Spirit Blood: Genesis of War

The mighty armies of Malvra and Sherlin-Dea worked together to mow down the opposing forces before them. Suddenly, without warning, as they successfully neared the castle steps leading inside, the creatures ceased their fighting and ran up the steps to block the entrance. The disfigured faces of the creatures revealed their attempts at smiling; not the look Jason would have expected from retreating soldiers.

“What must we be facing now, I wonder?” Jason said aloud to himself.

Jason and Terrell halted their armies from venturing up the steps when the dark creatures began to make a pathway for something coming out of the castle behind them. Each of them bowed their heads in respect as a large figure walked through them. It was yet another of Léon’s Dark Commanders, yet this one seemed different in many ways. All that were there could feel an evasive darkness surrounding them as the man made his way to the front of the Dread Army overlooking the startled army below him.

Not fear, but wonder, filled their minds as the allied soldiers stared up at this new arrival. Something must be different about him if he had not been present on the battlefield and was, instead, positioned inside the castle. The Dark Commander wore black armor, as the rest had, but his armor was outlined in chrome in the design of a large serpent running up and down his body with the head positioned on his chest. On both of his bracers, faces of demons were etched into the metal. The helmet on his head was designed to resemble a dragon’s skull with two great rams horns on both sides. Only two eyes of an unholy fire peeked out of the eye holes of the helmet, these actually belonging to the man underneath. His entire body was covered except his hands. However, his left hand was covered in a black exoskeleton making it appear to be more of a claw than a hand. In both hands the man wielded a weapon of

destruction. His left clawed hand carried a large mace covered in silver spikes while his right hand held a modified twin bladed axe made of an unknown purple metal that closely resembled Terrell’s own Elvin made axes. Around his waist rested another weapon; a great sword in its scabbard.

“You may have entered here,” the Dark Commander bellowed in a deep echo, “but you will not be leaving…alive!”

The Commander raised both his arms into the air where, from out of nowhere, additional creatures, far worse than the previous ones the allied army had faced, began to emerge. Driders materialized from the shadows; wolf-men barreled out of the castle snarling and growling at the army below the steps; bug-bears in full armor bearing swords also surfaced in large packs. From the tall towers of the castles drifted down gargoyles led by a lone ptero-man, half-man, half-pterodactyl. With only a command by their commander’s outstretched arms towards the allied armies, the creatures began their attack leaping down the steps to face the startled men below.

The wolf-men pounced into the crowd taking dozens of men down with them, the bug-bears powered through the mass bludgeoning many with their powerful blows, gargoyles swooped down to remove riders from their horses while the other creatures swarmed the disadvantaged men. The allied armies were overrun, but they were far from down.

“Hold your ground!” Jason commanded to some of his men that were fleeing as he cut the life of yet another Drider short. “You must take the fight head-on or you will certainly find death!”

Terrell offered advice as well to a crowd of men around him fighting in fear rather than vivacity, “Your armor is for making your way forward, not for running or turning away! Use your armor as it was intended! - To Fight!”

Elvin archers fired multiple arrows into the sky trying to stop the gargoyles’ rain of terror. Their

arrows were the only thing able to penetrate the creatures’ tough hide. As they fell, ground troops would help to finish their demise. Bildan couldn’t dare allow the ‘pointy ears’ to accomplish something no one else could, so he decided to go after the gargoyles’ lead boss, the ptero-man, Shriek. Bildan pulled his pants high, slung large satchel charges over each shoulder and stood in a small clearing taunting the green scaly creature.

“Come to me Beastie!” He shouted. “I’ve got a little somthin’ for ya!”

Shriek swooped down at the petite man, but Bildan sidestepped and wrapped both his powerful arms around Shriek’s neck as he tried to sweep past the dwarf. Instantly both soared into the air with Bildan holding tight so as not to fall off. Shriek plummeted, then climbed higher, rolling this way and that trying desperately to shake the nuisance of a man from off his neck. Bildan amazingly held on while the people below became smaller and smaller and he ascended higher and higher, then suddenly they would become so close with one of Shriek’s dives that Bildan could make out the emblems on the soldiers’ armor. Even as his world span one way then another, Bildan continued to formulate his plan - even if it cost him his life.

