"A King... kneels to no one."
Blood slicks my lips, dripping steadily onto the frozen earth. Azrhael just wrenches his hand from my chest; the wet sound of rending flesh still echoes in the biting night air.
I sink to one knee. My breath comes in a ragged rattle, blood pumping unchecked from the cavernous wound in my chest. Azrhael steps closer, savoring the sight .
"A fitting posture," he mocks. "A King, brought low in the dirt. Exactly where you belong". He licks his lips, eyes gleaming. "You know, I truly didn't think that—" .
He stops. A faint, metallic chink rings out.
Suddenly, the blood coating his arm freezes solid. In a heartbeat, it calcifies into jagged bloodsteel. A razor-sharp needle of metal shoots outward, skewering his tongue before he can even draw it back.
"Gahhh!".
He recoils, tearing the steel from his mouth.
"You've lost," I say, my voice like ice.
"Haha!" He lets out a hysterical laugh. "You think I've lost? Because my arm is encased in a bit of bloodsteel?".
He grips his upper arm—just above where the bloodsteel ends—and squeezes. With a sickening tear, he rips the limb away. The mangled arm falls into the muck.
"There. It'll grow back in a moment".
"Too late," I counter coldly. "The metal was bonded to you for too long".
Azrhael winds up for another strike, then hesitates. His eyes dart to my pocket. Something is thumping there—a rhythmic, mechanical pulse.
Thump. Thump.
"What is that?" he asks, genuine confusion bleeding into his voice for the first time . "Something is beating in your pocket".
I reach into my pocket and pull it out. It is a heart. But it is no longer an organic organ; it is encased halfway in bloodsteel.
"I am dying, Azrhael," I say, holding the pulsing metal in my palm. "The heart is losing its strength because the rest of my body is failing".
Azrhael stares at the object as if it were a forbidden relic. "A heart... made of bloodsteel?".
"I transform my heart the very instant you vanish before my eyes," I explain, my voice devoid of emotion. I cough up blood, but my grip on the metallic organ remains firm.
"When you ram your hand into my chest, you are far too blinded by your imagined victory. You don't even notice that my heart isn't destroyed—it is catapulted right out of my ribcage by the sheer force of your blow".
A thin, bloody smile touches my lips as I take in Azrhael's shocked expression.
"I seize the opportunity. I catch the heart mid-air and shove it into my pocket. You were so busy playing the victor that you overlooked the only thing that mattered".
I press the beating metal back into the gaping hollow of my chest.
"Your arrogance was my salvation. And now, it will be your end".
I grit my teeth against an indescribable agony. I close my eyes, funneling every scrap of my remaining mana. Fine, silver filaments erupt from the heart's bloodsteel casing. They burrow into my flesh, stitching themselves to the shredded ends of my veins.
An artificial circulatory system.
"Only I can do this," I wheeze, as the first beat of the heart pumps real blood through my frame once more. "Anyone else would have died from the shock".
I forge a protective plate of bloodsteel over the hole in my chest. "This will keep me among the living for now".
Azrhael lets out a hollow laugh. "And you think that changes anything? You might breathe for a few minutes longer, but I know my strength . You still don't even know what my ability is".
"I don't need to," I say, drawing myself up to my full height. "You're already dead".
"Is that so?!".
He lunges forward. But after two steps, his gait falters. His knees buckle, and he crashes into the mud right at my feet.
"Finally," I murmur.
Azrhael scrambles to rise, his entire body convulsing. "What... what is this? What have you done to me?" .
I look down at him. "House Rexar... a house of power. A house of wealth . Surely you received a fine education. Or perhaps you're simply a fool" .
He snarls, but he can barely lift his arm.
"There is a reason bloodsteel is considered the most lethal metal in existence," I explain calmly. "It isn't just the hardness. Bloodsteel is inherently toxic. But the poison only dissolves once the metal makes contact with blood" .
Azrhael's eyes go wide.
"It is mingling with your blood now. No healing magic, no common medicine can halt it. There is only one, vanishingly rare elixir that can extract this venom".
"Shit!" Azrhael screams. "Where do I find it?!".
"Not in Morhenhall. Perhaps in Aeloria, if your coin is heavy enough. But you won't even make it to the city gates".
He tries to strike at me, but his movements are viscous, like honey. I dodge his blow with ease and drive my boot into his back, slamming him back into the filth.
"You're wondering why you feel so sluggish, so weak," I say. "Those are the symptoms. Normally, it takes weeks for the poison to fully saturate the blood . Only then does the sickness take hold—fever, exhaustion".
I kneel, looking him dead in the eye.
"Regardless, you would typically be bedridden for months. Suffering every second. Growing weaker by the day until you can't even move. In the end, you die as if taken by old age" .
"Then why... why is it happening to me so fast?!" he gasps.
"Because I don't just control the steel. I control the poison within it," I say . "I accelerated it. I forced it to bond with your blood instantly" .
"You bastard..." he whispers. "What a cowardly way to fight. Have you no honor?" .
I let out a short, joyless laugh. "Is this your attempt to provoke me into neutralizing the poison?".
Azrhael stares at me with unadulterated loathing. "I will force you!".
He vanishes again. His special ability. He reappears behind me, his remaining hand aimed at my neck. He is slow, but still lethal. He moves to drive his hand through me once more.
"I don't even need to turn around," I say softly.
Suddenly, bloodsteel erupts from his own body. Like thorns. Like blades.
"AAHHH!".
Azrhael shrieks, collapsing.
"You truly were poorly educated," I say, walking over to him . "How does one forge a metal that won't even melt in lava? There is only one way. A brutal way. Which is why it is so difficult to craft into arms or armor" .
I kneel beside him. "Any ideas?".
He only stares, dazed, spitting blood.
"The poison... is bloodsteel in liquid form. The only thing that melts bloodsteel is blood. Hence the name. And I am capable of making that liquid poison within your body turn solid again".
I raise my hand, fingers poised to snap. "You lost the moment my bloodsteel first touched you".
"Spare me..." he pleads suddenly. The arrogance is gone, replaced by a heap of misery in the mud.
"If I snap my fingers, every drop of that metal in your body will harden again. Your end is near, but I can still draw the poison out," I say, hand still raised. "Tell me only one thing: Who sent you? Was it the Queen?" .
Azrhael lets out a wheezing laugh, blood spraying from his lips. "Go to hell, Daemon".
"As you wish," I say. "Then die".
"Hahaha!" He grins, blood staining his teeth. "I'll see you in hell, little King".
I snap my fingers.
CLICK. Thousands of tiny bloodsteel spikes erupt from his body simultaneously. He explodes from the inside out. A rain of black blood and metallic shards showers the courtyard.
I stand alone in the rain, drenched in the remains of my enemy. My artificial heart skips a beat. I limp toward the castle. Servants rush toward me as I reach the Great Hall.
"Lord Daemon! Are you—".
"Get a healer to my study! Now!" I command, my voice brooking no argument .
"Mylord, we must take you to the infirmary. You're losing too much—".
"NO!" I thunder, seizing the servant by his collar . "I must get to my office. I have to send a raven to Aeloria. Immediately!".
I feel my strength slipping away. If this message doesn't fly... Morhenhall will fall by dawn..