I feel like it's been a while since I managed two updates in a month! Hope you're all ready!
Chapter 37: Deadlord
There is a panic that takes hold of my body as I see the Deadlord standing tall amidst my fallen comrades. This is the monster that tears through stone like I might tear through paper. The creature which sent me down a river to the worst event of my life. A ruthless monster who made me feel more powerless than I ever thought possible. Like an ant, destined only to be crushed. And it's back, as powerful as ever, with no bridge to hinder its approach this time.
It is only Libra's frantic shaking which rouses me from my terrified state. "Ben, regain control of your senses at once!" He snaps, pulling me to my feet. "We must move quickly before that man destroys the rest of our comrades!"
"Not… not a man." I reply, still feeling numb. "Deadlord. Fought it before."
Libra reels at the name, staring back at the monster in disbelief. "A Deadlord. Then…" His face hardens. His hand goes to his axe. "An abomination of Grima. It seems my task is clear."
He can't seriously be thinking… "Libra, no!" I gasp, horrified. "You're no match for that thing! It'll tear you apart!"
"I do not care." Libra replies, expression ironclad. His grip tightens on his axe enough that I can hear the leather grip straining. "It is for the destruction of such pitiful creatures that my order exists. I will slay this Deadlord, or die trying."
He rushes ahead, leaving me snarling in desperation. "NO! DAMNIT LIBRA, DON'T THROW YOUR LIFE AWAY!"
Libra rushes on, heedless of my warning. Ahead of me screams fill the air, some those of people struck by the Deadlord's initial appearance, others the fresh cries of those attempting to stop the monster. To my right the main battle has joined once more, Chrom's main group now harried by the wyverns no longer hindered by our back line.
"Mister Benjamin, what do we do?" Donnel cries, looking frantically between me and the Deadlord tearing through our rear guard.
"SHIT!" I roar with all the frustration I can muster. We can't take this thing on. It's too powerful, more than strong enough to give the entirety of the Shepherds trouble on their own. But if we don't do something every single one of us will be killed. This is such absolute bullshit! "SHIT FUCKING HELL ASS BALLS!" I scream. "OKAY FUCK IT! Donnel, Ira, Isaac, we're backing Libra up. We need to keep him alive at all costs. Kellam, use that invisibility talent of yours, get in that rubble, and get as many people out as you can save."
"But I can help!" Kellam protests.
"You are the only one who can get close to that thing without being noticed and we need heavy magical firepower to stand a chance against it. Miriel, Ricken, and Nowi were all in our back line when that thing hit us. You need to find at least one of them and get them to safety if we want even an iota of a chance at killing this fucker." Left unsaid is that Kellam is a fighter who uses brute strength to overwhelm his opponents in a fight, and that will not work here in the slightest.
Kellam doesn't look happy with the order, but quickly vanishes from my sight, so I assume he's left to do as I asked. That leaves the rest of us to move in. To go die, basically.
As we close the distance to the behemoth I see our scattered forces pulling themselves together. Virion hides amongst the rubble, pulling a makeshift bandage tight to his arm with his teeth, bow still gripped tightly in his hand despite the blood running down his arm. Noire rests on all fours a distance away, coughing from the dust that must be terrible for her weak lungs. Nowi is bleeding and unconscious, but being carried to safety by a Feroxi soldier. This ambush was devastating, but we're not out yet.
Vaike is attempting to lead the Feroxi back line against the Deadlord, apparently having left the front lines to get a rematch with the monster. He has with him half a dozen Feroxi soldiers, all standing bravely against the creature. There are already several fresh Feroxi corpses at the Deadlord's feet though, a sign that this group of hardened fighters won't last long against such inhuman power.
Like me, they can sense the power the Deadlord wields. It's like an aura of despair that follows the creature wherever it walks. That same oppressive feeling that reduced me to tears back in Ferox. They want to fight the monster, to defend their Khan and win the day, but the fear the Deadlord brings is every bit as dangerous as its overwhelming power.
This changes when Libra reaches them. He marches forward, axe brandished and staff held high. There's a flash of light and two of the fallen Feroxi soldiers I had thought dead suddenly find the strength to scramble away and raise their weapons. Libra's voice resonates as he strides, no fear in his face, only resolve. "HEAR ME SPAWN OF GRIMA. I AM LIBRA, WAR MONK OF YLISSE. YOUR PRESENCE IS A PLAGUE UPON THIS WORLD, AND I INTEND TO CURE IT. BE PURIFIED BY NAGA'S LIGHT."
And then his axe begins glowing. A glow that makes the Deadlord step back. A glow that bolsters my steps at the sight of it. I can't explain what I feel at the sight of Libra's holy blade, but just knowing that power is on my side gives me a sense of hope that wasn't there moments ago. I draw my sword and move up by Libra's side. "No sign of our mages at the moment and Nowi is out of commission for the time being. So whatever it is you're doing is probably going to be our best chance at beating this thing. What do you need us to do?"
"Make me an opening." Libra replies immediately. "From there my training and Naga's light shall grant us victory."
"Right then. Keep that staff working in the meantime." I nod, stepping forward cautiously. "We still need everyone able to run when all this is over." As I approach I turn to the others and call out. "Alright everyone! This thing's as strong as it looks and a hell of a lot faster to boot! Hit and run, don't overstay your welcome. Slow this tin can down so Libra can peel him open!"
The Deadlord's eyes dart to me immediately, and I find myself shuddering despite the holy light at my back. "BEN… OF THE SHEPHERDS. A FAMILIAR FACE. YOU PROVED A… NUISANCE LAST WE MET."
That stops me in my tracks. "You know my name?"
"I KNOW ALL… MY ENEMIES. YOU WOULD DO WELL… TO DO THE SAME." Its eyes dart around the group, and when it speaks again it seems almost… mirthful. "STILL… YOU HAVE PROVEN MY PREVIOUS… ASSESSMENT WRONG. AN ARMY… AND THE WAR MONK LIBRA… YOU ARE FAR MORE READY… THAN LAST TIME. COME THEN."
"Well…" I give the brute a sadistic grin. "Since I have your endorsement!" I punctuate my statement by throwing an axe at the monster's head. The monster doesn't bother to deflect it, simply tilting its helmed head enough for the axe to shriek as it scrapes off the side. I don't let that stop me, rushing in with my sword drawn.
The creature shows clearly enough that such a course of action remains damn near suicidal, stopping my charge with a swing that would have ripped me in half had I not stopped in time. Even still, his blade tears up the sand in front of me and sending me tumbling backwards from the shockwave. To my left and right though, Donnel and Ira manage to push ahead, having let me take the brunt of the blow. I barely see them charge through the wall of sand before my head starts spinning, and it's luck more than anything that lets me recover properly. I clap a hand to my head, trying to steady myself, as I sway drunkenly about waiting for the dizziness to stop.
