Fro Ninja; What's up people? This is the Fro Ninja right about now with a new update. As you know, if you've been following this story, but this chapter is the conclusion to what has been the first major story arc within the Illegal Freedom storyline, which is to say there's a lot more of it to go around. I'm currently in the process of planning the next story arc, but the next few chapters will be more focused on developing the band of weary travelers and their new companions, and my job has not been making that easy, but we do what we can. Plus, I got chapters to write, so the show must go on. Anyway, before we get into it, let's read over a few of the comments people left in the last update.
RabbitMelody; Hello again, my dear. I'm so very sorry to keep you waiting all this time, but I'm so glad to see you're still with me. I hope you continue to read and enjoy the story and support your boy. I appreciate you.
Fro Ninja; Now that we've gone through all of that, let's get right into the action!
The creaks of the decrepit hallway echoed in Stinkmeaner's ear every time he dodged a blade coming his way, his hair almost cut by the sharp metal of his opponent's blade inching close to his face. Sweat ran down his nose as he took every second to catch his breath during the breaks in his opponent's assault. He took little pleasure at knowing his opponent wouldn't kill him should the worse come to pass (at least he wouldn't give him reason to). The exchange of swords clashing continued, with Stinkmeaner being forced to defend himself at every interval. Stinkmeaner felt his whole world flip as his feet flew up in the air from his opponent's leg sweep. It wasn't honorable in the slightest. An act that Stinkmeaner would expect no less out of the very man who taught him such methods.
Stinkmeaner rolled out of the way of his master's downward thrust and quickly picked himself up from the wooden floor. Stinkmeaner sensed a moment of reprieve from his opponent and took the opportunity to strike back, which forced him into another deadlock. The struggle between the two continued until Stinkmeaner headbutted his opponent to knock him off guard. Despite his impaired vision, Stinkmeaner knew from the impact alone that it had little effect on his stone-headed master and reeled back when the same maneuver was given to him; he fell to the ground once more and on wobbly knees shot back up. It wasn't going to end like this, not as long as he could do something about it. Stinkmeaner switched up his stance, choosing to hold the sword in a reverse grip style as taught by his master. It was an ideal stance given his lack of sight: possessing apt defense and allowing more opportunities for swift counter-attacks. His opponent's thundering footsteps came in loud and clear, and Stinkmeaner dodged his attacks accordingly and followed through with a parry that leads to a vertical slash that collided with steel. Stinkmeaner grinded his teeth in frustration at the persistence of his opponent and violently lashed out with tears that had the same outcome. The strong scent of wood chipping away from fire ran past him as the fight raged on; Stinkmeaner knew he was running on borrowed time. He then did the unthinkable. He used the technique his master died teaching him.
The solid and robust emotion of hatred was common in Stinkmeaner's upbringing; it was a feeling that he felt wherever he went and one that he emanated himself. He radiated its powerful influence to others around him so strongly that it didn't take much for the desire of spreading it to manifest in his heart at a young age. The people of Ryukyu were no strangers to such a powerful tool, who showed Stinkmeaner to wield it through constant conflict that molded him into an individual who salivated at the thought of it. But there was one thing Stinkmeaner was never taught by the islands' people that would complete his transformation into the killer he saw himself becoming. It had been on the tip of his tongue ever since he used it to cut his way out of his mother's womb and worm words of death into his father's peaceful heart. He could never articulate its sensation despite it being present in his actions, fighting against the natives that despised foreigners since the tender age of ten. This was his life until a single man came to the islands and chose Stinkmeaner as his apprentice, and lending assistance all for the sake of answering the blind young man's question: 'How can I use my hatred to kill a man?'
For the next twenty years, Stinkmeaner honed his skills in the art of the samurai. Not to defend the life of an ostentatious lord or to serve the country that despised him in the army, but kill. And it came to no one's surprise that he was exceptionally good at it. By the time he turned twelve, he had bathed in the blood of more than fifty men that were thought to be his betters but fell to his blade. His master told him that the sword he wielded was forged from the bone of a demon and would possess any that wielded it. Stinkmeaner always found such a story amusing since the blood of a demon already ran through his veins.
At the apex of his training, his master taught him a deadly technique that took Stinkmeaner nearly a decade of training to understand truly and then another to master fully. The concept of the technique was simple: if one can utilize their anger and hatred for their opponent into a weapon, the user could become an unstoppable weapon of destruction and carnage; the execution, on the other hand, was more complicated. To manifest such raw emotion, an individual requires the utmost focus of their spirit and a target in question to execute the technique successfully. Despite its learning curve, the ability requires little repetition to call upon it in the heat of battle; it becomes a part of the warrior's soul as much as it does his blade. For the longest time since the days before Nobunaga's uprising-such a move had yet to be graced with a name until Stinkmeaner became the one to perfect it: The Pulse of Killing Intent.
