Grotesque

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Rivulets of sweat and blood dripped down my naked body

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Rivulets of sweat and blood dripped down my naked body. I gripped Bloodlight tightly, staring down Nemenera, the golden knight, as he drew closer. With each slow, methodical step he took, I half hoped and half feared that he would break the metal grating below and be sent down in to the fiery hell below us. If he did that, though, who knew if I would escape the liquid death that lay below?

I had to bait him on to the platform; it was the only way that I could think of to get him to fall in to the bubbling molten steel, and then, perhaps, he would finally die. This would be my final chance to destroy him.

"Marked one!" he shouted, getting closer. I looked behind me at the platform and prepared myself. "You are naught but a filthy coward and an indecent fool!"

"The only reason that I am indecent is because of you, you pompous grotesquerie!" I yelled back in defiance.

"I am no grotesque!" Nemenera screamed, sounding more than a little offended. Good. I needed him angry.

I looked behind me at the railing that surrounded the raised platform. My eyes darted around, trying to find some way up to the top. Jumping, even from the top of the railing, would not work. It would be a one-way trip to the void. Then I saw it. A small set of stairs leading up to the top of the raised platform. Whatever purpose this platform had, it would now serve as the place where I would make my last stand.

I found myself racing around the circle counter-clockwise toward the steep set of metal stairs as the Guardian of Thalor followed. My heart felt like it was beating almost to the point of giving out. The heat was overwhelming, and the true fight had not yet begun.

I found myself at the top of the platform, its heat scalding but bearable nonetheless. I looked over the edge at the distance between the platform and the surrounding catwalks, and it was clear that one misstep near the edge of the large platform would spell certain doom.

What came next was decidedly not in the plan. A golden shape shot through the suffocating air and landed with a deafening boom on the platform. This creature, this... warden, he had simply jumped.

As he stood before me, he readied his masterfully-crafted spear, extending it to its full length in his right hand. His left hand he slowly raised, and as he did, the platform followed. Soon, it had raised to twice its former height.

"Now, whelp..." he began. "There is truly no chance of escape. Even if you kill me, how will you get down? You are a weakling, Theris. Battered, bleeding. How can you ever hope to oppose the golden god? How can you possibly hope to defeat me, the Guardian of Thalor?"

"And what is Thalor, exactly?" I responded, noticing that the scratch I had made along his face was entirely gone from earlier. "Is it a place, an object, perhaps?"

He looked at me unflinchingly, simply watching me. He clearly did not see me as a threat yet. That would be his first and last mistake.

"Maybe even... a person?" I suggested. That one split-moment, that one little bit of flinching, was all it took. I charged forward with the intent to kill.

He attempted to slice me with his spear, but it, having been telescoped to full length, was too long for the task. He failed to block me, but did not fail to dodge at least a little. I had sheared off part of the right-most section of his golden breastplate with my lunging stab. I had meant to go for his heart.

I felt a mighty metal gauntlet slam in to my back, sending me sprawling along the platform toward the edge. I was sliding far too quickly to stop myself from going over. This could not be over yet. I took Bloodlight, and stabbed in to the metal platform. Stopping myself only a little ways before the edge. What kind of sword was this that simply went into solid metal? That stayed with you even after death?

I got up quickly and faced him yet again. He did not seem unfazed by my attack, but there was still murder in his posture and in his every motion. He looked at me with unflinching rage. Though he had no face on which to show his emotion, it was as if an aura of hatred emanated from the golden knight who challenged me. If looks could kill, his certainly would have torn me to shreds already.

This time he rushed me, but I was ready for him. This time I dodged the other way, sidestepping to the right. I lunged at him, knocking the spear to the side to give myself just a moment more. I cut at his neck, seeking to sever his head, but his left hand came up quicker than I could react, blocking the strike at the expense of his hand. He howled in pain, strange liquid pumping and spraying out of his wound. His spear had collapsed, and was now the size of a small dagger, one that he began to slice at me with madly, shouting obscene nonsense at me. He was driving me backward relentlessly toward the edge of the platform that had become our arena.

As I caught a glimpse of an edge, one that would spell certain destruction for either of us if we went over, I knew that the end was coming.

And I would make sure that it was his end.

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