B4T5R vs Edge

By the time the elves arrived, one of Scorch's three suns had set and the second neared the horizon. Edge sat in the shade of his ship as the third sun burned above, seemingly fixed in the sky.
Dark-skinned and dressed in white, they shimmered in the desert heat like mirages. He kept an eye on them as they neared. Moving in near-perfect unison, they approached the unconscious body of Zead Worm and began to lift and drag him away from the ship. One of the elves noticed Edge and broke away from the rest, her initial movements jerky and unnatural as she advanced. She removed the white cloth covering the bottom half of her face before speaking.
"Champion of Scorch," she said.
"What?"
"You have defeated the Fiend of Blight." The elf made a sweeping motion with her arm towards Zead and the elves.
Edge shifted his grip on the pipe laying across his knees. Its molten end had cooled, leaving the metal warped and twisted. An imprint of Zead's body remained. "Is that what that thing was?" he asked.
"He is a competitor."
"That's nice."
"As are you."
"Brilliant." Edge paused. "Competing for what?"
The elf made another sweeping gesture with her arm, as if to encompass the world. "The Five Realms will belong to you, Champion of Scorch," she said, "if you are willing to dispose of those who are unworthy."
"Sounds… dramatic." Edge stood and slung the pipe over his shoulder.
In the distance, the remaining elves dragged Zead towards a rocky arch that protruded from the dunes.
"I am not sure I understand what you mean." The elf lowered her arm and replaced the cloth covering her mouth and nose. "Come with me. Your next opponent waits on Nashoon."
Edge followed her as she strode across the sand. A flash of light, like sunlight reflecting off of metal, came from the direction of the arch. When he looked, Zead was gone and the elves lurked near the rocks. Unmoving, they appeared to wait for Edge to arrive.  
"Please tell me I'm not up against another monster."
"I will not tell you."
"I can't tell if that was a joke or not."
Coming to a stop by the arch, the elf turned to face Edge. "The God of Cypress awaits," she said. "You have nothing to fear, our Champion."
"God? Oh, great. I don't know who you've been talking to but the last time I checked, gods were a little higher up on the bullshit ladder than monsters."
"I know not what ladder you speak of."
"I didn't think you would."
Edge inspected the archway with a critical eye. Zead was nowhere in sight and patches of sand around the base of the rocks had turned to glass. Motioning with both hands, the elf gestured towards the arch and it immediately filled with light, obscuring the other side.
"Go now," the elf said. He got the feeling that she wanted him to step into that light. He didn't want to.
If it did what he expected, it was likely a disguised teleportation device, and the glass in the sand suggested it was an unstable one at that.
But no matter what, on the other side was a god. Even if the teleportation device didn't splatter him to bits, there was still an immortal monster waiting to take care of the job itself.
He stepped forward. The so-called god could bring it.

#

When Trenton awoke, he immediately knew something was wrong. Either he had made the longest sleepwalking expedition of his life, or someone had removed him from his home as some kind of terrible joke.
And put him in a tree nearly twenty feet off the ground.
Whoever played this prank at least had the decency to force him into some clothes while he slept, even though they were at least a size too big. The realization that his kidnapper undoubtedly knew that he slept in the nude made him cringe. Making his way towards the trunk of the tree, he attempted to climb down.
After about five minutes of awkward shimmying, scraped body parts, and bruised legs, he made it to the forest floor. It was night, or so he thought. The foliage on the ground was sparse and the canopy above was so densely intertwined it was impossible to tell day from night.
Trenton made his way through the thick fog, roots tripping him up and catching in his shoelaces every few feet as he attempted to find his way out. Eventually he gave in, removing the too-large shoes and carrying them.
As soon as his bare feet touched the ground, an inexplicable coldness grew in his chest. He felt hollow, as if the land itself were trying to drain the life from him. A steady pulse resonated through the ground and extended into the roots of the trees but then dissipated into nothingness.
It was then he noticed the silence.
Even in the dead of night, a forest teems with life. As he walked, Trenton noticed that there were no bugs, no rustling in the trees, no nocturnal animals scurrying across the path. It was as if he were the only living thing in the area.
Tree roots protruded from the soil, forming twisting paths that seemed to go in endless circles. Nervous now, Trenton hurried through the forest, stubbing his toe on a fallen branch before crashing blindly into the trunk of a tree. He reconsidered his decision to run in the dark but it was already too late; a sharp pain burned in his ankle and he could feel the warmth of blood on his heel. The pulse of the land grew stronger.
In the distance, he saw moonlight breaking through the trees.