Several seconds later I've managed to look up to see that Donnel now has only half a shield strapped to his arm, and is darting back out of reach. Ira is dancing around at the Deadlord's feet, attempting to dodge what look like bone breaking kicks while the deadlord lashes out at Vaike's group. They remain wary of the Deadlord's power, and rather than charge recklessly they circle like hungry wolves, looking for a chance to move in.
"Got your head on straight?" Isaac asks from beside me. He fires an arrow which shatters uselessly against the Deadlord's armor, and clicks his tongue in irritation. "If so, I'd appreciate it if you could get in there and save my sister before she gets herself killed doing something boneheaded."
"Right." I reply grimly, moving in once more. The Deadlord turns to regard me approaching coolly as I run at it once more, and one of the Feroxi behind it takes the opportunity to leap in. For the briefest of moments I feel inclined to applaud the man, until Vaike shouts a warning.
The apparent distraction proves to be little more than a simple bait, and the Deadlord impales the man without looking. "YOU LACK… DISCIPLINE. KHAN FLAVIA'S STANDARDS… REQUIRE RE-EVALUATION." He whirls his spear with enough force to send the body hurtling over Ira's head, forcing me to dive to the side as the corpse tumbles at me through the sand like a goddamn cannonball, bones snapping as it crashes into the sand.
Another Feroxi screams furiously at the sight, rushing in, only for the haft of the Deadlord's spear to come in and cleanly break the poor bastard's neck. His voice cuts off instantly and slumps like a puppet with its strings cut.
"PATHETIC." The Deadlord's voice taunts us. "IS THIS ALL… THE STORIED FEROXI WARRIORS… CAN MUSTER?" His leg suddenly blurs as he kicks at Ira properly, sending her flying through the air with a shocked cry. She hits the ground with enough force to knock her unconscious some distance away. "NO MORE… THAN MINDLESS AGGRESSION." Another arrow from Isaac shatters against the Deadlord's helm, completely unheeded, even as the archer roars furiously behind me. "I SEE NO TRUE… SKILL HERE."
Vaike swings his war hammer into the back of the Deadlord's leg, crushing armor and bone with the force of the strike. The deadlord stumbles for a moment, slamming its spear against the ground to steady itself as its other leg tries to find footing. After only a moment though it straightens as though nothing happened, flicking Vaike aside with the base of the spear.
"A VALIANT EFFORT VAIKE. BUT… YOUR ATTACKS CAN… DO LITTLE AGAINST MY FLESH." Another taunt, though the monster is swiftly forced to block a powerful chop from Donnel, who darts away the instant his attack is stopped. Another Feroxi leaps in to take his place, and to my relief all of those still fighting seem to be showing similar levels of caution now.
I decide to try a different tactic, seeing that the Deadlord seems to be occupied at the moment. I halt my advance, set my sword aside, and switch to my spellbook instead. I doubt anything I can cast will be enough to bring a Deadlord down, but a few Arc level spells may be enough to give Libra his opening. The War Monk is getting impatient, only delayed from rushing the Deadlord by the wounded being brought to him. I can see him pacing about on the sidelines even as his staff flares white.
Best not to keep the holy warrior waiting. Let's see how this dead man walking likes magical attacks.
There's a rushing of wind against my face as I open my book to the correct page. And suddenly the Deadlord is just there. It looms over me, and its hand closes around the arm holding my spellbook with enough force to literally break my bones. "I THINK… NOT."
I blink in shock even as the Deadlord lifts me off my feet by my now broken arm, the book quickly slipping from my fingers. I don't waste time thinking, hauling the rest of my body into a rushed motion that just barely qualifies as a proper thunder in the moment before my spellbook falls to the ground. Electricity dances across the Deadlord's armor, causing it to almost glow, a sharp contrast from the almost unnatural blackness that normally covers it. Wait… was that…
Oh. Oh god. I think my brain just realized how much pain I should be in right now. "AaaaaAAAAAAAAH FUCK!" I scream, my free hand grabbing uselessly at the steel grip on my broken arm.
"ADMIRABLE TENACITY." The Deadlord comments, "THOUGH YOUR POWER IS LACKING." It drives a knee into my gut that would have me puking all over myself if I hadn't thrown up earlier. As it stands I dry heave as I dangle uselessly, my body seizing up as it tries to curl around the blow, unable to do so due to my current position.
I'm vaguely aware of Donnel catching up and swinging again, but once more he's forced to quickly retreat as the Deadlord blocks the blow. Another arrow from Isaac shatters against the Deadlord's helmet.
Suddenly there's a flash of light from somewhere to my left, and I feel my body repair itself, my arm even mending in the Deadlord's grasp. Libra's staff no doubt, in all of Ylisse only Exalt Emmeryn herself can rival his mastery of healing magic. I waste no time, whipping my trusty hunting knife off my belt and punching it into the wrist of the Deadlord, right where the gauntlet and vambrace meet. Don't care what kind of black magic is powering this bastard, a blade in the wrist is still going to fuck up your grip. And that means I'm able to drop to my feet a moment later, and promptly hurl myself away from my attacker.
The Deadlord raises its spear to run me trough as I'm making my escape, but has to pause as three of the remaining Feroxi attack at once. The three of them are held at bay by the Deadlord's spear, even as Donnel rushes in to help them by striking the weapon as well. The Deadlord heaves all of its opponents aside with one hand, the other swatting aside a thrusting spear from a different direction. My hunting knife falls to the ground from the Deadlord's arm as the spear hits it, and I watch as its uselessly twitching fingers clench into a fist. Whatever kind of black magic is powering this bastard, a blade in the wrist isn't going to fuck up its grip for long.
Thankfully we have our own trump card to fight this thing. And for all that our struggles are made a joke in comparison to the Deadlord's strength, we did manage to keep its arms occupied for a few brief seconds. Seconds Libra decided to capitalize on. When Libra's axe strikes the Deadlord there's a brilliant flash of white light, enough to make my vision spotty. The light is accompanied by a shockwave that sends me reeling, and it is with great difficulty I manage to keep my feet planted through it all.
"I apologize." Libra says in a sorrowful tone as my vision recovers and I stagger about. "For all my talk I fear I have failed. My pride has dulled my blade, perhaps." I focus all the harder, squinting to try and spot what's happened. The deadlord appears largely unharmed, save for a blackened burn across the chest where Libra struck. That said, while it hasn't been slowed in the slightest, it is pulling itself out of a ruined section of wall a good twenty yards away.
