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The Granadat cavern was as eerie as the rumors had been. Situated at the foot of a volcano with the same name, the cavern entrance was adorned with unnatural obsidian pillars that jutted out of the earth in ragged, dangerous patterns. Dangerous was not even the right word to use in this place. When a place was not to be approached under any circumstances, there would almost always be a sign that told the approachers briefly of what lay ahead - a warning for the sake of reader's safety - but such could not be found here. No one dare came close just to put up a sign, that was how dangerous this place was.

Today, however, the cavern saw a visit. Two people stood proudly in front of it, not intimidated by the dark atmosphere under the smoky sky. One was clad in a majestic full body white armor with intricate silver lines that could cost a fortune, while another was hooded in a brown mantle with tears and splotches of discoloration everywhere. The armored one came with a sword sheathed by their belt and a shield held in their hand. Carried behind the back of the other one was a wooden staff. An orange crystal ball floated calmly inside the wooden cage on top of the staff. Ornaments attached to the cage by two strings dangled around silently when its owner moved. Their hands removed the worn out hood and released crimson flame color of hair to detangle itself. A red-on-white head shook left and right; built up perspiration flew every which way. The figure, a male human, swiped the residue sweat off his forehead and produced a water sack from under his cloak and downed a heartful gulp of its content. He then offered another figure-taking off his helmet now and also revealing themselves to be a slightly-tanned human male with blonde hair-the leather sack and got declined. He finished its leftover in another gulp.

"We have come far," said the redhead. He rarely ventured for a long way like this. He was just a mage in the house of magic. Study was where he shine and what he love. This fact was reflected on his pale skin and lanky build just hair width away from being called undernourished if not for the healthy flowing hair he got. But there was a reason he came all the way out here, with a friend he had known for a long time. He might be an introvert and did not care what would happen to the world but he could not refuse his friend's request to go out on a quest with him; the most daring quest of them all.

The swordman seemed not to agree with what the mage said and lifted an eyebrow faintly, though he said nothing. The more lightly equipped was far less physically developed like him. Under that armor was a body of a true champion. If he was to take off his garments all anyone would see would be mounds of muscles from military trainings received and quests done in the past. It was no wonder why this journey was nothing for him. But looking back, he had to remind himself that it was a long way for him too just to be in front of this very cavern. "Yes, we have," he replied after a short break grimly.

The conversation stopped where it started and both of them enjoyed a little moment before they plunged into the cavern, very bravely and a little stupidly. The tension mixed together with what little relaxation this pause provided for him made the mage laugh a little to vent out his stress. "You know? When you paid me a visit, the last thing I have in my mind is you bringing me here -- in front of the greatest demon lord Enyphia has ever known's lair."

The armored one understood that laugh and let him speak without interrupting. The front of this place, which was surprisingly peaceful and strangely unguarded for a demon lord's lair, might be the last stop they would ever have.

"To be frank, Theodore," the mage addressed his friend, "I'm scared." Theodore did not show it, but he too was scared. "I can't stop this trembling. My legs are shaking. My fingertips are numb. It almost feel... Surreal to me." Theodore rest his hand on the mage's shoulder and he felt that trembling subside by the seconds. "It's ok. I wanted to be here in the first place," he said with determination and stare with hateful eyes into the dark passageway, "That demon... Abaalythe... He destroyed our family. Our love. Our land. Our live. Everything. I don't care if he's an all powerful entity or what, but this is what I've promised that day. For everything that has been ripped away from me, be it the darkest demon or the holiest angel, I'll get my revenge."

Theodore regarded his friend and smiled. He knew he brought with him the right man with the right attitude for this task and released his shoulder. "And you'll get one, Daniel," reassured Theodore. He paused, unsheathed his sword and brought it up for both to see. It was huge; the base of its blade was extremely wide and thick; almost as wide as his thigh. But up about one-third of its length the blade suddenly angled itself into a narrower, thinner shape, and again at about two-third and tapered off at the endpoint. Its white and gold guard was decorated so that it looked like a pair of wings spreading outward and downward protecting the hilt; at one side engraved an image of a ring and bolts travelling away from the center. It was truly majestic. Despite its size and shape, it was very light and very capable since it was made from materials unknown to humankind and infused with divine magic. Theodore could hold it in one hand easily. "This holy sword, Maegiaus, is from the Shrine of Enyphilim, deep in the Everlasting Forest. Legend said that this sword bestows upon its wielder the power of the purest light." As if responding to his remark, the sword caught the low light in the area and glinted for a brief instant. "No demons can stand against its purification. Not even the mighty Abaalythe."

"And I know the moment you came in with that sword that we can do this. I believe it with all my heart. The power in that sword is for real; I can see its glowing white radiance even on the brightest day from across the city," Daniel said with more confidence than ever. His trembling was all but gone now, replaced by courage he never knew he had. He was ready to head in now but before that he had one more thing to say to his trusty buddy.

"Theodore. The terror of Abaalythe ends today. We'll have victory in our grasps, even if we have to die for it."

"No."

Theodore spoke abruptly, eyes regarding his helmet, which left Daniel to stare at him stupid but not for long.

"We'll win AND we are getting back alive." Theodore put on his helmet and cracked a smile - an infectious smile that crept up Daniel's face slowly. This is their final battle. Confidence coursed through their blood as they charged into the darkness of the Granadat cavern.

As they set their feet on the black polished surface, hordes of monsters not unlike those they had seen roaming the world of Enyphia greeted them with a warm welcome. Some came bare-handed, some with a torch and some with their weapon drawn. But none came with anything that could rival the might of Maegiaus and the magic of the mage and in no time they got through the first wave. There were more coming their way but were not a threat to them at all.

The party of brave souls advanced through the entrance with ease and was now in a more open part of the cave. They can see clear cut stone cubes ranging in height and length, organized in a way that they can only think of a mess hall. Besides the way they came in, there were several more that lead to different directions. Great with the subject at hand, Theodore chose a way quickly but not randomly. He had a picture in his mind where they were going and which way to get there. The warrior can only hoped he was right.

