Austin drew his sword and took a few steps forward, coming to a stop twenty meters away from Celtic. Celtic, in turn, walked down the steps from his throne to reach even footing with his visitor. Celtic spoke first.
"You made it after all, Austin. Tell me, did anyone try to stop you, or is my security even more incompetent than I thought?"
"I did run into General Vulpix on the way here," Austin admitted. "You won't be seeing any more of him." He suppressed a laugh, careful not to give away the true meaning behind his words.
"Is that so?" Celtic said, forlornly. "That's a shame. He was a great leader and a good friend. A skilled combatant, as well. If you managed to defeat him, you must be more formidable than I thought."
He laughed sadly. "And here I was hoping my army might have been able to push you back, or better, that you'd be killed in the fighting. But my luck has never been that good, has it?"
Austin shrugged loosely. "I don't know," he replied. "I could call what you did to Guns 'N Roses a lucky shot. And you've been riding the wave from that chance victory all the way here, to a demise which should have come much sooner."
Celtic smirked. "Speaking of Guns 'N Roses' tragic downfall, how is Quixotic Quail doing these days? Is he well?"
Austin's facial expression went from relaxed and neutral to tense and furious. He said through gritted teeth, "I'm sure he'll be more than well when I send you to him on your knees, crying for your mother."
Celtic cackled boisterously. "There's the killer I've heard so much about! You seem ready for a fight, so let's not waste any more time. En garde!"
He charged and swung his axe at frightening speed, giving Austin barely enough time to dodge. The veteran kept his distance and stayed on his toes as Celtic made a few more attempts to lodge his axe in his opponent's skull. Realizing that staying far away would do him no good, Austin moved in for an attack of his own. Celtic parried several strikes from Austin before pushing him back with a kick. Austin broke a sweat.
He examined his opponent while evading further attacks, looking for a weakness that could be exploited. His eyes settled on Celtic's axe, which had a loop near the blunt end. Austin decided to take a risk, and on Celtic's next swing, hooked his sword through the axe, holding on tightly. With a combination of a grunt and a shout, Austin pulled his sword back and upward with great effort, tearing the axe from Celtic's grip and sending it flying across the room behind him. Austin laughed triumphantly, while Celtic scowled.
"Hmph," Celtic muttered. "Two can play at that game."
When Austin swung at Celtic, Celtic responded by swinging his arm and connecting his fist with Austin's right hand, sending his weapon flying out of it and away from the two fighters.
Austin stepped back and stared at his hand in disbelief. "Did you just punch a sword out of my hand?"
Celtic cracked his knuckles. "That's not the only thing I'm going to punch out of you," he threatened.
Boxing ensued.
Celtic advanced, throwing several jabs and straights. Each one was blocked or dodged. Austin retorted with a jab to the body and a right hook to the chin, the latter of which drew blood. Celtic took several steps back and touched his chin, bewildered.
"What the hell?" he asked nobody in particular.
"Something wrong?"
"You're sixty-something years old. How can you hit so hard?"
"Uh…" Austin shrugged. "Push-ups?"
Celtic blinked. "Push-ups?"
"Yeah. One hundred a day. Never skip."
Celtic sighed and rubbed his temple. "I'm going to kill you now."
"Right."
Celtic unleashed a flurry of blows, faster than before. Austin had to react quickly as his opponents strikes forced him to step back and evade. A combination of reflexes and speed allowed him to evade most of the attacks, though Celtic did manage to land a couple of body shots.
"You may have reach," Austin boasted. "But I have flexibil—" He was interrupted by an incoming strike, which he dodged.
"Flexi—" Another dodge.
"Flex—" Dodge.
"I stretch," he managed to get out in between punches. Soon Austin had backed up until he was a few meters from a wall.
"No more games," Celtic said. He grabbed Austin's arm and maneuvered to put his own back facing the wall, preparing to execute an ancient Night's Watch combat technique: the Irish Whip.
Celtic placed his free hand behind Austin's back and, with force, threw him toward the wall. Austin stumbled and struggled to reduce his momentum before slamming into the wall. Dazed, Austin pushed himself off and turned around just in time to see Celtic's fist rocketing toward his face. Instinctively, Austin ducked, and felt wind as Celtic's punch flew just over his head. He ran toward the throne to put distance between himself and his opponent. Feeling himself tiring, Austin decided to stall for time.
"There's no way you can win, Celtic. Even if you manage to defeat me, my teammates are on their way. When they get here, they'll make short work of you."
