Hey everyone, new chapter time! Since everyone else is off fighting (except Glory), walkswithwheels is going to go it alone for this chapter.
Oh yeah, and Glory can't do the intro with me because... well, you'll see why.
Hurrah for the first cameos! For those of you who did not read the prologue, cameos will be discussed in author's notes. The changes made will be highlighted there, as well as the original universe in which the object/person came from. For those of you who are not familiar with the original universes, beware of FULL SPOILERS for them!
Starting with this chapter, I will also detail the original universes for characters that are not cameos, as well as any name or mechanical changes to items. Once again, beware of SPOILERS!
I do not own any of these characters and settings, other than the ones that make up. All of these characters and settings are part of their respective companies.
Please read and review!
9: Fallen Crown
I stared ahead of me, coming to a bleak realization.
The object from before said everything; I could do no more.
Focusing on what was unfolding, I quickly singled out the unlucky holders.
Rorando was the owner, and so was that hostile archer.
The two chased each other around the square, acting as though they were sworn enemies.
Knowing their positions, they probably were.
The archer fired countless arrows to the point where they almost darkened the entire sky. Rorando dodged some of them swiftly, but many more hit their mark. While he was not mortally wounded, the arrows stuck fast in several places. Colors clashed almost as much as the combatants itself, as Rorando's armor was changed to a grotesque mixture of red and black. He could not use his stallion; the area was too crowded. Things looked bleak for my trusted friend, but Rorando had a trick of his own.
He led the archer around a corner, and used the opportunity to slip behind him. Since his opponent was turning, he was too distracted to halt Rorando's sudden entrance. The tide turned as the archer took a sword to the back, letting out a groan of pain. Blood sprayed out from the wounded area as Rorando withdrew his sword. The liquid splattered everywhere, dowsing the two in a coat of red.
The powerful strike seemed to have worked; the archer showed no signs of retaliating.
Rorando grinned, about to seize his opportunity.
Unfortunately, the archer would not let him have it.
The archer fired a shot at close range, hitting Rorando in the stomach. Thankfully, the attack was shallow and the arrow fell out easily.
The stunned Rorando staggered backward, clutching his stomach. The archer now had the upper hand as he shot another volley in into Rorando's shoulder.
However, this only seemed to make the knight a victim of fury as he charged toward the archer like a madman.
At that point, I could take no more.
I glanced around me, hoping the situation wouldn't be as grave.
Unfortunately, that was a happy fantasy.
My senses detected in an extreme concentration of heat, and I only had to look toward my right know the source. I shouldn't have done so, because what I was witness to made my blood run cold
The Noble Sage did not hold his title now.
He did not walk on the middle of a road; instead, he completely destroyed it.
Xehnon's eyes became lurid abysses as he channeled his deadly spell.
I realized immediately that the heat was derived from the torrent of flames whirling like a tornado around whatever happened to be the owner's target. The flames picked up more and more speed, crackling evilly as they devoured the unfortunate victim. I flinched as some of the stray flames leapt upward, ambitiously attempting to climb over the tornado. I was lucky to be far away; otherwise they would've stricken me. An enormous lattice surrounded the ground below the spell, it too simmering with flame. Even if the victim was touched the ground, he or she would not find solace; the circle of greedy flames would be sure of that.
With a prickle of dread, I realized this was what the earth dwellers called Ifrit's Caress.
Caress was a gross misnomer; this was akin to committing homicide.
Xehnon ominously stood still, eyes staring ahead at his creation.
Xehnon may have been looking at nothing, but I could not say the same for myself.
Within the wrathful flames, I could make out a faint outline of a human being.
A few more seconds, and my blood ran cold.
Aaron.
The hapless knight's body had turned a shade clearly too white to be natural. Luckily, I could sense he was still among the living, but for how long would that continue?
Apparently, I wouldn't have to wait long for that answer.
After what seemed like hours, the flames finally died, leaving a smoldering Aaron on the ground. The smoky scent of the spell's remnants stung my nostrils and I clutched my nose protectively. It didn't do any good, as spell flew through the tiny spaces between my fingers to attack my nose again. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to blot out the stinging pain that greeted them. It was no use, as the magic once again overwhelmed my feeble protection. I attempted to hold my breath as the smoke tried to force its way down my throat. Despite my considerable distance, I soon gave up and was coughing in ragged fits. During some situations, magic was outclassed by nature; in others, the world kneeled to it.
