"Brooooo, this is some ASS," Menelik called out as he pulled himself from the snow. "This snow is some ASS." He looked to The Old King. "Dragon Ranked DICKHEAD…is some ASS." He lifted his spear up. "Fighting with a spear…is some ASS."
"YO!" Idris called out. "Don’t be mean to spears." He looked directly at Menelik. "Spears are nice. You know what, here." He tossed his bow to Menelik, watching as it landed in the snow between them. He went to take off the quiver when Menelik began to speak out.
"What are you doing? I can’t shoot a bow."
"Start learning, because you ain’t got enough respect for the spear." Idris went to reach for the spear when Menelik pulled it back.
"No, if you wanted a spear, you should have picked up a spear."
"You know, I was gonna interrupt you two, but I have to say, he is right, Idris," Taharqa added. "There were plenty of spears; you just had to look."
Idris turned to Taharqa. "You’re out of line, but you’re right." He knelt down and lifted his bow. "Guess we an Elfy-boy now." Right as he said that, the bow’s light-colored wood began to glow and morphed into a blue metal that was just as tall as Idris himself, and the braided wool string had been replaced with a tight thin piece of what looked like metal wire.
Menelik looked to his spear, then to Idris’s bow. "You still wanna trade?"
Idris shook his head with a smile. "Not a chance, bum."
Menelik tightened the grip on his spear and shook it intently, and as he did, it crumbled into snow, falling from his hands. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and through a whispered voice and without exhaling, he murmured, "I’m’gonna’go’find’a’staff." Immediately, he began walking north toward where they had found the weapons.
"You’re just gonna leave us with that?" Taharqa pointed at The Old King.
Menelik held up both his hands and shook them around, then pulled the empty vial from his armor and flailed it around silently.
Idris reared his head back. "You reuse your potion vials? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would…you know what? No, nevermind, again, I don’t wanna know." He pointed north. "Just go get your fucking staff."
"Go gEt YoUR fuCkiNG sTafF." Menelik muttered under his breath. "Bumbaclot."
Idris and Taharqa turned back to The Old Knight, who was graciously waiting on them just a couple of meters in front of them. "So, like, we all agree this would be easier if we had our gear, right?" Idris asked.
"Well…yeah?" Taharqa replied.
"You think the Dwarves will make us new equipment?"
"How about we settle here first, then we can think about that," Taharqa suggested. He lifted his staff and pointed it at The Old King. "I’m just gonna keep hitting him with this."
"Physically, right?" Idris asked. "I don’t want to freeze to death."
Taharqa pulled the staff back and gripped it with both hands. "Oh yeah. I ain’t gonna be firing off spells with a Mage Crystal that ain’t mine; we would all die, and The Old King wouldn’t even have to lift his sword again."
Idris nocked another arrow and pulled back on the string; as he did, it began to take on a thin glow that, once the string was cocked all the way back against his shoulder, funneled onto the arrow tip. "He’s just gonna split it in half again, but it should also explode when he does."
"How’d you learn to do that?" Taharqa inquired. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use a bow before today."
Idris shook his head. "That’s because I hadn’t, but I won’t lie, this isn’t me. When I pulled back the arrow, and the string touched my shoulder, it was like the bow spoke to me."
"It spoke to you?" Taharqa inquired. "What do you mean it spoke to you?"
"Hey guys!" Menelik’s voice cut through the air, pulling their attention to him with his arms full. He was carrying three spears and two mage staves, all jumbled together like logs of wood in his arms as he trekked back through the snow. He nodded at The Old King, then turned to Idris, who was still holding his arrow. "Oh, big guy still just standing there? You holding the arrow for tomorrow or?"
Idris lowered the bow, slowly allowing the wire to pull itself back toward the bow; he let out a long sigh. "Whatcha got there?"
Menelik looked down at his arms. "Oh, I got some stuff. I thought you could dual-wield the spears, and I could dual-wield mage staves, or like a mage staff and a spear, or like I could even give the spear to Taharqa."
"You’re just gonna dual-wield mage staves, aren’t cha?"
Menelik nodded his head while looking at the ground.
Idris couldn’t help but smirk; he turned his attention back to The Old King, still standing idly with their sword anchored on their shoulder. Menelik handed Idris two spears as he holstered the bow around his frame; he lifted both spears, and as soon as he did, they too turned from hardened snow into metal, a metallic black with white accents that ran all around it from the top of its jagged tip to the base.
"Alright, start talking," Taharqa exclaimed. "You’re a Gargoyle, your family…" Taharqa was stumbling over his words. "Your father is a Gargoyle, the King of Gargoyles, and your mother, she—."
