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Michael stumbled back wildly, breath leaving his body in a rush of air as he landed heavily against one of the marble pillars of the throne room. Sweat trickled down his face, stinging as it leaked into the cut on his cheek. He barely noticed the small tweak of pain, though, not over the searing agony that was the wound in his abdomen, slowly seeping his lifeblood onto his silken shirt. He knew that his adversary was a far more skilled swordsman than he himself was; what he didn't know was how the man could possibly be standing in front of him, sword poised to strike.
Everyone had thought that the Mad King had dragged himself into the Nether to die of his wounds after being dethroned. Evidently, the idiom 'what doesn't kill you will only make you stronger' was something that that applied here - Ryan's years spent isolated in that hellish place had transformed him from an unbalanced monarch to a maniacal tyrant, bent on reclaiming the throne.
Ryan swung his blackened sword and Michael barely moved out of the way in time, groaning as he jostled his injury. The swing would have certainly dealt a fatal blow if it had connected; as it was, it bit into the column Michael had been leaning against. A few chunks of loose marble clattered to the ground as Ryan yanked the sword free, frowning at the small nicks on the blade. He pivoted on his feet, sword rising and easily blocking the clumsy strike that had been aimed at his back.
The madman grinned. "Dirty tactics, Michael, attacking a man while his back is turned. Even I challenged you to a fair fight rather than just sticking a dagger in you or poisoning your wine. Me, of all people! I had to fight tooth and nail just to survive in that godforsaken place you and the others chased me into." The smile slipped from his face, eyes as hard as obsidian. "Every waking minute was a battle, against the environments and the inhabitants. The only reason I could ever rest was because I found a dungeon down there with a caved in room that none of the monsters could follow me into. I'd fall asleep to the sound of them banging against the walls and the rubble, trying to get at me." His speech was punctuated with vicious sword strikes that left Michael frantically parrying and steadily losing ground. "I had no real way of telling time there, but I know I spent years waiting for someone to reopen that portal. It was unfortunate that it had to be Gavin, though really, who else would venture down there?"
A cold weight settled in Michael's stomach, momentarily blocking out the pain of his injuries. Gavin had left on a personal mission several days before, and hadn't sent word in all that time. Michael had just assumed that Gavin had been unable to find a messenger, but now it was rapidly becoming clear that this wasn't the case.
"I mean, he was a bright boy in his own way, but he never really was one for common sense," Ryan continued, talking as if he wasn't even fighting. Michael, on the other hand, was struggling to draw breath around the lump of dread sitting high in his throat. "Still, it was a shame to have to kill him. Such wasted potential."
With an inarticulate roar, Michael launched himself at Ryan, glittering diamond sword swinging in a high arc. Too late, he realised that was exactly what Ryan had wanted. Smirking, the older man sidestepped his juggernaut assault, slashing at the King's unprotected chest as he charged past. Michael gasped in shock, lurching awkwardly away from his attacker. Ryan easily followed him, smacking the diamond sword from Michael's grip. It clanked loudly against the marble as Ryan grabbed a fistful of Michael's curls with one hand and levelled his own sword at Michael's throat with the other.
"Surrender," Ryan hissed.
"Never," was the snarled reply.
He shrugged slightly. "Have it your way." With a short, savage motion, Ryan drove the point of the sword through Michael's throat. He fell to the ground with a few desperate, gurgled chokes, and was still. Ryan picked up the crown from where it had fallen from the previous King's head and rolled into a pool of his blood, eyeing the intricate carvings upon the metal. He sighed. "It's going to take forever to get all the blood off of this." After a moment's pause, he shrugged again. "Oh well." He put the crown on without bothering to wipe any of the stains away, letting it sit at a somewhat jaunty angle. He grinned.
"Long live the King."