Shriek went into a spiraling climb up the side of the east wall of the castle. Bildan grabbed one of his satchel charges and carefully maneuvered it around the creature’s neck, tying it tightly. Quickly he had to grab hold with both hands again as Shriek descended down the wall. With sheer courage and a lot of hope, Bildan attempted to tie the other charge to Shriek’s ankles wanting to obscure any chance of a proper landing for the creature. As Bildan shifted his body weight to attempt this move, Shriek caught the wind with his wings abruptly changing his position from a dive into a hover flapping his wings to stay stationary. Bildan lost his hold on the Shriek’s neck and began to fall off his back. Swiftly Bildan kept himself from plummeting to the ground by grabbing hold of one of Shriek’s legs with one hand and the

dangling satchel barely hanging off of Shriek’s ankle with the other. The creature tried relentlessly to release his leg from this bothersome pest by kicking, but Bildan held on tightly while wrapping the satchel several times securely around his ankle. Wanting to tightly secure the satchel, Bildan let go of the leg in which he held and grabbed hold of the satchel instead, allowing his weight to tighten the strap around the ankle.

Bildan looked down to see how high up they were and realized he was no where near the ground, however, if he didn’t move now there may not be another opportunity. With a scruffy grin, Bildan let loose the satchel and began the long descent to the ground below. As he fell he grabbed his detonator and hit the switch, bringing a quick end to Shriek. The nearby gargoyles, angered for the death of their leader, flew toward Bildan ready to shred him to pieces out of vengeance. As they did, the castle turrets turned firing shots at them which helped to lower their inability to reach the dwarf. This also helped to stall the creatures allowing the skilled elves to pierce them and drop them out of the sky.

Bildan closed his eyes, ready for the inevitable impact against the cold un-giving ground when he suddenly felt his body abruptly stop and hands holding him. It was only because of his dwarven constitution that his arms were not pulled out of their socket as the hands holding him attempted to pull him up and into a window on the wall. When he opened his eyes Bildan saw Amon and Davien leaning over the window ledge each gripping one of his arms.

“It would help if you’d put in a little effort too, you know?” Davien snidely remarked with a painful grin on his face.

A pleased Bildan gripped the men’s forearms while they heaved him into the window. When he was safely inside, Bildan looked back and forth to the young prince and the wounded soldier holding his ribs.

“You saved me. Why?” He asked, puzzled.

The two men exchanged looks before Davien answered, “Because you’re our friend. We couldn’t allow you to perish if we could do anything to prevent it.”

With a grin under his scruffy beard, Bildan said almost emotionally, “Th…thank you…my…friend.”

“Of course, now let’s go help the rest,” Amon offered, hurrying off toward one of the other turrets.

Forebodingly, the Dark Commander made his way down the steps and into the midst of the battle swatting men away as if they were annoying gnats and sending them to the ground. His axe and mace were both covered in blood as he slowly and confidently strode to the area where Jason, Terrell, Lockefren and Benthalas were holding their ground and fending off the many creatures charging them. Again a path was made through the dark fighters for the Commander adding to the already eerie sight his presence offered.

“Now I shall decimate you all,” the Commander announced in the icy hiss of a snake.

Before any of them moved, a war cry from within the isle of creatures caught everyone’s attention. The Commander turned just in time to parry a shot from Amon’s blade almost knocking the boy off his feet. Having seen the Commander enter the battlefield from the window of one of the turrets, Amon had ran out onto the field to do his part in fighting for his kingdom followed closely by his younger sister. The surrounding creatures were angered by the boy interrupting their leader and they began to attack, but their attempts were halted by the quick arrows of Ben and Lockefren. Again a massive fight broke out around the Commander, Amon and his sister between the creatures and their friends. The three in the middle of the battle only stared at one another.

“You will not keep us from our kingdom you foul beast!” TaeAnne spouted with a fire in her heart.

“I am more than a mere beast, my lady,” the cold voice answered. “I am called Kalagin.”

The two teenagers stepped back from the man, looking to one another in puzzlement. Slowly the man removed his helmet to reveal the familiar face of their father. Amon became enraged thinking this to be another doppelganger masking as one of his parents.

“Come out creature and show us what you really are!” The boy shouted, pointing his sword towards Kalagin.

“Oh I am sorry, Son, but I am your father.”