This was definitely one of the latter.
My own powers eventually kicked in to adeptly counter the situation. I was rapidly able to control myself. Ironically, I was sorry that happened, because that forced me to view the rest of the terrifying duel.
Despite his ordeal, Aaron did not possess the grotesque body of a severe burn victim. I could still see his scars and angry, reddened, skin, but they were nowhere near what they should've been (particularly because his body had been paler than swan feathers a few moments ago). This made sense, as Seers had countless forms of protection, including that against the likes of magic.
Unfortunately, no amount of invisible armor could prevent me from sensing the pain of my people.
Within mere moments, Aaron's damage became my own.
It was simply impossible to remain standing as I dropped onto my knees. Perhaps I too would fall to the ground. Another minute, and I swore I could feel the unseen scars materializing on my body. I could have clutched the injured area, but the wounds were everywhere; I could find no such place to bring comfort to. I kept my face in a stoic flat line, as I restrained myself with superhuman sturdiness. My voice begged to let loose a scream, but I held it steady within my throat. Instead, I bit my tongue until I could taste the metallic reward for my actions. I spat the recompense onto the ground, ignoring the warm fluid which had made a home inside my mouth.
Despite my struggles, the worst was yet to come.
I thought perhaps Xehnon had won the battle, that Aaron had suffered wounds beyond immediate recovery.
Unfortunately, my prediction could never be more wrong.
Within an instant and disregarding his previous pain, Aaron hurled himself back up. Xehnon's eyes widened in surprise as Aaron tumbled under him. In the timing of another second, the Knight slashed his sword, sending a river of blood cascading from Xehnon's right ankle.
Yet even this could not slow the Noble Sage down.
Xehnon expertly let his leg dangle as a prepared to launch another attack.
Before this could be done, however, a flash of gray caught both his and my eyes. Although he showed confusion, I recognized it at once.
Richelle.
I froze immediately.
No matter how strong she was, Richelle stood no chance against a powerful Seer.
The Svelte was the epitome of ignorance as she sped towards the battlefield. Simply a silver blur, her eyes hardened beyond belief as she unsheathed her blade. Her new sword was surely poised for its first serving of blood.
Unfortunately, it would never get that far.
In the blink of an eye, Xehnon cast another spell.
This one was even more devastating than the last.
A white lattice appeared underneath Richelle, immediately drawing her eyes to its arrival. Richelle's hard stare immediately changed to a countenance of shock, even bordering on fear.
Of course she would be terrified; not many mortals witnessed the wrath of the spell known as Pale Flare.
Unfortunately, the fire was just being lit.
Whitish purple flames appeared around Richelle's legs, twirling as the spell commenced its deadly work. The staggering heat in the area put Xehnon's earlier efforts to shame. Richelle shifted constantly, her feet partaking in a nervous dance. She was undoubtedly trying to find safety as the intense heat became more and more unbearable. Unfortunately, Richelle's efforts were in vain, and she took the position of the silent scream as she was forced to bear Xehnon's torture.
It was then that things only got worse.
The lattice rapidly disappeared, turning into white two beams that formed the position of an X. these beams struck Richelle simultaneously and mercilessly. Richelle's tried to add sound to her former silence, but the spell ripped her voice away from her.
More beams appeared out of seemingly nowhere, diving in for the kill. They juggled Richelle in between them, forcefully extricating her from the ground. The virtual swords overpowered Richelle's true one (although I didn't sense any metal burning, so I assumed had sheathed it before the onslaught) as they struck her over and over again. Each blow hoisted her higher and higher, until she could rival the birds. Like her comrade before her, Richelle's body began to turn white.
Yet the spell wasn't finished.
The original beams formed an ominous structure that resembled a cage. Indeed it was that, as they created an orange yellow ball of flame in which the miserable Richelle was entrapped. More of their kind suddenly reappeared, folded back on themselves, and began attacking from the left. The hungry magic was surely out for Richelle's blood as countless others joined the carnage. Richelle was batted around like a rag doll as the torment reached her in all directions.
Unfortunately, the beams were not the only one bringing agony.
The ball of fire swelled as its lackeys performed their task. Richelle could not even be seen by now, swallowed up by the enormous fire. The precarious size only meant one thing, and poor Richelle could not even brace for impact.
With the massive blast, the ball of fire exploded, damaging Richelle from the inside out. All that was left was a seemingly endless fall to the ground as Richelle tumbled back to earth.
