Frosk…
As he walked down the length of the hallway to face Dorrin head on, he was stopped as he heard someone’s voice calling out to him.
“May I have a word with you Frosk?”
He paused to turn around, and much to his surprise, the person who called out to him was Marcus Wright.
“Oh, hi. I wasn’t expecting to see you right now,” he replied in greeting.
Marcus looked him up and down and gave him a strange look that Frosk couldn’t quite understand.
“I see that you are not wearing the armor I made for you this match?” he observed.
“Uh, no. Frankly, I think the armor is simply too powerful. Nothing can break through it and it amplifies my strength so much that I can’t have a fair and just fight against my opponents when using it,” he said in a manner to avoid offending the man.
Marcus simply nodded and smiled in understanding before saying, “I see where you are coming from, and I respect that. You don’t want to rely on the armor as a crutch, is that right?”
Frosk nodded.
Marcus sighed and replied, “Very well...I will respect your decision to abstain from using it in this match. However, I must warn you, in the battle that comes after, you must not abandon the armor a third time.”
Frosk chuckled and said, “You say that as if you are certain that I will win this fight.”
In response to Frosk dismissing his words, Marcus’s eyes narrowed in what seemed like irritation, but the brief show of emotion caused a shiver to run down his spine.
What was that feeling just now…? he thought to himself before he realized that something was unusual about the way Marcus was acting.
His manner of speech was different, he spoke with a sense of higher authority, and if that wasn’t enough, his appearance as well seemed...different.
Rather than the tank top and jacket he had seen him wear regularly, he now wore a button up plain dress shirt and dress pants, and he was also barefoot.
The most startling thing though was his eyes.
He’s certainly had his fair share of moments when he would drink himself stupid at parties and forget what had happened, but in all other circumstances, his memory was fine.
He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Marcus’s eyes were blue.
Yet as Frosk looked the man in the eyes, they were not blue, but a violent and angry shade of red.
In a deathly calm voice, Marcus replied, “’All those that bear the scarlet bolt shall be blessed with victory in battle’. As the Champion of Forrosa, you of all people should be aware of that.”
Frosk’s eyes widened as he recognized those words. They were part of a common adage used by the Forrosan people who were given or inherited strength from the God of Wrath.
“‘So long as you do not lose heart and maintain the will to fight, your spirit will be carried forward unto the future’. I’m surprised you took the time to learn that,” Frosk replied.
“It was necessary. Now be sure not to ignore my warning. Do not abstain from using the armor in your third fight,” he said.
“I’ll give it some thought, but thanks for the advice,” he said as he turned around and bumped face first into another man.
“Ah! Dammit! If I’m late to the fight, I’ll be-” he was cut off from complaining as the man pushed him out of the way.
“Where is he? There was someone here right?” the man said and Frosk realized it was Ruvick he had bumped into.
“Oh! Uh, if you’re looking for Marcus…,” he started to say but turned around and realized that he was gone.
Ruvick turned to face Frosk with a look of confusion as he asked, “Did you say Marcus was here? That’s not possible. I can sense him right now and he’s not here, he’s miles away.”
Frosk was flabbergasted by what he heard and couldn’t make sense of why he was behaving like this.
Ruvick then shook his head and said, “Never mind. Just go focus on the match, I’ll figure this out on my own.”
With those last few words, he walked down the hall and disappeared.
What was all that about…?
Pushing aside the confusing event that took place in the hallway, he finally made it to the arena floor and was met by Dorrin who looked like he had been kept waiting.
“So you did decide to show up after all…,” he muttered as a look of disdain shone on his face.
“I was held up on the way here,” he said, but immediately regretted saying that. He didn’t need to give him any excuses for why he was late. If he did that then he would just look weak.
Looking at him, Dorrin looked so much like his sister that it pained him to have to fight him.
Aside from the typical features among the Dark Elves, the dark shade of skin, pointed ears, and white hair, he also shared her red eyes and black marks that ran down from his eyes to either side of his nose before stopping short of his upper lip. Even the very shape of his face and eyes were similar.
He also wore the same kind of armor that she once wore, but the fabric was stretched against his far larger build.
He was not that much shorter than Frosk at five foot, nine inches, but that didn’t make him less intimidating.
Strapped against Dorrin’s back was a black sword that leaked out power that felt familiar to him.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses Frosk, I just want to see you fight with everything you have,” he said as he reached for the hilt of the sword on his back.
As he pulled the sword free, he sucked in a sharp breath as he remembered its name.
Gurthang, The Eclipse Blade. It was one of the five unholy armaments crafted by King Dagon himself.
It was the sword that Lorra had once wielded during the Mordrinite War, the very same blade he had stripped from her hands and used to end her life.
As Dorrin gripped Gurthang tightly with both hands, he glared at Frosk and snarled, “Returning this sword to our people was your greatest mistake, because now I’m going to use it to humiliate you in front of the whole world.”
Reluctantly, Frosk pulled Hoffnung from its sheath as the announcer called for the start of the match.
