Ascension: Ch.0 - Haman

Editing credits to LadyVer who gave me great advice and helped with editing.

Warnings: Violence.

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Lightning lanced through the night sky from the heavens. With a loud crack, it exploded into a small sapling perched on the edge of a clearing. Tree fibers cried out as they were split in half by the bolt of energy, before being boiled alive in their own sap. Flames hissed as they met the rain. Sparks sprayed out of the mouth of the tree as the rain-soaked clearing exploded with blinding light.

Two males stood nearby shielding their eyes from the aftermath. Rain pelted both figures as they regained their bearings. The bigger of the two, a hulking figure carrying a large cloth bundle on his back, began to speak, his voice deep with a rasp.

"At long last, we meet. For weeks now, I have ached for a soul. It was only luck that I stumbled upon you. I will give you the same gift granted to every other unfortunate soul who has met their end at my hands. You will know my name. As a child, they named me Haman, but now they call me the Hanging Hunter. Would you like to know why?"

The smaller of the two, a young boy donned in strange garb, sneered at the massive man and grabbed hold of a coiled object on his hip.

Raindrops ran down both males as they stared at one another waiting for the other to make a move. The rain halted for a few moments and the boy spoke.

"My name is Ishmael. We both know the rules. Enough talk. Now we fight."

A smile broke out across the massive champion's face. Lightning flared in the distance illuminating the warrior's feral grin. Rows of teeth filed to sharp points gleamed in the low light.

Smirking, Ishmael grabbed the object at his waist and let it uncoil, revealing a long ebony whip inlaid with streaks of silver. The whip's length lay slack on the ground waiting like a viper ready to strike.

Haman laughed, drawing a look of confusion from his opponent. Consuming this child's essence would bring him one step closer to his Ascension. These moments before the fight were for savoring. Haman dug his teeth into the soft flesh of his tongue. Flesh gave way to the hardened points, blood spurting forth. The familiar metallic taste filled his senses. It was always this way. The battle lust welled up fighting to get out, but Haman held its leash fast. The limp tip of his tongue pinned by sharp points slipped between his lips. He rolled the tip back and forth before spitting it out into the mud. A piece of flesh from his own body as a payment for the life he would take. This was the compact.

Not yet, he promised himself. Let the boy show his hand. Exploit any weakness shown. The lust abated, held back by an iron will. A bead of sweat on Haman's brow was the only indication of his internal battle.My lord, see me fight in your name and rejoice. His gaze aimed skyward, willing the thought to enter heaven and reach his master. Enough of this, Haman thought.

Ishmael stood across from him, watching. The boy mocked him. "Are we to stand here and wait for each other to die of old age?"

Haman's eyes narrowed.Think me old? Think me afraid?He spat, anger surging inside him begging to be released on this unworthy individual. It was time to show the child what a man could do. Reaching behind his head, Haman pulled at the fabric-covered bundle. The cloth fell away to the muddy ground, revealing a set of twin swords held in matching leather sheaths. Resting both hands on the blade hilts brought back memories of past kills. How glorious it felt, extinguishing their lives.My master will be pleased.Haman's mind raced at the possibilities of the reward.

The memory of the fifth life he had taken, a young woman who had possessed amazing athletic abilities, sprang into mind. The two had been evenly matched, but a small root had been her undoing. Tears had streamed down those pretty cheeks as she begged for mercy. Mercy had been granted... eventually. After her essence filled every fiber of Haman's being, he was granted a vision of his Divine Lord. With a thunderclap, an image of pure majesty had stood before him clothed in pure light, a silver blade with silvery wisps of runes floating along its surface held in each hand. That day he learned the truth of being a Champion and what it would take to Ascend.

I will not disappoint you, Master.Haman raised both blades in a salute to the heavens. Ishmael grunted and stood firm, watching this display impassively.

Lowering the twin blades, Haman fell into an old fighting stance, The Dancing Bull. It was said that anyone who mastered this form could move faster than a jaguar and strike harder than an elephant. With the divine empowering him, none could stand against it.

"Are you ready to die, boy?" Snarling, the massive swordsman leapt forward to close the distance between them. The steel blades glinted in the moonlight as they swept through the air in matching arcs. The wind howled past the rippled steel as both blades passed through empty air where the boy's neck should have been. He's fast,Haman thought. My aim was true, but he was fast enough to get past me.

Laughter from the opposite side of the clearing drew his attention. "You're a bit slow, old man," Ishmael said.

Haman roared in anger and rushed towards his opponent, both swords raised for the kill. Bested by a child? Never!

