Even the way Mane breathed now was different. His whole being was overwhelmed by bloodlust. He feared not the terrible man in front of him, but instead, he sprung at him willingly. He leapt off from his back foot, cracking the ground as he launched himself off it and he swung his sword from up high, bringing it crashing down on Ozymandias' head.
"HMPH!" The king scoffed, meeting the strike with both his chakrams raised, the veins of his massive muscles bulging from the effort. He managed to slow the strike down enough to the point that it was ineffectual, but Mane hardly cared.
When that strike was blocked, he spun away, straight into the next strike, attacking with a reckless desperation, slamming blow after blow upon Ozymandias again and again at a speed that even the invincible king struggled to match.
They kept pace with each other, attack, then counter-attack, neither making any real progress. To the shock of those young students, even after all those injuries that Mane had sustained, they were now evenly matched.
"He's gone berserk!" Fer shouted, recognizing his condition.
"That was his clan, wasn't it..? The Rockwinds, they've been the Duke's berserkers for near a thousand years," Cherry realized.
"Yup! But Sir Mane said that he wouldn't rely on that ability, that he wished to reach the top by his own strength… and that he did," Fer said.
"His raw strength is likely higher than that of any berserker in history," Lucifan guessed, "he rejected the ways of his clan to reach the top by conventional means. Who knows what his limits are now that he has tapped into his potential? He might even be stronger than the hero Leonidas, when he repelled the Bishamon invasion all those years ago."
Mane did not know either. His mind was not filled with rational thoughts. His body did the pushing and it continued to. Only one word kept flashing through his head, 'more'. More strength, more speed, more power. He demanded more from himself!
As Ozymandias blocked his strikes, Mane drew deeper into himself, channelling his immense rage, unable to stop himself from howling in anger. He forced himself to become even faster and swing even harder, paying for each by way of his own blood and body.
The next swing of his mighty sword went for Ozymandias' head and caused a reverberation within the air itself. It clattered down on his guard with the force of a thousand-year-old bloodline and it brought the long-dead king to his knees.
"Bastard!" Ozymandias cursed through strained breath as he used every ounce of his strength to push back on the sword that came his way, but no matter how hard he pushed, Mane only continued to push harder. The mighty king was forced to spring back in retreat.
A hefty cut at his shoulder was the price for that escape, deep enough to expose bone, but not yet deep enough to claim victory.
"A miscalculation was made when that promise was delivered earlier," Ozymandias said as an impossible smirk wormed its way to his lips, despite him being on the back foot in their duel. When he laid his eyes on those young students of the sword, it became obvious why.
Mane did not have the soundness of mind to think, but instinct warned him of the danger that such a look implied. His body knew his mission – to protect those that stood behind him. He would not allow any harm to come to them.
But Ozymandias did not care. He'd been an honourable man in his time, but a single defeat had pushed him towards extreme measures. After all the sacrifices he'd made, he was not want to return to the grave again so quickly. He put his strength to his legs and he shot off from the ground, spearing towards the rest of Mane's party, his chakrams ready to be thrown at any second.
Mane raced after him and it became clear that he was the faster man now, in his state of rage, but Ozymandias still held the upper hand, in that he could focus everything on attacking, whilst Mane had to worry about protecting his comrades.
Mere metres away from the vulnerable students, Ozymandias changed his target to Mane, forcing him to suddenly put up with a vicious assault. Mane parried it easily, but before he had time to launch an attack of his own a chakram was cast past him, straight at the students. Mane sprinted after it and smashed it down from the air, risking breaking his sword in the process.
And then another came after it, from the complete opposite direction, too far away for even Mane to deal with.
"WE'LL BE FINE, SIR MANE!" Young Pash shouted, shaking with fear. "JUST ATTACK!"
Mane growled in response, ignoring the incoming chakram, following the words of Pash, he sprung forward at the unarmed Ozymandias, who had spent both his weapons on distraction.
Ozymandias wore a malicious grin of his face and did not give way to a single shred of fear. He casually danced backwards, staying just far enough from Mane to be out of reach of his sword. He forced Mane to chase him over the river and towards the opposite side of the cavern.
"Can you afford to take it so easy?" Ozymandias asked with a rueful point. "Those chakrams are enchanted."
Mane whipped his head back around, just in time to see the chakram make its way towards those young swordsmen. As they had promised they would, they all dove to the side, clearing themselves entirely from its path. But, like a guided missile, the chakram locked onto one of them and turned itself towards wherever he went.
That pupil was Pash, apprentice of the immeasurable Ermos Windbreaker. He ran as the weapon came at him, throwing himself this way and that, attempting to do anything to throw it off, but it tracked him perfectly, losing no speed, all the while aligned with his head.
Mane's heart sank as he understood a fatal error.
There was a roar, even louder than the bellowing that Mane had been spewing, a bestial noise that the warrior had begun to resonate with.
There was a crackling of white magic as the space around the pupils filled with a fog, hiding them from sight. And then, there was the sound of an intense impact and a bone-chilling howl that followed.
When the fog thinned, there was revealed Fingers, standing larger than two houses, his massive paw firmly planted on the still-spinning chakram and his lips pulled back, revealing rows of sharp teeth.
"A… boulder hound?" Ozymandias gasped. Mane turned to him. The two of them locked gazes. The old king tried to flee, but a massive sword came for him first. He raised his hands to protect himself, but they did nothing. They were cleanly severed from his body, along with his head.
He stood for a few moments, still resisting death, even as he was headless, and then, with a slapping of meat and spurt of blood, the mighty king Ozymandias fell to the floor, dead.