Trial by Fire - part 3
III.
Burn golden cosmo!
A trial by fire.
Aiolia fell hard onto the ground.
Phaeton's punch had been true and ruthless enough to open a cut on the side of his face that made it look like he was crying tears of blood. Sand immediately glued itself to the wound, but Aiolia could barely feel enough of his arms to lift himself up, much less the discomfort of the scratching grains. He'd taken a powerful blow: his head was spinning.
Phaeton was delighted, watching his opponent's struggle to pull himself back together; he'd hit the traitor dead on. Confident that the Leo wouldn't be getting up any time soon and that he'd already proven which one of them deserved to move on and receive the title of saint, he turned towards the expectant crowd and rose his arms in a sign of victory. The answering cheer was deafening.
Gigars cast a glance at the Pope, silently asking if he could signal the end of the match, but Saga gestured for him to wait. The commander of the army was disappointed by the order - he had no idea what it was that his master thought might still happen -, until he remembered that maybe what he wanted was to discreetly purge the Sanctuary of traitors, by making this a fight to the death. Gigars let an evil little grin take over his face: could that be the real reason why the Pope had given permission for this sorry spectacle to take place?
When the crystal-eyed man returned his attention to the fighters, Aiolia was slowly getting up. Phaeton had noticed it too and, seeing that Gigars wasn't doing anything, relaxed back into a fighting stance.
Aiolia's movements were shaky at first and he tried to take deep breaths to clear his head. His eyes, though, never left Phaeton. He might have been temporarily knocked down, but he would not be caught unaware a second time.
"You should have stayed down, like the vermin you are. You'd save yourself a lot of needless suffering," mocked Gigars's apprentice. "Don't you see you don't stand a chance? No one in their right mind would ever give one of the sacred cloths to a traitor like you!"
Aiolia laughed along. He was so focused on his goal that there was no room in his mind for childish taunts. It was the same kind of thing that he'd been hearing from Milo and his group for years, and he was starting to think that maybe they just had a weak imagination for always saying the same things. On the other hand, the longer Phaeton laughed, the longer he'd have to recover from that treacherous attack.
"Phaeton, if you can't do any better than little pats like this one, I suggest you quit, because you're the one who won't stand a chance of winning," Aiolia shouted back when he was sure he was ready.
"Why, you...!"
Angered, Phaeton threw himself into a new attack. He ran head on towards Aiolia with his fist stretched out and in place for a repeat of the deed from minutes ago. This time, however, his opponent was prepared. Aiolia evaded, taking a step back and squatting so he could reach Phaeton under the arm he kept up to protect his thorax.
Both of them stepped away from each other after the exchange.
This time, Gigars's student was the one who had lost his breath. Each competitor had now managed to score a hit, and the looks they cast at each other were fuller of hatred than ever.
They leapt simultaneously and crashed against each other half-way. Aiolia's fist found Phaeton's knee, and Phaeton's elbow was stopped by the other's forearm. They were inches away from each other, ferociously trading blows that were always blocked, no matter how fast they tried to send them. Each time one of them tried to go around the other to strike him from behind, he'd quickly turn around and foil the attack.
Aiolia's knuckles were getting sore from constantly hitting the protections Phaeton wore and he himself did not. Recognising that the fight was going to be harder to win than he'd thought, Aiolia jumped back in an attempt to distance himself from the close-quarters confrontation.
Seeing the show of weakness that meant his adversary was cracking, Phaeton followed him like a shadow and gave him no rest. He kept raining down punches and kicks that were always avoided or stopped. He was getting frustrated - Aiolia had fallen so easily in the beginning, why was he resisting so much now? And more importantly - how was it that he could keep up with his relentless rhythm?
From the stands around the arena, the whole Sanctuary was cheering and applauding for their favourite. Many were looking on open-mouthed at the display of skill from both fighters. Everyone had already seen Gigars's student fight before in that very same arena and so they knew that he was a worthy warrior. Seeing him now, struggling to land a single blow on the traitor's brother, was rather disturbing. The crystal-eyed commander was starting to wonder if it had been a wise choice to let the traitor's brother live to gain that level of skill, or if it wouldn't have been better for them to have killed him the moment Aiolos had revealed his true colours.
Saga, on the other hand, was marveled. He knew that Aiolia had been marked by the previous Pope Shion as having the potential to become one of the twelve gold saints, but he had imagined that that power had faded over the years with the lack of training, or that due to the absence of a master who could hone them, Aiolia might have permanently lost the necessary control to access his cosmo. He could see now that he had been deeply mistaken.
