Asura's brow twitched. He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling within him. What am I doing? Why am I obeying everything the old man says? he thought, sizing up the elder. If I cause trouble, maybe he will fight me… If he kept submitting to the old man's authority, he would practically be a slave to the humans. And Asura was a slave to no one but himself.
Standing up defiantly, he jabbed a finger at the old man. "Now, wait a minute, ya old fart. We went and beat the crap out of those monsters, stopped a sacrifice, and now we're being punished? How's that fair?" his arms waved with exaggeration, "I should get a medal or something. "
Asura snarled, "I ain't taking your crap anymore! Let's settle this like men... Ogre versus the elderly!" He paused. "Wait, that sounds like I'm beating up a defenseless old man. Well, I mean, you are old, but you're ripped. Ogre versus ripped Santa Claus!"
The old man's gaze was steady, his expression unreadable, like a father dealing with a disobedient child. Calm, collected, calculating. Asura's defiance did not faze him. If anything, he had expected it.
For a moment, he debated whether to simply slay the ogre. However, keeping such a valuable tool was in his best interest. If he could sway Asura to his side, he would have a formidable ally against The Temple and future threats posed by the cultists. The best way to make Asura obedient was a demonstration of strength, something the ogre respected. Without it, outbursts like this would continue. I need an obedient soldier, not a defiant one.
With a smile, the old man accepted the challenge.
"Alright, let's go to the training room."
Wain's jaw dropped. Asura froze, momentarily unnerved by how easily the old man agreed.
"Did he just challenge the captain?" Wain muttered under his breath. Did he just challenge the captain? Does he not know the stories of his past? The monsters he's slain? The old man may be in exile, but his story was legendary even amongst the seventh-rank Paladins. Wain turned to Asura, who was practically vibrating with excitement now.
Wain reached out, trying to stop him. "Dude, apologize."
The ogre raised a brow, insulted by the request. "What? Why would I apologize?" He asked.
"You have no idea what you just did." Wain looked grimly at the ground.
"Yeah, I challenged the old man," he bluntly stated.
Wain shook his head, "Yeah, and he's about to whoop your ass."
Asura hesitated. If kind-hearted Wain was willing to curse so blatantly, then perhaps the situation was more dire than he realized. But he shrugged it off. Wouldn't be the first time I fought a losing battle. Try fighting a Tigac, he thought, a wry grin creeping onto his face. The memory of that brutal encounter sent a shudder through him, its razor-sharp fangs, the relentless force of its attacks, the raw, primal terror of the fight.
Asura reached the end of the hallway, stepping into the worship area once more. The newly polished golden décor gleamed, while the neatly arranged pews stood in perfect rows, their surfaces dust-free. The waxed floors shone under the dim lighting, reflecting the meticulous restoration that had taken place. It was as if the destruction he had caused upon his arrival had never happened.
Not a single trace remained of his battle with the priests. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Maybe if I find a few mistakes, I can give Ash some extra work, he mused, his mind churning with mischief.
Before Asura could begin his search, a slight push from Wain snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned to see Wain gesturing urgently toward the old man, who had already started down another hallway to their left. His pace was brisk, purposeful. If they hesitated even a moment longer, they would lose him.
Without another word, Asura and Wain hurried after him, their footsteps echoing through the corridor as they raced to keep up.
The old man strode down the hall, never once glancing back. As they moved, a door on their left creaked open, and a familiar face emerged. Ash. His eyes immediately locked onto the old man, narrowing at the sight of the rare, unsettling smile that curled across his mentor's lips. It was a smile Ash knew all too well, one that had haunted him throughout his training.
"What's happening?" Ash asked, whipping his head to Wain and back to the old man.
Wain sighed. "Asura is going to fight the captain."
Ash's eyes widened. He whipped around to Asura, who eagerly pounded his fists together. This is it… He is finally going to kill him! Ash thought, struggling to contain his excitement. Today is a beautiful day!
As they arrived at the training room, the old man stepped inside first, his movements steady and assured. The old man strolled to the center of the room, his presence commanding. Rolling up his sleeves, he revealed thick, corded muscles, each scar etched into his skin telling a silent story of battles fought and won. With practiced ease, he pulled a band from his wrist and tied his hair back, his every motion exuding the confidence of a warrior who had done this countless times before.
Asura danced in place, giddy with anticipation. Wain and Ash approached the weapon rack, though Wain looked around anxiously. Two juggernauts clashing in such a small room. What could go wrong?