As the battlefield expanded around them, Dorrin roared, “Frigid Tundra: full release!”
He then raised his left foot off the ground before slamming it back down and a gust of freezing wind swept over the land.
In a split second, all the moisture in the air vanished and Frosk’s throat felt coarse as he tried to breath. Goosebumps ran all across his skin as the chilly air blew against it, and the blood in his veins felt heavy as he felt a painful numbness all across his body.
To counteract the effects of Dorrin’s magic, he released his own.
“Stygian Tide: 20% Release!”, Frosk shouted in return, to which Dorrin stared at him in confusion.
The shadows that Frosk’s body cast began to rise from the ground and wrap around his body like a second skin, protecting him from the wind.
Dorrin’s eyes widened in bewilderment as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.
“That is...that is not the Elven Shadow magic that my sister taught you. What kind of magic is that?” he said in a demanding tone.
The way he looked at Frosk’s power, it made it seem that it had become a bastardization of her teachings.
“This is my power. This is my soul self made manifest. The experiences I shared with Lorra and everything she taught me, including the shadow magic of the Dark Elves, all of that coalesced into what my soul is now. Lorra’s teachings have become a part of me, even if she isn’t here today,” he said, a somber tone leaving him with the last few words.
“She isn’t here because you killed her!” Dorrin shouted back as he raised Gurthang into the air. As he did, the light shining down from the sun began to fade as a large object appeared in the sky and began to block it out.
Frosk new all too well what was happening.
Dorrin was using Gurthang to manifest a moon to eclipse the sun. It may be little more than an illusion rather than creating an actual celestial body, but it did the job just fine. Its only purpose was the block out the light and cast a vast darkness over the land while also granting the wielder of the sword the power to command all that darkness.
“I will end this fight before you get the chance to counter,” he said as the shadows began to rise from the ground and circle the length of his blade.
Dorrin took off running towards Frosk before jumping into the air and vanishing into the Shadow Realm.
Against normal opponents, Elven Shadow magic only had one direct counter, and that was magic that could produce light. However, it couldn’t be any measly amount of light, it would need to be powerful enough the break through the hold on the shadow realm the enemy has.
Against someone who wields Gurthang in battle, not even the Light Elves would stand a chance.
Not even Frosk, with his mastery over their own magic could match a skilled Dark Elf wielding Gurthang in battle. Lorra had even proven that in the Second Siege of Alken during the Mordrinite War. She, along with Alan Mercer, had dominated the battlefield. They had even been so powerful as to destroy Forrosa’s own unholy armament, the Heaven Breaker Spear.
It would take something far greater to match the Gurthang in battle than another Unholy Armament and a mastery of their own magic.
“O’ Nameless Lord of Wrath, grant me strength to destroy all that opposes your rule upon this world,” Frosk uttered under his breath as he felt the Scarlet Bolt surge through his body and grant him even greater strength.
His senses became sharper, his body stronger, his power far greater.
With the God of Wrath’s power running through him, he could sense Dorrin within she Shadow Realm.
Time moved at a snail’s pace as Dorrin, with Gurthang raised above his head, reappeared from nothingness and swung the sword down upon him.
If the blow were to land, it would surely cleave through Frosk’s body as if it were butter. Even with his incredible strength, even with Hoffnung, the sword would pass through it and still reach its target. He would not be able to redirect its the power in its strike with his unholy armament, so he had to put his faith in his god.
May my devotion in you show clearly, and may you aid me in stopping this blade before it hits its mark, he prayed in his mind.
Rather than try and counter with his sword, he focused all of his strength, all of the shadows strengthening his body, and all of the power granted to him by the scarlet bolt into his left hand.
Before Gurthang could cleave him in two, he reached out and wrapped his hand around the blade.
The blade cut into his skin and Frosk gritted his teeth in pain but he did not recoil. He grasped the sword tight in his hand and did not let go as he stopped its motion and kept Dorrin stuck in place.
He then pulled Gurthang towards him, and Dorrin along with it as he brought Hoffnung down upon his chest.
Before he could get cut in two, Dorrin let go of Gurthang and leapt backwards but not before Hoffnung slashed open his chest and sent him crashing to the ground.
With Hoffnung in his right hand and Gurthang in his left, two of the unholy armaments in his possession, he felt unstoppable.
He marched forward to Dorrin as he crawled upon the ground to get away from him.
As Frosk was only a few paces away from him, he could see his appearance reflected in Dorrin’s red eyes.
It was not unlike how he had seen himself after he had killed Alan Mercer with his own sword and took Gurthang from Lorra all those years ago.
But as Dorrin was trying to escape Frosk’s wrath, Lorra had accepted her fate, even smiling in the face of death as it would come to her by his own hand.
As he stared down at Dorrin’s wounded body, he said, “I will only say this once. Yield to me, or I will finish you off.”
Several emotions seemed to flash on Dorrin’s face.
Anger, frustration, fear, and even disappointment.
