Ragnarok: The Fate of Gods

by Jake La Jeunesse

  “Don’t worry. You can trust him. The kid seems to like you. He just brought together all my loose ends—taking you to Sandalphon and back.” Micah turned to Jae-Hoon. “You must be the Slayer,” he said excitedly. “I owe a lot to you, too, for helping me arrange this faux assassination.”

  Jae-Hoon lowered his head, shamefully.

  “Now, back to you,” the overlord continued, turning to his old friend. “It’s time to see how well you can use that old sword of mine.”

  He grips the Masamune with both hands, crouching down in a familiar kendo en-guard stance. “Fight me.”

  Zeke squares off. He has been reunited with his friend, only to find him an aggressive opponent. Everything he hoped for over the last ten years is now coming at him--swinging the Masamune down hard, from over his head.

  He jumps back, just escaping the slash. “No! What are you doing?”

  Micah swings across his belt, narrowly missing. “You are the last piece of the puzzle. With your help, humanity can ascend to paradise.” He attacks again. Zeke jumps back, but the tip of the Masamune cuts through the shoulder of his shirt.

  “Why are you doing this?” he pleads. “I can’t fight you.”

  Micah stands, frustrated with the lack of cooperation. “You must. If you don’t, I will kill you, and then the world will be doomed to die.”

  Zeke stares in disbelief. “You’ve gone crazy.”

  “Fight me,” he growls.

  He speeds forward, sword gripped tightly. Age has only honed his skill.

  But it has done the same for Zeke.

  Clang!

  The sound of clashing metal echoes in the cavern. The blades lock. The Masamune hovers mere centimeters above Zeke’s head. His arms reel from the force of the blow.

  Micah smiles.

  The Nifelheim Defense Militia arrives at the gates of the reactor to find a large battalion of soldiers standing guard. A man in a uniform steps out in front. Dumah recognizes him as a high-ranking general in the army.

  “The Karellan is occupied at the moment. Take your soldiers and leave, sir,” the man says.

  But Dumah is not ready to give up. He is not ready to admit defeat, and he refuses to leave his men trapped inside with the Karellan. “I’m afraid we’ll have to decline.” He raises himself to his full height. Even from a distance, the soldiers see that he towers over their general.

  “We don’t want trouble, sir,” the general says. “Please leave peacefully and we will only strip you of your position.”

  Not ready to give up what strength he has, Dumah raises his sidearm and places a bullet clean between the general’s eyes.

  The roar of a battle rings through the upper city.

  “You are strong. You’ve been practicing,” Micah says as he bears down.

  Zeke doesn’t give. Powerful as his opponent is, he refuses to let the sword any closer to his head. He strains to speak. “I was taught by the best.”

  His blade wavers, but holds.

  Micah speaks effortlessly. “And here I thought Metatron’s worries might be justified.”

  Jae-Hoon looks at Daniel. “We’ve got to do something. He’ll be killed!”

  The boy shakes off his fear and draws his pistol. “You’re right.” He lines up his shot, calling out, “I can end this. Just say the word.”

  “No!” shouts Zeke, panicking.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve grown soft,” says Micah.

  “Of course not. But this is my fight.”

  Micah gives a strong push. Zeke stumbles back a few steps. “Glad to hear it. What say we stop playing then?” Without another word, he launches his attack. The Masamune slashes madly, seemingly from everywhere at once. Zeke, through a combination of effort and luck, counters every blow.

  But he still loses ground. Soon, he is flush against the dragon corpse. There’s no more room to evade.

  Micah stabs.

  The blade plunges into the corpse, missing him by a centimeter. Zeke runs. But in one motion, Micah pulls the sword out and elbows him in the back of the neck. He falls, collecting himself in a roll across the metal floor. “Disappointing Show me something interesting. What did Sandalphon teach you?”

  Zeke gets to his feet.

  Micah holds up the Masamune. A blue aura glows from the sword.

  He swings.

  A bolt of blue energy shoots out fast. A red blade swings up to intercept. It connects with the bolt, dispelling the blue aura into the air.

  The aura vanishes. “He taught me to fight with all my soul,” Zeke answers confidently.