My jaw drops as I register how far that hulk of metal and dark magic infused flesh was thrown. That can't be physically possible. Either there's another game skill thing going on like what Frederick did earlier, or this is some kind of magical reaction. Libra mistakes my shock for some sort of astonishment at his failure though, looking to me with contrition. "I can't begin to state the shame I feel for this. For all everyone risked and sacrificed to give me this opening, only to do so little… it is inexcusable."
"You threw that thing through a damn wall lady, don't know what you're feeling sorry for." Vaike comments, grinning ear to ear.
I echo the sentiment with a nod, though I can't help but set the record straight. "Libra's a man, Vaike. War monk, remember? Not a war cleric."
Vaike blinks at that, looks back to Libra, then takes on an expression of deep thought. "…Huh."
I leave him to his reflections, turning to Libra. "So what went wrong?"
"It shames me to admit, but I underestimated the creature." Libra says, expression still contrite. "The light of Naga is lethal to the creatures of Grima. Indeed, even the strength of a Deadlord cannot endure it. But when combined with that armor it wears... well. Despite the blackened and ruined look of it, that plate is not remotely lacking in durability."
The explanation brings to mind something I noticed earlier when the Deadlord was using me as a punching bag. "That's actually not true. There's a weak point! Upper left shoulder. Like somebody cleaved through the plate there. It's been repaired, but not well. I noticed it when I hit it with that lightning spell earlier, the metal there looks different from the rest."
"AND SO… YOU PUT TOGETHER… ANOTHER PIECE OF THE PUZZLE." The Deadlord comments, shaking the dust loose from its shoulders. "THIS MAY YET… BE A CHALLENGE. HOW VERY NOVEL."
The Deadlord stoops, picks up a chunk of masonry sitting at its feet, and stares at it for a moment. Our forces immediately scatter, readying ourselves to dodge should the monster throw it. But it doesn't. It simply stares, then lets out a rasping gasp of air I only recognize as a laugh from when it mocked me back in Ferox. The stone is crushed, then tossed aside contemptuously as the Deadlord surveys our group. "IF WE ARE ALL… PREPARED, THEN LET US RESUME." Another shot from Isaac punctuates the invitation, this one sticking in the shoulder of the Deadlord's armor.
The Deadlord's head tilts to stare down at the offending projectile. "DISGRACEFUL." It mutters, glowing eyes narrowing as it plucks the arrow from its joint and drops it to the ground at its feet. The Deadlord crouches to the ground, one hand steadying its weight as the other raises its spear.
Then it vanishes.
I can only blink in surprise as the place the Deadlord was standing is suddenly vacant, the only sign of our opponent having been there the explosion of sand flying from the force of its departure. What, how did- it left a trail, it's running that fast!? But where?
Vaike suddenly lands in a heap at my side, axe handle splintered and right arm bent the wrong direction. He looks as shocked as I am, though he seems to have still raised his guard in time as the Deadlord rushed him. No doubt if he hadn't he'd have a broken neck instead of just the arm. But when I look in the direction of where Vaike was standing, I see nothing but more sand flying from the force of the Deadlord's movement. But then where?
My answer comes when I hear screaming behind me. Isaac. I whirl around to see the Deadlord holding the Feroxi by the head with one hand, two fingers sunk into the man's eye sockets as he claws feebly at his assailant's wrist.
"SUCH PATHETIC MARKSMANSHIP… IT SICKENS ME TO THINK THAT YOU COULD… CALL YOURSELF AN ARCHER." The Deadlord states coldly, scornfully, as it looks down at its latest victim.
"Isaac!" I yell in alarm, stepping forward now that I know the direction the Deadlord has gone. There's a sudden, all too telling crunch, and the man falls to the ground lifeless. I scream in fury as I realize what this thing just did, but it's already crouching again, and exploding into another brutal charge.
I'm more ready for it this time, now that I've seen the trick once. Though trick doesn't really do it justice. There's no secret technique to the Deadlord's rushing blows, only pure, unholy power moving its legs faster than any human could hope to match. The force required must tear the muscle to shreds, but that doesn't matter much to a Deadlord. I doubt the effect lasts any longer than my damn knife did.
Still, trick or not I can somewhat follow the speed this thing moves at, just in time to see it tear through a Feroxi who isn't quite fast enough with her javelin to slow it down. She screams blue murder and drives the javelin into the Deadlord's neck even as she gets impaled, but it doesn't seem to affect it any more than anything else we try.
Libra rushes past me, raising his staff as the woman has the spear pulled out of her. Her wound closes even as she falls, and Libra swiftly tackles her aside before the Deadlord has time to realize she hasn't quite been killed. The man seems determined to ensure any blow caused by this thing that isn't immediately lethal won't take.
The Deadlord snarls angrily as it sees Libra bringing the woman to safety, but seems preoccupied with pulling her javelin from its neck, the bulky armor it wears limiting its ability to get a proper grip on it. I capitalize on the opening, running at the Deadlord from behind and stabbing my blade into the weak spot in the back of its leg, made by Vaike's war hammer earlier.
The Deadlord stumbles, snarls with even more rage, and cracks the javelin by flexing against it with its damn head, breaking it just enough that it can finally get a grip on the weapon and tear it out. As it does this I twist my blade, trying to carve the biggest hole in its leg as I can. Even as I work though, I can see stringy purple muscle knitting itself together almost as fast as I cut it apart.
This isn't getting me anywhere. I have to pull back before it recovers completely. I attempt to withdraw my blade, only to have it sent flying as I dodge a mule kick that damn near takes my head off. One of the Feroxi grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me back as Vaike and another Feroxi rush the Deadlord. Once again the Deadlord blocks both attacks near simultaneously, twisting its spear in a way that seems to scoop up the blows and hold them.
Then Donnel comes once again to back the others up, and everything changes. Once again he strikes the middle of the Deadlord's spear, hitting it with all his might. And suddenly the Deadlord is holding two halves of a spear instead of a whole one.
Holy shit this kid has been aiming to break the Deadlord's weapon from the start. Oh my fucking god what a mad genius!
Before I can whoop in triumph at the brilliant bit of strategy that just happened in front of me though, the Deadlord swats Vaike and the Feroxi aside with the broken pieces of spear, and lashes out at Donnel with a kick that shatters the shield Donnel throws up to stop it. The kid falls back with a howl, his left arm almost certainly broken for what I think is the third fucking time now. Maybe fourth. Poor bugger is getting that arm fucked up often enough I'm honestly starting to lose track.
Unlike the last few times though Vaike recovers immediately, ducking under a swipe from the bladed half of the spear, and slamming his war hammer into the Deadlord's elbow. He suffers for the blow, taking a hit to the chest from the other half that definitely breaks a rib with an audible crack.
