WAR PLANET: The Phantom

Chapter 6

The molve leapt for Ronan's exposed back as he tried to flee, barely missing the tail end of his uniform. The next visible turnoff was too far away, Ronan could feel the wind from the molve's front paws as it caught up to him. He was going to get caught.

Then he realized his situation. It was a violent, life threatening, version of tag, and in tag, the chaser is always at the mercy of the chased. He took a sharp turn straight into the wall, the molve bounding past him and charging face first into another wall, before realizing its victim had escaped. The molve snarled at its prey that had cheated it of its victory, and shook the loose stones from its head; it was done toying with its target.

Patting down his flattened pockets, Ronan fished out his last dagger. He still had the stealthy sword fastened to his back, but after seeing the molves, he didn't feel like a long swinging weapon would do the trick. The molve leered at Ronan, walking away from the cratered wall and taking him by surprise when instead of charging him, the beast made a sound that could count as a wolfish scoff, and walked away into another path.

Forced to follow his suspicious enemy, he quietly tailed it, peering around the corner.

There it was, sitting at the other end of the circular clearing where Ronan had first appeared, the heart of the maze. He walked out of the maze, standing fully exposed in terrain the molve had the upper hand in. It snorted with satisfaction at its enemy's compliance, barking in a taunting manner.

Ronan tried to think up a plan to defeat the malcontent molve. If he got it close enough, he could throw his dagger at its weak spot. The problem was the molve's knack for charging things, which would make aiming his weapon difficult, but still possible.

He stopped, giving the glinting dagger a good stare. He'd never actually thrown a dagger at something before, so why was he even considering that option?

The boy was taking his sweet old time in fantasizing his futile victory, shaving precious seconds off his remaining eight minutes. The molve was tired of his cheap tricks that defeated its comrades. If this kid was going to beat it, it would be from a head on assault.

The two plotted silently in their separate corners, analyzing and assessing. Looking at the small dagger in Ronan's hand, the molve made its final decision, I'll make that boy unsheath his sword.

Sucking in a heap of air, the molve parted its jaws and let loose a thunderous roar. Its orange energy spiked and flared in all directions, engulfing its stony mass like a gasoline drenched rock lit ablaze. The molve's intimidation tactic did its job, striking Ronan with an overwash of surprise as his heart clenched together, and he became hesitant to follow through with an attack.

The orange energy streaked like fire behind the molve as it tore across the clearing. Ronan threw the dagger without thinking twice about aiming, and it sliced through the air straight for its destined mark; at least it would have been if its target didn't have a head, and he'd thrown the dagger better than a blinfolded baby T-Rex. The molve gracefully caught the dagger between its jaws, looking at Ronan with an odd grin as it crushed the blade into tiny fragments.

The remnants of Ronan's dagger crumbled to the ground like bread crumbs, taking with it his hopes in fighting the beast. Now was not the time for moping though. He furrowed his brow into a worried look and unsheathed his sword, of all the things to be doing with a broadsword, blocking giant stone paws was the last thing he would have imagined. The two fought, and despite all the blows he landed on the beast without receiving one himself, the molve was winning. His sword was a sword, it couldn't cut through stone, at best it could chink it.

Jeremy wasn't being helpful either, he was sitting contemptuously back at the path Ronan had walked out of, and he didn't seem to be in the mood for assisting. Lumience can sometimes work if you imagine what you want it to do. For some reason Red's words popped into Ronan's head, and he looked at his dull grey sword, imagining it cutting a rock.

As usual, upon landing another strike on the molve, Ronan's blade bounced off its torso with a spray of sparks. Enough was enough.

To Ronan, his current situation was sinking deeper and deeper into a dreary pit of hopelessness, with no logical way out. So if logic wasn't the answer, something illogical would have to do.

"You stupid. Stupid butter knife!" He snapped, smacking the blunt edge of his sword repeatedly.

The molve drew back in surprise, watching as its foe had a mental breakdown with its weapon, that it was now abusing by smacking it against the ground.

"How hard is it to cut a pebble?" Ronan turned to where Jeremy sat watching the spectacle and pointed his sword out with a trembling arm. "You want me to get eaten? Fine! I give up!" He turned back to the molve, and spread his arms like he was preparing to embrace the creature. "Eat me!"

The molve sat aghast at the boy, eat him? What reason would it have to eat a scrawny teenager like him? The kid was crazy. There wasn't a point of an entrance exam if half the applicants were eaten by giant stone wolves. The molve grunted in confusion, bowing away to scan his features for a trap. The boy was acting unstable. It snorted in ponderment as the boy continued to pose with his arms thrown out, giving it a substantial amount of debate around putting the over stressed boy out of his misery.

