What is Death? (2)

Goleil's aura rushed from his body like a supercell thunderstorm. Waves of red energy sent shockwaves through the Colosseo, sending the spectators lurching away. Even the strongest amongst them, like Sir Khalid bin Walid, stumbled a foot back.

Erikson had his arm in front of his face, mana wind whipping his beard around his face.

"Why is his aura so much stronger?!" Guyan shouted over the deafening aura.

A chill ran down Khalid's back. "He must have been holding back this whole time! I've severely underestimated him!"

"Why was he just speaking to the construct?!" Erikson shouted as he took tentative steps toward the edge of the ring. Most of the red mana slammed against the energy barrier, protecting them from the worst of it.

"I have no idea why he spoke to the mana construct; it never spoke to me!" Khalid shouted back.

Ty'Brals demonic red eyes were as wide as a dinner platter. 'I hadn't realized he was holding back either... how is he this strong?!' He thought.

His eyes narrowed as his eye caught something within the upheaval of blood-red sen.

Within the sea of blood-red, tiny flashes of gold were briefly present before they came into contact with the dark Elder magic, at which point it seemed to spark and combust, creating massive shockwaves that rocked the energy barrier even now.

He searched Goleil from whence it emanated and spotted a small trail of radiant mana flowing from his golden eyes.

'Of course, Vrea had to show herself when everything was going so well without her. I wonder what she thinks of Goleil's current power...' The Elderling thought.

As Goleil stared at the unnatural being before him, he could feel a pricking at the back of his mind, a nagging. The same nagging that had driven him to come to Redvale, driven him to find his purpose, driven him to get stronger, and drove him to prepare for a journey to Jotun.

"I will purify this world of your existence, or I am not Vrea's Will," He growled as his weapon was set ablaze once more with dark mana.

Like a man choking on his own blood, the Dead Knight gargled out a strained laugh.

[This pitiful body of mine is limited. I can only show you a fraction of my indomitable might. It shall be enough to defeat you, but if you are to overcome the impossible, you must seek me out in the Lands of Red Snow.]

The ruined and pale hands grasped the greatsword's hilt, and Goleil heard a sickening crack as the sword slowly dislocated from the dead man's chest.

[I shall show you a glorious battle, young undead. The God of War blesses you, so I expect a show!] It laughed as the massive blade slammed into the ground, leaving a gaping hole in its chest where it had once resided.

Hunched over like an elderly man, the Dead Knight didn't move. Inky black mana began to curl up from its body as its mana circulated.

'He who strikes the first blow wins the engagement. I must strike first!' Goleil thought as he reinforced his glaive to the max.

Leaving behind a trail of golden-red mana, Goleil rushed towards the ancient horror, his glaive high above him as he brought it down in a savage arc.

"I shall end you with one strike!" He roared as his blood pumped mana through his veins.

As the glaive came down, the abomination didn't move, but Goleil felt its awful gaze from beyond its dark helm.

It moved with unnatural swiftness.

The glaive stopped just a hair from the knight's shoulder, a pale hand wrapped around the haft.

The wood creaked as the hand began to squeeze. The knight's head twisted slightly as it stared at Goleil.

[Is this all you have to offer me, young undead? This shall end far sooner than I had anticipated.]

It raised its foot, and a moment later, Goleil was on the other side of the ring.

His vision swam from the sudden impact, and his ribs screamed for attention.

Goleil unconsciously summoned a massive shield in front of him, just in time for an enormous weight to shake the construct to its very foundation.

Guyan couldn't take his eyes away. "Is it supposed to be this hard?" He asked meekly.

Khalid shook his head. "It was never this fast or strong," He whispered, and his voice was lost in the mana wind.

The blood-red shield cracked as the gargantuan great sword bore down upon it. Goleil realized he had lost his glaive and saw that the Dead Knight still had it in its grasp and that it had swung its sword with but one hand.

Goleil gulped as he realized just how right the abomination had been. This one completely outclassed his previous opponent, and it would have been a joke to call them on the same level.

The knight dragged its greatsword off the mana shield and tossed the glaive at Goleil.

[It wouldn't be entertaining if you had no weapon, no?] It chuckled, dark black fluid streaming down its helmet.

Goleil grasped the glaive in his hands, reinforcing it as much as he could until it was as hard as steel.

'Spear thrusts are swift, and I need to catch him off guard. I've got a plan!' Goleil thought.

Goleil plunged his glaive towards the Dread Knight as fast as he could as many times as he could, but the haft kept getting caught by the creature and released. Goleil began to feel a lump growing in his throat, hopelessness threatening to overwhelm him.

The unnatural being seemed to be looking around at the surrounding energy barrier.

[You know, a long-dead kingdom constructed this formation a thousand years ago. They now call those times the Golden Age, though it didn't seem very gilded to me. I was also but a hatchling back then, so arrogant. It seems you have all grown weaker in time. How pathetic.] It spat those last two words, black ichor seeming to fly from its helmet.

Its blade slammed down once more onto Goleil's massive mana shield, sending a spiderweb of cracks through it.

'Now!'