By the time Stinkmeaner took a single breath, his hand had been sore from bringing down the total weight of his sword through his opponent's head. He struggled to pull the blade lodged in his opponent's skull, snagged on the remains of bone and grey matter. The stench of burning wood immediately brought Stinkmeaner down from his killing high and ran to the training room where his master would most likely be. He kicked down the fire-lit entrance to the room and shouted out for any audible sign that his master was still alive. Stinkmeaner tightened his fist when he heard the voice that replied to him was a youthful one instead of the hoarse and aged that identified his master. Stinkmeaner charged to the source of the voice, bringing his sword above his head to bring down in a slash. Another blade instead blocked it.
Stinkmeaner's brow furrowed at the familiar presence of the killing intent present in his opponent as well. How is it possible that another swordsman-a youthful one at that-was able to master such an obscure technique? His thought was answered when his opponent spoke to him.
"I'm repaying the master for his teachings," The boy spoke, sparking further anger within Stinkmeaner. Stinkmeaner's guard fell when the boy pushed through with force that exceeded his, knocking him down to the ground. Stinkmeaner shot up and swung his sword forward from his waist for an angled slash which ended up being blocked; he twisted for a quick rip from the opposite direction that hit steel once more. The two exchanged blows that chipped away at Stinkmeaner's defenses until his sword was broken in two by a massive slash by his opponent; the noise of the fire drowned out the grating sound his blade made. Stinkmeaner slumped to the ground in shame, waiting for an execution that never came.
"What the hell are you waiting on?" Stinkmeaner said."Do it!" Stinkmeaner's heard the noise of a blade being sheathed and footsteps pattering away.
"I don't kill weaklings." The boy said as he walked away. Filled with grief and frustration, Stinkmeaner crawled on the ground until he reached his master's corpse. A sharp snapping sound echoed in Stinkmeaner's ears. A storm of screams shot from his throat as the roof came down on him.
Even though he didn't know at the time, Stinkmeaner had unlocked a particular part of the power that his master never mentioned. The power of hate grants the user clarity and strength during a battle and survivalism to avoid death itself. As Stinkmeaner walked out of the wreckage, he noticed his body becoming more potent as the thought of his opponent settled in his thoughts. The images of gutting and lacerating the boy kept him alive for many years, swearing to end his life should the moment arrive. Stinkmeaner couldn't help but laugh at how easy it was to hate and how it made one stronger than any lifetime of training could. In time, that very hate would go on to gain Stinkmeaner followers who emulated his vagrant lifestyle, even going so far as to gouge out their own eyes so that they may see the world as he does. Despite his loyal followers, Stinkmeaner cared little for an army of men that would follow him to the brink of death, with his only thoughts being to cut down as many people as possible to fuel that very rage building up inside him after so many decades. Little did he know that with the arrival of the rumored Number Two and his apprentice, the hatred he had mustered up after so long would erupt spectacularly. At that moment, with his hatred unleashed, he couldn't help but think of his childhood on Ryukyu islands: fighting to survive, killing whoever attempted to kill him, or even to make sure he ate for the night. It filled him with glee that every action he ever took has to lead him up to this point. He was going to be able to gain the answer to his question after so many years, 'How could I use my hatred to kill a man?' It turns out the answer was straight-forward. 'Just think about killing him. That's all there is to it.'
A pool of black energy, darker than any abyss, swirled around Stinkmeaner like a tempest. His pupilless-white eyes turned dark, with his skin becoming cracked and scarred as the aura intensified. Everyone in the area felt the overwhelming pressure, and the sensation became more apparent the more time passed. Jazmine gripped the center of her chest tightly and attempted to block out the power as much as possible by focusing her will. A bright light erupted from her hands, forming a cone-shaped wall that she commanded everyone to get behind when she saw Stinkmeaner about to unleash his Essence; it gathered and gathered until it exploded before everyone was standing. The dark aura's power became denser as it wrapped around Jazmine's shield, gradually cracking its protective weave. Despite the intensity, Jazmine prevailed and held through until Stinkmeaner's burst of energy had faded, which ended up causing her to collapse.
"Your highness!" Zechal held her up in his arms. After healing Huey's wounds and creating a guard for the others to stand behind, she had reached the peak of exhaustion. Huey and Zechal exchanged a glance before Huey went with Afro to fend off an approaching Stinkmeaner. Afro took the first swing at Stinkmeaner, which was easily parried by a reverse slash from the hip and a roundhouse kick to Huey that attempted to attack his flank, blowing him back several feet. Huey halted his momentum by dragging his feet down and continued his assault on the bandit; Stinkmeaner fended off the two simultaneously with little sign of weakness in his guard.
