Mark of the Fool
Chapter 570: A Hint

“I want to see you break down and cry,” Grimloch grinned, his jagged teeth shining as brightly as his enchanted armour. He gripped his spike maul in both hands, his dull, black eyes seeming to drink in the grey light of day.

“Funny, I was going to say the same to you,” Hart’s large eyes pierced the sharkman. He was holding the Hive-queen claw blade lightly in one hand, as he moved with terrifying, predatory grace.

Every shift of his muscles promised speed and explosive power, poised to strike his opponents before they could blink even once.

Theresa wielded the twinblade, circling the Champion of Uldar alongside Grimloch. Her breath was calm, enhanced lifeforce flowing through her. She studied the towering mercenary for any sign of weakness, openings, or gaps in his guard.

She found none, and wasn’t surprised.

Untold generations of warriors—all their prowess and experience—lived in Hart’s Mark. She could have imagined no fiercer opponent.

And then Alex had gone and made the Champion deadlier by enhancing his physical power.

She cracked her neck.

Though she’d fought tough battles in the hells, trained hard with the Watchers and Grimloch…this fight would be a bigger test.

And she had no intention of shaming herself.

The huntress threw a glance at the sharkman, whose grin fled like a bloody tide, replaced with the blank stare of a hunting shark. Together, the two life enforcement practitioners began stalking toward the towering mercenary.

Hart’s confident expression faded.

He took his blade in both hands, raising it into high guard.

His large eyes watched them, every muscle sliding into a perfect stance.

Theresa and Grimloch edged closer.

One step.

Another.

And then, both exploded forward.

Grimloch’s long strides ate the distance between him and Hart as he lunged for his prey. His armour clanked, his footsteps shook the earth. His maul blurred in both hands, whipping around with such speed that as Alex watched, he knew—even under the power of haste magic—it would have been near impossible for him to avoid its blows.

But as fast as the sharkman was, Theresa was faster.

She had refined the lifeforce inside of her, it filled her with supernatural power. If Grimloch was a blur of motion, then she was a flash of light as the sun gleamed off the metal of her twinblade.

The huntress raced to Hart’s side, aiming to flank and bury him in a flurry of attacks from two sides.

But he was unfazed.

And faster than both of them.

As they came near, he exploded in a storm of motion. His blade swept out in a deadly arc, clashing with Grimloch’s maul, stopping the giant’s charge dead in its tracks, sending him stumbling back. Without slowing, the blade kept momentum, swinging for Theresa, she just barely managed to dive below it.

The hive-queen claw gave her flashbacks of the fight in the Cave of the Traveller as it cut the air mere inches from her head. Even wrapped with thick cloth to dull its bite, the sword would have cracked at least a few ribs if it had connected.

But, that knowledge only pushed her on.

Leaping to her feet, she ducked behind Hart as Grimloch closed in again, his maul falling like an avalanche. Theresa dove at the Champion’s back, her blades whirling.

A tremendous blow exploded as the Hero’s sword locked with the sharkman’s spiked maul. Sparks showered the ground. Theresa’s twinblade whipped at Hart’s back, but he slid to the side, dancing away.

The huntress struck again, but his blade instantly parried the twinblades’ stroke. Her swords screamed in rage and bloodlust, but she nearly dropped them from the impact. Parrying Hart’s blows was like trying to stop an oncoming behemoth with a twig.

Her hands numbed, but she clenched her teeth and went harder, drawing on the power within.

“Faster!’ she thought. ‘Go faster!’

The twinblade danced around Hart’s guard, trying to strike through his defences while Grimloch’s maul swung in time with her swords. But each time they made a gap, Hart closed it. Every strike was parried. Every swing missed.

He leaned around their attacks with the ease and experience of hundreds of masters.

And then, he struck back.

His speed brought him toward them like a raging storm, Grimloch and Theresa were forced on the defensive.

Each time they struck, Hart struck twice, quickly burying themwith his assault. With one massive blow, he sent Grimloch reeling, then knocked Theresa aside with a blurring back hand. The blow struck her enchanted chain armour, but she felt like she’d taken a tree trunk to the side.

Shaken, she managed to leap aside as his sword carved a trench in the earth. Grimloch growled, throwing himself at the Champion again, maul raised at his skull.

But Hart’s blade whipped around, knocking both warriors off-balance.

As Theresa stumbled, the Champion lunged at the sharkman, focusing on him.

“Ready to die?” Hart called.

“I ain’t so easy to kill,” Grimloch gave a low, growling laugh.

Then he struck, but not at the Champion.

At the ground.

His maul clawed the earth, spikes raking grass and earth, flinging debris at Hart’s face. The Hero paused as soil swept toward his eyes. He clamped them shut, giving Grimloch the moment he needed.

With a mad laugh, the sharkman brought his hammer down, looking to smash the Champion to the ground. If it landed, the blow would be tremendous—one that could easily shatter rock—and it was racing right for Hart’s shoulder.

Theresa leapt at his back, taking advantage of Grimloch’s strike.

“You’ll live,” Grimloch growled at Hart.

Then came a crash of blade meeting hammer that echoed across the moors.

The Champion had stopped the sharkman’s blow. “You’re right. I’ll live just fine.”