"That’s the thing," Idris interrupted. "I never told you about my mother, kept that stuff close to the vest, but yeah, my mother’s a Dark Elf."
"Since when?" Menelik asked. "I’ve met your mother?"
Idris shook his head. "You met my stepmother." He shifted his attention, keeping an eye on The Old King, who continued to stand idly. Unbeknownst to them, it wasn't because he was gracious; it was because he couldn't move too far from where the Dungeon broke open. Right now, they were all nothing more than lucky. Idris didn’t continue to speak; he simply tucked both spears through the holsters on his back, and with a bit of stumbling, he took hold of the bow once more and nocked another arrow. "I think he has stood there long enough, are we ready?" The arrow ignited in a bright red glow, catching fire shortly after in a blaze that took over the string of the bow as well. "Taharqa, go right, Menelik, can you summon that rabbit again?"
Menelik smirked at Idris, and Taharqa took off toward the right, unsure of what to do next but assuming he would know soon enough. Idris let go of the arrow, and it flew forward; the flame expanded for a moment then disappeared, leaving just a faint red glow on the arrow. The Old King began to swing, and it was here when Taharqa saw his opening and understood what Idris was working toward. He took the spear Menelik had given him and threw it forward, knocking The Old King off his swing, allowing the arrow to connect directly with The Old King’s chest. As soon as it did, it erupted in an enormous blaze that was quickly extinguished by Menelik’s rabbit summon, which landed directly on top of The Old King with a ground shaking impact, but as soon as it landed, it disappeared, and Menelik stumbled.
"I’m still low from all the running; give me a moment here." Menelik stumbled some more but caught himself with his mage staves. Hoisting himself up, he shook his head, taking notice of his hands, and a smile pressed across his face. "But you know what I don’t need mana for?" He dropped the staves into the snow and began to transform his hands into his paws as he lowered himself onto all fours. His tail began to sway back and forth as he adjusted and got his balance in the snow.
The Old King was starting to pull himself back up from the snow, looking less than unharmed. He looked at the trio for a moment before lifting their sword upward, pointing it directly at them. The tip of their blade began to glow white, a tiny speck of light before cascading down the entire length of the blade and onto the hilt. Once it reached the hilt, The Old King grabbed it with both hands and pulled it back to their left before rotating their wrists so the sword now angled out to the side. They bent their knees, and all of the snow suddenly stopped falling in the area, frozen in place; the snowflakes hovered in front of everyone.
"That’s not good," Idris stated. He went to push Taharqa out of the way as Menelik bolted to the side, but The Old King had appeared in front of them. Teleporting in a bright flash of light, he was in front of them, and with what looked like an infinite amount of swings, The Old King began swinging his sword through the air, creating white streaks all around the area. Each swing hit Taharqa and Idris, and when Menelik tried to intervene to help, he too got caught in the web of slices that came from The Old King. The slices continued, and the more they thought it was over, the longer the slices and swings seemed to go on.
The oddest thing about The Old King’s One Million Cuts was that even though each of them had been hit a thousand times over and still being hit, there was no pain. They could do nothing but be hit. All of this was happening in the span of no more than three seconds, but it felt like an eternity for the three of them. The Old King moved in thirteen stances, each stance cutting them over and over. He moved between them seemingly at random, but each swing was a response to the last. It was a glorious display of power and truly displayed the reason why The Old King was a Dragon Ranked Dungeon Master.
Just when The Old King reached the halfway point of their attack, the three of them began to lose consciousness. It was Menelik first; it seemed The Old King saw his panther form as some sort of threat, and his focus centered more around Menelik with his slashes. Taharqa began to waver, which caused his heart to pump more; the thought of his friends freezing to death, even if Idris is half Dark Elf, it wouldn't be enough to survive Ayce’s relentless cold. Idris went to reach inside his pocket, trying to grab the medallion, but the cuts from The Old King were far too much for him to do anything more than be staggered by the attack. He looked over at Taharqa, who looked to be just moments away from passing out. Idris took a deep breath and with all his remaining mana, he channeled it into his feet, causing them to spasm just enough to push toward Taharqa. He grabbed hold of him and with a quick recital under his breath; he took the little mana he had left and fed it into Taharqa, trying to keep him conscious. His vision began to double then go black, and for the faintest of moments, he swore he heard Zero’s voice. But the last thing he saw before falling unconscious was a Frost Giant, one far different than the others. They were much more slender, smaller, and much more quiet. They did not roar when they cut down The Old King; they simply appeared, knocking them to the side and when Idris finally lost consciousness, they were coming toward the three of them.
