It was funny.

  Out of all the high powered fights that dotted the vast expanses of the realms of Hell, the potentially most consequential of those fights was not waged with divine weapons or heaven-shattering spells. The biggest fight of the world was being fought with bare fists and weak flesh. No transformations, no spells, no stats.

  The future of demon-kind would be determined by two apes beating each other to death with rocks.

  We rushed each other; both seeing easy opportunities to do permanent damage early. Even without the sheer amount of stats backing him, Wrath’s club looked like it was going to rip the sky apart.

  I weaved to the side of the club and struck the side of Wrath’s head. I felt the meeting of knuckle and face; an intoxicating feeling that made my pulse quicken.

  The concussive force made him take a step backwards. I rushed to take advantage but felt a jagged force connect with my ribs and made the air taste like nickels. I looked downwards to see the pointed rock embedded in Wrath’s club scrape along my skin and leave crimson blood to stream down my body.

  There was no health bar, there was no way to gauge how damaging it was; I had to rely on my previous instincts to tell me. There was no [Too Angry to Die] to catch my fall and allow me to rush. There was no [Sanguine Bite] to regain my health. There was no way to regenerate my limbs, no potions to drink to regain my health in a critical situation, and there was no poison to corrode his skin and burn his lungs.

  I had never been closer to death than in this moment.

  It was exhilarating. It was like being suddenly thrown from a plane or coming across a tiger shark while scuba diving. Chemicals flooded my brain and activated the most primal urge to survive. If there was anything akin to a religious experience, something that could permanently change your life, it was this.

  I punched down on Wrath’s club-wielding elbow and stepped inside his range. I followed the martial arts that I studied so dutifully down in Control’s realm of mirrors.

  A punch to the ribs followed by a sweeping kick to the shin. I felt bone smash against bone. My eyes widened at just how much it hurt. I had grown so accustomed to abusing my body without concern that I exerted far too much force.

  But, at the same time, the pain was so pure, like a prayer to some innocent, na?ve creator. Yes, the act of allowing death and pain could only be seen as an inherently good act.

  Wrath wasn’t going to allow me to bash him without response. He swung his club down on me. I stepped even closer in to force his wrist to make contact with my shoulder. A weaker grip might have lost control of the weapon, but not Wrath. He unloaded a punch of his own directly into my face. My teeth felt loose and the tip of my nose bent to the left.

  He followed up by trying to take off my head with his club. I managed to dodge enough to avoid being brained, but the tip of the rock ripped across my shoulder muscles.

  My nerves sent alerts of pain throughout my mind and body like fallen power lines. It hurt so badly! When have I ever felt this injured when I was alive? Oh Wrath, what a gift that you’ve given me! I have to return the favor; it is the only way that I can leave here with my head held high.

  For starters, I had to do something about that club. The arm that delivered that blow was still so close to me, I could just reach out and grab it with both my hands. Then, what if I wrenched it downwards? What would Wrath do? Gift me more powerful punches with that left hand of his, no doubt. I could feel his steel fist crack my occipital bone and feel my vision in my right eye go blurry before going blind from the blood that streamed into it. I could hear the ringing in my ear like a mechanical mosquito with a dog whistle specially tuned just for me. I could feel the loosened teeth pry loose from my gums and adorn the ground like pearls.

  But, that’s what I wanted. I wanted to feel the worst that he could offer. I needed to leave this fight as a spilled packet of hamburger meat. After this, my armored body and dulled senses would once again return.

  It was like being neutered.

  I had to give that gift back as well. Wrath was in a far worse place than I was. I had only spent several years down here, Wrath had spent thousands. Had he forgotten as well; what true pain felt like? How close death could truly feel when locked in a battle for life and death?

  If I snapped his elbow, would he thank me?

  I could hear the bone snap when I struck it with my knee. The weak joint gave way and turned the arm in a direction that it wasn’t supposed to go. A roar of agony filled my good ear. I could see him gripping his arm through my good eye. I gave him a half smile through the teeth that remained in my mouth.

  But, much to my adoration, he kept his grip on his club.

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  We both sucked air into our lungs. Fighting wasn’t designed to last more than a few moments. We both looked like we had just been in a high speed car accident. What a beautiful pair we were, mangled beyond belief.

  The drumming and chanting as well fell into a lull to match our tempo. The long-dead audience watched us impassively through blank, fish-eyed expressions. I could only now see that these people weren’t even supporters of Wrath, they didn’t care which one of us won. They just wanted blood.

  It was incredible, no matter the era, people wanted to see blood. They craved violence; whether that was from watching men fight with weapons in an arena or in a modern hexagon. If someone annoyed them in a game, they fantasized about beating them into a pulp. There are many that give in to those impulses and beat opposing fans during and after the game. It was an inherent part of our souls that we try to ignore.

  I’m not alone, I’m just terrible at hiding it! That must be it!

