Short Stories And Fan Fiction From A Gamer

Ahngrim made sure he was in a conscious state, even biting his own tongue – he wanted to assure himself that the man who stood meters away from him was his master.

“Save the chatter for the afterlife boy, it’s time for your blade to have a taste of its master’s blood” A sharp piercing cackle was let out; it was as if Zephrius had taken on the avatar of a demon.

The shiny crimson blade stared at Ahngrim’s gold auburn eyes, reflecting off the very evil and insanity of his master. Without warning, the enraged man charged at him with speed equivalent to that of light. It was much different this time; Ahngrim had never felt anything like this before. An unspeakable aura was pulsating through Zephrius, something truly out of this world. Shocked and uncertain to what was going on, Kaitlin could only retrace back a few steps and behold as both men’s blades clashed with much ferocity.

The two blades met with a mighty impact, resulting in a hellish screech. Ahngrim gritted his teeth, trying to overpower Zephrius’s sword with his strained blade. Zephrius on the other hand let out a cheeky grimace, licking the very blood off his blade while their blades were at stand-still. Vicious sparks leaped off both blades, occasionally searing Ahngrim’s iron-clad gauntlets.

“You make me sick; you’re not the man I once knew…” His words were bundled with absolute disgust and horrification.

A mere shove from Sciilatia and Ahngrim found himself driven several meters back, trying to maintain a foothold with each step back. The power struggle of blades was finally put to an end. Ahngrim had no choice but to continue defending himself from the inhumanly barrage of assaults as his master went on the offence once again. He was still oblivious as to what his master’s true intentions were – or not. Hell, he came to a realization that in actual fact, the presence of his master pulsated something of the ungodly, silencing his thoughts throughout their battle.

“Now now, let me wipe that pathetic and doubtful look off your face. Let me tell you a story boy, a story of power and greed. I believe that you already know about my true heritage – as that of a Bastorian? Don’t take me as a fool; I know about every little secret that you keep. With Agares as my little spy, don’t you think I would know nothing – almost every one else except the rebellious and bratty Ahngrim. Maybe I should commend you for your sharpness to not follow me just like the others or should I say – your foolishness. I have wanted you to perish and what better way to do that other than the duel with Agares. But no! You had to run away and even injure my assassins. I shan’t waste my breath on you no more; it’s time to meet your maker.”

An awkward silence persisted on as both men glared hard at each other, auburn against crimson – a unique sight to behold. It was all about timing here; whoever made the first move could possibly fall or be the victor. Zephrius’s cloak swayed along with the chilly winds, beneath the lifeless and bitter canopy. Each swagger of the cloak was excruciating, it only impeded them from further utilizing their sense of sound.

Deep down in his heart, Ahngrim still had some fond feelings for his master. Meshed with more anger and sorrow now, Ahngrim had no choice but to retaliate. Hatred and misery had fused together as one, a combination that could prove lethal and unleash the innermost talents of men. He felt an overwhelming force surge through his body, revitalized by it he decided to take on his master, while knowing that he might stand a slim chance of being able to beat this devilish spawn down.

As if by lightning, a sudden notion striked him.

“Taste my Dancing Lily!”

Ahngrim pivoted himself on one leg, flailing his arms in an up-down manner whilst trying to spin around, allowing him to manipulate nature’s gravity together with his agility and body mass. Soon, it would seem as if he was dancing with the blade, a piercing vortex was slowly formed, the vortex created an illusion of a thousand blades. Zephrius, bewildered by the sight, shielded his eyes as the reflected sunlight from each and every of the lightning fast blades began to perforate his eyes. The blinded foe gave Ahngrim a chance to strike, a golden opportunity indeed. Thousands of slashes then followed by instantaneously. Scraping past every inch of Zephrius’s aged body.

Ahngrim cackled in a merciless tone as he ended off crouching down, with blade pointed to his back while his other hand rested on the cold wintry surface – helping him to maintain balance.

Bathed in a flurry of strikes, blood seeped through from each individual wound. Yet beneath Zephrius’s wretched condition dwelled an insatiable rage, and a fierce pride. There was nothing stopping this man, Ahngrim had yet to see the true endurance of a Bastorian – something truly uncomprehending. He got back up onto his feet; the rage had increased by 2 or maybe 3-fold this time.

An even more devilish aura pulsated through his body now; seething flames engulfed his whole soul. His body was outlined with a blazing infernal fire, that of a devil’s one might presume. Flames in his already crimson eyes evolved into images of fiery devils, staring right back at the speechless Ahngrim. He was able to feel the intensity of heat amidst this freezing hell.

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