The old man cracked his knuckles. "Looks like you need to be taught some manners, kid." His mana churned inside, swirling with power as it built like water behind a damn. "I'll hit you once, and if you're still alive, you win. If you nearly die, you lose. Simple, right?"
His golden eyes blazed. "If you win, I'll let you off the hook. If I win, you listen to every order from now on."
Asura grinned while opening and closing his hands like a grubby child.. "Sounds great, but can you throw in some new clothes for my win? I want some sweatpants."
"Sure." The old man cast a glance toward those on the sideline. "Mel isn't here, so, Ash, you send off the signal."
Ash, unable to hide his enthusiasm, unsheathed his sword and slashed upward. Mana coursed through the metal as the swing reached its apex. And from its edge, a streak of fire shot toward the ceiling. The moment it struck, Asura launched forward, his fingers digging into the ground for leverage. His heart pounded as he launched himself into a charge at full speed.
What's he gonna do? What is his power? Oooohhhhh, man, is it instant death if he touches me? How cool! he thought, grinning wildly.
He was almost there, just a few feet away. But the old man stood still, arms crossed, watching. His only movement was the corner of his lips, curling into a smile that left Asura hesitant for just a second, sensing something was wrong. That was when the old man moved.
His right arm ignited, golden flames roaring to life from his knuckles to his shoulder. Its loud crackling from expelled mana was deafening as he approached. The heat was suffocating, filling the room with a blistering wave. Even from a distance, sweat poured from Wain and Ash as if they stood next to an inferno. Asura, being closest, felt his body cycle through producing and evaporating sweat instantly.
Realizing he might have underestimated his opponent, Asura tried to dig his heels into the floor, but it was too late. Well, regret is for the living, he thought as the old man's fist pulled back. The pressure of his mana cracked the ground beneath him, sending tremors through the floor. The force alone shook Asura to his core.
Then, the old man's fist struck Asura's chest.
Their eyes met. For a brief moment, time seemed to slow as the old man saw Asura's lips curl into a grin. Their eyes met, and he found no regret. In the face of overwhelming strength, the ogre met it head-on, fearless. A true warrior, the old man thought as his mana exploded from the point of impact.
The golden fire erupted from the old man's fist, surging from his shoulder and down his arm straight into Asura's chest. Wain barely had time to process what he was witnessing before Asura was sent hurtling across the room like a cannonball. The sheer force of the blow launched him at a speed no human eye could track, and in an instant, he collided with the wall behind him.
Like thunder chasing lightning, a deafening boom ripped through the room as the explosive flames dispersed in a wave against the wall, shaking its foundation. The thick stone wall buckled under the force of impact, caving inward where Asura had struck. A deep crater, molded in the shape of his massive frame, marred the surface, with cracks splintering outward like an enormous spiderweb. The force rattled the ceiling, sending rubble cascading down and burying the ogre beneath a suffocating cloud of dust and debris.
Wain's breath caught in his throat. His voice barely escaped as a whisper. "He's dead... There's no way he survived that."
But Ash had a completely different reaction. His joy erupted like a firework as he threw his hands in the air, unable to contain his excitement. "Let's go! LET'S FREAKING GO!" At last, the old man had finished him!
As the dust settled, a deep gouge in the floor became visible, a path of utter destruction leading from the old man's fist to Asura's final resting place. The sheer power behind the blow was undeniable. Even the old man winced, shaking out his hand from the sting of striking something absurdly solid.
"Hardheaded idiot," he muttered, flexing his fingers. Then, a groan became audible. The room fell silent. From within the rubble, the sound of shifting stones echoed. A moment later, an unmistakable voice broke through.
"I'm alive! Well… as alive as someone who just got smacked by God himself…" With all four arms, Asura freed himself, pushing aside the debris before climbing to his feet atop the wreckage. He stood tall, dust-covered but undeniably breathing.
"That... was... awesome!" He grinned, his chest pumping with adrenaline. "Hell yeah, man. Holy crap, you hit like a truck. Well, harder than a truck, but you know what I mean."
Throwing all four arms into the air, he let out a triumphant laugh, only to immediately clutch his ribs as pain shot through his torso. Damn, that actually did some damage. He could still move, but everything inside felt like mush. I hope my organs heal... he thought, pursing his lips at the concerning possibility that they would not.
Despite the pain, he turned to the old man, his grin never fading. "Alright, alright, old man." The ogre's tone was filled with respect, "I'll listen to you, not 'cause you won—" he gestured to himself with a smirk "—but because that was some serious firepower! Who knew you had that in you? Let's keep going! Hit me again!"
