Page 53 of Fated to the Alien Chieftain

I nod, looking down at her. “Yes, my Mortakin-Kis,” I reply simply. It’s better for her to hold onto hope rather than another heart-wrenching farewell. She has suffered enough, my poorbeautiful Chieftainess. As she marches out of the arena to stand alongside Xandor and Rylar, I’m reassured knowing they will look after her should I fall.

An eerie silence stretches on for what seems like an eternity as the downpour bounces off my skin enjoyably. I stretch out my hands and close my eyes, tilting my head back. Lightning cracks and thunders overhead as if the Gods themselves are in attendance.

Drawing a deep breath, my thoughts turn to the Gods and the ancestors.Grant me victory here, I implore you, for my father, for my mother, for all our futures. Give me the strength and skill I need to end him, to end this.

A perverse answer comes in the form of a beating drum. Faint at first, but growing louder with each passing moment. It draws my attention and the entire crowd, as the rhythmic thud rings out echoing through the surrounding volcanic mountains, like the heartbeat of a titanic monster that slumbers within the core of the planet.

The Magaxus warriors erupt into cheers of “War Chief!” they chant repeatedly, adding to the cacophony of the beating drum, an intimidating spectacle. But I refuse to be cowed by such theatrics.

Already I can see Gorexius, his massive visage easily visible over the heads of the others. Despite the raucous crowd, his eyes lock onto mine as they glow crimson, promising pain.

Gorexius strides forward, a towering figure with a huge banner fluttering beside him, carried by his Second, Drexios. Depicting the runes for the Ravager Berserkers on the backdrop of some alien beasts roaring flame onto a battlefield. The War Chieftain marches through his warriors, as they cheer and thump him as he passes. Meanwhile, Drexios spits towards my warriors, resulting in an exchange of punches that I barely register.

“Hail War Chieftain Gorexius,” Vereth intones, showing no emotion. Gorexius doesn’t acknowledge the greeting as he glares at me, his huge bare chest rising and falling with scarcely restrained fury. Meeting his gaze, I feel only resolve. I will dismantle this walking mountain stone by stone until there’s nothing but a pile of rubble.

Vereth brings his staff down upon the hard rock, calling for silence. Once the crowd quiets, he speaks. “Krogoth, do you choose the old ways?” He gestures to the series of spears, shields, and other traditional weapons arrayed on my left side. “Or the new?” He points to my right, where arc claws and arc shield gauntlets lie arrayed.

“The old,” I reply calmly, eyeing a long spear, hoping to bleed the monstrous giant at a distance.

Gorexius scoffs. “Stuck in the past, that’s why you die, Krogoth,” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Are you in accord, Gorexius?” Vereth asks, with a neutral tone.

The War Chieftain stalks over to inspect the weapons. He runs his fingers over the edge of a huge two-handed ax, testing its sharpness. “Yes,” he answers finally. Hoisting the weapon from its placement, he cradles it in his fingers, which twitch like he can’t wait to split me open with it.

I swiftly make my selections, choosing from the longest spears, testing the sharpness and attachments, knowing it’ll need to be durable to chip him down. Next, I select the thickest shield available, large and rectangular, hoping it can endure the onslaught of Gorexius’ brutal ax swings.

Vereth ensures we’re both armed, as murmurs from the crowd begin to build, fueling the mounting tension. He slams his staff demanding silence, but I hardly notice seeing only the War Chieftain and his menacing ax, as he glares down at me eagerly.Vereth clears his throat and raises his arms before intoning “Dagdorix of the Star Eyes, God of Valor, bless these two—”

“Void your dead gods!” Gorexius roars, shoving the aged Vereth to the ground. “I have a war to win,” he declares, snarling down at the stunned elder.

My hands shake with fury, suppressing the urge to attack him now for his disgraceful blasphemy. Many in the crowd gasp and murmur disapproval, yet the War Chieftain doesn’t care. He towers over me, his breath visible in the icy wind, strands of long red hair plastered to his body by the downpour. Flashes of purple lightning highlight his imposing physique, while his red eyes mist and glow, glaring down at me as though I’m nothing but a znat that needs squashed.

