Author's Note: This is a Shurpuff work, done by Shurpuff, nephew of Merlin, owner of this account, used with his permission.
Agarest War Generations does not belong to me, but to its owners.
Damn school delaying me so long... Originally this was longer but the second part seemed to take on a life of its own (like say, its own chapter). It was also a little unpolished in places, so I decided to just upload first part.
"How does he do it?" Murmina asked, for what seemed to be the fifth time since she'd joined their group. Over the makeshift barricade set up by Ganz and Arbol, a few monsters filtered through, forced to crawl or fly over or ooze through the gaps. With their piecemeal entrance limiting their ability to swarm, Rex and the rest could pick off enemies as they appeared, one by one.
Rex especially had a high time of it, aiming, shooting a monster in a vital part and reloading in the span of three seconds. With that ridiculous feat of marksmanship, he racked in more kills in a single battle than either she or Winfield. Now Winfield was an acknowledged lout who, while displaying certain prowess in picking out vulnerable enemies from the lot, could easily be outgunned in a straight-up shoot. She on the other hand, had been trained under a teacher (may his soul find rest) who was heir to a long, century-spanning tradition of Uttara Kulu marksmanship. She'd been but a novice when her home fell, true, but her skill was such that she could spot and spit a moving target from thirty paces dead on, with it none the wiser. Only her old masters and/or divine beings could have better aim and precision, and apparently now one so-called Hero of Agarest.
"One of my grandfather's best stories," said Beatrice, who was assigned to watch the western pass for an enemy flanking maneuver, "Was that of Trigger-king Thoma and his sidekick, Noah the Longstrider." Someone snorted, and the two turned towards the diminutive Ellis. She was here at the rear-guard, ready to heal anybody who got wounded-though no one seemed remotely in danger of that, thanks to Rex. The elf kept her eyes on the latter, though her gaze seemed farther than that.
"Did Alberti really tell it like that?" said Ellis. Her voice seemed amused. "I guess it's not too far off the truth."
"Thoma could shoot a weapon off a monster, leaving it well unharmed as an act of mercy," Beatrice continued. "'Twas a bitter mercy, for then the monster was trapped alone in the wilds of cold Fendias, where even the minions of darkness had much to fear from the wilds."
"It's kinda hard to deny the kid ever had skill," said Ellis, nodding. "As is the thought of Thoma even learning to use it from that idiot over there." She nodded towards Winfield, who was far away and whose back was the only thing visible them.
"He learned at the feet of a master," said Beatrice. This time, both Murmina and Ellis stifled a snort of laughter, causing Beatrice to look between them in confusion.
"He learned too much, in my opinion," Ellis said. "Things totally unrelated to using his weapon."
"Yes," said Beatrice. "Grandfather talked much of his passions."
"'Passions' is understating Thoma's own existence, Beatrice." Ellis smiled quickly, then took a deep breath. "But we all liked him, we all loved him, despite his faults. He had the markings of a true hero, through and through."
"And from him, the legendary marksmanship of the Golden Leo's line was established," Beatrice continued to narrate.
"You're talking about Duran now, huh. That kid was a different sort of difficult."
"Yet he inherited the prodigious skill with his father's preferred weapon. He traversed Enhambre, a hand ever on the holster, eyes as sharp as a hawk's. They called him Duran Dark-hunter, though they heard the monsters call him the Slayer in whispers."
"I think, of all the heroes, Duran was the best. He had no fuss to him when he shot: unlike Thoma, he didn't gesture needlessly during a battle, and neither was he too meticulous to the point of delaying just a little bit like his son." Murmina listened wordlessly, shaking her head in disbelief from even considering there would be someone with more inhuman skill than Rex.
"And it was with his genius that he pierced the pirate king's heart through, cursing it with a love stronger than any Enhambre typhoon."
"Those two almost killed each other when they first met- I still remember the tension of that scene: with Duran on one side, almost about to draw, and Hilda on the other, leaking a choking amount of killing intent."
"Love at first sight?" Beatrice ventured.
"Love isn't as simple as that," Ellis replied. "Although in the case of those two, that incident might've sparked some beast-like tension between the two, as if they each wanted to outdo... conquer the other." Murmina blanched. She'd already declared in her mind that Rex was rival she should surpass. Though it wasn't like she'd ever fall in love with him... "I mean, Duran never seemed to attach himself much to the other two, even when I saw them at their best moments."
"Hilda was no less formidable, incidentally."
"Yes. Surpassing Winfield by many knots. You would've been amazed by her, Murmina."
"I'm sure," Murmina said distantly. Leave it to Beatrice to be completely versed in the lore of the Leonhardts. Though, surpassing Winfield didn't seem that hard a proposition.
