Part II: Burning

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Quareth exhaled, clutching his swords. Their blades sharp and poised. He lifted his head, his eyes hovering, leaving nothing out of his sight. He shook, his lower body sinking into the sand until it reached his waist.

Maketh grunted as he waved his hand forward, as sand began to spin, forming a spike a shade darker than the sands around them, before it shot towards Quareth. Quareth swam through the sands, accelerating as he approached Maketh. He looked upwards, watching as the spike split into hundreds of dark arrows, Quareth dove completely into the sands as the arrows descended, shocking the sands before he resurfaced a few steps away from Maketh.

Maketh stepped forward as his Energy went wild. He waved his hand in an arc, sending a wave 0f sand toward Quareth. He swung his sword, his eyes bulging, unable to break through the wave of sand before being pushed backward, away from Maketh.

Quareth growled before jumping back, as a claw of sand emerged from the ground, threatening to rip him apart.

"Always full of tricks, aren't you, Maketh?"

Maketh grunted. "Victory is all that matters, isn't that right, old friend?"

Quareth cackled, jumping forward. He swung his sword at the ground, sending a cloud of dust towards Maketh, obscuring his vision before rushing in. He rushed in, approaching him before suddenly stopping and jumping back as the war hammer descended onto his location, creating a shock wave that sent him backwards.

"You know hiding wouldn't work. Not in my sands.".

"Never hurt to try, has it?"

Quareth's smile waned as minutes passed, grunting as he was forced back again, unable to break through Maketh's defenses as the sand kept flowing, defending and attacking without a break. He started panting, feeling his Energy draining as he blocked the empowered sand. Quareth's eyes squinted, noticing Maketh, standing unfazed.

"You should go back, Quareth. You cannot kill me here, nor will you conquer those lands. Your methods are cruel. Those are our people. They deserve better."

Quareth growled "What do you think you know? Will you save them, just to watch how everything runs dry, as drought and hunger feast upon their weakness them, as they wither away." Quareth spat. "But not before they turn on each other like rapid dogs, stabbing the very people they saw as brothers. You do not understand, Maketh. This is not cruelty; I am merely granting them mercy."

Quareth jumped aside, dodging spears emerging from the ground as Maketh spoke.

"We can change things, Quareth. I've seen it. I've seen much. They built cities, gathered and prospered. We can do more! We are no worse than anyone. We can break through this curse!"

Quareth felt his anger rise. What do you think you understand? He barely held a shout, lunging with his blade as the words forced themselves out of his mouth. "You understand nothing... This sun descends on us, burns us and grants us nothing but suffering. There was never salvation for people for us, it never existed, and it never will. There is only one way out, we must break through those lands, leaving this curse behind. Together, Maketh, we can do it. JOIN ME MAKETH!"

Air thundered and the ground rumbled with Quareth's roar, the chaos as the Candidates clashed stilled for a moment, waiting for their response as they stared into each other's eyes, moments before Maketh sighed. "It seems there is no convincing you, Quareth. I suppose today... we finish it."

"Indeed." Quareth and Maketh jumped into action as Quareth sank into the sand once more.

Takateth exhaled as a transparent line carried itself away from his blade, severing another Kriel. A horde of Kriels could level entire towns or villages. But with two Candidates mowing through them, as well as two Practitioners defending the people, it was only a matter of time before the swarm decided to change its course, rushing away from them.

Or at least that's what Takateth hoped. His breath was steady, yet he felt his power slowly getting used up for every Kriel he had slain. A horde could be almost inexhaustible, and humans can't fight forever. Not even Candidates.

Takateth smiled as his blade whistled, cutting another Kriel apart. He stood a few steps away from the convoy, his eyes hovering towards the Practitioners fighting to protect the convoy. He nodded in appreciation, Being Practitioners at their age meant that they had the potential to become Candidates, perhaps even more.

