"Oh? Challenging me? That's some admirable courage."
"If you're ready, then I'll make my move."
Standing atop the steps, Quetzalcoatl casually tossed aside the macuahuitl—an Aztec weapon resembling a wooden club lined with obsidian shards on either side—and descended at a steady pace.
Samael shot a glance at the discarded weapon, his eyes darkening. Then, without hesitation, he kicked off toward the Sun Altar in a burst of speed.
"Bang!"
With just a few deft steps, Quetzalcoatl shifted her footing, seeing through the misleading feints in Samael's approach and using her elbow to intercept his punch.
However, the force behind that blow caught her off guard.
The recoil from the impact made even the Feathered Serpent's stance falter slightly.
Interesting. Very interesting.
It felt like grappling with a massive magical beast.
Indeed, in Quetzalcoatl's eyes—a master of wrestling—Samael's technique was rough and full of openings, not exactly refined.
But the sheer nerve to challenge a chief god, combined with that monstrous strength, ignited her fighting spirit. A lover of close-quarters combat, her blood surged with excitement.
Having missed his initial strike, Samael quickly pulled back his numbed arm and twisted his body at the waist, launching a sweeping kick.
For a human to dare confront a deity—it was a rarity. And Quetzalcoatl relished every moment of this brawl, with no intention of ending it quickly.
Samael threw himself into the fight, unleashing every combat technique he had learned.
The innate "Monstrous Strength" inherited from Tiamat gave his blows the force of thunder, while the agility granted by the Mad Lion Uridimmu made his attacks rain down in rapid succession.
His serpent-like flexibility and fluidity rendered his movements unpredictable, and combined with the fighting knowledge from his previous life, it created a wild, hybrid style.
These strange and volatile techniques blended into a chaotic yet fluid combat rhythm, allowing this Magical Beast in human form to fully unleash his potential in freestyle combat. His strikes and transitions were nearly impossible to read.
A punch could instantly shift into a palm strike if blocked, and if he closed the distance, it could turn into a claw for joint locks—or even a spike-like jab aiming for the heart or lungs.
These transitions came without warning or pattern.
Sometimes it was a sharp, vicious joint lock; other times, a heavy, concussive blow. Occasionally, he even threw in bits of Mexican wrestling he had just picked up.
For a time, his assault was relentless, a whirlwind of styles, targeting Quetzalcoatl's head, throat, heart, groin—every vital point. One wrong move, and the goddess could've been injured.
Their battle raged from the clearing up to the mid-tier steps leading to the altar.
In this arena, this small mortal dared to challenge a chief god using every means he could muster—displaying the effort and willpower of humanity.
But ultimately, it was just effort.
In the storm of blows, Quetzalcoatl stood like a reef amidst crashing waves.
She moved with ease, arms folded, swaying left and right with effortless grace, nullifying nearly every strike without force or exertion.
Every knee, every kick, every twist Samael launched was met with subtle dodges—her timing so precise it made his furious flurry feel like he was striking at air.
For a full fifteen minutes, Quetzalcoatl maintained her defense, smiling throughout. Not once did she strike back.
Yet even so, Samael hadn't managed to land a single hit—not even brush her clothes. His punches weakened, sweat streamed down his face, and his muscles began to tremble.
The outcome was already clear: defeat was inevitable.
Whether it was Ishtar and the others, standing by due to their earlier agreement not to intervene, or the combatants themselves—everyone had reached the same conclusion.
"You gave it your all, but it's still not enough."
Seeing that her opponent had exhausted both skill and strength, Quetzalcoatl seized the opening. Her fingers slipped through Samael's arms—too weak to lift anymore—and gently pressed against his chest.
"So..."
Leaning in, the Sun Goddess whispered softly into his ear with a smile.
"...Lie down."
The moment the words left her lips, the hand on Samael's chest suddenly surged with force, slamming him flat onto the steps leading to the Sun Altar.
Bang!
As the dull thud echoed out, Quetzalcoatl stepped from the swirling dust, clapped the dust from her hands, and turned to face the remaining four with a bright, satisfied grin.
"Well then... who's next?"
Everyone's breath hitched. Their faces froze. The Jaguar Warrior—who feared Quetzalcoatl more than anyone—cowered behind Merlin and the others, mumbling under her breath, "If I can't see her, she can't see me…"
But before anyone could make a move, a wavering silhouette emerged from the fading smoke, dragging itself step by step back up the stairs.
How is this possible? I stripped him of his life force… he should be in a suspended death state.
Startled, Quetzalcoatl turned to look at the figure steadily climbing the steps.
Then, noticing the wounds on Samael's body gradually mending, and sensing the surging life force roaring within him, she suddenly understood.
"Immortality! No wonder you're still on your feet!"
The ancient serpent turned his head, raising his right hand etched with the Protection of the Underworld. He exhaled a heavy breath, and his pale face settled into a solemn calm.
"Sorry, Goddess of the Maya—but I've been blessed by a god. Your little tricks might work on regular soldiers, but not on me."
He paused, then glanced toward the massive stone atop the steps.
"Granted, I can't beat you in a fair fight. But this isn't just a game about winning or losing anymore."
"I have to bring back the men from Ur. The soldiers of Uruk need to return home."
"In the face of the Third Storm, every ounce of strength matters. The kingdom needs them to stand against what's coming."
"That's why—I'll defeat you, no matter the cost!"
His firm, resolute words made Quetzalcoatl pause. She turned, looking back at the towering Solar Calendar Stone, then smiled.
"So you noticed. Clever kid."
"That's my second Noble Phantasm. It bears the imprint of my divinity and serves as the foundation of this temple."
"If you can find a way to destroy it—then I'll call it your win."
But in the next breath, her grin turned fierce.
"Still, out of respect… I'll be giving it my all too!"
"Immortality, huh? Let's see how long that lasts!"
The moment her words fell, Samael lunged forward, reaching for the macuahuitl just within reach.
Boom!
But just as his fingers were about to close around the weapon, a sudden surge of air pressure blasted from behind. A flying kick struck him square in the gut.
With a piercing whistle, his body was launched from the steps and slammed into the open ground below the Mayan pyramid, kicking up a massive cloud of dust before the others.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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