"Razkara..." the Balrog spoke in a tongue that was all too easy to understand due to his ability to comprehend different languages.
Still, Damon wasn’t fazed. He knew the odds and he was not trying to win. There was a deafening sound behind him as Abellona began to fight Gaston. He just needed to buy her ti.
The Balrog roared, raising its flaming whip and lashing it toward Damon. He quickly took a step back, diving into the shadows before the whip struck.
He slid through the shadows around him as clouds of dust and destruction rained down from Abellona’s battle with Gaston.
’Damn, those in the fourth class are real monsters.’
Abellona wasn’t even in the fourth class, but her power was unbelievably destructive. Where did he get the audacity to pick on such a dangerous woman?
"I really need to start watching my mouth."
"Arrggg..." the Balrog shot out a large ring of fire, jumping down with a wave of flas and sulfur in the air. Whatever was left of the trees was razed in flas. The red hue of destruction spread everywhere, smoke rising into the sky.
’Well there’s no hiding this from Ashcroft.’
A battle on their level could never be low key. The higher the rank, the greater the power. The fourth class could already stomp mountains. How much more powerful were those in the seventh class?
And by that asure, how powerful were the Outsiders at their peak?
A large black flaming claw swiped past Damon. He dodged, giving him the opportunity to use Beholder’s Gaze. Ti slowed slightly. Using that mont, his speed doubled and he slashed at the wrist of the massive balrog, its wrist as wide as his waist.
He ducked down as red boiling blood poured onto the ground around him, sizzling like acid.
Damon narrowed his eyes, stepping on the air with Air Walk.
"Did he just get bigger..."
Stepping on the air, he pushed himself in another direction just as a falling whip slashed through the space, the heat distorting the very air.
Damon took a deep breath, keeping his heart calm and his breathing steady. That was a close call. Actually, he had already had more than a few close calls. This thing might be injured, but it was still two ranks higher than him.
He considered using his Sovereign Mantle form and then going Ravenous, but he needed to save his tricks for when he fought Ashcroft.
Damon watched his hand, flipping the weapon between his fingers, the heat singing his skin slightly even with his elental resistance.
The Balrog raised its hand and smashed the ground around him. As the cacophony of violence around them increased, Damon waved his hand.
His Dealer’s Hand, which was actually just his father’s broken sword, flew from where he had hidden it behind the balrog’s horn and straight into its eye.
He jumped into the air and drew a massive sword.
The Sword of Nicholas. The weapon was easily the size of a fully grown man or larger.
He raised the massive blade and pushed down with both hands, using his weight and falling montum to hack into the Balrog’s huge shoulder.
"Ghehrass..."
It hissed in agony under the sword’s power.
[Sword of Nicholas]
[Type: Weapon]
[Description]
Nicholas was quite a small man. However, what he lacked in stature, he made up for in spirit. Where bigger n stood, Nicholas stood longer. Where greater n fell, Nicholas still stood. There was no one who looked down on Nicholas... until the dragon Ashergon flew the skies. His fangs were swords and his claws were spears, and none could stop Ashergon.
The small Nicholas volunteered to face the mighty Ashergon. To make up for his small stature, he forged a massive and bulky sword.
When he ca face to face with Ashergon, he beca a pile of ash not even worth rembering, leaving behind a massive sword no one would ever recall.
[Effect]
By so asure he must have been resentful. The sword’s aesthetic is not displeasing. It might seem small against a colossal, however it is imbued with the power to slay colossal beings, allowing it to grow bigger, lighter, and sharper.
Damon pressed down harder.
This was the power of the Sword of Nicholas. It might not be a big deal to creatures of modest size, but anything that scaled at a massive size would take far more damage from this sword.
Not to ntion, it was quite light. Damon had gotten this sword from fighting so giant horror in Lysithara while searching for Matia.
The Balrog scread. Damon felt it grab the sword and, with its massive head, ramd him like an angry bull.
Damon felt his body grow hot as he was sent toward the ground, blood gushing from his nose.
He turned his body into a shadow as he smashed into the earth, scattering into a pool of inky blackness. Rising again, he rejoined into his human form, raising his hand. A small hook shot out from his body, pinning itself into the flaming body of the Balrog as it thrashed around trying to pull out the Sword of Nicholas from its lava-like blood.
Damon closed the distance with a deep coldness in his eyes. He reached out midair as the Dealer’s Hand flew into his grip. The mont he felt the cold hilt, he gritted his teeth, pain exploding from his body.
"Ahrrrhggg..."
He let flas explode from his sword, forming a pointed tip. The ashborn flas he created felt both hot and cold at the sa ti.
With the wires made from the web of a crystal spider, he knew they could hold out against the heat of the balrog’s flesh.
He pointed at its heart.
"Die..."
As he pierced toward its chest, the Balrog reached down, sacrificing its right side. Damon’s eyes flicked. He had missed its heart.
That was fine; he had the staff of carnage at point-blank range.
It raised its claw, reaching for his head. Damon braced for impact when he heard a sharp sound in the air and a fountain of boiling blood fell around him.
He glanced up for a mont, seeing a pale-faced Abellona glancing at him with a surprised expression.
"You actually won against a balrog..."
Damon jumped down from the balrog, feeling slightly disappointed that she had to save him from potentially debilitating burns.
"I wouldn’t call that winning..."
Abellona opened her mouth.
"I agree... how about a rematch..."
Damon froze when he heard the voice behind him.
Abellona paled until her face was white, muttering with cold dread.
"As... Ashcroft..."
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