-Battlefield-
Walhart's taunt echoed in the air around him.
No. Nononononono. Robin moved almost on instinct, withdrawing the blades in a spray of red blood, swirling them around and thrusting them up to cut Walhart's face. There was a horrible klang as the Wolf Berg intercepted his weapons. Robin looked up to see Walhart's grinning face, then he felt a horrible pain in his stomach as he was launched airborne from a powerful kick.
He tried summoning wind magic, but his body wouldn't listen. Robin crashed into the ground at least thirty feet away, feeling his body crumple. There were cracks as well, some of his ribs were broken. Robin reached into his cloak, only to feel dampness and a sting as his fingers encountered crushed glass. My elixir is gone… not good.
"You disappoint me, tactician." Walhart was slowly walking towards him. The two wounds in his stomach were bleeding, but Robin hadn't gotten high enough for lethal wounds, and had dealt gut wounds instead. The third wound, where his heart was supposed to be was bleeding as well, though Walhart seemed to ignore the fact that it should have killed him. There was blood over his eyes from the Levin sword cut as well, but Walhart kept coming, a demon straight from the depths of hell, with his blood red axe slung over his shoulder. "You've added to my collection of scars, but I didn't feel remotely in danger during that attack of yours. Was that really all you had?"
"What in the name of all that is holy are you?" Robin stared. Ordinarily, I would have laughed this possibility off, but given his appearance, his eyes, and the fact that he DOESN'T SEEM TO DIE… "Are you the devil?"
"HA! Still amusing to your last? A devil?" Walhart said. "That's what they say about you as well, tactician! Are you forgetting that? I am not just a man but rest assured that I'm as much a mortal as you are. Well. Maybe not as much."
Tell me something I don't know. "How are you doing that?"
"Foolish tactician." Walhart smiled. "You possess the power of Ignis. Did it not once occur to you that I may possess such a similar power, inherited from the bloodline of Alm? Mine is called Conquest."
"So that was my mistake?" Robin winced. "That's why I didn't win?"
"No. It was your hubris. You truly think I'd fall to inferiors?" Walhart asked. "You aren't the first to try using an army to kill me, or a clever trick. I do not tire, do not grow weak, and I do not fall."
He should be dead right now. He should be dead. What does Conquest do? Is this berserker rage, or is he just that strong? He may die from his wounds if I warp away now, or he may not. Fortunately, he's still bleeding. That means he can't regenerate his flesh. If I manage to destroy enough of it, living or not, he'll still be dead. Robin internally swallowed. Unfortunately, that particular plan needs a bit of a … sacrifice.
"I understand." Robin said, lying. He'd lost grip on his sword, which was a dozen feet away. He stabbed his spear, which he thankfully still had, into the ground and thrust himself up. He checked his right and left gloves. They still had few charges in them, a page of Elfire and a Rexcaliber respectively. "So I suppose this is it. A simple fight to the death."
"As I prefer it!" Walhart swung his massive axe around and set in on his shoulder with one hand. He curled his fingers in the other hand in the universal 'Bring It!' gesture. Robin swung the spear around and set in a two-handed thrust. He coughed once as his lungs gave him trouble, then focused his Ignis through himself to use magic to bolster his failing physique.
"Ready when you are." Robin lied.
"Then have at thee!"
Let's use this trick up! Robin dropped low, ducking a horizontal slash and followed up with a vertical slash of his own, two-handed. Walhart whacked the spear away. Robin let go with the spear with his left hand, spinning it around and spun, slamming his left hand on Walhart's gauntlet. Walhart seized the opportunity to try to behead him with a single-handed chop, but Robin was first. "ELFIRE!"
Fire blasted into existence, engulfing the Conqueror in a conflagration. A half-second later, an axe swept through it, followed by a Conqueror looking no worse for wear. Robin got to his feet, twenty feet away. Didn't expect a tome that weak to actually do damage him. But looks like the propulsion let me get away fast enough. Got a few more charges.
