Mystica...Demongod's original fiction...

[Demongod86]

Thx, but...where is everyone else?

[Chob0]

i think they all are dead....

[The_Teleporter]

The story got to long?

[foxstoneeety]

keep writin, ill prolly start reading your story when you finnished a few more chapters... maybe 2 months

[Crissagrim]

Your crazy DemonGod86. I didnt read it but I really admire your devotion your always trying to get better keep up the good work. ^^

[Demongod86]

Crazy? I certainly am not arguing that =D.

Thanks for the admirations, but the ultimate admiration would be a critique =D

[Demongod86]

Hey hey hey, BATTLE CHAPTER!!!

Both Thanaros and Karassen lifted off of the ground while the other members of the Order of the Dragon looked up as much as they could, laying on their stomachs on top of the earth pulsating with magic. Sozira Icehymn herself shifted her eyes to the sky, where Thanaros held his giant weapon at the center, at a diagonal across his body, while Karassen held his great broadsword out in front of him with both hands. Both of the longhaired warriors were each surrounded in an energy field colored with their nations’ respective magic. Karassen was in the middle of a black field of whirring magic, while Thanaros himself emitted a ball of red energy with stripes of darker red running from top to bottom across the lighter-red orb that surrounded the Pyrenian warrior. Above, as the rain fell from the vast expanse of gray clouds, the magical energy fields danced as they vaporized each and every bit of water that dared even attempt to touch their masters.



Time itself seemed to stand still as Karassen and Thanaros floated high above the pulsating crystal orbs, unmoving; the two combatants stared each other down, Thanaros’s eyes boring holes into Karassen’s, while Karassen returned that very same gaze, seemingly attempting to peer into Thanaros’s soul.



“So…we can stand like this all day, Karassen. Your move.”



Karassen merely smiled as he continued floating in the air, unmoving, save for twirling his huge sword back and forth, seemingly effortlessly.



“So, what do you make of this falling water, Thanaros?”



“Not much. What do you make of this screaming fireball, though?”



“Which screaming fireball?” Asked Karassen, a bemused expression on his face.



“This one,” Thanaros replied, quickly releasing his left hand from his weapon and shooting a beam of crimson energy which rocketed towards the black energy field. Karassen raised his sword in a defensive position and readied his magical defenses as the red streak roared towards his face. Unblinking, Karassen watched the red beam slam itself against his reinforced magical barrier, exploding harmlessly in a brilliant flash of light, before raising his mighty sword to have it slam against Thanaros’s mighty blade with a loud clang!!! that would have surely sent a monstrous tremor through Karassen’s entire being had his hands been directly in contact with the grip of his sword. Thank the lights that he was wearing thick leather gloves with fur inside. Karassen shifted his gaze upwards and laughed.



“You’re smarter than you look.”



Thanaros’s face put on a puzzled expression.



“Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?” replied the Pyrenian warrior, putting a slight bit of pressure on Karassen’s blade, though not too much. Any competent warrior knew that one’s own force could prove to be disastrous if one over committed in an attack.



“Is that so?” asked Karassen while removing his sword from under Thanaros’s, half-expecting Thanaros to go flying down due to the pressure he felt upon his blade. To Karassen’s slight dismay, no such action occurred. The platinum-haired warrior flew back a slight distance, before readjusting his altitude to be on par with that of his red-armored opponent.



Thanaros just floated in the sky, smiling.



“Why are you letting all of the exhilaration leave our bodies? Standing around is foolish!” the dark-haired warrior shouted happily while flying straight for his Nekralian opponent, a red streak of magic and fire trailing out behind him to mark where he had come from. Karassen stood more than ready as a streak of jet-black energy shot itself towards the rapidly approaching offending crimson beam, a warrior at its head. Thanaros, in turn, slashed right at the black projectile, easily cutting through it, but meeting a swift strike from Karassen’s sword to Thanaros’s own, sending a violent tremor through his body.



Thanaros held firm under the pressure from the Nekralian runeblade as it glowed with a fierce black energy. Thanaros released pressure, letting his Nekralian opponent push one end of Thanaros’s runeblade towards his face. It was just what Thanaros wanted, as he swung his mighty weapon in the direction of the momentum, his other greatsword, the left side of his weapon, connected with his first at the hilt finding its way straight into Karassen’s black plate mail, putting a fissure into it through sheer force. Thanaros heard the swish of chain mail as the second layer of the Nekralian’s armor absorbed some of the remaining force of the blow.



