"You will die by this war you tark!"
-Heard by the general of the Jalis army on number 2,566.
Coras threw a right hook, the elf in red caught it, giving the elf in yellow enough time to kick his helm, forcing him to stumble back. Red is likely in his nineteenth century, Coras though. The older an elf was the more powerful they were likely to be. Yellow may be in his eighth.
As Coras stumbled, an elf in black appeared behind him, using a knife that somehow dug into his armor. An assassin, Coras concluded. He didn't know what kind of knife was capable of piercing osmium, and he didn't particularly care. He stopped himself, taking a step forward.
Coras waited, there had been three that confronted him, there were two others. However, Red didn't seem to be the patient type as he palmed Coras's chestplate, forcing him to stumble several feet back.
Another elf in blue struck his helm with the butt of his spear, knocking his head back. He immediately stumbled sideways as his side got punched several times, actually denting the eight-inch thick osmium.
They swarmed him, striking him before the last one finished their attack. Coras had to admit they were good, though centuries of fighting with one another had likely grown their cooperation. It was still quite the feat.
Each one a master among masters of the art they displayed. Their consistent teamwork forced Coras back, and to them, it likely seemed as though they didn't give him time to move.
They were mostly right. To a normal person, human, elf, Paipite, even arch-sassacre's wouldn't stand a chance. But they aren't fighting them, Coras thought to himself, uncaring for the damage that was being done.
He turned the moment something powerful struck his side. He looked to see Yellow striking again and again with fists, not as strong as Red, yet much stronger than the others. Did I misjudge, Coras thought, perhaps he's over his first millenia.
An arrow struck Coras's side where Black had pierced, getting through the rest of the armor and actually striking him. Coras stumbled back again, now on the edge of the chasm. He looked to where the arrow came from, and spotted another elf in green about one-hundred paces away on a thick tree branch.
"You're not as impressive as I thought," Red said, pulling out a sword from its sheath, pointing it at Coras. "You are judged, and judgment has decided your fate."
Red spun, faster than even Coras could see, Kicking him straight in the chest. Sending him a good twelve feet from the edge of the chasm, he fell for a few moments before crashing into the water beneath.
"I'm a little disappointed," Frustration said, "and here I thought we would actually fight something worth our time."
"If that's the case then we should keep you disappointed," Anger said. "That man was strong. And his armor was strange."
"I agree," Break commented. "My knife couldn't get through, Contemplative had to strike him in the same spot."
"It doesn't matter how strong his armor is, he can't survive a fall like that." Frustrated spoke with annoyance, as if he hated the very idea of fighting someone so weak.
But he wasn't weak, Anger thought to himself. That human was stronger than the rest, strong enough to kill twelve well trained Elves with the wave of his arms. He shouldn't have been beaten so easily.
Yes, the Silcureuss guard was far stronger than others. Yes, they're teamwork was such that no-one would be able to focus on any one of them.
But that man felt different, he felt like he was simply testing how strong they were. Perhaps in order to gauge his likelihood for victory.
As the idea crossed his mind, Anger and the other four froze. Something happened in the chasm, something wrong, something enigmatic.
"Back in formation!" Anger shouted.
The other four swiftly complied, Break and Contemplative disappearing from Anger's view. Calm and Frustrated getting in their own unique fighting stances, Anger raising his sword.
The blade was seven feet in length and made from top-grade titanium. Its durability and resistance to corrosion complimented Anger's own lifespan. And the sheath was equally impressive.
Strapped to his back, it's been designed to open on both sides, allowing for ease of access to the blade. The side openings are locked securely in place, only able to open into the sheath. A small latch near the blade's hilt triggered the sides to open outward—a clever design.
Coras leaped from the chasm, hanging in the air for a moment before landing several meters from the chasm's edge. He looked up, finding that each elf appeared to be in a fighting stance.
"This is your one and only chance!" Coras shouted. "I must require you to leave the land the humans have claimed, and accept an agreement that separates you from your enemies!"
The Elves looked at him curiously, Red, the one in front, seemed to consider his words. Coras didn't care, but if they accepted he could get back to his hunt, rather than waste time killing Elves. Red lowered his weapon, swaying back and forth for a moment.
"You wish for peace?" Red asked.
Coras nodded.
"Then it will come with our death," Red said, raising his blade once again.
Coras sprinted the second after Red's answer. Red made an overhead swing, clashing into Coras's armored arms.
