Sorcerer Thor Part V

Rolling the cylinder-shaped object in her hand, Selene watched a dull, green fog roll around inside. The excess souls of those she had just absorbed, using them to strengthen her powers even further. She could feel her magic growing within her, the power she once had having grown exponentially faster in the past few weeks than it had done in her two decades of existence.

And it was all down to a single man, Demogorge.

A strange name, but one that from his tone of reverence, held a particular meaning. There was a history behind that name, one that she was curious to learn more about. Then again, there were many things about Demogorge that she was curious to learn about.

Where did he come from?

Where did he learn magic?

What magic did he learn?

What were his desires?

What were his ambitions?

What did he want from her?

What was he going to teach her?

These were but a few questions that constantly passed through her mind, every time she looked upon him. But never once did she gain much in the way of answers, not that he would offer them freely.

She had asked, but he never answered.

It was so unlike the usual, usually, all it took was asking the right question to get the answer. If he didn't, it usually meant he had already told her the answer. However, he never did any of that for those questions, anything pertaining to him and his past, he never once offered to her.

It only made her more curious.

Even when she asked him for tips upon magic, trying to learn new spells, he never offered them either. Much like he had told her in the beginning, he would only teach her how to absorb the full totality of a soul and not the fraction she had done before. It was something he had already done and yet he still let her follow him.

Why she did not know, but Selene had every reason to follow him. He possessed knowledge on magic that she did not, that the sorcerer, one of her earliest victims, did not possess. So long as she did not ask, Demogorge did not mind her company. For that reason, Selene stuck around, because as she travelled with him, she got to witness bits of magic here and there.

Even when he did not answer her questions, she learned.

But this was unlike the norm for him.

There was no magic, no powerful spells or subtle manipulations of his surroundings to gain victory. No, Demogorge had brandished a weapon from nothing, plucking it from thin air and now engaged the scantily clad woman in a duel of blades. Her armour, if it could be called such a thing, simply consisted of tightly, interwoven chainmail that covered her breasts and upper thighs.

She had seen a tunic that provided more protection than that armour, not that it overly mattered to Selene. Duels like these were such a boorish thing, but Demogorge had been more than happy to entertain the red-haired woman who had attacked them out of nowhere.

So while he had his fun, she would instead spend her time, absorbing what she could from her phylactery. There were dozens of souls still held inside, apparently, it made them richer by storing them for longer, like alcohol that became stronger when allowed time to ferment. But she had seen the power of Demgorge and she had a long way to go before she became strong enough to defeat him.

Her attempts at copying the ritual he used to summon those strange beasts had ended in failure. So while her power was gradual, his was rapid and expansive. But Selene would be patient, her time would come eventually.

-X- Line Break -X-

Demogorge recognised the divinity surrounding this woman.

It belonged to one of the few women that Thor Odinson had never been able to claim. Of course, at the time, he had not known that she was Goddess, but even so, Thor had been rejected. That rejection made him for many years following that, obsessively train to defeat this woman and claim her as his own, by the rules she dictated.

Scáthach.

A wild party that caught the attention of the Celtic Goddess, who upon arrival, instantly caught the attention of Thor Odinson. His attempts at wooing her failed, Scáthach proposing a duel with the stipulation that if he could defeat her in single combat, she would be his.

Thor had failed.

Having never trained in his life, Thor had been outclassed, humiliated and defeated. But during the conflict, Scáthach had recognised the potential that resided within the Prince of Asgard, one that could surpass even her.

Thor had spent the next few years training himself for his next attempt.

But before he ever got the chance to duel Scáthach again, he returned to his old life once more, completely forgetting about his humiliating defeat. To Demogorge it was amusing how much potential was wasted upon Thor Odinson and wondered why Odin allowed such a powerful man to go without training.

Perhaps though, it was all part of some greater plan.

Demogorge did not know.

Right now, he focused upon his opponent, the whistling of their blades as they cut through the air and the clanging of metal striking metal. It was a dance between the two of them and Demogorge felt his blood begin to pump a little bit quicker, smile growing just a little bit wider.

