Chapter 12: Open Combat

Road to Ostrhinesburg:

Hildegard von Krone took one more step and finally reached the top of the rise, before starting back down and up the next one. It took an enormous exertion of will to prevent herself from letting out a groan of agony, made all the more difficult by the fact that she had been doing this for the last six hours straight! Worse still, was that The Overlord was only a step and a half behind her and she could feel the amusement rolling off of him like rain down a mountain. Purportedly, The Overlord was there because she was leading the way, but she was drawing a different conclusion judging from the depth of The Overlord's mirth. He was following this closely just to watch her suffer. On the topic of suffering, there was a dark corner of her mind where she was enjoying the pain, but she was trying with all her heart to distance herself from that piece of her psyche.

The Overlord's mocking; acid-laden voice violated her ears. "What's wrong? I'd have thought that you would be used to this kind of forced march. Or, did you always ride about on a horse like a dandy?"

She stumbled, but used the base of her lance to remain on her feet. "If you must know, my current state is as much your fault as anything else."

The Overlord feigned innocence. "Why, I have no idea what you mean. Please, explain to me how your inability to keep a steady pace is my error."

Though she loathed recalling those days, and she knew The Overlord was toying with her, there was no other way for her to make her point. "You tortured me, and let one of your mistresses keep me as a toy for a month and a half at least. Whatever physical conditioning I had was ruined."

The chuckle that leaked from within The Overlord's helmet lowered the ambient temperature by at least ten degrees. "I see. Note to self, never allow one that I care for to be imprisoned for more than a few days if at all possible."

If any among the battalion of men behind The Overlord heard any of that exchange, they either did not care enough to comment, or found the whole charade rather funny. The people of Wolfkrone had been overjoyed to have her return, doubly so for her father, but the soldiers had, to a man, shifted their allegiance to The Overlord. The Dark Lord somehow inspired them all in a way that she had never been able to, a loyalty that seemed to grow stronger with every passing day. On that topic, just yesterday one of the men had complained, rather weakly, about how sore his feet were. The Overlord had sagely remarked that the horrors of a forced march were often far worse than an actual battle, so he had buffered their spirits and their confidence for inevitable confrontation at the same time. Going back to the subject of the people, it shamed her to see that her general demographic, young women barely into adulthood, would swoon at the mere sight of The Overlord. It was a mild balm that he would rebuff every advance, casual, and not so casual. It was salt in the wound that it continued to happen.

Physically and emotionally drained, she caved and publicly voiced a complaint for the first time in what felt like years. "What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?"

The Overlord's incredulous glare and condescending tone made her feel idiotic. "Hate? I don't have time for hate. Hate is where you lie awake night after night thinking up never-ending ways to brutally murder another being. I simply loath the very fact that you are still breathing. And that is that."

Feeling compelled to at least try and recover some dignity, she argued. "And, what exactly is the difference between the two? 'Loath' is just another word for 'hate."

The Overlord rolled his eyes in an overdramatic fashion. "The difference is that you are still alive. I should think that would be obvious."

Her attempt at debate turned around into yet another slight, she decided the wise thing to do would be to just shut up, but she could not stop herself from letting out a small sniff of disdain. That was of course when her feet slid out from under her, and her attempts to remain standing with her lance proved completely futile. For a moment, she just lay there, thinking to herself, 'God, what did I ever do to deserve this?'

The same Evil chuckle rattled her very bones. "Well, at least you seem good for the occasional laugh."

She snarled as she clambered back to her feet, venomous sarcasm lacing her words. "Well, I am so happy to be the object of your amusement." A moment passed, no longer than a few heartbeats, and The Overlord's deep, booming laugh rang with a tiny note of hysteria. She found herself at a loss, not understanding how her rebuke had been so outrageously hilarious, and she asked the clarifying question.

An answer issued from the devilish helm almost immediately. "Just, think about what you said for a moment. About the possible implications…" The Overlord shook his head slowly. "Although I would never let that happen in a million years, not while I'm still sane."

It only took a few moments of serious thought before the shocking, and absolutely horrifying inflection one could take from those brief few words came to mind. Her indignant and disgusted reaction came out instantaneously. "No, oh dear God no!"

Again, her horror only seemed to amuse The Overlord. "Remember, you said it, not me."

She made a very obvious attempt to change the topic. "You never did answer my question before."

It took about a minute for The Overlord to fully reign in his mirth, but he managed. "No, I don't suppose I did." The man paused, chin held in the air thoughtfully. "I don't suppose it would harm anything to tell you why you earned my malice. Might actually get you to reconsider that attitude of yours. But I'm not holding my breath on that last one." The Overlord took one longer stride to close the distance so the conversation was a little more private. "I am quite sure you remember the first time you personally tried to chase me down, yes? Well, if you don't, it was where I escaped across an abyss despite the best efforts of an army with more than twenty times the number of soldiers I commanded. It was around then when I, rather flippantly, saluted you before vanishing through the void right before your eyes. Then, this is what I am assuming happened; you hurled your lance through in a moment of blind rage. How am I doing so far?" Her grimace gave The Overlord all the answer he needed. "Well, before you jump to conclusions, you did not hit Sophitia, or Isabella, or even me."