I shut my eyes and bit my tongue even harder. I was drowning in an ocean of crimson to the point where I could barely talk.
Yet, I paid no heed.
I would not glance upon the corpse of a trusted friend.
Despite having my eyes closed, I picked up the huge burst of noise that accompanied Richelle's fall. Even though I was unable to see, I could still detect that she had landed on her stomach.
Slowly, I dared use my vision.
Richelle lay sprawled on the ground, showing no signs of giving up. I knew she had no protection, but holy magic did not cause burns. I was eternally grateful for that, because I didn't think I could take another whiff of flaming flesh.
Unfortunately, not everything was peaches and cream.
I could sense that Richelle was still alive, but for how long?
The spell had done massive damage; I doubted she would be able to fight after something like this.
All doubts were proven wrong.
To my shock and horror, Richelle suddenly stumbled to her feet. Instead of the light of desperation, her eyes shone with their own unique flame that could rival any spell. Despite how painful it must have been, Richelle forced herself to stand up and grabbed her sword.
For a brief second, I stood there staring, wondering how an ordinary warrior could withstand such a blow.
Then, the answer hit me like an arrow, and I stared at a seemingly random accoutrement.
From Richelle's belt a tiny figurine in the form of an angel dangled. The amount of detail and lavish colors surely drew eyes of observers, but that was not what I focused on.
The object may have seemed perfect, but I knew the truth.
Richelle carried the ever so frail Angel's Curio.
Mortals held treasured this item like they would a savior. Indeed they should, for it certainly could save lives.
This accoutrement would revive anyone who equipped it back from the depths of defeat, allowing them to enter combat again. It even activated quickly enough to prevent most fatal blows from doing their job.
However, even an Angel's Curio could not save someone with a severed head. Only certain high-level magics and items were capable of such feats and many mortals only heard about them in legends.
While the Angel's Curio was a wondrous item, it had its downsides which prevented me from having it regularly at my side.
Angel's Curio had a high chance of breaking after being used. Furthermore, it was quite expensive to repair, and many considered it not worth the bother once that happened. It's sold for quite a high price in shops, which was appealing for those in need of extra money. For every two warriors that equipped the item, two more gave it away.
Richelle had been lucky, but that streak could run out any minute.
I attempted to call out a warning, but I immediately caught myself as my previous efforts reminded me that this was beyond my capacity.
Letting out a warcry that was impressive for her current state, she hurled herself back into battle.
At this point, I couldn't watch anymore.
Such a move was certain death; it was like a suicide run.
Even worse than the fading gray was the flash of red that caught my eye.
Richelle was not the only female poised for battle.
Fraudir charged towards the battlefield, her sword glittering ominously as the sun bounced off its points. Though she retained her stupidity, she showed no femininity now. Ice couldn't match the chilling glare in Fraudir's eyes. The kind, childish woman I met in the toy store was replaced by a ruthless warrior. Fraudir howled, the voice that formed words so sickeningly sweet now forming a shrill warcry. Although it was lost to her human comrades, I could pick up every little detail, more than I ever wanted to decipher.
At least it wasn't as bad as the clock.
No, the warcry was far worse than that.
That horrible clock could not come close to something like this, for the object was not surrounded by infighting and ignorant warriors attempting to decapitate each other.
No, the clock was a natural, perhaps even healthy, phenomenon.
The senseless chaos unfolding in front of me was neither.
I covered my ears, the mess in my mouth now rivaling the Red Sea (provided it was actually red).
What was even more insufferable than what the ears could hear was what the eyes could see.
Rorando and the archer sped past me, both wearing blood like a second skin. Despite their condition, neither man seemed willing or ready to give in. Their rage probably fueled their desire.
It was only intensified in the coming moments.
In an instant, another combatant joined the fight.
Fraudir shot out from the left side, flanking the unfortunate archer. She slammed into him, the sheer force of her blow causing his legs to splay up in the air. The archer managed to roll before Fraudir hit his stomach, but was repaid by a blow to the back.
Unfortunately, what had just taken place was nothing compared to what was to come.
The archer collided with Rorando, but rather than being stunned, used it to his advantage. The hostile one climbed Rorando like a ladder, hurling himself to his feet. Now, Rorando was the one to taste the floor as they archer rose like a beast believed dead. The mounted knight tried to do the same, but the archer once again hoisted himself upward using his human stepping stool.
