Chapter Eighteen: Xolumbrandir Part Three

My concern for Black Tusk was growing by the minute.

I somehow knew something was wrong. Call it a sixth sense but I was always one to trust my gut. And my gut was telling me that the girls were in trouble. I needed to hurry and finish this fight as fast as I was able, otherwise there may be nothing left of them.

I could still feel Xolumbrandir, just a floor above me now. The large swirling mass of dark aura that surrounded it growing by the second, it reverberated through the stones, making me grit my teeth in apprehension.

I was sure that I could defeat Xolumbrandir, but that storm had taken more out of me than I thought. I felt it at the back of my mind like an ache, a fatigue that lingered in my head, the beginnings of something greater. Using too much magic at one time can have seriously negative effects on the body, it could even cause death and I had seen it happen on occasion. I may not be like any other mage on the continent, but even with my superior physique I would need to be careful, too much mana absorption could cause a shutdown of all my faculties.

I laid a hand against the stone that coated the inside of my tower, the rough edges digging into my skin as I tightened my grip, readying myself for what was to come.

I finished the climb up to the sixth floor without incident, the lack of enemies a relief as I continued forward towards a pair of double doors straight in front of me, the symbol of the Rebel Court carved into the front like the doors to my quarters downstairs, but this was noticeably different in colour. The wood that the doors were made from looked almost charred around the edges and glowed slightly as if it had recently been lit on fire. A result of creation through magic. It soaks the air with mana, everything I created added to this phenomenon and the results showed for themselves, items I constructed in this room were much stronger than if they had been made somewhere else and enchantments seemed to be placed easier. It reminded me a lot of the Ever-Garden. That place was lathered in mana, easy to grasp and manipulate, almost as simple as twitching a finger. The armoury wasn't nearly as saturated as the realm of Vitriss, but while inside it I did find it much easier to use magic.

I stepped forward and pressed the palm of my hand against the door, thinking 'open' again in my mind, as I did previously, and the door fell apart, turning into a ash cloud without a sound. It circled around me for a second as if taking me in, then fluttered down onto the floor in silence.

I paid no mind to the odd antics of the door, it was designed to hurt anyone who did not have the proper access to this room. While it was an imperfect system, I had never needed to use it. No one had ever trespassed into my tower and even if they did they would be facing my guard and Knight's on the way up to this room. An impossible feat for any mage who had lived while I had ruled Ellai.

I stepped forward into the room and breathed in the air, no dust present as the torches flared up at my command, lighting the up the large oval shaped space, tables lined the walls of various sizes but no tools, as I didn't really need them. Bits and pieces of rusted metal were scattered around the room, a huge pile stacked up in the corner of all the scraps I had failed to use in my work. For a moment I was thrilled, absolutely ecstatic that my room had been untouched when I looked around and saw... nothing.

Everything was gone!

“Fuck!” I cried and sent a bolt of lightning shooting forwards from my outstretched hand, hitting an armour stand opposite the door where my golden plate used to reside, causing it to combust gloriously in a fountain of flame.

It seems when my fucking compatriots had left my beloved home they had decided to take all of my fucking weapons and armour, which was just fucking great! For the love of the bitch called Vitriss, why would they think that would be a sensible idea?

The only shit in here was stuff I was tinkering with, perhaps some of it was quite powerful, but there was nothing sentient. It took centuries to create weapons and armour of such power and I had neither the time nor the shitting inclination. Most of the items stored here would've given me an edge in battling Xolumbrandir though. I can take all the hits I want from it's constructs but the weapon itself is sure to have a way to incapacitate me should I take a direct hit. Aspect of metal and aspect of earth can only take me so far before I have to think about something a little more practical.

As I thought about the problem I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, a glimmer in the fire of the torches. As if something was reflecting the light to try and gain my attention.

I looked at the spot with confusion for a split second before clarity came pouring through, causing me to light up in a smile of triumph.

“I can't believe they left you behind.” I said.

