Fighter's Nightmare [don't post here so soon]

[Seran]

Distracted, Fighter failed to see as he found himself flung into the wall by some form of gravity spell. Except it pushed him into the wall and didn’t pull him into the ground, which he found was not right. Black Mage didn’t know such spells. He raised his head, his cape sliding off, and saw the debris of the crates littering the ground. Black Mage was striding towards him. Panicking, Fighter pushed himself off the ground clumsily and turned to face Black Mage. If he ran again, he would have truly been a coward. Fighters don’t run from their equal foes, they fight! But could he really consider Black Mage as equal? Deciding not to think about it, Fighter leapt forward with his four swords.
“Wreeeeyaaargh!”
His four blades connected with Black Mage’s two evil daggers, which had crossed while Black Mage ducked beneath their blades. Fighter struggled to push them down, but somehow, it was Black Mage who was pushing him back. Knowing he wouldn’t win that duel, he leapt back for another strike, avoiding the sharp edges that swung out to slice through his armor and burn his flesh. He knew just what such demonic weapons could do. He didn’t know how Black Mage got his little hands on them, but he knew this thing, whatever or whoever it was, had to die. Racing forward, Fighter swung his left arm out, Slashy guiding his left Kenshido sword while he made another assault on Black Mage, his right arm flying forward to let Stabby do its job by piercing the black mage’s head. His foe ducked wildly, and the warrior fell forward, but he skillfully lunged all four of his sword down towards Black Mage. Black Mage rolled out of the way, and Fighter pierced the ground, giving him enough support to allow him to perform another graceful front flip, him still gripping his four blades. Fighter whirled around to see a blue-and-yellow little demon rush at him with intense, frightening speed, its eyes fixed on him, right arm flung back in a stabbing pose. He quickly stepped back, crossed his four swords, and defended himself from the attack. Fighter could hear his heart beating in his ears, pounding hard, and the fire outside raged on as though supporting the battle with angry embers licking at the glass window. Reluctant to give Black Mage another chance, Fighter slid his swords down swiftly and took a step back, then pounced forward to stick his swords up Black Mage’s skull – if there was one. Black Mage tumbled down and rolled backwards, before pushing himself back onto his feet.
“Give it up Fighter, and just surrender. I’ll make your death less painful if you do!”
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear another word from you!”
Fighter jumped forward, his cape flying behind him, and with his arms crossed, his four swords lying on his shoulders, he screamed out the lethal attack he wished to never use.
“Venom of the Cobra Fang!”
He swung his arms out swiftly, and his swords all slashed out towards his foe. He did not know that the attack could have failed, for no one had known. He shut his eyes as a tormenting pain cut across his wrists deeply, and he fell to the ground, dropping his swords. He fell on top of them, and let out a scream as his leg fell through Stabby, his right Kenshido sword speared his shoulder, and his left Kenshido sword slide through his armor into his stomach. The pain in his wrists was unbearable. As he looked at them with tears in his eyes, he saw blood pouring out far too freely, his wrists steaming from Black Mage’s unearthly daggers. He suddenly lost the stamina to remove his swords from his body. He knew Black Mage had gotten what he wanted – enjoyment, from Fighter’s unimaginable pain. His mind was overloading with the agony, and he felt himself bleeding to death. Bleeding…bleeding…dying…death was coming for him, he knew…dying…
Black Mage slowly walked over to Fighter, and kneeled down by him. Fighter slowly turned his head, his eyes shining with tears of pain, yet the light in his gaze slowly becoming dull to death. “Help…me…” he squeaked, for one last hope. Black Mage nodded, tore his cape off ruthlessly, and Fighter could hear loud screeches from something carving into his armor. “W-what are you doing…?”
“Leaving my mark of victory,” Black Mage answered coolly. “Good bye. Old pal.”
Black Mage raised his hand, and plunged it down at where Fighter’s heart was to be.
“Mommy!” Fighter screamed once last time, like a doomed child fated to face a brutal death.

Fighter!

Cool air rushed into his lungs as his eyes snapped open, he flinging himself forth on the fluffy bed, the voice of Swordopolis still ringing in his ears, the images of the terrifying dream forever engraved into his mind. Bad memory or not, he would never be able to forget such a horrifying nightmare. Cold sweat ran down his forehead, his hands shaking from the flames, the blood, and the pain. He had really thought he was about the die. Fighter stared down at his bedsheets, which thankfully, he had not wet. His hands slowly lifted themselves, and he gazed at his wrists, looking for any signs of steaming blood. He felt his face, which had the expression of horror etched into his face and not death. His breaths were shaky, his lower lip quivering, and he gulped. His eyes slowly raised themselves to meet the shadows of his friends approaching – Thief, Red Mage, and even Black Mage. Thief was the first to come to him, emerging from the darkness to reveal his tan face and his blue hair. Thief looked quite irritable, but that only calmed Fighter, and Thief climbed onto the bed, sitting on his stomach.