  Micah smiles. “You’ve made me proud.” His smile fades to a malevolent grin. “Now use that power and fight me!”

  The overlord launches another series of attacks, but Zeke is ready. He defends, holding his ground. They exchange blows. Zeke attacks high. Micah raises the Masamune in defense, kicking him back at the same time. He falls, dropping his sword.

  But it doesn’t hit the ground.

  Micah stands over him, holding both swords.

  He attacks. Defenseless, Zeke has no choice but to dodge. Micah swings the Masamune low, at his legs. He leaps over the blade, but the other sword is already swinging towards his chest.

  He falls back, uncut, but off-balance. He pulls himself only to his knees before he realizes the Masamune is careening down towards his head.

  Clap!

  He pinches the blade firmly between his hands.

  But Micah doesn’t stop. He swings the other katana low, trying to attack from the side. Zeke uses his leverage on the Masamune to deflect the oncoming blow. He swings it down quickly. Metal clangs. He recovers and pulls the sword up high, above him.

  Zeke swings the Masamune back over his head, and leaps to his feet. The blades clash. He throws in a kick, which hit the hand holding the ancient sword.

  It falls. Zeke picks it up.

  They pause, each examining the weapons in their hands. Zeke, with the legendary katana, and Micah, with the sword that had once been his own. “It’s been a while since I last held her,” he says nostalgically.

  But it isn’t right.

  They glance at their weapons, then at each other. Without a word, each fighter tosses his blade at the other. Returning them to their proper wielders.

  And without missing a beat, they catch the swords and attack again. Once again, a storm of metal rages through the room. But the furious pace begins to take its toll on Zeke. He tires and begins losing ground. Behind him, he feels the guard rail. The edge of the floor. His attacks cease. In time, his defenses weaken. Micah sees an opening and takes it. He swings the Masamune up from the ground.

  White light flashes.

  The sword clangs loudly.

  Metatron stands in front of Zeke, one giant broadsword stopping the Karellan’s stroke completely. “You fool,” he says, his voice rumbling like a god in the cavernous room. “Will you destroy your aspirations so quickly?”

  Micah shoots the malak a contemptuous glance, then turns away, sheathing his sword. “Of course not. Do you think I’d go so far as to slay a dear friend?”

  “I have questioned your judgment since the day you chose this mouse to become the central component of the Destroyer.” He keeps his back to Zeke, ignoring him. The wearied fighter listens intently, trying to learn his fate.

  “You have seen it yourself and you are still disappointed in his progress?” says Micah, walking away.

  “He could not even land a blow on you, a mere human,” bellows the malak, infuriated at his insolence.

  “You have a lot to learn about humans,” says Zeke. He stands slowly, readying his blade. It glows red. “Do you think I’d kill an old friend?”

  The malak turns. “Oh? Are you so sentimental that you would not harm this man simply because your paths have crossed in a long-forgotten era?”

  He ignores the question. “Fight me.”

  “You face me yet again? Do you never learn?”

  Zeke advances on the malak, his glowing s
word ready to attack. “Fight me,” he repeated. “Stop hiding behind summoned monsters and inept henchmen and see my power for yourself.”

  “Without you, my plans are lost. I can not destroy you.”

  “You’re half right. You can’t kill me. You’ve failed every time.” He stops within his sword’s reach of the demon.

  “Insolent mouse, you dare challenge a deity?”

  “Pretty lousy deity. Can’t even kill a mouse. Do you dare accept?”

  “You won’t win. I can not be killed.”

  “I can’t do it if I don’t try.” He leaps with a renewed vigor. His sword comes down fast. Metatron stands firm, but swings his blade to halt the attack.

  “You have just sealed your fate, mouse.” He kicks.

  Zeke stumbles back, but doesn’t fall. “You call that a kick? Micah hits harder, and he’s just a human.”

  Metatron pulls out both blades and attacks fast, swinging with inhuman speed. Zeke defends wildly. He loses ground, but doesn’t let the malak land a single blow.

