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Fate/Defiance Ch24 [Edited]
🕑 Added 2022-09-04 20:45:44 +0000 UTCFate/Defiance
Chapter 24 [Rival]
By theMadLad
Beta: Old man of the mountain, Shub-Niggurath
Castor was enraged.
To him, lineage and strength were everything. It made sense that he would think so, after all, he was born as the Son of the King of Gods, Zeus, and was also the prince of the land that the greatest warriors in all the world originated from… Sparta.
His lineage and status granted him power and skill others could only dream of.
He remembered how much they praised him for it, and how hard they forced him to work for that praise. Everyday was one where his bones were broken, only to be mended stronger the same night—then the process would begin again the next day.
Without end.
It was arduous, painful, and grueling, but he pushed on, he was the Son of Zeus and their prince! How could he give up so easily!?
It also helped that he had Pollux right there at his side with him… and before he knew it, he had already become strong—the divine blood running down his veins along with the grueling efforts he had put into his training had ensured that he easily overpowered men twice his age.
The only one who could rival him was his beloved sister, and he had no issue with that, as they were one in the same. They both had the same divine lineage and status. She was the Princess of Sparta, and a warrior equal to him, Sparta’s prince.
Even coming under Chiron’s training and being eclipsed by his half-brother only irked his pride as the Prince of Sparta.
After all, it still made sense.
Heracles was also the Son of Zeus and a prince of his own right.
…But this? This didn’t make sense.
How could he and his sister lose? The normal mortal boy treated them as an afterthought as he focused on Heracles instead.
…an afterthought.
He felt his fist tighten in rage.
He could tell the boy had talent, but not training. The boy was from Athens, a place who trained cowards and schemers—not warriors! He should have never been able to fight one of them on equal ground, much less both of them!
Yet, even then—! Even then he was still unable to do anything! The boy countered his discuses that would disarm even the strongest of warriors with ease!
Because of that, his sister was unable to get in close and attack—it was all his fault that she lost, that she was injured! He was the one that was supposed to defend her and allow her to advance, but he couldn’t do anything.
Seeing her go down again and again due to his own failing pained his heart, even more so than when he himself would go down. He ended up being more useless than Asclepius who would stay boarded up in his room all day!
Then seeing her go down the last time, with Asclepius no longer able to heal her made something snap inside of him. He didn’t care if he would be shot down, he wanted—no, needed to speak his mind.
…But all that would come out was, “You bastard!”
“Heh, takes one to know one, eh?”
…
AHHHHHH! How fucking dare he?!
He was going to tear this kid limb from limb! …And at that moment, Castor noticed, that the boy had suddenly plummeted from the sky.
“HahahaHAHAHA!” He couldn’t help but laugh as he looked up into the sky, “Thank you father!”
It was time to turn his thoughts into actions.
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Oh shit!
That was the only thought Icarus had as he plummeted to the ground, unable to retain even a measure of flight. After his snarky reply left his mouth, it was like the air no longer tolerated him—no longer considered his wings valid. He tried to flap his wings as he fell, but to no avail… it was useless.
His heart leapt to his throat at the implications of the event. But seeing the ground rapidly approaching, he buried that dread behind a mind of steel. Icarus quickly braced for impact as he managed to tuck his body behind his wings as they hit the ground, absorbing the force of the fall with his coiled springs as he rolled to his feet.
Icarus only had a moment to look up before he was forced to react as Castor was instantly upon him, with the blonde boy throwing a discus at his form while simultaneously punching with a jab towards his face.
Due to his nervous state, Icarus instinctively released his coiled spring as the discus arrived, slamming his wing into the circular weapon with enough force to launch it into the horizon.
Castor tsk’d as he gave Icarus’ wing a weary glance, but otherwise continued his attack with the addition of slight cautiousness.
Castor unleashed a flurry of blows with a boxing stance, forcing Icarus to quickly improvise or be defeated. His blows were a combination of feints, jabs, and crosses targeted with practiced ease and power.
Only the instincts accumulated from his months of living in the forest and through battle allowed Icarus to weave through Castor’s attacks for even a single exchange.
—And he knew he could not do it again.
Icarus barely weaved his head away from a skull-splitting punch that split the air two, before he slammed his second wing into the ground while also releasing the coiled spring, using the rebounding force of the spring’s release to throw himself from the area and retreat from a lethal roundhouse kick.
Castor was quick to follow, rushing towards the escaping Icarus before he was stumped, as he was forced to heavily cough from the sudden explosion of smoke that blanketed his surroundings. He felt his eyes sting as he brought his shirt up to his nose in an attempt to shield himself from inhaling the smoke, but to little effect.
