Chapter Five


    Ambrose opened a portal below himself, the blazing fire rendering a hole in reality that he dropped through and directly onto the unsuspecting Tina.


    Only to have his hellfire axe blocked by…fluff.


    “What the…” Ambrose muttered.


    A cloud made manifest absorbed his hellfire. Not all of it, but enough that it didn’t cause her even a minor burn. Ambrose moved back, his eye widening as more and more fluff began to manifest itself, wrapping around the girl who was laughing.


    “Behold! Cloud Manipulation!”


    Tina cackled as her form grew, the fluff twisting, growing, and shaping itself until what Ambrose could only refer to as a lamb warrior stood before him. It had a shield of clouds and a massive sword of the same material.


    “I…what even…” Ambrose felt his mouth fall open. He shook his head.


    The whole scene was comical. The sword looked more like a pillow than a deadly weapon. The shield looked much the same, not that it could block anything at all. Most of all, Tina, her head surrounded in a helm that looked very much like a lamb''s head, was giving voice to mad laughter, waving the sword.


    “Come le chevalier! Let us see what you have for me, eh!?”


    Facing one of the more absurd opponents he had ever faced, he tapped [Infernal Sanctuary], manipulating four of the chains to attempt to wrap around her. With a dash, she produced fluffy ropes that beat back at the black flames. At the same time, her sword grew dark, lightning crackled in the blade, and she slashed at him with it.


    Ambrose flared [Infernal Aegis], and the lightning burst against the flames.


    With a roar, a cloud formed over their heads; furious and gray, lightning struck out from it.


    “Baa baah!” Tina sounded at him, a wild gleam in her eyes, her smile a wild, wild thing.


    The lightning could not penetrate his spirit-powered shield. He extended his spirit in an attempt to bring Tina to her knees. Her jaw worked, and her own spirit countered him. In Ambrose’s mind’s eye, the two energies were clasped in a brutal arm wrestling contest.


    Tina’s spirit was strong, but Ambrose had an advantage she did not: the advantage of experience. Tina was a teenager. He very much doubted that she had spent her entire childhood being brutally trained by a parent. Ambrose knew better now that Raylen had loved him, but he knew what was coming and had promised his mother to prepare him. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    It was complicated.


    Part of that complication was that Ambrose had daddy issues and a whole lot of training in how to kill things to go along with those issues. That training included lessons on focus during the heat of combat. It had been bolstered recently by Vivienne’s careful attention.


    Tina, right now, was standing in place, concentrating. While she was enjoying herself, she couldn’t do much other than repel him.


    That was a huge problem for her, and he intended to exploit it. Ambrose could do more while using his spirit. He bounded forward, forming a massive axe of flame. He slashed outward with it, the force of the fiery construct propelling her backward in a detonation of power.


    Her lamb armor burned as the flames ate away at her; the spiritual pressure attempting to repel him vanished as quickly as popping a bubble. He bore his spirit upon her, imagining it as a massive gauntleted hand straight out of Hades pressing her into the ground.


    Tina Florence was no longer smiling. Her teeth were flashing in a snarl of defiance, her eyes bright. New white fluff was attempting to fill in the gaps being burned away, but Ambrose had finally wrapped wraith-like chains wreathed in a stygian fire around her.


    She couldn’t move. She didn’t stop fighting. The lighting was striking him repeatedly, the air warping, and the scent of ozone touching his nostrils. His shield of flame, powered by mana and spirit, was too much for her skill to break through.


    He stalked toward her, holding out a hand, where a hellish glow began to coalesce. From it, a burnished handle of molten flames dancing with flickering otherworldly green fire, formed. From the handle, formed an axe head of the same fire.


    Tina’s eyes were upon it.


    Ambrose stood in front of her moments later, axe raised.


    “I think we’re done, Tina. You surprised me and fought well, too. That’s more than I can say for most.”


    Her gaze returned to his face, her eyes narrowed, and her jaw strained. Her voice came through clenched teeth.


    “I…am…not done…yet.”


    Her spirit rose up again like a cornered animal. It clawed at his spirit, raking it and tearing at it.


    “Baa baah, bastard!”


    Ambrose chuckled. For all that fierceness Tina displayed, her spirit was a lion’s cub compared to his full-grown tiger’s spirit.  All he had to do was flex it just a little more. Even then, Tina did not cease her fighting. She pressed, and pressed, a little blood trickled from her nose.


    Ambrose shook his head,


    “Can’t you see it’s pointless? You’re not there yet, Tina. Maybe with more training, but I’ve won this round.”


    Tina snarled, but she wasn’t listening. Ambrose knew that look in her eyes.


    Something in their fight had transported the girl somewhere else. She wasn’t here fighting him anymore. To her, this wasn’t a duel; it was a fight of life and death. Ambrose curled his lips into a sad smile.


    It was the look of someone who had been hurt, hurt in such a profound way that it left wounds. These were not injuries you could see physically, maybe not even injuries you could detect within a spirit.


    These were wounds of memory, of the mind. Ambrose let her strain herself, her thrashing and snarling relaxed. Her eyes fluttered. The fluffy lamb armor faded from around her like wisps of clouds blown away in a strong gale.


    Her body went limp, not unlike a wet dishrag he sometimes left in the sink, much to his wife’s chagrin.


    Not long after, she passed out.


    Ambrose dismissed his weapon, staring at her.


    “What happened to you?” The question was soft; a whisper carried on the winds to nowhere.


    He gestured to the ranger Dannill, who was watching nearby. He gave a huge, long-winded sigh before walking over.


    “Take her to the guest house, put her in bed. Tell anyone watching over her to be careful. I don’t want her waking up and destroying something.”


    Dannill sighed again, scratching at his rough bird.


    “This is a drag, you know?”


    He bent down and picked the girl up, the sleeves of her over sized hoodie drooping off her arms. She did not look like a brutal warrior capable of manipulating clouds, or striking with lightning. No, in the moment, she just looked like a teenager. A kid caught up in the end of the world.


    You could almost believe she wasn’t a leader with hundreds of people counting on her.


    “She belongs in a school, worrying about a prom date. Not here. Not fighting.”


    There was no one around to hear the Knight of Avalon’s words.