However, the most feminine of all the warriors still had some battle tactics.
Fraudir let out another ominous warcry as she charged toward around her enemy. Her blade aimed his stomach as a means to end the conflict once and for all. Strangely, the archer did not shield himself.
He fitted an arrow to his bow, aiming the black weapon straight at Fraudir.
My eyes widened; the attack would never come.
Fraudir was within striking distance, yet the man was clearly ready for close combat. Even with those trained in all types of distances, the two movements would surely cancel out.
This could only mean one thing, and it certainly won't be pretty.
If only I could have spoken, I would've called out a warning.
Then again, no one would've listened.
The archer was waiting to catch Fraudir like a fish, dangling a juicy meal from his hook.
Unfortunately, Fraudir took the bait.
She leapt out of the way, trying to dodge the alleged attack.
Yet the evasion was in vain.
Quick as lightning, the archer pivoted around and fired the waiting arrow into Fraudir's back, inches away from her neck. She yelped as another arrow struck home in the center of her back. The oozing blood blended in with her armor, but I could still sense she was hurt.
Apparently, she hadn't gotten the same message.
Fraudir howled, making a sound that I recognized as rage rather than pain. She whipped around to retaliate, despite the obvious injuries and the black extensions in her armor. Now it was the archer's turn to be caught off guard as she leapt again, digging her sword into his back. As Fraudir freed her weapon, the archer toppled of off Rorando, liberating him at last.
Yet the mounted knight did not rejoice.
He heaved himself back up, attempting to begin an assault of his own.
My eyes never bore witness to it, instead focusing on a reddened figure.
Initially, I could not make out who it was, as it was swimming in the same ocean of horror.
Yet despite the fact that I was not doing the same, I could not let down my guard.
My eyes widened; I was still in danger.
The figure grew closer and closer, the red body now portrayed in grotesque detail.
I placed my hand over my mouth, ignoring the fact that bleached my palm red.
This was one of the last people I wanted to meet in battle, simply because I knew of his passion.
Surely the beast was prepared for his combat role.
I could not say I was equipped for mine.
If anything, I would throw my weapons down, and let the others hand me my painful fate.
Surely, this would reveal my identity, but it wasn't like I even cared about that anymore.
For once, my prowess could not save me.
If anything, it would be my downfall, and possibly the end to my travels here.
The mortal phrase "caught good and red-handed" had never meant so much.
The brave forced themselves to stare at their doom; no one ever said I was a coward.
Thankfully, this was not my time.
My eyes went wide as Ehlen skirted past me, doggedly pursuing an opponent.
I tried to tear my gaze away from the upcoming horror, but my eyes remained glued to my comrade.
Massive wounds already overpopulated Ehlen's body, to the point where the upper half of his clothing had actually turned red. The lower half was not too far away from joining it as blood plastered itself to the warring Seer. I couldn't tell which where the separate injuries began and ended; they ran together with the crimson fluid they produced. I sensed immediately that he was limping quite badly on his right leg, and wondered how the poor man could even walk. Ehlen's eyes blazed with the raging flame I had found all too familiar. Though his body did not say it, he had all the strength left in the world. Another man might have keeled over dead, but such horrible scars could not fell a Demigod.
If only it could do him in!
My eyes were immediately drawn to his location, tracking every movement perfectly.
I could witness his fall, or that of someone else.
There were no victories in such a fight.
Ehlen charged, continuing to hone in on his enemy. At breakneck speed he rushed along, expertly evading rest of the warriors in his pursuit. My eyes shifted from him for only a moment as I caught the subtle sound fluttering robes, their various colors contrasting sharply with the red world around them.
I didn't even need to ask who was the target now.
Ehlen sprinted up, preparing for a rapid and deadly stab.
The unfortunate enemy loomed in plain sight, finishing the final words of a spell. At first, I assumed that he was readying another round of Ifrit's Caress, as the familiar flames danced around him. I shut my eyes, the image of Aaron not so easily forgotten.
Another innocent soul would be senselessly incinerated.
My prediction was correct, but not in the way I was thinking of.
Instead of the searing instruments of destruction, I was greeted by gentle warmth, quite unbefitting of flames. This feeling did not speak of obliteration, but of its opposite; protection. The flames formed a ring around Xehnon a second time, but they did not repel invaders. Instead, they were like doors flung wide open, inviting all to their dwelling. Before they had acted as guards; now I could compare them to those hosting a guest.
