12 Rampage

"It… It can't be!" Ares exclaims. "It hasn't even been five seconds, and Perun-sama is already being pushed back?"

The chair creaks under the god's weight, his face twisting into a gloom expression. Hermes stifles a sigh. If only his brother wouldn't be the hopeless fool he is, always jinxing everything… A quick glance, however, tells him that Zeus isn't the least bit worried. Perhaps Perun is fighting like that on purpose.

"Still, that woman sure didn't waste any time. Throwing punches before Heimdall even finished sounding the horn... absolutely barbaric," Hermes remarks.

And, upon closer inspection, barbaric doesn't even begin to describe Khutulun's fighting style. Her attacks are disorderly, like those of an enraged animal. The way she swings her arms and legs, coupled with the wild expression on her face truly is… terrifying.

A punch, a kick, and then another punch, all aimed at Perun's torso. The god manages to block the first two attacks with his hands, but the third one lands. As soon as she feels her fist hit its target, the woman unleashes another barrage of blows. She sighs. Too slow. Too weak. Too predictable. Both her attacks and her opponent's parries are… dull.

The spectators watch, baffled, as the two fighters' menacing dance continues. Heimdall hugs the wall for dear life, praying that they wouldn't come his way. Ever nimble on her feet, Khutulun seems determined not to give Perun any room to breathe. When one foot touches the ground, the other is already flying towards her opponent! Perun uselessly struggles to respond in kind. Blocking hit after hit, the god just doesn't have enough time to launch an attack of his own!

The corners of Perun's eyes crinkle. Despite the flurry of blows, the god is smiling! The mortal's punches are heavy, and each attack that gets through hurts. It's a pain great enough to shake his very core!

"Hahaha!" the god roars out of a sudden. "This is fun! Fun indeed!"

Unaffected by Perun's taunt, Khutulun drives her fist into his gut. She could tell right away that it was a good hit, one that would've likely killed a normal human. But it's not enough to fell a god. The woman pulls back and swings again, this time with even more force.

"So, this is who they chose in the end. Makes sense, I think. But her movements lack technique… I think," a youthful gentleman ponders, watching the battle from afar.

"Your eyesight must be quite good, then. I didn't expect anyone else to come here, though." The frail man pauses for a second, running a finger along the railing. "A fall from here would certainly hurt, am I right? Makes you wonder who designed these balconies. Name's Marco, by the way. Marco Polo."

"I know who you are," Liu replies, stroking his beard. "Everyone knows, I think. And your eyesight must be equally good, considering your being here. On a side note… who would you put your money on, kind man?"

Marco's shoulders slump and one of his brows rises as if saying, "Are you really asking me that?"

"I don't know much about that Perun, so I might be wrong. But if there's anyone who can stick it to the gods, it's Khutulun." Marco clears his throat, turning around to lean against the stone railing. "Her moves might seem unrefined, but it's old-school Mongolian wrestling we're talking about. It's… a bit ambiguous. Plus, grabbing that guy and throwing him to the ground wouldn't do much now, would it? I don't know what kinds of people you've met, Liu… but that girl's strong. Maybe even the strongest."

"Oh? An honour it is indeed, to know that my name has even reached your ears. Well, I also am one of the thirteen fighters, so it's only natural, I think." Liu gives a half-smile. "If I recall correctly, you have indeed met this particular warrior princess in your travels. Was she the same ruthless beast we see before us now?"

Liu gestures with a thumb towards the arena, where Khutulun's rampage is still ongoing. In under a minute, half of the grass-covered battlefield has been trampled. The woman's hits don't seem to have inflicted massive damage on him, but Perun still being on the defensive is definitely putting him at a disadvantage.

"A god of war unable to wage said war is as useful as a dull blade, I think," Liu mumbles.

"To answer your question, I can't say she's always been like that. But she hasn't been… not like that either," Marco starts, glancing over his shoulder.

Though he can't see it from there, the look on Khutulun's face isn't hard to imagine. A slightly crinkled nose, eyes burning with anger so deep it would shame even the largest oceans, gritted teeth, and pursed lips. Seeing her pound away at her target like that, Marco can almost picture it. It's the same scenery he saw a long, long time ago…

"Using every punch and kick she has at her disposal, always fighting like death is nothing more than a fairy tale… That's how Khutulun does things," he explains.

"Sounds complicated, I think." Liu shrugs. "For one such as the Einherjar, life and destiny are twisted alike. However, those cheery sisters placed their fate in that woman. Thus, I shall do the same, I think."

A smile blooms on Liu's face as Khutulun's fist collides with the god's torso yet again.