“Good, that’s all that matters.”
Dusk was practically gazing a hole through the doors with the intensity of his stare. He was as ready as he had ever been. A still quiet hung in the air as the timer counted down.
5...
4...
3...
2...
1...
Go!
~~~~~
Tsuki looked upon the timer which hovered above the arena floor. The timer would be the mechanical judge which decided the fate of the combatants. The gates acted as the jury which held back the ten executioners. If only she knew the true significance this final match held to the combatants below. Yet for her, it held an equal importance. This would decide Phoenix’s future too. Would they brave the trials of the future with a mere four? Or would their fifth be found here in this finale?
“So they have made it to the finals?” she said to her comrade.
“Of course; surely you are not surprised?”
“No.”
Tsuki analyzed the situation and variables carefully in her mind, as if she were solving a complex calculus equation. Kevlar was here. By that virtue alone, his group should come out of this the winners. Kevlar was the most skilled player she had ever met over a decade of playing; with the exception of her fellow Phoenixes.
Still, there was a limit to what one person could achieve in a group setting. Tsuki knew this all too well, being burdened with clueless companions in the past. It was very possible that Kevlar’s fellow fighters may drag him down into the pit of defeat.
Even so, she had a feeling about the brown-haired Phantom—a hunch, albeit a very powerful one. Her gaze would be intensified like a hawk on the Phantom during this ultimate encounter. The timer had just finished its countdown, letting the rabid animals out of their wooden cages. Tsuki gazed on in wonder as the two enemy quintets commenced their dance of blades and magic.
“Do you have this under control?” Omni asked.
“Yes,” Tsuki replied, her eyes fixated on the ten person blood sport that was taking place on the arena floor. “Why do you ask?”
“I have an important matter I need to attend to. So I need you to watch this match very carefully.”
The silver beauty kickstarted her perplexed brain all the while making a conscious effort not to let her eyes wander off this battle. What could possibly be paramount enough to miss the final match? “An important matter?”
Omni rose from his perch, climbing up the steps, leaving the finals behind. His mind was focused on the ominous presence that was circulating through every inch of the coliseum like a cloud of death.
~~~~~
This time the enemy composition was an Enchanter (Pitfall), a Monk (Centaur), a Knight (Quartz), a Summoner (Bluegun), and a Sword Mage (Versatile).
“Go for the Sword Mage first,” Kevlar promptly instructed.
“Got it,” Dusk agreed fully. If it meant crushing the Hand of Blood, Dusk was willing to be Kevlar’s soldier.
Just like the first match, both groups climbed their way up their respective stairways to the top of the bridge. The entire group of opponents glowed crimson. The Enchanter had cast buffs upon them. This was the primary purpose of an Enchanter. Their defenses were flimsy, their damage was pathetic, and their healing was mediocre. At first glance, they would appear to be the weakest class in the game. In terms of their independence, this was true. They were terrible in solo situations. What they lacked in independence they made up for in what they brought to a group setting. Enchanters specialized in augmenting their allies while simultaneously crippling their foes. Their group value was the most powerful in War of the Elements, making them the most sought after class for groups. The Enchanter would have to be one of the first targets dispatched if Dusk and his friends hoped to be victorious. Right now, however, they were going forward with a different plan.
Kevlar immediately charged at Versatile, their Sword Mage. Predicting this, Quartz immediately dashed in front of Versatile, protecting his medic. The ten player chess match had begun. At the same time, Centaur and Bluegun ignored Kevlar completely, as if he were a buzzing fly, passing Dusk and Xyla on the way as well. They were in a mad dash straight for Stacy. Everything and everyone else may as well have been invisible to them. Pitfall, their Enchanter, followed behind them. Both groups were aiming to take out the healer, or bishop, first.
The Knight class was aptly named, as they would represent the knights on a chessboard as well. They both moved back to defend their bishops, giving everything they had to impede the enemy’s offensive. Two simultaneous battles were going on at opposite ends of the board.
