Ben shot through the clouds of the angry, grey sky and found himself standing in the foggy clearing near the cave in the woods once more. The camp was as dark and ominous as it had been since the first time he had come here. He surveyed the area to determine whether or not he’d have company.
"Hello?" Ben called out to no one in particular.
The beast seemed to be absent or unwilling to communicate with him. He shrugged and turned his attention downwards to his attire, and he saw that he wore the same black, light gambeson covered by the dirty, dented breastplate that he had looted from the goblin village. His muscular legs, and not-insubstantial calves, seemed to fill out the black linen and leather, patchwork trousers quite well. Ben experimented by swinging his legs one at a time and found that no chafing bothered his thighs.
"Right. Dreamworld." He reminded himself aloud not to expect this domain to reflect reality.
He sighed and resented the fact that his first warm bath had been stolen from him. After grumbling to himself, he decided that the time spent here would be best spent productively. Ben began to feel excitement well up from the pit of his stomach, and he looked toward the cave in the rocky outcrop to find the weapon that he had trained with before. The halberd seemed to glint or sparkle as his gaze scanned the dark cave. The young man walked over to the weapon and immediately noticed that it was not the same rusty polearm he had used before. He picked up the weapon and inspected it.
The haft was made of polished, gnarled wood that seemed to subtly undulate from its base to the head. Its head was comprised of a simple yet sharp, polished crescent of steel that was connected to a sharpened spike at its rear and a long spearhead at the tip of the haft. He held the simple, yet well-made weapon in a fighting grip and found that his hands fit comfortably into the grooves of the wavy wood.
He walked out into the clearing and felt anticipation flood his veins as he fell into the dance once more. Ben’s body felt right. His movements were sure and confident, and as the time began to blur, he found that each repetition of the performance became more and more refined. He let himself enjoy the feeling of freedom the form gave him.
Ben thought back to the events of the day and relived the emotions of fear, sorrow, disgust, and burning hatred for the creatures as he learned of what they had done to the children of the village and his companion. As if possessed, Ben felt the swings and thrusts of the halberd become more forceful with anger and intent as the haft began to bow and the blade droned a chilling song through the air. He let himself be swept away by the haunting tempo of the dance.
A hot, rancid breath caressed the back of his neck, and he felt the sharp claws of the beast settle on his shoulders. He was startled, and he spun to face the entity, only to see the dark, foggy woods behind him.
He stood in a stance that spoke of an intent to kill, before taking a deep breath and relaxing his shoulders. As he willed the tension from his body, the fog began to thicken, and a pair of molten, crimson eyes appeared from within the dark, looming forest. The beast had shown itself and slowly drifted towards the young man. Ben wasn’t certain, but he had the impression that the creature gazed deep into his eyes, and he felt his brows furrow in irritation at the perceived slight. He remembered what the old woman had told him when they first began training.
"This place is mine." He spoke in an even tone and met the beast’s gaze, unblinking.
He heard the rumble of a growl shake the ground and the air in his lungs.
WEAK
CODDLED
PATHETIC
Unsurprisingly, the beast conveyed its insults, and Ben felt his body flush with the heat of anger.
"Submit?" He retorted, his voice laced with sarcasm, as he battled to maintain composure and not give in to the entity’s taunts.
INSECT
INSIGNIFICANT
The being replied.
The young man knew for certain that he had bested the beast in a contest of wills in the ancient woods. The details of which, however, were foggy, and when he tried to recall them, he felt the promise of a headache creep into his periphery. He resolved to try and communicate with the beast and that he wouldn’t relent until he got the answers he needed.
"Let’s talk." He ordered.
Ben had intended to phrase the statement as a question, but it was as if an irrational sense of pride and ego overwhelmed his thoughts. The emotions didn’t feel foreign, yet the magnitude at which he had experienced them did. He feared that he was being molded or groomed into something or someone he was not.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
What if this is who I am? Who I have always been?
He pondered to himself before the beast interrupted his introspection.
SUBMIT
Ben’s composure shattered, and he bolted towards the pair of molten eyes in a fit of rage. All the techniques he had been striving to master were forgotten. Pure hatred at being addressed with such impudence fuelled the terrible strike. The blade of his halberd met that of an ornate weapon in a ringing clash of steel.
The black wisps of smoke that encompassed the pair of malevolent eyes began to take the form of a woman armed with a long halberd, whose steel was inlaid with flowing patterns of vines and flowers. She stood as tall as Ben, with pale skin and sharp features. She met his gaze with light grey eyes. Her hair was a messy tangle of pitch-black locks that swayed about a finger above her shoulders. She wore form-fitting plate armor that was as black as the night sky, and Ben thought he saw the glint of stars shimmer deep within its smooth surface.
The woman seemed to notice the young man’s eyes assessing her as she grinned and pushed him away with incredible strength. Ben was startled at the force she had exhibited, and he stumbled but managed to keep his footing.
