The Hated Hero: Sigil-Powered Warrior-Chapter 24: Armageddon of a Small Scale

With Immanuel’s summoned manhole being a space so constricted that neither man’s swords could swing and thrust, The Boy King planted his sword down the floor and barraged Immanuel with fists and kicks the exact moment he reappeared next to him. Shit! He moves fast!

Despite the speed of The Boy King’s overwhelming number of powerful unarmed attacks, Immanuel managed to block some with his one good arm. He needed an opening, and blocking attacks was one way to find it.

Dodging attacks was another. And somehow, he also managed to slick out of other unarmed strikes. A haymaker, one brought about by The Boy King’s overconfidence at overpowering Immanuel, was one such attack he dodged. But unlike the other attacks he had evaded so far, this slower attack gave him the needed opening—as The Boy King thrust the fist forward and up from waist-level, Immanuel struck and lit a black-striped grenade. It hissed as it flew in front of The Boy King and while Immanuel dodged the punch.

While the haymaker still continued on its flight forward, Immanuel took the form of a shadow. He rushed to the pitch-black wall of the manhole and spiraled upward, sticking to the wall the entire time. And once he was close to the hole’s opening, he pulled himself out with the Reach Sigil.

The stun grenade let out a deafening pop and an overwhelming bright flash. Although Immanuel made it out of the hole in time, his ears still rang, limiting his hearing.

Now!

He reverted to his human form, planted the blade of his sword down on the floor, and took a throwing dagger out of the pouch with his right hand. His left hand glowed purple: the Reach Sigil was active. He stretched the tendril out from his palm to the throwing dagger; it had a solid grip on the weapon.

Immanuel stretched the tendril further, letting it hang for a moment, and twirled it around. Satisfied with the way the combination felt in his hand, he maneuvered forward, to the manhole opening and tossed the dagger down.

He hit The Boy King’s right arm in retaliation for wounding his, and pulled the dagger back. The Boy King let out a pained cry and braced his wounded arm with his free hand.

The Boy King’s head stayed down—he never looked up at all. Then he let go of his wounded arm and waved around the space in front of him, and the whole scene finally made sense to Immanuel. He’s blinded!

Immanuel shot the dagger down the hole again, this time hitting The Boy King’s other arm, and pulled the tendril back. Then, intending to kill, he aimed and hit The Boy King’s neck.

With the advantage he had gained, Immanuel repeated this attack many more times, never repositioning himself and never stopping even as he had reduced The Boy King’s limbs and neck into mush.

"You should have yielded, Your Majesty," Immanuel whispered.

"You should have gone for the head, Maier." The voice came from far ahead of him.

How the fuck...

Only The Boy King’s sword was left in the summoned manhole. The Boy King stood at a distance, far away from the hole. His arms, legs, and neck were intact. So was the rest of him. As for his clothing and armor, they had not a single stain on them.

The Boy King pointed up, the grin on his face visible even from far away. Violent orange light enveloped the entire space, as though it was on fire. Immanuel’s gaze followed where he pointed to. Fireballs high above them were descending upon them both.

"Oh fuck, this shit again." Immanuel grimaced. The sight reminded him of the ballistae and the bolts they fired upon him and the many monsters that chased him.

"Do you know how I won my hardest battles, Maier?" The Boy King paced forward as he spoke with a calm demeanor, as if his victory over Immanuel was certain. "By keeping secrets. You already know of one of them: keeping all three sigils a secret throughout my life."

Immanuel’s heart pounded. His limbs shook. His teeth chattered. He struggled to hide his fear. Only stop when you’re dead. Never yield. Always find a way out. Fight with dishonor as necessary.

Always find a way out.

"The second secret is to raise your mana capacity to impossible levels."

Plagiarism... whenever you see a spell being cast...

He never saw me move through the smoke earlier, did he?

"And the third secret is to learn as many spells as you can."

The lights of the fireballs above are creating multiple shadows around my sword.

"Now it is my turn to ask you, Immanuel Maier. Do you yield?"

The flames intensified. The fireballs were getting closer to slamming where they stood. Any time from now...

The Mouse and Manhole sigils glowed through the white robes. "Never."

Immanuel summoned a manhole beneath The Boy King, dispelling the first one cast. He fell in it as soon as it appeared and just as Immanuel had assumed shadow form.

Even a moment’s delay is good enough.

Immanuel turned back, rushing to his sword as fireballs were starting to hit the floor, setting the entirety of the area ablaze. As his shadow form darted along the floor, he dodged not only the fireballs as they hit and the flames they burst into, but also the fiery shards that flew in all directions as the fireballs shattered upon impact.

Not even a single tongue of flame touched Immanuel as he moved, but the slick black skin of his present form boiled as though it were water. He let out a loud, otherworldly cry; his resolve was the only thing driving him forward.

Having acknowledged the Reach Sigil with his mind, he lengthened and shot his spindly arms towards a shadow cast by his sword. Even as the entire place was rumbling, Immanuel’s sword stayed where he planted it, neither swaying nor rocking.

Immanuel Maier pulled the entirety of his form into the shadow, melding with it. As he predicted, The Boy King, his longsword ready to swing, reappeared next to Immanuel’s greatsword moments too late—he had disappeared, looking no different than the shadow he pulled himself into.

Yes!

"No!"

In rapid succession, Immanuel shot multiple tendrils out to other passing shadows nearby, using their darkness to extend their lengths, then darted the tendrils at The Boy King. These tendrils, with their ends sharpened like spearheads, pierced The Boy King’s arms, legs, and neck. The tendrils pushed him out of striking range of his longsword, and not even a single drop of his blood was spilled on Immanuel.

