The nature of the sword part 2

They stood there, facing each other, silence occupying the space between them. Nether Spirit, trapped behind a magical detention field, was desperately trying to figure a way out of it. He would not, could not die in such a way, cornered like a rabid dog. While his eyes darted left to right in the room, Ghost Starr had begun to walk calmly towards his sword.

“Suit yourselfSpirit Warrior, I care not for your name nor for your reasons being here.”

A sense of dread began to creep into Nether Spirit, the Nameless Ones had no reasons to be on the earth’s dimension anymore, unless…

“What is your claim here, Unknown One, am I to believe the rebirth is coming?” Asked Nether Spirit, who had figured his way out at the same time that he spoke those words. Ghost Starr stopped and looked at Jenkins, then at her researchers. Faster than they could react, in three swift motions of the sword, he cut the six scientists down, leaving Mary Jenkins trembling and standing in the middle of the room. Her face and clothes were spattered with blood from the kills, and she looked at Ghost Starr as a rat would a cat.

“Leave us.” Spoke softly Ghost Starr, winking at Jenkins as he did so. While his back was turned, Nether Spirit pressed his emergency button on his belt, which sent a signal directly to the Apocalypse HQ. When Mary Jenkins disappeared through the door, running and afraid, Nether Spirit felt relieved that she was alive.

“You didn’t have to kill them.” He spoke, while positioning himself inside the limited space he was trapped in, making ready for his move.

“Can’t be helped, this sword, this blade, hungers all the time for essences of life.” He swung it expertly about himself, before letting it rest along his body, like an extension of his arm. “I must admit that I am surprised to find one such as you in this plane of existence, and according to the pact, I will banish you.” He then raised the sword high above his head, and assumed a fighting stance with the blade pointed towards Nether Spirit.

“You will die, trapped like a mouse, Spirit Warrior.” Ghost Starr then rushed ahead, dark blade dancing, swift and deadly towards Nether Spirit. Certain, the leader of the Ghost Army was, that there was nothing his enemy could do to break free. So convinced he was, that he made the mistake of rushing headlong towards him. His eyes grew wide when the stool Nether Spirit had been sitting on all day, flew into his forehead where it impacted with great force. Ghost Starr’s head snapped backwards, and both his feet flew off the ground. The leader of the Ghost Army landed flat on his back, and his momentum made him slide forward, where he came to rest at Nether Spirit’s feet.

“I was trapped, not the stool, thank you for freeing me.” Spoke Nether Spirit, when Ghost Starr’s body came to an alt at his feet, brushing away the blue magical dust at the same time. Followed a scuffle between the two of them, which broke every fragile thing in the laboratory, setting free unknown terrors into the world, opening Pandora’s Box once more on earth. The two combatants faced each other, testing strengths, flaws and techniques for a few minutes, trying to figure out the other.

Try as he might, Nether Spirit soon realized that his enemy was much stronger than he was, more powerful than he should be. But he fought on with determination and grace, dodging and striking at the right moment, the two fighters were caught in a deadly dance. In a swift motion, Nether Spirit threw over his shoulder his adversary, which sent him crashing through a cement wall, then another. The fight went on two rooms away from the science of magic arts laboratory.

Angry and confused, Ghost Starr nevertheless proved to be an enemy of choice. No sooner had Nether Spirit reached him to resume the battle, no sooner was he kicked with such force, that he too, flew back through two cement walls, to land in a broken heap, back into the magic classroom. They were a match for each other, if not in raw strength and power, certainly in determination.

“Were you summoned for the rebirth?” He asked the leader of the Ghost Army. Deep inside, part of him never wanted to believe a new war would occur in this plane of existence, but prophecies had a knack for aligning the universal constant of the universe. A Nameless One on earth at the same time that a Spirit Warrior was present, had never been heard of before, only once through a prophetic tale of doom.

“I know your friends are coming, but they will be too late.” Roared Ghost Starr when his blade sliced in half a wooden table, where Nether Spirit had been standing a moment ago. Seeing the leader of the Ghost Army opened, he side kicked him in the stomach, which sent all the air out of his lungs. He then kneed him in the face with his other leg, and watched him fly backwards, across another table, to vanish in a crashing sound on the other side. Nether Spirit then jumped across the table, to follow through with a deadly throat punch, and as he flew in the air, he understood his mistake.

Ghost Starr had risen much quicker than he had anticipated, it dawned on him at the same time that the cursed blade pierce through his abdomen, exiting out the back. Knees weakening, he buckled on the long study table, both hands holding the blade.

“I am unstoppable,Spirit Warrior.” Spoke Ghost Starr as he twisted and wrenched out the blade from Nether Sprit’s chest. Blood poured down freely, the wound was deep and true, his host would not survive long. The room began to roll, and he fell backwards to the floor, bringing a few objects along with him. Ghost Starr shoved the long study table away as if it were a twig, and it went crashing across the room, opening the space between him and Nether Spirit.

“Any last words?” He asked him as he raised the blade high above his head, in a stabbing motion.

Ka-shik jan.” Whispered Nether Spirit as the sword pierced once more the chest of his host.

But it wasn’t him, another man felt the pain that was destined for Nether Spirit, one who hadn’t had control, nor freedom to decide what happened to his body, in a very long time. Back then, he had been known as Dauntless, an obscure scrapper from the early years of the last decades who had been reported missing a long time ago. A man whom, underneath the mask the Nether Spirit had been wearing, was finally getting his life back, for a brief moment. His eyes saw the screaming angered face of Ghost Starr as the blade pieced through him, through the floor underneath. He felt the agonizing pain of it coming back out of his body, slicing through his organs like hot metal, as his mouth filled with blood, which he spat trying to scream.

Where he was, he did not know, what had happened to him, he could not fathom, how he had gotten here would remain a mystery. Eyes loosing focus, his hand reached across the floor, to a broken picture frame which he grabbed and brought to his bleeding chest. What was so important about that picture, he asked himself, a few seconds before his last breath came.
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