XxXxX
The last soldier fell with a gurgle, armor clanking when the newly christened corpse was dropped to the ground, and he breaths deep as white wisps of souls enters his body. His helmet tilts down to see the five dead that lay upon the ground, each dying by differing ways, with blood splattered all over.
One leaned against a tree, a hand over the buried sword in his chest.
Another sprawls across the ground with an arm bent oddly, his head bent to the side abnormally.
And one other was nothing but a torso with legs, a massive cauterized hole in his stomach.
He gazes at the field of corpse studiously, remaining ever vigilant for any opportunists, and huffs out steam when he finds none. His greatsword that had been ready by his side, was lifted up slowly and rests upon his shoulders, and his free hand grabs the chime that hung from his belt as he turns around. His worry had come forth once the threat was taken care of, and already he was remembering the tale she had told him.
There, sitting on her knees, hugging close to another with a deep and red cut on her back, were two young girls.
And they stared with horror at him.
He sighs in remorse, guilt filling his heart at the fear they showed him, and deigns to take a step forward like he had initially planned. It would do him no good if he traumatizes them further. He had thought it prudent to be peaceful with the soldiers, intending to let them walk away and leave the two girls alone, but the soldiers decided to show no mercy, and he remembered their blades piercing through his chainmail.
He had died standing, surprise and anger being his last thoughts, and had simply warned the armor warriors lowly.
"Find solace…"
Then his mind slipped away. And then a flame, and before long, he awakens to the sight of five fearful soldiers, all backing away from him as he raised his sword. He had died three times, embarrassingly enough, and he regretfully admits to himself he'd overdone it.
So he kneels where he stands, armor clacking softly, and tries his best to comfort the shivering girls. The one wounded has his immediate worry, and the vigor in which she was shaking has him clenching his heart as he spoke, "Worry not, young lady, for no one will hurt you anymore."
The older of the two was still shivering, growing pale from the running blood on her back as she hugs her likely sibling closer, yet she had bit her lip at his words, and remained still.
He smiles at the will she holds, and raises the chime in his hand high near-reverently, letting it ring softly above him, as he recites the tale Irina had regaled him.
As he speaks, clear and concise in his retelling of the epic, accompanied by the soft ring of his gifted chime, something gathers around him. An energy begins to collect and coalesce, reaching higher and higher as he recites the entirety of the tale, until even the two girls stops their sobbing to watch him with growing awe from the palpable feeling that had started to surround them.
And when he finishes, he rings the chime high one final time, and lets the holy power release. Bright light shines brilliantly from under him, covering a large area with its glow, and the girls watch with awe at the should-be blinding light from the land. For a few moments, a gentle warmth wraps the two girls in its embrace, something like ethereal arms hugging them close, before it dissipates along with the fading light.
He lowers the chime gently, feeling his mind straining slightly to barely remember the miracle, and his eyes watch carefully at the two girls with concern.
The older blinks, surprised, and one hand removes itself from her sister to feel the tear on her back. Her fingers rub and palm the area which she was struck, frantically searching for the wound she knew she had, and her eyes widen considerably as she only felt unmarred skin. Her mouth gapes and closes repeatedly in shock at her healed back, embrace loosening from her sister, and her gaze shifts up to him with a slowly watering sheen on them.
He smiles.
So he hangs the chime back on his belt, securing it well, and gives the two maiden a polite nod before he stands up. His head then twitches to the side, a scream catching his attention, and he squints his eyes in distaste at the slaughter that was happening.
His hand clenches, and he turns to the girls with a calm but clipped tone, "Remain here while I deal with these men."
He gave them no chance to speak as he turns immediately, boots thumping with purpose towards the assaulted village. And as he approaches the screams of the innocents, he raises a hand up.
"A soul for identity…," he chants lowly, giving the sudden appearance of a white wisp in his hand a brief glance before returning forward. It burns brightly, and the essence within shows him his desired target.
"A humanity for the body…," he continues, now holding his coiled greatsword to the side in a ready stance, and ignores when the white wisp was enveloped and subsumed by a dark mist, burning black with white light. Already he could feel him rousing.
"An effigy for the mind…," the flames burning upon him crackles as he invoked the power within, his greatsword's blade glowing steadily until it starts popping before bursting softly with fire. And the black sprite in his hand suddenly becomes wrapped in inky black strings, forming a humanoid silhouette.
"And an ember for power…," the black effigy then bursts into flames, burning brightly for a few moments, before the flames subside just enough to show a burnt effigy glowing with orange cracks and residue fire. He could see the village now, could hear the slowly dimming screams as its inhabitants were slaughtered for a ploy, and he grimaces in disdain.
By the First Flame, I beckon thee.
Your life is done, and your soul rests.
Yet a duty still calls, and I call upon thee.
Rise up once more, and fulfill a final call.
The effigy was crushed, spreading ash and cinders into the air, and he lurches forward before sending his flaming blade into an occupied soldier's back. Only half of it enters the poor man's spine, but still did the tip erupts from his chest.
He gurgles in surprise, dropping his sword and shield to the ground, and gazes down in surprise at the burning hot blade in his chest.