"Interesting. So you wear spellbook gloves." Walhart said. "I remember fighting one like that in the second year of my conquest. Quite a capable axe fighter. He still fell by my hand."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Robin and Walhart met in a charge, trading blows. Robin's speed was greater than Walhart's, but Walhart's heavy axe smashed his blow out of the way. Walhart's injury seem to give him no pause, whereas Robin's breathing came shallow, even using Ignis. The chest wound was slowing him down. Robin has sought to fight Walhart at his weakest, and then wear him down. But now the reverse was happening. Every injury made Robin weaker, but even though he managed to score a few more cuts on Walhart, none of them gave him any pause.
This is why a tactician always seeks to turn your opponent's strength into a weakness – because then they lose access to that strength! Robin swallowed. And my strength was supposed to be the fact that I was fresh, whereas he was tired.
"Ah, this is it! This is it, tactician! I knew that you were interesting, and I do not regret any decision on my part, any at all!" Walhart howled as he drove Robin back, blow by desperate blow. "A fight with everything at stake, between two warriors, with the only cost of failure as death! That's what the strong seek, and you've given it to me! I shall enjoy seeing as the hope finally drain from your eyes!"
Robin had no reply, fighting for his life. The Valmese tactician used every spear trick and skill he had, taking advantage of his longer reach and the agility and speed that came with his lighter armor. He avoiding exchanging blows and kept to rapid thrusts, hoping to eventually kill Walhart with the death of a thousand cuts, but to no avail against the Conqueror's armor. He came close to dying several times, but his Elfire trick managed to get him clear.
However, in the end, it was something he saw coming with his eyes, but never predicted coming. A low sweep had forced him to respond, so Robin leapt, swinging his spear down in a vertical slash. Walhart deflected in to the side using his left hand, grabbing the tactician's shoulder and yanking him in. Then the Conqueror lowered his head for a headbutt.
Robin had an instant to realize what would happen and tried jerking his head to the left. He managed to clear one of the Conqueror's horns. Then the other sank into his right eye, stabbing through it. "AAAAAAAAAAHH!" Robin cried out. He felt his feet hit the ground and tried to get his bearing as his left eye sent him a blurry image overlaid with red and his right eye's socket sent him pain. Robin leapt back on instinct, getting ready to use Elfire, but not in time. He caught a red moving shape before something hit him in the chest, slashing clean through his armor, ripping a gash opposite the one he already had from Cherche.
Didn't die from that one. Guess I'll die from this one. He didn't fly through the air from the blow. Didn't move. He just dropped, with a red line across his chest, one of his eyes red, and all his energy completely drained, his hand still on his spear.
"Ultimately, tactician, it seems that you were not strong enough. Perhaps you were too sure of your abilities, perhaps you had no on you could trust to help you in this fight. Perhaps you couldn't muster up bandits enough to kill me, or perhaps you didn't inspire enough hatred in your enemies." Walhart mused over the tactician's defeated body. "Or perhaps your strength could never defeat mine in the first place. In any event, I have won and you have lost. This was a good fight, tactician, and I am now more sure of myself than before."
Walhart closed his eyes and inclined his head to his defeated opponent. He turned off and started walking back to the city. He had gotten less than fifty feet when a brilliant flare lit up behind him. Walhart turned to look around to see that Robin had gotten up. The tactician was standing hunched, with his right hand clutching his planted spear, lit up with an almost ghostly purple flame. The man's eyes were still closed, almost as if it were just his body responding, and not his mind.
-The Great Mila Tree (Valm Encampment)-
Lucina pierced the rapier clean through Cervantes's shield, his forearm behind it and severed clean through the tendons in his left arm. His Pavise skill was countered easily by her superior Aether skill. She raised her left arm, catching the tomahawk blow on her butterfly-like buckler and going limp, letting herself get thrown clear.
