Morning light filtered through the small, barred window of the cell.
Markil sat up on the stone bench, rubbing his neck.
"So... morning already," he mumbled, yawning.
He looked at his hands.
Thoos's words…
"If you kill me, you will get everything that I have."
Markil closed his eyes. In the darkness of his mind, he felt it. A heavy, sleeping dragon made of steel.
Asler.
He opened his eyes, determination setting in.
"Okay. Let's test the inventory system."
He held out his right hand, palm open.
"Asler."
Nothing happened.
Markil frowned. He shook his hand a little.
"Asler? Yoo-hoo? Sword of Doom? Come out?"
Still nothing.
"Oh, fuck. Why isn't it working?" Markil panicked slightly. "How did Thoos do it? He just threw it and summoned it back. Wait... he didn't summon it like a spell. He manifested it."
Markil looked at his palm again.
I can see the Mana. It flows like blood.
So first, I have to gather my Mana into my palm. Concentrated. Dense.
And then... release it.
Markil took a deep breath. He focused. He pulled the purple energy from his core, pushing it through his shoulder, down his arm, into his hand.
His hand began to glow.
"Asler."
CRACKLE.
Red lightning exploded around his hand. The air in the cell screamed as reality tore open.
From the lightning, a hilt appeared. Black metal, wrapped in ancient leather.
Markil grabbed it.
VOOOM.
The full sword materialized. It was massive. Pitch black, pulsating with a red aura that made the stone walls tremble.
"Whoa..." Markil whispered, staring at the blade. "This is real."
The aura was suffocating. It felt like holding a singularity.
Outside the Dungeon Entrance
"What the hell?"
A guard dropped his spear.
Every knight stationed outside the dungeon felt it. A sudden, crushing weight on their chests.
"What is that Aura?!"
"Is it a monster?!"
"It's coming from inside!"
Kalmen Solas was walking toward the entrance to fetch the prisoner. He stopped dead in his tracks.
"Oh god..." Kalmen whispered, sweat breaking out on his forehead. "What is this? It's so powerful... I can't even sense where the bottom of it is."
Elrond Leon stepped out from the guard post. He looked calm, but his hand was tight on his sword hilt.
"Stand here," Elrond ordered the guards. "I am going to check the human. It's his last day, after all."
Kalmen looked at him. "Hey, Elrond... did you sense it?"
"Yeah," Elrond said flatly. "But leave it. I knew that kid was hiding something."
Elrond started walking toward the heavy steel door.
"I don't care what he's hiding. I am going to defeat him."
Kalmen watched him go, shaking his head in disbelief.
That's our Elrond for you, Kalmen thought. The one who never gets scared by anything. In my whole life, I haven't seen him flinch. Keeping the wife incident aside... the man is made of iron.
Inside the Cell
Markil stared at the sword. The red lightning was arcing off the blade, scorching the stone floor.
This sword is... unstable, Markil thought. I'm not able to control it perfectly yet. The lightning is going everywhere.
He heard footsteps approaching.
Shit. Someone is coming.
Should I unsummon it for now? Yeah. Bad idea to show the God Slaying Blade before the fight starts.
Markil focused again. He released the Mana grip on the sword and imagined it dissolving into mist.
HISS.
The sword vanished into red smoke, disappearing back into the void storage.
CLANG.
The cell door opened.
"What the fuck?" Markil blurted out, jumping slightly.
Elrond stood there, eyeing the scorched marks on the floor and the lingering scent of ozone.
"What!?" Elrond asked, looking around. He hadn't seen the sword, but he saw the fading red sparks in the air.
"Come on," Elrond said, ignoring the weirdness. "Today we have the duel. All the people of the Elven Kingdom are waiting in the Field of Honor. Now is the time."
Markil composed himself. He flashed his trademark fake smile.
"Yeah, yeah. Let's go. Don't want to keep the fans waiting."
They walked out of the cell and into the tunnel leading to the arena.
Elrond walked silently beside Markil.
That red light... what was it? Elrond thought. It seemed to be... dangerous.
He shook his head.
No. Why am I thinking this? Nobody has ever defeated me in combat. I don't care even if he has the weapon of the gods. I will slay him down.
They reached a fork in the tunnel.
"Stop here," Elrond said.
"Why?" Markil asked.
Elrond pointed to the left path. "You have to go that way. I have to go straight. Opponents enter from opposite sides."
"Go."
Elrond hesitated, then added softly:
"And also... please try to save yourself. Because I am not going to hold back. Even if I think to hold back... my body won't let me."
Markil smiled. A genuine, small smile.
"Fine, fine. I have heard it since yesterday. So you can relax, Captain. Just do your thing."
Elrond stared at him.
Why isn't he scared?
Is this because he has some mysterious power?
This boy... I am not going to kill him right away. I am going to make him cry. I need to break that confidence.
"Good luck," Elrond said stiffly, then turned and walked away.
As Elrond walked down his tunnel, his thoughts betrayed him.
But thinking of this human... for the first time, I feel kindness for one of them. I don't know why. He is... different.
Elrond slapped his own cheek.
Fuck this up. Why am I thinking this? I have a job. And I will do it.
The Field of Honor
Markil walked down the dark tunnel. The roar of the crowd grew louder with every step.
Why was he telling me those things? Markil thought. Is he trying to scare me? Or warn me?
Whatever. I am going to prove myself. So they won't hate humans anymore. I'll show them we aren't all monsters.
"Let's see what an Elven Arena looks like."
He reached the end of the tunnel. Light blinded him.
He stepped out.
ROAAAAR!
"BOOOO! HUMAN!"
"KILL HIM, ELROND!"
"GO BACK TO THE MUD!"
Markil froze.
The arena was massive. Like the Colosseum on steroids. Thousands of elves filled the stands. The noise was deafening.
"Oh fuck," Markil whispered, swallowing hard. "I'm nervous. That's a lot of people."
Across the field, on the opposite side, Elrond emerged.
He looked majestic. He threw his white cape aside, revealing his gleaming silver armor. He drew his sword, the blade shining in the sun.
"KYAAAAA!"
"CAPTAIN ELROND! I LOVE YOU!"
"MARRY ME, CAPTAIN!"
The elf girls in the crowd went wild.
Markil looked up at the VIP box.
King Aelindor sat on a golden throne, looking down with a bored expression.
Beside him stood Melian. She looked pale. She was looking down at her hands, refusing to watch.
Markil smiled faintly at her distant figure.
Don't look down, Melian. Watch this.
A referee walked up to Markil, holding a rack of weapons.
"Here," the referee said, offering a basic iron sword. "Choose your weapon, human."
Markil looked at the rusty blade.
"Sorry," Markil said, waving his hand. "But I don't need it."
The referee blinked. "So... how are you going to fight him? With your bare hands?"
"Leave it to me."
The referee sneered. "Whatever. You humans are just so silly. Dying unarmed... how pathetic."
He walked away.
Elrond watched Markil from across the field. His eyes narrowed.
Why didn't he get a sword?
Does he think he can beat me without any weapon?
Elrond gripped his hilt tighter.
He is mocking me.
I'll break that pride.
(Chapter 21 Finished)