Takateth shook his head. Becoming a Monarch was more of a legend than a reality. Not even Quareth had achieved it, and he was the strongest.

Doesn't matter. Takateth decided, his legs shifting slowly, approaching the duo. If they joined us, it would help strengthen our forces. If not... Takateth felt his grip tighten, a cruel look shining in his eyes.

He glanced to the side, Watching Hjornn's blade dancing across the battlefield, dissecting one beast after another as his free hand sent blades of snow tumbling, cutting a few more. But he was far enough. Takateth turned back, facing the duo as he spoke.

"I will keep this short. I am Takateth, here on behalf of my boss, Quareth. I do not need to say much, you know who we are. Join us, and I can promise you a future, and glory."

The man turned, a frown on his face as he whispered to his partner before lifting his blade. "Begone, we will take no part in that devil's massacres. We appreciate your help, and we owe you a favor. Yet, we will take no part in what you seek."

Hearing their immediate response, Takateth sighed. It always goes like that. Kids. His right foot shifted forward without giving it much thought, such people would not listen to reason, nor should they be kept living, lest they grow to become an issue.

Takateth's body shifted, pushing his sword into a lunge, its tip flowing towards the man's heart. The man stepped aside, moving his sword upwards as the blades connected. He stepped forward, rotating his arm as he pushed Takateth’s sword aside, parrying it before bringing his sword down for a counter attack.

Takateth grunted, freeing his blade and empowering it as he struck down, watching it descend like thunder. Takateth’s eyes bulged as he felt no resistance, watching the figure of the youth turning into sand as his blade cut through. He refocused, finding the flow of Energy to locate the youth's body as his blade whipped with a slash.

Takateth felt solid contact, hearing a flash as the world turned white. He felt himself getting pushed back as the colors returned to the world. He poured his Energy into his body, taking a step back and stabilizing himself as he looked towards the woman holding her sword, visibly exhausted as she spoke without turning. "Zanith, are you alright?".

"Stand back, Vivith.". The man nodded, his eyes frozen, refusing to leave Takateth for a moment. Takateth stared into his eyes, He knows that I am a Candidate. He knows there is no hope. Takateth did nothing to hide his power as he stared at Zanith's eyes, looking for a hint of fear, yet all he found was focus. Zanith wasn't going to let a single breath escape him.

Takateth sighed. They were good saplings. They could have helped us save our people from those cursed lands, yet they let their childish desires take over... What a waste. He let his Energy flow through his body, the glow on his blade deepening. He swung his blade diagonally, a shadow extending from it, threatening to take both their heads.

Warning bells rang across Takateth's body, jumping back as he heard an explosion. The phantom blade shattering as a mass of ice descended to his previous location. He turned, ignoring the youths as his sword whipped, as steel clashed.

"Hjornn."

Hjornn scowled, his grip unmoving. He seemed to grow a head taller, a faint blue glow born within his eyes as a faint white mist excluded from his body. He looked like a frost giant as he spoke, his voice icy. "My lord ordered me to save the people from any danger, even if that danger was you, Titan of the sands."

Takateth stood silently, his Energy flowing, ready to react to Hjornn. The world stilled, as beasts scattered, terrified as the Candidates' wills clashed. Seconds felt like minutes as the two men's eyes froze, refusing to budge. Finally, Takateth sighed, letting his Energy scatter as he sheathed his sword. "Quareth has told me to stop the beasts of the desert from claiming his prize. I have no reason to fight you here. He will handle this personally once he defeats your boss, Hjornn."

Hjornn spat. "You know nothing if you think he even has a chance of defeating my lord. Maybe he had such a chance once. But now... it is too late."

Takateth brows furrowed in confusion before his breath froze, his heart racing as comprehension cleared, understanding what Hjornn meant.

