It was a distant memory. A younger Mac was running, awkwardly making his way through the debris and the bloodied corpses. The ten years old stumbled and fell nearly every step of the way. He was frail, with little meat to his bones, with much of his limbs atrophied. In that state, even the wind could take him away.
The memory kept going, and Mac kept running. It felt like hours, and the bodies were more frequent the more he advanced. The tears dropped down his cheeks as he refused to look down where he was stepping, which contributed to many more of his falls.
With trembling arms and tired legs, Mac climbed a large pile of the remains of too many things he did not want to know. After finally reaching the summit, with no space for satisfaction in his despair-filled mind, he saw it. The monster responsible for this destruction and carnage.
It was not much of a monster, per se, and more of a man turned into a killing machine. The appearance of this man was darkened and twisted with no discernable characteristics. It had a spear in its hand it used to lacerate the buildings and people it sought out.
Mac looked in terror as the monster forced his spear against the people too weak to run and those who played dead. No one was to get away. "NO! PLEASE, STOP!" Mac felt his dried throat ripping with his beggings.
The beast looked back at him, or at least he thought it did. Mac could not identify its eyes in the darkness. Before Mac could say anything else, the monster charged at him, crushing skulls and flesh with each step.
Before Mac noticed what had happened, the spear pierced through his dantian. He did not have the opportunity to experience the pain, for he experienced something far worse. It was a sense of emptiness followed by pure agony. Mac felt his organs rotting and shrinking while still maintaining his conscience. That was the effect of having one's Small Orbis shattered.
The distant memory ended there, and Mac awakened back at the beach of the Crimson Coast. He did not scream in fright nor spasmed in shock, as the dream was far too standard to him. Instead, he opted to assert his condition and why he blacked out in the middle of his fight with Ira.
"I am reaching my limit," It was not a mystery to him the reason why. "My skull has fissures while the muscles in my left arm are about to be torn open. The healing pills I took earlier were past their point, and now the side effects are kicking in. There is also the fact that I have been jumping around since I arrived here. Besides, the extreme heat from Ira's fire is not helping with anything. Hm? I think I am going blind now too." Mac monotonously listed his multiple life-threatening injuries. Ignoring his tired body, Mac realized his vision was getting blurrier by the second. "I will crumble before Ira runs out of fire at this rate. I need to end this now."
"Mac Key Kast, are you all right?" Mac heard the familiar voice with the usual worry coming from above.
He leisurely got on his feet and looked up at Ira. She had lowered herself to check on him, as far as he could tell with his impaired eyesight. Mac's desire to fight almost dimmed at that instant. But only almost. "I could be better, I guess." He said.
"It was a surprise to see you faint after being so agitated. But wouldn't that make our duel decided?"
"No, because that would mean I lost, wouldn't it? And I can't have that on my record." Mac giggled faintly. He was getting too tired to laugh with his whole body anymore.
The uneasiness was clear as day on Ira's face. Mac wondered if she worried more about her chances of victory or his well-being. The answer should have been obvious.
"Mac Key Kast, you are not well! Physically or mentally. I was uncomfortable with this fight at the start. And now I feel completely repulsed by the idea of pushing you further even more."
"Hehe, I do not feel very comfortable myself either." Mac dared to knock lightly on his head. The sound was unnatural.
True to her words, Ira's face showed extreme repulsion. "Please, Mac. I beg of you. Rest in the Crimson Coast."
"Hm, sorry. I can't do that."
"Why... why not?" Ira sounded more tired than him.
"Because I haven't lost, of course," Mac said. "And I guess I never will. I am just that good." He raised his warhammer at her. His weapon never felt that heavy.
It was a final moment of silence between them. Ira floated with her now see-through fire wings, constantly switching her expressions between anguish and pity. Tears started to form in her shiny eyes until she averted her gaze to look up as if gravity was going to stop them from coming out. "I could probably strike her down now." Yet he did not.
