Gender: N/A Age: N/A Location: N/A
|Introduction: Not my story|
Part 3: Spirit Warfare
Ron stood overlooking a lush valley. He was standing on a bluff, facing the sun as it sat just above the craggy mountains on the horizon. Whether he was observing sunrise or sunset, he couldn’t tell.
Below him, the valley was bathed in a soft mist, just enough to soften the edges of the buildings. A stream meandered lazily through the glen, lending a soft murmur to an otherwise silent atmosphere. The fragrance of lilacs wafted up from the fields below, filling his nostrils with their perfume. This was Kumiko’s world.
But not all was stillness. Suddenly, he heard it. The flapping of giant wings from somewhere nearby assaulted his ears. He looked left, right, all around to no avail. Finally, he looked up, and just in time, for the creature was diving on him. He flung himself out of its way, landing hard on the ground. He felt the ground beneath him shudder as the beast landed, turning to face him.
It was a winged dragon, the size of a school bus. Its body a mottled reddish-brown, its underbelly a pale tan. The head was lined with spikes, and adorned with a set of sharply curving horns. A set of ridge plates ran down its back, fading into the tail. The talons on its front limbs were definitely sharp, and about six inches long.
Ron did not have long to consider the beast, as it lunged at him, slashing with its claws. He rolled away, avoiding the brunt of the attack, but getting scratched even so. The dragon gave him no quarter, hounding him round and round the bluff. Ron successfully rolled, dodged, and ducked the attacks, but he was wearing down.
I’ve got to think! This isn’t real. What do you fight a dragon with? In less time than he could have verbalized it, a sword and shield appeared in his hands. He had little experience with sword-fighting, but figured now would be a good time to learn. Must go for the underbelly.
On the dragon’s next attack, Ron rolled inside, landing on his feet right under the dragon. He took hold of the sword with both hands and plunged upward. The sword stuck, and the dragon screamed in anger. Ron, momentarily stunned, was nearly trampled by the beast. He moved to the side, but not fast enough. The creature’s whip-like tail caught him in the midsection, throwing him thirty feet away before he landed, roughly, in a bush.
Ron scrambled to his feet to find the dragon had managed to dislodge the sword. It was bleeding, but not badly. He had not inflicted enough damage. This bastard’s just too big! Ron’s thoughts were interrupted by another charge. Ron rolled away, but the dragon caught him on the back, gashing him deeply.
The dragon reared up, flapping its wings. Rising from the ground, it flew in a great loop, now diving at its quarry. Ron ran for dear life, and jumped off the bluff onto a ledge. He was trapped now, and knew it. He didn’t have time to climb back up to the bluff. So fly yourself, you idiot! The situation had Ron so disoriented, he’d forgotten about his Ability. He raised himself back to the bluff, but had to duck immediately to avoid another onslaught by the dragon. What do you use to stop a dragon?
The dragon advanced again, and Ron rolled away. As he did, he felt something sharp in the small of his back. After getting up, he looked down to see a jagged stone lying on the ground. He got an idea.
The dragon was still in the air, and Ron needed him on the ground, so he began to taunt him. "Hey, you wimpy-assed mythical lizard! What, you afraid of a fair fight? Come on down here and fight me like a real monster!” This had the desired effect of infuriating the beast, who flew down and landed with a resounding thud. The beast advanced, the ground shaking as he came….
But the shaking wasn’t from the beast. Not this time. The shaking became severe, and the dragon lost its footing. As the shaking reached its peak, the ground split open. An eardrum-shattering scream filled the valley as the dragon was run through by a sharp spire of rock, lurching up from the ground. In the end, the dragon was skewered, like a bug in a collection.
That’ll teach ya to fuck with me. But Ron knew the battle was just beginning. He had a long way to go, and only a little while to lick his wounds.
As Ron headed down the bluff toward the valley, his attention was focused on trying to heal his wounds. He found it more difficult in this world than in reality, for here his wounds were truly mental, and his confidence had been shaken by the dragon. He was unsure, now, of his ability to face a being of great strength head-on.
