Here's the next chapter, and we're moving towards the end of this book. Still a few chapters left, mind. Also, because it's been asked, my new stories on Saturdays will begin this Saturday. Obviously, my new Tuesday fics, Service with a Smile and Captain Dragon, are already out. CF didn't get a chance to beta this. When this book ends in a few chapters, I'll be taking a one week break which won't actually be a break, just a pause. I'll be using it to effectively get a chapter ahead on this fic, so that CF can beta each one.
Beta: College Fool
Cover Art: Dishwasher1910
Book 3: Chapter 14
The arrival of the new opponent cast a pall on the room. It wasn't just the fact he was a healer – we could deal with that by attacking him directly, or bursting Torchwick down. It was the way he looked and carried himself, the ornate weapons and the obviously glowing two-handed sword he held before him. Kaedin and Viktor had been far higher level than us, but even they hadn't been geared like this. This man wore power like a cloak. Even I could see that.
"Who are you?" Coco demanded. "Another member of TRE? Back down and you won't be hurt."
The Paladin didn't respond. He brought his sword up before him in what might have been a warrior's salute if it hadn't seemed so dismissive.
"He isn't a part of TRE," I warned. "It's some other organisation, and probably outside of Beacon since we've come across two that died already, and there's been no mention of lost students."
"Came across them? What were they doing?"
"One was responsible for convincing villagers to turn on their families and become bandits, the other in luring a Griffon to roost between several towns." The man's face, concealed as it was, turned to face me. My shoulders stiffened, and I had to force my words out. "We killed the Ranger. He didn't stand a chance against us."
"And one other…"
We all flinched. It was the Paladin who had spoken, and though his voice was rich and cultured, it also carried with it such incredible disdain. He didn't believe us a threat to him, and as much as I wished otherwise, I couldn't find it in myself to disagree. "Who?" I asked. "Who was the other, and how would you know?"
He chuckled.
"Why, it was Merlot of course."
The name his us like a Beowolf. Images of the monstrosity that man had become flashed before my mind, and I had to swallow back bile at it – at the memory of Viktor being torn in two to save my life. He'd been part of this group? Come to think of it, we hadn't paid much attention to Merlot until he transformed, and his robes had been destroyed during it. Maybe he, too, had worn the grey hood. The memory was hazy, and I'd been focused on other things at the time.
"Three, then," I said. "We've dealt with three of your people. You're just one more."
"Hm…" He chuckled. "Then what are you waiting for?"
I had no idea. The only thing I knew was that my hands were shaking, and I had the horrible suspicion I'd die if I moved. Was this fear, terror, or just the instinct to survive?
Coco nocked and fired an arrow – and everything went to shit.
Roman ducked underneath it and dashed towards the Archer, while Yatsuhashi and Pyrrha rushed to defend her. Blake circled wide, eyes on the Thief, and with her high damage, she'd probably be the best to put him out of action before the Paladin could offer any heals. That left six of us to bring him down, with Nora and I being the main tanks. I sent her a quick nod and rushed towards the man. All I had to do was keep him busy while the others attacked. That was it!
His eyes tracked me as I approached, or at least it felt like they did, and his head turned in my direction. I swung towards his chest, but he made no move to block, and instead brought his sword up for a downward slash instead. My eyes widened and I feinted my attack, blocking with both hands behind my shield instead.
The sword tore through it.
It stopped barely an inch from my face, buried halfway down my kite shield, even cutting slightly into my vambraces before it came to a halt. I released it and staggered back, and he flicked the offending item away. My shield… just like that? Sure, it wasn't the most incredible of things – but it was solid metal, and it had protected me even against Merlot's tentacles. What kind of monster was this to tear through it so easily?
"He's strong," I yelled, "Don't let him hit you!"
"No problem," Yang growled, appearing behind him. One of her fists glowed dark orange. "Take this!"