Ira finally glanced back at Mac with furrowed brows and clenched teeth. And with no words, she started a frontal assault on him with everything she had.
"It is almost sad," Mac thought, as he easily avoided and smashed Ira's attacks, despite his condition. Her powers were not only slower and smaller but fainter too. Honestly, Mac was having more trouble identifying her flames than anything else.
"Ops, there goes my conscious again." He did not look like it, but Mac had passed out half a dozen times in the past few seconds. It was almost as often as he blinked. "I am in no state to use my hammer to bounce around. It will be better if I swing the head at her, but there is this one problem..."
Mac observed Ira's attacks instantly collapsing when they entered in contact with the purple glow emanating from his weapon. "She will definitely go down if I hit her with this, although this may be a bit too much. Considering what happened to that cultivator, Ira might not survive a single hit. I need to deactivate the runes."
But how to do that? Mac considered his options. It was easy for him to notice that the glow had naturally lost its intensity since its activation, and the light would intrinsically disappear in its given time. But he could not wait for nature to take its course, for he feared his injuries would take him first. "So I guess there is only one way." Mac laughed when a plan came to him. Even in such situations, he could enjoy himself.
"Hey, Ira. Are you ready to finish this?" For the first part of his trick, he needed to distract Ira for a few moments. Mac could not be less worried about this step if he tried. "I am about to use my ultimate move! It is a Hevies' most dangerous weapon, with the power to slay gods and titans alike! An ability refined by living infinite lives infinite times! THE MIGHT OF THE PINNACLE OF HUMANITY!!!" Mac felt his life returning to him as he got carried away. "I WILL ASK YOU AGAIN! ARE YOU READY?!"
Ira did not seem ready. In fact, she looked absolutely terrified. He could tell even with his harmed sight. Mac's glorious faints must have scared the soul out of poor Ira. With no words to spare, she tried to fly away, but apparently, the weakness that afflicted her strength also affected her speed. She stumbled her way through the winds like a wet butterfly.
"How foolish of you to think you can run away from my insta-kill." Mac was enjoying this a bit too much. "But I guess it is equally foolish of my part to try to warn you about nothing but your sealed demise." He could have stopped there, as Ira's terror was more than enough as a distraction, but he wanted more. "NOW, BEHOLD!!! THE APEX OF SHEER RUINATION!!!" He took off his shirt. "MY SEX APPEAL!!!!!"
Perhaps due to morbid curiosity, Ira had to look back amid her escape, so Mac's little scheme hit her like a comet. She fell from the sky with her wings still intact, similar to a recently-shot duck, and caused a short uproar of sand when she collapsed on the beach. Ira held her stomach tight as she could not control her laughter.
"Oh no! ahahaha!" Ira laughed herself into tears while desperately trying to sit up. She had a melodic giggle that would occasionally falter while she tried to take back control.
"What is wrong, Ira? Doesn't my pecs or armageddon traumatize you?" Mac flexed his pectorals, one at a time. He was somehow yet not satisfied with his "distraction."
As if hit by an invisible punch, Ira jolted her head back into the ground and broke down even harder. She cried more than when she apologized for letting her powers run rampant when she awakened.
"I really am great at this," Mac struck a pose for good measure. Like an ideal jester, he felt a genuine sense of satisfaction from making people laugh, mayhaps more than making his enemies beseech. "Maybe a little too good, actually."
A conundrum stood before Mac. The first part of his strategy worked overly well, to the point that Ira was now defenseless, squirming on the ground as she had the time of her life. He would have no need for the other steps of his plot if he could defeat her now. "But I guess that is too risky." Ultimately, Mac decided to stick with the plan. Ira had flown a decent distance away before failing, and she could fly away again if she saw him getting closer. Although, considering how affected Ira was, he would not be surprised if his trick worked twice on her.
And so Mac proceeded to the second part of his plan. With ample time and a ragged shirt in his right hand, he scrubbed the head of his warhammer with a piece of cloth to deactivate the runes. It was not the sharpest of plans, but it was good enough.
