Chapter 81

"OTTTAAAAAAAAAAR!" Penthesilea cracked her neck, grinning like a mad woman as she spread her arms open, raising her cloak a little bit as her voice became a bit more quiet, yet still ear shattering loud. "Come out! I don't wish to waste my time turning this city upside down for you!"

Not that she would mind too much if some poor civilians would get splattered as collateral damage, but she hated the lectures she received from the others. Also, there was nothing skillful for a warrior if they lacked such self control that they couldn't choose who should die at their hands or not. Crossing her arms, she waited in the large free area in front of the tower of Babel. She felt onlookers all around her, all too afraid and concerned to do anything. But then her ears picked up rapid movement and she couldn't help but roll her eyes in fond exasperation when she spotted her amazons on the rooftops. They descended and surrounded her, before dropping down on their knees immediately, ignoring their own wounds and damage entirely. Then they began to chant as they raised their fists.

"Ze Wegha!"

"Ze Wegha!"

"Ze Wegha!"

Thou art a true warrior. She glanced at the rooftops once more, seeing some of the local adventurers. The ones that caught her eyes specifically were two of her former battle sisters. She frowned a bit when the twins were about to kneel when they remembered their place. Tione bit her lip, sending a death glare at her, while Tiona scratched her arm uncomfortably. She exhaled. Such a pity. So much potential and they discarded their heritage. Oh well. They were nothing more than total strangers to her now. After her observations of the local power, satisfied that Orario wasn't blown out of proportion, she raised her hand, silencing her amazons in an instance. To the veterans like Gareth, it was a worrying sight. The level of respect Penthesilea was receiving was immense. Given the warrior culture of the amazons, it only confirmed for them that this woman was dangerous. The queen cracked her neck before looking at a certain amazon with a veil covering her face.

"Any casualties?"

"None among our people, my queen." She nodded slowly. "Nor among the cattle of Orario, just as you ordered."

"Excellent." The queen rolled her shoulders a bit, already warming up. "Space?"

"This is your arena. Those you see are the only ones who could interfere. Not that we would let them."

Penthesilea nodded in approval, revealing her teeth as she didn't bother keeping her bloodlust suppressed.

"Keep it that way. I do not want any distractions."

"Whew, almost thought I was going to be late!"

Looking up, the queen of Telyskyura spotted the familiar skull mask and she had to roll her eyes. With no shame whatsoever, Kali waved at her captain with a cheeky smile, all while basically being a hostage to the Loki Familia.

"Win, my dearest child."

Faced with such relaxed affection Penthesilea wasn't worried about her goddess' safety. Still it did ruin the mood a bit. She opened her mouth to say something to the small deity before the hairs in her neck rose, sending a shiver down her spine. She snapped her head towards a certain alley. That motion was more than enough as a signal for the amazons to retreat immediately. At the same time a group emerged from the tower, revealing the strongest Familia escorting the most beautiful goddess. They took to the rooftops as well, with a comfortable chair for Freya. Sitting down once she had a good and safe spot she glanced towards the other deity that dared challenge her by association.

"My, I heard of you, Kali, but I didn't think you would be so reckless."

In response the Amazonian goddess showed her teeth, cracking her neck in demonstration.

"I'm the Destroyer, being reckless is in my nature." She sent Freya a taunting look. "'sides, I think you need to be pulled off your high horse for once in a while, love goddess. Some humility is good for the skin I heard."

If the goddess was affected by the words she didn't show it as she chuckled. During all that, Penthesilea completely ignored them, her focus on the foot steps that sounded from the alley. Freya smiled coyly, looking at the same direction before nodding with affection and pride.

"Ottar. Have fun."

