Okay my friends! I've been waiting for this for a long time :)
This fight has been drawn in its entirety by McMake. Please access the Imgur address below, or check the Art Stash Discord as it'll be posted there(invite code in ending notes). He had drawn it almost 3 months ago and I wrote this based off of his comic. Leave him a nice comment because the art is amazing. (sorry for the janky formatting Fanfic doesn't like links)
Imgur
dot
com, append:
/a/gO3okso
Armour: Brimflame
Weapon: Winter's Fury, Undine Retribution, Stormfront Razor
Acc(11/11): The Bee, Celestial cuffs, Mana Flower, Sorcerer Emblem, Cryo Wings, Ankh Shield, Deific Amulet, FrostSpark Boots, Grand Gelatin, Permafrost's Concotion, Evasion Scarf. (Unlimited Buffs)
Health: (430/500)
Armour: Aerospec Armour (Ranger)
Weapon: Galeforce (Jester Arrows); Arkhalis
Acc(11/11): Band of Regeneration, Amidas Spark, Frostspark Boots, Luxor's Gift, Deific Amulet, Counter Scarf, Crown Jewel, Bundle of Balloons, Harpy Ring, Aero Stone, Skyline Wings
Health: (220/400)
It's an odd feeling.
Standing there, on the acid beach in the pitch dark.
The violent waves rumble in the distance, throwing up vile green foam which sizzles as it dissolves the radioactive slags. The wind has fallen silent, allowing the stench of corrosive death to settle and ferment where we stand. The moon hides behind a thick veil, not fain to grant us even its pale, meager light. The air burns my lungs as it seeps slowly through the seams in my helmet. I feel it prickle my eyes, yet I'm far too shocked to blink.
"Hey..."
An odd, gut-wrenching feeling.
Am I happy or am I upset? Angry or afraid? Maybe all at once. Maybe none at all. What am I supposed to feel? What am I supposed to say?! The last time I saw The Lunatic Cultist I was clinging to his robes - begging him not to let them send me to my death. But he had no pity for me. There was scorn in my parent's eyes. He shook me off and marched away, abandoning me in my greatest need. I am right to hate him... yet he is my parent. He is my creator. He raised me from dust and made me powerful. Truly, he had given me the very breath in my lungs. If not for him, I would never have existed to see the sights and hear the sounds I so delight in. Will the created despise his creator? Have I any right to speak against him? My heart twists in my chest and my guts grow cold and bitter. I stare, frozen, at the figure draped in gilded blue.
"Te...teacher?"
It's dark; he has yet to see me. He doesn't hear me whisper his name as I cringe in the doorway of the dungeon, watching from the shadows. I lean forward and press myself against the dungeon's crumbling green brick, doing my best to keep my breath from rattling. I know I should leave. I know my teacher is powerful. He might be able to detain me if he wished to... but my curiosity is great and the coldness in my chest compels me to stay. I squint in the dark. What is he doing? Who is... that trembling knight pointing a blade at him?
...?
Curious. That Knight... I can feel it in my bones. He's not just a man. He's more... or perhaps less than a human. Even as he stands there, clearly cowed by The Lunatic Cultist - I can tell he moves with the weightlessness of air. He wears heavy plate armour - simple, well crafted and, although cracked, very dense. Feathers stick out in frills at his joints and from beneath the blue cloak. Some of the plates are caved in. Many of the feathers are broken at the base. He's covered in blood, but his demeanor gives no indication he's injured. All around him, even up to the entrance of The Dungeon, giant ghostly bones and shards of ectoplasmic dust pepper the landscape. They've been burned with fire. They've been cleaved with steel.
From the other end of the clearing, they mutter to one another.
(*-be useful to The Resistance. Come. All the riches of the world will be yours. I'll give you weapons, armour and strength. You'll sit at the crest of this generation. How long must I plead with you, Knight? I offer you the world, yet you refuse?...*)
(*...*)
(*Nonsense. Will you not be convinced? Then perhaps I need to convince you by force. You are weak, Clone. You cannot stand to my power. If you will not come willingly, you will come against your will.*)
I cannot hear what The Cultist is saying to The Knight, but I don't approach to hear. I... I should go. I was unable to 'recall' from within The Dungeon depths, but surely now that I'm outside, I'll be able to escape. The last thing I want is for My Teacher to know I'm here. What if he sends me to my death again? What if he captures me and brings me to Braelor?! The very thought causes my hackles to rise. I shake my head violently and produce my last remaining Recall Potion, quickly downing it. I stand there, waiting for that familiar rushing noise to fill my ears...
