When he came to, the tar was still burning hot, but it was cooling. That same disgusting scent of burnt flesh wafted from both his body, and from the body of Mephistopheles. He was staring into her eyes. It felt like he could never get up again. Like even the thought of it was difficult. But he pushed against the ground with his hands, and clumsily got to his feet.
Pieces of his armor were missing. His sword was gone. He walked over, and picked up Mephistopheles' dagger. It was the only weapon in the area. He then turned around, and looked at the steps leading up to the castle. No demons. He hoped he would be lucky.
When he started walking, though, his feet felt more like they were being dragged than actually pulled up. Something was wrong with the joints in his legs, though he couldn't tell for certain what it was. Maybe he was just sore. He was sore everywhere, and some blood was still leaking from small, healing stab wounds.
As he climbed the stairs, through the gate, he saw a red eye staring at him. He pulled up his dagger and prepared to fght.
But the eye didn't move. Instead, he watched as its glow slowly dimmed, then died entirely. The helmet it was looking out of wasn't attached to any body. He should have noticed that straight away.
On the stairs above, he heard the now familiar clang of steel hitting steel. He sprinted upstairs, just in time to see Biorr cut through a fat minister, who flopped to the ground, still cackling. Biorr watched the sword he'd been holding flop downstairs with him, and went back against a pillar. He probably intended to lean on it. But instead, he practically fell onto his hindquarters, breathing heavily. The sword he still had was hanging limply from his arm.
And around him there were piles of dead demons.
"Good god," Nameless whispered, as he climbed up the stairs.
"Lad...?" Biorr looked down at him. "Shit, boy, you're alive."
"Uh. Yeah."
"Unless this is one'a them life flashing bits. Y'know, trying to make me atone for bein such a bastard to ye."
"No, Biorr, I am completely, one hundred percent alive."
"At the moment," the big man smiled.
"Yeah. Yeah at the moment."
He walked over and put his foot on the Minister's fat belly, then wrenched Biorr's sword free. He climbed up the steps toward him, and handed it to him.
"Thanks, lad. Need some moongrass?" Biorr said, reaching into his pack.
"Not as much as you do," Nameless said.
Biorr laughed. "Yeah, you have a point." He pulled the grass out and started munching on it.
"Did you...did you kill all these demons?" Nameless said. There were so many, it was going to be difficult to climb the stairs.
"Why the hell do ye think I'm so bloody tired?"
"I...I'm trying to believe it-"
"Lad, ye should have seen me next to my brother. Let me tell ye. When we fought together, why...I wouldn't even be tired right now. And if I were, he'd grab me by the hand an'-" Biorr suddenly stopped, grimaced. Shoved more moongrass into his mouth.
"Where's Ostrava?" Nameless asked, handing Biorr his sword.
"He went on while I held these beasts off," said Biorr, mouth full. "All in all they disappointed me, gotta say. I expected them to finish me off, a heroic last stand, you know the tales."
"I might have, once."
Biorr breathed deeply, and then nodded. "You know the good prince prolly needs yer help."
"What about you?"
"Me?" Biorr shrugged. "Well...it's been a while since I took a good long nap. And, y'know-"
Then they heard a roar, and the flapping of gigantic wings.
"And it may be a while yet," Biorr said, and looked up.
But it was there before he finished looking. It flew right over the gigantic doorway into the castle, and planted itself on the upper wall. The blue dragon. It glared at them, then opened its mouth, breathed in.
Nameless put all the exposed parts of his body behind the pillar. He didn't need to be burned again. The fire coned outward and ran past him, but he still felt its heat. And a surge of animalistic terror ran through him. Fire. It screamed. Fire. Not fire again. Please, anything but fire.
"Ye alright, lad?" Biorr asked.
He looked down at the big man, who was staring at him knowingly. Biorr then shook his head, and got to his feet, clumsily. "Well, we gotta get ye in there, that's for certain."
"Biorr, are you going to-"
"Do the same thing I did before? Well hell bloody yes."
"But-" He stammered. "But I don't-"
Biorr interrupted as he leaned against the pillar. Readying his swords. "Ye know, I never much liked ye. Still don't."
Nameless blinked. "That's a nice thing to say in a time like this."
"What can I say? It just occurred to me," the big man gave him a gallows grin, and he realized what was coming next.
"What are you doing?" Nameless asked.
"What's it look like, lad? I'm a knight. Figger it's about time I slay a dragon."
And before he could say anything else, Biorr was gone.
Running up the stairs, charging, screaming at the top of his lungs.
The dragon looked down at the single knight, and blinked, as if it was in disbelief of the sheer stupidity it was observing. It sucked in its breath again.
Dodge. Nameless thought. Get behind a pillar. Do anything to avoid it, then charge again when it's done. Just don't-
Fire exploded from the dragon's mouth, and ran down the stairs, and again something primal told him to look away, but he kept watching.
And within the flames he saw it. The dark shape charging forward. The screaming titan.
Biorr yelled through the pain, and that didn't take it away, but somehow vented it, as fire and death came into one end of him, and rage out the other. His armor burned, then turned orange, then started becoming soft. His skin became hard and blackened and became the same as the armor, soon he couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. And in the inferno, his scream started to take a form, one which transformed itself into words.
