Laphisto's systems were screaming. The lightning that poured through him hadn't let up arcing across his armor, crawling along the seams, cooking every circuit that hadn't already burned out. His muscles felt like they were locking up one by one. Every movement came slower, heavier, like fighting waist-deep in concrete. He could taste metal in his mouth.
He barely had time to react before something slammed into his back. The hit came hard weight, speed, and pure desperation behind it. Rellik's smaller frame hit like a missile, arms locking across Laphisto's chest as the Diarch tried to anchor him in place. The impact drove a grunt out of the Kiev'aran, sparks bursting from the joints of his armor where electricity found new ground through Rellik's grip.
His lone ear flattened against his helm as instinct took over. He shifted his footing, tail sweeping for balance, then threw his entire weight backward. The arena floor cracked under the force of it. Laphisto slammed his armored frame straight down onto the stone, driving Rellik between him and the ground.
The impact sounded like a cannon blast metal on stone,hoping to force the air out of Rellik's lungs, cracks spidering across the Crucible floor. Dust kicked up around them as the lightning field flared brighter, the electrical discharge reacting to the sudden shift of energy and contact.
The blast hit like a freight train. The solar flare from Rellik's spear erupted again, white-blue light cutting through the storm as it vented plasma across the arena. Even braced, Laphisto felt the impact hammer against his armor—heat licking over his chestplate, scorching through the outer finish and cooking the air between the plates. The shockwave rippled through him, vibrating down to his bones.
He was lucky he'd been grounded. Had he been mid-step, that flare might've thrown him halfway across the Crucible. As it was, the discharge left a glowing burn across his breastplate and made every nerve in his body scream in protest. A sharp snarl tore from his throat. Laphisto threw his head back once, twice, then again trying to break Rellik's hold. Metal rang against metal, each impact duller than the last as the Diarch's grip began to falter. Whether the man dropped off or not, Laphisto didn't care. He needed space, now.
Pushing off the fractured stone, he forced himself upright, towering once more despite the arcs of electricity still crawling across his frame. He groaned under the strain, vents along his armor's back hissing as heat bled through them in bursts of steam. The smell of scorched metal and ozone was everywhere.Then finally he felt it. The faint pulse. The familiar pull. The Force returned like air to drowning lungs.
Laphisto drew in a breath, deep and steady, his talons curling as he focused. The pain was still there, the lightning still biting, but now he had control. He reached inward, channeling the flow through every muscle and plate, redirecting the wild current running through him. Tutaminis. Absorb. Redirect. Control. The air around him rippled with pressure as his body became a conduit. When he released it, it wasn't a beam or a bolt it was a
detonation.
A massive pulse erupted outward from his center, an expanding wall of kinetic energy that tore through the ground beneath him. The Crucible floor cracked apart, slabs of stone flipping as the repulse rolled across the arena. Lightning snapped off him in sheets as the stored current discharged into the shockwave. he had hoped the blast would destroy the runed the diarch so cleverly placed around the arena
Dust and debris erupted upward in a ring, the entire arena shaking under the blast. For a moment, Laphisto stood alone in the center of it smoke and broken stone rising around him, his armor still glowing faintly from the heat. He exhaled slowly through his teeth, eyes sweeping the haze to see if either Diarch was still standing.
The pulse tore through the Crucible like a shock bomb. Stone splintered beneath Laphisto's talons as the shockwave detonated outward, lightning and dust spiraling into the storm-lit air. The wave wasn't perfect too raw, too heavy but it was enough to try and throw the Diarchs clear, to
force space between them if only for a heartbeat.
He exhaled hard, smoke rolling from the vents along his armor's collar. His chestplate was scorched black, the surface warped where the solar flare had struck. Jagged cracks spidered along one pauldron where the Fyrirdögun-Beskar alloy had been superheated and cooled too fast, and the edges still glowed a dull, angry red. The gauntlet on his right arm looked half-melted, its housing warped and streaked with burnt metal.
Even his tail armor bore the cost: deep lightning etchings scorched across the plating, veins of charred metal tracing where the energy had crawled through him. He forced himself upright, chest rising in labored breaths. The Force rushed back to him like water through a broken dam, meeting him halfway. With a grunt, he reached out, pulling his fallen broadsaber back into his waiting hand. The weapon slammed into his palm with a magnetic snap, and its blue blade flared to life with a thunderous
crack-hiss. The azure glow spilled across the smoke, painting the ruined plates of his armor in cold firelight.
A hiss of steam vented from his collar seals. For a heartbeat, the blue of his saber reflected off the cracked visor then Laphisto reached up and tore the helmet free. Smoke spilled out with the sound of shattering glass and cooling metal, the air inside scorched and choking. He threw it aside, the dented helm clattering across the fractured stone.
The face beneath was battle-worn, jaw set, one eye still flickering faintly with residual Force glow. Scorch marks lined his scales, and a thin line of blood ran down the side of his snout from where Reign's earlier headbutt had cracked the inner seal. He drew a ragged breath, the taste of ozone sharp in his lungs, and exhaled smoke through his teeth.
The front of his chestplate groaned as he moved. The flare's impact had warped the metal inward, pressing against his ribs. Snarling, he jammed his claws into the seam and ripped the bent segment loose. It came away with a screech of tearing bolts, revealing scorched under-armor and a hole that showed his bare chest. Cold air hit burned plating; steam hissed where heat met breath.
As he shifted his stance, one of the back vent panels gave way, snapping off with a metallic crack. Smoke spilled from the exposed section, carrying the acrid stench of melted coolant and charred wiring.
Unmasked, the Kiev'aran looked every bit the predator reborn battered, scorched, but unbroken. His lone ear flicked toward the brothers as he shifted his stance, broadsaber angled low, ready to meet whatever came next. He rolled his shoulders once, the motion tight and deliberate, wings flaring outward for balance. His talons dug into the fractured floor, shards of molten stone crunching underfoot.
If the blast had thrown Rellik, Laphisto moved to close the gap each motion heavy and precise, the stance of a warrior wielding a bastard sword more than a duelist's flickering grace. He raised his saber in a reverse grip, angling it for an upward strike meant to test the Diarch's guard and drive him back before another storm could form.
If, instead, Rellik still clung stubbornly to him, Laphisto shifted his weight with a snarl. His tail coiled and snapped for counterbalance as his free hand reached back, claws raking for the Diarch's leg or cloak. The motion was sudden, brutal an attempt to rip him free, to slam him to the arena floor with sheer force.
Either way, his goal was clear: break the pair's rhythm. Don't let them find it again. The blue of his saber cut sharp against the blackened haze as he advanced, every step marked by the scrape of talons over fractured stone, every motion a blend of precision and brute will. His armor hissed, cooling slowly, its once-polished surface now a patchwork of burn marks, scorches, and smoking fissures proof that he'd survived what should have killed him.
Diarch Rellik
Aknoby
Iandre Athlea
mooney
Lyssara Thrynn
Tertius C. Nargath
