Book of Mors: Summoned

Arc: Out of the Ashes

Chapter 18, Part 1: Winning the unwinnable

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"So how do we take him?" asked a petite, doll-like figure standing on the outer edge of the arena's centre, her sharp features and huge, oval eyes giving a haunting, creepy appearance and displaying how her species got their name.

After using his scaled fist to smother a yawn, a two-meter tall dragonkin folded his arms, the golden scales on his long, tooth-filled snout, glistening in the blazing sunlight. "D or B?"

"D of course," yelled the haunt as she rolled her eyes, throwing her white arms up in the air in exasperation. "Are you really that bored Drake? We have never faced one of these, and from the arena's display, it looks pretty powerful. Also, why would I bother worrying about a regular bear-"

The haunt's words were cut off by Drake's penetrating glare, the emotion and focus reflected in his eyes, a stark contrast to his outwards appearance. "Don't. You are going to ruin this. He isn't normal. My senses are in overdrive and we know nothing about him. It's like when I was facing my kind."

"What?" roared a nervous looking Kitsune standing behind them, his four tails slightly quivering as his soft, white fur stood on end. "I thought you were the only one that had left the Peaks? Jade and I can't face a Dragonkin; we are only support classes; we will get slaughtered."

"What are you so nervous about, Yama? I only said like," chuckled Drake, trying to change the subject as his eyes casually scanned their surroundings, always weary of the enormous bearkin in chainmail watching them from the centre. "You're a fox type species in the middle of Huntsmen HQ. All you need is to hide your tails or dye your fur a different colour, and you would be dead before you could soil your underwear, and you are fretting over a tournament where lethal force isn't allowed. Anyway, what are you worried about, you have me here?"

The bearkin, who had been waiting for the trio to attack, let out a deep, guttural sigh. "Leave enough for me to get a good stomping in. I have a lady's request to honour. I think it's the least you can do after I have let you set up this little charade and use me as a distraction so you can bait the demon into ambushing you."

A strong gust of wind kicked up the arena's sand as a grating sound interrupted the conversation as something slide to a halt to the groups left.

"Tsk, you did that to warn him didn't you?" growled Drake, grinding his teeth.

The bearkin only smiled. "Wheres the fun in watching a one-sided fight."

Turning in the same direction as his companions, who were already wielding their simple looking staffs and in a combat stance, Drake flexed his fists causing his claws to clink together before pointing at the arena's display. "Seem's like you're not as aggressive, nor reckless, as I anticipated. This is the first time you stopped moving since the beginning, Demon."

A lone eagle's screech resonated high above them as the dust slowly cleared, revealing a small, cloaked figure standing no more than twenty meters away, his face completely concealed by his heavy mantle.

"Aren't you hot in that? Why not reveal your face and tell us your name. Prove the stories wrong about your race having no honour or respect?" laughed Drake, his hands absentmindedly playing with the duel swords at his waist as his leather armour creaked.

The figure remained motionless as if a statue frozen in time.

"I don't like this," whimpered Jade, her azure eyes glowing vividly. "His stats all register as D/E rank, and he appears to be a Darkness/Fire type which is not a good match for this environment. His control over mana is too weak to effect us directly, but he should be able to manipulate himself and the environment. There is no way he is this weak. Something is wrong."

"D-Rank?" exclaimed Yama. "He's pathetic! How could he beat the others? From the briefing yesterday, everyone's stats should be around C and with skills, hitting B."

Drake's expression has been slowly changing as he and the robbed figure stared at each other.

The two, who had started to question if the boy in front of them had some sort of ability to hinder seer abilities or increase his own, eventually noticed Drakes frown and fell quiet, ready to react at a moment's notice.

"Who are you," snarled the Dragonkin, all trace of humour gone. "Or, more importantly, what are you? You smell similar to that Demon who lead us here but... also like my own kind. What dealings do you have with Dragons?"

