Uria
Arena 4
Two flawless stars clashed within the arena. When Orcus' chaotic onslaught became too much, Uria grasped a weapon in their hands and struck with a massive club that burned like the sun. Swords turned to nothingness when the godling struck them. The other weapons moved to clash and immobilize the blades for Uria's finishing blows. Overwhelming force and their faithful attendants were the vanguard that kept the primal's ranged strikes at bay until they closed in on each other. and their flesh was a seething sea as their weapons met.
Might met might. When their club shrunk down to a sword, Orcus met it with his own. The clash alone shattered the earth and brought many of the trees toppling to the arena floor. The air screamed and whipped furiously around the pair, a shockwave that could have killed the audience if not for the magic protecting them. But where Uria's pure force could cleave through even his weapons, Orcus' skill alone was far more dangerous than Chaosbringer. Despite his size his movements were wasteless, every opening was a feint, every strike filled with calculating intent. Even when serpents and curses were spat from Uria's flesh against his body he stood firm, the sheer force of his regeneration knocking them down to the earth.
They had turned the world around them to hell. Every shot that Orcus had cast off did not die. The world below began to decay under the sheer weight of the shots. The curses, and fires, and toxic metals, all that and more turned the land below into a writhing sea of chaos. Freezing fire and burning ice spilled from Uria; volatile acids and baleful shards of blessed crystals poured from their body. Between every strike they had sought to overwhelm Orcus even as he stood in the center of it all, governing the flow of battle with the inevitability of a black hole with Chaosbringer as his gravity.
Uria was improving. Even in the face of his opposition, or perhaps even because of it, their powerful yet flailing strikes had been refined. Their jittering movement was being utilized to its fullest potential, serving to confuse rather than solely dodge and maneuver. But it was not enough. Orcus had accrued wounds, yet even the worst of them had begun to close. Burning flesh sloughed off as his core relentlessly replaced it. Yet Uria was not blessed with such prowess. Along their body chunks had been shorn off, golden ichor spilling down from the sky. The bones in their main hand had all but shattered, jutting out through the flesh. Their body could not cope with such stress.
But all they could do was laugh.
Intense, unwavering joy spilled out from Uria along with the blood. They were down to three weapons, the first having shattered under the weight of their power. But the one that entered their hand now took the form of an axe. "You're so soooooooo strong, Orcus~! But I'm gonna be even stronger than you!" For the first time the godling did not approach him. They simply floated above the sea of birth and decay they had created below, a smile on their face.