Black Dynamite rushed towards Afro and Huey only to get impeded by more blind bandits. Although he could easily cut them down, the quantity and frequency they came in were beginning to sink in for Black Dynamite as his swings became more unfocused and prone to deflection. Although not entirely on the front like Black Dynamite, Ming had her own problems attempting to catch the bandits off guard. Attacking from the shadows was a cunning strategy for the unsuspecting individual, but a surprise attack can only work so many times. There were little places to hide in a cavern that was becoming more crowded by the minute. Given their respective issues, Black Dynamite and Ming began to pick up each other's slack; Black Dynamite would carry the aggression of the blind bandits while Ming would take them out from behind with quick strikes to vital areas. It was an outcome that Black Dynamite would disagree with were it under more welcome circumstances, but Ming figured that his lack of complaint was a welcome change to both of their approaches.
Huey and Afro came from each side with a flurry of coordinated slashes that Stinkmeaner effortlessly dodged and weaved through, and pulled down Huey's sword by the grip and delivered a shoulder tackle that knocked him back. Afro went for Stinkmeaner's exposed before with a vertical slash that he dodged with a weight shift in his feet and took a headbutt from him that led into an uppercut; Afro then came to the revelation from the attack that Stinkmeaner had only just gone on the offensive.
Stinkmeaner began his assault by pivoting around Afro and delivering two slashes to his back, two more tears to his hip and side of his torso, all with astonishing speed. Blood burst from Afro's skin as soon the pain washed over his senses, with his scream being a remarkable sound that Stinkmeaner couldn't help but hum to in a rhythm that made sense only to him. Huey charged toward the bandit, who playfully deflected all of his attacks. Despite Huey's great agility, Stinkmeaner intercepted all of Huey's flank attacks, stunning him with a punch to the nose and a reverse slash to his mid-section. Huey grinded his teeth to endure the pain and avoid screaming, which Stinkmeaner unexpectedly took offense to.
"So you wanna be tough, huh?" Stinkmeaner said, delivering a punt to Huey's chin that knocked his tiny body on his back. Huey found himself rolling out of the way when Stinkmeaner brought down his sword multiple times, trying to finish him off. Afro quickly came in between an attack that would have finished Huey, coming to a deadlock with Stinkmeaner once again. A dangerous smile formed on Stinkmeaner's lips when Afro struggled to force him back in the lock between their sword. "Is this all you got Two?" Stinkmeaner chortled. "You getting 'yo ass beat by a blind man. How does that make you feel?" Afro came out of the deadlock and gave a flurry of slashes-horizontal twice followed by a strong thrust -that Stinkmeaner chose to deflect and followed through with the same manner of attack that Afro barely defended against. Afro shook off the intimidation of having his moves done to him that Stinkmeaner tried to incorporate. Stinkmeaner wildly swung at Afro's defenses, with each attack gradually shaking Afro's guard loose for a savage flurry of slashes to several limbs. Afro's placed his teeth together to avoid voicing his pain to his opponent. Stinkmeaner grunted and began banging his sword on the cavern floor.
"What the fuck is your problem?!" Stinkmeaner said. "You muthafuckas are supposed to be crying like little bitches. Screaming yo' lungs out from me whupping yo' asses! If you telling me y'all ain't in on the show, this is goin' be a short performance," Huey and Afro gazed at steamed Stinkmeaner and silently came back into their stances. Stinkmeaner's ears twitched at the sound of their blades being raised once more and unleashed a blood-curdling roar."I'm gonna kill you niggas!" He then pointed his blade at Afro."Especially you, Number Two. You got the same thing I got, but you just don't want to get down and dirty in front of your boy."
Huey was taken aback and glanced at Afro."Master?" Huey said.
"I'm not you," Afro said, gripping his sword tighter."And you aren't me. It's that simple."
"Bullshit!" Stinkmeaner said."I know everything that you are and what you did. You're like me. You killed who you had to to survive, even the ones you loved. " Stinkmeaner turned to Huey when Afro responded with silence, "I told you, boy. Your master is a monster just like me. That honorable stoic shit he throws around is just a front. He can do what I'm doing right now. He just doesn't want to do it in front of you."
Huey bit his lip and charged toward Stinkmeaner; he jumped in the air for a slash to Stinkmeaner's head which had been absolutely floored from being grabbed by the neck. Stinkmeaner's squeezed down on Huey's throat and grabbed the boy's hand that was coming with a desperate attack from his sword, which dropped to the floor. Afro grinded his teeth as Stinkmeaner held Huey out in front of him; he punched Huey in the ribs as he struggled to escape from his grip.