Vereth miserably gets to his feet and raises his staff into the air, causing a hushed silence between the spectators. The tension is so thick it stokes my adrenaline as it burns through my veins, causing my purple eyes to release vapor, defiantly meeting his menacing crimson gaze. “Commence!” Vereth roars over the booming thunder.

Before Vereth finishes speaking, Gorexius performs a brutal chop with his monstrous ax. With such surprising speed, I narrowly leap back, avoiding the savage blow. His attack crashes into the ground, with such force it sends chunks of volcanic mountain exploding through the air. Prompting Vereth to scurry out of the arena with haste.

During our previous encounter, Gorexius had been in no hurry, making sport of me, but now he seeks a swift victory. I can seize this opportunity by frustrating and wearing down the hulking giant. Stepping forward into range, I lash out with stinging thrusts from my long spear. Gorexius blocks a few with the head of his ax before darting forward with such speed it defies belief, delivering a huge sweeping slash.

I’m caught off guard and barely manage to raise my thick shield for desperate protection. The impact of his blow explodes through the shield and into my arm with such jarring force that it carries me several steps to my right. The brutal War Chieftain, sensing my imbalance, rushes to finish his bloody work. He performs a leaping chop that could split a battlesuit in two, but I use the momentum to carry me into a tumble.

Avoiding his death blow, I spring forth from my roll, stabbing my spear into the meat of his thigh. My heart soars at the sight.If I can wound him, then I can kill him. The crowd gasps as Gorexius steps back, examining the green blood trickling down his leather trousers. “You’ve grown stronger,” he sneers, “but so have I.”

To my dismay, he charges forward unimpeded, the wound seemingly having little effect on the titanic figure. He roars with rage, swinging and jabbing with his ax with a flurry of quick blows. He moves the massive weapon with impossible ease. It’s all I can do to maintain distance, dodging the heavier strikes and blocking the others. Chips of hardwood flake off my battered shield as my arm grows numb, absorbing his savagely powerful blows.

He presses me mercilessly, driving me to the edge of the ring. Out of the corner of my eye, people make their way, fearing they’ll get caught up in Gorexius’ brutal swings. If I don’t act, he’ll force me off, spiraling down the sharp, craggy rocks below. I attempt to circle around, but he adjusts his feet, cutting me off.

With my shield battered to splinters and no escape, I now must stand my ground. Gorexius’ scarred face twists into a smirk, sensing victory. He raises his ax for the last attack. In a flash, I hurl the broken remnants of my shield straight into his face. The wood explodes off his head with a sickening crunch, but I waste no time, leaping forward, driving my spear into his midsection with all my strength, roaring triumphantly.

Audible gasps mingle with the booming thunder as Gorexius falls to one knee, shaking the very ground, my spear running straight through his stomach. I instinctively kick the ax from his grasp, sending it spinning amongst the crowd. My breaths are ragged as I extend my claws, ready to finish this once and for all. The mountain brought to heel.

I throw a clawed strike aimed at his thick neck. Suddenly his huge hand shoots out, clutching mine, with a crushing grip. My heart pounds in my chest as he lifts his head, revealing a broken nose and a knowing snarl. He rises onto his feet, looming once again, pressing the weight of the universe down on me.

Our hands locked, my eyes mist purple with increasing intensity as I stare up into his molten orbs of rage. He bears down on me, his muscles and veins rippling with power.

“Why aren’t you dying?” I roar out in shock, feeling my muscles, tendons, and bones strain against his incredible strength. Even the ground we stand upon cracks and splits with the sheer force we elude.

The Rush inside me reaches a fever pitch, resisting his terrible power. Wisps of purple evaporate from my eyes, carried away by the snapping winds. Summoning all my strength, all my will, I am bent on overcoming this monstrous giant.

---