Arterius and the Cloud Saint watched warily as the Insect Monarch dashed towards them, no longer with eyes of lost hope, but with the steeled resolve of a Monarch ready to fight to the death, and drag at least one of them with him.
As the Insect Monarch closed in on them, Arterius swung his sword and met the Monarch’s blade with his own, the combined pressure of their strength cracking the earth beneath them, despite being hundreds of meters above.
One-armed as he was, the Monarch fought like a cornered, wounded animal with nothing to lose. The most dangerous kind of opponent, Arterius knew.
Even with the help of the Cloud Saint – whose weaker strength had him sidelined and largely only able to help through Artes and the occasional attack – Arterius sustained many injuries under the constant barrage of the Monarch’s erratic, ferocious attacks.
With a brutal resolve that didn’t balk at the idea of harming his own body for the sake of injuring the enemy, the Monarch managed to inflict numerous wounds on the two men as they fought. Wounds that would have ended the fight anywhere else, had not the Mother Saintess personally been present. No matter how many times he managed to pierce their bodies with his blade, or how many times he hit them with powerful Artes of lightning and fire and wind, Aya would have the pair back to full health within minutes. And with two enemies, the Monarch would never be given enough time to finish off one of them without being harassed by the other.
Hours passed as the trio fought, and the Monarch’s vitality drained with every passing minute. Yet it seemed for every second he weakened, more and more of what little sanity he had left slipped away as well, until he was left nothing but a grinning, laughing madman who moved for no reason beyond ending the lives of the two men before him, no matter the cost.
Every strike that drew blood elicited a toxic bliss that blinded him from the many strikes he took himself: a drug that numbed all pain.
Finally, after the latest in their unending clashes, the Monarch and Arterius backed away from each other, separated by a kilometre. Their chests heaved as they breathed hard, their torn robes fluttering about around them. Arterius’ robes were almost in shreds, ripped under the constant attacks of the Monarch’s blade. Still, a testament to Aya’s skill, the skin under the robes was utterly unblemished, smooth white like a canvas.
The Monarch, on the other hand, still carried the wounds his tattered robes told of. Blood coloured most of his body, running down from numerous gashes and wounds around his abdomen and chest. What was left of his blue robes was now dyed a dark, almost black-red.
The world around them lay in ruins, ravaged like never before. Massive cracks and canyons ran along the dusty ground across the globe. The mountains of the world around were decimated, the forests blazing with flames, and the oceans raged with tides unseen before in the planet's history. Every natural disaster on scales unimaginable had hit every continent on the globe, leaving Earth a scarred, devastated echo of what it once was.
The perpetrators of such destruction currently floated hundreds of meters high in the sky above a ruined Russia, studying each other in tense silence, catching their breath as they steadied themselves.
And then, suddenly, the Monarch closed his eyes and straighted himself out, loosing a deep breath before opening his eyes again. When he did, there was a strange, bittersweet glint in his eye, as if he'd finally arrived at a decision he didn't want to make. Then, suddenly, he grinned madly at the pair. The veins in his neck bulged as his entire body tensed as a new power – leagues stronger than before – flowed within him.
Arterius and the Cloud Saint immediately felt the change in the atmosphere, and while the Cloud Saint stood confused, Arterius grimaced and readied himself. “He's killing himself,” he said grimly, explaining to the confused Saint. “He’s sacrificing his own vitality for an increase in strength. It’s an ability a mage receives when he reaches the realm of Monarch.” He sighed then, just as the Insect Monarch broke out into laughter in the distance. “He’s given up on getting out of here alive. Now, he just wants to ensure he drags one of us down with him.”
The moment the last word left his mouth, the Monarch appeared in front of him, all the muscles on his body inflated to at least twice their original size. His dark blade whistled as it cut through the air, aiming for Arterius’ neck. However, despite his increased speed and power, Arterius was still no easy opponent.
He leaned backwards in the split second that he had, getting just far enough away to dodge the tip of the blade. The Cloud Saint, however, was not so quick. Knowing he couldn’t dodge, the Saint simply brought his wooden pole in front of the blade and took the attack head-on. Still, the force sent the Saint hurtling backward uncontrollably, rattling his insides.
Not quite done yet, the Monarch brought down his elbow on Arterius, burying it in his gut. The blow sent him to the ground within a second, travelling faster than a lightning bolt. He hit the dirt like a comet, a deafening boom sounding out as he created a crater around him almost a kilometre wide.
Still not done, the Monarch flew like a bullet after Arterius, landing hard on the man’s gut once again. As spittle flew out of Arterius’ mouth, his eyes rolling back into his head, the Monarch quickly brought the tip of his blade down on Arterius’ sword arm, piercing straight through and nailing it to the ground.