When he pulls it out harshly, sending a kick to the soldier's back to launch him forward, the warrior's comrades overcame their shock before lurching forward as well. And even as two soldiers threaten him with their blades, he remains calm, and simply glares at the two men with heat.
It was so sudden, so quick, but the man to his right only noticed a large blur coming for him for just a moment before he was sent flying, gasping in sheer pain when something crashes into him and breaking his chestplate and ribs. His body bounces twice like a rock as he skids across the ground, breaking his limbs savagely, and he cries a chocked cry when his spine finally snaps against the ground before crashing into a wall. His body twitches against the wall as he wallows in pain, and remains on the wall, crying weakly in sheer agony of his broken body.
The second soldier had stopped his charge at his comrade's sudden brutalizing, and he stares wide-eyed at the stone-like figure that now stands taller than anyone he knew before him. He takes a step back, sword grip weakening as he gazes at the titan that stands menacingly before him, and starts to shake in growing fear.
Clad in armor resembling a human body, with a faced helmet that looked down on him with intensity, the large man wields a halberd that was as long as he was in one hand like a simple staff. He stood with shoulders squared and feet parted in a ready stance, using his armpit as a sort of hook to rest his halberd against, and was leering down on him with an impudent gaze.
He clenches his teeth at the large human, tightens his grip on his blade, and raises it with a cry as he prepares a strike.
And that was how far he'd managed.
His cry turned choked when the brute unexpectedly moves quickly to wrap his hand around his neck in a vice grip, and his chokes turned frantic when he was lifted up easily, his eyes staring fearfully at the face of the helmet as he lets his weapons go to free himself. Though he tries desperately to free himself, the brute kept a tight grip around his neck, and continues to lift him up until he was over his head.
Then did the halberd move, and suddenly he was breathing again when he releases his neck.
The soldier blinks in surprise, and then gurgles in shock when the halberd stabs through his stomach. Blood ran down the blade as the soldier was held high, as if some sort of trophy kill for the stone-clad brute, and he gurgles a surprised sound at the sudden pain.
Then he was thrown away, his body slipping off the giant blade, right into another squad of soldiers that had arrived to inspect the noise.
The soldiers all cried out in surprise at the sudden body, and stared at him in horror before looking to where he came from.
And there, Gundyr stands with his halberd at the ready once more, slouching slightly in preparation.
And besides him, the Ashen One stood, burning greatsword in hand.
The coming screams of the soldiers became salvation for the villagers.
XxXxX
Gazef heaves loudly as he throws the body into the pile, and sighs heavily when it lands on top. Gazing high at the bodies piled, the warrior wipes his arm against his forehead to rid the sweat dripping down, and frowns from the sight. Though they were the enemy, this was not a sight he would wish upon them, no matter the allegiance.
No one wants to see stacked bodies of the dead.
Another three corpses were thrown unto the pile almost casually, and he couldn't resist the grimace from pulling his lips down before he turns towards the man responsible.
Standing taller than anyone else, clad in armor mimicking the human form, the warrior that saved the village nonchalantly throws another pair of bodies unto the pile with little respect, the face of his helm showing nothing but apathy. He turns around with no regard for the dead, movements eerily graceful despite his bulk and height, and continues to search for the rest of the assault party amongst the dead.
Predictably, his men gave the tall warrior a wide berth when he passes them, and could only gawk in mixed dread and awe when he gave them brief glances and merely attends to his assigned duty.
Gazef stares at the walking titan for a moment, pondering at the being's back while in his thoughts, and then sighs in relent when nothing concrete sticks in his head. His head drops slightly, shoulders sagging a bit, and just stares at the foot of the pile blankly.
He was becoming tired of this changing world…
"The smell will permeate your body and clothes stubbornly if you remain there, Sir Gazef," a voice catches his attention, snapping him from his reverie and making him lift his head up to side to see the one responsible for the pile in front of him.
Clad in worn armor that was blackened and barely gleaming, with a helmet gnarled and slightly melted, the Ashen One approaches the warrior with a calm gait, bereft of his greatsword he'd seen planted near the middle of the village the last time. The tabard and skirt he wore were singed and glowing with cinders at the tattered edges, and some part of his gauntlets, greaves and chestplate glowed a bright heat that didn't so much as burn him.
He looked as if he'd walked through hell itself, burning within its fire, yet walked out of it with nary but burnt armor.
Despite his appearance, Gazef smiles at the knight, backing away from the stack of corpses with compliance by the time he was standing beside him.
"Burning it will permeate everything though, Ashen One. It would make no difference if I back away," the broad shouldered man jests, wiping his hand idly to clear the blood that clung to his hands from handling the dead, and flashes a morbid smirk at the burning knight.
The man shakes his helmet in exasperation, a smile quite evident behind his visor, and he gives a lopsided tilt of his head when he retorts simply, "You've been heaving bodies far away from the village, Sir Gazef. Did you think I would let the settlers suffer the smell of burning dead?"
He smiles grimly in response at the knight, finding himself agreeing with morbid amusement at the foresight, before sighing tiredly as his smile fades. Always, his warrior mind would pull his thoughts towards the unfortunate demise the once-men had encountered. Enemies they were, they were still men, and still deserve the respect due for the dead.
