2 weeks ago

The Rouge sat in his room. It was dark and dingy like the rest these damn crypts.

They’d set up, in some vacant caverns in north Elysia, that happened to home an array of ancient crypts, whose bodies were now long gone. The only evidence being scattered dust. The air was cold and dry and despite its inhabitants being long gone still reeked of death, staining the very mana in the air. But the Rouge didn’t mind, they’d stayed in worse places.

Proditio would do whatever they needed to achieve their goals.

Seated on a cracked tomb, the Rouge faded into the crypt’s shadows. Not many would be able to see him, evident by how many fellow members of Proditio it seemed to startle. Well with the exception of Him.

Despite having sat their motionless for hours, it didn’t dare move. It had been ordered to remain here until He got round to seeing it. A punishment for disobeying orders and attacking Lewis Athra. He was meant to only survey and monitor but the Rouge couldn’t stop itself. If Proditio was going to complete its goal, a man like Lewis Athra couldn’t be allowed to interfere. Well it wasn’t just that. It didn’t want to admit it, as it was against the ancient codes, but it wished to fight him, test itself against a warrior respected by all. And so the Rouge tried to take it into its own hands but alas failed. But despite everything the Rouge wasn’t distressed, the battle had gained him insight into his signature.

Lewis Athra had been a greater foe than it ever could have imagined. The Rouge now finally understood why He didn’t want anyone to engage him. Fighting him had pushed the Rouge to new levels of power, and yet that still wasn’t enough.

He glanced down at his hand. It was still trembling. In fact his body was still shaken from their duel. No his very core was.

In the beginning, it thought there was no question it would obtain victory. How foolish it was. The Rouge even began to ask why Athra was so feared. Wonder why Wraith had forced them to flee. Then the battle progressed and it quickly realized why. With every second of combat Lewis Athra grew. Every punch he threw sharper, every kick stronger, every spell faster more lethal. It was like he using their clash to remember how to be a warrior again, and even now after their duel it felt like Athra had still been holding back. Only showing a glimpse of his true potential when the Rouge suddenly unlocked its trump card.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

His hand felt over his chest. Where Athra had torn through his scythe and carved deep into his body. Even after being healed the Rouge could still feel a lingering pain. A cruel reminder of his failure. It wondered if this was what it was like to suffer the effects of its own magic.

As it sat there the Rouge reenacted the fight in its mind, like it had for days. Remembering every strike and spell that happened searching for an opening, a weakness in his armour. But he’d fine nothing and then every time he’d reach it and he’d freeze.

‘You’re a Rouge’. It’s body still tenses at the moment. It should be impossible. How could he know? The Rouge had fought and killed hundreds and not a single opponent had the slightest clue what it was. The only man to figure out its power was Him. But after a few moments of fighting an eighteen-year-old had somehow seen through him and began to counter its techniques. What was he?

‘Terrifying’.

The air suddenly shifted and someone sat beside him on the coffin. The Rouge turned startled but wasn’t surprised to see who it was. There was only person the Rouge had ever known to sneak up on it. Him.

The leader of Proditio adjusted himself, trying to get comfortable on the coffin. Eventually he gave up and turned towards the Rouge his dishevelled silver hair falling over the top of his white mask.

“I know we’re staying inside a crypt but there are better areas to rest you know” he said amiably. He glanced around their surroundings and shivered. “I think I’ll have to ban crypts from being a hideout” he joked.

The Rouge nodded. It couldn’t enjoy his attempts at humour. It knew firsthand what this man truly was.

No one knew the leader of Proditio’s true name, he only went by Rius. Despite his seemingly friendly and joking nature you’d be a fool not to fear him. He possessed power the Rouge didn’t think possible. It was truly the only reason Proditio stood a chance over bringing the world to his knees and succeed in its purification.

In fact, the Rouge thought him unstoppable and unrivalled. Well he once did. That was until he met Alex Athra. Who would win in clash between them two it wondered?

“The Atlas games is in two weeks” Rius announced, “I take it that you’re ready?”.

The Rouge nodded.

“Good. We attack soon” Rius informed.

He then stood, he was a tall man and despite his long coat you could identify his strong build.

“Oh and before I forget, I doubt I need to say this but”, suddenly all humanity drained from his voice, “Do not even look at Lewis Athra. Understand?” Rius questioned.

The Rouge nodded and just hoped he didn’t see him shudder beneath his cloak.

Satisfied, Rius began to make his way out the crypt. He stopped at the door.

“Don’t feel too down. You’ll get your chance. With or without Proditio I expect you’ll do great things in saving this world” Rius stated. “My reaper”.