A warning, before we begin: this chapter has a brief, but graphic description of a burn injury. It's only a paragraph long, so if when you get there you feel grossed out just skip a tiny bit ahead and you should hopefully be fine.
With that said, I hope you all enjoy!
Chapter 42: Ascension
The first thought that comes to my mind when being faced with an electric sword wielding madman is, of course, 'how the fuck do I get out of this one?'
The second thought is, 'I don't, I'm going to get what I deserve.'
And that is quickly followed with the thought that I am getting way too into this whole one man pity party bullshit, because that was not remotely helpful.
And during all of this my mouth is moving of its own accord, throwing out the absurdly smartass question, "Exalt who?"
"Don't play dumb with me, boy! You took the Exalt! And I want to know where!" Gangrel snarls, looming over me.
Well, this is a tricky situation. On the one hand, it's good to know I made the right call keeping Emmeryn's survival a secret. Having a madman basically throw the damn war just for the chance to hunt her down honestly feels pretty fucking vindicating in a twisted sort of way. So we're going to stay the course on that one and make sure nobody gets the idea to start seriously searching for her. On the other, if I don't tell him something I'm going to die. And despite Robin's worries I don't actually have a death wish.
And let's not forget the fact that Grima's favorite witch is in attendance, meaning the Fell Dragon is probably as interested in knowing what I've been up to as Gangrel is. Actually, of those present, Aversa is far and away the most dangerous of the lot. Death by Gangrel's Levin Sword would be a far kinder fate than anything she could come up with.
So priorities are: first, to do everything in my power to make sure present company thinks Emmeryn is properly dead. Second, to not let the Grimleal get their hands on me. And third, to not die. Or lose body parts. If I can restrict physical harm to stabbings that would be ideal. I'm practically used to being stabbed by now.
Obvious conclusion: stall. This is a battlefield, Gangrel still wants to go fight once this is over. And with the wyverns crippled from their suicide run the fastest people on the battlefield are all on my side. There's no way in hell Robin didn't notice what happened to me, not with most of Gangrel's air units moving all at once. So with luck he'll be able to send Frederick's cavalry to help me.
So with all that considered, I take a deep breath, and start gaslighting. "I didn't take shit, dude. The Exalt fell to her death. Half your fucking country saw it."
Gangrel nods thoughtfully at that. "I can't say I didn't expect that response. Really, under most circumstances I'd enjoy this. It's never any fun if the victim gives in so easily." Then he reaches out and taps my shoulder with the flat of his sword.
My mind goes white with pain, my limbs spasm, and I'm left gasping on the ground before it really registers what's happened to me. Gangrel grabs me by the hair, forcing me back to my knees. "Back with us, are you? Come now, it's hardly appropriate for one of Ylisse's vaunted Shepherds to fall so easily!"
"In my defense…" I gasp, "That sword hits way harder than that High Priest's magic did." The scandalized look Aversa gives me at that brings a grin to my face in spite of everything, "Sorry, but it's true!" Not that he ever got a chance to use his magic to do anything besides push me.
"Keep that up and I'll almost be sorry to kill you." Gangrel says thoughtfully, "Now then, shall we try this again? Where is the Exalt?"
"Left her body in the courtyard. Ask any of the men you sent to chase me, I didn't have her. Had my hands full carrying Henry."
"You're lying to me. You did something with her!" Gangrel snarls, spitting in my face as he speaks, "I've figured you out, Butcher! That brat of a Mage you were carrying around is proof enough! That whole fight in the courtyard was nothing more than a performance!"
"No, I'm pretty sure Henry was actually trying to kill you."
Gangrel backhands me, sending me sprawling. "But he wasn't actually trying to kill you." He snaps, "You were already working together then, weren't you?"
Lip's bleeding. That stings a bit. Motherfucker needs to lay off the jewellery. "Think about what you're saying, Gangrel. How could I be working with Henry before I ever met him? When would I ever have had the chance to arrange such a thing? I'll admit he didn't kill me, but that's because he's a goddamn lunatic who decided that a dude with a nickname like 'The Butcher' is the sort of person he'd love to be friends with." I chuckle mirthlessly, getting back to my hands and knees. Then I wipe the blood from my mouth and continue, "If that's the best you have, you'll have to try again. Seriously, trying to apply logic to Henry. Henry. The kid is a total mess! Do you know what he asked for as payment for saving me from your men? He asked me to kill him. Literally. Don't go using logic with Henry, Henry doesn't know what logic is."
Gangrel pauses at this. Destroyed with facts and logic. Look at me go. It's only a moment later before he doubles down, shaking his head furiously and ranting at me, "No. No, you had to have done something! I know it! You didn't run into that courtyard for nothing!"
"I mean, I tried." I shrug helplessly. "But that was more panic than anything. I had a sword and a couple of crappy spells."
"You had a dark mage."
"At the time he was preoccupied trying to kill you." I roll my eyes. "I'm sure your pet Grimleal over there could tell you much the same thing as I'm about to, stopping death is damn near impossible for even dark magic to do without extensive preparation. Preparation I didn't fucking have!"
"Not true." Aversa says, "There are countless ways you could have arranged this."