He turns to the Ashen One slowly, a thoughtful gaze in his eyes when the helmet appears in his vision, and he presses his lips in consideration for a moment before he opens them, a question coming out rather unsure, "I must ask, Ashen One."
The Ashen One's lopsided tilt straightens when he hears the serious tone of the warrior beside him, and he remains silent to hear him.
"These men…," he trails off as he gestures towards the bodies, continuing only when the knight gives a nod of understanding at his meaning, "…were they here for war?"
His eyes harden at the mention of war, already thinking up of plans of defense and retaliation in accordance to his position, yet he had fell silent after he finishes. Gazef eyes the knight, waiting for a response from the man.
The sound of thumping reached his ears, yet the warrior kept his eyes upon the silent knight and ignores the walking titan, awaiting the dreaded answer he so desperately hopes was incorrect.
He was beginning to grow restless when no answer came yet, and couldn't help but grimace slowly when the knight remained quiet, before he was finally given a response.
"Should you mean if they were of the Empire… then no, they are not," the Ashen One answers slowly, vaguely even, as he returns Gazef's stare with his visor-faced one.
The royal warrior blinks slowly in procession of his words, digesting the spoken information carefully, and though he was quite relieved at the news, he was confused as well. He looked back to the tall pile of dead bodies, observing them closely with scrutiny, and could clearly see the garb and armor of the Empire.
Their equipment spoke of the Empire…
But who's to say they were soldiers of the Empire?
Gazef groans in annoyance when the deception was revealed, and his grimace returned once more as he drops his eyes to the ground. He narrowed them in frustrated thought, wondering just what country would incite a war between the two.
"But they aren't here for war either," the Ashen One suddenly adds, snapping Gazef's attention to him.
What.
"What do you mean?" the royal warrior asks curtly, eyes narrowed at him in a quiet demand for answer.
The Ashen One remains quiet once more, returning his narrowed gaze with an impassive one back, and seems to debate on how to respond. And then, slowly, his arms lifts up, and crosses before him.
A minute tilt of his helmet, barely noticeable, and the Ashen One asks rather curiously at Gazef, "How well do you fare against enemies of… sorcerous origins?"
The question was odd, even bizarre for Gazef, and he made his confusion obvious when he blinks once at knight. The royal warrior took a moment to process his question, rolling them over within his head, and slowly, his theories were narrowed down considerably by the time he finishes.
"If I had my usual armaments? Most likely well," he begins, already not liking the situation he had found himself in, and glances briefly at the stack of bodies before them before showing a frown at the knight beside him, "But I've been stripped of most of my equipment beforehand, unfortunately. I'd last, at most, an hour or two, assuming the enemy aren't ruthless in their need to kill me."
The specification in the knight's question had clued him in on the enemy's objective, and he clenches his hands tight in displeasure. A village and its people were targeted, and made known to the royal family, and he was sent in to deal with them.
A ruse. A trap.
He could already name a few of the nobles of the kingdom who were most likely bribed to strip him of his equipment and request him specifically to deal with this. But he couldn't name the ringmaster, not without further information.
The knight turns away from him, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and uncrosses his arms before placing a hand on Gazef's shoulder. Said warrior gives the burning knight a raised eyebrow at the sudden touch, wondering what he was thinking, but only receives a light shake of his shoulder before he starts approaching the finished stack of bodies.
The royal warrior follows the man with his eyes, noting how respectful he was as he approaches the piled corpses, and widens slightly in surprise when the giant man, who was now holding his halberd as he stands guard besides the stack, bows low before the Ashen One.
Said Ashen One turns to the giant, and the respect within his tone was great as he nods low as well towards the warrior, "You've done well, Champion Gundyr. Rest, and find solace within the Flames."
The titan, Gundyr he was called, kneels to one knee before the shorter knight, with a fist over his chest before lifting his faced-helm up to the man.
"You honor me, Ashen Lord," were his final words, before slowly burning right before him. Gazef stares wide-eyed and gaping slightly in shock at the champion's live cremation, taking a step back in shock as the parts where he burned starts to crumble away into ash, and could only stay in place as the champion burns away into nothing but ash.
And once nothing remained, the Ashen One lowers his head slightly in a sign of respect for the warrior, doing nothing but stand in place, before slowly turning to the pile. He uttered no words as he kneels down before it, a hand slowly moving under it, and Gazef hears a soft snap of his fingers.
The burning knight holds his hand under the first dead body for a while, and then pulls it out when flames begin to dance and grow.
Slowly, but steadily, the pile of dead begins to burn away, and the Ashen One gives it a final glance before turning from it and walking away. He locks his eyes with Gazef from behind his visor, watching the confused surprise intermingling with uncertainty and apprehension within the royal warrior's own, before patting his shoulder gently.
"Then you need not worry, Sir Gazef. I will take care of the enemy. You will return safely to the castle safely," he punctuates the final sentence with a squeeze of his shoulder, before letting it fall and walking back to the village. Uncaring of the stares of awe the rest of the soldiers and villagers gave him.
As for Gazef.