(*Now-...hm? What's that!?*)
But... nothing happens. The spell fails. I stare dumbly at my last recall potion's empty flask and lift my eyes to the sky in disbelief. What rotten luck! Had The Cultist cast the anti-teleportation spell here too?! Why! For what reason! What an absolute nightmare. To make things worse, I can smell the dawn approaching. The sun will soon rob the cover of darkness from me. What should I do? Run? Fly away while The Cultist is occupied? Perhaps that's for the best. When fully powered, I might be able to beat The Cultist in a confrontation... but without my magic? Doubtful. I must slip away unnotice-
"Who's there!?"
*phewww...tssssss*
I freeze as I hear The Cultist call out in my direction. He lifts his hand and from his fingertip comes a fiery ball of white light. I've never seen that spell before, but I can guess its purpose for how bright it is. The whirling orb flies up with a whistling noise and bursts - illuminating the area so intensely, the deep dusk becomes like noonday. I cringe as the light falls upon me.
"Ah! You!"
Shit.
I know I've been discovered, but I refuse to shame myself further. Instead of attempting to flee or hide - I grit my teeth, steel my gaze and step out into the light. I flinch as I feel The Cultist's sharp gaze cut through me - but do my best to remain calm. I'm still rattled with my encounter with that thing in the dungeon depths... but I must do my best to look strong. The Knight makes no such effort. Upon laying eyes on me, he recoils so violently it's as if he'd been struck. He stares at me for a long moment through his slatted visor before eventually falling into a defensive stance. His body language is... somehow familiar. I can clearly see he's afraid. I can also clearly see he's assessed me as a threat and was going to do his best to kill me. He begins to draw his sword.
Hm. Rather unfortunate... I have no quarrel with you, but if you insist... Is this The Cultists's test?
I'm know I'm far stronger than The Knight. The way he carries himself says he agrees... still, I'm not one to allow myself to be injured just because my opponent is weak. I hold no malice against him, but I always fight to win. I walk out haughtily with my scarlet cape flapping behind me in the acid breeze. Perhaps I'm behaving more pompously than usual, but I cannot show weakness while The Lunatic Cultist is watching. Perhaps if he thinks I'm stronger than he, he'd be discouraged from trying to bring me to Braelor. In this way, perhaps this Knight is a blessing. I can thrash him as a display of strength.
Keep it cool...
I keep a neutral posture as I cross The Dungeon threshold. The Knight watches me, perfectly still, as if he's a prey animal frozen in fear. Yet as I grow closer, his trembling subsides. His blade grows steady. I tilt my head, daring my opponent to just try it.
*bang-*
He does. He's not half shabby either. But although The Knight is quick, he's nothing compared to me. He draws his sword, but before it can fully materialize I've already hurled my stormfront razor at him. The flashing blade streaks through the air like a thunderclap, searing the acidic air with a plasma and light.
*stab*
I watch with a certain interest as The Knight, finding himself too slow to dodge, moves to block the flying blade as best he can manage. He braces his palms against each other and holds them ahead of him - perhaps hoping the armour on his hands would be enough to block the force of the knife. Of course, it isn't. The bolt streaks through both palms and out the back of his left shoulder, piercing three more holes in The Knight's already battered armour. The smell of burnt flesh and feathers follows.
"..."
I fully expect him to collapse to the ground in pain, but he doesn't. Instead, that cold, flat gaze becomes heated. I can feel him staring at me from between those swooping horns and the slatted visor. He's been injured, but the fear is being replaced by something more unhinged. I know for sure I've smashed through a few metacarpals on each hand and also snapped something in his rotator cuff, but he moves as if he doesn't notice at all. In fact, his demeanor becomes even more aggressive. Does he not feel pain? Interesting.
*Bang*
I throw my weapon again. This time, I charge lightning first. Another thunderclap, louder and sharper. Another blinding flash of light which glares off his armour in a most fantastic way. I expected The Knight to crumble to ash when The blade struck him - but much to my shock, as the blade went through his palm a second time, he seizes upon it, clinging to its hilt so it didn't pass through and skewer his torso. The bolt of lightning follows. He convulses briefly before shaking off the electricity and extracting the blade from between his tendons. I summon it back before he can try and use it against me.
Hm... just what are you?
Now, I have fought thousands of men. I've slain thousands more. Even at my tender age, I am well aware that The Knight is leagues stronger than any normal soldier - at least in his constitution. What is he? Where did he come from? Did The Cultist make him? I turn briefly to look for My Teacher, but he's vanished. More than likely, he's turned invisible to watch our battle. For what purpose are they here? Is The Knight my replacement? I can't say I'm opposed to the idea, but-...