Confusion caused her to hesitate. "I, I don't understand. I didn't hit any of you, and I still get tortured for weeks?"

The Overlord went on; "Oh, you hit my advisor, Gnarl. You should remember him; he's the one that grabbed your ass on the way out."

The memory, and the violation of her personal space, sent a flash of rage flowing through her blood. "That, that wizened THING? I didn't kill it?"

The responding chuckle didn't help her mood at all. "Quite the contrary actually, I simply brought him back almost instantly. Gnarl may be almost insufferably annoying at times, but I find myself rather attached to the old minion. A foolish bit of sentimentality, perhaps, but that is the way it is."

She remained silent, hoping that perhaps holding her tongue might put an end to the conversation. Then her eyes turned back to the road and she was astonished by how much ground they had covered, more impressive was how she hadn't even noticed her aches and pains the entire way.

The Overlord's head snapped up and his right hand signaled a stop. "Hold…" A moment passed, and she could have sworn that, in the black depths of his helmet, that The Overlord was smiling. "… I hear the sounds of battle."

With something akin to glee The Overlord beckoned the troops forward before charging off into the brush to the left of the road. Left with the choice of either following or being trampled she hauled her husk of a body along at the best pace she could manage. That pace barely kept her ahead of the men, but her 'leader' vanished into the brush regardless of how hard she pushed herself. That was of course until she burst out of the foliage and slammed her face into the lower back of The Overlord. Adding insult to injury was how the Dark Lord barely reacted to being hit. But now she could hear what The Overlord had been talking about, the sound of sword on sword, crashing metal, and the screams of the dying. If there were a breeze she would probably smell the stench of death that pervaded every battleground.

She dragged herself to her feet and to the top of the small ridge The Overlord was using as a lookout post. Upon seeing the area that they had arrived at memories from one year ago swelled up within her mind, particularly her duel with the woman who had kept her as a pet for the last month, give or take a few weeks. That Ivy woman had skill in droves, but eventually she had been able to drive the older woman away, probably more due to the army behind her than a performance difference. That duel had taken place right where The Overlord was currently looking, on a volcanic morass of uneven ground.

The Lord of Evil shot one sidelong glance at the troops, ignoring her completely. "Stay here, keep anyone from leaving." His left hand shot out and covered her mouth before she could object. "Why you might ask? All three of my mistresses are of the mind that the arrival of your army last year ruined any chance of anyone accomplishing anything. Throwing a battalion of men into this melee would just create chaos. And while chaos might be fun, I'd rather clear out as many potential nuisances that are here while I can."

She still found a way to object, if simply for the purpose of being contrary. "Shouldn't we just move on to the Cursed City?"

The Overlord turned only his head to look at her, just to shake it condescendingly. "Bad idea. I am of the mind that this many warriors in this spot means that the vast majority, if not all, of them are involved in the race for Soul Edge. I'm planning ahead for when I eventually get to Ostrhinesburg." The glowing eyes turned away from her. "Now silence, I have a call to make."

Dark Tower: Dungeon

Ivy leisurely flicked the majority of the elf blood off the end of her blade and then, after a quiet moment of deliberation, ran a finger along the length to collect a bit before putting it in her mouth. Elf blood tasted a bit different from human blood, not as salty, a little bit thinner, and had an almost acidic bite to it that she could attribute to their magical nature. Did it disturb her that she had tasted blood enough to actually know the difference? Not one bit. Had she always been this bloodthirsty, probably not, but always having the opportunity to practically shower herself in it hadn't helped matters. But that was taking into account whether she actually considered it a problem, and she didn't. Was it possible that her connection to the alraune was causing it? Maybe, but again, she didn't mind.

Practically the moment she stepped off of the sand and back onto the dark stone of the Tower a sharp buzz in her head preceded the almost sing-song voice of her husband, fainter, but no less attention- grabbing. "Oh Isabella, are you listening?"

She laughed at the notion, and spoke the words out loud even as she 'thought' them to Erasmus. "Even if I wasn't, do you really think I would be able to ignore you?"

The response was equally glib; "I'm sure you could, you're just that kind of woman." There was a pause; "All teasing aside however, I believe I made you a promise to call you first next time I found myself in a perilous situation. And, though I don't think this perfectly qualifies, I'm letting you know all the same. A grand melee is currently underway right now in a volcanic area, interested?"

Her mind flashed back to the events one year ago. "I know that place. I fought Hildegard there before her army drove me away."

A chuckle crossed their bond. "Is that so? Well, I can't offer you a do over. But I'm sure that there will be plenty of other people for you to rip apart in lieu of our mutual target of loathing."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I'll be there." She hesitated on the stairs for a second. "Are you going to let Sophitia and Taki know?"

The response was glib again. "Come now, you know that Sophitia would be heartbroken if I left her behind. I couldn't bear that. And Taki, well, she'd just feel left out. Can't have that, now can we?"