However, the strike had certainly had its effect on Karassen himself, as he involuntarily tilted to the right, certainly feeling the impact of the heavy weapon upon his frame, his platinum hair swaying in the opposite direction that his body tilted.



“First blood isn’t as important as last,” Karassen said with a smile, releasing his right hand off of his runeblade. Thanaros realized too late as to why, when a leather glove lined with steel struck him straight into the nose with a thud. The Pyrenian barely had a moment to recover as he saw a runeblade that looked like it wanted to snuggle its tip against his neck. Simply no, thought the fire-engulfed dark-haired warrior as he swung his weapon on a straight collision course with the smaller enchanted runeblade, instantly reversing the swing as soon as the two weapons clashed, intending on bringing the other end of his mighty weapon to Karassen’s neck and claiming victory. It was stopped by a solid sheet of black energy, attached to Karassen’s left arm, now unattached from his runeblade.



Thanaros released his sword’s pressure on Karassen’s shield and flew back a distance. He separated his greatswords and sheathed them both before bringing his hands together to form a ball space in front of his face, inside of which exploded an orb of white energy, flashes of red fire magic erupting uncontrollably from its center.



Karassen already knew that if he started his own spell immediately, he would already be seconds behind his Pyrenian counterpart in the release of his spell, or behind in the force of the magical attack. Either option was certainly unfavorable, since letting an opponent dictate the pace of the fight usually proved disastrous. It was common knowledge in Nekralia that the best defense was a good offense, for if an adversary never got to throw an attack; one did not have to fear for the loss of the battle. Would Karassen have known what to expect from his Pyrenian adversary, he would have attempted to create a specialized countermeasure to the attack. However, trying to find out the effects of an arcane spell would only leave him open for the blast that was surely coming.



The Nekralian warrior charged, never leaving eye contact with Thanaros. Suddenly, from under Thanaros’s black bangs, his eyes glowed with a new light. Now! Karassen sped up, and within the blink of an eye was behind his Pyrenian opponent.



Thanaros suddenly lost track of his dark-armored opponent. Where--?!! Behind! Thanaros quickly spun completely around, before quickly darting to his left to avoid the thrust of a mighty Nekralian runeblade. His glowing white-hot projectile still within his grasp, he charged straight into Karassen, until red plate mail met with black. As the two armors met with each other, Thanaros thrust the orb of white-hot energy straight for Karassen’s chest.



Karassen tried to evade the attack. However, at such close range, his blade was of little use, and Thanaros’s attack was already far too close. Suddenly, he felt as though his body was being torched from inside, the very energy he used to power his spells exploding and pounding him from inside. The pain was excruciating! Knowing full well the consequences of being distracted by pain, Karassen made haste to fly back.



Thanaros did not follow, but merely held his position in the air, waiting for his opponent. This was not a fight to the death, so to attack an opponent not fully on his guard would be atrocious sportsmanship. Instead, he redrew his greatswords and connected them once again by the hilt to reform his massive weapon.



“So, Karassen, how did you like it? I worked on it with my friends from the mage academy, just so I could make sure that nobody could ever hit me with a spell if I could help it. Doesn’t feel too good when your own magical energies explode within you, does it?”



“Very creative,” laughed Karassen, his black energy field dissipated, “though don’t you think that a warrior of death would have other resources available other than a blade and some paltry magic?”



“I would be disrespecting you if I would think connecting with one technique would win a battle against such a respectable warrior as yourself.”

“How oh so very true, Thanaros.” Karassen replied, closing his eyes afterwards. Thanaros could hear a soft whisper apart from the rhythmic beating of the falling rain. How the—without any magical energy? In a moment’s notice, Karassen raised his runeblade, a flat face of the mighty runed sword facing the Pyrenian. Thanaros knew that charging straight into an unknown attack would not be prudent, as Karassen had demonstrated, yet standing perfectly still would also serve no purpose. Powering up, Thanaros flew higher into the air, an energy field of fire engulfing both him and his mighty sword.



“Futile,” responded Karassen, without even moving. Thanaros felt as though he was being slashed all over his body; such a pain was Karassen’s spell that Thanaros started to fall from the sky, while Karassen simply stood in the air, seemingly revitalized.



“Hmmm,” Thanaros let out his breath in short gasps, still reeling from the previous attack, “as they say, one technique begets another.”



Karassen smiled.