I walked up to a spot in the wall, just to my left and between two of the work tables. A sigil was drawn there, almost no mana to supply it but it seemed to be still working which was pretty impressive. It seems my enchantments were holding up much better than I thought they were, even this one was only designed to be temporary and here it still was, doing the job I had required of it.

With a grin I placed one hand onto the sigil and commanded it to activate.

The room began to creak and groan under the weight of the command, the scraps of metal around the armoury shuddering as great vibrations rumbled through it, penetrating the very stone and silver of the tower. I felt my grin grow even wider when the centre of the workshops floor began to split and pull apart, revealing a deep pit that sunk at least three meters into the ground. It was within that pit that I found what I was looking for.

A set of armour that I suppose was almost as old as I was, rose up from the pit. Magic pulled at it, propelled it upwards. After the armour rose, the floor began to close again before sealing shut completely, the enchantment I had placed on the wall shattered from the effort of activating it's function after so long and became unusable, crumbling into motes of light.

I was expecting that of course, it was a miracle it had lasted for so long, I could only determine that it was the rooms unnatural concentration of mana which had allowed it to remain as it had.

The reason that the enchantments I had placed on the tower had not yet faded was due to the function. Enchantments which were set with the simple task of 'defence' consume much less natural mana than the one I had just used. It was a complex sigil containing the runes for 'hide', 'conceal' and 'distract', all enchantments associated with the air and water elements. Together these three allowed the armour contained within the pit to remain hidden underneath the workshop until such a time that I needed it.

But like I said, it was only supposed to be temporary. The armour was going to be used as an experiment piece to better understand the mana that drenched the room, it was supposed to remain in the pit for one full month, then I would take it out and see if the armour and enchantments placed upon it had been effected in any way.

The day I hid this armour was also the day I died, which was convenient I suppose. If I hadn't then it would probably be gone with the rest of the armour and weapons. I didn't tell my Knight's about this project of mine, it was the result of boredom. Tired of creating arms through magical means. I hoped to exploit the mana and create something completely different.

The set of armour that now floated in front of me was a light grey in colour, completely smooth and seemed to have very little openings, as if the armour itself was one whole piece. It was made of iron for the sake of practicality. It was easy to acquire and easy to manipulate through metal magic, plus it can hold basic enchantments quite well before shattering. I didn't want to use any higher grade metal that had the chance of deforming and costing me a pretty penny, as well as the ire of Heilvol, who acted as the treasurer among his many other jobs.

On the chest piece of the armour I could see three sigils glowing slightly amid the light within the armoury. They were enchantments for 'strengthen', 'defend' and 'lighten'. Though these were very basic they were handy. Strengthen and defend come from the earth element while lighten comes from air. Wearing the armour improved my overall physical strength beyond it's common limits and made me much hardier, perfect for my coming fight with Xolumbrandir. The lighten sigil was pretty self explanatory, it made the armour weigh less so I would be hampered less in a fight. Although this armour had been stewing in a boiling pot of mana for the last four hundred years so who knows how powerful it has now become? Add in my already terrifying strength as a mage and the physical power of my new body and the results could be... explosive.

“Interesting. I wonder what you will allow me to do... Let's get started.”

I gave a chuckle and reached out a hand.

* * *

It didn't take me long to get fully prepared, the grey armour was quite easy to put on, as I had designed it that way. While it looked like one suit, this was not the case and some pieces overlapped with others as well as being weaker in some area's, like the elbows and knee's to offer full range of movement. Nevertheless, I was happy with the results.

It did make me think of the armour of Black Tusk and how theirs functioned, considering that it didn't overlap like mine did and seemed to have no conceivable openings. I would have to find the time to ask them about this after everything is taken care of. It shouldn't be too long now.

As I pulled on the the gauntlets, clawed at the fingertips for an additional weapon, my eyes wandering to my mask, which I had placed on a nearby table to allow myself to put on the armour.

Should I?

