Oops, here I go rewriting years-old chapters again.

Part One Arc Three: The Student

Chapter 11: Perspective

Unicorn Way, Dawn of the Second Day

He remembered the first time they met: a young boy, only a few years older than him, had walked into their camp alone, completely at ease with the presence of armed guards within and hordes of beasts and mutated animals without. He seemed to gravitate toward seven-year-old him; perhaps he was intrigued by his red eyes, or the white hair peeking under his cap. Or perhaps he came to him because he was sitting alone at a rotten stump, staring at his hands.

"Name's Eric," he said, his voice still unbroken and clear.

"… I'm Nicholas." His voice was raspy, not wishing to enter his family's wagon for water while his father was sleeping off the effects of his latest hit.

"So, Nick- can I call you Nick? -is there anything to do around here that doesn't involve sitting on your hands alone?"

He was confused; his hands were very clearly in plain view. Did this stranger have a blind spot? "But… I'm not sitting on my hands. See?" He waved them in Eric's view, causing him to laugh. Oddly enough, that was the start to a friendship that seemed strange when viewed from the outside: there would be long stretches of time where the two would silently sit back-to-back, only occasionally speaking, and even then only to exchange information on what they witnessed in that time; quiet debates about extremely odd subjects like the effectiveness of guns vs. swords, if it were possible to tame at least one of the countless species of mutated monsters out for humanity's blood, and other topics; extended periods of traveling together, bringing with them only a change of clothes, a pair of knives, and plenty of clean water; the lakes and rivers, pristine though they appeared, were heavily radioactive even hundreds of years after the War. However, he looked back on the three years they had together as the best time of his life. He finally had someone who understood him, who wouldn't mock the bruises and occasional tears on his face, and always took what he had to say seriously. Eric was the one person in that place who didn't make him feel like a freak, or a burden.

Of course, it all went wrong one night, during one of their hikes. The memory of the event escaped him no matter how hard he grasped at its fleeting specter, but one thing remained clear: when he woke up, trembling and nauseated, he was outside of a low metal building surrounded by a chain link fence, with Eric on top of him, his bear hug threatening to squeeze he life out of him, whispering, "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay," over and over again like a mantra. They went back after that, but the coming days were tense and uncomfortable, Eric being elusive and uncharacteristically somber, his deep blue, almost purple eyes never quite meeting his own. When he disappeared, it was as if someone had stabbed him in the chest and left the knife to rust. His sheer panic and misery that first day only elicited scorn from his father and mockery from the other children. Telling himself afterward that he would come back eventually, he waited patiently, bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Months went by before he finally gave up, his resulting depression making him unresponsive to even the worst of the abuse. Two years passed, with him listlessly taking in the knowledge necessary to take up his father's mean mantle of head guard. Finally, the day came that he was to go on his first patrol with him. The two went alone, as bringing any more guards would jeopardize the camp's perimeter. The patrol itself was uneventful: rabid dogs and mongrels were shot, lone travelers were warned off, and several wild animals were killed for their meat. It was what happened afterward that was important.

As they neared the camp, the sound of gunfire broke out: an attack! With a curse, his father unslung his rifle and raced off toward the action, with Nicholas standing still, mind blank. There was too much sound, too many flashes, screams of pain and howls for blood and brakakakakakaka of machine gun fire crashed over his mind like a wave. It was too much, he had to step back, look away, cover his ears, block it out, block it all out-

"Dammit, boy, move your ass! We've got Raiders!" His father's gruff bark jolted him out of it, and he hurried to follow. At first, it seemed as if they arrived to the end of a nightmare: corpses of both sides' dead littered the ground, with only three guards left alive, but thankfully, only one of the enemy was left to face them. He was a darker man of about thirty, wearing aviator sunglasses, worn work boots, and what looked like a leather skirt, like a barbarian raider of old. His thick, white hair was topped with an old-timey naval hat, and he wore a gauntlet that sported three wicked bone claws. Strangest of all was his demeanor: his guard was completely nonexistent, save for his arms being contemptuously crossed over his bare chest as he leaned against an overturned wagon, and he was currently saying in a dry tone to the guards in front of him, "I said it once, and I'll say it again: anyone who points a gun at me, dies. Every. Last. One." He waved his clawed hand lazily over the carnage. "Your friends didn't listen; do you wanna go the same way?" The man's words confused him for a moment. Your friends? Why "your friends" specifically? Unless…

It became crystal-clear to Nicholas in a moment, even as he looked down at the nearest bodies: they were their own guards, with a few merchants thrown in the mix. He did this alone? There was no more time to think, though; his father let out a war cry and charged, his rifle pointed directly at the raider. The other guards, roused by their leader's return, aimed their weapons as well. They never fired off a single shot.