He did. He took it in the centre of his back. I expected him to buckle, cry, or at least stagger forward into my range, but the Paladin instead stood his ground – and it was Yang who fell back. The Brawler cradled her wrist and put as much distance between him and her as she could. She hadn't been able to get through his armour, even with a blow as powerful as hers. Yang had split mine in our first ever training session, and I'd also seen her rupture the ground beneath her with a single punch.
The Paladin turned to follow her, but couldn't reach as she moved away. Instead, he brought up his sword one-handed to parry Ruby's scythe, and then caught the incoming head of Nora's hammer. The Barbarian strained with all her might to pull it free, but his fingers gripped the metal, holding it still. An explosion of ice struck him in the back, but he ignored that entirely – unfazed.
It was only Roman crying out that caught his attention. The thief fell back, bleeding from several wounds across his body. Coco was in bad shape as well, but not nearly so much.
"A little help over here!" Roman called.
The Paladin let go of Nora's weapon and pointed his hand towards the Thief. There was a brief flash of light, and a moment later the wounds that littered Roman's body began to seal and bind themselves shut.
"That's more like it. Heh, so kiddos – you ready to do it all over again?"
"Damn it," Coco yelled. "Keep the healer busy!"
"We're trying," Yang replied, attacking him from behind. Her blows were about as effective as the last time, except that she nearly lost her head, too. "He's too strong!"
"This guy is more dangerous, Coco! We need help."
"Damn it. Right, Yats – go help them out."
The giant rushed over to aid us, his huge sword matching the Paladin's in length and weight. Hopefully he'd be able to match him in other ways too, but I wasn't confident about that. We were students. There was no telling what this guy was, but he definitely wasn't still learning the ropes. Yatsuhashi charging in and swung towards the man's head, and this time there was a reaction. The Paladin moved back and allowed it to pass by, before he countered with a thrust aimed for Yatsuhashi's midriff. I came in and knocked it away, but I had to use my sword with both hands in order to do so.
Ren took the opening offered and slid across the floor behind the man. I caught sight of his blades, and realised he was looking for chinks in the man's armour, probably at the backs of the knees. It was a joint that needed flexibility, so it couldn't be fully plated. I rammed my shoulder into the man's chest to keep him distracted.
The Paladin caught my sword as it came around, his own moving with unnatural grace to parry mine and lock it before his face. One of his hands moved a little higher, pushing on the flat as he worked his incredible Strength against mine, pushing me back.
So close, I could finally see a little bit of his face, not that it helped me any. He had green eyes and black hair with a streak of grey. The lower half was masked, and he looked much older than the rest of us. My eyes were soon locked on his sword, however, as he pushed it ever closer to my face.
Sweat ran down my brow, and I knew the others weren't sitting by and watching me. I could hear their weapons crashing off his armour, and even see flashes of fire and ice from the corner of my eye. He ignored it all. It didn't bother him in the slightest.
His sword tickled my nose. It hummed with power, and several sections of it glowed ominously. If that cut me… no, it couldn't be allowed to. My muscles bulged as I tried to push it to the side, but it was just too much!
"I found it!"
The Paladin grunted as Ren's blade was dug into the back of his leg. Only a grunt, even from what had to be severed tendons or ligaments. He kicked back and knocked Ren down, but that gave me the moment I needed. With him on one foot, and distracted, I pushed with everything I had, and was rewarded by the monstrous sword crashing down to my left. The Paladin recovered quickly and drew it up and down atop my head – but Ruby was quicker. Her hand hooked into the back of my collar, and she dragged me away, aided by me kicking back off the floor as well.
"This is ridiculous," she whispered once we were clear. "Crescent Rose doesn't even do anything. It doesn't matter if I go for his armour or his head, he just shrugs it off!"
"He's far higher level than us, that's for sure. Ren managed to wound him, though."
The Paladin looked down to the small blade still lodged into his knee. It clearly impeded his movement, but he was able to reach down and drag it free with a spurt of blood. He made no sound, but let his sword fall tip-first onto the ground. His other hand rose, and the white light washed over him once more.
"Or he was wounded," I sighed.