“Nekralians have an ability to use their own life force as an essence to power their spells. It was a technique developed a long time ago by Nekralian mages to make up for their lack of vitality. Any physical pain they received they would simply do unto their adversaries while healing themselves from the life force drained from an unsuspecting victim.”



Thanaros chuckled a long chuckle. Quite practical. Very practical indeed.



“Very, very practical. Unless…”



“Unless?”



“Unless they cannot cast it,” replied the Pyrenian, disassembling his weapon into its two swords and sheathing them, after which Thanaros stretched out his arms, collecting crimson magic into his palms. Karassen could only watch, since he would need what little was left of his magical energy in a full-out flight to dodge the next attack.



“Well?”



“I would be careful what you wish for, Karassen, because I think I’m going to grant your wish right now.”



“Bring it on,” the platinum haired warrior replied, peering at Thanaros with his penetrating blue-eyed gaze.



“Very well! Now fly for all this duel is worth, or crash!” Thanaros exclaimed, the orb in his hands expanding in volume to be nearly as wide as Thanaros’s now outstretched arms. Karassen’s eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment, before he realized just what it was that the brilliant sphere of crimson energy was for. From within the monstrous orb emerged one, no—two, three, four, five, six beams, each with a head of a dragon made out of pure energy at the front.



The first beam rocketed towards the Nekralian warrior. Karassen began swiftly calculating a path to dodge the beams. If he would move too far out of the way of the first, the second would be far harder to avoid, since he would become that much more of a target. Interesting.



As the first beam rushed at him, the dragonhead roaring, Karassen twisted and sharply flew to his left, the mighty beam roaring past his right side, soaring off into the distance. Karassen did not have any time to pay it any mind, however, as the second beam glared at him with its burning white “eyes”. It was off of his center, headed slightly to his left. Karassen let out a small gasp. Not only were these beams powerful, but also they either had a mind of their own, or were being perfectly controlled by a master warrior. His momentum directed to the left already, the Nekralian warrior sharply descended, continuing to veer to the left off of his momentum, only to see the third beam making a beeline for him, its velocity exactly the opposite of his. Whereas Karassen was descending and flying left with a slight backwards speed, the ascending beam flew right towards him. Damn. Karassen reversed his direction entirely, trying to outrun the beam dragon that opened its mouth and screeched a deafening blast at him. Not only were his ears pounding, but Karassen’s entire being was racked by the very pull of the world, fivefold. For a short period of time, it felt as though he was being crushed. The dark-armored warrior barely had time to suffer, however, as a beam from directly above his head intended for itself to be the one to land the direct hit upon his frame. The platinum haired warrior instantly flew backwards, his long hair whipping in his face from the sudden change in direction. In front of him, the two dragon beams exploded in a blinding flash of white and crimson light. Four down, two to go, thought the Nekralian warrior, as he squinted his eyes while shielding them at the same time. The fifth beam emerged from the explosion of the third and fourth, roaring and opening its maw. Karassen mumbled an expletive as he realized that there was no time to dodge this one. The only option left him was to block it with whatever magic he could muster. Gathering all of his remaining magical energy not used for flying, Karassen put up a dark barrier in front of him, while crossing his arms in front of his body and tucking his legs. As the beam impacted, Karassen felt his barrier start faltering from the pressure that the beam was exerting.



The dark barrier gave out, letting the beam detonate right into Karassen’s block. Despite his defense, the Nekralian warrior felt himself being hurled back. There was only one problem. That was only the fifth beam. Karassen realized just what that meant when he felt as though a battering ram had been smashed into his back. A burning, crushing pain shot through his entire body as he was hurled forward, a whiplash running throughout his entirety, from head to toe. Fighting to stay conscious despite his now splitting whiplash-induced headache, Karassen saw Thanaros floating right in the way of his forced trajectory. Thanaros drew his right greatsword, flying towards Karassen. He slashed his sword in a mighty horizontal arc, right in front of his face, before stopping Karassen’s downward plummet with a crimson-armored arm.



Karassen chuckled as Thanaros let go of him after the momentum had been drained. As they floated down, Karassen spoke his concessions.



“Your boyish features belie great skill, Thanaros.”



The Pyrenian was grinning from ear to ear, a giant smile plastered across his face, while scratching the back of his head with his open palmed gauntlet.



“Thanks! Though I have to admit, it was my first time taking that technique to six dragonheads. I’ve only gone up to three before, and wound up destroying the sparring hall for all intents and purposes,” Thanaros replied, sheepishly grinning.