There was a thundering sound. Back in front, a gigantic, bellowing monster she knew to be a husward scattered the barricade like toothpicks, barreling straight through.
"Stay!" Rex shouted when the group started to move in. "Let me handle it."
"That idiot." Ignoring his command, Murmina flapped forward on her black wings, her gun already drawn. Rex began some complex maneuvers to dodge the creature's attacks, shooting back all the while.
"Murmina! Stay back!" he said, when he caught sight of her.
"No! You can't handle this beast alone!" She began firing. Rex made an impatient sound just as the beast turned its hate-filled towards her. She continued firing at its vital points, already anticipating a dodging maneuver when she saw the thing charge.
A lance of light exploded through the thing's chest. Murmina watched in adrenaline-soaked shock as the creature collapsed, still impaled through by the energy that shot like a geyser from the barrel of Rex's gun. A moment later it collapsed in a earth-rumbling heap.
"I toldja," Rex said, offering a smile. The light extinguished, Rex holstered his weapon, and approached her. He exhaled loudly. "Nailed fifty-one this battle. How'd you do, Murmina?" She sank back to the ground, her knees failing her and kneaded her forehead.
Rex, it turned out, wasn't only just a "pretty good shot." He was somewhat of a connoisseur of all guns, and would always present the schematics his ancestor's group had gathered over the years to whatever blacksmith they visited. Being the only other who was remotely connected to that subject, she was naturally always invited by the hero to accompany him. It was hard to refuse; there was literally nothing for her to do in town.
"I don't understand," Murmina told him one time, after they'd put in orders for repairs to some broken equipment. "I was under the impression you've some powerful guns inherited from your sires. Why the need to visit any blacksmith at all?"
"You'd be surprised, as I was, if you were to discover your father and you grandfather had more than enough time in their hands to leave behind sketches of their dream guns." he said, a wistful gleam in his eye. "And I see the genius behind each one. Too bad there isn't anyone on this Continent who has the skills to recreate it." He paused. "Not even Ganz, but please don't tell him that."
"I won't."
"But speaking of my collection, have I ever told you about this?" he indicated the gun he had on him. "It was Mom's personal flintlock. It was known by a different name when it was still worn by Enhambre's Pirate King, but now I call it 'Good Omen'. A bit heavy, but that's because it's inlaid by all sorts of fancy ornamental stuff. Barrel makes a loud, booming noise like a, sort of like a, thunderstorm at sea. I also chose it because it has hands down the best grip out of everything in the armory. It's all grooved like-you can see these grooves here, and they sort of hook themselves, painlessly, to my palm, so then it feels really snug and secure in my hand, and you know it's kind of important to maintain a strong grip especially if you're wallowing in monster goo like most of our battles and you know that one last shot will decide everything."
When she got to wandering into the armory he'd mentioned, Murmina was once again met by an enthusiastic Rex. He carried a chest which, when he opened it, revealed a set of gleaming pistols with varying sizes and make. A few spare casings rattled at the bottom as he took each gun out for inspection.
"I don't even know what this does." Even Murmina knew, at a glance, that the weapon was foul. A black aura seemed to surround it, and it had a design that seemed to evoke dread: writhing demon-like figures, a grotesque, grinning skull and two scarlet gemstones that pulsed with some strange light. It seemed to her that it was only when it was in Rex's hand that it looked inert, its darkness withdrawn into itself. She shuddered to even think of touching it. "Ellis said it was my grandma's courtship present to grandpa. Something rare she found in some ruins... he never tried firing it, and my dad never tried too. But I guess if I really wanted to..."
She reached out a hand. "I think the world has had enough of terrifying menaces without you adding to it. Please. Don't ever fire it. Ever." He shrugged, replacing the gun inside the chest.
"You know, that's exactly what my mom said to dad about this thing, or so they said." She thought she was beginning to relate with Rex's so-called mother. "Ah, now here's a good one-my dad's. It's the one I used before I discovered the Good Omen's grip. Dad never named it; he never was one much for names. But I called it the Peacemaker, back when I used to love its tremendous rate of fire. It can hold three bullets in this chamber thing before reloading! And it can even be reloaded with a canister of three bullets! Doesn't that sound amazing? They said dad used to have chests filled with those reload canisters. Most of them got lost overboard in a storm a long time ago, though, and sadly dad never wrote down the schematics to make these. I gotta say it really made me think the gun worse than it actually was when I was still doing target practice with boulders."
