Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 57: The Weight of the Throne (1)

Chapter 57: The Weight of the Throne (1)

The moment had finally arrived. The two brothers stood across from each other, the battlefield between them a vast stretch of smooth, compacted stone—scarred from countless battles before this one.

As both brothers stood opposite each other, they unleashed their auras. A suffocating pressure filled the arena, making the air heavy. If not for the rune-infused barrier encasing the battlefield, anyone in the spectator section below the Grandmaster rank would have collapsed—many of the weaker ones would have died outright.

Mankhaura’s rage was palpable, a barely contained inferno that burned in his narrowed eyes and the rigid tension in his stance. His grip on his spear was tight enough to whiten his knuckles, his breaths coming sharp and controlled, but the fire in his chest roared, demanding release.

Thutmose, by contrast, stood with an air of unshaken calm. His posture was relaxed, his hands resting at his sides, and the khopesh strapped to his hip looked almost ornamental rather than a tool for war. But there was no mistaking the weight of his presence.

He exuded the quiet confidence of a warrior with no doubts about the outcome. The gap between them was vast—not in distance, but in ability.

The air in the arena was thick with anticipation, the watching crowd eerily silent as they waited for the duel to begin. Main family and the Elders sat on their high seats, observing with cold calculation, while the rest stood in designated spots, their expressions ranging from grim curiosity to quiet amusement. Some already believed they knew how this would end.

An official stepped forward, his deep voice echoing through the grand arena.

"This is the Combat of Geb! A sacred duel bound by our laws and the will of the earth itself! This battle shall proceed with the following rules: No artifacts. No external power.

Only your weapon, armor, and the strength of your abilities!" His gaze swept over the combatants before he continued. "The battle will end only when one participant is either unable to continue—be it by unconsciousness or death—or if they willingly surrender."

His voice lowered slightly, taking on a somber edge. "Once the duel begins, there will be no intervention. Let the will of Geb determine the rightful victor."

Mankhaura stepped forward, the metal of his armor shifting with the motion. He spat to the side, his spear twirling once in his hand before he pointed it directly at Thutmose. His voice carried across the arena, raw with fury. "Let’s settle this. I will take what is rightfully mine!"

Thutmose merely exhaled slowly, his expression unchanging. His hand finally moved, resting lightly on the hilt of his khopesh, his stance shifting ever so slightly—prepared, but not tense. He said nothing, but the message was clear.

He was ready.

....

The arena crackled with tension as the battle began. Mankhaura exploded forward with a burst of speed that caught even the most seasoned warriors in the audience off guard. His body blurred instantly—like a phantom flickering between worlds—before he reappeared right in front of Thutmose, spear thrusting forward with terrifying precision.

Thutmose’s eyes narrowed as he instinctively raised his shield. ’He wasn’t this fast before... I made sure to keep tabs on his progress.’

A metallic clang echoed across the vast arena as Thutmose barely managed to intercept the blow with his shield. The sheer force sent a tremor up his arm, but his stance remained solid, feet rooted to the ground like the unshakable earth beneath him.

’Seems like this battle will be interesting.’

Mankhaura did not relent. He twisted his spear in a rapid flourish, angling it to strike from the side, but Thutmose moved just as swiftly, pivoting on his heel to deflect the attack with the curve of his khopesh.

Sparks erupted as metal scraped against metal, the two warriors exchanging a blinding flurry of blows—each counter met with a precise response. The force of their clash sent shockwaves rippling across the battlefield, slamming into the barrier protecting the spectators. The runes flickered under the repeated impact, straining against the power behind each exchange.

Despite Mankhaura’s aggression, Thutmose remained unnervingly calm. He analyzed every move, gauging the depths of his brother’s newfound strength. Mankhaura was faster than expected, stronger than anticipated, and utterly relentless. But Thutmose had faced countless warriors in battle. The experience was his weapon just as much as his khopesh.

The battle raged on, neither side gaining the upper hand. Mankhaura relied on speed, launching rapid thrusts and sweeping arcs to break Thutmose’s ironclad defense. Thutmose, in contrast, fought like a fortress, his shield a moving wall, his khopesh a precise scalpel, striking only when necessary. Every attack Mankhaura threw was met with an answer, forcing him to push harder, faster, and more recklessly.

Then, as if reaching an unspoken agreement, both warriors stepped back, as they each took heavy but measured breaths. Their gazes locked, understanding flashing between them.

They could not best each other with weapons alone.

Mankhaura was the first to act. He drove his spear into the ground with a resounding boom, his muscles flexing as the earth beneath his feet trembled in response. The very ground around him cracked and shifted, answering his call. In the next heartbeat, Thutmose followed suit, slamming his shield onto the stone floor, and the arena itself seemed to bow to his command.

The fight had entered its second stage.

The earth itself would now be their battlefield.

....

The ground rumbled as fissures spread from Mankhaura’s feet, jagged cracks racing toward Thutmose like the fangs of a beast. With a swift motion, Mankhaura wrenched his spear from the ground, and towering stone pillars erupted beneath Thutmose, threatening to skewer him where he stood.

But Thutmose was already in motion. He sidestepped with fluid precision, his shield pulsing with a brownish sheen as he deflected shards of rock flying in his direction.

Then he countered.

A single stomp from Thutmose sent a ripple through the arena floor, reversing the momentum of the shifting earth. The pillars meant to trap him crumbled instantly, their mass repurposed into a rolling wave of stone barreling toward Mankhaura.

Undeterred, Mankhaura leaped high, flipping over the surge with uncanny agility, before twisting his body midair to hurl his spear straight at Thutmose’s exposed flank.

Thutmose raised his shield in time, the impact producing a deafening clang that sent tremors through his bones. The force behind it was immense, forcing him back several steps. But as soon as Mankhaura landed, Thutmose slammed his khopesh against his shield, channeling his mana through the ground. Instantly, the earth beneath Mankhaura softened, becoming loose sand that sucked at his feet, locking him in place for a split second.

A split second was all Thutmose needed.

Closing the distance with terrifying speed, Thutmose swung his khopesh in a devastating arc. Mankhaura barely managed to free himself, pivoting at the last moment to avoid a fatal blow, but the edge of Thutmose’s blade still carved through his armor, drawing a thin line of blood across his ribs.

The crowd gasped.

Mankhaura gritted his teeth, eyes blazing with fury. He thrust his hand forward, fingers splaying wide. The ground beneath Thutmose exploded, sending a barrage of jagged stones flying like arrows. Thutmose raised his shield, but Mankhaura wasn’t done—he lunged through the debris, spear flashing in a deadly thrust aimed straight for Thutmose’s throat.

For the first time, Thutmose’s expression darkened.

He had been defending long enough.

With a single, earth-shaking step forward, Thutmose met the attack head-on, his khopesh glowing with earthen energy as he swung. The force of his counter sent Mankhaura skidding back, his spear vibrating violently in his grip. Dust swirled around them, the battlefield now a chaotic storm of shifting terrain and raw power.

Each clash of their weapons sent shockwaves rippling through the arena, powerful enough to crack the reinforced stone beneath them. The arena, built to withstand the fury of Grandmasters, held firm, though deep fissures marred its once pristine surface.

A shimmering barrier surrounded the spectators, the only thing shielding them from the sheer destruction unleashed by the two warriors. With every collision, the shield trembled, absorbing the force of their battle, glowing brighter as it fought to contain the immense energy.