“That is impossible!” TaeAnne screamed not being able to handle the loss of her mother and the sight of her father on the side of the enemy.

Kalagin smiled which looked painful with his face so misshapen and the horrid black exoskeleton covering his right cheek. His eyes were of a serpent and his skin a gray hue, but the face was very much Kalagin.

“It isn’t impossible. I’ve merely had the very spirit that lay within my soul for so long finally reveal itself,” Kalagin stated, glaring at his two children. “I had to endure great pain, humiliation and actual death! to be granted this gift, but it was well worth it. The power that was given to me for my sacrifice is so immense I can rule as a true king! And not some mediocre royal fool who could not resist the pains of mortal life!”

Amon raised his sword defensively, “Your sacrifice doesn’t matter! You, Father, allowed this atrocity to lay waste our beautiful kingdom and I shall right what you’ve done wrong!”

“This is MY kingdom boy! And the only way you can have it is if you take it from me!” Kalagin bellowed.

Kalagin raised both his weapons to strike, but the two siblings moved first both lashing out with their swords at the man who was once their father. Kalagin parried their shots and, with one forceful swoop of

his backhand, knocked both of them off their feet. Kalagin crept toward his children menacingly like a snake about to strike. He raised his mace to deliver a fatal blow to them both when Jason, with his helmet deactivated, jumped in front of the children blocking them as if he were their guardian angel.

“You will not take their lives like you did the people of this land!”

Kalagin took a few steps back, out of caution rather than fear.

“I’ve looked forward to the day I would face the one man responsible for forcing the woman I loved to take her own life and defile her soul for all eternity,” Jason remarked coolly enough to frighten even the teenagers behind him.

“Ha! She was mine in the beginning and will be in the end!” Kalagin yelled in return. “You had no right to try and take her from me…EVER! You almost cost me my kingdom with your worthless love for her! How does it feel to know she never stopped loving you?” Kalagin laughed as he continued, “It was never me she wanted, only you, yet she had no choice but to marry me. Our destinies saw to that. I know much more about the two of you than even you know. I can’t stand not being able to tell you just what I know.” Again Kalagin laughed sinisterly. “For that, I owe you too…KNIGHT!”

The two came together in moves of fury and madness both slashing at each other with the pent up rage both of them had carried towards the other for over a decade. Deadly Wave clashed with both Kalagin’s axe and mace as quickly as either could be swung. With a show of brute force, Jason lunged his sword aiming directly for Kalagin’s weapons and successfully disarmed the man. He followed up with a side kick to Kalagin’s abdomen knocking the now larger man off his feet.

“You must be an unnatural creature! You could never fight before, nor were you a head taller than me,” Jason speculated as Kalagin rose to his feet.

“You think so?” Kalagin remarked slyly. “Well,” Kalagin unsheathed his wavy sword made of the

same purple metal as his axe and forked at the tip, “you really haven’t seen anything yet.” Admiring his sword and the hissing cobra shaped hilt in his hand, Kalagin continued, “Do you like it? I had it specially made just for the day I would put an end to your bothersome meddling. Now we will see who the better man truly is.”

“No battle will ever make you a better man, Kalagin,” Jason retorted.

Kalagin squinted his eyes staring at the shorter man before him before attacking. Jason did his best to fight the man off, but his endurance was lowered by his fight with Léon and the many creatures surrounding him. He knew the Kalagin that existed before this mutation before him would never have been able to fight with such precision and strength. Neither man noticed the battle ensuing around them as they focused all their attention on ending the life of the one foe facing them. Finally, one word was shouted out that caused Kalagin to turn his attention for one brief moment behind him.

“FATHER!”

A sword was hurtling through the air aimed for Kalagin’s heart, but the king was able to deflect it just enough so that only his cheek was grazed by the edge of the blade. Jason had to drop to the ground so as not to be hit by the flying sword as well.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Son!” Kalagin shouted.

“HE DID!”

Another, more feminine, voice was heard just as a sharp pain shot through Kalagin’s diaphragm. As Kalagin staggered back, dropping his sword, he looked down to see his own daughter looking up at him with a look of maddening hurt on her face. Angrily, Kalagin kicked TaeAnne in the face instantly knocking her back several feet and breaking her nose. Amon rushed his father, trying to strangle him with his bare hands, but Kalagin easily restrained the boy by grabbing both wrists and attempted to pull him in

half.