Owain was by her in a flash, helping her to her feet while Sevara leapt forward, eyeing Cervantes but the Valmese general hung back, trying to use his left arm. Lucina took Owain's hand and the myrmidon quickly checked her left arm.
"Arm alright, cuz?"
"I think so." Lucina shook her arm once, letting the energy Aether stole enter her arm and speed up the healing. "Better than his, anyway."
"Ylissean … bastards…" Cervantes grunted. He had changed his stance, now fully aware that his left arm wasn't going to work. The technique was figured out by Robin but perfected by her father and taught to her. It was how Chrom and Robin killed Cervantes from her time. "Why are you here?"
"I'll assume you mean that as an insult, so I'll take that as a compliment." Lucina walked forward, Sevara taking a tandem formation with her. "And we're here to kill you. I'd say it's nothing personal, seeing as you've never met me, but I hate Valm. Personally."
"Amen to that." Sevara muttered to herself as Owain cheered "Die, fiends!"
"But you have no problem working for Robin."
"He's a lot less evil than you." Lucina said. "Heart is in the right place. Or will be."
"Slim chance of that." Cervantes scowled. "Don't you see he's using you? Robin is the Fellblood. He'll dooms us all."
"Really?" Lucina blinked. "The Fellblood, you say?"
"Yes." Cervantes said, desperately. "You have to listen to me! The Fellblood is-"
"An ancient grim evil, the scion of Grima himself, sent down to this world to become one with the Fell Dragon and bring ruin to all the lands." Owain sighed, finishing the sentence. "It's an archenemy that only the most legendary and oft-sung heroes have the fortune to possess."
"Unfortunately, much as I hate to say it, even though that insufferable know-it-all is the Fellblood, that doesn't actually make him evil." Sevara said. "He's not trying to become Grima, and we already know about that. Lucy spilled the beans when she had us try killing him. So there's no point of trying to tell of that."
Lucina barely heard any of this. Her blood had started boiling once Cervantes told her that Robin was the Fellblood. "You knew. Walhart knew about the Fellblood ritual, and you knew Robin was a Fellblood. What were you thinking? Why wouldn't you tell Chrom that!? What kind of idiot are you? The fate of the world is at stake, and all your stupid leader could think of was how to take control?"
"Lucina, calm down." Sevara said. "We knew how evil Walhart was already."
"My world was destroyed by fools like you." Lucina drew Falchion and pointed in at Cervantes. Blue flame lit to life once more around her. "I know fate can be changed. Robin's proved it. It just looks like a few major changes are needed."
"You … know … too?" Cervantes grit his teeth. "In the Conqueror's name, who are you people?"
"I suppose there's not much of a point in hiding it if we're just going to run our mouths. Sevara the Shieldmaiden." Sevara sighed, taking off her mask. "Though you'd know me as the Genius's Daughter in about fifteen years. Not that you would know that as you'd be dead."
"Owain Dark!" Owain said. "A chosen warrior, blessed by noble blood and ancient Chon'sin samurai, destined to restore the future to the way it should be!"
"My name is Lucina Lazuli Lowell." Lucina withdrew her rapier and pulled it back. "And my job is to make sure that screw-ups like you and Walhart won't mess it up this time."
Cervantes hurled his tomahawk as Lucina charged forward. Sevara leapt ahead, light and fast on her feet, and swatted the axe out of midair. Owain flashed forward as Cervantes went to block Lucina's rapier, using an iaijutsu draw to bat Cervantes hand away. The way clear, Lucina's thin Aether-driven rapier cut clean through Cervantes neck. Cervantes choked once on it as his airway was blocked. Then Lucina shifted her grip and swung the blade sideways.
"Poor bastard never stood a chance." Sevara said, going for the lantern on the desk. "But we've got no reason to fight fair."
"He was a worthy foe." Owain sheathed his blade. "Now what?"
"This." Lucina withdrew a pair of red tomes and placed them on top of the desk.
"We destroy the evidence." Sevara glared at him as she smashed the lantern on the desk. "Blockhead."
