The Hero

Chapter 36

Cold rain greeted the Champion as his vision returned to normal. Heart racing and mind throbbing, he scanned around him, unsure of what had just happened. He knew something occurred, yet there was nothing except for an unexplored feeling within to make it true. A fragment of his soul once lost but now present.

He brought his right gauntlet into focus, turning it over and under. All the blood, the rain and ash, it did little to hide the black gem underneath. The more he stared into it, the more an endless field of darkness came into existence.

"Frug'yat dobbial!" a voice exclaimed nearby, which startled the Champion into focus.

There were dark shadows rushing at him. The area had been abandoned and silent, but it was only briefly. Now, it seemed hateful revenge took over and claimed the hearts of those that witnessed the duel from earlier. The killing of a king into utmost oblivion.

Don't just stand there, Jewel demanded, riling up the Champion's thirst. Strike them down!

At the words, the Champion brought his sword to his side and lopped off the head of the figure about to stab him. Immediately after, he saw what he was up against. On all sides, the wave was crushing in on him. It was just one ring of black that only stood out from the solid lines making their outlines apparent. Lightning had either ceased completely or dropped greatly in frequency, though the distant roar of thunder still pierced the gloomy atmosphere.

The mob closed in swiftly. He could barely hear their foreign shouts over the sound of the downpour that dominated his ears for so long. Or his heart that relentlessly raced in the hopes of finally breaking free. Or the distant shout of Shimmer that had plummeted him into an abyss he had forgotten about, no matter how hard he tried to remember. Even he was doubtful over whether or not he wished to recall or just simply forget. It was clear which option was easier, something he had employed for far too long. By now, it was habit.

The Champion thrust his elbow into an attacker on his flank, then reeled his sword straight into him. Sliding it out, he instantly plunged it into a face on his flank. He pulled it through the skull, not waiting to decapitate another unlucky attacker. Seconds later, he brought down his blade to split yet another foe's skull from the top.

He seeked variety in killing, but it was all the same in the end. Repetition: they died. No matter gauntlet, sword, or crossbow, it was just a kill. The dwarf from earlier brought the same satisfaction as a common thief slain effortlessly. Even Nam'ill...

At the name, at the ally he had never known truly by heart, at the corpse lying nearby, he leapt and dragged his sword entirely through a foe from head to foot in a bout of rage. In no time, he swung his sword around him. All the attackers struck were no more afterward. Only a few had the will to calm themselves and back away; however, it took precious time to pull off. Not much was granted, for the Champion was as agile as he was mighty.

When the whirlwind finished, he swung diagonally to cut off a foe's face. They were all the same. Elf or dwarf, male or female, they were but one entity: an obstacle. Bitter rage blossomed in his heart that came nowhere else except for Nam'ill. He didn't know why he killed him. Why the knight was against him. Why Nam'ill made such a foolish decision. Why he could forsake Shimmer as cruelly as that.

The Champion gave him a chance. It was mercy! What else could he do?

Stricken in rage, the Champion pulled his sword back—taken in crackling flames—and chucked it aimlessly through the night at the many shadows around him. With the burden now plucked off his bloodstained hands, he clenched his gauntlets and felt two blazing stars snap into existence in his palms. It emitted enough light for him to see the scene around him. The battlefield. The slaughter—the masterpiece under a sky made of nothing but grim misery and gloominess. Not even the fierce lightning bolts could save it.