Wain and Ash, who had barely begun processing what they had just witnessed, were struck speechless. Their jaws hung open, their minds refusing to believe what their eyes told them.
Am I hallucinating? Lack of oxygen to my brain? Wain thought in a daze. He rubbed his eyes as if expecting reality to shift. But no, Asura was still standing there, covered in soot, completely unscathed.
The old man, hands on his hips, could only shake his head with a chuckle. "I admit I lost. I didn't think you'd still be standing after that hit."
"Now wait a minute, the fight ain't over yet! I want to keep going!" The ogre's face declared as his opponent tried to flee.
The old man waved him off. "I said I'd throw one punch. I'm too old and past my prime to be trading blows with a youngin'."
He stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Asura's shoulder. Despite the lighthearted tone, there was something knowing in his gaze, a newfound respect. My plan worked either way.
"I'll get you some new clothes," the old man said, pulling the band from his hair. "Wait in your room while we make them." Then, turning unexpectedly, he looked at Wain. "I still need to talk to you. Come to my office and give me a report." With a flick of his hand, he gestured toward Ash. "Ash, take Asura to his room. He ain't on house arrest, but he still needs to stay inside for a bit."
With that, the old man turned and walked off without another word.
"Oh, come on!" Asura groaned. "I just wanna fight, dammit!"
He turned to Wain, hoping for a willing opponent, only to find him already gone. His mind replayed the abilities Wain displayed in the factory, the smoke swirling to life. Slipped out with the old man, huh? He sighed, kicking a loose rock in frustration. Damn.
At least Ash's frozen expression provided some entertainment. Asura waved his hands in front of the man's blank face. "Yo? You good? Still breathing?"
Ash did not respond. His brain still struggled to compute what had happened. Asura chuckled, then struck exaggerated poses, flexing his arms like a bodybuilder on stage. "I am just that awesome. Have you finally realized the greatness of the mighty Asura, huh?"
He strutted forward with all the confidence of a champion athlete basking in their latest victory. Ash, still reeling, could only shake his head. How? He thought. How did he survive?
Deep down, disappointment briefly flared in his chest, he had hoped that the old man would actually take Asura down. But still… even he had to admit, that was impressive. After regaining his composure, Ash finally moved, leading Asura toward his room.
"Whatever. Let's go."
As they walked, Ash's mind kept replaying the fight. Why did the old man just let him walk away? No repercussions? No punishment? The act was unlike the cold captain. Was he actually that impressed? Should we let Asura walk away free? From justice? He growled to himself as his rage slowly built, his hatred festering.
Asura, meanwhile, was lost in his own world, grinning as he replayed the punch over and over in his mind. That was epic! He had been hit by plenty of things in his lifetime, but nothing quite like that. Before he realized it, they had reached a door at the far end of the building.
Ash abruptly stopped, pressing a hand to Asura's chest before he could go any farther. "This is your room." Then, without another word, he shoved Asura inside and shut the door.
For a moment, Asura just stood there, blinking at his surroundings. The room was small, too small for the two beds shoved against opposite walls. One side was practically empty, but the other was littered with personal belongings. A laptop, books, an MP3 player, and a radio lay scattered across the mattress. Posters covered the walls, displaying artists Asura had never heard of. Toothpick Killer? What the hell kind of name is that?
Shrugging, he turned toward his own bed and flopped onto it, only to flinch at the cold fabric against his bare skin. Although the clothes self-repaired, they had met their limit, it seemed, as the fabric remained charred at its edges. He let out a sigh as one thing was clear. He was partially naked.
"Man… I better get those clothes soon."
Meanwhile, Ash stalked toward the library, his mind clouded with frustration. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he wrestled with his thoughts. Allowing a demon, an ogre, to walk freely within the sacred walls of the Temple was beyond unacceptable. It was blasphemy, a crime against Judex Divinum.
"How could the old man allow this?" he seethed. To him, ogres were nothing but repulsive creatures, a plague upon the world that needed to be eradicated. His stomach twisted with disgust, but beneath that loathing, something else stirred, a buried pain, clawing its way back to the surface.
The scent of smoke filled Ash's nose. The crackling of fire. The screams.
Ash watched, frozen in place, as his mother was dragged away by her leg, her hair drenched with her own blood. Her face was twisted in terror. She screamed for him, her voice raw, desperate. "RUN, ASH! GO! RUN FAR!"
But he could not move. His body refused to obey.
A massive, muscle-bound creature yanked her closer, its hulking form silhouetted against the raging inferno that had once been their home. The peaceful village he had known was gone, consumed by fire, drowned in blood. Neighbors slaughtered. Barns and fields reduced to ash. And Ash, just a child, stood there, powerless.