"But I thought we wanted everyone to know he was assassinated."
"They will." Lucina said. "Robin was worried he might have some kind of concealed letter or document. He said destroying the room would be a good way to put us ahead for a while."
"I see." Owain blinked. "Wait. The room's on fire! Shouldn't we …" Owain turned around to see that both girls were standing at the door, waiting for him. "Right. Following you."
-?-
Die. It's the easiest path.
Robin lay in a lake of pain, just barely on the edge of the living. He wasn't as far gone as he was when Cherche had hit him, he must have gotten out of the way in time to avoid the worse of the blow. Now he'd have a massive X-scar on his chest, assuming it wasn't fatal.
He wasn't kidding anyone. Of course it was fatal. But Robin was pretty sure it was the kind of wound that killed you slowly, leaving him to die of the course of a few hours. Which meant that if he felt like it, he could get back up for a few minutes, and use his powers.
The question was, did he want to? Letting the pain pull him down to the other side was the easiest path right now. He'd made a good try, possibly even a great one, but the enemy he was fighting was just one that couldn't be beaten with his normal methods. And even if he won, there'd be hell to pay on the road to eventual victory and control of both continents.
Die. It's the easiest path.
SHUT UP! Robin felt the spear in his right hand and let the pain enter him. "Sure, I could die now. But that isn't how a tactician works. We fight to win. Guess I'm no different from Walhart in that sense. But I do have a reason beyond sampling winning. I'll retreat if that gives me better odds of winning, and I won't waste resources on fruitless endeavors."
But you can't win. Retreat, then.
"Retreat." Robin clenched his teeth. This would be the flight part of his fight-or-flight response, then. "Retreat!?"
You can get up. Use magic to teleport back to Aversa, and she'll take care of you. You've got a safe house to recover in that you could tell her about.
"That … is a good idea." Robin admitted. "I'd probably survive. I might even be able to retain my status as Battlemaster, if Walhart's willing to keep me. Man's done stranger things. I even if I lose, I'm sure Chrom would be eager enough to take me as a defector, what with my knowledge and connection."
Run to Ylisse! You don't stand a chance.
Robin entertained the idea. It … it was glorious. He might get out of the skullduggery, he'd be friends with his leader instead of trying to assassinate him, and Valm was hard. They didn't like him, kept trying to assassinate him, and most of the leaders were corrupt, incompetent, or just bloodthirsty. And he felt a kinship to Ylisse. To its leader, Chrom. Something tugged at him. An … invisible thread. Robin put no stock in such things, yet he felt it, clear as day. It was like the bond Aversa had told him about. Why would he have that with the Ylissean Exalt? And yet for all his curiosity, he did have it and he didn't feel the slightest bit of concern.
It wouldn't be so bad. He could get there with Lucina's group. They'd vouch for him.
Do it! There's no shame in retreating.
"And sacrifice my chance at victory?" Robin grunted. "If all I wanted was victory, that makes me no better than Walhart. I said, I'm better because of my reason. And if I run now, I abandon that reason. The fact is. Now is the best chance I'll get to achieve that. Walhart's death will let me rule the Empire. Sometimes, the most important part of being a tactician is knowing that there are risks you just have to take. And there's only one path to take right now-"
KILL HIM.
"Showing up late, eh?" Robin chuckled at his inner fight. The pleading voice of the flight was gone now that he'd decided to switch side. "But I'll need you, alright? This isn't the kind of thing that can be done by logic and intelligence alone."
WALHART WILL DIE BY OUR HAND. WE STILL DRAW BREATH.
"That's right, little buddy. Still alive. And that means we've still got one last trick. After all. What kind of tacticians set a trap but never springs it?" Robin clenched his fist. Ignis lit up within him. Robin howled as the energy ran in his body, artificially propping up and enabling his systems to let him fight again as his magic overran and took control of his body. "It's time…"
-Battlefield-
"…time to tip the scales!" With an audible snap, Robin's eye whipped open, revealing a pale gray orb lit by fire. Keeping his right hand on his spear to prop him up, he lit up his left hand with fire and spread it across the cut on his chest to sear the wound shut. "I think that's far enough, Conqueror. It'll look like you're running away from me. And we can't have that, can we?"
