Prodotis’s spear of flames just grazed Dill’s shoulder, and part of his chain mail cloak was torn away in a spiral pattern. Moreover, the ground was carved away in the same pattern, far into the distance. But still, this was meaningless. The blow hadn’t struck its target.
After dodging the thrust, Dill took a step toward Prodotis, obscuring his vision with a strike from his shield. It was equally easy for Prodotis to block Dill’s blows or to ignore them. However, having his field of vision blocked off was disconcerting. The hero found this disagreeable and stepped back.
Dill followed after him, taking another two steps closer. He delivered a blow from his spear, hitting Prodotis’s collarbone, but it bounced off the hero’s skin, which was as hard as bronze. Even the shallow wound he made there was immediately cauterized by the Ichor that spouted out of it. Dill simply couldn’t damage him. In spite of that...
“I cannot understand it. I see no fear in your eyes. Do you not understand that you have no chance of winning?” Prodotis focused the power of his Skill into his empty left hand and threw a punch at Dill, flames fanning out nearly as far as Dill’s face. That, however, was merely a feint. After stealing Dill’s attention with this flamboyant fire show, Prodotis’s real attack came piercing through the flames.
Dill was no longer where the attack was aimed. He slipped past the flames that he should have feared instinctively, wheeling around Prodotis to exploit his blind spot, and swung his own spear around. The head of the spear struck Prodotis’s flank, but as expected, it bounced off. A few drops of searing blood seeped out of the cut, and that was that.
“I am certain that the name of Prodotis has been passed down together with tales of my valiant exploits. I have even been honored as a child of the Ex Machina. That being the case, why do you dare stand against me? Do you not know of my trials? Do you doubt my strength? It is Prodotis that stands before you, the very man who paved the way from the Silver Age to this one”
“Yes. I know.” Blocking Prodotis’s spear with his shield, Dill answered bluntly with half of his face obscured. A solitary rust-colored eye stared back dauntlessly at Prodotis. He welcomed this being of myth as an equal—and an enemy that must be defeated.
“In that case, child, step aside from the path that Prodotis treads. I have returned. I have come to bring about a new age whose founding was delayed by the betrayal of Haos long ago. In the Silver Age, I did not even realize half of my ambition.”
“I refuse. You are indeed great...but you are a man of the past! Those who live in this age will decide their own fate! Prodotis...you are standing in our way!”
“What nonsense.” Prodotis wielded his spear, and Dill blocked it with his own. Prodotis had determined that he would no longer use his Skill; instead, he resolved to crush Dill’s spirit in a pure contest of strength. He spoke as if addressing a tiny child. “Is it not everyone’s true desire to live, and to stay in good health? I say that Prodotis will grant you that. I do not seek to claim those things only for myself. I will even grant eternity to you foolish Tereans. The sin of the Tereans so long ago was standing in the way of my ambition. If I can achieve that, their sin will be wiped away. In spite of this, why do you refuse? Why do you continue to impede me? What right have you to do so?!”
“That’s the logic of a god. We humans, on the other hand, are born fated to die—am I wrong?!”
“I say that very distinction, resolving to let your life end just as you were born, is infantile! It is time to tear off your swaddling clothes! Stand on your own two feet. Immortality is not an unreachable star in the sky—the mystic rites of the Titans, together with the blood produced by the Reincarnators, have rendered it possible! We can live forever. Just like the gods!”
“You are certainly a hero. But you are not a god!”
Prodotis dominated the battle of brawn—or he almost did. He was about to gain the upper hand decisively, but then Dill pulled back. Just for a moment Dill relaxed his body, removing the weight he had applied. Prodotis, throwing his entire weight behind his charge, was carried forward by his all-too-powerful momentum, creating an opening.
Dill moved to Prodotis’s flank as if to walk right past him—then with his entire body weight behind his spear, he held it close and slammed it into Prodotis’s side. In exactly the same place he had struck him earlier, he pierced Prodotis once again. But...the spearhead would still not pass through it. The hero’s skin was much too hard.
“I took that deliberately, in order that you might finally understand. O son, you are no match for me.” Dill leaped away as the hero’s hand moved to grasp his throat. Then he wheeled around once more, resuming his assault.
All eyes were fixed upon Dill. Even as the people below fought the heroes of Krios, they listened. Dill cried out to them. “Reincarnators! Unbounded travelers who transcended your own world, challengers who have vowed to recover from whatever may befall them! Look—the Tower Capital you’ve built is burning! These wraiths from the past have come to trample over everything, returning the fruits of all your wisdom and labor to nothingness!”
The voice of the seasoned performer was powerful and traveled wide, resounding far into the distance. However, what would that amount to? Prodotis had been born with a greater talent for eloquence than that. In combat as well, Prodotis still had the advantage. The speech was pointless—all of this battle was. Nevertheless...
“Reincarnators! Do you lack the wisdom to stand against this storm? Are you telling me that all the great people you know would declare that this was the end, that they would simply give up, when faced with these circumstances?! Even if that should be the case, do you not have a shred of courage left, deep in your hearts, to resist this hardship?!”
Dill’s attacks could not deal Prodotis a decisive wound. With the exception of the already fallen Falaina, the remaining members of the Seven Generals of Krios had each taken the advantage in their battles. There was no chance of victory. Nevertheless...Dill’s soliloquy would not end. Prodotis could not manage to kill him.
“Look around you. At your side are those comrades who sailed with you across the border of your world, along with those you met in the new one. First we crossed swords, and now we have joined hands, united against a common enemy. We are no longer alone. Just a few days ago, we counted each other the most hated enemies in this world. Our numbers may now be few, but this alliance of twenty was formed by overcoming this supreme antipathy. One could not ask for a stronger army than this! In our future a thousand, ten thousand—a million—ten million allies await us. The time for us to attain these new, powerful allies, is now—this very moment!”
Dill’s words had departed from his first-class repertoire of plays, morphing into something closer to the political speeches the Reincarnators were familiar with. Dill Steel-Link was not a hero. He was a performer—an agitator.
With a different script, he could enact a different role. At this moment, Dill was playing the role of the Reincarnators’ heroic ideal. “This battle will become part of history!” he cried. “And I believe we will win.”
Prodotis’s spear punctured right through Dill’s shield and pierced his shoulder. Dill stood firm, glaring straight back at Prodotis. A great cheer went up—a wildly exuberant cheer.
The hero was stunned. Why is this happening? I am the one overpowering him... No. That was the very reason they were all cheering. It was the very fact that Dill kept standing back up, no matter what, that had spurred the onlookers on to such exuberance. Realizing this, Prodotis turned around.
Then the tide of battle began to shift.