Which is when Libra comes flying back in. One arm broken, the other extended across his body to hit Vaike, and only half a weapon. A war monk couldn't ask for better circumstances against such a foe. His axe comes down onto the Deadlord's left shoulder, precisely where the weak seam is in its armor. There's another explosion of light that I'm thankfully more prepared for this time, and the Deadlord is sent flying backwards, barely missing me.
The weak point in the Deadlord's armor that I spotted proves as promising as I'd hoped. The Deadlord still stands, but its left shoulder now looks as though it's been peeled aside, along with a large chunk of its ribcage. The armor around the wound glows red from the force of the blow, and the left arm now hangs uselessly. His right arm still twitches, working off the damage from Vaike's blow. Libra roars in triumph, rushing after our opponent with the intent of finishing the monster off for good.
"A FINE PERFORMANCE DONNEL. I UNDERESTIMATED YOUR… CUNNING." The Deadlord comments, raising its good arm to grasp its ruined one. "INDEED… ALL OF YOU HAVE IMPRESSED ME. BUT… YOU STILL HAVE A… LONG WAY TO GO."
Libra passes me, glowing axe raised for the killing blow. Something about this seems… too easy though. With the lines this Deadlord is dropping, surely he has something else… oh my god he's going Dark Souls! "LIBRA, DUCK!" I yell in a panic.
Libra hears me, and does not question it, thank god. He throws himself to the ground at my warning with not a second to lose. There's a great shrieking of metal and a burst of air as the Deadlord lashes out where Libra's head just was, by using his ruined arm as a goddamn flail. The Deadlord ripped it off armor and all to replace the weapons it lost, and between the extra reach and the heavy armor there's little doubt in my mind that this improvised club is every bit as deadly as everything else it's thrown at us!
The Feroxi who had been helping me rushes forward with me as we try to back Libra up, despite my weapons having all been lost over the course of the fight. I can't hurt this thing, but I can at least get Libra out of there! He won't last much longer, he's barely avoiding the heavy swings of the Deadlord's arm. I rush forward, heedless of my helplessness. Libra needs to live if we're going to take this thing down.
The Deadlord notices us approaching, and pauses, its arm flopping limply in its grasp. "UNARMED NOW?" It says, sounding somewhere between amused and bewildered. "JUST WHAT IS IT… YOU INTEND TO ACCOMPLISH… BEN OF THE-"
And suddenly there's a feathery arrow shaft protruding from the Deadlord's eye. Its remaining eye widens in surprise, almost comically shocked. "AH." It says simply, looking past me. "VIRION. I SHOULD HAVE… GUESSED. YES… A TRUE ARCHER BIDES… THEIR TIME."
I look back to see Virion in the distance, leaning heavily on the ruined stone of the wall, arm still a bloody mess despite his attempt at bandaging. His hair hangs over his face, and his shoulders heave with the exertion of the arrow he just fired, but he send me a shaky smile all the same.
Still, with all that this monster has lived through, we still have to move. It won't stay blinded for long, and we have to get Libra his one last opportunity to hit. We need to move! I whirl back to the Deadlord, already moving, and see it drop its arm flail, which starts to collapse into ash.
"Wait, what?" I stare in surprise, looking up to the Deadlord in confusion. It stares impassively at me, body crumbling. "Seriously? That's it?"
"DO NOT ACT SO… SURPRISED." The Deadlord says, letting out another one of those coughing chuckles. "POWERFUL I MAY BE… BUT I AM STILL RISEN. YOU SHOULD KNOW… WELL ENOUGH… TO GO FOR THE HEAD."
"Holy shit!" Vaike exclaims. "We did it! We won!" Around me weak cries of victory ring out from the scattered survivors of the battle.
"A HARD FOUGHT BATTLE." The Deadlord replies. "THOUGH LET IT BE KNOWN… THAT NEXT TIME I SHALL NOT UNDERESTIMATE YOU."
"Next time?" I stare blankly up at the monster.
"DID YOU THINK YOU WOULD SEE THE… LAST OF ME WITH THIS?" The Deadlord taunts even as its legs crumple beneath it and it falls in a cacophony of rattling armor. It takes the additional damage in stride, continuing as though nothing has happened. "NO… I WILL RETURN… WHEN MY MASTER CALLS FOR ME AGAIN. FOR WHAT IS DEATH… TO A DEADLORD?"
As endings go, it's not as satisfying as I'd hoped. We've won the battle, but even after all this its little more than an inconvenience. The Deadlord is crumbling into dust, and indeed shows no sign of even being upset about it. It simply watches, impassively, as we reflect on the troubling revelation. Another moment later, and it's crumbled completely, armor and all, leaving nothing but the broken halves of its spear.
That, and the decimated remains of the Shepherd's back line.
The bulk of the fighting has long since moved on from our scattered group. Apparently some of the Plegian wyvern riders attempted to attack while we were fighting the Deadlord, but Noire drove them off. I hadn't noticed any of it because I was so focused on the damn monster, but now that I have the time to look around I suddenly see extra wyverns strewn about the battlefield that weren't there before. It seems both of our archers earned MVP status in that battle.
Compared to these scattered flyers the losses on our side are much more severe. Of the ten Feroxi that helped fight the Deadlord, only five remain. One of these is the woman Libra saved, who lost enough blood in the time she had a spear in her gut that she's currently unconscious. I realize as I check on her that I've met her before. Julia, one of the Feroxi soldiers I met during the whole slaver fiasco. I wish I had realized she was here earlier, but it is good that Libra managed to save her, if only barely.
Neither Isaac nor Ira lived. Isaac's death was obviously known to me, but Ira's came as a nasty surprise once the battle was over. Apparently when the Deadlord sent her flying she landed head first on a rock. I went to find her expecting to just… I dunno, slap her awake and taunt her for sleeping while her crush was doing all the fighting, or something. Instead I was confronted with the sight of a glassy eyed corpse.
It hurts. More than I thought it would, really. I'm not happy with any of the deaths suffered at the hands of this thing, but Isaac and Ira hit me harder than the rest. I didn't know the siblings for long, but I got to know them a little while we were running around in the sand dunes like idiots. They were good people. Good people who didn't hesitate to follow me into battle against that Deadlord, and died for it.
If I get the chance to talk to Robin when all this is over, I am going to break his fucking jaw for naming me as a fucking field commander. I don't care what my fucking qualifications are, I hate feeling responsible for these lives with every fibre of my fucking being.
Thankfully the Shepherds largely came out better than most. Virion's injury proves easily fixed by Libra's staff, as does Donnel's broken arm. Vaike and I were both injured over the course of the fight, but were healed by Libra by the end of it. Libra's pride seems to have been injured more than anything, a wound he claims to be a welcome thing, citing his careless mistakes in the fight.
