The cries of war and terror simultaneously echoed over the wisteria root forest, the ground shaking every few seconds with the murderous upheaval of soil.
Thump!
Leaping off Ribs, Buggro came down with a double, overhead swing of his axes. Sidestepping out of the way and leaving the axes to slam into the ground, Lazarus countered with a hefty left cross straight across Buggro's jaw - reluctant to use his magic after the thunderous clap from before.
Despite his smaller stature, Buggro's savage heritage left him fairly durable in the face of physical damage.
With only a light stagger from the blow, Buggro quickly tore his axes from the dirt for a slash at Lazarus' torso. Barely missing the tip of the hastily sharpened axe that tore his singlet, Lazarus was forced onto his back foot from the sudden attack - instantly granting Buggro control of the fight.
A flurry of slashes followed from the little goblin. The first strike was to his legs, forcing a brief skip away.
"You know what your problem is, Buggro?" Lazarus asked as a double swipe at his head prompted a backwards roll through the dirt.
"You've got too much to prove," Lazarus continued as the red goblin followed with a cross slash for his shoulders - Lazarus being on one knee following the roll. Forced to bring up both his sword and dagger to deflect the axes, the clatter of metal sent the axes ricocheting back and left Buggro completely open.
"Me? I'm just having fun," Lazarus taunted with a devastating kick to the goblin's gonads, curling him over his boot. Immediately trailing the kick was a knee to his nose. "You see this is all just credit to my name."
The heavy hit seemed more effective with the nutless butterflies swirling in his stomach.
"I like you Buggro, believe me, I do," he continued to taunt, sticking his sword and dagger into the ground with a fling, before unleashing a sharp cross jab. "But as it stands, you're in my way."
Following the taunt, Lazarus let off an explosive combination of punches. First was a lead jab into a cross hook, then finishing with a lead uppercut; blood was sent splattering from a brutal bite into his lips.
The battering continued for roughly twenty brutal seconds, hit after hit, decimating Buggro's will to fight back. With each hit, Lazarus slowly built up vibrational energy within his fists; the sound from each collision sounding more and more like a thunderclap. As he had turned into more of a bloodied sponge than a warrior, Lazarus had prepared to end the fight with one final, decisive hit.
Knocking him back onto his rear with Lazarus’ foot hooking around his heel, Buggro’s agony reflected in the tears welling up around his eyes. Lazarus closed in on him, cocking his fist back to end the battle with the sad goblin, but stopped.
"Cap'in?" The little red goblin asked, his sad eyes flickering between black and violet before the glow disappeared. Gashes littered his face, peppered over the purple of his deep bruising. Buggro was almost unrecognisable.
Lazarus' muscles loosened in hesitation as he paused, his fist vibrating with enough power to end the goblin's life.
Chomp!
Sprinting out from behind him, the white warg, Ribs, jerked Lazarus away; its teeth sinking deep into Lazarus' thighs and abdomen. Shaking him around in an attempt to tear his body apart, the white warg only stopped when the brown warg, Mud, pounced on him from behind. As Mud bit down on his little brother’s neck, Ribs let off a whine and flung Lazarus off to the side and into a giant wisteria root.
The two wargs went sprinting off once he'd let him go, snapped and jawed at one another in a tumbling conflict; their blood and fur left a trail behind them, leading off into the wisteria woods.
Lazarus managed to push himself up into a lean against the roots, applying pressure to his abdomen in an attempt to slow the bleeding.
"Ergh, thought I'd last longer than that. Where's Galli' when you need him?" Lazarus would say with a chuckle, before cringing at the pain of his abdomen's muscles contracting.
Mustering the strength to stand, the pulped goblin began to drag his feet towards Mikey. He held his head with a grunt, shaking it in response to a crippling ache.
As Buggro made his way, he briefly collapsed into a kneel and face planted into the dirt. The dry soil turned to a bloodied mud that painted over his skin, plastering partly over his swollen eyes. Through the split of his eyelids, however, Buggro saw the small glint of steel.
His fingers slipped over the handle of Lazarus' discarded dagger, tightening around it as he once again pushed himself to his feet.
Buggro's eyes had returned to their violet glow, a small wisteria root weaving up the length of his forearm like a vein - pumping him full of corruptive energy.
"You don't have the stuff, not you. You're not that guy, Buggro," Lazarus uttered with his fist balling; he was trying to muster the mana to emit his signature vibration, but failed sourly due to the pain of his wounds.
Buggro ignored the taunt and continued his limp in Lazarus' direction. The dagger clutched tightly in his hands, when he finally loomed over Lazarus he glared down at him menacingly.
"Do it then," Lazarus yelled out, squeezing his abdomen. "Do it!"
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Accepting the invitation, Buggro gripped the dagger with both hands and thrust it directly toward Lazarus' face. Reaching out, just barely, the blade sliced through the webbing of Lazarus' hand whilst he clamped his fingers down on the crossguard. Pushing back on the dagger, it slowly made its way towards his face, the tip kissing Lazarus' right eye.
In an attempt to slow it, he layered his other hand behind the other, but the sudden release of pressure sent a curling pulse through his body.
Splurt!
The blade plunged straight into Lazarus' eye, skewering it like a cherry tomato; blood squirted past the dagger and onto Buggro's hands - but the goblin tried to push even further.
"Fucking bitch! Argh!" Lazarus howled, his arms shaking with adrenaline and agony. Lazarus' arms were going to give out.
