Logan Vogt ~ A Fierce Battle

The world around me is coming to an end.

As the chaos stormed around me, my muscled legs wobbled and eyes stung, blasts of powerful wind gave the air a red tint as my strong legs began to shove me forward, further into the wasteland that laid before me, moments ago a vivid field.  I forced my head to move upward, looking into the sky, my pearly teeth gritted and the feeling of tiny grains of dirt and grass hitting my perfect face at high velocity.  I’m sure that I looked more bright and divine than the sun itself.  A man with skin, tinted red, and eyes without pupils, just an inky black that reminds me of death stood in the middle of it all, calmly waiting in the midst of it all, waiting for his inevitable doom from my heroic spirit.

“Hey,” is all he said, as he gave a small wave.

“…That’s all you have?” I asked, eyes narrowed, even as the wind around us died down.

“Yeah.  You got a problem?” he said.  His voice caused a chill to go down my spine, even in the heat that was exuding from the other man.

“You are destroying everything around us,” I said, having pointed to a spot where there was nothing, just a black expanse of space and the rest of the universe, “and that is why I shall slay you where you stand!”

“Well, that’s too bad.’ he said, and with a snap of his fingers, a ball of sheer power appeared, unlike any I have witnessed.  Not fire, not even heat, just raw energy in his hand.

“Try as you may, demon.  But no one can strike fear into the heart of a true hero!” I shouted, drawing my blade, having been blessed by a woman of God, I ran forward with a holy shield in my off hand.

A hearty laugh arose from the being across from me, and as I continued running forward, my shield gets slammed back and, failing to stand my ground, launched into the air, flung from nowhere, hitting the ground hard, I slid backwards as the ground left it’s mark on my face, the scorched earth staining my handsome face.

Ouch.

“Well, I guess it’s good I’m not going up against a true hero.” he said, laughing to himself like a madman.  “Hoo boy, that was good.  Mark that one down.” he said to no one.  Ignoring his shenanigans and mockery, I forced myself up once more.

“That’s where you’re wrong!  A true hero, such as myself,” I said, knowing that my armor was glistening in a heroic fashion as the fire burned from where the evil energy had come in contact with my blessed shield, “hunts evil, no matter where it lies!” I said, dashing forward again.

“What are you on about?  You released me.  I was enjoying my eternal night with some ladies from Galto, the finest around, and you summoned me here.  I figured you were another stupid warlock, trying to summon the ‘all-powerful-demon-of-legend’ to try and bend me to your will, but no, you were just some naive kid who figured out how to pay someone to summon a demon so you could ‘vanquish the evil with your heroic actions’.” he said, rolling his eyes and shooting another blast of energy.  “These are direct quotes, child.”

With a grunt and managing to stay my ground as the weaker attack hit me, still jarring my head and rattling my teeth, I glared and charged again, nothing able to defeat me and my holy mission.  “Nonsense!  I was not he who summoned you, it was the evil mage, Irion!” I said, planning on another blast of energy, ready to roll out of the way as I dashed, my courage unmatched by any who have stood against this demon before.

“And who, pray-tell, payed him off?” he asked, the question clearly meant in a rhetorical manner, I deduced.  “Oh, right, it was you, the hero of this tale.” he said, spitting, and this time a different energy formed in his hand, and suddenly a rope of energy swept across the landscape, followed by another from the secondary hand.

Jumping over the first rope, I landed with a thud as my feet continued to pound the dirt.  “I did no such thing, foul creature!  He had his own motives, his own reasons, and you killed him like the heartless demon you are.” I said, managing to jump over the second rope but stumbling gracefully, reaching him and slashing at him with my handsome blade, a blade whose beauty was unmatched throughout the land.

A loud clang formed off my weapon making contact with his skin, bouncing off and causing me to lose my balance based off the sheer trickery of my opponent.  “Yeah, right, didn’t you just call him evil?  You should be thanking me for slaying him.” he said, forming a bizarre energy in his hand and extending his arm into my stomach, sending me back flying.  Another thud as my body hit the ground, sweat poured down my face and the scrapes on my face oozed with blood.

I stood myself up again, dusting myself off.  “Your blasphemous attacks are no match for my holy armor!” I shouted, coughing and cursing myself for it.  “This mail has been blessed by the Lady Azria herself, and no other Priestess in the land can match her connection with divine beings!”

“Yeah, right.  And why, exactly, do you think she merely locked me up?  If she was so entwined with these ‘divine beings’, then why couldn’t she get them to slay me?” he asked, more ropes of sheer force hitting the ground beneath me as I jumped to avoid them.  “I’ll admit, you have more skill than I thought, and that armor is made of some tough stuff, but it’ll succumb to me eventually.  Just like everything.”

Glaring, I raised my blade and moved forward again.  There were no words to help this foul demon, to prescribe to him what the truth so obviously was, to convince him to just lay down his guard and get his head chopped off justly.  My blade would do the talking for me, as it gleamed majestically in the fire’s light, the sword lusting for the being’s blood.

A yowl of pain, a screech, a halt.  “You…actually cut me.”  he said, looking at his arm, black mist leaking from the wound left by my heroic strike.  “Well, as interesting as you may be, I still have to kill you, and me being wounded just makes that easier.” he said, the mist pouring into a shape into his hand, slowly forming into a giant lance made of twirling and shuddering smoke.

I swallowed, taking a step back and readying my sword and shield.  The power of the Gods themselves had to be more than a demon’s.  It simply had to be.  “Do your worst, demon.  You cannot defeat an embassy of the divine beings, the forces of good, and everything holy!  You shall perish this day, under the thumb of my heroism and striking features.”  I said, slashing forward with my holy blade, only witnessing the lash of his flimsy lance before everything went black.

 

Logan Vogt studies creative writing in Iowa City, Iowa. 

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