He felt the chill of the air flowing through his taut leather armor. It was time. He had journeyed across the lands, slain vicious beasts, and overcome his limits all to reach this point. He had finally reached the summit after many trials and endless pain. Looking ahead he saw an ancient temple, a stark contrast to the the mountainous summit upon which he stood. Crumbling marble pillars holding up a neoclassical roof, both once white but stained black with the passage of time. Amongst the pillars, dead center in fact, a large, black iron door stood. Unlike the rest of the temple, which appeared to have decayed with time, this door appeared to be pristine. Four animals were symbolized on the door: a tiger, a tortoise, a phoenix, and a dragon. Written in the center of the four animals lie the phrase, “Some doors are best left unopened, regardless if you obtain the key.” As he gazed upon the four images, he felt within him a primal stirring. This door could lead him down a path greater than that of his current one. Yet, he knew that this was his end. His path had reached its conclusion. He would enter the temple and challenge ‘the key’. He could do nothing to change this, nor did he wish to. Years of mental anguish, guilt, and rage had destroyed him inside. He had burnt his fuse trying to reach this point only to realize that it was shorter than he needed. His goal was far away, beyond ‘the key’, but he would never achieve it.
A small teardrop fell from his eye, “Forgive me my love, but I will join you soon.”
With his resolve firmed, he did a final inventory of his person before entering the final trial of his life. “Armor: shit, but can’t do anything about it now. At least it still fits snuggly, what little of it there is left,” he mused to himself in an attempt to foster hope for the coming battle.
His armor had lasted him years, and was now nothing more than a breastplate held firmly in place by two brand new straps which a blacksmith had recently installed, a pair of gauntlets that covered his forearms, and high boots that protected him from the knee down.
“Sword: best in the world. If not those dragons were just assholes.” The sword was truly the best any mortal had made. A simply broadsword made of mithril and adamantium, the blade appeared to be standard but it was able to wield power like no other due to its composition. The mithril gave it the ability to hold enough mana to level a small city and the adamantium made it nigh-indestructible. How the dragons acquired the blade he did not know, as it could pierce even their scales; making sure that its previous owner was no chump easily robbed, even by a dragon.
“Cape? Oh right! Capes are stupid.”
With a final snide comment to himself, and mocking an old friend in the process, he steadied himself and reached for the door. There was no handle so he simply attempted to push it open. No dice. With no knob or knocker to grab pulling on the door wasn’t an option, and quite frankly regardless of how sharp the dragons thought the sword was he didn’t think it would cut through what looked to be a very thick iron door. After a moment of brainstorming, he simply got mad and slammed a fireball into the door. Odd as it may be, the door seemed to respond. Noticing this abnormality, he decided to test out a larger fireball. The door responded even more, becoming a bright silver color radiating from the center of the door out. Yet it seemed to be too little, as the edges of the door still appeared to be as black as before. Realizing this he placed half of his mana in a ball of compressed fire, turning an ordinary fireball into a solidified fire sphere, and fired it at the door. Defying all logic, there was no explosion of flames as the magic hit the door, only the sound of hissing and the sphere was absorbed by the door. Slowly the black iron door began to turn pure silver before no color other than it remained.
After observing the door for a minute, he took out a large red jewel from a pouch on his waist. After he absorbed the mana from within the stone it crumbled to dust. It was a foolish action to take mana from monster stones, but he had only limited time anyways so there was no purpose in worrying over consequences he wouldn’t live to experience. He advanced forward, ready to face what he knew was his final battle. Pushing the doors open he immediately understood that he was no longer on the mountain. This was the domain of ‘the key’. Around him was a vast land of nothingness. The land was flat as far as he could see with nothing but the hard dirt below him. Hundreds of meters in front of him stood a massive throne, so large in size that it had to incorporate two flights of stairs just so the enthroned could sit upon it. He knew ‘the key’ was the occupant of the throne; this knowledge coming to him given that there were only two in the vast domain and his ass wasn’t sitting on what looked to be an uncomfortable seat. As he approached, ‘the key’ finally acknowledged his presence and began to descend the stairs of its throne. It was only when it reached the bottom and he was within twenty meters that he could really get a good look at what ‘the key’ really was.
Standing before him was a massive creature, humanoid in appearance, but no one would mistake it for any man. It stood three meters tall and wore silver, full-body plate armor; from which he could see nothing of the creature save its eyes, white and hollow they inspired fear in his heart. This beast was ‘the key’, the gatekeeper to the realm of the gods. His true goal was not ‘the key’, but its masters. But he knew, that the beast before him would fell him. He knew, yet he still chose to grip his sword. It may fell him today, but he would take his pound of flesh; and if his preparations had been adequate, he would take the creature down with him. He would love to burden those self-loving, assholes with the task of creating another inter-dimensional gatekeeper. Even for them it was no easy task.
