It reeked like a bog.

The water all around the dome Lydia ultimately arrived in, somewhere in the underground of the Eternal Fortress, was stagnant. By design, the Queen of Steel estimated. Every pool of liquid was rancid with the remains of biological matter. All of it was broken down to such extremes that the origin was inconceivable. It could have been flora, it could have been fauna, it could have been humanoids.

Thick, the ‘water’ poured through the mechanisms of spring fountains. No arcs of the heavy soup were ever created, only disgusting rivers of rot. In many cases, the decay had been complete for so long, the solution that remained was its own wondrous ecosystem.

“What a monument to your own corruption,” Lydia commented drily, her fingers dancing over the grip of Strimata. The weapon quivered in its sheath, eager to be drawn in an epic battle between its wielder and the tyrant of this other Kingdom. Such was the royal’s assumption. Easier to read was the intention of the two-headed eagle that had left her shoulder in favour of a less obstructive perch, the arm of a nearby statue. It was an Ironborn, the stagnant water eternally emerging from its ribcage and eyes.

Arkeidos tilted his head at her. This version of the Emperor was a deep, ocean blue. The uniformity of the colour made a mockery of the filth around them, guarding a soul more befit of the environment. One large pair of arms was crossed, a smaller pair underneath dangling without purpose. The legs and lower torso seemed both like the metal had been frozen in the middle of melting and, due to the symmetry, perfectly designed. His helmet was a sphere, the blue and black mist playing around it shaped like the trail of a drop of water. Consistently, swirls of the mist drifted off in their own little circles.@@novelbin@@

“Peculiar,” the Emperor hummed and rotated his head. Six times, he halted briefly in the motion. In elevation, his stares were widely different. Directions appeared to be consistent with where the other battlefields would have travelled to. “All but one of you has used their time until arrival in the arena to speak. You alone first raise your voice on arrival. You must be reckoning that delays are to your advantage?”

“It must be a mutual assumption, since you responded in such an extensive fashion,” Lydia responded.

“Perhaps.” Arkeidos raised one hand from the crossing of his arms and beckoned the water of a nearby pool to rise. In the average illumination of the cavern, the murky fluid was barely translucent. Swelling and swelling, until it was over three metres across, the sphere of water had a surface as disturbed as this entire world. With a swipe of his fingers, the Emperor sent the water flying.

The wonderful sound of overbearingly enthusiastic music filled the air. Like a glockenspiel, Strimata sang. Drawn and swung, the rapier sent a slicing wave at the water. Magic interrupted by the near unparalleled sharpness of the weapon, reach extended by Lydia’s growing mastery of the armament, the sphere of water burst. Two halves of water spilled around Lydia. Much of the cascading water speckling her high marching boots and the practical pants they confined. She had waded through worse.

“A powerful weapon,” Arkeidos remarked. “You intrigue me. Many of you intrigue me. Your world, so populated with powerful individuals, I wish to see it.”

“If you had sought individuals of might and interest, you should have allowed those worthy to lead to live and procreate.” Holding Strimata low, yet at the ready, the queen stayed vigilant for the next offensive. “You wished for might and that is all you received. No one can reign alone and hope to stand against the combined forces of a coalition.”

“You speak from experience, I hear? Tell me your station, what do you rule in this realm you left behind?”

“I am queen of Rex Germaniae, Lydia Augusta the Fourth of House Hohenzollern. My nation is more powerful even than Fusion, at the tip of whose sword you currently find yourself.”

“And you find yourself in John’s service. What is your ambition, Lydia, what do you wish to achieve here?”

“Safety for my beloved and freedom for this world.”

A deep, disheartened growl echoed from deep within Arkeidos’ armour. All four of his arms were sprawled out, causing the ponds, pools and wells around to tremble. Spheres of rotting, stinking water rose. “You disappoint, after all,” the Emperor declared.

Lydia pulled her left hand along Strimata’s blade. The edge did not cut her. Inside, the prismatic triangles diminished in number. A fraction of the condensed material was separated from the whole, hovering in front of her hand as a disk. Swiftly, it transformed into a large rotor. Reika cried an eagle’s cry and spread her wings. A goddess beating her wings behind her queen, the power of her realm made manifest, power that now, in part, was invested in her.

Accelerated by the power of her magic, the six-bladed rotor spun at a rapid pace. Sphere after sphere of water flew at her, each shredded and dispersed by the blades. Adjusting the position of her defensive action with motions of her hands, Lydia never completely lost sight of Arkeidos. A boon of deep wisdom, allowing her to spy when his gargantuan hull set into motion.

The two large hands grabbed the rotor and stopped it with raw force. From the smaller pair, jet streams of clear, conjured water spewed forth. Lydia Shifted out of position, feeling a particular gratitude for the physical mastery she had initially dabbled in due to the demands of rapid level increases. Like his Ironborn, the Emperor was unfamiliar with the application and restrictions of martial arts.

“Are you not a conqueror?” Arkeidos asked, the depth of his disappointment realized in every charismatically pronounced syllable. “Not one to lead and take what is yours by might?” His arms swiped sideways. Lydia barely managed to duck under the attack.

“My realm does not require expansion, it requires stabilization! Modernization! Prosperity!” Lydia declared and grabbed onto Reika’s feet. The two-headed eagle beat her wings and rapidly carried Lydia upwards.

Arkeidos shook his spherical head. “In the way you stood, in the way you spoke, I felt a kindred soul. Your ambitions are shackled, the potential of your mind wasted.”

“You know nothing,” Lydia answered. “Of further importance is that your opinion is a waste to me. Let it be that we are kindred – my history with kin is filled with tragedy. Your demise will not be one of them.”