#

Edge hated forests. Before now, they hadn't elicited any kind of emotional response. Forests were something to be protected by environmental agencies while he lived and worked in the cities.
But now he was going to hold a grudge.
Bruised and battered by low-hanging branches and prominent roots, Edge was nearing the end of his rope. The elves had told him to fight, not to go on a camping trip like some kind of hippie stoner. There was no god here: only trees that seemed to move when he turned his back and vines that almost reached out to grab him.
Ripping a handful of climbing ivy out of the path in front of him, Edge noticed the swamp.
The fog settled heavily over the water and he was surprised he hadn't been able to smell it beforehand. Trudging through the shin-high water, he entertained thoughts of leeches and alligators before deciding to continue on. Here the moonlight dispersed in the fog, casting an unearthly glow on whatever it surrounded. Figures began to appear on the far edge of the swamp, clustered together and obscured by the mist.
He made his way towards them, only to be stopped by a sudden splashing to his right. He turned and quickly swung the metal pipe into the oncoming figure, throwing it backwards into the swamp.
"Ow!"
Edge lowered the pipe. "What?"
"You hit me in the FACE."
It wasn't the monster Edge had expected, nor was it an elf. Trenton stood up, shaking the water from his limbs and pressing the heel of his hand against his bloody eyebrow.
"Sorry kid," said Edge, "I thought you were a, well…"
"A what?"
"A god."
Trenton squinted at his assailant. "Are you sure YOU didn't get hit in the head?"
"To be fair," said Edge, "stomping around in a swamp at night isn't something normal people do. You were asking to be hit."
A moment passed before Trenton stepped forward and slapped Edge with his shoes.  
"You're doing the same thing," he said.
"You have a point."
"So now we're even."
"I guess we are." Edge waded over to a partially-submerged log and sat down. "I'm not complaining about seeing another human here, though. So far this whole fiasco has been full of bullshit and monsters."
Trenton sat next to him. "I woke up in a tree," he said.
"Prone to sleepwalking, are you?"
"If I can sleepwalk through dimensions now, sure." He winced and pulled his foot out of the water. The pain from his ankle was steadily growing worse and now, in the moonlight, he could see that something seed-like had embedded itself under his skin. It twitched and throbbed beneath his fingers before he pulled it out and threw it into the swamp. "I hope there aren't swamp sharks in here or something," he joked.
"Swamp sharks?"
"Y'know, because I keep bleeding on everything."
"Sharks don't live in swamps, kid."
"Alligators, then," Trenton said. "Crocodiles."   
"Swamp gods."
Trenton raised his eyebrows and glanced at Edge. "There aren't any gods here," he said, "I would know. We're the only ones around." He buried his feet in the mud. The pulse from before remained, stronger than before, but continuing to fade with each beat. Something soft brushed his wounded ankle.
"Then what do you call that?" Edge pointed towards the cluster of figures he had seen before. They remained on the border of the swamp.
"Trees?"
"Do trees move?"
"Sometimes?" Trenton sounded unsure.
A familiar voice broke through the fog.
"Champion of Scorch," it said. "Favored son of Thorton."
The distant group moved in unison, slowly making its way towards the center of the swamp. Once dense and cloudy, the fog thinned and revealed a group of elves. Though they dressed differently than those in the desert, Edge found them disturbingly similar in appearance. He stood.
"Why do you hesitate?" asked one of the elves. Like before, there was only one spokesperson.
He knew that face.
"Hesitate? Where's the so-called god you people told me to fight?"
The elf pointed over Edge's shoulder. He looked.
Trenton continued to sit on the log, aimlessly swishing his feet in the water as he watched eddies form and swirl where he threw the seed. Glancing between him and the elves a few more times, Edge realized what they meant.
"Him?"
"The God of Cypress is to be your opponent. The winner will have a chance to rule the five realms," said the elf. "You will be the one to tame the land."  
"Him?"
"If it doesn't tame you first. Are your objectives unclear?"
"No, no. It's just-" Edge looked at Trenton again. "You people have the shittiest gods. Seriously." He stepped away from the group of elves, tripping slightly on an underwater root, and shoved his weapon into the swamp mud. It wouldn't be necessary. "Kid, stand up."
"Um, I don't think this is a good time to—"
Edge's fist hit Trenton square in the nose, knocking him off the log. He turned to face the elves again.
"There," he said as Trenton stood up in the background, coughing and sputtering. "Now what?"
He felt the earth shake beneath him.
A pulse like a heartbeat throbbed under his feet, vibrating up through the soles of his shoes. The swamp bubbled and churned around him and the mud grasped at his legs, trying to drag him into the brackish water. Vines curled around his legs. When he pulled away, they clung to him, attached to nothing but a seed case.
"Prove you are worthy to rule, Champion of Scorch," said the elves. They spoke in unison now, their bodies moving like one. "The land fears your strength but Thorton has no use for someone who cannot resist and conquer it. Gods bring life, but only Champions rule."
The earth pulsed again and the vines renewed their strength, growing at unnatural speeds as they encircled his waist, grabbing one of his arms and pinning it to his side. He lost balance and tumbled sideways into the swamp, the smell of decomposition thick in the air.
As his head went under, he briefly thought of sharks.