I shrugged and walked over to the table and picked it up, examining the silver in greater detail. I could just barely make out the various enchantments that the mask held within it's shining surface, many had to do with defence, others to ensure my eyes could not be seen, yet more to not impede my voice when I spoke. It would be almost impossible for the sword to harm my head while I was wearing this and I fully intended too. I would need some sort of disguise when I went to help Black Tusk, so why not wear the item the Knight Descendants believe I stole? It certainly couldn't harm the situation and I would be more comfortable wearing this when I fought them. Seeing the children and great grandchildren of my Knight's was something that would no doubt be jarring. It would be better to hide my expression behind the mask, as I did before. I could become as cold and as ruthless as I wanted, until I took it off. Then I would be me again.

With a smile I placed the mask on my head and felt it change it's form to fit my own. The eyepieces of the mask did nothing to impede my sight in any way, if anything they seemed to improve it and none of my sense were dampened in the slightest.

I felt ready. Ready for anything. Ready to fuck up the rogue blade and bend it too my will.

I walked towards the door and left behind the armoury, not pausing once. I knew I wouldn't be coming back here. I had made piece with that quite a while ago. Now was the time for action.

I left the room in a hurry and basically ran to the stairs. As I climbed I began to notice the changes on my body the armour was having. I felt slightly stronger, slightly faster and the pieces themselves seemed to weigh almost nothing. It seemed that their hadn't been much improvement from being in the pit but I wasn't expecting much. Still there was the feeling that the enchantments felt slightly stronger than they would have without the mana bath. Perhaps it was something worth pursuing at a later date.

I approached the top of the stairs but instead of a hallway there was only a single, large door. Big enough for Abhor to walk through comfortably in his wolf form, in which he felt most comfortable. While it had been Marwenna's idea to build the arena that lay just beyond the door, the others also had ample use of it. A particularly funny mock battle had taken place with Cinder on one side, Abhor and Drogna on the other. Faral and I couldn't stop laughing from the sight of Cin riding Abhor who kept trying to buck her off while Drogna desperately tried to bat her off with his wooden hammer. My Knight and I couldn't look at each other for a week without laughing, causing Abhor and Drogna to give us glares and Cinder to give them a sweet smile.

I smiled behind my mask at the memory before my mind went cold, dark. Everything up until this point was merely playing, having fun. This was a true test of my abilities and I would bring the sword back under control, even if it fucking killed me.

It was too monstrous, too evil to be left out of my hands.

I placed a hand against the giant door and pulled in mana, a stream ran through me, then a river, then a sea. I felt the sword on the other side of the door writhing like a mass of snakes, black and boiling like hot tar, it's anger overwhelming. It began to scream, it's deathly cry much stronger than the ones that had hit me through the constructs. It seemed to break into my mind and send spikes of pain across my body, attempting to bring me to submission, attempting to make me it's puppet.

I would not allow it!

I roared as I unleashed my mana as flame and sent it forward from my body in a great wave that caused the stone to blacken and my armour to become red hot. It destroyed the door, incinerating it as the fire continued forwards unhampered, ready to consume and destroy all in it's path. It was as it approached the centre of the arena that it was suddenly extinguished as if it was nothing but a nuisance, black smoke had smothered the fire almost contemptuously and Xolumbrandir seemed to be waiting for what I would attempt next.

I drew in more mana and slowly walked into the room, my hand waving in front of me, causing the air to disperse the smoke and allow me to look upon my weapon for the first time in four hundred years.

The sword had remained unchanged by time but I was not surprised. It was sentient and had magic of its own, rust could not impede it's power. If one was too look at it before it was sentient they would think it looked quite ordinary. It's grip was wrapped in worn black leather that seemed to have seen years of use, the pommel was merely a polished tear drop of dark grey metal and the cross-guard was the same, although it had a slight curve in it, aiming towards the blade.