"Oh yeah? When did I arrange it then? Was it when I was hijacking sleds and killing your Grimleal? Oh, how about when I was fighting your fucking Deadlord? Tell me when I could possibly have had time to arrange this shit." I snap with false indignity. "Well? I'm waiting?"
She opens her mouth to speak, but hesitates. Of course she does. What's she going to suggest, that I know the future? That would be fucking crazy. How's anyone going to know the future? She pauses, and I pounce, "See, not even she has an answer. There is no answer! Because what you are suggesting I've done isn't fucking possible!"
"That can't be. I know you've done something! I've seen through your lies. This is just another ruse, just like your damn title!" Gangrel spits furiously.
"My title?" I raise an eyebrow. "What, you think I didn't earn the title 'Butcher'? That I'm somehow undeserving of it?" I raise myself to my feet, wobbling only slightly. The soldiers closest to me tense, ready in case I try something. No easy out there. Gotta keep stalling. Fight's getting closer, I can hear the sounds of battle growing louder in the distance. Though that might be wishful thinking.
"You're no butcher." Gangrel replies scornfully. "Just a loudmouth who knows how to work a reputation to their advantage."
"Is that what you think?" I hum thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose there's some truth to that. I certainly don't do much of what your soldiers seem to think. No eating of hearts, no bathing in blood, except for that one time in Ferox. And I certainly don't dissect my enemies. Usually. Did that to one person, a Feroxi slaver. Real sick son of a bitch."
"Did you really?" Gangrel replies dully, clearly not believing a word of it.
"No, it's true! Actually, dissection is too kind a term for what I did to that guy." I shrug, walking slowly around the circle. The chair Gangrel was sitting in seems to have been removed at some point while I was getting slapped around, so there's no potential cover there. That means my best chance is with his guards. I assess each of them out of the corner of my eye as I walk, pretending to be lost in thought, "Too clinical. It implies I took him apart piece by piece, but honestly I didn't really leave much for pieces. It was more of a mincing, really. Actually, that makes some sense! Mincing is far more of a butchery thing to do than dissection is, when you think of it!" I laugh, doing my best to keep the strain out of my voice.
"You're lying. Just using the rumors to your advantage." Gangrel says. He sounds dismissive, but I can tell from the look in his eyes he's considering my words. He's curious about me, curious to know exactly what sort of person he's dealing with.
"I'm not. I was having a very bad night, you see. Damn near delirious, bitter as hell- they'd been keeping me in a cage, you see- and just altogether at the limit of my sanity. I did everything I could to kill the men who trapped me, and paid the price for it." I gesture to my chest. "Took an arrow, right here. I'd show you the scar, but I'm pretty strapped into this armor right now. Maybe you saw it the last time we spoke? If I remember correctly I wasn't wearing a shirt at the time."
"Enough of this." Gangrel says noting, as I do, the way his soldiers are shifting uneasily.
"But we're just getting to the best part!" I give a manic grin. Only slightly faked. Don't like reliving this shit. "Because I, miraculously, survived getting shot. Don't ask me how, by all rights that should have killed me a dozen different ways at once. But I lived. And I followed the man who shot me. And I brought down my axe. Over. And over. And over. Until my blade was chipped away to a dull edge. Until I'd carved through him into the floor beneath. Until his bones were crushed. Until his blood painted every fucking surface of that fucking room. Every inch of my skin."
"Fascinating, I'm sure." Gangrel replies impatiently. "But all this tells me is that the most expedient thing to do with you is to kill you here and now."
Dust in the distance. Growing closer. "Probably." I reply, not letting my gaze linger, "Not like you were planning on doing anything different though. I just wanted to set the record straight."
"Fine, fine, you're a wonderful monster indeed." Gangrel rolls his eyes. "A wonderful monster who is completely and utterly useless to me. I'll just have to find that damn woman myself. And if I have to scour through every damn house in Dolgrim, then so be it. It will be worth it to purge that bloodline from the world once and for all."
"I think you'll find that to be not as easy as you think." I reply, glancing past Gangrel towards the battlefield. "Emmeryn may be dead, but all that really means is that her brother is very determined to kill you. I'd say he's making a good effort at it as we speak." I look back to Gangrel and smile as I say, "There's a message for you."
A soldier bursts into the circle across from me. "Your highness! The Triad is broken! Our army is besieged on all sides, and our formations are scattered! Please milord, we must retreat!"
Gangrel turns. Aversa turns. More than half of Gangrel's elite turns to face this intruder on the Mad King's private party. And as much as I want to say something sarcastic in response to that, just to add insult to injury… drawing that attention back to myself would be stupid. So instead I raise my sword, and carve through the two nearest soldiers before they realize I'm upon them. And run through the opening I've created like a maniac.
"What!?" Gangrel's voice screeches behind me, "No! After him! All of you idiots, after him! Aversa, make yourself useful and get to wiping those incompetent general's asses before everything falls apart! This bastard has made a fool of me for the last time!"
Yeah, I guess it was too much to hope that he'd cut his losses with me. Between the courtyard, the streets of Dolgrim, and now this, I think I've pissed him off a few too many times.
The bolt of lightning that flies past me seems to agree.