The two continued back, Coras's momentum left him running. Meanwhile Red's sword stayed in place, forcing Red's feet to dig into the ground for an extended moment until they came to a stop.
"You are quite strong," Coras said, acknowledging the sheer power it would take to not only stop Coras, but to maintain his form while being forced back.
Red said nothing, but just like before the other Elves weren't very far behind. Coras's helm took a blow from Yellow's fist, followed immediately by Black's dagger to his side once again.
This time however, Coras didn't simply let them attack. He raised his foot, then smashed the ground. The resulting shockwave scattered the Elves and caused an enormous cloud of dust to form.
Coras turned around, but stopped the moment he felt the wait. It was heavy, heavy enough to make taking a single step a struggle. When the dust settled, Coras looked down.
Red was bear hugging Coras, and though he couldn't reach all the way around, it still slowed him greatly.
Two arrows flew Coras's way, Coras immediately smacked them away. He then kicked forward, taking Yellow by surprise and sending him flying. He reached his hand to the side, grabbing Blue's falling spear, snapping it in his grip.
Coras reached for Red, only to immediately move his hand to his right, grabbing something. He lifted it to see Black trying to pry Coras's hand apart from his neck. An arrow stuck in Coras's foot, again piercing through the osmium armor.
Coras threw Black at Green, then exchanged a blow with Yellow. Coras backhanded him, who had appeared on his side with blurring speed, with a powerful blow. Yellow had dented his helm but was sent into a tree, and didn't get up. Coras considered he could be faking but turned back to the others.
Each elf moved at impossible speeds, their strength and dexterity was unmatched. And though Coras seemed to be overpowering them, their bodies were so durable and their strength enhanced to the point that stopping every blow, as well as delivering them did a fair amount of damage.
Of course the osmium armor prevented them from actually getting to him, but their weapons were somehow able to pierce through.
Overall, the one thing that kept the Elves from maintaining a somewhat even footing with him was Red.
Coras looked down at him again. His strength and weight were enhanced through the arts more than Coras ever thought possible. He had seen his fair share of Elves, the arts were supposed to be painful, excruciatingly so.
And everything had its limits. Except for this elf. However, Coras had no interest in this elf's abilities.
Another few arrows flew at Coras in quick succession. Coras smacked a few away but got hit in the helm. Blue quickly kicked Coras back, and Coras's gut was met with Black yet again. Before he could get away however, Coras gripped, keeping Black in place.
"What are you!" Black screamed.
Coras ignored the elf, then slammed him into the ground. Blood splattered everywhere. And though the elf had created a small crater in the ground, he still appeared to be alive, though unconscious.
Coras caught another arrow from hitting his helm in the same spot as last time, then looked up. Green was still perched on top of a tree, taking aim for another shot. Where was he getting that many arrow's? Coras spotted Blue, throwing more at him.
It appears their strategy now that the close quarter combatants were out, was to wear him out, and possibly hope for a lucky blow. It was a sound strategy.
With Red keeping him in place, Blue supplying arrows as well as taking Coras's attention whenever he tried to go for Red, and Green shooting him with those strange arrows to both do damage and support Blue. It would work.
On a normal person.
Coras reeled back a fist, Blue immediately tried to get his attention away from Red, but Coras wasn't aiming for Red.
He smashed his fist into the ground. Dust bursted out, and Blue tried getting to Coras from the side, using the dust as camouflage. Coras grabbed him however, then slammed him into the ground also, knocking him unconscious.
Blue had assumed Coras made the distraction to get to Red, but in reality, Coras was making sure Green couldn't support Blue with another arrow. Arrows flew regardless, hitting Coras a dozen times.
Coras' armor began weakening, but he continued, walking slowly toward a tree. Green had apparently taken it upon himself to gather the arrows. Risky, considering who was near them.
Coras reached the nearest tree, gripped it with one gauntleted hand, then ripped it out of its roots. He swung the tree like a bat, narrowly missing Green as he skid to the ground. Green brought out another arrow, his last, and defied the grounds purchase on him. He got up right next to Coras with a pulled back bow, then fired.
The arrow stuck right through where Coras's visor should have been. Red released his grip, then fell back, breathing heavily.
"Flames," Anger said, "I've never met someone so powerful in my life."
"It is impressive," Contemplative added. "I've certainly never known a human to match us in strength, let alone you."