The Monarch got down to his knees atop Arterius, bestriding the man’s chest as he began to rain down powerful fists on his face. Like a jackhammer, his fist rose and fell continuously as he laughed with wild glee, painting Arterius’ face a bloody mess.
As he beat the man’s face into a pulp, the Cloud Saint rushed back as quickly as he possibly could, forcing his body to move faster and faster. The entire time, he gathered all the Flux he could at his pole, feeding it more and more power.
He arrived at the scene not a minute too late, his pole covered in a blade-shaped smoke. The edge of the blade raced towards the Monarch’s neck, powerful enough to end the man’s life should it reach its target.
Then, just as it seemed the Cloud Saint would finally end the fight, the Monarch suddenly moved.
Grabbing the sword stuck into Arterius’ arm, the Monarch locked eyes with the man as he swung at the Cloud Saint’s neck with speed like never before.
At that moment, as he stared into the wild eyes of the Monarch – eyes that screamed with happiness – the Cloud Saint realized that he had fallen for the man’s trap. Their blades were aimed at mutual destruction, and yet, if he backed off, he would be signing Arterius’ death warrant. No matter what he did, the Monarch would die, taking the lives of one of them with him.
And then the Monarch’s arm flew meters high in the air, a spurt of scarlet following as it left its body behind on the ground.
Still lying on the ground, Arterius’ hand was raised right to where the Monarch’s shoulder used to be, covered in white smoke condensed into a blade.
The Monarch spent no time wondering how he lost his arm, however. He didn’t have the time to worry, as the blade of the Cloud Saint was nearing his neck, and he wasn’t planning on giving up yet. Instead, he whipped his face to greet the oncoming pole, biting down on the wooden thing as hard as he could. His powerful teeth and grotesque mandibles bit down on the thing with enough force to chew through steel like tofu. The condensed smoke dispersed under the strength of his jaws, the stick coming to a full stop as his teeth pierced into the wood.
The Cloud Saint strained his arms as he tried to move the pole, but the Monarch’s jaws held the thing firm in its place. Cracks spread along the length of the stick as the Monarch bit down harder and harder.
Then, with a crisp crack, half of the pole shattered into splinters. The half that remained was left with a jagged sharp edge, with pointed splinters poking out of the tip.
Suddenly, Aya appeared opposite the Cloud Saint, a ferocious anger burning in her eyes. Her aged fingers clasped onto what was left of the pole and, borrowing the Cloud Saint’s strength, drove the thing forward with the rage of a woman who had witnessed her husband being stabbed and sliced and beaten for the past few hours.
The jagged tip of the pole found the Monarch’s chest, piercing through the skin and biting deep into his flesh. The pole dug deep, but the hard muscle of his chest stopped the pole before it could reach his heart. Blood leaked through the Monarch’s lips as he gave Aya a wicked grin. A grin that boasted victory, even a few steps away from death.
And then Arterius placed his hand on the pole as well, offering his waning strength to the effort. Immediately, the stick drove its way entirely through the Monarch’s chest, puncturing through both lungs and the heart with its many splinters before coming out from the other side. The bloodied tip buried itself in the dirt as it came out, nailing the man to the ground.
The Monarch spluttered as blood burst past his mouth, his burning eyes blurring as he felt himself slipping towards the door he had guided so many to.
Mirth coloured his face as his death became a reality he could no longer escape from. Still, he fought on with the one weapon left to him: words. Locking gazes with Aya, he laughed a derisive laugh. “Ten thousand years,” he forced out, his face twisting into a grotesque smile. “Ten thousand years of murdering and pillaging and destroying. Billions of lives, billions of stories, ended at my hand. The blood I’ve spilt could flood planets; the pain I’ve caused is beyond any measure, any scale you could ever create. The dreams I’ve burnt, the paradises I’ve desecrated; all the destruction I have raged on this universe, and this is what I suffer for it.” The man’s smile grew, his face grisly. “One. Measly. Death.” His smile morphed into a revolting, mocking laugh. “This is what you fought so long for. What you sacrificed so much for. This pathetic ideal of justice. Tell me, little girl. Are you satisfied? Is this what you wanted, what you fought for? Have you meted out the justice I deserve? Brought peace to the poor souls I tortured?” He laughed again, a poisonous sound. “You see? This is justice, little girl, the best it can be in this universe. And it is pathetic.” He spat the last sentence like the very word burned his tongue.
Aya stared into the eyes of the man with silent disgust, not gracing his rant with a response.
Seeing her silence, the Insect Monarch smiled one last maddened smile before closing his eyes and finally letting himself fall into the waiting depths of darkness, the void from which he knew he had little chance of returning.