Battleground: Outskirts

The Overlord smiled to himself, humming idly while toying with the point of his arcanium blade. In the brief spat of time between ending his telepathic discussion with Isabella and now at least five people had tried to kill him. Unsuccessfully of course but their skill had been sufficient enough to pique his interest for the giant brawl in front of him. Add to that the sporadic bursts of lava that shot up out of the ground and the upcoming fight was looking to be quite promising. He was mildly concerned about the welfare of his three mistresses but, as had been proven, he couldn't just leave them behind every time there was a slight threat to their safety. Isabella especially would come to resent him for it. He did not doubt their abilities in combat; rather it was the lava he was concerned about.

Coming to the combatants he could see, there was no generalization he could make at all. The warriors ran the gamut in every imaginable category. Men were slightly more prevalent than women, but that was somewhat in line with his expectations. The armor ranged from suits of steel that looked like they weighed more than his, to garments as skimpy as Isabella's. As for the weapons being wielded, he couldn't even begin to describe all of them. To be sure, there were many variations of a standard sword, some larger, some smaller. Axes and maces he could recognize, the occasional bow that would pick off one or two people before they were overwhelmed, there were even the odd fighters that were using no weapon other than their bare hands. Then there came weapons he couldn't even begin to understand, or simple weapons used in so bizarre a fashion that they seemed like something else entirely. He could have sworn he saw a man use a relatively simple looking sword to fly, simply by spinning it in the palm of their hand.

The subdued click of heeled shoes on the stone behind him alerted him to the arrival of at least Isabella. "Take the time to do up your hair before getting here? I'm afraid that some overeager warriors forced me to get started without you."

The response was not from Isabella, but that didn't disappoint him. He could never turn Sophitia away. "I trust that they were, dealt with, without a hitch?"

He spun on the ball of his foot, tilting his head down to look at his First Mistress. "Barring the fact that my armor would have closed any real wound I received within moments, of course." He jabbed his free thumb in the direction of the melee, "Ready?"

Sophitia nodded, and he took a second to admire how she could remain so pure, while at same time so blatantly Evil. In the back of his mind he found himself pondering why exactly he found the duality so charming, but that train of thought was overshadowed by the current situation.

Before charging in, an idea occurred to him. "One last thing, I'm going to assume that the three of you are going to be familiar with some of the people out there. If you have reason to believe you can convince them to, shall we say, come to the dark side, then by all means do so. We could always use another reliable blade for the Empire to come."

Without further ado, he sprinted off into the brawl, flanked by his three warrior goddesses.

Battleground: Ten minutes later

Sophitia used her shield to swat aside the vertical swing of an axe, panting heavily from the effort of doing the same thing for the last two minutes, before finally driving her short sword into the tiny gap in her faceless opponent's armor at their waist. Her 'reward' was a pained gurgle, a spurt of blood, and getting to watch the man die. She immediately turned to the next person trying to cut her down, trying not to dwell on the lives she was taking. It helped her that the four people she had taken out up until now had had their faces obscured, via one method or another. The effect was enough so she could dehumanize her opponents, easing her conscience. She doubted that she would ever be completely comfortable killing other people, but this was the path she had chosen, to support Erasmus no matter what. Then again, she smiled to herself while thinking this, he really didn't "need" her help per se, but it felt good to give it all the same.

Speaking of The Overlord, she watched out of the corner of her eye as her lover throttled one person with his left hand and battled two other people with his right. In the space of a few heartbeats Erasmus used the corpse in his left hand to beat the other two to a pulp before swatting the entire bloody mess off into the lava far below.

Her lover immediately engaged another enemy, gloating while he did so. "I am the Overlord! I am A number one baby!"

Surprise momentarily made her pause, and she was lucky that she wasn't immediately involved in a fight, else she might have taken a rather bad hit. She hadn't thought Erasmus the type for that particular kind of smack talk, especially after the opponent was already there some kind of special reason, or was he simply having so much fun he just felt like it?

Knowing that Erasmus probably wouldn't be able to hear her over the din of battle, she resorted to trying to contact him through their bond. "Darling? Is now a good time to…"

Across the molten battlefield, and getting further away with each successive foe, Erasmus responded to her telepathic query as quickly as if they were alone in bed. "Yes Dear, ask me anything you like." There was a slight pause; "This is about that little one-liner I shot out a few moments ago, isn't it?"

She felt herself go red in the face, dividing her attention between the person attacking her and the thought of how she was so transparent. "I just thought that it didn't sound like you, and I was wondering why."

In the distance she saw Erasmus crush the head of a woman in his left hand before the response came. "To be honest, I'm not all that sure myself. I think though, that I have a theory." There was a delay in which she could assume someone else died. "Putting it bluntly, these people are by and large pathetic warriors. But they are just good enough to keep me entertained, hence the bombastic gloating. I expect to be doing a lot more of it as this melee drags on."

She looked up, and cursed before hastily excusing herself from the mental conversation. All of her attention had to be devoted to the thing lumbering down the molten battlefield towards her, looking more like a piece of the landscape than a man.

