Chapter 53: Ragna

A few days had gone by, and Tez had used that time to learn about Amber. He got to know her more and more, and he actually found her pretty interesting. He wondered if he could tame her as well. After all, she qualified as a monster girl.

Later that night, Tez left Amber after having a discussion with her. He walked down the street to clear his head. It had been a few days since they met with Grent, and he had expected that at least Grent would have made some sort of move by now, but Grent had not.

He walked alone in the dark alley when suddenly he felt a presence. He raised his head, and there he saw the butler, but he was not alone, as a seven-foot-tall figure stood behind him. This figure was strapped in a straitjacket used to keep mad people tied up. His legs and hands were chained up, and his face was covered with a massive metal muzzle to stop him from biting.

Its crimson-red eyes burned the air around it with its glare alone, and Tez could already tell that this being was set to attack him the moment that it got free.

Tez clicked his tongue and heaved a sigh.

"I was starting to wonder whether Grent was going to act at all," he said. "A few days went by, and nothing happened. I was beginning to worry that my plan to rile him up hadn’t worked."

The butler raised a brow.

"Your plan?"

"Yes, the one where I make your master angry enough to do something stupid."

The butler stared at him for a moment. Then he understood, and his expression sharpened. This boy had walked into the manor and provoked his master on purpose.

"May I ask why you would want to do something like that?" he asked.

"To uncover the truth," Tez said simply. "I know your master is lying. He doesn’t care about the beastfolk. He uses them for his own gain, and he hides behind a kind face."

He shrugged.

"But proving that would be difficult, since he’s careful. So I had to use harder means. Make him move, and let him show me what’s underneath."

Tez glanced past the butler at the figure standing behind him.

"And judging by what you brought with you, he doesn’t just want to beat me or catch me. He wants to end me."

"You are sharp," the butler said. "Yes. That is exactly what he wants."

He stepped to the side and gestured toward the figure with one open hand.

"Allow me to introduce Ragnar. He will be the one fighting you tonight. I assure you that he will crush you into a paste, so that your death is as quick as possible."

Tez smiled.

"That’s very considerate of you. I appreciate it, really. But I’m afraid I’m not willing to die."

He drew his sword and held it in one hand. The blade caught a thin line of moonlight.

"So I’ll have to refuse."

The butler shook his head, almost sadly, and reached into his coat. He pulled out a single iron key and stepped behind Ragnar.

Click.

A padlock opened. Chains slid off and hit the ground. The straps on the jacket loosened, and the metal muzzle fell away from his face.

Ragnar lifted his head.

Veins bulged along his arms and neck, thick as rope. He had once been a man, but magic had remade him. He stood a full seven feet tall, his muscles swollen and his skin stretched tight. His crimson eyes burned through the dark.

Ragnar did not say a word.

He moved.

The ground cracked under his foot, and he was in front of Tez before the sound reached him. A fist the size of a boulder came straight down.

Tez threw himself sideways.

BOOM!

The punch hit the street, and the stones erupted. A shockwave tore across the alley and threw dust into his eyes. The crater it left was a meter deep.

’He didn’t even wind up.’

There was no time to think. Another fist was already coming. Tez ducked under it and felt the wind of the punch tear at his hair. A third came from the side. He leaned back and let it pass by his nose.

Ragnar did not slow down.

He unleashed a barrage of thundering punches, one after another, each one heavier than the last. He stomped, and the ground heaved under Tez’s feet. He swung an elbow, and a wall behind them cracked in half. Every strike was explosive and wide, and every strike would have killed a normal man.

Tez weaved through all of it.

He slid under one arm, hopped over a stomp, and spun away from a hook. His sword stayed up, but he didn’t swing it. He kept his eyes on Ragnar’s body and watched.

’He leads with the right. Then the left comes in lower. After that, a stomp.’

He saw a pattern. Between the third punch and the stomp, there was a gap. It was small, just a heartbeat wide, but it was there.

’That’s my opening.’

He leaned toward it.

But he was not invulnerable, and Ragnar was not stupid.

The fist that came next was a feint. It stopped halfway, and Ragnar’s other hand came around from below and slammed into Tez’s ribs.

CRACK!

Tez flew through the air and crashed into a wall. Stone broke around him. He landed on one knee and coughed, and a hot spray of blood hit the ground.