They encountered more splits and forks along the way and not once did Theodore hesitate to pick a path. Daniel felt like he got lost in a labyrinth. They went left, then right, encountered a group of monsters, dropped down a level, and met with another group of monsters. More and more fights came their way and each fight proved to be harder the deeper they go; all the more reason to believe they were going the right way.

After Daniel had taken care of the flame door blocking their way with his ice spell, a true challenge rose in front of them. Several figures stood firm, cladded in black armors, twisted and wicked in design. Prongs and spikes prostuded out of several parts of their body menacingly. They hefted a claymore in one hand and a large shield in another, a feat no mortals can accomplish. Their eyes shone blood red inside their helmet; wispy black smoke flew out of every open orifice in the armor. The entirety of their existence showed just how fearsome these demon spawns can be. As the demon were studied by the men, they took a battle stance and the already intimidating atmosphere got worse. According to Theodore's plan, they were the greatest obstacle in the way to their goal.

It was the warrior in white who made the first move. His battlecry bounced off the cave wall as he thrusted sword-first into enemies. The one in the front swatted it away with its shield and too, thrust its sword forward to punish the human's blind charge. But in its way of defensing itself, it had lost sight of him under its own large shield and did not see him ducked under and tried to swing his sword up. He quickly stopped and jumped back at the last second as another claymore from another demon hit the ground where he had been hard.

A little slow to react, Daniel started chanting his spell. This was all in the plan they had rehearsed for many times. In order to preserve that needed energy they must defeat these enemies as effectively as possible, and it all depended on whether he can successfully cast this spell or not. He recited one syllable to another, connecting them into verses. Mana flowed into and filled every fibre of him and he directed all of it into his hand, and consequently his staff. Inside it, the crystal ball glowed fiercely and moving around to the rhythm of his incantation, which was quite noticable to the dark knights. One approached the busy mage fast but not fast enough to avoid a stab in its chest and a kick to its abdomen, sending it into another of its kind.

Theodore relentlessly attacked. He had to defend his friend at all cost. Eyes darted back and forth like crazy; his concentration level at the highest. Another damned warrior advanced on his friend and he pushed it back with Maegiaus' side. The holy sword pierced with zizzling sounds through the dark energy that surrounded pieces of armor, but without a real physical body to attack, his moves were useless. The light power of his sword was infused into the blade itself. Without a way to project it, it would not be capable of erasing this big a cluster of darkness, not to mention that there were those of the same kind to recover their lost energy. This was what Daniel was doing. He was casting a spell that would project the unparalelled might of Maegiaus in an instant, creating a light bomb that would burn all their adversaries to ashes, while leaving them unscathed.

Theodore can hear it now, or rather, not hearing it; Daniel had stop his chanting and were probably searching his belt pouch. This was it. A total of five gems in his hand, Daniel threw them all into the air and subsequently pointed his staff at them. The crystal ball sparked and shot out a spaghetti-thin beam of orange light toward one gem. It hit and reflected inside the gem, emitting an aura of its own before the beam escaped and connected to another gem, where the same procedure were repeated until all five gems were interconnected. Daniel flicked his forearm, cutting the orange line from his staff, and swing theatrically. Five nodes of gem and five lines of light spun and spiraled up in the air.

Not to be regarded as a stupid being, several dark creatures came forth and tried to destroyed the orange light vortex with their claymore but it was too late. Theodore had already stepped in under the swirling energy, cried vigorously and thrust Maegiaus upward, right at the center. The effect was immediate. The rotation of the vortex maddened. Cracking sounds were heard and light came spilling out through those cracks on the vortex's surface like it was not able to contain what was within.

And it couldn't.

The obsidian cave was painted white in a blinding flash and a deafening boom.

When it faded to black again there were only two distinct forms left-Theodore and Daniel. Abaalythe's personal guards were nothing more than grey ash and debris of burnt armors. There were several shiny spots among them, gliterring under flickering illumination from torches. Daniel knew this would happen. Those five gems that could amplify the power of light were no more, shattered by the ultimacy of Maegiaus. They had to depend on Theodore's skill and their teamwork from now on. Good luck for them that there was only Abaalythe left. Hope their luck would last until the end, Daniel kept thinking while they continued onward.

But they couldn't go very far. They realized in no time that there was only one pathway connected to this room and that was the way they came in. It was troubling, to say the least.

"This is the wrong way." The mage dreaded bactracking; not only would they waste time but also strength. Theodore stayed quiet and kept feeling the far wall like he did not hear what had been said. "Theodore?" Daniel questioned his friend. He could not fathom what was it that he was doing and kept doing without answering him.

"Thodore, what in Enyphilim are you doing?"

"Shh." That was all he said before he started knocking the wall as if it was a door. Daniel almost thought that his friend was going nuts before he saw him moved sideway and knocked at a different spot, realizing what his friend was doing.

"A secret passage?" A 'yes' was all he needed to hear before he rushed to one side of the room and knocked it too.

"According to my calculation we should almost be in the middle of Granadat volcano now. Abaalythe should be there and we are quite close to it. This is the only way that can lead us there, and with those guards in our way, I'd say the probability of a secret doorway is quite high." He elaborated on the subject as he listened to the knocking. Nowhere seemed to produce the sound he was expecting but there was no need to rush. They were quite safe for a time being here.

They found nothing on the walls, so Theodore went to inspect the floor while Daniel used his illumination spell to search dark spots. Daniel was still skeptical about it but Theodore's hunch was a real thing. And a real thing it was when he waved his staff to one spot on the wall; a small indentation. "I found something," he yelled. Theodore looked up from where he was crouching.

"That's good." The warrior stood up--

"Ah!" Daniel cried out.

Theodore jumped to his feet. "What happens?" he exclaimed and saw his companion tucking at his hand vehemently-his hand that was stuck inside a small grove. That must be what he found - a trap no less. He had to help him. There was no way to know what it could trig--

A whir and a click and a sound of dragging something big were heard.

--ger....

"I... I think I hit something." Color drained out of Daniel's face. Whatever happened was all his fault and he cannot do anything. Theodore thought fast. That dragging sound was still present so he still had time. There must be a way to undo it and hopefully should be around here, so he went to get a torch and pointed them in random directions.

