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Authors: Cesar Gonzalez
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just had to be.
“Oh, so you don’t know, boy,” said Draknorr, noticing Falcon’s confusion. His black armor plates clanked against each other as he took a few steps closer. The fauld jingled loudest of all. “I suspect a mind wielder’s work. Grandmaster Zoen, perhaps?”
Falcon ran to Kraimaster, his breaths heavy. “Is this true, professor?”
Kraimaster turned to Falcon with vengeful eyes, and for once he understood why the professor always hated him so. A lump formed in his throat as he struggled to apologize, but nothing came.
“Ztay out of my way, Mizter Hyatt.” The professor’s bony jaw trembled in anger. “I won’t allow you to die and make my beloved’z zacrifice be in vain.”
Slowly, Falcon moved back. He knew that no matter how much he wanted to get his hands on Draknorr, he could not. This was a one-on-one affair.
“I’ll kill you both!” said Draknorr. He unsheathed the long double-edged sword that hung from his waist.
With a puff of smoke, an overly long scythe materialized in Kraimaster’s hands. Its handle was pristine black. The long crescent blade at the end glistened as the moonlight bounced off it.
The weapons clashed.
Kraimaster twirled his scythe. The bladed part hooked his opponent’s weapon. He brought it down. The sword hit the ground.
Falcon held his breath.
Draknorr pulled his sword free, but before he had a chance to mount an attack, Kraimaster came down on him with a flurry of scythe attacks.
The bladed weapons clanked as they smashed into each other time and time again.
Suddenly, a burst of red lightning burst from the sword’s tip.
Kraimaster grunted as the lightning spread through his body. A second later, however, the lightning disappeared into his chest. He huffed and blew. Countless webs of red, blue, and green lighting flew from his mouth.
Falcon stood starry-eyed. He’d never seen anyone mix the elements like that.
As Draknorr stumbled back, trying to avoid the rippling attacks, a dark coffin took form behind him out of thin air. The dark wielder jumped back, unknowingly throwing himself into the trap. The black door shut, drowning away his angry yelps.
Falcon allowed himself a breath. Finally, that monster was going to die.
Kraimaster glanced at the ground under him. His eyes widened. “When did he have time to—” A giant scaly hand burst from the ground and took hold of the professor. Clear pus burst from the hand as its tightened its grip. With every passing second, the professor’s face turned a deeper shade of red.
“Let me help you!” cried Falcon. He readied himself.
“No,” said Kraimaster. He looked over at the coffin. “Liquid Decimation!”
Immediately the coffin turned into a thick liquid. Inside the moving mass of fluid Falcon made out a form struggling within. It kicked and punched wildly.
The coffin dissolved, and Draknorr crashed to the ground. Dark water dripped from every inch that covered his armor. Opposite of him, Kraimaster was also free. The hand that had encased him moments ago had now crumpled uselessly to the grass.
“Not bad, Drogan,” said Draknorr. “A prolonged battle against you could lead to my demise.” He held up his hands, as if baiting Kraimaster into attacking. “Unfortunately for you, I am not alone. The power of the Blood Empress is with me.” He threw a small capsule that couldn’t be bigger than a few inches into the grass. It burst instantly. A puff of smoke spread from it. At first it appeared as a shapeless mass of nothing, but slowly it took the form of a cloaked figure. The figure wore a feminine metal mask, dry blood gushing out of her eyes.
Blood Empress! mused Falcon. He had seen the leader of the Suteckh only once before. Of course back then he had no idea that it was Aya’s sister who was behind the mask.
“Come to me,” roared Draknorr. The ghostly image of the empress screeched a loud, unnatural sound as it drove into the dark knight’s chest. His eyes glowed a blinding
“Oh, so you don’t know, boy,” said Draknorr, noticing Falcon’s confusion. His black armor plates clanked against each other as he took a few steps closer. The fauld jingled loudest of all. “I suspect a mind wielder’s work. Grandmaster Zoen, perhaps?”
Falcon ran to Kraimaster, his breaths heavy. “Is this true, professor?”
Kraimaster turned to Falcon with vengeful eyes, and for once he understood why the professor always hated him so. A lump formed in his throat as he struggled to apologize, but nothing came.
“Ztay out of my way, Mizter Hyatt.” The professor’s bony jaw trembled in anger. “I won’t allow you to die and make my beloved’z zacrifice be in vain.”
Slowly, Falcon moved back. He knew that no matter how much he wanted to get his hands on Draknorr, he could not. This was a one-on-one affair.
“I’ll kill you both!” said Draknorr. He unsheathed the long double-edged sword that hung from his waist.
With a puff of smoke, an overly long scythe materialized in Kraimaster’s hands. Its handle was pristine black. The long crescent blade at the end glistened as the moonlight bounced off it.
The weapons clashed.
Kraimaster twirled his scythe. The bladed part hooked his opponent’s weapon. He brought it down. The sword hit the ground.
Falcon held his breath.
Draknorr pulled his sword free, but before he had a chance to mount an attack, Kraimaster came down on him with a flurry of scythe attacks.
The bladed weapons clanked as they smashed into each other time and time again.
Suddenly, a burst of red lightning burst from the sword’s tip.
Kraimaster grunted as the lightning spread through his body. A second later, however, the lightning disappeared into his chest. He huffed and blew. Countless webs of red, blue, and green lighting flew from his mouth.
Falcon stood starry-eyed. He’d never seen anyone mix the elements like that.
As Draknorr stumbled back, trying to avoid the rippling attacks, a dark coffin took form behind him out of thin air. The dark wielder jumped back, unknowingly throwing himself into the trap. The black door shut, drowning away his angry yelps.
Falcon allowed himself a breath. Finally, that monster was going to die.
Kraimaster glanced at the ground under him. His eyes widened. “When did he have time to—” A giant scaly hand burst from the ground and took hold of the professor. Clear pus burst from the hand as its tightened its grip. With every passing second, the professor’s face turned a deeper shade of red.
“Let me help you!” cried Falcon. He readied himself.
“No,” said Kraimaster. He looked over at the coffin. “Liquid Decimation!”
Immediately the coffin turned into a thick liquid. Inside the moving mass of fluid Falcon made out a form struggling within. It kicked and punched wildly.
The coffin dissolved, and Draknorr crashed to the ground. Dark water dripped from every inch that covered his armor. Opposite of him, Kraimaster was also free. The hand that had encased him moments ago had now crumpled uselessly to the grass.
“Not bad, Drogan,” said Draknorr. “A prolonged battle against you could lead to my demise.” He held up his hands, as if baiting Kraimaster into attacking. “Unfortunately for you, I am not alone. The power of the Blood Empress is with me.” He threw a small capsule that couldn’t be bigger than a few inches into the grass. It burst instantly. A puff of smoke spread from it. At first it appeared as a shapeless mass of nothing, but slowly it took the form of a cloaked figure. The figure wore a feminine metal mask, dry blood gushing out of her eyes.
Blood Empress! mused Falcon. He had seen the leader of the Suteckh only once before. Of course back then he had no idea that it was Aya’s sister who was behind the mask.
“Come to me,” roared Draknorr. The ghostly image of the empress screeched a loud, unnatural sound as it drove into the dark knight’s chest. His eyes glowed a blinding
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