The ring of the flames grew tighter, their movements expertly picking up the pace. My eyes widened as the angry red I had seen before (with the offensive spell) was no longer visible. In its place was a friendly orange color, giving away the fire's true intentions.
The differently colored flames were now spinning so much that one could easily get dizzy. However, this danger was brief, as the flames one by one disappeared backwards. The spinning halted itself as the ones that started it took their leave. As the last of the flames made their exit, Xehnon completed his chanting and readied himself for combat once more.
Yet, it was too little, too late.
Xehnon's shocked eyes could rival dinner plates. His bloody robes fluttered again, this time in panic, as he tried to concoct a way to dodge the blow coming straight toward him.
Ehlen was at least as wounded as he, but still charged forward like a wild beast. Ehlen aimed his attack low, ready to strike a vital part.
A Seer, particularly one skilled in magic, had the ability to dodge just after completing a spell.
Under normal circumstances, Xehnon would have been able to dodge the strike easily and retaliate even more rapidly.
Yet the normally effortless action could never be taken with such horrible wounds.
The outcome was inevitable.
And yet I still watched.
Ehlen's blade met with his unfortunate enemy, and the carnage was instantaneous.
Xehnon's tortured scream pierced the air, drowned out by the sword tearing apart his body. A sea of blood splattered across the ground, yet went unnoticed as it simply added itself to the chaos. My ears were took heed of the gruesome noise that accompanied metal meeting flesh. Consequently, the latter was ripped apart before I could do anything.
Unfortunately, I forced myself to look.
Xehnon's shock still stayed, but I knew would not be for long.
An enormous gash sliced its way down his stomach, allowing copious amounts of blood to pour onto and down his body. All of Xehnon's robes had been bleached red; he was not a Noble Sage now. The sticky fluid flowed ceaselessly, only growing greater with time. Xehnon placed his hands on his stomach, feebly trying to halt the leaving of his lifeforce. Unfortunately, these pitiful defenses were no match for the injuries sustained.
Within minutes, Xehnon's body turned pale and he fell to the ground.
Bile and reddened saliva tried to force its way up my throat. It was getting close, as I could feel its bitter tang upon my tongue. Despite this, I choked down the unwanted substances.
I was the Goddess.
I would not falter, no matter how grave the situation seemed.
Instead of wallowing in self-pity, I glanced over at Ehlen, the apparent victor.
He nodded slowly, reassuring himself that his opponent was no more. Both blade and body were bleached red from the fallen one, yet Ehlen didn't seem to care.
Why should he care, being a monster that slaughtered one of his own for almost no reason at all?
Then again, he was a soldier, and he considered Xehnon his enemy.
Such was the way of these warriors.
Ehlen proved that as he simply sheathed his sword and prepared to leave Xehnon behind.
Little did he know that the hunter was going to become the hunted.
The orange flames appeared again, circling around their fallen owner. As they once again broke into a run, I could sense a barrier of flame around Xehnon so no one could tamper with what was taking place.
I could have kicked myself earlier for not realizing the name of the spell, or understanding what was about to take place.
The flames now changed into a horizontal oval, fanning themselves over their defeated spellcaster. Yet their graceful and methodical exit from before was no longer present here.
Instead, the flames performed their job with an unmatched fervor. They broke their circle and, one by one, rushed into Xehnon. The flames hardly gave each other space as they flew through the air. Quarters were so close I feared they would run into each other. I could have called this a race, as the flames seemed to be competing for who could get inside their owner first.
Eventually, they all succeeded and the spell began its deadly work.
Xehnon began to glow in a blinding light, which I recognized as being completely similar to the flames that had just made his body their home. Weakness plagued with the radiance despite its blinding intensity, but it wasted no time in becoming stronger. The friendly flames were inviting no more as they turned their owner steadily darker. The flames now leapt and crackled, focused on their task.
However, their dutiful demeanor could still be the center of others' attention.
As one of the remnants flew dangerously close to his clothing, Ehlen rapidly pivoted around. He unsheathed his sword, eyes concentrated as he prepared to bat away anything else that came near him.
However, the concentration was soon broken as his gaze changed to one of under befuddlement.
Ehlen attempted to halt the spell, but his sword was only met with the fiery barrier. Ehlen pulled his sword away within the instant of a second, tucking it within the safety of its sheathe. The rapid retreat of his weapon offset the composed countenance in his eyes. I could still sense the panic it had brought, as was the relief that he had not run out of time.