"Check Break, his injury looked bad," Anger said. "I'll check Frustration."
Contemplative nodded.
"No need," a voice spoke out.
Both Anger and Contemplative looked to see Frustration walking over to them with a limp.
"I'm already healing," Frustration added, coughing. "Check Calm, he suffered the same injury as Break."
Anger nodded, moving to Calm. He was alive thankfully, they all were it seemed. This would be a bad time for the humans to invade, Anger thought. The front guard was dead and the Silcureuss guard were all but.
Frustration sighed, "well, regardless of."
Frustration was cut off when an impossible force smashed into him, sending flying toward the chasm, and falling in.
"Frustration!" Contemplative screamed, dashing after his brother at blinding speed.
Anger pulled back just in time, though the palm still forced him back from the pure wind pressure of it. Anger looked up, the man in armor was alive, not only that, but he seemed to be able to fight as it ripped the arrow from its eye.
Anger gritted his teeth. Calm and Break were down. Contemplative was saving Frustration.
Anger removed his massive seven foot blade from the sheath off his back. With his strength enhanced, the blade felt as light as paper. A one v one, Anger thought. Not something he was confident in winning, but his honor wouldn't allow him to step aside.
He raised his blade, then charged. His first thrust was knocked away with an indifferent hand, he sped up. His thrust turned into a spin that aimed for the armored giant's waist. The blade stuck in, cutting through a good amount of the material, he increased his strength.
The armored giant swung both hands as if to clap, Anger increased his dexterity, bent backwards, dodging the attack, and backflipping back. The moment Anger landed from his flip, he immediately jumped forward, his weight decreasing as he did so.
Anger's weight then returned to normal, then doubled, then increased far further as he kicked the armored giant with both feet, as if he had been falling in that direction. The armored giant stumbled back from the blow.
Anger flipped, spun, and jabbed. The armored giant swung an arm, causing Anger to immediately bend backwards. The giant however, followed up with an armored knee to Anger's back.
Anger quickly sheathed his sword, the fine titanium sword and scabbard took the majority of the damage. The rest however, was inconsequential with Anger's body enhanced durability.
Anger was thrown several paces from the blow, his increased weight made even the armored giant's blow have little effect. Though the armored giant once again proved to be impatient as he jumped through the air, landing mere inches from Anger.
Anger however, was impatient himself as he had palmed the armored giant in the same instant as his landing, causing him to stumble. Anger pushed him forward, swinging his blade, cutting through that impossibly strong armor.
Though the armored giant proved to be quite the powerhouse himself. He was a master in hand to hand combat, and had the strength to compete with Anger's own. It was honestly a shame that he and this supposed human were meant to be enemies.
Anger moved with the perfection only a millennia of training could provide. He swung his blade with startling accuracy. It wasn't just his skill with the blade however, it was the manipulations of the arts at a level few ever managed.
Anger was a prodigy, third son, perfect body. What most Elves agonized in pain over, Anger did without notice. His strength, speed, dexterity, weight, all of it was increased sixty fold. He was born with the perfect body after all, he was the incarnation of the arts themselves.
With his thirteen hundred years of life, he had perfected this power. A level of mastery that hasn't been seen in generations.
Anger felt it a moment later, the twisting in his gut, the nausea swirling on his mind. He jumped back, avoiding yet another attack. Then looked up to see the pure miasma flowing off the human. It was enough to make him sick.
Anger growled however, a primal growl then vibrated throughout his body, resisting the miasma. He raised his blade again.
The armored giant's armor was beaten soundly. Dozens of dents, and an almost equal number of cuts. One cut was across the waist and should have killed the man from blood loss by now. But he had also been shot through the helm with an arrow and still lived.
What is this thing? Anger thought. It couldn't be a human nor an elf. Anger glanced behind himself, catching Contemplative helping his unconscious brother from the edge of the chasm. Those two would likely be unable to help him.
Anger turned his focus back on the armored giant. He scowled at the enormous creature that stood before him. The armor giant once again didn't seem to want to wait as he charged.
Anger took a defensive stance with his blade having been sheathed. It was obvious this creature couldn't be killed, but the dents in the armor seemed to have some effect.
Anger exhaled slowly. His blood surged like fire beneath his skin. Fifteen paces. That's all that stood between him and the thing that wore armor like skin.
He clenched his fist.
