Chương 70: An Unexpected Alliance

Lloyd nearly reached the Fire Man with his hand, but then he noticed something strange — his opponent's hand had passed within a couple of millimeters of Lloyd's face, as if the strike hadn't been meant seriously at all, as if the trajectory had been deliberately shifted at the very last moment, tilted just barely, but enough to miss its mark. Lloyd's eyes went wide, his eyebrows shooting up in astonishment.

"Did he actually miss?" As if in answer to that thought, the sound of a blow rang out behind him — dull and heavy, followed by someone's short, cut-off scream, echoing across the clearing through the general roar of battle.

But Lloyd could no longer stop his own hand in time — it reached the Fire Man's body, touched the blazing skin, yet failed to grasp his soul: his hand was quite literally burning, a searing pain shooting through his fingers all the way to his wrist, and for a moment the air carried the smell of scorched fabric. Lloyd yanked it back hastily, jumping several steps away from his opponent, shaking his burned palm through the air, teeth clenched against the sharp, throbbing pain.

The Fire Man, for his part, didn't even drop into a fighting stance — he simply watched Lloyd with a calm, appraising look that held not a trace of hostility, only a strange, almost respectful curiosity, as though weighing something important.

"Looking down at me like that, how sweet." But then, as if a light bulb had switched on in his head, Lloyd slowly turned around, feeling a belated chill of realization crawl down his spine.

There on the ground lay one of the Players, spear still in hand, frozen in an awkward, unnatural position — his intent had been obvious, judging by the direction of the thrown weapon, the spearhead still quivering, driven into the ground mere centimeters from where Lloyd had been standing a moment earlier, but he'd never managed to reach his target, stopped by something far faster than himself.

Lloyd turned back to face the Fire Man, feeling a wave of gratitude mixed with confusion rising in his chest, while the battle raged on around them, the clash of steel and the cries of the wounded weaving together into one deafening chorus. — Why did you— He didn't get to finish — out of the corner of his eye he noticed a couple more Players closing in on them, pushing through the fighting crowd with weapons raised, faces twisted with fury and a desperate hunger for any kind of victory amid all this chaos.

And then the Fire Man spoke, his voice hoarse but firm, without the faintest trace of his earlier hostility, as though the flames still wrapped around his body had dimmed just slightly along with his shifting mood. — Let's talk about it after the fight. Lloyd could only give a short nod, and the two of them fell into position back to back, in perfect sync, as though they'd done this many times before, waiting to see which of the eager Players in the crowd would strike first.

The flames on his companion's shoulders cast flickering orange light across the ground around them, warming Lloyd's back with an unexpectedly cozy heat amid all this bloody madness, and Lloyd tightened his grip on the axe, feeling his pulse quicken in anticipation of the next clash, adrenaline once again surging through his veins, drowning out the burning pain in his scorched palm. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Around them, the clearing had turned into a full-blown battlefield — bodies fell one after another, some fought desperately against multiple opponents at once, others sank to their knees, already out of strength, and somewhere in the distance flashes of green still flickered, marking Lorian's path through the enemy ranks.

The ground beneath their feet was slick with blood, the air thick with the smell of smoke and metal, and in the middle of all this chaos the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, ready to meet whatever threat might come at them from any direction.

The first of the approaching Players charged forward with a piercing scream, sword raised overhead, and the Fire Man stepped to meet him without the slightest hesitation — his flame-wrapped fist slammed straight into the man's chest, throwing him back several meters, his body tumbling across the ground and leaving behind a smoking, smoldering trail through the crushed grass.

The second tried to circle around from behind, seizing the opportunity, but Lloyd had already spun around, axe raised — the blade flashed in the dim light filtering through the canopy, and his opponent barely managed to leap back in time, parrying the strike with his sword, the impact sending a dull, aching vibration up Lloyd's arm.

The ground trembled beneath the stomping feet of dozens locked in combat, screams mixing with the crack of splintering weapons, and somewhere in the distance another long, agonized wail rose up, only to be swallowed almost instantly by the general chaos of battle. In a dark hall, various creatures sat murmuring among themselves.

Their conversations were constantly interrupted by laughter that spread across the entire space, bouncing off unseen walls in a deep, many-voiced echo, while the dim light radiating from the massive screen cast shifting, flickering shadows across their faces.

All of them stared intently at the enormous screen, where the heat of battle unfolded — the image flickering, showing one skirmish after another, casting shifting shadows across the viewers' faces, now crimson from flame, now pale from flashes of weapons, now tinged green from foreign magic. — This is just absurd, this year's clearly the worst one yet. Nothing but a slaughterhouse, no cleverness at all. — Agreed. — Well, there are still quite a few talented newcomers down there. I think they might surprise us yet.

The conversations grew louder, rolling through the hall in waves — sometimes disapproving, sometimes dissolving into uncontrollable laughter, sometimes turning into heated arguments over how the battle was unfolding, someone even starting to place bets, shouting names and numbers off into the darkness.

But then the crowd of creatures turned all at once, and one of them spoke up, addressing a towering, three-meter-tall figure that had spent this entire time doing nothing but stuffing its mouth with all manner of food and washing it down from an enormous goblet, paying not the slightest attention to what was happening on screen. — And what do you think about all this? Warlord.

The figure kept right on drinking and stuffing its face without a hint of concern, crumbs raining down onto its massive chest, the sound of chewing echoing through the hall with almost indecent volume, but then it finally turned its head toward the screen, studying the scene with a narrowed, appraising gaze, and in that same moment a low, gravelly voice rang out — an old man's voice, utterly at odds with the giant's colossal frame. — A new generation, then.