With the field clear of the obstructions that would get in the way of their fight, Erec was fully prepared to let loose and display his full might against his brother.
His silver fire blazed outward in a cowl, wrapping around him and forming into liquid, swirling armor comprised entirely of flame that came from his mantle. His axe gleamed brighter, flaring with the brightness like a small sun as he condensed his power along it.
All the while, Bedwyr made his own preparations. More and more rocks piled on his opponent, making what had been almost triple the size of a person once more double. The spear grew alongside, appearing to be made of steel rather than stone. Bedwyr was already more of a rock than a man. Now it had only scaled further; the type of earthly power was unlike anything his brother was naturally capable of. But now, knowing Bedwyr as he knew him for the Knight he was, a part of Erec told him that this was fully expected, though he sensed that he was rapidly approaching his limits.
Just like him, the obstruction that came from using a mantle came within the quality of the incarnation. These facts filtered to Erec unbidden as he braced for the fight of a lifetime.
As if two memories were overlapping at once, he began to understand more and more of just this silver fire he was using. With Bedwyr here also calling upon his mantle, the thin veil between the worlds was evaporating, letting him glimpse insights hidden beneath.
For one, he knew that this power came from the Round Table and was an extension of his power by being Erec, a reborn knight from therein. He didn't fully grasp what that entailed, other than the brief memories that came through it as he faced down Bedwyr here, but it started to give him a sense of being and purpose.
There was a reason the two of them were here right now. There was a grand scheme behind this fight, but both of them, both Erec of the past and Erec of now, began to discard the information because at the end of the day, it didn't matter.
Why there were two Knights wasn't a coincidence. There would be more, he was sure. And some of them would have their place at the table—Knights and honor came to the worlds that needed it most.
But it didn't matter, did it?
Erec was spoiling for a fight.He twirled his axe in his hand, sending an arc of flames flying in wild directions. He reveled in the ease with which the silver fire came; it ran like a river through his body and the depths of the inferno. There would be a price to pay later for this, he knew. But now, Erec just laughed, and then slammed forward with a burst of fire, his axe gleaming through the air as it cleaved into his enemy.
He caught Bedwyr still in his preparations. Foolish. The man liked to ground himself as much as possible, predictable, and he'd told him off for it many times—the price was his stone leg.
Erec tore off the left leg of the behemoth with a sweeping blow; his fires raged through the stone and burned even it. Popping and cracking it, exploding as the very moisture within reached unsustainable pressure.
Bedwyr braced for the attack despite the sudden devastation and loss of his leg. As Erec came by on the other side, the stone giant was already turning to face him.
Adaptable, aren't we?
It hobbled with its massive spear and raised a hand; then, a glyph formed. It was massive—the size of a building—and burned with a brown-greenish light.
Ah.
That was a lot. Way too much, maybe. He felt it then, and had the understanding that Bedwyr was too new to his Mantle. That this incarnation hadn't adapted to the same bit—the memories of who he was and who he'd been had settled more in Erec. But in Bedwyr? Maybe this was his first time really grasping his mantle in the battle.
And that glyph was the proof. An overextension.
It was completed, and there was a shaking in the earth around them.
Erec kicked off the ground; mounds of earth popped up around Erec, spikes spearing at him from below. Like miniature spears darting for him to bring this fight to a quick end. There was no pulling punches in a bout like this; it would've been a sign of disrespect.
Erec dodged around, throwing his body left and right. They seemed endless, coming at him in a barrage of attacks, perfectly conducted through the use of Bedwyr's soul and magic. Any lesser foe would have been eviscerated instantly. No doubt speared through with dozens of these sharp mounds of rocks, but for him, his flames let him propel himself through the air, getting higher and higher.
That was the key with Bedwyr, always had been. Stay off the ground and your life would be much easier.
He could see as more and more came, and he flared around with pulses of flame, turning his offensive powers into mobility with quick bursts of speed that Bedwyr couldn't pace.
It'd be an issue if Bedwyr could conjure another glyph… But as it was…
Such a massive expenditure of mysticism needed more. The mantles could lend power, but to conduct it through such a body would limit it.
There was a reason Bedwyr's leg hadn't yet regenerated; the big giant behemoth was leaning on his spear. Erec laughed as death brushed by him, skimming alongside sharp rocks that branched out with even more spears. Everywhere was danger. And he had to focus on adapting to survive. The thrill of the inferno roared inside of him, bursting and exploding inside.
For a minute, he couldn't be sure if he'd make it in or out. Weaving, dodging, and barely avoiding a spear poking straight through him.
All of this, from one glyph. Mighty indeed.
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But not enough.
He saw Bedwyr begin to understand this singular spell wouldn't do the trick, and tried to put together another glyph. But even as he did, the glyph came to a failure. Shaking as he once more tried to funnel his mysticism into one massive earth-defying explosion of magic.
It wouldn't work. A common mistake. Erec had made it plenty of times, too. Withdrawing too much power and not regulating it. Overestimating the difference between growth and what one once had. Especially when two sets of memories, both the mantles and your own, competed against one another. Even now, it was hard to track who he was. But the sheer call of the fight was a regulation in it of its own, making the memories matter less.
Erec took advantage, knowing that his foe had overextended. The hundreds of spires of stone began to slow, and Erec flung himself at the monstrosity in a quick pulse of fire. His axe came down and sliced off an arm.
More stones flew outward, trying to stab and spear him. The landscape around them had become a mire of rocky crags and stone spears, ruining what had been here before and towering into the air, forming a small hill.