"Ye stupid! Great! Lizard! Yer challenging Biorr...brother of Vallerfax...knight of the twin fangs!"
And then something appeared on the dragon's face that hadn't been there before. Fear. It moved its head downwards, and blasted Biorr directly, with so much force that it knocked one of his swords from his hand outright, and sent it flying down the steps. Biorr couldn't run anymore, he took one slow step, after another, deeper into the blizzard of heat and death. He forced his other hand onto his sword, and kept screaming.
By the time the dragon realized it should move its head back up, it was too late.
Something happened, Biorr's eyes turned dark, and the force of the fire didn't change, but some extra force behind him came out.
Vallerfax. I feel ye. Yer soul...Miralda had it. And when I killed her, I-
We're together. We're fighting together.
They charged, with both of their muscles and both of their determination working in one body. The dragon couldn't avoid it in time, they were too fast, and when they reached the head, the sword came up in a violent uppercut with all their momentum. They kept going, through the cut they made, and swung back down, cutting through scales and flesh again.
There was an explosion as the fire stopped going straight, but instead split off in every direction. Finally, the burning avalanche stopped. And they saw it. The dragon's entire face split in half.
Biorr stood there, charred, about ready to collapse.
But he didn't get the chance.
Instead, the dragon's body fell, and landed on the burnt knight. There was a sickening crack, and Nameless didn't see Biorr. He only saw the dragon, rolling down the stairs, realized that it was coming toward him, and panicked.
Oh god. What would Biorr do...what would Biorr do...
And then he saw it in his mind eye. The body was technically covering the entire staircase, but on the opposite end from him was the tail, flopping around.
He'd run straight for it!
He sprinted across the stairs, to where the tail was, and felt the rumbling growing, heard the sounds of the stone being trampled grow louder. He had to make it. He had to. But he wasn't going to-
He pulled all the souls out into him, again, and then felt something else. Something new. Something he'd just absorbed.
The dragon's soul, and Vallerfax, and Biorr, all formed some kind of cocktail of energy, and it pushed him. He flew down toward the ground, past where he needed to be, and felt something collosal and loose slap him in the back of the head, but not crush him.
The dragon kept rolling down the stairs, knocking down pillars, until it finally hit the wall the bottom.
For the second time that day, that wall served its purpose.
Nameless looked down, and thought of going back. But he realized, grimly, that he didn't have time. Ostrava was up there. And so was the last Archdemon, regardless. He had to get there before reinforcements showed up. As soon as possible.
Without looking back, he charged.
The castle was empty. Its large stone walls seemed oddly clean, as if unpenetrated by the chaos outside. Ahead of him, the stairs went up, and led to a large stone bridge. But his eyes caught on something leading up the path. Blood was trickling down the steps, and sitting there, at the top of the stairs, was a familiar armored man.
"Ostrava!"
He sprinted to the top of the stairs, almost slipping on the blood. When he reached Ostrava, he saw that his head had nodded down, and he didn't seem to be moving.
"Ostrava," he said, and grabbed at his helmet, prying it off. His eyes were closed.
Then, they fluttered open.
"Oh...hello. You're here. I was wondering when death would come." He said, oddly serene.
"What?"
"You're here to take me away, aren't you? Well please, do. I can't go on, anymore."
Nameless looked away. "Ostrava, you aren't dead. I'm not, either. The Maiden saved me."
Ostrava blinked lethargically. "Of course she did. How did I not assume she would..." He turned his head toward one of the windows. "I'll believe you, mostly because heaven is probably far more spectacular than this. And hell is far worse. I'll gladly stay here, and die before the demons find me."
"Ostrava, you are the prince of this kingdom," he said. Feeling odd, as the usual roles reversed. "You have to get up. You can't surrender."
"It's my father."
"What?"
Ostrava looked back up at him. His eyes were wide and desperate, as if looking for some answer to an awful question. "The Archdemon. It's my father."
"But-" He started. He couldn't finish.
"It all makes sense. This kingdom...it was always run on blood. It was run on the soul arts. How else would the ministers have gotten in? How else would the demons have taken hold this easily, and my father's army get so corrupted without putting up an organized fight? It's because there was no organized fight. My father called for it. He summoned the Old One himself. He did everything. We...the Allants, we're responsible."
"Don't say 'we'. You didn't do anything."
"I left him," Ostrava said. "I left him, and put him in an even darker place than he would have been in. And he did this."
"That's not a healthy way of thinking about it. Ostrava, please...we need to fight him."
"I can't fight him," Ostrava shook his head. "I tried. But...but he's my father."
"Ostrava-"
"He's my father. And even if I took this kingdom back," He paused. "It doesn't deserve to be taken back. Not after the things we've done. Not after how my family...how I have benefitted from these atrocities."
"These atrocities...?" He looked around. "Ostrava, your kingdom was destroyed. Look at it, you're not benefitting at all."