  He hops up on the guard rail. Metatron thrusts forward, but the agile human leaps over his head and lands on the grate behind the malak. He turns and stabs. The malak crosses his swords behind his back, catching the katana, then flips over backwards, kicking his opponent on his way down. Zeke falls, but he slashes up.

  The red blade cuts Metatron across the chest.

  The malak takes a step back, reflecting on his injury. The gash glows brightly, as if he were bleeding drops of light instead of blood.

  Zeke leaps to his feet.

  “Impressive. It’s been thousands of years since I could be injured. Perhaps you have made progress.”

  Zeke dashes forward, attacking vigorously. The demon defends, but is pinned against the guardrail. Within moments, Zeke sees his opening. He summons all his soul into the sword and swings.

  Metatron’s arm falls to the floor. A broadsword clangs against the grate.

  Zeke faces the malak, breathing heavily.

  Outside the reactor, the battle rages.

  The army is strong, but Dumah has trained fighters as well. The Karellan’s small battalion fights with no leader, and the Lower City Militia proves an equal match. They concentrate on the center of the enemy forces. Near the door. They blast out an opening with their weapons.

  They push forward, slowly clearing out their path.

  Soon their enemy closes in from both sides—a dangerous position. But it doesn’t matter. They reach the door. Dumah runs inside. He motions for Jack and Ariel to follow.

  His militia stays and fights, covering their leader’s back.

  “Just as I thought.” Zeke relaxes his stance. He lowers his sword. But he doesn’t take his eyes off Metatron. “You’re nothing but talk.”

  The malak laughed, low and dry. “Is that so? I suppose you believe you’ve won.”

  “You couldn’t defeat me with two arms. You haven’t got a prayer now.” Zeke finds his opponent’s confidence irritating.

  The wounded demon rises slowly to his feet. “I am the first of the ten holy sephirah. I am the most powerful of all angels and the steward of God on Earth and in the ethereal plane.” He steps slowly toward Zeke, who backs away cautiously. “I exist as one entity with God, the dragons, and all the malak. To destroy me, you would need to do more than sever an arm. You would need to slay all parts of the Destroyer at once.” He lays down his remaining sword and holds his arm out, opening himself completely for an attack. “But if you’re so convinced that you’ve won, take your best shot.”

  Zeke refuses to be intimidated. “Best idea I’ve heard all day.”

  He shoves his sword deep into Metatron’s chest, hoping that malak have hearts in the same place humans do. White light pours like blood from the wound. It fills the room. It drips on the floor. It dissipates into the air. He holds his sword fast, the red aura of his soul shining as bright as the angel’s wound.

  Then the aura spreads. Metatron’s white body becomes infected with the red light. It travels through him. His wound bleeds red.

  “What . . . what is this power?” he says surprised. For the first time, the malak looks frightened. But his look of fear soon fades into a malicious grin. Understanding dawns on his face. “This is the will of the Destroyer! This is the power I’ve been searching for!”

  Metatron grabs the blade with his fist and pulls it deeper into his body. The red aura leaves the sword, drawn into Metatron through his fist.

  Zeke screams in pain.

  The bleeding light grows brighter. Blinding white mixed with red. Jae-Hoon and Daniel shield their eyes. Even Micah is forced to look away. Dumah, Jack and Ariel burst through the door, only to shut their eyes tight against the blinding light.

  Then the malak explodes.

  A shockwave explodes out. Zeke, caught at its source, is thrown across the room. His sword clatters to the ground beside him. Micah grips the guard rail. Everyone else falls.

  Pipes around the room begin to leak gas. Cords begin to spark. The room begins to groan and shake.

  When the light fades, Daniel rushes to his friend’s side. “He’s passed out. He needs help. Ariel,” he orders, “you and Jack take him to Sandalphon.”

  “Ariel?” came a surprised voice.

  “Micah?”

  “But you were . . .”

  “. . . dead.”

  Daniel realized what was happening. Not only the reunion of old lovers, but the unstable reactor, wired through the entire capital city. “There’s no time! The reactor is going to explode!”

  “Leave Zeke with me, Daniel” ordered the Karellan, never taking his eyes from Ariel, whose gaze was equally fixated on him.

  “No,” the Raven answered, lifting Zeke around his shoulder. Dumah and Jae-Hoon rushed to help.