"If you really care about your boy, your 'apprentice' you'll use it too," Stinkmeaner said."I want to fight him. The fight of a lifetime against someone I know who's just like me."
"Master," Huey said, struggling to speak."...don't worry about me...strike him down,"
Being a pragmatist in combat and all things in life, Afro considered Huey's words of sacrifice. He would be able to finish off Stinkmeaner with one well-placed slash to his exposed sternum also kill his apprentice, all in one fluid motion. He considered all of those factors within a few seconds and discarded them in less time than that.
"Fine then," Afro said."I'll give you precisely what you want," Afro focused his energy, all of his hatred into raw power. His thoughts became flooded with the intent, the desire, to kill the man standing before him. The rushing sensation flourishing through his body had felt familiar; the amount of time spent not giving himself into the killing intent reminded Afro how intoxicating it was. He found it after only a few seconds but then broke it when he saw the image of a young cherub girl, black hair with wide eyes staring up at him with great affection. He came out of his trance and tightened his fist."I will give you your death, as the Number Two. Not as I once was." Stinkmeaner grinned maliciously.
"Your loss, chump," Stinkmeaner increased the pressure on Huey's neck at the same time as Afro charging towards him. Stinkmeaner then felt an odd sensation, as if he lost all feeling within his arm, and a wave of agony surged through his body. Huey dropped to his knees and freed himself from the empty grip of Stinkmeaner's hand, throwing his body across the floor. Stinkmeaner cried out at the top of his lungs, feeling the loss of the arm and remembering the brief dismemberment that caused it before he was any wiser. Huey's eyes traced the source of the quick gleam of steel that flew by him and saw Zechal at the end of it.
"Do you believe that you can speak of killing in the presence of a Zemurian knight?" Zechal said."Without proving yourself to him?" He was coated in a white aura that was shining over the darkness that Stinkmeaner's emanated. Zechal pointed his sword outwards to the Blind bandit, gripping the stub of what remained of his right arm."If you want to be killed so bad, then let it be by me. The finest warrior you will ever meet!"
"I trust you had no issues getting out of bed this morning?" Jazmine said to Zechal, who looked to be stifling a yawn.
"None whatsoever, your highness," Zechal said. He noticed the greenery of the palace's garden, occupied with several of the arranged flowers that complemented its beauty. It always put him at ease to meet his charge in this location, but the circumstances were still a mystery to him."I'm always happy to grant your requests,"
"I'm glad to see your loyalty is as pronounced as ever," Jazmine said."But that is not the focus of this meeting," Jazmine sat down on the greenery, ignoring the stain it might leave on the rich clothes of her robes. She patted an empty spot next to her, signaling Zechal to sit down."I'm sure you're well aware of my ability. The same that has been in the royal Zemurian family for eons."
Zechal nodded. "The Essence of Purity: the power granted to you by the goddess Ira," Zechal said. "It grants the wielder the power of augmentation and bringing out the innermost ability. As well as healing injuries."
"I see you haven't forgotten your history," Jazmine said."The very same ability that assisted my father in his rule has passed onto me. " Jazmine put out her hand, and a bright light began to shimmer from her fingers. The light was soothing to the say the least, with Zechal being affected by its properties just being near Jazmine."It only recently manifested within me recently after my birth ceremony just a few weeks ago."
"That's extraordinary, your highness." Zechal said."It's sure to be of great assistance to our expedition to the east"
"That's not the point I wish to make," Jazmine said, which cut down Zechal's confidence."I talked to the advisor about my ability. She said that despite the Essence's great power, it is tied to my lifeforce. Better yet, it feeds on it."
"You're saying it could kill you should you use it?" Zechal said. Jazmine nodded. Zechal swallowed his desire to voice his protest to the princess. He knew she would use it anyway should the situation call for it, whether to lend aid to him or a stranger in danger. He instead tightened his fist and took a deep breath before speaking once more."Princess. Should the need arise, I will gladly give my life for you. There will be no need to exert yourself using such an ability. It's no better than a curse if you ask me,"
"Perhaps it is just as you say," Jazmine said."It takes away from me more than I can give to others. To use it would only be as a last resort, given that I have you with me."
"If that's the case, then why tell me about it?" Zechal said.
"The land we're venturing off to is an unknown one, Zechal." Jazmine said."They have not opened their doors to foreigners for many centuries. Many ways of thinking have been adopted since then, many of which go against our own ideologies. This means that our principles could be challenged at a moment's notice, which will require more than a sharp sword but a great mind and an even mightier spirit." The light from Jazmine's hand extinguished as she closed her palm."I've called you here to inform you of this power, the possibility of its usage, and its consequence."