We'd never fought a healer before. In the back of my mind, I knew vaguely how to fight them. You pressured the healer and took them out first, since much like a spellcaster they'd be weaker in melee. That much seemed obvious, but it clearly didn't apply here. Say what you would about the Class system, and there was a lot to say, but for the most part, it was balanced. Healers were weaker in melee compared to Classes which specialised in it, but that wouldn't matter if the healer was so far above us in terms of raw stats.
This guy was a tank and a healer, and he could clearly do both well. But even if he wasn't a dedicated damage dealer, he still had Strength to spare, and could likely beat us in a few good hits. Was that really his ability, though, or was it his gear?
That sword is definitely special, and I'd hazard a guess his armour isn't for show either. He's been around a lot longer than we have, so he probably has some high-level gear – maybe even better than what Kaedin and Viktor had.
Comparatively, we were mostly still running around with the same weapons and armour we'd used when we came to Beacon. We'd earned levels beyond what was normal for our age, but not equipment. That was probably because our levels had come by fighting a small number of overly strong enemies, which meant that even though the drops were good, they weren't frequent enough to equip us all. I really regretted not visiting Beacon's auction house now, but that was Roman's fault again, wasn't it? I glanced to the Thief in time to see him not-quite holding his own against the others. He was dishing out damage, but taking much more in return.
Was that on purpose, though? Maybe he could afford to be reckless knowing he had a healer to back him up. For Roman, an all-out assault would ensure he did the most damage.
"We need a strategy," I whispered to Ruby. "We have to keep this guy from healing Torchwick, but we can't just throw ourselves at him like we have been doing. We'll be killed."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Nothing," I admitted. "I don't have any plans at all. I was hoping you or the others might be able to come up with something." It was a long-shot, sure, but I was drawing blanks, and Nora wasn't going to be able to keep him busy for long. Or at all, really. He was already parrying her attacks with ease, and his fist caught her face, launching her away.
"We need to get that weapon away from him," Ruby eventually said. She bit her lip and glanced at me. "I know it won't make him any less scary, but if we can disarm him, he'll be a little easier, right?"
I nodded. "It's as good an idea as any."
"I'm faster, so I'll pass the message on. Can you try and tank him for a little bit?"
No, but I wasn't about to tell her that. I nodded confidently, even if I was fairly sure she saw through it. She didn't argue, though. There wasn't any time for other plans, and there wasn't one of us that could realistically take this guy's hits. I was the worst at fighting back, however – so if anyone was going to be knocked out of the fight, it was best if it were me.
I looked to my shield by the back wall, but dismissed it with a shake of my head. Instead, I held Crocea Mors in both hands, the grip long enough to facilitate it when needed. As an after-thought, I also undid the straps on my armour and let it fall down. It wouldn't do me any good, and at least the baggy tunic I wore underneath wouldn't limit my movements. The amulet I wore was tucked underneath still, the chord hanging loose around my throat.
Bereft of shield, of armour and of any protection – I'd only have one chance. But wasn't that the same either way? If my shield couldn't hold up, then my breastplate certainly wouldn't. With a quick growl, I charged in, moving faster than I could before now that all the added weight was left behind.
Nora saw me coming but hid her emotions well. She swung her huge hammer and the Paladin parried, but the force behind it turned him just a fraction, enough to have his back facing me. I surged forwards, the pommel of Crocea Mors against my shoulder and the tip lancing for the small of his back.
The blade sparked against his armour. It grated and slid to the side, propelled around him as he turned to lessen the force. My body slammed into his back a moment later, the attack having done not a lick of damage. I was too close for him to bring his weapon to bear, however. He struck down with the pommel, almost catching my temple with it, but I managed to bring my own hilt into play, blocking it.
We struggled for a moment, pommel against cross guard, and though the scene might have looked crazy to some, either would do catastrophic damage if it caught me in the face. Worse, if I faltered, he would knock me back and then bring the business end of his weapon around. I'd be gutted before I had a chance to recover.
