I do not own Chaotic nor anything related to it. It belongs to TCDigital.
-[]-[]-[]-
The Challenge and a Wish
-[]-[]-[]-
Practically everyone has had this kind of thought: what would you wish for from a genie? Everyone has different kinds of answers, too. Money's a common one. Good health is another. Everyone agrees, though, that you need to word your wish very carefully.
It's a bit more than that, though. First off, the genie needs to be in a good mood. Second off, treating a genie like it's going to turn on you is likely to make it turn on you. Most importantly, though, is to make sure you make a wish the genie wants to grant.
-[]-[]-[]-
Van Bloot's posture shifts, abandoning an earlier intent to charge in favor of a defensive pose. "What did you wish for, Human?" he snarls. "Seeryn! What did you do?!"
I draw a sword into my left hand from my right hip, and I strike the ground on either side of me with my weapons. True, it's going to dull the tips a little, but I'm not terribly concerned about what happens to these particular swords.
Van Bloot recoils a little, as if expecting my display to actually accomplish something. For all he knows, it could have. He never heard my wish. He doesn't know what will happen.
I walk forward, one foot in front of the other, dragging the swords alongside me. A blasting screech fills the air, metal scraping stone, and the walls of the immense cavern echo that sound back and forth into a ferocious roar.
Van Bloot steps backward slowly. His wings twitch, fighting the impulse to lift off the ground. Fear of the unknown is paralyzing him. He keeps watching me, waiting for a moment of weakness or distraction from me.
I'm about to close in on Van Bloot. I lift my swords from the ground and hold them out in front of me, ready to strike and to parry. The roar of the cavern fades, and now all I hear are the clang of my boots against the ground.
Van Bloot's shoulders tense up. I raise my swords to block a swing of Bloot's scythe on my left, then thrust a sword toward a seam in the shoulder in his armor. Bloot twists his body so that my sword clangs against his breastplate, then spins around to swing his weapon at me from the opposite direction. I turn my shoulder towards the point of his scythe and duck my head, and his weapon bounces of the shallow slope of my armor I presented to it.
Van Bloot leaps backwards and holds his scythe in front of him, and he slowly steps to his right. I mirror him, and for a moment we circle around each other.
"They call you the hero of the M'arrillian War," Van Bloot hisses at me, "but nobody seems to quite remember what happened at the Lake." He plants the tips of his scythe in the ground, and sparks fly as he drags the metal across the stone. "What is it about you that makes you so special, Human, that the M'arrillian Aa'une so afraid of, though?"
I don't answer. I'm keeping my focus on his movements.
Van Bloot swings his scythe in an arc in front of him, and I leap back. Van Bloot growls, "You Humans are weak compared to us. No magic, no mental powers... Hell, you cannot even perform as simple a task as manipulating the elements!"
My helmet hides the grin that I can't hold back. "And yet here we are. Not just me, but hundreds of thousands of Humans. In fact," I laugh, "eventually Humans will be just as native to Perim as you are. You dare call that weakness, surviving in the face of all this world has to throw at us?"
Van Bloot growls and swings again. It's a sloppy strike, and I easily block it with my swords. I continue, "The way I see it, you're the weak one. Always wanting power, always trying to seize it by the quickest route... You threw your lot in with the M'arrillians during the war, put yourself and your army at Aa'une's mercy, and what would that have given you?"
"I was promised the Underworld!" Van Bloot roars, swinging wildly.
This strike is too fast to block, but I don't need to. Van Bloot has overbalanced himself. I throw myself forward, aiming my sword at his neck. I'm not fast enough, though, as Van Bloot drops to the ground and sweeps my legs out from under me.
I hit the ground chest first, and my armor rings from the impact. I feel something strike my back hard, but not hard enough to pierce through to my flesh. I roll over and swing my sword, and Van Bloot leaps backwards.
I scramble to my feet and look up. Van Bloot has taken to the sky. The frustration on his face melts away, and he holsters his scythe against his back. "How foolish of me," he laughs. "All I have to do is stay out of reach."
I sheathe my swords and grab my cyclance. Out of reach won't help you for long-
"Discord of Disarming!" Van Bloot's voice screeches.
A red and white glow surrounds my battlegear, and it crumbles to ash in my hands. I drop the useless powder and grab a liquilizer from my belt-
"Discord of Disarming!" His voice is practically a cackle now.
My other battlegear falls apart in a mugical glow. I glare up at Van Bloot.
Van Bloot looks incredibly pleased with himself. Ice and earth begin to collect around his hands. "Now, for a little target practice-"
I laugh.
Van Bloot's voice dies in his throat. Then he snarls, "What's so funny?"
"Wind and water," I chuckle as I stand up straight. "You used all the mugical power available to you to deny me wind and water."
Van Bloot bristles. "What are you saying?"
I can feel the heat around me. Updrafts, flares, sparks and embers. The sizzle of the meeting of searing metal and drops of sweat.
