Garden Of The Abyss

At the top of the mountain, he was returned to the outskirts of Castle Desmas, looking upon the hollow castle with a different perspective, now knowing what laid within it.

I doubt that last move killed it, but it should at least by enough time for us to group up, he thought.

–Just as he relaxed his guard, what sounded like a bomb sounding off echoed through the entirety of the valley, shifting the air pressure that met his ears as he froze for a moment.

Whatever the origin of the propulsion of volatile, booming sound was caused a shock wave to scrape against even the summit of the verdant-clad mountain.

As he looked up, turning his gaze back towards the side of the mountain he climbed from, he saw a figure leaping up into the clouds, and past their initial barrier.

"You're kidding…" He muttered in disbelief.

He was sure of it; the mountain of Desmas' domain stood roughly four-thousand meters in height, neighboring the dark, blue clouds–yet, the orc leaped that height as if it were nothing.

For a moment, he was left agasp at the surreal sight, but leapt back just in time as the orc crashed down atop the mountain, landing with a booming impact that sent a wave of dust and sediment trailing across the summit.

The vibrations that fluttered through the now cracked mixture of soil and rock atop the mountain lent him the reasonable conclusion that it was the entirety of the mountain itself that shook.

Silently, the Orc God straightened himself as the dust-carrying winds fluttered his clad dreadlocks.

For the first time, a wound was present on the flesh of the Orc God–though it was only minor scratches with superficial blood loss.

"...You're giving me flashbacks of a certain green, angry brute," he said wryly, "...only you're not limited to the pages of a comic book, unfortunately."

Of course, no response came from the hulking mass of savagery, who was now dripping with fresh crimson that was present around its mouth.

Did it…eat something while it was down there? He thought.

After recognizing such, he witnessed the scratches set on the torso of the orc close up as the colossal humanoid flexed its bulging muscles, seeming to trigger the process.

…Regeneration? It doesn't seem inherent, at least. Did eating whatever it found allow it to recover? That's not good, he thought.

His thoughts were seized as he watched his orcish opponent raise his hand that wielded no weapon, yet seemed to reach for something unseen.

Once again, a bountiful magical pressure release like a shock wave from the raised, calloused hand of the Orc God. However, a purple flame did not coalesce into his palm, but an abyssal, fluid material of solidified darkness, etched and forged into the shape of a dual-bladed sword.

Dark magic–? That's completely different from the flames he just used. What's going on here? He thought.

He swiftly raised his guard as the ascended orc wielded both of his giant, heavy weapons, finally opting to retrieve his dagger from the sheath on his lower back as both of his blades were held up in front of him.

Just as a single muscle was flexed, signaling the Orc God's emergence into battle once more, he set off into a continuous burst of shadow steps.

Even using the shadows to disappear and reappear in an instant, from any and every direction around the Orc God, he was hard-pressed to find an opening as the black eyes of the orc watched him as if seeing into the shadows themselves.

He barely managed to evade a strike of the dual-edged, abyssal blade as it carved into the mountaintop, attempting to reappear behind the orc for a strike to its back, but was blocked by the colossal being's club, held like a shield behind himself.

Once again, he was forced to vanish into the shadows as a sharp counter came from a spin of the Orc God, who bisected the surrounding winds with the sharpness of his strength.

He opted to create some distance for a moment, reappearing atop the barren castle as he watched the orc below.

…This is different than I thought. He's not fighting like a mindless brute at all now. Seems like all I did earlier was piss him off, he thought.

He sheathed both his longsword and his dagger, cracking his knuckles as he let out a controlled breath.

"It's been a couple years now since I've fought an opponent like this," he mumbled, "but, I'll have to take this seriously now, as well."

The lives of my comrades are at stake here. This isn't the time to play games, he told himself.

While the Orc God was still unsure of where he had gone, he took the time to collect one more breath, slowly exhaling as he shifted his own magical pressure–becoming more erratic, more unstable.

…I'm not even close to mastering this yet, but now is as good as practice as any, he thought.

With the finality of that exhale, strands of sable lightning began to coil around his body, sparking and surrounding him with a volatile magical aura.

Just as the Orc God seemed to sense the shift in magical pressure, bringing its gaze upwards towards the castle, he disappeared from its view, reappearing directly in front of it faster and more seamlessly than before.

In that moment that persisted between breaths, he reared his fist back as it became coiled in erratic, black lightning.

…My second magical affinity, "Nebulous Lightning"! He thought.

"Raijin: Critical Impact–!"

Briefly distorting the space in its path in such a way as it contorted violently, his fist flung forward, guided by the screech of the lightning while it flickered, and the volatile force it produced as his knuckles landed against the pale, gray chest of the orc without stop.

The resulting impact resulted in an immediate release of stray, sable lines of curved lightning before it sounded off like a cannon, sending the Orc God flying back as multiple, successive shock waves spawned.

In the pathway of the punch, the air pressure, accentuated by the black lightning, carved the rocky ground like a spoon, leaving the Orc God crashing against a boulder atop the mountain.

"...I did it," he held a small, celebratory smile.

–However, it was not without cost.

The recoil from the volatile release shot back at him, causing his right arm that launched the attack to blast back as he winced.

Just moments after the viscous recoil, he could feel the warmth of blood running from beneath his glove and gauntlet.

Looking down at the arm, he lifted his sleeve to take a peek at its condition, finding it immediately swollen and bruised to a dark, painful purple; tiny cuts were left scaling his arm as well.

"...Still not perfect, huh? That's to be expected, I guess," he wryly stated.

Even so, I wasn't wrong: this is a perfect time to sharpen my lightning, he thought.