The sunlight beamed down on Christopher’s face, causing him to squint and reach to cover his eyes with his hand. It had been days since he had felt the sun’s warmth on his skin and it took several moments for his eyes to adjust after becoming accustomed to the darkness of the Guadalahar Caverns. The adjustment process was made even more difficult due to the scorching temperatures. Once his vision had returned, Christopher examined himself and noted the dirt covering his clothes.
Despite the dry conditions, Christopher heard the faint trickling sound of water nearby. His suspicions of there being somewhere to refresh himself seemed more plausible given the healthy-looking foliage around him surrounding the exit from the caverns which had brought him back into the open around half way up a mountain. Christopher jostled through the shrubbery and found himself in another clearing which had a free-flowing current of water running through the middle of it.
A conveniently-placed boulder was sufficient as a seat and Christopher threw himself down onto it, not caring that doing so sent another jarring sensation up his spine. He lifted his sword from its sheath on his back and placed it next to him on the rock. The sun reflected off of the golden blade and caused him to wince slightly before he removed the sheath and then his shirt which was torn in several places and stained with blood - mainly belonging to him.
As Christopher looked down at his chest he saw several fresh cuts strewn across his chest and the stinging sensations of incoming infections could be felt on his back too, after the skirmish in the cave. Christopher was reminded of his most recent battle - which he would consider to be a defeat - against the cave-dwelling weaselpeople. He slowly considered the golden necklace around his neck in his hand and shook his head, lamenting the potential fate of the holder of its counterpart.
Christopher had left Alyster in the cave to continue their fight with the weaselpeople; he had to leave as he could not withstand the toll of that particular battle any longer. It was another tale he was sure would come back to haunt him through ridicule, along with his failure to slay Daniel the Great after leaving Lynbrook. Despite asserting his position over Johan Sommer and defeating Octillian’s forces alongside Alyster, Christopher chose to dwell on those encounters with Daniel and the rodents in the cave. He knew that everyone else would.
“I’ve never seen a champion less worthy!”
“How many times is he going to lose?”
“If he can’t handle the pressure, he should just give up!”
The voices tormented Christopher as he rested his head on his palms as he sat on the boulder. These defeats had left him feeling vulnerable. The life of a champion was tough and now being in possession of the necklace as well as the sword meant that it was going to be twice as tough. Enemies could appear at any time. Threats would emerge from almost nothing. These were things that Christopher knew, but he did not care to think about further as he reached down and removed his shoes.
Soon enough, Christopher was completely nude with the exception of the necklace which he did not feel he needed to remove. Whilst this was ostensibly for practical reasons, he felt safer whilst wearing it and he felt that Alyster would be safer whilst he wore it also. With no trepidation, Christopher approached the stream on his tiptoes to avoid any loose stones digging into the soles of his feet. His natural nimbleness and agility made this look effortless.
He dipped a toe in the water and retracted it immediately when he felt how cold it was in stark contrast to the sun’s heat. Despite this, he decided to throw himself in and stand in the water with both feet but was taken by surprise at how deep it was. Christopher was immediately submerged and he was grateful that his feet touched the base of the stream which allowed him to propel himself up so he could get his head back above water.
The sudden shock of going completely underwater and the radical change in his body temperature caused him to gasp for air initially upon resurfacing, but after a few seconds he regulated his breathing as he began to tread water to keep himself afloat. The water did have the desired effect on his body, though, as he did feel some relief from the scratches sustained in the cave. He used one of his hands to wipe away the dried blood from his skin and the patches of dirt which adorned his entire body.
In doing so, Christopher failed to appreciate what was happening around him. His feet got further and further away from the floor underneath him as the water level slowly began to rise around him and spill onto the banks on either side of the stream. Christopher finally realised something was happening when he felt the current grow from calm to barely manageable to actually needing to fight against it lest it sweep him away.
As the panic began to set in, Christopher looked in the direction where the current was attempting to take him and realised that not fifty feet away he could no longer see where the stream went. He could only assume that it was a sheer drop that was waiting for him. He looked further up the mountain and his eyes widened when he saw what was coming his way.
The water crashed in various places on the mountain as it traversed various natural curves in its path before its direction straightened out and Christopher realised that it was cascading towards him at an alarmingly fast rate. Christopher desperately clawed against the current, trying to reach the boulder and more specifically, his prized sword. He fought with all of his will, but the wave from above clattered into him with such force that it knocked him completely underwater once more.