*swifff*
I cut back as a sharp blade zips up and nearly slices across the face of my helmet. I had offered The Knight a very brief moment of respite, and he used it to draw his blade and attack me. I'm not surprised at this. Rather, I find it entertaining in a strange sort of way. There has never been a man who fought against me without fear... but The Knight is not a man. The fear in him is completely gone. He behaves himself like the monsters I've fought, who care nothing for themselves and single mindedly focus on destroying me. Although he's dreadfully battered, he comes after me relentlessly. He makes several quick slices, all of which I dodge easily. I'm toying with him. We both know it and I can sense he's becoming frustrated.
I decide to egg him on.
*swifff-*
A looping overhead swing aimed at my neck, perfectly fluid, perfectly elementary, perfectly predictable. This... monster Knight... it was likely he had never been in an fair swordfight before. Each of his movements looked as if they'd been taught out of a textbook. His tells are clear and obvious. His footwork is even and consistent. Any soldier could easily learn his rhythm and defeat him... granted they could withstand the weight of his blows.
*-thud*
Because it really is quite a heavy blow. Not heavy enough of course. I managed to grab the blade in my hand, pinching the steel so it hovers just a quarter inch from my neck. I can't help but smirk behind my helmet when I see The Monster Knight's pale eyes widen in shock. He tugs his blade but is unable to dislodge my grip. It's only now that I realize two of the fingers of his left hand are missing. Did I slice them off earlier? Does he dare fight me handicapped? He really should just lay down and give up...humph.
He tugs again, but he's too weak to retrieve his weapon. I begin to get annoyed with his insistence. Isn't this a little too pathetic? Shouldn't you stop fighting if you can't even hold onto your own sword? I huff and glare at him, the red cross in my visor glowing in greater intensity as I focus my attention. Pathetic things should stay on the ground... and from what I see, the only way to put this particular Knight down, is to crush his skull.
Idiot.
The Monster Knight is clinging to the hilt of the blade with his mangled hands as if that pathetic piece of steel could save him. What a farce. Does he not know who I am? I'm The Hero, and I'm stronger than he. I reach out to grab his face will the full intention of crushing everything above his shoulders into a bloody pulp. I pinch. I feel the steel begin to crumble at my fingertips. I can feel his skull begin to creak...
*CRACK*
I squeeze my hand into a fist and the helmet shatters, but The Knight lets go of his sword and leaps back just in time to escape damage. Shards of steel fly every which way. One cuts a long shallow slit across his cheek. Another nicks his ear. Both injuries begin to heal almost immediately, leaving just bloodstains in their wake. I scoff at him as he stumbles into a crouch, watching me closely with those pale eyes. Something about him looks familiar but I can't pin it down.
Hmm...
I twirl The Knight's blade in my hand like a baton, tossing it a few times in the air before catching it by the tip. I don't know much about swords, but I know this one is well made. It's a beautiful piece of steel with a latent enchantment running through it. I tilt my head to observe it carefully, drawling as I do so.
"How did you get your hands on this?"
He lifts his head. That flat, lifeless gaze staring straight through me. There's no fear there. Not insanity. Not even the feral bloodlust from before. Just nothing. His eyes are like an insect's. Does he even understand me? Hm...
"No one would give this to you. You can't even use it right."
I flip the sword again, this time catching it by its hilt before tapping the latent spell embedded in it. I step forward and swing once, stopping the blade just short of his throat.
*Crack...crumble*
Yet although the blade itself cuts nothing, a thousand slices appear. All around us, cleaving great furrows in the ground, splitting rocks, crushing gravel to dust. Behind me, the front of the dungeon is sliced through. The chunks of green crumbling brick make a fantastic groaning sound as they slide to the ground with a crash. Oh... this really is a nice weapon. Not fitting for a weak Knight like this. I smirk and turn the sword to admire it. There's an insignia on the hilt. It spells 'Arkhalis'.
"It isn't strong, but way above your league. A pity to waste it on you."
I stash it away. At the same time, The Knight pulls out another - identical weapon. I blink and quickly check if he had somehow retrieved what I had taken, but no. He had another one! The magic is identical. The curves on the sword, the insignia, the very same. That's... impossible unless cloned with magic - right? The Monster Knight climbs to his feet and moves to attack me. I narrow my eyes.
humph.
What nonsense. Does he really think he can defeat me? I'm twice as fast, I'm three times as strong. Such a thing is impossible. This is becoming a pathetic farce and I want to put an end to it. I leap towards him and plant my foot squarely in his face, stomping him into the ground with such force, the ground cracks. The little bastard doesn't even seem particularly bothered that his nose is getting smashed through the back of his head. Instead, he tries to stab me in the ankle!
You little shit!
I lose myself for a moment there. I'm not sure why. Perhaps its the effect of the terrifying thing deep in the dungeon. Perhaps it's the fact My Teacher is watching. Maybe its just the stress of this entire ordeal... but I take it all out on The Monster Knight. I rail on him. I crunch my steel boots through his armour and into the flesh beneath. Tendons snap. Flesh tears. Cartilage is crushed. Bones are shattered. I can tell when he stops fighting... but I don't stop. I pummel him again.
