Steel Body - "Ares"

A docile wind blew across my face, its gentle touch attempting to lull me from the deep state of inner contemplation that I had unknowingly entered. A pleasant gale that sought to steal my attention away from my somnolent state, its existence similar to that of a butterfly, in that its boundless beauty was accompanied by a stark fragility that begot the future of its inevitable absence in this world... Such a mild, well-intentioned breeze could hardly distract me from the deep machinations of my mind. After all, anyone would find themselves at boredom's mercy if they were to be placed into the position I find myself in... It was only after that benevolent zephyr gave into its impish desires and carried a lock of hair from my bangs to my nose, tickling my ever so lightly, that I found myself inveigled back into reality from the deep trance that I had entered.

The castle's tournament had started a few hours ago, and after enduring the ennui that came about as a result of the tedious wait presented by the preparations for such an event, I was more than a little disappointed by the combat prowess displayed by the soldiers of the castle, or to be more accurate, the lackthereof. 128 soldiers in all had signed up and successfully made it into the tournament, and all were surely ecstatic to have a chance to display the skills that they had honed all these years to their grand audience, made up of royals such as myself, as well as a scant few other aristocrats who took interest in the warriors taking refuge within the walls of the Ushiromiya Umbral Castle. 

Awaiting the conclusion of the tournament's preparations, I sat next to one of my retainers, far away from the other members of the audience, in the the comfort of a tower designed specifically for the Ushiromiya family, in order to ensure an optimal viewing experience of gladiatorial events such as these, as well as theatrical or even politcal spectacles. In hindsight, however, the tower's purpose has been rendered all but meaningless by the circumstances surrounding the surviving members of the family... My father, the current Lord of Darkness, is unable to appear at such events in person, due to being in a state of recovery as a result of a despicable ailment inflicted upon him by one of his long-time foes, but I'm sure he'll recover soon... The vitality of a Lord of Darkness isn't to be underestimated, after all. My brother, the Grauerprinz, on the other hand... Kuh... I consider myself lucky when I even get to see him for a few hours a year, given that he's always either out on an expedition due to his responsibilities as the commanding general of the military sector, or cooped up in one of his "storehouses," as he called them. As such, I am forced to spend my precious time overseeing the tournament in their place, though in all honesty, I hardly wish to be here myself. However, as the future lord of darkness, I must undertake such trials in order to train my maturity, and learn to endure such trials for the sake of the Ushiromiya name... Keheheh, that's something the Grauerprinz never learned... Picayune victories such as these are all I can achieve against him, but I still have confidence in my ability to overcome him one day...!

As I continued to mentally bemoan my situation, the 42nd match had long ended, meaning that 82 out of 128 of our finest soldiers had already completed their duels, and each and every one of them had completely and utterly failed to capture my attention. As an Ushiromiya prince, my skill in combat is unparalleled, and I remain undefeated by any soldier within our ranks. Only my father and brother have defeated me, though admittedly, my record against them isn't quite as even as their records against one another, and I have failed to succeed against either of them a single time... Keheheh, though I do feel some sense of despair at this shameful fact, the idea of cultivating the necessary strength within myself in order to one day secure my revenge fills me with an ever-growing sense of excitement...! 

Having watched over countless battles by this point, I began to think back on my own experiences training for battle. I was trained in the art of combat with an incredible variety of weapons, but none captured me with their metallic allure quite like the traditional, one-handed sword... A weapon represented by both heroes and villains in countless stories, capable of mowing down armies in its simple brilliance, while also containing the inherent beauty of a work of art, perhaps unfit for combat... Yes, a weapon such as that transcends human ideas of violence or elegance, and ascends to become something much greater, indescribable in its elegant, intangible meaning. 

Naturally, when my brother reached maturity and received his ceremonial sword - a tradition amongst members of the Ushiromiya family - my family members as well as I myself were filled with the special kind of excitement that only blooms from the bud of a flower grown in the gardens of time, watered by the eons that ever cascade downwards like a stream of river water chasing the path of a waterfall... A weapon that was intended to be carried for life, the physical representation of one's own existence... Any person would be ecstatic at the opportunity to receive such a blade, and I was filled with a childish envy over his position that quickly found itself smashed into pieces by the Grauerprinz's actions, and replaced with an inscrutable rage born from a total and complete lack of understanding of the events the unfolded before my thirteen-year-old eyes. As soon as the Dark Blade, Mystletainn was placed into his hands, the kneeling Grauerprinz took a single look at the blade, his analytical eyes scanning every subtle detail of the polished blade, from the immaculate sheen of the reflect that ran down the blade, to the imperceptible scratches and and dents inherent to a weapon forged in such a manner, and even taking the time to look over the carefully wrapped and painted leather that covered and secured the handle... He continued to stare deeply into the blade, as if he were looking through it, before silently and effortlessly snapping the blade in twain, without even a single stray piece of metal being torn from the blade, as if he had identified a perforation embedded within the keepsake weapon, and destroyed it out of dissatisfaction with its quality. But... I saw that sword first-hand. I knew the blacksmiths who poured their blood, sweat, and tears into that blade, in order to forge their magnum opus in order to please the Prince, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that not a single flaw or error afflicted that sword. So why... Would he do such a thing? To this day, I have no answer, and the rage that I felt dwells within me still. Needless to say, the fallout of this event was unrivaled, and caused the entire family undue headaches for years, the ramifications remaining even now... Krgh, what a shame it is that I haven't the strength to give that man a piece of my mind...!