Still, Christopher fought. He pulled his head just above the water and moved in any way he could to move himself closer to his sword… but it was too much. After all of the fighting, victories and defeats, Christopher was simply too tired. His last gambit was reaching with his fingers towards his golden sword but it was futile. The current overtook him, sinking his head under the water and the last sight of him before the current sent him over the edge was his fingertips - still reaching out - slowly disappearing as the water level rose.
Christopher was out of his depth, and he had realised it too late.
**********
One Hour Later…
The clearing had calmed following the sudden burst of water which swept Christopher of Lynbrook away and the stream of water bisecting it was as calm as Christopher had found it.
The serenity was broken by the sound of voices. Angry and frustrated voices. “Surely the time for preparations is over? Now it must be time to strike! The time for action! How much longer can you expect me to wait and watch?”
“You are in no position to question us! You will continue to wait until you are instructed otherwise. Only then will you be considered for return.”
“He is weak. Now is the perfect time-”
“Careful of which stones you cast when speaking of weakness, exiled one. You will do as instructed as is our creed. Your honour swears on it. Now, resume your duties, Watcher.”
Even though two voices could be heard, only one figure emerged on the opposite side of the clearing that Christopher had. The Watcher - a tenured warrior and known around the world as one of the most skilled with a blade - brushed away the low hanging branches of the trees around him and closed his hand, extinguishing the fire that he had conjured as a means to communicate with his counterparts.
Known to the other watchers as ‘the exiled one’, this Watcher had been present for Christopher of Lynbrook’s entire journey up to this point. Their paths had crossed several times before; in all previous melees, Christopher had bested him. It was these failures and many others like it which led to his exiled status from the rest of his kind. Whilst they had all decided to accept their success and status, content to live off of past victories and leave their legacies intact, this one wanted more.
Being regarded as a great warrior and champion was not enough. The Watcher would not be content until he had proven to himself, the other watchers and the rest of the world that he was still capable of reaching the heights that he had before. However all that he had to show for it were increasing doubts in the minds of those around him as that defining victory to solidify his status continually eluded him. He was tarnishing his own great legacy but knew he was too committed to this cause to abandon it now.
As he lowered his hand he caught a glimpse of the wounds he sustained during his sojourn into the nearby caves; he, like Christopher, was unable to fend off the weaselpeople. Whilst he was examining scars he also pulled the sleeve of his cloak up further to examine the jet black branding of a skull which had been imprinted on him by the satanic beast known as the Death Walker. These represented his weaknesses and his falling star for the Watcher of old would have never suffered such defeats. The defeats that the other watches avoided entirely by calling it a day when they believed their time had passed.
They were wrong to believe that though, for there was no one in Fantasia who wouldn’t think that The Watcher was still capable of ascending to the heights of his former glory. No one thought this more than The Watcher himself. It was all he lived for. Constantly striving to do what he needed to do to reach that point once more and now the only man standing in his way was Christopher of Lynbrook. The Watcher knew that the only thing that he needed to silence all of those creeping doubts was the golden sword.
The very same sword, which The Watcher noticed had been abandoned on a rock on the opposite side of the small stream in front of him.
There it was. The key to the place in the world which he truly believed belonged to him as the true champion of Fantasia. Without hesitation, The Watcher approached the sword, using his control over the elements (for he had walked this world many times and come to understand its powers and how he could control them) to cause the water to break so he could walk through. Once on the river bank he stood over the sword, looking down at it.
The Watcher was principally a man of honour. The sword and the status it brought with it did not belong to him… but he was duty bound to liberate Fantasia from its false idol champion. Christopher of Lynbrook had evidenced time enough that he was not fit for purpose, much like the several that had come before him. Their moments had been fleeting but the one constant throughout was The Watcher and he was always watching and always finding time and time again that whoever held the sword did not truly own it.
Its rightful home was with him. The Watcher felt content as he realised that the sword presenting itself to him in such a manner was fate and Christopher had fallen. He placed his hand on the hilt and grimaced and winced as it burned his skin. Whilst this was indication enough that the sword did not recognise him as its true owner, The Watcher had not come this far to fall at this stage. The weight of being the champion was one he knew he could manage and his willpower was enough to negate the pain caused by the sword’s resistance to him.