I deviate from my path as little as possible, knowing that any big turns I make will just give the soldiers chasing me a chance to catch up. I'm running across open plains, meaning there's nothing to stop Gangrel and his men from catching me save for the head start I managed to get. My only hope is to keep running in this direction. I'm heading west, towards the hills and trees at the base of the nearby mountains. Breaking sightlines with these people will be critical.
That's going to mean at least ten minutes of solid running. I doubt I can last that long in these conditions. But it's my only chance. There's nowhere else to go that could be safer, since heading north to the battlefield would have meant running past both Gangrel and Aversa.
Even under normal circumstances this would be a damn near impossible run to make. I'm at least as fast as any of these soldiers chasing me, but they've got archers and Gangrel firing at me, which means I can't keep ahead of them indefinitely. So this would have been a trial even if I was at my best. And I'm not at my best. My body is still aching from my little dustup with the wyverns earlier. All that's keeping me going is adrenaline; the knowledge that if I stop running, I die.
I last four minutes before the first soldier catches up to me. He throws himself at me from behind, and catches my foot for the briefest of moments. It's enough to slow me for a second or two, before I'm back to running like a madman.
At this point my mind is working overtime. I need to keep moving at all costs, focusing on the danger even as my body screams for rest. I need to listen for the telltale crackling of lightning and whistling of arrows. I need to watch for the soldiers pulling even with me, as they attempt to stop my running. Above all else I need to focus on my breathing; as it's the only thing letting me keep moving like this.
Every footfall is thunder in my head. Every slight stumble is accompanied by heart-stopping panic. Every whizzing arrow and furious bolt has me diving for safety, all the while letting the soldiers hunting me close in.
Another soldier closes in on my right side. He dives. I spin like a football player, twisting out of his grasping hands. I stomp on his head as he falls at my feet, and push on. An arrow hits me in the back, stopped by my armor but still throwing me off balance. I hit the ground on all fours and scramble forward, trying to find my footing again. Another guard throws herself at me. Hits me hard enough to send the two of us rolling. I let it happen, and flip the two of us so that I end up on top. Drive my sword under her breastplate and leave it there as I start running again. Can't afford to retrieve my weapon; I simply don't have the time.
By the time I'm back on my feet two of the guards have moved in front to cut me off. They probably expect me to pause. I run straight at them instead, pulling out my spellbook. My off hand is still injured, so I hold it against my chest with the two good fingers I have left, gesturing with my right hand as I charge. One realizes what I'm about to do, and dives out of the way. The other burns. I waste precious seconds dodging around his agonized flailing.
The next bolt of lightning hits at my heels, throwing me forward. I hit the ground hard, struggling to my feet again. I don't know where Gangrel is, I don't know how far from the forest I am, but I have to keep moving. I have to-
A weight on my back throws me back to the ground. My spellbook is ripped from my hand. They caught me. I thrash aimlessly, still too dizzy to know where to hit the bastard attempting to pin me. I look up, ears still ringing from the explosion of magical power, as another guard moves in to help hold me down. They haul me up to my knees, each twisting an arm painfully to the side until I'm unable to fight back. The other soldiers are already here. They're winded, but far less worn out than I am.
All in all, I managed to bring their numbers down by four. Out of a several dozen at least. The rest are worn, but still battle ready. And Gangrel in particular still looks fine. Barely winded. For a guy whose only hobby seems to be acting like a lunatic, he's apparently in terrific shape.
"Well, that was a merry little chase, wasn't it?" Gangrel laughs, strolling up casually, "I'll admit, I rather enjoyed myself. You make good sport, butcher." The smile slides off his face in an instant as he raises his sword. "Alas, your games are now over. You will die here. I will kill Chrom and those barbarian Khans. I will hunt down the Exalt, wherever you hid her! And I will bring all of Archanea to heel! Even Valm will tremble at the power I wield! I'll become so goddamn powerful even the Grimleal will be nothing to me!"
"You're afraid of them." I realize, staring up at him in surprise.
Gangrel freezes, staring down at me.
"Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm not judging. You'd have to be an idiot not to be afraid of them." I say, attempting to shrug despite the men holding me. "Especially with what they're planning."
Gangrel stares for a moment longer, before scowling deeply, "Nope, enough of this! You forget I know your true colors, Butcher. Your tongue is far more dangerous than any weapon you wield."
"No, I seriously-"
One of Gangrel's soldiers takes the initiative and gags me. Well… it was worth a shot.
Gangrel raises his arm, prepared to stab me with his blade. Not sure I want to know what this could do to me. A light tap was enough to drop me. If he stabs me with it… Well, there'll be burns, heart stopping power, nerve damage… take your pick.
Alright, think! There has to be something else I can do here! I can't go out like this! I can't die now! I have to make it back! Fuck those letters I left, I need to see my fucking kids again! I can… if I pull sharply enough, maybe make one of the guys holding me take the hit… I still have my throwing axes on my belt, I can try to fight my way out…
One man against forty. Probably more. Plus the King, who could probably deal with me at my best. Singlehandedly.
It doesn't look good, but maybe I can pull something off. Use the way the ground is shaking to my advantage, maybe?
…Why is the ground shaking?
