Each of the men had two very different styles in a battle that was so close and it put Max on his toes. The pounding had carried on for too long, depleting his energy with every strike. He begun to feel the fight slipping, frustrated by the relentless attacks.
Max then forced both men to take a step back with a small jolt. Electrifying the air, he sent a pulse of electricity in a wave that knocked both to the ground, stunned.
“That’s enough!” The cold voice rang out as the eyes beneath the hood shifted their gaze between the two men. Seth made eye contact with him and winced at the fury he felt over his missed opportunity. The sight of Seth boiled the Dark Lord’s blood no end. He hissed at his men for their failure.
“If you will, my Lord…” said Seth, still hoping to fight with Max.
“No,” the Dark Lord whispered in a chilling voice.
Seth retreated wisely, muttering under his breath at Victor.
“Do you challenge me with a full ring?” asked the Dark Lord.
“No.”
“’My Lord’!” Seth shouted, finishing Max’s sentence.
“I have no lord,” replied Max.
Seth’s face grew dark, but Max held his stare as he gazed at the fuming man.
“Such confidence. That will be wiped in an instant,” the Dark Lord hissed.
The two men slowly rose from the cold floor, retreating from the rage of the Dark Lord.
Max raised his dual weapons, preparing for an assault. A flick of the wrist was enough force to disarm Max and his weapons slid away from him across the marble tiles.
“What makes you think you stand more of a chance than anyone before you? Your ancestors tried and failed. Tell me, what chance?” he trailed off, glaring at Max.
“Because none of them were Maximus Thatcher,” he said, his strength growing as he climbed the few steps to the throne, standing an arm’s length away.
“I’m not scared of you,” Max whispered.
“I am a God!” screamed the Dark Lord.
Max was on his knees in an instant, shrieking as every fibre in his body twitched and burned. Seth’s face lit with pleasure as he watched Max writhing on the ground and rolling from side to side.
“Have I seen you before?” asked Dartholemue, as he looked harder at Max. Max gritted his teeth and rose to his feet with great effort. Suddenly, throwing his entire weight into his fist, he aimed a full-length punch into the darkness of the hood. It was blocked in mid-air, throwing him backwards on a wave of energy.
Max rose once more, wiping away the blood that ran from the inside of his mouth. He drew close, hatred building at the pit of his stomach.
“The only time you would have seen my face is when you looked up at the Gods and asked to join them, only to be denied because of your monstrous acts against them,” he snarled.
Blood stained the marble floor as, once again, Max found himself curled into a ball.
“Do not list your name with those of the Gods,” yelled the Dark Lord.
Max raised his hand in defiance of everything the Dark Lord stood for, awakening the prophecy encrypted in the golden scroll on his back. A burst of blue lightning tore through Dartholemue’s defences, screaming towards him with force that surprised him. It slit the side of his hood as it passed, smashing a hole in the back of his marble chair.
Shock overtook Seth; not once had he seen anyone break Dartholemue’s defence like that. In his eyes, it seemed to make the Dark Lord vulnerable to any attack. Indeed, It had been many decades since something like this had occurred. The last man to leave the Dark Lord open like this had been the God, Philo, who had pushed him to the brink of death.
“I haven’t seen an attack like that in many years,” Dartholemue admitted. “If only you could have shown this strength the night the dojo burned down.” He smiled slyly, watching Max’s eyes darken. The words had hit him in the face and he struggled to counter. Finally, though, his fury overtook his senses and he lost control as rage engulfed him.
Max attacked with another bolt of blue lightning that sent the Sword Master crashing to the ground, leaving him lifeless. His power forced its way up to the surface, burning his scar red hot.
Victor and Seth observed the treat, waiting for the Dark Lord’s response. Dartholemue watched as Max stood fuming, unable to control his pent-up anger. It was a strange feeling for him, witnessing Max now.
Victor shot a quick glance at Seth who knelt at the side of the Sword Master, looking up at the Dark Lord in hope. The smallest spark from Max’s clenched fist was enough to make them jump. A burst of blue lightning screamed up to the Dark Lord, colliding with an unknown force that sent the lightning scattering in all directions. Seth covered his eyes, squinting at the bright lights that exploded with little sparks, blinding him momentarily.
The battle came to an abrupt halt as Max jolted, clearing the throne steps in a single bound, drawing close. A palm thrust to the chest left Maximus short of breath as the Dark Lord doubled his gravity. The sudden new weight of his body crushed him and he tried to regain control.
The Dark Lord waited no longer, shooting a green liquid that absorbed immediately into Max’s skin. The deadly poison affected his system instantly and green veins bulged out from his neck. His breathing deepened as the poison took effect, flowing through his system within minutes. He felt his strength passing from him and dropped to a knee, blinking wildly as his vision blurred.
“The deadliest poison in the world. Do you feel the awful effect?” Seth grinned as he stood over him. Max’s vital organs began to shut down, making him twitch on the marble tiles. He grabbed at the sand glass, witnessing his own end as his eyes shut and his mind drifted. He lay still as Seth checked for a pulse. “He’s gone, my lord,” he said.