It was the cost of being the best in the world. Very few in recent times could withstand everything that came with being recognised as such. The Watcher knew he could. It was time for the doubters to be silenced. With the golden sword in his hand and the skin on his palm fusing with it due to the searing heat, The Watcher’s time in exile was finally over.
**********
Christopher gagged and coughed up the contents of his lungs up and then back down onto his own face and he sat up with a start. He breathed heavily and gasped for air and quickly took in his surroundings; he was next to a large waterfall at the base of the mountain. As he stood up he got a better view of just how far he had descended down after being pulled under by the unexpectedly strong current.
Still completely naked aside from his golden necklace, Christopher paced on the spot a few times. He stopped when he discovered that his chest was not completely empty from water and vomited some more up, but whether this was caused by the insetting panic he was unsure of at that moment in time. What of course was bothering him was that his precious golden sword had been left on a rock and anyone could have taken it, or at least tried to. Christopher did not know of anyone able to withstand the pain caused by holding the sword for any considerable amount of time.
After an initial consideration of just how he could get back to the sword - he was not as concerned about his clothes - he simply fell to the ground. It was hopeless. How could he allow himself to believe that he could handle the pressure? Why did he allow himself to believe that he was going to be the exception to all of this?
Christopher caressed the necklace around his neck. Usually Alyster would be who he would turn to in moments like this. But this was his mess. How could he have allowed himself to get into this position? He closed his eyes. He hoped when he opened them again that this would all be over. It was just too much to handle.
“Hate to saaaay I toooooooooooold youuuuuuuuuuuuuu soooooooooooo…”
Christopher’s anguish was interrupted by a very familiar-sounding voice and his wallowing paused momentarily as he opened his eyes with a quizzical expression on his face. Perhaps this all had been a nightmare? Or was this the actual nightmare? Or a nightmare within a nightmare?
Sure enough, though, when Christopher rolled over to face the direction that the voice came from he saw a person that he never thought he would see again. More potently, a person that he never wanted to see again.
The Golden One.
“Helloooooooooooo, Christopher. Hoooooow are youuuuuu todaaaaay?”
Immediately, Christopher was reminded why he hated The Golden One so fiercely. One could put to one side all of their clashes; just the way he talked and acted was enough to consistently draw Christopher’s ire. The Golden One looked exactly as he did the last time Christopher saw him; stained in his own blood and a dagger sticking out of his left eye. Even with his face partially obscured due to the weapon which Christopher used to bring upon his death, he still wore the same smug and smarmy expression that Christopher had grown to loathe.
“Are you real?” Christopher asked as he sat up, and he grabbed a small pebble from the ground next to him and threw it at The Golden One. It passed straight through him, and Christopher was disappointed. “What do you want?”
“I think you knoooooooow what it is I waaaaant, Christopher.”
The Golden One took a couple of steps closer and then bent down so his face was right in front of Christopher’s. The smugness was off the charts and Christopher wished he could stab The Golden One in the other eye. And the nose. And the rest of his face.
“I want to hear you say it.”
A sinking feeling developed at the pit of Christopher’s stomach. He knew exactly what was being asked of him and there was nothing he wanted less than to have to say the three words that his former foe was waiting to hear. If only for the possibility that saying them would end this nightmare, Christopher gulped and then met The Golden One’s eyes with his own;
“You were right.”
The Golden One let out a gleeful cackle and stood up straight, clasping his hands together. “OF COURSE I WAS RIGHT! Were you not paaaaaying attentionnnn, CHRISTOPHER?”
“I remember hooooooow confident you were, Christopher. Youuuuuu thought that by beating meeeeee, all of your problems would juuuuuuust… vanish! I tried tooooo waaaaarn youuuuuuuu that they were only just beginning… buuuuuut nooooooooo… you thought you knew better. So tell me, how is that working out for you?”
What irritated Christopher even more about The Golden One’s way of speaking was that he could snap out of it at any chosen moment. Further, The Golden One had always known that this attribute bothered Christopher so much and it bothered Christopher even more that The Golden One played on that.
Christopher was not interested in engaging with the figment of his imagination any further. He rolled back over so he was no longer facing The Golden One. Being presented with the most irritating person in the world was the final straw. This was it.
