Whatever comes to pass here, it has been a long, long time coming.

Chaos is the Prize Chapter 94

"When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home."

-Tecumseh

"The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."

-Mark Twain

"The only people who should kill are those who are prepared to be killed."

-Lelouch Vi Britannia

They paced around one another in a loose circle, Orchid to the left, Sangur to the right. Carefully, extremely carefully. Orchid found the moment quite peculiar. There was no instant charge forward from Sangur, no screaming his lungs out for his foul god like a brute madman. Nor was Orchid leaping forward full of overconfidence and flamboyance, eager to the challenge. No. This was not one of those fights.

This was a fight worthy of legend, a fight where there was absolute certainty only one of them would walk out of it alive and continue to leave their mark in the Legion annals. The last World Eater, facing the greatest champion of the Emperor's Children of this age. Orchid smiled, his lips forming not a thirsting grin, but an unfathomable tense smirk. The feeling of this moment was quite simply nothing he had ever felt before, no matter that he had crossed weapons with Legionnaires before. The moment was as exhilarating as it was full of dread, dread that he was trying his best to wrap in his limitless confidence in himself. This was what it was like to live on the edge of an abyss, one misstep from oblivion. This was what it meant to be alive.

"This is it, cousin. This is it. You have come here to die. I will take great pleasure in delivering that death the finest way I can. Can you fear the sweet call of hell?" Orchid called out as they reached a half-circle from their starting points. Every hair on his skin was as if electrified, every nerve was squirming with anticipation.

"If I was afraid to die, I would be worshipping the wrong God..." Sangur snarled back with a tug in the corner of his limbs. True to that, there was not a shred of worry in his eyes, despite the tension of his body. "But I won't be the one dying today. I know you think you will make it through this, you arrogant bastard, but you won't. This is the end for you. I will be the one offering your skull to the Skull Throne…"

"I'd like to see you try…"

"It will be the last thing you see."

The first swing of a weapon released the thick tension in the air like a thunderbolt. Sangur's axe swung out faster than Orchid had ever seen it. He tilted his upper body backwards, dodging the churning teeth by the length of his index finger. The dodge had not been hard, for Orchid had been ready for the incoming attack. Still, the margin of the miss took him, just a bit, by surprise.

Orchid's counter attack was even faster than Sanger's opening one. The Malevolence flashed in a wide horizontal arc, trying to reach for the bottom of Sangur's breastplate and his stomach. Sangur's axe swung back, recovering from its missed blow in a heartbeat and bashed aside Orchid's blade in a show of hard-learned battle prowess and fighting instinct. Sangur tried to use his free hand to hit Orchid but the nimble fighter spun away from reach of the bare fist.

A second of readjusting their stances and positions and then were upon each other once more. The chain axe roared for blood, and the silvery blade thirsted. Sangur assaulted relentlessly, swinging his axe back and forth wildly, each blow a combination of skillful fighting and sheer bloodthirsty fury. Each one of those blows could have lobbed a head clean off a Beowolf, and Orchid had to carefully deflect and dodge them, answering Sangur's physical language of battle with his own finesse, speed and precision.

Orchid slashed his blade across Sangur's thigh, but for his effort, he received a sudden strike to the jaw from the flat of the chainaxe. As Orchid dodged further, he realized he had made a miscalculation. He flattened his blade across his torso, blocking some of the impacts of a chain axe that struck like a hawk and was hungrily churning for his ribs and Aura for a second before he managed to sidestep away.

Orchid knew full well that there was no way to take down Sangur by exchanging blows like a brawler. Sangur's brutish strength and chainaxe would out damage Orchid's more elegant sword in any such exchange scenario. The way to win was to use his superior dexterity and precision to outplay Sangur's raw potential for violence. Orchid smiled, a bead of sweat going down his brow. Good thing his pure refined prowess was more than up for the challenge. He let out a confident burst of laughter and attacked again.

The pale sword with violet hue dancing across it slipped through the guard of the axe and slashed Sangur across the wrist. The slice drew away an amount of Aura that Orchid could almost taste on his lips. Sangur's counter attack missed, making the moment a clear fraction of victory to Orchid, where he could escape with his protective force intact while Sangur was bled by the blow.

A number of similar exchanges and this battle would be decided. Orchid laughed again and threw himself once more unto the tides of the duel, all the while he could feel the eyes of the Dark Prince upon him. He would make sure the show would not disappoint his patron.

The whimp laughed his familiar indulging, craving, arrogant laughter. Hearing the shrieking cackle almost made Sangur sick.