The first thing everyone felt was his hunger for battle. His massive size seemed to grow as his spirit grew, his footsteps heavy like those of giants from legends. Penthesilea felt sweat slowly run down her skin as she got a good look on the one they called the strongest in Orario. Unblemished. Muscles carved from the strongest of mountains. Despite his stoic face something boiled beneath his skin. The sight made the queen of amazons grin like a complete maniac. Ottar bowed deeply towards his goddess with full admiration and respect, his voice utterly calm.

"I dedicate this battle to you, my lady."

Penthesilea took a that as her cue. With a swift motion, she stripped off her cloak, letting it flutter down her back. Many gasped and flat out drooled at her sight, man and woman alike. Beautiful. Sexy. Abs made of steel and shining white skin despite the scars here and there. Ottar's mouth twitched with approval. A true body of a warrior. Slowly the two individuals walked up to each other, Ottar with his arms straight and his hands formed in fists. Penthesilea on the other hand had her arms spread open, her hands looking like claws as she smiled. Soon enough they stopped just in front of each other, within arms reach. The size difference could be considered comical, but their aura as warriors was equally massive. It was a shock for those that lived and died by the dungeon. How could anyone outside become so strong, to rival the King!?

No. In the eyes of veterans like Shakti or Gareth, there was a difference. One that Penthesilea felt all too well, as she felt the stress clash against her own spirit. In this fight, she truly was the challenger going up against the champion, for Ottar, judging just from the aura, was stronger than her. And yet her smile remained as she tilted her head, almost coyly.

"Penthesilea Themyscira. Asura. Level six."

"Ottar. The King. Level seven." He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. "You believe you can fight me without weapons?"

In response, the Asura scoffed, waving her hand dismissively.

"No weapon we could produce would match up to Orario." She cracked her knuckles with a small nod. "Besides, I wish to feel your body break under my naked fists anyway ."

The King hummed before raising his arms, taking on a classic boxing stance with narrowed eyes.

"Very well."

Penthesilea frowned for a moment. What she said wasn't meant to be an invitation for a fist fight. Alas, she sighed before spreading her arms once more. The strong had the privilege to be arrogant. If he wanted to make the mistake of forgoing a weapon, it was his to make. Still, before they could properly begin… a taste. With that in mind she smirked at him.

"You first."

The audience gasped and gaped at those words. Ottar raised an eyebrow. Many would call that demand stupid. And yet, she had her pride. If a single strike could spell defeat for her, a strike she was prepared for, then she never stood a chance in the first place. Ottar recognized that pride and decided to humor her.

"Hmph."

His right arm vanished in the eyes of the weak. Only those that reached the fourth level could remotely see the blur that smashed against the woman's face, causing her to slide over the ground with her upper body bent backwards. It was a simple straight. Yet it was one of perfection with the raw power of a level seven behind it. And yet, the King's eyes widened ever so slightly as he looked down at his bloodstained fist, seeing it twitch a bit.

His fist stung. When was the last time he felt such a sensation? When was the last time he felt pain when attacking someone? Them he heard a chuckle. Looking back forward he saw Penthesilea already walking back towards him, just as she reset her broken nose and shot out some blood to the side. This time Ottar didn't hide his smile and nodded at her with approval. Then he mimicked her open arm stance and exhaled slowly.

"Your turn."

It looked like casual mockery. But the Asura frowned deeply. She was glad her Trojan style, incomplete as it was, actually worked, if only a little bit. But that confidence vanished when she was faced with the steel wall in front of her. With just a glance she could tell that in terms of defense...she was his lesser. With a small laugh, she dropped her arms, forgoing a traditional stance. Instead she seemed more like a beast ready to pounce on her latest meal.

"It appears I still have a lot to do in order to make this style the greatest..."