“What’s this? You’re giving up? You’re telling me that you went to aaaaaall that trouble to take my sword from meeeeeeee and noooooow you’re just going to give it up without aaaaaaany sort of fight?”
No answer from Christopher.
“Come ooooooon, Christopher. Are youuuuuu trying to not be so predictable as aaaaaalwaaaays? Is this laaatest set back not going to be followed by a redemptive triumph this time? I muuuuuuust say I’m disappointed!”
“Leave me alone.”
“Whyyyy? And miss this? I’ve been waiting for this for a looooooooong time, Christopher. Finally, the woooorld sees you for whooooooo you really are! You’re nooooot their champion, Christopher! They doooooon’t like you!”
That comment felt like a dagger to the heart for Christopher. All of his life, he had just wanted to be accepted and to fit in. No matter how much he tried to do what he thought was the right thing, he never did. There was always something holding him back from acceptance. He was beginning to realise that thing was himself.
“I toooold you that life at the top was lonely. Heeeeeere you aaaaare, with nothing. Not even the clooooothes on your back. Beeee careful what you wish for-”
“Shut up! Just… shut up! I’m not alone! I’m not alone!”
Christopher’s outburst came as he held the necklace in his hand tightly. It was his reminder of Alyster and Alyster was his reminder that he wasn’t alone. He knew that The Golden One was merely taunting him for his own perverse amusement.
“HA-HAAAAAAAAAAA! ALYSTER?! Youuuuuu wish to be the champion of the world but you’re so reliant on anoooother, who wants what you have more than aaaaaannnnyyyythiiiiinng. One waaaaay or anoooother, you’ll push him away, Christopher. Liiiiiiike you have done with everyone before him. Like you will everyone else.”
That thought was one that Christopher could not even bear thinking about. He let out a soft whimper as a tear trickled down his face at the mere prospect of it. The Golden One leant down low and got very close to Christopher’s ear, almost whispering.
“You aaaaaaare a poisonous man, Christopher Peacock of Lynrbook. The sooner you admit that to yourself, the sooner this charade can be over and you can fall back into your natural place in the world. Remember, you brought this all on yourself.”
“That’s not-” Christopher stopped himself as he rolled over but noticed that The Golden One was no longer there. He exhaled heavily and sat back up and looked around him and allowed himself to listen to the relaxing sound of the waterfall.
He hated to admit it, but The Golden One was right. It was a reality check from the man who lived with his head in the clouds.
This was not a champion. No one was going to accept this as a champion.
**********
Baritone voices chanted together and echoed around the grand stone hall as a ceremony of sorts seemed to be getting underway. A cloaked man, his face obscured by a hood, lit a candle and then from under his hood blew out the long match that he had used to light it. Watching this sacred ritual take place were dozens of other cloaked figures, presumably the ones chanting. It was the daily Commitment Ceremony of the Watchers.
Suddenly, at the entrance of the hall in front of the large wooden doors which stretched from the floor to the ceiling, a ball of fire appeared from nothing. This drew the attention of the congregation who all directed their gaze towards it. Once the flames had dissipated, a figure stood in their place. A gruff and grizzled man in battle-worn garments and holding a golden sword in his right hand.
The Watcher - ‘the exiled one’ - walked towards the man who had lit the candle in the middle of the room, with the crowd parting to allow him to pass unencumbered. “I have returned. My exile is over. I present this as proof of my repentance.”
The Watcher dropped to one knee and then presented the sword to the elder, who saw the burn marks and peeled, weeping skin on both palms of the man before him. The Watcher looked up at the elder, the same one he had been conversing with through the fire, with the candlelight glimmering in his eyes which were trying vehemently to hide the pain that he was in.
“The allegiance of this sword is not to you, exiled one.” The elder said, dismissively. The Watcher’s determined expression faltered for a moment, cracking into a slightly disappointed visage. “This… is not sufficient for repentence.”
“But… I have suffered. I am suffering.” The Watcher motioned towards the sword with his head and he winced as it sent another jolt of searing pain through his hands. “No man, woman or beast could withstand holding this sword for as long as I have. It presented itself to me after the man it belonged to proved he was not worthy to hold it. I am worthy to hold this sword. More so than anyone else in this world. I have proved it. I deserve-”
“YOU DESERVE NOTHING!”