The thing waded through the conflict, cleaving away with an axe that was bigger than her. "Let me hear you scream!"

The Black Giant was coming for her.

Battleground:

The Overlord slashed and parried mechanically, the monotony starting to get to him and dimming his hope of crossing blades with some kind of worthy opponent. What he had mentioned to Sophitia was true, and he was finding it more so with each generic warrior he cut fighters rushed him at once, and he merely scoffed before punching one in the face and off into the lava. With the other, three quick sword strokes and his sword wound up point on the ground between his opponent's legs.

He smirked, as a cruel idea occurred to him within a heartbeat. With one quick motion he brought the blade up with enough force to cleave the foe, a woman, from groin to the top of their head. He chuckled as the two halves fell apart, spewing blood and entrails into the space where the flesh should have been connected; "Rest in pieces."

Momentarily granted a respite, he took the opportunity to examine his surroundings. He was standing on something of an island that wasn't that far above the molten rock below, slightly removed from the greater brawl. From here, he could conceivably hurl fireballs with impunity and devastate the entire conflict. But, that would be even less fulfilling than what he was already doing. Perhaps he should…

A grating, male voice sounded out a challenge, which succeeded in doing little more than riling his temper. "Evil creature! Taste my blade and tremble!"

He felt his eyes narrow to slits, before slowly turning around to glare at the red-headed, unarmored, immature boy that was waving a puny sword at him. There was some kind of symbol on the boy's shirt, relatively similar to a few of the images he had seen on some of the antiques he had acquired for Taki's room. Similar, but not quite close enough for him to think they were of the same origin. The blade was rather short, and had one curved side that presumably gave the weapon more cutting power. Of course, the blade smelled of steel, which meant that he could only be wounded if somehow the boy was good enough to stab him in one of the few places his armor did not cover.

The boy started to open his mouth again, but he cut the noise off before it could start. "Don't even bother talking. If you wish to die in battle against me, then I would be more than happy to oblige you."

The child, he could call something this immature nothing else, merely laughed. "I see you are eager to feel my steel, very well! I, Yun-seong, shall be your end!"

He shook his head as the idiotic boy rushed him with all the subtlety of a thunderstorm, with only a hundredth of the potency. With an overdramatic flourish Yun-seong started slashing at him, and none of the swings even connected due to the minimal effort it required to evade each blow. He was only required to shift his torso slightly to either side, or slightly back a scant few inches, to have every single blow whiff by without leaving so much as a scratch on his armor. He wasn't even called upon to use his blade, which was even more disappointing.

Yun-seong seemed completely oblivious to his utter ineffectiveness. "So, it appears you have some skill. In that case, take this!"

The boy lunged at him and threw a kick that actually lifted Yun-seong far up off of the ground, high enough that he actually had to crane his neck back after moving out of the way to follow the motion. The sheer distance the immature boy traveled gave him a rather Evil idea; to get the boy to commit suicide. He purposely backed up towards the edge of the impromptu arena, close enough to the edge so he could feel the heat of the molten rock on his back.

He crooked the fingers on his free hand, gesticulating the words that issued from his mouth; "Come get some."

True to character, Yun-seong did exactly that. The boy attempted to execute the same kick they had tried only moments earlier. This time though, instead of simply moving out of the way, he gave the doomed Yun-seong an extra boost outwards over the lava with a sharp swat on the back. Yun-seong screamed as the molten rock drew closer, and made a delightful sizzling sound as the soon-to-be corpse touched the magma. Moments later, an absolutely horrendous odor assaulted his nostrils.

He took a deep breath, commenting to the air his distaste for the origin, even though he enjoyed the smell itself; "Oooh, nasty."

Behind him, someone, whom he could assume was female, shrieked out the boy's name. He slowly turned towards the voice, and found that his assumption was correct. A brunette girl was standing on the opposite side of the small island looking exceptionally distraught. She was holding a weapon that only just escaped the label of 'spear' due to the metal end looking like a small curved blade instead of a point. As for personal attire, or lack thereof, she was wearing something almost as provocative as Isabella, and again, no armor to speak of.

The girl glared at him accusingly. "He was like my little brother."

He shrugged indifferently; "If that's true, then perhaps you should have taught your little brother to have a little bit more situational awareness. He might not have committed suicide otherwise." The girl started to move into what resembled a combat stance, and he let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, you seem even less capable of a combatant than he did. Do me, and yourself, a favor by not bothering." A long moment passed where he could see the flash of doubt roll through the girl's eyes, but it faded away as soon as it had appeared, leading to his agonized groan. "The absolute temerity of some people…" He stabbed his blade back into his scabbard with an air of irritation. "Fine, if you insist on being stupid about this then get over here so I can be on my way."

His absolute confidence seemed to shake the resolve of the girl, but regardless she sent a feeble, probing stab his way. To this he reacted by violently slapping aside the blade with his right hand, while at the same time delivering a sharp backhand to the girl's face. Could he be any more contemptuous of a lesser warrior? Probably not.