Sangur pressed on, attacking and attacking like no tomorrow. He had waited for this day. Waited it for a long time. For a long time he had felt his blood boil at the mere presence of the Slaaneshi whelp. He had shared moments of respite and battle with that scion of the IIIrd Legion, always knowing it would one day come to this. His axe against his blade, the blessing of the whimp's frail God against boons of the God of blood and war. With the cocky bastard's blood sprayed on the ground, glistening in the teeth of his axe.

All those moments that lead the two of them here had forged something inside Sangur, some almost biologically fundamental build-up that was finally reaching for a climax. They were drastically different beings, on a base level built with primal and in their case also personal level to stand in opposition. The fire that had been burning inside Sangur was finally allowed to rage free, and it could consume the whimp and see another skull added to the ever-growing throne at the center of a lake of blood.

The nails were screaming, screaming like they had never before. The sensation they caused could not be even called pain anymore in this finest hour of battle. The Butcher's Nails were designed to torment him with pain when not in the thick of the fighting. At this very moment, the only pain they could give was a good pain. The only thing flowing down from Sagur's scalp was strength and power, the red haze transcending into glorious exaltation, the fulfillment that could only be achieved on the altar of violence.

Sangur switched his axe from his armored hand into his bare one in a split second. The blade of Orchid came down, but did not find the Axe rising to counter it. Instead, Sangur's armored hand shot forward, grasping his gauntlet at the lower, narrow part of the blade near the base and stopping it in its tracks.

"The heck are you laughing about?" Sangur snarled. Then he ran his chainaxe in the other hand across Orchid's chest. That silenced the cackling of the peacock. Sangur let go of Orchid's blade. His armored hand twisted into first and delivered a punch to the side of Orchid's jaw. He spun his axe around without pulling it back for another blow, and instead smashed the pommel at the end of the shaft right into Orchid's bastard face. The look on the backward reeling whimp's face as he grasped for his nose was priceless.

Sangur allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. He pulled back to regain his balance and to ready for another onslaught, spinning his axe back into his right hand provocatively. A few meters away Orchid regained his poise as well and removed his free hand from his face where the pommel had struck true. The look in his pink eyes was of pure, scorching hatred. Sangur was almost pleased that Orchid could twist his ugly face into such an expression, one that was almost certainly alike to the look Sangur had at his own eyes, even if his lips tugged upwards for the moment.

In the next moment, Orchid charged, screaming like a banshee thirsty for blood. His onslaught was relentless, forcing Sangur on the backfoot for a second. Sangur did his best in striking down and blocking the viper strikes of the silver blade that sought to slither past his guard. Many got past, impacting Sangur's armor and unprotected body. Seeing an opportunity, Sangur threw himself into the attacks, managing to strike Orchid and shred a good amount of Aura with a few solid hits. Orchid dodged past Sangur, and in the next second, without a moment of hesitation or respite they turned and threw themself on each other once more.

The clash of weapons and the cries and growls of two warriors fighting for their lives went on for a long while. Time lost all meaning. Neither of the two Venatore Legionnaires backed down even a bit. They were determined to fight this to the end. They were determined to fight this till death. There was no fear, no uncertainty, no remorse. Just a clash of violence fueled by an absolute desire for the death of the opponent, and the laughter of thirsting gods.

Orchid Lunged forward, driving his sword forward to stab center mass, aiming for the hole in Sangur's breastplate left by the pale witch. Sangur moved just enough so that his armor covered the point of impact. He suffered some Aura loss anyway, but it was a worthy trade considering he managed to slip inside Orchid's guard. His axe missed, but he was able to kick Orchid, followed by him sweeping one leg from under his opponent. Orchid fell to the ground on his back and Sangur lifted his axe up. The axe came down being held by two hands, bearing a tremendous force of impact behind it.

Orchid however managed to avoid the attack. He sliced Sangur' leg and rolled away. He managed to deflect the axe away as Sangur made pursuit. In the next moment Orchid free jumped from his back to his feet without any assistance from his hand. As Sangur came for him, he raised his own leg high up in turn and used it to kick Sangur's axe aside. He tried to follow up with a wide slash, but Sangur turned his motion into a shoulder bash and drove himself into Orchid full mass, sending the whimp flying a few meters. Orchid rolled in the air and skidded the ground, and was quickly on his feet again, charging right back to Sangur without missing a beat. So the constant struggle went on, each one of the duel pair continuing to seek the advantage over their enemy that would allow them to seek the bloody finality they both were after.

Eventually, the grind of the battle took its toll. The numerous attacks dealt out to both sides ate away their Aura, until finally, one Aura had to give out. The air was rich with sound, the reek of sweat, and now finally, the reek of blood as well.

