Challenge to the false throne

The entire hall shook as an immense force was unleashed on Perses. He tried to put his arms up to block it, but it was futile. 

"CRASH!" 

He was thrown and buried back into the entranceway. Winded Perses gasped. However, unlike last time, the king did not stop.

He was being pushed. Further and further, he was embedded into the wall by an immense suffocating force. This strength was unlike that of the beast. It was overwhelming. Had it not been for the strange material of this room, the whole castle would have shattered.

The king sat heartily on his throne, stubbornly refusing to stand as he let his malice run wild. Perses, whilst under intense pressure, was just barely bearing the assault, but two things changed. 

First, the wall stopped being eroded. Perses could feel an unflinching hard surface behind him. Whatever it was, it felt incredibly sturdy. Eventually, all the stone had been erased, leaving only the shiny grey backbone of the wall that Perses was now sprawled against. 

From his precarious stone enclosure, he was just able to notice the king prepare to raise a second arm. Warning signs went off inside Perse's head as he desperately struggled against the wall. 

Moving his entire body proved completely fruitless as he struggled desperately, but he found that if he concentrated all his strength on his leg, he could move it. 

The king prepared to unleash the maximum output he was capable of despite Perses being buried so far in the wall that he could hardly see him anymore. Yet it didn't matter. With his magic, he could feel him. Just then, something came flying out of the human-shaped hole. Launching itself straight into the stage, it easily crushed through the stone, head first obliterating the stage. 

Startled, the king stood from his throne in shock for the first time. Reappearing from the hole, Perses seemed disoriented as he looked around for the king. After spotting him, he began to run. 

However, he felt a force gripping his legs before he could take even a second step. 

'Don't let him lift you, Perses.'

A quick and insightful warning allowed Perses to dig his hands straight into the ground as his legs were lifted into the air. Forced into an awkward handstand, the king's robust, sweating face could be seen as he used one hand to lift Perses. Again, the king prepared to raise a second hand, instinctively frightened Perses let go of the ground with one hand. 

As Perses watched the king's second hand, his face could no longer hide his quivering fright. For the first time, he realized this was a fight to the death. Struggling more than ever to hold on, he grabbed a hold of a handful of stones. With his full strength, he desperately tossed the rocks at the king. The second hand, now pointed at Perses, instantly turned to face the airborne rocks that rocketed forth like bullets. 

"Close one."

The rocks froze and hovered right in front of the king's face. He stared at them incredulously as they turned to dust around him. This shock transformed into a rage, which he directed towards Perses with a tense, accusatory glare. The man growled as both hands moved to point at Perses. An invisible force erupted from them, lifting Perses. 

"Aghhh"

Even with both hands dug back into the ground, Perses could feel his grip beginning to falter under the immense strain. The hall's floor would also likely crumble before the king gave in. However, rather than stubbornly maintain this tug of war, the king's hands flipped.

"The hell?"

Before Perses could adapt to the change, the immense pressure switched to pulling him down. Without any warning, Perses was plunged head-first into the ground. Despite the blood that poured down Perse's scratched face, the assault didn't stop. Again, with his full strength, the king threw Perse's head first into the ground, then again, then again. By now, the light in Perse's eyes had wavered greatly as he was too stunned to resist. 

"HUFFF HUFFFF"

For just a moment, the King slowed his assault as thick, heavy breaths swallowed as much air as possible. Scarred, injured, but determined, Perses managed to stagger to his feet. Even with a single arm still raised by the King, Perses brushed past the immense force. He tried to bring Perses back towards the ground, but Perses merely stumbled and continued to approach the king. 

He tried pulling Perses to the right, but Perses quickly righted himself. He tried to raise a second hand and lift him into the air, but Perses immediately slammed his leg into the floor, grounding him. Dazed and disoriented, Perses continued to march towards the fearful snarl smeared across the King's face. He resisted everything the King could throw at him.

"Oi, useless priest. Lend me a hand."

Towards the rear of the stage, a figure limped into view. Desperate and haunted with fear, the Reverend raised a shaky hand. Perses only noticed at the very last moment as his mind swirled. The room around him shook, bulged and twisted in front of his very eyes. The awe-inspiring efforts of Perses faltered as he stopped in his tracks. Once more, his head would meet with the ground.

Again, Again and again. Perses had his head bashed against the castle hall's stone floor. The bloodied mask of a face attempted to heal itself, but it was useless as Perses' consciousness was dragged away from him.

With a sigh, the king released one hand in exhaustion. Perses' limp figure was lifted into the air for the king to admire. His scarred head dripped fresh blood onto the stone floor amongst the rubble. 

"Don't tell me you expected fairness Blessed. You're a hundred years to early to challenge me."

