And now they found themselves standing opposite one another once again. Behind them lay the universes greatest warriors, beaten and broken at the hands of these two powerful heroes. The two had fought their way through the most prestigious battle arts tournament known to man only to find themselves face to face, the stakes now the highest they had ever been. In order to fulfill their destiny and place their hands upon the trophy which would promise them eternal glory they would go one on one for the final time.
From atop the great mountain Karobeen , a messenger descended, scroll in hand. He took his place before the massive crowd and bellowed out the decree handed down to him by the great Gods. This final match of the tournament, which would crown the ultimate warrior king was to be determined under Submission rules. The only way to win being to make your opponent declare you his superior. A truly humiliating way to suffer defeat, especially at the hands of a long time foe.
The two men entered the circle in which their fates would be decided and from high upon the mountain the drums began to beat. The beautiful Princess of the Midlantian tribe stepped forth and lit the first torch, upon her signal, the daughters of each nation comprising the Global Federation of United Empires stepped forward and lit their respective torches. The ring of fire lit up the holy circle, the light of the flames danced on the faces of both great warriors.
The battle raged for hours with neither man gaining a true advantage. Each time the momentum seemed to shift, when it would look as if one were about to take control, the pendulum would once again swing. As the last of Midlantia’s moons vanished behind Mount Karobeen’s massive peak the two warriors lay bloody and beaten in the center of the holy circle. The crowd remained boisterous despite the many hours they had spent cheering the great battle. From atop the mountain the drummers continued their rhythmic pounding as if seeking to will the two mens hearts to never stop beating.
“ASLAT”
Bellowed Necrolust
“THIS ENDS NOW”
The ghastly terror of a man struggled to his feet at last, only to see his nemesis rise to meet his glare.
He sprang forth, his massive shoulder smashing into Aslat’s sternum. The two mens momentum carried them out of the circle and into the mountain wall. As they collided into the rock with magnificent force, boulders from above crumbled down the face of the mountain, the crowd let out a collective gasp as the two men were buried beneath the rock. The watchers went silent, but on beat the drums.
After what seemed an eternity the rubble began to shift and out of the mess climbed the two men. The crowd erupted into loud chants for their hero Aslat.
He stumbled forward and fell to his knees. Behind him Necrolust seemed to be out on his feet, he shuffled forward, tripping over his own feet before catching himself on a large boulder. Aslat stood once more. He turned and strode slowly back towards Necrolust. From his belt he pulled out his whip, handed down to him by his creators, it held within it powers not understood by mortal men. He pulled Necrolust to his feet and shoved him back into the circle. He struck him one last time with a mighty elbow to the back of his neck. Necrolust crumbled to the ground. Aslat now drug him to the very edge of the circle, he raised his hands above his head and began tying him by his wrists to one of the outer torches.
A hush fell over the crowd as they waited to see what Aslat had planned.
He drug himself to the next torch and with a mighty roar he broke it free of its perch. He lay it down on the ground and picked up the basin from which it drew its fuel. He made his way back to Necrolust and dumped the oil on his felled foe. Necrolust spit and sputtered as the thick oil poured down his face and body.
It was suddenly clear what Aslat aimed to do.
He picked up the torch and turned back to Necrolust
He began to lower the flame
The drums began to beat faster, harder, louder. The crowd once again fell silent.
Aslat turned to them and spoke
“I, Aslat, son of no one, descended from the bowels of machines am the greatest warrior of all empires. Speak it so or burn to the bone Necrolust”
The drums ceased their beating.
And Necrolust spoke through his mouth of blood and broken teeth.
“I shall never admit you better than I Aslat, you are federation scum and soon you and all you seek to champion shall know the true will of the tyrants you protect”
Aslat turned towards him, a look of pure hatred burned from his eyes.
“Never speak ill of the Federation foul beast!”
“Now once again I command you, admit me your superior or die where you lay.”
Necrolust struggled to sit, his hands still bound above his head, and leaned forward as far as he could.
He whispered just loud enough for Aslat to hear him.
“Burn me slave”
And with that Aslat lowered the torch to the face of Necrolust and lit him ablaze.
He did not scream as he died.