"You're still alive?" Walhart stared at him. Robin smiled at him, a grim one, and focused the flame into his two fingers, and jammed it into his eye socket to cauterize that wound as well, uttering not a single cry. Walhart blinked. "Your pain tolerance is more impressive than I gave you credit for."
"It's not tolerance, Conqueror. And don't act surprise – you've also shrugged off a mortal wound this fight. Of course, I'm probably going to die from this, unlike you." Robin said. Not to mention it took a lot training to use this particular brand of dark magic. And forcing myself to come back to even try this. But I'm not admitting that to you. "What I'm using right now is something a bit stronger than willpower. Though I'll admit that it was touch and go for a few seconds. I really didn't want to come back, but it turns out I hate leaving things unfinished even more. And I. Hate. Losing."
Robin saw Walhart noticed the purple haze forming around the spear as Robin's pain went into it. "That technique…" Walhart said. "What is it? What are you doing?"
"Something beyond your conception." Robin said.
"Impossible."
"Of course you would say that. You made a mistake, Conqueror. You left me alive." Robin said. "You should have finished me off after that mortal wound. One swipe of the axe and my head's clean off my shoulders. And you didn't, so now you get to pay the price."
"I wanted to see if you would get back up."
"This. This right here is why I'm killing you." Purple flames lit up around the one-eyed tactician. "You wanted to see if I could win, didn't you? You don't care about my death, just my loss. I planned for that! I counted on it! Came a bit closer than I would have liked to, but that's just the risk. It's my final trump card!"
"You can't kill me, tactician." Walhart howled, gripping his axe with two hands. "I AM INEXORABLE!"
"Repeating that won't make it true!" Robin howled back. "You've lost because you refuse to acknowledge your own limits! You're not inexorable! You're not immortal! You're not even that good of a Conqueror! All you do is win, but you've got no idea what to do once you've done that."
"Jealousy does not become you, tactician!"
"I seek not to right a wrong, nor do I ask for justice. I seek instead even payment, an eye exchanged for an eye." The dark magic of Vengeance activated as Robin poured the pain into the spear, activating Ignis alongside it and the magic Rexcaliber glove he was wearing. The magic poured together, fusing dark, anima, and physical might. Robin set his feet, aiming the blast with his left eye by setting his shoulders in a line. That wasn't how you were supposed to throw spears. But now this wasn't an ordinary spear. "You said a fight between equals, Walhart. But we aren't equals. On my best day and your worse, I would still lose. I knew that coming into the fight. So, I decided on an insurance. One that would take my own weakness and turn it into an advantage!"
"You still seek to win!?" Walhart set his feet and drew back his axe to throw it. "Impressive, but even dark magic won't close this gap!"
"Close the gap? Please. I've no intention of merely doing that." Robin withdrew a red tome from his coat and threw it in front of him, the tome levitating before his eyes and opening itself up, the pages flipping. Arcane symbols lit up. "The pact unbidden, chains unforged, summons forgone, I command the magic pure! I cast thee, FLARE!"
Force exploded outwards, a side effect of the spell as Robin wrestled the energy into the building spear. The air almost ignited around him, and the ground caught fire. Robin grit his teeth and use every inch of his will to force the power to heel. Red spiraled outwards, mixing with the spear. Robin's eye lit up red. Energy in Robin's right hand grew, forming a bolt of raw power out of a mixture of steel, wind magic, fire magic, dark magic, and pain that would have seemed out of place in any other duel between mortals. Dark shadow wings crackled around it, twin red orbs lit up in front of it and the point sharpened to look like a beak. The air crackled as Robin aimed the jagged spear at his enemy. "What was asked is given, the price is paid. Nothing in this world can come without a cost. I don't know what you gave for that strength of yours, but I know what I'll give to end it. Forbidden Lance of the Ravens: ASHANDERI!"