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Circe watched on from a safe distance.

Battling tirelessly on the shore, she watched the weakest, most exhausted Machia she had ever seen fight restlessly with his very life on the line. With great apprehension and fear for the youth, she watched on helplessly. Circe thought back on the day and how insurmountably cruel it had proved for the both of them. 

The tired Machia had fought bravely and with vast competence at first. Since their last talk, Machia had found not a moment to catch his breath before quickly being wrapped up in a chase. Through this perseverance, he had rapidly singled out three separated fiends. Firstly, a black parrot-shaped bird that spat some form of acidic vile. 

She had no chance to observe any more of its capabilities as it was quickly struck down by one of Machia's tangible shadows. These shadows, whilst lacking in aggregate power, were immensely deadly. Circe had watched him use them to take down all ranges of weaker creatures. Similarly, the second beast, another airborne entity, had been sought out and felled before she could even catch sight of the Blessed.

It was no exaggeration to claim Circe's role was equally tricky. Straying behind Machia for too long would result in certain demise. Her short legs had never been strained as much as this before. Machia also could not afford to wait, a lesson they had both already learned the hard way. 

Finally, Circe had caught up to Machia to watch him combat a third beast. Its rugged black shell exterior and low gravity would have made it immensely challenging for him. Assuming he hadn't caught it by surprise. 

Circe watched in amazement as, in one flawless motion, Machia inhumanely jumped on the creature's shell, narrowly dodging its heavy anvil-like tail that lunged for him. He then writhed his hands in shadows and lay flat on the creature's back, instantly reaching for its armoured neck and piercing his hand straight through it effortlessly. In a spasiming fit, it threw Machia off its back, causing him to grunt, landing painfully in front of Circe and kicking up a cloud of dust. 

Once the dust cleared, she saw a panting Machia staring at the creature's corpse with an intense grin. His hands had returned to normal but still dripped with a thick, rugged black liquid. He turned to share that sinister smile with her, but before he could, a dark shadow fell across his face. 

A genuinely terrifying creature flew overhead, stunning both Machia and Circe. It clumsily flew through the sky as its dangly legs skittered about in the air. Its wings allowed it to hover, though unstable, as it blew a shrill whistle. 

A dark, thin shadow suddenly flung itself like a dystopian homing missile towards the gigantic black insect. Its unstable movement, however, made it too hard to hit, yet he still managed to claim one of its long, thin black legs. 

However, rather than flinch out of pain like an ordinary organism, it sent its thickest, longest limb, a tongue of sorts, down towards Machia. With his inhuman reactions, he just barely managed to step to the side as the appendage buried itself in the ground where he had stood. The attack had surprised him too much to counter. However, rather than engage Machia, it continued its unbalanced flight overhead away from the duo. 

Both Circe and Machia watched the creature leave with uncertainty at its unfamiliar behaviour. The grin on Machia's face grew dreary as he looked down at his feet and then towards the ocean. Machia had arrived at the sea in a frenzy to eviscerate the fiends as fast as possible without noticing where he stood. The waves were now mere meters away. But that wasn't all.

"The insect, it's joined up with two land types, the sturdy kind."

Gathering her breath, Circe did her best to listen to Machia's words, understanding how bad the situation was. A bottomless pit of anxiety began to swell within her.

"Then we should retreat. You're too exhausted, too-"

"No, if we leave now, they'll feast on the remains of the guys we just dealt with. At that point, they really will be too much for me."

"Then we should burn these and-"

"Too long, they'll be here any moment. The living ones aren't afraid of something like mundane flame. We'll simply be handing them the chance to strengthen themselves further."

Circe knew all too well what that entailed. After all, she had been the one to notice that pattern. Leaving the corpses of fiends behind had allowed others to feast on them. Then, all too often, they would see creatures with the same abilities attack them repeatedly. The solution, burning the carcasses. But there was no time.

"Then maybe I can incinerate them faster with fire magic."

Machia turned to her, intrigued by her answer.

"You have enough mana to do that, for all three?"

Machia spoke with the tone of someone sincerely confused, but she knew all too well how sarcastic and snarky he was. The grin that remained fixed on his face made it clear. 

"You're wasting my time. At this point, without your trump card we would likley be unable to even flee back to the kingdom. Its going to be a long battle so make sure you stay out of the way."

Leaving her with an air of superiority, he left Circe alone on the shore as he walked along the coastline. She couldn't help but be worried about his safety. It was only a matter of time until he would gas out.

But, as abhorrent and cold-heated as it was, she couldn't help but feel more frightened by Machia's maddening grin. The more futile this venture became, the more excited and deranged he seemed.