As if in answer to my unspoken thought, I suddenly hear some of Gangrel's men crying out in alarm. Somebody in the distance bellows a war cry, indistinct against the thunderous sound approaching our group. A javelin comes flying in out of nowhere, pinning an unfortunate man to the ground. And then, looming over the heads of the Plegian soldiers now running about in a panic, I see them.
Frederick's cavalry.
The man sits larger than life on the back of his horse, armor gleaming silver in spite of the long battle he rides from. His spear breaks through the paltry defenses of the unprepared mob that has captured me, with Sully and Stahl at his sides. The formation cuts through the formation like a knife through butter, completely caught off guard by the sudden and furious appearance of Ylisse's famously powerful Great Knight.
Upon seeing the knight approaching, Gangrel spins back to me, intent on finishing his execution before the knights can save me. Fortunately for me his knights don't share in his dedication to my demise. One of them abandons me entirely, seeing the knights coming and getting the fuck out of the way. Smart man. The other stares like a deer caught in the headlights. And in his shock, his grip loosens.
His distraction costs him dearly. In his shocked state I find it all too easy to grab him with my now free arms and heave him into the path of Gangrel's blade. The man dies screaming, impaled on a sword that burns him from the inside with electricity. Gangrel falls back, the corpse of his knight collapsing on top of him, and narrowly avoids Sully's lance.
When I get back to my feet I see that Gangrel's knights have rallied. Frederick's wedge formation has been split in two, the knight being driven to one side, along with Stahl and half the cavalry riding with him. They break away from the group, intent on coming back around for another push before the Plegians can fall upon them.
Sully lacks her commander's cooler head. She saw me, and she saw Gangrel, and she saw nothing else. Her half of the wedge has pushed into the heart of this mob, but at great cost. For Sully and those closest behind her, there was little difficulty. The woman is a force of nature, and keeps her momentum well. Those further away from her relentless push find it hard to keep up though, and now all who have faltered in their push are swarmed like ants by the Plegian knights. Nearly a quarter of those Frederick brought are being hacked to pieces.
Sully doesn't spare them a glance; she can't afford to. The knowledge of her mistake is there in the grim set of her face, but she does not dare falter. When her group reaches me she hauls me over the saddle behind her, trusting me to hold on, and keeps pushing through without a word. The rest of her cavalry break through, though one unfortunate cavalier takes a spear to the leg. Sully gestures to those still with her, and her group moves to rejoin Frederick.
"Are you alright Ben?" Stahl calls out as we ride into earshot.
"I'll live!" I holler back, clinging to Sully's horse with everything I have.
"You did well to survive for so long!" Frederick nods approvingly, looking as relieved as I feel. "Do you have your spellbook?"
"They took it!"
"Damn!" He mutters, looking disappointed but not surprised. "So much for the easy option. Fall in everyone! Another push! With no heroics this time! Let's end this once and for all!"
He raises his spear to herald another charge, and that's when the lightning bolt hits him.
Several of the horses rear up, Sully's included, and I'm sent sprawling into the grass. By the time I've made it back onto my hands and knees the knights are roaring with fury, and I have to scramble out of the way as they charge Gangrel's men. I'm left alone with Frederick's body, smoke still rising from the scorch mark on his shoulder. His horse stands at his side, as disciplined as ever, nosing his rider forlornly.
I stagger my way over to him, checking for a pulse. When I place my fingers on his neck I don't feel anything. I adjust my hand. Still nothing. The third time I try it's more out of a sense of denial than anything else, but apparently I do something different. His heartbeat is there. It's faint, and irregular, but it's there.
"Fuck's sake, don't scare me like that." I gasp in relief, falling back into a sitting position. He's alive. Unconscious but alive. The distance probably saved him. If Gangrel had been able to fire from closer he might have hit the heart instead of the shoulder, and then I doubt Frederick would still be breathing. If we can get him to a healer quickly enough he could make it.
Whether that can happen depends on how well the rest of the cavalry do in cleaning up, though. And… it's not looking good. It's not necessarily looking bad either, mind you, but things are definitely falling apart over there. With Frederick out of the picture nearly all semblance of order has left the cavalry of Ylisse. And after everything that's happened the Plegians are no better. What should have been a simple victory for Ylisse has devolved into chaos.
The Plegian defense has broken, and now the battle has become a melee, with cavalry scattered about chasing down Plegians running around and fighting at random. Sully roars loudest of all, riding about like a maniac as she cuts down any Plegian unfortunate enough to find themselves alone. All around her the other cavalry attempt something similar, though many are not as fortunate as she is. Ylissean riders are being dragged out of their saddles, hampered by the carnage unfolding and unable to find an easy path for their horses. Some Plegians are going as far as to hang off the sides of the horses, stabbing and hacking at any flesh they can find, heedless of whether it be human or animal.
Stahl is the one beacon of organization in the madness, leading a dozen knights around the outskirts, saving whoever they can, all the while calling for order. As he works, more remember themselves and fall in, and it seems clear that he should be able to salvage things and finish the battle properly. Provided, of course, Gangrel doesn't attempt to go for the metaphorical head of the cavalry once more.
Doesn't seem likely. He's coming for me once again, after all.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you there's a difference between crazy and stupid!?" I yell furiously, hauling myself back on my feet as I see the King emerging from the melee to chase me down.
