Page 36 of An Unexpected Ascension
But today, I mock none of that foolishness. Instead, I just blink myself back to Hell, storming down the East Wing to my solitary quarters. Quiet. I need quiet to focus and think about how I want to ruin this girl.
Many ticks later, a knock sounds on my door. It cracks open before the permission to enter can even be spoken aloud.
“You’re late.”
The God of Hell strides to my window, overlooking the dreary lands. I, on the other hand, burrow deeper beneath a sea of blankets, shielding myself from the midday ruby sun.
“I’ve never seen the unliving sleep so much when one doesn’teven need it. You’re wasting away, passing time when you know there’s no end. Your slumber is pointless, get up.”
Hmmmmphwas my only reply.
Lucifer sighs.
“What ails you so that you cannot even bother to spar with me today?”
He’s not leaving. No, the Deity of the Underworld never does know when to mind his own business.
Tearing myself from my black duvet, I climb out of the comfort of my bed. The air that fills this manor is always a touch hot, never quite comfortable. Yet a chill kisses the bare skin of my torso before I can slip into a torn T-shirt and my leather breastplate for sparring.
“I’m up. Let’s get this over with.”
“Well, perhaps letting out a little aggression might do you some good. Might clear that rambling head of yours. I can practically hear your thoughts rolling around in there.”
I follow him out of my room, down the hall, and up the many flights of stairs to the very top level of his manor.
The room itself is barely that, no walls to keep the harsh winds or heat from claiming you. Just brick pillars holding a pointed roof over our heads for protection from the blood sun. The ground itself is made of concrete, stained from years of accidental slips of a blade while practicing new skills.
The air here is dense, but the first step in learning the ancient dance of warriors is to be able to embrace your atmosphere. Clear your mind, find your breath, and let your surroundings be just that while you focus on your target.
My eyes never divvy from the Devil, not while I conjure my old, trusted sword. Blade now dull with decades of sparring and never any actual use. My hand molds to the rusting handle, copper tinged with bits of green. It was a found prize I had collected from around the manor many years ago, sitting idle in the armory closet. The shoddy piece of work hardly stood straight then and now only makes for a sentimental toy.
Lucifer draws his weapon, the blade singing as it’s unsheathed. The silver glints against the raspberry rays of the sun, light refracting off the spotless metal.
Pride, strength, honor.
Grey skulls etched into the black handle peek beneath Lucifer’s grip, and he grins.
“If you’re waiting for the end of eternity to replace that piece of shit, you’ll be waiting a while yet.”
I raise my sword, widening my stance as we face each other.
“You’ll miss this thing the moment I’m rid of it. How will you contend with a matched opponent? You rather like winning.”
Lucifer shifts, stepping forward, his eyes never wavering from my own.
“So, you admit you let me win.”
With his right foot now closer, I pivot my left foot back. I assess his subtle movements, the twitch of his eyes, the sway of his elbow as he bears the weight of his weapon. All made easier by the tight leather armor he dons instead of his usual button up or suit jacket. Running Hell is a business after all, one must look the part.
“Indirectly, perhaps. My sword does put me at a disadvantage.”
Lucifer strikes. His blade cutting through the air only to meet mine with a thundering clank, the sound rings around us. I shove at his weapon, leaping out of his reach. Spinning on my heels, I use the momentum to swipe my sword up and then slash it down, aiming for his right shoulder only to be blocked with a swift defense.
Despite my quick retreat, the Devil’s blade catches my forearm. In my haste to dress, I did not bother with a full suit of armor, so the skin I wear now bleeds.
“Serves you right, Lynx. Short cuts could lead to much worse than a simple wound.”
“Good thing my God’s power will fix the very wounds he inflicts.”