Well, if my choices were between the edge of his blade and the hilt, I knew which I was choosing. I tossed Crocea Mors aside and struggled with his weapon, trying to grapple it out of his hands. His eyes narrowed and he lashed out, his fist catching me in the jaw. Pain exploded through my body, but I kept hold. To let go would be to die. He caught me again, and then a third time – and light flashed before my eyes.
Can't… let… go…
"What an irritant," the man sighed, the first words he'd spoken since the fight began. "Let go."
"No…"
I could barely see, could barely hear either. I probably had a concussion from the recurring blows, each delivered by an armoured gauntlet, but even as my words slurred, my fingers refused to peel away. I had him. I'd keep him locked down. That was my job.
The Paladin sighed and reached behind him – his arm flashing back above his shoulder with a dagger gripped in it.
Oh… he had a spare weapon…
That was unfortunate.
The knife flashed down towards me, and I only had a brief moment to wonder at how little fear I felt. I'd have liked to think it was bravery, but the truth was that I couldn't quite process it past the noise and throbbing in my head. I was already too out of it, just three blows having robbed me of all coherent thought. Even the realisation of my own death.
"Jaune!" someone screamed.
Blake…?
It was only a dark shadow to me, but it appeared over the Paladin's shoulder and wrapped about his arm. His Strength was too much, even for her, and instead of holding the blow back, she was swung with the arm – her body crashing into mine. We flew back with Blake atop me and landed several metres away.
My vision cleared a little, and sound and feeling slowly came back. I patted myself down, but couldn't feel blood or a wound. "You managed to stop it," I said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Blake."
The Assassin whimpered.
"Blake…?" I pushed up, caught her as she rolled off my body and lowered her to the floor. Her eyes were clenched shut, her hand clasped to her chest. My heart hammered in my chest, and I pulled her fingers apart. "No…"
She hadn't stopped the knife. She'd taken it for me.
"I'm sorry," Blake whispered, as blood bubbled between her hands. "I… I tried really hard…" She gasped out a bitter laugh. "I guess this is what I get, for trying to be a Hero instead of a Rogue... HnghH!"
Her blood was on my hands. This couldn't be happening…
I pushed her hands aside and stared at the wound, but the dagger was lodged above her right breast and had probably pierced her lung. The way the blood bubbled suggested it, and her harsh breathing. "Don't move!" I said, pushing her down by her shoulders. "Stay still. We'll get you help, I promise."
"Focus… on him…" she whispered. "Forget… me…"
How was I supposed to do that in a situation like this? The tears were already running down my cheeks. I had to find help for her – had to find someone who could heal her, but the school Priest could be anywhere. There wasn't anyone left.
"Argh!" Nora cried out as she was thrown back. She'd been cut down her chest and had one hand clasped to the wound.
"NORA!" Ren screamed. He lashed out at the Paladin's eyes, but the monster caught his wrist and broke it with a single twist of his hand. The Monk gritted his teeth against the pain and refused to cry out – not that it made any difference. Battered and broken, he too was tossed aside like trash.
Ruby and Yang were already out of it, the former crouched over her sister. Whatever the plan had been, it had clearly failed, and now only Yatsuhashi stood against him – and the giant Warrior was clearly losing that fight.
"H-Help them…" Blake said. Her hand touched my cheek, leaving behind a smear of blood.
"I'll help you, Blake," I repeated. "I'll save you, I promise. Just… just sit still for now."
The Assassin didn't look convinced, but nodded for my sake – just to make me happy. Laying her down was hard, letting go of her even harder. The strong and skilful woman was weak and helpless, and spilling blood out onto the floor.
She wouldn't survive long enough for me to find a healer, I knew that.
She knew it, too.
My fingers gripped Crocea Mors so hard they nearly broke. Anger like a red haze washed over me, causing my hands to shake and my teeth to grind together. That monster. That bastard! He was killing us all!
I screamed in rage. "I'LL KILL YOU!"
"Hm?" The Paladin blocked my strike, but seemed surprised at the sudden force behind it. The swords clashed so hard they bounced off one another, but I brought mine around again, faster than ever, and slammed it towards his accursed eyes. "Such anger," he said, parrying it. "I'd have thought you the Barbarian and not your friend. Is this the first time you've lost a friend?"
