Knights Apocalyptica
Chapter 232: For Cindrus

Policy:

It is the policy of Vortex Industries and the responsibility of its managers and all of its employees to maintain a workplace free from threats and acts of violence. Vortex Industries will work to provide a safe workplace for employees and for visitors to the workplace. Each employee, and everyone with whom we come into contact in our work, deserves to be treated with courtesy and respect.

Description:

Vortex Industries does not tolerate any type of workplace violence committed by or against employees. Employees are prohibited from making threats or engaging in violent activities.

Prohibited Conduct:

The list of behaviors, while not exhaustive, provides examples of conduct that is prohibited:

 Causing physical injury to another person.

 Making threatening remarks.

 Intentionally damaging employer property or property of another employee.

*Exemptions may be made for board members, or based on significant extenuating circumstances, as determined by HR. Please see your human resources representative on any questions on if your act of violence qualifies for an exemption or immediate termination.

-Vortex Industries Policy Handbook, Violence In The Workplace (2nd Era, 2052)

The next few rounds of the wrestling match failed to showcase the intense talent Erec had dreamed about the entire day. Instead, it was a more sensible and better demonstration of the competitors that would come to these sorts of events, with many of the more serious competitors not participating. At least, that was what Erec wanted to assume, since the tournament would be trivial if he were wrong about that.

Every time Erec got into the ring, people cheered.

He was the star of the show, at least as far as he could tell. No other Knights had the same fascination, aside from when he faced a Knight Errant who also got a healthy round of cheers.

It was not exactly surprising to Erec, but he'd also been hoping that the quality of the competitors on display would be more impressive, as most went down with a weak fight.

Those who had caught his eye at the start progressed through the rankings nicely. He couldn't really watch their matches since he had his own, which meant that every opponent put before him was a fresh face—a new challenge that allowed him to practice and warm himself up regarding hand-to-hand combat.

Or that was his hope.

The truth was that most of them, besides Jack at the start, weren’t much of a warm-up. In comparison to the overall population participating in this sort of thing, Erec was just a tad overpowered. Those around his age and in his bracket hadn't been through the same sort of challenges that he had. They didn't have the quality instruction of Sir Boldwick nor the experience of facing down a cataclysm-level threat, or whatever you could call the danger they had encountered in the deep vault of Vortex Industries.

Erec went through the rounds with far too much ease. His approach was consistent: approaching the enemy, getting a good handle on them, and then, with a simple flare of Fury, throwing them to the ground and keeping them there. Every time, they were unable to do a thing about it. Most of his fights didn't last for a minute, so he steadily climbed up the ranks.

There was one man who impressed Erec a little bit. His talent set his skin on fire, making it hard for someone to pin, grab, or wrestle him in general. But this talent had a contrasting issue: he couldn't hold someone down as long as his skin was on fire, as that would push it too far for a friendly wrestling contest.

He used this ability to break out of any pin Erec had, attempting to free himself before the eight seconds elapsed.

That turned this fight into a mirror image of the one with Jack—if Erec had let the fight continue, the man would have made no progress. Erec would have made no progress in pinning him until the judge would once again declare that they couldn't use their talents.

Erec wasn't looking for a repeat of that previous fight.

Luckily, he didn’t need to.

One key difference between this man and Jack was that although his skin burned, it didn't make it impossible for Erec to hold on to him. It just hurt to do so. After witnessing this rather cheap tactic a couple of times, Erec simply committed to enduring the pain. He grabbed the man by the neck and held him against the ground as his hand burned up in fire.

The pain was sweet bliss—the most painful he’d felt in this tournament. The smell of his own charred flesh and the searing pain running down his skin wasn’t new. Fury brought the same sensation, but it was still unpleasant.

But the burning made Fury flow even easier.

Eight seconds of pain, and he’d taken the man down to the roar of an eager crowd. A Knight with faith ran up to him and immediately tended to the wound.

For most of the day, that was his favorite fight, until he got to the semi-finals.

There, he ran across one of the competitors he had pegged at the start and watched as her ranking climbed the ranking round by round: the girl with steely skin. She entered the ring with him. Her hair was back in a braid, and she smiled viciously at Erec. Her teeth glinted as if they too were made of steel—some kind of physical manifestation of a talent, although rare.

"I hope you don't disappoint," she said, pacing around the ring after their introductions and handshake.

Erec simply grunted his acknowledgment. He didn't want to get his hopes up after so many fights that had been a simple matter of grabbing his opponent and holding them down. This match, at least, he hoped for something different, but was afraid to invest too much. He didn't dare to get his heart hammering away only to face a sad showing from someone he had wanted to be a real competitor.