The silence continued to bear down on the group, almost becoming unbearable as the lone figure continued to stand motionless, his cloak rustling in the gentle breeze.

After a few minutes, the tension was too much for Yama, and he was about to start an attack but was stopped when Drakes, deep, booming laugh echoed outwards. "I guess I shouldn't jump to conclusions. You're too weak to be from the council, and although your speed and skill are outstanding, your body doesn't have the strength to go against me, no matter what secret skills or abilities you have."

A light, childish chuckle emanated from the dark hood as Mors' hands slowly rose towards his mantle. "You're right; this is a fight that I cannot win in my current state."

As the mantle fell away and was wrapped into a ball, Mors' red, reptilian eyes locked onto the almost identical golden ones of Drake.

Drakes mouth hung open for a few moments as he gasped in surprise before revealing a toothy grin that would send even the bravest of children screaming in fear."You are a dragon descendant. How? This is awesome! I thought I was the only one outside the Peaks."

The tension seemed to evaporate as Drake took a step forward, intending to introduce himself to his new-found brother, deciding to ignore the triviality, at least to him, of Mors' demonic heritage.

By this time, Mors had finished wrapping his cloak and mantle into a ball and, as if the devil himself had got everything he had ever wished for, revealed his own, terrifying smile. "But this isn't a fight."

The ferocious, unyielding smile caused Jade and Yama to flinch and subconsciously take a step backwards. Even Drake, who's dragon's heritage provided him with a great deal of resistance to fear, was stopped in his tracks and reach for his swords as a small, icy shiver run down his spine. "Brother, there is no reason for us to fight here. Us male dragons need to stick toge-"

Mors' hand shot upwards and the tightly bundled cloak flew into the air, unfurling and casting a large shadow over the group as his eyes hardened, losing all hint of playfullness. "Too long has the darkness feared the light."

The crowd held their breaths as the trio tensed, awaiting an attack that never came. As the cloak slowly fell to the floor.

Most Spectators and Competitors alike shared a look of confusion, wondering what was meant to happen but there were also a few that displayed looks of disappointment.

The worst affected was the Huntsmen's Captian, who apart from destroying the arms of her chair with her iron-like grip, was now muttering profanities and dark, bone-chilling promises about what awaited Mors for cheating her out of an epic, once in a lifetime fight.

Extremely irritated, Drake tried to keep his composure, counting the grains of sand under his bare feet as he glared at Mors. "I have heard about how imps are so weak they have to rely on mind games and tricks to survive. I guess I am stupid for expecting more, even if we do share a noble heritage."

Drake's feet dragged across the sand as he got into an aggressive stance ready to attack but once again halted as Mors slowly raised his hand.

In an overly dramatic fashion, acompanied by a smug, ridiculing grin, Mors clicked his fingers. The sound echoed outwards, and when it reached the trio, a shattering noise eminated from the location where their tokens were stored.

Shocked, Drake looked down to see a small wisp of black smoke evaporating from his shattered token and nearly snapped a tooth in anger as his jaw clenched.

"Oh... We really are the same. Time to take off the training wings." Drake released a tyrannical roar as his body seemed to turn to light and speed towards Mors, almost invisible to the naked eye.

*BOOOM*

A mysterious explosion shook the arena, kicking up a huge plume of dust and causing the protective barrier to become visible momentarily as it vibrated.

With a wave of her hand, Verz dispersed the dust, and, still clearly annoyed about the outcome, her voice made everyone feel as if they were being crushed beneath a mountain. "You are eliminated, leave with dignity, Dragonkin."

Black shadows flickered and, before most could even blink, the trio were gone.

"You're as cowardly as the rumours say," spat last year's champion, the bearkin as he walked forward. "I guess it is true that your running away got our CO killed, not that I care really. I have my own reason's for making you suffer."

Cracking his knuckles, the bearkin stomped forward. "This is going to earn me some brownie points for sure."

Mors, squinting in the bright sunlight, could only shake his head. "Are you sure you can afford the price?"