Just reposting a little thing I wrote

I wrote this little story for this contest. I'll post some actual context about the character later.

---

Congratulations! You have been invited to the first round of the first annual OC Hunger Games! This is the first round, and is hosted at Bar 97, 97 Celestia Street, Canterlot City, starting at 1pm today. Sorry for the short notice, we needed to verify all the competitors first. The event will consist of a duel to the death…

You know what, I’m not even going to bother reading the rest of this letter. I’m not the smartest type, but even I realized that this was a trap. Seriously? What kind of event would be titled “OC Hunger Games” and be held at the seediest bar in Canterlot and have “duel to the death” as its description? (Hell, the owner’s actual name is Seedy!) Nothing even vaguely trustworthy, that’s what. But I went anyway; I figured I could kick the flank of whatever third-rate assassin was after me this time. I teleported there as fast as I could, which was pretty fast, as teleportation is instantaneous.

I wasn’t expecting this. Sometime between my last visit to it, the bar had actually become something approaching the respectable establishment it always pretended to me. It no longer looked like a trashy bar; now it was decorated with the neon lights and colors of a low-quality club instead! Just standing outside I could hear the music they were playing: thumping dubstep— despite it being the middle of the day and dubstep really being more of a night thing. It was by DJ Pon-3; I recognized her style, as I was one of her biggest fans. It was clearly a recording; none of her spontaneous energy was to be found in it. I summoned my biggest weapon, a reaper bound to my command, albeit unwillingly. His name was impossible for mortals to comprehend (at least, that’s what he said), so I called him Jeff. Seemed like a reasonable name. He looked like a grayish, average pony wearing an all-black shirt and a fedora-esque hat who strangely lacked either a cutie-mark or a tail, but that was about it. Not exactly remarkable. Though he didn’t have to be remarkable, as only alicorns could normally see reapers who weren’t bound to them or actively pursuing them. Supposedly, he could choose to appear in any form he desired, but I wouldn’t believe that until I had seen it with my own eyes.

“Okay, you’re going to be waiting outside. If I die, revive me.”

While such an order was fundamentally against the nature of a reaper, he was bound by a spell, so he had to obey. Even if he liked to sometimes mess around and revive me in the wrong body, or do something else like that, it was still nice to have Jeff around. The only way that I could actually die with him around is if someone actually knew about him; then they could free him from his duty fairly easily. All it took was a simple incantation, “ne timeas qui metit” and he’d be free. And he’d probably try to kill me. But I’d beat him up with my powers anyway, so I’m not too afraid of this actually happening.

I entered the bar. It really was trying to be a fourth-rate club. There was an inactive DJ booth in the corner, all the tables had been moved to one side, and the center of the room had been converted into some sort of poorly improvised dancefloor. It was too tiny to actually be of much use as one, and nopony was actually dancing on it; the three other ponies on it were all just awkwardly standing. I took a glance at the other side of the room where Seedy, the familiar bartender, stood, clearly expecting me to order something. I surveyed the three others. At first, they all seemed to be pretty normal ponies, even if one of them was wearing a spooky brown cloak. But he pretty much emanated raw magical power, at almost (or even equal to) Alicorn levels. He was clearly using his own magic to try and hide it (I could sense his cloaking spell), but that was just even more of a giveaway; you have to be extremely skilled to even hide a little bit of your true magical potential from an Alicorn. He had to be the assassin.

I used my telekinesis, its beautiful golden light enveloping my horn, to lift the hood away from his face. I saw his horn, with the slight glow around it indicating the usage of a spell.

“I bear a charmed life, which must not yield, to one of woman born.” I finished reciting the quote right as he turned towards me. The quote was pretty badass (and more than situationally appropriate), even if I didn’t particularly like the play it was from. It was a bit too insulting to me; not all witches were like that, and why was killing the first king such a bad idea? It seemed like a fine way to ascend to me. Especially with the way it was implied to have brought upon a world of dark magic; I’d have to try that on Celestia sometime.

He then took out a small cylindrical object. Expecting it to be a bomb or something, I raised a forcefield. Instead, when he pressed the button on it with his magic, a blade made of freaking light came out. Even though he was my opponent, I had to admit that this was unmistakably badass. He tossed away his cloak, revealing his wings. Drat, I thought. Another alicorn.

“So why exactly are we fighting to the death? I didn’t bother reading your stupid letter. I knew it was a trap from the name alone.” I rolled my eyes as I said this.

“This was not a trap, but a legitimate test of skill; it is the gladiatorial arena of ancient times, but in a modern way, tied to the old traditions, but—”

I interrupted him. “Sorry hon, but I really don’t care.”

I teleported over to him and socked him in his ugly face. He was clearly not expecting that. He then pinned me to the door with his telekinesis. I had never felt telekinesis that strong before. It was almost as if he had some sort of invisible force on his side, as if magic itself was on his side. Well, two could play at this game.