Hart laughed as his sword blurred, sweeping into the sharkman’s guard and pushing against the maul’s haft. With a single twist, the spiked maul spun end over end until it buried itself in the earth.

Grimloch didn’t hesitate, he reached for Hart’s blade, looking to pull it from his grip, but the Champion shot a kick at the giant’s midriff. A heavy clang, and Grimloch went flying like a trebuchet stone.

Hart whirled on Theresa as she charged at him.

“Well, shit,” she swore.

“Exactly.” He lunged.

What followed was one of the tensest moments of Theresa’s life. She’d faced scores of tough opponents in recent years. Some were powerful warriors. Some were clever wizards. Many were demons, and even more were monsters.

But nothing she’d fought so far had prepared her for the full might of the Champion of Uldar, empowered by her partner’s blood magic.

His strikes were like a lightning storm, charging the air around her with blade and death. She scrambled back, trying to find a path to disengage, but he wasn’t stopping. Her blades screamed, thirsting to strike him down, but it was all she could do to keep dodging those endless strikes.

Her muscles cramped. Her bones creaked. Her eyes teared from the wind raised by Hart’s sword. But she pushed on, desperate to get at least one good strike in. One single cut against his armour before he knocked her to the ground.

She glared at him, not seeing the Hero in that moment, but instead, she saw the Hive-queen, the clawed monsters that attacked the patrizia’s ball, Zonon-In, and even Uldar himself.

‘Faster,’ she thought.

His blade was a storm.

‘Faster.’

His cuts came closer.

‘Faster!’

The twinblade screamed.

She ducked his strike, but the blade reversed, swinging back toward her. She couldn’t dodge. She couldn’t duck.

Desperately, she raised the twinblades like a barrier—crossing them before her—locking her body behind them, trying to blunt the force of that attack.

Again, his blade twisted mid-swing.

Falling from above, ready to send her to the ground.

She watched in slow motion.

He was too fast.

She couldn’t block in ti—

Suddenly, there was a scream of metal.

A flash like the sun flaring off her blades.

Then silence.

Hart was staring at her, dumbfounded.

She was staring at him, dumbfounded.

In the space between the huntress and Hero, her swords were locked together, blocking his attack. Her jaw dropped as she exchanged a bewildered look with him.

“You…what’d you just do?” the Champion of Uldar murmured. “I couldn’t follow it. I know I had you dead.”

“I…” she stammered. “I don’t know. One minute you were about to smash me to the ground, and the next, I was parrying your sword. It doesn’t make any sense. What’d you see?”

“Me? If you don’t know what you did, then how the hells would I know what you did?” Hart stepped back, looking at her swords like they were venomous snakes. “All I know is your sword flashed, and suddenly you blocked me. It was crazy. You sure you didn’t shine the sun in my eyes or something?”

“No way,” Theresa stared down at the blades, turning them over. They looked the same as they always had.

“I—” She looked up at Hart.

Her face dropped.

A shadow loomed over the Hero.

“What’s wro—Ooof!” He grunted as a slab of metal and flesh slammed into his head.

The Champion dropped so hard, falling face first into the ground, that his face would likely leave an exact copy of his features in the soil. Standing above him, all smiles, was Grimloch, one big fist cocked above his head, having smashed Hart from behind.

“I win,” the sharkman said. “Distraction kills.”

“Well done!” Alex called out, clapping from his perch in midair. “Solid performance, Grimloch. No honour, all smashing. I give it a ten out of ten.”

Theresa’s partner was grinning at them, giving them a hand as the Champion slowly pried his face from the soil.

“Well, by the Traveller, I nearly got my teeth knocked down my throat,” Hart grunted, his neck making an ominous cracking noise as he stretched it. “Maybe I deserved that. Well done, you big bastard.”

“I know,” was all Grimloch said as he went to retrieve his maul.

Theresa’s attention was back on her swords, examining them, trying to see if there was something she’d missed.

“Theresa…are you alright?” Alex asked, worry in his voice. “Are you hurt? Did you chip your blades?”

“No…” Theresa murmured. “I just…did you see anything just now?”

“No, I didn’t,” Alex peered at her. “But, I’ve got to admit, I was in a pretty deep trance just now, working on…stuff.”

Theresa knew that ‘stuff’ probably meant the Traveller’s power.

“Okay, so you didn’t see anything at all?”

“No, sorry, I was really deep in focus. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Theresa said, glancing at Thundar and Drestra. “I’m fine, I think.”

The minotaur and Sage were in the middle of illusion training. If they’d seen anything outside of their lesson, they gave no sign; they weren’t even looking up.

She looked at Claygon.

The golem was staring at her. “I…didn’t…see anything either…” he admitted. “Sorry…”

“Yeah, okay,” she said. “No need to be sorry.”

“You sure you’re alright?” Alex said, floating toward her.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine…” she insisted.

For a moment he gave her a long look, with something odd in his eyes. Was that nerves?

Now it was her turn. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Alex glanced over to where Brutus was stretched out beside a hill. “Yeah, I’m fine…just stuff on my mind.”

“Like what?”

“You know, stuff,” Alex said, looking back at her seriously.

“I think I’m about to hit a breakthrough.”

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