Celtic scoffed. "They'll never make it. They have to get past my remaining councilors, who are two of the strongest fighters in the world. You're on your own now, and when my people get here," he grinned maliciously, "you're screwed."
Austin smiled confidently. "Don't count my friends out just yet. They've become forces of their own, some of the fiercest and cleverest individuals I've had the pleasure of meeting. They can take on your sorry henchmen any day. Once they come through those doors, your experiment with power will fail. You've already lost; you just don't know it. You're a failure!" He put extra vitriol in his voice with the last remark.
Celtic's face twisted in anger. "A failure? You dare to call me a failure? I am the greatest leader this Subreddit has ever known! I am the single strongest fighter in the world! I strike fear into the hearts of my enemies and inspire courage in those who serve me." He raised his voice. "I am power!" he boasted. "I am justice! I am control!"
"Even so," Austin said, raising his fists once more, "I think I can take you."
This time, Austin went on the offensive. Moving around Celtic in a circular path, he stepped in to take scattered strikes, using feints and false starts to mislead his opponent and throw off his defense. After landing several hits, Austin found an opening and took it. With Celtic's arms down, Austin moved to punch his face, extended two fingers, and poked Celtic in the eyes. Celtic screamed in pain and anger and stumbled backwards, placing his hands over his eyes. Austin quickly followed up with two blows to the body and one to the head, the latter of which knocked Celtic to the ground. As Celtic struggled to regain his footing, Austin took another opportunity to rest and recover energy. He grinned mockingly at his opponent.
"You can't see me!" Austin taunted, his voice taking on a childish tone.
Celtic became furious. "That's it," he growled. "You die now."
He charged at Austin and grabbed him by the shoulders. Austin struggled to escape Celtic's grasp, but his enemy's grip was too tight. Celtic raised one arm and threw several punches at his restrained opponent's forehead, each one landing unopposed. Austin felt blood trickle down his face.
Though he knew he was in trouble, Austin refused to show it. "Is that all you've got? I've been hit harder by starving peasants."
Celtic glared. "Oh, I'll give you something hard."
"Hey, at least buy me—" Austin was cut off by another punch.
Celtic lifted Austin off of the ground, turned him over and held him in the air. Austin resisted with several ineffective hits, but was unable to put any force behind them from his position. Celtic prepared to use another ancient Night's Watch combat technique: the Piledriver.
He suddenly paused as he heard the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway. Both combatants turned their heads toward the doorway in anticipation, holding their awkward positions.
Nitesco and Gwydion appeared in the doorway. Seeing this, Austin's face became a wide upside-down grin, while Celtic's became one of uncontrolled rage and contempt.
"Austin!" Nitesco shouted upon seeing his friend in a dangerous position.
Austin laughed triumphantly. "Yes! You made it!"
Celtic screaming furiously was the last thing he heard before his head crashed into the stone floor.
"No!" Nitesco drew his sword and stared intensely at Celtic. "You bastard. I'm going to make you pay for hurting my friend!"
"Hurting him?" Celtic laughed in an extremely evil way. "He's well past hurt at this point, Nitesco. He's stone cold. And you two will soon be joining him." Celtic stretched each of his arms across his chest in turn, preparing to engage the newcomers in melee. He gave off an aura of cockiness and slight insanity as he shook his limbs in anticipation.
Nitesco started to charge but was stopped by Gwydion placing a hand on his shoulder.
"We need to be careful," he warned. He looked down at his left arm, which had a piece of cloth hastily wrapped around his wound. "I've got one good arm and a knife, so I'll be of limited help. We only barely have a numbers advantage, and he just beat Austin in a fight. This is going to be dangerous."
Nitesco sighed. "Alright. Caution it is. We'll flank him; I go right, you go left."
Gwydion took his knife in hand and nodded. "Sounds good."
"You know I can hear you, right?" Celtic quipped. "If this is the full extent of Team ANGQ's tactical genius, I must say I'm unimpressed."
Nitesco and Gwydion opted not to respond as they approached Celtic from different sides. Before they could attack, Celtic spoke.
"Humor me for a moment," he said. "Did you two run into anyone on the way here?"
"I encountered Maker," Gwydion informed him. "And Nitesco fought Jokey. Both of them are dead."
Celtic shook his head. "I don't believe it. That's not possible. There's no way you fools killed my best people."
"Believe it," Nitesco said. "We beat them."
