The roar of the crowd succeeded in confirming Haley was not ready for any match. Earlier, her Knight had to practically drag her out of bed. She was thankful he had helped her dress into jeans and a casual t-shirt, given how disastrously she pushed herself last night. The remnants of the rune were still dragging her senses along for the ride. It was remarkable she even remembered the gift she pocketed that she would bestow upon Diarmuid after their fight.

Now they stood in the arena, its platform of sand and desert heat extending far and wide after the terrain was chosen. Strategically, Haley had not the slightest clue why Diarmuid would select this given her state, until he mentally told her it would be best to keep everything in the open for her abilities, and it would be easier to keep a watchful eye on her.

The idea in her mind felt disastrous, until the Host leaped from his stupid throne to land across from them with a toothy grin.

"I've been waitin' for this." Cu Chulainn chuckled, as he approached the two participants.

Diarmuid mirrored the fellow Irishman's cocky grin. He too, had long awaited the chance to do battle with Ireland's Child of Light. What luck he and the Lady were gifted, as the match promised between the two of them would not include her. Yes, they were truly blessed with some small reprieve. His Lady let out a relieved breath.

Cu Chulainn turned his attention to the woman. With great interest, he'd watched her fight and use those respectable abilities. She was in no way a confident woman, but her talents were great. The amount of work her powers put in against Achilles and the other rounds was commendable.

"Alright—ya know my challenge's requirements, but I ask you, woman: did ya want to participate to help lover boy fight?"

Haley was startled by such a question, and shifted her attention upward to the Knight at her side. To be fair, she was appeased that she didn't have to fight given her condition, but she figured that aiding Diarmuid would have mixed results. She looked to him for guidance.

Her Knight's metallic eyes glimmered like gems, and his head shook from side-to-side. It was silly of her to think he would wish her to accompany him after everything that had recently transpired. Plus, she did say in earlier events that he would own this battle as a testament of his personal skills.

"I… have to decline… I promised Diarmuid that he would face off on you by himself… plus…" The ill woman rocked sideways in her reply, only the firm hand of her Knight steadying her in place. "I don't feel too well. I will… just be a challenge-less burden." Haley mimicked Diarmuid's usual bow. "But I thank you… for giving me the choice."

With his palm on his hip, Cu leaned into the woman, his index finger guiding her chin to bring her face to his eye level. Not feeling well? Is that what she called this rune spell lingering on her? "Tch, I thought somethin' was up."

Feeling Diarmuid's jaundiced expression burning holes through his head for his coquettish touch, Cu dropped the woman's profusely red face and drew a small pattern in the air. The girl before him glowed, and then the light around her gave out. "That should help ya."

"Huh…? What did you…?" While still having some merk in her persona, relief from the sickness that plagued her was much more prevalent.

Cu threw the little lady a wink. "Runes are troublesome things. Alright, enough chattin'," Cu turned his back to the pair, his demonic spear appearing in his grip. "Head to the Detainer bleachers, and watch us fight."

Diarmuid shook off his stupefaction. His Lady yet wore her shock as she watched the Heroic Spirit meander away from them. The Child of Light's hospitality must have created wonder, as most of the panel's endeavors thus far had done nothing but inspire distaste from her. "My lady, I wish for you to bear witness to my deeds. I shall bring us victory."

Haley blinked furiously, and turned back to her Irishman's smiling face and gentle eyes. Returning his smile, she stood on her tippy toes and pulled Diarmuid's face to hers in a reassuring kiss. "Good luck, my Knight." She then looked to the Lancer in that ugly blue skinsuit. "He will kick your butt!"

Even from afar, Haley could tell that the other Irish Legend chuckled. Knowing her presence on the sandy field would surely become an issue, she said no more. The barrier around them shimmered, leaving a small opening for her to exit; she leaped off the platform.

Once she was safely sitting in the bleachers on her lonesome, the hooting and hollering of the spectators behind her became more apparent. Briscella announced the beginning of their fight, and surely she would also narrate it. This was the first time she would observe the battles completely as a bystander. There was no room for intervention, now that she was safely hidden on the outskirts of the barrier.

At the corner of her eye, the Underworld's Warriors were closely scrutinizing her person… maybe to contain her if she were to interfere. The lone woman scoffed. Haley was in enough jeopardy thanks to the horrendous events that had already taken place.