Quareth kneeled, breathing heavily as he kept his focus on Maketh as he stood a few steps away, unfazed. He felt his own Energy dry, his body wounded and his grip weakening. The last few minutes had shaken him to the core, the events getting more and more absurd. At first, it was a thought, then that thought grew into a suspension, and now, Quareth knew it was a reality.

Maketh was not a Candidate. Not anymore.

Quareth grunted, his hand flashing to the side, as the shell of a Krill collapsed next to him motionless. He held his blades as his thoughts ran through his head.

A Monarch.

Quareth knew he had no hope of winning that fight, each stage was a mountain, the edge was a valley. Sensing his confusion and hesitation Maketh spoke.

"I told you. It is too late for you to be victorious. Ten days ago, I found out who I was. I found my will."

Maketh stepped forward, watching the sands shift around him. "You are strong, old friend. But your ways are twisted.  Your thoughts and actions do not match, you pretend to be something you are not. Now, I have become a Monarch. I shall rule over those sands, to stand and protect everything here."

Do not match?

Quareth felt time stop, Maketh's words stabbing at him. Did his words and actions truly not match? Was he a fake?

Quareth felt his emotions stir, he fought for his people, he killed to survive, and to help his people survive. That was true. But was it truly the only reason?

Quareth felt confusion as he jumped back, avoiding a barrages of sand spears descending onto him, turning back simultaneously to block a clawed hand appearing from the ground.  Quareth reconsidered his thoughts. He felt confusion, anxiety, fear...

 

Was Maketh truly a Monarch?

 

Can I defeat him?

 

What will happen to my people if I die here?

 

As his thoughts ran wild, a single memory emerged in his mind. The moment that started everything, that moment he became a Practitioner.

He could see flames, death and blood flooding the sands, he held a rusty sword, broken as countless beasts lay dead around him. He could remember as he glanced behind him, watching the figure behind him take her last breath. He could feel the despair he felt.

A beast unlike all others emerged, thinner than Kriels, but faster, and more furious. A Seriath. The words of his father rang in his mind.

"The Seriaths swam in the sands, they killed man and beast alike. If you were cursed to meet one, then you wouldn't even think of running. Some beasts hunt for food, that demon hunts for sport."

He couldn't remember what happened, until he laid on the sands, dying with the beast's corpse beside him. He felt unimaginable thirst and hunger, his eyes drifting towards the impaled Seriath.

"Father, we all live in hunger, yet none tries to hunt those beasts?"

"Of course not, those beasts grew to be poisoned, bringing endless suffering to whoever dares to eat their flesh or drink their blood. Else, they would've disappeared, as our people hunted them out."

He knew what pain and suffering would come from consuming its flesh, but he felt his eyes drifting toward it anyway. I am dead anyway.

And he didn't want to die hungry.

Returning to reality, he felt an emotion hiding beneath his thoughts.

Excitement.

Quareth stood, his Energy low, his right arm bleeding. He felt his body asking him, begging to stop. Holding his blades, he felt broken, yet at that moment he felt strangely alive. He felt his memories and reality start mixing, hearing phantoms of the past.

"A Seriath's claws could cut through steel and flesh alike, some say that an adult's claws could cut everything in existence."

Quareth swung his sword, its jagged edges biting into the jaw of sand as it descended, trying to devour him, cutting it apart.

He fought protecting his people. He fought aiming to free them from the curses of the sands. But that was not what pushed him forward, why he trained every day, every moment.

"I heard some say, the only way to survive a Seriath is to give up. A Seriath hunted because it enjoyed the hunt. And a weakling wouldn't satisfy its urge"

He knew why he fought. He fought because he enjoyed being strong. He enjoyed fighting.

As Maketh approached him, Quareth lunged forward on instinct, his body lacking Energy, moving slower than it had done before. He saw the spears of sand rise and descend towards him. Quareth stepped forward, stepped even closer to Maketh, dodging two of the spikes while parrying the third. He felt his arm scream at him, demanding Energy as his muscles tensioned as the sand and blade collided.