He snarled; "That was a warning, and your last chance to walk away. Try anything else and you'll be eating your own weapon."

Predictably, the girl did not listen and attacked again with a swing towards his lower torso. This time he caught the staff of the weapon just below the blade and pushed back, hard, ramming the base of the staff into the girl's stomach, followed by a jab upwards into her throat. His opponent released their grip to clutch at their throat, and he rushed forward to trap her hands exactly where they were. He squeezed, forcing the girl's mouth open to gasp for air, before ramming the stolen weapon down her throat hard enough to have the base burst out of the fresh corpse's body near the bottom of the spine.

He glared into the corpse's empty eyes. "Suck it down." Then he picked up the whole mess and hurled the dead weight off into the lava in the same general area where Yun-seong had perished.

Battleground:

Sophitia dove between the legs of the Black Giant with the dual purpose of avoiding the wild swings of the axe, and as part of an attempt to hamstring the golem. The first part of that plan worked perfectly, and the frustrated roar of Astaroth was evidence enough of that. The second part, not so much. Astaroth's skin was as hard as the rock it emulated, and all she managed to do was cause a pretty shower of sparks as her sword skipped off the back of the Black Giant's knee. She had lost track of how long this fight had been dragging on, as it had all blended together into an endless mess of diving to one side or the other to get out of the way of Astaroth's crazy powerful swings that she couldn't block even if she tried.

Astaroth spun like the wheel of a cart, holding his axe out at length, roaring while he did so. "Hold still you maggot!"

She ducked, and danced around the blade that threatened to cut her cleanly in half. "I truly hope you do not really expect me to listen to you."

The only response she received was another rage-filled axe swing. This one clipped her thigh despite her best efforts to the contrary. Was fatigue a factor, most likely. Her muscles burned beneath her skin, and her fingers were starting to go completely numb, to the point where she actually had to look down to confirm that she was actually still holding her weapons. She needed a way to end this so she could catch something of a breather, and the only thing that came to mind was somehow stabbing the Black Giant in the eye. That of course raised the question of how she was going to reach one of the eyes without getting cut in half. As Astaroth's axe slammed into the ground where she had been standing only moments before, the idea hit her. She stood still, relying on her precognition to know where the axe swings would theoretically connect, baiting the Black Giant into another vertical slam. It only took a few moments for that bait to be snagged; hook, line, sinker, and fisherman. The axe fell with enough force that she could almost have mistaken it as a blow from Erasmus, and she danced lightly to the side before using the haft as a step to launch herself, sword first, towards Astaroth's face. What she did not expect was for Astaroth to let go of the axe and snap his arms closed like the jaws of a steel trap, closing his eyes at the same time as if he sensed her intent. Then again, the golem didn't need to see when she was completely at his mercy.

What followed was, at the same time, both painful and humiliating. Astaroth slowly started to squeeze while all she could do was ineffectually slash and stab at his face. As the pressure on her lower spine mounted the sensation evolved. At first, it didn't feel much different than receiving an overzealous hug from a child, the comparison was, at first, more painful than the actual squeeze. Quickly however, the pain did become quite physical as she felt her innards being forced into a smaller and smaller space as her torso was compacted under the golem's power. She resisted the urge to scream for as long as she was able. But that ability evaporated when she felt, as well as heard, her spine snap under the strain.

Astaroth dropped her back onto the ground, and then kicked both her sword and shield off with obvious disgust before hefting the axe up again. "Any last words? You pathetic human."

Her eyes caught sight of a flickering shadow behind the golem, and she managed to smile despite not being able to feel anything below her waist. "Look out behind you."

The golem let out a snort. "You don't really think I'm stupid enough to fall for that-"

Taki appeared out of nowhere and planted both feet in Astaroth's back before kicking the golem hard enough to send the monstrosity tumbling off the edge of the platform. Although, there was a roar of rage that suggested Astaroth had managed to catch himself before hitting the lava. Still, he shouldn't be a problem for quite some time.

The ninja glared down over the edge after the Black Giant. "No, but you should have been."

She used her elbows to sit up, wincing a little at the feeling of volcanic rock on her bare flesh; "I think…" She had to pause to breathe, "…that I should be finding some way of thanking you for this."

Taki's head snapped up and her face suddenly acquired a very abashed look, like she was a teenager that had just been caught red-handed at something degrading. "What! Ah, no, you really don't."

She found herself smiling, in spite of her current predicament. "Taki, this is the second time you've saved my life. I'd feel less of a person if I didn't do something." A moment passed before she added; "That, and I feel I owe you for the broken ribs as well."

Taki gingerly scooped her up, an expression of disbelief on the ninja's face. "You are still completely magnanimous, unbelievable."

Her smile morphed into a smirk. "And you are one to call me unbelievable? Ivy and I both know you finally opened up to Erasmus after he went up to visit you a few nights ago. The entire Tower shook, if you must know."

For the first time that she could recall, Taki looked completely embarrassed. But the ninja was rather good at holding her tongue, and did not reply.

She found this incredibly funny for some reason. "My, you really are new at the whole emotional thing, aren't you?"