"No?" Ronan lowered his arms, looking at his sword with one last attempt in making something happen. "Abracadabra! Hocus Pocus! Zoomy zoom zoom! Do something!" His voice dropped to a cracking whimper of desperation.

"Please..."

To Ronan's surprise the blade shone a light silver, while lightly warming his hand. "Finally! Thank you!" He sighed, he didn't have the slightest clue as to what it meant, but hopefully whatever he'd done was useful. "Sorry for that pause." Ronan pointed the shining silver sword at the molve. "Let's continue."

No matter how concerned the molve felt regarding its target, and the strange spectacle that had occurred before it, it was still required to stay true to its orders. Including going easy on its target, since it was only a potential first year, while prompting it to use lumience.

But it definitely wasn't going to shy away from recommending a psychological analysis after this.

The two recommenced their fight, but now Ronan's sword was damaging the creature, leaving deep grooves in its pelt wherever he slashed it. While this gave Ronan an almost pompous atmosphere in the presence of a beast that could wipe the floor with him under better circumstances, the molve was concerned for its pride in submitting to the panicked adolescent, and Ronan came to notice it was now attacking his blade more so than himself.

The blade was wearing down, sustaining a large amount dents from the molves continuous slashing, but Ronan continued to land any strike he could on the beast. In the vain hope of defeating it before it broke his blade.

The molve jumped at Ronan intending to knock him over, but he barely dodged it with an unstable side step.

He took the generous opening, and smashed the molve's face with a two handed strike, causing it to cower away and wipe at its half-shattered face with a whimper. Ronan gave his timid enemy a crazed smile, raising his sword like an executioner preparing to deliver a second harsh blow, when its fiery energy died away, retreating back to the molve's chest as it jumped away from Ronan's empowered blade.

He steadied his rampant breathing while he stood at an advantage over his foe, his left hand seared in pain from the hilt of the sword rubbing against its burns, his ears hadn't stopped ringing, and now a wave a nausea was washing over him; he had to end this fight quickly.

The molve jumped at Ronan again, only to crush the wooden entrance examination sign instead of its actual target. He stepped in to strike its head for a second time, but found instead of going all the way through, his sword stopped.

Right between the molve's jagged teeth.

He cursed under his breath, knowing what came next. With a quick head flick the molve ripped the blade from his hands, tossing it like a piece of scrap metal and sending it flying across the clearing.

Ronan stepped back, hitting the stump of the entrance sign that broke his balance and sent him tumbling backwards.

The molve snagged the opportunity and pinned down Ronan's shoulders with its heavy paws. It was over, the boy was out of tricks, he was helpless.

Its paws crushed down on Ronan's shoulders, pushing the air out of his lungs, and its pointed snout hovered inches from his head, blasting his face with its hot breath. He locked eyes with the molves merciless gaze, and was overcome with the panic coursing through his veins.

He tried to squirm loose, kicking its underbelly and punching its stomach. After stubbing his toe, and a couple scrapes to the knuckles he knew it was useless, the molve had him. He gave in to defeat, wiggling his pinned shoulders with a soft whimper as he tried to put his mind in a happy place before his demise. He didn't have to study for the finals he was going to fail regardless... that was happy.

His uncle wouldn't have to distract himself once a month to entertain the nephew he'd been stuck with... Ronan frowned. That was probably happy too.

A slimy purple tongue snaked out of molve's mouth, dripping warm, viscous saliva onto his nose. He turned his head to the side in disgust, noticing the splintered top of the sign, resting next to him. It had been shattered into sharp and pointy pieces, and to his desperate eyes, it was a pile of wooden stakes. The molve was distracted with prolonging its sweet victory, so he moved his hand towards the pile and silently grabbed one.

He locked eyes with the molve, but this time without a wave of panic pooling his eyes. No, this time he looked deep into the molve's haughty eyes, and smiled. The molve retracted its tongue after viewing the boys unnerving look and snarled, baring its deadly fangs with a deafening bark. He didn't waste the chance and shoved the piece of wood into it's chest, piercing the ball of orange energy.

The molve gave Ronan one last peeved look, then crumbled into a pile of heavy rocks that avalanched onto him.

He sat there. Buried under the pile of rocks, with a strange mix of shock, adrenaline, and victory swirling around him. He didn't care if the rocks hurt, he single handedly defeated six giant stone wolves like some crazy cartoon character.