Fractured God

(“Damnit can I only stop his magic from affecting me?”)

Tibaut thought as he felt his sides sear with pain. Even with the leather protecting him, his punches weren't, by any definition, pleasant.

(“I'm not sure how much further I can continue like this, but if he really is giving his all to kill me, then I won't hold anything back anymore!”)

He was emitting enough mana only to ensure he would be affected by Ezekiel’s magic but surely it'd benefit him if he exuded more, right? Otherwise, it'd be trickier to escape this checkmate Ezekiel had in him.

After he did so, Ezekiel's next punch almost seemed pathetically slow. He could tell by Ezekiel’s own eyes that he didn't expect this.

And he couldn't help but have a small smirk on his face as he countered.

A single punch to the cheek. That was all it took to shift the tides. His face distorted like it was played with by a master modeller, with a face no more than clay.

Tibaut could tell he had gotten a clean impact on the man and felt relief wash over him as he soared through the air and slammed into the back of a chair.

Tibaut's punches were no joke but combined with the fact his arms were in very hard pieces of metal, it wasn't surprising to see why Tibaut believed it was over.

He fell to the ground and his eyes were shut.

He was out.

He slowly walked over, ready to get Ezekiel to spill whatever the hell was going up, but he seemed to have forgotten something about being knocked unconscious. It could last minutes but it could also last mere seconds.

Ezekiel got back to his hands and knees with his mouth open.

“Feel like talking now?”

Tibaut noticed something wrong with Ezekiel’s mouth and soon realised what was wrong after he placed his hand on his jaw. It was dislocated. And with no hesitation, Ezekiel pushed his jaw back into place and-

“GARAFAHGFAFA!”

He shouted as it slipped back in.

Before Tibaut could begin negotiating with him, he felt a table slam into his side.

“Huh!?” He exclaimed.

Didn't his circling himself in mana stop his magic? It took him dodging a chair coming from his front to understand what happened.

The chair would lose speed about half a metre from Tibaut, but it would continue to move.

(“They keep their momentum?”) He wondered as he kicked another chair aside before being forced to jump over a table.

The moment he looked back in Ezekiel's direction, he was gone.

He turned back to catch his knife using both hands, with the struggle being broken by a chair slammed into his side.

Tibaut tried to back away but another chair slammed into his back, breaking like it was a cheap piece of balsa.

Ezekiel landed another stab, this time just shy of his oesophagus. It left a worrying wound on his neck but nothing important looked to have been stabbed.

Tibaut swept his legs and tried to stomp him. Tried being the keyword here. Ezekiel was long enough that he could use his magic on himself while floored and partially outside of Tibaut’s radius of mana.

Ezekiel pushed himself to the other side of the room with Tibaut desperately chasing after, having to dodge and getting hit by various pieces of furniture.

But as he chased, Ezekiel realised Tibaut had gotten quite used to them.

(“He's starting to dodge the one's coming from behind now..”)

Then the answer was obvious, he only had to use more! He didn't care if he couldn't use his magic after this fight was over, this had to be dealt with now.

The moment Tibaut reached his range, the chairs and tables were now coming at him like it was a storm.

He was forced to dodge and take the hits as he now had Ezekiel to deal with.

He was landing blows like they were going out of style and even managed a few stabs to his midsection before Tibaut finally managed to get rid of the greatest threat. Or rather Ezekiel got overconfident in the quality of his blade.

Ezekiel had managed to get his knife arm outside of Tibaut’s range of nullification and swung into it faster than either could react. But Tibaut had seen that attack enough to know where he was going. It was only a guess but he proved to be right.

He slammed right into Tibaut’s Liver and was met with Tibaut’s gauntlet. Even then, that blow left Tibaut somewhat dizzy, though what it did to Ezekiel was far worse.

His face wrinkled and his eyes stared a hole through what remained in his hand.

“Fuck!” He shouted before taking a blow from Tibaut. It landed in the same exact place he had been trying to stab Tibaut before. The liver.

From the hilt up, the knife’s blade had broken.

The darkness of the room didn't give him the best conditions to find the blade itself and worse during a fight.

But he was not finished, far from it!

He coughed up some blood before attempting another blow. But this time was different. He had been in such a rush he had never tried this.

Tibaut blocked but a chair slammed into his back. There was nothing unusual about this until he noticed Ezekiel striking at the same time as the chair landed on his back.

(“Is he timing them now?”)

Tibaut wondered as he blocked another blow and another chair struck his back, barely avoiding it from hitting his spine.

Tibaut decided this was good enough and instead tried to fight through the onslaught. These chairs were far better than taking blows from him.

He tried to punch, seeing an opening and a table slammed into his back, throwing him into a punch of Ezekiel. He knew it was a table approaching based… on the sound it made but he hesitated, knowing Ezekiel would do something if he tried to dodge.