Taitenschild

4-2 || The Hero Reborn (Part II)

'TAITEN. TAITEN. TAITEN.'

The chant reverberated around the pit, but Aramir could barely hear it. With a glance at his now glowing warpaint, the initiate tossed aside the remnants of his shield and forced himself to his feet. Lifting his eyes, he looked up at the Fal'mor.

The creature stared back at him, balanced on its back legs like a spider about to strike. Of its forelegs, only one remained. The one he'd severed earlier was still a disgusting, bleeding stump. The other two had been obliterated in the explosion of light – the few jagged chunks of flesh that were left leaking streams of red.

The Fal'mor hesitated, its one good foreleg aimed at Aramir's head. Its eyes darted back and forth. Fearful. Uncertain.

Adjusting his grip on his sword, Aramir stepped towards it.

The Fal'mor struck.

He parried. Splatters of blackblood flew through the air. With a burst of heat, the aeonite warpaint danced across Aramir's skin, catching the black acidic droplets and transforming them into harmless drops of rust-scented red.

Following through with the momentum, he countered. Glowing blue blade sliced through black, bubbling flesh, and another fountain of red sprayed into the air.

The Fal'mor screeched and toppled backwards. A series of bone-crunching cracks thundered through the air as it rolled. The spindly spider legs slurped back into its torso, and a pair of huge, battered arms with bleeding, disfigured hands emerged instead. Digging its fingers into the ground, it launched itself across the arena like a boulder from a catapult.

Aramir dodged it – barely. Scorching heat spread across his back as the giant rolling ball of slime skimmed his skin and smashed into the wall behind him. The ward lining the walls of the pit sparked, its glassy surface turning opaque where the Fal'mor had struck. With a stream of aeonite dust, the Fal'mor was ejected – tossed back into the centre of the pit.

Blackblood cratered the ground as the creature landed. It charged at Aramir again. He leapt out of its path, sword slicing through the Fal'mor's side as it rolled by.

It let out a shriek of agony.

A dark little smile spread across Aramir's face. He was going to come out of this alive after all.

The thought vanished as the Fal'mor turned. A colossal hand cleaved through the air, too large to dodge – too heavy to block. It slammed into Aramir's chest, throwing him back against the warded walls of the pit. His sword flew from his fingers. His bones creaked. Injured and unarmed, he dropped into the dirt.

Swearing, Aramir scrambled to get back to his feet – to grab his sword. It was two paces away. Maybe three...

A dripping black fist dropped towards his head. He threw up his hands instinctively. Aeonite dust raced up his forearms, leaving trails of excruciating heat in its wake. It spread through the air to form a glittering, ethereal dome above him. Trapped on his knees, Aramir gritted his teeth as the fist retracted and slammed down again. Once. Twice. Three times.

Each blow made his arms go numb. He sank closer and closer to the ground. His eyes darted sideways, locking onto his sword. A moment was all he needed. Some kind of distraction and –

'Leave him alone, you filthy Fal'mor!'

─ ☼ ─

Eyes wide with horror as she watched from the stands, Eliah untangled herself from Regis. 'Leave him alone, you filthy Fal'mor!' she yelled, and ran towards the pit.

Hal froze as he watched her. Her magic was blinding. It flooded his senses – sent trembles down to his extremities. The feeling of dread he'd felt earlier cemented itself in his stomach as she reached out to touch the barrier.