Then he saw shadow moved. Instantly, he readied himself and light the aproximate area where he saw it. There, at one corner, a stone slab was rising and behind it was hollow. It was the exit they were looking for but it was not the time to be joyful yet. Daniel needed his help.

A bright blue glow pierced Theodore's eyes. He spun around to see it coming from the floor under the mage's feet. Blue syllables, circles and lines; it was a spell circle that was preset in the ground! It was a part of the trap and it could not be good. But before he could do anything a contrasting orange glow came spilling out of the mage's tool and hit him squared in his forehead. He was not hurt as he checked for injuries and when he was going to ask what did his mate do, he was not there anymore; vanished into thin air along with that blue circle.

He felt like his breath was caught in his throat. Theodore can neither inhale nor exhale even if he wanted to. It all happened so fast his brain failed to interpret anything.

Instead, his brain heard something.

"Theodore, can you hear me?" He knew that voice.

"Daniel?" he said out loud, not sure how to make sense of it anymore.

"Theodore, I'm talking to you through a mind link spell. You should see a faint line coming out of your head if you concentrated enough." Theodore did as told and he saw the line. "It appeared that I was relocated. Damn, I was careless. Should have noticed that novice trap spell miles ago." He truly sounded frustrated.

"Are you ok? Where are you?"

"I'm still inside the cave, though it must be far from there since the link was quite faint. It could take hours to find the way back." The warrior did not like that. He wanted to regroup as soon as possible.

"I don't think we should do that."

"Huh?" He was surprised, wondering how his thoughts were read.

A soft giggle came through the line followed by an answer, "We're connected with a 'mind link' spell, you know? You just think and I can hear it as long as we both wish to communicate. But let's not digress. I don't think regrouping is a good idea."

"Why not?"

"First, we are still in the enemy's territory. There's no way to know if that was the only trap or if there might be more lethal ones around. Second, this place is packed with monster. We can try and move around but I don't think wasting our, especially your, energy with pointless battles is a smart move. And I don't think these monsters would let you wait around for me too. Third, killing Abaalythe is our main objective. You have a higher chance of inflicting damage to him than me. Considering that I might not be in the imidiate area, I suggest that you start moving now."

"But Daniel... I... I..."

He really did not like any of this at all. He may seem like a confident fighter, but he was a softie inside. Without a way to ensure his victory, without Daniel by his side, he... Daniel. He needed Daniel to be there with him. He would not make it without--

"Theodore."

Theodore twitched. Daniel's tone suddenly changed from that instructive one to a more caring one.

"I know what you are thinking. I don't even need a mind link for it. You are fidgeting again, right?" He hit the spot. "You have always been like that; a big softie acting tough when there's someone around. But I saw through it, you can't really be left alone. Or else you would think of all the bad things and start crying in the dark.

"Theo." That was his nickname. He had never heard it since... "Look at your mind link. This is a thread that connects you and me together, no matter how far apart we are. Even when it's not there we are still connected. Just remember all the time we shared, all the fun we had, all the sorrow we overcome. Right there is the connection. I'll always be with you, and you'll always be with me.

"We are not alone."

The holy swordman let the last sentence sank into his mind. Yes, he was not by himself. There was no need to fear. He had bond. He had faith. A smile crept along his face, a smile of conviction--

"Can't tell him I'm scared. Can't tell him... No! I didn't think that! You heard nothing."

Make that a fit of laughter, shared between them instead. Both of them stopped laughing after a while and grinned. Somehow, Theodore knew that Daniel shared the same gesture - must be the product of the link.

"I'm cutting the communication link now. Don't wanna waste mana that way. The mind link line will still be there, though, and I'll follow it until I reach you, understand? Now go."

And with that, it became quiet again. He could not hear anything anymore, but a line was still there to remind him of what was important. Theodoyre still felt bad about leaving Daniel behind but there was nothing he can do beside pressing forward. Daniel would catch up on him eventually. Being by himself, he knew how crucial it was to be careful. A sprint like what they did at the entrance was a foolish act if performed under the circumstances. So he stuck to the wall, hogging his left side and letting his right open for the space to swing Maegiaus conveniently, and crept along the dark cave.

The passage proved to be quite long, or the pace he was going at just made him feel that way. He was surprisingly calm; a certain saying that involved storm seemed to be true. And he found that he was not thinking about what lay ahead at all, but rather, what had brought him here. Chuckles escaped his lips.

"Heh heh. Who would have thought," he spoke to himself, "that I would be here, heading over to kill the evil overlord.

"Theodore, 'the Abaalythe Slayer.' Anyone with a sane mind wouldn't buy that shit...."

---

The bush shuffled, and Theodore shot up from his sittting position. "Who's there?" he questioned, hand grabbing at his sword.

"Ah, please, sir knight. I mean you no harm," answered a raspy, breathy voice. The bush parted and a figure walked out, his hands rose high in surrender. The simplest way to describe him was 'a tattered old man.' He looked like he should be in his seventies, or even well passed that. His hair was almost nonexitent, only a dry thin long puff of silver was left to dangle in front of his face; and with his sagging facial feature and a clouded over silvery eyes, further cemented his impression. The piece of cloth he wore was so tattered that a rag had never look better. Whatever color it used to be, it was now a color of dirt and mud. Holes and tears showed wrinkled skin and a skinny body underneath, but, surprisingly, not the vital parts that would rob the old man a title of public decency.

Even though the stranger said that, he could not buy it. For all the knight commander knew, he looked like a beggar, and a thief, desperate for money. "What do you want?" he spat, not wanting anything to do with him. The beggar only smirked; Theodore certainly did not like it.

"What do I want? Oh, no, no, no, no! I don't want nothing sir knight." Whether he meant he did want something or not was lost to Theodore. "I just wanted to see you! And Enyphilim helps, you are exacly what I thought you would be." The wording the strange man used was just plain weird.

"You speak like you know me." He stared at the man's eyes. He can saw through that fake enthusiasm, but those dull brown eyeballs exuded little to none hidden agenda.

