Dark Abyss
Chapter 4: Life and Death
Byleth awoke to the sound of soft snoring; his face buried deeply within a mass of verdant hair. He could not smell nor feel any of the long, flowing locks, but the sight of them was clear nonetheless.
He made sure to extract himself silently from the bed, lest he suffer Sothis' wrath.
The impish, little girl refused to fade back into his subconscious. Ever since she had found a way to manifest physically, she seemed intent on spending as much time hovering around in the world as she could.
Byleth did not blame her. It must have been extraordinarily dreary to live as naught but a ghost; little more than a figment of someone else's imagination.
However, he did not expect to find the girl in such close proximity to him. Chances were, neither did she, and he had no intention of testing that theory. If his experience with Manuela was anything to go by, women of all kinds were terrifying and unpredictable.
He would rather go toe-to-toe with a dozen demonic beasts than experience anything remotely similar again. It was a miracle that Byleth had not yet been cursed with nightmares.
Successful in his endeavor, he proceeded to dress himself in his customary outfit and armor, before heading out of his quarters. Class was due to begin in an hour, and he had preparations to make.
The students had taken well to his first lectures, and appeared to be getting along with each other nicely. Ferdinand, who had long since abandoned the hope of getting out of stable duty, now seemed to have developed an interest in horses.
Byleth was only happy to encourage him, not-so-subtly pointing out that noble knights were often riders. Knowing how to take care of a horse would go a long way in reaching such a goal, should he be interested.
Needless to say, the boy immediately took to his work with newfound vigor. Ferdinand was also determined to improve his skills with the lance, which only served to set him further along that path.
Edelgard was perhaps his most talented student, at least as of now. She was strong and intelligent, and skilled with an axe. She had room to grow like everyone else, of course, but was already confident enough to work independently.
If anything, what she truly needed to learn was to rely on others and not just herself.
Petra and Bernadetta were instead more interested in the ways of the bow, just as Hubert, Dorothea and Linhardt shared a remarkable aptitude for reason and faith magic.
Dorothea, however, sadly shared more than a few traits with Manuela, and Byleth's mind raced with ideas as to how he should approach her.
Finally, Caspar would prove the most troublesome to teach. Not for lack of effort or motivation, but simply due to his energetic and juvenile personality. If there was anyone in his class whom Byleth wished would not join them in their fight against the bandits, it would be Caspar.
He did not believe the boy truly understood what he would be getting himself into. It would sink in only later, perhaps in several months' worth of time, and hit him like a ton of bricks.
Bearing those thoughts in mind, he made his way inside the classroom of the Black Eagle House. None of his students had yet to arrive, which was understandable this early in the morning. They were probably still eating breakfast, something Byleth rarely found himself partaking in.
He sat down behind his desk; setting down his papers. Today, he would be changing things up a little, and venture into slightly darker territory.
Ideally, Byleth would have wanted to slowly ease the students into the idea of taking another life. With the archbishop's command, however, there was little time for such luxuries. They had to know, and they had to know it bluntly.
It was not a truth to be sugar-coated, or danced around with poetic wording.
In two weeks' time, they would become killers.
"Good morning."
The students replied in chorus; their voices resounding across the classroom. They had filled in quickly, no doubt excited to do something new.
"If only they knew."
"I see that you've brought writing utensils." continued Byleth, looking over his students in approval. "Good. You'll be needing them for the first half of this lecture."
At their inquisitive gazes, he elaborated.
"In two hours' time, we'll be joining Professor von Hrym in the training grounds. A practical demonstration should serve as… encouragement for your endeavors."
Edelgard raised her hand.
"A demonstration? Do you intend to spar with Professor Jeritza?"
"That is correct, Miss Hresvelg. He has been kind enough to accept my request."
Byleth then stood up from his chair, ignoring the students' excited whispers, and approached the chalkboard beside him. He had prepared a rudimentary sketch of a human being, just accurate enough to serve its purpose.
"Before that, however…" he began; tapping the chalkboard with his finger. "We'll be discussing how to kill a man."