"Brooooo, this is some ASS," Menelik called out as he pulled himself from the snow. "This snow is some ASS." He looked to The Old King. "Dragon Ranked DICKHEAD…is some ASS." He lifted his spear up. "Fighting with a spear…is some ASS."
"YO!" Idris called out. "Don’t be mean to spears." He looked directly at Menelik. "Spears are nice. You know what, here." He tossed his bow to Menelik, watching as it landed in the snow between them. He went to take off the quiver when Menelik began to speak out.
"What are you doing? I can’t shoot a bow."
"Start learning, because you ain’t got enough respect for the spear." Idris went to reach for the spear when Menelik pulled it back.
"No, if you wanted a spear, you should have picked up a spear."
"You know, I was gonna interrupt you two, but I have to say, he is right, Idris," Taharqa added. "There were plenty of spears; you just had to look."
Idris turned to Taharqa. "You’re out of line, but you’re right." He knelt down and lifted his bow. "Guess we an Elfy-boy now." Right as he said that, the bow’s light-colored wood began to glow and morphed into a blue metal that was just as tall as Idris himself, and the braided wool string had been replaced with a tight thin piece of what looked like metal wire.
Menelik looked to his spear, then to Idris’s bow. "You still wanna trade?"
Idris shook his head with a smile. "Not a chance, bum."
Menelik tightened the grip on his spear and shook it intently, and as he did, it crumbled into snow, falling from his hands. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and through a whispered voice and without exhaling, he murmured, "I’m’gonna’go’find’a’staff." Immediately, he began walking north toward where they had found the weapons.
"You’re just gonna leave us with that?" Taharqa pointed at The Old King.
Menelik held up both his hands and shook them around, then pulled the empty vial from his armor and flailed it around silently.
Idris reared his head back. "You reuse your potion vials? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would…you know what? No, nevermind, again, I don’t wanna know." He pointed north. "Just go get your fucking staff."
"Go gEt YoUR fuCkiNG sTafF." Menelik muttered under his breath. "Bumbaclot."
Idris and Taharqa turned back to The Old Knight, who was graciously waiting on them just a couple of meters in front of them. "So, like, we all agree this would be easier if we had our gear, right?" Idris asked.
"Well…yeah?" Taharqa replied.
"You think the Dwarves will make us new equipment?"
"How about we settle here first, then we can think about that," Taharqa suggested. He lifted his staff and pointed it at The Old King. "I’m just gonna keep hitting him with this."
"Physically, right?" Idris asked. "I don’t want to freeze to death."
Taharqa pulled the staff back and gripped it with both hands. "Oh yeah. I ain’t gonna be firing off spells with a Mage Crystal that ain’t mine; we would all die, and The Old King wouldn’t even have to lift his sword again."
Idris nocked another arrow and pulled back on the string; as he did, it began to take on a thin glow that, once the string was cocked all the way back against his shoulder, funneled onto the arrow tip. "He’s just gonna split it in half again, but it should also explode when he does."
"How’d you learn to do that?" Taharqa inquired. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use a bow before today."
Idris shook his head. "That’s because I hadn’t, but I won’t lie, this isn’t me. When I pulled back the arrow, and the string touched my shoulder, it was like the bow spoke to me."
"It spoke to you?" Taharqa inquired. "What do you mean it spoke to you?"
"Hey guys!" Menelik’s voice cut through the air, pulling their attention to him with his arms full. He was carrying three spears and two mage staves, all jumbled together like logs of wood in his arms as he trekked back through the snow. He nodded at The Old King, then turned to Idris, who was still holding his arrow. "Oh, big guy still just standing there? You holding the arrow for tomorrow or?"
Idris lowered the bow, slowly allowing the wire to pull itself back toward the bow; he let out a long sigh. "Whatcha got there?"
Menelik looked down at his arms. "Oh, I got some stuff. I thought you could dual-wield the spears, and I could dual-wield mage staves, or like a mage staff and a spear, or like I could even give the spear to Taharqa."
"You’re just gonna dual-wield mage staves, aren’t cha?"
Menelik nodded his head while looking at the ground.
Idris couldn’t help but smirk; he turned his attention back to The Old King, still standing idly with their sword anchored on their shoulder. Menelik handed Idris two spears as he holstered the bow around his frame; he lifted both spears, and as soon as he did, they too turned from hardened snow into metal, a metallic black with white accents that ran all around it from the top of its jagged tip to the base.
"Alright, start talking," Taharqa exclaimed. "You’re a Gargoyle, your family…" Taharqa was stumbling over his words. "Your father is a Gargoyle, the King of Gargoyles, and your mother, she—."