Suddenly, I was drawn out of yet another stream of consciousness by the jabbing elbow of my retainer. She explained to me that there had been a delay, as one of the contestants had yet to arrive, but word had come in that he was on his way as we spoke. 

"Strange... Holding up the entire tournament for a single contestant? Keheh... Someone who can't even show up on time surely lacks the responsibility to train either their body or their mind, let alone both, and there's no chance that they can win without complete mastery of both... I'm amazed that they were even qualified to sign up for the tournament in the first place! If it were up to me, they'd simply be disqualified by this point."

"You're not exactly one to talk, young prince... Your track record in regards to punctuality is all but impressive. Frankly, I'm amazed at how consistently late you are."

"I'm an exception! I possess an unimaginable weight of responsibilities as the prince, it's only natural that I occasionally make a delayed appearance every now and then. And besides, it's not as if I ever forgo my training. I'm sure that you can hardly say the same of this man!"

"Heh... Just be quiet and watch. You might be surprised by what you see."

Krgh... Who does she think she is, talking to me like that!? She's been my primary retainer since before I was born, so she probably thinks she has a right to tell me what to do... Even after all these years, she still hasn't learned to respect me... I swear, some day she'll understand the mistreatment she has subjected me to all these years... When that day comes, a 100 page apology letter won't suffice... No, only 1,000 pages could possibly subdue my rage!

Suddenly, the brusque girl spoke again.

"Prince, pay attention. Here he comes."

Yanked out of my inner rant about twenty paragraphs too soon, I found my attention drawn to the new challenger currently climbing up the steps into the arena. He looked to be about my age, perhaps a year or two older, and his long, golden hair that reached down to his upper back was certainly eye-catching. His crimson eyes, however, dredged up a sense of unease from within my innermost psyche. I was sitting much too far away to be able to pinpoint exactly what it was, even with my remarkably keen eyesight, but something was definitely amiss about the look on his face, and I had a feeling that I could start to piece it all together if I got a better look at his eyes.

The golden-haired soldier stood eerily still as his opponent jeered at him from across the arena. Tch... Such immature behavior is supposed to be eliminated during the soldiers' routine training! Perhaps I'll have to give the commanding officer a few choice words once this is all over...

The match began, and his opponent immediately rushed at the still-unmoving soldier. He stood there in what seemed to be deep rumination, almost dream-like, until his opponent made a diagonal slash towards him, arcing from the eager warrior's left, and cutting all the way down towards his stoic opponent. 

I briefly considered the idea that perhaps this man well and truly fell asleep before the match even started, and perhaps his absence could be attributed to giving into the lulling caress of a few extra hours of slumber, as all men are wont to do. However, this notion was immediately shattered like glass, as the taciturn soldier brandished his blade from his left hip in a flash, and disarmed his opponent in a single instant. Though perceptible to one such as myself, who has all but mastered the art of combat, the judge, audience, and opponent himself were all momentarily dumbfounded at what happened. What appeared to even myself as a flash of lightning, aimed not at his opponent, but rather at his weapon, was the sudden expulsion of the man's blade from his arms, as if it were drawn away by the whims of a divine force several meters behind himself. 

His opponent, once cocky, and perhaps frustrated at the loss of an automatic victory, was now slowly staggering away without turning his body or gaze away from the aureate swordsman. His trembling body and unbalanced movements were akin to that of a wild animal discovering their nest had become the hunting grounds of a beast whose fangs and claws far larger and sharper than their own, as every last natural impulse in its body instinctively informed the creature that death awaited it regardless of if it fought or fled. 

However... What is a living being to do when the only natural instincts offered to biological creatures are stolen away from them? The answer is simple: They freeze.

The disillusioned young man stood still, and raised his arm in what appeared to be a motion of surrender, but... The gilded warrior bore his fangs once again.