Kellam managed to round up several Feroxi soldiers to help him track everyone else down. Miriel is unharmed, but had her spellbook destroyed by a flying rock, leaving her helpless until she can return to the main army and fetch one of her spares (to her intense frustration). Nowi has a concussion that is swiftly dealt with by Libra once he can finally heal her, and she swiftly returns to her usual bubbly self. If anything the girl is more chipper than ever.
"Who else is missing?" I ask Miriel, in an attempt to distract her from her irritation at losing her spellbook. "Since I got separated early I didn't see what our back line was looking like."
"Stahl and Ricken have yet to be found." She replies tersely. "As well as one of Khan Flavia's soldiers, a man named Ambrose." Another name I recognize from kidnapper's keep, though he's also significant for another reason…
"Ah shit, he's one of the only folks we brought who has medical training." I cringe, looking around for some sign of the missing folks. "Alright, let's go with the worst case scenario. Find the biggest pile of rubble you can and check there!"
This turns out to be the right call. We find not one, but all three of our missing people underneath the biggest heap of stone in the lot, a whole section where the wall didn't so much explode as simply tip over. It's not a pretty sight however.
"Thank Naga you found us!" Ambrose calls desperately as we reveal the trio. He looks to be the best off of the lot, though he has a bloody cut on his temple. "Quickly, move this stone! If Stahl holds it any longer the strain is going to kill him. I tried to help, but Ricken is in grave danger and needed most of my attention!"
Further digging reveals the severity of the situation. A whole section of wall is narrowly held off of the three trapped people by Stahl, who can barely summon the effort to glance in my direction as I start directing Feroxi to take the weight, he's so focused on his load. I don't know how long Stahl was holding the damn thing for, but his head looks fit to burst from the strain he was under, looking a rather vivid shade of purple, and it takes five men to lift the weight off him. He openly screams with relief when we finally get the damn thing off his back, and immediately collapses in a heap, gasping for breath.
And in spite of all this he looks downright healthy in comparison to Ricken. The boy's face is pale, his body covered in blood and sand, and his leg… I… I honestly don't know where to begin. It's… completely pulverised. Ambrose's face is grim as he helps lift the boy out of the hole they were trapped in, his clothing absolutely shredded from all the bandages he's been making to patch the boy up.
"Damn spawn of Grima!" Libra cries sorrowfully as he approaches the kid. "That it would deliver so much wrath upon one so young!" His expression only becomes graver as he begins his attempt to heal the boy. "Most of this I can cure, but his leg… there's little I can do. What happened?"
"He was closest to the wall when it exploded." Ambrose explains as I help him out of the pit. "When we were first buried it was only Ricken who was in danger. We were lucky, I realize this now. The stone was balanced in such a way as to not crush us. But Ricken was pinned by the leg, and screaming in pain… we panicked and attempted to free him. When we pulled him free the rest of the wall collapsed on top of us. Stahl caught it, but I couldn't help. I had to try to stop the bleeding before Ricken died!"
"It's a good thing we found you when we did." I sigh. "Poor kid. You two are our only medics in this group at the moment. Do what you can for him, but prioritize getting him ready for transport. It can't be much longer until Robin's plan, and we'll be running for our lives as soon as that happens. Stahl, get some water, get some air, just… get whatever you need."
I haul myself fully out of the sand and lend the weary knight a shoulder as we leave the rubble behind. Once we're free I let Stahl down to rest against a large stone, and then turn to address the others. "That goes for all of you! Gather yourselves, get our stretchers ready for those who can't run, and prepare to move. We need to catch up to Chrom's group as quickly as possible now that the damn monster is gone. Leave the dead. We can't afford to spend any time on burials today. The fight's not over everyone. Hold strong, and don't lose hope. If we can survive whatever the fuck that thing was, we can survive anything."
The response from the Feroxi and Shepherds is weary, but they still stand firm. Everyone scatters to collect weapons and tend to those few of the group wounded beyond what Libra could heal. I step aside as they do so, noticing a familiar face approaching.
"Sumia, was starting to think you'd been grounded!" I call in greeting as the Pegasus Knight descends.
"I was, for a while! Things got hectic at the front!" Sumia responds, jumping from her saddle to grab me in a crushing hug. "Is everyone okay? We knew something had attacked back here, but we could only send Vaike and a few of Flavia's people to help! We're just stretched too thin right now!"
"We've lost a dozen of Flavia's people, with four more incapacitated." I say grimly. "The attacker was some kind of super-Risen, called a Deadlord. Its lucky for us Libra came from the capital to aid us, or else I'm sure we wouldn't have stood a chance."
"Ben, I'm not asking for a tactical report right now!" Sumia snaps at me. "I want to know if everyone is alright!"
I knew that. It's just that trying to treat it as a business question is easier for me right now. "Ricken's hurt." I reply dully. "They're saying he might lose a leg."
Sumia gasps and immediately moves to head to Ricken's side. I catch her by the shoulders before she can do so. "Sumia, wait."
"Wait?" Sumia whirls back to me in surprise. "One of our friends is hurt and you're telling me to wait?"
"I am. Because you have a job to do." I growl. "You are the messenger for our tactician, you can't be running off right now. There are things that he needs to know if he's going to lead us out of here properly!"
She bites her lip, looking in the direction of the others. "But…"
"Think of Emmeryn, Sumia." I continue. "Think of Chrom! If we're going to help him win this thing you need to stay focused." I ignore the pang of guilt I feel as I say this, knowing full well Robin's plan isn't going to work regardless.
Sumia flinches at this, but quickly finds her resolve. "You're right. Okay, what should I tell Robin?"
"That we'll be moving to catch up with the rest of you as soon as Ricken's properly stabilized. And that he and I are the only magic users left in this force. Miriel has no spellbook and Ricken won't be casting anything any time soon. Oh, and make sure he knows about Libra as well."
"Right. Well actually, Robin and Chrom convinced one of the Plegian dark mages to defect somehow, so we do still have another spell caster besides you two, but I'll make sure he knows what happened to Ricken and Miriel."
"Just what we needed, some genuine good news!" I grin, clapping Sumia on the shoulder. "Alright, go tell him everything. Fly safe!"
"You too!" Sumia replies, hopping into the saddle. She goes pink as she thinks back on what she said, and hastily amends, "Uhh, that is, be safe, I mean! See you soon!"
She flies away hastily, returning to the other half of our army. The others aren't going to stop, even with all that's happened to us. They can't afford to. We've made it this far only because we've broken through to their final line of defense and bypassed the Plegian army.
So far the only backup Plegia has been able to call has been their most mobile units, the axle dragon sleds and their wyverns, most of which have now been dealt with. It's only a matter of time before they can redirect a division of their infantry to pin us in. Basilio is driving the Feroxi army as hard as he can to stop them from doing so, but the enemy has more advantages against us in this terrain than I can really count. We're practically throwing the Feroxi into a meat grinder, and it's a damn miracle The Shepherds have yet to meet a similar fate.