  “Don’t you feel alive?” I asked excitedly. “Isn’t this so much better than fighting with our abilities?”

  “It is the first fight that I could call fair,” Wrath answered as he spat out blood. “I now understand that you are no different than I am. No matter who suffers in the process, we can’t avoid spilling blood. It is what we were designed to do. That is why we are here, that is why we are misunderstood.”

  I frowned at his answer. It shattered my beautiful moment of delusion. I knew that those people I just included as my kindred spirits were actually cowards that would never step in the ring themselves. They would never attack someone that they thought would potentially bring them harm. In this place, we were alone.

  I spat out my own spray of blood and teeth. I could not allow my flame diminish with unnecessary thoughts. I had to take advantage of what I had in front of me.

  “Looking at your arm, I think I’m better than you.”

  “I’m going to smash you into dust,” Wrath growled in response.

  “Yes! That’s exactly right! Let’s turn each other into paste and paint this field with our blood like the great painters of old! Let’s fulfill our purpose!”

  “I’m going to silence that mouth forever!”

  “Do it!”

  Wrath rushed me. An animalistic scream left his mouth. He would not let his injury limit him. In fact, it caused him to grow even more desperate to win. He bludgeoned and scratched and bit into my flesh. There was no correct way to win in a duel to the death. Dig at my eyes, rip at my throat, bash at my weak points; do everything that you can do to kill me so that I have no qualms doing the same back.

  We tore at each other like a pair of feral beasts. No, we were worse. Humans are more foolish than animals. A pair of bears dueling over territory would have already separated themselves before either got too injured. Only mankind was uniquely intelligent and shortsighted.

  I lost feeling in my left arm, it was smashed with the club. A few of my fingernails were torn off. A gash in my forehead ran a river of blood down my face.

  Wrath fared no better. His body was more red than black. Cuts and bruises and breaks covered his body. I could barely hear his ragged breathing through my destroyed ear because mine was just as bad. I could see him struggle to stand up but couldn’t take advantage because I was just as close to falling over dead.

  I had never felt this precariously close to death. My execution was supposedly humane, muting my mind to the oncoming feeling of oblivion and replacing it with one of a pleasant sleep. It was meaningless, something that I could hardly call a true death without laughing at myself.

  “Still alive?” I wheezed.

  “Choke on your own shit and die,” Wrath coughed in response.

  “Go on, make me fall. I won’t be able to get back up again.”

  Wrath took a shaky step forward. At some point, a fracture had formed in his shin. I took an equally as awkward step towards him. Several ligaments around my knee had torn at some point and it dangled like a marionette. Only grit and anger kept the both of us upright.

  He swung with his left hand while I struck with my right. The punches both struck true. I saw the white light of heaven as my chin spun sideways. I barely even felt the ground come up to meet me.

  My mind swam as the world came back into focus. I saw a lion’s head staring right at me. Wrath was just a foot away, also sent careening to the ground. His fingers reached out and gripped the soil.

  We crawled towards each other like a pair of grubs. With destroyed bodies, we tried to grapple each other. We used the last vestiges of our strength to finally take the other down. We must have looked a pathetic pair to the Follies as we rolled around pathetically. But, to us, it was still just as intense as when we started. The bloodlust and intent remained.

  We flailed around, smashing each other with our arms wherever that we could hit. I could feel the flames inside me flickering. I looked around my soul and found no fuel left to burn. It was down to willpower and nothing else.

  With everything I possessed, I forced myself to rise over Wrath. My weight pinned him to the ground. I wrapped my good hand around his throat and squeezed my hand with all its might.

  Wrath put up and admirable resistance. He pounded on my face and my wrist and my hand; anything that would get me to release my grasp. But, I no longer had any feeling left in my body. My hand stayed there because all I could do is command it to. I had to squeeze the life out of him, not for any strong emotion, but because I had to. All thoughts of impressing my Master had long since fallen away. Any feelings I had towards the imminent future disappeared. All that mattered was winning over someone that I respected.

  “Fight…again,” sputtered pathetically out of Wrath’s lips before he fell still.

  I rolled over and fell on my side. Blood continuously leaked out of my body and my vision turned hazy.

  The world started to change. The grasslands fell away to leave just a room in the large city that I only recently entered. I felt my body squirming and changing. My transformed body returned and my health started to recover until there were no marks that it had ever happened.

  Wrath’s body disappeared to be replaced with five figures who observed me with a sense of respect and interest.

  The one that represented both Wrath and I stepped forward. He stood over me and offered a hand to help me back up to my feet.

  “How do you feel?” Passion asked with great interest.

  Though my body had returned to normal and the pain had gone away, there was a numbness buried deep within me. I felt like it had been a dream. There was not even a scar to commemorate the duel; just my perfected form. No matter how much I enjoyed something, no matter how badly I wanted to savor in it, it escaped me and disappeared into the ether. It always left me behind.

  “Empty.”