Desolate Mage: A Legend Reborn! 15 David vs. Goliath 3 / Visitors

Where earlier, Linges would charge forward with countless openings and weaknesses revealed; now he moved silently and lightly, closing the gap between the two opponents no matter how Lars tried to distance himself. And if he drew too far away, the "berserker" would smile ever so slightly, and slightly turn his glance to the comatose girl behind him - an unveiled threat and invitation for a head-on clash.

Left without a choice; Lars formulated a new course of attack and leaped forward.

Only to be outclassed not in strength, but in skill.

It didn't matter that his gargantuan opponent was already half-blind; unable to see movements and attacks coming from his left side. He more than made up for his handicap with expert skills and a frightening instinct for battle bordering on clairvoyance.

Wherever Lars moved, whatever he did - he felt like he were just a puppet dancing on strings in Linges' hands.

He jumped backwards; only for the collosal fighter to dart forward with masterful footwork.

He slashed out 6 times; 4 feints and finally 2 full-power blows at Linges' neck - only for his opponent to skillfully dodge every strike, even launching a counter-jab which floored Lars in just one blow.

Dizzy and struggling to stay up; Lars was no match for the brutish beastman who had played possum all along.

'I had no chance in the first place... Hah... Hahahah...'

"Hahahahahaha!!!!" He laughed uproariously, living up to his nickname as the Lunatic Deathwish; drawing a reciprocal smile and chuckle from the half-blind Linges.

If there were no more path of life; no more options to live... What harm was there in letting loose all his pent-up stress and despair? His despondent emotions; his desolate heart...?

Flee?

What point was there in living anymore, if Moira were not there by his side, to share every moment...?

What point in breathing, if he could not inhale the soft floral scent of her hair; to relive again their starting moments of crazy love at first sight.

There was nothing for him without Moira.

And so he had stood his ground for a last stand--

Only to be immediately floored by a dazzling flurry of punches and kicked backed up by intense mana reinforcement; enough to deflect Lars' daggers, disarm him and pummel him into submission.

It was useless. He was defeated. He never had a chance at all in the first place.

It was over.

* * * * *

Lars felt heat on his chest; a burning.

If he still had the strength left, he would have clutched the scar on his chest tightly, as it felt as if a fire had burst forth from the leaf-shaped birthmark.

At the same time, his wavering consciousness felt as if a dam were about to rupture; and mysterious, mighty flood waters gush forth to swallow up his mind and soul.

Only; it was "about to"; and not "already" - he could feel something deep inside of his soul and memories on the cusp of breaking out; awakening... But not quite there yet.

'Moira...'

He lay on the ground; broken and out of commission, just like the girl he so loved.

Both lying flat on their backs, defenceless and at the mercy of the human-shaped, one-eyed demon who remained standing strong, inviolable and beyond the reach of his weak hands.

He had lost.

He lay on the floor, thinking... Thinking, unwilling to fall just like this.

Thinking...

'If only... If only...!' His heart thrashed within him, his spirit blazing and soul seething.

'If only I had more strength...'

But it was useless; it was over.

He lay there, barely able to twist his head to look at his lover, sprawled on the cold concrete floor.

'At least...' He thought as he closed his eyes and accepted his fate.

'At least we'll die together...'

His consciousness plummeted into the darkness.

* * * * *

[Vizier Murad's room on the highest floor of the residential area's tower]

Invigilator Sarin remained in the same begging, groveling position. He had not moved from the time he had been brought to his knees by the soul-rending pressure that went beyond his wildest dreams, until now when the battle depicted in the pool of water came to a close.

Then he heard a sound. Something he never thought he would hear.

Explosions in the Arena - coming from outside. Sounds of battle; sounds of chaos.

Sounds of intruders attacking their supposedly secret death-camp.

Despite the sensitive nature of the operations in the Arena, there were not many guards. It was assumed that the 3 invigilators and the Vizier were sufficient, for no factions or parties within the kingdom would touch the property of the crown; while it was exceedingly difficult to reach for rival countries.

Unless...

Unless they could scale the sheer mountains on the north bordering the Arena... Which would leave only one suspect behind this move.

The beastmen.

The middle-aged man stood up, still smiling but with a serious glint in his eyes, while Vizier Murad allowed the Far Sight spell to falter; ending the projection on the surface of the pool.

The old man looked perturbed, while the middle-aged man standing beside him looked... Intrigued.

"Interesting, interesting..." He turned his head slightly to look at the vizier. "Well, Murad... Shall we go welcome our... Guests...?"

Murad nodded in agreement.

Then the figures of both the men transformed into blurs as they shot out of the window of the 9th floor room and into the night sky to welcome their "guests".

* * * * *

[Linges' Point of View]

[In the Arena training grounds; residential area, washing sub-area]

He heard heavy footsteps approaching and cursed, then looked dismissively at his two fellow trainees who lay prone on the ground.

A pity that the thin boy was not quite good enough for him to need any of his secret skills or battle arts...

He walked over to their side before company could arrive and interrupt whatever he was about to do next.

He reached down to Moira's still-breathing body with his enormous hands; hands big enough to cover her entire upper torso with room to spare.

He slipped his hands under her waist and picked her up gently, similarly picking Lars' up as well.

Then he quickly walked over to the drainage grilles; lifting up the metal grating and carefully deposited their injured bodies into the drainage pipes; the shallow dirty running waters wetting just a few centimetres of the duos bodies.

'You won't die from a little dirt... Will you...?'

Meticulously replacing the metal grating, he turned towards the passageway which would lead to the side entrances; near the servants' areas.

He smiled; baring his teeth; cutting a hideous figure with his bloody wounds on his face and body and hulking figure.

He was ready to greet the uninvited guests.

Chapter end