His shock fades slowly as he stares at the back of the Ashen One, and his mouth slowly closes before pressing into a line, thoughts going into a whirl after the simple statement he had spoken to him. The fire crackled and cracked behind him as he considered his words, and his hand clenches tightly before a sigh escapes his mouth.
Still, a small and grim smile forms on his features, and he shakes his head gently before gazing back towards the burning pile, now noticing the orange sky of a sun setting.
It seems like I'm coming back, my lord.
XxXxX
Night had fallen a few hours ago, casting the deep void of the night canvas over the world, and the only illumination came from the bright spots and shining dots of the many stars of the night. Clouds lazily float across the sky, casting deeper shadows untouched by the soft light of the evening, and the crescent moon was barely visible over a cloud.
The light hue of the moon gave a sense of guidance over the lands, becoming a beacon for many and an assurance for others, and despite being mostly covered, its soft brilliance still shone through.
It was nothing like the skies of Irythill, nothing like the large and unmoving moon that casted a sombre but gentle glow over the city of the Boreal Valley, but it still has beauty.
And the Ashen One sat under the expansive canvas that was the night sky with nothing but silent admiration for the eerie beauty of it all.
His greatsword planted before him, burning with a fire ethereal and diminished and casting a bright glow around his immediate area, the Ashen One sat with one arm over a raised knee while the other lounges on his lap, in his hand an ember that faintly shines as his thumb runs over its cracked exterior. His helmet casted up to the sky, he wallows under the soft light of the moon and stars with a soft and ghostly smile under his helmet.
Though the enemy awaits just on the outskirts of the village, their summons floating languidly in the air and casting an unnatural glow that both blinds and uneases, he instead enjoys the evening painting for the night.
There was no immediate threat.
"How I wish you could see…," he says wistfully in thought, speaking no one but himself as he allows his memories to come forth. It was expected that her image would be the first to show up, welcomed even, and the sight of the firekeeper smiling gently at him as they sat around the bonfire, his hand in hers while she gives him strength, always did has him smiling with fondness.
How could she not?
She had been the first to greet him with any sort of cordiality, had been the first to treat him with a soft respect that always manages to give him will, and had been the first to be allowed any sort of close relationship with him. And in return, he had given his time sitting by her side, spending whatever amount of time he could spare to listen to her and allow her some form of release.
And then he'd given her eyes.
The hesitation, the apprehension she showed in taking the two orbs that would allow her sight yet again, had given him doubt.
And then she explained…
The desperate quest he had gone through became a lie.
With a sigh, he shakes his head away of the revelation, feeling it useless now to contemplate it after so long, and lowers his gaze from the night sky. He finds his attention locked onto the bonfire before him, feeling its warmth continuously rejuvenate and relieve his Undead body, and raises a hand towards it palm first.
For a while, the Ashen One enjoys quietly the warmth of the First Flames before him.
For a while, the knight gazes at the dancing flame with nostalgia as the enemy squirms.
For a while, he glances at the white phantoms that periodically fades in and out of the bonfire, some resting, others standing, and a few kneeling.
And then he crushes the ember in his hand, and the First Flame within him responds by flaring the bonfire greatly.
The Usurper watch with an easy gaze when signs bathed in pale light begins to write itself on the opposite side of the bonfire, lines steadily drawing upon the ground to form letters. It wrote in a strange language, not Common and certainly not any language man had made, but the Ashen One could read it all well.
And by the time it finishes, his features contorted into an easy smile.
Two summon signs parted by a few meters between them glowed with pale light, shining brighter until it barely matches the moonlight above. From these signs, two elongated and phantasmic claws rose up; one immediately slams upon the ground with a slight tremble, talons dragging across the dirt as the lean muscles tensed, and the other carefully finds purchase on the ground, talons splayed almost gently as the long limb tensed with effort.
The first to pull itself up was the more aggressive one, the arm pulling up a winged torso. Said wings were massive, larger than the body it was attached to, and were bat-like in shape and structure. And once the torso was up, the other arm pulled out from the ground with similar gusto, slamming on the ground to help pull itself up. A head lifts up once it was free from floor, baring visible teeth and eyeless face as the being reared its bat-like face towards the Ashen One. What looked to be ears were actually bone extensions from where eyebrows would be, and the maw opens slowly with a growl as it continues to free itself out.
And when the hip was out, along with a tail, a digitigrade leg takes a heaving step and pulses with strength to pull the rest off. Slouching low after finally coming out, the great being rumbled menacingly as its form solidifies, showing a dark and rough textured hide that bulged with lean muscles. The massive wings flared slightly as it shakes its head as if to clear it, and then billowed steam out of its jaw.
The second to pull itself out did so in a more calmer manner, the translucent claw pushing unto the ground with more care as the being lifts itself out of the ground. The torso rose as if it had been lying on its side, a wing coming out like a newly hatched butterfly as the head hangs languidly before lifting up, and the identical bat-like visage of the face smoothly locks onto the Ashen One before its throat rumbles curtly. Once the other shoulder was out, another claw joins the first in pulling the being out of the floor, and the second wing swishes greatly out into the air.