Azure eyes focused on the Knight being granted a second spear, while Moralltach was cast aside. Seemed Cu wanted this to be a straight spear fight, to comprehensively determine who the better Spearman was. Haley held her breath. This was going to be a match she believed she would never forget.

—

Diarmuid leveled his two spears across his chest to block the frontal assault—the man in blue was just as mighty as the legends proclaimed. Swift as a beast, and landing blows that rattled his bones like a meteor.

Even so, the dual-wielding spearman was holding his own. The steadfast close-range style of this opposing Lancer was deflected by Gae Buidhe, Diarmuid's shorter golden spear. While the effects of non-healable injuries were kept tightly enclosed under the magic sealing cloth—its defensive prowess held firm against Cu's frontal assaults.

Still, the barrage of lethal attacks would eventually overwhelm Diarmuid—that he knew. Even as Gae Dearg found its way through the minor openings, slashing at the blazingly fast Heroic Spirit that was Cu Chulainn was no easy task. Power spread evenly to each weapon in his left and right, as the former Servant decided distance was his friend and by using the power of Cu's own blows, allowed himself to ride the wave of energy into the dune-filled field.

The granular substance indubitably cushioned the impact, while Gae Dearg's length kicked up the ground to create a shield of dust. It was not even a second before Cu's assault cleared the air when his methodically grinning features emerged.

Diarmuid expected this charge—as it was one of many by this point—he was already on his haunches as he sprung high and above the beast-like warrior. Gae Buidhe was then hurdled, air sizzling from the speed with which it was thrown. To his dismay, the golden spear missed its mark, his timing between the throw and Cu Chulainn's advance too short.

Weapons rang as the projectile spear was knocked to the side. Ruby eyes locked onto the fellow Irishman. Gae Bolg twirled above and around Cu's frame, until the butt end sank into sand.

"Heh, too bad ya couldn't outdrink me. An advantage besides the standard boost Merlin gifts ya might give you the edge on me."

A light scoff exited Diarmuid, as he twirled his own majestic spin with Gae Dearg before implanting it into the ground. "I need not an advantage—I will be victorious."

Cu's lip curled upward at the corner, as he bent at the right and lifted the smaller spear from the gravel. "Ya—keep dreamin." Cu flung the miniscule weapon over his shoulder.

Crimson-tinted eyes never left the warrior before them—though the mind of Diarmuid made note of a visualization for the unseen future of their battle. It was quite risky, but all strategies were necessary against a man who fought so overbearingly, despite not approaching their skirmish as seriously.

Hands tightening around the cool steel of his spear, Diarmuid lunged forward. The strength he once had to balance between his ambidexterity no longer held him back from the brute force of a singly-handled weapon.

Wind scraped past as the image of the Knight became a blur. Gae Dearg's length hummed as it collided against Gae Bolg. Skilled clashes between similar weaponry echoed through the Arena; each strike by both men ringing the bells of their enthusiasm from each masterly clash of the spears.

Diarmuid ensured he kept Cu stretched apart from him. The low, bat-like swings of the demonic weapon aimed for joints in Cu's legs. Footing was rather hard to maintain in the granular substance beneath them. Each jerk of Gae Dearg (backed by impetus pressure) had the laughing man in blue on his toes.

Cu was impressed; he didn't think the man would match his speed or spear blow-for-blow. It was clear the Irish Knight was not to be easily dismissed. This Lancer was a more beautiful and adept warrior than the legends proclaimed. He smirked. What a shame, that this was where the proud, once Heroic Spirit had ended up.

Despite all that, Cu figured it was time to boost their match to yet another level. The Spearman before him was matching him in velocity and vigor. In all the matches the Child of Light had been part of thus far, this was the most thrilling. Well, this and the fight against Medea. To be bested by that woman had been a shock.

An overhead slash grazed the sole of Cu's foot, knocking the pole back with Diarmuid in tow. "Heh, fool," Cu lunged, speartip ready to pierce the exposed front of his opponent.

It was like a damn flashback of his Grail War (or the Latter's) as the sand crumpled between them, and Diarmuid kicked up his shorter spear. Just like that wretched dual-wielding old coot, the second weapon aimed; and while the other had no pride in his skills—this prick did.