"Well, this is the first time I've seen you, sir knight." He did not make any sense to him. "But!" The man suddenly raised his volume and lifted one finger, alarming Theodore. "As I was wandering around, a sudden golden light hit my eyes." He pointed to his two eyes energetically then extended his arm outward. "Oh, that brilliant light! It was soooo--"

The madman closed in on Theodore, not fearing the sword that has been unsheathed.

"-- beautiful," he finished his sentence.

"And how does this light concern me?" Theodore asked while levelling the sharp end of his weapon at the man's throat.

The stranger touched Theodore's chest with his finger; a dare move that resulted in a blade drawing blood from his flesh. "It does concern you. I follow that light here," paused him, as if for a dramatic effect, "Right where you are."

He was quite sure before and he still was, this man spelled trouble. But no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't back off. And he had not shown any ill will too, so he relegated to listen the dude out. Not going to lower his defense, though.

"Do you know what this mean?" the mysterious geezer continued, "You are no ordinary human. This aura, is of a man with a greater destiny than being a knight. Yes yes!" Lunatic, the way he talk worsened by the second. Bizarre, he closed in until they were face to face. "You, and only you, can wield the ultimate power known to man. The power of miracle that literally destroy the despair of darkness. The power of light."

Despite the stupidity of the situation, that last sentences got his partial attention. 'Power.' 'Darkness.' 'Light.' And that was not left unnoticed. "It seems I have piqued your interest, sir knight."

Theodore hate to admit. "Yes, you have. But not entirely." He adjusted his weapon to remind the man of what he meant.

"Heh heh. I'll tell you this then. I meant it when I said that great things await you. I can see into your future and it would happen as fate has written so. Wealth, fame, loyalty, servants, love; you'll earn all of them and more.

"Theodore, the Abaalythe Slayer."

Theodore's eyes widen. A warning bell rang in his mind -- how did he know his name? Had he been stalking him? But he always made sure no one followed him, so he must really possess the mystical power he claimed to have. And that title... Abaalythe slayer. The dreaded overlord, killed by him of all people?

"Ridiculous. No one can defeat that demon."

"Because no one bears the secret I'm about to tell you." That came from the farthest, most ignored side of the arena, if he was inside one. It did not discourage him from hearing it out, however. "The ultimate power, I'm going to tell you where it lies. But only if you decide to confront Abaalythe. And not as a knight under king's command, but as a free warrior who take it upon himself to end this terror."

It took him years to climb up the ranks, it was too much of a price to pay. "Can't you just tell me?"

"No. No one must know of this. If it's not you and just you then it won't do. The power will only kill the unworthy and bring about downfall of humanity should its existence be acknowledged by nations. You should know well; human lust for power. Wars, discord, chaos, all born from this nature alone. History always repeat itself and human will never truly change. So make a decision now. Fulfil your destiny, or cower inside that protective armor of yours."

Theodore was skeptical. Did he speak the truth? Why did it has to be him? How can he be capable of something this grand? He was just one knight, well, he was the commander of his own squadron but there must surely be someone of better caliber. But... a chance at defeating the dark lord; it was not something anyone can stumble upon. Should he grab it or not? Were not there any other options?

"Your deepest desire shall be granted along the way too."

His mind shut for almost a minute.

Wha--?

"Yes, sir knight, that impossible fantasy that has left you in despair for your whole life. It will come true. If you follow your intended path."

That was a low blow. His darkest secret was that, a secret. He wrote no journal, confessed to no creature, wailed to no one. Yet, this person hit the weakest spot of his heart, flooding his sense of logic with emotional dispute.

"You are just spewing nonsense," his tone fluctuated, "Why should I believe any words you say?"

The mysterious man smirked; he had got Theodore in his hands now. "You don't have to." He studied his reaction for a couple seconds. "It's up to you to decide. Choose wisely."

Inside the knight's head, there was a storm-a storm so violent it banged his nervous system and damaged his decision making nodes. Whether he told the truth or not did not matter any more as Theodore's trembling lips parted.

He agreed.

---

A year had passed since then. He left the knight duty, did mercenary and treasure hunting jobs to feed himself while preparing for the event that had transpired today; e.g., getting his hands on Maegiaus, contacting Daniel, researching facts about Abaalythe, developing strategies, etc. Looking back, he did not understand why he hesitated. It was not like there were anything to prevent him from breaking the promise. He could do whatever he wanted after he had learned the information. But the unnamed man was right, if he spilled the bean, consequences would be cataclysmic and humankind would lose, not only to demon, but also to themselves. Furthermore, he would not be able to sleep peacefully again if he abandoned that one hope for salvation and damned the whole world. This also applied to sitting by and doing nothing about the truth. Theodore bet that man had stalked him, or else how would he know his personality? Or how to best persuade him?

Wealth, fame, loyalty, servants? Who cared. Love and his darkest fantasy? Yes, please

It was not like he chose this because he wanted the rewards; those were little benefits for the good deed he was going to commit.

The end of the passage could not come sooner. A huge plain double obsidian doors loomed high over him; faint orangy red light leaked out of the edges giving him a sense of what lies ahead. This was it, he and Abaalythe were just a few paces away, the final showdown closing in. Only one shall prevail. Theodore clenched his great sword, felt its radiance fill him with bravery. He shut his eyes, past events shot into his mind randomly, and he opened them again, mind link in focus.

'Daniel. For everything that you have done for me, I cannot simply thank you enough,' he projected his thought, though he doubted his buddy will here it, 'You are always there to support me, help me. You even protect me from my negative emotions. You are my inspiration. You who are passionate in what you do, you who care those you hold dear. I became a knight to protect you. I may not be one currently but' He leveled Maegiaus with his eyes and grasped it with both hands. 'I swear, under the holy might of this sword, that I, Theodore, would take down Abaalythe with everything I have, for the sake of our past, present and future. May the power of light be with me.'

A step, a push, red heat engulfed the warrior.

Abaalythe's throne room, as Theodore decided to call it now, was vast and entirely different than the other parts of Granadat cavern. The slick obsidian surface was no more, replaced by the more familiar and natural looking rocks and stones. He traced his sight up the wall, red from the pool of magma beneath, until he saw the opening that let the heat and smoke out. Back at ground level, Theodore noticed the edge of the floor he stood on, so far he had to squint a little bit. From the contrast of color between the darker floor and the glowing wall, he knew that it would take him a long dive to hit the molten rock off the cliff.