“Then enough of the talking.” Wide arcane gestures gathered a stream of murky liquid between his four arms. It coiled and snaked its way through the air. Unleashed, it torrented after Lydia and Reika. Analysing that it would catch up to them, Lydia let go of her allied goddess and dropped ten metres to the floor. As fast as she could, Reika took off, the stream of water following her.

The feint was clear and Lydia denied the possibility of falling for it. Strategically, she connected to the piece of Strimata previously utilized as a rotating shield. Consolidated into a spear, the metal malleable by power but solid in reality pushed upwards. The alloy met one of its components in its purest form. Poseidury was renowned for its conductivity. In terms of hardness, it was the weakest of the six, typically fluid at room temperature.

Even with the limited power she could exert at the current distance, Lydia managed to push through the exterior. Through the smaller arm, then the larger, the spear pushed, then the tips on both sides unravelled. Prismatic wire, glowing with elemental power wrapped around the arms and spun them together. The speed of the stream was diminished, the esoteric gestures hindered. Will was the primary guide for magic and the will was most appropriately channelled by the body it inhabited. Not even Arkeidos was exempt from this. A thousand years of practice and his magic still made good usage of gestures.

That only made him more terrifying.

‘I wished he was a deeply arrogant cur, what an ease this would be if he was,’ Lydia thought, while forming a second spear from her rapier. Arkeidos had underestimated the power of the forces John could summon, likely for a lack of information. His proper tactics, however, were not marked by a careless, unjustified pride in his power. If anything, he had the issue of over-preparation. The entirety of this fortress was a testament to extreme caution.

That caution was Lydia’s only hope here.

Arkeidos stretched against the confines of the strings. A futile task – or so Lydia would have liked to believe. The wires held, the arms did not. Unbeholden to the limitations of flesh, the Emperor pressed his arms outwards. The Poseidury melded again on the other side, much like Undine’s slime would have.

‘Bothersome, but predicted,’ Lydia contemplated and regardless sent the second javelin out to repeat the process. It was not victory she was after. Time delayed was her measurement of success. The process of freeing his limbs was one that hindered him, that in and of itself made it worthwhile. Further, Lydia required Reika to be freed.

Lydia knew that she had picked a losing hand. Even with Strimata and Reika allowing her to bridge the considerable gap between herself and the Emperor, that bridge was narrow and swayed in the winds of destiny. Her assignment was one chosen due to the limited combatants available. Shaky as her equalizing factors were, they remained equalizing factors. All others who possessed them were assigned to other fights.

It was her duty to last. To keep this one simulacrum occupied, until those who found themselves in advantageous positions won and could cascade their way through the various battlefields. Thus, she had to conserve her resources and play it safe.

Perhaps Arkeidos realized the same in the exact moment his second pair of arms were bound.

Suddenly, he dropped control of the stream that was chasing Reika. All of the foul water fell. Lydia could heed it only to a minimal extent. With one concerted effort, he tore his arms through the strings and then charged straight at the queen. The balance of size between the arms shifted, all four of them becoming equal.

Reika cried and dove in her direction. Lydia dashed off to the side, attempting to avoid confrontation with Arkeidos. Aura active, her feet pounded stone. She leapt, her thick boots splashing shallow water. Deeper pools before her rose as two walls of murky grey. A slash with Strimata delayed their unification, allowing her passage.

The massive form of the tyrant broke through just behind her. She could feel the water splashing, hear his form crashing through waves, then see the two walls encapsulating her. Wings of rot and doom, to drown her honour, pride and all.

Agility rose and Lydia stubbornly kept charging ahead. What seemed in vain a moment ago was now just barely out of reach. The very edge of the crashing waves caught her. Outstretched hand, she clawed onto a piece of metal. It had answered her influence, and with purchase found, she ripped herself out of the water.

Prey lost, Arkeidos immediately dismissed the waves and continued his charge. Soaked and defiant, Lydia turned to face him. The power of her title still imbued in her by the goddess of emperorship, the queen engaged in a bout with the tyrant.

Four arms were more than she was used to tracking in duels. Exposure to Raids and lesser Instant Dungeons had trained her to anticipate unexpected twists even more than the average Abyssal. ‘Swiftly step, remain in motion. A larger, physically imposing opponent may only be punished at the clearest of opportunities,’ she reprimanded herself before she could make any mistake.

Discontinuing the part of her mind that planned, Lydia engaged fully in the flow of the exchange. A steady storm of blows was coming at her. The draft of an uppercut tingled her front. A sideways swipe followed immediately. Water answered to the call of the attack. Lydia slid between his legs, utilizing a wet sheet of metal plating. His torso twisted 180 degrees. Two fists came barrelling down. She skipped backwards. Putting his entire weight on the knuckles, Arkeidos brought his legs into natural position through a sweeping kick.

Lydia used Shift to move to the side and finally found one opening. A single thrust, delivered at his side. An alive target would have had their heart pierced expertly. Not skin and muscle were penetrated, but metal and crystal. She did not pull back, staring at Arkeidos. “A conqueror always finds a way,” she recited his phrase.

Arkeidos stayed his counterattack, eyes darting around for a trick. Retaining her poker face, Lydia felt the temporary boost in power wane. Easily reapplied as it was, it was not one to be relied on. Which was exactly why she needed those extra seconds.

The Emperor was about to snap out of his cautious freeze when the material Lydia had separated from Strimata, now fused into a single javelin, came flying at them. It did not aim at Arkeidos. It did not aim at anyone. It flew overhead, allowing Lydia to grab onto it and have it pull her up into the air. Up in the air, the spear bent to reach under her feet and turned into a platform. Thick wires bound her legs to it.

An inelegant way to achieve flight, not the most effective either, yet the best she could do in the current situation. Down below, Arkeidos laughed. “Crafty, another display of your wasted potential. You would be a splendid Iron Maiden, were you to serve me.”