“ENOUGH!” Jason’s deep voice echoed, catching Kalagin’s attention, for his voice seemed much more powerful and imposing than before.

When Kalagin turned to face the knight, with Amon still screaming in his grasp, he noticed what seemed to be a blue flame surrounding Jason’s body and his eyes the color of radiant blue. No longer was it just Deadly Wave that possessed the fire, but now its wielder did as well.

“Put him down!” Jason again echoed.

Out of fear, Kalagin could not move. He merely stared at Jason. Amon took this opportunity to kick the hilt of the sword still dangling from his father’s stomach. The sharp pain caused Kalagin to release his son’s wrists while Amon scurried over to check on his unconscious sister.

“STOP!” Jason demanded when Kalagin turned towards the scurrying boy to kill him. “You will face me, King!”

“Fine!” Kalagin retorted, drawing the sword from his gut and grabbing up his own serpent like blade. “The boy is useless anyway. Your death will bring me much more glory.”

Kalagin never got a chance to raise his weapons before a large fist hit the bridge of his nose knocking him to the ground. As Jason approached Kalagin, the creatures around them could feel the power radiating from off him causing them to whimper away far from the knight. Kalagin clumsily raised to his feet clutching his nose which oozed the black blood of a dead man.

“You will pay, Jason!” Kalagin yelled as he attempted to lunge at Jason.

Jason moved back and forth swaying away from every shot of Kalagin’s as if he could literally see them coming in slow motion. Kalagin brought down the sword in his right hand towards Jason’s face with amazing speed, but it was caught with one gauntleted hand.

“You have no power here anymore Kalagin,” Jason said as he squeezed the blade in his hand.

The blade shattered as if glass before Jason hit Kalagin again with a crushing punch to his sternum shattering the bones and caving in his chest plate.

“This time you won’t get up,” Jason said as he walked over to the helpless Kalagin lying on the ground.

With one quick thrust of his sword, Jason finally ended the life of the murderous king. He spoke an ancient language, of which he formally did not know, and the blue flame engulfing him and his sword, as waves capsizing over a flat bed of water, consumed Kalagin’s body until only ashes remained.

Makaylen walked for a long while, all the time hearing the sound of gun fire and men yelling in the heat of battle just outside the windows of the grand castle. The sounds became muffled the further he traveled into the belly of the castle. He used only his senses to guide him as he searched diligently for the one root source of this war and the power behind all the evil taking place in Krysala. The fact he’d only faced mild resistance, and yet was so far into the castle, confirmed to him that what he was hunting was either powerful enough or arrogant enough to believe it was untouchable. The few drones he’d had to face here and there were at least enough to get him warmed up and ready for what lay ahead.

The darkness was falling fast outside, something he worried would make the battle ensuing there much harder to fight until small fires from various methods of lighting the battlefield shone through the sparse windows. Not being able to actually see what was happening outside worried Makaylen that perhaps his search was taking too long. He began to run down the corridors putting all his efforts into following his senses. Finally, he reached an area in the castle that felt quite evil and foreboding. He hadn’t had far to run in order to reach what used to be an old battle arena in the center of the castle. Littered on the ground were bodies of what must have been ‘practice’ for whomever may have been using the room recently.

When Makaylen walked in only a few feet, the doors slammed shut behind him while the various other doors in the large domed room did the same resounding with the thud of locks latching into place and fires lit up in the torches lining the walls.

“Ok, I guess I’m staying,” Makaylen said quietly to himself.

Makaylen looked around the room, with his sword ready, and realized he was standing within the battle arena of a room that could easily have fit at least 1500 blood fanatic fans; possibly even a small army could fight in the arena itself without any hindrances to their movements. The stands were protected by a large clear shield making it impossible for any man or creature to jump or climb over to leave the arena or to attack the fans. Nor could any shots from a gun or spell penetrate the shield. Cameras sat at all angles of the arena to catch up-close scenes from previous battles, no doubt meant to project the images onto the large screens hovering in the high center of the arena.

