The Epic of Antares

Elliel's face burned from the heat of the rocks. She still refused to raise her head. The moment her eyes met Enrieta's she lowered herself in worship and had not risen since. This was greater than her wildest dreams. To have the Queen of the Nephilim, her queen present here was unimaginable. For days she had cursed herself for choosing to participate. Many had told her she would die, or worse. There was no possible way someone like her would make it far enough. And for days she had agreed with them. She was no warrior and still chose to join the army. Her hands had never known blood and still when she killed her first man they did not shake. At every opportunity she faced failure and death and still she climbed. Now here she was in the presence of the divine. Of a descendant of the Blood God. She would bear witness. Elliel knew she could not fail. Not now, when she was so close.

It took Elliel some time to notice that it was not her heart that was beating so loud. For the very sand beneath her shook with a rhythmic thumping sound. Heavy drums in unknown corners of the large area rang out. They heralded what was to come.

"Oh great Imperatessa for your Adonis, this final offering." The voice boomed in the old tongue of the Nephilim, the beast-like nature of the language reverberated throughout the arena.
Elliel raised her head to search for such a terrifying voice but could not find it. Instead what caught her attention were the three other gates that now opened. Each of them in a different corner. Spilling out from them, other battered and bruised Nephilim. But they were different from her. They were bigger, despite her knowing they too experienced the same horrors that she had seen. To Elliel it seemed she had fared worse than them. Their menacing frame and monstrous eyes did little to hide the pain they would inflict on each other. On her. A cold chill ran down her back and her eyes welled with tears. Elliel was afraid. After all this time she still felt fear.

The other three Nephilim had come closer. Each of them standing a fair distance away from each other. Only two of the three held weapons. The thin Nephilim to her left and the short Nephilim to her right. The one who stood facing her was the healthiest looking of all them. Even as he looked on death's door, there was still vitality in his eyes. Eyes that never stopped staring at Elliel. So much hatred and malice, she tried to look away but could never do so fully. The four of them stood there like that for a while, none would back down, show weakness. To do so would mean death. They all held each other's gaze, looking for some kind of opening. Elliel could feel her energy fading quickly. The blistering light that warmed the sands beneath her aching feet seemed to grow hotter with each passing moment. And then both Nephilim on either side of her turned to look at her.

In this arena where so many of her kin had spilt blood, where blade parted skin and blood rushed with the force of a raging river. Where souls met their end. Where eyes scattered like rubies reflected brilliantly in the light. They smelt the faintest of doubt that Elliel breathed. A hesitancy that could not be faulted by one only thirteen years young. But where she stood there was no room for such shortcomings. One she needed to quickly rectify before she would not be able to. She sized up all of them, her breathing had gotten so heavy she did so through her mouth. Elliel made her decision and bolted towards her left.

The thin Nephilim was caught off guard. He allowed himself to foolishly relax and she made him pay for it. Elliel slammed into him with all her might. Where they all at full strength such a foolhardy plan would have failed. But just like she was, she knew they were all on the verge of collapse. They both sprawled on the floor and the blade in the thin Nephilim's hands clattered to the floor. He was far too preoccupied gasping for air as Elliel had landed a body bash squarely into his chest. The young girl was the first to recover between them both. But she was not the only one whose eyes were caught by the blade. The large Nephilim in front of her that had watched this all unfold moved closer in the mayhem. But he was not close enough, the weapon was a mere feet from Elliel. Only a few paces and she would grab it before he could even reach half way. She turned to look at the weapon and back to see the man holding her gaze. And for the second time Elliel subverted all their expectations.