Erec rocked back from another branch of spears. Then darted forward again; this time he took off another arm.
Down went the spear as it crashed into the earth with a mighty crack. Unused.
Brother, you have to train more.
No use prolonging it, then. As good as won. Erec shot up into the air, axe held high above his head, regal and manifested with his tale. Radiant silver fire flared on it like an inferno, condensing and swirling around the weapon. Becoming a miniature sun as he sat in the sky. And then, with one single overhead swing, he crashed that fiery might down with a full, bright swing.
In short, Erec threw all of himself into it. And made the same 'mistake' as Bedwyr. Only, in this position where one held the advantage, and it would end the fight… It wasn't a mistake. This was a conclusion. A final stanza from a glorious ballad of a battle. This power, now, in this position, could be extended as one last goodbye.
Beneath the might of the flaring bright ball of silver flame, his brother did not stand a chance.
Bedwyr couldn't move, having his limbs chopped off; he had only one limb remaining. He collapsed into himself, the stones forming into a massive boulder as he concentrated purely on defense.
Erec's power gave way as the ball of flames crashed into the behemoth below. Its fires raged and tore across the rock in an explosive chain, reducing it to rubble.
All of him was spent; the silver fires coating him gave way, and he began to fall, using just one more pulse to stop him from crashing into the earth and potentially breaking bone on the descent. As he landed with enough force to still shove all the air out of his lungs, he gasped for breath.
The memories of before retreated. His mantle was no longer needed; the duel concluded.
Erec tried to hold onto the memories it'd brought on, but they were phantoms. Drifting in and out as he grasped at them with open fingers. Now that the battle was over… He wanted to understand, but it fled from him, drifting away. Ghosts lost to time. More of him settled back in. Overwhelmed with the ancient knowledge that had been Erec from before, and now tempered with the current present Erec.
The way that they were merging with every use of this power was only increasing. He would dominate it eventually, as he was the current holder of this mantle. It was his power to wield…
That much at least, he understood.
But the Erecs from before were like a long iteration of men trying to clamor to offer their advice and wisdom whenever they got the chance. All of them had a thing in common, though. A thing that he felt resonated deep in himself: a love for battle.
He let out a laugh. Already replaying the hazy events of the fight. Seeing the giant rock monster, the way his power felt coursing through him. Even though now it felt like his body had run out of everything. Even shifting on the ground was a tall ask.
He knew in his heart that one truth was certain. He'd won. He'd defeated Bedwyr. Not for the first time. And not for the last. At least in their current incarnations.
Erec looked over at his brother. Half exposed in the mound of stone, and unconscious. He'd had enough power to muster a survival; that and Erec had made sure not to kill him. Such would be a violation of their duel. Bedwyr was the type to withstand, and a little tempering through the flames could only strengthen him further.
…The price was exhaustion. Bedwyr wouldn't be capable of doing much for the next few days. Not that he was better off. Recovery time for a fight like this was in days.
Slowly, the sun rose above them. Its fiery cast seemed to beam a smile down to Erec. As he witnessed his decisive and meaningful victory over his brother. It also brought with it more mysteries. About who he was, who he'd been, and what this mantle meant.
It wasn't long, however, before his friends returned. Looking concerned. As they gazed at the two of them deep in a pit. Wounded. After a battle that could only be described as out of their league.
Garin scratched the back of his head. Looking at Erec. And simply mouthed the words: "What the fuck, man."
Colin was grumbling. Angry that he'd been kicked out. Though no matter where they were, they were no doubt capable of seeing this feat of fighting. Erec was glad he couldn't hear him… His head was still swimming after the battle. The next few moments were a blur. Erec was too tired to protest or walk on his own. Bedwyr certainly was in a worse state, having been the loser of this fight, and wasn't in a position to say anything at all.
Garin blissfully directed everyone to help in the best way they could. Quickly piling Bedwyr and Erec on his shoulders and lugging them back towards the dorm.
Enide hung around Erec's side, shaking her head as she looked at him. "Really? Big guy. Hadn't seen you fight like that for some time. Against your brother?" She muttered to him, leaning in as Garin carried him on his back.
"What can I say?" Erec said. "He asked for it." Not untrue. Bedwyr would have.
The second their Mantles flared, they understood both had a seat at the round table… It had been inevitable, though the full meaning of any of that was something he'd only had the barest grip on. There were others, too. He'd seen many empty tables around the table in his visions… He wondered who was meant to fill them and if Bedwyr's was now filled.
Who were they?
He tried to sort through the memories that had come like brief flickers while enflamed with that silver flame and in the full throes of his mantle. But they evaded him. The names. The faces. They were gone. As if waiting to be uncovered by finding another one of their own.
But in Bedwyr, he'd found a new connection, a new purpose, and a new understanding of one another. Though Bedwyr was now out cold and couldn't talk about it, he knew that his brother had seen it, too.
Erec finally turned his attention to the last thing that had been dominating his reality since the fight: the flashing notifications in the corner of his vision, a sign that something had changed in response to what they'd gone through.
Strength: Rank B - Tier 1 → Rank B - Tier 2
Vigor: Rank C - Tier 6 → Rank C - Tier 8
Soul (Aspect: Fire): Rank C - Tier 6 → Rank C - Tier 9
Cognition: Rank E - Tier 8 → Rank D - Tier 1
Goddess… It was… Wow. Even though his limbs felt like lead, that kind of boost to his Virtues was more than a welcome sight to see. He looked at Bedwyr, still hanging unconscious off Colin's back… Wondering just how much his brother had grown too. That, and just what his brother had to say.
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