Enmity of Atlas

Trenton loosened his ready stance, standing up tall as to present himself properly to his…superiors? He wasn’t really sure what he was anymore, but if he was still a citizen of Verulik, then their authority far outranked his own. He was still in Verulik, afterall, even if it be on the border. Probably best to just stay cordial. He’d need to impress the Conqueror if he meant to make an ally of him. Although, the Conqueror did save them from those demons…hmm. It was impossible to say for certain what was going through the king's head. He’d just have to keep doing everything he could until he had a chance to speak with the king personally.

“Is there something you needed of me, sirs?” Trenton asked, slightly bowing.

“That’s a great question,” the older man said, stepping forward and smacking the younger man across the top of his head, the sound reverberating across the room. “Why don’t you explain what we’re doing here?”

The younger man stumbled to the side, grabbing his skull where he was struck with both hands and pouting, “Come on! That hurt!”

“We’re here at your behest, Belathial. I’m not doing the heavy lifting for you. If you can’t get over yourself to at least explain why we’re here, then I’ll drag you out of here personally and we’ll just keep heading east,” the older man scolded, his voice stern.

“You promised you would let him make this stop, Elivias,” the ocean eyed boy mumbled, still looking down at the ground.

“I did, and if he doesn’t behave himself, I’ll gladly go back on my word. We’re not children, Fel,” the older man sighed, rubbing his brow.

“You’re not,” the ocean eyed boy replied, turning his head away from Elivias. Trenton hadn’t noticed at first, mostly because of how turned away from the group he was, but Fel was actually remarkably young, maybe even younger than Trenton. Was he really one of the seven generals? It was difficult to believe, and Trenton was having a hard time making any sense of the boy's presence, so it was impossible to tell for certain, not that he really knew how to base someone's strength off of their presence anyway. He knew it was possible, just not how. It was a lesson Walibeld always said he wasn’t ready for in the past.

“Okay, okay, I’ll explain why we’re here,” the young man turned to Trenton, his smile radiant, his eyes electric. “Fight me.”

“What?” Trenton said, dumbfounded.

“Come on! It’ll be really fun!” The young man shouted, starting to jump up and down again. Fight? Did Trenton break some sort of rule? Were they here to arrest him?Why would someone obviously so much stronger than him care to fight? It made no sense.

“You’re one of Dasellium’s generals. I couldn’t possibly fight you,” Trenton said.

“That’s not the point,” the man said, staring intently at Trenton. “Look, when Geren got back, he kept raving on and on about you, said you were a fighter with a spirit unlike any other, and I just got so excited. So when I heard we were going on a mission out east, I knew I had to stop by and see for myself! I’ve never heard Geren give anyone such high praises before!”

“There’s nothing I could do to hold my own against you. It wouldn't even be a fight. There’s no point.”

“Augh, you’re not getting it. I know you can’t beat me, but I want you to try. I’m just going to mess around a bit, test the waters, see what you’re made of. Come onnnnnnn! Please? Pretty please?” The man clasped both of his hands together, holding them high as he bowed his head towards the ground.

From off to the side, the older man sighed again, “It means a lot to him. I’ll make it worth your while,” he said, trying to entice Trenton to fight one of the strongest men in the kingdom.

Trenton hesitated, torn between two worlds. He didn’t mind a friendly spar generally, but he really had to focus on finding Wimbleton at the moment. Leo’s stasis had held strong up to this point, but Walibeld said it would only last about a month. There was no guarantee that he would live much longer, if he could even be saved at all. That and…he got the sneaking suspicion he wasn’t going to be walking away from this battle on his feet, something he really didn’t need right now.

“Fine,” Trenton relented, letting loose the tension in his body and preparing himself to fight, “I’ll do it, but-”

In an instant, as Trenton was preparing himself mind and body, Belathial was already standing in front of Trenton, his smile wide, and his fist careening towards the side of Trenton’s head. Trenton barely even had enough time to put his left arm in a flimsy attempt to defend himself. The man’s fist plowed into the side of Trenton’s head, snapping his arm like a twig, and before Trenton knew it, he was careening through the air hundreds of feet above the ground, the whole world turning widely, blurring together in a prismatic spray of colors.

Trenton didn’t understand what had happened, but as he tried to turn himself around, steady his mind and find some sense of aerial stability, he noticed how much his body hurt, an agonizing, pounding throb from head to toe. Had…he been punched through the wall of the tower? Well, no time to figure that out now. Trenton splayed out his body, ignoring the effort it took to breathe as the wind whipped at his extremities, slowing himself enough to see his surroundings, and just in time to watch himself slam into one of the giant metal birds that he’d seen flying around the city the other day.

Both of them spiraled towards the ground, carrying Trenton’s downward arc towards their deaths below. Trenton tried to reorient himself, make any sense of where he was or what his next move should be, but he was stuck, his left arm embedded deep into the bird's inner circuitry. Well, looks like he was out of options. Gritting his teeth, Trenton pulled with all his might, flesh flaying from the bone, muscles and tendons ripped out by stray gears and shards of metal. Trenton screamed, doing his best to keep himself conscious, to keep at bay the encroaching wave of darkness, barely succeeding. He couldn’t afford to fall under, not now of all times. It hurt like hell, and his arm was a bloody, torn mess, but at least now he was free; he had a chance.

