Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Amidst the smoke, flames and debris, Guorzo spotted Loimos's gloved hand reach for something, grasping a nearby table, crushing the portion he gripped upon before throwing the entire thing straight at the elite, then a chair, then closet, everything and nothing that was within reach.

'Impressive strength, he doesn't seem to be using a battle art either…' in that department, the flaming swordsman was no slouch either, swinging his blade and rendering the furniture to splinters, one punch from his free hand enough to completely nullify the heavy closet.

He made small movements to evade knives and other cutlery swung his way, only for his opponent to next pick up a fallen beam of the home partially charred, Loimos threw it straight at, not like a javelin, using the entire width of the piece of wood to force Guorzo to destroy the projectiles, using this opportunity to slip away as arrows began raining from multiple directions.

"You freaking rat!" it was obvious that Loimos was trying to go for a battle of attrition, and since he was the one to initiate it, the elite could only assume that it was because he was confident in winning it.

Roaring and puffing his chest out, a white smoke seemed to surround the living for a short instant, the next volley of arrows harmless bouncing off of his body as he rushed toward one of the habitations, using his overwhelming strength and reigniting his blade to demolish it.

Spinning his sword above his head, he created a veritable whirlwind of fire, from there on out, as long as he maintained the miniature tornado, he would be able to launch destructive flames without losing the infernal coating on his weapon.

Bringing every house down one after the other, he expected to see Loimos emerge from one of them at any second, but instead, he saw the putrid warrior somehow land behind him from the corner of his eyes.

Although he called it a tornado, it was merely the creation of his fiery battle art, it was shaped like a cone and a few meters taller than himself at its peak, nothing prevented anything from coming from above, but it wasn't everyday that someone would even notice, even less try it and succeed.

'I haven't shown this move in ages! He figured out the weak point in so little time?!' Guorzo had to give it to him, Loimos was attentive and certainly brave to come into the eye of the storm.

"Haha! You're a disrespectful little shit, but you have balls, I'll break you!" positively thrilled, Guorzo didn't hesitate to plunge his sword deep into the ground.

The storm expanded and closed completely, the force of the storm all around them increasing alongside the temperature.

"I misjudged your character, for my arena to enclose and power up like this, it means that you accepted the challenge" Guorzo's battle art wasn't nearly as simple as it might appear, whilst others would focus on the main aspect of their art, reinforcing it to grow more powerful and make their attacks increasingly harder to defend against, the well-fed elite enjoyed challenges, in that way, he was more honourable than his peers.

Facing enemies at their full prowess was something that he deemed most important than everything else as long as they were deserving of his attention, rather than crush them swiftly before they could show off, he would allow it, and by defeating them then, he ultimately demonstrated his superiority in every way.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

How could he face his lady if his strength was nothing more than a supposition? When he never forced himself to push his limits? Taking the easy way out might be the best, smarter option, but it wouldn't lead to nearly as much progress and satisfaction.

Killing a dragon in its sleep didn't make you a dragonslayer, it was facing it head on that granted you the title.

And Guorzo, he was the dragon here.

"Let's see whose funeral this will be!" stomping on the end of his blade, he forced it so deep underground that getting it back would be a hassle, but this made it certain that the tornado wouldn't be dispersed.

Taking up a sumo stance, the elite's palms ignited with flames for a brief instant, meanwhile, Loimos unsheath his blade, the darkness coating it flickering for a few moments before dispersing, the strain of the surrounding inferno destroying the aesthetic enchantment once and for all. Continue reading stories on empire

Strapped over his back, multiple katana's he had gathered from the dead before throwing himself into the fray, his tattered mantle fluttering chaotically amidst the waves of heat striking him, seeing his opponent unfaltering despite the condition excited Guorzo, raising one leg high up, he struck the ground once more, this time, starting the duel for good.

They both moved at the same time, one enhancing his already outrageous strength and speed with his burning battle art, the other, his undead physique amplified by death force, his movements made even more unpredictable and swift by coating his entire body with black blood.

Guorzo didn't dilly dally and threw a punch with no intention of stopping it, shattering the ground as Loimos dodged it by a hair's breadth, twisting his body in painful-looking contortions, spinning around the living by sliding along the ground, attempting to stab the elite in the side, despite his confidence in his defences against such a worn out blade, but he didn't dare to underestimate his foe at such a time, and moved away, repositioning himself in just a moment before landing a hit straight as the stomach of Loimos with his knee.

His blow was cushioned as a layer of blood and rot appeared in between the two of them, he still felt the distinct sensation of bones breaking, the undead grabbed onto his leg, stabbing the sword straight at his ankle without reacting in any way to the damage inflicting upon him, something of perfect naturality to Loimos, but to the elite that was still oblivious, it was a sign that his opponent was not nearly a pushover, he grinned broadly, the short sword stolen from a death hunter shattered, leaving only a faint cut.

Another swing of the leg and Loimos was thrown off, his back hitting against the edges of the arena, the storm pushing him back in, rolling off the ground, he carried on the momentum the inferno had graciously given him, continuing his path by rushing forward like a four-legged beast.

Rot began to compress all over the battleground.