An unseen force pushed Kevlar off the bridge, forcing him to begin his troublesome and lengthy ascent to rejoin the battle. Dusk and Xyla attempted to make up the damage that would be absent with Kevlar’s temporary setback. Quartz would have none of this, however. He thrust his shield upon Xyla’s head, incapacitating her temporarily. The arena descended into blackness for the female Monk upon receiving the painful blow, stars of silver darting haphazardly in her own personal darkness.
Kevlar had soared up the stairs, thankful to be back in the fray. As soon as he rejoined the blood sport, an unbreakable chain thwarted his plans yet again. Kevlar’s eyes wandered to Dusk and Xyla, silently attempting to portray what the next plan of attack was. They both understood from his expression what had to be done next.
As soon as the chains shattered, Dusk’s fist connected with Versatile’s cheekbone, sending him flying onto his butt. Instead of taking this chance to continue the assault they all swapped to another target—the Enchanter who was supporting them all with his subtle yet powerful augmentations. Quartz came to his aid, seeing Pitfall was the new target.
The fight continued like this for twenty minutes with neither side giving an inch—it had become a war of attrition. If it really was a chess match, they would have gone over the time limit already. The crowd was salivating in anticipation in their seats, anxious to see a break in this deadlock.
~~~~~
Omni’s legs were moving on autopilot, guiding him to where the dark aura was congregated in a thick sludge. The aura swirled around the man who was now mere feet from his face. This man seemed to be the nexus of the evil intent which he had felt. Dark plum hair was spilling down onto his eloquent yet fit shoulders. Lean muscle was finely etched into the man’s body.
“Is this seat taken?” Omni asked as if he were just talking to any other person. But he wasn’t just any ordinary person. He could tell something was out of place here.
The violet haired man turned to face him, digging into Omni with his dark eyes.
“Taken? Why would it be taken? I was saving this seat for you.”
“You were expecting me, were you?”
“Of course, I knew you’d come.”
A single eyebrow shot up Omni’s visage without him even realizing it.
“What made you so certain I’d come here?”
“I could feel your presence, Omni, just as you feel mine.”
The man’s expression was unchanging, as if this encounter stirred up nothing within his internal pot.
“So you have indeed awakened the pool of telepathy that lies dormant in every human being,” Omni pointed out.
“Why do you state the obvious? Of course I’m a telepath. But you’re wrong about one thing. I was born with it. I’ve always had mastery over these powers.”
Hearing this information did not sit well with Omni at all. This man likely had considerable skill. But his consciousness was infected with vile thoughts. Power is dangerous in the hands of wicked men. The amount of suffering he could inflict if he so desired was staggering. Yet the man seemed content to sit on the sidelines, watching the fighters below struggle. Just what was his intent? Was he really here just for that? To Omni, it felt like much more. The rabbit hole descended much deeper, into the depths of madness.
“Who are you?”
“In this virtual world, my name is Leo. That’s all you need
to know.”
“Leo, why are you here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to watch the match.”
“I thought we were done stating the obvious and spouting bullshit.” Omni’s voice rose in intensity, a hint of intimidation and power disseminated through his words.
“It’s not bullshit. I enjoy watching these ants scurry about, don’t you?”
An awkward silence hung about the air. Leo turned away, feasting his eyes on the battle below.
“Look at them. Just look at those pathetic insignificant creatures. They fight one another for sport like a pack of animals. Humans are truly inferior—disgusting sacks of meat.”
“You seem to be deriving amusement from watching these disgusting sacks of meat. Does that make you any better?”
“That’s big talk coming from a traitor, Jed.” Leo allowed a slight smirk to cross his face for the first time.
Despite his attempts to control his emotions, Omni couldn’t help but be unnerved by this statement. Leo called him by his real name. He never told Leo this information, so how would he know? What’s more, Leo called him a traitor. Does he somehow know what happened back then? But that was a long time ago...