This place is new, Makaylen thought to himself noticing the lack of use many of the weapons which lined the circular wall seemed to bear. Throughout the arena grounds sat various posts most likely put there as obstacles for a fleeing competitor. However, upon closer examination, Makaylen realized the posts were actually hiding spikes and blades of some kind which appeared to be designed to move in several directions while spinning around very quickly. Hmm, I wonder what other surprises this room has to offer.

Slowly Makaylen examined the whole arena, keeping his guard up for any intruders or surprises, finding trap doors either designed for someone to fall into or for something to be unleashed out of; there were soft spots on the ground where large holes sat hidden in the sandy floor, no doubt containing spikes or something just as deadly; the walls had small openings in them perfect for saws or slashing blades to protrude from should some unsuspecting fool get too close.

“What a menacing place of death,” Makaylen commented to himself, so he thought.

“I know. I overlooked the reconstruction of it myself…”

Makaylen turned to see where the low icy tone had come from and realized that at least ten feet up the arena wall, where the royal box surely would have sat, was a figure with steely silver eyes peering down at him. The man was robed in black, nothing fancy or distinguishing. As if a shadow leaping off the wall, the man leapt from the box into the arena. He was at least six feet tall with broad shoulders and a slender physique. None of his face could be seen in the dimly lit room except the silvery reflections of his eyes mimicking the flickering torches. In his right hand he held a twin halberd with a hook on one end and a serrated edge on the other. The blades looked like granite in color, but its bizarre white gold edges and tips made Makaylen wonder just what metal it actually was made of. Power could be felt brooding from off the weapon.

The man approached Makaylen as if floating rather than walking, but a slight imprint was left in the sand behind him revealing that the man could move very fast and with fluidity.

“I wanted it to be absolutely perfect for its special purpose,” the man said, speaking of the arena again.

“And just what would be your purpose for such a horrible place exactly?” Makaylen asked already knowing the answer, but eager to see how much information the man was willing to give.

“Why, to kill you of course,” he answered in a low voice void of any pleasure. “As you can see by my dead trophies, I’ve practiced here many times wanting to get everything about the room perfect. I also wanted to make sure my skills were honed for a Spirit Blood as yourself.”

Obviously Spirit Blood was not a new term to Makaylen, but he wondered just how this man knew of his heritage, “Who and what are you?”

“My name is Canoes. What I am is a Spirit Blood, just like you.”

Makaylen had never heard of someone so evil and eerie to have been Spirit Blooded, “I don’t understand, the priest…”

Canoes interrupted him with a hiss, “That priest was a fool which is why he chose an unworthy disciple such as yourself!” Canoes calmed himself before adding, “The man you speak of was named Nathan, but since you two were so close that you’d take his place, I thought you’d know that.”

“I didn’t take his place!” Makaylen heatedly offered, offended that Canoes would speak so commonly of his mentor. “He was a priest. I’m a Hunter of the judged.”

Canoes thrust his twin halberd into the ground, “Since you are bent on talking me to death rather than fight, let me catch you up to speed. The simple man you call Priest was not a priest at all. He too hunted the wayward Spirits being the executioner of those judged by Shiloh and the Great High Lord, however, the task of killing finally lost its luster and he started searching for a disciple to pass on the heritage of the Xythanians to. If such a disciple could be found then this person would be able to live in peace trying to seek out others that were Spirit Blooded and help them to use their gifts. Nathan found me over three hundred years ago and recognized the distinguishing signs of my own Xythanian blood line. When he helped open my own eyes I found power where he found peace; I found greatness in comparison to all creatures where he saw a necessity of servitude to protect all those who needed protection. He was a fool.”

Canoes continued on as if telling a wonderful story, “Nathan showed me how to tap into Manna and use it fluently. I accepted his training for my own purposes, but I never wished to remain under his tutelage for I wanted to use my power for my own reasons. I fought with him, being ever his equal in combat, but, in my youth, he defeated me, thus bringing down the curse of Shiloh upon my head. I was banished to the underworld where the Suterran Elves take up their homes. They alone helped me to

sustain life until the time came for me to emerge again. While there, I took over rule in the midst of all the vile creatures convincing them I was the heir to the High Priestess who rightfully ruled over them. I shrouded myself from them so they’d never truly know my real nature, for I am a hybrid of races which none of them would ever come to know as a brother.”