"You're so worried about my weapons, Bloot," I grin, and I can feel steam rise from my breath. "You forgot to worry about me!"
-[]-[]-[]-
Moments earlier:
"How may I be of service, Prince Osiris of Al Mipedim? In what way may the embers and the sparks meet your will? Tell me, Osiris, what hellfire and volcanoes I may raise. Speak and say what all may be thy desire. Let flame and magma consume your enemies, or molten gold fill or chalice. In short, oh Prince, tell me this: what is your prayer, your want, your wish?"
"You know my wish," I shrug. "We discussed this before."
Seeryn laughs, and hot smoke bursts from his mouth. "Ah, yes. Still, will you be able to control it? It surges and seethes, caring not what it devours. Are you sure you understand fully what it is you want?"
I fold my arms. "I didn't know you cared," I tease.
Seeryn laughs even harder, and his fiery form twists and deforms until he looks like a ring of lava surrounding me. "Oh, my Prince, rest assured that I care. Power is what I give, but what is done with it, I love to observe." The ring of heat and light tightens around me, like the coils of a python. "Now, say properly what it is you want from me. Tell me, Osiris, what is your wish?"
My answer is short. "I wish for fire."
-[]-[]-[]-
I raise my hands, leveling them at Van Bloot.
I understand fire. Fire burns. It burns hot and fast in destructive flares. It burns slow and quiet in calming embers. I've felt the sting of a spark, the sear of hot metal, and the agony of a river of flame. I have died of fire, lived with fire, and helped save from fire.
I can't help myself. I don't need to call out anything, unlike in the Chaotic show, but some part of me that's still a child just cannot resist. I breathe deep and bellow, "Torrent of Flame!"
Heat spirals around me as flames spew from my hands, escaping the gaps in my gauntlets, and race through the air at Van Bloot. The Underworld traitor barely dives away, and I can see the smallest of glowing embers still attached to his feathers and hair.
Van Bloot rights himself in the air and swears loudly. "You will pay, Human!" He flaps his wings harder, rising higher into the air, and he fires chunks of rocks and ice from his fingers at me. I run forward, and the debris smashes the ground behind my heels.
Oh, Van Bloot, do you really think you're safe up there? You have another thing coming. I feel the fires around and inside me, and I hear them cry for height. Rise, rise above the cold air, they say, let us fly! Heat and fire rise... and I, too, am fire.
Van Bloot's face is a mixture of surprise and terror as I launch off the ground, a shell of flame surrounding me. White-hot jets of fire erupt from my feet, pushing me upwards, and blue flames leak from the seams of my armor, keeping me aimed straight and true.
Van Bloot crosses his arms in front of him, as if that would protect him. I barrel into his arms and chest at high speed, and he tumbles backwards. He rights himself, and I can see angry red burns on the skin of his hands.
"Damn you!" Bloot screeches as he whips his scythe back out. "Damn you to whatever hell awaits Humans!" He raises the scythe up and soars toward me.
I draw my own broadsword and block the blow of Van Bloot's weapon, but the impact sends us both spiraling. The cavern tumbles in my vision as I try to figure out which way is up. I catch a glimpse of Van Bloot swinging at me again, and the impact of his scythe sends me tumbling even more wildly.
I can feel a pain in my leg. Bloot's weapon has punctured my armor and drawn blood, inches above my right knee. The air around me is filled with the scent of boiling blood. My blood. I grit my teeth and focus my flames at the injury. A painful streak of heat, and the wound is burned closed. I'll have to get that looked at by a doctor, though.
An inhuman screech comes from below me. Van Bloot is flying up, scythe hoisted above his head and ready to strike. In a bit of a panic, I focus my flames into the blade of my sword, and the metal glows white and hot. I bring my weapon about, ready to block.
Metal strikes metal, and burning sparks and cinders explode from the impact. The point of Bloot's scythe is deformed, melted slightly.
Bloot raises his scythe again and screeches before swinging it down. I swing my blade hard and fast-
Bloot's eyes widen. His wings spasm, and he barely keeps himself aloft. He looks down at his hands... or at least, where his hands should be.
Two hunks of flesh and bone, still gripping tightly onto a scythe, plummet to the stone ground. They hit the ground, hard. The scythe bounces and clatters along the stone surface, while the masses of flesh splat solidly and lay in a slowly spreading pool of blood.
Van Bloot stares at what's left of his arms. Two stumps, cut an inch or so above the elbow, are all that is left. The heat of the weapon that struck them has burned the wounds beyond salvation. The air is thick with the stench of burning flesh and blood.
I steady myself in the air, and I rise up level with the Underworlder. I hold my sword above his shoulder, tapping it against his neck. He flinches as the still-hot metal burns him, but otherwise, he hovers in place, in shock. I pull my sword back and prepare to swing.
Bloot's wings stop flapping, and he plummets out of reach. As he falls, he screeches, "Attack! Attack! Attaaaaack!"
-[]-[]-[]-
Up next: The Descent
-[]-[]-[]-
Like the story? Follow and review!