As Ron entered the glen, the mist enfolded him. Visibility was cut to less than two hundred feet. He could barely see his surroundings, and the farther in he went, the denser it became. He tried to stay alert, to beware of the things that might be around him. His wounds required too much attention, though, and he was, once again, caught off-guard.
They came silently, appearing as shadows out of the night. Garbed all in black, and wielding the weapons of their craft, Ron was surrounded by four of the most feared warriors of the orient: the warriors of shadow, of stealth. They were Ninja.
Oh, shit, thought Ron, but immediately a bo staff formed in his hands. It was the martial arts weapon he was most familiar with, and it had a good long reach.
His first attacker advanced, wielding a sword. Ron sidestepped and swept his feet from under him. He turned to face his other attackers. One was also carrying a staff, another was brandishing nunchucks. The last didn't seem to be carrying a weapon at all, but Ron knew that not all weapons were easily visible.
The ninja to his right, with the chucks, was closest. Ron stepped toward him and swung his staff in an uppercut. The ninja back-flipped onto his hands to avoid the swing. Ron attempted a sweep at the ninja's hands, but he just completed the move, and landed safely a foot out of Ron's reach. The ninja then swung his weapon in a wide circle. Ron blocked it once, and the second swing as well. He pivoted for a forward jab, but the ninja took his chucks and parried Ron's thrust downward. He then swung his weapon toward Ron's head. Ron moved into a reverse stance to avoid the move, then stepped forward and connected with his opponent’s head with an overhand strike. Before he could even take a breath, he realized the third attacker was on him. He felt the strike coming, and raised his staff over his head to block the overhead strike. Ron brought his staff down toward his attacker's head, but the ninja parried his strike to the side. Ron pivoted and swung again, but the ninja once more blocked his attack. Then the attacker swung an uppercut, and connected solidly with Ron's chin. Ron was thrown onto his back, and got the wind knocked out of him. He quickly recovered, however, and struck at the ninja's ankles. Caught off guard, the ninja was felled to the ground. Ron vaulted himself back to his feet. His fourth attacker was waiting for him, though, and Ron found a throwing star deep in his arm. The pain was intense, but he had no time to dwell on it. The sword-fighter was back up now, and Ron was faced with him again. Ron parried his first slash, and caught a glancing blow, but it had little effect. The ninja came again, and this time Ron was not fast enough. The sword cut him across his side. Ron was fast enough moving out of the way that the cut was not deep, but it was very painful. Wounded and angry with himself, Ron pressed on. He stepped in, parried the sword attack, and connected soundly with the ninja's neck, snapping it cleanly where it met the shoulder. The ninja slumped to the ground, dead.
Ron felt the impact of yet another throwing star in his arm, and winced in pain. The momentary distraction caused him more problems, however, when the nunchuck ninja took Ron's knee out from under him. He toppled to the ground again, and rolled out of the way of an axe kick to the head. He swung himself to his feet, ready to do battle. However, it was now a two-on-one, as both the nunchuck ninja, and the bo staff ninja charged at once. In the nick of time, Ron once again remembered his Ability, and he flipped himself into the air, landing behind his opponents just as they reached his previous location. Ron swept the nunchuck ninja off his feet and brought his staff down onto the ninja's skull. A loud crack announced the death of the second ninja. Ron felt it coming this time, and rolled out of the way of the third throwing star, which embedded itself into a tree twenty feet behind him. Ron squared off against the staff ninja.
Neither one was willing to make an error as they circled around each other. Suddenly, the ninja lunged with a side attack. Ron stepped inward to a sideways block, parried the staff downward, then swung around and thrust his staff toward the ninja's face. The thrust was so hard it actually penetrated the skull. The third ninja was history.
Ron was faced now with only one more ninja. This one pulled out a chain whip. One of the few weapons with longer reach than the staff, the ninja swung at him from safety. Though Ron attempted to parry and block, the whip is a very flexible weapon, and Ron was lashed several times in the face and upper body.
