Written by: Epicstu Wyyvernwriter

A bell tolled, and all became as all had been before Undeath was taken, but the Living could never forget Mr. Spiphy and how he had devoured them all.

*          *

“For the right to be a Knight, this is New Valhalla,” Mercedes began his starting announcements, “those of us who stayed awake last night watched as challenges were made amongst our combatant’s debauchery, but today the Living are silent for some reason. Even my co-announcer, Woods?” he turned to Woodsmann who simply shook his head, keeping his lips sealed, “is simply not having it today and no one will tell me what is going on. However, since everyone is here, the show must and shall go on.” He cleared his throat, “Our first challenge is Edward!!!” The Living did not cheer as Mercedes announced the Event off of a teleprompter in front of him.

“He is nothing but Living God,” said Woodsmann.

Mercedes raised an eyebrow, “You and I are talking about this later,” he said to his friend quickly, “Versus! Zesrial!!!” For her, the Living cheered.

“She is an Underrealm,” said Woodsmann

Zesrial glared at Edward, from down a street on an urban field of battle and made herself untouchable to the Living so that he might know Mr. Spiphy’s power. Edward raised an eyebrow. “Well they certainly love you,” he jested to her, but her glare remained. “Oh come on, just because we are fighting to the death doesn’t mean we can’t talk civilized,” he jested at New Valhalla’s death system.

“You are not worthy,” Zesrial replied, “give me Hell.”

“Not worthy?’ Edward questioned. Without Warning, Zesrial struck him numerous times before throwing him down to the ground.

“Apparently the fight has begun,” Mercedes announced. Woodsmann remained silent.

Returning to his feet, Edward looked into Zesrial’s eyes, and she rejected him saying, “You are not worthy, die and become Hell for me.”

“No,” Edward replied. Again Zesrial struck him numerous times before tossing him up and then striking him three times in the air, the final kick sending him down to the ground. Taking every blow, Edward had become mesmerized by the martial art she used against him. He had never fought anything like it, she had hit pressure points on his body that he had no idea were even there. Getting back to his feet, “I will not forsake you,” he said to her, “I love you.”

Zesrial’s lightning struck Edward so that his head was down and his eyes were away as she dried her tears, “you are not worthy, give me Hell,” she demanded of him again.

“No,” Edward replied. Continuing her assault Zesrial bruised and broke Edward’s body, all nineteen of his six-inch retractable claws had been forced out by her strikes then broken off, and blood dripped from his mouth with every heavy breath he took, yet he would not die. He refused to, “I will not forsake you,” he coughed and spit the blood from his mouth, “I love you.”

Zesrial realized then that Edward will never back down when confronted by the Devourer of Life, “then I have no choice,” she would not lose Edward to him. She took Edward outside of New Valhalla and to a Realm far far away, where the New Valhallian death laws could not reach them. If he died now, she could claim him. “You are mine! He can not have you.” Heaven prepared to take Edward so that he would be safe within her forever, but then he was gone. Worried and enraged Heaven’s storm overwhelmed the World she was on, and her rain flooded it, “Edward!” Zesrial’s thunder cracked. Then her heavy rains turned into a light, fluffy, teal-hued white snowfall as her brilliantly purple lighting retreated into her wings no longer able to strike elsewhere, and the skies cleared.

Standing upon the unfrozen water, “Yes? Zesrial,” Edward answered. All twenty of his missing six-inch retractable claws reforged of his Undead ice and snow and then retracted as he flexed his fingers to ensure he had properly realigned the bone structure that allowed him to sheath and unsheath them.

“If I don’t take you I will lose you,” Zesrial replied honestly believing her own words.

Edward smiled, “how many times do I have to tell you, I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

“I know,” Zesrial moved to strike, but was blocked by Edward’s fluffy, snow-covered, forearm. This should not have been possible. She was untouchable to the Living, exactly like the Devourer is. How could he have blocked the attack? She followed through with her combo but was met with a deflect and a counter-attack ending in a roundhouse kick. “You’ve never kicked before,” Zesrial argued as they fought blow for blow.

“Yes I have,” Edward replied with a chuckle.