He responds by cackling wildly and gesturing for several of his knights to help chase me down. They rush towards me, far from Stahl's organized rally, trusting in the chaos of the battle to distract hostile eyes. And from where I stand it seems to be working. Terrific, we're back to square one. Now what?
Back to the previous plan, I suppose. Run like crazy. The trees aren't far now, thanks to Sully's horse carrying me much of the way during my rescue. I have a head start once again, even bigger than the last. It'll mean leaving Frederick though…
I run for it. Best hope for Frederick is if I lead them away. Trying to drag his huge body with all that armor he's wearing is completely impossible. Plus, it'll be like waving a giant banner saying 'Frederick survived the lightning bolt!' I'm the one they want, so hopefully they won't pay any mind to a fallen soldier.
My legs are burning. My shoulders now too, after the way those men wrenched them before. I imagine by this point more of my body is bruised than not. But I still run. I have to. If I stay, I will die. If I stay, Gangrel will be free to keep tearing the Ylissean cavalry apart. Seeing what happened to Frederick has made it clear just how much I've been underestimating this man. How much we all have underestimated him.
On his own Gangrel would lose to a more capable fighter, like Chrom or Lon'qu, but that sword tips the scales in a big way. Even clashing weapons with him might leave a person helpless! The only sure way to survive is to find cover. Take him by surprise. He can stop any attack one could imagine, but only if he sees them coming.
The forest is almost within reach. Gangrel's group aren't able to catch up, hindered as they are by the battle taking place around them. This time I'm going to make it! I grab my hand axes from my waist, the last weapon in my arsenal.
The crackling of electricity fills the air. He's firing at me with that damn sword again. I glance back over my shoulder. I meet Gangrel's eyes. And suddenly it's clear to me: he's going to hit me. Something about the gleam in his eyes makes it all too clear that this time he will not miss.
Time slows in my mind as I see Gangrel's sword raised, light dancing along the blade. His lips peel back in savage glee as he starts to bring it back, ready to thrust forward and blast me. My mind races. I can't stop him from here. The cavalry is too far away. I have nowhere to hide.
No time to run, no time to find cover, need to act. Need to do something. Intercept the bolt! That might work, it's the only idea I can think of. No time to think of something else either, just move!
I jump in the middle of my sprint, twisting around in midair. My arm raises, axe in hand. I bring it down swiftly, not caring about accuracy. As long as the axe is between me and Gangrel, it will serve its purpose. Gangrel move as I do, his sword coming forward at the same time my axe does.
Unfortunately, while Gangrel's blade doesn't fire true lightning, it's still incredibly fast. Fast enough to jump the distance between the Mad King and me in an instant. Fast enough that it strikes the axe before it's fully left my hand.
I thought my wooden axe handle wasn't supposed to conduct electricity well. But apparently nobody told the fucking Levin Sword that. I can barely follow what happens, since the bright light makes my vision spotty. But I can still faintly see as my axe handle glows red from the electricity running along it.
And I can sure as hell feel as it keeps going, and my arm burns.
My body explodes with pain for the briefest of instants; a single second that feel like a lifetime of burning agony. And then I am thrown back by the force, the axe exploding at my fingertips.
I fly through the air, feel my shoulder hit a tree, and keep going, spinning off to the side. I land on my hip, bounce, and spin all the way around to slide to a stop on my back. I'm aware of all of this, but feel nothing. My brain isn't registering the sensation. Never a good sign when your brain stops listening to your nerves. Means whatever damage just got dealt to me is way beyond my processing power.
I try to move. Body isn't having it. Muscles are spasming, probably from all the fucking electricity that just hit them. Have to move, try to drag myself away before Gangrel's group. But my brain can't seem to send signals too well. Body is too numb. Head is too fuzzy.
Need to move. Need to get away. I push harder, until finally my body starts moving. Grab a nearby tree, pull myself into a sitting position.
And then I look at my right arm. The arm that took the brunt of that blast.
I look at blackened skin, cracking apart. At blood oozing slowly from beneath. At burnt and exposed muscle, and the patches of bone visible where all else has been charred away. At fingers stiff and curled like a dead thing. At flesh twisted and burned all the way to my elbow, only half visible past burnt cloth and the warped metal of my armor.
I scream. And I do not stop screaming until one of Gangrel's men finds me and silences me with a hand to the throat, holding me against the tree I've been leaning against. I choke for several terrifying seconds, before his grip suddenly loosens. I gasp for breath, my mind now torn between fixating on what's happened to me, and watching the Mad King and the six knights he's brought to end this hunt.
"Do we have your attention now?" Gangrel says, voice sickly sweet. "I realize you've been through a lot today, but that's no excuse to be rude. I do so hate to be ignored!"
I say nothing, my eyes darting around the group. Can't fight like this. They've taken my other hand axe too. I'd be fighting with one hand and no weapon. Can't run, they have me by the throat. And I have no energy left. Can't hide. Can't wait, there isn't a cavalier in sight.
"Ha!" Gangrel sneers at me. "Look at him gasp! Look at him panic! The dreaded Butcher of Ylisse, reduced to a frightened animal. Is this the limit of what you can do, Butcher? Is this all that you're capable of?"
It is. I've gone well beyond my limits just trying to last this long. I don't even have the energy to bluff. And Gangrel knows this. Everyone here knows this. It's obvious.
