"Alrighty, we're here," Chad said, standing in the middle of a dark forest. "So, we should probably get a campfire started or something, since, y'know, it's hard to see."
Arthur nodded his head, looking over at Chad. "Yeah?" Chad asked. "Uh, are you gonna make the fire?" Arthur asked him. Chad laughed and shook his head. "Nah, I dunno how to do that stuff. Buuuutt, I can yell motivational quotes while my family does the work."
'What?'
"Aren't you the strongest, though?" Arthur said, clearing his throat after, hoping to have not offended him. "Yeah, so? Just cause someone can bench 500 pounds doesn't mean they can build a house. I just watch TV all day and do what I want, and I've never really felt like starting a fire before. Well, no, there was that one time I threw a molotov cocktail at a school bus, but that was the voices in my head telling me to do stuff, not me."
The family quietly gathered wood and began working on starting a fire, while Chad yelled at them.
"The only limits you have are yourself! Uh, dattebayo! Yay! Yay! Um, keep grinding! Time to rise and grind! Yeehaw!"
The family built a fire, not a word having been said from them. Chad clapped his hands, before sitting down around the campfire, smiling playfully. Arthur looked down at him, still standing, and felt a legitimate fear in his heart.
From everything Arthur knew, Chad wasn't much of a fighter. Though titled "The Strongest," he didn't seem to care about anything regarding conflict or combat. But his power was apparent, with someone of unknown strength being killed instantly.
More than that, it was the lack of retaliation from everyone else. These people had known Chad for perhaps all their life, yet even when he killed their father, or brother, they did nothing to retaliate. Not even a word.
Chad didn't seem to completely despise his parents. Yet, nonchalantly, as if making his mind up for what he was to eat for dinner, he killed his own father.
Chad couldn't be trusted. Not relied on as an ally, or a friend. He was a child given the power of a king, where lives were at stake solely according to his whim.
Thinking that, Arthur's eyes narrowed when he saw Chad. It was a frightening experience, yet all he could muster towards Chad was contempt at the moment.
Sure, Chad considered Arthur a friend in the present. But if he was willing to kill his father over what was as simple as a friend's disgust, then being regarded as a "friend" wasn't enough to consider oneself safe.
Perhaps it would be even safer if Chad didn't consider him anything at all. In that way, Chad wouldn't spend as much time with him, and so Arthur would be safer because Chad wouldn't have more opportunities to change his mind.
'I don't think I can rely on him for anything. I might be better off not thinking of him as something that can save me.'
"Ah, now I'm hungry. Moon, the moon's out, so can you go get some KFC? I'm hungryyyy," Chad whined. He looked at Moon with puppy eyes, and Moon stammered to his feet. "Uh… yeah, I—"
Before he could finish his sentence, within the light sky of the night, over 20 black dots were spotted. Chad noticed them, tilting his head. "Oop, nevermind, I think they're here."
What happened next was, from Arthur's perspective, a loud crashing noise, dirt being blown and his own body catapulted up, slamming into a large tree branch with enough force to rip it off of the tree. He tumbled and spun, before slamming into grass and leaves, his clothes being dirtied.
He coughed up dirt which had gotten into his mouth, before he climbed to his feet with difficulty, holding his back. He'd initially thought it had broken, but when he was able to stand, he felt dumb for thinking that.
'The fuck was that? Wait, what'd Chad say? "They're here?" Who's here? Oh, wait, no, we're here to lure people out.'
He exhaled with force, letting out a small "fuck." He looked behind him, towards where he assumed he once was, only to find that he was way off the mark. Due to spinning at such speeds, he'd lost track of the world.
He continued looking around, before seeing multiple people, dressed in all black. They were hard to figure out, as his vision was blurry, and they undeniably came dressed for the occasion, being almost impossible to spot in a dark forest.
"Phewie, y'all know how to make an entrance. Lowkey kinda respect it, tho'" Chad said, walking over to Arthur. He patted him on the shoulder, smiling at the men.
"Yo, so y'all really tryna mess with my bro? Well, if you—" Chad said, being cut off. "Wait, is that Chad Graves? He's not supposed to be here, he—" Chad cutted them off, grabbing a rock and chucking it at their head with such speed, it caused loud bangs from the sheer velocity, before splitting open a skull and splattering them across the forest dirt.
"When I'm speaking, it's cool if you interrupt me. However, my bro's watching, and this is about him. Mind your manners, will ya?" Chad said in an annoyed voice, before exhaling a laughter and looking down at Arthur.
"Alrighty bro, let's make this a good 1v1, I won't intervene but I'll be your ringman, or coach, or whatever. So yeah," Chad said, looking over at the dozens of men. "Pick one of y'all to c'mout, I don't care if you guys jump my other family members, but this is a strict one on one with my bro. He's new to this, but with me as his ringman, he'll be putting up Lebron numbers."
"And what will you do if we all attack at once?" They asked him. "Huh? Well, I mean, you could, but I don't see why you'd sacrifice yourselves like that. Wouldn't it make more sense to jump my other family members, kill them, and dip? That way, you guys will only have two guys who died but you eliminated some pretty big figures in the Graves family. Compare that to jumping me and then all y'all die, and then it's a total victory for us. C'mon, be smart! Big brain!"
