Fractured God

The two stood, several feet apart, carefully observing the opposing man.

“Ezekiel, is there really no other way to get through to you?” Tibaut asked as he aimed his fire spears at Ezekiel.

Ezekiel responded by showing no restraint. He dragged Tibaut towards him with his magic.

Tibaut didn't have any problem with this and shot off all his lances at him, Ezekiel moving himself to dodge them. Tibaut was wondering what the point of this was until he was slammed into a wall.

Combined with his own running, Ezekiel closed the gap between them within an instant and tried to stab Tibaut near his liver. Tibaut managed to slap it off course and felt like he had been hit with the world's nastiest punch.

It had punctured above and thankfully into nothing important. But the speed Ezekiel moved ensured the knife fully went through the leather that protected Tibaut’s body.

Tibaut pulled the blade himself out, forcing Ezekiel off as he seemed ready to twist the blade around in the wound for further damage.

And although he pushed him off he didn't let go. He formed a few more fire lances in their struggle and began firing them off into his body. Each one that rocked Ezekiel’s body felt like a punch that left an uncomfortable sting. He felt like he was fighting a man that had multiple arms instead of a measly two. He soon moved both of them away from the wall and began spinning himself into a human centrifuge, eventually flinging Tibaut off into the air.

Tibaut slammed his back into the ceiling but it was a far better fate than being stabbed. He fell to the floor and immediately began releasing his mana to neutralise Ezekiel’s magic.

(“Fucking hell, I was hoping to conserve some mana since I trained with Elizabeth earlier, but it seems like I can't be too picky.”)

He thought as he watched Ezekiel zoom towards him like a speedster. He created a fireball within his hand and Ezekiel looked ready to dodge. It slammed into the floor in front of him and created a small dust cloud.

He circled around the dust like a string was above his head controlling his movements.

But the moment he circled in, he soon realised that light wasn't tricking his eyes but Tibaut had disappeared. But how? He could-

He quickly backed away from a punch that exited the smoke and tried to dodge a lunging Tibaut. Tibaut grabbed a finger and managed to break it as he backed away.

Ezekiel knew this sneak attack meant nothing and quickly moved back over to swing himself into a roundhouse.

Tibaut managed to block it but both men were reeling from this move. Tibaut was confident the only reason Ezekiel hadn't kicked his head off was that there was an initial spin clockwise. If Ezekiel had gone for a stab or a punch, Tibaut was sure he would have died.

The kick sent him flying a few metres to the side into a few chairs and tables. He struggled to get up, with the chairs impeding his recovery. Thankful, Ezekiel couldn't respond as quickly as he'd like.

Ezekiel had backed away, as he felt his leg sear with pain. A direct kick to those metal gauntlets had left his leg throbbing.

He bit his lip and fought through the pain, taking a few moments to adjust himself.

(“Something's broken but I'm not sure what. Dammit, I probably could have broken his arms instead if he didn't have those things. Couldn't you have just cheaped out and worn some fucking leather!?”)

Ezekiel complained to himself as he moved towards Tibaut.

At first glance, Tibaut jumped off a nearby chair and sent himself into the air.

In his hands were two fireballs he directed towards the dead man walking.

Ezekiel brought two chairs towards him and tossed them into the air as they soared at him.

They caused an explosion that was a bit too close for comfort and he realised that wasn't all. He felt several fire lances slam into his body and jumped up into Tibaut.

They struggled into the air before Tibaut positioned himself on top, with Ezekiel’s back landing on a knocked-over chair. Unfortunately for him, these were made of quite sturdy wood and also took the wind out of him. As Tibaut readied a blow aimed at his face, hoping to end it, a chair slammed into his back and a table into his face, throwing him off.

Ezekiel slapped his injured leg and shouted a guttural shout, trying to ignore the pain and amping himself up.

He kipped up to his feet and immediately threw himself towards Tibaut. Tibaut warily tried to stand back on his feet and was hit with a whirlwind of blows.

Ezekiel lowered his fists so he could increase the speed of his punches with his magic. It was quite an unorthodox style and Tibaut was having a hard time adjusting.

You wouldn't usually try to stop a knife with your hand but he had no such issues. The problem was that he had to focus with both his hands to stop the knife while he decided to allow Ezekiel's punches to land.

He'd move his head every so often when he noticed the fist coming his way but for Ezekiel, body blows were free as dirt.

Tibaut was forced to grit his teeth and endure the blows as he waited for an opportunity.

(“Had Ezekiel always been capable of this!?”) Tibaut lamented as another blow struck his side. He tried to grab the knife several times but its blades combined with the speed Ezekiel stabbed made that an impossibility.

He couldn't even lash at Ezekiel, as when he tried a head butt, Ezekiel backed away with his magic and left a scar on his face with the knife, with a solid punch rocking his face as well.

Given the design of Tibaut’s gauntlets, it had scraped the hand that held the knife, but nothing serious. His other hand meanwhile looked as pristine as a maiden going to a ball.