I wonder if Chrom has realized yet how many soldiers we're losing in this desperate bid to save his sister.
Well, if my plan works Emmeryn will have the chance to give him hell for it someday. That may be easier said than done though. Because for my plan to work, I have to be at the front lines.
"We're running out of time!" I call back irritably. "How's Ricken doing?"
"Not well." Donnel answers, approaching me. "We can't be doing any field surgery out here, so Libra's just stoppin' the bleeding as well as he can."
"Right." I grimace. "And our other wounded?"
"Stretchers are ready to go." Donnel replies, looking a little happier at that bit of good news. "Oh, and here! I found your weapons. Managed to round up everything but your throwing axe."
The throwing axe was the only one of my weapons to survive Kidnapper's Keep. I was actually rather attached to that thing. I try not to let my disappointment show though, thanking Donnel for the assistance. Casting aside useless sentiment. The spellbook is the only thing that matters right now, and it's thankfully in good shape, just a bit dusty. I have a smaller backup on me into which I copied the spells I want for my plan, but I didn't have time to fill it with the full breadth of my options. And I like having options.
It takes several more minutes before we're finally ready to move, by which point I'm starting to get well and truly nervous. I don't hold back in making my sense of urgency known to the others as well. We have a serious shortage of hands with the stretchers, leaving only myself, Noire, and Virion free to defend us if a sled or wyvern should rush in. We have five stretchers and just barely enough people to move them. I don't want to think about what our escape is going to look like.
"Double the pace people! We don't have much time left!" I snap, leading the charge towards the front lines. "We need to be with the others when the call for the retreat comes!" Preferably far earlier, or else I'll never be able to do what I need to.
"We're trying our best." Stahl pants. "But it's not easy work moving these damn stretchers through all this." He nods towards the rubble, scattered bodies and fallen weapons lying in the path. Of course, we're moving in the wake of a goddamn battlefield here.
"Alright, this isn't going to be pretty, but I can fix this." I reply grimly, pulling out my spellbook. I start throwing out wind magic, tossing bodies and weapons aside. It doesn't work on some of the heavier stuff, but thankfully the desert attire means I at least don't have to worry about armor weighing the corpses down.
I find myself suddenly longing for the days when I could see a dead body as a tragedy rather than an obstacle…
Thoughts to be having later. Focus. We have much left to do.
Things move faster with me clearing a path, if only a little. Thankfully there are large stretches of clear space in the middle of everything, open areas between the Plegian defensive lines, where we can gain more ground. The sound of battle is more distinct by the minute.
Only for it to suddenly stop. And for a distinctive flare spell to fly into the air. The signal for Robin's plan to begin. "Shit!" I hiss, abandoning all pretense of looking after the others. My book is returned to its pouch on my belt, and I break into a full sprint. I hear voices call after me, but don't pay them any mind. I have to be there when this fails!
Phila's Pegasus Knights fly into the courtyard, courtesy of Gaius' jailbreak. They fly towards Emmeryn, standing on a precipice of ancient bone, far above us all. I close in on the others as they watch, expressions triumphant. I spot Gangrel raging from his vantage point on a sort of balcony built into the cliffside in the distance, and see his tactician, Aversa, raise a hand.
In the game this was when they summoned a horde of Risen archers to shoot the Pegasus Knights out of the sky.
What actually happens is similar, but far more terrifying.
Because there is no horde emerging in the courtyard. There is only one archer. One lone figure who appears at the wall top across from where Chrom and the others entered.
A figure with glowing red eyes, blackened armor, and a bow as tall as its wielder. I know the moment I see them that this is another Deadlord. They brought two of them. Why? Why are these Deadlords appearing here? Why now?
As much as these questions scream in my mind for answers, I don't waste time wondering. I simply push on, not slowing my sprint in the slightest. I reach Chrom and Robin's group, and don't slow down in the slightest, running past them. The first Pegasus falls from the sky. I scream a warning. "SNIPER! FREDERICK! PROTECT THE PRINCE!"
The warning jars Frederick from his shock as the Pegasus Knights fall. He turns, grabs Chrom, and hauls him away moments before the prince can rush after me. I hear Chrom cry out in horror, struggling in Frederick's grip. I hear Robin's frustrated shout as his failure becomes apparent. I hear Cordelia call my name in worry.
I push myself even harder, sprinting as fast as possible to put as much distance between myself and the Shepherds as I can. I need to be far enough away for the next part to be believable.
I chance a glance back, and see the Shepherds still staring from the courtyard entrance. They're still in shock, completely caught off guard by how quickly the tides turned against us. Some stare after me, but most are still watching in horror as the last Pegasus Knight falls.
And as Phila plummets from the sky, being too weak from her time in imprisonment to hold out against the Deadlord archer for long, eyes turn to me next. I'm the closest to Emmeryn now, the last chance for things to work out.
I'm consumed by a fireball a moment later. There's no warning to it, and the shock has me fall in surprise with a short yell. There's an outburst behind me as the Shepherds watch me disappear in an eruption of flames. Despite the direct hit though I feel no pain, no heat. It's some kind of cold fire that burns as bright as the real deal. With a bit of wind magic to create the illusion of an impact thrown in as well. All in all a masterful bit of spell work.
Which means that jackass Henry is taking liberties with my plan. The fireball was supposed to go off behind me. To cut me off from the others. Instead Henry seems to have decided to fake my death. Not entirely without merit, now that there's a Deadlord watching, but it could lessen the impact of later stages.
I decide to trust in his judgement though, lying still and wincing as I hear my fellow Shepherds call out to me. Another explosion behind me tells me that Henry is still doing his job and stopping the others from approaching.
And I so I wait in the lingering flames surrounding me as the next part of this chain of events plays out according to my memories of the game. Gangrel gloats triumphantly. Chrom and Robin panic as they try to figure out what to do. The final ultimatum is delivered: Emmeryn's life for the Fire Emblem. It's honestly far less dramatic than I always pictured it in my head; the two leaders yelling these lines at each other from across a massive courtyard takes much away from the exchange.
I'm interested to notice that Robin advises Chrom to give up the Emblem. It honestly catches me off guard for a moment; I've always chosen the option of telling Chrom the opposite when this scene plays out in the game. The life of one woman is not worth risking the world by losing the Fire Emblem, that's always been my opinion.
Makes a person wonder what the fuck I'm doing right now then. I felt rather strongly about not interfering in these things once upon a time. Not risking the ending where everything works out and the world is saved.
I remember once again that feeling of self-loathing I felt all those months ago as Cordelia wept into my arms. How goddamn sick and tired I was of forcing myself to do nothing for the sake of that legendary 'good ending.' Fuck that. We're aiming for a 'better ending' now. An ending where Chrom, Lissa, and Emmeryn can spend years together as a family once all this is over.