“What about your sparring partner?”



“The master of the mage academy had to cast a formidable anti-magic barrier around him,” Thanaros replied, his cheeks glowing red with embarrassment at boasting and making himself look like an idiot at the same time. Karassen laughed as he and Thanaros touched down on firm earth once again.





“You, my friend, are quite an interesting person,” replied Karassen, slapping his right hand on Thanaros’s shoulder, “until the day we meet again,” finished Karassen, starting to walk back to his large, winged mount.



Sozira, meanwhile, had been at the center of the six blue-purple orbs, channeling a part of their magic into two small orb-shaped vials that hung from a necklace.



From the stormy clouds at that moment erupted an enormous, winged, hulking black mass. It was a Nekralian black dragon, much like the one that Karassen was walking towards, except significantly larger. In fact, it was even larger than Alonos’s Hellwing, and a good amount so.



A hooded figure adorned in a black robe spoke from atop the black dragon.



“Karassen, is your mission completed? I sensed a Pyrenian dragonflight and flew to aid you.”



“I am thankful for your considerations, master, however, it seems your presence was unneeded here.”



“I see…we should be going now.”



“Yes, we should,” replied Karassen, continuing to walk to his mount. Sozira had freed the other Pyrenian warriors from their icy prison that she had kept them in. As they got up, they looked at the black figure atop the large obsidian dragon, not liking him in the slightest. The figure turned his head to his right shoulder, stealing a glance at the newly freed warriors. As a gust of wind blew across the field, the hood flapped to reveal a gaunt, pale-colored cheek and a glaring eye that was without iris or pupil, and was filled with nothing but a deep black light.



“Thanaros,” Sozira called.



Thanaros turned his head towards the Aquatarian lady, not even getting a chance to see the sight that his companions had.



“Yes, milady?” Sozira’s eyes narrowed at the reply, and the fabric of her mask moved slightly as she smiled from beneath it.



“Catch,” she replied, tossing Thanaros a vial of purple-blue magic. Thanaros caught it with one hand, before unlatching a pocket on the side of his leg armor and slipping the orb in, where he also held a sack of gold. A warrior should not be unprepared, he thought, as he latched the pocket shut again by its metal fastenings.



“Thanaros, I believe it would be best if you would escort our Aquatarian guest upon your mount,” commanded Alonos.



“As you wish, field commander,” Thanaros replied.



Sozira held out her hand for Thanaros to clasp. The Pyrenian warrior felt himself reach for the lady ninja’s hand and softly clasp it, while she spoke to him.



“Thank you for offering to take me home to Vodaniya. It is very kind of you.”



However, the fabric under her mask did not even move. Aside from that, when he had gone to reach for her hand, while he was about to do just that, he himself did not move his arm for her just at that second. It had been controlled.



“This magic must not fall into the wrong hands,” the lady ninja mentally told him. “I have just demonstrated three of its uses, telepathy, reading the mind, and even control over another being. And while I am practiced in magic, I would not call myself a true mage.”



Thanaros and Sozira lay themselves stomach down on the rider slots on Firestreak’s back. As the dragon’s flight armor closed over their backs, Sozira spoke telepathically once again.



“It would be prudent to not fly into the clouds until we clear the storm.”



“Understood,” Thanaros replied, “Firestreak, let’s fly!”



The red dragon roared as it lifted its massive body off of the earth, beat its wings, fired up its mighty mana engines, and took to the air.



“By the way, Sozira, who was that black figure?”



“He was a Nekralian archmage. Unless you want to lose your life in a heartbeat, I would recommend keeping your distance from them for fear of angering them.”



“And if those mages should somehow obtain this power?”



“If such power falls into any wrong hands,” answered the beautiful lady ninja, “there will be grim consequences.”



“Oh,” replied Thanaros, as Firestreak continued flying over the waterlogged terrain, as the heavens roared with a blast of thunder and the rain started falling harder than ever.



As Firestreak sped towards Vodaniya, two black dragons sped off towards Nekralia, the larger one flying much more rapidly, its rider not caring about the onslaught of the fierce winds that were the result of the breakneck speed of the obsidian creature that he was controlling.

[NineNine]

woah big ass spaces... nice read though.

[Demongod86]

Transition from word to posting apparently screws the spacing up somewhat...oh well...c'est la vie

[john_david]

Sounded a little computerish... "He went there", "she followed"...

Add some more non-kiddish vocabulary.