Tenfold. His knuckles cracked. Thirtyfold.
The arts continued.
Sixty. His arm trembled from the inside out. Muscle fiber hissed like wire drawn taut. Eighty-five. The nausea hit, deep and sudden. His body screamed for balance.
One hundred and twelve.
He'd never gone that far before—not even in training. This wasn't art anymore. This was annihilation.
He launched forward, fist pulled back, every ounce of rage compressed into a single strike. His form was perfect. It had to be.
They collided.
Coras swatted at Red, whose speeds were nothing short of extraordinary. Though Coras didn't care, he did keep an eye on that blade however. The enormous weapon was capable of piercing his armor.
If too much more damage was done, it'd take weeks to repair. Weeks of him not being able to chase his prey.
That elf was like a snake. While not initially dangerous, it could possess poison. Eventually however, the elf blurred, nearly disappearing to his sight, then stopped forty paces away.
The elf glanced behind him for a split second, then turned his focus back to Coras, glaring daggers. Coras took a hardy step, then propelled himself forward with a charge.
He clenched his fist then threw it as if he was going to gut punch the elf. Throwing every ounce of momentum he had…
They collided.
It was not thunder that sounded—it was worse. The air around them folded. Grass tore from soil. Trees bowed in reverence or fear as the shock wave sent nearly eighteen and a half tons of osmium back.
Coras's gauntlet practically exploded and the vambrace cracked through to the elbow. Coras smashed through a tree and into a boulder, which cracked from the impact.
The recoil ended there for Coras, the elf however, was sent flying and Coras had distinctly felt something shatter in the collision.
Anger felt his arm practically blow off.
Normally, an elf would increase their defense along with their strength. Not this time. Though if his form had been even a fraction from perfect, his arm would be gone. Fortunately, a millennium of training had its benefits.
He flew backward through the air, pain flooding his senses. Something shattered—no, everything shattered.
He saw his arm in pieces. Felt the wrongness from elbow to fingertip. But he was still conscious.
Still breathing.
Still angry.
He set his jaw, then forced himself to look back at the armored giant. His armor was so beaten, yet his energy remained the same. A fluke, Anger thought.
This creature had fought and beaten the Silcureuss guard, the most powerful force on the face of the planet Ezrial. He would be near to collapsing.
Anger stopped thinking calmly, he let his blood boil hot, he let his nature, his very name take control.
He flipped, then decreased his weight, floating down the final ten feet. He only spared a fraction of a second to acknowledge he was near the human's gate on the other side of the chasm.
Anger took his sword with his off hand. He'd mastered using it centuries ago, then cut off his left. Then with an effort, he forced healing into the elbow, which had taken a ridiculous amount of damage itself. His arm began to grow back.
The art's way of 'healing' was unnatural, though Anger had given up on understanding it. It only took moments for the bones to be replaced, the muscle and skin came shortly after.
Anger tossed the hilt of his blade between hands, then locked on to his prey. Not his opponent, his prey. That man in that armor, that cowered who hid beneath that strange metal.
So tired, Anger thought, he always felt tired after replacing a limb. It was easier than resenting the bones, but it was costly. He didn't have much left in him, so he raised his blade above his head, then let it swing, pointing downward.
It was enormous, but not too long that he could perform this maneuver. He raised the blade like a javelin, holding the hilt attached to the seven foot blade. Then put everything he had into increasing his strength like he had before. It wasn't as much as before, but anger fueled it this time.
He threw his blade with everything he had, then succumbed to darkness.
Coras began walking back, his job here was done. If the Elves came back… well, that was no matter to him. He would stop at Harlem's mansion to receive compensation for a gifted boon, then return to his hunt.
He looked up, what was that figure on the other side of the chasm? Coras continued walking, the figure was the elf Coras had punched. The elf cut off his own arm, letting a new one grow back. Then raised his blade.
It only took a moment, a blur even to Coras's eyes. The seven foot blade rammed into his gut, piercing through both sides of his armor. The force was immense enough to force Coras to fall on his backside.
He looked down at the blade that pierced through his gut, then back up at the elf who he could no longer see.
He stood up, slowly pulled the blade out, and tossed it aside. If a blade was necessary, he would have a pulxed blade like that one made from osmium, not an inferior metal. Plus, the blade did not belong to him.
He walked back, leaving those who had given him the greatest challenge in a very long time.