I'm going to die here. Everything I've done, all that I've worked for, and all of my mistakes. It ends here. I'm going to die in the dirt like a dog, killed by a man who has hunted me down for my lies.
Gangrel looks in my eyes. And he senses the feeling of defeat that washes over me. Can probably recognize it in my face. "That's a good look for you, Butcher. Hmm, I'll tell you what. I'll give you one last chance. Tell me where Emmeryn is, and I'll give you a quick death. Let no one say I am without mercy!"
"Dead." I whisper without hesitation. "She's dead."
He stares at me for several long seconds. Then clicks his tongue. "Have it your way. You three, with me. The rest of you, make it slow. I'm going to go cook some horses."
He turns his back and stalks away, with three of his soldiers following closely behind. And the rest of his men grin darkly, and close in. They toss aside their weapons, and pull out knives.
"What do you think?" One of them asks. "What should we do to this bastard?"
"Skin him alive, maybe?" The one holding me by the throat asks, plucking lightly at the blackened skin on my arm. My feeble cry of pain is silenced as he squeezes my neck a little tighter. "The King gave us a good starting point, after all. Arm's practically done already!"
"Sounds good to me!" The third hisses with excitement. "Let's nail him to this fucking tree and start peeling!"
They close in. Start cutting me out of my armor. Haul me to my feet, and shove me back against the tree.
And as they close in with their knives I find my voice. Raise my head. And scream my last words into the sky.
"SEVERA! DIANA! LUMÍR! I'M SORRY!" Sorry for failing you yet again! Sorry that I couldn't be the father you deserved! Sorry I couldn't see you all one last time! So many regrets, too many for a single desperate scream to convey. Too many things to be left unsaid, and the letters I left could never be long enough.
I'd give anything to see you all one last time.
One of the men punches me in the jaw. "Oi, enough of that shouting you bastard!"
"Who do you suppose he's yelling for? Kids maybe?"
"You kidding? Who the fuck would have kids with a guy known for hacking people to bits?"
"Who gives a damn who he's yelling for? All that matters is-" The man speaking cuts off suddenly, tilting his head. "Hold on. You hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"I didn't hear anything."
"Shut up for a second. I thought I heard…" His eyes widen. "You kidding me?"
And then I hear it too.
The shrieking of a Griffon.
And a voice on the wind, growing louder by the second.
"saaaaaaaaaaaCREEEEEEEEEEEED-"
A flash of gold bursts through the tree branches overhead, slamming into one of the soldiers like a thunderbolt from heaven. The man doesn't even have the time to look shocked, crushed into the dirt and impaled by a silvery blade, he dies before he knows he's been hit. The attacker sends the unlucky man skidding away, riding the body as it slides away from the other soldiers, and concluding the announcement of his arrival with a voice that booms like thunder.
"STONES!"
The other soldiers stare in shock, as the man rises from the body of their companion, shrouded in the cloud of dust that burst forth from the force of his impact. His sword cuts through the air, waving the cloud aside, and revealing a young man, dressed in golden robes to match his bright hair, wielding a wickedly sharp blade of Chon'sin make.
"Step away from my uncle, Plegians! Your acts of evil end here and now!" The man, who can only be Owain, proclaims triumphantly, a confident grin on his face.
The remaining Plegians stare blankly at the newcomer. Look to each other. And rush for their weapons as one.
"Very well then!" Owain says, still grinning. "Have at you!"
In the time he spends posturing, the other two retrieve their weapons, a sword and a spear, and close in, and he starts fending the two off. I'm left to slump against the tree, nursing my ruined arm.
The Griffon screams again overhead, visible only as a shadow against the leaves. And I hear another voice calling for me, "Ben!" And several seconds later, they call again, "Dad!"
It's Diana. I shake with sobs as I answer her, "I'm here! I'm alive!"
"I grow tired of these constant interruptions!" Gangrel's voice suddenly cries out. I look over, past the trees to see the Mad King raise his sword again, storming back towards us with his men in tow. "I'll see you die for your heroics you stupid girl!"
A bolt of lightning arcs over the treetops above me. King screams, either in pain or rage or defiance. Diana yells as well, though her cry is dwarfed in volume by that of her mount.
And I hear the sound of something large and heavy come crashing through the treetops. For the briefest of moments I think I'm about to see King fall dead at my feet, Diana with him. And something does fall in front of me. But it isn't a Griffon, or my daughter.
It's an axe. Though that hardly does the weapon justice. It's thick, decorated with gold, and bears a massive ruby in its bladed pommel. The handle is modelled like the pillar of a great building, and looks as though it was crafted for giant hands, not due to its size but due to sheer presence. Everything about it screams 'legendary weapon'. A final gift from Diana before King made his escape (and he did escape, my mind accepts no alternative).
"An axe." Gangrel says drily. "Personally, I would have preferred an elixir were I in your situation. But I suppose children are hardly known for good sense." He turns to one of his men, "Kill him. Quickly now, before yet another rat pops up to play hero. I'll handle the boy playing make believe."
The man doesn't waste time. He spares only the briefest of nervous glances to the fallen axe, before drawing his sword and running at me. Owain shouts in alarm, but is outnumbered five to one. He can do nothing to help me.
