Chapter 570: Battle of the old generation
Dusk still tinged the sky when Albert Vorah and Scathach faced each other in the mansion’s courtyard, the air heavy with the smell of smoke and charred wood. The rubble of broken columns and shattered windows surrounded them, silent witnesses to a battle that was already beginning to feel… unusual.
Albert clenched his fists, his muscles tensing, and lunged toward Scathach with a sharp blow. She dodged just as quickly, but there was no impact. His blade sliced through empty air, a sigh of wind between them. Scathach responded with a punch that pierced the air to Albert’s shoulder—he recoiled, still unharmed.
Their movements accelerated, a frenetic dance of attacks and dodges, strikes and counterstrikes, all with the intensity of a storm, but neither could even touch the other’s skin. It was as if an invisible barrier separated them, a force field that nullified all effort.
Albert roared in frustration, twisting his body to attempt a kick, while Scathach pirouetted in the air to avoid him. Bursts of fire and sparks flashed at the edges of the fight, reflections of the flames consuming what remained of the garden. But no matter how hard they moved with the fury of storms, nothing landed.
The fight was a spectacle of pure futility—the sound of fists slicing through the air, the echo of boots on the cracked ground, the screams of rage, all without a single landed blow.
Amidst the confusion, hurried footsteps approached. Diana emerged from the side corridor, her face pale and her eyes wide. She stopped, gasping, before the chaotic scene: the courtyard destroyed, flames rising to the walls, debris scattered across the ground—and in the midst of it all, the two fighters spinning around each other, as if trapped in an impossible choreography.
“What the hell is going on here?!” Diana screamed, trying to make her voice rise above the noise of the fire and the fighting.
Then she felt a presence behind her—a weight in the atmosphere. She turned slowly and saw Strax emerging from the mansion’s main entrance, with that lazy smile and ironic look only he possessed.
“Strax!” Diana exclaimed, surprised and confused. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged, walking calmly toward her, stepping over a fallen flagstone. “I came to see my father being beaten, of course.”
Diana frowned, still processing the situation. “Beaten? But he’s… fighting that crazy woman—who is she, anyway?”
Strax turned to face the lithe, mysterious figure who continued to struggle relentlessly, his eyes glowing with a strength that seemed more spectral than human.
He smiled with a hint of sarcasm and said slowly, “My mother revived.”
Diana’s face went white. She shivered, the muscles in her body stiffening, as if struck by an electric shock. Her voice was shaky, almost robotic:
“S-s-she’s S-s-Scathach?!”
Strax nodded, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Yes. The same one.”
Silence fell over the courtyard for a moment—only the crackling of the fire and the distant sound of fighting persisted. Diana blinked, as if trying to acknowledge reality, but something in the atmosphere paralyzed her.
The fight continued, but now it had a new dimension: it wasn’t just a pointless battle between two opposing forces. It was a warning, an omen, a game whose end—or if it would end—was unknown to anyone watching.
Albert and Scathach continued their rapid movements, the fatigue invisible to the observer seemingly nonexistent. It was an eternal battle, where no blow mattered, no wound was inflicted, and yet the rage emanating from them was palpable.
Albert roared louder, his face red with exertion, his muscles trembling. “Why… why can’t we hurt each other?”
Scathach, her eyes cold and indifferent, replied between evasive blows, “Because that’s not the fight we need to win.”
Albert’s confusion grew with each passing second, his mind struggling against the invisible barrier that seemed to protect them. “Then why are we fighting? For what?”
She smiled, a cold, cruel smile. “To keep the game moving. To make them think we still have control.”
Meanwhile, Diana watched from the sidelines, thoughts racing through her mind. Strax’s presence there, the mystery of Scathach… everything was piling up in a storm of doubt.
“Strax,” she said, her voice regaining some of its firmness. “What do you really want with all this? Why are you here now?”
He shrugged, looking at the combatants. “Because peace isn’t my style. And because sometimes it takes a little chaos to find out who’s really on our side.”
The duel continued, a fierce and empty choreography, when suddenly, an uncontrolled blow from Scathach escaped its usual precision. Her fist came toward Albert, but with such force that it pierced empty space and passed dangerously close to Diana, who was watching with wide eyes.
In a quick reflex, Strax lunged forward, placing his body between the missed attack and Diana. His arm blocked the blow with a dull thud, the impact vibrating in his bones, but he remained firm, protecting her.
Diana’s eyes widened, surprised and relieved. “Strax! Are you… are you okay?” Her voice was a little shaky, mixing gratitude with a touch of embarrassment at having been so close to danger.
He gave her a wry smile, raising his arm as if the impact were only a passing inconvenience. “Of course. No one takes me down that easily.”
She took a deep breath, trying to control her racing heartbeat, and took a step forward. “Why… why are you fighting like this? This makes no sense at all.”
Strax looked at the two combatants, the amused glint in his eyes fading slightly, becoming more serious. “You’ve already figured out what I did to him.” He nodded at Albert, his tone firm. “This isn’t just a physical fight. It’s a much deeper issue. Something that goes beyond the blows, the powers, and the burns.”
Diana frowned, trying to piece it together. “You mean… this is about control? About what? About your past?”
Strax nodded slowly. “Exactly. The fight is a symbol—a mirror of what was never resolved between us. And as long as it continues, no one will truly win or lose.”
The fire around them crackled, smoke danced in the thick air, but amidst the chaos, Strax seemed the only one with clarity, while Diana still tried to grasp the complexity of this battle that felt more like an invisible prison than a confrontation.
“So,” she whispered, almost to herself, “it’s not a fight to hurt, it’s a fight to keep something… or someone, trapped.”
Strax smiled slightly. “Exactly.”