Orchid struck true, slicing his sword across Sangur's bare shoulder, and with the faintest shimmer of red, the protection of the soul was gone, and a thin line of red was darn across Sangur's flesh.

Orchid let out a cry of triumph, his pupils dilating at the sight of the faintest trail of blood. His face spread into a wide smile, framed by the disheveled white hair falling down the side of his face. Sangur looked into the pik eyes, and he saw a warrior who thought he had won. That was when Sangur, deprived of Aura even as he was, brought his axe up in a vicious uppercut and slashed it across Orchid's face, breaking through the last remains of the whimp's Aura as well.

Orchid stumbled back and Sangur fell to his knee, the sudden weakness of Aura loss coming down to weight on his tired body. He breathed heavily, air coming in and out of his lungs in ragged but full wheezes. He lifted his gaze to get a look of his opponent a second later, his arm still firmly squeezing his axe.

Orchid's expression was of pure shock. A long streak of red ran across his face vertically between his left eye and his nose, possibly cut to the bone at some point. Orchid wiped his face and looked at the blood staining his hand, rich red droplets flowing down his ruined face. It seemed to Sangur as if the limitless arrogance of the cocky bastard had never truly allowed him to consider the possibility of anyone being able to draw his blood, to actually get far enough to wound him, and the utter shock of the moment that had finally arrived was certainly a sight to see.

Orchid touched his face again. He could feel the wetness between his nose and eye, and a shredding pain radiating in a straight line from his jaw to his brow. He could feel small trails leaking into his left eye, clouding his vision and forcing him to blink it away. His mouth hung ajar as his eyes took in the crimson liquid that was bleeding out of his own body. No pain torments Orchid, to him pain was but another form of pleasure. But the pain in his heart and soul at the indignation of being wounded like this stung like nothing had ever done.

Orchid was snapped back into the moment as soon as Sangur got back up. The wound on his person and pride became a secondary issue as Orchid quickly lifted his sword into a ready position between him and his enemy a few meters away. His eyes wandered to the trail of blood leaking from Sangur's shoulder. A flesh wound, barely cutting the muscle. Aura broken as Sangur was, he was far from dead. In fact, it was Orchid who was bleeding out his ichor way more than the warrior of the Blood God.

Sangur lifted his axe, grasping it with both hands now that Aura no longer fueled his strength. Orchid stood still, suppressing a shiver that ran across his arm. The battle was not over. They were both still standing. The matter was yet waiting for a conclusion, and a body to drench the ground with way more than the few droplets already staining the dirt. So, without a word, the two of them moved forward, weapons ready.

The first clash of arms was unlike any of the previous ones. So were the ones after that. The strikes were sloppy, lacking in strength, and downright feeble. It was as if they were fighting with bags of lead strapped to their muscles. Like normal humans. Gone was the incredible superhuman might, alacrity and precision granted by Aura. All that was left was the frail forms of two human boys throwing themself at each other. The feeling of weakness was, quite simply, frightening. Orchid wondered how normal humans without Aura could live like this.

Yet on they fought, with the blood from the scratches and wounds and gashes staining the arena of their confrontation. There was no backing out, there was no retreat. This would end here. Neither of them could accept not seeing this through.

They fought on with determination, relentlessness and zeal, but they fought in silence. Gone was the mocking laughter, gone was the boisterous declarations, gone were the roars of anger and contempt. They pushed on without the might of their geneseed given Aura, their bodies fueled now only by hate, madness, genecoded battle spirit and the touch of the Warp.

The ponderous axe collided with the sluggish sword, time and time again. Sometimes it seems the weapons were aiming to merely collide into each other's embrace rather than seeking to draw blood. Nevertheless, blood was drawn, from the callous, sore and bloody hands wielding the weapons if not where the blows of the weapons landed.

Orchid spat blood that was flowing into the corner of his mouth. He raised his blade to attack and defend again and again, exhaustion burning his Aura-deprived muscles but his spirits screaming at him to go on. He had no idea how long the fight had lasted, and he did not care. His white hair was partially slick with the blood from his torn open face, and his teeth were gritted together enough to make his gums bleed.

The face of Sangur was that of a blood-crazed beast that still fought like a man. His eyes were red with familiar bloodshot, the veins on his neck and brow were bulging, and his mouth was twisted in a permanent grimace as if his facial muscles had frozen in rigor mortis from his nail firing nerves.

The final blow was fast approaching, always just a hair's breadth away, palpable to both of them in every near miss, every glancing blow and every flesh wound. The struggle of life and death stretched on and on, until, finally, it could go on no more.