"Then I'm really all that's left," Celtic sighed. "Very well. Let's get to it, then." He looked at Nitesco on his left. Then he turned to see Gwydion on his right. Then he broke into a run straight forward.
"Huh?" Nitesco said as he looked to see where Celtic was going. Then he saw what Celtic was running toward: his battle axe, lying on the ground.
"Dammit!" Gwydion exclaimed as he and Nitesco ran after Celtic. Celtic reached the axe first, grabbed it, and turned around, now armed and dangerous. Celtic waved the axe around cockily.
"Let's dance!" With that challenge, the next phase of combat began.
Nitesco and Gwydion again attempted to encircle Celtic, who rotated as needed to keep track of each's position. The pair exchanged glances, then charged simultaneously.
Celtic whirled around, deflecting Gwydion's attack with his axe while kicking Gwydion away. After striking the blacksmith in the head with his elbow, he advanced on Nitesco. With untempered aggression, Celtic howled and swung at him. Nitesco, panicking, rolled backwards just in time; the swing barely missed his head. Celtic paused for a second and shook his head before continuing his assault.
He performed another overhand swing and knocked Nitesco down. Seeing that Nitesco would need a second to stand again, Celtic quickly turned around to focus on Gwydion.
Gwydion was mid-swing. He raised his axe to defend himself, but instead of connecting with the blade, Gwydion's knife made contact with the handle, putting a dent in the wood. Swiftly, Gwydion pulled back and prepared for another attack. Celtic growled in apparent frustration and annoyance.
Gwydion went in for a stab, but Celtic was too fast. He darted to the side and, with his axe handle, struck Gwydion in the stomach before punching him across the face and sending him to the ground.
"Gwydion!" Nitesco cried out. He readied his sword and charged at Celtic. The tyrant caught Nitesco's wrist as he brought his sword down. With one swift motion, Celtic drove the blade of his axe into Nitesco's shin with a one-handed swing, causing Nitesco to cry out in excruciating pain. Thinking fast, Nitesco wrenched his hand free and brought down his sword onto the axe, cutting off the head from the handle. Then, he collapsed.
Though his weapon had been broken, Celtic chuckled sadistically. "Don't go anywhere." He tossed aside his now-broken piece of wood and turned around to face Gwydion, who had recovered from his earlier beating.
Nitesco knelt on the ground, his wound preventing him from standing. With haste, he grabbed the axe head still embedded in his leg and removed it, which only made the pain worse. He tossed the bloodstained piece of metal aside and watched helplessly from the floor as the fight continued.
Celtic approached Gwydion, who was struggling to put up a defense. With his knife, Gwydion tried to land a hit to no avail. Celtic dodged each attack, then grabbed Gwydion's right arm. He quickly applied pressure with his fingers and tightened his grip, causing Gwydion to cry out and drop the blade. With his free hand, Celtic transitioned into grabbing Gwydion by the neck, and lifted him into the air while choking him.
"What will you do now, blacksmith?" Celtic taunted. "You have no weapon and no footing. It seems that you're out of options!"
Gwydion responded with choking noises. He clawed at Celtic's hand, panicking and desperately trying to escape from his grip. As seconds passed his face lost its color and his struggles became weaker. At the last moment he moved his hand down toward his waist, as if to grab something. However, he lost consciousness and his arm went limp before he could get hold of anything. Celtic grunted and abruptly dropped Gwydion to the ground.
"Far too easy." He turned to Nitesco. "Now, what shall we do with you?"
Nitesco grabbed his sword and prepared to fend off Celtic from a position on the ground. Celtic, having none of it, approached, dodged one thrust from Nitesco, then reached down and yanked the sword out of his hand. He stepped back and examined the weapon as he spoke.
"And with that," Celtic said, "the fight is as good as over. Unbelievable. This is the mighty Team ANGQ? These are the people who have caused me so much trouble, and who have killed my lieutenants? I don't believe it. How could I have beaten all three of you, yet you defeated all of my subordinates?" He shook his head. "It could only have been luck. A series of flukes led you all here, where you lie at my feet, awaiting death."
"It's not over yet," Nitesco hissed. He tried to stand, but he was forced to return to the ground; the pain in his leg was simply too great.
"You're right," Celtic said, returning his attention to his injured opponent. "It isn't. I still have to make you pay for what you've done." He pointed at Nitesco's leg. "Does that hurt?"
"Go to hell," Nitesco tersely replied.
"Hmph." Celtic raised the sword and plunged it down into Nitesco's wound.