This should be the end for me. My arm is still fucked. My body is still battered and exhausted. I'm still shuddering from the electricity that's been pumped into me.
But as the soldier rushes at me, ready to deliver the final blow, I smile. Seeing Owain come flying in to the rescue, hearing Diana do everything she can to help me, makes me feel whole.
My kids came back for me. My family is here.
And suddenly I feel stronger than I've felt in weeks.
I rise to my feet. I walk forward. I grip the handle of Diana's gift to me.
-The doctor's dead eyes-
-Ezra's piteous screaming-
-"I'm sorry I'm late, please don't die!"-
It won't stop me. Not this time.
I will never let that night hold me back again.
I cast the memories aside.
And I bring up my axe.
The soldier, who was moments away from striking me, is cleaved through the middle, bottom to top, and falls in pieces on either side of me.
And as I stand there, holding the axe my daughter risked her life to give me, as I charge the men cornering Owain, I feel strong.
I let that strength fill me, and I bellow out in defiance of this King and his indiscriminate cruelty.
The men turn to me, surprised. And another is cleaved in two.
And I feel reinvigorated further.
My pain begins to fade.
And I watch, in awe, as the ruined flesh of my arm knits itself back together.
A power from the games. One I recognize well. The name emerges from my lips as a whisper, unbidden.
"Sol…"
Gangrel watches as my wounds heal, looking vaguely horrified. And gestures the rest of his men towards me. "Stall the monster while I finish the boy."
"You'll not find me so easily slain, evildoer!" Owain yells defiantly, darting towards the King.
"If I had a gold piece for every would-be hero I've ended I could buy a second palace!" Gangrel scoffs, lashing out with a flurry of blows that drives the boy away.
And then the remaining three are upon me, and I'm forced to look away from the battle. My mind jumps to the last time this happened. A child, far too young for battle yet risking their life against a monster anyways, while I struggle to catch up. I remember how that ended, with Severa's body cradled in my arms, nearly dead.
"Not this time." I snarl, rushing the soldiers.
The spear user thrusts towards me. I twist out of the way, and am forced to dodge back as a sword flies at my face. I backpedal quickly as the swordsman follows up, swinging for my belly. Once he overextends I raise my axe again, but the other swordsman closes in, making it impossible to properly swing in time. And that's when I note that the bladed pommel of this axe is every bit as sharp as its head. Jabbing with the pommel proves far faster than swinging the whole axe, and the first swordsman falls as the blade meets his throat.
That feeling of strength fills me once more, and my right arm, only recently ruined, regains the strength needed for it to grip the axe handle as well. I swing at the second swordsman with all my strength, and he raises his sword to block, bracing the blade with his other hand. He's gravely misjudged the weight of my new weapon though, and the strength in my freshly healed arms. The sword folds, and my strike continues with enough force to break his neck.
The spear user attempts to gore me one last time, screaming desperately as he runs towards me. The last opponent between me and Gangrel. I raise my leg into the air as he comes and stomp the spear point into the dirt. And in his fear, the man fumbles, and lets the rest of the spear follow. The flat of my axe sends him sprawling unconscious into the dirt.
Three men. Defeated or dead in seconds. And it was my axe that did it to them. I look down at the men I cut down and breathe.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
And I'm whole. My stomach does not roil, my hands do not tremble. My mind and heart are uneasy, but hold strong regardless.
These men could not stop me from going to Owain's aid. And my weakness can no longer stop me either.
I move forward.
Gangrel stands strong as I approach him. But to Owain's credit, the Mad King is no longer unscathed. He now has a sizeable collection of minor cuts and scrapes along his sides and arms from where Owain has struck. The boy has suffered for it though. He's fast enough to reach the King, but not so fast that Gangrel can't block the blows. And as I feared, even such minor contact has accumulated rapidly. Owain tries to hold strong, but his body trembles from the electricity that's coursed through him every time his blade clashes with the Levin Sword. He won't last much longer.
But he doesn't have to. I'm here now.
"Less a monster, and more a six foot tall cockroach." Gangrel snarls as I approach. "I will relish crushing you beneath my boot."
"You've had your chance." I reply coolly. "This time it's my turn."
"You talk too much." He says, sending a bolt of lightning flying at me. I recognize the motion in time to dive out of the line of fire, but the weight of my new axe slows me more than I expected, making it a close call. And when his blast hits the tree behind me, I'm still close enough to the point of impact that the explosion sends me tumbling.
Unlike all the falls I've taken before though, this time I come out of the roll on my feet. No electrocution this time. No broken fingers.
Wait.
When did my fingers stop being broken?
The moment's distraction that thought inflicts on me proves costly, as Gangrel follows up with another blast of lightning. It is only through Owain's intervention that my life is spared, the boy rushing in to deflect Gangrel's Levin Sword before it can fire. As he staggers from the electric shock Gangrel turns on him, whirling in a vicious kick that hits the boy in the ribs and sends him crashing to the ground.
I rush Gangrel once more, cursing my stupidity. My sudden upgrade clearly has me acting stupid. Overconfident. Another mistake like that could cost Owain far more than some cracked ribs. "I thought I told you it was my turn, Gangrel!" I roar, making a whirling leap that brings my axe crashing into him.
