One enormous hoof stomped onto the top step of the dais containing the portal. The minotaur snorted in determination; his friends had sacrificed so much so that he could get this far, and in some cases, that had meant their lives. And not just fellow minotaurs, either; elves, humans, dwarves, halflings, centaurs, all had rallied to Kelil’s cause. Honor dictated that he not let his compatriots down now.

As Kelil unsheathed his faithful twin-bladed axe, Demon Smiter, he drew closer to the portal that led to his foe. Chainmail armor clinking together, Kelil’s nervous energy seemed to manifest itself in the bolts of lightning crackling around the portal. Now facing the portal, however, Kelil closed his eyes and forced that energy down, molding it into pure power like he had done with so much blades back home in his smithy. And for the one moment before the minotaur stepped through the portal, absolute tranquility reigned; the calm air soothed Kelil’s soul more than a faerie’s whisper upon the gentle rainfall. I will not fail them. Any of them.

When Kelil once again opened his eyes, they fell upon the chaotic landscape of his foe’s domain. Nothing tangible existed in this place, not even solid ground, the minotaur thought with dismay, but as he looked down he discovered that it felt as though he walked upon something substantial. The void could not truly be describes in words, though suffice it to say this new battleground perfectly mirrored the war Kelil’s friends fought on his own place of existence.

Ignoring the chaos about him, Kelil focused his vision straight in front of him; there his opponent stood, the calm before the storm, or perhaps the storm before the calm. Dark energy swirled around his form, but Kelil merely saw the eyes; they were the eyes of Destruction, the eyes of Death, the eyes of Apocalypse. Again the minotaur snorted, this time in contempt for this incarnation of shadows. Every muscle in Kelil’s body tensed with anticipation, every nerve twitched with adrenaline, his entire body eager for this last fight.

In the one instant that Kelil blinked, his enemy was right in front of him, cruel sword slashing towards his neck. But the minotaur was a seasoned warrior, not one to be defeated so easily. Demon Smiter was there to block the death swing. But the impact sent Kelil reeling backwards. Performing a backwards roll, Kelil quickly regained balance, and the two warriors clashed with blades, sparks flying everywhere. The minotaur pushed the dark one back, trying to gain the offensive, but the black blade of his opponent met his advances at every pass. Kelil performed a low sweeping kick to knock his unearthly foe off balance, but the warrior merely leaped over the attack and came down with an overhead swing aimed directly at the gap in the minotaur’s chainmail armor near the baseline of the neck. Demon Smiter once again met the blade before it reached its target, with the wielder pushing to the side, using the momentum of his opponent’s blow to drive his sword away from him. However, the dark one kept the strike going in a perfect arc, creating a scar on Kelil’s cheek, but at the same time, the minotaur had managed to slip the point of his axe under his enemy’s guard, making his own blood impression, as shallow as the cut Kelil had just received.

The two slid apart, already hard breaths emanating from their bodies, but their eyes were too far into the battle trance to take notice. Adrenaline forced the warriors to clash again, a thousand tiny cuts appearing on both warriors within moments. Kelil and his dark opponent were equally matched in strength and speed—that much was certain, as both held bloody proofs of that; now it was just down to endurance.

Around and around the non-existent realm did the warriors battle; blood, though there was no tangible ground to fall on, still managed to decorate the landscape like tapestries filled a king’s palace. And yet, still, the battle did not slacken in intensity; if anything, the intricate dance of steel wove even faster about the ethereal stage of chaos. Even the slightest mistake in either of the players’ parts would lead to the final act.

Blood pounded in Kelil’s eyes, his ears, and his very fingers gripping his steadfast axe. Still, the minotaur did not relent in his assault on this foe, for much more than Kelil’s own life was at stake here. And finally, that unremitting willpower paid off; the dark one made that one slight mistake, that one variation to the tune of battle that cost him. A swing meant for Kelil’s torso missed by mere millimeters, luck on the part of both. But the warrior’s missed opportunity carried him too far forward by an equal miniscule amount, and so Kelil took the advantage; leaning forward, Demon Smiter entrenched itself in the back of an armored calf, the force of the blow biting even through the plate armor that protected it. Only quick reflexes on the part of the minotaur’s foe saved his life; as Kelil came around for a decapitation, the yelp of pain from his opponent was cut short as the blade of darkness was thrust up to prevent the deathblow. The blood-red eyes of Kelil starkly contrasted with the voided dark eyes of his enemy.

One question. “If you leave now, I’ll spare your life.” Beast eyes narrowed promisingly.

One answer. “Your world will suffer.” Dark eyes narrowed venomously.

Demon Smiter began to glow the same deep-blood hue as Kelil’s eyes; it was as eager as its master to end this dark one’s life. In an explosion of fire and blood, the dark blade was shattered and its wielder broken. The Smiter continued the follow-through stroke, even after the head of its enemy fell upon the ground, eyes now voided in a different expression—one of death.

The chaos plane began to fall apart with the advent of its master’s death. But the minotaur did not notice; finally had the pain of the battle caught up to his racing spirit. The cuts and bruises that seemed so insignificant during the battle now became portals of pain. Kelil collapsed to his knees, Demon Smiter falling to the ground, its last and most powerful enemy smote.

The honorable minotaur could almost feel the war secede in his own world as well; the spiritual bond that he could feel with his friends was still intact. Kelil smiled, and then began to laugh as the pain continued to multiply with each new breath. He had done it. He had not let his friends down, not today. They would live to fight another day.

His laughing stopped, his breathing slowed, but in those moments before his death, Kelil could think only of his friends and how he had been proud to know them.

Kelil’s body fell next to his opponent’s in a death embrace, an embrace that was soon engulfed by the fiery pits of implosion as the void of chaos was annihilated.