All around him, the cut-off cries for help and agonized screams of people being eaten alive echoed in his young ears. Ash sat frozen in the tall grass, his small body trembling as he watched the nightmare unfold before him. His breath hitched in his throat, terror gripping him so tightly he could not move, couldn't even scream.
He wanted to call out to his mother, to beg her to come back. But no sound came out. Then, finally—"MOM!"
His memory shifted to another.
Walking beside his father, Ash beamed with joy, practically skipping as they made their way through the dense forest. His father, a towering man with broad shoulders and a presence that commanded respect, strode confidently ahead. Even in their village, people looked up to him, both figuratively and literally. His long blonde hair and thick beard made the village women swoon, much to his mother's annoyance.
But none of that mattered today. Today was special. Dad was finally taking him hunting! Only his older brother had ever been allowed to hunt before. His mother had always protested, saying Ash was too young, too small. But not this time. His father had won the argument.
"I'm eleven! I'm practically a grown man!" Ash had insisted. Now, here he was, heart pounding with excitement as they moved through the underbrush. The crisp scent of pine filled his lungs, the damp earth soft beneath his small boots.
He froze. A stick beneath his foot snapped loudly, the sound echoing through the forest. His eyes widened. "Be quiet, Ash," his father whispered. "You'll scare the deer away."
Ash's face burned with embarrassment. He had almost ruined everything. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he murmured, "Sorry, Dad." His father chuckled, ruffling his hair with a large, calloused hand. "Come on."
Ash giggled and followed close behind. Then, suddenly, his father stopped. Ash barely had time to react before he smacked into the back of his father's leg. "Dad?" he whispered, confused.
His father did not answer. Instead, a firm hand pressed gently but urgently over Ash's mouth.
"Shh," his father hushed him. "Look."
Peeking around his father's massive frame, Ash's breath caught in his throat. There it was, a massive buck with enormous antlers, standing majestically between the trees. His heart pounded with excitement. This was it! His moment. If he brought home this prize, his older brother's smug face would be priceless. He nearly let out a laugh.
Then, without warning, his father yanked him backward. Ash barely had time to register the panic on his father's face before they were running.
"Dad?!" he gasped as he forcefully pulled him into his arms. His father did not answer. He was running, and Ash had never seen his father run from anything.
Terrified, Ash dared a glance over his shoulder. And that's when he saw them. Four monstrous human-like monsters tore through the forest behind them.
They were massive, their muscles making even his father seem small. Thick, red skin stretched over their grotesque forms, their bald heads gleaming in the dim forest light. Jagged teeth jutted from their lower jaws, curling over their lips like tusks. Despite their hulking size, they were fast, barreling through trees like they were nothing, closing the distance with terrifying speed.
Ash's breath came in ragged gasps. His father suddenly squeezed his hand tighter. "Listen to me, Ash," he said, his voice tense but steady. "They're going to catch us."
Ash's stomach dropped. "I need you to run home. Get your mother and brothers. Run far, far away. Do you understand?"
"What?" Ash choked out.
"You need to listen to me!" his father barked. "Take your mother and brothers and go to Grandma's, anywhere but here. Don't stop running. Hide if you have to. Just keep going."
Ash's eyes filled with tears. "Dad?" Before he could say anything else, his father tripped.
Ash was yanked forward, tumbling hard into the thick roots of a tree. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs, leaving him gasping for air. His vision blurred as he struggled to get up. Through the haze, he saw his father rise to his feet, drawing the large hatchet from his hip. His father turned, eyes fierce, muscles tensed like a coiled spring.
"RUN, ASH! GO NOW!" The creatures charged toward his father, completely ignoring Ash, too small, too insignificant to bother with. Ash's entire body shook. I have to help Dad! But how? He was just a child. They'll kill me. They'll eat me…
His father's voice echoed in his head. Run. So, he did. He ran as fast and as far as his legs would carry him, tearing through the woods, lungs burning, legs screaming in protest. He had to reach the village. He had to tell the others. The adults would help! They could save Dad!
But as Ash broke through the treeline, his desperate hope turned to horror. The village was already burning. Screams filled the air. People ran in terror. The same creatures that had chased him and his father were already here. And everything was being burned to ash.
Ash snapped back to reality, his expression darkening into a grim frown. His fingers absently traced the book's worn cover resting in his lap, a book he had read countless times during his visits to the library.
His eyes flicked to the title, the words etched into his memory as deeply as the hatred in his heart. How to Kill an Ogre.