He then broke eye contact with Frosk as he looked down and said, “I yield to you, Frosk.”
And with that declaration, the fight was over.
As the battlefield vanished all around them, Dorrin stood back up as the wound on his chest closed up.
Frosk held out his left hand to give Gurthang back to Dorrin but the Dark Elf raised his hand to decline.
“You’re not going to take the sword back?” he asked, confused.
“No...not right now. Why don’t you walk with me for a moment, somewhere we’ll be out of Rohen’s sight,” he said as he went back into the hall way with Frosk following after him.
“What’s this about? I doubt your intention is to simply hand Gurthang back to the Forrosan kingdom after I returned it after the war…right?”
Dorrin stopped in place and turned around as he asked, “Do you want to know the truth? I don’t really hate you for killing my sister.”
Frosk took a sudden step back as he wasn’t expecting to hear those words.
“What the hell are you talking about?!” he exclaimed.
“I mean that even after the conflict between our two nations, between New Alfheim and Forrosa, between you and Lorra, I don’t really harbor any genuine hatred towards you. Although, I can’t say the same for King Rohen,” he said.
Frosk was still incredibly confused as he asked, “What brought about this change in attitude? When you first saw me, you looked like you were disgusted to see me.”
“I was mostly just angry you were taking so long. That and I was trying to convince myself to hate you but couldn’t.”
“Can you explain?”
Dorrin nodded and said, “When New Alfheim first entered the war in favor of Mordran, it was because the elders of the elven people were angry that the Orcs were involved. A bitterness among the older generation that couldn’t let things go. King Rohen himself didn’t want to get involved and couldn’t do so in any official capacity. However, he knew that if he chose to abstain from the war completely that the elders might bring down a coup on him. They were looking for any reason to go to war against the Orcs and found that when they joined the Forrosans against Mordran. So a military force of Dark Elven warriors was selected by the elders and even Lorra herself was called to action despite Rohen’s protesting against it.”
As Frosk listened, he had an inkling as to where things were going.
“Lorra’s history with you made her conflicted on fighting against Forrosa but she went along with it. She had even written letters to me about her grievances with the possibility of fighting you in battle and how much she wanted to avoid it. Then the Second Siege of Alken happened where she and Alan Mercer took part in and they confronted you. Something I am sure you remember all too well,” he commented on.
Indeed, the memories of that battle were still a painful wake up call to him. Fighting against Alan and Lorra the first time around had put him in a coma for years until the near end of the war.
“However, when the third siege was about to begin, she sent me her final letter which described her feelings about the coming battle. For some reason, she seemed insistent that she was going to meet her end, that the third siege was the last dying breath that Mordran was going to leave behind before their empire collapsed. Yet still, she seemed content about it for some reason. She did not seem afraid to die in battle if it meant that it was by your hands. She had even asked that Gurthang remain in your ownership if you were to strip it from her and use it against her.”
Frosk was now even more confused than he was before.
“Why would she want that? I gave Gurthang back to New Alfheim because...because I didn’t want her death to cause division between our kingdoms, and because I was guilty for her death.”
Dorrin nodded as if he understood his confusion but continued on.
“I had figured the same, but there was something else that she had written in her letter. It was something about her children, how she was leaving the future to them in the hopes they might be another bridge between New Alfheim and Forrosa. The sword was just to serve as a more attractive option in her eyes.”
He then paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath before asking, “Frosk, you spent many years with Lorra and was close with her. Intimate even, yes?”
Hearing that question asked of him felt rather personal and disturbing to hear but he nodded anyways.
“Well, Rohen had been aware of it and had even looked past it initially as their marriage had been political at the start. He had even looked past the fact that she was already bearing a child during their marriage.”
The blood drained from Frosk’s face as he was now seeing where this was going.
“That being said, as time went on, I’m certain that King Rohen started developing genuine feelings of affection for her and was envious of your past relationship with her but still looked past it. Eventually they had a child of their own between the two of them, but that’s not important right now.”
Dorrin turned to look Frosk directly in the eyes as he said, “I’m sure you’ve been paying attention to the other contestants in the tournament, yes? That Dark Elf woman who won last time? Fayebel?”
Dreading the answer, Frosk stuttered, “W-what about her?”
“She is your daughter,” he answered bluntly.
My daughter...he thought to himself as he tried to make sense of it all.
“I...can’t believe I didn’t know about her until now,” Frosk said quietly.
“Most people still don’t know about it. King Rohen wanted as few people to know about it. He needed to hide the image of adultery within the royal family from the public as much as possible. And yet Lorra saw Fayebel and the sword as what would bring you together. The sword would have been her parting gift to you since she knew how talented you were with our magic. But she wanted me to tell you about Fayebel since she knew Rohen wouldn’t allow it.”
Frosk put a hand over his mouth as he ran the other through his hair trying to process what he had heard.
“Knowing all of this, what do you intend to do? Will you return the sword and pretend you never learned of your own daughter? Or will you keep it and try to connect with her?”