"With all due respect, princess," Zechal said."I cannot understand your viewpoint. What factor of our trip have you foreseen that would make you think that the Essence would be necessary? Is there something you're not telling me?"
Jazmine looked off to the distance, far beyond the alabaster stone used to build her family's palace. The orange setting sun peaked just over the horizon, with the rays glimmering like fireworks in her eyes. She took in the sight of the Zemurian sun setting, knowing it would be some time before it was in her eyes once more. She would have to grow accustomed to it rising.
"I had a dream last night," Jazmine said. "Its vividness was unlike any I've had before. In it, a pain spiked in my chest; terrible darkness consumed me with no chance given to me to escape. In the middle of it was a boy no older than me. His soul had melded with that same darkness with no hope of it going back to normal." Jazmine gripped the middle part of her robe."I couldn't hear him speak, but he was in such great pain and sadness. A great tragedy befell him that he couldn't prevent,"
"Does this boy hurt you?" Zechal said.
"No," Jazmine said. "He doesn't notice me, but I'm certain that he could if he wanted to. I tried to reach out to him, to use my power to save him, but the second I reach my hand out to him, the dream ends."
"Perhaps it's just an empty vision of the future," Zechal said with a proud tone in his voice."If this boy fell to darkness, it's his own fault for possessing such a gullible soul."
"How could you say such a thing?" Jazmine glared at Zechal.
"I'm only truthful, princess," Zechal said, glancing at his blade by his side."A warrior feels the call of darkness every time he steps out onto the battlefield. I've been tempted a few times myself, so I know. It comes with having the ability to take a life and have that life fuel your thirst for combat." Zechal stood up from his spot in the grass."Whoever this boy is, you saw, he did battle with this temptation and lost. It's as simple as that." He looked down at Jazmine, who wore an upset expression. He cleared his throat and chose his following words carefully."If his soul is as trapped you describe, then perhaps there would be no hope for him."
"I don't believe that," Jazmine said."Not for a second,"
"Apologies," Zechal noted."I don't mean to call your conviction into question. Should this be what your heart is set on, then I will do my best to make it come true,"
"That you will," Jazmine said and then stood up. She grabbed Zechal's hand. The contrast of her delicate fingers and his coarse palm took Zechal aback. He then felt at ease as he saw the princess focus her energy on him; a surge of great power flowed into his body but was suddenly quelled.
"What did you just do?" Zechal said, patting down his body for any particular quirks."Did you just empower me with the Essence?"
"In a manner of speaking," Jazmine said. "I've sealed a portion of the Essence within your soul. It will be useful should the need arise."
"That need being the salvation of the boy in your dreams?" Zechal said.
"He will be saved. I know it." Jazmine said, placing her hands on his cheek."By you, the mightiest warrior in all of Zemuria."
There were an indeterminate amount of words that Zechal wanted to bleed from his mouth to say to the princess. They borrowed from a range of emotions that he was always taught to suppress by his father. Love, by far being the strongest. Although he knew it wasn't love in a romantic sense. He had long convinced himself that he would never be worthy of such affection by the princess. Despite the distinction, the feeling that swelled inside his chest felt like it would burst if given the slightest provocation. Was it pride he felt? Pride that he was responsible for the next ruler for his kingdom, as well as the brightest and radiant girl that he had the opportunity to know? Perhaps, it was, but all of that conjecture was expressed in only a simple salute to the princess in question.
"Thy will be done, your highness," Zechal said
The battle quickly turned into a stream of lights that bounced off the walls, becoming difficult for two seasoned swordmasters to follow entirely. The blinking of white light intersecting with black was complemented by the loud clash of swords, producing a rhythm any elite composer would open their ears to. Huey and Afro were brought back to reality from the spectacle when more bandits charged towards a defenseless Jazmin and cut them down swiftly. Huey reached out to Jazmine, who drew labored breaths every time Zechal's and Stinkmeaner's swords exchanged blows, which was creating ripples that tore through the air. The very pressure was enough to produce its own gravity field that crushed the others, as they felt heavier in their motion.
"Are you alright?" Huey asked as he held her in his arms.
Jazmine gave him a pained smile."Now that you are, yes." Jazmine said."I'm glad I could prevent the worst,"
"I wouldn't say that so soon," Huey said, bringing attention to Zechal's enhanced combat performance. Jazmine saw his concern and placed her hand on his shoulder.
"He will be fine," Jazmine said. "He is fighting with the power of my people. He won't lose to such a ruffian."
