Rune System: The Crimson Knight

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“You can’t be serious.”

Draàl was still in denial, running his eyes over the robot before him in an incredulous manner. “If you could possess another body, why’d you choose to stay cramped in my head?”

“As your guide, I am meant to be with you at all times,” Zha’irah replied patiently. “Tagging along as a second body would only act as a deterrent to your quest. Besides, the only reason I can control this device is because of the heavy residue of rune aura around it, no doubt from Michael Craig.”

“How convenient.” Although still astounded, Draàl had mostly calmed down, studying the neon-blue eyes of the machine that stared back at him. “So you’re my guide and my trainer.”

“Apparently.” Then, without as much as a brief warning, she charged at him.

Despite appearing rather bulky and heavy, the android moved swiftly and lightly. If it weren’t for Draàl’s quick reflexes, he would’ve received the first blow squarely in the face. He ducked, sidestepped, blocked, and parried Zha’irah’s jabs easily, finally flipping away to a safe distance.

“Solid moves, Zha’irah,” Draàl noted as he straightened, flexing his shoulders. “You never told me you could fight.”

“You clearly don’t know everything about me.”

Draàl scoffed. “Yet, you’re aware of all there is to know about me. That’s hardly fair.”

“Nothing seldom is.”

With that, the robot raised its hand, aiming a nozzle that jutted out from the inside of its wrist. A stream of blue fire shot forward with tremendous intensity and speed, causing Draàl to roll away in evasion.

“Blue fire?” he inquired, still poised on one knee.

“It would seem,” responded Zha’irah as she studied her other hand. “A stark contrast in shade to your red flames.”

Draàl raised an eyebrow, easily recognizing her mockery. “You know I only make yellow flames, Zha’irah.”

“For now.” She clenched her fists and took a stance. “When you fully master your abilities and regain your artifacts, you will command the might of the crimson flames.”

“Sounds promising,” Draàl admitted. Yellow fire erupted from both his hands as he kept a steady gaze on his opponent. “I guess these will do for now.”

This time, he charged. And Zha’irah was ready.

Yellow and blue flashes of fiery light spread across the battle arena as both contestants cancelled themselves out. Draàl’s reflexes matched Zha’irah’s speed, and the latter could predict the former’s movements before he struck. For a few moments, they only seemed to test each other’s prowess with feints, shallow punches, cautious kicks, and the occasional spurt of fire.

Until Zha’irah took it a step further.

Suddenly launching herself upwards with a burst of fire, she spun acrobatically, twisting horizontally in the air as she swung her arms and released an energetic trail of flames at her target. Draàl, who wasn’t expecting the abrupt change in tactics, was caught squarely in the chest, with the force of the blast hurling him onto the far wall.

He’d barely recovered from the attack when she landed expertly, drew out two swords from compartments in her forearms, and lunged at him without a sound. Wide-eyed, he managed to skip away just as she got close enough to swing, her blade missing his head by centimeters.

Taking a step back to assess the uneven situation, Draàl held his fists up at shoulder level and took a determined stance.

“And here I was thinking we were just going easy on our first training session,” he said, his red eyes burning with focus.

“We are,” Zha’irah confirmed as she twirled the blades skillfully. “This is as easy as it can get.”

With the grace of a proficient assassin, she ran at him once again, with her upper body lowered and the swords held out in a horizontal fashion.

He had roughly less than five seconds before she reached him, but time slowed down as his thinking gears sprang into action. He replayed Ko’vo’s fight on the shore in his mind, recalling how easily he merged his powers and combat skills into a single formidable force. Thinking of the sword he wielded, Draàl suddenly had an idea brewing at the back of his mind.

I need a weapon, he thought. I don’t suppose I could make one with fire, could I?

He got his answer quickly, just as Zha’irah swung her blades at his neck.

The grating, unmistakable sound of metal striking metal pierced through the air. The robot’s eyes whirred as it glanced at its swords, which had been intercepted by a blade composed entirely of yellow flames.

“Ah,” Zha’irah stated, her voice indicating only the slightest hint of surprise. “You have learnt how to infuse magic into your flames just by the conception of a thought. Impressive.”

Draàl’s reply was a half-grin as he sank his knee into the android’s abdomen. It stumbled backward clumsily, and Draàl looked to capitalize on its loss of balance by angling his new weapon towards its metallic kneecaps. Again, Zha’irah anticipated his moves, dodging his strike as she suddenly became airborne, supported by ignited thrusters beneath her feet. She landed with a crouch a little further away from her opponent, slowly standing straight as Draàl summoned a second flaming sword from thin air.

“Even trainers make mistakes,” she mused lightly. “And I have just discovered mine.”

“Really?” Feeling more confident with his imagination, he welded the bases of the swords together, forming a long, flaming staff with double-edged blades on both ends. Spinning and admiring his fiery creation, he asked, “And what mistake might that be?”

“I have been fighting you with a crude imitation of your abilities. Meanwhile, I possess the body of an android that has interesting features of its own.”

Draàl raised a confused eyebrow as Zha’irah’s swords collapsed into their hilts, sliding back into her mechanical forearms. At the back of her hands, just above the wrists, another set of compartments slid open, with multiple gun barrels popping out. Four advanced plasma rifles emerged from her shoulder blades, projecting thin, blue laser beams as they aimed at their target. Jet thrusters shot out from her lower back and underneath her feet, keeping her steady in the air. Pointing the muzzles protruding from her wrists, she actually smiled at Draàl, who was horrified at the sight of a robot wearing his face and grinning wickedly at him while aiming a barrage of guns in his direction.

“Shit,” he muttered with a grimace.

Zha’irah mercilessly unloaded the full force of the artillery at her disposal—shooting multiple bullets, powerfully scorching laser beams, destructive plasma blasts, and even small heat-seeking missiles, inadvertently turning the battle arena into a chaotic war zone.

Draàl moved fast, zipping around the hall as he evaded most of the projectiles. The ones that reached him met his blazing double-bladed staff instead, his hands and senses working overtime to keep up with Zha’irah’s attack.

“I need to reach her,” he grunted as he twirled his weapon speedily like fiery helicopter blades, deflecting a deadly shower of bullets shot at him. “But that’s close to impossible if she keeps shooting endlessly at me. And why isn’t she running out of ammo, damn it?”

Another idea sprang up like a sprouting plant in his head. If he could come up with solid weapons made purely from fire, perhaps he could forge a shield as well, one strong enough to withstand Zha’irah’s shooting spree as he advanced towards her.

As good as the idea seemed, Draàl’s hesitation was ultimately the deciding factor as four missiles sped his way.

He whipped the first one way with the flat side of his blade.

The second missile came too fast, knocking the staff out of his grasp.

He caught the third one, just as it was bound for his forehead.

But it was the fourth one that struck him in the chest, exploding immediately on impact.

Minutes later, after the smoke and dust had cleared considerably, Draàl was found sprawled out on the ground, with white cargo pants that were now blackened and shredded, and with no trace of his T-shirt. Zha’irah deactivated her thrusters as she finally landed with a soft thud, walking over and peering at her defeated opponent like a hunter observing fallen prey.

“You cheated,” he groaned hoarsely with one eye closed.

“Correction,” she quipped, rather proudly. “I decided to fight like a well-designed robot instead of a rune sorcerer.”

“Hence, cheating. What does this mean for me now?”

“Only one thing.” The android squatted, wearing a small triumphant smile. “It means you are not ready until I deem you ready, Lord Draàl. And you are only ready when you defeat me in training.”