Anya knew the moment she told Harry about the Black Prince, he'd rush over, driven by that single-minded, righteous fury she had only ever seen directed at Alexander.
Ever since the two had met in the sands of Egypt, Harry had been firm on his stance against the Fourth Campione. It was a matter of principle, honor, and a personal debt.
Even when Daphne had tried to calm him, reminding him that his anger was justified, it was better to just leave, and that when Campiones fought, it was the world around them that suffered, it never changed his resolve.
His anger towards his fellow campione had not lessened at all, and it became even worse after their second meeting, and Harry swore to break the fourth campione's nose if he ever got his hands on him..
So Anya and the Association had already begun their operational deployment before she had even informed Harry. They were mobilizing clean-up crews, setting up emergency wards, and activating concealment wards across central London.
Yet as she felt the deep, earth-shattering vibrations rumbling beneath her feet and heard the distant, echoing sounds of destruction, a cold dread settled in her gut.
They were already late, the two had met and already started battling it out, and getting in the middle of a conflict between two Campiones was nothing less than suicide. Still, they moved forward. Their mission was now containment, they would try to make sure the world around the two survived at least the worst of the collateral damage.
Anya turned her gaze to the figure walking beside her. Princess Alice, the most powerful Hime-Miko in the world, was a study in contrasts. The girl had simply appeared before Anya and the other men as they had been heading out, smiling sweetly and announcing that she wanted to tag along and meet the Seventh King.
Anya couldn't really say no because of the Princess's immense authority and the diplomatic weight she carried in the larger occult world, denying her and preventing her attendance would have been more trouble than it was worth, and her presence did offer a chance as it was known that she and the black prince were familiar with each other so it may help de-escalate the conflict.
Alice's blonde hair shimmered, and her eyes held a serene, slightly excited curiosity. Anya knew this bright, bubbly girl was merely a sophisticated spirit projection, the princess's true body was far away, frail and bedridden, sustained by the sheer power of her connection to the gods.
Alice represented the apex of mortal spiritual power, a Hime-miko held so much power that even her body couldn't handle it. She wasn't here out of concern for London, she said she had seen an amusing vision and had decided to check it out by herself, and that's what brought her here.
Anya just hoped that Alice would be able to talk the Black Prince into backing off while she herself struggled to find a way to appeal to Harry's better, calmer nature.
She just hoped they got there before things became even worse than what she was feeling right now. She stumbled slightly as the ground shook with such force.
Elsewhere, the air itself screamed with the raw friction of clashing divine energy. The streets were silent save for the roar of compressed wind, the thundering impact of divine blows, and the continuous, sickening sound of tons of stone breaking apart.
Harry and Alexander faced each other. So far, neither had unleashed the full, world shaking power of their Authorities, but that was just a matter of time, divine power around the area was already increasing as they moved.
Both had been holding back, surprisingly, because of the lingering mundane nearby, it would be needless to kill people just to settle a grudge between them, and it seemed both had agreed on that.
But as they fought, the battle had shifted, rather, the location had been shifting as they moved away while fighting. Now their battle had shifted farther into a secluded district space, the restraints fell away, and the game instantly became lethal.
Alexander barely had a microsecond before he vanished in a blur of speed. Twin daggers infused with wind sliced through the air where his heart had been.
'This kid is fast, but predictable, he hasn't changed at all,' he thought, only to have his mind changed immediately. He appeared at Harry's back and delivered a brutal kick, but Harry had already spun, a lance of brilliant gold materializing to take the impact.
The shock still sent Harry flying forward, but Harry seemed to have already predicted that and had summoned blades to strike Alex as he kicked him. The move was startling, but he lucky dodged.
Harry twisted and turned to face his opponent, waving his hand, and a howling gale, pure, compressed air, slammed into Alex, pushing him back just as the earth beneath him bulged and erupted.
This time, it wasn't just rock, spikes of molten lava shot upward from the fissure.
"Lava!? Bloody hell, are you insane!?" Alexander bellowed, genuinely shocked.
This was just a bit of the terrifying might of the Geb's Authority, commanding the very earth, everything to do with the earth.
He barely avoided being vaporized, transforming his body instantly into crackling lightning, streaking across the air to escape the shower of lava.
But Harry was ready for him, knowing he would have escaped.
A torrential wave of cold, heavy water crashed down from above. Lightning met water, and the Fourth Campione screamed as the surge threw him back, the electrical discharge as his divine avatar lost form and sent him skidding across the shattered ground.
"Ah," Alexander growled, shaking off the residual steam, his face marred by a rising knot of frustration. "That form isn't immune to magic… Should have been careful."
He felt a deep surge of irritation burning in his chest. 'The little brat has really changed from last time. '
Unlike last time, Harry seemed like he had been one step ahead of him in every turn. He felt patronized, out-thought. Him. The Black Prince, leader of the Royal Arsenal.
He changed back from lightning and, snarling with anger, launched at Harry again, his movements more reckless than before, driven by annoyance rather than his usual cold calculation.
And that was exactly what Harry wanted.
The Emerald King's lips curled into a predatory smirk. 'Yes, it was working.'