Sparks stung the man clad in blue's cheek, as Gae Buidhe clung against his right shoulder's armor, and Gae Dearg grazed the parried strike that blew them both adjacent from each other into the sand. "Pleh!"

Cu spit the dry grains from his mouth. The bastard was only striking him with those flurries of attacks to arrange their position for him to retrieve his second spear. Tacky, but he liked it.

Diarmuid expected the events, but hoped he'd inflict a damaging blow. Ireland's cherished hero was known for his counter moves. It would take more than just mild surprise to defeat this man. In order to hang on to the little momentum he had, Diarmuid closed their gap once more.

Shooting up like a geyser, Cu left Diarmuid striking up an explosion of sand and dust. Did he just vault?!

No, it was like spiritual magic—the Heroic Spirit went into spirit form then manifested behind him so quickly that Diarmuid barely had the chance to turn. Not before his spine crushed and he was left scraping the scratchy ground.

"Tch, don't get cocky just cause you surprised me." Cu whirled Gae Bolg around his person in a clever spin to then point the sharp end towards the darker haired Lancer. "Your skills are sound, I'll give you that."

Sand was patted off the Irishman's orange exterior, as he rocked back onto his feet. A long, heavy sigh escaped, as Diarmuid looked outside the barrier. Unable to see his Lady through whatever magic instilled the blockade had him wondering just what she was thinking. With this battle being strictly between them—his back was going to be a problem moving forward.

"I do not believe myself to be cocky, as you put it. I am simply here to defeat you, and must take advantage of each chance: do you not agree with this, Prince of Light?"

Cu Chulainn laughed—a cheery sound, as he placed his knuckles on his waist and leaned forward, "Hah—ah, nah, I get it. Truly. Gotta bring victory for your Lady, yeah?"

Diarmuid cocked an eyebrow. "Yes, what of it?"

"Nothin', nothin'," Cu's infamous smirk quirked his lips. "I dunno, ya got that mole and given your situation: why are you with just one chick? If I had it I'd—"

"Do not insult the relationship I have with my Lady," the Knight interrupted, with a sharp jerk of his chin.

"Ah, ah," Cu threw up his hands. "Ohhh, touchy subject, eh? Sorry, sorry." He chuckled—teasing this man was easier than he had anticipated. "Don't get me wrong, I'm all for loyalty to a woman and all, you just—"

"Enough." Irritated, the Knight readied his spears, impatient for their match to move forward. He may not be capable of seeing the outside, but he knew the Lady was watching in anticipation of his glory.

"Hm, you get down to business, I can roll with that. Guess we are through being friendly then."

"Make no mistake, Cu Chulainn, I rather enjoyed how we experienced our spare time. But this is a competition that I must excel in."

Cu nodded, understanding the former Servant's resolve, and readied his spear. Enough drawing out their match for the fun of it, then. "I'm gonna fight you entirely seriously now, let's see if you can hover your spears over my throat."

The Lancers circled each other, both in their respective crouching positions. Diarmuid kept his eyes steady on the hound of Culann, deciding to be the first to approach. Gae Dearg sliced through the air, slamming down Gae Bolg's shaft. Gae Buidhe followed, aimed underneath the two collided weapons.

Easily, the rag-tailed Spearman thrust all his weight forward, sliding the blood-red weapon that mirrored his own to the side and dodged the golden one's thrust. The dual wielding aspect did not throw him off in the slightest. In fact, his very mentor mastered the parlor trick, so it was something Cu was used to.

Furiously twirled, Gae Bolg whipped the Arena's terrain in a frenzy. Diarmuid realized he was not the only one to use the environment to their advantage. Cu's short bursts remained disastrously close, the pain of the Knight's spine being pressed down by each blow.

It was futile fighting Cu like this. Close range was his specialty, and each smash of their lances, each deflection of one jab only left room for another. Ireland's swiftest hero merely added to the pandemonium when his feet dug into the sand, kicking up the buried rocks and pummelling Diarmuid with stone.

Eyesight skewered by the dust clouds, and plan in place, Diarmuid retreated back. Blasts echoed on the sandy platform in each spot that Cu latched onto his tail like a pouncing fox. The Knight turned to face his pursuer, batting away the relentless attacks.

