The walls of the dark chamber glinted ferociously, seemingnto radiate the tension in the palace at the moment. It seemed so thick that even a razor sharp axe would have a difficult time clashing through it.
A stocky man sat on a gutteral throne in the half darkness. A faint but detectable aura lingered around him, and his heavy ragged and impatient breathing seemed to be the sound in the whole palace.
Two guards sulked behind him, their visors glinting in the scanty light. Their bodies shifted uncomfortably, as if they felt stifled by the overbearing aura of their liege.
The man's face was hidden in the shadows by his long locks, and a golden crown, containing an empty circular crevice, rested on the haughty head. His face looked calm, but beneath the facade he brimmed with impatience. Only a twitching lower lip betrayed his facial expression.
The great double doors leading to the throne room were suddenly thrown open, splashing a blinding sliver of light into the hall for those split seconds, before the intruder closed them.
Those few seconds were enough to illuminate the glorious tapestries and paintings painstakingly embellished on the walls of the throne room.
The man on the throne didn't move an inch; he didn't even shield his eyes from the assaulting beams. He just looked on ahead, his eyes dancing in anticipation.
A man in armour stood on the threshold, surveying the austere faces before him in a glance. The man in the throne looked at him, expectations fluctuating astronomically, but he couldn't make conclusions. Yet.
The general, after taking a good but sharp glance around, took a step back. The man on the throne noticed and the half smirk on his face cleared in an instance.
The general's bravery and self composure vanished in the twinkling of an eye when he noticed a very dangerous anomaly. He expected this, but never knew his liege would go this far.
The king's eyes glowed with an angry scarlet hue, and the Ace crystal normally present on his crown was missing.
This meant only one thing.
The king had absorbed the crystal, which would surely enhance his energy flow, as make its usage almost seamless, enabling it to sync with his body almost naturally.
That was the power of an Ace crystal. Virtually all powerful divine relics did that, granting near divine abilities to their "hosts".
Surely, his liege had been expecting a duel with their hostage when they returned, wanting to finish off the ticking time bomb of the Incarnas once and for all.
And they had failed to capture the boy. At once, Simma, general of all armies under the jurisdiction of the king, was really hopeless.
There was no explaining the situation to the king in this state; he was surely past all reasoning now.
It was just like a kind of possession with a time limit, which never exceeded the extent from which the body broke down.
Surely, divine relics had the ability to downgrade whatever vessel they enhanced, through steady damage to the Stellar Core, brought about by continuous and extended usage. Usually, relic–wielders worked with time, since it was a very risky venture.
So any usage had to be always worth the risk.
Another of the downsides of absorbing relics; some barely left you in control of your own body, giving you a predator–kind of view.
In this form, everyone else was prey. At this point, the king was barely in control of himself.
Simma trembled inwardly at the possibility of having to duel his liege in that form. If so, his chances of leaving that place alive were incredibly slim.
Remembering his manners, he genuflected respectfully, hoping desperately that the king hadn't noticed his hesitation.
"My Lord".
The king gazed at his general with a piercing stare, and the man felt cold drops of sweat break out on his forehead, despite the cold temperaturen of the throne room.
The king finally raised up his head, flicking his wrist casually as he did. Almost immediately, the throne room lit up. It was impossible to say where exactly the light came from; there were no visible lamps hanging from the ceilings or the pillars.
Although Simma was not a stranger to the throne room, he virtually shuddered at this anomaly. The king's livid eyes left him breathless with fear.
"Where is he?"
At this question, Simma coughed anxiously, casting his mind around for a pitiable excuse. All his well laid plans fell through even before execution as he hadn't banked on meeting his Majesty in that state.
Even the guards noticed his discomfort but they gave no indication. They dared not.
Simma inhaled and exhaled deeply. This was the moment he had been dreading all night…And now he didn't know what to expect…
Invoking and praying to all gods he ever knew, he took a last deep breath and raised his head. His king was already getting impatient.
"My lord…He escaped –"
"He escaped…?!"
A sudden forceful gust of power hit simma with a bone crunching sound, throwing him high into the air. His body somersaulted with alarming speed as he attempted to control his spiralling but to no avail.
His helmet fell to the floor with a loud clang.
Simma crash landed limply into the ground with a sickened crunch, flipping over like a ragdoll. Thin lines of blood trailed from his mouth, nose and hair.bHis face was now pale with fear as he returned to a genuflecting posture. But the king hasn't even started yet and he knew that.
This was going to be a very long night. If he was going to get through, that is.
It was crystal clear that the king wasn't going to acknowledge his unwavering loyalty of returning to his earlier stance without complaining. But Simma frowned grimly with a strong resolution as he struggled to remain kneeling.
As long as he left this place alive…it was good enough for him. Only if his Majesty could show him the tiniest bit of mercy…
"What do you mean 'he escaped '?", the king asked again, looking down at the still genuflecting general.
"My Lord, it is a complex tale." Simma stuttered, now gasping in true fear. "He was quick-witted, blocking us with a Muthal portal. It was not strong enough to do much harm, and we cleared it real quickly. But by then, the boy was gone."
"How possible?", the king asked quietly, but his voice echoed around, and his eyes bulged with anger. "How was it possible that a little child outwitted my best strategic generals!".
With a second explosion of fury, a new wave of force spread radially, slamming Simma violently against a pillar, and even sending the guards flailing away.
The pillar cracked as Simma crashed into it. It toppled a few seconds later, sending dust everywhere, which cleared in an instant at the king's command.
"My Lord", Simma pleaded, stirring feebly. "Please…"
"You seem too weak to be my lead general", the king drawled lazily, looking quite stern, "or are you a clone of the Vsenti?"
The Vsenti were a tribe of troublesome shape shifting vampires, who migrated from the realm of Beasts.
"No, my lord", Simma groaned, trying to get up. He failed miserably, crumbling to the ground, and spitting out a mouthful of blood, still trying to shake his head vigorously. "I'm Unos Malmagaios Simma, alias the Cunny one."
As he said that, a small voice in his head…obviously his mind chiding him, sniggered mockingly. "Not cunny enough to get yourself out of this however…"
"Then fight me."
The whistling wind, the chiding voices stopped. Even the guards who were attempting to get up froze. Simma hadn't even realized that there was a wind blowing somewhere until then.
A general of his rank, fighting against an almost overpowered king, naturally far stronger than him, now enhanced with a bluff?
'There was no faster way to die, indeed', he thought dully, listening to his own failing heartbeat and his blurring vision.
'Well, I might as well end this sooner, since I'm still going to die at the end…'
"I command you as your king…to fight me!", the king said, a red maniacal glint glowing in his eyes. "Resist me, like you used to do foreign kings. Fight!!!"
At these final words, Simma was blasted backwards for the third time. However, this time he regained his footing and slid to a stop.
He looked up at his liege, blinking blood out of his eyes and struggling to remain standing. His eyes lit up with anger and his fists clenched.
The two guards exchanged looks of pity still leaning on their spears, in no immediate hurry to rise again.
"My lord," Simma snarled through clenched teeth. "It's enough".