It took no time for him to notice the throne, but quite some time to make out the details of a shaded humanoid sitting on it, legs crossed, head resting on an arm. Two red glowing balls fixated on him drawing ever nearer. It wore no garment, only wispy oily black smoke covering vital parts. Flesh extended out of main joints on its limbs, pointed like spikes. Two horns expanded horizontally from above its pointy ears, curved slightly upward then headed sideward again. Several smaller horns crowned its head and from there sprouted streams of white long hair that reached down to rest on its broad shoulders. Its body was toned and muscled; an able fighter. Minutiae became clearer the further he went, for examples, fuchsia color skin, pupil-less eyes, diamond-shaped scale, a lizard-like tail. All in all Abaalythe was what he had expected: fearsome, malevolent, devil, grim.

Abaalythe scorned at the presence of a human, indifferent to the fact that he was the first to reach his inner sanctum. Without saying anything, he idly waved his free hand, a wide-radius violent violet energy wave washed across the floor toward Theodore who cut it in half without any effort. This, in turn, instigated a change in the demon's expression and attitude.

"Oh? What's this, a mortal who can cut through my dark wave?" A corner of its lips lifted, it seemed delighted. "Amuse me then," announced the demon, snapping its fingers.

Theodore leapt out off the way almost too late when the spot he planted his feet on erupted into a geyser of dark energy, and again where he landed, and yet again where he lost his balance and fell. More trailed down after the rolling man who desperately dodged one attack after another. Theodore acted out of instinct. One more careful roll and he gained his footing, kicked off the ground, shot straight at Abaalythe. He saw a wicked toothy grin. His nervous system sent a warning signal for his organs to skid to halt a couple millimeters from getting douse in an energy tower in front of him. Abaalythe chortled.

"Good reflexes. Great senses. Exceptional skills. You are a beast in battle," said the bestial one itself, "I will surely enjoy this." Abaalythe rose from the throne and Theodore tensed up. Before, the abomination regarded him as a worthless pest and was not serious, but now that he had proven himself, the pressure was something else - he sweat just from being in the proximity.

Abaalythe reached his right arm forward. Black smoke that he emitted naturally intensified and gathered into a large ball that ate his forearm. He slowly drew it back, his hand visible again but it as if a more condensed form of darkness followed too. But if looked carefully, he was pulling a handle of sort out. When he pulled all the way it became clear what it was: a spear, his weapon of choice with infinite prowess, 'Ananta.' Its handle absorbed all color, maybe even light; while its head glistened and reflected light in a reverse fashion - blacker where light touched and whiter where it lacked. Disregard all that, it was a normal spear. Its simple design betrayed the power it held, like how its look betrayed common sense. He wondered if the human would be able to withstand it, he did not want the long-sought thrill of a battle to end soon.

"Human. Don't you have anything to say?" he asked, wondering why the human was awfully quiet.

Theodore was busy gazing at the demon's tool and stressing out he almost did not catch that question. Though not obligated he was compelled to reply by mannerism, "My name is Theodore, a wondering swordman. I am here to take on you, Abaalythe the demon. For years have you been attacking and terrorizing us human, it is time to pay for what you have done." He adjusted his stance so that he can fight properly and signaled the demon that he was ready.

Abaalythe chuckled at how formal the knight made it sounded like. This was just a fight between those with power, a savage form of entertainment where life was put on a line. He also put on a battle stance, lowering himself so much he was going to touch the floor.

For a couple of minutes, but felt like eternity to Theodore, they stared silently at each other. No one made the first move. It was when he thought he was going to die from the stress that Abaalythe took a step.

An unholy step that crossed the distance between them. The spearhead reflected in the eye it pointed at.

It took all his might to get out of the pseudo-paralyzed state he was in, and at the last second turned his head away. The spear scraped his cheek and left a shallow red line behind. Theodore was not out of red alert yet, a fist was coming his way and he received it square in the middle of his face. While he was lucky the helmet covered parts of his flesh, it could not absorb the impact and he was stunned long enough to be grabbed by the edge of chest plate, a spear in front of him again.

So he did not even have to use the power of Ananta at all, Abaalythe surmised, bored at the sudden end of his fun. He stood corrected when Theodore thrusted his sword up between them and rotated it sideway toward his arm so he had no choice but to release. Not letting this chance go to waste, Theodore leaned in and tackled with his shoulder. Abaalyth lost his balance. Theodore stepped in for a slash but not before Abaalythe regained his composure and deflected it with his spear. Now they were back at square one.

They exchanged blows like that for several times; someone or both of them rushed in, lashed out an attack, defended or dodged the adversary's attack, repeated. A certain fighter would laugh more and more hysterically each time something interesting happened, which was to say, everything about that fight itself. While another one would be more and more enraged every time the other cracked up. And the more emotional they were the grander their scale of attacks became. In short, the contrast atmosphere escalated exponentially to the time they spent and the upper limit of one was eventually met.

Theodore furrowed his brows as the devil incarnate bursted into a continuous fit of laughter now. There was nothing fun in this, nothing! How could it find enjoyment in this life and death situation? Was it humiliating his futile attemps at inflicting damage? The blade clashed, a thunderous noise resounded, both equal in might.

"Stop...," Theodore grumbled, staring intensely "Stop laughing."

Abaalythe did everything but that. "Why should I? I have never been this joyous for decades."

That only enrage the warrior further. "Joyous? This is no laughing matter!" He applied more pressure into Maegiaus. "I put my life and humanity's fate on the line here. You have no rights to laugh upon this battle. Fight me seriously abomination!"

"But I am," Abaalythe also pushed Ananta in, "Do you know that any normal mortal would be dead fifteen times by now? Gods above, you are truly magnificent. If only you wouldn't be this uptight this might be the best fight I've ever had."