As he was awoken by the sound of Nitesco screaming, Austin felt a terrible pain in his head. He looked up, dazed, and tried to collect information about his surroundings.
He saw Celtic standing over Nitesco, stabbing him in the leg. Very close to Celtic he saw Nitesco on the ground, being stabbed. He looked around the floor close to him for any weapons he might use, but found none. Searching more around the room, he saw Gwydion on the ground, groggily trying to get up after apparently having been knocked unconscious. A broken axe lay near Nitesco, and a sword rested on the floor across the room. He would have to get past Celtic to reach either of them.
With an understanding of his surroundings, Austin struggled to come up with a plan. It was hard to think over Nitesco's continuous cries of pain, but he persisted. Celtic. Sword. Axe. Nitesco. Gwydion.
Gwydion. A plan flashed through Austin's mind in an instant.
There was a saying in Guns 'N Roses: Take a rose with its thorns, or take no rose at all.
"Guess I'll take a rose," Austin muttered to himself. He was unheard by Celtic, who was caught up in getting revenge.
"I think Yukon would appreciate this," he said, looking down at Nitesco with the expression of a maniac. "Don't you? It's the least I can do, after you killed him." He twisted the sword, eliciting more screaming from his victim. "At the very least, it satisfies me. I think of them, Maker, Greatness, Jokey, Vulpix, and I just want to… you know…" He finished his statement by digging the sword even deeper into Nitesco's leg.
Austin stood up and slowly walked toward Celtic from behind, the sound of his footsteps being masked by Nitesco's pained noises and Celtic's taunting and ranting. He looked at Gwydion as he approached, hoping to make eye contact with him. After a second, Gwydion did look over, and his eyes widened. Austin put a finger to his lips. Gwydion replied with a curt nod and looked back at Celtic. Austin continued his approach.
"That's enough, Celtic!" Gwydion shouted. "There's no point to this. Stop it at once!"
Celtic looked up from his tormenting to stare at Gwydion with a crazed expression. "Oh, but there is a point, Gwydion. I want to do this. So, I will. That's all the reason I need." He jammed the sword into Nitesco's wound, then released it and pulled back his hand, preparing to drive it through his victim's leg with extreme force.
Austin saw an opportunity and seized it. He quickly closed the distance between himself and Celtic, stood directly behind him, looped his arms under Celtic's armpits, and clasped his hands together behind Celtic's neck. He had secured and restrained an unarmed Celtic using an ancient Guns 'N Roses technique: the standing Full Nelson. He wasted no time in giving an order:
"Take the shot, Gwydion! Take the shot!"
Celtic took a second to process everything that was happening. After making several realizations at the same time, he suddenly became fearful and desperate. "No. No, No!" He struggled against Austin's hold. "Let go of me!"
Nitesco turned his head, exhausted. His mind was under too much stress to fully understand what was happening. "Austin…?"
Gwydion's hand moved to his hip and grabbed the hand cannon. His hand raised the cannon to aim directly at Celtic's chest. His finger moved to the trigger. He hesitated. Celtic was directly in front of him. Austin was right behind Celtic.
"I can't hold him much longer," Austin shouted. "You have to take the shot! NOW!"
"Stop!" Celtic roared. "You can't!"
"Austin, what…?"
Gwydion found his resolve. With pained effort, he brought the hand of his injured arm up to steady his aim. He inhaled. He exhaled. He pulled the trigger.
A deafening bang filled the room. Echoing off the walls, it covered up several other noises. It covered the sound of Nitesco gasping in shock. It covered the thump of a round penetrating Celtic's body. It also covered the simultaneous, softer thump of the same round entering Austin's body and lodging inside of it.
Austin released his grip on Celtic and fell backwards. Celtic, at the same time, began to fall forward.
Celtic felt a flurry of emotions as he fell to the ground Anger. Regret. Fear. Despair. To his own surprise, the emotion that stuck as he hit the ground was pride. His vision blurred and dimmed as he rested on the floor.
"I fought… to the very end… for my rule…" he choked out. With a final breath, Celtic stopped moving. The battle was over.
Gwydion glanced down at the hand cannon. The last shot had taken its toll on the weapon; several cracks now appeared on its frame and some small chunks had fallen off. The gun would no longer function. Gwydion tossed it aside without a second thought and ran to his friend's side.
"Austin!" he panted as he bent down next to his comrade. "Are you—"
Austin raised a hand and cut him off. "First," he said weakly, "Make sure he's dead."