“Discard him,” the Dark Lord ordered. Victor picked up his limp body from the cold floor. He felt no remorse as he flung the body over the side of the cliff, watching as it disappeared from sight.
* * *
The Ministry had been informed of Max’s situation. Dispatching a special team to locate him, they used every possible means of avoiding the Dark Lord for the safety of the team. The walls of the Minister’s office were lined with inspirational quotes in an effort to imbue the room with a less than gloomy feel. The Minister’s leather chair was pulled up to the huge desk. He clicked a button to reveal a large-screen TV, a painting sliding away as the location of his team was displayed on a world map.
“As you can see, the forces have scattered and are searching all four corners of the Earth,” said the Minister, turning on his leather chair and looking at the two Head Masters.
“Out of all the things he could do, he has to do this,” nodded Alexander.
“He’s a hero,” replied Master Lee.
“A stupid one at that,” Alex fumed.
“Both the Ministry and the NPA are doing their best to bring the boy back.” The Minister rose.
“He sacrificed his life for Jimmy’s, and that’s something that should be commended,” said Alex.
“There must be something we can do?” Master Lee questioned.
“The ball’s in Max’s court now. If you’ll excuse me I have other meetings to attend,” said the Minister, shaking hands with both Head Masters.
They shot a quick glance at the TV screen before departing through the door, their thoughts heavy from the seemingly unending stream of misfortune.
Chapter 22
Recovery
Days had passed and Stuart remained at the Ministry, awaiting his next job. The attack at the school had frightened the organisation and fuelled the ongoing investigation into the Dark Lord. The Minister knew his power was nothing like the Dark Lord’s and so he was forced to find other ways to minimise his destruction. The Dark Lord’s motives were unclear, making him more dangerous and unpredictable than ever before. The sunlight drifted in through the large windows, allowing Stuart to study the area around him, but he soon began to feel restless, leaning back on his chair as he counted
the endless stream of people passing him by. He admired the Minister’s secretary as she walked across the room. Her features were exotic. Long, dark hair, a tight red and black dress and long, tanned legs that were as slender as the rest of her body. Her light blue eyes glinted behind the smart glasses she wore when working.
Her footsteps echoed through the room and she suddenly angled her way towards him, making him jump with nerves.
“You are wanted in the Minister’s office,” she said as her voice echoed through his mind.
“Understood,” he replied, lethargically getting to his feet.
“Now,” she demanded as she trailed off. Her tone had immediately increased Stuart’s pace and he desperately tried to catch up.
“So, how about that weather?” he said, uttering the first thought that came to mind. He cringed as he realised how idiotic that sounded.
“I have heard that one before,” she said, sarcastically. Stuart screwed his face.
“Apologies.”
Her face turned a light hue of rosy red. She was saved by the Minister’s desk fast approaching and rapidly made her way out of the office.
He had never been in this office alone before; there had been no reason why he would. He had made no mistakes nor received any rewards.
He was ushered into an empty chair and waited patiently. The sharp scent of mustard filled the air, emanating from a half-eaten sandwich on the desk.
Cold air filled the room thanks to the ceiling fans, turned up high to battle the summer’s heat.
Stuart’s attention returned to the Minister, who had been flicking through an ice statue magazine, as he closed the pages and tucked it into a drawer.
“A pleasure to meet you again, Stuart,” he greeted, as he sifted through some documents.
“Likewise, Sir,” Stuart replied, nervously shifting on his chair.
“Here we go.” The Minister pulled out a brown paper folder and handed it to Stuart.
“Inside you will find information,” he said, giving him a little time to look it over before continuing.
Stuart opened it to find a picture of a man in his fifties, wearing a very expensive-looking suit, with slick black hair and a face that looked very worldly. He was the kind of person best described by the word “powerful”. Behind the photo were pages and pages of information and more pictures of a huge mansion and an even bigger stadium.
“His name is Gabriel Edward MacDonald, a very powerful lord. He owns the fighting association and all the stadia around the world. His family are the founders and are very dangerous,” he said, heavily.
“And this ties into what exactly?” asked Stuart, confused.
“Maximus,” he urged. Stuart’s mind began to work, trying to fit together the pieces of information and complete the puzzle.
“What does Gabriel have to do with Maximus?” he questioned, giving up the effort.
The Minister pulled back the file and he opened it to two pictures. Stuart recognised one of them from the attack on the school.
“Gabriel may be linked to the Dark Lord’s men. Victor and Seth came from the gladiator arenas that Gabriel started.”
“Get close with Gabriel and find out the Dark Lord’s location,” he said under his breath. Stuart’s eyes widened. This meant he would have a chance at finding Maximus. Excitement started brewing at the thought.
“But why me?” replied Stuart.
“I need a teleporter who is motivated and you’re close to Maximus, aren’t you?” he questioned.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then go out and find him,” said the Minister, injecting drive into the boy.
The Minister rose from his chair, walking around his desk to take in the full view of Stuart.
“This is a very dangerous environment you will be entering. Not many people have survived this world. Once you find the information we need, stay there. We need someone on the inside of this organisation.”