Her hair covered her eyes, making it look like she had shadows over them. Then, all of a sudden, she screamed and snapped her head up. The scream shook the very souls of the people around her, but it wasn't only that which caused Ottar to actually flinch. It wasn't the eyes touched by wrathful red that were wide and focused entirely on him. No, it was the pain, the way his head was forcefully moved when Penthesilea landed her savage haymaker on him, with all her weight behind it with her leap that cracked the ground. He was forced to step to the side a bit else he would actually stumble. Slowly he turned his head back to his opponent. Then he tasted the almost forgotten taste of iron as something wet escaped his mouth. Despite the rage within her eyes, the amazon smiled at the victory, at the shock of the audience, shock given a voice by a certain cat warrior.

"That boar is bleeding?!"

Before anyone can process that impossibility, it was Ottar's turn to let out a soul shivering roar. It was then that Orario shook as if earthquakes hit the city over and over again, as the two warriors had enough of the first taste and began their onslaught on each other, fists meeting flesh, feet hitting bones. Each blow to each caused a shockwave that forced lesser beings on their knees in fear of being blown away. Those that remained standing could see how the two fought each other, more clear than others who only saw a white blur and a standing giant instead.

Ottar showcased his full experience from the dungeon, the raw skill and efficiency behind his defense against monsters that would jump at him from all sides at high speeds. It was not a martial art but just the natural conclusion of his fighting style from fighting fighting many varied monsters one would get sick of it. His fave never showed any surprise as he parried, redirected or just countered an attack from his enemy, as if he saw each of them coming. And yet the shots landed against his defense revealed the occasional discomfort, the reddening of flesh being affected by such heavy hits.

Penthesilea on the other hand showed the complete opposite conclusion from her vast experience, experience nobody knew where she got it from. While Ottar adapted to his opponent and created a defensive strategy just for them...Penthesilea refused to change for her opponent. She kept up her offensive. Snarling like an animal, even when she was punched into a building after her first leap, she would leap right back like a bouncing ball and kick his stomach, only to be kicked away once more. Such was her confidence in her raw offense. Efficiency and skill was disregarded in favor of pure destruction power. No amount if pain or blood was enough to even slow down her assaults as she jumped and dashed at Ottar over and over again, sometimes even using the force of his hits to retreat and pick up even more speed.

In terms of physical state, Ottar clearly had the upper hand. While wounds and bruised piled up on both it was Penthesilea whose face was more disfigured with damage. And yet Ottar smiled at the tension he felt. Freya only sighed wistfully, feeling pity and envy in her heart. She saw the soul of the Amazon. Slowly but surely a pure white soul started to shine stronger and stronger, piercing through the bloody, scar like red. Ottar meanwhile had no such sight, but he could tell that Penthesilea's soul became brighter and brighter. After all, he didn't know when, but he was forced to dodge. Swaying his head to the side and using footwork himself, he realized that his opponent was just growing stronger. Tougher. His counter attacks began to sting him more and more, the blows she landed causing his bones to creak but not break yet. Mostly thanks thanks a skill he assumed. And yet as he faced such difficulty, such pain, he smiled as he have his best to counter and pummel his enemy down.

He didn't go all out yet. He was beginning to strain but he could tell for all her growing strength, that she was getting exhausted herself. And in his mind, he didn't want to this to end yet. He could go all out, activate all of his skills, but he refrained. When would be the next time he could be pushed like this? When would be the next time he could feel such joy as a warrior. As he headbutted his opponent into the ground and stomped down only for her to roll away in the last moment, he took a close look at her. On one knee she breathed heavily, holding her side. Blood dripped down over her right eye, forcing it closed. Sweat drenched her hair, making it stick to her face. And yet her face revealed nothing but joy. In this moment, all he saw was the soul for a true warrior. And in this moment, he revealed what he thought at such a sight.

"Beautiful."

Several things happened at once. Penthesilea froze, her smile vanishing as despair filled her eyes. Freya shot up from her seat, seeing the light in her soul being drowned in the red. But more importantly, it was the primal fear the amazons expressed when they heard the word and saw their Queen.

"STAGE TWO!"