At that minute, I was reminded that metal and fire were not friends, despite the fact that they had to work together to craft weapons.
Thank goodness I would never be placed into that situation.
I could, however, still be a victim of surprise, like the poor soul before me.
Ehlen staggered back as Xehnon turned darker than a moonless night. While he still kept his confused facial expression, I did not.
What was originally ugly was about to get unbearable.
As if on cue, a massive amount of flame erupted from Xehnon. It exploded upward in an enormous column, enough to pierce the very heavens. The heat of the darkened flames could surely be felt now. They were not hungry, but they still portrayed the danger as they surrounded the one that had brought them here. On an ordinary day, this spectacle would have drawn crowds of people.
Of course, this day was far from ordinary, so the others did not notice.
All except the astounded Ehlen.
Ehlen stared wide-eyed as the flames slowly disappeared and Xehnon returned to his regular color. His fallen opponent, formally mangled and broken, was mystically devoid of the fatal wound that brought him to the ground.
What seemed to be a surefire victory was now anything but.
As I studied Xehnon's recovering form, I realized that that the wound Aaron had given him earlier had also gone. While he still bore enough injuries to tell the story of what happened, they were minor, and clearly could not slow him down.
Not with the spell I had just witnessed.
Its name, Flaming Reconstruction, was true in every sense of the word.
Xehnon leapt up as though nothing had happened.
He still kept his grim facade, but I could sense pride gained through power.
Yet Ehlen was ready for him.
The other warrior shook off his surprise and charged again. Xehnon was content to ready another spell.
Already, I predicted which one he would use, for I knew of one particularly formidable spell which could stop opponents in their tracks.
Besides, the black circle around Xehnon gave it away.
Despite his gentle demeanor, he was well-versed in the arts of darkness.
Ehlen, however, was unaware, and continued to streak blindly across the field toward his opponent.
His sword was now at the ready, mere inches away from that fatal spot which had felled Xehnon before.
Unfortunately, the Noble Sage would not let him have victory's sweet taste.
He rapidly unleashed his spell with devastating results.
At first, it looked Ehlen looked like had the upper hand even though his foe was ready to counter.
Immense power radiated from him, and I realized he was not going by simple brute force.
Unfortunately, skill would not save him.
Within an instant, all of the prowess had sensed before was gone.
He would not have first blood.
Dark energy surrounded the area, blocking Ehlen's path. The warrior tried to weave through the energy and jump over it to the owner, but such was unsuccessful. No matter how much was cut down, more simply appeared to cover for the fallen.
Eventually, the entire area was swarmed as both Ehlen's and my vision were taken over by the wretched spell. The magic surrounded him on all four sides, and Ehlen flinched as he no longer stood on solid ground.
Instead, his feet were met with a black pool of that which would soon wound him. At first, it was strikingly similar to Xehnon's previous spells.
However, that was not so.
As if the object were alive, more dark energy spawned from the pool. The newcomers wasted no time in joining their comrades in the other areas. More magic lay in wait like a hungry predator, ready to ambush its foe when the time came. Unlike Pale Flare, the dark energy did not knock Ehlen down. Instead, it simply went around him.
Ehlen grimaced, as did I.
The massive amount of dark magic could only mean one thing.
The pool brimmed with the frightening power, as more of its cronies were ready to snap at Ehlen's legs. The other entities of darkness prepared their own assaults, clustering together into three enormous masses. Ehlen was almost swallowed up completely as the dark energy in the pool did the same, expanding the atrocious mass.
For that fleeting moment, it seemed as though entire world was engulfed in darkness.
Cries of battle had gone eerily silent; the magic willed it be so.
Ehlen stood, motionless and behind closed eyes. He looked every bit the victim of a coming execution. Ehlen did not cower like a dog, nor did he beg for mercy. Instead, I detected an icy calmness and acceptance of his fate.
For a single second, I let my attention wander onto the subject of how a mortal could remain so stoic.
Yet I only got an ephemeral instant before I was jerked back to reality.
All four masses of dark energy slammed into Ehlen, pouring countless power into their blow. I could sense that Ehlen's mouth was parted in a scream, but it went unnoticed as the magic seized the opportunity to force its way inside of him.
I attempted to distinguish his figure from the wrathful spell, but everything was drowned in blackness.
He simply blended right in with the heart wrenching scene before me.
I struck for second time, channeling my power in order to make out my unlucky comrade.