And again.
And again.
Until I'm standing in a crater, my greaves covered in blood and bits of flesh. I'm panting, but I quickly compose myself. I mustn't show weakness. I turn my back on what's left of the Monster Knight and climb out of the crater, halfway addressing him, halfway addressing My Teacher - who I'm sure is judging my every move. Does The Lunatic Cultist think it strange I haven't used magic yet? I subtley scan the sky, only to find him standing atop The remains of The Dungeon's overhang. His blue robes are flapping in the wind and his ivory mask glaring luminously in the artificial light. I pretend I don't see him as I address my defeated foe.
"I can't believe you had two swords... With that luck, maybe you'll survive to see another day. I'll be leaving now..."
The Monster Knight doesn't respond. He gasps shallowly from the mess I've made of him. He's hardly recognizable, but seems much less worried about this whole ordeal than I would have thought. There wasn't a whimper out of him when I beat him black and blue, and even now that he's bleeding all sorts of fluids everywhere he hardly make a sound. Is he a mute? Does he even know what happened? Maybe he's just an animal? Perhap-
*thrumm*
It's the telltale hum of a bowstring being pulled back.
I turn on my heel to glare. I draw my blade, but find that the crater I stomped was quite deep. If I estimate correctly, I'd be able to arc my attack and kill him, but fr-
"Odd...Have you sworn off Magic, Hero?"
"..."
That voice chills me to the bone. I turn my glare from The Monster Knight to My Teacher. I mustn't show weakness. I mustn't falter. I must be strong, or who knows what will happen to me? If The Cultist really suspects I can't use magic, he will know I am at his mercy.
And I know he's a merciless man. I must maintain this farce.
Shit... what now...
I twist my face into a sneer so I can mask my trembling. For too long I've lived in fear of my Doppelganger. Will I lock away that part of me forever? I cannot. My strength is in magic... and strength with set me free. I must conquer that demon... I must show strength. I grin through clenched teeth and respond haughtily.
"Sworn off magic? Of course not. I simply thought it a waste to use it on such a lowly opponent."
"Is that so? Go on then."
"You still dare to command me, Cultist?"
"Are you scared, Hero? Your hands are trembling."
Fuck!
Now, I have no choice. I know The Cultist will kill me if he thinks he can. If he discovers I cannot use magic, surely he will try - and surely he will win. I if I wish to survive I need to do this.
So I brace myself.
I summon my mana.
I draw a weapon from my invisible inventory... a watery spear I found in the belly of The Aquatic Scourge.
Then, I raise it into the air.
I feel my mana course like molten lightning in my veins, shocking everything to life. Fear and adrenaline pump behind my eyes. The ground beneath us begins to tremble violently. Watery pitch wells from the cracks in the ground, filling the crater and causing The Monster Knight to flail weakly in a sad attempt to stay afloat... I hear him gag, then-
*BOOM*
The sound is tremendous, an echoing, otherworldly noise of a thousand ancient spears ripping through space, and then time. They burst from the surface of the pitch to a height as tall as three men. The Monster Knight is skewered, three spears catch him through the chest, one through the hip, one through the jaw and out the top of his head. I hear his breath grow fast, then stop... He turns to dust. His armour collapses to the ground in a heap...
"Tch..."
I scoff, but I can't pay much attention to him anymore.
My vision is already beginning to swim, the corners of my eyes are becoming dark and tunneled.
My heart quails in panic as I feel worms crawling beneath my skin.
I feel hot, feral breath behind my ears.
I feel teeth on the nape of my neck.
And... it talks... a horrible rumbling deep in my mind.
"uɐ̤ɥǝɹ˙˙˙-ǝɹ"
LC: Terrarian, engage your enemy.
Slayer: ...okay.
The Slayer, getting down on one knee: will you marry m-
LC: not like that!
-NAM
Dopple is not only going to speak backwards, but upsidedown too! :) (I found an upsidedown text generator.)
Discord Link: 6YGmZ39vvT
Anyways, I really hope yall like this chapter. I was really excited to write it. Also yall spoil me with the reviews. The seratonin, ahhh.
Okay also Faze doesn't really recognize that Slayer looks exactly like him. My best friend used to look so similar to me that our parents mixed us up for years. I would have never realized she looked just like me unless somebody told us - and if I saw her randomly on the street, I would have not realized it at all. Faze is also like 1 month old and hasn't spent that much time staring at himself in the mirror.
Slayer is just so over it. He has no idea what's going on. I'll address his utter baby confusion next chapter :)
Much love! Thanks for reading!