  This caught Micah’s attention. “What? So you ultimately side with Sandalphon?” He sounded more interested than surprised. But still frustrated. For the first time, his pawns weren’t playing his game.

  “No, my lord.” He spoke very politely. “I do not choose one master over another. But I must do what is right, and I do not believe your intentions are just.” He and Jae-Hoon pulled the body toward the door.

  “So be it,” he said, raising his sword slightly.

  “What’s going on?” piped Ariel. “Micah, why are you here?”

  He pleaded to her. “There’s no time. Come with me. Bring Zeke with you. The three of us need to escape.”

  She turned to her fallen friend ready to obey this wish, but Daniel stopped her. “Don’t listen to him. He’s the Karellan.”

  “What? Micah . . .” She struggled for words, but couldn’t find any.

  The overlord started for Zeke himself, but Dumah stepped in his path. “No, my lord. You can not have them.”

  “And you’re going to stop me?” He sounded like he was ready to laugh.

  Dumah, still serious, steadied his rifle.

  Click.

  Micah laughed.

  The Supervisor bent down and snatched Zeke’s sword off the ground. He held it out. The Karellan stared at him mockingly. “Please. You don’t know how to use that.” He held out the Masamune, ready to strike.

  “I received melee training during the war, just like everyone else,” he answered. The sword shook in his hands.

  “An hour a week on a broad sword with no practice for ten years, and you think you’re qualified to wield that against me?” He took a step forward. Dumah took a step back.

  Then the Supervisor felt something on his face. Something hot and wet. A thin jet of steam leaked out of a pipe above him. An idea came to him.

  He cut.

  The pipe burst. A thick cloud of hot steam filled the room. Micah disappeared behind it. Dumah retreated. Jae-Hoon caught him and shoved him under Zeke’s limp arm. “Take him. I’ll hold him off.”

  “What?”

  “Just go. It’s something I need to do.”

  Jae-Hoon had stood helpless for so long. He was fini
shed. Finished taking orders. Finished being used as a pawn. Finished hurting people. It was time to help them instead.

  Time for atonement.

  The Karellan would brave the cloud of steam. He was sure of that. But he could, at the very least, buy his friends enough time to escape. “I must do this.”

  Dumah understood. He nodded, and then he led the way toward the door.

  “But Micah . . .” Ariel said, mindlessly taking a step towards the steam. Jack grabbed her arm and pulled her hard toward the door. “We have to go.

  The small group raced out into the light of day.

  Chapter Twenty-One: Exodus

  Jae-Hoon leaped into the steam, the door not yet closed behind his friends. The scalding vapors were dissipating into the air, but still burned him.

  Suddenly he was startled by a large mass that collided with him in the cloud.

  The Karellan.

  He wore his suit coat over his head. It protected him from the steam, but blocked his vision. He wasn’t expecting the Slayer. They fell to the ground.

  Jae-Hoon rolled back, out of the steam. If I’m lucky, he thought, I can keep him in the steam long enough to do some damage.

  Micah stood and threw off the coat. The cloud no longer fazed him. It continued to fill the room with heat. It billowed behind him, around his feet. Jae-Hoon stepped back. The overlord appeared like a god, emerging from his cloud. “The Slayer? You want to stop me?”

  Jae-Hoon didn’t speak. His answer was to pull his stylus out from his robes.

  “I’m disappointed,” the Karellan continued. “I would have thought that you’d want to help me. You’re in this for God, are you not?” He took a step closer. Jae-Hoon gave a quick thrust with his spike. The overlord was not startled. Instead, he shot a curious look at the priest. “Don’t you understand my plan? I’m trying to restore your God to power. I’m trying to bring mankind back to paradise.”

  Just keep talking, he thought. Every moment the Karellan wasted in the reactor was one more step between him and Zeke.

  “You’re very quiet. Don’t you understand? This crisis you’re having, I can end it. You haven’t been turning people into monsters. You haven’t been killing them. You’ve been sending them to God. They are now part of his being. It’s not a bad fate. Not all eyes will weep for them.” He spoke with a waver in his voice.