[Seran]

“So, BM, what’s up?” Fighter turned around as he stood in the farthest corner of the room, looking cheerful as always while ignoring the instinct of dread trying to warn him. After all, the room was gloomy, fine dust collected in layers upon the grounds – he could even see his own footprints – while nothing else but towers of crates were in the room. When Black Mage shut the door, it was very dark, but there was a window near the ceiling with the light of the flames dancing through it. Fighter felt he couldn’t maintain his smile for long. As Black Mage’s yellow eyes glowed out towards him, his expression slowly vanished into worry, his eyes barely darting away from their spot as he watched his friend approach him. “BM? I think there’s something wrong?”
“Oh, no, this is perfectly normal.” Black Mage’s footsteps were silent, yet the sound of his cloak trailing along the ground seemed rather creepy to Fighter. It reminded Fighter of the sinister snake, a darker kenshido designed for basically skinning, slitting, and deep stabbing. Fighter had never really dared to use the snake kenshido before since Vargus had warned him how it could ruin’s one noble reputation.
“Normal? Whaddya mean…normal?”
Black Mage seemed to narrow his eyes at his so-called friend. He crossed his arms, his foot tapping impatiently against the ground. More dread tried to flood Fighter, but he was reluctant to let it hold him back. He pushed the feeling away, knowing that dark and creepy was often Black Mage’s thing. Of course, he did not remember, but he just knew it was. There was no doubt about it.
“You weren’t expecting this because you’re stupid. But I’ll forgive you this time if you let me explain what I mean.”
“Uh…okay…”
Black Mage walked towards Fighter again, his cloak still hissing against the ground. The sound of it scared Fighter, for he felt some strong, evil force gripping the room, but he was not sure what it was. Perhaps something was coming to ambush him and Black Mage. Perhaps there were evil artifacts within the crates. When Fighter glanced back to his friend, he had the ridiculous feeling that the aura came from Black Mage.
“Years and years of torment I’ve had to go through with you,” Black Mage growled, pulling a dagger free from its scabbard, his right hand gripping its handle tightly with all of his rage that poured out. “You and your stupidity. You never listened to what I had to say about you. You never knew what I really felt about you. I only kept you as a meatshield. I never kept you as a friend. You never kept your mouth shut, you never made me happy. The only thing that amused me was your fear of spiders and you being tortured by whatever it was. Now you’re worthless. You have no value. I have armies at my command, armies that prove to be better meatshields than you.” Black Mage grabbed his other knife, recklessly pulling it out as his fury overcame him. “Armies that entertain me with the gruesome death they bring and the providing of the irony that is their own deaths. I don’t need you. You’re been a bothersome thorn embedded in my head for too long, Fighter, and now I can finally be rid of it. I was never your friend. You were never my friend. I am going to make you pay for tormenting me. I am going to make you relive your own nightmares, for I am a nightmare, manifest, and my evil will burn in the heart of this world no matter what! Fighter, I am evil. Fighter, I lead these armies of cold malice and heartless blood. Fighter, I was always your enemy, a traitor just waiting for the right time to destroy you.”
Fighter was stunned and shocked at these words. Black Mage’s eyes were burning with rage, rage he had never anticipated, rage that certainly said that Black Mage wanted him dead. He was scared when Black Mage claimed he was evil. He was frightened when he learned his friend was leading these destructive forces of doom and hate. He was shattered when he knew Black Mage had always, always hated him. Fighter wanted to say it was a joke. He slid against the wall, collapsing to the ground with his hands grabbing his ears. It was just a joke. It was Black Mage trying to be a friend by scaring him, and then saying later on it was all a joke to make him laugh. It was all a lie, just to strike fear into him, to subdue him. Black Mage was not evil, he was not the manifest form of his dark nightmares, he was his friend. Fighter was so confused, his hands over his face, and he did not see the shadow of Black Mage looming over him. It was a lie…a joke…a lie…just a little prank. When Fighter’s eyes, peering through his fingers, darted up to the figure standing over him with its knives raised, he was so frightened, that he let out a shuddering yell and scampered out immediately, just as the two knives came down and pinned themselves against the ground instead. This time, it was Fighter who was quaking with anger as he realized the truth.
“You bastard!” he hollered after scurrying along the wall, whirling around to face Black Mage from the darkness. His shoulder was against the wall, the stacked crates obscuring part of his vision towards the treacherous man. “You vile, heartless bastard! This isn’t a joke after all, is it! You want me dead! Your daggers can’t pierce my armor, but those aren’t your ordinary knives!” He pointed at Black Mage’s black weapons, which he felt a dark aura emanating from. Accusing Black Mage for trying to murder him, Fighter watched as the mage pulled his daggers free from the ground, and began to approach him at a very calm pace. Fighter wished he could see the traitor’s expression so he could wipe off whatever smirk was there once and for all. Black Mage raised a gloved hand, his eyes not even closed in concentration, as his hand started to burn in fire. Fighter leapt out of the way as a great stream of fire burst out, setting the crates ablaze and forcing him to flee to the other side of the room. Black Mage watched him go, as though mocking him, then turned and repeated the assault once more. Again, he missed, for Fighter was agile in his current state and there was little chance he could hit Fighter with fire. However, deciding to be strategic, he pointed his spell to where Fighter would soon be, and he let loose the flames once more. This time, Fighter saw it coming quick enough to gracefully kick off the ground and leap over it, without getting even his cape singed. He gripped his sword-chucks, detached them from the chain, and wielded one in both hand. Fighter then reached his occupied hands back, gripped Stabby and Slashy, and drew them forth too. It was truly time to get serious. There was no way Fighter would tolerate words full of such hate. This probably wasn’t even the real Black Mage! But the voice, the robes, the stabbing techniques…the spells…they were all the same…