Suddenly, the ninja lashed his whip and caught Ron's staff. He jerked, and Ron was now weaponless. Ron circled, rolled, and dodged, but was still caught many times by the sting of the whip. He was cut, bleeding, in pain, and his energy was fading. He had only one shot left.
He formed his staff again. The ninja kept lashing at him until he caught the staff once more. This time, however, Ron was ready for it. Ron stepped in and pulled, hard. The ninja, unprepared for the attack, was pulled into range. Ron swung his staff with all his might, connecting with the ninja's right temple. The ninja was thrown six feet away, and did not move again.
Ron limped away from this "victory". He was unsure just how much more he could take. He sat for some time near the stream, allowing his body to heal, mostly. His blood had been replaced, and his body was as ready as he could make it. His confidence in himself, however, was badly shaken. If I can’t even beat a group of normal fighters, can I really face Mordreon? Sure, I’ve won both battles, but the cost has been very high. I’m feeling weak, and a good deal of my energy has been drained. What will happen next? And will I be able to handle it?
Ron traveled on through this world of unreality. Eventually, he found his way into a small village. People in it were going about their business, completely ignorant of the struggle he faced. Or, most of them were.
As Ron walked his way slowly up the main street, he was approached by an incredibly beautiful woman. She stood 5’ 10" tall, with flowing black hair to her lower back, and piercing green eyes. Her chest was more than ample, at least a D-cup. Her face shone with innocence and concern. She moved toward Ron immediately upon noticing him.
"Pardon, sire, but you appear to be injured. Would you care for rest, and some food?”
"Yes, m’lady, I would.” M’lady? Where the hell did that come from? "What is your name?”
"I am Constance, sire. Please, come to my home, and I will tend you.” She led him down a side street, toward a modest home. She led him in, and invited him to sit.
"I’m afraid all I have is some thin stew, but I hope that you will partake of it.” She placed a bowl in front of him. Wary, he sniffed at it, but could sense nothing wrong with it. Tasting it, he realized how hungry he really was. He ate as quickly as manners allowed.
After finishing the meal, Ron thanked his hostess. As he rose to leave, she placed a hand on his arm.
"Please, sire. You are not ready to travel. You need time to rest, and recover from your wounds.”
"I appreciate your concern, but I must be traveling on. I am on a quest of some import.”
Constance leaned closer. "Please, sire. It has been so long since I have had company, and truly you are in need of caring for. At least lie down and rest a while before journeying further.”
Ron saw the wisdom in her words. He was very tired from the fighting, and weary from the walking. "Very well. Thank you, m’lady, for your kindness.” She led him to a small bedroom, where she directed him to lie down.
Upon lying down, he closed his eyes. When he heard the swish of cloth, he opened them again to see what was up. He found Constance standing before him now, utterly naked, except for a silk scarf around her neck. Without a word, she removed his pants, with only minimal help from Ron.
Her mouth engulfed his cock. Her tongue slid smoothly along its underside, and her teeth grazed it lightly as she moved her mouth up and down along its length. She managed to take his entire length into her mouth, and Ron felt the back of her throat caress the head of his dick.
Constance continued this action until Ron was good and hard. Then, almost reluctantly, she let his cock slip out of her mouth. Rising, she straddled Ron, and impaled herself on his shaft. A soft hiss escaped her lips as she sank fully onto his rock-hard dick. As she began a slow rhythm, Ron reached up and fondled her breasts. They were firm, with no sag. Her nipples were hot points against his palms. He kneaded them gently, rolling them around on her chest.
Constance’s pace grew faster, and her tits were bouncing merrily. Ron was grunting and thrusting, meeting Constance’s stride. He could tell she was building to a big climax, and he knew his was not far off.
As she reached her peak, her hands flew up behind her head. Ron had almost no warning before he saw the glint of steel. Her moans of pleasure turned into a howl of rage as she brandished the dagger above her head, poised to strike. The moment could not have lasted more than a half-second, but as their eyes met, it stretched into an eternity.
Before she could strike, Ron used his telekinetic extension to throw her off him. She flew across the room, striking the wall and slumping to the floor. The knife dropped from her hand, and she seemed unconscious.