Using his free arm, Trenton grabbed the bird's only undamaged leg, holding on tight as it spun around wildly, panicking to reright itself. It wasn’t flesh and blood, and it felt no pain, but whoever had imbued it clearly didn’t want to lose their property. That and these things usually carried passengers. The liability alone would demand the birds caution. It was a miracle that this one was empty.

“Fly! Use your wings!” Trenton shouted at the hunk of metal, kicking its flailing wings into position in an attempt to get it back into flight.

At first, it didn’t seem to do anything, the ground still approaching ever closer, but then, they caught air, a sudden jolt rocking them and pulling at Trenton’s only healthy arm. The bird pulled desperately out of its free fall as they barreled towards the ground, managing to pull up at the very last moment, Trenton’s dangling feet nearly touching the ground. They flew low over the city street, barely managing to keep themself from crashing into stray civilians and vehicles as they slowly ascended back into the air. Close. Far too close. The moment they were high enough, Trenton swung off of the bird, rolling to a stop on an adjacent flat roof top.

Trenton quickly jumped to his feet, peering over the edge at the chaos down below. It looked like he’d been noticed, and now people were panicking, screams and cries filling the air all around him. He’d definitely have to find a way to get the guards off his back after this. But Trenton didn’t have much time to contemplate this further.

Belathial landed heavily on the rooftop in front of Trenton, converting the momentum to a forward lunge at Trenton, which he managed to sidestep. Despite being a general, Belathial didn’t seem to be using any magic, aspect, or much presence. It looked like he was holding back a lot. Good thing, too, otherwise he probably would’ve smeared Trenton with the first attack.

Trenton slipped off the top of the roof, riding the wall down to the ground, but the man was already ahead of him. He came barreling in from off to the side, plowing into Trenton with a midair dropkick, carrying the both of them down the side alley as they arced downwards. Thinking on his feet, Trenton wrapped his leg around the man's neck, pulling him downwards, flipping the man underneath himself and using his body weight and gravity to drag the man along the ground, cracking the pavement as they went. It was weird, but Belathial made no effort to stop himself from being attacked, almost as if this was exactly what he wanted.

When they began slowing to a stop, Trenton leapt off Belathial, casting a simple earth spear to jut out of the ground underneath him when Trenton landed again. But this time, Belathial wasn’t keen to just sit still. He flipped forward onto his hands, performing a clean front handspring to get to his feet, the spear skirting right by his chest.

“Marvelous! Now try this!” Belathial said, snapping his fingers.

Without even blinking, Trenton’s eyes wide and disbelieving, the world lurched, suddenly shifting. One moment, he was standing some couple dozen feet from Belathial, and the next they were together. His body hadn’t shifted in the slightest, but somehow, he had been moved. He had been…teleported. He had teleported! Belathial grabbed the top of Trenton’s head with both hands, pulling it down as he kneed Trenton in the head, smashing the poor boy’s nose and cracking his skull. Trenton staggered back, blood trickling down onto the ground beneath him. And, once again, Belathial rose his fingers, snapping the world the away. This time, however, Trenton was ready.

He didn’t know where Belathial was going to teleport him, and he didn’t have the reaction time to best Belathial in a game of close combat, so all he could do was guess, intuit and plan for the most likely scenario. The moment Belathial snapped, Trenton stepped around his right flank, driving his right hand into the man’s skull, sending him flying into the side wall, leaving a sizable crater where he landed.

Without looking, Belathial raised his hand again, this time, his palm opened wide. Trenton leapt into the air, hanging onto a window cill some 30 feet up as a massive blast of condensed space shot out of Belathial’s hand slamming into a wall of space that had formed behind Trenton so as not to obliterate the buildings in the area. Trenton swayed forward, building momentum to kick the wall behind him, sending another spell through the ground via the building, this one a little more complex than the last. As Belathial pulled himself from the wall, the ground split beneath him with the intent to swallow him whole, spikes shooting out of the newly created walls of the crater to skewer him. However, Belathial simply walked over the top of the hole, condescending the space beneath his feet to give himself safe purchase, avoiding Trenton’s attack all together. He raised his hand again, palm open.

Trenton flipped himself onto the roof of the building, stumbling backwards as several dozen blasts of space assaulted the spot he was just sitting in. None of Trenton’s attacks were doing any damage, but Belathial was allowing himself to be attacked. What exactly was the point of this exercise? It di-

Trenton’s thoughts were cut off abruptly, Belathial appearing just next to him, hand pressed against Trenton’s chest. With a friendly, excited smile, Belathial condensed all of the space behind him into his palm, releasing it suddenly into Trenton’s chest, sending him flying backwards as if he had just been hit with a graviturgy spell. Except, this one felt more like getting hit by a moving brick wall than getting dragged backwards.

Trenton skidded along the rooftops, twisting and turning every direction each time bounced along the ground. He tried to slow himself, land back on his feet, but he couldn’t. His limbs wouldn’t respond to him, and he couldn’t make any sense up or down. All he knew was the jolt of pain each time he landed, friction slowly taking hold of him, slowing him to a rolling stop in some open, stony field somewhere in the city. Trenton lay there for a moment, heaving, doing his best not to breathe in his own dripping blood, staring up at the cave ceiling so far overhead. Then, like a specter, Belathial appeared for a final time, leaning over Trenton’s wounded body and grinning madly.