449 Heaven, Hell, and The Mortal Realm

 *Yahhh,* a last upward stroke slit the bishop's chin. The shock traveled to the brain and he fell. Staxius stood with injuries, dried blood, sweat, the face half-covered in ashes. The suit was torn beyond recognition – the army that once stood vanished. The symbol of Nike reduced, 'I beg for the apology, my child, tis time for I to rest.' Naught but a dormant symbol. The triangle of the death element burnt vividly. 

 'What a battle,' coughing deeply, the man laid face up onto the dirtied floor. 

 "King of Arda," said Fiene back to conscience, "-you've bested me," said he readied to go another round. "-I'm impressed," he moved to sit back to back, "-and also disappointed. If this is the power you hold, then there's no way thee art to win in the coming battle. Those who are coming will not hold anything. My Lord has told me of a coming age of terror. You should flee. Tis the only advice I can give to the victor."