With all her might she charged at the large Nephilim man forgoing the blade. All she held in her hands was determination. To her credit, she managed to see the blow before it landed. It was unfortunate that her body was in no state to listen to her commands. The strength behind his fists was otherworldly. It should have blown her head clean off, at least that is what Elliel had felt. Upon losing consciousness she did not regain it until she bounced off the rough sand for the third time. When she did, she was a sprawled mess on the floor. The right side of her face burned a new kind of pain she had never experienced. The pulsing pain sent spasms throughout her body. Still it refused to listen to her. Her face half buried in the sand she gasped for air. And her little lungs tried as they might to accommodate the request. It took everything within her to push herself up off the ground. Blood oozed out of her broken nose and mouth. She looked down at the red puddle that grew. Swimming within it, missing teeth. Anger boiled her blood and suppressed all the pain she felt. The screams of agony in the distance refocused her.
Elliel looked ahead just in time to see the short Nephilim lose his left arm. He staggered backwards, eyes transfixed where his hand should be. Unlike her, he did not lose focus, quickly he rolled to the side and yelled a guttural roar at the large Nephilim. He would not show weakness. Once more he charged at the large man. Elliel had managed to make it to her feet and gave chase behind the short Nephilim. Her path was immediately cut off by the thin Nephilim she moments ago ran into. Unlike the warrior roar the short man made. This one could only manage a vile screech that Elliel was thankful only one of her ears worked. From his side he raised the blade he dropped. Elliel could see from the manner in which he held the weapon, he was familiar with it. It made her uneasy, but the sway in his step comforted her. He was barely holding his own. And in that moment he lunged at her. She raised her arms to defend herself, but only managed to lift her left. The blade missed her good working eye and cut a smooth line on her left forearm. The opening of her flesh was a warm sensation, and as the blood spilled out she whipped her hand sending it into the eyes of her attacker. The thin man was prepared, but like her moments ago. His body did not react in time. The blood covered his eyes and he wildly slashed in her direction. The thin man was a soldier, and even in this delirious state near insanity, his body still remembered that. He panicked but his body made up for that by reflexively protecting his vital organs while he flailed around with the knife. His focus should have been on the battle with the little girl before him. The weak thing had marked him and off a cheap attack she used the confidence to attack the larger Nephilim. Such hubris was rewarded with a ridiculous blow. Such a girl should not have risen from an attack like that, let alone have the Will to keep fighting. So why did the thin man wonder as he flailed about why it was when he looked into her one working eye he felt such great terror at her advancement?

The first time the blade pierced his flesh he gasped as all the air left his lungs. He tried to breathe in and as though waiting for his lungs to expand, the blade penetrated again deep between his ribcage puncturing his left lung. The thin man cleaned his vision well enough to stop his flailing. He instinctively looked at his right hand to see the blade was still there and turned back to the girl. She was hunched over, gasping for air, every breath as painful as the last one. One side of her face was bloody and broken. One eye nearly swollen shut. And a broken nose that refused to stop bleeding. He lowered his gaze to see that the blood that dripped onto the white sand did not come from the open wound on her left arm. But from the crimson dagger she held tightly in it. Blood Manipulation, he thought to himself, Impossible! He had been starved of blood for three days. It was done to prepare them for the offering, to make them equal. And here before him this scrawny thing stood, on the brink of madness just like him. And still she managed to use blood manipulation. He charged at her with reckless abandon.
Elliel had not once blinked, even as the man wildly slashed at the air with blood in his eyes. Even as she had plunged the blood dagger twice into his sides. From the moment she regained consciousness, she felt her body burn. At first she thought it was from the pain; in the beginning it was. But soon the sensation of control washed over her. She should not have been able to form a small blood ball, let alone an intricate and vicious dagger as the one she gripped now. But nevertheless she did. The desire coming to her like an unwanted memory. She could feel herself rapidly growing as the fight continued. Days ago, she would have relaxed upon piercing her enemies flesh like that. But now she knew better, she could only lay down her guard when they were all dead. She studied the wild moves of the thin man fast approaching. There were a myriad of openings, none of them she could exploit in her current state. Simply creating the dagger sapped her of so much strength, it was will power she relied on now. And it was will power she would rely on again.