It was the blade itself that was perhaps the most unnerving. It didn't seem to be made of metal, or any other substance for that matter it was just... darkness. Night given physical form, it was just over a meter in length and seemed to reject the light cast down from the setting sun. Wisps of the same black smoke that had connected the constructs came off the blade in thin strands as it awaited my move, I could hear a faint hissing in the air, like a snake when it was threatened, ready to strike.

“Hello there, old friend. Long time no see.” I said, the mask doing a good job of hiding the smirk that had crept onto my face. “Why are you being so difficult, sword? You knew I wouldn't be gone forever, didn't you?”

The hissing increased as I took three steps closer to the Xolumbrandir and examined my surroundings.

The roof of the tower allowed me to clearly see the sky above in all it's glory, painted red by the descending sun, and had the added benefit of lighting the arena, something I was worried about on my way up. If I had arrived later and the sun had already set the sword would be that much more powerful and would provide an even greater challenge, thankfully it seemed that I had about thirty minutes before my light source was gone.

It was a vast space, built for combat and large silver walls rose to towering heights, an attempt to hide any flashes of magic from the masses that dwelt below. The walls also had the secondary purpose of absorbing any magical attacks thrown at them, which they did quite effectively.

I stepped onto the sand that covered the arena and began to make my way towards the sword, which had been stuck in the exact centre of the circular battlefield, most likely by it's own will. My aura on full show as mana filled me to the brim, my heart beating a mile a minute as adrenaline pumped through my veins.

“So? What are you waiting for?! You wanted to fight, so fight!” I roared and raised a hand, condensing the fire element and turning it into lightning that shot from my hand, closing the distance between us in a second. Darkness swelled from within the dark surface of the blade and it rose up to meet the storm, becoming an open maw as it planned to devour the raw power. As it passed into the large open mouth that Xolumbrandir had created I sent another wave of magic from my body, this time ice, and froze the lightning instantly, causing it to come to a complete stop just before it went into the raging dark force that threatened to nullify it.

I felt confusion from Xolumbrandir, but I merely grinned and closed my fist.

The lightning burst and turned into hundreds of crystallised shards that flew around the dark smoke and straight for the sword, cutting into it's aura with perfect efficiency as it sought to rip into the blade. The sword hissed in frustration and more black energy exploded from it's body, annihilating the shards before they could get close. It was in this moment that I had my chance.

I dashed forward, aspect of air active as I sped across the sand, churning up great waves in my wake, my hand outstretched to get a hold of the swords hilt. It screamed again as it saw me and immediately began exude yet more black energy, it's aura more powerful now than I had ever seen it before. When it had reached the size of a large house part of it broke off like a whip, slicing towards me through the air. I held out a hand and summoned the earth, commanding the sand to obey. A great sheet rose up from the ground and locked into place, taking the brunt of the attack on my behalf.

The sand shield held for all of a second before the tendril of Xolumbrandir's aura continued onwards towards me, ready to cut me down. I raised my gauntlets in front of my body and prepared to take the hit. It connected and sent me skidding backwards over the sand. I tried desperately to get my footing as my hands pressed against the gaseous, yet strangely solid, attacking tentacle.

I activated aspect of earth and aspect of metal, my whole body covered in the same iron as my armour as I felt my body become denser, dragging me to the floor and allowing me to finally stop the tendril from pushing me further. Xolumbrandir was not content with that however and put more power into the attacking part of it's aura, the solid smoke smashing against my body again and again as I could do nothing but simply try and block.

It was when it raised itself up into the air for one final attack that I moved, summoning flames that coated my arms and drawing back my fist, teeth gritted, ready to smash this useless pile of shit to pieces.

It came down with terrible force, all of the swords rage backing it as it fell to the ground, meaning to crush me between it and the sand. I roared and threw a punch that caused my fist to break the sound barrier, connecting with the pillar of darkness at the same time as unleashing the fire that had coated my arms. I felt my hand break upon impact but the tendril came off much worse. It was pulverised by the force behind my fist and the flames finished the rest, incinerating the remains.

I immediately sent healing magic to my hand and turned to face Xolumbrandir, only to be struck in the chest by another tendril.