The more passive of the two simply climbs up to the floor with a cunning intelligence that bellied its massive size, and its tail came out swishing almost in a thinking manner as it slouched before the knight in a more subdued manner. Whereas its sibling was more gusto and curt in its introduction, this one releases a long stream of steam as if it had held it back before its form solidified into an identical, dark colored and lean being.
The summoning done, the sign beneath them slowly faded and dimmed until they disappeared entirely, and the Ashen One bore witness to the two demons he had had the pain to battle.
Both studied him long and hard, eyeless faces gazing over the bonfire towards him, and both released steams out of their maws every time they exhaled.
And then, in an unusual manner unbefitting of their size and shape, they bowed their heads low before him. Respect clearly shown for the one that had called for them.
The Ashen One studied the two great demons with an equally long stare, helmet turning between the two bowing demons with something akin to amazement in his gaze, until he finally waves their show of respect away with an almost casual tone to his words, "No need for such honorifics, great demons."
The one with energy billowed another puff of steam before it lifted its head with an almost questioning growl, and the one with thought released steam from the side of its maw before it lifted its head as well and rumbled its throat with curiosity. Both demons gave him their attention, staring with unnatural patience.
It was uncanny.
But the Ashen One cared not for how uncanny they were, for demons were not simple brutes after all. Not after his encounter with their old king, and especially not after battling their prince. They were as intelligent as any species capable of thought, and the fact they had their own champion of ash to revive their own flames spoke much.
So with equal respect, he treats them like any other Lord or Man he'd ever met.
"We're much alike, and as such, none of us should be greater than the other," he stated simply, respect evident in his tone as he regarded each demon. The one that was subdued gave an almost approving low and throaty grunt, and the one blatantly beastly gave its own low roar of agreement. He smiles beneath his helmet, more than happy to see his sentiment returned.
"So I ask, from one man to demon, for assistance," he stated his motive, explaining his reason to summon them.
The one that was calm gave a slow tilt of its head, with no sounds coming from it as if waiting for him to explain, and the one that was tense gave an almost excited rumble of its throat as it visibly squirms with excitement at the prospect of action.
He had encountered them as enemies once, never really expecting them to have such quirks, and he finds himself smiling at the unique behavior they were showing him.
Still, he continues, even as he wanted nothing more but to speak to them, "On the outskirts of this village, right on the plain behind you." The Ashen One emphasizes with a finger pointing between them towards the hilly plains, to which the two turned to glance over at, before continuing, "A group of men are waiting to strike this village for a man that is their target."
The one to his left gives an almost inquisitive rumbling hum, and the one to his right growled long and low at the thought of combat.
He drops his hand back unto his lap, watching the two demons study at the distance where the men of the Theocracy lay in wait, and gives a final statement that would seal their fates, "And from what I've learned, they hate demons with a passion."
Different though the two would be in behavior, their interests were still the same. Demonkind share everything amongst them, including memories, even if they were individually different, and the memories of being ousted by countless civilization, specifically for their own existed, caused them to growl threateningly at the mere mention of their plight.
The Ashen One's smile turned devious when he heard their anger.
So he decided to add more fuel to their fire as they started glowing, the chaotic flame within them igniting at the memory of their kind's persecution, and added simply, "How do you feel in testing their might?"
The one to his right glowed a great and bright red as the chaos flame within it ignited with fury and excitement at the mention of battle, and it turned quickly towards the plains as it flared its massive wings and roared towards the men waiting beyond.
The one to his left glowed a brilliant and blinding orange as its own chaos flame started to burn furiously in identical excitement, and it turned calmly to stand on its hind legs with its wings flared wide as it roared to the sky, echoing across the air.
Both issued a challenge towards the men and their summons, who he could see had visibly flinched away at the sudden appearance of two demons.
Before long, the red one lurches forward with in one massive leap as it bounded for the Theocracy soldiers, who had sent their angels forward to meet it, and the orange one flapped its wings once before lunging down towards them as well, meeting the oncoming angel with its claws and maw beared.
And within minutes, screams of terror and ethereal screeches resonated across the plains, reaching the Ashen One's ears, and he chuckles softly before the bonfire while he watches the great demons tore into the Theocracy's men and summons.
XxXxX
There was silence.
It reigned supreme within the chamber, unbeatable as the occupants watched the massacre they had been observing, and only yielded when a cup clattered against the floor, splashing its content every where as the owner dropped it in shock.
"Wh- how-"
"Demons?! How are there a demons?!"
"There were no reports of any cults or otherwise near or in that village! There should not be demons there!"
"From where did it even come from?"
"Enough."
The panic fell once the word was uttered, composure returning when it was presented, and the voices fell silent as they looked up for an answer. Fear and anxiety emanated within the chamber, fueled by the sounds of divine metal wrenching and holy men screaming in terror, and none could bare witness to the massacre any longer than necessary.
"This operation was a failure," the most experienced and wizened stated, with no hints of worry in their words. Predictions had already foretold of failure when the initial bait had never reported back.
"It had been a failure from the moment the troops sent to ransack the village was reported to be slaughtered, sire," a calm one added, sounding both disappointed and concerned. None expected a complete slaughter of an entire platoon of men, not when the village was hardly defended.