Arterius and the Cloud Saint watched warily as the Insect Monarch dashed towards them, no longer with eyes of lost hope, but with the steeled resolve of a Monarch ready to fight to the death, and drag at least one of them with him.
As the Insect Monarch closed in on them, Arterius swung his sword and met the Monarch’s blade with his own, the combined pressure of their strength cracking the earth beneath them, despite being hundreds of meters above.
One-armed as he was, the Monarch fought like a cornered, wounded animal with nothing to lose. The most dangerous kind of opponent, Arterius knew.
Even with the help of the Cloud Saint – whose weaker strength had him sidelined and largely only able to help through Artes and the occasional attack – Arterius sustained many injuries under the constant barrage of the Monarch’s erratic, ferocious attacks.
With a brutal resolve that didn’t balk at the idea of harming his own body for the sake of injuring the enemy, the Monarch managed to inflict numerous wounds on the two men as they fought. Wounds that would have ended the fight anywhere else, had not the Mother Saintess personally been present. No matter how many times he managed to pierce their bodies with his blade, or how many times he hit them with powerful Artes of lightning and fire and wind, Aya would have the pair back to full health within minutes. And with two enemies, the Monarch would never be given enough time to finish off one of them without being harassed by the other.
Hours passed as the trio fought, and the Monarch’s vitality drained with every passing minute. Yet it seemed for every second he weakened, more and more of what little sanity he had left slipped away as well, until he was left nothing but a grinning, laughing madman who moved for no reason beyond ending the lives of the two men before him, no matter the cost.
Every strike that drew blood elicited a toxic bliss that blinded him from the many strikes he took himself: a drug that numbed all pain.
Finally, after the latest in their unending clashes, the Monarch and Arterius backed away from each other, separated by a kilometre. Their chests heaved as they breathed hard, their torn robes fluttering about around them. Arterius’ robes were almost in shreds, ripped under the constant attacks of the Monarch’s blade. Still, a testament to Aya’s skill, the skin under the robes was utterly unblemished, smooth white like a canvas.
The Monarch, on the other hand, still carried the wounds his tattered robes told of. Blood coloured most of his body, running down from numerous gashes and wounds around his abdomen and chest. What was left of his blue robes was now dyed a dark, almost black-red.
The world around them lay in ruins, ravaged like never before. Massive cracks and canyons ran along the dusty ground across the globe. The mountains of the world around were decimated, the forests blazing with flames, and the oceans raged with tides unseen before in the planet's history. Every natural disaster on scales unimaginable had hit every continent on the globe, leaving Earth a scarred, devastated echo of what it once was.
The perpetrators of such destruction currently floated hundreds of meters high in the sky above a ruined Russia, studying each other in tense silence, catching their breath as they steadied themselves.
And then, suddenly, the Monarch closed his eyes and straighted himself out, loosing a deep breath before opening his eyes again. When he did, there was a strange, bittersweet glint in his eye, as if he'd finally arrived at a decision he didn't want to make. Then, suddenly, he grinned madly at the pair. The veins in his neck bulged as his entire body tensed as a new power – leagues stronger than before – flowed within him.
Arterius and the Cloud Saint immediately felt the change in the atmosphere, and while the Cloud Saint stood confused, Arterius grimaced and readied himself. “He's killing himself,” he said grimly, explaining to the confused Saint. “He’s sacrificing his own vitality for an increase in strength. It’s an ability a mage receives when he reaches the realm of Monarch.” He sighed then, just as the Insect Monarch broke out into laughter in the distance. “He’s given up on getting out of here alive. Now, he just wants to ensure he drags one of us down with him.”
The moment the last word left his mouth, the Monarch appeared in front of him, all the muscles on his body inflated to at least twice their original size. His dark blade whistled as it cut through the air, aiming for Arterius’ neck. However, despite his increased speed and power, Arterius was still no easy opponent.
He leaned backwards in the split second that he had, getting just far enough away to dodge the tip of the blade. The Cloud Saint, however, was not so quick. Knowing he couldn’t dodge, the Saint simply brought his wooden pole in front of the blade and took the attack head-on. Still, the force sent the Saint hurtling backward uncontrollably, rattling his insides.
Not quite done yet, the Monarch brought down his elbow on Arterius, burying it in his gut. The blow sent him to the ground within a second, travelling faster than a lightning bolt. He hit the dirt like a comet, a deafening boom sounding out as he created a crater around him almost a kilometre wide.
Still not done, the Monarch flew like a bullet after Arterius, landing hard on the man’s gut once again. As spittle flew out of Arterius’ mouth, his eyes rolling back into his head, the Monarch quickly brought the tip of his blade down on Arterius’ sword arm, piercing straight through and nailing it to the ground.