A shadow fell across Taki's face; "As if that wasn't obvious enough." The ninja seemed to intentionally jostle her, moving the pieces of her spine around enough to force her to bite her lip to stop herself from letting out a cry of pain. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about this right now."

Battleground: Twenty minutes later

The Overlord waded through the fray, not even bothering to get in even a second-long duel with anyone before killing them. Ever since Taki had shown up with Sophitia cradled in her arms, informing him that the Black Giant had broken the blonde's back, he had been in a particularly foul didn't really think he was even here because he wanted to be anymore, this was now about exacting retribution through pain, preferably pain through immolation, or removal of every single limb. The second option offered more satisfaction, but he didn't really have the time to methodically remove the limbs from the helpless ruck in this melee. In lieu of that, a barrage of fireballs would do just fine.

As he walked on, a literal walking inferno, he reveled in the screams of the dying, of those that accidentally hurled themselves into the lava below to avoid his spells. The sounds of panic from those that were being wholly consumed, staggering around and setting others alight as they died, created a symphony of suffering. This was what made him the Evil Overlord; that he could wholly go off on a murderous rampage like this with only the slightest of provocation, without even a whiff of thought for any possible consequences. Although some could say that this was a justified fury, someone he loved had been hurt, that was, in reality, just a convenient excuse. Revenge was never a noble thing. It was just bloody justice at its finest. Did it really matter to him that none of the people he was incinerating were involved in Sophitia's injury? Not in the slightest.

Just as he was about to turn his flaming wrath towards the relative middle of this sprawling wasteland something caught his eye, or rather, someone. Out in the middle there was another small island that formed an adequate, makeshift arena. On that island there was a lone swordsman surrounded by a ring of other warriors. What was striking about this was that it seemed no one in that ring would dare approach the one in the middle. This meant that either the warrior was one of legendary renown, or was simply very good at acting like they were. A completely joyless smile crept across his lips, maybe, just maybe, he could end this day on a better note.

Battleground:

Heishiro Mitsurugi stood at the ready, slowly scanning his eyes across the assembled fighters that encircled him. He found himself sneering in contempt as they quailed away simply from him looking at them. This was the painful thing about being an infamous swordsman; no one would willingly challenge him unless they were new to the field, which directly translated into foolish, and poorly skilled. He supposed there might have been that one-in-a-million phenom that was as good as he was right from the start of their warrior career, but, as his train of thoughts said, that was a one-in-a-million chance.

His hands tightened on the hilt of his katana, held close to the side of his head. "That's it? Are there none among you that will even try?"

There was a long moment of silence where the warriors on either side of him shuffled their feet nervously; casting subtle glances to either side to see if anyone else would dare challenge the ronin. Not surprisingly, none of them so much as took a tentative step in his warning a voice boomed out of the ether, accompanied by a blast of fire that detonated dead center within the ranks of warriors along his left flank. Those that survived the initial blast were either thrown into the lava far below or shot towards him to be swiftly cut in half. Those that didn't ended up as charred body parts idly sailing through the air to land on the unsuspecting heads of those around him, or simply piles of ash to be carted away by the breeze.

Through the flames and clouds of ash strode a dark figure with the stature to rival the Black Giant, and this figure was unmistakably the source of the voice. "I accept your challenge, swordsman, and I pray that you will be able to entertain me. More so than the array of pathetic children behind you at any rate."

He cast only a short glance towards the "children" to watch them all scurry away before focusing utterly on the dark figure in front of him. This same man practically oozed confidence. It was in the way they held themselves, their unerring grip on the ornate sword in their right hand, the cool brutality in their gaze. The same gaze awakened a flicker of something he had not truly felt in a long time, fear. But far from dissuading him, it inspired him. That the simple sight of this warrior caused him to feel fear was exhilarating in a profound way.

Something halfway between a smile and a smirk crossed his face, his spirit soaring with anticipation. "As you wish, but know that not even the king of Hell could stand against my blade."

The towering black helmet, somehow giving the impression of both crown and armor, inclined downwards to look at him. "You will excuse me if I wait until we have crossed swords to decide whether that is just bravado or not. I have had quite my fill of boundless arrogance for one day."

He locked eyes with the titan, while at the same time eying the man's armor. Bare spots he could capitalize on, of which there were alarmingly few, might as well have glowed white to contrast the black metal. All he could see were a pair of foot long patches on the man's inside forearm, two identical slits on the sides of their torso, and the gap in the helmet for the soul-piercing golden eyes. Despite the totality of coverage, his opponent did not seem to be hindered in any way, which left him feeling conspicuously exposed in comparison.

His opponent struck first, utilizing a step-in thrust that was shockingly fast for such a large man. His response was so deeply ingrained that it was almost automatic, which was a good thing otherwise he might be dead already. He twisted his wrists, swatting the larger blade upwards with his katana before slicing at the inside of the armored arm. Quickly, almost too quickly to be believed, his opponent's blade spun around in their hand to a reverse grip, blocking his swing.