He pushed on. Five steps. Quareth rolled to the right, dodging another claw of sand before taking two steps forward, his blades flashing as they struck the sands in front of him. Three. Maketh waved his hand, causing the area between them to explode, pushing sand in every direction. Quareth stepped forward, covering his face with his hand, feeling the sand bite into his body, hacking into it rapidly. He grunted as he forced his dwindling Energy into his body to protect it as he took one more step. One.

Maketh stood in front of him, as sand started spinning around him, forming a cloak, covering him within its layers, out of Quareth's reach. The sands extended, spinning into a vortex around Maketh, threatening to hack Quareth into pieces if he dared approach it. Watching the scene in front of him, Quareth laughed, shoving his hand into the sandstorm.

Quareth's smile stressed, feeling his arm getting mangled as the sands bit into it, cutting it like a blade. He stepped in, forcing the last of his Energy to wrestle for the control of the sands. Quareth didn't practice the same arts as Maketh, but he was a Candidate, and within his domain he too could challenge his control over it.

Quareth eyes tightened, watching the sands slow down. He couldn't take over, but it was enough. His free army held his sword as it descended into the slowing storm, descending like a beast's claw, breaking through as it met Maketh's war hammer once again. Quareth pushed with his body, parrying the hammer and forcing it to the side.

Quareth lifted his mangled arm, barely clutching his sword as he felt Energy being pulled into his sword. He was empty, with no Energy to spare, yet he felt he could pull the Energy into his blade from somewhere, and thus he did. The sword descended, collapsing like the thunder as the claw fell towards Maketh's neck.

A metallic clash sounded as a bright gray glow flooded Maketh's free arm, sand gathering around it as it collided with Quareth's blade. Quareth’s other hand shifted, hammering his second blade into his first, forcing Maketh back. Maketh stood, looking at his arm. Quareth could tell from a distance, looking at Maketh's broken and bleeding arm.

 

He could do it.

He could win.

 

Quareth prepared to move again, filled as the unknown strength filled him before feeling something off, hearing Maketh's sigh. He felt his heartbeat quicken as Maketh spoke, his voice sounding a few years older.

"I hate having to do this, I really do. But you are too close. Forgive me, old friend. But you are a threat to our dream, to our destiny. If you won't listen to reason, then let me show you... the will of a Monarch."

Maketh stepped forward, sand spinning around him faster and faster. Quareth felt his eyes widen and breath quicken. He felt the sands speed up, becoming hard as diamonds, yet soft as water. Despite all that, he felt no link of Energy between them and Maketh, almost as if he didn't need to control the sands. Instead, they obeyed his will. Quareth could no longer distinguish Maketh between the sands, as they gathered, getting thicker as a silhouette started getting clearer.

He felt the world darken, the area around Maketh breaking down, as if the world wanted him gone, clashing with him.

And he was winning.

A three meters long golem of sands stood, the sands forming his body shifting continuously. The giant trembled before moving at a pace faster than it had any right to, its fist descending towards Quareth within a moment.

Quareth tried to dive into the sands the moment he felt the blow approaching him, yet he felt as if the sands refused him. He was not their king. For only a step away stood their sovereign.

He kept trying to force the sensation he felt previously back, the will to fight. The will to conquer. Yet he felt as if he stared into a canyon, one he couldn't cross. An endless abyss.

Maketh stopped, his voice filled with pity. "I have stood upon that line for years on end, trying to find who I was, who I will be, and who I am. I have no doubt you would have done it faster than I did. You were always better."

Quareth lunged forward, summoning all the strength he had, filling his blades with everything he had as they struck at the unmoving golem. His body shook, his grip loose as pain shook him, feeling as if he had hit a wall.

But if it was a wall, he would've cut it down. What he hit was unmovable.

His thoughts froze, feeling the impact as a giant fist hit him, launching him into the sands, feeling his blade crack and bones crumble moments as he lost consciousness.