The booming shout echoed around the hall and complete silence followed as the elder reached up and pulled his hood back, revealing a visage the same as The Watcher’s. Except, the elder was actually younger.
“Braying and mewling that you deserve recognition and you are the only one worthy… you sicken me. Is this what we would have turned into had we not decided that we had our fill?”
The elder looked around at the gathering and a few disapproving murmurs responded. The Watcher looked around also, almost in disbelief.
“What you view as determination the rest of us consider foolishness. All your quest to prove your worthiness has brought upon you is embarrassment. You, quite simply, are making a fool out of yourself. How many times must you taste defeat before you grow a shred of humbleness? Until you drop these delusions of grandeur and finally realise that you quite simply are not as good as you used to be, you will never be accepted here or anywhere else.”
The Watcher slowly shook his head and then stood up. He put one of his hands to his head and grimaced when he looked to see how maimed he had allowed his hands to become after holding the sword. It reminded him of how committed he was to this cause and how he could not turn back now.
“No. I refuse to accept your rejection. You are wrong. I have not come this far to give up on this now. My fire will burn whether you endorse it or not.”
The elder approached The Watcher and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Until you truly prove yourself, exiled one, no one else will believe in you. Give them a reason to believe again.”
Looking at his hand once more and the multiple layers of skin that had been eroded, he nodded his head and realised that if he was to achieve his goal then he would have to defeat Christopher of Lynbrook once and for all.
**********
Christopher grimaced as he walked through the thicket on his way back up the mountain in search of his sword. He had attempted to fashion some garments from leaves and branches but this proved futile and therefore he had to navigate his way through the trees and bushes still naked. He stopped to check his feet which were covered in small cuts and he picked some thorns out of them which were causing him particular discomfort.
As he traversed his way up the mountain, climbing over large roots and crawling through hollowed out trunks of downed trees, Christopher thought to himself why he was going through all of this. The reason he wanted to be the champion in the first place, in his belief, was to make the world a better place for the people that lived in it. That is why he was so determined to slay The Golden One; to spare Fantasia from his tyrannical rule.
As Christopher exited the trunk and stood back up, he felt a momentary breeze on his back which made him shudder. He looked around and noted from the trees and leaves that it was not windy. A muffled whispering sound followed by the crack of a stick echoed around Christopher and he looked around cautiously. “Is someone there?”
There was no answer and Christopher was actually relieved that it was not The Golden One appearing to him once again, but when he turned to resume his trek, he jumped and fell back onto the ground as there was someone else standing in front of him.
From the ground, Christopher looked up to see another completely naked man. Starting at his feet, then his legs… then another area… and then his chest until finally his eyes rested on the man’s face. It was one that he recognised as his own.
“You actually believe that, Christopher?” The alternate Christopher asked and the original Christopher held a hand up, hoping for assistance back to his feet. “What am I, your mother? Get yourself up.”
As Christopher stood up, using the tree trunk for support, he watched as this other version of himself walked around in a circle with his hands out, taking in their surroundings. “What kind of mess have you gotten us into now?”
“What do you mean? Do I actually believe what?” Christopher asked, referring to the initial question posed to him.
“Oh… I was asking if you seriously believe that you wanted to become the champion to make the world a better place?”
Without hesitation, Christopher nodded. This caused the other Christopher to start laughing heartily to the point where he even had to wipe a tear away from his eye. “That’s some really good stuff, Christopher. Honestly, that’s great.”
“Hey! I don’t know what’s going on here, or who you are… but you don’t know me! Now, I’ve got something that I need to do-”
With that, Christopher continued his advance back to his sword, marching defiantly away from the latest trick that his mind had played on him. However, he paused when he heard the same gleeful chuckle that he did a minute previous.
“I don’t just know you… I AM you. Everything you’ve been through, I’ve been here going through it all at the same time. Hey, I’ve even had my share of control too. That’s why I know that this whole ‘man of the people’ act is just that. An act.”
The other Christopher walked towards Christopher and spoke from behind into Christopher’s ear. “You see, I am your Selfishness, Christopher. That’s why I know that once you really find it in yourself to admit it, the reason you want to be the one holding the sword and ruling Fantasia are for you. It isn’t about anyone else. Tell me I’m wrong, Christopher. Tell me that you don’t enjoy being able to say that you are the best in the world. Tell me that you don’t get a high off of being able to say that you’re better than all of them.”
