Written By: Epicstu WyyvernwriterM

Teal-hued white snowflakes dotted the air in New Valhalla but did not touch the ground or anything, alive dead or inanimate, as Edward stared back at the Spartan King, Leonidas, with an obviously smug look upon his face. “I am willing to overlook your cocky attitude, but only because you do not know me,” Leonidas greeted.

“If you wish me to know you, you need only lie to me about yourself,” Edward replied.

“Where’s your weapon?” Leonidas questioned as his men stood one hundred paces behind him awaiting his order to attack. “Surely you don’t mean to insult me by not bringing one.”

“I will not need it,” Edward replied.

“So you do mean to insult me,” Leonidas chuckled with a smile that turned to focused intent as he pointed his blade at Edward. “My name is Miss Daisy and I drive some old man around for a living.”

Edward laughed heartily, “that was a very good lie. You have spread your point clear across to me, Leonidas, son of Anaxandrides, and king of Spartans. If I were I not what I am, then this challenge would be impossible without a greatsword.”

“See,” Leonidas shook his blade at Edward, “there you go insulting me again. Without A greatsword? Not specifically Heaven. Just any old greatsword will do the trick, huh?” he was interrupted by a bolt of Zesrial’s lightning that stabbed a freshly forged, tempered and sharpened greatsword in the likeness of her own Wyyvern weapon form into the ground between them. “I suggest you take it, Pup,” he taunted Edward. “My tolerance of your ignorance is reaching its end.”

Edward examined the finely crafted Heavenforged steel as he past it by walking towards Leonidas and his men, “How about we make things more interesting” he continued to walk towards them, slowly. “If you can so much as scratch me!” he hurled the words at the ancient and restless Spartan king as though Leonidas had been the one who insulted Edward by calling his lack of weapons an insult. “You may have Heaven,” Edward stopped not ten paces from Leonidas’s feet with arms stretched out. “Come now, mighty Spartan king. Just one scratch. Surely this will not even be a challenge for you,” he sarcastically taunted with a smile over focused intent.

Leonidas reached out his hand to pluck one of Edward’s snowflakes from the air as he thought on all this. It was colder than anything he had ever touched before and would not melt in his grasp. “And if you win?”

Edward thought a moment, “if I win,” he scoffed at the word, if, and because he had not intended to ask for a reward. Then he had an idea that made him grin with excitement, “then you will be Heaven’s new Warpriest.”

“I am dead,” Leonidas proclaimed laughing heartily, “the Dead cannot be Warpriests.”

“Leave that to me,” Edward replied still smiling, “after I have won.”

*          *

“What is that Fennec doing?” Loki watched the round as it played on a flatscreen in the Meadhall. “Surely he cannot take all three hundred and one without receiving a single scratch.”

“He would never have offered Leonidas that challenge if he could not,” Vladamir Korvachoff rebutted before pounding his scotch and slamming the emptied glass atop the bar while gesturing for a refill. “That Fennec loves Heaven too much to risk her in a fight he could not win,” he slammed his second drink and then gestured for a third.

“You seem to have a drinking problem,” Loki replied.

“No, I pretty much have it figured out,” Vladamir replied.

“Really?” Loki questioned.

“One of the perks,” he said the word, perks, with sarcasm, “of being a Vampire, Archangel hybrid.” He raised his third glass and slammed it before gesturing for a fourth, “I can never become inebriated,” his voice hinted at his irritation of the fact. “Not for lack of trying.”

“You know that once this tournament is over, it will be my job as the Wyyvern Knight of Vampirism to hunt you and your kin to extinction,” Loki reminded him. “As the Wyyvern Knight of Law and Order, this is not a duty that I can avoid. I must adhere to my responsibilities as a Knight of Wyyvern and punish the Knights who do not.”

“To our forced rivalry,” Vladamir commented with a toast as he lifted his fourth glass and clanked it with Loki’s before leaving the Realm without a trace. Loki could still hear his voice, “I look forward to our, hopefully, many epic battles.”

“Hopefully,” Loki smiled as he took a swig of and then stared into his drink.

“What are you thinking about?” Sarah sat down next to Loki and ordered a pint of mead.

“I was wondering where you were,” Loki replied as he looked into her eyes.

“Suddenly my keeper, are we?” Sarah replied before raising an eyebrow. “What are you staring at?” she chuckled.

Loki had become lost in her eyes. He cleared his throat, averted his directed gaze back to his drink, and slammed it. “So tell me, do you believe your God will succeed?”

Sarah smiled and took a swig of her pint, “I do not know much about these Spartans. Only that they were once regarded as the greatest warriors of all time, and that just three hundred of them stood against tens of thousands.” She paused a moment.

“That does not answer my question,” Loki rebutted.

“I do know all about Edward though,” Sarah continued looking to the flatscreen with a confident smile. “Alone he has stood against entire armies with his unbreachable Wall. Both he and these Spartans utilized bottlenecks to achieve the same end. Therefore it stands to reason this round could go either way, but he is no longer just a Wall or a Fennec Fox of the Northlands anymore.”