The Monarch got down to his knees atop Arterius, bestriding the man’s chest as he began to rain down powerful fists on his face. Like a jackhammer, his fist rose and fell continuously as he laughed with wild glee, painting Arterius’ face a bloody mess.
As he beat the man’s face into a pulp, the Cloud Saint rushed back as quickly as he possibly could, forcing his body to move faster and faster. The entire time, he gathered all the Flux he could at his pole, feeding it more and more power.
He arrived at the scene not a minute too late, his pole covered in a blade-shaped smoke. The edge of the blade raced towards the Monarch’s neck, powerful enough to end the man’s life should it reach its target.
Then, just as it seemed the Cloud Saint would finally end the fight, the Monarch suddenly moved.
Grabbing the sword stuck into Arterius’ arm, the Monarch locked eyes with the man as he swung at the Cloud Saint’s neck with speed like never before.
At that moment, as he stared into the wild eyes of the Monarch – eyes that screamed with happiness – the Cloud Saint realized that he had fallen for the man’s trap. Their blades were aimed at mutual destruction, and yet, if he backed off, he would be signing Arterius’ death warrant. No matter what he did, the Monarch would die, taking the lives of one of them with him.
And then the Monarch’s arm flew meters high in the air, a spurt of scarlet following as it left its body behind on the ground.
Still lying on the ground, Arterius’ hand was raised right to where the Monarch’s shoulder used to be, covered in white smoke condensed into a blade.
The Monarch spent no time wondering how he lost his arm, however. He didn’t have the time to worry, as the blade of the Cloud Saint was nearing his neck, and he wasn’t planning on giving up yet. Instead, he whipped his face to greet the oncoming pole, biting down on the wooden thing as hard as he could. His powerful teeth and grotesque mandibles bit down on the thing with enough force to chew through steel like tofu. The condensed smoke dispersed under the strength of his jaws, the stick coming to a full stop as his teeth pierced into the wood.
The Cloud Saint strained his arms as he tried to move the pole, but the Monarch’s jaws held the thing firm in its place. Cracks spread along the length of the stick as the Monarch bit down harder and harder.
Then, with a crisp crack, half of the pole shattered into splinters. The half that remained was left with a jagged sharp edge, with pointed splinters poking out of the tip.
Suddenly, Aya appeared opposite the Cloud Saint, a ferocious anger burning in her eyes. Her aged fingers clasped onto what was left of the pole and, borrowing the Cloud Saint’s strength, drove the thing forward with the rage of a woman who had witnessed her husband being stabbed and sliced and beaten for the past few hours.
The jagged tip of the pole found the Monarch’s chest, piercing through the skin and biting deep into his flesh. The pole dug deep, but the hard muscle of his chest stopped the pole before it could reach his heart. Blood leaked through the Monarch’s lips as he gave Aya a wicked grin. A grin that boasted victory, even a few steps away from death.
And then Arterius placed his hand on the pole as well, offering his waning strength to the effort. Immediately, the stick drove its way entirely through the Monarch’s chest, puncturing through both lungs and the heart with its many splinters before coming out from the other side. The bloodied tip buried itself in the dirt as it came out, nailing the man to the ground.
The Monarch spluttered as blood burst past his mouth, his burning eyes blurring as he felt himself slipping towards the door he had guided so many to.
Mirth coloured his face as his death became a reality he could no longer escape from. Still, he fought on with the one weapon left to him: words. Locking gazes with Aya, he laughed a derisive laugh. “Ten thousand years,” he forced out, his face twisting into a grotesque smile. “Ten thousand years of murdering and pillaging and destroying. Billions of lives, billions of stories, ended at my hand. The blood I’ve spilt could flood planets; the pain I’ve caused is beyond any measure, any scale you could ever create. The dreams I’ve burnt, the paradises I’ve desecrated; all the destruction I have raged on this universe, and this is what I suffer for it.” The man’s smile grew, his face grisly. “One. Measly. Death.” His smile morphed into a revolting, mocking laugh. “This is what you fought so long for. What you sacrificed so much for. This pathetic ideal of justice. Tell me, little girl. Are you satisfied? Is this what you wanted, what you fought for? Have you meted out the justice I deserve? Brought peace to the poor souls I tortured?” He laughed again, a poisonous sound. “You see? This is justice, little girl, the best it can be in this universe. And it is pathetic.” He spat the last sentence like the very word burned his tongue.
Aya stared into the eyes of the man with silent disgust, not gracing his rant with a response.
Seeing her silence, the Insect Monarch smiled one last maddened smile before closing his eyes and finally letting himself fall into the waiting depths of darkness, the void from which he knew he had little chance of returning.
