Chapter 8 - Astar

Astar opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground; he could feel the cold, hard surface beneath him. He pushed himself up, wincing. There was a throbbing pain on the side of his head that he couldn’t explain. As he stood up he realized how dizzy he was.

“Must have hit my head,” Astar mumbled to himself. He had an inexplicable feeling that he had been unconscious a long time.

“I’m afraid that was me,” said a deep, coarse voice.

Astar rolled his eyes and looked in the direction of the voice to find Gressil sitting on a pillar of stone in front of a building, his legs hanging off the edge. It finally occurred to Astar that he was in the school yard.

“So they still let you walk around without your bag?” Astar asked.

“What bag?” Gressil spat.

“The one you keep on your face so small children won’t cry.”

Gressil slammed his hands into the top of the pillar, pushing himself off. As he fell to the ground, the pillar withdrew back into the earth. As Gressil’s feet hit the ground, Astar could feel the quaking it caused beneath his feet.

“You think you’re funny?” Gressil asked angrily, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

“No, I just think you’re ugly. And apparently easily confused.”

Gressil jerked his head to the side. A second pillar shot from the ground at an angle and connected with Astar’s shoulder. Astar stumbled back but remained standing. Gressil grinned and jerked his head to the other side, sending a third stone pillar into Astar’s face. Astar lost his balance and fell backward, landing with a thud. Astar chuckled, rising to his feet.

“I’ve been waiting for a chance to see how much this training has paid off,” he said with a smirk.

As he clenched his fist, they caught fire, burning a brilliant red-orange. He dashed toward Gressil, moving in a zigzag pattern with a speed unlike anything Gressil had ever seen; it was almost impossible to follow his movements. With a final swift dash, Astar appeared, his fist hurtling toward Gressil’s stomach. Rather than sending Gressil back as expected, the punch merely collided, neither demon giving an inch. Astar’s fire faded away. He pulled back his fist, leaving a singed cavity of ash in Gressil’s body. Gressil merely laughed and regenerated his injury.

“You can’t defeat me, not with your Hellfire growing weaker,” he laughed. “Then again, you couldn’t at your strongest.”

Astar aimed another punch, but missed; Gressil sunk into the ground, blending into the Earth.

“Where did yo–”

“…Chapel…”

It burst into his head without reason or warning. Before he could focus on where the voice was coming from, he felt a blinding pain on the back of his neck where Gressil’s elbow had hit him. Astar grunted, falling to his knees.

“…Chapel…”

There it was again. It was a voice inside his head, but he couldn’t explain where it came from. All Astar knew was he needed to get there, and soon.

“So, I’ll admit it,” he told Gressil, “You’re stronger than me. But I’m still faster.” He turned to face Gressil and grinned. “A lot faster.”

It was as if Astar disappeared; the next thing Gressil knew, he was looking around foolishly, only to find Astar had already made it several yards away from the school. Gressil simply snickered.

“I know exactly where your headed, child. And there is nowhere on Earth I cannot find you.” And with that, Gressil once more descended into the depths of the Earth.

“Almost there,” Astar thought to himself. “Hang on Kaesi…Alagor…Noah…”

He skidded to a halt; the pavement beneath his feet shattered from sheer friction. There before him was the chapel, but with one small difference: there were red spots on the ground, trailing to the door. Astar darted forward and threw the doors open, immediately slamming them shut behind him. Inside, he found a continued trail of red. What was it? Paint? It glistened, almost like…

His eyes followed the trail as it moved toward the wall to his side. He stood, speechless, as he looked at the wall. There, written in the red liquid, was a message that Astar couldn’t help but smile at. He raised his eyebrow in curiosity as an image began to form underneath the last line. It was a handprint, and Astar knew exactly what he needed to do. He reached out to place his hand over the red handprint, but as he did so, the ground beneath his feet shook, knocked him down.

“Are you coming out?” called a rough voice from outside. “Or do I have to come in?”

“Damn it,” Astar thought to himself. “Him again.”

“To be honest,” Gressil continued, “I don’t really care how we do this. One way or another, I’m going to beat you within an inch of your afterlife.”

Astar stood himself back up and, placing his hand back on the wall, responded, “Maybe later, I’m out of here.”

Gressil’s face contorted in rage. He reached out in front of himself; a chunk of Earth broke apart from the ground and rose up. He waved his arm to the side and the boulder propelled itself into the door, smashing it down. The boulder shattered, creating a cloud of dust. There was a bright light, and when the cloud dissolved, Gressil found nothing but an empty building.

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