The Demonlord Chronicles

Chapter III – The Darkness of Light
28.
Ardan jumped forward, his speed creating a wall of dust behind him, as his bone weapon quickly grew, turning into it’s full spear-form. Striking forth, the blade of the spear struck a wavering black thing: It was a longsword of black shadow, surrounded by constantly shifting darkness, which had suddenly appeared in Zuul’s hands.
Spinning around, Ardan led a second strike, quickly followed up by a third, then a fourth and fifth. Before he could lead a sixth attack, the sword swung forward. He ducked below it, leading the spear upwards, barely missing an impaling hit on Zuul’s lower body.
“Come on, Flamehearted... I know that’s not all you’ve got... They call you the ‘Servant of Death’ amongst my subordinates... Show me where that comes from!” Zuul taunted, easyly keeping up with Ardan’s movements.
Ardan hesitated for a second and instantly Zuul’s weapon struck forward. However, Ardan didn’t dodge, he didn’t even raise his spear to block. The black blade pierced right into Ardan’s face and... his appearance as whole simply faded, right, as his spear came up behind Zuul, who quickly dashed forward.
Behind him, the spear stretched forward into the air, Ardan stood, smiling lowly. Same spear grazed across Zuul’s right arm, causing the black surface to rip open ever so slightly, as the demon had to jump off again when Ardan struck him from a different direction, even before the image of his previous attack had vanished.
“I must say... I’m impressed... I would recognize a illusion if I face it... you’re not creating fake images... you’re simply moving faster then even a demonic vision can see it!”
Ardan didn’t appear to react to that statement in the slightest and Zuul spun around, intercepting the next strike as the motionless image of Ardan disappeared again. The Ardan who had just attacked Zuul smiled, before leaping off into the distance again.
“It’s called Arcing. And whilst it’s actually supposed to be quite exhausting, the energy of a demonlord is retardedly abdundant enough. Amusing to...” Ardan’s voice suddenly switched place, coming from the opposite side of the room “... see yourself standing elsewhere.”
Chuckling, Zuul responded: “Not really, I’m used to that...” Waving his arm around, his form started to waver, suddenly splitting up into nine different versions of himself. His voice now as well coming from all nine figures, he said: “Think you’re fast enough to catch thi”
Zuul’s question was cut off when bones shot from the ground, sliding through the illusions, but forcing the real one to dodge off, right into Ardan’s strike, who easyly catched up with the movement by teleporting ahead of his enemy.
Backing off, Zuul caught another small cut when he couldn’t properly dodge the next attack and one moment later he saw Ardan coming from three sides at once, blocking one strike, barely dodging the second and taking a hit with the third, before Ardan finally backed off again.
Covered in quite a few blood-red lines on the shadowy skin, Zuul still smiled wickedly. “That’s a fine speed you’ve got there... but you become significantly slower with each strike in series. Apparently a demonlord’s energy isn’t as abdundant, is it?”
Ardan responded: “Probably... but all I needed to know is the fact I can actually hit you precisely like this... Oh, and I don’t really need to limit myself solely to my demonic energy, you know...”
As his image was still talking, a green glow flared up behind Zuul, Ardan’s spear, now covered in green flames, struck forth... and then hit from an entirely different angel, piercing into Zuul’s right arm. Before the demon even had the time to realize he had been hit, Ardan lead another strike, again accompanied by a arc of green fire.
Within more seconds, Zuul was covered in a whirl of green flames and images of Ardan’s in different attack positions, Ardan’s speed increasing with each strike, the cold Fire of Seraphim engulfing every region of Zuul’s body he struck. Reappearing in safe distance, Ardan’s breath was going heavy, as he cautiously watched the whirl of green fire, which slowly dissipated, revealing a multiply wounded, yet standing Zuul.
Lowering his defensive stance, the shadow demon smiled at Ardan, regardless of his injurys. “Impressive...It has been a long time since anybody has even come close to actually hitting me... and then your strikes have a strength actually fitting that speed...”
