The Begotten Fiend

Chapter 1: The Sons’ Duel

The skies fell--each star crashing down onto the earth like hail. My spirit screamed out, raging for more destruction, but I clutched my chest, quelling its rage.

The buildings, the streets, even the air--it all blazed intensely. Had it not been for my enhanced body, I would’ve been swallowed by the flames within seconds.

Without warning, my core throbbed. It responded strongly to a presence in the sky--darting through the air at such speeds that far surpassed the speed of light.

[Notice. A strong opponent approaches--]

I know, Zenith.

And the person, it was obvious who it was.

The earth splintered when the man crashed into the ground--cratering hundreds of feet deep.

"Well, you took your time," I said, tightening my helmet.

The man’s face was broiling with fury. His mana crackled against space itself, fracturing reality. "You--why? What caused you to do all of this? To destroy our home?"

I raised my hand, hoping to explain, but he cut me off. "No, screw it. I thought we were friends, but it’s clear that I was mistaken. Nothing you say could keep me from slitting your throat and ending your life."

"Wise words. What say we settle this with our fists?" I stepped forward, fully succumbing to the darkness in my heart.

We approached each other, equally prepared for combat.

I brandished my armor in full, allowing it to cover my entire body. Then, we both flew. frёewebηovel.cѳm

As our fists collided, time and space wavered, struggling to withstand our power. Even light couldn’t keep up with our movements, and yet...

For the first time, I... felt something?

It was sadness.

How did we get here? Why am I doing this?

There’s no point asking these questions. I already know, it all started that day.

*******************************************************************

Voices were roaring, thundering. The earth itself seemed to shake.

Hands waved in the air, feet slammed against the wooden stands in wild anticipation--all directed at the center of the field.

There stood two boys, recently of age.

On one end was Illias Borne. His hair was calm--as straight-laced as the person it decorated. It shone with a brilliant blond, waving freely with the breeze. His hair was accompanied by light blue eyes that reflected the sun’s luminosity.

For him, just looking at Illias was blinding.

Yes, him. The man opposite to Illias: Nash Borne.

Nash’s hair was frighteningly black, seeming to suck in all the sun’s glory. Even worse, his face was rough, coarse. Each side of his face was blotched with any number of sour pimples and deep cuts.

Even his eyes seemed to want in on the action, copying the impossibly dark color of his hair.

And there they stood, at the center of a grand stadium. On either side was a stand raised hundreds of feet in the air, enough for thousands of people.

Yes, after all, what better arena for such a battle?

"So, ’brother’. It seems that this is it," Illias said, smirking to his side.

Nash tilted his head. "What’s so funny?"

"Well, it’s just that..." Illias crossed his arms, then looked right into Nash’s eyes. "You see, I’ve been training for this day for my entire life, nervous of what losing would mean, and yet, I’ve never been so certain of my victory."

’Asshole,’ Nash thought to him.

"I wouldn’t be so sure," he remarked, tightening his fists.

Illias shook his head with faint amusement. "Ah, but I am." Then, he raised his hand. "After all, when you look at the two of us, who do you think best represents the house of Borne?"

Before Nash had a chance to respond, amethyst sparks of energy jutted from Illias’ palm like violent spears, then settled in the air as a wave of purple.

Illias spoke again. "I mean, imagine that. A talentless, illegitimate child stands before me as the final test of my otherwise great birthright. Isn’t that ironic, if anything?"

Scoffing, Nash turned to his left, unbothered by Illias’ remarks. "Can’t we start this thing already?" he asked the person.

The man stood, unwavering. It was their father, Tristan.

"If you boys are finished bantering, then yes," Tristan said, taking a few steps back. "And remember, regardless of who wins this fight, you are both brothers."

"Yes, yes." Illias swatted, taking a single step forward. "Then, are you ready?" he asked, directed at Nash.

Nash nodded.

Readying himself, Nash waited for the cue.

Tristan raised his hand perpendicular to his torso. "On the ready, boys. Three... two--"

Nash twisted as he barely avoided a column of purple that stabbed into the ground where he stood. "You--"

Illias laughed. "Aw, don’t get so heated. Only the strong are deserving of fairness. And you..." With two hands, Illias curled his fingers into fists, and almost immediately, the amethyst in his magic transmuted into a deep red. "Are weak!"

Illias’ intent had materialized as flames, stabbing at the air in Nash’s direction.

Weaving to his left, a horizontal whip of flame barely missed him, then another, coming diagonally.

"Whoa!" Nash blurted, rolling onto the ground.

Smiling, Illias began punching his fists into the air, strengthening his onslaught of flame. "Is this all you’ve got?"

The crowd stammered at the sight, leading to their own gossip.

[The kid’s an Elemental?]

[Who would’ve thought someone so important would be born into a Noble family?]

[This is turning into something interesting!]

’I’ve gotta steel myself,’ Nash said to himself. Through gritted teeth, he pushed himself off the ground.

Fwrm!

As soon as he’d propped himself up, three lashes of fire slammed into where he stood. Nash jumped to his side, landing on his knee.

’Damn, at this rate, I’m gonna be done for.’ Looking up at Illias, he witnessed as Illias’ rampant conflagration materialized as dozens of tails emitting from his fists.

With no time to rest, Nash dove to avoid another onslaught. This time, using half of Illias’ firepower. "You just gonna keep running, Nash?"

Nash shook his head. "Nah, just warming up."

"You can say that again," Illias remarked back.

Looking to his right, Nash noticed how Illias’ previous attack didn’t stop burning into the ground. Almost as if...

’Shit,’ Nash spat, launching into a full roll on the ground.

Narrowly, he avoided the pillar of fire as it traversed the floor--like a laser blasting from the sky.

Carving a path with it, it chased Nash.

Hurriedly, Nash helped himself up from the ground, spinning around the pillar as it came in from his left.

"Since when could you do that?" Nash asked.

"There’s a lot you don’t know about me, brother." One of Illias’ fists loosened. "Like this."

The ground rumbled, the air crackled like fire. Without hesitation, the pillar of fire separated just a dozen feet from Nash’s right, forming an innumerable number of smaller, more compact blasts.

"Grrhhkk!" Feeling a horrible crunch reverberate through his chest, Nash was knocked back from being assailed by hundreds of tiny fire blasts.

They were ceaseless, digging deep into his flesh. In just moments, he grovelled in the ground, rolling back and forth.

"GRAGGHHH!" he roared, pupils rolling back.

Thousands of daggers stabbed into his flesh, carving their way through him in a frenzy. Pain seethed throughout like a quick wave, seizing his lungs and stealing him of breath.

Tears rolled down his cheek, but they quickly burned off--unable to endure the extreme temperatures of his body.

"Not very pleasant, is it?" Illias mused. "A new spell of mine. Fire Parade. It enters your body, fries your system."

[Warning. Foreign Entity Found Inside Your Body. Beginning The Cleanse.]

’Oh, so now you make yourself useful?’ Nash thought, hoping that the entity understood him.

A bright, white light flashed from his body, wrapping him like a warm blanket. Then, Nash stopped convulsing.

"What?" Illias asked, surprised. "What is this?"

His question was received by a now-standing Nash, who took note of how Illias’ flames had disappeared. His shoulders were raised, face brimming with confidence. "You don’t want to know."

Illias shook his head, forcing a grin. "No matter. You’re still dead."