Neither of the two fighters had yet used an attack that went beyond the strictly physical, but each time Aiolia moved, Saga could almost see that a golden trail was left behind. His cosmo was bubbling under the little one's determined front, and each time the little Leo's face turned in his direction, the Pope could see the way the masterless apprentice's eyes were simmering. What that boy had was not a wild force; he could sense clearly that Aiolia had it perfectly under control. The minute he wanted it, he could unleash that energy to destroy his enemies and, no matter how gifted Phaeton was, he'd be incapable of resisting that devastating power when it came.
Aiolia kept trying to free himself from Phaeton, but he wasn't getting so much as a moment to breathe. If he leapt back, soon the other would leap even further to catch him from behind and it was useless to try to overwhelm him with his physical attacks, for they were always intercepted by one of the many protections covering Phaeton's body.
The time had come to switch strategies.
He searched within himself for that energy unique to the saints and felt it rise immediately in response. He saw Phaeton's eyes widen when a slight golden glow enveloped his body and allowed his strikes to become faster and faster. Gigars's pupil burned his cosmo too to counterattack, but it soon became obvious that he didn't have enough control over it to keep up with the new pace imposed by Aiolia.
The guards around his forearms, shoulders, chest, head and knees were soon not enough to counter the enemy's fury and, gradually, the attacks started slipping through his defenses. When a particularly well-aimed punch tore apart the metal plate protecting his chest, Phaeton felt his ribs fracture and he was projected back as a result of the power concentrating around Aiolia's fists.
When he tried to stand again, he moaned in pain and had to quickly double over to spit out the blood threatening to choke him.
At this new sight, the audience was quickly silenced. If they had been surprised before, now they were fearful. Those who didn't know enough about cosmo thought that Phaeton's fall and the way Aiolia was glowing with a golden aura was unusual; the rest could realise that something extraordinary was unfolding before their eyes.
With the silence that had descended upon the coliseum and the fact that Phaeton was still down, Saga seized the opportunity to rise from his throne and make an announcement.
"The winner has been found; this fight is over," he said. His imperious voice easily reached the other end of the stadium. Gigars went to his student and gave him a hand up, while Aiolia immediately straightened into a posture of respect towards the Pope. "You have both fought fearlessly and with honour, but only one can take this cloth. Phaeton: you have proven your valour today, once more. I now appoint you as a bronze saint. Kneel down to receive your cloth and take your oath!"
Everyone was stunned by the Pope's statement, but none more than Aiolia. He found this blow was much harder to bear than the one he'd gotten from Phaeton in the beginning of the fight.
All of his hopes and dreams were dissolving like smoke in the wind.
Part IV...
Burn golden cosmo!
A trial by fire.
Aiolia fell hard onto the ground.
Phaeton's punch had been true and ruthless enough to open a cut on the side of his face that made it look like he was crying tears of blood. Sand immediately glued itself to the wound, but Aiolia could barely feel enough of his arms to lift himself up, much less the discomfort of the scratching grains. He'd taken a powerful blow: his head was spinning.
Phaeton was delighted, watching his opponent's struggle to pull himself back together; he'd hit the traitor dead on. Confident that the Leo wouldn't be getting up any time soon and that he'd already proven which one of them deserved to move on and receive the title of saint, he turned towards the expectant crowd and rose his arms in a sign of victory. The answering cheer was deafening.
Gigars cast a glance at the Pope, silently asking if he could signal the end of the match, but Saga gestured for him to wait. The commander of the army was disappointed by the order - he had no idea what it was that his master thought might still happen -, until he remembered that maybe what he wanted was to discreetly purge the Sanctuary of traitors, by making this a fight to the death. Gigars let an evil little grin take over his face: could that be the real reason why the Pope had given permission for this sorry spectacle to take place?
When the crystal-eyed man returned his attention to the fighters, Aiolia was slowly getting up. Phaeton had noticed it too and, seeing that Gigars wasn't doing anything, relaxed back into a fighting stance.
Aiolia's movements were shaky at first and he tried to take deep breaths to clear his head. His eyes, though, never left Phaeton. He might have been temporarily knocked down, but he would not be caught unaware a second time.
"You should have stayed down, like the vermin you are. You'd save yourself a lot of needless suffering," mocked Gigars's apprentice. "Don't you see you don't stand a chance? No one in their right mind would ever give one of the sacred cloths to a traitor like you!"
Aiolia laughed along. He was so focused on his goal that there was no room in his mind for childish taunts. It was the same kind of thing that he'd been hearing from Milo and his group for years, and he was starting to think that maybe they just had a weak imagination for always saying the same things. On the other hand, the longer Phaeton laughed, the longer he'd have to recover from that treacherous attack.
"Phaeton, if you can't do any better than little pats like this one, I suggest you quit, because you're the one who won't stand a chance of winning," Aiolia shouted back when he was sure he was ready.
"Why, you...!"
