Headed by a Snake

Barza stared at the destruction. The earth had been rent in two where he had stood only seconds prior. Dust and sand swirled in the air and a light rain of pebbles peppered Barza's face from the attack's aftermath.

"Th-there's no way I can survive fighting Boss!"

Shocked, Barza stood up, his swords at the ready. He glared at the voice's owner, Dragan, who was crouching atop a nearby boulder. Dragan grinned sheepishly, like a guilty thief finally caught, "Oh, come on, man. That was preeeetty funny!"

"I nearly died!"

Dragan pointed a meaty, mocking finger while revealing his insufferable smile, "But'cha didn't!"

A figure rushed through the dust clouds, and Barza's body reacted before he figured out what was going on. Crossing his blades defensively, he blocked a powerful downward slash. Seeing Tycon's serious face, Barza finally cracked a smile. He could take Tarquin Wroe's sneak attacks and he could somewhat handle Dragan's heavy and precise blows. Barza felt as long as he could dodge the Boss' abilities, he'd pass.

Maybe Boss was being nice? Maybe he wasn't actually trying to kill him?

Not a second passed by when Barza realized something was wrong. He glanced down and to the side, realizing instantaneously that Tycon had landed a sharp mid-air kick to his left side-- the same side he'd attacked earlier.

It hurt. It hurt a lot. Barza wanted to curl up on the ground and shut his eyes, but... he might literally die if he did that. Looking up again, Tycon had lifted up the sword again to strike him down. Barza lifted up a sword to block, his opposite sword guarding his vulnerable side.

Barza saw white, and then the brightness of the blue sky. He had been punched in the face. He fell to the ground.

"Gah! Hahaha! Hahaha! Oh, man!" Dragan's laughter pounded in Barza's ears as he lied on the ground. He was defeated. And soundly. Barza deeply felt the sense of loss-- of having improved so much, but not enough. He grew arrogant. That was why he lost.

"Haaah. Oh man! Barza! Dude, get up! You're gonna die!" Dragan yelled.

Barza swung a sword up-- relying on pure instinct, deflecting a downward stab aimed at his chest. Quickly, he rolled backwards and got to his feet. Barza's legs shook and his heart was pumping out of his chest. His side ached dully, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins had refused him the full sensation of the otherwise crippling pain.

"What… What was that…" Barza gasped. That attack was aimed at his heart.

"No sssafety rope, Mister Barza," Tycon muttered.

"Sir?"

Tycon's voice was a low growl, like a predator warning his prey. Barza was confused. What did him not having safety ropes for climbing have to do with the duel.

Tycon held his sword with his right hand, and rolled his left wrist to stretch it, before switching it back, "I'm trying to kill you, Mister Barza. Do try to survive."

Barza blocked three quick slashes. Cold sweat poured down his face and back, as he realized afterwards that two of the slashes would have sliced open his throat. Barza leapt back to dodge a sidewards kick, effectively resetting the fight. His hands trembled, but he gripped his swords harder, willing the blood to rush back to his fingers. He couldn't lose either of his swords in this fight. Barza glanced up to ready himself for the next assault--

Not there. Barza looked left. Dragan pointed. Barza quickly turned and was greeted by a clump of dirt thrown into his face.

The noble, Tycon, had picked up dirt and thrown it into his face. This wasn't a duel. This was bullying.

Rubbing the dirt from his eyes with his wrist, Barza suffered a kick to the gut and a sword pommel to the top of his head. He fell to the ground, vomiting water, tearing up from the pain and the debris in his eyes. A swift kick to the ribs turned him over.

"M-mercy, Sir Tycon," He begged.

"Get the hells up."

Barza coughed blood and leftover vomit. The pain had resurfaced and he was holding on desperately to consciousness, "I-I can't…"

"You know the boy would get up," Tycon mocked.

"I'm… not as strong as the boy."

Barza's pleading was met by silence. He imagined Tycon and Dragan standing over him, meeting each other's gaze in disappointed silence. Barza felt a hand grip his face. It lifted him up. Mercilessly, the back of his head was slammed down against the hard ground.

