As I stood before this beast, I found myself lacking the fear that might've been instilled in me had I been.. something or someone else. Instead, the creatures arrogant assumption that I had to prove my worth to him simply sought to anger me further. Perhaps this was its intention, perhaps it was foolish, perhaps it was both. My fists clenched up and, in doing so, I discovered something had been in my hands this entire time, as if it were soldered to my very core and I only realized that it was there just now.
.. a memento of before, perhaps?
My eyes wandered around the colloseum type structure that I'd found myself in, and again I wondered, did this feel familiar? Did this feel unfamiliar? Should I feel at ease or uncomfortable? Should I feel at all? Easy questions to answer when you had the answer, but for someone like me, whoever or whatever I was, they were impossible to answer. For now. The anger swelled up in me again, the fire lurching at my throat begging to get out. Eventually, it did.
“Who are you to test my worthiness?” I yelled at the creature, my grip on the handle of my kanabo tightening. “Why don't you prove yours to me, bastard!” I turned the kanabo in my hands, effortlessly, and gripped it with two hands, the solid heavy part of the mace laying in the dust behind me. And then I rushed forward, and if my eyes could've bled fire, they would have, because the anger in me did not subside. Who was foolish enough to bother me by yelling at me, and then demand I show them my worthiness? Who dared, who?
Surely the creature would try to stop me, I knew that much. After all, I had dodged out of the way when it tried to hurt me. Whenever it would try to ram me out of the way, I would simply swing the kanabo with all my might, aiming to strike it at the perfect time when the momentum of the kanabo was at its greatest. If it did not, I would simply lunge towards the creature with great force and perform a similar strike, attempting to hit it in the side of its face.
.. a memento of before, perhaps?
My eyes wandered around the colloseum type structure that I'd found myself in, and again I wondered, did this feel familiar? Did this feel unfamiliar? Should I feel at ease or uncomfortable? Should I feel at all? Easy questions to answer when you had the answer, but for someone like me, whoever or whatever I was, they were impossible to answer. For now. The anger swelled up in me again, the fire lurching at my throat begging to get out. Eventually, it did.
“Who are you to test my worthiness?” I yelled at the creature, my grip on the handle of my kanabo tightening. “Why don't you prove yours to me, bastard!” I turned the kanabo in my hands, effortlessly, and gripped it with two hands, the solid heavy part of the mace laying in the dust behind me. And then I rushed forward, and if my eyes could've bled fire, they would have, because the anger in me did not subside. Who was foolish enough to bother me by yelling at me, and then demand I show them my worthiness? Who dared, who?
Surely the creature would try to stop me, I knew that much. After all, I had dodged out of the way when it tried to hurt me. Whenever it would try to ram me out of the way, I would simply swing the kanabo with all my might, aiming to strike it at the perfect time when the momentum of the kanabo was at its greatest. If it did not, I would simply lunge towards the creature with great force and perform a similar strike, attempting to hit it in the side of its face.