It was barely good enough, though, as Mac experienced extreme discomfort when he touched the purple glow. It was not painful but more like an amplified combination of his hand being dormant and with cramps. He had to muster his will and strength to reach the metal and to try even more to wipe off the spiritual dust which energized the runes. But at least, after a little more than a minute, he had succeeded.
"It took a little more time than I wanted," Mac held his weapon by his left hand as the other was still incapacitated. There was no stinge of purple left on the dark metal. "Good thing then that Ira has a great sense of humor."
For this whole time, Ira had been giggling to herself. When Mac had finished, she was on all fours more coughing than laughing, finally reaching the last stages of her laughing fit. Maybe Mac could have just gone there and bonked her instead of harming his hand.
"That was not fair, Mac Key Kast!" Ira tried to stand up, but when her trembling legs failed, her wings took place and raised her to the air. "I fear there may be no one in this world who could resist your marvelous ultimate weapon." She snorted at her own joke. "In fact, it was such a wonderful display of power that I think I may have made an awakening."
"Oh, did you, now?" Mac was half listening while he tried to swing his warhammer with his left arm. It was not ideal, but it would have to serve.
"Indeed. I do not know the nature of this new chant, but I believe it will be my last and best move."
"Hm? Wait a minute." Now she piqued his interest. "Are you telling me you came up with a new attack while rolling on the sand? How did that happen?"
"I do not fully understand the machinations of my powers yet, Mac Key Kast," Ira said with a semi-innocent grin. "Though I believe my state of mind influences how far my ember may go."
"Hmph, maybe I can't complain if my opponents get one or two asspulls each fight." Mac started walking toward Ira, swinging his giant weapon as he flexed the muscles of his left arm even more. "Otherwise, all of my battles would have been pretty underwhelming."
Mac could have put the last of his strengths into a final move to bring Ira down instantaneously. Unfortunately, his morbid curiosity was more intense than Ira's, and he wished to see her new ability, despite knowing he would burn with his weapon now that the runes dimmed.
"Wiser words have never been said... I think?" Ira seemed confused with Mac's terminology. "Either way, for the last time, Mac Key Kast, allow me to answer in kind."
Ira extended her arms and showed the eternally tanned palms to Mac as if asking for a hug. "From beyond the mountains to the seas, you shall not escape, for the earthly sun will shallow in an embrace." And the moment Ira finished her chant, the head of Mac's warhammer hit her in the stomach, and she lost consciousness.
"A little less catchy than the last one, I might say," Mac found it in him to make jokes, ignoring that his left arm was about to explode. It was part of his instinct that made him react so fast. Every fiber of his body foretold the unavoidable demise when Ira finished her chant, so he attacked before anything came out of her. The pressure he applied on his left arm, combined with his technique that flexed his broken bones into place, caused such pain that Mac seriously considered tearing his arm off right then and there.
"But I won either way." There was no joy in his voice, only misery. Mac had almost crippled himself in these last few hours, mainly due to his own fault, and he would have to stay that way, for his victory meant he would not have to bathe in the Crimson Coast. "Oh, Hevi. I think I am getting worse. My vision is all blurry now. I might really go blind-" And then, Mac was swallowed by invisible flames.
His first death was not that painful, Mac realized. He also discovered why he went deaf when Ira's power came closer: The silence was reserved for his screams of agony. If Mac had time to think, he would ponder if he had ever made an enemy that would desire such an experience onto him. Mac had underestimated Ira.
Anyone else would have succumbed and ashed away in that situation, but not Mac. His will to tolerate meaningless pain was as strong as his will to live. With a strength that could not come from his toasted muscles and tendons, he instinctively dashed toward the red sea, as he did not have the rationality to think anymore. By some definitions, Mac was already dead.
With movements that could barely be considered human, Mac reached the border between sand and sea, but he did not stop! In a flash, Mac had submerged himself into the Crimson Coast.
And for the confrontation between the Hevi and the Ash, the result was a draw!