Gwydion nodded in understanding. He walked over to Nitesco and grabbed the hilt of the sword still embedded in his leg. "Sorry about this," he said.
"Just rip it out," Nitesco replied. As he braced himself, Gwydion pulled out the sword in one clean motion, getting a pained hiss from Nitesco. Gwydion then walked a few steps to Celtic's body, swung down the sword onto Celtic's neck, and unceremoniously separated his head from the rest of his body.
"Done," he said, simply. He dropped the sword and returned to Austin's side. Nitesco slowly crawled over to join them.
"Are you okay?" Gwydion asked quickly. "Can you get up? Tell me it's not that bad; tell me you're going to be fine."
Austin grimaced. "Maybe," he said. "Let me just try this." He started to lift his back off of the ground and immediately fell back down with a pained gasp. "Nope," he breathed, "Not getting up. I think it's really bad; I'm not getting out of this one."
Gwydion's eyes watered. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have thought of something else. This is my fault, I could have—"
"Stop," Austin interrupted. He smiled gently. "Listen: you did everything right. Exactly right. You saved yourself and Nitesco. That's what I wanted, so don't be ashamed. I'm thankful that you were able to go through with it; you saved two people who are very dear to me. And hey, if there has to be blame distributed, I should share some as well. We are co-commanders after all, aren't we?" He winked.
Nitesco placed a hand on one of Austin's. "I don't know if my life was worth this," he said sadly.
Austin shook his head. "No. Your life is worth so much more. So, make good use of it, okay?"
Nitesco nodded. "I will. I promise." He sighed. "It's really over, isn't it? It's hard to believe. After all this time, the war's finally over."
"The air does feel different, doesn't it?" Austin remarked. "Peace. It's a light feeling. Kind of a numbing feeling."
"Actually," Gwydion corrected, "that may be trauma."
Austin broke into laughter; the kind of genuine laughter that compels anyone who hears it to join in. Gwydion and Nitesco didn't laugh themselves, but they did share a smile. After a few seconds, Austin's laughter winded down. "Oh, I shouldn't be laughing," he said. "That's not really funny. Oh, that hurts, too, laughing hurts. Ow." He sighed.
"I'm kind of at a loss," Gwydion said. "Now that the war's over, what are we supposed to do?"
"Do normal things, I suppose. Gwydion, you can become a normal craftsman. And Nitesco," Austin said, smiling wryly, "you can get into politics."
Nitesco shook his head. "No way. War is one thing, but that's far too dirty for my liking." The group shared another laugh. This time, everyone joined in.
"You should have something, too," Gwydion said wistfully. "We can get you a cottage, or something. Get you a hobby. Not sword-fighting, just a normal old man hobby. Gardening, maybe?"
"Yeah," Nitesco agreed. "You look like the kind of man who has a garden."
Austin smiled appreciatively. "I actually did have a hobby, you know. I was a writer of sorts. Ah, that reminds me, something I wrote a long time ago. How did it go…?" He shut his eyes and thought. His breathing slowed and his muscles relaxed. Quietly, he recited:
"A minute before midnight, and
I'm lying wide awake.
And here for midnight's angels is
my consciousness to take.
I know the coming dark is not
the terror that it seems,
for deep within that darkness is
a sea of pleasant dreams."
Austin sighed. "A pleasant dream," he whispered. "That's all a man could hope for." With that, he went still.
Nitesco placed a hand on Austin's neck, then in front of Austin's mouth. He shook his head. "Nothing. That's it, then. He's really gone." He stared. "It doesn't feel real. Like, my heart can't process what my eyes are seeing."
"I know what you mean," Gwydion said. "It's a lot to take in." He rose to his feet. "There'll be time to process it later. Right now, we need to get out of here. Can you stand?"
"I can try. It'll probably hurt like hell, but I can walk for a while if you support me." Nitesco looked down. "We can't leave him here."
"Well," Gwydion said. "Between us we've got three good arms and three good legs. That's one arm and leg per body." He smirked. "I think we can make that work."
"We'll have to try, at least."
With help from Gwydion, Nitesco stood and took a leaning position on Gwydion's left shoulder, keeping weight off of his injured leg. Together, with some difficulty, they lifted Austin's body off of the ground and hoisted it over Gwydion's right shoulder. Gwydion strained under the combined weight of his teammates.
"You sure you can do this?" Nitesco asked.
Gwydion nodded confidently. "We've carried each other through so much. We can carry this, too."
With that, they began their walk. They left the keep carrying the heavy weight of loss, moving toward a light future full of hope.