A Trifle, A Trouble – 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon.

An odd event, this past week of my life. Everything started so friggin normal, walking through the boring woods. Finally, we found a bit of a fright, and from there, a roller coaster ride of good times and bad. Now was certainly a mixed pot of feelings. I was finally come to her rescue, but the offspring of a wizard stood before me.

Since when was I a hero? Hell, I guess it takes a bit of one to make a good story, but never in my dreams would I have pictured myself fighting magic and wielding a sword. And on top of that, my egg hatched into a super-rare breed of pokemon, and Misty and I were actually having a good outlook to our future. I was friends with a magical knight, and enemies with an evil wizard. I had been told I may have some of these 'special gifts' myself, and now I was facing someone with a damned sword!

Yet as odd as it all seemed, something did feel right. I wasn't really nervous to be where I was. It was my burning goal to get Misty out of there, and I guessed that was the reason for my lack of fear. Gareth stood as quiet as a statue, holding his sword in no manner of offence or defense, so didn't know what he was to do with it. I kept him on his toes though, circling as I had been told. "Are you just going to look at me all day, or do I have to show you how to swing one of these?" the boy lifted his sword a bit, and looked at it, ere turning his gaze to me. With a smirk, he brought the flat end of his blade to his shoulder, and extended his free arm behind his back.

A breeze began to pick up as he growled, and a small twister formed in the palm of his hand. With the cyclone, he touched the blade of his sword, and it began to glow green, "Now let me show you how to fight." He swung his blade away from me, and a razor slash of wind sliced along the path of the blade, flying into the woods, and leveling a few trees, ere it stopped.

"What's the matter?" I asked, trying to play off on whatever honour he may have had, "too scared of me to not use magic?" His face bent with anger, and I used the opportunity to make my move. With as much speed as I could manufacture, I lunged at Gareth, slashing my sword.

"Now wait just a minuet," He nimbly dodged my slice, "what kind of hypocritical move is that?" He brought his arm down on my sword to knock it away. Then he brought his up again, and swung it in my direction, not intending for the blade to actually hit me, but the wind razor that it made.

I held my sword up to block the thing, not really expecting it to work. Wincing as it hit though, I didn't feel cut. 'Great,' it ran through my mind, 'it cut me so clean, I'm gonna slide into two pieces, just like in the cartoons.' But as I didn't slide in two, I looked behind me to see trees falling on either side of behind me. My sword had succeeded in cutting the wind.

"Hmm, so your sword can cut my wind?" Gareth looked a bit more surprised than I could tell he wanted to let on, "No matter. I'll have to kill you then the old-fashioned way." He took the offensive then, slashing at me with the intent of having his actual sword do the cutting. But the razors of wind were still emitted, and I had to contend with them as well as Gareth's actual sword, and the fact that I was not an expert swordsman.

The battle quickly fell out of whatever favour I may have had, for Gareth continued to gain ground on me, and every so often, his blade or a gust of wind would find its mark. Nothing too serious ever, for which I was thankful, but still it hindered me more than I wanted to have. This heavy armour finally came in handy.

But my strength was waning quickly, and I found my footing begin to falter. I would stumble, and take a hit on my helm from the broad side of Gareth's blade, or I would trip and fall into a vulnerable position, only to have to expend more energy to defend myself. Finally, I fell for good. With a thrust of his arms, Gareth's blade drove into my shoulder. A ferocious beam of wind followed, ripping at sinews and spattering blood in all directions. I was effectively pinned to the ground.

With a scream of agony, the reality came to me. I would die this day, not saving Misty, and not helping Armas. My life would be a wasted, useless hindrance of those who knew me. Misty would have been better off to remain in Cerulean, and achieve her dream of mastering water pokemon. Armas didn't really need my help to wake him; it would have been done in the due order of fate. That little egg's mother and father would have probably returned to find it. Pikachu would have been found by a better trainer, who would have had sense enough to achieve pokemon mastery, and not gallivant into as many stupid positions as I. And there stood Gareth, grinning over me.

All would end, here and now. Gareth would snatch his sword back out, and with a few choice words to remind me of his victory, remove my head with the use of his blade. Misty would become his bride. His bride. She would be his. As that thought raced through my head though, my fury returned. As quickly as my acceptance of defeat had come on, it vanished, leaving me yelling out of rage, not pain.

I grabbed at his blade and snatched at it, pulling and yanking despite the searing pain in my arm. My vision coated over with red, and as my vehement actions persisted, the sword finally pulled free, gushing with it a liberal spurt of blood and fibre. I stood, not feeling the pain nor seeing any decrease in my power.

"You dropped this." I said, straining every reserve in me to not sling the damned thing through him. I did throw it though, at him. He did catch it, as I though he would, but as he did, I let my dam of wrath surge over and shatter, and I ran at him like a man possessed.

I tore into him with every ounce of my being, forgetting every drop of my teachings, and catching him completely by surprise. Swing after swing, I pushed him back, maintaining a yell of hatred and unbridled fury. If I had had time to think, I may have asked myself why the sudden onset of such anger. But it did not matter as I pounded his defense with my overwhelming offense.

I could sense the fear on his face as plainly as I knew I was mad. His back finally hit the wall of his home, and I continued, swinging at him and thrusting. I tired not, only redoubled my efforts as he continued to manage to evade me. Finally my blade did find a mark, and it was a good one. With a terrific splash of blood, my sword bit deep into his side. I paused only for a split second, to look at his face. It was contorted with pain and surprise, fear and hatred. A smile formed to my lips. Feeling the crunch of bone and internal workings, I twisted my blade and snatched it from his side, eliciting a splash of blood and the persistent outpour of the substance.

