The grand plan, the plan designed by the Gods dictating the fate of every living soul, foresaw that Dion was to slay the Goblin King and watch in horror as the Goblin Champion was to take his brother's life in cold blood.
Afterwards, he too would slay the Goblin Champion in a fit of rage and swear to uphold the legacy of his dead brother…becoming the guardian of the Terra family.
It was a necessary step to turn Dion into the chess piece that was needed for the gods…yet even the best plans, at times, fail for reasons beyond one's control…
Moros and the Goblin champion were not at the location where they should have been. Instead they fought in a dungeon that no God knew about.
Instead of slaying the goblin King with ease, Dion was taking his time to ensure that he had a story to tell for the interview with the famous newspaper…
Something had gone terribly wrong, the consequences of this difference─even the gods could not predict those.
Dion had not broken a sweat as per expectations, but the duration of the battle had long passed initial plannings. What was to be 5 minutes had become 30 minutes.
A battle not of time, but simply done for the enjoyment of his. The timeline was diverging, the original vision of the needed future ruined by factors none had considered.
Spells were cast, injuries received…but it was a show, an execution. Dion was not fighting to get to his brother, he was simply rehearsing for own personal gain.
Not a thought was wasted on Moros, his brother. The older brother Terra was simply reduced to an afterthought, his fate hanging in the balance was reduced to an afterthought in DIon's mind.
Had he wanted to, it could have ended at a moment's notice.
For now, as the duel of Moros was between life and death…Dion gave a performance, earth was flying and all sorts of visual spectacles were conjured to entertain the successor of the Terra family to his heart's content.
The goblin King fought on, barely surviving by using its years of skill and wisdom. It had survived a gigantic sphere of Earth that had surrounded it, aimed to crush it to death.
Lived through an earthquake, a comet that was hurled its way, and then another comet and another comet. Dion did not feel the need to be very creative; it simply needed to be a fun story.
The magicians on Elysium did not want to see an epic struggle. They all fought all the damn time, the people needed excitement in their lives. And the story of how a goblin King was slowly crushed by meteors, turning into meat paste in the process would be the latest hit for the news people.
He could already see the headline: "Goblin KIng put into the dirt: Earth puts it into its place…" With a title like that the family would be more than pleased. More free advertisement for the Patriarch.
If he wanted to end it, he would just need to snap his fingers. The goblin king too had realised that to be the case.
After all, the earth needles stuck in its body could still be changed and manipulated. It did not take a genius to figure out that such a thing was not a good thing to any living organism.
It would take just a snap…
On the other hand Moros and BORIS were about to snap too. Their clashes continued to shatter walls, structures and everything in the dungeon that happened to be in their way.
Their bodies broke and healed, muscles tore and were fixed. A gruelling display of seemingly inhuman, monstrous will played out as 2 beings beyond the ordinary fought one another.
One was nearing the end of its 10000 lives, the injuries it had sustained in the fight totalling up to said count, the regenerative abilities of it coming to an end, the other was kept in the battle by the sheer endless magic casing inside him.
Moros was forced to battle, barely being kept in shape by the magic that demanded him to battle..
Forced into actions, he acted on mostly on his instinct now.
Otherwise, the gigantic holes, one in the front of his body, the other in the back, would have caused him to lose consciousness ages ago. killed him long ago.
It was different to his thoughts; there was an odd calmness. He did not consider the circumstances of what he was doing, nor did he think deeply about the importance of this event.
He did follow what his heart told him to.
His heart did not look at Boris or the situation itself. It did not look far into the future nor far into the past, it simply did enjoy the moment.
Since ages it was the first time it could pump blood freely, all other distractions, all other thoughts that could affect the mind were forgotten about. There was just the fight and the heart lived for this very occasion.
For the very first time, it was truly needed.
This applied to his whole body, for the very first time, he could actively feel his body work and live. Otherwise, it was just buried beneath the tons of mana that did not allow him to feel his body.
At this second, he knew what it meant to be alive, it was a feeling nearly as good as money.
Every punch thrown felt like a joy of bliss coursing through his system. Every pain that assaulted his senses was a sweet message that he was living his best life.
It was a feeling of wonder, a bliss beyond words, something hard to capture in words. This was Moros' current state of being, he should be dead by all accounts and yet he was kept alive by a body that refused to die or yield.
Yet, just like his counterpart this state could never be permanent…
A decision would have to be made soon, for the two of them.
With a deep breath, Moros jumped back…his body taking up position, the mana leaking out of his body surrounded him like an endless vortex that caused his entire self to be enveloped in a ring of dense mansa, suffocating everything that came too close.
With heavy breathing, Moros guided the magic to condense. The aura of magic dwindled quickly around him, as his right arm grew thicker and thicker with each second.
All the mana was forced into position and forced there. The pain grew, the weight of magic pressing down onto the flesh, nearly crushing it under the immense burden.
Moros was soon ready to throw one last punch and bring about the end of this battle, there had to be a victor here.
Boris on the other hand, had a similar idea. All its 10000 souls were close to being spent or had already been spent. It did not know anymore.
The entire runes on his body flickered in green light, once more he pleaded with their voices to lend it their strength, once more its tattoos shone brighter than ever, as they too realised how urgent the situation was.
The regrets from countless years of waiting,dreaming and pain were loaded onto its body once more. Boris grit its teeth, enduring the power and strength that was granted its body.
The champion was nothing without the people it represented and their union came together for one purpose: to bring an end to Moros and everything he stood for, the teenager had to die here.
Both took a few deep breaths, took one last log at another and nodded.
It was time for their final clash, both shot forwards, preparing for the final act of their lives. One would live, one would die.
Two fists, two attacks, one collision…
Time stood seemingly still as flesh ran against flesh. Little was the point of contact, as Boris and Moros fists met in the air. For a moment it was still, their gazes met in the air, both awaiting the inevitable.
And then, time passed a gigantic shockwave tore through the entire dungeon, ripping everything apart, the dungeon itself collapsed under the immense force generated in this simple clash of flesh.
The winner in the battle of 10000 lives, the will of the people, versus the magic of countless killed beings…was…
None.
Both bodies were flung back, sliding over the floor leaving a large trail of blood in their trail.
Boris had been reduced to merely a torso, its body desperately trying to regenerate, but much like the tattoo and markings on its body, all its 10000 lives had run dry. The damage it had received over the span of this short battle had been too immense.
There was no coming back from this, death was only a matter of time.
Moros on the other hand did not fair better.
His body was reduced to a mere husk, all the colour had fled its skin, his entire body appeared as if all its life force had actively been forced out of it. Moros was now more a corpse and soon his mind would follow suit.
Death was the answer to the battle for both.
None should win and none should live....
That was the end to the battle.
With a snap of the finger...