"That’s the thing," Idris interrupted. "I never told you about my mother, kept that stuff close to the vest, but yeah, my mother’s a Dark Elf."
"Since when?" Menelik asked. "I’ve met your mother?"
Idris shook his head. "You met my stepmother." He shifted his attention, keeping an eye on The Old King, who continued to stand idly. Unbeknownst to them, it wasn't because he was gracious; it was because he couldn't move too far from where the Dungeon broke open. Right now, they were all nothing more than lucky. Idris didn’t continue to speak; he simply tucked both spears through the holsters on his back, and with a bit of stumbling, he took hold of the bow once more and nocked another arrow. "I think he has stood there long enough, are we ready?" The arrow ignited in a bright red glow, catching fire shortly after in a blaze that took over the string of the bow as well. "Taharqa, go right, Menelik, can you summon that rabbit again?"
Menelik smirked at Idris, and Taharqa took off toward the right, unsure of what to do next but assuming he would know soon enough. Idris let go of the arrow, and it flew forward; the flame expanded for a moment then disappeared, leaving just a faint red glow on the arrow. The Old King began to swing, and it was here when Taharqa saw his opening and understood what Idris was working toward. He took the spear Menelik had given him and threw it forward, knocking The Old King off his swing, allowing the arrow to connect directly with The Old King’s chest. As soon as it did, it erupted in an enormous blaze that was quickly extinguished by Menelik’s rabbit summon, which landed directly on top of The Old King with a ground shaking impact, but as soon as it landed, it disappeared, and Menelik stumbled.
"I’m still low from all the running; give me a moment here." Menelik stumbled some more but caught himself with his mage staves. Hoisting himself up, he shook his head, taking notice of his hands, and a smile pressed across his face. "But you know what I don’t need mana for?" He dropped the staves into the snow and began to transform his hands into his paws as he lowered himself onto all fours. His tail began to sway back and forth as he adjusted and got his balance in the snow.
The Old King was starting to pull himself back up from the snow, looking less than unharmed. He looked at the trio for a moment before lifting their sword upward, pointing it directly at them. The tip of their blade began to glow white, a tiny speck of light before cascading down the entire length of the blade and onto the hilt. Once it reached the hilt, The Old King grabbed it with both hands and pulled it back to their left before rotating their wrists so the sword now angled out to the side. They bent their knees, and all of the snow suddenly stopped falling in the area, frozen in place; the snowflakes hovered in front of everyone.
"That’s not good," Idris stated. He went to push Taharqa out of the way as Menelik bolted to the side, but The Old King had appeared in front of them. Teleporting in a bright flash of light, he was in front of them, and with what looked like an infinite amount of swings, The Old King began swinging his sword through the air, creating white streaks all around the area. Each swing hit Taharqa and Idris, and when Menelik tried to intervene to help, he too got caught in the web of slices that came from The Old King. The slices continued, and the more they thought it was over, the longer the slices and swings seemed to go on.
The oddest thing about The Old King’s One Million Cuts was that even though each of them had been hit a thousand times over and still being hit, there was no pain. They could do nothing but be hit. All of this was happening in the span of no more than three seconds, but it felt like an eternity for the three of them. The Old King moved in thirteen stances, each stance cutting them over and over. He moved between them seemingly at random, but each swing was a response to the last. It was a glorious display of power and truly displayed the reason why The Old King was a Dragon Ranked Dungeon Master.
Just when The Old King reached the halfway point of their attack, the three of them began to lose consciousness. It was Menelik first; it seemed The Old King saw his panther form as some sort of threat, and his focus centered more around Menelik with his slashes. Taharqa began to waver, which caused his heart to pump more; the thought of his friends freezing to death, even if Idris is half Dark Elf, it wouldn't be enough to survive Ayce’s relentless cold. Idris went to reach inside his pocket, trying to grab the medallion, but the cuts from The Old King were far too much for him to do anything more than be staggered by the attack. He looked over at Taharqa, who looked to be just moments away from passing out. Idris took a deep breath and with all his remaining mana, he channeled it into his feet, causing them to spasm just enough to push toward Taharqa. He grabbed hold of him and with a quick recital under his breath; he took the little mana he had left and fed it into Taharqa, trying to keep him conscious. His vision began to double then go black, and for the faintest of moments, he swore he heard Zero’s voice. But the last thing he saw before falling unconscious was a Frost Giant, one far different than the others. They were much more slender, smaller, and much more quiet. They did not roar when they cut down The Old King; they simply appeared, knocking them to the side and when Idris finally lost consciousness, they were coming toward the three of them.