"She isn't dead!" I roared, swinging again for his head. It didn't matter how strong he was, or how fast. I just had to cut him. I just had to hit him. Even as my blood boiled, I kept swinging. "I'll never forgive you. I'll kill you, kill you, kill you!"
Crocea Mors clashed against his sword once more. He pulled back and chambered a counter-attack, but this time, I was ready. Any rational person would have dodged, but I wasn't that. I thrust towards his face, throwing aside all my own defences and using his own sword to line up the blow. His eyes widened, his face twisting aside at the last second. Despite that, Crocea Mors traced a thin line under his eye, drawing but the tiniest amount of blood.
It was enough to make mine sing. Screaming my triumph, I stepped into his guard and pushed him back a step, then brought my sword around and towards his neck. His came, too – crashing into mine in a shower of sparks.
And Crocea Mors shattered.
The blade gave way two thirds of the way down, with shards flying in the opposite direction as more cracks traced through the steel towards my hand. I had only the time to register the shock before his fist buried itself in my stomach and I bent double. My sword, what was left of it, fell from nerveless fingers.
His hand scrunched up in the collar of my tunic and dragged me up off the floor. My head lolled back but my eyes still met his, even as blood dribbled from my split lip.
I spat it on his face.
"Delightful…" He wiped it away with the hand still holding his giant sword, and then looked me in the eye. "You and yours have been quite the annoyance, it seems. Then again, perhaps that's what we get for relying on idiots like Roman."
"Oi, I could use some heals over here," said person yelled. He was bloodied once more and leaning on his cane. "Give me a hand, pal."
"So useless," the Paladin sighed, holding out his hand towards the Thief. White light gathered on the end of it. I saw it through a haze of agony, and something stirred inside of me. With all the remaining strength I had, I grasped his wrist and pulled his hand to the side.
The spell missed Torchwick.
"I need heals!"
"I'm working on it." The man sighed and cuffed me in the face. I was too dazed to stop him the second time, and Torchwick laughed as he was refreshed once more. The Paladin sighed and turned back to me. "A valiant attempt, I suppose, but I'm hardly strained for mana. I could continue casting heals for hours. Now then, should I finish you off here?"
Shards of ice exploded against his back.
He sighed. "Weiss, my dear. Do stop that."
The Mage shook, one hand extended towards him. She looked physically and mentally exhausted. "How… how do you know my name?"
"How, indeed." He chuckled, hurling me aside. I crashed against a wall and struggled to breathe. "You're out of mana, and no doubt exhausted. Sit down and you need not die with everyone else here."
Weiss' entire body shook as she looked over her guildmates, most of them groaning on the floor, some bleeding – and me – barely staying conscious. She had no hope, not if her most powerful spells were so easily ignored.
She tore her rapier free and lunged for him.
"So stubborn…" The Paladin blocked her furious strike with ease, then hooked his blade under her own and flicked it away. The thin silver sword pierced the wooden roof above us and stuck fast. His sword tickled the underside of Weiss' chin. "You've always been stubborn, Weiss. Your mother would be so disappointed."
"Who… are you?" the Mage asked through gritted teeth.
"You don't recognise me?" The Paladin laughed and reached up to draw down his mask. The face he revealed was middle-aged, with a large moustache. It meant nothing to me, but Weiss gasped. "Does this help, my dear?"
"Watts!" she howled. Her empty hand lashed out towards his face, but it didn't remain empty for long. A dagger made of purest ice appeared. "TRAITOR! I'll kill you!"
The Paladin, Watts, caught the spell in one hand, and shattered it with an easy clench of his fist. Shards rained down, but Weiss continued on nonetheless, howling like a banshee and managing to scratch her nails across his face. With a sigh, he stabbed his sword down into the ground and caught her by the throat before she could hit him again.
"That, my dear, was a mistake. I do believe I've already been quite merciful with you. You shouldn't push your luck so."
