The silence stretched like a blade drawn taut against flesh. The battlefield stank of copper and rot, the air was heavy with an iron tang that clung to Aethon's tongue, which made each breath thick, and nauseating. Across from him, Kaelith stood barefoot in a pool of his own making, crimson tendrils swirling lazily around his ankles. His face was calm, almost too calm, it was as if the grotesque mockery of blood that bent to his will was nothing more than an extension of his body, as natural to him as lungs drawing breath.
Aethon's knuckles whitened as his fist tightened. His Sanguinaether stirred violently, a pressure in his veins like molten metal scraping through marrow. The power wanted out. It screamed, begged to be unleashed, demanded carnage. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to let it consume him fully. He knew he couldn't let it loose as he might loose control of it. If he surrendered entirely, there would be nothing left of him, just hunger in human shape.
Kaelith tilted his head, his voice was like a velvet whisper that slithered into Aethon's ears.
"Brother… whyresist? You feel it, don'tyou? The itch beneath your skin. The worms writhing in your blood. It isn't rage. No, it's the truth. Our bodies are nothing but vessels, and this power… it is therightfulparasite."
With a gesture, Kaelith's veins started to bulge grotesquely, crawling across his skin in dark, pulsating webs. They split open at his forearm, spilling blood that didn't fall, didn't scatter instead it writhed upward, knitting itself into a barbed scythe of raw flesh and sinew, the edge was lined with exposed teeth like a jawbone smiling. The sound it made as it solidified was wrong, it let out a wet crack, bone snapping in reverse, muscle stitching backward.
Aethon's stomach twisted, but he didn't hesitate. He knew he had to use it, even if he ended up losing control, he had to. His blood began to surge outwards, forming threads that snapped from his fingertips like harpoons, glowing faintly with crimson, with the heat of his flame. They stabbed deep into the ground, anchoring him as Kaelith lunged.
The clash was not elegant. It was carnivorous.
Kaelith's flesh-scythe scraped against Aethon's blood-threaded shield, sparks flying as bone met heat. The shield quivered as though it was alive, veins bulging outward, trembling like an organ under stress. Aethon pushed, forcing flame down the threads, and they ignited, burning brighter, the smell of charred iron filling the air.
Kaelith only laughed. His voice was split and layered, as if something else spoke beneath his words.
"Yes… burn it. Burn yourself, brother. Every flame is blood screaming."
With a wrench, Kaelith's scythe cracked through Aethons blood shield, tearing threads apart like wet sinew. He then followed the attack with a kick. Has it hit Aethon, he thought to himself that it didn't feel human, nor did it feel natural. His leg split at the shin, elongating with tendons snapping taut until it lashed like a whip. Aethon just barely managed to block the attack, threads wrapped tightly around the grotesque limb, but even then the impact flung him back. His boots carved trenches in the crimson-soaked earth.
The ground itself betrayed him. Kaelith's Sanguinaether spread like veins cracking across the soil like roots. From them sprouted grotesque blood-growths, spires of pulsating marrow, slick with ichor, like ribs torn from the body of the world itself. They rose higher, almost cage-like, and from their tips dangled dripping orbs that throbbed like embryonic sacs. Each one beat in rhythm with Kaelith's heart. Each one felt alive.
Aethon wove his threads upwards, making them snap like whips to sever the sacs before they could drop. The air sizzled with each cut, flame-blackened chunks of congealed blood raining down. But Kaelith didn't falter. He pulled at the sacs still intact, making them burst prematurely. Grotesque half-formed shapes splattered from within, they were spindly limbs of crimson cartilage, they had gnashing jaws without faces, crawling on all fours with insectile spasms. They shrieked in voices like knives scraping bone.
Aethon stared at these creatures and took a step back. But has he did, he gritted his teeth, stared at them and began to let Sanguinaether surge up within him to let it loose.
The grotesque creatures began to head in Aethons direction.
As Aethon saw them swarming towards him, he let his power loose. His threads flared into an incandescent red, wrapping itself around his arms like a blazing serpent. He lashed out, cutting through the abominations, the heat his body produced was so intense that their bodies sizzled and vaporized. But with each one gone, more crawled forth, each malformed horror was stitched from Kaelith's veins and will.
Kaelith's laughter began to echoed again.
"Do you see? My blood does not spill. No. No, instead it multiplies. Every wound, every tear, is another mouth to devouryou."
Aethon spat blood into his palm and flung it forward. Mini threads exploded from it, too many, too fast, their movements were erratic, almost like living wires. They pierced the swarm, turning the grotesque tide into ash and smoke. His chest heaved, ribs aching from the force. His flames began to sing in his blood, burning hotter, brighter, and threatening to consume him from within. He gritted his teeth until his jaw began to ach.
Then Kaelith was there.
He stepped through the smoke, veins bulging, face stretched into a grin too wide, teeth too sharp. His chest cracked open, not torn, not ripped, but peeled. It was if his sternum was splitting open to reveal a pulsating crimson heart wrapped in barbed chains of blood. It throbbed violently, spraying mist with each beat. The chains unraveled into spines that lashed at Aethon like spears.
Aethon met them head-on, threads wrapping his arms like armor, hardened with flame until his fists glowed like burning steel. He punched, breaking one spine, then another, until his knuckles bled from his own power's backlash. His skin split where the Sanguinaether pressed too hard. He tasted iron on his tongue, sharp and bitter. His body was rebelling, but he didn't care.
Kaelith pressed harder. His scythe splintered into dozens of bone-shards, all connected by twitching veins, each one whipping independently like vipers. They struck from every angle, a storm of cutting, grasping limbs.
Aethon twisted, blood threads snapping outward like a spinning web. He caught some, burned others, but still they pressed closer. He ducked a shard aimed for his throat, then slammed his palm against Kaelith's chest, flame surging through. The chains writhed, burning, snapping, but the heart within pulsed harder, almost mocking.
Kaelith leaned close, his breath hot with copper.
"Brother… you burn me, yet you burn yourself more. Look at you. Look what this power makes of you."
And Aethon knew he was right. His reflection in Kaelith's blood-scattered eyes wasn't human anymore. His veins glowed, his pupils narrowed into slits, and his threads slithered on their own, eager to drink more blood. The power didn't care about Kaelith, it only cared about consumption.
But Aethon didn't stop. He refused to. He roared, the sound raw, tearing from his throat like flame made flesh, and drove his threads forward in a storm that swallowed Kaelith whole. The world shook with the impact, blood and fire colliding in a maelstrom of screams and ash.
When the dust cleared, both stood.
Aethon's chest heaved, skin torn, threads twitching violently even without his command. Kaelith's body was a ruin, holes torn through his side, blood dripping endlessly, his arm bent backward unnaturally. Yet his grin remained, splitting wider as if his skin couldn't contain it.
They locked eyes, both trembling, both on the edge of collapse. For a moment, silence returned.
Then Kaelith whispered:
"Stalemate."
The ground beneath Aethon ruptured. A tendril thicker than a tree trunk shot upward, wrapping around his torso. Before he could sever it, it snapped taut and hurled him skyward. His body tore through the air, crimson flames trailing behind him, the battlefield shrinking below. His roar echoed above the blood-drenched world as Kaelith stood, broken yet unbowed, staring upward with that monstrous, unyielding grin.