The Hero

Chapter 34

"There is no need to play the hero," the Champion declared, as he studied Nam'ill's dark form.

"I don't understand how you can possibly say something like that," Nam'ill remarked, taking a step forward with a bolt of lightning to illuminate him. He had his sword in front of him. It was clearly an attempt to hide the fear within. Laughable.

The Champion scanned the area around him swiftly. All the guards were scattered; they were no longer organized or representing an audience. He wasn't sure if they were waiting to strike him down as a mob, or if they were just stricken in fear at what they had just witnessed. No matter the option, death would come to them all in the end. Time was the only variable.

"You wish to die a very foolish way," the Champion spoke, with a hint of disappointment in his monotone voice. He could hear Nam'ill's approaching footsteps, which were slowly closing in on him. "It will be for no cause at all. You will accomplish nothing; it will just be running into your death. Aimlessly. Purposelessly."

"You must be slain before any more chaos can consume this land more than what you have already created," Nam'ill said, doing his best to keep his voice firm and steady, despite how his body quaked. "It cannot continue. This era will bring nothing but misery and death, and you want it to happen." He took his steps cautiously as the distance closed between the two. Either of them could lunge at any moment. "I thought you wanted peace, Champ. Isn't your dream about becoming this grand hero to save the land? About childish unity and prosperity among all?"

"It is already being realized," the Champion whispered, while his right gauntlet twitched unnoticeably beside him. He finally shifted his gaze over to Nam'ill, who was once again illuminated by brief light. "You are meant to be at my side. As my ally. A friend. Somebody to see through that my vision becomes reality—"

"You only yearn for destruction and suffering, beast!" Nam'ill interrupted, lunging forward to swing his sword in an uppercut fashion by his side. The blade was already heavy weight in the air, like it were cutting through it.

"This is not how you want to die," the Champion advised. Before Nam'ill could connect with the swing, the Champion thrust his left palm out for his sword to fly right to it—seconds later, he brought it to his side for a decisive block. One-handed, he maintained a cool guard as Nam'ill struggled to push in further.

"I will end this chaos until my last breath," Nam'ill said, through heavy breaths.

With a flash of lightning, the Champion could see the knight leaning forward to put all of his weight into the offensive maneuver. He was so small compared to how the Champion was standing. A pathetic thief to a noble guard, like a desperate robbery with surprise as the only chance at success.

"Stand down before you inflict the worst suffering possible," the Champion requested. "It doesn't have to be for the sake of yourself, but it very well has to be for Shimmer."

"She will end you if I fail," Nam'ill sneered, still trying to break his enemy's guard.

"We are all on the same side," the Champion stated, his heart racing. He was unsure of why this was happening. Why Nam'ill and Shimmer would not stand by him. They were once together as good companions. Why had it come to this?

"Your side is something nobody will ever take," Nam'ill remarked, then loosened his push. "Even if you force them to, they will never submit!"

He withdrew his sword only to ram his shoulder right into the center of the Champion's blade. The two stumbled back as the temporarily dazed Champion recovered his footing. Moments after, he was forced to block yet another swing from Nam'ill. Metal furiously clashed in the air with the Champion only holding his ground. He blocked all swings deftly, leaving his right gauntlet hanging loosely at his side. If the time came, it would be let free.