“Rude. It’s not nice to push ponies,” I said. I push back with my own dark magic, but to no avail. This “force” was seriously OP. I then had a much better idea; if I couldn’t beat this magic, all I had to do was beat the wielder. Confused? Well, let me explain. Most offensive magical spells cease to function when the wielder isn’t concentrating on them. While there are, of course, exceptions, this was a pretty good rule of thumb in magic duels. I used my magic to create a spark under him. Surprisingly, it actually caught on his robe. My pyrokinesis was rarely anywhere near that effective; it was a bit of a wildcard. The fact that I had learned to use it during my time in Hell (not Tartarus) didn’t help, as Hell followed a different set of rules.
And surely enough, his discarded robe catching fire was enough of a distraction that he let me go. In fact, his blade-thingy even dropped out of the air; that was just how surprised he was. I used the opportunity to grasp it with my own telekinesis. Of course, after he put out the cloak fire with a simple spell, he noticed his missing blade, and wasn’t exactly happy.

He immediately tried to pull it back to him. I fought against this for a while, but when I realised that I couldn’t win, I had a brilliant idea. I turned the blade back at him and let go. It sped toward him, and I was sure it was going to literally wipe his smile off of his face, but he managed to somehow catch the metal part with his hoof beforehand! How does that even work?! Does he have super-reflexes or something?! I’ve never fought someone like this before; it was as if we weren’t even from the same universe; that’s just how different he was!

Still holding his blade in his hoof, he ran at me and then jumped, hooves held high above his head, about to deliver a punishing, almost certainly lethal strike to my head. I teleported to behind him just in time. However, upon landing, he turned around and swung again! Foolishly, I blocked with my right hoof instead of my magic, and off it went, in the most searingly hot and painful way you could possibly imagine. At least it wasn’t bleeding; the blade had burned the wound shut. I’d have to replace that later, but now, I had to concentrate on this fight. He tried to swing again, obviously expecting me to be stunned, but I was prepared this time. I lifted my best magical shield, which was destroyed by the impact, but also sent him flying backwards. It was profoundly exhausting to cast that spell, so I doubted that I’d be doing it again; even I had limits. And, as I was starting to see, so did this chump. He had hit the front wall so hard that he actually cracked it. His wings were a bloody mess.

And suddenly, I had a strategy. If I could lower him to the level of an Earth pony, no matter how exhausting it was, I could definitely beat him. His wings were out of the way, so all I had to do was break his horn.

As he got back onto his feet, he apparently thought that this was a good time for a snappy response to the quote I uttered earlier.

“We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, painted on a pole, and underwrit, 'Here may you see the tyrant.'”

I was not impressed and rolled my eyes. Fuck that shit. He picked up his blade and stared at me, his eyes intense.

He used that mighty telekinesis of his once again; this time pinning me to the back wall. Ugh. Not again. And with the way he was looking at me, I knew no cheap distractions could get me free this time. He ran up to me, blade in hoof, and stabbed me in the chest. Right through my heart.

Nothing.

And then I was back. I could see Jeff, sitting at one of the tables. I also knew that my opponent had seen Jeff and knew exactly what he had done. He had been about to leave, but he turned back to me as I rose. The hole in my chest was healed, but I was still missing a hoof, so this wasn’t exactly easy.

He turned back and uttered the few words I had feared he would. “Ne timeas qui metit!”

Jeff just got up and left, no longer bound. He had clearly assumed that this chump would succeed in killing me a second time. Well, he was wrong. Extremely wrong. I wasn’t going to die like that again, without dignity. I was a Princess. A Princess of Destruction, Fire, and Death. I activated my demonic powers, aware of the gradual cost to my sanity. It would provide the power boost I needed, even if it introduced a new weakness, one to holy magic. I was enveloped in flames as I transformed, obscuring the horror from mortal eyes. When it was done, the flames receded, leaving me in my demonic state. I was still an alicorn, at least superficially, though now I was substantially taller (as tall as Celestia), and had bat wings. My coat was dark and stormy; not truly black but close. My mane and tail were pure fire; they glowed not red, but white. If I didn’t know better, I would have said I was an angel. The shimmering heat that surrounded my body was enough to, even at this distance, make him visibly sweat, though that might have been from fear.

“Before my body I throw my warlike shield.” I walked towards him, perfectly calmly, fire starting wherever I stepped. He ran at me, tried to hit me with his blade, but I was stronger now. I took it from him with my telekinesis. He still didn’t give up, and made one desperate attempt to push me back with his telekinesis. It worked, partially, but was not enough to truly halt my advance. I made one slicing motion with his blade, and off went his head.

I heard the sound of wings. At my side, Celestia appeared, almost glowing.

“You failed. You had a chance to redeem yourself, to prove you weren’t just an evil demon, and you couldn’t even do that. I’m very disappointed in you, my former student.”

I teleported away. I wasn’t ready to face her. I might never be ready to face her again. I started to cry. I had lost more than just my sanity or my hoof, I had also lost my mentor, my only closest friend in the world. But at least I had a sweet new beam sword.