For eons now I have
clawed my way up the ranks, with each higher step more difficult than the last.
Now that I am finally of the
I need a weapon of
power, something to augment my abilities. Something that can
assert my superiority over all others. Untrilen, a weapon said to be
made by charging the energies of a galaxy into a single strand, may well be
that weapon.
I shall spare no expense
to obtain it.
-Rytais
He stood in the vast hall, staring blankly forward at the dark figure seated on the ornate throne at the far end of the hall. Behind him was the doctor, shifting nervously on his feet.
The boy they tagged 91, the very last survivor of his sibling company, was not nervous. He had been trained not to be. In fact, he did not feel anything at all. Or at least, he hid his feelings very, very deeply.
It was the only way to survive.
91 was clad in a simple t-shirt and fighting pants. He was tall for his age, and tough, tougher beyond any human belief. He had to be. Because he had just killed his last surviving siblings in brutal hand to hand combat less than a week ago, shoving a knife into 37’s throat to achieve victory.
“Come forward!” The dark figure ordered. “Let me see what he looks like.”
“Step forward, 91.” The doctor said.
He started walking forward, then stopped when four men suddenly stepped in front of him. They were all lean and fit, carrying melee weapons. A sword here, a mace there. 91 simply stopped, not even moving into a combat stance. He stared forward, not even moving his eyes to examine the men standing in his way.
“One final test, Doctor Gross.” The dark figure said. “One final test to see if your program was as successful as you claim it to be.”
“These four men are professional killers. Experts in unarmed and armed combat. If he can defeat them, kill them, then your life would be spared.”
The doctor nodded, his body shaking with fear.
91 finally allowed his eyes to move, examining his opponents. He shifted into a fighting posture, his hands held in front of his body, his face still expressionless.
The dark figure on the throne waved a hand, “Proceed. Fight!”
He stood alone, panting hard, covered in blood, some of it his own. More blood seeped from wounds all over his young body, but 91 did not pay them any heed. Behind him were the bodies of the dead killers. He held a sword in his hands, its blade slick with blood.
“Well done. Well done indeed.” William Lestrade/Rytais applauded softly. “For a child of his age to kill 4 adult and highly trained assassins is incredible. It’ll be interesting to see what he can do when he grows into adulthood.”
“I’m glad you approve, my lord.” The doctor wiped sweat off his brow with a handkerchief. It had been a close battle, by any account. Too close for his liking. He had not even believed the boy could win out at all.
“Will he obey my orders?” Rytais asked.
“Yes, your orders now supersedes mine,” said Gross.
“Very well then.” Rytais waved his hand casually, “91, kill Doctor Gross.”
“No! You promised!” Gross stumbled backwards for less than two steps before 91 spun around with the sword in a circle, then finished the move to face Rytais again. A thin line of blood was marked on Gross’s throat.
The doctor stood motionless for long seconds, before falling back with blood spurting out of his mouth, his neck severed by 91’s flawless swordsmanship.
“I promised?” Rytais laughed, “A demon’s promises mean nothing, my dear doctor.” He now spoke to 91, “Now, my son, attack me. Kill me.”
91 blurred into motion again, and his sword came up in a vicious thrust at Rytais’ heart. The demon caught the tip of the blade with two of his fingers, holding it tightly just inches away from his own dark heart. He smiled mirthlessly, “Very good, but not good enough.”
The demonlord focused his own power, the darkness manifesting as tendrils snaking towards the boy. 91 let go of the sword, flipping backwards away from the throne and picking up a set of throwing knives, which he flung with unerring accuracy towards Rytais.
The dark tentacles plucked the knives out of the air easily. The darkness now surrounded the walls of the room completely, reducing the light in the room to a minimum, yet 91 did not panic. If he was going to die, he was going to die. No need to get upset about it. And he had his orders. He took up a mace, and charged forward, even managing to dodge the first few tendrils before he was finally stopped, his limbs all held in tendrils of darkness before Rytais.
Rytais smiled. “This is your first lesson in power from me.” 91’s face was still blank, expressionless. He had accepted his death long ago. It did not matter when he died, how he died. He was beyond caring.
The demon’s eyes became completely black, “Lesson one: There is always somebody more powerful than you are. This was just the barest demonstration of my power.” He plunged the knives into 91, laughing hideously all the while as he channeled part of his power into the boy, who did not scream, but simply gritted his teeth against the agony stabbing into his body. “And one day, you may wield the same, if you survive long enough!”