Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean. It belongs to Square Enix and Tri-Ace. I just love writing the characters in various scenarios.
"Welcome, Fayt Leingod. I have been expecting you."
No sooner than the words had left his lips, lightning struck the ground in response and traveled between the blond-haired man and his opponent, a signal he was ready for the battle to begin. Apparently, the youth had been rendered mute from whatever tribulations he endured before this particular moment, and Luther frowned. He so disliked silence from those who were there to challenge them. The silent ones were unpredictable, the truly challenging and the most difficult to jar out of a train of thought.
Still, something about Fayt's silence seemed appropriate, and Luther felt he could appreciate the impending challenge from the youth. Fayt was unlike the previous challengers from before. Confidence and strength radiated from the youth, and Luther received the impression Fayt could also be quite wily for this battle. The wind surrounding the youth increased in its intensity, the drops of blood and red rose petals mingling with Luther's fire drops and white rose petals. More lightning struck the ground, tearing long jags into the surface surrounding Luther. Fayt was ready to fight, and so was Luther.
The blond-haired man whirled his spear into a circle then thrust it into the ground, bringing an end to the lightning strikes. In the tears, fire sprang forth, separating the two opponents. Luther's eyes, however, never left Fayt. The youth stood poised to strike with the sword in his right hand, his expression one of collected calm, but the jewel drop in the center of his forehead glowed with a fiery white light. Something on the boy imprisoned him, urged him further with this contest of strength and will, and Luther could not help but be curious as to which item was possessing the boy and spurring him into action.
'There is only one way to find out for certain,' Luther thought. 'I shall enjoy this.'
The fires dissipated, and the two opponents leapt towards each other. Fayt's sword gleamed in the fading light of the fires while Luther's spear absorbed their reddish-orange glow. In a matter of seconds, their weapons clashed together with a resounding clang, their bodies mere inches away from each other. Deep emerald eyes gazed into Luther's, a wealth of emotions playing for the blond-haired man to see. The nineteen-year-old knew which of the items controlled his every action, slowing his actions and dulling his senses, but he remained mute. Whoever had chosen the boy wanted him to lose to Luther or wanted him to win. The blond-haired man could not be certain of motives by anyone.
Fayt brought his sword up in that moment, revealing a vulnerable spot on him. Luther saw something he had not noticed when Fayt first appeared before him, and he immediately lunged forward, his spear aimed at seemingly bare flesh. The tip grazed along creamy-looking skin, drawing blood, but removing a topaz-coloured stone from Fayt's person. The stone shattered once it hit the ground, but the results of his removing the jewel were not what Luther expected.
Instead of the young man stopping the fight for a moment, Fayt increased the intensity of his attacks. His expression was no longer emotionless but one of desperation and despair. Luther did not understand at first why Fayt was acting so, but with each thrust and each parry, he began to understand. Fayt wanted death, and the notion intrigued Luther. He continued to engage the younger man, taunting him and luring him to the center of the battleground.
Finally, the battle came to end. Luther knocked Fayt's sword out of his hand and knocked the younger man onto his back. Rose petals lay around the youth in an innocently seductive fashion as did the drops of fire and blood. The tip of his spear lay next to Fayt's throat, and the blue-haired youth stared at him, impotent rage flashing in dazzling green eyes.
"Finish it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just finish it."
"And if I do not wish to finish it?" Luther inquired. He relaxed his battle stance and pulled his spear away. "What if I wish to keep your end of the bargain?"
"Because they meant for me to die. That's why I'm here. That's why they chose me."
"Then they do not understand how this works, Fayt Leingod," Luther responded. He held his hand out to the younger man. "You see, I use these battles to seek out perfection among those of your kind. Only those who engage in a worthy battle live."
"But . . ."
"And you," Luther continued, "gave me a fight I have not experienced in decades. You are worthy. You are perfect for me. Now . . . take my hand. It is time for us to celebrate your noble defeat."
"But if I return . . ."
"You will not be returning, Fayt Leingod," Luther said. "You are mine. For all eternity, you are mine. Come . . . it is time."
Reluctantly, Fayt grasped Luther's hand, and the blond-haired man pulled the youth to his feet. There was much they needed to do, but Luther decided to not worry about such details as of yet. For now, he was grateful to have finally found the one who could be both his perfect warrior and his high priest.
Life was certainly sweet.