Meanwhile, Icarus had prepared for this, as he had dropped his smoke bombs while he retreated from Castor, before fishing out some crude insinglass goggles he made to shield his eyes from the smoke.
Seconds later a bandana followed, covering the lower half of his face—allowing him to easily filter the heavy smoke and breathe clearly. He had made it ahead of time by replicating the gills of fish in its creation through magic.
Then he drew his bow.
Icarus knew he had no chance in a direct fight against Castor, even retreating was barely pulled off by the skin of his teeth. But he wouldn’t allow himself to lose. Unlike Castor, Icarus couldn’t give a shit where he was from or who he was related to—all that mattered to Icarus was that the person ahead of him carved themselves into legend.
That simple fact meant that he had to win—Icarus wanted to become the greatest legend, and Castor was one of the numerous walls lying ahead of him.
A wall he would tear down.
While Icarus’ goggle may not have allowed him to see through the smoke of his smoke bombs, that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel their positions.
Unlike the Gods he encountered, who were completely blank to his senses, their children… weren't the same. They were like bright stars to his senses, with their supernatural weight heavily blanketing the area to Icarus—so much so that they would pollute them… it was one of the reasons he was unable to locate Asclepius prior.
But to combat this, while originally intended towards those without a heavy weight on his senses, he had infused some of his blood into the smoke bombs he made, allowing him to expand the sensation to a much wider area by turning his blood into an aerosol through magical means.
So while Icarus had lost his ability to fly, and in-turn his absolute aerial advantage, he had still managed to take complete control of the battle. Not only changing the battleground into one which had a complete advantage for himself, but also leaving Castor a coughing, blind, sitting duck.
Then he released his bowstring and fired an arrow right into Castor… taking him out of the fight.
—Except he didn’t.
This time, Castor refused to go down. He forced himself back on his feet with shaking legs and monumental effort as he yelled out into the smoke, “Coward! Shooting from behind… I’d expect nothing else from someone originating from Athens!” Castor then brought his discus to his hand, before spinning his body in a spiral before and the discus with enough force to pierce the smoke.
Gales of wind seemed to dramatically generate from the action, exuding from the discus that steadily started creating a small hurricane which would soon blow away all the smoke.
…It also caused Icarus to lose the ability to precisely feel Castor’s location, and soon would even reveal Icarus’ location, and if that happened—he would lose.
And Icarus refused to lose.
His few mirrored feathers were launched from his wings and into Castor’s small typhoon. They glowed in the sunlight, reflecting a blinding cascade of reflected light as they rode along the wind. The blinking lights instantly raised Castor’s already tense nerves as he expected an attack, “Huh. Too weak to face me as a man—so you resort to magic.” Castor spat out as he taunted. “Pathetic.”
Icarus was too busy ignoring him to roll his eyes at the less than ten year old boy calling out to him, an eight year old boy, to fight him as a man. Instead, he aimed at the treetops above with a grappling hook he pulled out from his side and fired, before being carried above by the device’s mechanism.
He may have lost his ability to fly, but that didn’t mean he could no longer attack from above.
Finally the curtain of wind finally dispersed the smoke, leaving an exhausted Castor at the eye of the storm. With his visibility regained, Castor scanned the surroundings for Icarus… only to come up short.
He debated dispersing his wind as he wearily eyed the gleaming feathers hidden within his small typhoon, but decided not to in the end, as it was his only defense against Icarus arrows.
—That was a mistake.
The gleaming arrows suddenly glowed brighter than ever as Castor felt a faint déjà vu from the event and quickly slammed his eyes shut, and sure enough—it was another flashbang.
Then, as his eyes where forced closed, Castor heard a smug voice speak from above him, within the eye of the storm, “That’s right, I fucking love me some magic!” The voice grew closer as he heard it rapidly approach, “That’s why I cast—Fist!” Then a blow slammed into the top of his head from above, as a heavy weight fell onto him, then another, and another.
Already exhausted from the constant arrows he was forced to heal from, and the previous one he was unable to heal from… Castor could no longer continue as the punches forced him to enter the land of Hypnos regardless of his overwhelming spite and pride pleading with him to stand up.
The last thing he witnessed was the taunting smirk of the boy who bested him spit onto the ground beside him, “Losing to a guy who never had a smidge of training even with daddy’s help? Pathetic.”
“Kh—!” He tried to plead, begging his mind to allow his body to move—to speak! But to no avail, his eyes faded to black as his ears only caught a final mutter. “To think the Prince of Sparta was such a bitch? …What a disappointment.”
Castor had only two last thoughts as everything faded into unconsciousness, that being he really hated that guy and an immense, immense… sense of shame.
Meanwhile, Icarus stood up with heavy breaths, giving the unconscious Castor a few gentle kicks just to make sure he was really unconscious.
