by Corey Soreff
The hellhound acted first. Yelping with a cross between a bark and a roar, the demon hound sprang forward, running across the arena towards the monk at a frightening speed. Its tongue hanging out, drool splashed all around the hellhound as it ran, and its eyes glowed with innate fury.
It had almost reached Dennas, and he prepared for first blood. Either him or this denizen of hell was about to go down. And he didn’t plan on going down. When it got close enough, the hellhound leaped into the air at the monk, straight at his face. It obviously planned on ripping the man’s head clean off.
But Dennas didn’t falter, and he remained in his extreme state of concentration. Calmly, without haste or hesitation, he bent his knees and sunk into a lower stance. His ass almost touching the ground yet still supporting his own weight in such an awkward stance, many were surprised he didn’t just fall. When the hellhound arrived at where his head should have been, it was directly above him, about to soar past him harmlessly. But that would only prolong the fight.
Dennas called upon all the built up tension in his legs that had been acting like springs as he waited to make his move. He launched upwards, his entire body weight propelling him into the air. As he rose, he put his right fist into his left palm, and turned his arms so that his right elbow pointed straight up at the sky, supported by his other arm from below. His elbow drove hard into the belly of the hellhound, and it barked in pain. A white aura seemed to envelop his arm as the attack connected. That was just the initial contact, however. Due to the amount of power put into the jump, and the energy behind it, Dennas wasn’t stopped or slowed when his elbow made contact. He kept going. There is a common tactic among martial artists. You don’t strike the target, you strike through the target. That is exactly what he did, and very well. Dennas’s elbow actually tore through the hound’s abdomen, smashing through ribs and crushing organs. His momentum continued until he had ripped through the entire demon, leaving it in a dead heap on the ground, in two halves. Intestines spilled onto the ground and the hellhound breathed its last breath. And Dennas landed back on his feet and settled back into his fighting stance, as if nothing had happened, impassively awaiting his next opponent.
The gorgen roared, and the arena shook. “Who exactly have you brought me to fight, human? This is no ordinary man!”
Velion laughed. “Are you scared, gorgen? Surely you don’t fear a mere human?”
The gorgen looked as if he would try to attack the warlock again, but decided against it. “Of course not, this is simply far more annoying than the rest you disturbed me from. Remember you will die for this.”
The warlock shrugged. “You’re welcome to try, you ugly bastard. But for now, you will do as you are told.”
The gigantic demon smashed the ground with its huge fist, creating a small crater from the force of the blow. Fire raged around his horns, flickering in violent patterns. “I am still King of demons. Imp, go kill that human.”
The imp looked from the gorgen to Velion, as if questioning whether he needed to obey the higher ranking demon in this situation. Then with a short sigh, it began walking forward, knowing that if he refused the gorgen would find him in the netherworld when they returned.
“King? Hardly, you may be high up on the ladder, but we both know there are those above you. Those that make you look like a child.” Velion smirked, irritating the gorgen on purpose now.
This time the gorgen ignored the provocation, instead watching the approaching fight.
Testing the abilities of its enemy, the imp formed and hurled a typical fireball at the monk. Fireballs cast by imps were weaker than the feared fireball of a mage, but still enough to kill a weakling. Anyone could kill a demon hound, the imp reasoned.
Just as the fireball was about to make contact, the monk planted his feet quickly into a horse stance and struck forward with both arms and his palms open. It seemed as if he cast a spell, for a torrent of wind easily blew away the ball of fire. It was no spell, however. Monks were masters of controlling their chi, or inner energy. Every basic strike also contained the power of his entire body and soul.
The imp growled and muttered curses in its own tongue. Imps didn’t have access to many spells, and its physical attacks were obviously less skillful than the monk’s. It stood unmoving, pondering whether to chance being killed by the monk or to chance being killed by the gorgen. Then something blasted into its stomach, and the imp dropped to its knees in agony, gasping for breath. It looked forward at the monk; the man had a fist extended his way. Nonsense! How far can that wind travel?
