Enmity of Atlas

In one swift motion, the Conqueror stood to his full height, pulling the edge of the mountaintop up with him as he went and hurling it upwards, forcing the entire mass to effortlessly sail through the air. Without even the slightest exertion, he’d just turned the cave, which a moment prior had been blacker than the hells themselves, into a balcony, a thin veil of wall all that was left to keep them in.

“Holy shit,” Garrote muttered, his eyes wide. “I don’t suppose running really matters anymore.”

“Hold your ground and keep quiet,” Trenton said, looking up at the magnificent beast in awe.

Among all mortal men, 5 stood paramount above the rest, their strength and influence stretching far beyond the means of any other, something Trenton had been told since the day he was born. These 5 men had changed time and time again throughout history, their influence rising and falling across the span of sometimes centuries, sometimes months. However, none stood more prominent than the 5 kings they had today, 5 monsters who outshone all others as did the sun to the other stars in the sky.

–The Conqueror: King of Verulik–

–The Bloody: King of Lagasia–

–The Benevolent: King of Elteran–

–The Heavenly: King of Nochturous–

–The Watcher: King of Dalathia–

In fact, so important were these 5 men, that no one even knew their names, each one going by a specific title most befitting of them. But among even these 5 extraordinary beings, one stood even further from the rest, a fighter with no presence, no magic, and no aspect, a being of pure strength who had never once been seen without his armor–the Conqueror–the very man whose presence they currently graced.

He stood there looking passively over them, his gleaming suit of plate armor reflecting the brilliance of the sun, his deep crimson cape flapping in the wind, his steel bull helmet with eyes of impossible blackness and pristine ivory horns imposing. The stories had always portrayed him as a monster, a giant fighter of unparalleled brutality and efficiency. And sure enough, he was massive, a terrifying figure as far as humans were considered, easily several feet taller than Trenton, his body unbelievably well built, far surpassing Trenton’s own physical prowess. Even despite the many stories Trenton had heard throughout the years, it was still shocking seeing him face to face. He was a figure of legend, barely even human. Yet here he was, in all his glory. Notably, however, his ax, Theoclas, was nowhere to be found, his hands empty, his back and hips bare. Did he mean to fight bare handed?

The Conqueror leapt off the edge of the wall, landing a little ways in front of Trenton and Garrote, the ground denting inwards from the sheer force of his landing, cracks spreading out in every direction. Slowly, drawing out the motion, he rose to his full height again, looking down on the two smaller demons across the way with a steely glare, his cape still fluttering majestically in the wind.

“That’s some party trick, I’ll give you that,” the horned demon said, very clearly eyeing the much larger horns atop the Conqueror’s helmet, “but we’ve business here, and you’re interfering.”

In an instant, the horned demon had crossed the distance between himself and the Conqueror, his body sailing forward like a missile. He twisted his body with an unbelievable well of strength, planting his feet into the ground and slamming his right arm into the Conqueror's chest, the burst of air from his movement even visible from how fast he moved. But as he made contact, the Conqueror didn’t react at all, the demon's arm blending itself to a fine mushy red against the Conqueror’s breastplate, failing to even push him back an inch. The horned demon staggered backwards, his eyes wide–uncomprehending what had just happened. It was a difficult thing to be met with unyielding strength far beyond your means, like bashing your head into a brick wall. It was heartbreaking, demoralizing, especially for an immortal demon who prided himself on the strength he had culminated over millennia.

From above the battlefield, maybe hovering 50 or so feet in the air, the harpy’s eyes suddenly widened, her tone even more shrill than before, “WE NEED TO LEAVE RAGEL! THAT’S ONE OF THE MORTAL’S KINGS!”

“Wha-” Ragel muttered in disbelief, his head swiveling back to the Conqueror just in time to face his death.

The Conqueror raised his arm and swung it downwards in one swift motion, striking Ragel perfectly atop the head. At least, that’s what Trenton thought happened. In the time it took Trenton to blink, Ragel’s body had flattened like an accordion into a personal crater created from the force of the Conqueror’s strike, no identifiable features left in the pile of goo on the floor except for one shining round orb coated in blood–the demons core. The Conqueror stepped forward, crushing the demon’s core under his foot as if it were no more than a stray leaf as he began to slowly march forward, the ground cracking with every step he took.

From above, the harpy let out an anguished cry, her entire body shivering violently, her face struck with a horror she’d never known before, “OPEN THE PORTAL YOU DAMN FOOL!” She cried down at the fat demon, attempting to fly higher into the sky to avoid the approaching calamity.