With speed that rivals the waves of sound uttered by his own footsteps, the man quickly approached his opponent and crushed his arm with the blunt end of his sword, sending a repulsive sound of bones breaking and muscles snapping throughout the uncomfortable air. The swords provided by the tournament were the same as the swords used by the soldiers while practicing, but dulled against a stone in order to prioritize the participants' safety. Regardless of how dull that section of the weapon may have been, the force behind it was surely enough to break the bones in his enemy's arm, rendering him unable to fight even if he were to retrieve his sword. 

The judge, who could hardly perceive the actions that took place in those few seconds, failed to understand the current circumstances of what was taking place before him. This was no longer a match in order to determine the stronger between a pair of comrades, but rather, a one-sided onslaught driven by unmistakable and unfounded malice. If someone didn't step in soon, the inexperienced soldier may suffer permanent injuries, and perhaps be unable to fight ever again.

The chrysopoeian beast kicked his prey in the stomach with enough force to send him flying across the arena, barely managing to catch himself in a roll with the one functional arm that that he still had control over.

Things had gone too far. The sight of this violence sent waves of undulating nausea directly to my stomach that radiated throughout my entire body, sickening me to the core. A feeling that I had never felt in my entire life up to this point began to emerge, its purpose still unclear to me.

I'm not exactly sure what's going on in that man's mind, but it's clear that things have gone too far. Knowing that no one else could intervene even if they understood the reality of the situation, I leapt down from the tower without hesitation as my retainer shook her head, and sprinted towards the arena as quickly as possible.

It took only a few seconds for me to arrive at the arena after skillfully landing in a roll on the field of grass nearby and running as fast as I could towards the source of the violence, but in a situation like this, even a few seconds can be the difference between life and death. In that short time, the menacing insurgent, the sanctity of his mind surely overrun by the adrenaline-fueled violence that no doubt permeates his veins in this moment, had taken it upon himself to slam the blunt edge of his weapon down yet again, this time, upon his opponent's remaining arm, goading yet another pitiful scream from his victim, and rendering both of his arms lame. As he shifted focus onto the victim's legs in order to further debilitate the man who once scorned him, I reached the two and managed to intercept his swing with my own blade, before quickly signaling to the judge to call the match off, and to bring assistance towards the once-prideful combatant. 

Understanding the danger of the situation that I had now placed myself in, I readied my blade in order to defend myself from the merciless blows of the animalistic man in front of me, but to my surprise, he lowered his blade, and stared me down.

I looked him dead on, staring straight into his vermillion eyes, and realized that he wasn't even looking at me. It was as if he was simply looking through me, just like...

"Damn it...!" I quickly thought to myself, "One person looking at me the way he does is frustrating enough... I refuse to let another person do so as well...! Looking at me with those eyes, as if I'm not even worthy of being perceived... I'll just force you to acknowledge me!"

I drove my right foot into one of the stone tiles of the arena and used the force from pushing against it to propel myself towards my newfound enemy with unprecedented speed, preparing my blade for a horizontal slash from my right all the while. 

That was when I saw it. For a brief moment, naught but an illusory flash of time that could be considered imagination if not for the sheer totality of my sureness in its existence, I saw his long-discarded gaze suddenly affix itself to me, as his eyes lit up as if a darkness dwelling deep within his mind had been temporarily conquered. 

Rather than trying to evade my attack by ducking under the arc of my swing, or even trying to meet my strike with one of his own in order to deflect it, he quickly stepped forwards, eyes still alight with the flame of invigoration, and performed an impossibly fast slice from his right - my unprotected side - interrupting me, and forcing me to halt my momentum and jump backwards in order to protect myself from the unparalleled force of his attack. However,  to say that I "saw" this attack would be inaccurate, for the speed with which steel death approached me could not even be seen before receiving its cruel gift. If not for my foresight, and an unquestionably large sum of luck, I managed to preemptively avoid his attack that threatened to end my life far too early for my liking.

Seeing my defensive maneuver, the monster's eyes returned to their original state, as if I had disappeared from his vision entirely, but he did not lower his blade. Instead, he brought his blade up to his face, holding it close, and rotated it until it rested horizontally as he slowly shifted the weight of his legs, and crouched into a position that any warrior would recognize in an instant. A decisive stance, one taken only when the user's next action is intended to be the end. I instantly recalled the enigmatic feeling from earlier as it bubbled to the surface of my consciousness once again. 

Rage, for the undue injury of an innocent man, and the animalistic instincts that prompted it.

Rage, for the nerve to strike at me, and the terrifying strength that warranted my intervention. 

Rage, for the now-indifferent look in his eyes, and the reproachable Prince who shared it.

