CHAPTER 20 : STEEL TEMPEST

“Oh, thanks a bunch by the way!” Released from the restraints of its fleshy grip, Harux could now wreck as much havoc as he wanted.

“You can thank me by taking care of that idiot.”

Odd as it was, the battle had served as a means of putting them on more cordial grounds, as the two in an expression of friendliness and trust even, smiled. Mutual understanding being achieved, they both came to the accord that a riposte had begun. Though, to put it in more simpler terms, they were going to kick Tommy’s ass.

Dashing in separate directions, Lucius made his way towards another tree. The monster's hand moved to crush him. Lucius felt his heart stop. With a duck, he slid under its appendage and dragged his sword above him. Momentum had done its duty. Another wound was formed as his blade glided through its flesh. Its shape took the form of a line that severed the demon’s arm down the middle.

Harux in tandem fired bolt after bolt of blazing energy, each one creating a new hole that would immolate the diameter around its impact.

The audience still on the sidelines, their eyes did not for once ever shift from the battle that they were bestowed with. So beautiful was the dichotomy between the two parties at hand, that it could have been described as a choreography of ancient gods. Their whims and impulses made manifest through the conduction of falling white snow and red hot flames, of man and monster of sovereignty and rebellion. Yet, to allocate such beauty to mere gods was the true blasphemy, for the will that acted with such power was present in the men whose feet were bound to soil, not sky.

A few more blows and the battle would be decisive, if Tommy had the intention of winning, then a change of plans would be required.

“GRAGHGHGHG,” the creature yelled again, in his voice, a newfangled desperation. Focus diverted towards the one who had once escaped his grip, it rushed towards its prey. Smell, sound and auditory overload all at once, Harux was on the brink of losing his composure.

I sure hope it tastes better than it smells.

Angle, force and distance all accounted for, he awaited the blow that would come. His thoughts turned to that of the monster, he offered it a solemn thanks, for the anticipation of what it would do next had fueled the avidity of his next move.

Strength now found in his legs, within seconds, Harux now stood crouched atop a tree easily double his height at four meters high.

“Verdas Azmür.”

Tempestuous streams of wind enveloped and intertwined around his sword. It was the conductor in which the flakes of snow were now subject to, their freedom robbed, they now swirled in revolutions around the blade, awaiting whatever command would come next.

The sheer impact of his take-off demolished the bough he once stood on.

Launching himself like a bullet, Harux brought down Elenhathel like a sledgehammer on the monster’s left shoulder. Flesh and bone tore apart as his blade embedded itself deep inside the creature, unable to move any further for a lack of energy.

Still, he was far from finished. Calling upon the winds once again, he channelled mana into his scimitar, completing the spell known as ‘Cyclone Strike’.

True to its name, the spell would normally allow its users to slash several enemies surrounding them like a cyclone, spinning at inhuman speeds and creating currents of wind strong enough to knock grown males off their feet.

All this was made possible by the spell propelling the sword of its caster at the tip, enabling it to move in a circular motion as long as the caster held his ground, and kept the blade horizontal.

Harux however, now attempted to use this spell as he held his sword vertically, its blade still jammed deep inside his victim’s flesh.

Lacerating winds screamed as they propelled the stuck blade forward. Blood and snow scattered everywhere as Elenhathel ripped apart its prey like a chainsaw. A deep gash formed on its body as the entirety of its left torso from the shoulder to its arms threatened to tear off.

The blade now-departed its body. The turbulence left in its wake forced the demon back with a loud thud and painted its path in tar-like black blood. Unexpected for the swordsman, however, was the fact that he too would be flown away, the out-of-control blade rocketing towards the ground as it dragged the elf attached to it.

With a crash, Harux found himself prone, facing the clear sky as his sword buried itself into the earth beside him.

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“Ouch… I thought I’d be able to do a front spin or two. You know, like a wheel.”

Pseudo-vectors Harux, you’ll learn eventually, Lucius thought, finding his ignorance of mechanics unfortunate. He ought to give him an introductory level textbook on Physics someday.

Up on his feet again Harux yanked out Elenhathel with some effort before he examined his surroundings. The monster, albeit largely immobile as it lay on the ground, was still alive as apparent from its twitching.

