Bayane kept his deadly calm even as he was forcibly defenestrated. He reacted instantly to his fall, grabbing the edge of the window ledge and swinging himself back toward the solid surface of the floor a story below. He landed in a hard PK roll, the movement dispersing the force of his fall evenly. He went still in the center of the second floor and dust drifted down around him a cloud.
At the same time, Jeanne's lithe figure appeared, landing from a mighty jump a dozen feet in front of Bayane, with her arm around Sam's torso. The swordswoman brandished her blade as Sam drew a pistol. Bayane rose to his feet, his own handgun firmly in hand.
Sam stared across at his father. They were so similar and so perfectly dissimilar at the same time. Both moved in a circle around one another with an easy, catlike grace born from long training and experience. Sam was leaner in build, but Norman was bulkier. Both were similar coloring and identical height. The father worked his hands and shoulders, while the son flexed his fingers around the handle of his gun. Both fought with that asymmetric way of looking at the world, where even a pebble was a weapon. One wielded magic to devastating effect in close combat and the other was untouched by it.
"I'm curious to see how far you've come in your training," Norman said suddenly in Tagalog. "Can you beat me, son? The man who created the skills Karin taught you?"
"The way of the warrior is never static, Father," Sam replied easily. "Karin's - no, your - style was not the only one I learned."
"You've taken major injuries over the years," Norman said with a touch of sadness. "Had you been able to use magic, I would have taught you Enhancement. Our family's proficiency in that field is such that you'd never have to worry about permanent injuries again."
"Who's fault was it that I can't use magic?" Sam shot back bitterly.
"Our family are proud mages, Sam. We are the only Filipino mages in existence. You are the third generation and I robbed you of the wonders of magic. I did not do that callously. I did it for the magic. We are mages, of the old school! You know what that means - our loyalty is to magic first, to further our understanding of it. You have proven that the Empiric Field works! You are the culmination of decades of research!"
"Don't expect any thanks," Sam growled. "What does Aegil want the Field for?"
"You're a smart man. Surely you've guessed?"
"I want to hear it from your own mouth," the mercenary pressed. "Especially since you're going to have to kill me to get it back. I'll beat the answer out of you if I have to!"
Guns blazed as both men drew at the same time. Bayane somehow managed to dodge the bullet, moving with speed born from Enhancement, while Sam held his ground. Jeanne stepped in with her own superhuman agility and deflected the assassin's attack with a swipe of her sword.
The three darted in and out, the two men weaving behind pillars and the furniture scattered throughout the ground, while the swordswoman acted as Sam's defensive shield. With Enhancement, Bayane was even faster than Jeanne and likely even stronger. The two lovers moving in tandem were untouchable as they worked offense and defense perfectly in sync. Soon, two pistols had expended their magazines.
Even as Sam moved to reload, his father changed tactics and charged in. Jeanne moved to intercept, but the powerfully-built assassin exchanged strikes and parries with her without a hint of hesitation. To Sam's astonishment, Norman Bayane managed to catch one of Jeanne's thrusts between an elbow and knee, then twisted in such a way as to disarm her and move right into a spinning sidekick that sent her over the edge of the broken floor toward the Arena below. Jeanne managed to catch some exposed rebar, dangling in the air. Bereft of her sword, she was suddenly limited to only her normal human physical abilities and she struggled to gain a firm hold.
Desperate to end the battle, Sam moved in with speed born of efficiency and without a single wasted movement. But his father was faster. Mana pumped into his limbs, giving him speed born from raw power. He vanished with a puft of raised dirt and gravel, his fist - also charged with mana to the point that it was as hard as steel - crashing into Sam's pistol as the mercenary brought it to parry. The gun exploded into shards of twisted steel. A hook was parried into an uppercut that was dodged flowing into a jab-jab-cross that was slipped twice before being deflected by an open palm.
Then came Sam's counterattack. He darted in, scooped up Jeanne's blade, and became a whirling barrage of steel likewise being dodged and parried, only this time by bare hands and feet laced with mana. They moved with the same vicious fury and economy of motion, but there were subtle differences.
When they parted, neither had landed even a glancing blow. Norman smiled in pride. "You've taken my style in a new direction. Added sword techniques. Changed the footwork. Made it yours."
"It was the answer I needed for this," Sam replied, raising his mauled left hand. "And it was a good move in hindsight; you're mastery of unarmed combat is beyond mine. But you don't fight against blades as often as I do. I can tell."
"Then we are at an impasse. It will be skill alone that determines who wins this match."
They came together again. The sounds of their furious battle echoed in the large chamber as they danced violently across it, back and forth, steel against flesh.
I need to use the Field against him, Sam thought as he parried another vicious combination. He's just too fast and too strong as long as he can use Enhancement! He saw Jeanne out of the corner of his eye. She was still struggling. I need to end this fast.
Meanwhile, Norman thought, I just need an opportunity, just one opening to take the Field from him!
And so they continued to dance their deadly dance. Sam began moving backward, baiting his father to come after him, allowing him to press the advantage. Suddenly, the lights above them flickered and died as the power was suddenly cut. Raven, Sam realized. She found the fuse box.