"Do you believe yourself capable of such a feat?" They asked again. "Of course," Chad replied calmly. The group whispered for a bit, as Arthur's eyes finally adjusted to the dark, being able to at least spot them consistently now.
"Very well. We'll send out Taylor, 'the Silver Werewolf.'"
With that, one of the black hooded figures stepped out, taking off their hood. What was revealed was a man of young adulthood, perhaps 25, with silver hair and almond shaped eyes, a handsome face along with it. When it came to build, he was tall and big, perhaps maybe 210 pounds.
"Hey, this fucker copied my awesome white hair! Arthur, go beat his ass!" Chad yelled, pointing at him. Arthur swallowed his spit, looking back and then immediately at his opponent. He took off his glasses, but then immediately put them on, since he couldn't see without them.
"Ah, right, I should introduce ya. Hey, Taylor? More like… BITCHLER! Why didn't ya have your last name revealed?!" Chad yelled.
"We're wearing black cloaks, attacking in the dead of night, yet you want us to reveal our last name?" Taylor responded.
"Well, you already gave your nickname, stupid! Whatevs, whatevs… Anyways, I'm sending out Arthur Graves, uh… 'The Dragon.'"
And so, that was his title. Of all the dragons, with everyone present being part dragon, he of all people was titled "The Dragon."
"Uh, is this like a Pokemon fight?" Arthur asked Chad, and Chad shook his head. "Nah, it's not turnbased. Just beat his ass, I'll yell cool moves and stuff, y'know?"
With no sense in having a set time, Taylor rushed at Arthur, clenching his fist and implanting it into Arthur's chest. Arthur felt his chest cave in, being sent to the dirt with a rip and a tear. He made a loud thud, bouncing off the ground before being kicked into a tree.
His body's impact ravaged him, and he had instantly believed himself dead. Blood leaked from his head, which had cracked when slamming into the big tree, and coughed and vomited. Though his ribs had broken, he was lucky enough to not have them penetrate his lungs, at least not yet.
He continuously gagged, from fear and from injury. He fell to his butt, gasping again and again, forcing out a continuous "fuck, fuck fuck."
'I'm died. Am I dead? No, I died. I'm died, I'm died. No, that's not right, it's "I'm dead." Fuck, what the heck was that? I couldn't even see him, I have to be dead. No, I'm not dead, I'm still living.'
He felt a throbbing pain in his head, one which wouldn't end. He held his right side, his right ribs, though let go due to the pain. Everything hurted. His back, his ribs, his head, his chest.
Unintentionally, begetting that of a man, tears formed in his eyes. He wiped them away, before turning towards where he thought his opponent was. Taylor remained standing, before walking over to him slowly.
'Stop. Get away, go away, stop, don't come any closer, help me, I'm scared. Stop, stop, stop moving, die, just die already, disappear, go away, go away go awaygoawaygoawayawayawayaway—'
Once Taylor reached him, he stood over Arthur, raising his foot into the air, which adorned combat boots.
"STOP!" Chad yelled, getting between them. He broke up the fight, shoving Taylor away.
"Damn dude, he got'cho ass. But don't worry, I got you. I've made up my mind, y'er gonna be doin' this stuff in rounds. First round, he whooped yo ass, but now you should be prepared. Heal up," Chad told him.
"This is in rounds? Then I suppose this is best to three? Is there a rule against killing?" Taylor asked. Chad stood up, shaking his head.
"Nah. Whoever loses the three rounds dies, by my hand. And you can kill each other, but since I decided it on the fly, I intervened for the first round, in order to introduce it."
Arthur healed his wound, the best he could, actually. He didn't heal fully, to reduce stamina drain, as he was now exhausted, yet still able to stand. The wound to his chest and ribs was what he healed, so his head injury, which wasn't too bad, was still present.
He stumbled up, wobbling like he was wearing high heels made of popsicle sticks.
"I don't wanna do this, Chad," Arthur told him. Chad laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "Nah, you'll be fine! Daijobu! Ça va aller! Andrà tutto bene! There, you'll be okie!"
Arthur held his head, which was throbbing in pain.
'How the fuck am I gonna beat this guy? He's taller, stronger, faster, he hits like a damn truck, he's more experienced. Think, think, think, think!'
"Alrighty, here's round two!"
With that, Arthur immediately ran deeper into the forest. Chad let out an "ah?" as he did so, though Arthur continued. Immediately, Taylor gave chase, and Arthur, who was still fairly injured, was quickly caught up to.
'I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't—'
A sudden and painful impact to his back. Arthur tumbled, falling to the dirt at a high speed. He grabbed a handful and turned around, throwing it at Taylor. Taylor let out a small grunt, as the dirt reached his face. His eyes, which were the intended target, were safe.
"SOMEONE! HELP ME!" Arthur screamed out, beginning to crawl away. This led to a scoff from Taylor, who balled up his fists. "No one's coming to save you," he said, getting on top of Arthur and reeling his hand back.