Unlike his soldiers, Gangrel has the good sense to deflect my blow rather than attempt to block. But the impact leaves his arms trembling nearly as much as the electricity leaves mine. As Gangrel staggers back, I feel a faint thrum of warmth run through my arms. Not as much as before, but it soothes the numbness of the electricity at least a little.
"Do you really think this will be enough?" Gangrel hisses as he deflects another of my blows. "A shiny new toy and a bit of magic and you think you can beat me? I am not a foe you can best with luck and a bit of determination, Butcher! I've survived far worse than an actor with an axe! You Shepherds are nothing but children playing at war, the lot of you! Your first taste of loss and you've let it consume all of you! Not a one of you has suffered like Plegia suffered!"
"And so you come as an equalizer, is that it?" I snarl at him, stepping back for a moment to recover from the constant shocks. "Don't kid yourself Gangrel, you don't give a shit about anything but your own spiteful grievances!"
"Call it whatever you want, but the truth remains the same! Ylisse has had it easy! And I'm going to put a stop to that!" He darts forward once again, swinging his blade for my neck. I step back, ready to push the blade aside.
It's the wrong move.
He catches me just as I start to move, my attempt to brace myself working against me. And as our weapons clash, his blade lights up. Most of the electricity is fired straight up in the air, but it still means more than usual running through our weapons. And when I attempt to push his blade aside, I find myself unable to. The jagged blade of the Levin Sword, thought by me to be impractical ornamentation, turns out to have a sinister function: my weapon is caught in the bend of his weapon. My choices at this point are to lose my weapon, lose my life, or somehow break out of blade lock while being electrocuted.
I try to push him aside, but he's stronger than he looks, and my tortured muscles can't seem to muster the strength. I try to create distance, but he follows my every step with ease. It occurs to me that I am far from the first person he has killed in such a manner. His way of following me is too practised, his grin too triumphant. This dance will continue until I am dead.
I push back despite knowing this. Holding on with everything my tortured muscles can muster. Doing my best to think of a way out. A way to wipe the leering smile from Gangrel's face.
That face is going to be the last thing I see. Toothy, twisted, flickering with the light dancing across his fucking bullshit overpowered sword. I'm going to die looking into this fucker's beaming grin as he electrocutes me to death. I can't get away. I can hardly think through the pain! He has me, the bastard has me!
And then his face goes slack with shock.
His sword stops frying me.
And our weapons part.
I fall back, my new axe falling from numb fingers, and scramble backwards on all fours, unsure of what's happening. It takes me far longer than it should to notice what's happened to stop Gangrel's assault: Owain's sword, erupted from his chest.
Gangrel stares down at the blade, eyes wide with horror. Then, as the weapon is pulled slowly back, he claws weakly at the wound, body contorted with pain. He looks up at me. Then back to Owain. And falls.
Owain stares blankly down at the body for a moment. He grabs a rag, wipes his blade clean, and sheathes it. Then without hesitation, draws out and unfolds a trenching shovel and slams it into the back of Gangrel's neck.
"Whoa!" I blink in surprise as Owain moves on to the nearest body and repeats the process. "What are you doing?"
Owain looks up at me, expression still weirdly blank. Then looks back down at the body of the soldier he just stabbed. There's a long pause as he seems to process my question, and then he suddenly flinches. "Ah! I'm sorry, I just... lost myself for a moment there. We always used to have to do this so they wouldn't come back."
It takes me a moment to realize what he's talking about. Risen. He grew up in a world where the dead came back to life. "You had to do this when you were growing up?"
"I wanted to do this." Owain says quietly. "We used to beg you as children to let us do this much. Anything to help. It took years of arguing to wear you down. But, I suppose there's no need for it right now!"
He chuckles in a way that sounds a little too light to be believable. I elect to ignore that though, letting him act how he wishes. "Yeah. Yeah, I think we've both earned a break from stabbing things for the moment. Living or otherwise."
"Right." Owain replies, looking relieved. That relief seems to buoy him up again, and he gives me a far more honest smile. "Right! Our job here is done! We've defeated the evil, and saved the day! Conquering heroes, enders of the Evil King's reign of- of evil! Never again shall this dastard threaten the lives of innocent people! Never again shall his cruel tongue bring pain to the people of Archanea!"
"Yeah." I nod, staring at Gangrel's body lying face down in the dirt. My stomach curls unpleasantly as Owain's words wash over me. He can't hurt anyone. He can't speak. He's dead, and by now so are his men, if Sully's earlier work is any indication. And without Gangrel's obsessive mania to fuel things, the theory that I've managed to save Emmeryn should die out.
My secret is safe.
Why doesn't that feel like a good thing?
A couple of big powerups for Ben that I have been waiting a very long time to get to. He's got a bit less PTSD, he's got his shiny new weapon (bonus points to anyone who can identify it, by the way), he's got a game skill that doesn't involve him acting like an asshole/lunatic, and he's even got the Mikiri Counter!
...I recognize that isn't super practical, I just really wanted to write him stomping on a spear, okay?
Next chapter, the war draws to a close. And things go back to... normal? Well, as close as they can get after everything Ben's done.
Won't be nearly as close as Ben would like.
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