The chattering died down, or in Bernadetta's case, was replaced by a fearful whimper. Only Hubert and Edelgard appeared unaffected, and even then, he could spy a widening of the princess' eyes.
"You'll be fighting bandits by the end of the month. These people are scum, in every sense of the word, and won't hesitate to cut you down and strip you of your valuables."
"Or worse." he added, letting the implication hang in the air. During his time as a mercenary, Byleth had witnessed many things, some of which made even him turn his head away in disgust.
"As such…" he continued. "You can't afford to show any hesitation."
"But enough of that. Tell me, which are the vital parts of a human body?"
His question seemed to snap the students out of a trance, and they adopted thoughtful expressions. Hubert smirked rather cruelly, and lifted his hand into the air.
"The head." he said.
"Correct." said Byleth, and picked up a piece of chalk.
"More specifically, the brain. Regardless of your weapon of choice, you should aim for your enemies' eyes, forehead and temples."
He marked said places with a cross, before repeating the question. Now, more students had raised their hands, and he allowed them to speak freely.
"The lungs." said Ferdinand.
"Professor, I am knowing one." said Petra. "The… liver?" she said, stumbling over the word.
"Kidneys." added Linhardt, looking slightly pale.
Byleth nodded, marking down all of the areas. He was surprised to see Bernadetta raise her hand, and would have missed it were it not for his keen eyesight.
"T- The heart." she stammered. "You can't l-live without a h-heart."
The timid girl then quickly lowered her head, attempting to hide behind her hair.
"Yes…" Byleth said eventually. "That's correct, Miss Varley. No one can live without a heart."
He made a second cross over the chest of his sketch, next to the lungs.
They had adequately covered all of the vital organs, but it would do little good against a competent opponent. Thankfully, bandits were rarely such, but a professor worth his salt would prepare them regardless.
"Good work." he said. "However, where will you strike against a foe wearing armor, or a foe knowledgeable enough to guard themselves?"
The silence grew thick and almost oppressive, as most of the students realized they had little experience outside of textbook scenarios or the odd scuffle now and then.
"Magic." said Hubert. "No amount of armor will guard against magic."
"Perhaps." admitted Byleth. "For this reason, it is beneficial to possess at least a basic knowledge of magic. However, what if you find yourself alone, faced by multiple enemies in close quarters?"
When no one spoke for a good while, he shook his head.
"You run."
He gave his blankest stare, making sure to impress the worth of not throwing your life away.
"There is no honor in war. You either live to fight another day, or you die, and leave your comrades with fewer numbers to do the fighting."
Byleth would do all that he could to ensure his students' survival, even if it meant to beat the notion of bravery and heroism out of their minds.
"If you find yourselves outmatched or outnumbered, you run. You regroup with your allies, and you devise a different strategy. Do you understand?"
They all nodded, looking suitably unnerved.
"Good. In that case, follow me. It's time to head outside."
"The poor children… You have bothered them greatly."
There was no other way, thought Byleth. Better now, than on the eve of battle. In any case, he was prepared to compensate for every last one of them, if he had to.
Even if it meant letting the demon loose.
He knew that between the Ashen Demon and a battalion of his father's troops, no number of bandits would stand a chance. Whether the students would return to the monastery scarred beyond comprehension or not, was a different matter entirely.
"Let us hope it does not come to that."
For once, he agreed with Sothis.
"Professor…" drawled a lazy, almost apathetic voice. "You are here."
Jeritza stood ready in the center of the training grounds; his lance resting against the cobblestone pavement. He wore his mask, as always, which covered the top half his face.
Something gnawed at the back of his mind, and surprisingly, it was not Sothis. As he looked upon the mysterious combat instructor, Byleth could not help but sense a hint of familiarity. It was as though he had seen him before, and something was urging him to remember where.
"I am." he replied. "Thank you for your time."
Jeritza hummed, shaking his head. "There is no need for pleasantries… Let us fight."
Byleth walked over to the weapon rack, picking out a lance of his own. While it was not his preferred weapon, he was skilled enough in its use, courtesy of his father. Jeralt was perhaps the most proficient lancer in all of Fódlan.