Ron redressed, and walked over to her. She was stirring by now, and he knew the fight would be renewed. He was in no mood to deal with this crazed lunatic. He took her head gently between his hands, and looked into her half open eyes. The fight had left her for the moment. She merely looked back at him and said, "You know you have to do it.” Then she closed her eyes.
Quickly, before his resolve left him, he grasped her head more firmly, and twisted violently. The "snap!” of her neck was the most disgusting sound he had ever heard. Without looking back, he got up and left the home.
Ron nearly ran out of the village, not stopping or looking around. He was unsure of where to go now, but his senses told him to keep heading toward the mountains, toward the sun.
Ron walked on for what seemed like hours, or even days. The sun, strangely, never moved. It remained transfixed in the sky. Ron stopped from time to time to rest, to try to recover from his attacks. I can’t even count on the kindness of others here. This mission is not going as well as I’d hoped.
Finally, Ron saw something in the distance. He instinctively knew it was his ultimate destination. It reminded him of Stonehenge, though the work was more modern, and more elaborate. As he entered the stone circle, up marble steps, he saw a fountain pool in the center. Across the circle from him he saw Kumiko, chained to one of the stone pillars. The look in her eyes was terror, but Ron knew the terror wasn’t only for herself, but for him as well.
And well it should be. Out from behind one of the pillars stepped Mordreon. Twelve feet tall, he towered almost to the tops of the pillars. He was black all over, but not as if that were his color, but more as if he had been charred in an immense fire. His face was covered in open blisters, along with the horns and spikes that protruded from it. His hands were immense, and had claws instead of fingernails. His body was armor-plated, and he had the tail of the dragon. Though he wasn’t breathing fire, Ron wouldn’t have been surprised if he did.
"So, the weakling wishes to challenge the great Mordreon? You puny mortal! You are no match for a demon of my caliber!” Mordreon’s laugh boomed throughout the gallery.
Ron stood silently, attempting to prepare himself for what was to come. Mordreon clapped his hands together, and thunder resounded across the sky. Lightning crashed just outside the arena.
"Neat trick," replied Ron. He elevated his mental shield strength to maximum. If this battle took more than a few minutes, he was toast.
It would not, however. Mordreon drew his hands together, and a massive ball of psionic energy formed. He released it at Ron, who thought he was ready. Instead of passing around him as expected, however, the energy ball crashed right through his shield. Ron was flung back fifty feet, and crashed into a column. Ron slid down the column into near unconsciousness. He stumbled to his feet, and prepared an attack of his own.
This was not to be, however. Mordreon, laughing in a mocking tone, charged Ron, picked him up high over his head, and flung him into the fountain. Ron plunged fifteen feet down under the water before hitting his head on the bottom. Though painful, it didn’t knock him out. Ron thrust himself skyward, rising fifty feet above the water, and blasted down a full-force energy strike of his own. Mordreon brushed it aside as if it were a mosquito.
The demon issued forth a blast of scalding wind. Ron was blown off balance, and began to fall. He caught himself before hitting the ground, but could not prevent Mordreon from delivering a kick into his side. Once again Ron found himself hurtling through the air toward a large stone edifice. He crashed against the pillar and slumped to the ground. Ron had almost no energy left. He realized that all the previous fights had drained him more than he thought.
Mordreon advanced, and Ron knew he was finished. He didn’t even have the strength left to rise to his feet to meet the attack. He had only enough strength to raise his head to look at Kumiko and whisper, "I’m sorry.”
Mordreon was towering over him now. Ron looked up at him, though his vision was blurring. Mordreon cackled at the man-child before him. "You were no match for me, whelp! Now, you will die here!”
As Mordreon raised his hands for the final assault, lightning cracked. But this bolt was not outside the arena. It struck Mordreon full force, zapping him a good hundred feet away. Ron blessed his luck as he closed his eyes and laid down his head. Just before passing out, he felt soft hands lifting him from the ground.
Whatever it is, it’ll wait.
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