Quies continued his measured clash with the Etrean guards. After the wound dealt by Quies, he noticed the sword guard staying behind more often.
He might've lied earlier when he stated that this was 'just like he practiced', because in essence, it wasn't.
With Valerie, he poured every single ounce of strength into his strikes and movements. For this fight, he had to conserve his energy. It was a matter of endurance…
'Haven't I… thought about this before?'
He had.
But, he had to keep his mind occupied, both with fighting and with strategizing. Also, it made the pain hurt less.
Once again, he deflected the spear to the side. This time, though, it felt… easier.
The spear man was beginning to tire.
But so was Quies.
He dashed back and heaved the zweihander's weight around his head, preparing for a strike. This time, it felt a slight bit heavier…
Though, with the lessened load of not having to think too much about the sword guard, Quies made use of blood enhancement to help with his endurance. He focused on his breath, cold and sharp. His oxygen absorption increased ever so slightly.
He had long gotten used to the soreness. Lactic acid build up was no joke, especially if this was his first moment of physical exertion in a while. Each stride and each swing felt like he was stretching the fibers of his muscles beyond their limit.
'Relax.'
He had to stay loose. He had to stay smooth. He had to stay relaxed.
Relax…
He swung the devastating inertia of the blade down onto the spear guard, aiming for his shoulder…
Metal sparks flew through the air as his blade collided with the shaft of the spear. Blocking Quies' blade, the spear man pushed it away, leaving Quies open.
Not wasting a moment, the spear man drove his Etrean forged spear forward.
He drove it forward, and plunged it into Quies' breastplate.
'Gah!'
He tried grabbing the shaft of the spear, which was now embedded in his armor, but the spear man wasn't done yet. Finishing his thrust and pulling the spear back, He whipped his leg forward. The air cracked as pressured gale propelled his leg to breakneck speeds.
Quies, frozen in place with an open stance, unable to move out of the way in time, bore the full impact of the devastating, gale propelled kick.
On his own leg, he could feel the soft fabric of his armor rip and tear.
Then it was his skin. Even individual cells disintegrated from the sheer force of the impact.
Crack
Then, his femur, one of the hardest bones in the body to break, split and fractured.
It was the worst… second worst pain he had ever experienced. The pain of bone fragments embedding themselves in his flesh shot up through his body. He could feel the blood begin to swell, he felt his muscles separate from their fibers.
And then, the pressure of the gale exploded. A titanic gust of wind flung Quies to the right.
Quies was sent flying, smashing into the rock face of the spire. Dust from the dirt and rocks swirled in the air. His vision blurred, he struggled to blink. Tears formed and ran down his face. His ears rang, his head ached.
He was Dazed.
He was hurt.
He was utterly destroyed.
All from one small slip up. A mistake that the enemy capitalized on. This, capitalizing on opportunities, was the essence of a fight after all.
With tremendous effort, he willed his head to look up, and to look forward.
Quies didn't know what hurt worse, the sheer agony he felt from his broken femur, or the throbbing ache from smashing into the rock wall. Luckily, that earlier thrust hadn't penetrated his skin, though it almost went through his breastplate.
He was in a world of pain, blinded by it, even. Left, right, up, down, front, back, it all hurt.
"Ach! Ah… Nothing… new…"
With a shaking hand, Quies mustered all of his physical strength to stabilize himself, to at least get him up on his two feet.
"Give up kid."
Quies watched, trembling, as the spear guard began to approach him. Seconds stretched into minutes, each step felt like time moved slower.
Was this how it felt like to die?
It was.
Though, it wasn't like the spear guard had injuries either. On both of his forearms, over a dozen shallow cuts and nicks littered the fabric of his armor and cut into his skin. They had already begun to clot, though dry residues of blood stained the dark burlap fabric.
And it wasn't like that kick had no effect on the spear guard either. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, of course. With his dazed sight, Quies saw the fabric on the spear guard's ankle was torn open, the skin underneath bruised dark purple.
With his shaking arm, Quies managed to put himself in a kneeling position, taking some weight off of his injured leg.
Ignoring his injuries, Quies was also not looking great, at least visually.
The hard monster leather of his light armor had clear scratch marks on them, and of course, his breastplate had a clear gouge. Fresh blood poured out of wounds, even small ones, an unappealing metallic and foul stench lingering around him. The grass below him crumpled, stained with his own blood.
The frigid air chilled his skin and wounds. It was a light breeze. The clouds shrouded the soft light of the moon, and with his loss of blood and duration of fighting, the night vision potion was running out.
He could hear the sway of the grass in the wind.
So clear. So soothing.
He wished he could just… close his eyes. He wanted to rest.
Despite his conditions, Quies smiled.
The world began to fade. Maybe it was because of the darkness. Maybe it was because he was dying. Ah, but tranquility could wait.
Quies' fight wasn't over yet.
No, it was nowhere near finished.
'Blood…'
Yes… he had made them bleed just enough.
Just enough.
And yes… he had saved enough ether.
Just enough.
Long enough…
Long enough for him to turn the tables and end this fight.
With his last reserves of physical strength, Quies muttered under his breath. He muttered a mantra. The first one he had learned back on Valerie's ship. The time where he tapped into the true essence of the song.
The voices spoke out to him. The voices of the depths. The voices of the damned and the voices of the divine.
They called.
They reached.
They yearned.
The sound of divine bells rang faintly in the distance.
"Flow, Sanguine."