"Enough runnin' away! Show some dignity will ya?" Cu jammed his demonic lance into the sand and hurdled over the fleeing man.

Boots skidding in the sand, Diarmuid smirked. He threw himself back onto the cushioning surface and slid underneath the stabbing spearman. Knowing Cu's impatience would provoke him to stop his retreat—the Knight nabbed the fellow Irishman's ankle and dragged him down with him.

Of course both the warriors were quick to recover, both on their feet as quickly as the puffs of dirt dispersed. But Diarmuid had a plan besides full-on assaulting the other Spirit. The systematic lunge from Cu consistently aimed at the openings Diarmuid gave him. But he ducked quickly, and Gae Bolg struck the barrier.

This was the second time the buzzing walls of energy provided great support—the shocking energy creating just enough of a diversion for Diarmuid to knock his feet into Cu's ankles. The man in blue hunched forward, and miraculously overturned before either of the Knight's spears could meet their mark.

That development required Diarmuid to hastily bring Gae Dearg perpendicular to Gae Bolg. In a quick flash, his eyes flickered. Seconds too slow—Cu roundhouse-kicked him back. "Aggghh!" The heat in his flesh brought tears to his eyes, as he fell taking in a mouthful of sand.

Diarmuid grit his teeth—not here, not like this. His spears were already in the air, expecting the crashing shockwave of gae Bolg, sending ripples through his muscles. Cu's countenance was inches from his, as he pressed his spear further down.

The Knight had to roll, the blade of Gae Bolg splitting his jumpsuit open at the back, grazing his tormented skin from the barrier's might. A wave of debris was kicked up; Diarmuid released his weapons to grab a handful of sand to toss into the ruby red eyes that locked on to him.

Skin screaming, back throbbing—Diarmuid clasped Gae Dearg and Gae Buidhe in hand. He savaged the fellow spearman with all he had, each swing mightier than the next. The men glared at one other, unrelenting in their assaults, despite every fiber of Diarmuid's sweating frame in the blasted heat attempting to persuade him otherwise.

He could not relent: the moment his swings gave in, the match was over. Cu was too overbearing for anything else. Every moment led to this final plea for victory.

Each man clashed against the other in full force, the Arena exploding like a bomb in all the places they leapt from. Their furious strikes were impossible to trace…only the sounds of metal clashing and sand erupting emphasized there was a battle taking place.

Diarmuid's shoulders hunched, his breathing labored, and with another block and swipe, Cu's next stab released Gae Buidhe from his grip, effectively disarming him.

All according to the Knight's final strategy. Increasing his mana flow, Diarmuid burst into the air. Cu predictably mimicked his ascent, but the Knight effectively grabbed the dislodged weapon mid-air and struck.

Diarmuid rode the celerity from their descent to further shove Gae Buidhe into the Heroic Spirit's gut. The sand burst—a wave of golden particles flowed through the Arena.

Chest heaving, a trembling Gae Dearg leveled at Cu's heart, the Knight pressed shut his eyes. "This… is victory here… is it not?"

Cu snickered, eyeing Gae Bolg that was just out of hand's reach from their landing. His opponent removed himself, regaining breath. "Yeah… about that."

"What—" Diarmuid turned, to meet the sharp blade of Cu's spear.

Eyes wide, the Knight's glance drifted downward to his belly—skewered by Gae Bolg.

"Battle continuation, buddy. Sorry." Cu yanked his weapon from the flummoxed man, only to be rendered just as aghast as Diarmuid.

Marks of vermillion splattered, sinking into the sand. This was enough to shock even the likes of Diarmuid—as whose blood was spilled was not Cu's but yet his own.

Cu grabbed Diarmuid's stiffened shoulders and wrestled his slightly bulkier build into the sand and cursed. "Feck man, this just ain't your day."

—

Haley was on her feet, breathless. Her heart had halted its beats when Diarmuid smacked against the barrier and the orange jumpsuit charred, but this—

Was much fucking worse.

If she remembered correctly: Battle Continuation was a special Servant skill that allowed the Heroic Spirit to exist for a short period of time, even after receiving a deathly blow. In this case, Cu's words meant that even though Diarmuid held the spear to his vitals as if he had won, Cu would still be able to fight on until her Knight was able to supply the same result. Twice.