"Our only hope is the trump card we had given them," another hoped, a residual undertone of panic in the voice. Giving the treasure from the gods was a foolish maneuver, but a necessary one when one faced an enemy capable of eradication. And it was assurance in the event of initial failure.
"Look-!"
Before them, showed upon a large mirror, their trump card was summoned, and a divine humanoid stood before the demon. Holy light bathed the immediate area, and the mace it had held shattered immediately into pieces as it smote the great demons. There were no hesitation, no time given to let the enemy bask in awe at its amazing sight, and no moment to give the enemy any chance to attack.
A great beam of light descended upon the demons, their roars clearly heard even as they were smote down into hell.
Breaths were held, eyes were focused, and as the light of the smite faded…
Red and orange flames bursted from the aftermath, wings of bat-like origins flaring as the demons roared at the challenge the angel had presented, and gasps were heard when the contingency failed spectacularly. The beings' skin still flared with bright light as it faced the holy being, with one rearing up to its legs with claws bared at its side, and the defiance in its roar sent fear into hearts. The other crouched low unto all fours as it roared back at the angel. And flames started encompassing its claws as it readied to leap.
"Impossible-!"
But the protests were cut off when the red demon rears back, maw still open, and its chest glowed brighter still as it unleashed a retaliation. The divine angel prepared its own defenses, but it was for naught.
For a red beam of intense fire and light lanced forward, instantaneously impacting the being at its chest. Resistance was briefly met, but the armor melted immediately not too long after. And with little effort, the bright lance penetrated through and through.
Fortunately, it was a brief shot, but it had damaged the holy angel greatly as it reared back from the attack, and it was unprepared when the second leaped up to it and latched unto its form. And then metal and flesh started wrenching and tearing as the demon started clawing away, and it was helpless to resist the onslaught.
It was within a matter of seconds, and all was silent as the angel began to disintegrate after becoming more than two pieces of its whole.
And just like that, the demons won with resounding success.
None could say anything.
XxXxX
"Here…," the Ashen One offers with a soft tone, a hand offered forth towards her with something in his palm. His greatsword rests on his shoulder as he kneels on one knee, and he was relaxed as he gives her a gift. Standing just behind him, the royal warrior Gazef awaits with his arms crossed and features neutral, patiently letting the knight with her.
They were leaving obviously, what with the warrior's men preparing their steeds and supplies to embark back to the capital, and she had come to him to say farewell and thank him.
She approached the burning knight with hesitation, hands clasped together in front of her as she slowly approached, and she had stuttered when she called him over. The looks of the men he had brutalized, their screams of terror and pain that had pierced her ears and traumatized her mind, had left an imprint of the knight before her.
Still, she'd braved herself to come over.
Enri stiffens at the close proximity of his hand, his hand which had easily crushed a man's shoulder with ease, and made a meep sound when his head tilted in question at her anxiety.
He was so gentle with her, despite looking so fearsome and trying his best to be unassuming, and she was shaking in her shoes in fear of him.
How ungrateful!
There was the sound of a breath being released through a nose, sounding oddly mirthful, and she yelped quietly when the Ashen One asked, "Still afraid?"
The question had been in jest, an amused undertone accompanying it, yet the blonde still squirmed in dread when he'd asked. Still yelped in traumatized fear when she winced slightly at his question. It inevitably made her conscious of her actions, and the guilt she felt ached her heart badly as she denied him.
"No- no! I'm just- nervous!" she tried to sound sure, to be reassuring for the knight, but her voice wavered at the end, and she made a defeated sound before looking down.
He chuckled low, amused at the brief strength she'd shown before relenting, she was trying her best to overcome the trauma he had induced. Really, it was amazing she was even this close to him. Flame knows he wasn't exactly the very picture a hero, as the villagers had called him.
So he pulls back the outstretched hand for a moment, resting it on his knee and tilts his helmet in a more kind manner as he spoke, voice an assuring tone, "I should apologize for my rather… brutal first impression."
Enri winces at the sudden image flashing in her head, remembering the poor soldier who had his helmet crushed within the Ashen One's hand just enough for it to dig deeply into his head, and could vaguely hear the horrendous scream of agony when the knight let him go. She pushed it back immediately, knowing it won't help to think about it too much.
Swallowing thickly, she wrung her wrist to distract her mind off of the gruesome image, and lifted her gaze up to meet visor of the knight that had saved her, "No… no need, Sir Ashen One. I should be thanking you."
Her courage was welling up quite well after speaking, and the memories slowly shifted to the aftermath. Vividly, she remembered the slowly numbing pain, could just feel the warmth of his miracle embracing her and healing her wound and body, and a small smile pulled her lips up with gratitude.
Yes, that memory was much better to think about.
The Ashen One remained quiet, tilted helmet staring at her.
The blonde inhales softly, mustering her courage greatly, and bowed her head low as she thanked the burning knight, "Thank you Ashen One. For saving my sister, my village and me. Thank you very much!"
When she raised her head back, her smile had brightened significantly after her show of gratitude, and she noted the way the Ashen One's sword hand had lowered slightly, slackened just enough to let the burning blade slide down just a tad off his shoulder. He was quiet for a few seconds, digesting her words carefully, before he nods slowly.