Stuart nodded, listening attentively to the Minister’s words. He was right; he was the best person for the job. He was the only teleporter willing to die for his friend.
“I will do it,” said Stuart, agreeing to his terms.
The Minister handed him the necessary information, shaking his hand as he left.
Stuart pocketed the parchment, leaving the building with a sense of purpose. The idea of the mission both thrilled and frightened him; giving up his job and life for Maximus. He needed to prepare - and quickly, as his mission was fast approaching.
He travelled by code to a secluded spot. It was a couple of seconds before his vision adjusted to his surroundings, but by that time it was too late. He was on the ground with a knee in his back. His breath sharpened, but he put up little resistance.
“He’s clean,” yelled one of the bodyguards.
The bodyguards reacted instantly, their size and strength overpowering him easily. The width of their bodies was twice that of Stuart’s and he was yanked swiftly to his feet.
Their fashion sense seemed in keeping with their personalities; black suits with expensive shoes and ties. Radios provided communication and guns rested under their coats. Stuart had been to many places, but decided that this was by far the most heavily guarded he had ever seen.
“Follow me,” said the security leader and led Stuart into an extraordinary garden filled with unique plants. They followed a small gravel trail, leading away from the flower beds and into a mix of trees on either side.
The guard moved quickly and they soon reached the edge of the tree line. Stuart stopped short as he took in his the first sight of the stadium. It was huge, with large entrances and the thick pillars within easily visible. The size of the building dwarfed the Elementrix Pillar stadium. The sound of screams and yells echoed through the air and could be clearly heard throughout the valley.
Stuart could have stood there and admired the features for much longer than he was allowed, feeling a shove in the back from the guard behind him.
“You stop one more time and your head’s going through that tree,” he barked, shoving him once more. He picked up a thick English accent and a sharp ring that dug into his back if he slowed.
The corridors they entered were lined with richly carved walls that ran their entire length. Stuart peered around the leader to see more guards standing around a man.
“Don’t make any jokes, don’t offend him and whatever you do, don’t bring up anything to do with his family unless he asks you,” said the guard, giving him a heads-up.
“Got it,” Stuart nodded.
The corridor was dimly lit, with most of the light coming from the arena. Stuart didn’t want to admit it but he felt more nervous meeting this man than anyone else before. His heart beat extra hard as the blood flowed faster than usual.
Both guards moved aside, opening a passage for him. Heavy cologne had been applied, which stung Stuart’s nose as they passed.
The room he entered was dark and through the gloom he picked up Gabriel’s thick accent.
“If I were to point this gun at you, Stuart, what would you do?” he said, reaching for his weapon and pointing it him. Stuart automatically wanted to teleport behind him, thus avoiding danger, but the strict code wouldn’t allow him to do so and he shifted nervously, struggling with his fear.
“It doesn’t work, does it?” he muttered.
Stuart quickly loosened his ring from his finger and rolled it under the boss. It took no less than a second for him to travel the distance, ten times faster than normal. In the blink of an eye he was behind the boss and was holding a knife to his back.
It took the guards longer than he would have thought to react, but they finally raised their weapons and pointed them at the boy.
Gabriel returned his weapon to the inside of his jacket, clapping his hands.
“Very well done! Lower your weapons,” said the boss, waving his hands at the guards.
Stuart drew back his knife and watched the guards do the same.
“An old teleportin
g ring. Didn’t think they still existed.”
Stuart picked up the ring, twisting it back on his finger.
“Desperate times call for desperate thinking,” he replied.
“You had no knife on entering. Explain?” asked the man, curiously.
“Something I added to the ring’s design. Twisting the ring to the left produces a weapon upon my reappearing. Twist it to the right and a teleporting worm hole will appear,” he replied, truthfully. Stuart couldn’t lie to Gabriel, not wanting to throw away this opportunity.
“You must get me one of these,” Gabriel chuckled.
Stuart reached deep into his bag, withdrawing a second ring. The guards once again raised their weapons to intercept him.
“Stand down!” yelled Gabriel.
“A gift,” said Stuart, sliding the ring across the table with a bow.
“A gift well received. Now if you would…” he replied, indicating that Stuart should follow him.
The man picked up and lit a cigar, then walked into the light of the stadium. Stuart blindly made his way towards the growing sound of screams and soon got a view of the warriors battling in the middle.
He grew excited as the yelling echoed around the walls. The warriors were relentless and their swords sparked with each clash.
Stuart then spotted the lit-up button that one of the warriors dived for, allowing him access to his power. He burnt half the stadium with a sweep of his hand. The warrior ducked and dodged as flames flowed past him. He swore under his breath, waiting for another power button to light up, but when it did, it wasn’t his power button, but a shield. He stepped on the button, taking the shield in his arm and charging forward with ferocious speed.
The shield heated up quicker than he anticipated, however, and he released it from his arm, throwing it with all his might. The shield clipped the man in the leg, throwing him off balance. The warrior took huge steps and leapt on top of the man, raising his sword so that the tip was facing him.
The crowd roared louder than ever, cheering for the winning warrior, his picture displayed on the large overhead screen.
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