A demon referring to gods, that put more salt into the gaping wound. It cannot be forgiven. Not only it ate lives and dreams, it defecated them out and humiliated them further with piss and spit. Theodore cried vigorously and put his feelings into his weapon. Maegiaus responded in kind and shone its brilliance, something it has never done before.

Abaalythe stopped laughing at last.

He wore a face of bemusement in its place.

"This can't be," came out softly from his mouth as he bent down closer to the offending sword, using it and Ananta as leverage.

Strange behaviours only translated to one thing for Theodore: an edge. He jerked Maegiaus back and flicked his wrists, bringing it down to the middle of the falling demon's head. He cursed when it met with a steel-hard tail of the demon.

Abaalythe hissed. The underside of his tail where it made contact with Maegiaus hissed. Theodore gagged from the black smoke rising out of Abaalythe's skin. The demon lashed his tail around desperately and managed to get free. He jumped back and steadied himself, eyes wide in disbelief.

He studied the still shining sword, and then his injury. It burnt through his scales that could survive any fire elemental spell thrown at. His regeneration did not kick in too - his wound stayed burnt like that. What in the world was that sword? How could it damage him like that?

Then he realized.

Ananta!

His spear looked fine, but his concern was not of its condition.

It was how that sword reminded him of Ananta. The sword was infused with power like Ananta; the power of light that penetrated his power of darkness.

Theodore recovered from couching to see Abaalythe eyeing Maegiaus. His facial features went from flabbergast to thoughtful, enlightened, angry and then happy. But for an instant, the way he smiled, or snarled... It almost as if he had accepted something. Like he had given up... It lasted not a second and it reverted back to the same devilish grin again.

"So that was it, huh," Abaalythe spoke, "A magical sword. How very lucky of you to get your hand on such a powerful item. Or should I say unlucky?

"Heh heh heh. You were right. This battle is not something to laugh at. It is more meaningful than a mere fight, but not for the sake of what you uphold."

He got a gist of what this might be about. "Tell me what it's all about then."

"Have you ever heard of destiny?"

That word again.

"You are destined to defeat me. Made to kill me. Led to end my rule. You will be victorious by the end of this fight."

He did not need an encouragement from an enemy, but it felt good to hear that. "How can you be so sure? We were at a stalemate just a while ago."

"The situation changes, young lad." Theodore did not miss the way Abaalythe addressed him changed too. "With that sword emitting light like that, I doubt you would lose. I'm at a disadvantage here." Talking casually like this, the menacing air the demon emitted vanished. Theodore found himself relaxed like he was chatting with another gentle soul. "Why didn't you do that before."

"I couldn't. This is the first time I can use this technique. Your laugh was so infuriating that I used it out of anger." It was frightening that he knew he was chatting nonchalantly with the most evil entity in the Enyphilim. 'He' certainly did not look so evil in this moment. Theodore even noticed that he regarded Abaalythe as a 'person' instead of a 'creature' now.

"Haha. Then I should laugh more." Abaalythe chortled felt genuine to him. "I want my last fight to be special."

That sentence roused an emotion inside him. An emotion he had not expected to have toward him. Sympathy. "Why don't you do anything about it... Destiny, I mean. You and that hermit... Why do you all cling to it. Why don't you try and change the way your life play out?"

Abaalythe had this look of a father looking over his son. "Are you asking to be defeated yourself?"

Theodore tensed. "That's not what I meant."

"Kidding." Huh, he even had a sense of humor, Theodore thought. "Like I said, there's a little something behind it. A machination, you can call. While my life will end, I gladly accept it for the sake of fulfilling my goal."

"I don't understand."

"You will," Abaalythe chuckled darkly, lifting his spear again. "After you defeat me, you will. And so will I. Now come. Let me indulge in this fantasy of mine. Let's finish this battle with all of our might. So we can get the ending we all desire." The tension of a battle to death came back with a vengeance. Theodore got ready himself, two hand holding Maegiaus in front of him. The chat earlier forgotten for the concentration he needed to do his job.

Instead of coming forward like before, Abaalythe relegated to using his power. From where he stood waves, balls, bolts of energy formulated, radiated and then homed back in on the warrior. Theodore did not panic, he knew the light of Maegiaus can be projected now. He only needed to focus and tweak...

There, a sphere of light covered him like a barrier. With more thoughts he created a light version of Abaalythe's attack, shot them out, and negated their counterpart into thin air. Theodore charged forward, Maegiaus bright white. Geysers of dark energy blasted randomly but it had no effect on his defense. It turned out that its purpose was to distract him when he lost sight of Abaalythe behind one geyser.

Theodore concluded that the demon must be somewhere around here, so he extended the length of his weapon so long it reached all the way to the cliff, and rotated in full circle. It cut all the geysers there were and cleaved into the cavern wall, but Abaalythe was nowhere in sight. And that was because he was directly above Theodore. The demon's shadow were cast elsewhere when Theodore became the brightest light source. The error was acknowledged when he was hit with a powerful slash that cut his barrier in half. He raised Maegiaus in time to counter series of quick jabs.

Abaalythe was ecstatic. He did not restrain himself for the sake of challenge like before and yet the man fought him vigilantly. Driven to fight, he focused the power inside him and Ananta. Dark aura coated both bodies and on their skin grew runic symbols, injecting them with devastating strength. His muscle bulged obsenely, his fangs and claws grew more sinister, sharper and thicker. Its blade multiplied and lengthened, its handle sprouted a long purple tuft that spewed its own trailing wispy smoke.

Theodore mirrored his move, coating themselves in light. This tremendous ability to learn and adapt in an instant was a trait that had always made him stand out from the rest. Not that he ever noticed. His armor was pure white and so was Maegiaus; wherever they went a thick tail of light would be left behind.

After some heated exchanges of blow, Abaalythe kicked at Theodore's chest, distanced them for the time to do a more flashy attack. He spun Ananta around himself: circling on his side one time, drawing it across in front of him to the other side, making another round then back. He repeated until a three-dimensional, turn-overed '8' shape, a symbolization of 'infinity,' made from Ananta's smoke formed. An inky line swirled smoothly and, over time, accumulated into a wild, wicked, crazy vortex surrounding Abaalythe; thicker on the side and thinner on the front. He then flung it forward; the thin part torn apart and reconnected as two black rings.