Then twice.

Three times.

Barza finally gained a surge of strength, shoving Tycon back and rolling to the side. He stood half-way up and he rolled by instinct. Feeling that he wasn't far enough, he stood again and threw himself forward in another roll.

"Boss, is he… is he Fat-Rolling away?"

Tycon shrugged in response, "It's a legitimate strategy."

Barza, still dazed, managed to keep one sword. He pointed it towards Tycon, his knees buckling. Tycon tossed the dropped sword to Dragan, and the two slowly walked over to flank Barza.

"Hey, Barza, what's wrooooong?! Gonna PISS YOURSELF again?!" Dragan taunted.

"Sh-shut up, motherf*cker! Not this again!" Barza shut his eyes and keeled over, taken over by a coughing fit. Everything hurt.

"Haha! Idiot!" Dragan shrugged.

Barza grit his teeth and attacked Tycon. If he went down, he'd go down fighting. Tycon smirked, deflecting and dodging the single sword with expertise. Tycon leapt backwards, allowing Dragan to smash a heavy boot into the broad side of Barza's back. Dropping his guard, Tycon stepped forward. Kick to the thigh, kick to the side, kick to the face, which turned Barza's head violently. He tried to force his vision forward, to his attacker, but he was too late to react to Tycon's sword slash.

An upwards diagonal slash cut across Barza's chest, a mist of blood spraying everywhere.

Barza fell to his knees in disbelief, staring at the pink mist of his life essence in the air. Tycon had cut him.

Tycon slashed his sword to the side to shake off the blood before he sheathed his sword and crossed his arms, "Giving up, Mister Barza?"

All of the strength had left Barza's body. He tried to lift his sword but couldn't. He slumped slowly to the ground and stared at Tycon's boots, feeling his body quickly growing cold as hot blood spilled out from his chest.

Tycon crouched forward to meet his gaze, "You know… Miss Capulet tried to visit you one evening."

"Sorina? She… She wouldn't. What… what did you do…"

A spark of confusion and anger lit up in Barza's eyes as he struggled to get up. No harm would come to Sorina-- not if he could help it.

Tycon smirked, "Simple, of course. I sent her away. She had no business dealing with a weakling like you."

"Wh-why would you do that?" Barza could feel all of his willpower float away. With nothing left to hold him, he crashed back down into the dirt.

Tycon stared at the fallen Barza in silence.

Dragan somersaulted off of a tall rock, and with the assistance of gravity, smashed his elbow into Barza Keith's beaten and battered solar plexus. Barza felt himself groan, but felt no pain. He watched the two men through a clouded gaze, as if he was an outsider, watching on.

Dragan stood up and took his place beside Tycon, wiping off the splatter of blood on his elbow. with his opposite hand The two stared at Barza's unmoving form in silence.

Tycon turned to the Titanblood, "Mister Dragan… I believe Mister Barza was finished before the elbow drop."

Dragan sucked in air through his teeth, "Yeah. Hm... But besides that-- you know, Boss, that's not how you mess with someone."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he kinda gave up after what you said about making that girl go away."

"What? But that's what I did. I told him the truth."

"I mean, you could have said that you sent her to MY room." Dragan grinned, "That would have riled him up!"

"Your room? Seven hells, why would I send the girl to YOUR room?"

"That's not important. Hey."

Dragan's voice took on a shade of worry. He prodded Barza with his boot, who only groaned unintelligently in response, "Barza. Heyyyy. Hey, wake up, man. You gotta stay with us. You can't close your eyes like that."

Barza took a last, longing glance at his friends. The big man, Dragan, was shaking him. His boss had beaten him, cut him, and only continued to glare at him with disappointment. It was a shame about Sorina. It was a shame that he couldn't live up to Tycon's expectations. He closed his eyes and hoped for peace-- death's soft cushion.

"Is this the best you can do?"

The last thing Tycon said echoed in his mind.

Barza had been beaten. His body lied, bleeding and broken.

But besides all that, Barza desperately wanted to live.