Noticing Jeritza's subtle impatience, he turned toward his students. They had assembled a short distance away, close enough to see, but just far enough to not accidentally come in the way.
"This won't be a simple spar." he said. "Short of dismembering or killing each other, neither Professor von Hrym or I will be holding back."
He heard a few gasps, but paid them little heed.
"Pay close attention, as you may learn something important enough to save your lives."
Byleth turned back and faced Jeritza, and the two exchanged a nod. They fell into their respective stances, and began to slowly circle one another.
Jeritza showed no discernable opening, which spoke volumes of his skill. Many lancers allowed at least an opening or two, thinking that the reach of their weapon could make up for it.
In truth, it often could, and the lack of a full guard made it easier to advance and attack. In the cases where it could not, however, those lancers found their lifespans shortened abruptly.
Suddenly, Jeritza sprung forward, attempting to stab the tip of his lance into Byleth's stomach.
He pivoted in response; the lance meeting nothing but air as it sailed past him. He kicked upward, and managed to catch the shaft of Jeritza's weapon with the tip of his boot.
Showing no surprise, the masked man wasted little time in bringing his lance back down, forcing Byleth to guard against it with his own weapon. Both of their lances pushed against each other, with Jeritza meeting him overhead and attempting to push Byleth to the ground with sheer strength.
Both men grunted with effort, neither willing to give out first. Of course, that could prove a useful feint in itself.
He dropped to the ground, seemingly overpowered, and heard a few of his students let out a worried cry. Using the momentum of the fall, Byleth rolled backward, narrowly avoiding a painful stab to his thigh.
He immediately extended his own lance, swinging it in a wide arc and managing to sweep Jeritza of his feet. Unfortunately, even in mid-fall, his foe was focused enough to reach out with his leg, landing a solid kick to his jaw.
"Byleth! Are you hurt?"
He shook his head, quickly fighting off the disorientation that followed the blow. Jeritza was surprisingly nimble, given his tall stature. He would not give the man such an opportunity again.
"Impressive." Byleth spoke honestly; seeing that the other man was already back on his feet.
"A decent warm-up…" replied Jeritza. "Now… Fight."
"That w-was a warm-up?" Bernadetta whispered meekly, hiding in the sidelines behind Ferdinand. The boy could only nod in a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"It would seem so. It is a humbling experience, to be sure."
Meanwhile, Jeritza was advancing once more. His strikes were now quicker and sharper, and Byleth found himself truly pushed on the defensive.
A jab. A sweep. A flat blow of the shaft. Jeritza was utilizing every offensive move imaginable, all while forcing him to the far end of the training grounds.
It was clear the man had held back in the beginning, despite agreeing not to. Perhaps it had been his own way of testing Byleth; making sure that he was a worthy opponent.
As the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sharp sting in his arm, and realized that Jeritza's lance had torn through the seam of his sleeve. The cool metal of his weapon cut deeply into his skin, finding the only place not covered by his vambraces.
Blood splattered onto the stone below, and Edelgard's voice reached his ears.
"Professor!" she exclaimed, in tandem with Sothis, both of whom sounded almost frightened with concern. It was odd, he thought, yet at the same time touching.
It was also completely unnecessary.
Byleth ignored the pain in his arm, leaning fully onto his lance. It was a technique his father had taught him, which entailed the use of the lance as a pole. He kicked off from the ground; his weapon allowing him to vault over a surprised Jeritza.
The man barely had enough time to turn around, when Byleth unsheathed his secondary weapon – the dagger he always wore on his belt.
A second later, the dagger was firmly placed at his opponent's throat.
"Yield."
Behind the mask, Byleth thought that Jeritza's eyes must have traced the blade to his neck. They had not spoken of using multiple weapons, but then again, they had not spoken against it either.
More importantly, however, there was no such thing as a fair fight.
Instead of yielding, the man suddenly laughed. It was a cold, silent laugh, yet undeniably clear. It also sounded completely foreign, almost awkwardly so, as though the man had never laughed before.
