Rise of Armageddon

Prologue

Hello, reader! First, I would like to thank you for sharing your time in reading my work. :D Second, please take time in reading the story; good parts (which depend on and reader’s opinion) usually appear when you take mix understanding and passion together. Third, I would like to thank you for your votes. Notice, I already thanked you so that you will have no reason NOT to vote…hahaha, just joking. You’re free not too, I was just joking. Enjoy!

PS-The English language is not my native tongue; please feel free to correct mistakes. I’m Filipino,btw…

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God-like magic was in our midst. The very proof was visually noticeable. The sky darkened with nimbus clouds which hid the gleaming sun. Trees, both young and old, swayed along with the wind that howled violently which broke the silence of this historic match. The entire atmosphere became heavier and heavier by the minute as two powerful men fought for their dignity and pride as warriors.

“He will win. He must. If Eli wins, I don’t know what will happen,” Shantelle muttered to herself with an obvious look full of worry for her grandfather. I couldn’t blame her for her realization that her grandfather would lose, not to mention, die. I mean, Eli gained reputation for killing strong infamous warriors all around the realm.

“Don’t worry about that old man. He still has the strength left in him to smack my head each morning just to wake up for nearly three decades now,” I managed to joke in this situation, hoping to lift her spirits up.

Thankfully, she managed a smile. But, that didn’t last. Her focus was set towards both men who were leering at each other in silence for about a minute now. Both of them are undoubtedly trying to read their opponent’s next move. I know in a match-to-the-death like this one, a clumsy unintelligible move could mean certain death.

The wounded conditions of both men were of a high level. Master Lamington’s cuts and bruises on the face were horrifying. There was a fresh cut that started from his center forehead that ran all the down to his left cheek passing his nose bridge. The sight of it makes me want to turn around and leave. He became the father I never knew and it pains my heart to see him like this. His right eye was swollen shut and his other eye was just a step or two better looking than his other eye.

His favorite robe, the one I gave him last two years for his birthday, was now merely just a piece of trash. There it lay on the cold stone floor stained with blood and dirt with holes and cuts looking nothing more than a used damp towel. His staff, the one given to him by his mentor, was also long gone; broken into three uneven parts. I was thinking that the only use it has now is to be firewood.

Now, Eli was completely another story. His shoulder-length black hair can now be considered an understatement for someone with high regards to fashion. Master did a pretty good job wielding his sword, which was made entirely out of ice and was literally attached to his left hand.

Eli’s clothes were torn exposing his chest which was cut open (not to mention, was bleeding pretty badly) by the master’s sword. To my surprise, he can still stand; though he was wheezing real hard from exhaustion.

Both my guts and my brain agreed that indeed they’re both worthy to be the victor. Contrary to this, only one victor will claim be triumphant and the other would retreat with humiliation or just lie on the ground lifeless (which was the most likely scenario from the two). From my point of view, the winner is yet to be known; even I myself doubt the capability of my mentor and that doubt is also present in Eli. Ugh, I’m so confused!

“Eli,” the master addressed his opponent whose sharp cold eyes were locked on his, “You have gotten stronger since the last time we fought.”