She took the gun, headed outside, spotted Winfield with her sharp eyes, and shot twice at a spot above his head. The man cursed and ducked like a turtle's head retreating into its shell, though that didn't stop her from tracking his head down and shooting the last bullet right above it.
"Huh." she said, the barrel smoking. Almost everyone at camp was rushing to the scene of the cowering Winfield. "That is convenient."
"Isn't it?" Rex said, ushering her back into the armory. "But next time, please say something before randomly shooting people. I know we don't have the luxury of setting up targets, and I know Winfield kind of deserves it, and he is kind of immortal and gets routinely destroyed with a daily basis..."
Murmina smiled, then quickly caught herself. She'd almost found herself going along with his cheerful attitude, away from the brooding she needed to focus on her vengeance.
Well, it wasn't like talking about guns, something she was familiar with, could invoke an atmosphere that was anywhere remotely congenial. Weapons of war! Killers at the hands of killers! Nothing romantic!
**Dandalugan Fort**
"Those peashooters may as well be shooting actual peas, little mortal," Vashtor said smirking, as the darkness around him absorbed her shots. Not even her great hatred could drive the bullets home to its target. "Your pitiful attacks are nothing to one such as I."
Biting down a frustrated growl, she reloaded, fading into the back as the rest of her group began charging up their own attacks. Zerva clashed weapons with the Gurg, mouthing something about betrayal, while Vira-Lorr began chanting some sort of spell.
"Everyone, positions!" With Rex's yell, Zerva and the others pulled back. Bolts of pure light crashed into Vashtor like the anger of a scorned sun. The barrage lasted for well nigh a minute before letting up. Through the settling smoke, she saw Vashtor's form still standing, still unharmed. Suddenly there came a creaking sound, whereupon the hated Gurg seemed to sink into the floor of his castle.
"What base trickery is this?" the villain said angrily, who began to climb out of the center of the crater that formed from the barrage. "Manipulating the terrain is something I taught Ladius, whelps! I-" Vashtor's bluster was cut short when he froze just as he was about to clamber up on his left leg. Through some technique, Rex had been transported by Beatrice from his vantage point down towards Vashtor's position, and was now aiming his gun - his grandmother's gun she saw - squarely at his lower vitals.
"What... is... that...?" Vashtor said, breaking the silence. His face still looked impassive, but only fools couldn't tell there were some gears desperately turning behind that twitching visage.
"Thanks, Beatrice. Leave the rest to me now," Rex said in the meantime, punctuating her name with a wink in the ninja's direction. Beatrice flushed and scurried off with head bowed. She ran over to her grandfather, who gave her a discreet thumbs up.
"You remember this, don't you?" Rex drawled, his arm never once moving from its crotch-threatening angle.
"Vaguely," Vashtor said through gritted teeth.
"Oh come on, you remember. Sharona," and here he flashed a grateful smile over his shoulder to the syrium, who was incidentally standing right behind Murmina. Sharona waved, and Murmina couldn't help but feel self-conscious. "-told me of Thoma coming in to consult you on its properties, unsure if he should show how much he appreciated his love's gift by replacing his weapon with it. By the end of the conversation she saw you'd gone pale, paler than you were usually. You didn't know what it was. I suspect you didn't even want to know."
"She might have seen me wrong. Why should I need to fear a weapon forged of dark?"
"Well, pish-posh and all that. The past doesn't matter. What matters is now." Murmina thought she was seeing things in the darkness of the room, but the jewels on the weapon seemed to grow a brighter, more sinister sheen. "Now I know what you're thinking. Is something that reeks this much of darkness really going to harm me, or would it instead grant me untold power?" Rex smiled, as if they were just chatting amicably over tea, though the steel in his voice never wavered and even intensified with each word he said. "Will that child even fire that thing? Can he even fire it? Would it perhaps not consume him instead, punishing him for his presumptuousness?
"So while you're thinking about that, think about this: I've got this wedding gift aimed such that in the former case it'd blow your crotch to the void before yes, driving you straight to the beyond; or else give you untold ecstasy, but you'll be feeling the sting of it downstairs for centuries to come. I've weighed my risks and I'm feeling lucky today: since I've got a feeling it's leaning more to the former. Now I put the question to you: are you feeling lucky today, Vashtor? Well, are ya?"
Silence filled the room. Kill him now, she thought.
"Very well," said Vashtor, bowing. "I shall yield." What?
"Noah my dear," she heard Sharona murmur as she dashed forward. "You'd be so proud of him right now."
**On the road to Barzakh**
She thought love a foolish thing. It made one lose focus in one's goals. It made one so unbearably sappy. Worse still, were the secret loves. These were almost always unrequited; kept safe in the bosom inside a treasure chest whose key even the owner forgets. When the love is discouraged, it doesn't disappear so much as explode, leaving a large, treasure chest-shaped hole behind.
