He remembered, for the last week, every morning, Morgan headed straight for the bathroom. Jean always glared at him; it was his fault. He heard her retching behind a curtain.
Hands-on her hips, she glared at Lex. "What did you think would happen when you slept with her?" He had nothing, and she might as well be a slave. Yet, even now, he felt the clock ticking, and there was a feeling of haste filling his blood. The time was now.
"I will return or die," Lex said. The pouring rain and near-constant booms of thunder drowned out his words. He didn't say the words were to John's benefit; they were for himself.
The rain pounded; it slammed into his skin like a thousand tiny arrows. Every strike sapped his strength, slowed his movements, and filled him with melancholy. It had been nearly a year since he fought Artus. Since then, he recovered his cultivation, opened his meridians, and learned the beginnings of a technique. But he wasn't ready; if he were more intelligent, he would take the deal and leave.
He couldn't do it; he couldn't forget the screams. What he had with Morgan might not be love, but she made him feel something. Not seeing her again made him feel like he'd die. A choice between pursuing the future and balancing the scales had trapped him. Should he play to his strength or settle his debts?
Lex stepped forward, automatically choosing before he even thought about it. "Artus!" Lex yelled.
The name escaped his lips, deciding for him. Artus was close, and Lex's revenge was at hand. He stood tall under the storm's punishment. Lex felt the rage, fresh as the day Artus stabbed him in the chest, his heart broke, and his Danton cracked. Lex couldn't forgive betrayal.
His cultivation spun faster and faster as if summoned by his rage, the storm worsened, and Lex felt his cultivation gain ahead. Various raja turned while they collided, fusing more efficiently and increasing his cultivation's output. At that point, he'd already lost himself of the rage. Without realizing it, he broke into the fourth stage of qi condensation.
"Who's Artus?" John asked.
John's sword point wavered for a moment, and that was all Lex needed. Faster than he'd ever made before, Lex crossed the distance between them, traveling up the mountain. Time slowed as the sword turned for a downward stroke.
John had a higher cultivation stage, he wore plate armor that boosted his abilities, and his sword was similarly enchanted. As a Squire, John was used to fighting cultivators equal to him or stronger but never from a realm above him. Though they significantly boosted John's armor, it wasn't the most incredible armor or weapon. On the other hand, John's physical capabilities, perhaps doubling or tripling his effectiveness. More than that, he was trained with these weapons since he'd taken his first steps. Even more importantly, he had the higher ground; The higher gravity strengthened all John's downward strikes.
Before the fight had even begun, John had stacked all the advantages in his favor. His higher cultivation, armor and weapons, experience, and terrain should have decided the fight. Against any other cultivator, John would win the day. But, of course, he wasn't fighting just any cultivator, and it wasn't Lex's meridian potential that changed the fight.
Lex wanted to win, he knew John had all the advantages, and he knew charging an armed squire would get him killed. But, Morgan always told him to play to his strengths. The only way he could win in a frontal assault was by grabbing John's weapon before it swung. Lex was fast but charging uphill under heavy gravity wasn't to his advantage. So, what did he have that change that?
Just before he stepped into range of John's sword, he stomped his foot hard into the mountainside. Before, he'd cracked arena tiles with little effort. So was it a big jump to move from stone tiles to a mostly washed-out mountain slope?
The blade swung, and a blade of qi cut open Lex's chest. Golden blood felt down his chest, diluted by the rain until it hardened. As for the hill, the ground suddenly lurched forward, jerking one of the squire's feet out from under him. John lurched to the side, and Lex closed the distance. He scooped up a handful of mud and smacked it in John's face. His hand closed around the hilt of John's sword.
While John had all the advantages, but he had given up one. John had decided to play a passive role regarding the path up. John lifted his head and tried to wipe the mud from his face exposing his throat; Lex punched it. Unable to maintain his breath, John's cultivation stalled, and Lex pried the sword from his hand.
There wasn't any time to tie John up, but he didn't want to kill him. So, he compromised. He stomped hard on John's leg. Lex heard the crunch when John's leg snapped.
The squire let out a choking miserable cry. "I yield," John screamed.
"I know; try to make it down the mountain. The storm will clear up soon one way or another." Lex said. He thought about breaking another leg or possibly an arm. Maybe killing him now would be better. He didn't want to, but this wasn't about what he wanted; the screaming wouldn't stop. Only the blood of Artus could satisfy them.
He threw himself into a sprint up the mountain, sword in hand, crossing the vast distance and moments. While the gravity increased, the rain turned to hail, and the feeling of Artus grew.
Robert was his next assailant. The deacon had seen better days. Hail had ripped his clothing apart, the high gravity had sagged his eyes and wrinkled his face, and the brightness in the man's eyes had faded.
Robert yelled and forced his hand forward, a beam of the purest light shot through the air. Where it passed, stone shattered, hail evaporated, and the lightning strikes veered away. Lex threw himself to the side before the light struck.
Lex scooped up piles of mud and threw them at his adversary. He kept his distance and danced around Robert. The man had long since been exhausted by the storm and barely had the strength to lift his mace. Lex understood that this man wasn't his true enemy. However, Artus was at the peak and almost in reach of the Dragon familiar. With his rightful revenge so close at hand, he couldn't afford to wait.
He helped Robert tire out. He threw rocks at the man, closed in, delivered terrible blows, and dodged the deadly mace. Robert held the deadlier weapon between the mace and the sword, but here it wasn't very important. Robert didn't have the strength to swing it twice in a row. In only a few seconds, the battle was over, and Lex picked up the mace.
As with John, he didn't need Robert to come after him; Lex placed his foot against Roberts to measure their sizes. He found that they had nearly the same shoe size. Lex removed Robert's boots and put them on. Robert's boots were made from excellent leather. They would make climbing up the final stretch even easier. He placed a booted foot under Robert and nudged him. The man began to roll downhill faster and faster until he vanished from sight.
With two of his obstacles not only defeated but removed from play, he ventured forward. The mountain wasn't only tall. It was treacherous. The lightning rain had created gaps and fissures throughout the mountain, opening holes, swallowing up trees, and fleeing animals. Even spirits weren't safe ghosts of long-dead travelers, once worshiped animal spirits, and even manifestations of the mountain itself ran. Thus, thousands of years of history, worship, and rites vanished before a dragon's wrath.
On her hands and knees, stripped of refineries, and bared naked like a serving wench to a noble's feet, Elizabeth kneeled. A small red barrier protected her from the worst of the storm's wrath. Lightning crash but never struck her. Hail fell but didn't eviscerate her. And she was protected, but he could taste her fear.
He walked up beside her. The hail continued to smash into his skin and shattered; lightning bolts struck him and scattered, and he felt stronger than ever. He left her behind and continued up the mountain, and looked back. Elizabeth stared at him with pleading eyes. "My father will reward you with lands, any familiar you want will give it to you, and even armor from the Quicksilver sect could be yours. So help me, and your reward will be greater, and you could imagine." He didn't have the time. What he wanted was just in front of him.
"What I want isn't yours to give. Nor is it your father's. So turn back; you don't belong here. Go down the mountain, gather your friends, and go home." Lex said.
It was from the heart and the best advice he could give. Soon he and Artus would fight. And, this storm would be a breeze compared to their battle.