It knocked the wind out of my lungs and I felt my ribs snap from the pressure as I was sent flying into one of the silver walls, leaving a large dent and flopping against the ground, my breathing heavy, I tried to regain my balance. The armour had saved my life it seemed.

It was just as powerful as I remembered, if not more so. I would need to do something quickly if I wanted to get out of this alive.

I weakly raised my head and looked to the sword, it's hissing began to increase in volume as the swirling mass of black aura circled around it like a hurricane, the tendril that had struck me retreated to the fold and joined the mass, making it all the larger.

I sent healing magic through my body, feeling it begin to repair the damage and praying that it was a clean break and had not sheared off into my lungs. I pushed myself to my feet and felt the water magic do it's work, passing into my body like the shock of the cold and bringing me back to perfect form. I clenched my hand experimentally and found it to be mostly free of pain, it would have to do.

“Is that all you have, Xolumbrandir? I came all this way for you and you don't have the courtesy to show me your best? Lets go!” I roar and draw in mana drastically, feeling it begin to make my body numb and the growing ache in my head became even worse. A familiar pain, but I could do more before I fell, I knew my limits.

The swirling vortex of my aura rotated around me, blazing like the sun, matching Xolumbrandir's and then exceeding it, I felt it push itself against the darkness and it retreated, afraid, as the sword's screams returned in full.

The sword rose into the air, lifted by it's black aura and the screams reached a new level. The whole tower began to shudder as the sound magic poured from it's blade, dark and hungry. The silver walls began to crack and the sand began to vibrate and move towards it, as if pulled by it's gravity.

My own roar reached a crescendo and I moved my hands like I was conducting an orchestra, the whole world seemed to warp and wither under our combined mights as I fought to push back against it's raging aura.

That was when the sword made it's move.

The dark smoke began to take form, moulding into something I had never seen. It grew legs, grew arms, a head rose from it's peak, eyes opening and staring at me with a dark light. Xolumbrandir was lodged inside the centre of the massive constructs chest as it's feet touched the ground and it stared at me with bitter hatred, a colossal being whose head could easily see over the top of the walls, it glared down at me, ready to squash me like a bug. Suddenly, it's skin was no longer smoke but rippled before becoming what I can only describe as crystallised darkness, a solid mass that boasted razor sharp edges all over it's jagged body. It was a weapon built to destroy, conceived from the black heart of Xolumbrandir's sentience. It raised it's head and screamed, just like the sword but increased in power to a massive degree. I felt it drive it's way into my body and mind like razor sharp knives looking to rip and tear into my flesh, to reduce me to less than nothing. The golem construct prepared to charge.

That was when I made my move.

“Ultimate Aspect!” I screamed and felt my aura retreat into my body as mana began to pour inside of me. Pain.. incredible pain.

Aspect of Earth

Aspect of Air

My screams reached a new level as I felt my body being forcibly changed, mana moved through me like a sword, slicing apart my body and rebuilding it with magic, turning me into a walking weapon.

Aspect of Water

Aspect of Fire

The aspects fought amongst themselves for supremacy as I felt my flesh turn to living flame, then water and back again. The agony of the transformation felt like I was being drowned and burned alive.

Aspect of Lightning

Aspect of Metal

My charred and wet skin was turned to metal, before being coated in lightning, the pain had began to feel secondary now, the spell was taking effect, I just needed to get to the last aspect.

Aspect of Gravity

Aspect of Ice

Aspect of Illusion

I was almost begging now, my body could take a lot of punishment but this was too much... I couldn't take this... PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!

Aspect of Healing

Relief filled my body as the cooling light of aspect of healing poured into me, constantly and continuously healing me faster than I ever could on my own, it was the glue that held this spell together, an almost suicidal effort on my part, but with the final aspect the others fell into line and conformed, turning into something more, something greater. I felt... strong.

