From Dust We Come, and To Dust We Shall Return: Christol

As Christol went to knock on Himrol's door, the door suddenly opened, and a looming figure stepped out. At first, Christol only saw the weapons of his assailant, but he knew exactly who it was. He'd recognize that dark skin complexion and unique weapons anywhere. Especially that green hue.

"Malrik," Christol seethed as he took a step away from the door. Malrik took a step forward to fill in that space, and gave a small bow.

"Indeed. Haldore has bigger fish to fry, so he asked me to bring you home, back to the castle. Now, if you'd be so kind, please, lay down your weapons, and surrender yourself. I really don't want to have to hurt you if I can avoid it."

Malrik took another confident step closer to Christol, who instinctively took a step backwards.

Now would be a good time for that time stop maneuver. I highly doubt Malrik can follow me in that frozen plane.

Christol closed his eyes and focused on the stillness, the quiet of the frozen time. He wished it to happen, and with all his might, he-

"You okay? You look about ready to shit yourself."

Christol sighed in disappointment and opened his eyes.

"I'm fine, thank you," Christol said flatly. Malrik's look of confusion faded as he took another step forward, forcing Christol further back.

"Well then, let's get on with it. You've got a sword, don't you?"

Christol shook his head. He'd left his weapons at the inn where he'd been staying, since he'd been studying, and had no real need to use them.

"Look again, Christol. I see a sheath there." Malrik pointed at Christol's waist. Following Malrik's finger, Christol was surprised to see that sure enough, there was his sword, sheathed at his hip.

Malrik took out his green sword, its blade as long as Malrik's arm. The blade itself was made of a green metal, and it too gave off a small glow. No curvature to the blade, it was sharp on both sides.

Christol backed up a few feet until he was now standing back out in the street. Christol looked around, confident that this view of this magnificent city would be the last thing he would see before he died. The beautiful architecture, the people who have since hidden themselves from this evil presence. The big, beautiful dusk sky. The birds flying overhead, and the moon resting in the sky.

Malrik followed shortly after, and he opted to stand a few paces away, admiring his own blade as he paced back and forth.

"I was told to kill you. Confusing, isn't it? First I'm told not to harm you, then I'm told to bring you in, then to slaughter you? Who knows what goes on inside Haldore's mind. But it's not my place to question it. He is called Invincible for a reason, and I'd like to avoid knowing why people call him that.

"I guess you've really caught his attention, Christol. The last person who did that was little Artuck. Maybe Haldore sees him in you. Maybe he just sees your power. Or maybe he's just trying to get you to raise your spirits so he can crush them later. Either way, I was told to end you. So raise your blade, and let's dance."

With that, Malrik stopped pacing and pointed his sword at Christol with a glowing sense of confidence.

Well, I know I'm not going to win this fight. At least I'll go down fighting for Flim, wherever he is. I hope he knows how proud of him I am. For being able to put aside his fears and be courageous. For me. For Artuck. I hope he continues to grow and become a stronger individual, even if I'm not there to help him. And… I hope my death doesn't stop his growth.

Christol looked up at Malrik, a feeling of pride washing over him, and he unsheathed his sword and pointed it back at Malrik.

"I shall be Haldore's heir. Not as a vile, ruthless leader, but as one of kindness and compassion. Where there was death, there will be new growth. Where there was loss, there will be an opportunity. Where there was chaos, and hatred, there will be stability and love. And I won't have to go it alone. I will have my friends to help me. Flim, Artuck, Mitrax, Cruu, and anyone else who may join our cause. Because we believe in a brighter future. For us, and for everyone."

Malrik smiled a devilish grin.

"Aww, how cute. But do you think you'll ever be able to truly stop Haldore, Destroyer of Races, Bringer of Peace, and Honorary God? And how will you defeat him? With your 'kindness?' Your 'love?'"

Malrik's twisted smile began to turn into devious chuckles, before devolving into tumultuous laughter.

"Never! You'll never be able to defeat him! He's all knowing, and all powerful, and he's already influenced you more than you know! I cannot WAIT to see the look upon your face when you realize the truth, Christol! This war, these battles, they will never cease! They will go on and on until either Haldore perishes, or he achieves his goals. And I am his grateful servant, meant to protect his legacy and endorse his decisions.

"Come then, oh 'Heir of Haldore,' show me what you have learned!"

With that, Malrik sprang into action, dashing toward Christol with a speed that took Christol by surprise. As if by instinct, Christol's body moved to evade the blade, and Christol's sword arm came up and deflected Malrik's blade, and pushed him away. Malrik came to a stop and thrust his blade forward, an obvious attempt to run Christol through. Once again, Christol's body seemed to move all on its own as he sidestepped the attempt, and pushed Malrik away, who stumbled past Christol. He quickly turned to face Christol, his shit-eating grin now gone, and replaced by one fueled with anger.

Malrik reached to his side and unsheathed his second sword, a curved blade that was reminiscent of a sickle. Christol tightened his grip on his blade and took a deep breath and gulped down his anxieties.

How am I doing this? I have had little to no sword practice. I should not be able to hold my own against one as skilled as the unkillable Malrik. But yet, I am. How is this? Think, Christol, think!

Malrik screamed, the pitch coming from his mouth not matching the body of which it came from. The scream sounded womanly, as if a nearby woman happened to be screaming coincidentally at the same moment. As he screamed, Malrik leapt to Christol, and began to furiously swing his blades with a speed Christol's eyes could not keep up with. Yet his arms found a way to defend himself, and deflect each furious attack, the sound of clanging metal echoing through the nighttime city. 