The thin man prepared for a wild slash, all the power he could muster behind it. Even if Elliel were to block it, she would lose her one good arm in the process. So Elliel did not block it. Instead she allowed gravity that had been calling to her ever since she regained consciousness to take over—and so Elliel fell. The thin man narrowly managed to slow his momentum after missing the wide slash. He placed a large foot down and carried what energy he could through the slash to reposition the blade above his head. In the current position she was in, she would have nowhere to escape to. A grin crossed his face as he started to bring the blade down. And below him as his eyes met her hers. Elliel was waiting for him. Even as tired as he was, once again his warrior body moved before he could. Choosing to protect his heart and head from the rising attack that came. It was the correct decision where he facing a warrior of his caliber and most importantly, height. Elliel was neither of those things. But for where she chose to target, one need not be a warrior or tall. Only close enough.

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She plunged the dagger deep into his manhood. With as much strength as her tiny body could muster. At that moment, Elliel felt the blade hit something hard. She was sure it was bone. But she did not stop there, she changed her grip as the thin man began to lurch forward in considerable pain. Once again Elliel was thankful she could only hear out of one ear. As he fell forward she pulled the dagger out just enough and dragged it up across his torso. Wedging the dagger comfortably in his breastbone. His blood bathed her in the rich red liquid. The expression of disbelief turned to concern as he frantically attempted to put back the spilled contents of his insides all over the white sand. A moment ago his entire focus was on her and now he acted as though she never existed. Elliel watched as he died while holding his organs in his hands; unsure why they continued to fall out as he put them back in.

She rose to her feet, she could feel his blood in between her toes. Just as she had finished with her duel, so did the large Nephilim finish his. A large puddle of skull and brain matter surrounded the body of the short Nephilim. He fought as valiantly as he could, even managing to gravely injure one arm of the large Nephilim. From where she stood she could see only some muscle and skin hold the arm together. She looked at the large Nephilim covered in cuts, some fresh and many old. His mouth covered in blood. He looked more like a beast than one of her kin. A warrior who had known only battle. But Elliel found no use for fear here. Not when she was so close. Another blood dagger formed in her hand. If the man was shocked, he did not show it. He studied the blade as though acknowledging it and turned his attention back to her. As Elliel walked she discarded reason. She discarded hope. She discarded her very body and safety in the pursuit of victory.

She only just managed to miss the first of his strikes. They were far slower than the first time she saw them. No doubt the battle with the short Nephilim took more out of him than she had thought. But still it did nothing to close the advantage that he had over her. Unlike the thin Nephilim, this larger one was more focused. His breathing and movements controlled. For each one swipe of her dagger she managed. She harrowingly escaped four blows that threatened to kill her. Knowing that her death should she lose focus, would be slow and painful. But at the pace they were going, it looked more like an inevitability. She was losing energy in her limbs with each second that passed. But she was ready. Elliel steeled herself for what was to come and took the offensive.

She used what little skill she had managed to learn to press forward. The precision of her strikes even surprised her. She could feel her body slowing down but her mind getting sharper, her focus increasing incrementally with each swipe of the blade. The large Nephilim stepped in and launched a left hook that Elliel used her body to block. A foolish gamble that she took. The blow rattled her bones and the young Nephilim could feel her brain follow suit in her skull. But she pushed past the blurring of her vision for his injured arm was within reach. From where she stood it would not take a powerful strike to sever the tendons that held the arm together. And so she extended towards it. But he had been baiting her into this move. There was no time to react. One moment Elliel was looking at her left hand holding the blade, making its way towards his arm. And in the next moment, her hand was gone. Lost in the mouth of the Nephilim warrior. Two thoughts passed through Elliel's mind, the first was that she now understood why his mouth was covered in blood. The second thought was that pain had varying levels. And this one she felt, pulsating from her crushed left hand in his mouth. Was unlike any other sensation she had ever experienced. He began chewing.

