Fire Emblem: Three Houses won some stuff at The Game Awards last night, so this story might get some extra traffic today. If you're coming in fresh, hello! Welcome to my apparently undying little passion project.
If you're a usual follower, there's nothing special really planned to coincide with The Game Awards. Unless finally getting into the depressing part of Three Houses is "special."
In which case, enjoy.
Part 1 — Ethereal Moon
Before the festivities of the Ethereal Moon sucked up all the oxygen in Garreg Mach, Archbishop Rhea and Seteth expressed concerns regarding evidence of intruders in a nearby chapel that once served as temporary housing during Monastery renovations.
While Byleth and his Blue Lions were assigned to investigate this suspicious activity alongside Jeralt, no real cause to do so had presented itself until the end of the month. Until reports of Demonic Beasts emerging from within the Chapel — within Monastery walls — came from Alois, a Knight who served as an instructor for the Officers' Academy.
Though Jeralt had only just returned from another mission, he and his son were dispatched to save wayward students from the growing threat.
Four Demonic Beasts had emerged before the Blue Lions arrived at the chapel, leaving it more ruinous than ever.
Unlike the giant birds and wolves which had run wild across Fódlan since Byleth returned to Zanado on the behest of Sothis some weeks ago, or even the Black Beast that Miklan was twisted into by the Lance of Ruin, this new breed of Demonic Beast appeared far less organic. They looked to be unruly science experiments — a far cry from the victims of circumstantial magic previously encountered.
Wild Demonic Beasts were quadruped blue serpents; overgrown lizards with gnashing teeth dulled by the poisons they spat, as well as beady yellow eyes.
These new Demonic Beasts were similar in form, but had slick, black bodies segmented by cracks that gave each the appearance of being wrapped in bile-soaked gauze. Sharp, fleshy protrusions formed a spine of blades down their rounded backs; abnormally jagged gums replaced what otherwise would have been teeth in their crooked smiles; and they had no visible eyes. The closest facsimile was a cycloptic crest stone in their foreheads, embedded around one of the slender tendrils that ran from tip to tail.
Three of the abominations chased students into the Northwest, Northeast and Southwest corners of the chapel, where they cowered behind small openings that the creatures could barely breech with their claws. Another offered wet, creaking snarls at the entryway of a structure in the central courtyard, calling to a fourth student inside.
With four targets to conquer, Byleth split his burgeoning army into three squadrons: One for the beast immediately to the left of the entrance, one for the beast past a small storeroom to the right and one to tackle the barking beast straight ahead and free the fastest route to the Northwest.
The forward scout straight ahead was Ingrid, whose Pegasus zips above the barking beast.
Its body was constrained by the surrounding architecture, but that didn't stop it from turning its lulled-out whip of a tongue skyward to follow the blonde flier. As she circled back around, the beast rears onto its hind legs and impales one claw into crumbling brick so it can stay upright and swipe with its free claw — like it was swatting at a fly, but a fly nearly a quarter its size.
Ingrid deftly passes around the attack and hovers over a number of her compatriots as they coalesce around the blocked passage. Her gaze focuses on the boney spear in her right hand, a spear with a cochlear shell-design around its red gem.
"Lúin, give me strength."
She closes her eyes as the words pass her tongue, and then the spear's red gem begins to burn bright scarlet.
The Pegasus whinnies as Ingrid makes it fly back with three long flaps, and then charges toward the bottlenecked beast. She twirls the spear fast enough that it creates the illusion of a red ring flying through the air. Just before they reach the beast, she pulls her steed into a sharp left turn and holds her weapon still.
Ingrid smashes Lúin into the beast's head as they pass by, its impact resonating with a mighty thwack. An explosion of energy throws the beast off to the side with a pained screech.
The ground shakes due to Lúin's Burning Quake going off, and then again as the beast topples to the floor. Any defense it might have had from a steady stance was gone.
When the beast fell, so did more of the structure it clawed into. Screams from a girl could be heard inside, but they were drowned out as the Blue Lions ran ahead on the waves of a rallying war cry, now able to get around the fresh rubble and toppled monster.
Dedue is the first grounded soldier to reach the beast's tail despite his heavily armored gait. He skids to a halt before the prehensile appendage and throws his axe high above his head. With a grunt he brings it down fast, immediately severing a thick portion of the tail with his silvery weapon.
That severed tail bit shrivels into a thick cloud of ash as its owner screeches out again, rolling further out of the narrow path in an attempt to stand.
Multiple people quickly pass by to chase down the beast in the Northwest corner of the chapel, leaving a few Blue Lions to finish cleaning up the fallen foe. Dedue continues to hack at its lower back and hind legs, finding it more troublesome to break through that thicker hide. Ingrid flies in to throw piercing jabs around its spiny protrusions, more easily breaking skin with her Heroes' Relic.
The blue-haired Caspar runs up to the beast's head and starts peppering it with rapid jabs using sharp-knuckled gauntlets — more than aptly showing his worth as a recent transfer from the Black Eagles through decisive, fearless action.
However, the death bell for the beast tolls when Byleth approaches, his Sword of the Creator extended into its barbed whip form and glowing red. He throws the whip back like a fishing pole before cutting it across a mound of dark hide. Flesh rends immediately under the slice, revealing sickly red meat under the shredded gauze skin.
He brings his weapon up over his other shoulder and cuts again, leaving a cross-shape on its body.
But the stoic instructor doesn't stop.
He attacks in that same X pattern over and over again, grinding up the beast's torso until it's raw. Monstrous opponents had a history of taking a beating and getting back up, so Byleth knew they needed to take it down fast with thorough damage.