"I hope you're right," Huey said. Despite his wording, he did have confidence in the young Zemurian. The difference in Zechal's fighting ability in seeing and what he displayed when Huey faced him was palpable. He figured that Jazmine likely had something to do with it, given how she mystically healed his wounds earlier. The mystery was how Zechal could keep this power hidden, given his abrasive attitude. Afro snapped Huey back to reality when he fended off a bandit that came close to slicing his head clean off.
"Don't just sit around," Afro said as his blade split the bandit down the middle."Fight."
Huey nodded and helped Jazmine to her feet while drawing his blade and staying close to her. A bandit was cut down immediately with a good thrust to the stomach by Huey as he approached the two, and another was dispatched with a vertical slice that split his neck in half. Huey scanned his surroundings as five more bandits slowly approached him, waiting for the first strike to be dealt. Afro stood in front of the two kids, with his back towering over their view.
"Master, what are you doing?" Huey said.
"Take her and run," Afro said."We'll catch up." Afro cut down a bandit that charged to take advantage of his apparent opening and flew back into the fray to fend off the four remaining bandits.
Huey silently acknowledged his master's wishes, grabbing Jazmine's hand and proceeding out of the catacombs, only to be blocked by two more bandits, who seemed particularly peeved at the events thus far. Huey clashed with the two simultaneously while keeping Jazmine at a safe distance, trading deadlocks and using his speed and stature to outmaneuver them. Jazmine then saw one of the bandits go for a reverse slash at Huey's flank. She grabbed a rock and tossed it at the attacking bandit, winging him in the right ear. The bandit cringed in pain and screamed as if he had been burned. Huey immediately recognized his intent and unleashed a sweeping slash that parted the bandit's leg, bringing it down to an adequate level where his head was swiftly removed, and with the same fatal momentum, carried the blade to the other bandit.
Huey glanced over to Jazmine and saw his reflection in her light brown eyes, his blood-drenched face with an emotionless expression. She didn't flinch once when he retook her hand.
"Thank you," Huey said.
"Happy to help," Jazmine said.
Zechal and Stinkmeaner were in their own world to the outside viewer. Every technique executed by one side was countered by another, with not a single wasted breath being given in the excursion. Zechal couldn't believe himself at what was happening, despite the current event. A young man fresh into his knighthood possessing the ability to keep up with an actual swordmaster in every factor. Although he knew it didn't come as a result of his many hours of training, or his talent for that matter, he was still grateful to the origin of the power granting him such a feat. Stinkmeaner noted the amateurish flair written all over Zechal's face when he was brought before him just moments ago and how much of it was a far cry to now. It drew his already insatiable rage even further.
The two exchanged blows at unimaginable speeds, with Stinkmeaner's guile tactics having a little place to be in his arsenal as they would require the element of deception. An aspect that Zechal was making sure was non-existent in his straight-forward fighting style. Zechal took a breath and went for two quick slashes that were blocked, and in the same breath went for a heavy slash aimed at Stinkmeaner's torso, blocked. Stinkmeaner countered the move in the same fashion with an additional force that blew back Zechal's guard, but only for a millisecond before the knight recovered his bearings. Stinkmeaner gave a shoulder tackle, pushing his opponent back several feet before charging with his assault once more. Zechal pivoted around the bandit leader's aggressive yet prominent charge, unleashing a flurry of slashes to his flank that Stinkmeaner managed to dodge despite the compromised position. Zechal noted the unorthodox method of avoiding Stinkmeaner possessed from when the samurai were battling him. Still, the basic technique being performed before him was unreal for the lack of a better term.
In the several clashes in under a minute of them starting their fight, Zechal noticed how he hardly needed to take a breath. The princesses' power flowing through him was unlike anything he had experienced before. He used to attribute the tales of the royal family's mystical powers as nothing more than that. Stories made to lull children to sleep. Another thing he was realizing was the one he cared the most to omit from his revelation but did so anyway was the ability of The Number Two's apprentice. Being his senior by a couple of years in age and swordplay, Zechal expected to exceed the young man by a margin, only to be thoroughly shocked when witnessing his close bout against Stinkmeaner. Zechal was gradually becoming a believer with everything he previously stood against, which filled him with an eagerness he hadn't felt since his knighting. He was eager to defeat his opponent with the ancient power of his people, apologize to Huey Freeman for doubting his ability, and allow his mind to embrace what seems improbable until shown to be anything but.
