Chapter 12: Ruler of the Twin Peaks
This story may depict graphic or violent scenes. Reader discretion is advised.
The Mountain Monarch slowly approaches Stride. He walks the earth seemingly not taking a step, like he glides forward.
His oddly tall head wears a black cowl with a crescent blade on top. Underneath its neck is a pleated collar made of flesh, separated by sharp curved spikes. His shoulders are decorated with two thick axe heads, almost as big as Stride himself.
Emboldened by rage, the dark eyes of the Mountain Monarch pierce through Stride, whose composure has long left him.
An overwhelming sense of dread accompanies The Monarch, as if destiny demanded him to become ruler. Stride could finally see for himself why all that live within the Monarch’s Domain fear him. The Twin Peaks is his domain by right.
Stride’s most powerful and primitive instinct manages to keep him on his feet: survival.
The two stare at each other. Not a word is exchanged, yet Stride knows with every fibre of his being that an audience with the Monarch is not meant as simple conversation. The bloodlust of The Monarch is palpable.
The Monarch raises his left arm, and points at Stride. The axe head on the Monarch’s left shoulder blitzes forward, like an arrow fired by a ballista. Stride’s feet stand nailed to the ground.
I will not give in to my fears of this monster. Stride thinks as he attempts to dodge the incoming blade.
However, that split decision to utter his beliefs costs him. The blade flies too fast for him to fully evade it, and it tears him in two.
His body burns with pain. Yet the anger in his heart forces him to stand up and fight. He struggles to get back on his feet, wobbling like a newly born fawn on his regrown legs.
All the damage I received in my battle with The Huntress pales in comparison to a single attack of this creature…
But The Monarch is not done.
“I cannot dodge in time…” Stride whispers anxiously as sweat gushes from his face.
The second axe head cleaves Stride’s body in two. The Mountain Monarch gently caresses his shoulder as both halves of Stride’s body fall flat on the ground.
Far behind Stride, a path is carved in the earth by the blood-covered axe head.
Stride’s body evaporates into a mist of blood. An empty hull of flesh slowly dissolves to the ground.
The other side of his body quickly regenerates. Stride watches the Monarch as his body attempts to heal him.
The black-robed demon storms at Stride. His eyes are intent on the helpless half-man, who desperately tries to get back up. Fortunately for Stride, the Monarch is still far away. Stride heals his body and stands up, bluffing with fighting spirit.
Until, the Monarch lunges his arms forward.
A blade made of a metallic flesh covered in veins springs out of the Monarch’s sleeve and pierces through Stride’s body.
“UAAARGGGHH!” Stride howls as he vomits up blood. His severed body flies through the air as his eyes whiten. Stride could hardly stand from his previous injuries, let alone dodge this attack.
Stride lies unconscious on the ground. It could hardly be called a fight. It was an execution. Utterly outclassed by a being that he should have never challenged to begin with.
“Your bloodlust offends me.” The voice in his heart says.
Too broken to fight back, Stride’s body is shortly overtaken by a deep-seated anger from within his heart. His hand clasps firmly, and feels like it holds onto something tangible. It is warm and soothing. His blood, which wets the Monarch’s blade.
Focusing his mind, there is an odd sense of mastery over his blood. He can control it with the precision of pulling a thread through the eye of a needle. He moulds the blood into multiple sharp, clotted spears and lunges them at the Mountain Monarch.
The blood-clotted spears pierce through The Monarch’s robe. Yet the Monarch makes no sound.
Stride feels a strong connection to the lower half of his body, which is slowly evaporating into a bloody mist. His body, working like a tailor, sews the threads of blood from his upper and lower body together. He rebuilds himself without having to use his regeneration ability.
“Efficient.” Stride remarks as he inspects his hands with a feeling of newfound control. This ability conserves him a lot of energy.
Stride’s heart beats louder, angered and unafraid. The Monarch breaks off the blood-clotted spears as he looks with disdain at the altered attitude of his adversary.
If I can use the blood outside my body… Stride thinks. He conjures up the blood from his body, and forms a long, sharp shape in his hand.
A weapon of familiarity: a harpoon. Attached to the end of the harpoon is a rope made of his blood. The harpoon becomes solid as the rope remains malleable and flexible.
Once it solidifies, I can no longer alter the state of my blood. Stride Notices.
The Monarch winds up an attack and swings the massive blades in a horizontal motion toward Stride.
Stride sets off on his right foot and jumps into the air.
Stride leaps over the Monarch’s blade and at the peak height of his jump, he throws the harpoon at the Monarch with all his might.
It lands.
The Monarch dodges the harpoon that was aimed at his face, yet it sticks in his shoulder.
Stride pulls at the rope attached to the harpoon and flings himself toward the Monarch. The long blades do not carry enough momentum to stop the direct assault of Stride.
His fist lands onto the Monarch’s cringing face.
The Monarch gasps as it flies backward. Retracting the long blades from his sleeves reveals two dark claws. He rips out the harpoon and covers his seething face.
No matter what I have hit or fought within this body, everything was destroyed by the sheer power of my punches. But this monster, it hardly flinched after I hit it with full force. What is this being…?
Stride felt uneasy to follow up on his attack.
“The gall to challenge me and lay your hands on my face. I will not stand for it. I am what will be the righteous Lord of Order.” The Monarch proclaims.
“Agamura, Tyche, witness my wrath.”
The hatred in his stern voice carries an extreme level of arrogance and self-worth.
“The nature of nobility never changes,” Stride remarks.
Tearing his armoured robe apart, The Monarch reveals a strong frame hidden underneath. Bulging muscles with thick plate armour cover his entire body. The large blades grow from his back like the wings of a butterfly.
The Monarch charges. No longer does it hide its weaponry or strategy, a simple frontal assault with the intention of overwhelming his opponent.
His fist lands in Stride’s abdomen with devastating power.
“You are unworthy of my presence!” He screams as he sweeps out his enormous blades. The blades appear to change in length as they fling through the air.
Stride’s body, hardly recovered from the Monarch’s blow, is cut in half.
The Monarch already hovers over the defenceless human, readying his fists, as Stride sticks his hand out to protect himself.
The Monarch smashes Stride headfirst into the ground, pouncing on his body as he cracks the earth underneath.
The Monarch’s ruthlessness is unwavering. No matter how much Stride’s body regenerates, The Monarch barrages him with his brutish fists.
“Pitiful.”
The Monarch stands over Stride as he changes his attention to the spectator of this slaughter.
“You and I are going to have a talk, Artist. The Vocaris will study what is left of him.” The Monarch says.
Stride stands over his beaten body. “Is that… me?” Stride asks.
“I—am dying.” Stride says horrified, as he witnesses the remains of his new body.
Blood leaks from his body, seeping deep into the ground.
The blood, like a living entity, seeks out something in the dirt.
It comes in contact with bones, remnants of battles past, former challengers that faced Auracan.
Like a vague memory, the remains tell a story.
Warriors from all over The Twin Peaks challenge the Mountain Monarch. Yet none could ever best him. All challengers were put on display throughout the region to instil fear in his subjects.
A memory of The Huntress shows the outcome of her battle against the Monarch. Saved by her children, who carry her to safety as all her limbs are removed from her body.
Finally, a heavily armoured army travels to the Twin Peaks. Only the Monarch answers their call for battle.
“I will become Lord.” The Monarch exclaims, as the army lies slaughtered before him.
The memories fade to darkness.
End of chapter 12.