Next Mage
53.Last Battle-1

~Marilla's POV

It was the first time I saw the Ragnarok in person, and it was terrifying.

I forced myself to look away and stare at the hard, black ground as the Ragnarok grinned, teeth gleaming like sharp, long knives.

No one made a sound; I couldn't even hear the quiet breathing of my companions--it was like they had stopped breathing in their shock. The only sound echoing through the clearing was the Ragnarok's slow, heavy breaths, and the sound of claws raking over stone.

Something cracked, indicating that the Ragnarok was stepping closer.

I jerked my head up, rage filling my veins and blood roaring in my ears as I felt my face contort with fury. I gritted my teeth.

This was the beast that had slain my father.

The Ragnarok opened it's hideous mouth in a great, lazy yawn, showing off it's blood-stained fangs. It moved closer, inch by inch, and I bristled, my muscles tensing. "Don't come any closer, you monster," I snarled, anger flaring in my chest. My teammates raised their heads and moved into battle stances, fists up and ready to attack. The Ragnarok grinned mockingly, throwing it's ugly head back in a wicked cackle.

"Oh, silly human," it purred, digging it's claws into the rocky ground. "You must know you'll never be able to defeat me," The Ragnarok's blood-red eyes flashed greedily. "Well, I have been quite hungry for a while. It was about time I had a feast," it's nostrils flared as it sighed blissfully, as if it were taking in the delicious scent of human.

"No. We'll kill you, all right," A new voice growled, fierce and full of loathing. I turned to stare into Oliver's calming sky-blue eyes. "Just like you killed our family, friends, and all those other innocent people who you enslaved. You even killed your servants! Now you will be the one to die." Oliver snarled.

"You're all bark and no bite," the Ragnarok said in a dismissive tone.

I replayed the rules that we were going to use in battle that we had concocted earlier over and over in my mind.

Don't use your Ultimate unless it is really needed, I recited. Don't use it on the Ragnarok mages....only on the Ragnarok itself...slay the Ragnarok at all costs...don't forget who you're fighting for...

The sides of my mouth went slack.

Dad...mom... the whole Earth... They're all counting on us. I'll have to make my Ultimate count, I told myself determinedly. Because after I use it...

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

No time to worry about that now.

Opening my eyes, I focused on killing the Ragnarok, killing the beast that had torn families apart, taken away friendships, killed my father, killed Oliver's father. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few shadowy bodies slink through the bushes before us, rustling the dry black leaves. Bright red lights bobbed and flickered through the stark, charcoal-colored trees.

I immediately looked away.

Ragnarok mages.

The evil mages, both male and female, child and adult, stepped out of the foggy undergrowth, eyes like hot, glowing coals in the dark.

Their sallow skin was pale from the little amounts of sunlight filtering through the thick smog that encased the island; their limbs thin and weak and their lips dry and cracked; their cheeks were sunken in with undernourishment, and their eyes bulged out of their thin, almost skeletal faces like giant red ladybugs. Dark circles rimmed their crimson eyes, indicating the lack of sleep they received. Some of the mages even had fingers and ears ripped off, blood and pus oozing out of small, festering cuts on their limbs, as if they had been in a brawl with the Ragnarok itself.

They seemed in no condition to fight.

Yet they still raised their swords, axes, shields, and fists, eyes shining fiercely and bodies tense, ready to spring at the Ragnarok's command.

The foul beast bared it's teeth in a hideous smirk.

"Let the battle begin," it declared.

The Ragnarok mages charged.

~Oliver's POV (may get a bit gruesome later on)

The mages descended upon us in a screaming flurry of arms and legs and weaponry.

Their red eyes gleamed in the eerie darkness, sending chills up my spine, like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice-cold water down my neck. I raised my fists and willed them to heat up as I formed two fireballs and threw them at the nearest Ragnarok mage.

The mage dodged.

Face scrunched up in an ugly sneer, he charged at me, throwing daggers. I flinched as I felt the sharp, stinging pain of my ear getting grazed by the knife. A few dark-red drops of blood spattered to the ground. I grunted, clutching my ear, before I rammed my burning fist into the mage's stomach.

Spit and bile foamed at the Ragnarok mage's mouth, and I compelled myself to look away from the fainting mage. Gritting my teeth, I glanced hastily around, looking for anyone who needed aid in battle.

The Ragnarok had an irritable smirk pasted on that I longed to wipe off it's monstrous face. It stood silently in the shelter of the undergrowth as mages fought with weapons and magic, good and bad, one trying to save Earth and the other to destroy it.

Then someone screamed.

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