Ishmael acted this time, hand blurring as he flicked the length of ebony at Haman. The whip lashed out towards its target, row upon row of silver spikes snapping upright along the whip's surface as it reached its fullest length, hovering in mid-air for a moment before slamming onto the ground. A loud thunderclap echoed as the ground reacted to the whip's violent touch. Mud gave way to earth. Chunks of rock and hardened dirt spat forth from the vicious gash the weapon had cut in the ground. Earth exploded in all directions.

A large chunk of dirt flew past Haman's head at a frightening speed, startling him. This was no ordinary whip. Haman's eyes bulged.Another Champion has managed to gain a weapon of power from their master.Uncertainty welled up inside him. Exerting the iron will that had molded him into a victor, the terror abated. Now was the time to focus. Fingers clenched the sword hilts until it hurt to hold them.

"Grant me your power, Lord, I beseech you," the hulking man uttered, eyes raised to the heavens.

The moonlight paled in comparison to the beam of pure light that pierced the night sky and shot down from the heavens. "Thank you, Master," Haman bellowed as the light reached him, expanding to cover his body. The massive form of the swordsman was lifted effortlessly off the ground and hung suspended as a transformation took place.

Muscles bulged as they were manipulated, divine strength flooding into each fiber of Haman's being. Pain coursed through his body, pushing his mind towards the edge of madness. He held on, consumed by the desire to win, to punish anyone who would dare block the way to Ascension. As suddenly as the light appeared, it vanished. The clearing fell to darkness once more.

Both swords lay in the mud, but that was of no consequence.Come to me, children,Haman called. The pieces of steel leapt off the ground and hovered in mid-air for a moment before flying into his grasp. Fingers surged with power as they curled around the hilts, transferring some of the divine energy to the lifeless blades. Runes danced along the sharpened edges, mud falling away as the runes sprang to life.

More, we need more. The blades' need filled Haman's mind with their desire and lust for more power.

Just this once, he agreed, coming to the realization that he'd never fought an opponent as strong as Ishmael. The blades sang with joy as divine power filled their core. The runes skittered faster and faster across the blade surfaces, encircling the pieces of steel until all that remained was an intense white glow surrounding each weapon.

Let us see if he is as fast as I think, Haman thought. With the precision of a javelin thrower, he launched the blade cradled in his right hand towards Ishmael. The clearing was illuminated briefly as the projectile shot across the small space seeking its prey.

Grinning, Ishmael stood watching as the divinely charged sword approached, closing the distance with each heartbeat. Air bent around the whip as it lashed out, meeting the sword head on. When the two weapons connected, the screech of metal on metal gave way to hot red sparks that showered the ground, hissing as they fell. The white blur's trajectory was changed in an instant, flying away to slam into a tree on the clearing's edge, embedding itself deep within the trunk with a violent crack.

Ishmael laughed. "Is that all you had, old man?"

Haman merely smiled and lifted his hand, gesturing towards his weapon.Come back to me, child. The tree groaned in protest as the weapon jerked in response to its master's call. His brow furrowed in concentration, Haman reached out again. Swaying back and the forth, the tree began to creak loudly, a large crack growing outwards from the impaled blade.

His opponent wasn't going to let him retrieve his blade. The hairs on Haman's neck stood on end and without a moment's hesitation, he sprang backwards. The ebony and silver serpent landed where he had stood not a moment ago. With a deafening thunderclap, the ground erupted once more, spitting chunks of rock and showering dirt in every direction.

A large stone spun away from the explosion, hurtling through the air towards Haman. Muscles contracted in automatic response. Suddenly his remaining blade was there, slicing the rock in two and moving through the hard object as if it were a piece of cloth. Glowing brightly, the sword was... purring?

Closing off all distractions for a heartbeat in time, Haman reached out again, calling on his fallen weapon to return. He felt the anger resonating from the tree where it lay. With a vicious snap, the tree broke in two and a white blur shot across the clearing to his hand. Both blades rejoiced as they were reunited within his grasp. Their familiar weight reassured Haman, but the happy reunion was not to last.

Ishmael closed the distance between them, the whip a spinning blur before him. Calling upon The Dancing Bull, the swordsman launched himself across the clearing towards whirling death. The boy smirked. With a practiced movement, he swung the whip in an overhead arc. Tiny arcs of lightning flickered across the spikes as they fell towards their foe.