“Even a God would find it difficult to complete this task without receiving a single scratch,” Loki replied.

Sarah chuckled, “his Godhood is not what I was referring too.”

*          *

Leonidas lowered his blade, “so be it. Spartans!” he commanded his 300, “Show this Fennec Fox of the Northlands your profession,” and they charged with a unified battle cry.

Zesrial turned away, she could not bring herself to watch, “behold,” the Nekolich lifted Zesrial’s face, wiped the tears from her eyes, and smiled softly as he watched the round. “Finally, Life has a God again.” Zesrial turned back to watch just as the first Spartan’s spear reached Edward and passed through him as though he was not there. Then his teal-hued white snow violently began to whirl in a blizzard that covered the field. Leonidas stood and watched as spears flew past him toward Edward and his men ran around him to assault the Fennec Fox who had challenged them. One by one Edward allowed them to try, but not one of them could touch him. Their blades went through him as one by one he sent them to the Meadhall with his bare hands. Zesrial could not believe what she saw. His six-inch retractable claws were no longer of his snow and ice, but of his flesh and bone again after she had ripped them from his hands and feet. Even the one taken by the Sixth Stu had regrown.

“I’m not quite sure how to put this, folks,” Mercedes commented. “Never before have I seen such an unlikely event unfold. Almost half the Spartan army has been sent to the Meadhall and Edward still remains unscratched.”

“Truly,” Woodsmann found himself admitting, “this Fennec must be God.”

Leonidas watched and waited, biding his time as he allowed Edward to finish his 300, “this is some sort of trick,” he commented angrily as Edward grabbed the last of his men and with one punch sent him to the Meadhall. “You cheat! Face me with some Honor!”

“I offer no trickery,” Edward replied as Leonidas came to him. “I am simply the Blizzard, nothing more and nothing less,” he allowed Leonidas’s spear to impact him, but it deflected without leaving so much as a single scratch. He grabbed Leonidas’s gladius by the blade as it was swung at him, twisting and crushing it in his bare hands. He Iron Rammed the Spartan King’s shield into dust with a single headbutt without saying the words that gave the attack its power. Kicking Leonidas to the ground he showed him his hand which had held the gladius’s blade to reveal that there was no scratch on him

“King of Kings. Lord of Lords,” Leonidas said as he began to bow in respect.

His six-inch retractable claws sheathed and locked within his wrist Edward backhanded Leonidas away with full force, “do not call me such things! I am unworthy!” He snapped angrily, “and you will not bow to me.” Then he calmed his wrath, “stand up and face me as a king should.” Leonidas did and then instantly had trouble breathing, for his lungs had not known breath since his fateful death long before the fall of the 700 Realms. He shook as his heart began to beat, for it had not known blood flow since then either. “Do not falter!” Edward demanded, “from henceforth you will bow to no one but Heaven. Not to me. Not to Ares. Noone and nothing but her.” Speechless and struggling, Leonidas took a deep breath, regaining himself and his footing. He was alive again.

When Leonidas’s gaze was averted, Edward turned to see what he was looking at, “Wall of Walls,” Zesrial looked into Edward’s eyes as she walked towards him. “Protector of Life. The Blizzard. My Knight and my Shield,” she called him. “Alright, I am…”

Edward turned away from her, “yet you still fear to lose me to the Devourer. Therefore you still doubt and do not hold faith in me.”

Leonidas kicked Edward to the ground, “no! You doubt her! This tournament is far from over and the two of you have many rounds to face together! Have faith that she will believe in you or she may never.” Edward could not deny Leonidas’s words.

“To my gates with you, Warpriest. You must be fitted for the last hood you will ever where,” Zesrial said to Leonidas who bowed to her as she sent him to the stairway that leads to her gates where the Warpriestess, Snow, awaited his arrival. Then she reached a hand out to Edward, “you have proved yourself. You are every bit the Devourer’s physical equal. Though you are Living you are the Blizzard and your snow is Dead so he cannot eat you. If I fear for your safety it is only a testament of my love for you, Edward Michael Dimir.” Edward took her hand and she helped him to his feet. Putting her hand on his cheek as she looked deep into his eyes as she said unto him, “my throne is yours. I am yours. Do you love me?”

“Always,” Edward replied with sincerity and no hesitation.

Zesrial kissed him passionately and smiled, “I love you, my…”

“Do not call me that,” Edward interrupted her. “I am your Fox, not your…”

“You are my God,” Zesrial replied putting a finger to his lips. “My Fennec, not my Fox,” she smiled as she took upon herself her weapon form for him, “there is a difference.”

Only now being able to hear the cheers of the audience who had been screaming his name, Edward took Zesrial by the hilt and held her up for them to see. His snow fell over all of New Valhalla as her lightning lit the skies in a display of brilliance. “Behold,” the Nekolich proclaimed. “To Life, a Fennec comes. To Life, a Wall is given who places not the government on his shoulders, but a promise. Let the Devourer come, Life is protected for he is ready.”

*          *

From his Undead puzzle box within a circle of Hell that technically does not exist, the Devourer chuckled, “no he’s not. Not yet anyway.”