His eyes glowed white... his muscles surged with power... and he performed the practiced movements of his kata's final form.
His most powerful attack.
The pride of the last Samurai of the Screaming Silence.
"⌈Taste the Demon Blade.⌋"
He drew his katana.
The sword was more than tempered steel. It was powered by most of his remaining soul-essence. Within it was the hopes and dreams of his nigh forgotten clan. It was the plight of suffering mortals lashing out at their uncaring gods.
It was his will... his greatest wish... to... be a hero.
One. last. time.
He cleaved down through the blade and haft of the snake god's enchanted axe... cutting deep into their side...
The god's right wrist fell to the beach, and his intestines into the clear waters, staining it red.
Garock kicked the dying god away with a vicious kick... as its body began to metamorphosize.
The flesh twisted, the bones cracked and groaned... Within moments a massive sand-scaled snake towered over him, dwarfing even his orc form.
"I... cannotttttt... BE SSSSLAINNN!!!!" The gargantuan monstrosity hissed.
Garock grimaced, looking down at his minuscule sword. He had just used three of his most powerful Skills. There was precious little mana left within Warrior Tycon's body... and his own soul force was quickly waning.
If he could not defeat the snake god by then... Tycon would be left to die.
⟬ System suspension: Complete. ⟭
Strange words of power echoed in Garock's mind...
He did not know their meaning... but a flood of mana surged through his body.
His eyes widened in sudden fear. There was... so much of it. This was Warrior Tycon's true strength.
A sliver of shame wormed its way into his heart. When they had fought... hundreds if not thousands of times before... he had been toying with him.
Yet... at the same time, he was overwhelmed by a sense of pride... to be the teacher of such a humble student.
The coiling snake struck out, its fangs seeping gallons of milky venom.
Garock grabbed its jaw with the tips of his fingers, rotating his body to slam the snake head into the sands.
He stabbed his sword into its eye, pinning it down... and he tore a white fang out of the beast's mouth.
With the everflowing power coursing through his meridians, he didn't even need to use a Skill.
Garock reached forward, reaching his thin arms around the snake's body, away from its three fanged maw. It didn't even reach half of the way, but he was certain his grip was secure.
Activating the muscles in his legs... and still feeling the heavy strain on his back, he lifted the snake... several dozen fulms long, and cracked the length of its body like a whip.
He unstuck the sword in the god's eye... and chuckled to himself.
The god had grown silent... and that silence was more beautiful than any song he'd ever heard.
He stretched his back and flourished his sword, ready for the admittedly mundane work of skinning a snake.
...
⟬ System online. ⟭
Tycon opened his eyes to find himself on a crimson beach, slathered with gore and viscera.
The stench was incredible... and as accustomed to bloody battlefields as he was, he had to focus, in order to not retch.
A loud, long whistle came from behind him... accompanied by heavy, sinking footsteps in the sand.
In his heart... he knew there was no danger.
When he turned... and looked up, he wondered if his senses had failed him.
"I like what you've done with the place."
A grinning orc was waving affably as he approached.
At first glance, Tycon hoped it was Garock... but that was impossible. He could no longer sense the old Samurai's spirit. The stubborn brute had finally passed on...
The orc nonchalantly plodding towards him was... bigger, his height easily over nine fulms tall. He was more muscular, as well... which was somewhat opposite of his attire. Through his long oily hair, his eyes had a dull red glow of a caster Class, and he wore leathery traveling robes, weathered and torn.
"Thank... you," Tycon smiled politely.
He still had control of the Reality Marble... but as he was frantically trying not to die, he had neglected to reject any new connections.
This meddling orc was probably another all-powerful being. Logic dictated that Tycon escape immediately... but his curiosity bid him to remain.
"Have... we met?"
The orc's eyes widened, "Tyrael! You don't recognize me?!"
Tycon's smile fell, "I..."
"I *have* been working out," The large fellow mused...
"No," Tycon twisted his lips, "It's not that..."
"Memory loss? Did the wizards get ya?" The orc offered.
Ah... That was always the easiest excuse.
Tycon nodded thoughtfully, "Something like that."
The orc nodded, his large, gnarled hands resting on his thick torso, "Yep. That'll do it."
« System, inquiry: Who is this fine gentle-orc? »
⟬ System response: Orcus, Adamantine-Rank Orcish Abyssal Necromancer. ⟭
Tycon coughed into a closed fist, "I do have... some memories. You are... Orcus, are you not? Praise to thy name..."
"Ahaha!!" The orc laughed heartily, "Yeah!! No need to be formal-- we're about equal, anyroad. I do go by Hades now, though."
"Hades, then," Tycon furrowed his brows. "And the reason you're here...?"
He stretched out his wide arms, gesturing at the surrounding carnage, "I'm the god of death and the dead. Nice to meet'cha-- again, anyroad... and it looks like you just-about killed the snake god."
"The job has yet to be done?" Tycon grimaced.
He had asked his friend, Samurai Garock, to burn the rest of his waning soul force in order to do the impossible... That the sacrifice was futile weighed heavily upon his conscience.
Hades pointed at a pulsating chunk of flesh, half-buried in the sand, washed over by the saltwater, "Check it out, that's the snake god's heart, right there. It's regenerating, too."
Tycon reached for his sword... "I suppose I'll... continue the fight."
The prospect daunted him. Did he have to do battle with the snake god forever, locked in this Reality Marble? He wasn't even certain he could last another bell, much less several years.
"Nah, I got it," Hades grinned.