It took everything within the young girl not to scream. She gritted what teeth she still had left, and tears mixed with blood rolled down her face. And even still Elliel did not lose focus. It only cost her her left hand but she had created an opening that she could exploit. In one swift motion she relaxed her mangled hand. She was unsure of what she felt or rather thought she could feel. She did not know if it was either her bones or the shattered dagger. Either way she slowed her breathing. And raised her right hand. Even with his jaws around her hand. The Nephilim man managed to show shock with his eyes. Sensation had long returned to her right hand but she never once made it known. Continuing to feign ignorance throughout the fight. Upon his registration of what she was about to do; had he been at even half strength he would have seen through her plan. But he was not. Elliel could feel a tugging sensation in her right hand, or rather in the blood that coursed beneath the surface of it. So she pulled with all her might. Blood oozed out of the gaps between the large Nephilim's teeth. It leaked out of his nose, and left eye as well. A bucket's worth. And in Elliel's right hand, her dagger formed. She did not give him time to react and plunged it deep into his left eye. The large man let go of her destroyed hand and roared into the air. A cry of pain and beast-like hatred.

Elliel looked at the flailing man and then at her horrific hand. Of her five fingers, three had been ripped off and the other two torn nearly beyond recognition. Barely attached to what remained of her hand. She wanted him to experience what she felt. And once again within her a burning sensation gradually built up. An action welled up within her that she did not know she could do. Elliel roared back with the might of a true warrior. Her voice reverberated throughout the air and the dagger logged in the large Nephilim's eye began to vibrate. Acknowledging the cries of its master. And a second later it exploded with enough force to knock both of them on their backs. She did not allow the shock of her new ability to confuse her. The man was sprawled on the floor but he was not dead. Elliel rose, and for a third time formed another dagger. Her breathing was labored. She had lost a lot of blood and black veins began appearing across her body. The strength she used now was beyond anything she could understand. She did not know where it came from, nor did she care of the price she would have to pay for it. She would use it all. She climbed on top of the man and readied the dagger to pierce his heart. The left side of his face was as damaged as her hand. She could see his broken skull and where his eye should have been a gaping hole. Flesh and muscle were shredded alike, and his left ear was destroyed. She was so close. To fell such a man she could scarcely believe it. But there would be time to reminisce later.

Elliel brought down the blade with the last of her strength. And it shattered upon making contact with his body. Her one good eye opened wide. Her time had run out. She focused all her might into her right hand to make the blade into reality. At first her blood gingerly heeded her command, but eventually it just collapsed. Such things did also have their limits. A lesson she now learned. Despair placed a hand on her shoulder. But she shook it off and looked around for the blades the other Nephilim had left. She saw one but it was far too late. She was thrown off the large man with considerable force. Slamming into the ground on her destroyed left hand. The pain reflexively forced her to sit up but the Nephilim man pushed her back down. He did not give her a moment of reprieve before he started hitting her repeatedly. So this is as far as I go, Elliel thought to herself. After the third blow, she stopped feeling pain. Everything after that she did not feel. But in the coming silence, her thoughts grew louder. This is the end. It is over. You are going to die here. He is going to eat you. How does it feel to die like an animal? They were right. You are weak. What are you doing here? She is watching. She thinks you are disgusting. She hates you. Everyone hates you. I hate you. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. The voices deafened her, but she would not die a coward. She would not look away. Elliel looked up to see the Nephilim man bringing down his fists, with everything he had. And then he was gone.

She blinked once. He was not there. She blinked again, and still he was gone. She looked down to see only his upper half was missing. His legs still wrapped tightly around her. Her breathing increased, and as reality began to set in. She dragged herself out from underneath him. Her chin and right hand doing most of the work. As her vision began to clear, in the distance she saw figures approaching. She took the opportunity to make her way towards the blade shining in the sand. And as she reached it. A leather foot pressed against her hand. Elliel did not struggle, accepting her fate. But like before she would not die a coward. She turned with her one good eye, to look at who would kill her. She followed the foot up towards the person. Along the way she could tell their clothes were of the highest quality. Fit only for a royal of unparalleled reverence. She was first blinded by the light that hung in the air. Its brilliant glow somehow dwarfed in comparison to the blinding snow white hair of the woman who stood before her. The dead ruby eyes that looked back at her were unfamiliar, for only a moment. Her eyes widened in surprise, and in return Queen Enrieta Zxyphor looked at her with apathy.