Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 58: The Weight of the Throne (2)

Chapter 58: The Weight of the Throne (2)

The battle had long since surpassed the expectations of the spectators. Each clash of metal sent shockwaves rippling across the arena, powerful enough that the reinforced barriers shielding the audience shimmered with strain. Without the protective enchantments woven into the walls and floor, the entire structure would have crumbled under the sheer force of the Grandmasters’ duel.

Thutmose and Mankhaura battled fiercely, their clash shaking the ground beneath them. The once-pristine stone floor was now fractured beyond recognition, with craters and jagged pillars of earth scattered across the battlefield, remnants of their violent struggle. Dust and debris filled the air, swirling after their relentless attack.

Mankhaura fought like an earthquake-given form, his command over the earth raw and overwhelming. Every strike of his spear sent tremors through the ground, each movement aimed at breaking, overwhelming, and burying his opponent.

Massive rock formations surged at his command, rising and crumbling in an endless barrage meant to crush Thutmose under sheer force.

Thutmose, in contrast, was a control incarnate. He wielded the earth not as a weapon of destruction, but as an extension of himself, redirecting terrain shifts to his advantage and forcing the battlefield to obey his will.

When Mankhaura tried to bury him beneath a collapsing stone, he turned the rubble into stepping platforms, evading with fluid grace. When his brother sent a shockwave through the ground, Thutmose absorbed the force, dispersing it harmlessly beneath his feet.

For the first time in years, Thutmose was being forced to react.

A particularly powerful clash sent both warriors skidding backward, the impact carving deep trenches into the stone floor. The resulting shockwave rippled outward, battering against the reinforced barriers with enough force to make them flicker. Beyond the shield, the spectators felt the vibrations in their bones, their eyes locked onto the battlefield with silent intensity.

In the elevated viewing chambers, the elders observed with measured expressions.

"He’s holding his own against Thutmose?" one elder muttered, brows furrowed.

"He’s more than holding his own," another responded, watching as Mankhaura launched another devastating assault, forcing Thutmose onto the defensive. "He’s pushing him."

"Unexpectedly," an elder with graying hair mused. His tone was neutral, but his fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair in quiet intrigue. "We all knew Thutmose had the upper hand. But this... this is different."

One of the more politically inclined elders smirked. "Perhaps not so different. If nothing else, this forces Thutmose to reveal more of his strength."

A few nodded at the statement. Thutmose’s true power had rarely been put to the test. Most challengers had never lasted this long.

Another elder leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Mankhaura was never a fool. Reckless, yes. But not stupid. He must believe he has a chance."

Silence followed his words as they turned their gazes back to the battlefield.

Mankhaura slammed his palm against the ground, sending a cascade of jagged earth spikes toward Thutmose. The eldest prince dashed forward instead of retreating, easily vaulting over the spikes. Mankhaura swung his spear in a sweeping arc, but Thutmose twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding the lethal strike before countering with a crushing shield bash.

The impact sent Mankhaura flying back, his body slamming into a stone pillar with a resounding boom. Dust exploded from the impact, obscuring the battlefield for a moment.

Thutmose exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted his stance. "You’re more troublesome than I expected, brother."

From within the dust cloud, a deep chuckle echoed.

"I could say the same for you," Mankhaura replied, stepping forward, a streak of blood running down his temple. He wiped it away with the back of his gauntlet, his grin unwavering. "But I’m not done yet."

The ground beneath him rumbled ominously.

The fight was far from over.

....

Mankhaura staggered slightly as he stood, lifting a hand to his mouth. His thumb ran across his lips, smearing the blood that trickled down. His black eyes, burning with defiance, snapped back onto Thutmose.

Then he laughed.

A low, humorless chuckle at first, before it grew louder, bolder—echoing through the shattered battlefield. The air around him grew thick with pressure as his aura flared.

"You always did like taking what was mine," Mankhaura said, his spear twirling in his grip. "but their is something you don’t know, I never let anyone take what mine without consequence."

He slammed his foot into the ground.

The earth beneath him roared.

"Especially you."

A shockwave exploded from his position, splitting the ground apart as massive stone formations jutted upward in chaotic bursts. The force sent a ripple through the entire battlefield, distorting the very terrain beneath them.

Thutmose adjusted his stance, his shield gleaming as he prepared for the onslaught.

Mankhaura charged.

This time, his assault was more than just raw aggression—it was destructive precision. He moved with brutal efficiency, his spear carving through the air in rapid thrusts, every strike reinforced with the might of the earth itself.

Thutmose blocked the first. The second. The third. Each impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, slamming into the barrier protecting the audience. The reinforced shield shimmered violently, flickering as it struggled to absorb the force.

But Mankhaura wasn’t just striking—he was beginning to control the battle.

Each attack forced Thutmose to move, and with every step, Mankhaura shifted the terrain beneath him. The ground rose and fell at his command, spikes of jagged stone emerging where Thutmose stepped, craters forming to disrupt his balance giving no space to counter.

A pillar erupted beneath Thutmose, forcing him to leap back—only for another to rise in his path.

Mankhaura’s spear flashed.

Finally!

A thin cut formed across Thutmose’s cheek.

The audience gasped.

Blood had been drawn from him for the first time in the duel.

Thutmose touched his cheek, staring at the crimson streak on his fingers. His eyes flickered upward—calm, unreadable.

"Not bad," he said, rolling his neck. The tension in his shoulders eased. "But it won’t be enough."

Mankhaura scowled, thrusting his spear once more. "We’ll see about that!"

The battlefield trembled.

Thutmose exhaled.

Then he moved.

Faster than before.

His shield met the spear with a resounding boom, the impact splitting the air apart. But this time, Mankhaura slid back, his feet carving trenches into the broken stone.

Thutmose pushed.

Where Mankhaura’s element was a force of pure domination, Thutmose wielded his with absolute mastery.

Mankhaura shifted the battlefield.

Thutmose became the battlefield.

The terrain that once moved at Mankhaura’s will now obey Thutmose’s command as it seemed his will over them was stronger. The ground beneath him rippled, absorbing the shock of every step. When Mankhaura sent another barrage of earthen spikes, Thutmose didn’t dodge—he waved his hand, and the very earth swallowed the attack.

Then he retaliated.

A deep tremor pulsed through the battlefield as Thutmose raised his foot—and slammed it down.

The entire arena collapsed.

Mankhaura barely had time to react before the stone beneath him shattered like fragile glass. He fell—but before he could even recover, the debris around him twisted, reforming into massive stone hands that gripped his limbs, locking him in place.

His eyes widened.

"Damn it—!"

Thutmose moved like a ghost, his silhouette blurred by sheer speed. Before Mankhaura could break free, Thutmose was already upon him—shield raised, khopesh gleaming in the flickering sunlight.

Then—

BOOM!

A direct blow sent Mankhaura hurtling through the battlefield, his body smashing through three towering rock pillars before skidding to a stop. Dust billowed into the air.

The audience watched in stunned silence.

One of them leaned forward from the elder’s chamber, a smirk forming.

"There it is," he murmured. "A glimpse of his true strength."

Mankhaura groaned, dragging himself to his feet, his arms shaking from the sheer force of the last strike.

Thutmose stood tall, his shield still raised, his expression calm.

"You grown, Mankhaura," he admitted, tilting his head slightly. "But you can’t defeat me with just that."

Mankhaura exhaled sharply, wiping his mouth again. His spear trembled in his grip—but his resolve did not waver.

"Then I’ll just have to put you in your place," he growled.

The air grew heavier. The ground quivered once more.

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