Chapter 78: The Duel of Strays
The Broken Plains stretched wide beneath the evening sky, the last hints of daylight casting deep orange shadows over the cracked earth. A circle of Minotaurs had formed, their heavy breaths and murmurs filling the space as they gathered to witness a fight that was far more than a contest of strength.
This was Arixa’s test.
This was Marcus’ answer.
Arixa stood in the center of the packed dirt arena, rolling her shoulders, her warhammer resting against her side. Her stance was loose, but Marcus recognized the telltale shift of her weight—a predator testing its prey.
Marcus stretched, feeling the residual ache from his earlier fight with the Minotaur warrior. But this fight wasn’t about winning.
No Ki. No Mana. No Psycha.
Just his raw stats.
Arixa exhaled, gripping the haft of her warhammer. “You really think you can hold back against me?”
Marcus grinned, bouncing on his toes. “That’s the plan.”
Her blue eyes narrowed, and then—she moved.
Arixa’s speed had always been impressive, but here—now—she had sharpened it into something deadly. Her warhammer came in low and fast, a blur of steel and force.
Marcus pivoted, barely evading the crushing blow as the ground where he had just stood erupted in a cloud of dust and cracked earth.
She was stronger.
She followed up immediately, shifting her grip as she swung the warhammer in a vicious horizontal arc.
Marcus ducked, feeling the wind from the weapon whip past his face. He planted his foot and countered, snapping a quick jab toward her midsection.
Arixa twisted, using the momentum of her dodge to bring the hammer around in a reverse swing.
Marcus dodged again, sweat forming on his brow. She wasn’t giving him any room.
“Still holding back?” she asked between swings, her voice sharp.
Marcus sidestepped, adjusting his stance. “Obviously.”
Her jaw tightened—and then she pressed harder.
Arixa’s attacks became relentless, her warhammer moving like a blur despite its size. Every dodge Marcus made cost him more energy, every near miss reminded him that she wasn’t just fighting him—she was proving herself.
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Then she spoke again, her voice lower.
“You ever think about what it means to exist when you shouldn’t?”
Marcus caught a feint too late. Arixa twisted, slamming her shoulder into him, sending him skidding back.
He barely managed to stay standing.
She didn’t let up.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she said, swinging down in a two-handed overhead smash.
Marcus rolled aside, the hammer collapsing the earth where he had just stood.
Arixa pulled the weapon free, her face unreadable.
“Minotaurs and Centaurs don’t mate. Ever.”
Marcus steadied his breathing, fists raised. “So?”
Arixa laughed—but there was no humor in it. She swung again, her warhammer whistling through the air.
“So? You don’t get it.”
Marcus blocked the shaft of the hammer, using the force to redirect her momentum.
She landed lightly, but her eyes burned.
“I’m not just a half-breed, Marcus. I don’t even look like them. No hooves. No horns. Nothing that makes me one of them.”
Her warhammer slammed into the dirt again, splitting the ground between them.
Marcus wiped the sweat from his brow, watching her. He knew what this was.
She wasn’t just fighting him.
She was fighting herself.
“You’re an idiot,” he said finally.
Arixa’s head snapped up.
Marcus smirked. “You think you don’t belong? Then welcome to the damn club.”
She froze.
He gestured at himself. “I’m a dark-skinned human in a world where most humans don’t look like me. You think that’s made my life easy?”
He nodded toward Thalron, standing in the crowd. “Thalron’s a half-elf, half-dwarf, with a rare spellblade class. He’s a weirdo.”
"Hey!" Thalron interjected, then murmured, "I’m not that weird."
Then, Marcus pointed to Vira. “And Vira? She’s an orc that uses Mana instead of Ki. Even her own people think she’s weird.”
Marcus took a step forward, locking eyes with her.
“We’re all freaks, Arixa.”
Arixa’s breath hitched.
“You’re not Minotaur. You’re not Centaur.”
Marcus clenched his fist. “You’re ours.”
Arixa’s grip on her warhammer tightened, her shoulders shaking.
Then, she rushed him.
Marcus didn’t move.
She swung her hammer—a full-force strike.
At the last second, Marcus dropped to a knee and tapped the ground.
The universal signal of submission.
The warhammer stopped inches from his face.
The crowd fell silent.
Arixa’s chest rose and fell as she stared at him, sweat dripping down her brow. Her hands shook around the grip of her weapon.
She knew.
She knew he had held back.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, frustration simmering.
But then—she laughed.
“…Damn you.”
She took a step forward and clasped Marcus’ forearm.
“You still owe me a real rematch.”
Marcus grinned. “Anytime.”
Later that night, beneath the stars, Arixa sat with the party around a low-burning campfire. She was quieter now, her usual loud presence muted by something deeper.
After a long silence, she spoke.
“I want to find my parents.”
Marcus, Vira, and Thalron exchanged looks.
Arixa’s gaze stayed locked on the flames. “They owe me an explanation. For abandoning me with the Beastfolk.”
Vira leaned back. “You sure you want that?”
Arixa exhaled. “No.”
Thalron crossed his arms. “But you need it.”
She nodded.
Marcus was silent for a moment before he finally spoke.
“I get it.”
Arixa turned to him.
Marcus stared into the fire, his expression unreadable. “My parents left me too. Back in my old life.”
Arixa’s brow furrowed.
“They didn’t say why. Just… left.” He swallowed. “I found out later it was because of my illness. They didn’t want the weight of it.”
Arixa’s fingers dug into her knee.
“I never found them again,” Marcus admitted. “Never got to ask why. Never got to know if they regretted it.”
His eyes met Arixa’s. “You should find yours. Because if you don’t, you’ll carry that weight forever.”
Arixa held his gaze.
Then—she nodded.
Vira clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Then we’ll find them together.”
Arixa smirked. “Damn right we will.”
As the fire crackled between them, the party of strays sat in quiet understanding.
Tomorrow, they would set out again.
Not just as warriors.
But as family.