Yet what greeted me was more than words or sight could ever express.
In a single instant, my body shook, and I fought to keep it upright. The waves resembled a destructive tsunami, and I was the helpless land. I tried to distance myself from the terrifying sight which caused this, yet by no means would my body allow me to act. My heart pounded so rapidly I believed it would tear itself free of my chest. The ruckus within me constantly crescendoed, and I was grateful screeching music did not accompany this deafening drum. I clutched my chest; the effort to make it move was unbearable. The ground became steadily nearer as my body prepared to greet it like one would a close friend. It still wasn't there yet, but for how long?
I had received countless wounds, known every negative emotion in existence, held both light and darkness within myself, and experienced death over and over.
All of this, I could tolerate as part of my duty.
Yet nothing scarred me more than witnessing the pain of my people, the likes of which would never heal.
Each time, it tore my heart apart.
I crouched down even further, finally slamming onto the ground.
Such was truly testing my battle-hardened resolve.
I would yowl with pain.
Or die.
This was beyond insufferable.
Just when I thought I could take no more, the agony suddenly ebbed and disappeared within seconds.
I stood up just as rapidly, not wasting the opportunity I was given.
Out of the corner of my eye, the darkness slowly disappeared.
This scenery around me was restored to its former glow. With that, my heart sank as I was alerted to again to the horrific sounds of battle.
My heart hit rock-bottom as I realized what spell I had just witnessed.
The feared dark magic spoken of in legends had just been utilized before my eyes.
Mortals called it "Imhullu" and they had every right to think of it as the devil's weapon.
Even worse than laying eyes upon the attack itself was witnessing the damage it caused.
The weary soul in front of me proved that.
Ehlen still kept himself upon his feet, he was doubled over. He panted like a dog, and I wondered if the poor man could even breathe. Ehlen's body was blanketed by black, a dead giveaway of what had brought him to this fate. While he was not scorched, one could never tell the real color of his clothing now. Even the blood had taken on the color of the accursed spell. Ehlen's sword had long since crashed to the ground; he was in no condition to pick it back up.
Or at least that's what I thought.
In a move that must have been agonizing, Ehlen grabbed his blade and charged back at Xehnon.
I shut my eyes, too horrified to see the rest.
These warriors were tearing each other apart, while I remained uninjured.
And yet I paid the ultimate price, far more than flesh and blood.
I had lost my chance to intervene, at this point, it looked like I would never have it.
Were I to slip out of hiding now, I would most likely get pummeled in the fight.
Or worse.
I ducked my head in shame and defeat.
I was their queen; I should stop this pointless dispute!
And yet, here I was, experiencing the pain of powerlessness!
I cringed harshly; irony was the cruelest mistress.
15
Author's Notes:
Woohoo, first battle chapter! I enjoy making my battles descriptive, so hopefully I didn't give anyone an upset stomach in the process!
Now on to the mechanical changes...
Angel's Curio comes from the first Valkyrie Profile and it serves basically the same function. It could be equipped to a character for instant revival, but had a 30% chance of breaking. 30% is a lot for the game mechanics, so it was a very risky item to use. Percentages aren't in this story, but it still translates as breaking a lot. In the series, there was no way to repair broken items, but in this universe, broken items can be repaired with varying costs (this actually comes from another game, but I'll get into that more in the next chapter).
The two spells Xenon uses in the beginning are called Great Magics. Great Magics were available to mages provided they equipped a staff that made it possible. The Great Magic changed depending on whatever spell the mage had equipped or (in the case of Valkyrie Profile 2) started with. In Valkyrie Profile 2, Great Magics could damage the entire enemy field but were considerably less powerful than physical attacks of the same level. The original Valkyrie Profile also had Great Magics hitting the entire field, but they still had quite a bit of power. In Valkyrie Profile: Covenant of the Plume, Great Magics could only be cast on one person, but hit several times.
In this universe, Great Magics are available to anyone who is able to master them. However, they are very difficult to learn and even more difficult to master. A staff is no longer needed to cast the spell. Great Magics retain their original power and but not every one hits the entire field. Those that don't damage the field hit multiple times.
Pale Flare was only available in Valkyrie Profile Two. Unlike other Great Magics, it was available to anyone provided they had Wand of the Apocalypse equipped. In this universe, that prerequisite has been removed.
Next comes name changes…
In this universe, Light Warriors (from the Valkyrie Profile series) are called Sveltes.