The psychic cursed under her breath. "That fucking piece of shit… didn't mention… Diarmuid has to level him. Twice."

Diarmuid must have been bewildered just the same, given his state. The man was worn down, clear in the way his shoulders slouched, and the handle he had on his weapons… in the way he stepped aside, as if relieved the fight was over.

Cu was formidable in the way he bore down on his opponents, but she felt this was dirty, even for him. Straightforward spear fight, her ass.

Fists clenched at her sides shook, then turned to intense tremors when Cu's spear struck Diarmuid's blistered abdomen. The screens all blinked out at once, leaving everyone in the crowd speechless.

A pin drop could be heard in the silence of the Dome, as everyone watched the barrier go from transparent to as white as a sheet of paper. Haley's mouth dropped, as with her enhanced vision—she saw what the panel attempted to block out. And thus stunned her into stillness.

Diarmuid was bleeding.

"How in the…?" Haley stammered on the words, the situation incomprehensible.

The bodies of the Underworld don't bleed.

Never—despite the many wounds he sufficed—had Diarmuid shed blood.

Come heal this wound, NOW. Cu's voice blared in her thoughts, the barrier splitting open for her to slip through.

Haley sprinted into the Arena, climbing over the platform. A sizzling zip was heard behind her, presumably the enclosure sealing her in. The two warriors in sight, she dragged through the sand to meet them.

Still implanted in the dirt—Cu's foot hiding the slash—Haley collapsed onto her knees and readied to heal.

"Only heal the gash from Gae Bolg, nothing else, woman," Cu practically hissed.

Haley solemnly nodded, the line in her Knight's belly immediately sealing shut from her magic. Eyeing the thick crimson settling into Diarmuid's suit, Haley pulled the substance from his clothes and flicked it away with her telekinetic powers.

There was no longer any trace of the events that had just transpired. Diarmuid arched upward, keeping his face firm, but unreadable. Blood. Impossible, and yet…

"Ya lost, get the hell outta here. The special Healers won't take care of the burns, either. You'll wait for the punishment game, unless we say otherwise, got it?" Cu spat, his scarlet orbs glaring daggers at the two lovebirds below him.

Diarmuid stood, merely offering the Legend an affirming nod. Blank eyes transitioned to his Lady, who palmed his bicep. He flinched from her touch, and stepped away, coming to grips with the situation. He was not… to get close to her.

The look on Haley's face was as if he had deeply wounded the woman, but he refused to meet her glossy crystal eyes. Reluctantly, he distanced himself from her—mentally and physically—as they reached the crappy mattresses that served as medical beds.

"Diarmuid, what is going on?" Haley asked, completely perplexed. Her hand reached out to hold his, but he quickly pulled it away. "Why…?"

"My Lady… if they do not end us where we stand first," Diarmuid started, voice hoarse. He knew, long before they got close, to keep himself from her… from the yearning. However, his heart was swayed by her persuasive innocence, and now… "We… can no longer share affections. I am sorry."

"What—I—why? I—I don't understand!" No, Haley wouldn't, couldn't allow this without an explanation. First her father, now this?!

Diarmuid turned, his gaze finally falling upon the woman's distraught one. This was beating him down just as badly as it was her. He swore on his Spirit, that he would be her Knight. No matter his connection with the woman, his duties to her came first.

In the realization of what exactly that meant—even if he was removing himself from her—he would do so. No matter the strain on his heart, and how broken this shall leave her.

For this devastating development was too great, even for their infatuation.

"My Lady, I am stealing your life force."

oooooooo

thissssss chappppterrr. Omg. Spear fight? How do you make a spear fight interesting?! I tried, okay! Haha

Also, the REVEAL IS FINALLY HERE. Did anyone pick up on all the little hints I left for this?! Cu's right- it ain't dias day. Or week. Well...

I love this entire climax?! Is that what the middle bridge of the story is?! This fight being the start of it all, all of the twists and turns coming your way ahhhhh!

I hope yall are enjoying this fic! I love hearing your feedback, and am curious See!

Anyway, See you next week! Cuz... mmpphhh, there is still so much more to come =P