With a dismissive shrug, the raider blurred, almost like a heat mirage, and with preternatural speed, pulled out a sub-machine gun and sprayed the last three guards with bullets, killing them instantly. He then stepped next to Nicholas' father with his claws refitted. With an almost casual swing, he tore off his arm at the elbow before driving them into his throat. Nicholas watched in numb horror as his father, the man who raised him, grasped pathetically at his murderer's wrist for a few moments before, with a final gurgle and a shudder, he let go and went limp. Tossing the fresh corpse aside, he turned to Nicholas, whose fear turned to rage at the sight of his father's body flopping to the dirt like a ragdoll. With a hoarse scream, he emptied his pistol's magazine directly at the man, who dodged all but two of the bullets, both of which hit him in the shoulder. With a roar of fury, the raider rushed forward, claw raised. His nerve failing him, he dived out the way of the raider's downward slash and raced into the forest. He didn't get far, though, as several bullets from the raider's gun speared into his back, their impact flinging him forward, obliterating his back and much of his torso.

Laying there, bleeding in the dirt, everything was beginning to fade away… He was fading… He was nothing…

He woke. Where was he? Whose blood was that? How- wait. Others. Near him. Enemies. Captors? Strike first. Rise- "GRRRROOOOOOAARRR!" PAIN! On his knees again? He was human! He was too injured to move like this. He was too weak, too soft like this. He needed to turn back to himself; then he could bear pain again. He breathed in, gathered the dregs of energy left in his core-

"Nick, stop!"

The voice, so bizarrely familiar, snapped him out of his more… automatic machinations. Looking up, he saw Will's face, pale with worry and anger. With an internal wince, he recalled the events of the past seven hours: He dropped his guard around the Fir Darrig in the final battle, settling down to humor a threat he knew he could handle and lost his eye and his cool for it; he transformed unnecessarily against Marcas in the middle of Wizard City; he even destroyed the moon, and though this was much less a concern for him, if Unicorn Way was ever going to be resettled, he just gave the repair crews a new layer of danger to sift through.

He flashed his spear into existence, using it to act as a support as he stood, able to bear the pain better. A Sacrifice, or even better, a few Wisps, he thought grimly, not noticing the automatic step back most all currently in attendance took upon seeing him rise. The blood's setting in my clothes; cleaning that is going to be a nightmare.

A low growl alerted him to Will's anger, though for what he couldn't guess; was it because he was being ignored? Well, tough, he thought. I'm bleeding out, and you don't hear me complaining. "Nick," he said flatly, causing him to focus on his protege again. Breathing deeply in an attempt to calm down, he said in a clipped tone, "Why." He didn't phrase it quite like a question, but Nicholas would have to be an idiot to think it was anything else. Looking around, he took it all in, the yards upon yards of broken ceramic behind, and the pale, fearful faces before, one of them being…

He took a step forward, using his spear as a makeshift cane; everyone reared back in fear. "Marcas," he said, watching the named attendant flinch as if struck. "You're coming with me," he continued, ignoring the spike in Will's energy. "You specifically, mind. I don't care what he does," he finished, eye flicking to the Bunny, who nearly fell over. He took another step toward the Fir Darrig, only to be stopped by a gloved hand clamping around his shoulder and literally dragging him back. With a grunt of effort, he wrenched himself free of Will's grasp, throwing the younger Wizard off-balance. Catching himself himself before he fell, he drew himself up to his full height (which, honestly, was barely even with the admittedly short Nicholas). "Stop ignoring me, damn it!"

The Necromancer had had enough of his pupil's exhausting line of reasoning. "I will once you say something that actually makes sense."

"I asked you why did you do all of this!"

"And I answered well before now: because I wanted to."

"Why would you want to?"

"Look, I can go all day fielding your ridiculous questions but you've got company." And so he did: several energy signatures had just arrived on Unicorn Way, each one comparable to Will's; Ravenwood had finally sent a squad to investigate. "And about time, too; I was honestly worried I'd have to storm the Commons before they'd do something."

"You did all of this… to arrest Marcas?" That was Nicole, whose words he added to: "His conquest had to be stopped. We learned from him that Ravenwood's masters were content to close off entire sections of the city rather than admit he exists, so I took it upon myself to force their hand. So, Marcas, it appears you have two options before you: turn yourself in to the investigative team, or fight your way to freedom. And I don't know about you," he said turning to the Fir Darrig, "but I'm not liking your… Marcas?" He was gone, to everyone's surprise; they had all been focusing on Nicholas. They looked around, but he—and Phil—had seemingly vanished, until the Fairy's voice came from above, "Lá maith, jackass!" Looking up, the group saw the two would-be conquerors floating roughly twenty feet above them, with Marcas pulling air currents to move them steadily farther away. Will immediately took several potshots at the retreating pair, but Marcas only veered a few feet to either side to avoid them. They dipped over the high wall and out of sight, inciting groans from everyone but Nicholas, who only turned around and said, "Well, I'll leave you to explain that to the new guys."

"Nick, you are not-" But he had already teleported for home.

"Nick! NICK! Damn it!" Will was incensed, and for good reason. He launched a bolt of energy at the nearest chunk of ceramic, blowing it to shrapnel. "I can't believe him! He didn't answer jack shit!" He cursed and raged for a few seconds more, before inexplicably calming down. "Look alive, everyone," he said, face like a mask, "they're here." Indeed, rounding the corner into view were four Wizards, only a few years older than he was. At the lead was an auburn-haired girl in yellow, whose green eyes popped out of her head when she caught sight of the Sorcerer. "Is that… it is! Will! WILL! It's me!"

Will's composure similarly dropped when he recognized the girl, his jaw dropping in shock. "Madeline!?"

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