"We shall fight again, Professor." said Jeritza; his strange laugh fading away. Without as much as a good-bye, he then proceeded to leave. The students, all of whom had been stunned into silence, scrambled to give him a wide berth.
"Again… and again… and again…"
"Professor, that was amazing!" shouted Caspar.
"Yes, Professor. I am feeling very impressed." said Petra.
"An acceptable performance." Hubert muttered off-handedly, even if his eyes told another story.
Once back inside the classroom, the students had begun to shower Byleth with praise. It was ironic, he thought, considering that was something a professor should be doing.
"Thank you." he said. "Now, can any of you tell me why I won?"
"Because you were stronger?" said Caspar.
He shook his head.
"Because Professor Jeritza underestimated you?" guessed Dorothea.
"No, but you're getting closer."
"Because you caught him by surprise?" asked Edelgard, who sat at the very front of his class. Her violet eyes shone with admiration, and she looked at him expectantly.
"Precisely." confirmed Byleth. "Professor von Hrym is more skilled with a lance than I. He also holds a height advantage, and therefore an advantage in reach as well. He even managed to draw blood."
He looked toward Linhardt, and nodded in gratitude. The young boy had offered to heal his wound following the spar, reducing the pain to nothing more than a dull ache.
"By all accounts, he should have won. However, by managing to catch him by surprise, the tables turned in an instant."
"I do say! I must admit I believed you were done for, and that I would have to turn back the hands of time to save you from disgrace."
He truly did appreciate Sothis' confidence in him. If he was to have a second entity sharing his mind, it was at least nice to know that it supported him and believed in him.
"Oh, alright… Sorry."
Byleth would treasure that apology forever.
"In other words, catching your opponent by surprise can be the difference between life and death. If you find yourself running out of options, try to do something unexpected."
Following that statement, the bell rang, and he dismissed his class. They began to pack their things, no doubt hungry after such a mentally exhausting morning.
"Oh…" he said, stopping the students short of leaving the classroom. "Before you leave, know that the remainder of our classes will be practical."
Until the day of their mission, he would be focusing solely on combat practice.
"There will be no need for writing utensils, and be sure to dress appropriately."
"Yes, Professor!"
Kronya tapped her leg impatiently. The Red Canyon was awfully dull, and she could hardly wait until the day the church finally arrived. While she would not be able to attack them, much to her annoyance, she would hopefully get to witness a few of the bastards choking to death on their own blood.
The same went for the filthy bandits she was being forced to associate with. The damp cave they were hiding in did little to improve her mood, and she cursed their existence.
When the leader of the band approached her, Kronya sighed in audible contempt.
"What is it, dog?"
Kostas narrowed his eyes as he approached her.
"I don't know what that masked freak has planned out, but I'll be keeping an eye on you."
Kronya giggled at his description of the Flame Emperor. Maybe she would find some amusement here, after all. That is, until someone lopped Kostas' head cleanly off his shoulders, which would prove even more amusing.
She was not fond of the tone he took toward her.
"No need to worry your tiny, little brain with that." she said, twirling an ornate dagger in her hand. The weapon had been handed down in her family for ages, and now it belonged to her.
The thought of stabbing it into someone's neck had her cackling.
"Mad wench." muttered Kostas, and headed back to whatever hole he crawled out of.
There was something else, however – something that had been on her mind for a while. While not in great detail, Solon had explained the reason for their change of plans.
Byleth Eisner.
The second coming of Nemesis, by the sound of it.
She paused, and corrected herself.
The second coming of Nemesis, with a brain. If Solon was right, and he ended up fighting for the Agarthans, their dream might actually end up fulfilled.
He was already powerful, and possessed the Crest of Flames. All he needed was the Sword of the Creator, and he would have the entire package. Given that potential, it made sense for Monica to return to the academy.
If she joined his class, she could gauge him. She could speak with him, influence him, and learn what made him tick.
Oddly enough, Kronya found herself looking forward to it.
"I'm waiting for you, Professor…" she said, and giggled.
"Hurry up and rescue me."