Rise of the Living Forge-Chapter 389: Duty

Hein’s dagger carved down through the air in a silver streak. It slammed into the shaft of Kien’s broom with a resounding thud that carried the weight of a mountain behind it. The blade trembled against the wood — but it didn’t cut through it.

A flicker of surprise passed through Hein’s features.

Then Kien planted his foot in the center of the other man’s chest and sent him stumbling back.

Kien was grateful for the mask covering his features. It concealed everything he felt. From the pain that coursed through his entire body, threatening to chew his insides alive at the thought of fighting his own brother to the surprise that he himself felt.

He knew his strength well. It had been one of the things he’d been most aware of as a Hero. Knowing the power of your blade was how a warrior kept from killing the opponents that did not need to be killed.

Not all fights had to end in death, but Kien knew exactly how hard he had to kick someone to shatter their ribs. That strength did start varying when it came to magically enhanced bodies and armor — but he had not held back.

He’d struck with every scrap of strength he had… and Hein hadn’t even been hurt. Even with the power he’d lost from losing his class, Kien was confident the blow should have at least done something. His new class was not without tricks of its own.

“You managed to push me,” Hein said. “And your shitty stick actually stopped my dagger. Who are you?”

“A janitor,” Kien replied, charging forward. He brought the shaft of the broom down like it was a bo staff, sending it whistling for Hein’s head. It was a good strike. One that should have forced Hein to re-position, buying Kien time to attack again.

The other man just raised his dagger. Kien’s blow slammed to a halt against it as if he’d struck a mountain. All of the force he’d put behind the attack had amounted to absolutely nothing.

Hein’s strength was obsene.

How powerful has he already grown from all the magic he’s stolen? But this does give credence to Art’s theory. The dagger doesn’t give him every scrap of power it takes. An item like that would be far too strong to exist… and I don’t think I’d have been able to even budge Hein if he’d actually had the power of a few dozen Adept level classes stored within him.

Kien leapt back to avoid a strike from his brother’s dagger, then returned another blow with his broom. It met the same fate as his first. Hein’s dagger was like an iron wall, and he was so fast that slipping past his defenses was seeming increasingly impossible.

“You’re not bad,” Hein said with a sharp laugh. He lunged forward, driving the blade for Kien’s stomach and forcing him to dive out of the way.

Kien hit the ground in a roll and shot to his feet, his broom already rising to catch the next dagger strike before it could land. A shockwave rolled thorugh his body at the force of the strike. Kien staggered, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to hold his ground.

He could not show weakness. He could not back up. He could not give anything. This fight was not one where he could afford to make a single mistake. Even getting nicked by Hein’s dagger would spell his end.

“It is not that I am skilled,” Kien said. “It is that you are inept. For all the power you weild, you are still nothing more than a child with his father’s stolen blade.”

Hein’s eyes thinned in fury and he let out a snarl, diving forward and slashing his blade at Kien’s neck. The attack came so fast that Kien didn’t even have time to block it. He was forced to dodge, giving even more ground in the process.

If he were anyone else, the strike might have caught him. Hein was faster than Kien was… but this was not the first time the two of them had fought.

It had been quite some time, but there were some memories that had never dislodged from Kien’s mind. Hours and hours of sparring against his brother, of training together to try and become heroes. Back then… they’d each seen every single trick the other had to offer.

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Hein’s blade screamed through the air. Kien dodged. He blocked, dipped, danced. Again and again. They spun around each other in a blur of steel and wood, each trying and failing to land a blow on the other.

It was a fight that Kien knew well, a dusty old dusty play that he’d seen a hundred times before. The moves felt so familiar for him that they may as well have been rehearsed.

And more than that. If Hein truly had the magic of everyone he’d defeated, he would be using it. Hein is a fool, but he isn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t be hiding his powers if he didn’t have to. I’ve gotten him mad enough to start using magic. This is the hardest fight he’s had the entire tournament, and he’s never been patient. For him to still not use anything… well, there’s only one reason you’d need to hide powers against someone like Art.

But Kien had changed. His world had continued moving… and Hein’s had remained in his cabin. Hein was stronger than him. Faster than him. Had more magic than him, possessed every single advantage that one could have in a fight—

The broom handle slammed against Hein’s skull.

For a moment, the two of them froze. They stood there, in the center of the arena. Neither of their teams had budged from their starting spots. There were only two participants in this fight. Hein’s head was tilted slightly to the side from the force of the blow.

But he didn’t look hurt. He looked surprised.

“You… hit me,” Hein said. “You actually hit me. How is someone so weak… so strong? What class do you have? Is it letting you read my movements? Is that it?”

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Kien let out a quiet laugh. He jumped back as Hein’s dagger slashed through the air where he’d been standing a moment before.

“A warrior’s strength is in his soul, not his class. Not his blade. Those are all just tools,” Kien said. “Tools that one must train to use properly. You seem to possess a great deal of magical power for someone with so little skill. Why is that?”

“Shut up!” Hein screamed, lurching toward Kien and sending a series of blurring strikes one after the other. “Who do you think you are?”

Kien couldn’t spare the attention to respond. It took everything he had to keep ahead of his brother’s dagger. Even the slightest mistaken step would spell his end, but he couldn’t try and turn the fight yet. He had to get Hein truly off balance. That was the only way they had even the slightest chance of winning.

The dagger at his own back hung heavy like a millstone. Kien didn’t even want to touch the damn thing. It was an accursed weapon. This thing was the reason that Hein had turned into the monster that—

No.

I can’t keep making excuses. The dagger didn’t turn Hein into anything. That’s his fault… and mine. The brother’s duty is to look after his own. I failed Hein. These daggers are just the way he slipped down the slope that he already stood on.

