Chapter 483 (1/2)

Book 4, Chapter 101 – A Torn Sleeve

The old drunk's wounds had festered within hih he'd co on a cellular level All of the strength he'd trained so hard to cultivate was running out Years in the wastes chasing the bottos only turned around when he found Woodland Vale

The Shepherd God's medicines were miraculous

Autuiven him the priceless herbs, which helped breathe a second life into the drunk's body But the dae was already done, too extensive to repair Even with the medicine, it was like a few sprouts on a dead trunk There was no bringing the tree back, no hty it was had been If he relinquished hinity of a drunkard's life, he had maybe ten more years left

He'd o out in a blaze of glory

Strength, or years of drunken regret He chose the former

He reached into the depths of his vitality, siphoning it into power His weakened body swelled as li his potential was dire, likely resulting in just a brief flare before his fire extinguished

Moments was all it took for the War Saint to return to his forlory He knew his body, knew that now he had only a year of life left in him at most

Over the course of that year his body would gradually start to fail hiht His hands would lose all strength In the end he would die, paralyzed in a bed so to wait for that There was nothing to regret leaving behind, no worries to keep hile old scar to itch Might as well deal with it while he could It was ti left undone

He felt his pal His sword hand trembled

But it wasn't because he eak Even after all he'd experienced, after years of bitter enlightenment, Vulkan found that he could not face this o still haunted hi the pain of it never eased, only grew more entrenched

It was tih Even if Arcturus hadn't shown hi What pride remained in his withered body would have dee to draw his shen needed

This final fight with Arcturus Cloude was predestined It wasn't to win vengeance for his disciple, or to rinse the taste of shaainst Arcturus, but against himself

Cloudhawk could understand the old man's heart

But he could not leave, even knoas happening On the one hand, Cloudhaasn't even sure he could Arcturus had shown that his reach stretched far beyond a normal man Wounded and spent, he couldn't escape the Governor's sphere of influence before he had time to react On the other hand, Cloudhawk couldn't sto sos, especially this old man

The drunk frowned at him “You're still here?”

“I'htened his grip around Ardent Wrath “But I will at least bear witness”

There was a measure of appreciation in Arcturus' stare as he watched the old ather at the corner of his eyes “You were always a remarkable warrior, eventi place A pity”

Arcturus' syhter from the drunk Joints popped and muscles creaked as his withered form transformed Before their eyes the drunkwarrior Even his rheuleauard, for a host of the former War Saint was visible in the weather-beaten body of this old drunk

“Enough talk Fight!”

“You have my respect For that, you will have three attempts”

Arcturus motioned for Vulkan to make his move

That was an insult, no sign of respect! In a test of cohtest error couldthe old rant display of Arcturus' confidence in hiht of the former War Saint

“Hahaha! There aren't ives such an honor to!” Vulkan wasn't offended In fact, he took it well “I won't turn it down”

He threw the dirt-sleamed in his hand as he pulled it free

Blinding light poured off the blade As it was drawn froave the i sun It was a vision of power and vitality

A sunrise was always inevitably followed by a sunset A cold night followed, but eventually the warht of the sun returned

A man's life was like the cycles of the sun He rose and fell, suffering cold and lonely nights and brilliant shi+ning zeniths Each tihtest days would then lead into the darkest nights Back, and forth Soaring highs, and profound lows Was this not the life of the old drunk?

The first strike

A half-arc, lengthwise toward Arcturus' chest

Even the air warped in protest as the sword superseded its dominion

Arcturus brushed it aith his hand, without a second thought Vulkan's hty bloas knocked aside Stones nearby broke apart like a hot knife through butter,close

Cloudhawk gaped at the scene “shi+t!”

A blow like that against the Crie Yet to Arcturus, it was as threatening as a speck of dust landing on his robes

Cloudhawk didn't even know if he was using a relic The Governor's rand normal people couldn't even comprehend it

“Your first strike lacks the strength of your former years”

The drunk wasn't perturbed by Arcturus' flippant stance He didn't even pause before lashi+ng out again with his second attempt

It was a strike that contained all the glory and decadence of the old drunk's style He was a man who had experienced all the vicissitudes of life, its fortunes and follies Confusion, despair, and ulti and acceptance