Feeling sure of his accomplishment, he stood tall while inwardly chastising himself. Castor’s taunting had succeeded, being called a coward by a child—especially Castor, really grated his nerves for some reason. He could have just shot the boy from above, but he didn’t.
His pride forced him to take an unnecessary risk to punch him. But he wasn’t too angry at himself, especially because of how satisfying the punch was and how he had proved to himself that even without aerial superiority, and in a one-on-one fight, he still wouldn’t lose.
He had punched the King of God’s son in the face. He couldn’t help but feel vindicated after his sudden inability to fly… now he just had to defeat the King of God’s next son.
His much stronger and bigger son.
As he looked up, he spotted the hulking boy in question walk over with a smirk, “Can you still fight?”
Icarus merely beckoned him forward with one hand as he stepped away from the downed Castor.
Heracles grinned at his arrogant action, then charged.
Icarus spoke up as he brought up a wing to defend against Heracles, who had instantly arrived in front of him with an outstretched fist, “Let me ask you something instead—”
The demi-god son of Zeus’ fist slammed into Icarus’ wing with enough force to turn bone into dust—and stopped dead in its tracks, unable to force Icarus back even a single step. Heracles was so close that Icarus could see the impossibly dense muscles of his arm coil along with his punch.
Heracles’ eyes widened as the force of the blow was unexpectedly negated… then Icarus finished his sentence, “—Can you keep up with me?”
Heracles only caught the faint smirk tinting his words before he heard something unlatch and his body was shot into the distance by the force of Icarus’ wing throwing his own strength back at him.
As Heracles went flying off into the distance, Icarus had sweat running down his brow while he stood on shaky legs, earlier he had felt his wings audibly creak as his coiled springs almost imploded from the power they were forced to store due to Heracles’ single punch.
What a monster.
Icarus buried any nervousness he felt and smiled at the challenge, pulling out his bow once more before charging towards where Heracles had landed, eager to prove himself against the greatest hero to ever grace the lands of Greece.
Icarus channeled all the experience he had gained living and hunting in the forest as he pursued Heracles with Promachos at his side.
Heracles was forced to retreat as Icarus truly began to ‘fight at the frontlines,’ bolstering his bow’s strength further while also unloading special arrows into the figure retreating in the distance. Heracles bobbed and weaved between the cover of foliage as the arrows targeting him exploded on impact, turning everything they touched into shrapnel… but only after burrowing themselves into their targets without effort.
Heracles delayed Icarus as he came up with a plan, using his divine strength to blow trees from their trunks with a single punch before either using them as obstacles or simply chucking them at his pursuer. It was frightening how strong he was, but Icarus refused to give in—either destroying them with an exploding arrow or shredding them with his wings while continuing to move forward.
But in exactly the same way, Heracles also refused to give in, dodging the powerful, magically enhanced arrows, or using entire trees as shields and having them explode over him as their shrapnel washed over his skin without effect.
But finally with a risky plan in mind, Heracles gripped another tree trunk before lifting it up by the roots and swinging it like a bat. Icarus fired a second grappling hook into the treetops and pulled himself over the tree that Heracles swung, which crashed into other trees, blanketing the surroundings in shrapnel as both trees exploded from the force of the collision.
Icarus grimaced in pain as his skin was pierced by the wood shrapnel, drawing blood from his body, but he forced himself to ignore it and continue moving. Heracles attempted to grab Icarus by the feet as he released his grappling hook, but was blocked by one of Icarus’ wings, which Heracles immediately countered by gripping the wing with his bare hands and slamming Icarus to the ground with enough force to crack the earth below.
Blood leaked from Heracles' pierced hand as he tiredly walked over to the collapsed Icarus, who merely groaned on the ground in immense pain. Heracles kicked Promachos away as he approached, before he spoke up with a smirk aimed at the fallen boy, “Heh, you’re the one who’s gotta keep up with me.”
Icarus rolled over on the floor and outstretched his hand towards Heracles who watched on in confusion, before he spoke with a raspy voice lacking the air that was previously forced from his lungs, “…Y-You’d think so wouldn't you?”
Then from his wrist, a mechanism went off as a small bow appeared and fired at the baffled Heracles. Icarus groaned in pain as he quickly brought a wing up to shield him as the small arrow exploded point blank in front of Heracles.
A shockwave threw Icarus’ body across the forest like a ragdoll as his ears rang from the force of the explosion.
Icarus struggled through the pain as he hesitantly pushed himself off the ground between bleeding ears, using his wings as a crutch to help him stand.