“You seem to be losing your composure,” Kien said, slipping out of the way of another slash and retaliating with a thrust of his broom handle. He drove it straight into Hein’s stomach, but the other man barely even flinched. His body didn’t register such weak attacks.

It was Kien’s words that drove into him like a blade.

“Who do you think you are? You want to see power? I’ll show you power! You’re nothing to me! I can do anything I want to!” Hein screamed. Streams of smokey black magic twisted out from his skin and coiled around it like armor.

His body blurred. Kien braced his broom with both hands, barely managing to catch the dagger against its length. The force of the strike slammed him down to his knees. Before he could react, Hein’s foot was blurring up toward his face.

Finally.

The kick connected with a crunch. Kien’s head snapped back as pain exploded against his nose. He staggered back, barely keeping his grip on his broom. His mask cracked and crumbled. One half of it fell away as blood started to pour down his lips.

Kien’s nose was broken, as were several more small bones in the area around it. His head spun like it had been rung. He was pretty sure he’d gotten a concussion. The world swayed beneath his feet and threatened to slip out from under them, but he braced himself against his broom.

Hein froze. For the briefest instant, the two of them stared at each other.

This is what must be done.

The final half of his mask slipped away. It fell to the ground and shattered, sending small pieces of blood-covered ceramic skittering across the ground at his feet.

“Kien?” Hein whispered, taking a step back. “You — you’re dead. How are you here?”

“You didn’t finish the job,” Kien replied. He readied his broom once more. “And now I’m here to clean up the mess you made, brother. Or do you prefer that I not call you that? Did you think you could sever blood with blood? Then you didn’t spill enough of it.”

“I — impossible. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be able to fight.” Hein took another step back. His voice raised as panic infused his eyes. “How are you here? What are you?”

“Coward,” Kien said quietly.

The fear in Hein’s eyes evaporated. He let out a wordless scream of fury and exploded forward. The smokey armor covering his body roared as the magic pouring out from it tripled in intensity, sending coils of black flame scorching across the arena to melt the stone —

And then all the magic vanished in a snap.

A card fluttered down to the ground behind Kien. It landed with a soft scuff, but one that seemed to slice through the arena like a blade.

“It’s sealed,” Art said. “That isn’t your magic, Hein. Is it? It’s coming from the dagger. That’s why you never showed off the skills you used. You only have one. That dagger feeds it, but you can’t do anything else, can you? Stolen power was never yours to wield. You’re only leeching off that dagger.”

“You think you’re clever?” Hein snarled. “I can kill you far easier than I can kill my cockroach of a brother. What are you going to do, hobble to safety?”

Kien sighed. His entire body ached and his skull pounded something fierce, but he lifted his broom before him, then twisted it to the side. He reached deep within himself, drawing on the power that his new class had granted him.

And then he let it free.

The world froze.

All the cheers from the crowd vanished. Kraven ground to a halt, locked mid-air and mid yell. Even the dust in the air stopped moving. There were only two living beings left in the entire world.

One was Kien.

The other was his brother.

“What is this?” Hein asked, his eyes darting around. “What have you done?”

“Rehearsal,” Kien said simply.

“You’ve lost it,” Hein said through a bark of laughter. “I don’t know how you got your magic back, Kien, but you never deserved it. You were an arrogant piece of shit. Nobody ever liked you, you know that? Just strutting around, acting like the world’s savior. Fuck you. You were nothing but an actor.”

Kien didn’t reply. He simply started toward his brother.

Hein snarled and lunged forward.

His dagger slammed home between Kien’s ribs.

Victory ignited in Hein’s eyes and a grin carved across his lips in an instant. Laughter bubbled out of his mouth. The maniacal glee in Hein’s features only intensified as the laughter continued to pour from him.

“So much for that, Kien. Good riddance to—”

Kien’s fist drove into his brother’ jaw.

Bone crunched. Hein’s head snapped to the side. A tooth flew free, clattering to the quiet stone ground amidst a rain of bloody droplets. Hein staggered back, clutching at his cheek as his eyes went wide in shock.

“What?” Hein stammered. “How?”

Kien’s fist slammed into his nose. It crunched, breaking with a loud crack. Hein fell back and landed on his backside with a muffled grunt of pain.

“Rehearsal,” Kien repeated. He didn’t speak because he wanted to, but because he needed to. If there wasn’t something to occupy his attention, he feared he would not have what he needed to continue forward. “My class’s main ability. A butler must always ensure that everything is practiced and perfectly honed before the proper moment.”

“What are you talking about?” Hein’s words were nasally as he shoved himself back to his feet, breathing heavily. “What have you done?”

“Stolen a moment,” Kien replied. “For this brief sliver of time, there is only us. Nobody else. No crowd. No magic. Just the two of us, frozen exactly as we were the moment I activated the ability.”

“What kind of skill is that?” Hein snarled. He lifted his dagger before him. “And how are you alive? How do you still have magic?”

“Because this is just practice,” Kien replied. “When this moment is up, it will be gone. It was stolen, after all. All that will remain is our memories.”

“So that’s what this is. Just an illusion. As expected. A completely worthless ability. This is worthless. You can’t kill me here. You won’t even be able to permanently injure me,” Hein said through a snort. “Everything that happens here will be forgotten the second—”

A pained wheeze exploded from Hein’s lips as Kien’s fist slammed into Hein’s gut. The other man doubled over, only to catch a knee straight to his broken nose. He let out a scream of pain as he stumbled back, his dagger slipping from his fingers to fall to the ground.

Kien grabbed him by the hair and yanked him back to his feet.

“No, Hein,” Kien whispered. “Nothing of this moment will be forgotten. It is my duty as your brother to ensure that you remember every single part of it.”