"M-M-Monster," Weiss croaked. Even though she could barely breathe, her lips twisted up. "S-Second… best…"
"SILENCE!" Watts' composure disappeared in an instant, and he slammed Weiss against the nearest wall. She fell limp immediately, but he hit her against it again and then dragged her unconscious body before his face. "You know nothing, brat! I would have done anything for her, anything! It is you who were the reject. It's only because of her that you yet live!"
It took him a second to realise Weiss wasn't awake to hear him, and he tsked to himself, tossing her body aside. The frail girl sailed through the air and landed by the wall, slumped at its base. The Paladin looked like he might finish her off, but paused as I staggered back to my feet.
"You, again?" he asked. "Goodness, you'd think a man would know when to stay down." He rolled his eyes and pulled his hood down. "I commend your tolerance, boy, but there comes a limit. Sooner or later, it ceases to be brave and becomes foolishness." He picked up his sword once more. "And tiresome. You do not even have a weapon."
I raised Crocea Mors… or what was left of it.
Watts sighed. "You have to be joking."
"I'll keep fighting," I panted, shoulders hunched, half a sword held weakly before me. "You haven't beaten me yet."
"Well, it's just a matter of time at this point, isn't it?" He strode towards me with a cocky smile on his face. His great sword rested against his shoulder, the hilt clasped lightly in one hand. "Come then. I shall allow you the first strike. If you're going to die, you might as well get one good hit in."
It wouldn't be much of a hit. I was too exhausted for one. Still, I rushed in and swung for his head – only for his sword to come up gripped with one hand halfway up the blade. He parried and pushed me back, then drew the huge weapon back and slammed the pommel into my stomach.
I crashed against the wall, and barely had time to get the remains of Crocea Mors back up before his sword pressed against me. Watts pushed with both hands, trying to force my own sword back to cut my throat.
"That… wasn't one free hit," I gasped.
"Why, of course it wasn't," he said. "I did lie, after all." He pushed a little harder, and I noticed with horror how his sword started to slowly cut through mine. "Interesting, no? It's not all a matter of my being stronger than you. The weapons and equipment we wield is a big part of being a Hero. It's what makes the difference between the Soldier Caste and ours, even if they can reach the same levels, and can be the same Classes. Their work trapped in the safety of the Kingdoms will ensure they can never find the kind of incredible equipment we can. Why, this runic blade is the culmination of decades for me. It was quite the find."
Runic…?
My eyes snapped down to it, and with the blade so close to my face, it wasn't hard to see the runes just above the cross guard. They flickered when the light caught them, but otherwise looked ornamental. I'd seen hundreds of amateur smiths add decorations like those, and some people even asked me and Dad for them.
Except that the discovery of my Runesmithing Skill meant it couldn't possibly be fake.
"Maybe if you had more time, you could find something like this for yourself. Alas, you never had the chance." Watts chuckled. "Don't worry, there will be many more people joining you in the afterlife soon. You won't be lonely."
Crocea Mors continued to give way, the cracks within the steel growing wider as his weapon sheared through it. He could have drawn back and ended it in one swing, but I'd have dodged. Safer for him to slowly kill me this way. Desperately, I wedged my sword between one hand and my shoulder, and used my free hand to try and break the grip on his own weapon.
My fingers scrabbled against his, but there was nothing I could do. Even using Stoke the Forge barely did enough to heat the metal around his gauntlets. It would take too long to burn through it, and the heat would be diffused across his armour. As a final gambit, my hand took hold of his sword, fingers cutting themselves on the unnaturally sharp edge.
Blood ran down it.
"Time to end this," Watts whispered.
No… not like this. Not now. I concentrated as best I could, my hand heating the metal until it glowed a dull red. There was something stopping me from breaking it, however – maybe some enchantment or one of those damned runes. My eyes fell to them once more.
Wait… the runes! My hand moved lower, thumb hovering near them. With all my strength I pressed in, thumb shaking against the hot metal.
"DIE!"
"No!" I growled.
"JAUNE!" someone cried.