Sangur saw the opening. His battle-strained mind reacted with instinct, detecting the killing blow and moving to act on it. Orchid misstepped, flailing in the wrong direction just a bit too much to properly correct his stance. Skalathrax roared and Sangur lunged, his axe coming diagonally from the side right for Orchid's exposed neck. It was as if Sangur moved in slow motion, time slowing down as the axe came to strike true one last time.

The axe missed. Orchid tilted his full body, spinning around Sangur's blows, and thrust with both hands the silvery blade of his sword right into Sangur's guts.

A silence finally fell.

Sangur dropped his axe. He looked down. He could see the weapon that impaled his torso. Blood started to stain his clothing. He could feel the pain radiating from his slashed intestines and even the sensation of the metal blade touching his spinal bone. Sangur let out a heavy breath, and then he fell.

Sangur had been struck down before, but this time he could feel he would not be rising again. The damage to his body was starting to weigh on him. The nails no longer stirred his nerves going numb. His eyes grew strained as is devoid of rest. He could not feel his limbs properly. His senses were getting fuzzy, and his breathing was getting labored. At that moment it came to him that this was what dying was like.

Orchid's form emerged to Sangur's field of vision directed towards the sundown orange sky. The whimp's face was still bloody from where Sangur had cut him. Sangur managed to focus his eyes enough to get a decent view of Orchid's face. The expression of the Orchid's face was unreadable, devoid of all flamboyance and cockyness. The white-haired boy was breathing hard with exhaustion, his pink eyes directed down to look upon the warrior he had just vanquished.

In the end, the whimp had really been better than him, Sangur thought. Orchid had always been so damn full of hubris and pride, thinking himself a paragon of duelists, but as Sangur laid there bleeding his life out, he finally recognized that perhaps there had been a reason for that arrogance. He had always been proud of his bladework… as he had every right to be.

"So… here we are… at the end of the path…" Orchid said with a hoarse voice.

"Congratulations..." Sangur managed to wheeze out. "You did it. You truly were a worthy warrior... perhaps the greatest legionnaire of our age…"

"I am not the greatest legionnaire of our age. And most definitely neither are you," Orchid snarled back.

They remained as they were for a long while, simply staring at one another. They took in the moment, perhaps searching for something left to be said but realized there was no need. Orchid eventually lifted his sword, looking over Sangur with the blade ready at his side.

"Get on with it then…" Sangur said. "Time to go meet Nox and Azuhrius once more… It has been a long time without them… I have missed them..."

"Be sure to share stories about our great final clash…" Orchid said, his lips finally caressed by a faint smile. "It was a fine duel, worthy of Legion legend. A proper end for a warrior like you."

"...That is the only way for a follower of the Blood God…" Sangur whispered.

"For all blood is welcome, is that not how it is?" Orchid asked almost serenely.

Sangur huffed at those words. He managed to form the slightest form of a smile on his lips. "Yes…" he huffed. "Exactly…"

Orchid nodded one last time, tilted his ready blade, and then with one clean motion, the silvery blade flashed and Sangur saw no more.

Orchid looked up from the corpse at his feet. His air was growing alight with a faint purple glow and shimmering circling all around him. The veil of the Wapr grew thin, and Orchid could feel the Dark Prince's touch reach out into the mortal world. He could feel the approval of his patron, and the promise of reward. He could feel the Warp slipping into his already blessed frame, faintly bestowing upon more of the gifts of Slaanesh. He felt his flesh rejoice at the attention, and could feel his previous exhaustion being drained away at the arrival of a new strength.

For a long moment Orchid stood there with his hands held wide, welcoming the boon bestowed upon his worthy soul. He felt stronger. His senses felt sharper. The subtle changes grante to his flesh felt beyond imagining, and a form of pleasure he had never felt before, for it was only able to be reached by the presence of the Dark Prince of Chaos.

Orchid reached his hand to his face. The bleeding had stopped, but the wound was still very much there. A part of him was displeased that his God's grace had not healed the physically visible stain upon his pride, but another part did not mind. The wound was a mark, a reminder of this moment and what had happened here today. It was a remembrance, monument, a memorandum, left behind by a great champion and perhaps the worthiest rival Orchid would ever know.

"Thou not wholly unheroic figure, farewell."

-Peter Pan

Over 5 years ago, I laid the plans for four main characters of mine. Two of them fell a long while ago, and now at last the time has come for the last one to join them. From what I have observed, it is not a stretch to say that Sangur was most popular character of this story. I would love to hear what you have to say about him and his now concluded journey. I will miss you, my violent, brutal and fearless boy. Blood for the Blood God.

I have one more proper chapter coming and then finally the epilogue. Until then, dear readers.

Leave a review if you feel like it.