He walked up to her cautiously and then got his first taste of her power when she hit him—like a building ramming into him full speed. Her fists, her grab, everything had weigh to it that felt immovable, even for Erec. In a second, she took him from standing to the ground, pinning him in the same way that he'd pinned so many others. The weight as he pressed against it, his muscles straining, was incomprehensible.

"Your talent," Erec gasped as she held him, "Wasn't expecting that.”

He strained and his muscled screamed. Down below his squirming and maneuvering got him nowhere.

She smiled, her teeth gleaming from above. "What's that old world saying? What happens when an unrelenting force meets an immovable object? I guess we're gonna see."

Her weight was a crushing vice that Erec couldn't push against.

[She’s incredibly dense. Also her skin appears to be made of some kind of alloy—I had to scrape hard to get even a tiny sample. Fascinating.] VAL buzzed in his head, conducting some kind of unethical lab study.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Erec focused more on the immediate problem. At this rate, he was going to lose.

Four seconds had passed, and he hadn't been able to budge her at all. Four more seconds, and his time in the tournament would be done. The crowd was going wild—confusion, cheers, screaming for him to get up. And here he was, struggling under her weight, half his face slammed into the dirt as he tasted the awful mud mingled with his sweat.

This. This is what I live for.

All those previous fights had sapped away his resolve—they'd been too easy. This was the type of competitor he wanted in a wrestling match like this.

As another second passed, the woman smiled brighter, her teeth gleaming in the light, seeing her almost certain victory over him.

Erec screamed as Fury ran through him. His veins bulged, his skin going flush red as his eyes blazed. He pushed back, his muscles straining in his back, snapping and tearing as he brought himself to the brink, then flew right over it. He would not lose before her. His honor demanded that he win this tournament—failing that, it demanded that he gave everything in himself to the competition.

For a brief instant, it seemed the change had made no effect—that her talent was just too much to overcome. Then, second by second, her arms shifted upward: first an inch, then two, then three in rapid succession. Her eyes widened as Erec pushed her off.

Suddenly, her weight was not too much at all—just heavy, a type of weight he had never encountered before. His body had adapted.

With her surprise pin attempt gone, the battle was now Erec's to win. If he could move her, he could wrestle her. And if he could wrestle her with his superior strength, victory was assured.

She, like him, didn't appear to have much foundation in wrestling technique, making it a simple strength contest—one that Erec would inevitably win now that his superior status was clear. In a couple of minutes, he had reversed the position, pinning her for a solid eight seconds.

The judge called his victory, the momentum and course of the fight shifting in a meer couple of minutes. A struggle to be sure, one that left Erec drenched in sweat and pain. He looked at her, still gasping for breath as she smiled at him.

"I didn't know there were people as strong as you here," she said in awe.

"You’re incredible yourself," Erec felt his heart calming down as he helped her back up and said, "It was a good challenge."

"Indeed it was, it seems the people got the show they finally wanted." she replied, dusting herself off and looking at the roaring crowd. “Well, I will see you in the tournament proper, Sir Erec.”

Then, like so many before, it was her turn to leave the ring.

He signaled for a healer, feeling the muscles in his body give up after such strain. They did what they could, but even after treatment he was left in a worse state then he began. Drained, and sore all over as his muscles stitched. Still as the healers fixed what was wrong with his body, he admired his new gains.

Strength: Rank B - Tier 2 → Rank B - Tier 3

More. He felt flush with the new strength gain. It was another stepping stone to his goal; and he’d never felt so pushed for raw strength like in that fight. As he watched her leave the ring, he was already eagerly looking forward to a rematch.

It was another twenty minutes before he reached the last competition. The finals. And it brought with it yet one last interesting foe. A man he’d also flagged as interesting in the line up.

This competitor walked into the ring with a large print of a hand on his bare chest, raising his arms and shouting at the crowd, getting them more fired up than ever. Acting like a Vega showman as he worked the already riled crowd.

The guy was clearly attention hungrey, but Erec let him procede, hands thrumming as he tried to put together what this fight would bring, and to soak in every last second of recovery. His shoulders ached with pain, and his biceps were on the verge of giving up—still, one last match to bring it home. So let him buy Erec every second he could. Why not.

The man eventually stopped his cheering as the Knight Commander in the middle of the ring called for his attention.

Then, after introducing them—Erec of House Audax, and Leon of the Five-Finger Tribe—it was time to shake hands. Erec extended his in the middle, waiting. There was a heartbeat, two, and the man didn’t accept his shake.

Instead, his spit on it.

Then gave Erec a broad grin as the crowd once more whipped up into a frenzy of screaming.