Though she cursed sweet, sweet love, she also cherished it. It made the world seem that much brighter and full of color. It sharpened one's surroundings and battle awareness, particularly in the field of fiery desire when one knows one isn't alone in the race for the prize. It gave meaning to her life she thought meaningless when she no longer had a goal, even when the target of her longing had been the one to take it from her by sparing that vicious Gurg and even more, convincing her to extinguish her hatred.
What aggravated her, and probably every other girl she suspected of liking the same man as she, was his own indifference to it all, to all the feelings swarming around the group like honeybees. He threw around compliments and well wishes freely and earnestly, as if meaning couldn't be found behind his smiles, touches and winks; meaning couldn't be found, because what one saw was what one got. At the moment there was no guile in the master gunman's intentions, no subtlety to uncover, no dissembling of truth. He just seemed to be.
"I think it's what made Winfield what he was," said Ellis once, when a chance intersection of fates brought all the women to the same place in the same tavern one afternoon. "The guns. And now everyone descended from Thoma's loins all seem like him."
"Duran wasn't so bad," Plum pointed out.
"'Where my words can't reach, my bullets will'," said Qua in a faux deep voice that seemed to imitate Rex's father's. She mimed twirling a gun around her finger.
Sharona cackled. "I'd almost forgotten he used to do that."
"I thought it was just an overdose of self-confidence," said Plum. "I also thought it cute coming from him."
"Which is, I think, part of the charm," said Vira-Lorr. She took a sip. "The same kind of charm his father -and now his son - had."
"Come now," said Reverie. "Are you sure you didn't sense the viciousness hiding behind that debonair exterior? I do not know how it was with Thoma, but I believe the son was as much a predator as his father, if only a tad subtler."
"It's most likely the neocollom blood," said Sharona, "-combine it with a fearlessness borne of a true adventurer, and you get our favorite lone wolf."
"Oh, oh, what if you add a little of a pirate's bloodthirst? What does that make huh?" said Qua.
"Someone I'd dearly love to meet," said Vira-Lorr. She raised a brow. "This is someone hypothetical you're speaking of right? Not someone whose secrets I know just as well as the contours of his buttocks from all the years of changing his linens?"
"I personally think it takes much more than that to define one person. The perfect warrior is useless without a just and kind heart, and the will to see his duties through," Ellis said. She was about to say something more but ended with a sigh, shaking her head as if to dismiss something depressing. A few of the women simpered, knowing their companion well. "... It brings me back to the guns. Has to be it. Neither Leo nor Ladifour ever had the audacity of their heirs."
"In the end, it matters not," said Murmina firmly, finally joining in the conversation. Beatrice had just been staring starry eyed all throughout, as if running through the heroic images in her head. "The time will come when I shall seek redress for some... questionable things Rex has done. But I shall seek it only after the darkness is vanquished. And so I leave issues of frivolity for later. I expect you all to do the same. Or at least, try and focus on the goal instead of prattling on about men all the time."
"Now hold on there," protested Plum. "I understand what you're saying my dear, but don't go chiding us off on the fun we're having now. We have been committed to this quest for probably longer than you. It is not as if Rex has become the center of our lives."
"But you were practically glowing when I saw you teaching Rex about some runes you found," Murmina said flatly.
"Hah!" Qua pointed triumphantly at a flush-faced nelth. "I knew it!"
"And whose tail was wagging excitedly when he was carrying you that one time you got injured?" Qua's laughter subsided, as she turned, silent and still as a pouncing tiger, to her.
"And you!" Murmina continued, pointing to Reverie. "I heard every word of every moment you enjoyed bathing in the sea with him back at the new harbor!"
"I did enjoy it," the yulishee said, fluttering her eyes in the manner of a warship's bristling broadsides. "He is an excellent swimmer."
"Don't be so eager to protest too much, dearie," Vira-Lorr said, fixing all of her eyes on her teasingly. "Don't think we haven't noticed you taking up too much of the leader's time having those little 'talks' at the armory."
"Those were hardly romantic in nature! We were simply discussing the merits of this and that weapon-"
"I have observed that the way you talk with him within the confines of that tent is significantly different in terms of tone, timbre and inflection from the way you talk with him and with everyone outside. It might be conjectured-"
"Hey, stop it Beatrice!" she said hotly. She blinked. "Wait a second, you were there-?!"
"So, young defendant," Sharona said, grinning like a hungry were-cat sighting prey. "How do you plead?"
Whatever counter-attack she wanted to muster was interrupted by a voice calling her name, whereupon the tavern door banged open to reveal Rex.