Surprised as he was, his demeanor still remained collected, but she could hear the happiness in his tone as he returned her thanks, "My duty was fulfilled, Lady Enri. You need not give me thanks."
He paused, and then chuckled lightly, "But I appreciate the gesture."
She beamed, and from the way his helmet dipped slightly, she can tell it was infectious.
The knight shakes his helmet lightly with a chuckle at her proud smile, amused and proud at how she was proud of making him smile and how she managed to go past her fear of his respectively, and enjoys the way his heart swells at another life protected. Even if he was late.
He had reconciled with the fact that he can't save everyone, and instead finds strength in those that do.
Calming down, the Ashen One looks down on the stone and cloth in his hand, held loosely between within his fingers, and hands it out to her once more. Her smile faltered slightly when her eyes shifts down to the wrapped stone in his hand, and gives him a confused smile with a question in her mind.
But before Enri could speak, the Undead spoke first, and was deliberate in his words, "This, is a soapstone. In my… land, we use it to offer aid for any travelers or warriors in need of assistance."
Surprise blossomed in the young woman's features as she listened attentively, her hand slowly taking stone in her own hold, all the while he continued to explain, "Usually, the one who wrote would be offering their aid, but I made an exception for this one. The cloth I wrapped it in has three inscriptions you can copy down, each line a different warrior you can call upon for aid."
When he pointed it out, the blonde villager slowly unwraps the white stone and inspects the three lines of strange letters, each one different and unique. She circled her lips in understanding.
"If need be, you may summon all three to assist in protecting your village," the Ashen One said as he stands up, hearing Gazef and a soldier speaking of being ready for the road, and finished his explanation, "But it's up to your discretion, Lady Enri."
Safety ensured, the Ashen One glances over his shoulder to see Gazef waving off a soldier away, who had noticed his attention and nods curtly to signify his time was up, and turns back to the blonde girl to see her looking up at him with awe. She was holding the stone and scripture in her hand close to her chest, already beyond grateful for his help.
So giving her a nod, the Ashen One says his farewell, "Goodbye, Lady Enri. Mayhaps we will meet again some time in the future, yes?"
The Flame within him flickers in an odd way, as if amused.
He hums, mayhaps he will.
XxXxX
There was no denying it, the knight that was following them was of no ordinary upbringing.
Or even ordinary for that matter.
He'd thought him some sort of magical knight at first, cursed to burn with how alight he was with flames. He thought him a man destined to be on the precipice of hell, forever to feel the heat of the underworld as it burns him and his being.
He thought him a man who had become used to his condition, to his flames.
But instead, he was more. When the champion had burned away kneeling in a sign of respect for him, calling him an ashen lord, and when he heard the terrifying roars of a pair of great monsters as they slaughtered the men that had been sent to take care of him, Gazef knew the Ashen One was no ordinary or cursed man.
Not when he'd found him resting by a bonfire, his sword planted before him as it burned brightly. The knight had been calm as the screams of men echoed throughout the night, gazing longingly into the flames when the sky was suddenly pierced by a blinding light. And had pulled out a tome to read after it was joined by a reddish glow before it faded quickly. He didn't know what to expect when he found the strange knight by the fire, simply letting the screams slowly fade out bit by bit as men were killed.
And once they stopped, he had sighed, as if bothered by a chore to do, and had given him a nod of acknowledgement before he put away the tome and stood up from his spot.
Wait here, he'd said to him, unbothered by the incredulous look he'd given him.
By the time morning had rolled out, the knight returned with a rather heated manner as he informed of the Theocracy's plan to be rid of him, and consequently their plan to give the Empire an advantage once he was taken care of.
So focused was Gazef in his thoughts of both the Ashen One and the Theocracy's plan to assassinate him, that he had failed to notice the knight coming up by his horse with purposeful strides as they head towards Erantel, and so deep he was that he was surprised when he spoke to him, inquiring with interest as he asks the royal warrior, "If you don't mind, Sir Gazef, but what will you do now?"
His gaze had snapped to the knight who was keeping pace with his own horse, surprising him and many of his soldiers at his resilience, and the warrior was blank faced for a few moments before he realized what he was referring to.
The Ashen One had spoken to him in private regarding the Theocracy's plan to weaken the kingdom, citing with startling detail and clarity of the plan to take him out for the upcoming war, and had given him a grave stare before patting his shoulder and leaving him to his thoughts. Gazef had asked on where he had come across this information, and had given him a long stare of consideration before he vaguely answered.
"Not here."
Now, walking ahead of the caravan with Gazef on his horse, he decided to answer his question first, a grimace appearing in his features once the shock faded as he stared on with a grim look, "Most likely report to the capital regarding this development. His majesty would most certainly want to hear of this."
The Ashen One nodded in agreement, adjusting the greatsword that hung on his back. It wasn't on fire now, but it still glowed as if fresh from the forge, still shined with heat from within. The knight was silent for a few moments, as if deliberating within his mind, and then stated nonchalantly, "The captain's soul, one Nigun Grid Luin, had given me the information regarding your assassination. Though he was hired by a noble of your country, the Theocracy allowed it in favor of the Empire's coming victory."