Further into the chaos of the wisteria roots, Mikey found himself swinging his staff in every direction. Roots continued to ruthlessly burst from the ground, as a bright pink luminescence coursed through his veins. Mikey could see every living creature in the forest before him, all of them shining through the roots with white light.
"The boy is perfect!" Mikey chanted out, watching the savages through the forest fall one by one. "Perfect!”
The wisteria continued to slither around the artificial forest, impaling and skewering the savages lost in the chaos. Drunk on his power, Mikey grew artistically cruel; he killed in creative pandemonium, shaping the bloodied forest of wisteria into an expansive pair of wings across the plains. Roots had begun to entangle the tribesmen to form vast feathers made from their corpses.
“To die so beautifully - your death is barely a sacrifice. Share in my mercy and indulge in my art,” Mikey began to hysterically cry in his descent to madness. “Come d-”
Rumble rumble!
Amidst his maniacal bloodthirst, the sky overhead had begun to darken - the sun plastered over by black clouds. Flashes of lightning warned Mikey of his impending doom.
His amusement faded with the sun as he looked to the sky, tightening his grip on the staff.
“No - NO! YOU’RE DEAD!” Mikey screamed through the showering rain, before a sudden gale rolled over the grasslands; and with the wind came rain with the force of cannonballs.
Kwa-pang!
A blistering bolt of lightning burst into the barren soil behind Mikey; a scorched crater revealed what it had carried.
Adendé, or what was more like a solid metal statue of Adendé, let loose an unmoving death stare. Another bolt followed, striking Adendé as if he was a lightning rod. Retaining the visible flare of the electricity, his body surged with neon blue and white; the energy singed the air around him.
Krakoom!
Adendé took a step forward, unleashing a thunderclap that cracked the earth beneath his foot. Mikey was frozen in fear, the violet in his eyes quivering; the spirit, Cassius, hiding within him gazed in terror.
Instinctively, he drew his staff up to aim towards Adendé, however, another thunderclap followed as he launched towards him. Swiping the staff from him, he snapped the woven roots like they were twigs then tossed them away.
“You don’t think I can kill you again?!” Mikey quivered, desperately reaching for his sword and slashing at the metallic giant. Catching it with a spark from the collision, Adendé clutched the sword with his bare hand; as the blade edge sat in his palms, there wasn’t even a scratch of damage.
“I don’t.”
Thud!
“Mikey…” a distant echo called out, his hazy vision slowly revealing calm skies overhead; light cries from seagulls circled below the clouds, each of them singing for Mikey’s attention. “Mikey!”
“Huh?!” he blurted out, briskly waking up. As Mikey looked around, he found himself looking over an industrial skyline of plated roofs and black chimneys. The familiar scent of bread lingered under his nose.
His attention turned to the side; waving in the wind was the familiar sight of chestnut silk - Liam’s well-kept head of hair.
“Can’t believe you’d fall asleep on the roof,” Liam smirked, brushing his hair back behind his ear. Despite the smirk, Liam’s eyes seemed to hold a more solemn expression. “You’re fifteen next year, you know? Means you’re leaving.”
Mikey yawned, rubbing his eyes with a lack of observation to his sincerity.
“You’ll be leaving the home - off to who knows where,” Liam continued, his lip anxiously flicking back and forth over the tip of his fang.
“Well, I mean, I’d probably just move down the road or somethin’. Why’re you so serious all of a sudden?” Mikey asked nonchalantly, rubbing the back of his hand in boredom - the black ‘X’ rolling back and forth with his skin.
“I mean, you don’t know that,” Liam replied, a melancholy exhale escaping his mouth. His eyes slowly fell towards the streets. “You’re too curious to be kept here, in this boring little city. ‘Specially with that mark on your hand.”
“This old thing? Bet it’s nothing more than a birthmark,” Mikey chuckled in response, leaning into a backwards roll onto his feet and stretching out his arms and legs.
“You’re something Mikey. The worst part is that you know you’re something too,” Liam replied through a gust of wind, his hair blowing into his face. “Just, well, even if you forget me…”
“Forget you? Pft, the fuck are you going on about Liam?” Mikey began walking towards the attic window on the orphanage, intent on heading back inside.
“Mikey,” Liam called out to him, pulling his attention just before he vaulted through the window.
“Ugh, yeaaah? What mate?” Mikey sighed, rolling his eyes at the mere thought of the conversation they were having - however, his lacklustre dropped when he met eyes with Liam.
“Even if you forget your way home. Even if you forget our names, our faces,” he went on to say, letting off a soft smile, as his Lapis eyes looked back at Mikey’s. “Just, don’t forget your own. Once you do that, well, you’ve lost us forever.”
Thud!
Mikey gasped for air, his body floundering into the mud behind him. The rain was cold, but the air was thick - suffocating. Adendé continued to approach, his fists dribbling with the blood painted by Mikey’s face.
Before he could get onto his feet, a heavy foot bashed into his chest - sending him sliding back and into an even deeper puddle of mud. Mikey’s hair was caked to his face, layers of mud dripping from his chin.
“Get up Mikhail,” Adendé commanded, his heavy feet splashing through the saturated soil. Once close enough, he planted his foot to solidify his balance and thrust his arm forward for a blundering cross.
Mikey looked up to Adendé with one eye gleaming violet, however, the other had returned to its original hazel.
Clank!
Mikey’s right hand burst forth from the mud, clashing with the charcoal fist and catching it in its path. The metallic tint between Adendé’s and Mikey’s was indistinguishable.
“That’s enough.”