Now for the cameos...
Revive (Tales Series)- This spell functions the same as it does in the story. When this spell was cast on someone, he or she would have a change in his or her status. This change allowed the person in question to be defeated in battle and immediately get back up. Unfortunately, it could only be used once, and did not carry over in between battles if it was left unused. In Tales of Symphonia 2, the status could be removed by using another spell known as Dispel. Also, it was classified as a fire elemental spell.
In this universe, it does the same thing, but under a different name (Flaming Reconstruction). The animation is also original, and removing the effect prematurely using Dispel no longer works.
Imhullu (Fire Emblem Series)- This spell, known as Maph in the Japanese versions, featured in the 1st, 3rd, 11th, and 12th entries in the series. This spell was exclusive to an evil sorcerer called Garnef. Garnef served as a late game boss, as well a major antagonist. Imhullu prevented opponents from attacking, rendering the user invincible. However, if the opposing caster had the Starlight spell, Imhullu's special effect was canceled out, and Garnef could be damaged.
In this universe, Imhullu is considered dark magic, and can be used by anyone who is experienced enough. It allows the wielder to always move first in battle, regardless of whether there are other factors (hence Glory's reference to brute force during the battle). Starlight can still cancel its effects, but so can other attacks. This is only possible if the user's attack power (applying weapons and before applying defenses) is greater than that of the person casting.
Finally, for the characters...
Richelle- In the original universe, she fought for Count Leon of Arkdian and his royal guard. She was an excellent commander in war and called "Richelle of the Simmering Samite". She was eventually was ordered home, but went missing with the rest of the guard while visiting the Gohrla region. Richelle was actually murdered by the lord of the realm, Khanon. In the original universe, Richelle was a Light Warrior.
Rorando- In the original universe, he fought for Arkdain alongside Richelle. Called Roland in the original universe, he was a brilliant strategist. He eventually earned the name "Roland of the Thundercry" for his efforts. However, when ordered home, he and the rest of the royal guard went missing in Gorhla. In reality, they were murdered by Khanon. Rorando was a sword user.
Fraudir- Fraudir was the childhood friend of Aaron. Fraudir hailed from the kingdom of Arkdain and joined the count when the country underwent civil war. She was eventually forced to face Aaron in a duel, but sheathed her sword in the middle of the battle. Fraudir was killed, but was content because she knew her side had won the war. Fraudir was a Light Warrior in the original universe.
Aaron- Aaron was the childhood friend of Fraudir, and came from Arkdain. The King of the area had been corrupted by Khanon, and Aaron realized this. However, he put his duty as a knight first and faced his childhood friend in battle. Unfortunately, Fraudir refused to fight, and Aaron was forced to kill her. Grieving for her death, Aaron chose to die of his wounds (inflicted by the duel) rather than have them treated. in the original universe, he was a sword user.
Xehnon- Xehnon hailed from Rosetta as a mere servant. Unfortunately, Xehnon gets possessed by a spell for almost 4 years. While possessed, he convinces the king of his country to invade everyone else. Xehnon is eventually freed of his possession by Phyress, and attempts to atone for his sins. He doesn't get a chance to, since he is attacked by rioters and killed. In the original universe, Xehnon was a mage.
Ehlen- Ehlen was originally a mercenary, but became a feared commander who lived through many wars. He was eventually given the name "Demigod Ehlen" because of his exploits. Ehlen acted as a father to a young girl named Crescent, traveling the land with her in between wars. The two often fought together. Unfortunately, they were attacked by monsters one day and Ehlen died protecting Crescent. It is unknown where he is from in the original universe, but he was a sword user.
Lyseria- It should be noted that Lyseria is the only character (so far and excluding Glory) not from Valkyrie Profile 2. Instead, she is from the original Valkyrie Profile, which takes place hundreds of years after in an alternate timeline. It is unknown where Lyseria is from in the original. Lyseria was a descendent from the gods, which made her a powerful sorceress. Unfortunate, she despised her power and sealed herself within a crystal in Arkdain before taking her own life. Her soul still lived on, but it was trapped. If certain criteria are met, Odin will ask Lenneth, the current Valkyrie, to recruit her by freeing her soul. Lenneth travels to the Arkdain Ruins, where she encounters Lyseria. Lyseria chooses to fight, and upon defeat, she joins the party (her soul is free if she is defeated). In the original universe, Lyseria was a mage.