Looking before him, he observed the giant and studied its weaknesses. It looked to have the anatomy of a human thus making its head, heart, and groin all valuable targets. Yet he knew that he was not the only one to realize as such, as the creature had no doubt spent countless years honing itself in battle; the remnants of such trials laid at its feet taking the form of countless weapons and pieces of armor, having long lost their owner. But he knew that the beast had not fought a mortal for millennia at least, the blades at its feet belonged to its creators’ subordinates: those foolish enough to think the beast a toy to play with. He anticipated magic was going to be his best bet at harming the beast, as its god-forged body would require something to make mortal weapons bridge the gap between the mortal realm and that of the god’s.
He readied himself, it was time for the battle to begin. He would make the first move, as the beast was in no hurry to play with its new toy; no, it wished to make this one last, it was so lonely in its realm after all. He decided to start things with a bang, generating hundreds of fireballs above him. The beast acknowledged this as the beginning of the battle and let out a guttural howl. Ignoring this, he fired half of the fireballs immediately before drawing his sword and charging the creature: hoping to take advantage of the temporary blindness the fire would cause the creature. Yet defying his expectations the creature was crafty. It stomped its right foot, cracking the ground beneath it creating a barrier of earth before his path. The fireballs collided with the dirt bursting into flames on impact, but otherwise doing nothing more than wasting precious mana. He accelerated ignoring this fact and vaulted directly over the earthen barrier. He expected to see the beast upon the other side, still in the position it had been in when it had defeated his magic; but alas fate is cruel. Instead, when he vaulted the earth a large black bar blocked his view. It took only a minute before it hit him what it was, both literally and metaphorically. He was rocketed back to the earth, carving a ditch for dozens of meters.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
It hurt to breathe. What had he been hit by? He had gotten a glimpse of it when he vaulted the barrier, but any memory of the bar was destroyed along with his control over the fireballs floating above him. He had been hit so hard his memory had lapsed. Worse yet, he had lost control of the fireballs and they had disappeared taking his precious mana with them. A waste of such an important resource in this boss battle! These thoughts ran through his head, but there was little time for thought: his proximity awareness magic had alerted him to an approaching threat. He jumped to his feet and moved to defend with his sword but was again hit by the black bar. This time though, he had defended. In doing so he had prevented himself from being knocked over, though he still flew back several meters, and he had discovered the identity of the black bar again. It was a large bastard sword the creature wielded with one hand. It must have been a meter thick and three meters long, yet the beast held it with one hand like it was a weightless baton. He wondered why he hadn’t been halved by the sword when he was first hit by it when he noticed his blood on the side of the blade. The beast hadn’t even struck him with the sharp part! Calming himself at the realization that he was being toyed with, he began to formulate a plan in his mind.
First, he buried half of his mana in the ground below both himself and the beast. Then he yet again charged the beast. This time though, he intended to make the beast attack him, rather than he it. As he approached, the beast naturally raised and lowered its sword, as though to swat a bug. He in response exploded some of the mana buried beneath the creature’s feet. This caused it to tumble backwards. Taking this chance, he reinforced his legs with mana, and pumped another quarter of his mana into his blade. Now glowing, the blade wielded power beyond its mortal form, and thus he knew it would cut through even the beast’s armor. Using his mana enhanced legs he leapt at the stumbled beast and thrust the sword directly into its heart.
At least, that’s how it was supposed to play out. True to his belief, the blade cut through the armor with no resistance, but when it met flesh it moved nary an inch. Instead, he felt a jolt through his body as the recoil of his leap and the power of his thrust bounded back through his body. First it shattered his arms, then his ribs, then his legs, and finally even his feet were broken. Worse yet, his control over the mana within the sword was no longer maintained and with nowhere else to go and no one to keep it from collapsing in on itself, the mana exploded. This resulted in his precious sword, which he had spent ten years of his life to acquire, exploding in his hands rendering them and his forearms into scraps of flesh dangling from his elbows.
He landed before the beast’s feet. It had regained balance whilst he was undergoing the complete annihilation of his dreams. The beasts chest-piece was entirely missing. After it had taken the blast of the sword it was practically scrap anyways so the beast removed it; its masters would give it another anyways. After all, the armor was merely that: armor. It could not bear the brunt of an attack that could harm a god; its body was made for that, the armor was merely a decoration for its masters’ amusement. Like dressing up a pet because it makes you laugh at the absurdity of a pet wearing clothes.
He lie broken on the ground, dying. He knew he would die to this creature but damn did it have to be such a pathetic death? All his adventures to collect the best sword, all his preparation, and yet all he could do was barely scratch the beast’s chest. What a fitting end to a tale as miserable as his. Revenge? He was never going to get revenge on those dicks! They have too much power. He had to try though. Someone had to take a stand, just to let them know that people will still look for ‘the key’ and try to open ‘the lock’ just to smack them in the face.
