Ice spread with every gliding step as the Holy Knight in lightweight armour skated across the open field, followed relentlessly by a man surfing atop a torrent of surging mud.

The Holy Knight's armour shone with dazzling lights, the cold air curling from underneath it creating sparkling frost flakes that danced in the air. The Mud surfer, on the other hand, was wearing a rich black set of armour that seemed to drink in torrential rain still falling down onto them, making it shine like freshly cut obsidian.

The weaved through the battlefield, skating and surfing through the battles of others as they continued their relentless game of cat and mouse. Flash frozen rain droplets were turned into deadly needles, which were constantly lobbed backwards or stabbed at the Holy Knights enemies whenever he passed them by.

Waves of Brad's hands caused columns of mud to erupt from the ground in the ice users path like there were hidden geysers, as well as hands that would attempt to snatch the skater as he shot passed them.

When they reached the open field behind the impromptu battlefield, Brad clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Enough of this. I'm done chasing. Time for a real fight, show these losers what I can really do."

The mud beneath him churned and surged like a geyser, throwing him high into the air. He threw his hands outwards, creating a wide wall in the path of the skater, not for the first time. Just like before, he could see the skater starting to slow down, so that he could turn and stop Brad's advancement with a hail of icicle needles and then start the chase all over again.

But not this time.

Flipping in the air, Brad positioned himself like a diver and when he hit the ground hands first, the viscous and moist earth gave way as if it was an actual pool of water. Plunging beneath the surface, Brad surrounded himself with earth and forced himself through it like a torpedo towards the wall he had just created.

The Holy knight snatched two frozen droplets from the air and whirled around, immediately launching them behind him. But when they flew through the air and scattered across the ground, having hit nothing at all, his face twisted in confusion beneath his helmet.

The ground beneath his feet began to rumble and shift, causing him to lose his footing and fall backwards, freezing the ground where he fell.

The wall that had barred his path condensed, forming a singular column of shifting mud that split into a humanoid figure, growing arms and legs. Instead of growing a head, a gruesome face consisting of beady eyes and a wide, monstrous mouth twisted itself into existence where the neck should start.

The monstrous mud-man let out a fearsome roar, thrusting its arm forwards and burying the Holy Knight under a torrent of mud, that wormed its way around his body to create a muddy tomb.

From within the safety of his mud golem, Brad smirked to himself as he buried the Holy Knight in mud and squeezed him tightly in his hand. But that smirk quickly faded when frost started to gather on his muddy hand, before the frozen hand exploded outwards, freeing the Holy Knight from his tomb.

He quickly flipped backwards, avoiding Brad's follow up slam, as he faced down the fearsome mud-man. The golem's feet remained glued to the ground, more mud crawling up its legs to regrow the lost hand before it went on the assault once more.

Muddy hands slammed down repeatedly, sending tremors through the ground with every strike. The hands shifting themselves, forming into weapons such as morningstars and hammers, to crush his foe better.

With every strike, the Holy Knight skated and glided out of the way, blasting the makeshift mud weapons with torrents of chilled air that rapidly froze the mud, before smashing it apart like glass with a well placed strike.

With every loss of his mass, Brad had to draw in more from the earth beneath him, and he was quickly running out of available mud, as all of it was gradually being frozen by the Holy Knight.

The golem thrust its hand forward once more, going for another grab instead of a crushing blow. The Holy Knight thrust his own hand forwards, blasting the grasping mud tendril with chilling air that rapidly froze it so that it couldn't grab him.

But at the last moment, the grasping hand shifted, forming itself into a long and wicked spike just before it was frozen solid. The Holy Knight's eyes widened as he tried to leap out of the way at the last moment, but even with this desperate attempt the spike still plunged into his side and tore through his armour like tissue paper.

A scream forced itself from his lips, muffled by his helmet, as a fist sized hole was punched through the side of his abdomen, completely obliterating his kidney. He clutched the wound with trembling hands, as he desperately and with futile effort tried to stop the bleeding.

But that's when it hit him.

The other hand of the mud golem slammed into him, smashing him against the ground as he let out a pained groan. The mud golem leapt over, the ground trembling with its thunderous landing, as it started to rain down hammer-fist blows one after the other. Every blow sent the Holy Knight deeper into the ground.

When he tried to freeze the fists with what little energy he had left, the golem simply slammed its foot down onto him. Mud poured from the leg pressing down onto his stomach, entombing him once more. It forced its way under his helmet and tried to force itself down his throat.

A distance away from the entombing golem, but still in sight of it, a man stumbled to his feet. The figure begrudgingly dismissed his helmet and grasped the arrow that was sticking out of his eye once the helmet had dissolved into ink.

With an agonized scream, the telekinetic tore the arrow from his eye socket, as well as the eye that was stuck on the end of the projectile.

Blood trickled from the emptied socket like crimson tears as he set his remaining good eye on the towering mud man. He raised his hand, made a grasping motion in the air and yanked his arm backwards.

In the distance ahead of him, Brad was torn from the safety of his golem as he flew backwards into the air, before halting in the sky above the battlefield.

Without it's master to control it, the golem collapsed into nothing but a pile of harmless mud, from which the Holy Knight crawled as he coughed and spewed, pulling off his helmet so that he could properly retch the mud from his lungs.

The Telekinetic grit his teeth and curled his fingers, his hand straining against an invisible force, as he gradually clenched his hand into a fist.

High in the air, it was Brad's turn to scream, screams that quickly became muted and wheezing as the obsidian armour protecting his body started to buckle and bend inwards. it creaked and groaned, screaming as if it too was in pain, before in one swift motion it crumpled inwards, and all that was left of Brad was a metallic sphere the size of a basketball, that dripped with blood through the cracks in the warped obsidian metal.

The telekinetic panted heavily as he let his hand drop, the bloody metal sphere falling to the ground with it, as he turned back to his companion. He smiled smugly, the two of them sharing a condescending thought towards the worthless heretic, despite both of them nearly dying to those heretics.

TWUNNK!

The frosty, holy knight rose to his feet but before he could even take a single step and arrow sunk into his head, and unlike the telekinetic he had neither helmet nor telekinetic force-field to protect him. The arrow pierced through his skull, skewering his frosty grey matter like a kebab, and just a moment after rising to his feet the Holy Knight teetered before falling flat on his face, dead before he even hit the ground.

'Fuck! These fucking heretics! Why can't they just lie down and die like all the rest. They are a plague upon these lands and deserve the death we are bringing to them! This is not going how it is supposed to!'

The telekinetic grit his teeth, his fists trembling as he clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white. He cursed in his mind, wondering if he should join the assault here or go after that damned archer.

And considering the eye that was still stuck onto an arrow on the ground, his mind was heavily leaning towards tearing the archer. He was already imagining using his powers to pull them apart piece by piece, and he was definitely going to start with the eyes.

But he also knew that his companions could use his help. These heretics, although blasphemous in their existence, were empowered by the demon they bound themselves to and had proven themselves to be more irritating and disastrous than previously thought.

In the midst of his internal debate, his eyes landed on the crate that he had been transporting, as it laid on its side in the dirt.

'Should I... use the weapon?'