The battle continued with Zechal keeping up with the brute strength and outlandish technique of Stinkmeaner. The white light surrounding his body shone through the dark misty substance of his opponent's. The aura seemed to clash on their own every time the two's blades collided, unleashing a roar of steel screeching through the acoustics of the cavern. Stinkmeaner's ears began to bleed from the ringing sensation erupting from his eardrums; his source of knowledge on Zechal's movements literally began to melt away with each deadlock. He knew from the thought of his most vital sense being impaired indirectly, Stinkmeaner was running on borrowed time. This grew more apparent when after what seemed like an eternity of fighting with no obvious sign of either side gaining the advantage, Zechal scored his first hit against the bandit. At that moment, the world had seemed to stop as Stinkmeaner felt a throbbing sensation down by his ribs. His fingers ran across his skin and dabbed his finger onto his tongue; his palette recognized the peculiar taste of his own blood. As Stinkmeaner's mind stretched back to the days of his childhood, the air grew colder, and the light that radiated from Zechal's body slowly began to fade.
"You dead, little nigga," Stinkmeaner said with the aura around him intensifying, to the point that one could actually taste it. Despite bracing for the hit, Zechal was knocked back by the abrupt slash from Stinkmeaner that split the rock behind him from its sheer power. Zechal shook it off just in time to dodge another heavy slash from his opponent that broke through the wall his back was against, the window of which was so small he desperately clambered to his recovery. By the time his feet were straight, Stinkmeaner was already in Zechal's space, with two successive elbow strikes to the head followed by a flurry of diagonal slashes that slowly ripped apart the knight's armor like paper. Zechal couldn't tell it happened to him right away in the middle of the renewed clash, but his body was already giving in from the attack. What seemed like a small interval of slashes hit several vital organs that provided him the strength necessary to keep going. The power of the princess kept him from succumbing to the injuries but also ignorant of them.
Zechal blocked all incoming attacks from Stinkmeaner before he felt a surge of pain shoot through him. The white aura started to fade Stinkmeaner's atmosphere grew larger not only in strength but in scale, consuming that bright light whole. Zechal glanced at the bloody reflection in his opponent's blade, along with the events of his life. At the end of it all, he saw the first meeting of him and the princess. The fateful day in the throne room, a stare traded from opposite ends of space with a distance shrunk with each passing day. He then saw Huey Freeman walking off with the princess to an unforeseen destination. He then smiled wistfully as the blade met the target of his neck, and the glance came to an end.
Huey would come to have no recollection of how it felt. All that remained of his mind before it started was the visual process of seeing Zechal beheaded before his very eyes and the sensation of a piece of his soul imploding with an indescribable rage. Jazmine's screams came became white noise to Huey, as well as saving her as his master commanded. Before he knew it, Huey's sword locked with Stinkmeaner's, following an exchange that exceeded the intensity of his clashes with Zechal. The energy that resonated with his fury swirled around him in dancing sparks, surging with power that rivaled Stinkmeaner's. The exchanges produced ripples that gradually split the foundation of the cave's rocky interior, causing the earth to tremble around everyone.
"What the fuck are you?!" Stinkmeaner said, desperately fending off Huey hadn't been in the right mind to respond. Swift strikes with the force of lightning came at Stinkmeaner, with his defense falling to shambles before its might. Huey felt only a semblance of the Essence that Stinkmeaner radiated when he previously fought him and his master. It was diminishing as the fight progressed, with Huey gaining the upper hand. Stinkmeaner attempted a fatal strike to Huey's head with a swing of his blade, blocked and countered by a fast knee that scored on the nose, followed by two slashes to the arms. Stinkmeaner grit his teeth to absorb the pain to give another incision to his opponent; it missed as Huey jumped in the air and delivered a slash targeting the top of his head that Stinkmeaner barely managed to block.
Huey pressed Stinkmeaner's guard, taking full advantage of his arm injury to break past it by standing on his shoulders. As Stinkmeaner was about to break the clash to counter-attack, Huey headbutted him, sending him back a couple of feet, opening him up for a stab into his right shoulder, causing him to scream like a wounded beast. Huey thrust the sword deeper into the bandit leader's arm until he saw the steel disappear into his flesh, abruptly took it out, and sliced off his left arm as he jumped off his torso. Stinkmeaner scrambled to fish his sword off the ground with his ruined arm as Huey slowly approached him.
"You stay the fuck away from me!" Stinkmeaner said to Huey, grasping his sword and pointing it outward."You can't do this to me. Do you have any idea the shit I've done to get here, you little nigglet? How many niggas I've killed? The villages I've burned, just to get a piece of what I deserve?! You gonna put me down? You gonna make it, so a nigga don't get what he deserves?!"Huey swatted Stinkmeaner's sword aside like a bug. "After all the shit I've been through, give what I deserve nigga! Give me what I deserve!"