I opened my eyes and looked out into the world in a new light, everything in front of me was seen through flame, I could see the heat that I was generating, feel it and control it to do as I willed. I felt lighter than ever, but much heavier than I had ever been. My skin was made of liquid, molten metal that bubbled and exuded a heat much higher than any I had ever felt. My armour and mask remained in tact, protected by my overwhelming aura that now leaked out, freed from me and on show to Xolumbrandir's abomination. The golem construct stood before me and had already began to move but I had already used my spell. This had all taken place in the span of a second.

It dashed forward but I did nothing, awaiting it's charge as each of it's steps sent tremors through the earth, tremors that I would have had to avoid had I been normal, but I wasn't. My gravity adjusted to the tremors automatically, ensuring I kept my feet. I smiled even as the beast brought it's fist down upon my head and crushed me into the ground, breaking my metal bones and flaming, liquid skin.

Xolumbrandir hissed in joy and brought it's fists down again and again and again, pummelling the hardened ground so hard it created a crater with my broken body at the bottom, shattered beyond all repair. It stopped it's brutal attack and looked down into the crater, joy began welling inside of it, beyond anything it had felt before.

The body in the crater rippled, then vanished.

“Aspect of Illusion” My voice cried out from the other side of the room, or should I say, a hundred of my voices cried out.

The abomination turned and found it was facing not one Corus, but many. They all wore the same mask and armour as I did myself and all stared silently at the giant creature and, specifically, the sword entombed within.

I felt it then. The joy replaced by despair, then defiance as it screamed and charged for all it was worth. We all charged as well, meeting the creature in battle.

It swung it's massive arms back and forth, crushing many of my doppelgängers into the ground as others were kicked so hard they were reduced to paste against the walls. They all faded, they all disappeared.

The sword began to panic and it showed on the construct. For every Corus it destroyed at least a dozen took his place and it was afraid... truly afraid... for the first time in a long time.

It was right to be.

“Here I am!”

It turned it's head just in time to see me flying through the air towards it's chest, my fists held out in front of me, a large grin of self-satisfaction on my face.

I smashed into the creatures chest with the force of a catapult, my skin burning part way through the aura of my sword before I even got close, and I tore out the rest with my physical strength, pushed to almost the levels of Vitriss herself.

It cried in fear and tried to retreat or pummel me to bits but it was not possible, I was beyond it now. it would not escape. I would not allow it.

I dug into the hard crystal essence and ripped out the last of it before enclosing my fist around the hilt of Xolumbrandir. In a last ditch effort, the golem desperately began sprinting forwards and threw it's considerable frame into the side of the arena, intending to crush me against the silver walls.

It miscalculated.

The golem's weight carried it through the wall and into the empty air beyond. For a moment there was complete silence. The construct hanging in the air, my hand around the swords hilt.

Then we fell.

“SUBMIT!”

* * *

“Ursula!” cried Leigh as she broke her sword lock with the elven prince and covered the space between herself and her comrade faster than she thought she was able. She threw herself in front of the Lor's blade a second before it collided with Ursula's neck.

The blade found Leigh instead and cut her back from shoulder to hip, a deep cut, even as she felt several more slice into her body. She gritted her teeth as pain washed over her but she refused to remove herself from her place, leaning over her friends limp body.

“Little bitch! You've done nothing but delay the inevitable!” Lor shouted, his face red with rage as he raised his blade above his head once more, to end the gentle girl.

Bell could do nothing but look on, her body had been broken from Dran's blows and all she could do was watch. Ada looked on as well, even as she tried to limp towards them, Kara following close behind, twirling her blade.

“No!” cried the three girls.

For a moment there was silence.

“SUBMIT!”

The cry caused Lor to hesitate, his forehead creased as he tried to understand what he had just heard.

“what the fuck was that?” He asked as he looked around, but it didn't appear to be any of his compatriots. He caught the eye of a heavily breathing Mahalis, who looked just as bewildered.

“SUBMIT!”

The roar was closer now and Kara had stopped pursuing Ada as she also examined her surroundings. Dran left the broken form of Bell of the ground and grabbed his axe, twirling it and moving closer to his fellow disciples.