Gazef gazed in front of him rather calmly at first, nodding as the knight explains how he'd come across the plan to kill him, before his mind processed the words carefully, and he swore his head caused a whiplash with how hard he had turned to the knight in shock.
"What?!"
"Calm down, Sir Gazef. None need to know of this depressing news just yet," the Ashen One placates the warrior with a hand, looking over his shoulder to see some of the soldiers glancing at them in curiosity before they noticed him and turning away. The warrior meanwhile looked at the knight bug-eyed as he realized just what the knight had said.
Nigun's soul? He got it from Nigun's soul?!
And as if punctuate his point, the Ashen One lifts a palm up just to his chest, and conjures a decent-sized sprite in his hand. It burned a soft white, flickering and dancing within the knight's hand, and Gazef stared in shock at the small, wispy thing, realizing just what the burning knight was holding.
So preoccupied was he with the small thing, so intently was he staring at the white wisp that was a person's soul, that he vaguely heard someone calling out for him. His attention was finally broken when the Ashen One swipes his hand and dissipates the wisp away after hearing someone else calling for Gazef, and the warrior blinked twice before turning to his side to see his lieutenant eyeing him strangely.
"Everything fine, captain?" the soldiers asked, eyes flitting between him and the knight as he came up beside him.
The warrior shook his head before he replied, clearing his throat as he regained his composure after witnessing another life be handled so easily, "Nothing, lieutenant. What is it?"
Again, the soldier eyes him wearily for a moment, switching to the Ashen One who was keeping his attention forward with his strides that matches a horse's, before answering back the question, "Just a report, sir. E-Rantel's just a day's away, and the men wanted to know if we can rest there?"
At the mention of his men, the warrior turned to see the caravan over his shoulder and noted the generally tired looks they had sported. Though none were injured, he can tell the journey had taken their toll on them, and grimaced in sympathy before turning back to the lieutenant.
"We'll rest at the town once we arrive. Inform the others," he gave the last order with a casual tone, to which the other man nodded with a smile before turning his horse back around to inform the men.
And once the soldier was out of earshot, Gazef turned to the Ashen One with a hard stare before his mouth spoke once more, "How did you get his soul?" The question was curt and clear, borderline threatening really, and the Ashen One had quirked an amused eyebrow at the warning.
He turned his helmet up to the warrior with a too calm manner that has Gazef slightly simmering with how he was acting as if holding a man's soul was normal, and merely watched as the knight held up his palm once more, this time bearing a golden flame that burned quite weakly. So weak was its flickering that he thought it would've snuffed out easily by a simple gust of wind.
And then the Ashen One spoke up, explaining the flame with calmness that has a hint of reverence in it, "This, is the First Flame. Source of disparity and life-giver from where I hail." Gazef watch the flame dance weakly in the knight's hand as he listened attentively, wondering what and why this fire was so unique, before he noted his body relaxing.
Odd.
As he stared longer at the fire, soon he noticed the gentle warmth that had wrapped his body in a close embrace, and soon he noticed the way he relaxed in its embrace to the point of sighing in relief. Aching muscles and tense limbs softened and relaxed with relief as if he was taking a long needed bath and his straining mind slowly becomes clear to the point where he could easily sort through his memories with ease.
The Ashen One noted the way Gazef was relaxing, and uttered a soft chuckle at the clear effects of the Flame on him before he explained, "As you can tell, the Flame can heal your body and mind within close vicinity. Where I'm from, a bonfire of the First Flame was considered sacred ground and a place to rest."
The Flame dissipated after a light shake if his hand, and Gazef noted sadly at the loss of the warmth as well, but squared his shoulder when the Ashen One continues to speak, "As the Flame was a progenitor for new life, all souls hail from it. And because of this, my land interacts and deals with souls instead of normal currency."
The more he listened, the more he digests the utterly insane concepts the Ashen One was presenting, the more his eyes widened, and the horror within him grew slowly with each revelation the knight was presenting to him.
Was his land a land of necromancers?
"You're a necromancer?" Gazef said slowly, his tone low and cautious as a hand started to reach for his bastard sword.
But the knight scoffed, as if offended by his words, and the royal warrior stopped his hand when the Ashen One spoke rather sarcastically at him, clearly exasperated by his words, "Flames no! I'd be a retarded one if I were, Undead and the risen dead do not mix well."
The warrior blinked once, confused at the distinction and the words the knight had spoken, then twice when he processed the words carefully. And then his features scrunched in confusion when he registered just what he'd said.
"Is there a difference?"
The Ashen One had stilled greatly at the mere question, something that has Gazef strongly reconsidering the sword by his side, and he watched the burning knight slowly, slowly, turn to him as if he'd just insulted him.
There was a long stare, one most likely baleful in its deadpanned nature, and Gazef squirms slightly beneath it before the Ashen One sighs long and hard.
And suddenly, the warrior regrets ever bringing it up.
XxXxX
This is a one shot.
Mayhaps I'll add in some more, maybe even have some involving the original cast as well, but this is all you're getting for now.
Hope you enjoyed!