Stinkmeaner's produced a gargling sound as Huey plunged his blade deep into his throat. Huey's mouth opened ajar as the aura that once blanketed Stinkmeaner was consumed by his own aura. He smiled as power coursed through his body. His hands yearned for the opportunity to relish in this sensation, to test it against something more incredible. At that moment, he sensed the bloodlust of his master nearby and turned to him.
After disposing of the rest of the bandits, the others took a breath of relief.
"Glad that shit's over with, "Black Dynamite said, turning over to where Stinkmeaner and seeing his corpse and his cranium laying next to it."Well...I guess that takes care of the leader too," He then glanced at Huey walking over to him."I didn't think you had it in you, little Huey. Looks like I read you wrong after all," Huey gave no response as he came in front of Black Dynamite and stared up at him."What the hell are you mugging at?" Ming quickly sprang into action as Huey moved his back foot and gripped his sword to bring across Black Dynamite, clashing her knife with his sword.
"Are you mental?" Ming said."He is your companion!"
kicked Huey back several feet and drew his sword out, not to attack but to defend. Huey managed to stop himself and stepped into his stance, allowing the Essence absorbed from Stinkmeaner to spread to the rest of his body and burst outward before the others.
"What the hell is your problem, boy?!" Black Dynamite said, drawing his sword towards quickly approaching Huey and blocking his slash to the flank. Black Dynamite stopped three more attacks aimed at his head by a small inch, feeling the abnormal weight behind Huey's strikes that caused him to step back to the wall. Ming caught Huey's attention as he was going for a sword thrust with a throwing knife that ended up cut in half by his blade. To her surprise, Huey blinked out of her line of sight several feet away and appeared behind her; she twisted her body far enough just to avoid a back attack but took a cut on her right arm. Ming retreated to the top of the cavern before Huey could land another hit on her, perching on a small rock formation in the wall. Huey then threw his blade toward Ming like a dart aiming for its target, crashing the rock formation and sending her down to the ground, where Afro caught her.
"My thanks," Ming said to Afro. Afro nodded and placed her down on the ground. Huey then grabbed the broken sword once held by Stinkmeaner and went into his stance. Black Dynamite was about to do the same until Afro stopped him.
"Why are you stopping me?!" Black Dynamite said.
"The fight is over," Afro said, drawing a look of confusion from Black Dynamite.
"Indeed it is," Ming said.
As Black Dynamite opened his mouth, the foundation of the cavern began to tremble again, with an enormous amount of pressure coming through the walls. Huey looked behind him to see the cavern wall explode outwards with a large man tackling him with great force, sending him flying into the opposite wall. The large man let out a blood-curdling roar before Ming came over to calm him down.
"Good timing as always, Do-Lu," Ming said. The large man quelled his roar and gracefully bowed to her.
"Nice timing?" Black Dynamite said. "Your pet gorilla there just burst through solid rock, and that's all you have to say?"
"Like most children in my country, Do-Lu is strong," Ming said, smiling at Black Dynamite."Such a feat is of no challenge to his strength."
"Did you just say, 'like most children?" Black Dynamite said, trying to hide his shock.
Ming giggled, catching on to Black Dynamite's efforts."Why yes," she said. "Do-Lu is 12 years old,"
"Yeah, and I'm 5 years old," Black Dynamite said."Can't you tell by my rippling biceps and baritone voice?"
Afro cleared his throat, cutting through the banter, and drew attention to the unconscious Huey. On the other side of that scene was the princess cradling what little was left of her bodyguard, with streams of tears running down her cheeks. No one said a word to her as Afro picked up Huey and began to exit the cave. Black Dynamite and Ming stayed behind, watching over her with only their silence console her.
The oak tree by the road looked sturdy, with the dirt being fertile enough to house an entire garden should the princess wanted. If it were a different time and a different situation. She watched as her bodyguard and best friend carried Afro into the hole they dug just below the tree. Jazmine then took a tiny pouch from her pocket, which contained several green-colored seeds, planted them into the grown, and wet the dirt with a vial of water collected from the waterfall she and the others found. Ceasar offered words of prayer that were selected from a section of the holy bible that Ed Wuncler Sr. educated him in. It spoke of death not being the end of one's journey but simply the beginning. The group took those words to heart as they proceeded onward to capital, with what seemed like an eternal night of blood, death, and strife behind them.
Chapter 15 END
Fro Ninja; Thank you all that took the time to make it to the end. It truly was a heavy ending to an arduous trial for our travelers, but unfortunately, the journey is only beginning. If you enjoyed the story, don't forget to leave a comment, favorite, follow, and share with all of your friends that dig the crap I write lol. I'll see you lovely people for the next update and remember, One Love!