Rebirth System: Blood and Ash

The Byzeth soldiers, or what was left of them after the bloody battle, began to shift uneasily as they watched the tension build between Aric and Yrsa.

They glanced at each other, nervous, unsure of what was unfolding before them. Their faces were pale, cold, but the fear in their eyes had nothing to do with the biting northern wind. Meanwhile, the Northrender legionaries stood resolute, their bodies rigid and their eyes locked on the prince.

They were always ready for battle, and today was no different. They wouldn't hesitate to strike at a moment's notice.

Between Aric and Yrsa, a silence fell. It was scraping, heavy, filled with the kind of tension that could ignite the air. Yrsa's eyes burned with fury, her body tense as her mind raced, weighing her next move.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Aric knew the Northrenders would not tolerate any perceived betrayal or insult to them. He could lose his life in an instant if things went wrong, but that didn't bother him.

Yrsa's hand moved, drawing her massive axe from her back. The Byzeth soldiers flinched, hands gripping their weapons as they prepared to defend Aric. Fear rippled through their ranks, but Aric raised an arm, stopping them.

"Stay," he ordered, his voice cold and steady. The soldiers hesitated, then obeyed.

Everything was going according to plan.

He had anticipated this, had hoped that word of his "bandits" would reach Yrsa before they met with Aszer, the Byzeth King. He wanted her angry. He wanted her on edge. This confrontation was the outcome he had meticulously crafted.

Aric dismounted from his Kriger, never breaking eye contact with Yrsa as he slowly unsheathed his sword.

The blade gleamed coldly in the dim light of the dying sun, but instead of raising it to strike, he stabbed it into the snow between them. The cold metal stuck deep into the ground, standing like a sentinel between the two warriors.

He paused, his breath misting in the frozen air, before removing the armor that covered his hands and arms. Piece by piece, the metal clattered into the snow, leaving him bare, vulnerable in a way most would never dare to be in front of a Northrender.

He then reached into his inventory, though to the others it appeared as if he had conjured it out of thin air, and pulled a bandage, slowly wrapping his hands in preparation.

"Knakara lek es ori kjini, ez?" he spoke, his voice calm but carrying a strange weight.

Yrsa's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise flashing across her face as she heard him speak in her native tongue. His words meant, "You are a warrior of winter and blood, no?"

"Kesi?" she responded, her voice hard but curious. "How?"

Aric smiled faintly, the corners of his lips barely lifting as he continued in the Northrender language, his voice carrying over the cold wind.

"Iki mano ofi u tez lor ajaj, ez humanit, ez ryorl, ez larega utb sa a kanakara lek onu isi olivuna oen on jino losruti ikagana."

His words were a challenge, a declaration: "I will speak with you, not as a human, not as a royal, nor even as a general, but as a warrior who recognizes another. And I shall do so in battle, with no weapons of men, but simply by the hands God has given me. And as you bleed, may my words be clearer to you."

The flames of rage that had once blazed in Yrsa's eyes dissolved into something else. A smile broke across her face, slow and predatory. She unslung her axe and tossed it to the ground beside Aric's sword.

The heavy fur and armor on her chest followed, hitting the snow with a dull thud.

The prince had issued a challenge, and Yrsa was nothing if not a warrior bound by the honor of such things.

"Are you ready, prince?" she asked, her grin widening. "Where shall we fight?"

But before she could finish her sentence, Aric moved.

In a blur of motion, he closed the distance between them, his fist cutting through the air like a knife.

His punch was fast, precise, his hand enveloped in a swirl of ki. But Yrsa was no ordinary opponent. With barely any effort, she caught his fist with one hand, her fingers curling around it like iron.

"Come on now, prince," she said, her voice dark and teasing. "You've got me riled up, so don't disappoint me."

Aric leaned in, his face so close to hers that their cheeks brushed. His voice was a cold whisper in her ear. "Let's do it on the field over there," he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. "Perhaps your blood may appease the souls of those you've slaughtered on it."

Before Yrsa could react, Aric's other hand, also wrapped in ki, shot forward, slamming into her torso with brutal force. It wasn't just ki, though. The blow was infused with the faintest trace of mana, something she hadn't expected.

The impact sent her flying, her body hurtling through the air as she crashed into the field they had just fought on. She tumbled across the snow, her body leaving deep gouges in the crimson-stained ground, rolling over the corpses of the men she had slaughtered.

The legionaries and Byzeth soldiers stood frozen in place, their eyes wide as they watched their commanders clash. No one dared to intervene.

Aric walked toward her, his steps slow, deliberate. His breath came in calm, measured exhales, misting in the cold.

His eyes never left Yrsa as she pushed herself up from the blood-soaked snow, her lips curled in a fierce grin, despite the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

She rose to her feet, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the pain. "Good hit, prince," she said, her voice rough but approving. "I'll give you that."

Aric didn't reply. His hands flexed, the bandages around them glowing faintly with the energy of his ki.

They became two warriors on a battlefield, and everything else had fallen away.