"Who are you?" He asked the woman.
She lunged at him, ignoring his question, as she thrust the spearhead of her weapon toward his center of mass. Ben twisted and felt the inverted crescent blade of the weapon score a screeching line against his dented breastplate. He replied with an upward slash of his own, which the unknown woman parried effortlessly. He took a few steps back to assess his opponent once more and saw that she approached him with a casual gait as if she didn’t deem it necessary to adopt a fighting stance for the likes of him.
Ben felt his stomach twist with nervousness. The strong hands that held the haft of his halberd began to tremble subtly, and he felt his eyes widen. Fear. The unknown woman seemed to sense the emotion as she bared her teeth in a taunting smile before she advanced on him without warning.
She took two quick steps forward and swung the blade of her polearm in a rising, diagonal arc. He panicked and attempted to parry the blow, but his timing was poor, and the haft of his weapon shattered as the ornate blade cut through the wood and the fingers that had been gripping it tightly. Blood pulsed from where his left index and middle fingers had been. He cried out in pain, but his opponent didn’t relent. The momentum of her strike caused the head of the halberd to sing through the air as the butt followed the arc and struck him in the stomach.
Ben fell to the floor as the air was forced out of his lungs. His weapon lay, broken in two, on the foggy ground beside him. She stepped forward and inverted her halberd in a two-handed grip, spearhead facing downward. The woman walked until she stood over him and plunged the weapon through his shabby breastplate and into his chest.
The pain sent his mind reeling, and he felt his lungs fail to draw air. He tasted blood in his mouth, and the terrifying thought that he was dying overwhelmed him. The woman grinned manically and leaned her weight on the weapon so that it completely pierced through him and pinned him to the forest floor. He stared into her cold, grey eyes, and she spoke, yet no words left her lips.
SUBMIT
The intent was conveyed the same way the beast had during their prior interactions. No words or sounds were heard; instead, they felt closer to an emotion or a concept of submission. His vision began to dim, and his body became numb. Ben refused to give the woman the satisfaction of submission, content to die with his pride intact.
What a silly concept. Pride. Submission.
He thought to himself as he began to drift towards darkness.
He began to close his eyes when he had a fleeting thought brush through his mind from his subconscious. He recalled the interaction he had when he engaged the beast and remembered the unanswered question he had posed:
"So, if I’m to get what I want... I should take it by force?"
The idea struck him as if it were a furious bolt of lightning. His eyes shot open, and he grabbed his opponent’s weapon with bloodied hands.
"You only have power because I allow it." He said calmly.
The woman’s eyes shifted from a mocking stare to a glare. Ben expelled the ornate halberd from his impaled body and, with it, his opponent. She retreated, adopting an aggressive stance four paces from his prone form. He ambled up to his feet and picked up the broken pieces of the weapon from the ground. He inspected the splintered wood and willed it together. His halberd became whole in an instant, however, his severed stumps hadn’t grown fingers, no matter how hard he willed it to be so. He was satisfied that the bleeding had stopped at the very least, and the young man flourished the simple polearm and fell into the stance his mentor had taught him.
"Care to dance?" He mocked the woman.
Ben felt a deep, resonating roar in response to his taunt as the armored warrior charged him with the same lunge she had used before.
"No."
He decided that he wouldn’t fight defensively, as the forms Ainsle had taught him were fundamentally offensive. He stepped with light feet into her guard and feinted a low slash. His opponent seemed to react to the feint with a low block, and he punished her error as he changed the trajectory of the blade to an upward slice. His halberd bit deep into her lightly armored armpit. Ben felt the satisfying feedback of his weapon severing flesh before hitting bone.
The woman’s arm went limp as she disengaged and created a respectable distance between them. Ben, however, didn’t know anything other than to flow with the rhythm of the battle. He advanced with light steps and harried his opponent, who managed to block or evade his graceful flurry of thrusts and sweeps. He feinted a thrust before abandoning the attack to sweep his polearm in a low slice. His opponent, once again, fell for the feint and twisted her hips to the side to avoid the perceived thrust. The crescent blade of his halberd severed her Achilles tendon, and she dropped to the ground in an ungraceful heap.
He approached the downed woman and kicked her weapon out of her hand before delivering another kick to her head that caused it to collide with the forest floor.
"Submit." He said gazing down at her as his boot ground into her breastplate and prevented any escape.
The woman’s eyes shifted from cold grey to molten red, and her body dispersed in a wisp of blood-red smoke. He felt the claw of the beast rest on his shoulder as a hot breath caressed the back of his neck.
WORTHY
SUBJUGATE
CONQUER
ALL
Ben felt the ecstasy of understanding and purpose flood his veins. He closed his eyes in bliss as the concepts of the entity filled his half-empty being. He opened his eyes and spoke.
"Mine is the Avatar of Domination."