Yes, that's right... This feeling... It's rage, isn't it? If that's what it is, then I'll end it all here.

Matching his posture, I entered a decisive stance of my own, more determined than ever before to put this savage's actions to rest. All spectators stood in a combination of awe-struck silence and anxious dread, no doubt in anticipation of the bloodshed that lies inevitably at the end of this confrontation. The gentle breeze that once served to soothe my innocent boredom now threatened to break the concentration that kept me from going off the edge, and lashing out prematurely. No, in this situation, patience is the key to victory. Maintaining my awareness and remaining prepared for his next move, I calculated thousands of moves in my mind every second. We remained in absolute silence like chess pieces on a frozen board, as each of our minds sought after the optimal course of action.

My strategizing was cut short as I took notice of the subtlest of movements, its existence announced only by the light sound of shifting gravel as the predator prepared his body for to lunge at its prey. Keheheh, it's too bad for you then... That your prey's fangs are sharper than your own!

Within a single instant, shorter than a moment in eternity, we thrusted our bodies towards eachother with unparalleled speed that could never be displayed by mere soldiers. The millisecond that we entered eachother's range, we swung our blades, their steel bodies colliding with one another, creating shockwaves that threatened to knock either of us off our balance, an outcome that would seal either of our fates by this point. Just the same, we kept our blades pressed against the other, summoning all the strength in our bodies and then some, in order to obtain even the slightest advantage over the other, but the force of our wills were matched evenly. 

I had not the time, nor the mental capacity to do so, but if I were to steal a glance at my opponent's eyes, they would no doubt be alight with the same light that possessed them once before. Perhaps by now, my own eyes had become like mirrors of his, as the flow of our battle guided my every action.

Crack. 

The sound of whimpering steel slowly began to evolve into screams of a blade on its last legs. The very foundation of the weapon was surely being held together by sheer willpower, as no material on Earth could naturally withstand the level of force the two of us were pouring into our weapons. 

Craaaaack.

This is it. I said to myself. Neither of us can last much longer... I have to find some kind of advantage before either of our blade's snap, as there's no telling which weapon will give out first... I can't risk that sort of uncertainty in this situation!

As I desperately analyzed every possible variable that I could influence, scanning as far back as the past as well as the distant future, I failed to find any conclusion in which I would clearly come out on top, and in dedicating even the smallest conceivable fraction of my mind to a subject outside of the clashing of our blades, I immediately found myself on the back-end of our confrontation, attempting to regain the ground that I was already losing in the first place.

CRACK.

Before I found any solution, a shatteringly loud sound emanated from the center of the battlefield. As I came to my senses, I realized it wasn't the blades that had been cracking all this time, as their construction was far too resilient to give way from any sort of force exhibitable by a human. No, to my abject horror, the source of the sound was my left arm, which had now shattered due to the tremendous force it endured. 

Deep inside, I screamed from the physical agony I had received, and the rage that had been building within me continued to grow like a tumor within my body. 

However, despite the pain, there was one boon to this situation.

My sword hasn't broken yet.

Though I could hardly move my arm, I still had some small modicum of control over it, and my blade remained as sturdy as ever. The newfound adrenaline that rushed through my body gave me the power necessary to make the final push, as I smashed my enemy's sword directly into the ground, smashing it into innumerable pieces, effectively disarming him. Without missing a beat, I swung my now-damaged blade upwards with all my might, perhaps fully intending to kill the demon in front of me. Momentarily shocked by my sudden surge of strength, the midasian man attempted to hop backwards in order to avoid my attack, but I transferred the momentum from my upwards swing into a charging downwards slash. This time, my opponent lacked either the energy or the fortune to fully avoid my attack, as I unleashed a clean slice across his face, leaving a diagonal wound across his face. Blood spilled from his laceration and painted his face the same vile hue as his eyes. 

The battle had reached its end, and as the hormones that drove my actions began to flood out of my body, calmness and remorse filled my body in their absence. As I looked up towards my opponent in order to gauge my next actions, he lowered his hand from his face, looked me in the eyes, and began to laugh, almost maniacally, as he gave me a one-man round of applause. 

Before I could protest his actions, or attempt to interrogate him at all, he suddenly turned away from me, leaving me with one statement before walking off:

"Ahahaha...! Urahaha...!!! So that's the kind of person you are...? You're different from the others, that's for sure. But you're exactly the same as he said."

I didn't even begin to understand what he said, but by the time my brain had completely regained control over my thought processes, he was gone, and I hadn't even learned his name yet. I attempted to run after him, but after taking a single step, I lost my balance, and fell to my knees as my vision faded to black...