The spear was launched like a bolt of lightning, flying straight and true, powered by the force of a hurricane. Walhart moved to avoid it but was too slow. The weapon moved far faster than a spear had ever moved before and impaled the Conqueror directly in his chest. The unstable magic forming it detonated as the spear itself was propelled through by the force of a hurricane. A conflagration of dark flames lit up around Walhart and Robin saw darkness flare from the impact, draining all the light around them. He caught a brief glimpse as Walhart tried to yell something at him. Then the shockwave detonated.
Robin braced himself as best he could, firing the remaining magic left in his gloves against the blast, still feeling the magical energy blast pass over him. He managed to keep upright, but clearly saw himself get driven nearly a dozen feet backwards, tearing a furrow in ground as light returned. The blast finally subsided, and it took almost a minute for the dust to settle and Robin to see what he had wrought. The Conqueror was no more. A hole the size of a large shield had been blasted through his chest, his armor was fused together from the intense heat, and his face was a charred wreck of ash. The large axe, Wolf Berg, lay embedded in the ground beside him, scoured clean.
One last step. Robin snapped his fingers, calling forth magic to use wind and fire to clear and then scour a large dark magic looking hexagram around Walhart, with all the spots scorched beyond recognition. To create a phantom enemy to kill Walhart was tempting, to be sure, but that would drive people into panic. So the Grimleal's dark magic would take the blame, making it look like a massive grotesque ritual that they had to lure Walhart into.
Robin then summoned the last of his magic reserves to conjure a portal.
-Valm Countryside-
"Robin!" Aversa was waiting for him, amidst the corpses of their guards. She caught him as he collapsed. "What happened to you?"
"I knew there'd be a sacrifice for victory, but I didn't know what it would be." Robin coughed blood, staining her cloak. Huh. Guess I missed some internal wounds. Or that could just be from my broken ribs. "I didn't know it would have this high of a cost."
"You're missing parts of everything." Aversa grimaced and fished inside her robes. "I've seen prettier corpses, to be honest. How are you even conscious?"
"Dark magic stripped the pain for a while. You know the spell." Robin grunted. "By the way, now would be the best time to kill me, if you were ever going to. If not, I need medical help. A lot of it. Ignis can keep my soul going, but my body is going to fall apart on me."
"I said I wasn't going to kill you!" Aversa whistled, calling for her pegasus. Before Robin could respond to that, Aversa jammed a blue-tinted bottle into his mouth. Robin couldn't resist, letting the elixir enter his system. He didn't feel the normal warmth he got from drinking it. Probably vengeance. Robin shut it off and hissed as his body told him exactly what it thought of him. He tried moving, but Aversa held him firm and removed the bottle once he finished. "Don't worry, Robin. My pegasus mare is trained to follow me, and she'll be here soon. I'll get you moved to the castle as fast as possible."
"Thanks." Robin felt energy leave him as his body started shutting down. "I'm … going to pass out … for a bit … assuming I don't … die. Don't let me … sleep, too long. You need me to be awake. I've left … Pheros … assuming ... alive. .. but I'd rather … do it … myse… lf."
Then the world went mercifully black.
A/N: Ignis Spectrum: A skill obtained exclusively by the Battlemaster class. This is a passive ability that drastically increases the effectiveness of any skill used. This skill cannot be obtained by one who has the Grandmaster skill 'Rally Spectrum'. When used in conjunction with the skill, a new skill is created. Combining Ignis and Vengeance creates the skill 'Ashanderi' which returns all the inflicted damage upon it's target.
Yes, I named the skill Ashanderi. I'm a WoT nerd. It was a toss-up between that or just straight up calling in Gungnir. And my WoT nerdiness wouldn't let me do anything else.