“SUBMIT!”

The roar was closer than ever and the other descendants looked around at each other, confused and strangely terrified. They moved closer together and regrouped as fast as they could, standing back to back and preparing themselves for whatever had made the dreadful cry.

That was when they heard laughing. Terrible, joyous and filled with gasps of pain. Each of them turned their heads to the sound of the laughter only to find The Archer who had taunted them laying on her back, eyes to the sky as she cradled her bow.

“What's so funny, thief? You got something to say?!” Mahalis said, his eyes blazing.

Ada pointed up to the sky as her laughter trailed off “You're fucked now.”

Then the world went grey.

Something smashed into the ground with an unprecedented force and the shock-wave threw the Knight Descendants off their feet as they were bombarded by exploding rubble from all directions, unable to even see, much less focus. All they could do was cover their faces and hope their fall was gentle as they were thrown away from the battlefield.

They landed hard, pain flaring up inside their bodies as Mahalis squirmed on the ground, holding onto his ribs which he was sure were now broken.

'what the fuck was that!? Thankfully, Hilin has a healer with her so we should be-' his thought was cut short as the large cloud of dust cleared, revealing something so strange that it caused his whole body to pause.

It revealed a man dressed in smooth light grey armour.

Tall and broad, whoever this person was, he was a warrior. His armour looked battered and worn, his breathing seemed to be heavy as he leaned on something, his face was hidden behind a mask that looked like...

'The mask of the Rebel King! This is the thief, the others were distractions!' Mahalis cried in his mind as he attempted to pull himself to his feet, teeth gritted in fury. No matter the cost, he would complete his mission.

As Mahalis began to move, so did the others, pulling themselves upwards with pained expressions, holding their weapons close. They were hurt but they could fight. The rage in their eyes at seeing a fucking thief wear the mask of their king was enough to ignite fire inside their hearts.

“You! Thief, I demand that you return the property of the King of The Rebel Court! I am Mahalis, son of Knight Marwen and I-” Mahalis was suddenly on his knee's, the breath had left his lungs and terror filled his body. He wanted to run, the feeling that filled him now was intense, concentrated panic and fear, on a level that he had never felt before. But it wasn't coming from him.

The Angelis was trying to escape, the blade vibrating in the prince's hand as it tried to bombard him with enough negative feeling to flee. Whoever the man was, The Angelis was scared of him.

“Mahalis, are you ok?” Kara leaned forward, her eyes filled with concern.

He looked to the man, still unmoving, then back to Kara. “The Angelis, it's trying to get away, to run. I've never felt anything like this before, it's insane!” he hissed his eyes moving manically, back and forward, trying to fight the urge that The Angelis was forcing him to feel.

Kara looked from him to The Angelis and back again before nodding and pulling him to his feet.

“We should listen to it, it's the oldest sentient blade behind Xolumbrandir. If it wants us to run, then we run.” Kara said, her eyes looking to the man and a slight fear appearing in her eyes as she saw he looked right back.

The armoured and masked man was no longer breathing heavily, he was facing them. Somehow they could feel his eyes upon them although they could not see them. Mahalis felt his sword's urge to flee grow even greater.

“I'm not running from anyone.” came a slightly shaky voice from behind them, Lor.

He walked in front of them, his knuckles white as they gripped his scimitar. “I won't run from a thief, no matter how scared your sword is, Mahalis.”

The elven prince looked behind him and saw Hilin and the guard making their way forwards carefully but swiftly. They would be there in less than a minute.

“How the hell..” Dran rumbled, his mouth slack.

His astonishment was well-founded. The rest of the smoke from the impact had cleared, revealing four people standing behind the masked man; the enemies they had just been fighting. The problem was that they looked... fine.

Not one of them showed that they were in pain, they merely stood silently behind the man, who merely looked forward in a foreboding manner.

He took a step forward.