Dennas then darted forward with skillful agility, arriving at the imp’s side in a mere moment. He dug his left foot into the dirt, securing his footing. Then his left foot pivoted to the right, along with his body. Dennas spun around completely in the blink of an eye, the entire time simultaneously lifting his right leg. An incredible spinning back kick crashed into the face of the demon, crushing every bone within. As a result from the force of the blow, the imp was blown across the arena, its body spinning out of control in the air until smashing into a wall and tumbling to the ground. Dennas sank calmly back into a fighting stance, his eyes focused on the gorgen that was sure to be his next opponent.
Velion shrugged. “I hardly expected anyone fighting in this tournament to be defeated by an imp. You, however…” He smiled at the gorgen.
The gigantic demon opened its mouth wide, roaring so loud the arena shook. Its menacing fangs could be seen, eager to pierce skin. Fire still circled its large horns, and its hands curled into fists that looked harder than hammers.
Then the gorgen was behind Dennas. It swept its right arm across, hitting the monk with full force. Dennas flew aside, rolling across the ground.
What the? Dennas slowly rose to his feet, surprised his legs were already trembling as his body was trying to regain control of itself after his brain was rattled. Teleportation?
Again the gorgen appeared behind him instantaneously. It grabbed Dennas by the back of the head, lifting him up in the air as it seemed its large hand would crush the monk’s skull. Dennas kicked at the demon’s chest to no avail, and the gorgen laughed loudly at his efforts. “I was last summoned hundreds of years ago to fight an archmage! Now I am summoned to fight this ant?” It laughed again and hurled the monk across the arena.
Every nerve within Dennas was searing with pain. He struggled to his feet once again. “Ulindor forgive me, for I had lost my concentration. Guide me once again.” Teleportation changed everything; he could no longer be on the offense, which seemed the logical plan at first. His only hope lay in counter attacks. When he was kicking the demon’s chest, it seemed hopeless for even his chi infused blows could not scratch the demon lord. But chi wasn’t the only card up his sleeve. Planting his feet firmly, he sank back into another basic fighting stance. He closed his eyes, meditating and becoming one with the energy around him. He could feel his own chi circulating within him. He could feel the warlock’s chi, which was very active as he maintained his spell. He could feel the chi of every person in the audience that day, mostly weak but excited energy as they watched the fights before them. He could feel the chi of the other combatants, watching from the combatant hall. He fought to stay focused and calm as he briefly detected the enormous Chi that could only be the Crimson Blade himself. And then he detected the gorgen’s chi, which predictably appeared right behind him once again.
Before the gorgen could attack, thinking its surprise attack would be as successful as always, Dennas spun and put his body weight into his elbow as he smashed it into the gorgen’s face.
The demon lord stumbled backwards, his nose hurting. Actually hurting! How long had it been since it had felt pain? Ridiculous, a powerful spell might damage me, but a mere physical attack? Then he was rocked again as a foot connected with the side of its head. Dennas had not wasted any time, following up the elbow with a swift roundhouse kick.
The demon managed to stay on its feet, but barely. Its vision was blurred and its rea
ctions delayed.
Quickly dropping into a horse stance, Dennas brought back one arm then launched it forward palm first. Ulindor’s palm, it was named. His palm slammed into the demon’s chest, and a wave of energy seemed to burst through the demon simultaneously. This was an attack that did not damage the exact area that is struck, but what lies beyond that area. The force of the blow and the chi behind it pass harmlessly through the skin and bone, but viciously tear apart whatever it can find beyond that. In this case, the force of the blow was tearing at the gorgen’s heart.
The gorgen roared in fury, eager to stomp the life out of the human in front of it. It was about to prepare an incredibly powerful spell it used to finish off powerful enemies, but then it noticed it couldn’t. For some reason, the demon lord could not move or cast a spell. What type of trickery is this? It wondered.