Before answering, Christopher thought about Selfishness’s words. It was true, Christopher did like having his status. He had toiled and worked hard for it. However, The Golden One’s words then reentered his mind about how the masses do not care for him and that his recent experiences with Daniel the Great and the weaselpeople showed that he was in fact not better than everyone.
“I’m not better than them and that’s why they haven’t accepted me as their champion. I need to work harder-”
“You are missing the point, Christopher. What you need… is to not care what they think at all. Don’t you realise it yet? Maybe there’s someone else you should speak to.”
“HI!”
The sudden loud greeting in Christopher’s other ear made him jump and fall to the floor once more and when he looked up he saw that there was another naked version of himself standing next to Selfishness. Christopher stood back up and put his hands on his hips, annoyed that he was taken by surprise in such a way. “Who are you?”
“I’m not going to tell you.” The third version said and then started prancing around the clearing that they were in. He jumped onto the horizontal tree trunk and started thrusting his hips, causing everything to swing around haphazardly.
“This… is your Pettiness.” Selfishness said, looking equally as annoyed as original Christopher at Pettiness’s antics. “Have you ever noticed how sometimes you do things to hurt or upset other people impulsively? That happens when he’s in control.”
“Why are you showing him to me?”
“Well, getting you to realise why people don’t like you will help me in the long run, so I’ll subject myself to this for as long as I need to.”
Christopher watched in a mixture of disgust, bewilderment and annoyance as Pettiness continued with his irritating actions which included swinging from a tree branch and then rubbing his genitals against a blooming flower. “Look! I’m pollinating it!”
“Is this really how people see me?” Christopher was in disbelief at the sight and could only wonder what the impression other people must have of him were. They surely could not think he was just some crass, selfish clown.
“Well, there’s got to be something that I can do. There must be some sort of way that I can suppress this and so people change how they see me. It’s no wonder they refuse to accept me.”
“You can try, but it won’t work. He’s part of who you are. So am I. It would actually just make things a lot easier if you just accepted us. Then we can get back to getting the sword-”
“What? No!” Christopher said, astonished and angered. “I refuse to believe that you’re both part of who I am. I’m a good person. People will see that.”
“Stubbornness, can you get out here, please? I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this. Oh, look, that’s brought Impatience out as well.”
Before Christopher could realise what was happening, two more versions of himself popped out and they rounded on him along with Selfishness as Pettiness continued to make stupid noises in the background.
“Can we get on with this?” The alternate that Christopher could only assume was Impatience asked. Stubbornness stood still with his arms crossed and Selfishness wore an exasperated expression on his face.
“I don’t know what is happening! What do you want from me?”
“I need you to accept us.”
“I’m going to through my faeces at you if you don’t”
“We’re not going anywhere until you accept us!”
“HURRY UP!”
The voices began to merge into one and Christopher put his hands on either side of his head to cover his ears and he crouched down whilst scrunching his eyes. He wanted them all to stop, but they wouldn’t. He screamed and when he opened his eyes again, he saw that there was now at least twenty of them surrounding him, all shouting at him and demanding that he accept them.
Christopher felt his heart beating heavily and his chest growing tighter at the same time, making his breathing quicker. A very unhelpful shout of “GREAT! NOW WE’RE NEVER GETTING OUT OF HERE NOW THAT PANIC IS HERE!” from Impatience did not help matters.
Christopher thought about everything that had happened to him that day. The water being too deep for him to swim and the pressure just being too much and being what cost him his golden sword. The Golden One making him realise that he in fact was no better than the megalomaniac that he was trying to depose in the first place. His negative traits being set out for him for him to see himself as everyone else does.
He opened his eyes and stood back up and motioned for them all to be quiet, but they wouldn’t. Even when he was prepared to hear them out, they were too obnoxious to stop - one of them was probably called Obnoxiousness, Christopher thought - and the repeated shouts of “ACCEPT US!” were drowning out any other thoughts in his mind.
The version which he recognised as Impatience got closer to Christopher. “ARE WE DONE HERE? CAN WE GO-”
A swift punch from Christopher knocked Impatience to the ground and after a couple of seconds, Impatience’s body began to morph into something else and then in a rush of wind, Impatience entered Christopher’s mouth and was completely absorbed by him. Christopher was shocked as he did not believe he could touch these other versions of himself, believing them to have just been figments of his imagination like The Golden One was.