The Angelis screamed in Mahalis' grip and new terror flowed into his body. He let out a scream the equal of his blade and turned and ran away like his left depended on it, his mind absent of rational thought, all he knew was that he had to get away, get away before he was killed.

The Knight Descendants watched him run, astonished. Mahalis had never acted like that, he was their commander, their leader. He would not just flee from the battlefield.

“So it hasn't forgotten... that's good.”

The others snapped their heads back and stared at the man, his voice pushing against them like a tangible force. Fear gripped them and they could not move.

He strode forwards, swinging something from side to side in his hand as the black garbed warriors behind him followed, not speaking, just glaring at the Knight Descendants. Kara threw a glance behind her and saw that Hilin had caught Mahalis and was trying to calm him down as the other guards gathered around him but he was screaming and crying like a child, absolute terror on his face.

'It must be The Angelis... how could something so powerful be so scared of this man.' Kara thought, her eyes wide and unseeing, her heart cold at the thought of what could scare something like that, so badly.

The man stopped directly in front of her and she could not help but look into the silver mask and the shadow covered eyes.

“You are Kara, is that not correct?” asked the man, his voice coming out clear, despite the mask.

The ice princess didn't answer. Instead she drew in every bit of courage she could muster and swung her blade directly at the man's mask.

His hand whipped up and, almost non-nonchalantly, stopped the powerful swing with a finger.

Kara began to shake, her body out of control and her grip on Furela breaking as she fell to her knee's in front of the man, her sword falling at her feet.

“Pick up that sword, girl, it should never be dropped, even if you die, it must never fall from your grasp. It has too much history to be treated so.” The man said, his eyes finding her place on the ground as she reached forward to do as he commanded and pick up the blade.

The man turned his back on her and found Dran's face, but it was sneering, filled with hatred.

“I'm not afraid of-”

The masked man delivered a backhand to Dran's face that sent him skittering across the ground, nearly to where Hilin cradled a crying Mahalis. The dwarf was unmoving when he stopped, his metal skin disappearing as he lost consciousness.

The man finally turned his gaze on Lor who wasn't watching him, but his hand. Kara, curious as to why, turned her gaze there also.

It was... it was the Xolumbrandir.

Kara's shaking reached new heights as she examined the blade, the warning of the queen appearing in her mind as a wet stain appeared around her crotch.

“Run and pray that whoever they are, they do not follow”

“How... how did you...” Lor said dumbly, his eyes fixed on the sword, a mixture of fear and awe in his eyes.

The man said nothing and merely stared at the young half-elf for several seconds.

“Raise your sword, son of Faral.” The man commanded as he hefted Xolumbrandir.

Lor stared at him for a split second before understanding entered his eyes and he shakily lifted his blade.

“You may attack me with all you have.”

Lor stood stock still for a split second before something seemed to snap into place in his mind and he raised his blade, bringing it down with lightning speed and yelling a battle cry, tears streaming from his eyes.

To his surprise, the man allowed him to connect with Xolumbrandir's blade. Lor took advantage and used Song of the Seven Swords, hoping to all the heavens that the man was underestimating him.

He was not.

What Lor felt instead was a hundred cuts open up all over his body at once, it was as if his technique was turned back against him but on a level that couldn't be properly understood. He couldn't fathom what he had just felt, just experienced and he fell to his knee's and cried, his grip on his scimitar failing as he held his cut arms away from his body, his body shaking almost as much as Kara's.

“Here is a lesson to all of you. Hubris will put you into an early grave. There is always someone better than you, always someone more skilled. Never forget that.”

The masked man turned and walked away, back to the four women who waited for him. They each gave him a nod before falling in behind him. All except the The Archer who turned and quickly jogged back over to Kara, leaning down and whispering in her ear.

“Told you so”

With a small giggle, the girl turned and made her way back to her group as they left the plateau on which the tower sat. Leaving behind a screaming prince, a weeping half-elf, a broken dwarf and an ice princess who had seen true power for the first time and was ashamed.