"You're as cowardly as I expected. Your proper title would be that of 'The Traitor.'"
Taylor punched Arthur in the head. However, as he did so, he felt a pain in his hand. He grunted in pain, and when he tried to bring his hand back, he found it was stuck. He ripped his hand out, as blood pooled down his fingers and knuckles.
He looked down at Arthur, seeing a spike on his head.
The blood which had remained on Arthur's head from being cracked open, it was transformed into a spike. Arthur grabbed Taylor's hand, transforming the blood from it into a small knife around two inches long, grabbing ahold of Taylor's hoodie with one hand to keep him in place as he jammed the small blade into Taylor's right eye.
"DIE YOU SON OF A BITCH, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Arthur screamed, his voice cracking from his emotion. He used the knife to take control of Taylor's head, as if Taylor moved around unnecessarily, not following Arthur's movements, the blade would do even more damage to an already injured part of his body.
Arthur used this to reverse, getting Taylor off of him before ripping the knife out and going for another stab. Taylor kicked Arthur in the chest, bursting him back and down a hill. Arthur tumbled 'round and 'round, stopping at the crevice of the hill.
He got up, laughing to himself, surprised that his plan had worked. While he was definitively, without a doubt, absolutely terrified of Taylor, he made up his mind to try and use anything he could to his advantage.
Whether it be the dirt, or his own heart's terror, or even Taylor's impression of him—that of a coward.
The kick to his chest wasn't fully loaded, so it wasn't enough to do any major damage other than hurting badly. Arthur let out small cackles, akin to that of a madman. And suddenly, a rush of exhilaration.
Arthur stumbled out of the crevice, keeping small laughter to himself, before it quickly stopped. He made use of the environment, hiding behind a tree and breathing slowly.
'If I see him, I'll kill him. In biology, what was it again? Right, the carotid. The carotid artery in the neck, if I can slice it, even with a small knife like this, he'll die. I just have to kill him, I just have to slice his neck like this and he'll die, and he'll die.'
Adrenaline was making his brain wonky. He kept his breathing quiet, which helped to weaken it, but it was still very potent in his thoughts and actions. His heart was pumping fast, he felt on top of the world, and underneath it, all at once.
His lips folded, pressed against each other in an impish smile. He was terrified of dying, he was scared. But when he put up a good fight, that fear decayed, being partly replaced with exhilaration.
He was the hunted and the hunter, all at once. No, it would be more fit to say that he was a fighter, he believed he stood even a small chance. And that belief gave him a feeling of satisfaction like no other.
'I'll kill him, I'll kill him, I'll kill him. I'll slaughter him, I'm gonna slice him apart like he's a fish. I'm gonna gut him, I'm gonna—'
A punch slammed through a tree, punching him even with the "shield" in front of him. The punch was obviously heavily weakened, though the suddenness of it, with no build up, struck fear into his heart once more. It hit him in the back, and he was moved by it, but not flung.
The punch was torn out of the tree, and Taylor revealed himself, rushing Arthur down and swinging a fist at his nose, breaking it with the index and middle finger knuckles, spewing blood out.
Arthur yelped in pain, before having his knee kicked in, bending it backward and taking him to the floor. He tried to keep a hold of his knife, but his wrist was stomped on, plunged into dirt. Taylor grabbed the knife, taking it and impaling Arthur through the hand with it, keeping him stable so as to not rip apart his hand.
Arthur looked up, seeing a pitch black figure, only illuminated by the moonlight, before immediately having a foot crack against his face. This stomp only pushed in his already broken nose, causing an even worse eruption of blood.
"You and your fucking tricks," Taylor said in an angry, low grumble, before raising his foot up once more and bringing it down, stomping on Arthur's face again. Arthur, with no choice, ripped his hand out of the dirt, causing less damage than he expected, before attempting to stand up.
"No you—" Taylor said, not finishing his own sentence as he grabbed Arthur by his hair, lifting him up and running with him, slamming his head against a tree once more, manually this time. Arthur was dazed, losing sensation in his body.
"You trickster, wanna act like a proper dragon, huh? Answer me, you wanna—" Arthur had his head bashed against the tree once more, leading to a loud, soaked thud. "—act like a dragon? Then—" Another bash, a squelch.
"—Be a fucking dragon, take your hits like a dragon, do shit like a dragon—!" a final bash, before Arthur was dropped to the ground. His head naturally swung low, as dribble leaked out of Arthur's mouth.
"Fuck, that hurt. It really hurt, y'know? And to think I would have to heal against a traitor," Taylor said, wiping blood from his eye. He'd healed his wounds, and the cost of stamina was an annoyance to him.
Taylor's silver hair was getting in his eyes, and had been dyed red partly. He grabbed Arthur's head, rubbing his hair and collecting the blood. He used Arthur's blood to slick his hair back, keeping it in place as he panted.
"Alrighty! That was the end of the second round," Chad said. "Let me talk to my bro, and the third round can commence!"
Taylor had no choice but to oblige. He let Arthur be, almost unconscious and all.