He had been subtly using Eros's Authority since the fight began to manipulate the shadow of passion, amplifying Alexander's negative emotions. Irritation. Rage. Frustration.
Each setback, each unexpected counter, fanned the flame higher, clouding his normally brilliant brother's mind. By doing this, Harry had stripped Alexander Gascoigne, the cunning, composed Black Prince, of his greatest tactical asset, his cool, superior intellect.
Harry met the charge head-on, summoning a black shield to take the hit before discarding it instantly. A gleaming, golden divine gauntlet formed around his hand, and he drove his fist into Alexander's face with a blow that resonated through the bedrock, sending the older Campione crashing violently into the pavement.
"Still standing?" Harry grinned.
Alexander spat blood, rolling aside just as another blow cratered the pavement. He jumped back, panting, glaring daggers at his younger sibling. He hated to admit it, but if this kept going, he might actually lose. Sure, they were holding back, but a loss is a loss.
"…Tch. I didn't even want to fight today."
He straightened, lifting his right hand, making an attempt at escape.
"Those who walk past my gravestone… whoever steps upon my shadow… I know each and every one of you!"
The ground began to shake and warp as the Authority of the Labyrinth unfolded. Walls of stone rose, twisting in different angles, and in a few seconds, a maze that spanned looked like it spanned entire city blocks, surrounded Harry, trapping him in.
"Guess it's time to leave," he muttered, his pride in shambles, but as he had said before, he had not been here for a fight, and besides, he didn't go all out, he wasn't going to risk mudanes.
Yes, that was it. The munades, they were the reason he didn't go all out and show his little brother who was stronger.
He turned, preparing to vanish with his Authority, when the world exploded.
A blinding detonation erupted from the maze's center, shredding through every layer of stone like paper. The sheer, overwhelming force instantly nullified the Labyrinth, which dissolved back into dust before it could regenerate.
Alexander stood frozen, wide-eyed.
"…What the fu—"
Before he could finish, a golden ring of light slammed into him, wrapping around his body, sending him tumbling down, and tightening like an unbreakable vice. He hit the ground hard, completely pinned.
"What the hell is this!?"
He looked up at Harry, whose eyes were no longer green, but shining gold, burning with the symbol of the Valknut, an ancient Norse symbol composed of three interlocking triangles, often associated with the god Odin and the death of warriors..
This was Harry's authority that he got from Odin, Odin's wisdom, this authority gave him all the knowledge of Odin, and when he says all, he meant all. From the magic and simple knowledge, to the knowledge of the primal runes that made Odin as powerful as he was, and it was one of those runes he was using now to bind Alex.
"Hear me, daughters of the endless night, daughters of the earth and shadow. Fighting evil with evil, repaying crime with crime, shedding blood fo-" Alex started to call forth another one of authority before Harry quickly summoned a black void wand.
"The decree is final, the verdict is cast. No armor of the divine, no lie of the past, shall stand before the Supreme Will. Sever!"
A pulse of black light struck Alexander. The older Campione gasped, feeling his Authorities instantly shut down. He could still feel them, but couldn't call upon them for some reason.
"What... what did you do!?" he demanded.
Harry strode closer, cracking his knuckles, his evil grin stretching wide.
"Odin's wisdom to bind you. Morrigan's Sovereignty to cast judgment and cut you off from your authorities. It's temporary, of course. Shouldn't last for more than five minutes, given your strength, but…" he said, coming up to the downed Campione. "...it should be enough time for a get-back."
Alexander's eyes widened, a flicker of genuine, human fear crossing his face. "Five minutes... wait, wait, let's talk about this, little brother. I'll tell you something, I'll tell you where I hid that grimoire you wanted—"
Harry laughed darkly. "We'll talk afterward."
"W-Wait! Let me tell you something—LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING—!"
SMACK!
The sound echoed through the ruined square as Harry leapt forward, tackling his older brother to the ground and proceeding to beat the living daylights out of the bound, defenseless Black Prince.
When Anya and Princess Alice finally arrived at the scene, they were met with a comical sight.
The devastation was surprisingly not that much as they had feared, entire blocks were pulverized, buildings were sliced at impossible angles, and the ground was a patchwork of scorch marks and pulverized, volcanic-smelling earth.
But what was comical was that there, right there in the center of all this, were the two responsible.
The Black Prince, Alexander Gascoigne, was lying unconscious in a massive crater, completely immobile due to the golden bindings. And Harry Potter, the Emerald eyed King, was sitting astride him, still pummeling his face with an air of absolute, unhinged satisfaction, laughing like a madman.
Anya could only stare in shock, her Knight training momentarily forgotten.
"…By the Root…" she whispered, watching as her lover pummeling the fourth campione into the ground. The fight seemed to have ended with him being the winner.
'Thank the gods at least they didn't take things too far,' she thought as she rubbed her forehead.
Princess Alice, for her part, just blinked, tilted her head, and smiled brightly, her luminous eyes focused entirely on the bound Campione. She wanted to laugh. Hell, she did laugh.
Oh, she was going to hold this over his head till she died.
"Oh, so that's the Seventh King," she commented, her voice light, containing her amusement, she to the edge of the crater watching Alex get his nose caved in. "
She watched the beating for a moment longer, still laughing. "He's... lively at least".
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