Pointless

The Conqueror leapt off of the ground, grabbing the harpy’s skull in his colossal hand as he rose. The harpy let out another wail, screaming, scratching, and biting in desperation to get away from the Conqueror, but it really was pointless. She would die just as had Ragel, her body crushed to a fine paste.

The Conqueror tilted his body down towards the ground as he reached the apex of his jump, hurling the harpy’s body straight down, her form more akin to a meteor than a demon. She collided with the ground, her body boring a hole into the ground, creating both a wallowing hole and a coffin. With a cry of agonizing pain, the harpy slowly attempted to drag herself from the hole, piecing herself back together as best she could as fast as she could.

“Hel’ muh,” the harpy choked out to the other demon, who was drawing a circle on the ground with a long bone he was holding, her slowly assembling jaw completely shattered, but it was already far too late for her. As she tried to crawl forwards, the Conqueror came back down from the sky, a god descending to the earth, his feet crushing her pathetic core into oblivion. But at the same time as he landed, as a direct result of his weight, and with its stability already long gone, the ground lurched up in two halves, almost like a great beast closing its great maw, the Conqueror’s current position, the beast’s throat.

Trenton and Garrote started to slide down towards the center with the rest of their unconscious team, the reality of their situation suddenly setting in hard. Trenton grabbed Kiva and Millie in one arm as they started to lift off of the ground, using his other arm to hold himself to the slanted surface, ensuring he slid no further. Garrote, meanwhile, slowed himself and Leo to a stop, magically pulling them up towards Trenton, hovering just to his side to watch the rest of the events unfold with a morbid curiosity.

On the other end, the fat demon, who’d just managed to finish the portal by the looks of it, tumbled over the ground, its stubby arm hanging onto the edge of the portal, trying to pull itself in. Once he’d finished watching the harpy’s body disintegrate, relishing in her final screams, the Conqueror turned on the fat demon, who tried with renewed vigor to get away from the Conqueror, his many rolls catching on the blistered stone.

The Conqueror pressed his foot against the slanted surface, pressing it down with enough force to imprint a shape of his foot into the ground. One by one, he made makeshift stairs in the stone with his strength alone, walking towards the demon just as it managed to slip its body over the edge, falling down into the glowing crimson light. But as its foot disappeared from view, the Conqueror plunged his arm into the depths, pulling the living load of lard up by its foot, throwing it behind him with incredible force such that its momentum would send it sailing over his head, his hand gouging into stomach as it did, fishing the beasts large core from the depths of its being as if he were plucking a berry from a tree…a very, very bloody tree.

The fat demon, now without its core, tumbled down the slope, reforming itself and reaching out in desperation for its core, its incoherent babbling only growing as he slowly cracked the radiant orb in his palm, shattering it while staring down the demon–cold.

It was odd seeing a demon die, its form burning to ashes in front of them, their physical form no longer with any hold to the material world without their core. But as Trenton was watching the demon fade to nothing, the Conqueror was focused on something else entirely, his interest nowhere near the walking corpse. He was staring down into the collapsing portal the demon had made, his mind impossible to guess with the armor. All Trenton knew was that once he was done looking at the portal, once it was fully closed, the Conqueror turned back towards them, not sparing them the slightest glance as he made his way past them, back the direction he’d come from.

“Who is that?” Raligoth whispered as the bull passed them, his eyebrows knitted together. “I can’t feel them, but I can hear them.”

“I’ll explain it later,” Trenton said, picking up his wounded friends and standing out of the way of the Conqueror’s path, looking up at him with awe, wonder, and a gratitude he couldn’t possibly put into words. “Thank you, sir,” Trenton bowed his head.

The Conqueror stopped next to him, slightly turning his head to the side to peer down at Trenton. Even though Trenton couldn’t see his eyes, even though he had no presence, he could feel the Conqueror’s gaze boring into him, and it made him want to crawl into a hole and never return, hide away from the cruel world. But he wouldn’t. He would look the Conqueror in the eye, stand against the overwhelming tide, no matter the feelings tearing through his heart, his mind. It meant more than anything in the world to him what the Conqueror had done, the life he’d granted them, so the least he could do was honor that by standing firm.

The Conqueror stood firm, standing and looking down at Trenton. Was he waiting for something? Whatever it was, Trenton didn’t have it. But then, the moment passed, and the Conqueror continued towards the way he’d come without a word, disappearing over the edge of the stone, his loud footsteps slowly fading into the distance.