Roshhatt'i

Misaka had done her job well, it seemed. There wasn't another soul in sight.

The Angel's brow furrowed as he clung to the back of the massive lesh. Its stygian shell glistened in the harsh sunlight, slick and unyielding. Each time the creature bucked, he tightened his grip, his fingers straining against its mineral plating. Beneath them, the reeds swayed violently in the chaos, their brittle stalks snapping under the lesh's thrashing movements.

It continued to rear and hiss, the jade dorsals along its back quivering with tension, until at last the Angel forced it to heel. His sharp commands, mixed with firm tugs of the rope, eventually subdued the beast. Only then did he realize how far they had drifted from the main party.

His gaze swept the area. Veneres rode nearby, his white stallion calm and steady amidst the unsettled reeds. Fate seemed to be playing a cruel joke. The Angel's hand drifted instinctively to the hilt of his blade, resting there in a silent promise of readiness.

Veneres broke the silence, his tone deceptively casual. "We'll fit it with a saddle when we return to camp. I think congratulations are in order." He spoke as though the victory was his own, his voice smooth and practiced.

"We're not heading back now?" the Angel asked warily, his fingers tightening around his blade's grip.

Veneres dismounted gracefully, brushing dust from his cloak. "Not just yet. There's something I'd like to discuss with you—and your resident."

"If you're speaking of Elys—"

"No." Veneres's smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm speaking of the one who lurks in your mind. The one who graced our presence in the throne room."

The Angel's body went rigid. "Graced?" he echoed bitterly.

The atmosphere shifted. A cold, malevolent presence seeped into the air, like the first tremors of an incoming storm. Veneres felt it before he could see it—a miasma of hatred radiating from the Angel, swirling around him with palpable intensity. The reeds shriveled where the energy passed, their vibrant green drained to lifeless brown.

"Leave, Nakba," the Angel hissed, his voice low and venomous.

A hollow, mocking laugh echoed in the stillness, resonating not from the Angel's throat but from the malevolent force that coiled around him. "You think you hold control over me, bound in chains as you are?" the voice sneered, dark and viscous, dripping with disdain. "Let us have our nightly battle, and we'll see how much closer you come to making even a single step."

The Angel fell silent, his jaw tight, refusing to rise to the bait.

The miasma shifted its attention to Veneres, narrowing its focus like a predator locking onto prey. "You do not bow low enough," it said, its words a hiss of fire and venom.

Veneres barely had time to react as searing heat surged toward him. He threw himself back, narrowly avoiding the blast. The air around him shimmered with residual heat, and blisters formed on his neck, stinging like nettles.

Just as quickly as it came, the presence withdrew, slinking back into the recesses of the Angel's mind.

"Apologies," the Angel muttered through gritted teeth, his breath ragged. "It's… difficult to hold him back sometimes."

Veneres straightened, adjusting his collar to conceal the burns. His voice remained calm, measured. "The Ruin's power is extraordinary." Though he said nothing of his private thoughts—if this brief encounter was any indication, negotiating with the Ruin would be as impossible as the legends claimed.

"Incredible isn't the word I'd use," the Angel growled.

Veneres flicked his blade idly, the weapon catching the light as he spoke. "There's more to Nakba than you realize."

The Angel folded his arms, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Then get on with it. Creed and Cadius will be furious I left."

Veneres began, his voice taking on the practiced cadence of a storyteller. "Some claim that Nakba walked upon the stars themselves, extinguishing them with a single touch of his blackened hands. Others say he crawled from the deepest, foulest pits of Lorian, his very skin stained by the primordial ooze. But every tale ends the same—every city he encountered ceased to exist, every layer he touched crumbled to dust."

The Angel frowned, his expression darkening.

"Yet," Veneres continued, "there are whispers that Nakba was the founder of humanity itself. A being not of ruin, but of creation. A god, if you believe such things."

The Angel scoffed, his voice bitter. "And this helps me how? What use is any of this? How do I get him out of me?"

"You can't," Veneres said bluntly. "He's bound to more than just your body."

"Wonderful. So the deal we made was meaningless." The Angel's frustration was evident, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Veneres's expression remained placid. "I would have thought you'd take pride in holding back a tide of catastrophe," he said, his tone soft but pointed.

The Angel's brow furrowed, his inner turmoil plain to see. Veneres watched the struggle with quiet satisfaction, savoring the opportunity to manipulate the man further.

Then, he struck. "Perhaps I could propose another contract," he offered smoothly.

The Angel's gaze hardened. "Another contract? To help you secure your precious title of Paramount, no doubt."

Veneres feigned surprise. "I hadn't realized your dislike for me ran so deep."

"You preach trust, but you've yet to speak a single truth," the Angel shot back. "You and Vyn are no different—both willing to slaughter hundreds for your ambitions. I'll not follow a man like you."

Veneres folded his arms, his tone measured. "Ask me anything, and I'll tell you the truth."

The Angel narrowed his eyes. "What do you gain from this?"

Veneres's lips curled into a smile, sharp and predatory. "Everything, Angel of the Red Sands. I gain everything."

The Angel straightened, his resolve clear. "Let's head back. I'll not agree to your terms."

Veneres suppressed his irritation and adjusted his approach. "Have you heard of the Roshhatt'i?"

"No," the Angel replied tersely.

"It's an ancient desert duel," Veneres explained, his voice taking on a persuasive tone. "Two warriors face each other, and the first to land a clean cut is declared the victor. It's how the Angel of the Red Sands won over the Coven to Reem's cause."

The Angel scoffed. "I'm not the Angel of the Red Sands."

"But you wish to be him," Veneres pressed. "You mimic his swordsmanship, his ideals. Why else would you join the Dauntless Company? All those people looking to you for guidance, hoping you'll be the one to lead them to victory at the Bridge and the Spires?"

The Angel said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes.

Veneres smiled inwardly. "Will you accept Roshhatt'i, Akash Dorher?" he asked, his tone calm yet challenging.

Akash hesitated, then asked, "What happens if I lose?"

"I ask for nothing," Veneres replied smoothly.

"And if I win?" Akash pressed.

"I'll do nothing to stop you from leaving after we take the Bridge," Veneres conceded.

Akash glared. "I'll hold you to that."

Veneres inclined his head, knowing he had already set the stage for what was to come.

The two men dismounted, tying their horses to a nearby tree. They faced each other, the wind kicking up sand between them.

Akash stood poised, his resin-infused blade glinting in the sunlight. Veneres, meanwhile, remained calm, his sword in one hand and his ax mechanism gleaming in the other.

The duel began.

Akash's blade sliced upward in a swift, clean motion, cutting through Veneres's sword with ease. For a moment, it seemed the duel was over. But Veneres shifted, tilting his head just enough to avoid the strike. His ax mechanism fired with a sharp hiss, colliding with Akash's blade and forcing it from his grasp.

Before Akash could react, the edge of Veneres's ax rested against his neck, drawing a thin line of blood.

"I suppose that's my win," Veneres said with a faint smile.

Akash scowled but nodded. "Yeah, you won."

Veneres extended a hand, pulling Akash to his feet. "Together, we'll see the Bridge fall," he said, his tone firm. "The Ruin, the Angel of the Red Sands, and I—we'll burn away the Age of Stagnation and forge something new."

Akash said nothing, his expression unreadable.

"It's time we head back," Akash finally said, brushing past the topic.

Veneres followed, his mind already calculating his next move. The alliance was shaky, but it was a start.