Not everyone is a cowardly piece of shit after all, he though. Looking up to the beast one last time he regretted that he didn’t have a finger with which to give it. Oh well, he mused, he’ll get the point. With that thought he detonated the mana remaining that he had stored below their battle field.
Now it can be said that his last fight was pretty pathetic, but make no mistake, he was no ordinary man. Thus when half of his mana, minus what he detonated below the beast earlier, exploded, the entirety of the beast’s realm shook. At the center of the blast, the beast was assaulted by the tumultuous force brought about by the fallen knight. It was launched into the air, helpless to control its situation. For the first time, the beast actually felt pain from a mortal.
It landed moments later amongst the shattered ruins of the battleground. The knight had been obliterated by the blast, but he had done something no man had done before. All over the creature’s now bare body were small scratches and burns from the blast. No mortal had ever cut or burned its flesh before so it relished the feeling of having met a man who could earn even a morsel of its respect as a warrior. Without its armor the creature could be fully observed; it was a sight the knight earned but was not awarded. Ignoring its size it truly looked human until one looked at it up close. Its eyes were solid white, peering endlessly into the soul of any who entered its sight. Furthermore, amongst the midst of its brow line lied a third eye: closed to the world, for the knight was not worthy of it being open. The rest of its face angled slightly inward to form the face of a turtle. Its arms were modeled after the arms of a dragon, talons at the tip ready to tear flesh asunder. Yet nowhere on its body did it bear a scale. Instead its entire body from its shaved head to the tiger paw pads on its human-like feet are covered in a thick leathery hide. It looked old and wrinkled, tanned with age. The creature was a twisted amalgamation of the four beast’s on the temple door. Created by its masters to have the speed of a tiger, the regeneration of the phoenix, the defense of the turtle, and the ruthlessness of the dragon, the creature turned out a deformed monstrosity so hideous even its creators refused to look upon it. Thus they crafted armor for it to wear.
Ready to return to its throne, the creature ended its quiet moment of reflection and turned to discover that its throne lie in ruins. Furious, the creature rampaged about its realm destroying the earth beneath it until it calmed down. Failing to realize that his rampage had only honored the knight’s memory, the beast sulked all alone whilst waiting for the inevitable repairing of its realm. Meanwhile a schadenfreudic laughter faded into the background.
Elsewhere…
“So he died?” A sigh escaped its mouth. “Man that fight was terrible though, who would have thought that even with all my preparation I would… He would fail.” Lamenting this fact, a blue projection stared at a large crystal table.
“Let alone get revenge, we couldn’t even reach their world. I need someone stronger, we all do. This has to end. All this death, for nothing other than their amusement.” The projection was getting upset, but it remained rational. “I have eternity, all I have to do is wait.” And wait he shall.
Locked away in a tower in the middle of the Hangman’s Noose, the projection knew its chance of ever encountering someone was slim, minuscule, infinitesimal even. But it would wait, to achieve its dream it would wait forever.
Elsewhere…
“Shit, shit, shit, why did I choose this path? Why, why, why?” All alone in a dark alley a small black cat whined to itself. “All that power and now I’m a cat. Can my life get any worse?”
It can in fact! As evidenced by the proclamation of The Almighty Ones church the following day: all black cats are cursed by the gods, anyone who comes into contact with one is infected with the curse and becomes a transmitter. The only way to remove the curse is to skin the cat without killing it. Make sure to salt the cat afterwards so it doesn’t die of blood loss!
“What kind of sick demented fu…” he start but pauses as he hears the worst words ever spoken, relatively.
“Here kitty kitty, I just wanna pet you”
Looking down the alley it had called home for the past month the cat immediately knew it was discovered. It hopped on the nearest crate and made its way to the rooftop before hightailing it to the exit of the city. Sure enough it heard people calling out at its appearance, but that mattered little to it so long as it got out of the city. The humans wouldn’t follow it into the Hangman’s Noose and honestly it had no better options. It soon made it to what this city called its gates, honestly they were nothing more than a picket fence, and before anyone could touch even its tail it had jumped over them and run off. Sure enough it heard no complaints from the townspeople and had no pursuers. No one was stupid enough to enter the Hangman’s Noose. It took one last look at the city longingly before heading off into the hell it would call its home, and more than likely where it would be eaten.
Luckily, or unluckily, the cat wouldn’t be eaten. Instead it would wander aimlessly in the Hangman’s Noose for over seven centuries. It would be towards the beginning of its eighth century that the cat would have a fateful encounter; one that would bring a resolution to the story of the knight, and give the cat a friend, lol.