Icarus then slowly limped over to the downed Heracles, picking Promachos back up along the way and keeping it trained on the collapsed demi-god. He arrived at Heracles’ body with warriness, pausing there while drawing his bow back further in anticipation.
…Then he kicked Hercules a few times to check if he was passed out or not, then he did it again, and again… and again, for over five minutes.
Until, finally, he lowered his bow.
…
…
…
—Then Heracles struck.
Heracles had performed the sneak attack at an impeccable speed at the greatest possible timing. Icarus felt every single bone in his torso break on impact, pulverized from the blow brought by the most powerful demi-god that would ever walk these lands.
Icarus flew into the distance as blood was forced from his mouth before impacting into the ground with grievous wounds and crippled limbs.
A. Single. Punch.
He felt stars fill his vision as his chest sputtered in its attempts to rise and fall. But even then, as unconscious overtook his being… he saw one last thing.
Heracles slowly standing back up.
Somehow Icarus knew deep down inside, that if he could not perform the same feat right now… he would never surpass the person in front of him.
Refusal filled his mind as defiance burrowed through his body, Icarus roared out in pain as he used the act to enforce his will. His bones were little more than fragments as he felt blood clot his chest and throat, yet even then he forced himself awake—even then he forced his muscles to tense in preparation of movement.
Tears dotted Icarus’ eyes as his mind was left nothing but a muddied, incoherent mess of frustration and pain. Yet still he attempted to stand, with blood-shot eyes and a mixture of everything from his stomach and wounds all splaying out from his hoarse mouth.
He felt every cell and nerve in his body cry out for him to stop, to rest, that normal humans were not meant to overcome such pain—but he refused… and Icarus rose regardless.
Icarus stood half dead over bloodied grass, aiming defiant eyes at the figure standing with tired breaths and shaking limbs adjacent to him.
They stared at one another as they took deep breaths in exhaustion before they smiled at each other… as if they finally found someone they were always looking for.
Icarus broke the silence with a breathless voice, barely able to speak through his injuries and pain—but doing so despite the impossibility, “...Y-you kept faking… for five minutes, the f-fuck is wrong… with you!”
Heracles suddenly spit out a large wad of blood, alluding to the immensity of his internal injuries before he responded with the same hoarse voice, “I-I should ask you the same thing, you kept… on checking me for over five minutes—the fuck is wrong with you, w-who does that!”
Icarus snorted as he pointed towards himself with a jittery finger, “I-I do that.”
“Heh… s-so a draw then?” Heracles spoke with faint bile starting to leak out from behind his blood stained teeth.
“Draw…? No, this is just… a quick break—I only need a night of… rest.” Icarus spoke through pained wheezes with a confident grin.
Heracles merely raised a brow while giving a pointed look over Icarus’ heavily injured form.
“…M-Maybe two nights.” Icarus lied.
Heracles grunted as he and Icarus slowly collapsed onto the ground while leaning on nearby trees, continuing to stare at each other as if in a competition to see who would go unconscious first.
“Heh, you went down in only o-one punch.” Heracles mocked with a faint laugh that brought spears of pain through his body.
“That’s only because I had to be extra careful to make sure I did not kill you.” Icarus rebuked, “…Y-You’re lucky I went non-lethal the whole time.”
Heracles glanced over to the results of their fight, with broken trees torn from the ground and exploded all over the surroundings. He chuckled once more, flinching slightly before looking back at Icarus with the shake of his head, “You're lucky I didn't have a weapon”
“You're lucky y-you teamed up on me—oh wait… it didn't matter.” Icarus sneered with a blood stained smile.
“Heh, at least I wasn't… flying away… in fear.” Heracles chuckled through wheezes.
“Yeah, y-you were too busy… flying away from my a-arrows when they hit you.”
They continued to scathe each other until their bodies simply couldn’t take it anymore as they used the remainder of their consciousness to break into one last laughter, ““Hahaha!””
“I’ll best you next time!”
“…Have fun repeating that after I best you next time.”
Then they blacked out, unable to contain the pain plaguing their bodies… but assured of their newfound mutual rivalry.
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Author’s Notes
Sorry for the delay, I feel really bad about it. I’ve been sick this past week and a half with strep throat and ended up taking a long time to finish.
I hope you found the battle epic! I wanted to highlight a bit of Castor’s mindset as well as Heracles’ sheer tenacity. Icarus managed to pull through, but not without substantial loss.
R.I.P Flight.
Still, I hope you enjoyed it and I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Thanks for all the support.
Leave a like and comment, comments make me happy!
Join the discord at, https://discord.gg/AMyqBN2
Comments
zsxcfvbhnmk123 [SSRB]
THAT FINAL FIGHT WAS SICK
Kingu Lugal
This the best chapter yet, keep up the good work!