I backed away a few feet, my rage beginning to subside. I felt weak and light-headed. Had I really just done that? Had I truly just defeated a wizard on his own turf? The excitement was building, but when I looked again to him, I realized what had really happened.

For a time, I had become a monster. Something inside of me had snapped, and the sudden bloodlust was too much to handle, driving me into a frenzy of a killing rampage, directed at the heart of the occurrence. I had changed, for the worse. My mind had left me, and a primal passion of raw brutality had taken its stead. The joy I had found in seeing my opponent as he was, injured hopelessly, by my own hands; it wasn't like me. I hated the man, I really did. But never would I have dreamed to find such horrible pleasure in such a sadistic way as to what I had.

My eyes found Armas, who was staring at the scene. He too was thinking the same, I knew. I looked to back to Gareth, who was leaning against the wall, a chunk of his side splattered about the area. He would die soon, if something were not done. I had entered the fight with the desire to kill him, but now that that success was inevitable, I didn't want it. It wasn't like me to kill. Why had I wanted to, for Misty? I would kill for her...but was that like me? My mind raced with thoughts and fears, wishing to be anywhere, any time but here and now.

"So...you win..." Gareth muttered, blood gushing from his mouth as he spoke. I walked over to him, dropping my blade.

"Forgive me." I said, and a tear formed in my eye. He had been a worthy opponent, if evil and unfair. I knew then that I was not meant to be a warrior. My heart was not designed for the toll to be taken. At hearing my words, the look upon Gareth's face changed. I saw in him then a look of wonder and confusion.

"Stupid boy. Allowing himself to be beaten by a human. You are no child of mine!" Finalis stepped into the picture, walking over to him, and raising his hand. With a blast of fire, Gareth was naught but a black mark on the wall of the house.

"NO!!" I cried, running towards Finalis. A magic barrier threw me back, reminding me of my punctured arm. It was so obvious now. Gareth was twisted in his own way, but it had been his father who had always installed the worst of it. He was driven to be better than he could be, by his father, and for this, he had become evil and hateful. It wasn't really his fault.

"Ash. This is not your fight. It is mine." Armas stepped before me, standing like a wall of safety and power. I suddenly felt small and insignificant in the face of it all, and wanted comfort more than I ever had, "can you walk?"

"Yes." I said.

"Then get over there." He threw his arm up, indicating the place where Pikachu stood waiting, and my bag rested upon the ground. With stabbing pain throughout my arm, and massive amounts of blood leaving me, I stumbled over to the spot. I knew enough from movies and books to know that I had to stop the bleeding, so I tore a piece of my shirt from my bag and tied it around my wound as tightly as possible. It was in an awkward place, so I stuffed wads of cloth between the bandage, at both ends of my puncture mark. It burned like hell, but I wouldn't lose too much blood.

"Pika?" My rodent tentatively walked over to me, a look of concern in his eyes. He was tensed and ready to fight, I could tell. I had grown able to tell his thoughts, and he mine.

"Sorry, buddy. I had to do this one on my own. But since I can't do that much more, from here on, it's you." I hugged the little electric type, and turned to watch the scene.

Finalis was radiating now with an aura of flame, and Armas had drawn his sword, doing what he had told me to.

"You think this wise, Knight?" Finalis sneered at Armas, "I've already beaten you more times than I can recall. And now you don't even have your magic sword. How do you think you can win?"

"I do not need magic to defeat you. Look at him," Armas pointed at me, "He defeated your son, who was a wizard in his own right, and he is not even trained in the use of a sword for more than a day's time."

"You are right, but that boy is special. He has something within him that I like. The evil that he displayed when fighting...it inspired me. I could get used to having a kid like him around to mutilate my enemies."

I couldn't believe my ears. Did he really think I wanted to do those things? At the time I had, but something came over me...controlled me, "You're wrong!" I got up and looked to Finalis, "I didn't mean to kill him. I didn't mean to harm him that way. It was...an accident." As the words exited my mouth, they sounded more and more pathetic.

"Oh, clever boy," Finalis said, "I saw the whole thing from the sidelines, you see. I can read people's emotions, and I saw in yours the desire. You had the burning lust for absolutely obliterating Gareth. The smile that parted your lips didn't lie. There is something in you that needs death, and you know it now."

His words hit home like nothing ever had. Was he right? It all made perfect sense, but somehow it had to be wrong. I told myself over and over in my head that he was wrong. He was evil himself, after all, and that was what evil persons did: lie.

But they had both said that I had something special in me. Armas had said it when I had busted into talking like an Old English warrior, and when he was training me. He had mentioned it since then as well, and even Finalis had spoken similar. But was the special part of me they spoke of, being a horribly efficient destroyer?

And now what of Misty? If Armas defeated Finalis, and I rescued her, as I wanted, could I live with myself, knowing that I was so dangerous? But I remembered why I had broken off into my rage to begin with...her. It had come into my mind of my loss of her, and the prospect had pushed me over the edge. But wasn't that a good thing, to throw every ounce of yourself into a way to protect your love?

But also it led my mind to wonder if it would ever happen again, for Misty was the only one for whom I cared so much. So if another situation like this were to arise, would I again change? Did this mean that I should not be around her? Was she the underlying cause of my problem?

No. It could never be that. I would never accept that she was in any way involved with something wrong. The problem was mine, and mine alone. I would have to deal with it, without blame and favour. But at the moment, all I could do was pray for Misty's safety, and watch the two warriors square off.