“Trapped amongst them I learned of God Chaos and how he saved Rygore when he too was caste out into the deepest reaches of the world. Well, through my diligent searching of information I became aware of the power of the Diabolous Xythanian people, something of which few speak of or know anything about. There were two powers at play in the war of Xythan, but only that of the Celestian’s is ever taught. Nathan, of course, did his fair share of teaching concerning their ways, but when I learned for myself of the Diabolous, I could do nothing more than devote my entire life to the ultimate will of God Chaos. I too then considered myself a priest of sorts. The more I shunned Nathan’s teachings the more my power grew until my time to reign over this world was at hand. Much like Nathan, I soon found a young protégé in my general, Léon. He knew nothing of the wayward ways of the Celestians which helped him to quickly follow in my footsteps. One day I assume he will fight me for my position, as I did my mentor, but that time is not now.”

“It was about this same time that Nathan found you, but you have yet to come anywhere near as far as Léon in power and prestige. Nathan’s humanity brought death to him far earlier than I’m sure he’d preferred. You were not his first choice for a disciple, and by the way you handle yourself, you were the last straw he was grasping for before he died. Even your uninformed Knight has more potential than you. If only the two of you had the strength and knowledge to have joined the right side…perhaps you wouldn’t both have to die so unfulfilled. The battle long ago was never finished; both sides were destroyed by the Golden Spirit. He promised the Burning Spirit would come back someday, but I’ve

never seen anything to lead me to believe this will ever happen. I believe the odds are remarkably in my favor, don’t you?”

Makaylen tossed off his cloak and readied his sword, “I will agree with you on one thing Canoes, this talking is pointless.”

Canoes barely had time to grab his halberd from out of the ground when Makaylen struck it with his onyx crystalline sword. The sound of the two blades clashing together rang in the arena causing bright lights to flash on by a spell Canoes had set up.

“He gave you his sword, Shadow Splitter, did he? You’re going to find it’s not as well made as my weapon I’m afraid,” Canoes asked, quite pleased to see the obvious flaw in his opponent’s weapon compared to his own.

With a shove from the middle of his halberd, Canoes launched Makaylen back, but he was able to keep his balance and only slid back a few feet. However, Makaylen sized up the situation and feared that Canoes hadn’t really tried to exert any real effort. Canoes was only two inches taller than he and much more slender, but he possessed twice the strength of Jason.

“Come, let’s see what color your Spirit Blood is!” Canoes said to Makaylen with a psychotic glare.

Makaylen nodded and cautiously came at Canoes in a flurry of moves slashing and thrusting his sword in attempt to find an opening, but Canoes’ speed of reaction was incredible. Through his onslaught of attacks Makaylen did not see one of Canoes’ moves until a foot was flawlessly landed upon his chin. Makaylen dropped to one knee, but was able to use his momentum to spin around and slash at Canoes’ now open mid-section. Canoes’ translucent blood oozed out from his robes. The blood could only be seen by the glistening from the bright lights. Canoes clutched the wound out of shock and lurched away from Makaylen. Makaylen remained on one knee rubbing his throbbing jaw and spitting blood onto the

sand. Canoes’ silvery white eyes turned a molten orange, evidence of his pure anger and injury to his incredible pride.

Canoes grabbed his plain black robe with his free hand and ripped it from off his body exposing his true form. Underneath were the features and physique of a magnificently beautiful and chiseled man. His features and slightly pointed ears revealed that Canoes was indeed part Elvin, but his athletic build was nothing like their normal lithe and small figure; his shoulder length hair was pulled back and was the color of bright white with unique black streaks running through it giving off a more metallic appearance. Much like Makaylen, he wore ceremonial robes bearing his ancient Xythanian order with black on black design. His stomach was now partially exposed from Makaylen’s cut further illustrating his indescribably pale skin in comparison to his ebony black robes.

As beautiful as his appearance should have been from the tip of his jewelry encrusted ears to the end of his expensively covered feet, nothing about looking at Canoes was easy for the eyes. Makaylen was able to understand that this man had the blood line of two great races along with the power of the Xythanians running through him; he was more dangerous than he’d ever thought.

“Now, you can see me for what I truly am. You are the very first in three hundred years, and you will be the last,” Canoes spoke in his calm and icy tone mingled with a tinge of anger.