"Murmina, there you are."
"Not now, I'm busy." Her rough response seemed to catch him by surprise. He scrunched his eyes, as if seeing the rest of the girls inside for the first time.
"Oh, did you have something else to do today? Good afternoon everyone." After a general, rather enthusiastic response from everyone, Rex turned back to Murmina. "I guess I'll be going then." He made to turn around, but then paused from a sudden thought. "I gotta say though, I was really looking forward to it. I mean, you were the one who suggested we meet, after all. Ah well." He made one final wave to the rest of his party, stepped out, and closed the door gently behind him.
She let out a long, loud, long-suffering breath. Catching sight of a roomful of accusing eyes, she clucked her tongue. After opening her mouth as if to say something to break the discomfiting silence, she abruptly turned to bound out the door.
**Barzakh**
"We can't hold out much longer! Where's Rex?" Summerill, lord of darkness and mastermind of all the things that had happened to their group enforced his terrifying presence upon them all. Even the purest light dwelling in her heart were slowly being suffocated by the source of evil. Her mind whispered to her, traitorous thoughts all, of the Spirit Vessel's desertion, of Rex's loyalty to no one but himself, of her friend's disregard for her own feelings, of their own ignorance of the grand power they so blindly challenged in its own home.
"Keep steady! Though he seems strong, he is still weakened by the presence of a power greater than he!" yelled Borgnine, his monstrous profile set in grim defiance.
"The fact that I have not annihilated you, foolish larva, is that your prolonged suffering will amuse me more than your swift death. I shall weave your desperate screams into the wind and scatter it in all directions, so that all who hear it shall know of Summerill's might, of the folly of light, of my final triumph- Ow!" For a moment, the storm abated, and it was as if she'd descended from flying up in an airless height. The next moment it returned, but through the haze she heard something whizz above her, whereupon a loud boom punctured the shroud of evil once more.
"Insolent mortal! Your attacks are but stinging flies! You will never match-"
Whoosh! Bang! A louder explosion this time, and the evil receded so much that she could now stand, along with the others. She saw Summerill, his spider-like form hunched on the ground as he cupped his hand against his face.
There was a distinct clicking sound, and Murmina whirled to catch Rex a long ways behind, calmly taking aim with a gun. There were some pistols at his feet, and she thought she could recognize-
Light erupted from the barrel, blinding her. Summerill screamed.
"Bug!... Cease your impudent... futile... efforts...! I-"
Rex took out another, far more familiar gun. Murmina recognized the dread device immediately, as did Vashtor, whom she'd swear had just shrieked quietly. It took a second for the rest of the group to recognize it.
"I WILL DESTROY YOU-"
"Hit the deck!" someone shouted, and they all splayed themselves against the ground, fearing the worst and praying for the best. There was a loud crackle, as of thunder rolling through the clouds, and then a sharp, single whirring. She felt her feathers ruffling in the sharp wind, all her nerves trilling from whatever it was that Rex fired.
"Noooooo!"
All of them stared up as Summerill, a hole where his face had been, dissolved into light. Soon after, they'd won.
Before they could take a deep breath and cheer, celebrating their great victory, she heard Dyshana shout, "Are you as foolish as you look, Rex?"
That was the first hint of emotion anyone had heard from Dyshana. She marched to the boy who was smiling sheepishly, tossing away the smoking gun.
"Hey, I made it."
"I contained much of the corruption that would have spread from that weapon's firing. It flew as a shadow to the light you cast and now runs free, unchecked. It lingers now, and it is something so foreign that I cannot even comprehend it and estimate its effect on the world. If I weren't here-"
"Well, isn't it fate that has thus now made it not so? That has brought you here, at the end of my journey that it might aid us here and now, where even I could have failed? But in any case, thanks, Dyshana. I'll take responsibility for whatever this weapon unleashed."
"...You could have been hurt. You could've died," Dyshana said softly, her anger leaking out like water from a cracked jar. "That thing was clearly dangerous. Do you not realize how people might feel if you-"
Murmina, and quite a few others she didn't have time to glance at, groaned when Rex stepped forward, and in one smooth movement drew Dyshana in by her shoulder, leaned in and kissed her.
Winfield made a sharp whistling sound.
Shoot her, said a voice that seemed much like what Summerill's evil had said. Her back's completely exposed! Shoot! Dyshana, red-faced, breathless and uncharacteristically smiling after he broke the kiss didn't quite help the suppression of the evil voice that wanted to skewer that presumptuous bitch. And judging by Sharona clucking her tongue behind her, she wasn't the only one thinking that way.