“We’re parts of you. We’re real, Christopher.” Selfishness said as Christopher looked down at his hand and then touched his chest. “That was awfully impatient of you to punch Impatience… I guess you accepted him. Come to think of it, it was quite petty as well.”
Christopher’s eyes darted towards Pettiness, who was shaking his backside around and rubbing it on the other Christopher’s to their annoyance, but then he too was sucked towards Christopher and entered his mouth. For some reason, Christopher felt an awful taste as this happened.
“There’s nothing wrong with accepting who you are, Christopher. Go on…”
After taking a deep breath, Christopher clenched his fists and braced himself for what was about to happen. “I’M RUDE! I’M CRASS! I’M OBNOXIOUS!”
With each acceptance, a different version was sucked into his mouth and the herd began to thin quickly. “I’M STUBBORN! I’M COCKY! I’M MANIPULATIVE!”
“I knew that I could get him to admit that…” Manipulativeness could be heard saying before he too was absorbed into Christopher’s body like the others. Panic, Anger, Arrogance and Jealousy all went through the same fate as well.
This continued until there was just one other left in the clearing along with Christopher. He nodded his head. “I’m self…”
However, this final admission was one that he was not sure he could bring himself to say. His entire life up to this point he believed that he was doing the right thing for the right people for the right reasons.
“Christopher… the only way that you’re going to get what you truly want is if you accept who you are. You don’t need to pretend anymore. Not everyone has to be a hero.”
Christopher nodded his head again and realised that Selfishness was right. He had never wanted to accept that this is who he was, but it was who he needed to be.
“Alright. I accept you. I’m a selfish son of a bitch.”
Selfishness cracked a satisfied smirk before he too was absorbed into Christopher’s body. Christopher felt rejuvenated. He felt whole. He felt ready to go and get his sword back.
**********
Following his reinvigoration, it did not take Christopher long to make it back to where he was earlier that day. He entered the clearing with purpose, emerging through a bush and his eyes were immediately drawn to the spot where he had left his sword on the rock. Christopher realised that the sword was in fact where he left it, but it was in the hands of another. All he could see of it was its tip as the holder if it was sitting with his back to him atop the boulder with their legs crossed.
The individual was wearing a brown cloak with a hood covering their head and despite the noises of Christopher entering the clearing, they did not flinch or react in any way. Christopher smirked and he thought of as amusing an opening line as he could. “You know, there is not much honour in taking something that does not belong to you.”
Upon hearing the word ‘honour’, the figure stood up and turned around, removing the hood. Christopher recognised The Watcher immediately but did not offer any sort of reaction to this revelation either. “Do not speak to me of honour, boy. This sword is rightfully mine. I have worked too hard-”
“Well, I think the sword would beg to differ.” Christopher pointed to the hideously burned hands of The Watcher caused by holding the sword. “I don’t think that would happen if I was holding it.”
“You held this sword, Christopher. It hurt you too, though. I speak not of physical pain, though. The pressure of this sword was too much for you, that is why the sword presented itself to me. I am the rightful holder of this sword and the title of champion. You are nothing but a starstruck child who crumpled under the burden of it. I am strong enough to carry this burden… all of Fantasia knows it! The people deny you as champion!”
Whilst not the same words as those spoken by The Golden One, the sentiment was the same. Christopher remembered how deeply those words cut him when he heard them before. Now though, he simply smiled and nodded his head in understanding. The Watcher seemed confused by this. “What amuses you, fool? I have watched with my own eyes as you have paraded yourself around, recklessly throwing yourself into dire situations and failing to consider any true threat to your position. Even when you have been close to reaping what you have sown, your depressive friend has been there to bail you out. You are no true champion - and you never will be!”
“Maybe to you.” Christopher said frankly, and he began to pace slightly. “The thing is, are the people ever going to accept you as the champion, either? There’s no denying that you’re one of the greatest warriors of all time and by today's standards still are considered to be one of the elite. Have you asked yourself why you are doing this, though?”
“Because I have. In fact, I have figured out exactly why I am doing this… and I’ve realised that I DON’T CARE WHAT PEOPLE THINK OF ME!” Christopher stopped on the spot and pointed to the ground. “I started this journey because I wanted to make Fantasia a better place, but it seems that no matter what I do, everyone is so quick to judge and criticise every misstep I make. It doesn’t matter to some people that I am the champion, they’re going to do whatever they can to discourage me regardless.”