Canoes’ following attacks were so expeditious that only by having a heightened sense of awareness was Makaylen able to dodge or parry, however there was no time to counterattack. Canoes spun facing away from Makaylen and thrust his halberd behind him. Makaylen successfully parried the shot with a powerful backhand stroke away from him, but Canoes used a spinning slash and cut deep into his side causing him to bleed like he’d never bled before. The pain was from more than the cut. It felt as if Canoes’ blade had been made of red hot iron. The searing pain took Makaylen’s breath away as well as

his strength. He did what he could to muster just enough to stay on his feet.

Canoes came at him continuing his menagerie of slashes and thrusts zapping Makaylen of the little strength he still possessed. With every ounce he had, Makaylen parried a slash, dodged a thrust, ducked from a shot meant to decapitate him and then jumped up in the air delivering a front snap kick into Canoes’ jaw. Canoes was driven back into a nearby post which had not been activated. Both men clutched their wounds with Canoes now spitting his clear blood onto the ground.

“This has been fun, but I’m growing tired of you,” Canoes spouted.

The two men lunged at one another starting their method of parry and counterattacks once again. Between punches, kicks and their swords grazing the flesh of one another, their fight was an amazing display of skill, speed and fighting arts. With another countless clashing of their swords, both men jostled for position staring into one another’s eyes while grinding their teeth.

“I’ve underestimated you Stryphe. You’re much better than I had thought.”

Makaylen didn’t have the strength or breath in him to speak. The pain he was suffering from continued to make every move for him an amazing struggle.

“I say, let’s make this a bit more interesting,” Canoes said as he shoved Makaylen back a few more feet than before due to Makaylen’s lack of energy.

With the drawing out of a small dagger, Canoes threw it towards a control panel on one of the walls and activated the many devices littering the arena floor. The posts and floor spikes began to move and strike in a varied pattern, impossible to decipher. Makaylen looked around him in shock of the incredible movement all around. Canoes bounded with acrobatic grace through three of the moving posts with several back handsprings putting distance between him and Makaylen.

“Now, come and get me before I come and get you!” Canoes warned.

For the first time, Makaylen began to fear his chances. Obviously Canoes had accustomed himself to this room with countless hours of training. The evil man’s skill alone was more than he’d feared. He knew only the will of Shiloh could save him today. Makaylen weaved in and out of the twirling posts and popping spikes with relative ease until they suddenly changed their direction and came back at him. Both of his arms and legs were cut by the sporadic weapons. It was too difficult for him to maneuver around with no obvious timing to their strikes and now Canoes didn’t seem to be anywhere on the arena floor.

Using his senses, Makaylen was able to finally free himself from the devices and found an area on the floor that didn’t possess any posts or floor spikes. Suddenly he sensed something just to see a hand-full of throwing daggers coming his way; hidden on the wall was Canoes. Makaylen went into a spinning aerial roll dodging the majority of the attack but walking away having been grazed across the back and sides by their sharp edges. Canoes leapt off the wall bringing his halberd’s hook down toward Makaylen. He was able to avoid the shot by back-flipping out of the way, but Canoes hooked one of his legs and tripped him to the ground where a patch of spikes lay waiting to strike. Makaylen moved barely in time as the spikes shot out of the ground on both sides of him sandwiching him in-between their two panels.

When they dropped back down Makaylen used a windmill kick to get back to his feet taking Canoes’ feet out from under him. He quickly moved to plunge his sword deep in Canoes, but Canoes rolled to the inside of the blade and then rolled back knocking it loose from Makaylen’s weakened grip. With a quick move, Canoes thrust both his feet into Makaylen’s chest knocking him into a spinning spiked post which cut his back deep across the shoulder blade before he’d been able to move free of it.

Canoes laughed as he looked from Makaylen’s fallen sword next to him on the ground to Makaylen’s wounded bleeding body. With a solid slam from his halberd, he broke Shadow Splitter in half.

“Now you have no sword. What possibly could you have that would defeat me?” Canoes mocked, his

eyes slowly returning to their pale silvery white state.

Makaylen lowered his head as he knelt to one knee trying to think of a plan. For the first time ever he had no idea what to do. Through the many fights and battles he’d fought in before, never had he been so outmaneuvered.

“I told you, you are not worthy of the Spirit Blood. Nathan showed his lack of intelligence choosing you and now his legacy ends here and now,” Canoes taunted.