Angered, Phaeton threw himself into a new attack. He ran head on towards Aiolia with his fist stretched out and in place for a repeat of the deed from minutes ago. This time, however, his opponent was prepared. Aiolia evaded, taking a step back and squatting so he could reach Phaeton under the arm he kept up to protect his thorax.
Both of them stepped away from each other after the exchange.
This time, Gigars's student was the one who had lost his breath. Each competitor had now managed to score a hit, and the looks they cast at each other were fuller of hatred than ever.
They leapt simultaneously and crashed against each other half-way. Aiolia's fist found Phaeton's knee, and Phaeton's elbow was stopped by the other's forearm. They were inches away from each other, ferociously trading blows that were always blocked, no matter how fast they tried to send them. Each time one of them tried to go around the other to strike him from behind, he'd quickly turn around and foil the attack.
Aiolia's knuckles were getting sore from constantly hitting the protections Phaeton wore and he himself did not. Recognising that the fight was going to be harder to win than he'd thought, Aiolia jumped back in an attempt to distance himself from the close-quarters confrontation.
Seeing the show of weakness that meant his adversary was cracking, Phaeton followed him like a shadow and gave him no rest. He kept raining down punches and kicks that were always avoided or stopped. He was getting frustrated - Aiolia had fallen so easily in the beginning, why was he resisting so much now? And more importantly - how was it that he could keep up with his relentless rhythm?
From the stands around the arena, the whole Sanctuary was cheering and applauding for their favourite. Many were looking on open-mouthed at the display of skill from both fighters. Everyone had already seen Gigars's student fight before in that very same arena and so they knew that he was a worthy warrior. Seeing him now, struggling to land a single blow on the traitor's brother, was rather disturbing. The crystal-eyed commander was starting to wonder if it had been a wise choice to let the traitor's brother live to gain that level of skill, or if it wouldn't have been better for them to have killed him the moment Aiolos had revealed his true colours.
Saga, on the other hand, was marveled. He knew that Aiolia had been marked by the previous Pope Shion as having the potential to become one of the twelve gold saints, but he had imagined that that power had faded over the years with the lack of training, or that due to the absence of a master who could hone them, Aiolia might have permanently lost the necessary control to access his cosmo. He could see now that he had been deeply mistaken.
Neither of the two fighters had yet used an attack that went beyond the strictly physical, but each time Aiolia moved, Saga could almost see that a golden trail was left behind. His cosmo was bubbling under the little one's determined front, and each time the little Leo's face turned in his direction, the Pope could see the way the masterless apprentice's eyes were simmering. What that boy had was not a wild force; he could sense clearly that Aiolia had it perfectly under control. The minute he wanted it, he could unleash that energy to destroy his enemies and, no matter how gifted Phaeton was, he'd be incapable of resisting that devastating power when it came.
Aiolia kept trying to free himself from Phaeton, but he wasn't getting so much as a moment to breathe. If he leapt back, soon the other would leap even further to catch him from behind and it was useless to try to overwhelm him with his physical attacks, for they were always intercepted by one of the many protections covering Phaeton's body.
The time had come to switch strategies.
He searched within himself for that energy unique to the saints and felt it rise immediately in response. He saw Phaeton's eyes widen when a slight golden glow enveloped his body and allowed his strikes to become faster and faster. Gigars's pupil burned his cosmo too to counterattack, but it soon became obvious that he didn't have enough control over it to keep up with the new pace imposed by Aiolia.
The guards around his forearms, shoulders, chest, head and knees were soon not enough to counter the enemy's fury and, gradually, the attacks started slipping through his defenses. When a particularly well-aimed punch tore apart the metal plate protecting his chest, Phaeton felt his ribs fracture and he was projected back as a result of the power concentrating around Aiolia's fists.
When he tried to stand again, he moaned in pain and had to quickly double over to spit out the blood threatening to choke him.
At this new sight, the audience was quickly silenced. If they had been surprised before, now they were fearful. Those who didn't know enough about cosmo thought that Phaeton's fall and the way Aiolia was glowing with a golden aura was unusual; the rest could realise that something extraordinary was unfolding before their eyes.
With the silence that had descended upon the coliseum and the fact that Phaeton was still down, Saga seized the opportunity to rise from his throne and make an announcement.
"The winner has been found; this fight is over," he said. His imperious voice easily reached the other end of the stadium. Gigars went to his student and gave him a hand up, while Aiolia immediately straightened into a posture of respect towards the Pope. "You have both fought fearlessly and with honour, but only one can take this cloth. Phaeton: you have proven your valour today, once more. I now appoint you as a bronze saint. Kneel down to receive your cloth and take your oath!"
Everyone was stunned by the Pope's statement, but none more than Aiolia. He found this blow was much harder to bear than the one he'd gotten from Phaeton in the beginning of the fight.
All of his hopes and dreams were dissolving like smoke in the wind.
Part IV...