"I was, though," Ostrava said. "You're not seeing it, yet: Everything my father ever did during his reign led up to this. It wasn't overnight. It started with the Soul Arts...but he just kept taking. You didn't know my father. He was an unhappy man. Some might say an empty man. There was something he wanted, so desperately, but no matter what he couldn't seem to find it, or even find out what it was. That was what led to our prosperity, because of how ambitious he was, how he fought so hard to get what he wanted...it all led to this...and now-"
Ostrava pulled out his dagger, and looked at it. He took off his helmet.
"What are you doing?"
He didn't say anything.
"Ostrava, what are you-"
"I can't," he said. "I'm...I'm sorry."
And he plunged the dagger toward his chest. Into his breastplate.
But it stopped before it went through.
Nameless's fingers wrapped around Ostrava's arm, and held it back.
"What are you doing?" Ostrava asked. "Let me have this."
"No. The same way you wouldn't let me give up, I won't let you."
Ostrava fought back, but his attempts seemed to grow more half-hearted, and finally, he let go.
"Fine..." he whispered.
Nameless threw the dagger away, then reached out his hand for Ostrava.
"...What are you doing?" Ostrava asked.
"We're going to fight him. Together."
Ostrava held out his hand, and Nameless easily pulled him to his feet.
"I'm not sure sure about-" Ostrava started, but Nameless pulled him up the stairs, over the bridge, toward the elevator.
"What's wrong with your leg?" Ostrava asked.
"Nothing," Nameless said.
Ostrava shook his head. "You're having as much trouble walking as I am. Maybe more."
"I got in a slight scuffle. It wasn't a big deal," he said.
"We can't do this. Even aside from...from being my father. He's the most powerful Archdemon I've seen. We don't stand a chance. We can't stand a chance."
"We. We'll do it, Ostrava," Nameless whispered. "We'll...we'll do it."
They entered the elevator, and it felt like it took all of his energy, but he pulled the lever. Ostrava slumped down to a city position the moment he let go of him.
"This was misguided. It always was," Ostrava said, as the elevator rose.
"Stop."
"What are you fighting for, anyway?" Ostrava asked.
Nameless looked at him.
"Don't you realize?" Ostrava said. "Everyone is dead. Everyone. Dead or corrupted. All the people we've known, loved...they're gone. There's nothing left for us in this world."
"You're still here," Nameless said.
Ostrava laughed. "I won't be for long if you put me up against this thing, again. I barely escaped with my life the first time...and there's no reason for it. All the things that were at stake? All the things that they could have possibly taken from us? They already took them. Even if we win, it's all gone. The entire kingdom, everyone who lived there...everyone."
"The fog will spread," Nameless said.
"And what do we know of these outside places? Why should we care? There's no purpose to saving any of it. Not for us."
He looked into Ostrava's eyes. "I know what I'm fighting for."
Ostrava smiled sardonically. "Well that's jolly good for you, then."
"And I know what you can fight for, too."
"What?"
"Your name."
Ostrava hissed harshly. It resembled a laugh. "Didn't you listen? I have no name."
"Yes. You do," said Nameless. And all the emptiness came into his voice. The emptiness that hadn't been in it since the Valley of Defilement. "Your name is Prince Ariona Allant. And you aren't like me."
"Maybe that's better for you," Ostrava...Ariona said. "You don't have any burdens placed on you."
"No," he said, with just as much emptiness. "Because I forgot to tell you...I found my name."
Ariona looked up. "And what was it?"
"It doesn't matter," Nameless said. "Because when I heard it...I didn't feel that recognition. I didn't feel anything. It's not mine, anymore. The person who has that name...they weren't me. I have nothing, Ariona. I can know my own name, and it still won't be mine."
"Don't call me Ariona."
"I will. Because it's yours."
"I don't want it to be. My father, he-"
"-It's not about what your father does. It's about what you do," said Her Champion, Nameless, the Knight, whichever he chose to call himself. "Your name means what you make it mean. Who you are is who you've decided on. And if you aren't who you want to be, yet...then that means you have a little longer to go before you're done."
The Prince's eyes wavered. He breathed deeply, and looked away.
"That's what I think, at least. Coming from someone who can't do the same."
"Then what are you fighting for?" Ariona asked him. "If we're going to die together, I should at least know."
"If you want the truth: I stopped caring for the world a long time ago," he said. "I'm fighting for her."
"The Maiden."
"Yes."
Ariona Allant nodded. "Then that's good enough for me."
The elevator opened, and standing across the gigantic throne room, on the other side, was a man, Tall and Pale.
Ariona stood up, slowly, and looked at his companion.
"It will be a pleasure dying alongside you," The Prince said, and offered his hand.
"Somewhat morbid," said Nameless, but he held out his hand.
"I'm not hopeful. But you were right. I was going to off myself anyway...I might as well do it for a good cause." They clasped their arms together.
He looked at their physical connection, then back up, and said. "Ostrava...Ariona...whichever. I just want you to know that...I wouldn't have gone on without you."
Ariona smiled. "I'd say the same, but it's too obvious...but look."
He turned his head to the Pale Man.
"He's so polite, standing there, waiting for us. We really should get this show on the road."
He smiled, invisibly, through his helmet. "I agree."
They both turned.
And charged.