“How do you know my name?”
“I wonder.”
Frustration gripped Omni hard for but a moment before he took a relaxing breath, emptying his mind, regaining control of the base urge which had threatened to overtake him.
“Are you responsible for what’s going on in this world? Are you the reason for our imprisonment here?”
“And if I am? What will you do?”
With supersonic speed, Omni dug his hands into Leo’s purple coat, pulling him. His face was now close enough to feel his breath brush against his cheek. Their eyes met in a stare that seemed to extend beyond this world.
“I will make you stop this course of action. I will make you tell me how to reverse this. You are in no position to play God with other people’s lives. You are no better than other humans.”
Leo gripped Omni’s arms, throwing them away in a split second of disgust as his voice rang with the tolls of doom.
“You put me in the same league as humans? Don’t ever say such a revolting thing to me again. You have grown soft, Jed. Has the presence of these worms infested into your consciousness?”
Leo let his sigh pervade their encounter, making his regret as plain as day.
“I don’t know what happened to you, Jed, but it is clear that you are no longer on the right side. I’ve seen everything I needed to see here. Now I can report back to him. Don’t worry, we will meet again.”
The aura of darkness had lifted. Leo was gone.
Omni crossed his arms in reflection as he wracked his brain at light speed.
Who was that man? He called me a traitor. Could it be? Who exactly is he reporting to when he said he was reporting to “him”? Also, why was he here in the first place? Do they also have their eyes set on Dusk? If so, what could they possibly want with him?
~~~~~
After what seemed like an eternity of combat, Dusk’s group had decided to change up their plan by performing a feint. They pretended that Versatile was the focus of their ire, but when the window of opportunity opened, they charged Pitfall immediately. This time, they were aided by Frost’s sword and shield. It was a risky gambit, as this left Stacy unprotected, a soldier in the middle of a battlefield with no bunker or foxhole to protect her. They would just have to put their trust in Stacy and combine their might to overwhelm this enemy through sheer force. Luckily for them, their scheme paid off. They managed to take down Pitfall, just barely, making their first dent in the opposition. Unfortunately, a mere moment later, Xyla had been felled by the Hand of Blood.
She cursed to herself as she hit the wooden floor, unable to so much as lift a finger. She could only watch from the ground as the fighters feet shuffled on the wooden bridge, teetering above the sandy floor. This was the end of her personal mission of vengeance. But there were still others that could make her wishes come true. She prayed silently in her heart for the victory of her comrades. Make these bastards pay, for what they did to me, and to you... Dusk. Give us the closure we both deserve. Win.
Dusk’s blood boiled. Just when he thought they had gained some ground, Xyla had fallen as well. It was four vs. four now; the match would most likely be decided soon. Dusk and Kevlar moved in unison. Every ounce of their effort and strength was fired on Bluegun in a relentless blast. This would work. It had to. With this much power, that Summoner must fall. The enemy had not expected this all in strike. Bluegun was ignoring the assault on himself as best he could as he focused his hatred onto Stacy; his summon throwing sharp icicles in her direction—elemental instruments of death.
Bluegun was of the Summoner class, which meant he relied upon the assistance of familiars to do battle for him. Alone, Summoners were weak in comparison to every other class. That weakness was filled by the strength of their astral companions. Because of this, they were one of the best solo classes, and also suited for group combat as well. The creatures they could summon could take the role of: tank, damage dealer, or healer; depending on which creature was summoned. The summons had to be acquired throughout the world. This required arduous labor through performing lengthy quests or life threatening boss battles. Unless you had friends who were willing to help you, picking Summoner as your class was not wise.
Centaur was beating the living daylights out of Stacy with his bare hands. She gasped as she was struck mercilessly. A fist to the jaw. A knee to the gut. Cold pain shot through her body as several chilly icicles rammed through her chest. She had no time for retaliation, no time for restoration, no time for anything but to fall to the ground after withstanding a relentless beating. She would soon be joined in the dirt by her Summoner foe, Bluegun.
