The Grand Battle II! [Happy End!]

Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.

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SpoilerOh man I finally manged to post to this. Here's to getting this thing rolling again over the holidays. On a related note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCHAZER!

“Hmph,” Galus shrugged, “Personally I hope I never see that black monster again.”

Maxwell twitched. “Monster? True, some of Vyrm'n's actions have been rash…violent even…but”

“Are you serious? You saw what that thing did to Cabaret right? I shot it myself and it still kept on going. In this contest full of monsters that thing is the most monstrous of them all.”

“I'm not quite certain,” Maxwell bit his lip, “That is to say…there are variables…not everything can be seen...” The swordsman found himself struggling to rationalize the words of the pilot. Vyrm'n was powerful, foreign, alien, and expressed killing intent, is that not the definition of a monster? A series of descriptions flashed through Maxwell's mind. Monster: A threatening force, an animal of strange or terrifying shape, something monstrous, a person of unnatural or extreme wickedness. No, those were not Vyrm'n, not the Vyrm'n he knew. Those words were nothing like the silent black void he had found himself with in the garden. That monolithic being, that quiet listener of the cosmos, it, she, deserved far more than the description, “monster”. Yet…

“…It would be better said…well no not quite…perhaps more along the lines of…” Maxwell could not manage to produce an accurate description. He could say what Vyrm'n was not, easily enough, but when it came to actually clarifying what Vyrm'n was…

“…an enigma, a silent puzzle, a violent puzzle, a serene violent puzzle, no, not that. It's, She's…”

“A majestic creature.”

Maxwell stopped. At the end of the hallway, with his dark suit and malevolent grin, stood Samuel admiring one of the many paintings which adorned the walls. The Karmist continued.

“Pristine and elegant, truly awe inspiring.” Samuel placed his right hand on one of the paintings which, from what Maxwell could tell, depicted a swan in flight. He proceeded to run his finger along the bird's neck when he let out an exasperated sigh. “Please, allow me to indulge. The prelude is half the fun after all.”

Maxwell furrowed his brow. His last encounter with the Karmist ended with a useful exchange of information. Very useful, in fact to Maxwell who had ascertained that unless Samuel managed to meet certain conditions, he posed no immediate threat. Given that this world, unlike the two before, appeared lifeless aside from the contestants, there was little chance that Samuel had managed to perform whatever death-rite would give him an advantage in battle. Despite this, Maxwell could not put himself at ease. How had the Karmist so easily approached them without their knowing? True, Maxwell was absorbed in thought at the time, but Galus with his heightened hearing should have certainly noticed Samuel's approach.

Maxwell glanced over at the Ursian. Galus' pistol was drawn and aimed a few feet below the Karmists' head; however, Galus himself remained quiet, his eyes intent on the Karmits' movements.

“They are not always so elegant,” Samuel spoke again, seemingly to the painting but loud enough for the pair to hear. “At first they are wobbly on their feet. Unsure of their purpose, they imprint onto the first thing they see. It is not until later in their lives that they fully mature to become the elegant creature depicted here. Oh to be there at the point when they realize their true calling is a beautiful thing indeed.” Samuel's right palm rested on the painting, He sighed and slowly turned his head towards Maxwell and Galus, his eyes locking on the former. “Would you not agree, boy?”

With a deafening crack, Galus' pistol responded before Maxwell could.

“That's for nearly killing us in the garden!” Galus cried out. The Ursian clenched his teeth. “Damn, I missed.” Two more shots were fired off in quick succession before Maxwell managed to restrain his comrade.

“It's no use, he dodges. Strangely.” Samuel stood, unharmed and grinning. The uneasiness within Maxwell intensified. His feet. It isn't right. He should fall, poor balance. Where's his support?

“Stay on guard,” Maxwell urged, “Something is amiss. His movements are wrong.”

Galus raised an eyebrow.

“Fencing. Footwork is key. His is off. You shot, he dodged, but with movements that should have tripped him. He is being held up.”

Samuel curled his lip. “You should listen to him, Galus. He is much smarter than you, annoyingly so.”

The flurry of thoughts crowding Maxwell's mind demanded more information.

“What do you want?”

“I want her.”

Maxwell cringed, hoping he had misunderstood, “What do you mean?”

“What I mean, boy, is that...” A dinner fork flew from behind Samuel towards Maxwell. “No! Gestalt!” Samuel cried out, reaching out his hand towards the airborne utensil which then stopped and dropped to the ground. “We must leave him alive for now or we lose our chance.” “No we cannot kill the other. A shift in worlds could ruin everything.” “Because I understand the importance of dialogue, a skill which you inexplicably frown upon.” Samuel's scowl warped into an exaggerated frown. “Of course it is a troublesome expression to produce, you know that is not the point!” “…Very well.”

At this, Samuel's feet lifted up completely from the ground. A clamor of tin, ceramic, wood, paper and a host of other items flew in from behind him and proceeded to swirl around the Karmist. A flying mixture of silver utensils, rusted nails, a few picture frames, splintered crate lids, a white brick, and a plethora of assorted items wrapped themselves around Samuel's left arm.

In a swift motion, Samuel's serrated appendage lunged towards Maxwell, who narrowly dodged to the side.
“You will call her here, boy,” the Karmist shouted at Maxwell, “or I will make your death cry out for you!”