Dennas stood in front of the fiend, staring it in the eyes. “My last blow struck your heart, momentarily stopping it from beating. You cannot act for a few seconds. Unfortunately for you, a few seconds is more than enough to kill you.”
The monk launched into a series of lightning fast blows, each one striking the same exact spot: the heart. It looked as if a hundred fists blasted into the demon’s chest within seconds. Not only were they fast, but each fist had all his strength behind it…and it seemed they had something else behind them as well.
Eucibous smiled. “The monk is definitely skilled, I’ll give him that. But normal punches, chi or not, would not kill a gorgen. It does seem that he will succeed, however. This monk has a God with him, I can feel it.”
Lok watched with interest. “Ulindor, eh? How many champions will we see here, I wonder?”
You could take the most skillfully crafted warhammer in the world, smash it against a gorgen’s chest countless times, and it would still not equal the force of these punches. The gorgen collapsed lifelessly to the ground. It had already been dead after the first few blows.
“Thank you, Ulindor.” Dennas acknowledged the assistance of his God. Surely, without the gift of inhuman strength that Ulindor had granted him, he could not have laid the demon lord to rest. Dennas smiled for the first time. Perhaps I can be the one to kill the liche after all. Now I just need to finish off this warlo….
Blast! I was a fool to relax! The monk turned to the side in horror, for he felt everything within him being drained to nothing.
Velion stood with a smirk and his palm extended, maintaining his newest spell: life leech. Sinister purple energy could be seen connecting the two fighters like a rope. And before he had cast that, he had also cast a basic fear spell on the monk.
Unable to concentrate or react intelligently due to the temporary fear spell, panic spread throughout Dennas like an infection. He could feel all his chi and stamina being sucked away, as the warlock took it for himself. And this warlock was able to summon a gorgen, so surely his life leech would be at a high level. He was doomed.
As the last drop of stamina left the monk’s body, he fell to the dirt face first. He was conscious, but he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.
Velion walked over to Dennas, standing over his body with a friendly smile. “Well fought monk, you can proudly say you defeated a gorgen. It was smart of you to disable it! A gorgen has spells you haven’t even seen that could have wasted you, but you took that out of the equation. Don’t hate me, monk. But I’m here to attain my dream, and nothing could take that from me. I’ll give you a rematch someday, eh?”
Dennas couldn’t help but crack a smile, even as he lay in the dirt. “A good match indeed.” He couldn’t believe a warlock could be such a good sport. He had expected gloating and insults when the man approached him. So much for stereotypes.
“Winner: Velion!” The announcer yelled.
In the combatant hall, Eucibous looked on with a gleam in his eye.
Also in the combatant hall, Seth’nerak watched, waiting for his opportunity. He wondered if he had made the right decision in his disguise, for his plan relied on expected circumstances. It matters not…if things don’t go as planned, I’ll just openly attack. I can assassinate one of the fools and then hide in the folds of space until my armies arrive. Seth’nerak was confident, but not stupid. Even if he believed he could defeat all of his opponents alone, he simply would not risk it. He would wait for Marcovius. He would wait for his army. He would raise the dead. He would become a God.
The Liche King grinned as he foresaw his ascension. Nothing could stop him, he figured. He truly believed it, too. He was not naive, he knew how powerful Eucibous and his friends were. He just happened to consider himself even more powerful. Before Sargath brought him beyond the scope of time, perhaps Eucibous would have crushed him. But now, the liche thought himself above even Sargath. “Breaking the rules and training me outside time will be your biggest mistake, Sargath.” He whispered to himself and then laughed quietly. Then he went quiet, realizing the fighters next to him were wondering what the hell he was laughing at.
“I do not like the look of this.” Darnillus toyed with his flowing white beard as he sat with his fellow Gods of light. “We know the liche planned for war, and we have evidence he is participating in the tournament. So…WHERE is his army?!”
“Most of the soldiers are away from Nelthak. They must be hiding around Darnath ready to strike.” Anania reasoned.
