Chương 55: Chapter 1.55: One vs One

The Pontifex's fingers were like iron manacles as he pulled both Carydras and Favius along. A tall female attendant, her hair cropped as short as a man's and her face similarly scarred, reverently carried his staff behind them. They were led by the household guards towards the door Brutus had just kicked open, and Favius noticed with a smirk that the wood was splintered around the hinges. Serpens hurried after them and stepped in their path.

"Pontifex, before you carry the boys off. May I—?"

"You may not. And you are barring my path, Aurelian Varro. The path I must walk to fulfill my holy duties." A cunning smile spread on the Senator's face, and he cleared his throat, looking meaningfully at the priest.

"Surely, Pontifex, a pious man like I could get a word with his son before such a momentous occasion." The Pontifex simply brushed past him, and Favius barely managed to suppress a chuckle as the dignified Senator scrambled to follow the high priest's marching pace.

"A pious man might indeed be granted such a boon, Senator." With those words, he continued, and Brutus joined the priestess after winking at Serpens. Favius looked at his protector, and the cultivator ran a finger over his own throat as he met Favius's gaze. Well, Brutus is as clear and direct as always. He smiled as the cultivator finished the gesture with a nod towards Carydras. They hurried through the opulently decorated halls into a wide gymnasium. It was an oval arena with stepped tiers.

The walls were decorated with mosaics and racks of equipment. Marble and sand framed nearly a dozen training areas, but three octagons of sand were the room's martial centerpieces. Serpens again tried to bustle forward, but the female priest glared at him, and he faltered. Favius experienced the entire thing as if at a distance. Weird. I can only imagine the outrage that would occur if two young Hollywood stars decided to have a brawl during a gala.

But this is another world, and it's not like on Earth it wouldn't have been the main attraction of the event. So maybe the locals here are just more honest about things. The Pontifex led them toward the central octagon, onto the last marble step over the flawlessly raked white sand. Carydras slipped out of his blood-red tunic without hesitation. He handed it to a servant and was given a loincloth. Favius looked around and shrugged. No one's batting an eye at kids undressing themselves in front of a crowd.

Well, when in Rome, do as the Romans. He too handed his tunic over and put on the loincloth. It was slightly too big, but he shook his head. If it didn't quite fit, that would be another matter. But this way… fuck it. Worst case, I'm going to beat this bastard bare-ass naked. Serpens's voice cut through the chatter of the surrounding crowd.

"Carydras," he called, doing everything but shoving the scarred priestess aside.

"Remember what we talked about, how you are to fight, following precisely the spirit of the dueling laws. Don't let this friendly exchange of pointers turn into an accidental tragedy!" Carydras's face turned into a confused frown, and an icy certainty settled into Favius's chest. This bastard. This duel wasn't just supposed to humiliate me. He turned to the side, and the furious reddening of Brutus's face confirmed his suspicion. The cultivator looked at him, then at the enemy.

"Mess him up, Favius! Don't show that little worm any mercy!" Favius nodded as he responded, "Wasn't planning on it." Carydras's face was still confused, and Brutus and Favius couldn't help but share a smile. Well, seems like the muscles went to the elder brother and all the smarts to the younger one. He noted the buffet-boy staring at them from across the octagon. The Pontifex accepted his staff back from his attendant and slammed it into the stone of the gymnasium.

"Silence!" he commanded, and the murmur died in an instant.

"This is a sacred duel under the eyes of the Warrior, and I expect you all to treat it with the appropriate reverence and dignity." He looked around the room, then studied both children.

"What sort of duel shall it be?" Carydras opened his mouth, but Serpens interjected hastily from the sidelines.

"To satisfaction. It shall be a duel to sat—""Silence!" The Pontifex slammed his staff into the ground again.

"Senator, if you insist on intruding into this circle of martial virtue, I shall see you removed from the gymnasium." Serpens's eyes blazed with hatred, but nonetheless he clenched his jaw and stepped back. Favius was barely paying attention. They truly wanted to fucking kill or cripple me, those whoresons. And going after my sisters to do it after we'd already convinced Valeria… This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

His eyes met Marcus's, but the man gave him nothing but a flat expression and a curt nod.

"To surrender," Favius hissed, his words barely finding their way out between his teeth. The other boy snorted.

"Bad choice, kiddo. How are you gonna surrender once I crush your jaw?" Brutus laughed, and Favius absentmindedly noted that Serpens was pressing his eyes shut.

"Behave yourself, child," interjected the Pontifex.

"Do you accept those terms?" The older boy rallied and inclined his head with a sneer.

"Of course I do, priest."

"Very well. Come before me." Both Favius and his opponent stepped in front of the Pontifex. He spoke a prayer, an invocation, but Favius's mind was racing. He's not a cultivator, but his kid brother is. So he was likely trained in the same way. And he is bigger and stronger, and that means something in a fight. So I either end it quickly or I'm gonna lose to attrition. The Pontifex finished his invocation and touched his staff to Favius's head.

"May you fight with honor and bring glory to the Warrior." Next, he turned to Carydras, and this time the staff wasn't gently touched to the boy's head. No, Carydras flinched at the rough thump, and Favius couldn't help but wince as well. Is the Pontifex trying to even the odds by giving the bigger guy a concussion? That's certainly innovative. The side of Favius's mouth twitched, yet he instantly refocused.