An ending where Emmeryn's next action doesn't end in tragedy.
I barely listen to her speech, knowing the words well enough having read them so many times. One selfless act can change the world… Emmeryn's sacrifice here would be the catalyst to drive the world away from the path of ruin. Hopefully my own selfish act won't negate that change.
God, what the fuck am I doing? If this fails, if this plan doesn't work perfectly, then it could ruin so much. Could cost this world… everything.
I've come this far though…
I stare up at Emmeryn, watching as she steps towards the edge before her. Unlike in the cutscene I remember from the game Chrom doesn't rush forward, still being held firmly by Frederick despite his furious, desperate protests.
And then Emmeryn takes a final step forward and falls. The spire of bone she was stood upon towered a horrifying ten stories tall. And there is nothing to break her fall, to stop her from landing amidst the bodies of her fallen Pegasus Knights. A drop like that would almost certainly be fatal. Even knowing that this was coming, I still feel sick to my stomach watching her plummet.
Henry had better have done his fucking job right. If I go through this shit just to rescue a corpse I really will kill him. He's the one who talked me out of using wind magic to slow her fall, so if his alternative doesn't work I'll give him the kind of death even he will dread.
The world is silent as I think this, watching intently as Emmeryn falls. She hits the stone floor of the courtyard hard, a blow that sure as shit looks fatal. But as Henry said when we planned this, it has to look as realistic as possible. Surely this means things are working, right? The Exalt has fallen, and by all accounts must not have survived.
Chrom bellows in rage. Sumia screams in horror. Robin panics. Gangrel laughs. The Shepherd's plan is falling apart. And that means it's time for my plan to be enacted. Whether Emmeryn is alive or dead is unclear even to me. The only one who is likely to know for sure would be Henry. But her only chance now is for me to carry on.
It's time to put on a show.
I rise, Henry's false fire still clinging to my body.
I pull out my spellbook.
I cast Thoron.
I say Thoron, but it's not anything like the real deal. The gulf between myself and a Thoron spell is massive; the spell requiring far more control and power than any Arc level spell could hope to reach. I push all my magical power into the spell, but while it looks and sounds impressive were it to hit a person all they'd experience is a blinding light and enough static electricity to set their hair standing on end. It's actually a lot like Henry's fake fire spell, but while his is the result of incredible skill, my fake is the result of just being too shit to cast it properly.
Still looks real enough to wipe the grin off Gangrel's face when I send it flying at him though. He leaps back as he sees the incoming spell, shouts frantically at Aversa, and then pushes the woman forward. Aversa looks unprepared for an attack from what she thought to be a dead man, and frantically grasps at her tome. She won't have time to stop it, and she knows it. Her eyes close as she braces herself for impact.
And Henry jumps in to intercept, swatting the spell aside in a maneuver that must look very impressive to anyone who doesn't know that the spell is fake as shit. Which is to say, everyone watching our little performance.
There's a moment of silence as the beam of magic flies off into the air. Every eye in the courtyard has turned aside from Emmeryn's body to stare in shock at myself and Henry. Then Henry dramatically tosses his cape aside and points at me, pages fluttering in his open spellbook. "BEN THE BUTCHER! I SHOULD HAVE GUESSED THAT MY SPELL WOULDN'T BE ENOUGH TO STOP YOU! THAT'S GOOD! THIS WILL BE MUCH MORE FUN NOW! NYA HA HA HA!"
This boy clearly missed his calling in theatre. He could have put on a hell of a performance in my old high school drama class. The perfect wicked sorcerer persona, to contrast my wrathful warrior. "PLAY YOUR GAMES MAGE! I CARE NOT. I WILL SEE YOU AND YOUR VILE KING DIE FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE THIS DAY."
Henry smirks at that, head tilted to the side. "I WONDER HOW WELL YOU'LL BE ABLE TO SEE THAT AFTER I'VE BOILED THE FLUID OUT OF YOUR EYEBALLS."
I supress a shudder at that one, knowing full well that he's honestly considering it. This is the most dangerous part of the plan, frankly. I'm supposed to be faking a fight, but if Henry gets too worked up he could absolutely kill me for real. I raise my spellbook, about to cast a spell, when I notice the ground beneath me start to glow red.
Oh fucking hell Henry, already? I throw myself to the side as a pillar of flame erupts from where I was standing, and the heat from this one tells me that this one is very real. I retaliate with a blast of wind that shatters the stone ledge at Henry's feet, nearly collapsing the ground beneath him. He yelps in surprise as he leaps back, barely staying on the balcony. Turnabout is fair play, you crazy prick.
"BEN!" I hear a voice call from my right, and turn to see Robin looking at me from across the ocean of flames. He's alone at the moment, the other Shepherds already pulling back in the distance. Though some, particularly Chrom and Cordelia, are leaving rather… involuntarily, being wrestled away by the others. "What are you doing? Get out of there!"
"How the fuck do you expect me to do that?" I snap back, gesturing at all the fire between myself and the others. "Just retreat already! I'll catch up later!"
"Not this way!" Robin shouts in exasperation. "Behind you! Where that monster broke through the wall earlier!"
I blink in surprise, having entirely forgotten that opening was there. That… kinda puts a damper on the whole scenario, doesn't it? I turn around to see the clear opening in the wall, then look back at Henry. Then, having no other logical option to take while maintaining the ruse, I start sprinting like a madman for the opening. Henry, being an excellent co-star, improvises beautifully by blowing up that entrance as well, cutting off my only available exit. "DID YOU REALLY THINK IT WOULD BE THAT EASY? I WON'T LET YOU ESCAPE WITHOUT ENTERTAINING ME, BEN THE BUTCHER! NYA HA HA HA!"
"Damn it!" I shout, entirely for the sake of appearances. "Any other bright ideas?"
Robin looks around frantically. "Uh, Sumia could-"
"YOU ARE NOT SENDING ANY MORE FUCKING PEGASUS INTO THIS COURTYARD!" I snarl furiously. "Look, just get out of here! The Plegian army is closing in! Get everyone to safety! I'll find my own way!"
"You'd better!" Robin calls, before an arrow from the Deadlord whizzes past his head and forces him to make a hasty exit.
"CAN WE FIGHT NOW? I'M STARTING TO GET BORED!" Henry complains loudly, raising his spellbook as I turn back to face him. He tosses a fireball casually as I approach, incinerating the corpse of one of the Pegasus Knights. "IT'S WAY MORE ENTERTAINING WHEN THEY'RE ALIVE!"
"Oh, enough of this farce!" Aversa snaps. "I'm not waiting for you to finish playing with your food, Henry! Draco! Kill him!"
