We Are Taking Down the Goddess

The Elven Champions

The towering walls collapsed. Their voices trailed softly as a massive winged creature with a lion’s body and a head of an eagle swooped in. That exhilarating plunge took down the narrow halls, creating a wide-open battlefield. If it weren’t for Kana’s watery embrace and Yakeru’s overbearing scythe, everyone would lay flat on the ground, either suffocated by dirt or buried under the rubble.

When the dust settled, a tall elf approached. With each stride, her thoughts became more resolute, as if the shrinking distance between them finally made her feel complete. As the light caressed her light grey skin, with a hint of purple and green hue, she entombed her memories of Kana and her into a thick wall of ice.

-        “Lara.” – the sorceress mumbled.

Although she wore sturdy grey armor, the skin between both her chests was left revealed, showing just how much confidence she had in her skills to keep her heart out of harm’s way. There was pressure between them. Both their hearts were full of bitterness. Hatred so profound, it engulfed the place.

-        “Where are you going to run now? No one will save you. No one can hide you. This is it, Kana. This is where you die. This is where it all ends. Finally. Finally…”

An extremist would live in a bubble, a delusion, created in a fragile fantasy world. But, the elf no longer needed to twist her reality. She finally had an opportunity. A second chance that stared right in her face. Lara Elnorin abruptly paused across the sorceress, took in a deep breath, and brushed her freshly manicured white nails across the cloth that covered both her eyes. A creepy smile formed across her gorgeous face.

As soon as the griffin cleared the way, it quickly returned to its master. Another elven warrior, with a name so renowned it echoed across every guild chamber. Dakath Grefina, the general of the elven champions, and youngest prodigy. Not a single feature made him as appealing as his eyes. Those dark black eyes carried a unique brilliance. From them came an intensity, perseverance, and gentleness. His black fringe-up hairstyle complemented his stunning oval face. It stood well on his porcelain skin. Perhaps his only weakness was his great and noble spirit.

Suddenly, harmony filled the air, in a ballad of charming and peaceful wind. Like a joyous dance that would twirl in the tiniest of fragments with the intensity of the brightest colors. It held the place in perfect stillness. Paired with the sweet aroma and serenity of mind, these lulls would make anyone surrender to the joy of life.

Having awoken only the purest essence of the elven ancestry Halema Vendi had achieved the ultimate form of the elves. A body and soul merged with her guardian spirit. Her massive white antlers adorned with stunning blue flowers, emphasized her long silk white hair. Her almost transparent physique, covered by a short and thin white dress made her look like a goddess. Although Halema wasn’t a being of such stature, she did achieve the highest honor in the elven community. The ultimate form. Where she is one with nature, and nature is at her command.

-        “Ah…” – she sighed. “This world is the embodiment of perfection. Everything has a place. And in its place, it should remain. It’s a pity your souls have to pollute it. You had so much potential. All of you. Now, look. This is what it has come to. Death has become your salvation. The one and only solution.”

Another deep voice emerged. One that gave the feeling of solid confidence. It had a way of igniting the harpies’ inner engine, pushing them to despair. Those vibrations were engraved in their minds ever since they were born. These winged creatures just couldn’t forget that slaughter.

-        “These are the targets? That’s sad. Only the two of you will do…” – the elf pointed towards Kana and Yakeru. “The rest…well… it will feel like beating a dead horse.” – she chuckled.

It was many years ago. Long before Aiko was born, and even before Kana and Yakeru got summoned to this land. It was a time when Azidora was in a full-blown war against Vernon. The elves had dominated their land, butchering and burning everything that stood in their way. It was then that the harpy village was brought to the brink of extinction, and it is now that fate has brought her back to them again. That elf. She was the only one responsible for their annihilation. She didn’t need an army. She didn’t need a single warrior to stand by her side. She was just an aspiring mercenary back then, but a force to be reckoned with.

Usamea Shahorn radiated unquenchable passion for battle. It raged from within, enveloping the very essence of her being. The way she held herself. The way her muscular features protruded the moment she took out her two long swords; it was obvious, she was a warrior bred to topple her prey. After mastering both magic and swords mastery, the elf became an unmatched bruiser. Having won numerous battles, the mercenary, and later undefeated champion of the elven arena quickly rose through the ranks and entered the elite. Her bold and obnoxious persona makes her attacks difficult to predict.

Then, all the blood in the room morphed and merged until it created a gentle path. The bloody trail quickly went for the champions, until it stopped behind the griffin. When the blood lifted, a figure formed. Soon, the blood entered his body and a handsome elf leaned on a nearby pillar.

-        “Now…now ladies. Relax. I say we take it slow and enjoy the moment.”

Sylvar Xilris had the kind of face that would stop anyone in their tracks. The way he carried himself was both overbearing, yet oddly mesmerizing. That smug look on his face, that nonchalant gaze, although he felt and looked evil, there was still a charming aura that emanated from every fiber of his being. Compared to the other elites, he didn’t like to wear much clothing. Except maybe the long black leather pants that barely covered his lower body. Everything else was on display. From his chiseled chest to his well-defined abs. His hands were painted in black tattoos, they blended in unison with his light grey skin. His long white hair tied into a messy braid pointed out his gorgeous grey eyes. While the silver jewelry on his neck, ears, and fingers added an extra allure.

Always considered an outcast in elven society, the only place and group he could thrive in was the champion’s elite. Having abandoned all his morals and ethics, Sylvar has turned his attention to blood magic. Without mastering a single weapon or honorable spell casting.

Just when the harpies thought the last of the enemies had arrived, another warrior emerged. This one was a rare sight. Cohnal Jolen, a dark elf who hardly had a desire to fight. But, when he did, it meant that a serious threat loomed on the horizon. And this threat was not to be taken lightly.

He was handsome, from the depth of his piercing blue pupilless eyes to his heavily defined chin. There was something ethereal about those naturally plump lips, for they were a focal point for anyone who observed this tall dark elf. Yet, probably the most eye-catching part of his whole body was the entangled locks of hair, tied into a ponytail that stretched all the way to his broad shoulders. If it wasn’t for the couple of dreadlocks hanging over his right eye, his soft look would have turned into a menacing stare. That’s probably where a hint of the golden dusty eyeshadow and earrings came into play. Giving him another layer of softness paired with intrigue.

Despite his background being a mystery, his cool and steadfast persona left little to the imagination. It seemed that there was only one thing that plagued his mind. Death to these enemies that stood in his way.

There was no sound in the broken prison, yet everyone was moving. The wounded harpies sat on the rubble, talons tapping up and down. Others shook profusely at the thought of facing one of these champions, let alone all of them at once. The dread made them feel as if they were buried in an open casket. If only they used the opportunity to run away, maybe they wouldn’t have to buckle up and brace total carnage. If it was any other moment, another enemy, this dread would give them a chance to adapt and overcome the adversity. Escape even. But, with all the elven champions here, waiting, the slightest kindle of hope was quickly extinguished.