With the mention of Nathan’s name, Makaylen thought back to a small parchment he’d been given many years ago by the priest. In very small text were words of encouragement and wisdom. There, written in plain words anyone could understand, was a message explaining the weaknesses and strength he himself possessed given to him by the Spirit. Makaylen clinched his teeth as he finally understood what these words meant. It was not on his own strength that he must rely on, but the strength of the Burning Spirit now residing in him. He’d always relied on his sword and skill only to defend himself which was why he was now without either and only had death as an option. I must give myself to the Spirit inside of me.

Canoes drew near, believing his victim to be praying before his inevitable death. When Makaylen looked up at him with a scowl upon his brow - no longer even tempered but rather angry - Canoes could feel some sort of strange power coming from off of him. However, his pride did not allow him to care for he believed Makaylen had lost.

“Anything you care to say before you leave this world?” Canoes asked.

With a look of confidence returned to Canoes’ arrogant one, Makaylen stated, “Yes, as a matter of fact I do have something to say.”

Canoes raised his brows as if surprised, “Shock me with your witticism.”

Makaylen didn’t grin, he continued to glare in intense determination and strength, “The Burning Spirit is here right now and lives in anyone who embraces the Spirit in their blood.”

Canoes’ face turned puzzled by Makaylen’s words. He shook his head clear of any thoughts that Makaylen actually had a plan to win this fight. He spun his halberd around to bring it down and sever Makaylen’s head from his shoulders when Makaylen grabbed two hands full of Canoes’ tunic and pulled him forward into the nearby spinning spiked post.

Canoes howled in pain and shock as he tried to pull free from the post. Makaylen rolled on the ground, grabbed both pieces of his broken sword and stood to his feet. When Canoes freed himself he turned towards Makaylen soaked in his clear blood from cuts to his face and body. The spikes had torn his tunic to shreds fully exposing his bleeding chest and legs.

“I’LL KILL YOU!!” Canoes yelled, his eyes a bright orange.

Canoes rushed toward Makaylen planning to impale him with his halberd. He was so angered all caution was forgotten. Makaylen sidestepped quickly as he neared sticking the top broken half of his sword into Canoes’ chest and slitting his throat with the other half as he ran by. Muttering something old and different than anything the flailing Canoes had ever heard, Makaylen’s sword lit up and a dark void surrounded Canoes. Suddenly the void shattered into several sharp shadowy shards which penetrated his body and disappeared upon impact. By the appearance of Canoes’ actions, the shards were ripping him apart from the inside. Canoes fell to the ground onto his hands and knees, a look of terrified shock upon his face.

Makaylen approached cautiously and kicked the halberd away from his grasp. Canoes did not move.

“What…have…you done to me?” Canoes panted.

“Shadow Splitter had a unique gift that could only be used one time. Its gift was the take the very

power of your Spirit Blood out of you and leave you as nothing more than a normal human man. I assume, without your Spirit Blood, you’ll only have a few hours to live seeing you don’t seem to know when to give up.”

Canoes fell to his back riddled in pain. He looked up into the sorrowful glare of Makaylen standing over him.

“What did you mean…by…the…Burning…ugh…Spirit being…”

Makaylen knelt down to meet Canoes’ gaze so he wouldn’t have to struggle to see him, “It’s exactly as it sounds. If you are of the Spirit Blood you must embrace the Spirit within you, not try and control it. With the Spirit in control you will have the power to triumph over any obstacle regardless of how difficult or evil it may appear.”

Makaylen looked at Canoes’ apparent pain with pity.

“Save your pity for the weak!” Canoes gurgled in anger. “You…are weak! You…can’t even defeat…your own demons!”

Makaylen lowered his head in disappointment that one so gifted could be so blind. He rose to his feet removing the half of Shadow Splitter still residing in Canoes’ chest. The environmental hazards spinning and thrusting on the arena floor came to a sudden stop and returned to their neutral positions. Makaylen looked down at himself noticing the many bleeding cuts, scrapes and gouges upon his body.

“I guess I win,” he said sarcastically to himself.

He grabbed Canoes’ discarded halberd and wrapped it in the robe Canoes had torn off his body earlier and hobbled out of the arena hoping to find the battle outside won as well.