Not long after, the beast's gurgling cries and writhing slow to a stop, punctuated by one last twitch.
As Byleth pulls his sword back into its natural state, Jeralt runs up next to him on horseback and stops by having it rear onto its hind legs with a whinny.
"Nice work, kid."
The gruff, scarred-up man smiles down at his son, dirty blonde hair and bright orange shirt standing out against the ancient, dreary ruins around them. His worn armor glistens in the bright sunlight.
"Starting to think you might be getting too good at killing these beasts, though." His voice is slow and deliberate. "We mercenaries are used to being in combat, but nobody should have to face these things half as often as you and your students."
The silent man offers a subdued smile up at his father, which makes Jeralt laugh.
"That said it would have taken eons to get you to smile as much as you do now. So who knows, maybe this whole teaching thing isn't so bad after all."
Their brief moment of respite is interrupted as the felled beast begins to writhe violently again. Caspar falls back with a yelp near the front where he had been inspecting it, while Dedue holds up his shield to prepare for the worst.
Byleth and Jeralt raise their weapons together.
However the preparation is in vain. Instead of standing up, as most Demonic Beasts had in the past, this beast begins to shrink with each jerking motion.
Every spasm comes with a sickening crack, as if bones were being broken and moved under its tattered skin. Soon it became clear why, as the massive quadruped changes into a regular-sized human form before their very eyes. Beside the body lay a shattered gem, the same crest stone that had fallen out of the beast's forehead when it first began to decay.
From the sky, Ingrid gasps and covers her mouth. Caspar looks away from the mangled young body before them.
Jeralt sheathes his weapon and then dismounts from his horse, approaching the body of their former bestial foe alongside Byleth.
"The Demonic Beasts were actually students?" Jeralt questions in a hoarse sickened voice. "How can this be…"
Their attention is drawn up again by the sniffles of a red-haired girl stumbling out of the previously assaulted structure.
Byleth tilts his head curiously.
"Monica?"
The ghastly Demonic Beasts at the Southwest and Northeast corners of the chapel perish soon thereafter, felled by Sylvain's Lance of Ruin and the combined projectile attacks of Ashe, Bernadetta and Annette respectively.
But the beast furthest from the entrance took more work.
Felix had taken point, safely bringing Mercedes up to the endangered student's hidey-hole to provide medical assistance if necessary. Marianne helped to facilitate their approach by throwing icicles at the beast's torso and head.
Her efforts proved a little too fruitful, as a particularly hard hit to the head brings its slobbering gaze (or lack thereof) around toward her. It's able to whip its giant body around easily thanks to not being in an enclosed space. From there it doesn't take long until Marianne is caught in the shadow of a fast-approaching monster.
The blue-haired cleric can barely keep her footing as she backs away, growing more panicked seeing how quickly it closes the gap. Her spell tossing grows more rushed and volatile, but each icy blast merely knocks its head slightly askew.
"S-Somebody?" Marianne cries out, overwhelmed by the snarling beast. "Help!"
It drops its head close to the dusty floor, trailing viscous drool as its maw opens wide to scoop up a quick snack on the way to more rampaging.
Yet that approach is stopped when a dark figure leaps out of a nearby tree and descends upon the beast. A lance thrusts straight through its crest stone, shattering it like a skull, and then impaling the head to its jaw and the hard earth below like a shish kabob.
The beast squeals for only a moment before falling limp.
After Dimitri straightens out and pulls his weapon free with a bloody squelch, splattering some of the black bile onto himself and Marianne, he looks toward her.
For just a moment she stares with heart-stopping terror at the deep lines of tense anger etched into his features. His hair fell in front of his face slightly, obscuring what she could tell were sullen eyes with beady, shaking pupils.
Yet he quickly relaxes upon seeing her wide-eyed look of terror. By the time he clears the hair from his face with his free hand, his entire expression had softened — though his heavy pant remained. Dimitri hops off the slain beast and lands with a heavy clunk in front of her.
"Are you okay, Marianne?" He asks.
She could tell he was still restraining whatever anger was pent up in the back of his throat, but she still met his question with a gentle nod.
"Yes…" She mumbles, looking down at her blood-splattered hands and wiping them off on her black skirt. "Thank you, Dimitri."
Awkward tension wafts in the air around them, remnant from the night of the ball. Marianne swallows back her nerves before glancing up at the prince again, opening her mouth to try and form some kind of question.
She doesn't get the chance, as a sharp cry rings out from the center of the chapel.
It came from a voice neither would have expected.
"Professor?" Marianne questions as she turns around, joined by Dimitri at her side to try and get a better look.
The sight is grim.
Jeralt falls to his knees, crimson red running down his back — the same shade that drips from a curved dagger in the hand of Monica just behind him. Her bright hair and eyes fade as clouds began to cluster overhead.
Byleth's sword retracts after bouncing off of an ethereal, cosmic black-and-blue shield of energy that was projected by a tall, imposing man in a maroon cape.
The mysterious figure had the same completely albino complexion as Solon; with blank white eyes, a beard that protruded in three directions off his chin and eyebrows that blended into the veins running up from his neck.
He was clearly a member of Those Who Slither in the Dark.
But just as quickly as he arrived to thwart Byleth's attempt at stopping Monica, he whisked himself and the red-haired student away in a flash of dark energy.
Byleth, usually as calm and composed as they came, let his Heroes' Relic drop to the dirt as he frantically ran to his father. The old Captain falls to the floor, succumbing to his wound.
For the first and last time in his life, Jeralt would see his son cry.
But Byleth's tears blended into the heavy downpour that seemed to poetically — and cruelly — choose this moment to drench the battlefield in a miserable shade.