They stepped into the sand, and the difference between the warm marble and the grainy sand on his bare feet suddenly made the situation feel more real. This. This is actually dangerous. I've been in brawls before, but this idiot might actually try to kill me. I'm not keen on learning how the entity does restoration after death. He took a deep breath and let pneuma wash through his body, purging all distractions and other thoughts in the icy clarity of spiritual breath. His thoughts worked like well-oiled gears.

A plan crystallized in his mind while Carydras walked over to the other side. Favius picked up a bunch of sand and let it run through his fingers. He tossed it in the other boy's direction.

"You may be as strong and smart as an ox, but how are you going to fight me with sand in your eyes?" Outraged gasps erupted from the crowd, and the other boy snorted.

"Funny that you're playing with dirt, kid, for this will be the fourth-to-last funeral until all the traitors have been removed from the Republic." This. This settles it. Favius emphasized the growl that rose up from his throat and clenched his teeth. He wants to kill me.

"Yes," he replied with a calm certainty.

"You're correct that this will be a funeral, but there will be only one body to bury until the scum is taken care of." The other boy snarled, and the Pontifex again slammed the butt of his staff into the ground.

"Silence!" he repeated, and stared at Favius until he dropped the sand he had managed to keep in his hand. This is fine. I can just pick it back up as soon as we begin. The high priest's voice thundered out.

"Begin!" Carydras did not charge forward. Favius quickly and nimbly scooped up another handful of sand and held it up over his head, theatrically threatening the throw. Catcalls erupted from the crowd. Yet for Favius, there was only his enemy, his pneuma, his body, and the cool sand below his feet. Finally, Carydras charged, hands held high, not giving the attack away. Yet he nonetheless went for the obvious one. Favius made to throw the sand.

A straight punch shot towards his face, and the other boy made the mistake Favius had been hoping for. He closed his eyes, anticipating the barrage of dirt. The fist holding the sand remained closed as he crossed his forearms to block and divert the strike. He let pneuma flow through his body. It strengthened his muscles and he shifted all his weight onto the left foot. Between the foot and Carydras's arm, he had solid leverage.

He let pneuma explode into the right leg, into the foot, and it shot up in a perfect, singular movement, unseen and unsuspected by his opponent. His kick landed straight in the older boy's groin. Favius smirked. Not to mix metaphors, but if I was playing soccer, that would have been a home run. Carydras's eyes shot open, and he gasped, hunching forwards involuntarily.

"Finish him!" Brutus's voice cut through the clarity, and Favius allowed himself a vicious smile as he saw the other boy curling up around his vulnerable stomach. Well, if you're already bringing your head down, let me help you with that. His hands shot out, finding no resistance in the other boy's flailing defense. Favius dug his fingers into the hair, and his nails bit the boy's scalp. Once he had a solid grip, he pulled the head down to meet his knee. Something cracked.

Carydras screamed, and Favius felt a hot liquid running over his leg. It splattered the sand red.

"Again!" Not just Brutus, but others in the crowd took up the shout, and Favius looked down at his falling, cringing opponent. Well, if you are so kindly offering the back of your head… He made a fist, raised it towards the heavens, and slammed the elbow onto the back of the other boy's head with a sharp crack. He fell like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Blood spattered onto pristine sand. Favius gave him one look.

His unconscious form was almost peaceful, if not for the ruin his knee had made of the boy's nose. It was bleeding freely, staining the white sand, marking his victory. A total, absolute silence settled over the gymnasium until Brutus roared.

"Well done, boy! You showed that fop what it means to mess with a true warrior." The Pontifex brought his staff down onto the floor as murmurs rose again.

"Silence!" he repeated, but the heat was gone from the commandment.

"The duel is over when I say it is." He looked over the crowd.

"Ovinius Loran. You not only fought with might, but also with cunning." The man gestured around the circle with the gleaming blade of his staff.

"Let us not forget that the Warrior is not merely a fighter, but also a commander and strategist. Thus, I proclaim that the young Favius Ovinius Loran, Cultor Bellator, won this duel in the finest traditions and upheld the highest virtues of the Warrior." Cheers broke out all around Favius, and Brutus jumped into the octagon. Favius gave an undignified squeal as the cultivator hoisted him onto his shoulders.

"Well done, boy!" he roared, and the crowd surged forward. The smile on Marcus's face was as broad as it was bright. Any tension or annoyance about the soap situation was apparently forgotten. Dozens of hands grasped at Favius, and he was inundated by a wave of congratulations. On the side, he noted how both the boy and Serpens, alongside an entourage of sycophantic attendants, rushed towards his fallen opponent. Carydras lay unconscious in the dirt, his face at the center of an expanding circle of bloody sand.

The crowd cleared as Valeria stepped up to him, and the severe, sea lion-faced Consul smiled at him.

"A fine showing, young Ovinius Loran. It seems your talents lie not just with rhetoric." She slapped his thigh, and Favius lowered his head in acknowledgment. For minutes, the congratulations just kept rolling in. Marcus stepped up to him and squeezed his calf.

"Well done, my son. Very well done. This..." He looked over at the crowd surrounding Serpens's fallen son.

"This is as clear a statement as I could have hoped to make." Both of them studied the empty space in the shuffling crowd where their enemy was kneeling. Marcus turned back to Favius and patted his legs again, when a shrill voice cried out.

"No, Carydras!" It took Favius a moment to recognize the voice, because suddenly it was no longer filled with cool, calculating menace. There was desperate horror in it.