Resistance gave way, both on my end – and on his. Crocea Mors shattered, and his blade came through, even as the friction against my thumb gave way and the digit smeared across the blood-soaked blade. I screamed as the metal pierced my skin, and then gasped as it lodged in my shoulder bone. Something within me cracked, and I felt the right side of my body crumple.
Watt's eyes were wide.
"What? How were you not split in two?"
"B-Because it's just a sword," I gasped, a weak, bloody smile on my lips. "At least… it is now..."
He looked down on it, and I laughed at the pyrrhic victory. His sword, which had once glowed a faint blue, not looked as inert and simple as any other. The ornaments were still there, from some of its serrated edges to the scrolling on the hilt – but there was no glow, no hum of power, and no enhancement to let it shear through me with ease.
"Impossible…" Watts breathed. "This… This doesn't make sense. How could my sword simply stop working?"
I sagged to my knees as he tore it free from my shoulder. My other hand came up to clasp the wound, which oozed blood through my fingers. With him before me, and his sword held vertical, I could see the damage I'd wrought. Nothing much… just a streak made by my thumb, and a tiny bit of melted metal beneath it.
Directly through the runes that powered it.
"It's ruined," he growled, and kicked me in the stomach. Blood flew from my lips. "You ruined it! Bah, what a waste. Still, do you think this will change anything? Do you believe I need a magical weapon to defeat you children – when most of you are already unconscious or dying? Ha, I think not."
No, he didn't. None of us were strong enough to fight him, and we just didn't have the weapons strong enough to pierce through his defence. If we did, it might be another matter. I winced as agony raced through my body, but managed to remain conscious, and to speak.
"Is all your equipment so powerful?" I asked. "Is everything enchanted?"
He looked down at me, and although there was hatred in his eyes, he couldn't resist the urge to gloat. "But of course. When you are as accomplished as I, it becomes a bit of a hobby, hoarding the strongest equipment, that is. This is but one of a larger collection. My favourite, and broken now, but no matter." He crossed his arms before me and smiled. "Why do you ask?"
"Was your… was your dagger magical?"
"Hm? The one I almost killed you with? Yes, of course."
I laughed.
It didn't seem to please him.
"Have you finally broken?" he asked, kicking me once more. "I suppose it makes sense when facing your doom. Some cry, others beg, while more sit in a puddle of their own urine. I'm not sure where madness ranks on that scale, but at least it's an amusing change. I do so hate the ones who try to beg and barter with me." He sighed. "It really does ruin the mood."
"Y-Your healing spells… they're strong, aren't they?"
"But of course. I am a Paladin, after all."
"I've not gone mad," I gasped through my laughter, through the pain and the blood. I could only keep one eye open, but it was locked onto his. "I'm just… I'm just thinking how lucky I am."
"From where I'm standing, I'd be inclined to disagree. Still, humour me. What amuses you so?"
"When I pulled your spell aside… it still went off."
"Hm?"
"It didn't miss," I said. I looked up over his shoulder, to the black shape that fell from the ceiling. "It just hit a different target…"
Blake landed on his back, one arm wrapping about his throat and tilting his head up, even as her hand shot down. In it was clasped the dagger that had pierced her lung, still bloody and went – but also glowing with magical energies. His dagger, enchanted and covered in runes, enough perhaps to pierce even his formidable defences. The hole in her chest was gone, too, only blood and torn clothing as a reminder. She'd been fully healed.
"You dropped this!" Blake snarled. "Allow me to return it to you!"
The dagger slammed home – directly into Watts' eye.
And there we go for the chapter. I tried to go for some inventive fighting here, since they're outmatched and all. Using the enemy's heals against them, erasing the runes on their weapon – all things you can't do in an RPG, but which would make sense in a weird way. I suppose that's the difference between a game and what someone might be capable of if they actually lived in a world governed by RPG mechanics.
A game is just that, after all, with rules on what you can and can't do. In real life, people cheat. Oh yes, and because someone mentioned it, yep, this fight is kind of a funny parallel with the fight in the actual show against the robot, which was – of course – a "Paladin".
Next Chapter: 4th September
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