“Not like that,” she performed a series of advanced kicks, but Edward matched them all as she did them. “You should not even be able to defend yourself, then alone touch me? I…”

“Can not be touched by the Living, only Undeath,” Edward finished her sentence for her. “Yes, I am alive,” they continued to fight, “when my mother would teach me how to fight, she always told me that my feet should always be firmly rooted to the ground. I was to be immovable and unable to be tripped. When I joined the Iron Ram I was taught their ways in combat, where the only kicks come when you down pounce onto your opponent. When creating my Wall,” he sighed. “Then you start tossing me around your body like I with your blade in my wall. Immovable, yet free and flying,” they slid back from each other and stopped fighting a moment. “When my mother would teach me how to fight she would strike me with each attack and expect me to get back up and hit back in the same exact spot in the same exact way. This is how all Fennec Foxes of the Northlands were taught to fight so that we might take our opponents moves and use them ourselves.” Edward’s smile turned to a glare into Zesrial’s eyes as his Undead snow covering his fur in a layer of teal-hued white, “Your teachings hurt,” he referred to the epic beating she had just given him. “Not so much as your lack of faith though,” a single tear froze under his eye, “you will never lose me. Why don’t you believe me.”

“He will just eat you,” Zesrial replied unable to hold her tears back, “and then you will be gone.”

“He will try,” Edward replied.

“You foolish! Stubborn! Fox! He! Is! Going! To! Eat! You!” Zesrial screamed into his ears as she clashed with him again. When she could not best him grounded she flew into the air, so Edward unwrapped his tail from around his waist revealing a fluffy tail three times the length of his own body. It floated like a cloud, and he walked upon it as he made a path to her with it. “Nothing you are capable of will matter. He will just eat you,” she warned him again. Then she demanded of him, “Give me Hell,” one last time.

“No.” Flying just inside the World’s atmosphere, the Goddess Underrealm on her black feathered wings surging with her brilliantly purple lighting and the Living God standing upon his own tail covered in his teal-hued white snow fought. She was angry, worried, and afraid to lose him. He was overwhelmed with joy because she loved him, and sadness because she had no faith in him. As they fell “I love you,” Edward said to her just before they both impacted the World that they had been fighting above.

“Then why won’t you just come be with me?” Zesrial questioned as they both got up from the craters they had made falling to the ground. “This doesn’t have to be your fight. You don’t need to give yourself for this Multiverse. We can be together forever.”

He wanted to, but Edward remembered what Time and the Fates had told him, “You are the only one who can fight the Devourer of Life. Not the Undead. Not Hell. You, but only with her faith. If she does not believe in you, then you will lose. The words echoed in his mind as Zesrial rushed to strike him down one last time.

Edward flipped, overhead kicking Zesrial, face first, into the ground. “You are mine,” Edward replied, “Not Hell’s. Mine.” He helped her up, straightened her out, and brushed her off, “I am yours. Not Hell’s. Yours. I promise yo…”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Edward” Zesrial interrupted with concerning fear in her eyes. She had heard that promise before.

“ZesriaI, I promise you,” Edward repeated looking her right in the eyes with a gentle smile, “I will never leave you. I will never Forsake you. I am yours forever. I love you, and I would wield nothing else in my right hand. I just need you to believe in me.” Then Zesrial heard chanting, they were in New Valhalla again, “I had brought us back the moment my snow started to fall,” Edward admitted.

All the Living, having seen and heard Edward and Zesrial’s entire fight, shouted, repeating with great enthusiasm, “Edward! Edward! Edward!” over and over again as his snow fell across their whole Multiverse. There was nothing within it that Edward could not claim, but he wanted none of it. He loved her.

Despret and unconvinced, Zesrial took her Wyyvern form to swallow Edward whole as a final attempt to take him for herself so that Mr. Spiphy could never have him. Her mouth was hushed closed by Edward’s finger and her lips sealed with his kiss. “Please Zesrial,” he begged her, “I…”

Zesrial’s finger found Edward’s lips and shushed him. She could do nothing to stop him from living for her, so she gave him an impossible task. “The next fight you are a part of is a 1 v 300 with the Spartans.”

“I can handl…” Edward said but was interrupted and shushed again.

“Not a scratch,” Zesrial demanded of him. “So much as one single new scar from that match and you will let me take you.”

Zesrial did not believe he could do it and Edward knew that, but he also knew this would be the only way to achieve her faith and so, “I accept your challenge,” he replied despite his odds, “but when I win,” he looked at her with disappointment in his eyes, “you will stop doubting me.” Zesrial tapped out then and there, sending herself to the Meadhall and giving Edward the win. Edward looked around at the stands of Living creatures, both large and small, as they chanted his name in every language. “What is a Spartan?” he wondered.

*          *

“Such power,” Mr. Spiphy commented, licking his chops. He could taste the echo of Edward and Zesrial’s fight. “I love how power tastes.”

“He will kick your ass,” the Devil replied. “Well, maybe not at first, but what kind of hero wins the first round anyway. He will get back up though, and he will kick your ass.”

Mr. Spiphy smiled, “how’s the memory? Beelzebabe?” the Devil just left in response. He did not want to talk about it. “You were delicious,” Mr. Spiphy said after him. “You were all Delicious,” I say to you all with a toothy grin, “Happy New Year.”