Raguel

“Damn it! Damn it! DAMN IT! HOW COULD YOU NOT WAKE UP YOU FOOL!”

Sprinting as fast as his muscles could propel him, Flynn darted towards the colosseum gasping for air as his strained body was taking it all in.

Today he wore his signature black trench coat with tailor made white fillings, his classy top hat and his best button up shirt money can buy. Today shall be a monumental day for him and all those who shall be his witness. He could not miss this precious time frame.

He ran rapidly, carrying the mysterious tome in hand preparing himself. Deep down he knew he was ready. Ready to unleash hell and whatever lies beyond onto Jack.

He would make Jack pay for all the sins he had committed to his brother, he would make him stare up at death, the devil, and all the gods that have the power to curse him. Jack will pay for his treasons, and Flynn shall be the one to bequeath his punishments.

Flynn darted in and out of fruit stalls and angry workers along the shop streets making his way towards the colosseum. His surroundings were a blur of colors and shapes. The gothic exterior of the dwellings surrounding him seemed nothing more than a fog to him.

He was terrified that he might bump into someone and drop everything down. What if someone sees what's in his book, what if they see his gun. If they do that they’ll run to get the patrolman.

Then he's screwed, he won't be able to deliver justice, he’ll be locked in a cell forever. These thoughts crushed Flynns mind, creating a swirling, growing madness within him drowning out all other thoughts.

Expect revenge, to avenge his brother, just like a fallen angel. Perhaps that was what he was meant to be. Maybe his role in this universe was to bring an end to the wicked!

Perhaps what he is doing is true justice, not those of the damn law. Besides, he now has the power to punish them. It seemed to him that he was the only one who could.

A new found fortitude guarded his mind from delirium and insanity. Though maybe it was the insanity reaffirming his new beliefs. It mattered not, nor shall it ever matter. What mattered was approaching him, the grand colosseum.

Thousands gathered to watch the displays of strength between the gladiators. Most people enjoyed the dance of swords rather than the lethal bullet, but Flynn didn’t like the thought of being right up at his opponent. The thought terrified him so as soon as that tome had fallen out of the air, he had a reason to defend himself.

He had to be safe, the incantations within the book would not save him if he happened to die before he had the chance to mutter a word. He had to be safe so he bought a revolver and has been keeping it on his person at all times.

No matter the day nor the hour, it was with him for even the sliver of a chance anyone from the church caught wind of the unholy artifact in his possession. Well then, he would be erased from all existence, become a shadow of what was man and no one would remember him or the mysterious book.

Flynn was terrified, but even more so strained from the ever inclosing goal. He could now see the marble white colosseum in front of him. Its brilliance was unparalleled around the world! He nearly stopped to stare in awe at the supreme example of culture right before his eyes.

Its endless spines wrapping around its columns and the etched faces of humans around the ridge of the superstructure.

But if he halted today, then there would be no tomorrow for him. This was his only chance to avenge his dear brother, if he could not today then he would simply hang himself for failure. Failure was not an option here.

Running up towards the bone white arches, Flynn rammed his entire body into the soldiers posted by the entrance, they were so surprised that this feeble man would attempt to get in they forgot how to shoot. Allowing Flynn to get by as long as he sprinted as fast as the winds themselves.

The guards began the hunt, chasing Flynn down as he ran down the pearled halls of the outer colosseum. Sand shifting as his foot pressed down with the might of a god, Flynn pressed on.

The guard's footsteps were becoming quiet and distant the further and faster Flynn ran. He did not have knowledge of where this renewed vigor and life came from, but he used every little bit of it to reach the stairs leading to the watchman's balcony.

His steps resounded hollow through the halls, Flynn could begin to hear cheers of the crowd just outside through the walls. He had guessed that Jack began his introduction.

Flynn was correct, a towering gate of pure steel raised as the epitome of human strength strutted out of its gaping maw. Jack was ready to fight. His muscles glaring through the heat of the barren sun, Jack looked up at the hundreds of onlookers.

They were all ready to see him tear through flesh of man and best, to crush the skulls of his opponents with ruthless ease. He was the champion of the colosseum, the emperor's personal guard, and known as the the savage sculpture.

The fans cheered for every great step the man took, bells of gold tolled with brilliance at his arrival, and sirens sang for the approaching battle. Jack eyed the gate with eagerness for who his next victim shall be.

The opposite gates began to rise. A thundering sound emerged from the abyss behind the steel gate. A great beast emerged from the darkness, hundreds of heads and eyes, claws that could rip apart stone and metal, beaks with the ability to spew molten mist, and sunken eyes that stared deep into its prey's eyes.