The crowd rose in a great jubilee, loving the show that was unfolding before their very eyes. If only they knew the animosity between these two groups of fighters. Dusk’s heart came to a complete halt, seeing his most precious person hit the dirt at the behest of the Hand of Blood. It was now three vs. three, and truth be told, Dusk’s group was at a disadvantage. They had lost their healer, but the enemy still had theirs.
“Frost!” Kevlar shouted. “You know what to do!”
“Got it!” Frost responded loudly. He sprinted swiftly to the enemy healer, sinking his shield into the back of his head, sending him into a sea of torment. Meanwhile, Dusk and Kevlar unleashed a bladed barrage on Centaur. Their swords sliced him from two different directions, crunching into his flesh with their metal jaws as the enemy Monk screamed in agony.
Versatile moved to try to heal him, but was held in place by Frost. Dusk grabbed this narrow opportunity by the throat, thrusting his blade into Centaur several times, spilling his blood onto the sand, causing his energy to leave him as he fell.
Now it looked as though the Hand of Blood was on the ropes. In reality, Frost was teetering on the precipice of defeat from the accumulated strikes he was forced to withstand—most of them a result of his trying to protect their now incapacitated Cleric. The two remaining enemies took this opportunity to whittle the precious few slivers of his health pool into nothingness, disabling him for the rest of the match.
Now Dusk and Kevlar were at a disadvantage. Both Quartz and Versatile had full health, and they had a means to keep regaining that health as Versatile could keep healing them. Dusk and Kevlar, however, had nothing to heal themselves with. The enemy could slowly chip away their health. Quartz shouted at his foes, his words covered with murderous intent as the two gladiators silently assessed the situation.
“This is it! This is where we crush you for what you did to Menos. Are you ready to lose, you murderous piece of shit?”
Dusk ground his teeth as shots of anger spilled like acid through his veins. His body shook like a hapless tree within the throes of a violent tempest. I can’t lose here. I won’t let myself lose here. Not to the
se guys. Not to these guys!
Dusk and Kevlar stared at one another for a brief moment, smiling, having come to a mutual understanding.
“Hey, Kevlar, what do you say we put our differences aside for now and show them not to fuck with two gladiators, huh?”
“Sure.”
They both turned to face their opponents. This was it, the moment of truth. The crowd continued to shout in a concoction of cheering, but all sound was drowned out for the two veteran fighters. They were only focused on the enemy before them. Dusk became a transparent figure as he vanished from sight. At the same time, Kevlar rushed straight at Versatile like a dog chasing a bone. As soon as Kevlar neared the healer Dusk cut Versatile from behind. Kevlar tried to slash him from the opposite side, but was impeded by Quartz’s unyielding shield.
Versatile tried to knock at least one off of the bridge they were on, but they both evaded, predicting this in advance as if they had become clairvoyant. Just before Quartz was able to recover, an amber red chain wrapped around the Knight’s body—the Berserker’s version of
What is he trying to do? Quartz’s thoughts raced through his mind. Is he trying to separate me from Versatile?
Versatile was now vulnerable without his tank nearby; a tortoise without a shell. He wanted to run to his human shield with haste, but he had to keep his attention focused on the Phantom in front of him, lest he risk getting stabbed in the back.
Versatile’s face contorted into distress as his blood raged through him like the river rapids. Dusk ran his blade through him, seizing the only open window they had to win this match.
The Sword Mage’s mouth was now agape, his state of shock locking down his ability to speak. His pain was pushed into new heights as he felt an extension of cold steel violently penetrate his body. He fell to the ground as Dusk withdrew his blade, leaving blood erupting in a brutal spray from Versatile’s body.
The Virtual Realm (War Of The Elements Book 1) Page 16