All of a sudden, Christol saw that Malrik was now swinging all three of his blades, the third one a long, slightly curved sword, about twice as long as the green glowing sword. And yet Christol's arms did not miss a beat, as they continued to block each attack, no matter what blade was swung his way.

Malrik paused to catch his breath, before looking at Christol with a puzzled look. He held his green sword and sickle in one hand, and the longsword in the other.

"How are you doing this, Christol? I know you haven't had any practice! How are you deflecting every one of my attacks? Not even the most skilled swordsmen have been able to stand their ground against my flurry of blows. How?!"

Christol shrugged, sword still in hand. As Christol looked at Malrik, he could tell that his defense was wearing through Malrik's fragile ego. That scream Malrik let loose was one of frustration, and Christol could see the doubt entering Malrik's face.

Malrik took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. As if on cue, Christol's body lunged forward, ready to strike Malrik through the chest, and Malrik, eyes still closed, defended from Christol's attack. He could feel his legs enter an anchored stance as he continued to swing confident, strong swings, and Malrik could do nothing but block them. As Christol went in for another stab, Malrik's eyes opened, and as Christol blinked, he heard the sound of metal clanging to the ground. As he finished blinking, Christol saw his own sword bouncing away on the stone road. As he turned to look at Malrik, he instinctively raised his arms and closed his eyes, as if expecting the worst. Malrik raised a sword, and swung down.

As sudden as the battle began, it had stopped. The world had suddenly gone silent. Only then did Christol realize that his ears had been filled with the sounds of many screams, and the cries of children and the elderly. Among the screams, Christol recalled having heard the crackle of flames, and the screams falling silent. 

What is going on? What is happening in this town? And why can't I see it?

As Christol looked around, he could see a frozen Malrik, mid swing. A look of evil excitement was displayed upon his gray face, and that look of self centered pride had returned to him, accentuating his dark elvish features. Despite his adjustment to his expression, he looked just as insane as he had a few moments prior. Frazzled white hair, one of his red eyes slightly open more than the other, that look of egotism still in his eyes. Malrik's sweat creeped into his smile, running along the edges of his ashen skin.

In addition to Malrik, Christol could now see the true Willspore Village. It was in shambles. Buildings were burning down around him, and the fire, though frozen, was engulfing the poor citizens of the city. Bodies were strewn about, as if people had desperately attempted to extinguish the flames but failed. Though he could not see them, he knew that there were survivors in the city grieving their lost family and friends.

As Christol looked down the street, he could see Himrol's home, completely consumed by the fire. Standing in front of the house were a few silhouettes Christol couldn't quite make out, but he instantly knew who they were. And apparently they had made a new friend in his absence.

In front of him was the university, or rather, what was left of it. In the road in front of him, Christol could see Mr.Lorwrite's burnt body, his glasses twisted and face contorted into agony. Many other crisp bodies littered the entry way into the university, as if the students and staff had attempted to flee, but were altogether unsuccessful.

This… is terrible. What happened? Why did this happen? What did the poor people of Willspore do? I understand if Haldore wanted Artuck, and the rest of us, but why punish the people of Willspore? They did nothing wrong. It's all my fault. Had I stayed at the castle, maybe the people would still be alive. Maybe I could attend Mr.Lorwrite's magical biology course tomorrow. I wish there was something I could do. I wish I was strong enough to protect those that cannot protect themselves. I will kill Haldore for this. This cannot be allowed to persist. The utter annihilation of these poor people is unacceptable. I will become stronger, and I will end this era of pain. For me, for Artuck, and for the people of Alteran.

Artuck turned to look back at Malrik, that silly grin still on his face, his sword still midair. Christol walked up to him, and removed the sword from Malrik's hands.

The sword's green glow seemed to glow stronger when Christol held it. A voice inside his head begged Christol to kill Malrik with this sword. Christol took a deep breath, and tightening his grip on the blade, plunged the sword into Malrik's side, time conveniently beginning again as Christol used the sword.

As the sword went through Malrik, Christol could see Malrik's face change from one of egotistical pride to one of shock, as the very sword Malrik used was now being used to run him through.

As the blade exited Malrik, Malrik began to cough, and cupping his mouth with his hand, Malrik chuckled, blood spilling from the corner of his twisted lips.

"I didn't think you had it in you, kid. Hehehe, to take a life, I mean. The temptation was strong, wasn't it? To kill? Well, I guess you are surrounded by death. What's another one?" 

Malrik began coughing stronger into his hand. Christol, realizing what he'd done, let go of the blade, and watched Malrik fall to his knees, the blade still sticking through him. The fire around Christol began to pop, and Christol watched as the fire leapt onto Malrik, who began to scream in true agony, before Malrik's writhing body came to a stop.

Christol was stunned. He looked down at his hands in disbelief and they began to shake. Soon, Christol's eyes became blurred with tears.

I-I just killed a man. At least, back in Halden I wasn't trying to kill them. Here, however, I was fully intent upon killing Malrik. I even stabbed him through with his own blade. What kind of monster am I? No, Christol. Save these thoughts for another day. Someone's gotta finish off Haldore, and deal the final blow. I need to be ready if that someone is me.

Christol looked back up at Malrik, who was now a crisp body on the ground, his sword still run through him. The only thing that remained of Malrik were his swords and the armor he wore. Christol sighed.

Well, that's at least one threat we won't have to worry about. I wonder how many more there'll be that will die for Haldore's sake. Now's not the time to dwell on it, though. I saw Artuck and the others nearby. Let's go find them.