“So, from now on, I’m doing this for me. That is what this journey with all of the highs and lows has helped me realise. If the people won’t accept me, it doesn’t matter. I ACCEPT MYSELF.”
The Watcher took a step closer to Christopher, “I deny you-”
“I DON’T CARE. You think I didn’t know it was you this entire time; the vagrant in Lynbrook, skulking around the desert and even following me and Alyster through the caves? You’ve cuckolded my entire journey only to arrive at the same realisation that everyone had about me in the first place. You do not matter to me. Whether it is you, The Bandit Queen, Alyster, a weaselperson or even Daniel the Great standing across from me challenging my claim, you do not matter. I am not going to let you take this away from me. Your time has passed.”
Clearly angered by Christopher’s dismissal of him, The Watcher raised the sword and pointed it at Christopher, who smirked once more.
“Now give me my fucking sword back.”
The two men then approached each other and The Watcher swung the sword horizontally towards Christopher’s chest, but Christopher ducked and slid on the ground to avoid the strike. The Watcher immediately repositioned his feet and drove the sword backwards, but Christopher jumped into the air and did the splits to avoid it. The Watcher turned around and Christopher grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at The Watcher’s face, causing him to groan, temporarily blinded.
Even whilst he could not see, The Watcher flailed the sword around and Christopher managed to avoid being struck by simply walking away from him and watching from the distance as The Watcher desperately tried to make contact with him. The Watcher’s vision eventually returned and upon seeing where Christopher was he charged towards him with the sword like a lance, but Christopher moved out of the way.
The momentum caused The Watcher to continue forward with the sword and it then got lodged into a tree, but The Watcher immediately pulled it out and swung it at Christopher again, who narrowly ducked it. However, Christopher was on the floor naked with his legs spread, which gave The Watcher an easy target and Christopher had to crab walk backwards to avoid the lunges towards his genitals.
Christopher backed away further and further until he felt the cold surface of the boulder behind him and he realised that there was nowhere to go. The Watcher also knew that Christopher was trapped and he raised the sword for a killing blow at Christopher’s head. The Watcher drove the sword down, but Christopher moved at the last second and the golden sword became wedged in the boulder.
The Watcher began to pull as hard as he could on the sword, but it would not move. The skin on his hands was almost non-existent which made it even harder. Christopher rose to his feet behind The Watcher and smirked. “You know, before I defeated The Golden One, he told me that I was too focused on the man and not the prize. In your case, I think you are too focussed on the prize that you’ve forgotten about the man you’re dealing with.”
To demonstrate Christopher’s point, The Watcher was so enthralled with trying to pry the sword out from the rock that he did not even hear Christopher’s words. So he also definitely was not prepared for the kick from Christopher in between his legs from behind. The Watcher dropped to the ground and he made eye contact with Christopher as the champion approached the sword and then pulled it from the stone with ease.
“You… do not fight with honour.”
“The Truth is…” Christopher looked at the sword and smiled as it felt at home in his hand. “Real champions don’t.”
The Watcher pulled himself up to his feet and Christopher tracked him with the tip of the blade as he did so. “That’s why I’m the champion… and you’re finished.”
Before The Watcher could even retort, Christopher had driven the sword into his chest, straight through his heart. Blood began to seep through his cloak as Christopher pulled the sword out and then Christopher watched as The Watcher fell back into the river and his corpse was taken away by the current until he disappeared over the ledge.
Christopher looked at the sword and the blood on it and watched as the sword absorbed the blood of its latest victim. For the first time since beginning his journey from Lynbrook as champion, Christopher felt content. It was not the slaying of The Watcher that made him feel this way, but defeating the biggest obstacle he had ever faced - himself.
He may not be perfect, but whether people liked it or not, he was the champion of Fantasia.
Christopher sat down on the rock with his legs crossed and he closed his eyes. He smiled as he imagined who the universe would bring him next as a challenger to his status;
…a satanic beast…
…a reformed vampire…
…a childish buffoon…
…a sheep…
…a weasel…
…or even his best friend.
In reality though… it didn’t matter.
COMING SOON…
THE GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY DLC PACK!