Erec looked down at the spit, feeling a hint of anger flare through him. Fury came easy, hate was easy to convert to the power. Anger, competition—if the guy wanted to get on his bad side and bring out his Talent at full force out of the gate, there was no better way.

"I am here to take down one of you Knights at your own games," Leon roared. "I am here to prove to everyone that we can be the victors in this tournament. Your brash and bold decision to invite everyone from the wasteland into your home to try to make them look like fools in front of others will be your undoing, foolish Knights!"

The noises around them were a sea of screeching, yelling, cheering, jeering—everything in between—as emotions ran flush in the crowd. Erec stepped back, wiping the spit off his hand onto his pants as his own emotions churned up and the simmer inside once more roared to an inferno. The man seemed to be getting more and more confident the more everyone was invested. Whether it was because he wanted that confidence as a front or thought it meant they believed he'd win, Erec didn't know.

“Seeing how you’ve failed to shake hands… Simply begin.” The judge said with a disapproving stare at the young tribal man.

That was all Erec needed. With the fire burning a hole in his chest, Erec sprang forward like a triggered spring. Crossing feet in an instant as he was on the man; moving to overpower him with a bold rush and claim victory in an instant.

But he was met with an equal force—Erec’s depleted yet Fury driven Strength was met with an equal contest. The best he could do was push his enemy back a few steps at a time.

He couldn’t believe it. He’d come to a deadlock, on Strength. The man grinned and leaned to speak directly in his ear. "You're not the only one who's incredibly strong," he said. With a quick movement, he shoved Erec to the side, causing him to face-plant in the ground and kick up dust.

The man was on top of Erec in a second, trying to force him to the ground and get him into a position where his victory would be assured. Erec lashed out wildly, more Fury coursing through him. The anger at this man and the disgrace he brought burned with an unprecedented inferno. This was a competition for the mighy—a place of respect for warriors to face one another and show the world and themselves what they were made for.

Spitting? Theatrics? A disgrace.

Though his body was worn, Erec pushed it further. His strength doubled as the man tried to get a hold of him; managing to push himself off the ground, and roll. Without a sense of what was happening, he tripped the man, and they began tumbling over one another, switching positions as each tried to leverage their overwhelming power to bring about victory.

The crowd's roar only intensified, and in reaction, the man appeared to be getting stronger—as if he were feeding off their energy, using it as fuel for his own power.

“Two can get more power.” Erec thought, his own fire burning. That silver fire beneath began to flow. A reaction to the dishonor his enemy showed. Erec let it light, using the barest bit to scorch through his tired muscles and sear into his skin as he shifted the position to put himself on top. A percise application of the force. Just enough to win, without causing damage. His hands burned ever so slightly, infusing him with a strength unlike before.

The man's eyes went wide as the momentum suddenly shifted. It was no longer a contest as Erec burned with honor. In seconds, it had gone from a close match to a clear victory. Despite the crowd cheering, despite the man gaining strength from it, Erec grappled him to a position, and then pinned him.

One second. Two seconds.

"You can't do this!" the man screamed.

Three seconds. Four seconds.

"I’m meant to win!" he complained.

Five seconds. Six seconds.

Erec didn't listen, holding the guy’s hands behind the man's back and shoving his face into the dirt to shut him up, so the last four seconds could be won in peace.

The crowd cheered Erec's name as the Judge called the end of the match. Erec stood up, the silver flames on his hand vanishing as if they hadn't been there at all; the power and connection he’d dipped his fingers into, gone. As he took deep breaths, he knew he had done it. He had won, and he had won his way.

He raised a fist into the air to the screeching of the crowd and let his newest notification appear in his vision.

Agility: Rank C - Tier 4 → Rank C - Tier 5

Yes, this had been a good day.

He didn't need to win, he knew, but the competition itself—the competitors he'd faced—meant everything. He looked down at the man on the ground who was staring angrily up at him.

Be angry with me. Use it as fuel. And you’ll have another chance. Erec thought as he gave him blank eyes. Hoping that in the tournament proper they could have another match, and he’d offer an even better fight. Just like Jack and that women with steel skin.

For now, he would bask in his victory.

Erec grinned, his eyes scanning the crowd. Enide was cheering wildly—Garin was giving him a wave and a smirk. Even Colin was letting out a cheer for his victory. He saw Forrest, the pompadoured man, frowning as he looked on. Now that he’d seen his competition, Erec knew he’d feel more nervous then their little drinking contest had brought.

At Erec’s hands, he’d brought the first conclusive and decisive victory of the tournament games home for the Kingdom of Cindrus.

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