Theodore, who had recuperated, gathered the power to counter it, though he did not anticipate the merging of two rings. Usually, one and one is two, but in this case, one powerful energy ring and another equals one chaotic energy turbulence hell five times its past size. It hit Maegiaus hard, pushing the weapon holder behind back; white boots dug into the earth carving trails, but that was not all. It was a whirlpool of writhing whipping energy, and Theodore learned its property the hard way when one, then two, then ten more, line made it way around Maegiaus and hit him hard. Their dark power penetrated the blessed armor and damaged him directly. He screamed in pain while being engulfed in darkness.

Inside the whirlpool was all black, only slightly darker or less dark than the rest to show how dense the dark whips in that area was. He knew it was pointless, but he still held position to lessen the damage to his front. The pain was excruciating but he endured; to get out alive he had to concentrate. Teeth gritted, brows furrowed, he shut off all external senses....

---

Theodore floated aimlessly, seeing nothing. Before, he would not be able to see. There was a difference - one that developed in the midst of battle. He tried to stand up which only made him rotated, reminded of the nothingness and directionlessness of this place.

He had been here once. He had 'woken' up to this place when he had poured a part of him into Maegiaus. He had been greeted with an outburst of light and he had gone back with more power. Now he needed that power again. He must be stronger to overcome Abaalythe.

A figure came into view.

It was far away and he could not make any details, but that was definitely a person. He thought he was inside Maegiaus, so the prospect of someone being here together with him was unimaginable.

The figure turned toward him and reached out.

He did not know how to react, so he reached out too.

White washed over him.

---

It felt like minutes to Theodore but in fact time barely passsed at all in the real world. There was no way to know that since he was still engulfed. The detached mind caught up with physical injuries inside the armor, and he muttered a cry. They stung, they hurt, they bleed. They jostled his senses awake and, by sheer luck, brought his eyes over to the less crowded side of turbulence. A dull vague humanoid shape had a swirling black ring above it.

Oh no.

Theodore flexed his muscle and tested his sword. The pressure at it was lifted somewhat, the majority of it dispersed to everywhere else around him. He worked fast, emitted more energy, and pushed at Maegiaus. He drew strength from his waist, his boots pressed firm agaist the ground while he spun. The pushing motion changed into pulling as Maegiaus weaved through the mud-like consistency of its surroundings. He struggled with it and finally, like a band of rubber snapping, sweeped his sword horizontally in full circle.

Abaalythe saw movements from inside so he threw the dark ring at it. His brain screeched, he jumped up high. The dark ring, along with the violent dome were cut in half in an instant, a white expanding circular edge flew and scraped a bit of his tail. At the epicenter stood a shining warrior, brighter and more elegant than ever. He upped the level again.

Theodore seized the chance and leapt after his combatant. He shot over Abaalythe, raising his sword high and channelled his newfound power. Maegiaus bursted with all shade of color and reached toward the sky. This was it, the final blow. There were no ways he can dodge it, suspended in the air. Seconds became hours as he brought the enormous weapon down.

And made contact with the earth.

He rollled over himself helplessly in the air, Maegiaus cut through hard rocks like they were butter and momentum returned it to the starting point, fully rotated. Under this upside down state did Theodore see what happened.

Abaalyhte had grown a pair of wings. He transformed further again! White long hair tipped with black, stocky strong arms and digitigrade legs of a beast, he was not even hunamoid anymore as he looked more beastial than ever. He tipped his head back, Ananta floated magically over him, changed beyond recognition. He can only made out the blade which was three times as long as itself used to be and twice as wide. Dark infinities made up of smoke lined up into numerous rings that ran along its length. Abaalythe spewed more dark energy from his open mouth, feeding more power into Ananta and thickening its aura. Rings of symbol started turning one by one, as if counting down for launching.

Abaalythe turned the table completely with the one flaw in Theodore's earlier plan.

It too can be used against him.

With an ear-breaking roar, Abaalythe unleashed the demon lance upon Theodore.

It thrusted passed his suspended body.

An earthshaking explosion swallowed every sounds and sights of the brave hero.

Panting, wheezing, the beast of darkness was barely able to move. That was all he had got, the most condensed form of his and Ananta's power. He used almost all his energy in one ultimate attack, which should hurt more than a hundred times of what he had done before. Even the explosion ceased to disperse.

So victory was his. A part of him delighted in this little achievement but another cried 'at what cost?' He just enjoyed fighting so much he had to prevent which was supposed to happe--

His thought was cut short, or rather, his torso was cut through. Dark red, almost black blood accompanied Abaalythe's choke. His beast form collasped, turned into dust as the humanoid version of himself toppled and fell from the sky. Eyes wide, he saw a pair of disappearing light feather wings, a back of a man with no armors on, a giant white lance that reminded him of Ananta, and gradually descending Theodore nearby.

He hit the ground unceremonously, lying face up. Abaalythe felt numb. He could not move any part of him at all. Ah, so this was what dying felt like. It was less painful than he imagined. But he cannot die yet, not like this...

Theodore came into his line of sight. That face was hard to read. He did not seem delighted to have him dead, even if that was what he came for. Oh, the irony, he giggled. Grimaced, even that hurt him from the core. "You... win," he struggled to say, "How did you survive that attack?"

"I didn't. I died, if for a moment. And then this armor." The human pointed to his armorlesss chest, his shirt torn to show scarred skin underneath. "Oh it's not here anymore. Anyways, you might not notice but this armor is a powerful artifact too. It heals its wearer of any wounds gradually. And, with pure luck, the power of light in my sword amplifies its healing power to the point of resurrection. My life was lost and brought back up, even more powerful thanks to Maegiaus." He made a motion to signify what 'Maegiaus' was. "But I guess this power is really absolute. My armor couldn't withstand the stress and broke apart when I charged at you." The human had that look of longing. It was a beloved armor, Abbalythe surmised.

He cracked up badly. "First a weapon of light, now an artifact that tuned itself to a different power source. You are one lucky bastard. A good trait for a chosen one like you."