So it’s still alive? I guess I didn’t hit the crystal, Harux thought. But that didn’t really matter as long as it did not move again anytime soon.

After all, it was common sense to prioritize the summoner and not the summon.

Lucius apparently thought the same, the duo now staring down at Tommy with no more eldritch abominations to get in their way.

Maim, slaughter, skin them head to toe, whispered the nucleus of evil in Tommy’s heart.

A voice that now bordered on the precipice of fear, spoke these words with greater intensity.

The tides were turned, and at this rate, its delicate fleshy host would perish.

At the bare minimum, a few other meddling kids could die in the process, right?

“Heh, is it time for round two?” Harux grinned, as slowly approached Tommy.

An eye still on the monster, Harux saw that it struggled to stand. In that time, Harux also saw the subdued movements of Tommy’s hand.

There was no question as to why it moved. The answer was simple. Tommy would stab himself again, and he would not stop. No more capable of compassion for his enemy, Harux simply stood by.

Everyone in the battle fought for something, whether it be a belief, faith, or person, what right did Harux have to meddle with Tommy’s? As a fellow warrior, he offered his respect and waited.

What exactly does Tommy Sessogun want?

It was evident to the boy that he did not want to lose or give up.

All his life had built up to this moment, all of his anger, frustration and pain over the course of the last few years. And it would all disappear by destroying Lucius in front of everyone. That’s right, his timely demise was going to finally fix everything.

The wounds across every crevice of his body, his constant loss of blood, his embittered rage towards those who wronged him.

He was going to be fixed, he was going to heal if he died. He was going to be fixed, he was going to heal if he died. He was going to be fixed, he was going to heal if he died. He was going to be fixed, he was going to heal if he died. He was going to be fixed, he was going to heal if he died.

Then why does he not believe in himself?

Had it been that this was a mere story he had been telling himself, and nothing more? Inconsistencies were everywhere in his mind. Like puzzle pieces that were fitted into unfitting holes. If he was doing this out of a life-long grudge, then why did memories of such only trace up to the past few days? The first mention of the half elf’s name. The arrival of him and his friends. Why was it that only now did he come to blows with the objective of killing, wherein prior the idea of mercy was immovable?

“Redemption is a path still offered to you,” Jaiga would say, and to an extent she was right.

Logos would dictate that there were two branching paths that he could have taken.

First was the path of forgiveness. Forgiveness offered him a retreat from everything, it offered the chance at recuperation. Of forgetting and moving. It gave the hope of making things right, and the upholding of personal responsibility and dignity.

Secondly, was the branch of emotion. And while one might ask what role emotion fares within a line of thought that has been born of logic, they must recall the moments of their life where they had lost power over their mind, over their actions, and in turn, lost respect from others around them.

Given the choice of which route he would select, Tommy would have gone for the first. But as far as he was concerned, the being that had carried the movements of his hand and words was not Tommy. Matters of principle and mind dictated that he had lost his sight, for, in his quest for righteousness against the transcendent horrors, he had blinded himself. But the reality was that he held no choice at all, his body and mind were at odds with each other. Even with the threat of cardiac arrest lingering, the desire for death stayed. The sweet lull of darkness beckoned.

Unable to resist, he meekly raised his knife to his abdomen and in a swift motion; toppled to the floor unconscious.

Robbed of any choice at all, he came to terms with his fate.

Liberated from its master, the creature jolted from left to right. Holes, the abyssal pits in its body, were now occupied by eyes. Dozens of white circles apparent, they dashed from side to side.

Loyalty, a concept foreign to the demon, knew the time of obedience had ended.

Issued a new command, its eyes were no longer on Harux and Lucius. but the unconscious boy in the distance. A scramble of its remaining arms and legs poised itself back in position.

With its new directory in mind, it would crush the one he once served.

A last bid of revenge from its new master, a charge of unparalleled force initiated.

Its speed, far beyond that of a normal being, was now focused all in the next second.

Snow fluttered in its wake.

With a single pounce, it would end. The memories of Tommy’s day-to-day life he once had would come to an end. Everything would. But it was of little matter. Tommy’s mind, no longer confined to that of reality now rested in a dream. And his only wish was that the dream he had now found himself in would last for an eternity