Jack looked up at the monster and laughed, it had been quite a while since he fought something of this size. The beast's size was at least similar to the gate that hid it away from the world.

He grabbed his two black iron axes and readied himself for the eventual charge from the beast. The beast stared back at him, both waiting for their opponent to make the next move.

While the battle of two giants was going on, Flynn was approaching the doorless entrance to the balcony. Red scarlet drapes covered all he could see, he had no idea what might lie behind the bloodied curtains. But Flynn was going to take no chances.

He aimed his revolver at the curtains and fired all six rounds. Firing with the intent to cover as much area as he could. Soon he ran out of bullets, so he rolled behind a pillar and began to reload his gun.

A few bodies dropped behind the curtain, blood began to seep out of the gap near the bottom. The few guards that had survived ran out to the hallway, aiming their rifles at anything that might move.

Flynn had the advantage of cover, as soon as he finished jabbing the bullets into the chamber and peered around the pillar that hid his body. Three people left, Flynn aimed his gun and began to empty it all over their bodies.

Before they even realized someone was firing at them, they were already full of holes and blood poured out of every part of their body. They collapsed onto the cold marble floor, the blood hidden by the red carpet. They looked as though they were sleeping where no injury could be seen.

Flynn ran out onto the balcony. His shots did not disturb the crowd going wild as they watched the man and beast assess one another. Flynn caught glimpse of Jack and nearly fell down to his knees.

Right in front of him was the accursed sinner! He was so close now! Flynn slammed the tome down onto the railings. Dust erupted from the book signifying its old age.

Flynn sifted through the pages, reaching the one he wanted to. He had memorized this process so perfectly. He imagined this over a thousand times, the gears of his mind turning with vigorous intent.

Flynn was ready, he would finally see that damned man crumble to his knees at the power Flynn held. Flynn grabbed the dagger that had been given to him by the ancient pages.

Its curved shape made it more unique than any dagger conceived by man, symbols and shapes etched into its fine metal with care. Clearly done by a smith with divine talent and meticulousness.

Flynn prepared himself with slow methodical breaths. Feeling the chilled air around him, blocking out any cheers the surrounding crowd might let out. Then finally he dug the dagger deep into his chest.

Flynns eyes widened in shock at the sudden pain. The dagger began to glow an angelic white hue from its blade. A comforting color for such a cursed object. The dagger began to burn with the heat of a thousand black suns!

The carvings Flynn had carved over his body began to burn with the same heat. It had taken weeks for him to carve the symbols into his body, thousands of bandages to cover the wounds, and all his money to silence his neighbors from the dire screaming that came from his mouth.

But this pain was so much worse, it was like millions of centipedes all crawling under his skin as his body was lit on fire. As Flynns body began to bleed out, he tore the dagger from his chest and threw it to the ground.

With muffled tongue and blood drooling from his mouth, Flynn began to recite the words told to him by the book. Afgan Tihun Alastian Cutulanfatasion! With that a dark energy began to surround Jack.

The energy began to seep into his body, Jack's eyes began to shrivel up and fall deeper into his sockets. His legs began to break and contort into shapes. His hands and feet began to swell up and explode with puss, blood, and chunks of flesh.

Jack screamed with agony, his screaming akin to the monster that stood before him. Jack’s spine began to tear through his flesh and leave his body, his tongue began to split into pieces and multiply, filling his mouth and throat. Blocking his airways.

Flynn stared at the twisted mess of a human Jack was becoming through his quivering eyes. He was losing blood fast, maybe the pain might kill him before the blood loss does.

A smile creeped onto Flynns face as he saw his brother’s killer become more puddle than human. The pain began to become too much for Flynn to handle, darkness began to cover his vision and he fell to the ground with a bloodied splash.

A man said to be the champion of the gods was killed by a weak townsman. All because of power the man did not understand nor try to. The crowd stood up in shock at the sight of their champion's grotesque form.

That day it was said the gods wept for their fighters death, but never pursued justice in fear of the magic that had killed Jack. No one will know who killed him, the tome Flynn had found shall disappear from the world owned by man, and all that shall be remembered is that a great man had died. And a maniac had barged into the colosseum and killed himself. A strange ending indeed to that battle. No one will ever know the truth, no one will know the justice given and everyone will spit on the executors grave. Maybe one day he will rise back up with the book he had happened upon, and continue his punishment of the sins of man.