The Deadlord turns to regard me from its perch, and starts reaching for an arrow, only to be interrupted. The thoron spell that hits it as it nocks its arrow is nothing like the weak shot I fired earlier. It has all the flash of my spell, but with an intensity to match. The light fades, and all that remains of Draco the Deadlord is a pair of legs, which crumble into ash even as they topple off the wall.
The shocked look on Aversa's face is hilarious to see even as it dredges up a feeling of empathy in my gut. Because holy shit, he just vaporized a deadlord in seconds. Sure, the Deadlord wasn't expecting the friendly fire, but still! Even for a sucker punch that was an absolutely ludicrous blow!
Henry turns away from me, and whatever look he gives Aversa is enough to send her staggering backwards, her expression pure terror. In comparison to his bombastic shouting earlier, his voice is soft now, yet it carries for all in the courtyard to hear.
"The Butcher is my prey. Mine." The final word carries a sort of weight that feels like a cold weight on my chest. It resonates with enough force to shake dust from the courtyard walls. Almost as if Henry has weaved his dark magic into his very voice.
The effect is terrifying. To myself and everyone else. Damn near everyone still sticking around to watch the fight runs for it. A few of them, those holding weapons in the hope of jumping in and helping to fight me, convulse and pass out on the spot. Aversa is made of sterner stuff than this, but still falls to her knees and shakes.
And suddenly Gangrel, to my surprise, bursts into laughter, clapping a hand to his face. "Bwa ha haa! I never thought I'd see the day when you'd act so meek, Aversa! What a shock! What a treat! Just for that, I'm almost considering letting you have him, brat! Unfortunately…" The mad king stops laughing, his smile twisting into a furious grimace. He glares at Henry from between his fingers. "I can't be letting you play your usual games today. I've heard more than enough of the damn rumors about Ben the Butcher, and I've had my fill. I think I'll put the stories to rest once and for all, since he was so kind as to fall into my lap!" The look he gives me filled with the sort of crazed fury I always assumed he saved specially for Chrom's family. "I'm thinking perhaps that I'll strip you naked and have you flogged to death slowly. Perhaps I'll even mount your lovely Exalt's corpse on a stake above you while I do so! What a lovely tableau that would make for the people of Plegia! The daughter of Ylisse's evil king and the Exalt's monster who haunts my people's nightmares, both reduced to corpses before my rule! Debased and ruined for all to see!"
I stare uneasily up at the King. Not exactly comfortable knowing I've pissed him off this much. For all that I try to make use of my terrible reputation these days, having a title like 'Butcher' is really so much more fucking trouble than it's worth. If I get out of this alive I'm beating the shit out of Raimi when I get back, this wouldn't have happened if she wasn't such a petty bitch.
Henry, for his part, stares blankly at Gangrel as well, only to look back at me and point to the King. "I kinda like the way this guy thinks."
"Glad to hear you've found somebody out there in this vast world you can relate to." I reply sarcastically.
"I know! It's so weird. Nya ha!" Henry grins cheerfully, before turning back to Gangrel. "I'm still not going to let you have him though."
"Is that so?" Gangrel grins savagely, whipping a long, golden, jagged blade from his waist. "How unfortunate then, that I don't take no for an answer. Soldiers! Bring me the Butcher! Alive! And if this plucky little upstart protests you have my permission to kill him."
The entrances to the courtyard begin to flood with soldiers, several dozen at least. Another dozen or so emerge from behind Gangrel, forming a wall between the King and Henry, forming a line of spears pointed at the young mage.
"Nya ha hah!" Henry smiles, completely unfazed, and while I can't see him I can easily imagine the mad look in his eye and twisted grin on his face as he raises his spellbook. "I was hoping you'd say that."
What happens next on the balcony is completely beyond me, but I do know it involves plenty of explosions, blasts of lightning, and manic laughter. The soldiers on ground look up in alarm, seeing the whole balcony filled with flames and thick clouds of smoke, then start to scatter as more fire rains down on them. Screams begin to echo as the courtyard starts to fill with flames. And damned if that isn't the last essential piece of a Henry style rampage. The screaming adds that last little missing effect that makes this all completely fucking horrifying.
The courtyard is now filled with fire, clouding the air with suffocating black smoke that blots out the sun. The only light now comes from flames, and the flashes of lightning overhead from Gangrel's sword. There is a cacophony of screams, explosions, and mad laughter echoing throughout the courtyard. And the bodies of people and pegasus are scattered everywhere, staining the sand dark with blood.
Simply put, I stand in hell.
And it is into this hell that Emmeryn awakens.
She sits up in front of me, looking around in terror and confusion. When she looks up to me I can see the beginnings of a panic attack setting in, which is frankly the only logical response. "Ben? What… what's happening? How did I…?"
"Dark magic. I'm told there shouldn't be any side effects." I reply bluntly, striding forward to the Exalt's side. "I'll spare you the details for now. Let's just focus on getting you out of here first. I need you to keep calm until then, okay?"
Emmeryn is scared, and confused, but she still sees me as a friend, and so quickly takes my hand. I pull her to her feet, and as she stands (if somewhat shakily) in front of me, I allow myself to feel the slightest bit relieved. The Exalt lives, Henry's playing his part to the letter, and the Shepherds are fleeing back to Regna Ferox. There's a lot left to do yet, but this part, the most critical and dangerous of the whole plan, has worked. I've done it.
"Ben!"
I freeze as a new voice rings out over the screams and the flames. And turn to see a light shining through the smoke.
No.
"Ben, are you there! Please, answer me!"
No, not here. Not now! I look back to Emmeryn in alarm, then look around. I have to get her out of here, quickly! This will ruin everything!
"This way!" I whirl back to stare at Emmeryn in horror, the woman calling out to the light with hope in her eyes. "We-mph!"
"Shut the fuck up! You can't let them hear you!" I hiss frantically, clamping my hand over her mouth and trying to spot a safe path out of the courtyard. Where was the exit Henry mentioned? We have to move! I can't let this fall apart here!
I'm too late. The flames part before us, driven away by the light of a glowing staff. Libra steps forward confidently, untouched by the fire, no doubt intent on rescuing me. "Ben, was that…" He freezes as he spots the two of us, my hands still gripping Emmeryn. His staff lowers. His expression melts from determination into shock. He falls to his knees at our feet. "My… my lady Emmeryn! You're alive!"
And just like that my meticulous plan, the plan I've spent months working on, the plan which could put the world at risk if it failed… falls to pieces in front of me.
Doesn't it just figure that the one thing Ben would fail to plan for is somebody giving a shit about him? For those of you confused about Ben's plan and his reaction at the end, worry not. The next chapter shall explain all! I'm curious to see how many of you have an idea as to what he intends to do...
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