In that duel against Scáthach, there had been a small moment, a brief instance of a warrior spirit awakening within Thor Odinson. That same spirit began to awaken within him at this moment, but unlike Thor Odinson who had lost himself within the fight, the calm, collected mind of Loki kept him focused. It was the elegant and graceful movements of the God of Mischief that he utilised with brief moments of savage brutality that belonged to the God of Thunder.

She was skilled, more so than what should be possible for a woman of her age. But that was the blessing of Scáthach at work, mastery of weaponry to a degree that no mortal should ever properly possess. Her movements were swift and precise, clean and sharp, deadly and graceful.

Demogorge matched her blow for blow, the centuries of experience Loki had accumulated coming in handy as the duel progressed. Especially with the urges of Thor Odinson, desiring him to stop and stare.

There was more than one reason Thor Odinson had lost that duel.

Considering Thor's great desires, the armour that Scáthach had worn was a large contributing factor to his humiliating loss. It covered little, purposefully drawing the gaze of her enemies and distracting them from the deadly weapon coming to kill them. It was the same armour that the red-head wore now, a distracting sight but one that Demogorge fought to ignore.

It was a test after all.

Not only for him but also for her.

A source of pride that no matter how little she wore, she could not be touched let alone defeated in combat. A test to see if a man could focus on the duel and not her body enough to defeat her.

Scáthach had been much the same way.

As the two of them once again locked blades, Demogorge used his greater strength to push her away, the redhead stumbling backwards before righting herself. Then came in close, her speed was great, her strength also nothing to ignore. But what truly made her a dangerous foe was her skill and battle awareness.

The blessing of Scáthach and mastery of weaponry made her a difficult foe to defeat in a battle of pure skill. But what made her even more difficult and worried Demogorge more, was the fact that she seemed to almost be moving on instinct, as if something else was guiding her actions. Her swipes and slashes grew progressively more precise and sharper as time passed by.

'So that's what it is.' Demogorge realised, smile temporarily dipping into a frown.

The two once again clashed in a series of slashes and thrusts, both parrying and dodging each other strikes while simultaneously going to attack. Once again, the two locked blades, this time though, Demogorge let some of his power flow free, muscles of his arms slightly bulging, skin going coarse as his muscles tensed with impossible strength.

Her legs buckled, she dropping to one knee as she strained against his strength.

Then the ground surged upwards from beneath her feet, crawling up her body and encasing her entire body except for her head in a cocoon of hardened mud. "I know it is you, Scáthach. You can come out now."

There was a pause, but nothing happened.

"So is this what you do, abandon your avatars in their time of need? Discard them when they have failed to fulfil the mission you have given them?" He pressed, but again, Scáthach was silent. "Very well, just know this, I have no quarry with you."

Dismissing the magically constructed blade, I withdrew the power from my arms and turned upon my heel. "You are destabilising the barrier." The words spoken from behind him were impossibly powerful, two voices seemingly overlapping and Demogorge turned around, looking upon the glow that surrounded the redhead.

"You finally show yourself."

"You are destabilising the barrier that exists between Gaea and the Splinter Realms. You are inviting chaos and destruction."

Demogorge chuckled amusedly. "I simply stick to the Lower Realms. I have no interest to delve into the Upper Realms. There are beings that can rival and surpass even the Skyfathers residing there. I would not invite them to this world, not when I reside within it. You have no need to worry about that."

"And if your hunger cannot be satisfied?"

"I may be a man fuelled by my desires, but I am no fool," Demogorge told her. "Once I have gotten what I need from the Lower Realms I will leave the Splinter Realms behind. You have no need to kill me, Scáthach, not now nor ever. I simply wish to live my life to its fullest. So long as you allow me to do that, you and I will never become enemies, not that I would ever wish to face you in combat."

Making enemies at this stage in time was not a good thing.

Scáthach was not an enemy he wanted at this point in time and he was being truthful about his plans. The Upper Realms of the Splinter Realms was a truly dark and dangerous place. Just a slight opening would be enough for the Hell Lords to enter in through and there would be no stopping them at that point.

It would result in chaos and destruction on a scale that was uncontrollable.

Demogorge enjoyed chaos, but not when he was not powerful enough to be in control of it. Chaos was a weapon, one that if controlled could make someone stand atop the world. If he wanted to survive, Demogorge needed to be able to control the chaos he would unleash lest he be consumed by it.