away. Passing by Ardu, she felt the stare of his violet eyes on her. Making nothing of it, she soon reached the main door. However, before she pushed against the metal surface, she felt something prod right in her mind.

''

Her head snapped in Ardu's direction, hearing his voice within her consciousness. The God of Vengeance looked at her, his posture relaxed and mouth closed. However, his lips were curved in a slight smile as he noticed her hand flinching.

"...what did you say?" she asked, focusing on the god.

"I mean, have you visited him yet?"

"...what do you mean?"

"Nothing much," the blonde man almost chuckled. "I was merely wondering how he's doing. Verin, was his name?" he glanced to the ceiling as though uncertain of his words. "I once asked Leterror about him. Alas, I'm afraid he could not find him in all of hell. I wondered if, perhaps, he's still in 'that place'? Seems like despite centuries passing, you still couldn't bring him peace, could you?" his brow raised almost daringly, his voice dripping with venom.

Beatrice felt a brief chill go down her spine. Her fist clenched, hiding behind her cloak. Her heart throbbed painfully. Yet, her body appeared almost paralyzed at the god's words.

"My, I seem to have touched a nerve," Ardu spoke, his tone seemingly apologetic. However, just under it lay an almost tangible undertone of satisfaction as he scanned Rulebreaker's tensed posture. "But know I mean nothing by that. Verin was just a human, after all. Even if 'that' event didn't happen--!"

Ardu's words stopped as Beatrice's hand moved with immense speed, summoning and pointing her greatsword in his direction. Her brown eyes showed naught an emotion, but he could feel the delicious surge of feelings that hid within her mind.

"Ardu," her mouth parted, her tone lower. "I will warn you once. Do not speak of Verin like that," words came out, emotionless yet carrying a weight that flowed together with the pressure she exerted. Mana welled up around, concentrating on her body and weapon.

"My, I apologize," the God of Vengeance raised his hands slightly, palms open. "I didn't intend to bring something hurtful up."

"Cut the shit, Ardu," Beatrice responded with a cold voice. "What do you want?"

"As you wish," the blonde man gave her a smile. Instantly, his hand moved to the blade, pushing it away as he stepped a little closer. His voice lowered to a murmur that only the woman could hear. "You must be feeling quite confident. But arrogance has its limits," his eyes glowed faintly.

Rulebreaker lowered her sword, her knuckles white against the hilt. The satisfaction glinting in Ardu's eyes, combined with the subtle curl of his smile, told her that any reaction only fed his amusement. "Arrogance?"

"You were offered so much, and you rejected it so viciously. We even prepared you a seat as the Goddess of Fraud. Alas, you settled for being just a 'Rulebreaker'. Pity, pity, pity," he repeated with a click of a tongue, his head shaking. "Yet, you decided to interfere in this Competition. Don't you think you're overstepping your boundaries just because you won the first one?"

"I simply pointed out inaccuracies in the rules," she riposted, frowning. "I didn't ask to be a referee. It was Regan's idea."

"Is that so? Hmm, but if memory serves, Redion could not help but point out you meddling your fingers into what he and Tanya gave to their Apostles. And, might I add, I recall all that unfolding before you became a referee," Ardu's voice was tinged with an almost unnaturally cold laughter. The violet of his eyes seemed like daggers aimed at piercing Beatrice's brain. The woman could not help but feel a faint sense of danger from the god.

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by Trigal's voice calling out Ardu's name. As the blonde god turned slightly, his eyes once again darted at Beatrice.

"One last thing before you leave," he said. In an instant, the room appeared almost distorted as a huge amount of pressure emanated from his being. It easily overpowered Rulebreaker's, nearly making the woman shiver. "Do not think you can do as you wish just because of your position. You are not one of us, Rulebreaker. We only allow this folly of yours because it is more entertaining than concerning, but that can change. Do not overstep your boundaries, lest something may happen to 'that place'," Ardu gave her a cold look, the smile waning from his face, a serious expression in its place.

Then, almost like the conversation never happened, Ardu retreated his powers, the room's atmosphere returning to normal as he turned around, ignoring Beatrice and going away.

Rulebreaker shook out of her state after a few seconds. Slowly relaxing her posture, she moved toward the door, not even announcing her leave.

'Not one of you...' she thought, her slow steps leading her through the plains, leaving Trigal's grand home behind. The blazing sun bathed her in its light, but the warmth hardly registered. 'I never wanted to be one of you, Ardu. And I never will.' she gritted her teeth, feeling anger in her spirit rise at the very thought of the blonde god.

Lifting a hand, she noticed blood staining it as her nails pierced her skin. Beatrice sighed, feeling a surge of emotions within her heart be let out. It was quite a burden to bear for her. Having to hold back was a horrible thing for her to do, but she had to do it. She sincerely wished she could just beat some sense into Ardu, but that'd threaten her position as a referee. She could not lose that.

'...A guy who specializes in betrayal is not easy to approach.' she thought, bitterness biting her throat. 'But to think he'd go for the low blow... yeah, Sia is a bitch alright, but even she wouldn't do that.'

She stopped a good distance away from the manor, approaching a small hill. Looking behind, Beatrice took in the scenery briefly before swiping her hand. Instantly, a swirling circle of blue appeared like a slowly rotating pond inviting her to touch it.

'Seems like I hit a wall. Time to make a hammer.'

---

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