Dominus removed his straw hat from his head, and allowed it to fall slowly from his hands, drifting down towards the battered and frozen earth.
He reached up for the topknot that held his salted grey hair in place, and he allowed it to swim down to his shoulders for what would be the last time.
He cast aside the oversized grey goat that he wore, with the length to it making it seem like a cloak, and with it he threw away his shirt, until he was nothing but bare chest, trousers and sandals in the cold winter air.
The poison ran across his back like a dark tattoo, his scars mixed in with them, telling the story of his life, and the many battles that he had fought, and won. The purple coated everything now. Only one of his arms was free from it, and then, only partially.
Even as corrupted as his skin and body had become, the poison could not hide the density of his old muscle. Well into his sixties, the man's back rippled with power, each muscle easily definable.
Not even Ingolsol mocked him. A thousand jokes threatened to trip from the Dark God's lips, as they always did, but none came out. His face was hard, and his disposition respectful.
Finally, Dominus slid his second hand onto his curved sword, as he held it out in front of him. Then, formally, in the knightly way, he introduced himself.
"I come to you, as Ser Dominus Patrick. Rogue knight by the king's title, scorned by the king's tongue, I stand before you, a disowned man – a dead man – but for the first time, a true knight. I draw my blade for the people, in Arthur's memory. Fragment of Ingolsol – mage Francis, by the justice of a king that I despise, I do sentence you to death," Dominus said.
Ingolsol's sword was longer though. From the length of it, most weapon masters would call it a greatsword, but in Ingolsol's hands, it looked no more than a longsword. He held it comfortably in his well-muscled arms, as he sent his own aura back at Dominus, and lightning crackled in the sky.
Dominus drew in a breath, and his power began to abate, as suddenly as it had come. The wind stopped, the pressure went with it. The air was suddenly unnaturally calm, unnaturally still. Not even Ingolsol's aura reached them. It was as though they sat in the eye of a hurricane, for they saw the debris being tossed around behind the Dark God, and knew that he had not let up.
With a flash, Dominus was in front of Ingolsol.
In the next moment, there was a clatter, a booming of thunder. It was hard to tell whether it came from the lightning, or whether it came from the meeting of the two great blades. Dominus' strive drove Ingolsol into the earth, as the ground cratered beneath him.
Lombard could hardly breathe. Better than anyone, he understood what he was seeing. He'd managed to glimpse Arthur in battle once before, a man of the Fifth Boundary, and his strength had bordered on magical... But what he saw in front of him was something else entirely. The strength to deform the very land around them with a single swing.
He understood it then, why all throughout history had stopped at the Fifth Boundary. It was a gate, and what lay beyond it was frightening.
Ingolsol was forced to yield to the strength of Dominus' strike. He took a step back, allowing the blade to slash down through the air in front of him instead, as he pushed his way out of the crater. He realized with alarm that he had not been able to overpower the man.
Even as he sought to escape, Dominus was on him once more. Not a single move, not a single motion was wasted. Beam's eyes widened, drinking it in. It was the very same skill that he was trying to master, that Dominus had led him to all that time ago, only, this was executed to perfection.