Whoever screamed that, her voice cracking with horror, caused a change reaction. Hardened warriors, proud women, practically stumbled over each other as they fled in a panic unbefitting for their level. Yet they didn't care for anything but to get out of this city with their goddess, who was the only voice of reason as she was forcefully taken away, fruitlessly hitting the back of the one carrying her.

To say Orario was confused was an understatement. Bete Loga, a recent addition, stared at the twins in utter confusion

"Oi, what the hell 's wrong with you two?!"

Yet they didn't listen. Tiona was hugging herself, sitting on the ground as tears only dropped down her cheeks. Tione was on her knees clutching her head as she muttered under her breath, wanting to flee but her legs having no strength.

"He's dead, he's dead, he's dead-"

It was then that time slowed down. Ottar saw the deep red enter the scelra of his opponent, far more red than the tint from before. He already moved his arm, his body reacting before his mind did. In the process of attacking, no, defending himself, Ottar realize what the pit in his stomach meant. It was a feeling he felt sometimes but never against someone, something, who never entered dungeon.

He felt the premonition of death.

"AAAACCHILLLEEEEES!"

The next thing he knew was the ear shattering scream that attacked the heavens themselves. His eyes went even wider when he saw Penthesilea, devoid of reason and sanity, practically teleported right in front of him, her speed seemingly doubled. The rage he faced was inhuman. No, it went even beyond monsters. It was wrath that was rooted in her soul. Wrath directed at him.

He didn't pull anything back. His features were in the middle of becoming more beastlike when his fist hit first, a straight line faster than the wide swing she was performing, drawing a crescent moon from below. And yet, when his fist landed, it didn't stop her. It felt like attacking a wall made of adamantite. He drew blood, deformed her face, but it didn't break.

Unable to stop her assault he grit his teeth before he lost all sensation in his jaw to agony.

The uppercut hit square against his chin, lifting him up, bone shattering underneath her knuckle. The strongest physical attack force in the world against the ultimate defense of the world. The former won as Ottar's eyes rolled up from the pure force. Many were shocked his jaw broke. Hans and Arash were shocked his head was still attached at all. Penthesilea didn't care but for the utter destruction of the sinner. Thus, she wasn't finished yet.

A claw descending down from the sky, cutting his face open.

A kick from below, sending him spinning into the other direction once more.

An overhead punch, breaking more bone and keeping Ottar in the air. Up. Down. Up. Down. Over and over, his body was attacked until it crashed through several buildings, causing his body to disappear.

Out of sight, the Asura roared like the incarnation of rage itself. And yet...her bloodlust wasn't sated at all.

"Ottar…?"

It could've been anyone. But it was a certain goddess muttering under her breath that caught the monster's attention. Her crimson eyes landed on the Freya Familia. They raised their weapons, ready to defend their goddess with their life. Penthesilea leapt towards them, like a tiger pouncing. Arash drew his bow as Hans reached for his pen. However before any of them could do anything about the Berserker, someone else interfered.

A shadow loomed over Penthesilea when she was midair. The next instance she screamed in agony when she was smashed down, creating a crater in the city. On a fours she was about to shoot up when a hand clawed her head and squeezed. Hissing in pain she elbowed backwards. Someone coughed up blood but their grip remained strong. Then her face was smashed into the ground once more. Again and again.

To the spectators it was a terrifying sight. His jaw was basically hanging loosely. Steam escaped his mouth as his hair and size grew. By all means he shouldn't be able to move with the empty look in his eyes.

And yet Ottar moved. Tossing her up, he reared back his arm, moved by immense desire beyond consciousness.

The King would not be beaten in front of his goddess ever again. The King would not allow any harm to his goddess to happen. Not even if he dies. Thus, even when receiving a kick to his head by the falling Asura, he still moved.

The full power punch shattered her ribs before sending her soaring over the sky, over the walls of Orario, banishing the blood screaming invader from his city. With that last attack done, only when his enemy has been vanquished, did Ottar fall down on his knee.