That briefest fraction of an instant - where the eyes still needed time to adjust to the darkness - was the opening Sam needed. He shoulder-checked his father in the chest, the contact just enough to shut down the mana flowing through his limbs. Suddenly reduced to human speed and strength, Norman Bayane was significantly easier to deal with. Sam was all over him with a flurry of whirling steel, pushing his father back against the wall.
But Norman was not finished. He caught Sam's downward cut by the wrist and pulled hard, forcing Sam to plant face-first into the stone wall. Then he twisted the arm behind the back, forcing Sam to drop the sword. The mercenary countered by throwing his head back and catching Norman in the nose hard enough to shatter it and followed up with a powerful back-kick that sent him flying.
Norman stood and wiped the blood from his face as Sam retrieved his fallen blade. "Five seconds, eh?"
"Three now," Sam admitted.
"Again, we're at an impasse. My magic's restored and its too dark for either of us to fully see our surroundings. For me, that'll be less of an issue as I enhance my eyesight. On the other hand, your bladework is good enough that I can't break your defenses easily."
"And I'm not fast or strong enough to easily kill you."
They stood there silently for a long moment, simply sizing one another up. "I'm proud of you, Sam," Norman said finally. "Win or lose, I'm glad to see the man you grew up to be." He took up an aggressive stance. "But I will take the Empiric Field."
Sam replied with a stance of his own. "Like hell."
For the last time, they came together, flowing from one combination into the next. Sam's brows furrowed in tight concentration. He had to win. Natalia, Jill, all of them needed him to win, or Aegil would have everything he needed to suceed. He had to surpass his father, or die trying! Victory had to lie somewhere beyond just the fight. He grasped onto that thought and pressed the attack.
As they maneuvered back and forth, they crossed the scattered construction equipment and furniture. Sam slashed a chain holding a net of shattered bricks overhead, causing the whole of it to crash dangerously close to Bayane's head. The assassin, in turn, pumped mana into the stony pile and caused it to detonate. The mercenary was briefly blinded by the display and countered by digging the tip of Jeanne's sword into the floor and hurling chunks of tile at his father. Bayane caught some of the debris and threw it back, glowing with over-charged mana. Sam cut the improvised bomb in half just before it exploded.
The barrage continued. Cut above, thrust below, a flash of steel across Bayane's field of vision. That last move, a deliberate miss, blocked the assassin's vision for a brief instant. That was the opening Sam needed. The blade sank into Bayane's abdomen.
The assassin let out a pained cry and fell to his knees in defeat.
Sam released the hilt, letting the steel remain in his father's gut. "Its over, Father."
"Indeed," the assassin gasped. "You've...surpassed me. Gone...farther than I could have. Congratulations, son." Suddenly, a dark smile crossed his features. "But...I always have a backup plan."
From the rafters above, a slender shape fell from the darkness. Sam Ebayan let out a cry as a taser tore into his back, sending a powerful shock throughout his body. The First Hound kept the electrical weapon pressed against the mercenary's flesh. Bayane used the last bit of strength in his body to draw a knife and buried it into his son's ribcage.
"I made the Empiric Field of Reality," the assassin said darkly. "I can unmake it."
Sam let out a scream as he felt something tear away from his insides. Fire burned throughout every vein, every artery, every muscle. It seemed like every cell in his body was being ripped apart and stitched haphazardly back together.
Bayane slowly pulled the knife out of his son's side. Tendrils of dark energy swirled around its steel edge. Once fully free, the assassin pumped mana in a very specific way, creating channels within the steel. He didn't Enhance the knife like he normally did. He created whole circuits through which mana could flow. The Empiric Field latched onto that man-made latticework like an anchor onto rock. Mana seeped out of those channels, drained away by the nature of the Empiric Field. The knife blade shattered.
In its place, attached to the remaining handle, was a three-foot-long blade of twisted black material. Not steel, not any kind of metal or element known to man. It wasn't even much of a blade. It was all twisted angles, bent this way and that, with edges sharpened randomly across its surface. This sword, alien as it was, was never meant to cut flesh.
This sword was meant to cut magic.
Sam Ebayan's body fell to the ground with a thud. His hair and beard were pure white, now. His face, already prematurely lined, had burned and cracked and now looked like weather-beaten leather. He seemed to have aged a decade or two in an instant.
"No!" screamed Jeanne, who had just pulled herself up from her precarious position. She was still, horrified at what she had just witnessed.
Bayane sighed tiredly, handing the newly-forged sword to the Hound. "Go. Take this to the Archmage."
"What of you?" the Hound asked.
The assassin shook his head. "I'm dead already. My job's done. Go." The Hound seemed to melt into the air, so forgettable was he.
Jeanne rushed to her lover's side, cradling his head in her lap. He breathed quietly. He did not wake.
Bayane sank to his rump, clutching the sword still buried in his abdomen. "Take care of him," he begged quietly.
The swordswoman gave him a dark glare. "You killed him!"
"Maybe. Maybe not. There's no way to tell, now. But the Field is no longer his. And you needn't worry about revenge." He coughed painfully. "Sam's already killed me. You may think me a monster for sacrificing my own flesh and blood. But just how much did he sacrifice for his ideals? We are men of ideals, girl. We would give up the world to see them fulfilled. I have...I have...no regrets."
With that, Norman Bayane died.