He locked eyes with his opponent again, and he could sense a subtle air of approval in the man's words. "Not bad, swift reflexes." A shove put some distance between the two of them. "And you automatically sought one of the few gaps in my armor. A very practical approach, commendable even. If only you knew how perceptive that move was."

He contemplated those last words for a moment, the possible implications. The most obvious of which was that his opponent assumed that he could not cut through the armor even if he tried. He wasn't particularly eager to test that, but then again, some people had big mouths and used reverse psychology to bring attention away from their weaknesses. Maybe it was worth at least one attempt, though if he was wrong his blade was going to hate him, at least it would if it could think. Trying would be no easy matter though, as each swing from the giant was crisp, controlled, and left almost no feasible room for error. Ineffectually hacking at an arm might just be his death sentence, but going as things were, being slowly driven back in a circle around the arena-like island was just as much of a death. He was holding, but he needed to try something before he ran out of steam. He shuffled his feet to the side, out of the way of a vertical chop, and put all of his muscle behind a similar chop to his enemy's forearm.

Battleground:

The Overlord saw more than felt the hit on his arm, and responded almost automatically with a vicious backhand that connected with the swordsman's face. Straightening up, he took a moment to examine where the blade had connected. What surprised him was that there was a small cut in the metal. It was closing, but the observation was not forgotten so easily.

He voiced his thoughts, something approaching admiration momentarily subverting his smoldering rage. "A steel weapon sharp enough, and sturdy enough to actually wound arcanium metal, fascinating. I don't expect that you would be willing to share where you acquired that blade?"

The swordsman climbed back to their feet, a bit unsteady due to the blow to the head; "Over my dead body."

A chuckle escaped his throat, again in defiance of his anger. "That's rather the idea. But if you insist, I can certainly speed up your demise somewhat."

He dove back into the fray, allowing his anger to bubble back to the fore and lend a hint of extra speed to his blows. Was he still holding back? Yes, but that was rather unavoidable when faced with mortal humans. But he was able to hold back much less than with the other pitiful victims from earlier. True to his word, he started pulling his punches less, watching with sadistic glee as the wounds and injuries started to pile up. The experience was not unlike one he had with a victim in his torture chamber, just limited to his fists and blade for the pain dealers. It was even more satisfying to know that he was ruining a fine warrior. Prior to now he might have harbored thoughts of turning the swordsman to his service, but he got the distinct impression that he would be only marginally more likely to succeed at lighting a fire underwater.

He held up his hand and pinched his fingers closed on the swordsman's blade as it came in, a self-satisfied smirk crossing his face. "When you get to Hell, tell them that The Overlord sent you."

With a sense of finality he slammed the swordsman's head down directly into the ground, crushing the skull as effortlessly as someone would break a twig. Was he a little disappointed, yes, but only because the duel was over. Otherwise he was almost happy, but he really couldn't due to what had set him off in the first place. Considering Sophitia's injury, perhaps it was about time for him to get on back, wrap up this little-

A voice violently broke in on his thoughts, a female voice; "You! How dare you!"

He thought to himself; 'Am I so unfortunate that I must suffer through the whining of a disaffected family member or lover twice in a single battle?' Then he turned around to behold the moderately tall, blond woman that was wearing a... some kind of kimono. He only knew that word from purchasing one for Taki, but the one he was looking at now had been rather heavily trimmed. She was also holding a paper umbrella, closed, the purpose of which he could not comprehend.

His tone conveyed his lack of interest. "Don't tell me, I killed your lover? Husband? Brother? Possibly father? If it makes you feel better he put up an especially valiant struggle that I will remember for quite some time."

The woman looked taken aback for a moment, as much by his voice as by the words, and then she blew up at him. "You know nothing! I was supposed to kill him, to avenge my master!" She started to charge at him from across the entire island. "Now you will die in his stead!"

He was, understandably, a little bit puzzled by the outburst. That, and the fact that this woman was apparently unarmed and charging him like a berserker. What was she going to do, engage in a proverbial slap-fight with her umbrella? Although, the way one of the woman's hands hovered over the bottom end of the umbrella struck him as rather suspicious. Could someone actually hide a blade in something that small? Deciding to err on the side of caution he braced himself, but was still unsure what exactly he was readying himself for. His caution was rewarded when his left hand was in a perfect spot to intercept the knife that flashed out of the umbrella, however, that action left him with a knife hole in the palm of his hand. A little shocked by the speed, he was in no position to do anything about the top end of the umbrella going for his face. The point hit him on the nose. It wasn't painful, indeed it pissed him off more than anything else, but in the back of his mind he acknowledged that the girl was quite good. Blinded as he was by the floral-print monstrosity in his face he reacted the best he could, by swinging his left arm like one would swing a club, with no particular skill or special purpose behind the blow, fingers splayed to maximize his odds of connecting with something. And connect he did, with something soft, squeezable, and yet firm enough to carry the woman away from him and, more importantly, get the umbrella away from his face.