Another punch caught his shoulder before he could rise, and it spun him sideways. Pain screamed through his arm.

He coughed again, and this time a huge amount of blood came out.

Ragnar charged.

He lowered his shoulder and ran at Tez like a bull, his boots cracking the stones. Tez raised his hand and poured mana into his palm.

"Not so fast."

A wave of flame burst out of his hand, wide and roaring, and rolled across the alley. It slammed into Ragnar’s chest and stopped him in his tracks. The fire swallowed him whole, and he pushed against it with his arms crossed, his feet sliding backward.

Tez did not wait to see if it worked.

Lightning crawled up his legs. He pushed off the ground, and his body shot sideways in a blue streak. He appeared on Ragnar’s left side before the flames had faded, his blade already swinging.

CLANG!

Ragnar caught the sword on his forearm.

It did not cut. The blade bounced off a layer of skin that felt like stone. Ragnar turned his head and looked at him, and his eyes narrowed.

He was learning.

They clashed.

Tez used his flames and his lightning together, switching between them in the middle of every swing. He lit the blade with fire and cut high, then dropped the flames and struck low with a crackle of lightning. He blasted heat into Ragnar’s face to blind him and flashed behind him with a step of thunder. Each move came faster than the last, and each was cleaner.

He fought well. He fought better than he ever had.

But Ragnar was near impenetrable. Fire burned his skin black, and it healed. Lightning shuddered through his muscles, and he shook it off. Tez’s sword scored thin red lines across his arms, and they closed in seconds.

And Ragnar hit back.

A punch caught the flat of Tez’s blade and drove him ten feet through the air. He landed on his feet, skidded, and straightened. Another punch broke through his guard, and he rolled with it, burning the ground to push away.

He was being pushed back. Step by step, he gave up the alley.

’He’s adapting. He reads everything I do.’

Ragnar’s next strike came at an angle Tez had not seen yet. It slipped inside his sword arm and landed square in his gut.

BAM!

All the air left him. He bent forward, and a second fist hammered into his chin. His head snapped back. A third took him in the chest and lifted him off the ground.

He hit the street and bounced.

His sword rolled out of his hand and clattered against the stones. The world swam. He could see the sky, black and full of stars, and his ears rang with a long, high note.

Ragnar walked toward him, slowly now.

He didn’t hurry. He had already won, and he knew it.

Tez lay there, his chest heaving. Blood ran from his mouth and down his neck. He could not feel his left arm.

’Is this it?’

He spat a mouthful of red onto the stones.

"Hah," he said and let out a weak laugh.

He rolled onto his side. He put his palm against the ground and pushed. His elbow shook, and his arm gave out, and he tried again.

The butler watched from the end of the alley with his brows pulled together.

Tez got his knee under him. Then his foot. He stood, swaying, bent over like an old man, and looked up at Ragnar through a haze of sweat and blood.

"I told you," he said in a voice that was raw and hoarse. "I’m not willing to die."

He reached out with his good hand. The sword leapt off the ground and into his grip, drawn by a thread of lightning.

"And I’m not going to lose here."

Fire flared around his legs. Lightning lit his arm from shoulder to wrist. He stepped forward, and the ground cracked under his boot.

Ragnar stopped walking.

For the first time that night, something flickered in those red eyes.

Tez lunged.

He came in faster than before, a streak of blue and orange, and swung. The blade met Ragnar’s forearm and bit. It cut through the skin, and a thin line of blood welled up.

It was only a cut. It was shallow, and it would close soon.

But it was a cut.

Ragnar roared and swung, and Tez ducked under it and slashed again, across the ribs. Another line opened. Tez grinned through the blood on his teeth.

He kept pushing. His body screamed. Every breath burned, and every step felt like it would be the last. But he kept going, harder than before, striking at joints and gaps and the places where the skin stretched thin. Each cut was small. Each one cost him more than it cost Ragnar.

He did not stop.

Ragnar bared his teeth. His veins pulsed, and he drew his fist back with a sound like a groaning rope.

Tez saw it coming. He raised his sword, and the blade lit up, white-hot, crackling with lightning from the hilt to the tip.

They rushed at each other.

Fist and sword met in the middle of the alley, and the world turned white.