Crossing swords, Haman dug his feet into the ground and grunted as the weapons collided, muscles straining under the force of the blow. He held back the whip, sweat beading his forehead with the physical strain. The glow around each blade faltered with the pressure of the whip, the spikes mere inches from his face. Howling, the swordsman gritted his teeth and threw every ounce of himself against his adversary. Calling upon the divine, Haman fought for the advantage.

Step by step in the slippery mud, Ismael began to lose ground. The swords glowed more intensely as divine power poured into them. With a harsh sound, the sharp blades dug into one of the steel spikes. A shower of sparks burst out of the metal as the spikes began to give way under the sheer force. Screeching, the blades broke free, and began to slide along the length of the whip. Spikes began to pop free as the blades passed through them like butter. Haman roared, battle lust filling him as he stared into Ishmael's eyes. Gone was the boy's self-assured grin.

"Wait!" the boy cried out as the last spike was sheared away, sharp steel inches from finding its home in his chest.

It was too late. Blood spurted as steel dug into skin, a scream echoing through the clearing. Chest heaving, Haman stood above his fallen opponent. Lifting both swords to the heavens in a salute, he let loose a mighty roar. "Lord, I am victorious!"

As awareness of the surroundings returned, Haman realised the storm had passed. The dark shroud obscuring the moon's glow had fled, leaving the victor bathed in pale light.

Haman looked down at the young boy's face. There is a peacefulness in death, he thought. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a long length of rope. Kneeling down, he looped the rope around the boy's neck and began to drag the corpse to the nearest tree. The length of rope soared into the air before it landed over a low hanging branch. With a final tug on the rope, tying it off to a small knot at the tree's base, the task was complete. The swordsman stood in silence admiring his handiwork.

"Congratulations on your victory, Champion."

Haman's head whipped around, searching for the source of the voice. Three shadows on the opposite edge of the clearing moved and three cloaked figures stepped out into the clearing.

The largest of the three spoke. "You did very well, Haman. I'm happy to tell you that you've made me a rich man. Jerem here"—he motioned to the figure to his right—"was betting on the other one."

The figures took form as they each took a position around Haman. They were donned in dark armour with faces hidden behind wrappings. How had three other Champions gotten so close without him sensing them?

"Have you come to join this unfortunate soul?" Haman's voice boomed. He gestured to the recently deceased. If they wanted a fight, that was what he would give them.

"No, we come on an important mission from a higher power," said the smallest of the three from Haman's right. "You see, your Lord has lost faith in you. To this end, he has dispatched us on a most important task."

The hairs on Haman's nape prickled. They were here to end him. But why? He had been faithful all these years, growing stronger in his Lord's name. Eyes facing skyward, he uttered, "Lord, why have you forsaken me?" The sky rumbled in response.

Divine energy began to well up inside him, filling every fibre. Eyes aglow with the divine, Haman roared a challenge. "Come on then! Let us see which of you is man enough to kill Haman the Hanging Hunter!"

Haman's vision blurred when battle lust took over again. He raised both swords, growling as his adversaries stepped in closer. The twin swords churned unhappily and then suddenly, the glow enveloping both blades vanished. Blood rushed in his ears as Haman's heart raced.No! This cannot happen!Every muscle screamed out in agony as the strain of the previous battle suddenly fell upon his body.It wasn't supposed to be like this. My Lord had promised Ascension.Tears filled his vision as the weakened swordsman fell down and knelt, a prisoner awaiting execution.

"I was so close!" Haman cried out, tears mixing with sweat and rain on scarred cheeks.

"And that's why he let you die, Champion," the last of the three said quietly.

The last thing Haman saw was the moon falling behind a cover of clouds as the three descended on him. One long last roll of thunder along the horizon seemed to laugh down at the small group.

"Sleep long and dream of a better place," a voice spoke near his ear. Haman felt a sharp pain enter his side and another across his neck. Then darkness took him.

###

Jerem stepped quietly leading the group through the underbrush towards their small camp that was hidden in the caves a short distance away.

A few steps behind were his two companions, Goath, a seasoned killer who had several Champion kills under his belt and their leader, Merab. Little was known about Merab save that he was a man of few words with a fierce reputation for being quick to take a life.

"Why do you think we had to leave him like that?" Goath asked.

"I guess our employer has a sense of humour," replied Merab.

The underbrush gave way to the entrance to their encampment.

Back in the battle-scarred clearing that had seen so much violence in one night, all was quiet but for the creaking of rope as the sunrise crept over the horizon. The day's dawning rays fell on two bodies hanging side by side, swinging slightly in the morning breeze.

Haman the Hanging Hunter was no more.