Theodore's face took a grim turn at the word 'chosen.' He crouched down besides his bleeding body and placed Ananta, a normal version of it, on top of him. "I need to talk with you."

He would gladly answer anything. "Go ahead."

"What do you get from all this?"

That was too vague. "Come again?"

"Destiny. What do you get from following it? I keep thinking and it doesn't make sense. Your past doings, while evil, they serve no real purposes. I always reasoned that was because you are nothing but an amalgamation of evil, but apparently, you are as a person as anyone can be. All that empty raids... Were that destined to you too? Don't you... Don't you have a will of your own?"

An explanation would be too long. He cannot elaborated all of that in his waning state. Time was of an asset here. "I do have. This path I paved was all my decisions to fulfill my dream. If it coincides with destiny then it's just that, a coincidence."

Theodore cannot accept that. "Why would anyone choose his death?"

"Why would anyone sympathize with their enemy?" Abaalythe retaliated.

"Because..." Theodore trailed off, unable to answer it in a reasonable sense. So Abaalythe took it in himself to finish that sentence.

"Because you are a seriously compassionate person. A goody two shoes. A naive kind soul that, while can be swayed effortlessly, held dearly to his ideal of a world.

"I am not like you. You don't have to try to understand me, just accept that this is what I want."

Theodore crunched his hands and also his face. His body trembled with boiling emotions. "I don't want it to end like this."

"Damn, you are too naive." The dying demon opened his mouth to groan but instead coughed up more blood. "But that might be a good thing... The world need more people like you..." After a quick pause, he continued, "Can you tell me one thing?" Abaalythe smiled, getting a nod as a reply. "What is your dream?"

Theodore did not seem to understand why he wanted to know, but he answered without hesitation, "A better world. Where we all live without fear or conflict."

Abaalythe could not believe this mortal. So innocent it should be a crime. Nevertheless, he liked this one, and the world he strived to create. It was definitely different than his. "Too idealistic. But I know you can pull it off."

"Thank you," Theodore appreciated sheepishly.

The pool of blood touched Theodore's socks, his boots went with all the armor. It would not be long before the dark lord left this world and he wanted to observed everything, feeling as if what he experienced here would changed him to a better person. Abaalythe choked again.

"Theodore." The surprise that he remembered his name was indescribable. "Do me one more favor. Before I die, dump me into lava."

"Why would--"

"Just do it," he interrupted, "Consider it a dying man's wish."

Unable to decline, he scooped up the demon, his garments stained with dark blood forever. The once menacing demon's body was so light, limbs hanging limply, life draining away from the clutches of his arms. The warrior carried him as he would any comrade, and walked grimly to the cliff.

A faint 'thank you' was heard before he dropped the dying male into the red pool below. He sunk down quickly, sizzling sounds and smoke surfaced for but a second, and the fuchsia form was consumed.

The dark lord was no more.

The era of terror was gone as he had desired. But no feeling of accomplishment filled him.

With no one to congratulate him, or console this raging turmoil, he screamed. His bitter shout filled the spacious room, as empty as his heart. The so-called devilish figure was just a pawn in a board, played cold-heartedly by fate and destiny. He felt sad for him, someone he barely knew and yet they founded a connection. Would his minions cried for him? He did not know.

No one should ever feel the same way again. He made up his mind, and yelled to both hell and heaven.

After minutes of pouring all his heart's contents out, he slouched down; his knee by the edge of the ground, worn out physically and mentally. He... He needed some rest... He hoped Daniel would catch up with him soon, so at least he would have someone to talk to.

His eyes were only half way shut when an earthquake woke him up. Adrenaline pumped into his blood vessel as a sense of dread overcome him. This was not natural, while the volcano was here, there had been no records of it erupting before. But if it was indeed going to erupt then he had to get out of here; and together with Daniel!

No matter what he did, the communication link would not come up. He frantically stood up while turning around. The lack of strength made him lost his balance.

He tipped back toward the pool of lava.

A feeling of vertigo came with a grim realization; the source of his power, Maegiaus, laid near the black pool of blood, far from reach and his armor, the avid supporter, was all but shattered.

There was nothing he can do now. 'A lucky bastard' he was, getting killed by tripping his own legs and falling into magma. His feet left the ground to join the rest of his body in a freefall. Everything happened in slow-motion as his mind charged. Past memories resurfaced, just like how storyteller fantasized the moment before death be. He cried. Not for how unfortunate he was, but for how he was not able to keep the promises he made. He muttered sorry countless times, the majority of them directed to Daniel and Abaalythe. Tears flowed freely as he mourned in despair. He did not want to die. He had been there once and it was frightening. Anything but death.

He wanted to live.

Like answering his call, the dormant liquid heat directly under him bubbled, boiled and ultimately shot upward. Theodore felt the surge ate him up; searing heat surrounded his leather hide and burned it into crisp. Some luck; his death had to be hasten too, he complained as darkness of unconciousness consumed him.

....

Which did not make much sense. Burned to death should be an unbearable event where the pain would always wake you up from any shock experienced, and somehow this was different. He opened his eyes and see for himself what was going on. He was in a sphere of flowing magma and he was still very alive. This was insane. It must be higher than three thousand degree in here, and yet he breathed effortlessly. A tap of finger into the lava wall did not leave him with burn mark either. What sorcery was this....

"Whoa whoa. Not so lucky this time, hero?"

This voice, he knew it. But that could not be.

The spherical structure around him splitted. Five petals blossomed and revealed the little human inside. His eyes as wide as eggs.

Horizontally grown horns, flowing hair, a mouth full of canines, a giant lava golem version of Abaalythe greeted the bewildered hero. Puzzled beyond believe, Theodore cannot say a thing.

"Surprise? I bet you are. But this is what I was talking about. 'When you defeat me, you'll understand everything.' And this--"

Abaalythe clenched again, reintroducing Theodore to the confinement that was his hand.

"--is how I'm going to tell you."

The lava figure ducked into the pool where it sprouted from. The tremor quieted down, the red pool stilled. The room returned to the usual state, puffing out heat and glowing silently as if nothing had ever transpired above the liquid surface.

---