"What?!" gurgled The Boy King. "Impossible!"

Immanuel’s attack dispelled the presence of the fireballs still on their path of descent, as well as the rocks, flames, smoke, and heat all throughout the area. In no time, the place returned to its comfortable, pristine white state once more, with the only stains being the pools of blood around The Boy King and Immanuel Maier.

Immanuel pulled back the pointed ends of the tendrils and revealed throwing daggers on each of them, held by a second tendril.

"You fight well, Your Majesty," Immanuel said while on his knees and prostrated before The Boy King. The tendrils disappeared, and the daggers fell.

The Boy King could only let out a gurgling groan as he crashed face-first to the floor after the daggers fell. The longsword bounced on the floor once and landed next to Immanuel with a loud KLANG, startling him.

A glowing, floating scroll unrolled. Unlike the others he had encountered, this one was torn at the edges, discolored all throughout, and decayed. Good thing it already had a message written on it.

You have handed The Boy King his first defeat in combat. You now have the right to use the following sigils upon your return to the real world:

Explosive Clone

Plagiarism

Breakthrough

The permanence of death does not apply in this realm, only in the real world. The Boy King will be revived shortly.

The worn-out scroll rolled back up and disappeared. A familiar bottle of red liquid appeared, hovering over the floor before making a slow descent.

"Is this for me? Or for King Mercurius?"

Motes of golden light appeared from thin air over The Boy King’s body and the blood that spilled out of him. These particles descended, then enveloped the entirety of his body and every pool of his blood around him for some time.

Immanuel grabbed the bottle off the floor and consumed its strawberry-flavored contents without pause. Just as he was about to set the bottle down, he gasped at the sight in front of him—King Mercurius, The Boy King, alive, intact, and untarnished. Like Immanuel, he was seated with his legs crossed. But perhaps while Immanuel busied himself with the offered drink, he busied himself exercising his arms and neck.

"That fast, Your Majesty?!" Immanuel shrieked, referring to his revival. The Boy King kept his silence and gave him a wide-mouthed grin instead.

"Unbelievable." Immanuel finally set the bottle down. "Regardless, it is great to see you alive again."

"Well, as a spirit, I never truly die. Whatever body I inhabit, one shaped like myself in life, can die, as you have just seen. But He—Mistrerion—can just give me another one to use if there is a need to," said The Boy King with a shrug.

Immanuel leaned forward, curious. "I read something that said this was your first defeat. How true is that?"

"Oh, the scroll? Yes, that is true. But it is technically a lie." The Boy King held up a hand at Immanuel, whose eyes widened in disbelief. "Before you react, allow me to explain why that is so."

The Boy King held up three fingers. "You fought for the right to use all three sigils connected to me, right?"

Immanuel nodded. His face still bore his disbelief.

"Well, many others have fought me for one or two out of the three sigils associated with my life." The Boy King chuckled before he continued. "Those who challenged me for the right to one of my sigils, I have given an easy victory. I am king after all, and I must serve whoever is in need of me. Sometimes I just make challenging environments to test them instead of actually fighting them."

"I think I know where this is going."

The Boy King leaned back, a grin on his face. "Really? Let me hear it, Maier."

"So you fight evenly with those who want two of your sigils, and if it so happens that they want all three, you hold nothing back, even unleashing copied spells like the fireballs. Copies you have kept in mind for a long time."

"Correct, down to the fireballs being copies remembered by the Plagiarism Sigil. You know how I did that?"

"Go on..." Immanuel also waved for His Majesty to proceed. He already knew the answer, but he allowed him time to elaborate out of courtesy, more than anything.

"The second secret. In life, I raised my mana capacity to impossible levels, and this allowed the Plagiarism Sigil to keep records of every spell I wanted to use in future battles. You surely do not want to know what other spells I could have unleashed on you earlier."

"Isn’t that too much, though? I mean, you still keeping copies of spells when the only combat you could see in this realm is a duel."

"TOO MUCH?!" The Boy King cackled. "You want the right to use ALL THREE of my sigils and you complain that the fight was too much?!"

Immanuel scratched his head. "Fair enough. I mean, they did say I could get killed fighting for one."

"Exactly."

"So far, how many have challenged you for all three sigils?"

The Boy King took in a deep breath as he struggled to remember. Then, after a moment, he remembered, and his face lit up. "Only three. You were the third challenger and the first one to win against me in no holds barred combat."

Immanuel’s conversation with Mercurius, The Boy King, went on for so long that the royal felt compelled to summon a floating, glowing scroll and quill in front of him and write a request for cold fruit juices in bottles.

"You know what’s missing in this conversation, Maier? Cold drinks."

The requested bottles, each containing a colored beverage, then appeared next to each of them in two separate trays the very moment The Boy King rolled the scroll back up. Each bottle held at least a pint of fruit juice. Immanuel studied the tray next to him before he took a bottle he thought contained orange juice. True enough, a sip confirmed that it did taste like it.

But it was not just another refreshing drink after exhausting combat. As it turned out, the beverage stirred something inside of Immanuel, perhaps literally—what felt like the presence of another being inside of him shot out to his limbs, boosting their strengths, it seemed like.

"Your Majesty, what is this?" Wide-eyed in disbelief, Immanuel studied the now-empty bottle.

The Boy King motioned to the juice bottles on the tray next to Immanuel. "Your bonus for defeating me with such a clever method: juices that boost your mana capacity and restore lost mana. Available only here in this realm. Indulge."

And without any second thought, Immanuel obeyed, pouring the contents of one bottle after another into himself in quick succession. Unbelievable! This is much more than what I wanted!