With his sight clear he followed the brief aerial antics of the woman, namely the flailing, before watching the blond land rather roughly on their rear end. She looked rather shocked, as if this were the first time she had failed to kill someone within that first rush. A thoroughly idiotic outlook, everything was bound to fail at least once. It was simply a matter of time. The trick was to have a contingency in place for the eventuality of failure. It gave him the impression that the woman was quite a bit younger than he had at first expected.

The girl sprang back to her feet, shock shifting to outrage in the space of a heartbeat, "You, how…" She went red in the face; "How dare you!"

He was a little bit confused, and related that, with a note of humor mixed in. "How dare I what? You will need to be quite a bit more specific than that. I get accused of things on a regular basis."

The blush intensified, and the girl seemed no closer to actually articulating what she was trying to say, either because she was humiliated or phenomenally enraged. "You, you… You grabbed my…"

The realization hit him, and he found it monumentally funny. "Your ass? Not to put too fine a point on it, but I can hardly be held accountable for what I hit when you shove that pink and purple abomination in my face. Really, you should feel lucky that I didn't think to use my sword. Now, that would have been a real pain in the ass." He chuckled, but at the same time mentally chastised himself for voicing such a terrible pun.

The girl completely lost it and rushed him again, only this time there was no semblance of strategy at all, only sheer berserker fury. With that realization, also came the thought of toying around a bit before calling it a day. At the last possible moment he sidestepped the girl's rush, and gave her a light shove to the back of the head as she passed by. The action itself reminded him somewhat of what he frequently had done with the unicorns in Evernight Forest, before he had exterminated them anyway. The only difference was that in those cases he had decapitated the beasts instead of toying around with them.

As the young woman stumbled and eventually fell flat on her face he struck a dramatic pose and uttered one word, "Ole!"

She rushed him again, this time trying to kick him in the stomach. His free hand snapped forward and seized the outstretched foot as it connected futilely with his torso, before twisting it around and forcing the girl to do the same or suffer a broken leg. This same position also forced the girl to perform a rather humiliating hopping dance on her free foot to avoid falling flat, again.

The girl screeched at him, "Release me! Immediately!"

The situation, and his role in causing it, improved his mood by an order of magnitude, which was reflected in his words. "Of course, of course, I'll get right on that. Just as soon as you-"

The ground beneath him shook, which in and of itself was not worrisome. What was worthy of notice was the fact that he was standing in a volcanic area and any disturbance in the ground beneath his feet was a serious matter. Something similar to a dull roar off in the distance drew his gaze, and he was witness to a feverish eruption of lava that blanketed a good portion of the battleground in molten rock, a section that was dangerously close to him. Close enough that he was able to watch a little girl of around seventeen dressed in white and green priestess attire, what she was doing on a battlefield he couldn't begin to guess, get drenched in magma and promptly incinerated.

He let go of the girl and took a step away. "Well, I think that's my cue to, ngh!"

Apparently, letting go of the girl had proven to be a very bad idea. She had used the brief distraction to bury her knife up to the handle in his side. Furthermore, he reflexively swatted at the source of pain, which only succeeded in breaking the handle of the knife off. On the bright side, the girl was now completely unarmed. That was of course ignoring the fact that he now had a knife buried in his torso that his body would heal around. It would hurt like hell taking the blade out.

He ignored the continually reopening wound and started to sprint to what he felt might be a safe distance away, noting that the girl was still chasing him. "You do realize that you're practically committing suicide." Typically, he did not get a reply.

He threw an extra burst of speed into his run to get some distance between them, and then opened a portal home mid-stride. If the girl following him was smart, she would escape the battlefield and that would be the end of their confrontation. If not… well, burn that bridge if he came to it.

Battleground:

Setsuka flat out sprinted to keep up with her quarry, barely managing to keep him within sight between distance and the fire falling from the sky. Truth be told, if she had been able to choose, she would never have set foot in this apocalyptic wasteland again, but she had known that Mitsurugi, with his boundless pursuits of greater combat glory, would find his way here. That, in and of itself, was the majority of the reason she was charging after this "Overlord" as he had called himself. Her entire purpose for, she couldn't remember how many, years had been killing Mitsurugi. Now that she had watched him die, it seemed only natural to shift her aggression to the individual that had deprived her of her revenge.

In some corner of her mind she realized that the little aside The Overlord had shot over his shoulder at her was true, she really was acting suicidal. She was completely unarmed, physically and mentally exhausted, and assuming that she caught up with her quarry, would be fighting on a battlefield of his choosing. Living clearly was not one of her priorities, but survival for the now was, as contradictory as it seemed. She only wanted to live so long as it took for vengeance. And that drive led her to one conclusion; escape this Hell on Earth so she could hunt down The Overlord.

Ahead, she lost sight of her target for a moment behind a shower of falling ash and flames, and she stumbled as the ground behind her gave way. Picking herself up, she coughed, choking on the volcanic ash that was likely mixed with fired human remains. And she ran again, blindly now as there was no other way, aware that at any moment she could accidentally step off of the relative safety of the collapsing stone platforms and into the molten rock below. She took one more step, and there was no ground to step on, just a cold void that consumed her.