As the people were screaming with excitement, Heru dashed forward towards Blanc, his brown wings wide open, making him seem larger than he was.
Blanc remained still, watching Heru approach him.
Step, step, step, in quick succession.
The two were less than five feet apart.
Heru spun on his heel, his wings brushing past Blanc’s face as he rotated.
The wings blocked Blanc’s sight of what Heru was planning to do.
But Blanc remained still, not concerned by the over-the-top acrobatics Heru was doing.
As the last few feathers departed from his vision, a fist came from behind them at full speed.
Blanc stepped aside lightly, the fist going past his face by an inch.
The miss made Heru walk in too close, and he paid for that mistake.
As whatever words of encouragement could still be heard, they soon grew silent as the sound of a slap resounded.
It made Heru fall to his knees at Blanc’s feet.
“Give up, and you may live,” Blanc said, looking at him from above.
But Heru was half-present in the moment, the slap making his ears ring, the pain he felt on his cheek numbing his face.
It took more than three seconds for Heru to realize he was still fighting.
So Blanc, seeing the rage on Heru’s face grow by the millisecond, decided to repeat his words.
“Heru, give up, and you may live,” he said.
Heru’s eyes were bloodshot, his breathing getting more and more ragged.
He wasn’t going to give up, not until the human in front of his face was dead.
Before Heru could regain his footing or try to sweep him off his feet, Blanc dashed behind him and grabbed the poor Metamorph by the back of his neck with one hand, and by his left wing with the other.
With a groan, he raised Heru in the air.
The momentum with which he did it was so potent that by the time Heru was up in the air, able to do something, it was already too late.
In the next moment, his face and torso met first with the ground as Blanc slammed him.
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Heru was gasping for air, his lungs empty of anything but pain.
He inhaled deeply, or at least tried to. For no matter how much he tried to breathe, no air was coming inside.
The sight sent waves of whispers through the Metamorphs.
His mother, as well as the two who walked with him earlier, took a step towards Blanc.
The Pagnum Sacra was sacred for the Metamorphs, knowing its rules as if they were part of their names.
Yet, in that moment, seeing Heru grabbing at his neck, trying to pry his airways open, they couldn’t stand by and watch.
It was a sight to behold that the ones who created this tradition could not respect its rules, while the humans, seeing it for the first time, did so beautifully.
However, he was quick to act, pulling the knife he held hidden at his back and placing it at Heru’s neck.
“True Vita, it seems your kin are quick to act when they see they are losing,” Blanc muttered.
The Forest Mother looked towards the three, a pressure slowly building around their bodies, locking them in place, now unable to move.
“They will not disturb the Pagnum Sacra,” the Forest Mother replied, watching the fight, “Continue.”
“There is not much to continue,” Blanc sighed.
As his words left his lips, a loud gasp could be heard coming from the ground.
Heru was again able to breathe, sending dust away from him as he inhaled and exhaled in quick succession.
The poor bastard, confused and in pain, felt rage building in his now oxygen-filled chest.
And it made Blanc click his tongue, as he weighed the options he had. Follow current novels on novel•fire.net
He did not wish to kill him, as he had no reason to, and, as Celine said, it would be advantageous to their future relationships with these people.
But Heru was keen on meeting the Vita, as he built his strength, trying to get back on his feet.
This feathered man had too much confidence compared to his lack of strength, a thing that, if not today, would cost his life in the future either way.
So, it would be better if he learned today.
Blanc looked towards his family, all calm and collected as they watched the fight.
In that moment, however, Heru saw an opening that would not win the fight, but one that would surely cripple Blanc.
He opened his right hand, making with his fingers the shape of a talon, and drew strength into his hand before swinging at Blanc’s ankles.
The distance was too large for his hand to reach.
However, the wind carried the attack far enough to reach him.
Blanc realized something was wrong, so he dashed to the side as his brain screamed at him that he was in danger.
But it was too late to escape the attack completely.
In the next moment, a sharp sting made Blanc groan, watching part of his right foot wounded, as if his skin had just been cut by an eagle.
Just then, Heru swung again, feet away from Blanc.
The breeze he made with his hand when he swung carried not only dust, but the attack itself.
Blanc moved to the side, just in time to hear the attack rip a part of his pants.
And another attack came.
Heru heaved, swinging wildly at Blanc, sending each attack towards Blanc’s new location, and missing him completely, sending Heru into an even deeper frenzy.
But Blanc did not mean to, as with each new attack, he paid closer attention to how Heru was able to do it, each new attack another hint inside the maze of his mind, leading him closer and closer to a realization.
And then, it clicked.
This fight had already been his for the taking from the very beginning, but if there was even a slim chance for Heru to win, now it was all gone.