Darnillus nodded. “That is the logical assumption, but neither our scouts nor our own eyes can spot a single soldier anywhere in the vicinity. Is Seth’nerak powerful enough for such a mass invisibility spell? That would take far too much energy.”
Anania turned to glance at another of the Gods present who had been meditating. “Ah, Noctune, you have returned to us. Find anything?”
Noctune raised his head, revealing his turquoise skin under a green hood. Dark blue orbs rested in his eye sockets, with no pupils. His eyes saw no light, but his mind saw much. He pulled the hood off his head, exposing antennae that twitched with stimulation. His blue lips opened as he began to speak. “I have traveled the many folds of space. I have found them.”
Darnillus slammed the table they sat at in excitement. “Perfect!”
Noctune looked at Darnillus, although he couldn’t see him. “A large army lies in a dimensional pocket right outside Darnath. If the spell is released, Darnath will have an army at its doorstep.”
The Gods whispered among themselves discussing possible plans. Darnillus smiled. “We are fortunate to have you, Noctune. We will not let this information go to waste. We must act before their plan initiates. We shall be victorious this day.”
Noctune nodded, but continued. “I do not doubt our ability to win, my friend. But you should probably know they have red dragons…many of them.”
Chapter Fourteen
The New Number One
Rorik stood in the arena, cracking his neck as he waited for the match to begin. He couldn’t stop thinking about when he learned of Ginin’s death. Being the strongest meant nothing if he didn’t get it by defeating Ginin. It was extremely out of character for Rorik to be in the tournament. For any assassin to be in the tournament. Assassins and rogues liked to stalk their prey, kill quickly and with surprise. Drop their enemies before their presence is known. Silent death. Yet here he was standing openly in front of his opponent.
But Rorik simply could not believe Ginin was dead. If he was, his goals were shattered. Everything Rorik worked towards in life had been to surpass Ginin. Rorik grew up hearing of Ginin’s exploits, listening to stories of him with awe. Nobody ever saw him kill his marks, but everyone knew who did it, and the kills were always perfect. Everyone feared the shadow. He hoped to someday duel Ginin for the number one spot. He didn’t want to kill him, for he was his idol. But he wanted to crush him. He wanted to be him.
Rorik stared ahead at the pathetic brute they had matched him against. An ogre! A stupid, filthy, smelly, brain-dead ogre. Sure, they were strong as hell. But a simple warrior had no chance against Rorik. He sighed. He only wanted
to get what he came for and leave. The Crimson Blade…they can tell me the truth. They can tell me where Ginin is. It figures they hadn’t matched him against one of them yet. He wasn’t even in the same combatant hall! Rorik spit on the ground. “Just my luck.”
Eucibous, as always, remained focused on the fight. But he had barely even glanced at the ogre. His eyes rested on the short man wearing all black. Expensive boots covered his feet, and Eucibous could sense the magic emanating from them. Slightly baggy pants likely concealed weapons inside. Two short swords were strapped to his back, and a small hand crossbow was attached to his left glove. A belt held several daggers, poisons, and antidotes. A tight black hood covered his head, and his eyes reeked of death.
Eucibous stared at Rorik, but saw only his friend Ginin.
The announcer had just begun the match, and the ogre stood with its mouth open in confusion. The moment the match had begun, Rorik had vanished. The ogre stood about nine feet tall, and was wielding a large claymore with only one hand. Its other hand held a large shield, and the ogre was protected by a full sell of platemail with a helmet to match. Platemail was expensive, so onlookers knew this wasn’t an average brute. Breag was annoyed.
Breag the ogre grinded his sharp yellow teeth in frustration. “Fight me like a man, coward! Tricks are for children!”
“You really want to see your death coming? Or would you prefer it a surprise?” Rorik’s voice seemed to come from all directions.
The ogre jerked its head to the right, then left. He turned around, looked everywhere but saw nothing. “You won’t kill me, weakling! Now come out!”