Ardan bit his lower lip. He had struck the demon countless times, scoring quite a few vital hits. Yet the demon wasn’t exactly showing many severe wounds and apparently shrugged even those off as if they were nothing. Wait a second... ‘were nothing’...
Ardan’s eyes went wide and Zuul burst into laughter. “Hahaha! Took you long enough, little demonlord...” Zuul’s figure faded into thin air and once more the air appeared to shatter like a mirror, revealing the real Zuul, still (or again?) sitting on his throne. “Do you now realize why I cannot be beaten? How do you want to harm me, if you can’t even differentiate between me and my illusions?!”
Hectically scanning the room, Ardan realized it may had been a mistake to show up all of his potential like that. But yet again, did it make any difference? Assuming he wouldn’t have shown his attack capability... would it be of any use to show it now, striking the Zuul at the throne? Or was that just an illusion as well?
The room itself was quite large as well, similar to the Hellspoint. He could possibly cover the whole room with a wide-spread attack... but he would never be able to actually combine such a wide coverage and the strength necessary to harm Zuul severely.
“Usually I dislike to repeat myself... but since you’re quite entertaining, I will make this offer one last time: Surrender and join me as a loyal follower and you will keep your life, your strength and pretty much whatever else you desire...” Zuul offered once more.
“I already told you I will not” Ardan was interrupted by his own pained gasp when a blade pierced through his back, emerging from his chest, covered in his blood. He quickly spread out the green hellfire to his back, engulfing whatever could possibly be there. Suddenly the pain, the blade and the wound were gone again, the fire striking into empty air.
“As you can see, my abilities are not just limited to advanced optical tricks... I can make you believe and feel anything I want you to...” Zull whispered.
Suddenly Ardan’s hand shot forward, as he spun around, his claw striking through fur, skin and flesh, a spray of blood covering his arm and chest.
“B-but... Ardan... why?” Ardan blinked at Srazih in front of him, his claw impaling her very chest, as she slowly slid off it and onto the ground, before this illusion vanished as well: Ardan found himself standing and facing Zuul again.
“I can even freely control what you think to be doing with your body. Did you just spin around? Or didn’t you? Or maybe this whole ‘angel realm’ is just an illusion and I actually lured you back into the Wolven village...”
The whole area around Ardan suddenly dissolved into countless colors, forming up the Wolven village. He was standing in front of Ohara’s tree, Srazihs blood-covered corpse at his feet, the Wolven villager’s surrounding him. “Why... did he...” “Demon!” “Beast!” “She trusted you!”
“No...” Ardan muttered, stumbling backwards. “This... this isn’t real.”
The entire world went black, only Zuul’s oversized face hovering in front of him. “Yes. No. Maybe. Does it matter? My illusions are their victim’s reality... What does it matter if you are aware of this being illusions? What can you possibly do?! Realize your weakness, your incapability... give up... and be my henchmen!”
“Yes... I will join you...” “Wait, what?! I didn’t say that!” “Yes I did!” Ardan tried to keep his own babbling mouth shut, but he suddenly found himself kneeing on the ground, worshipping Zuul’s feet. “We hail lord Zuul...”
Everyone was there. Srazih, Myra, Hemlat, Rihukan, Cyra... even Ord, Ajan’s parents... Wolven... Everyone... “We hail lord Zuul...”
“NOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAAAAAHHH!” With a manic scream of beyond worlds, Ardan curled up, focussing his whole mind, every piece of energy he could muster, every single bit of himself into one thing: Fire.
Everything started to burn, every person he could see, himself, his thoughts, his body, the sounds, his hearthbeat, everything, fire.
Somewhere, amongst the seas of flame, he suddenly felt a gentle touch. A touch gentle, caring, yet filled with pain. Your life... is the story of sacrifices... and yet there is one more to be made... Farewell, Ardan Flamehearted...