Toothless whirls out of the way in time. The boulder just braising his stomach, but he can take it since his skin's fireproof. But the sudden whip has thrown us off course and we're spinning and twirling trying desperately to regain out balance.

Even with the world spinning, I can see the Outcasts ship, with three men armed with crossbows. I can't eliminate the idea that they could be undercover rebels just firing at us to allure suspicion. But when I see Gobber and the other men open fire, I dive down with Toothless and shoot at the closest man. He falls as my arrow penetrates his chest. I can tell from the wound, I just missed his heart and lung. But the damage will still do well.

Toothless circle the boat as we see Gobber and Mulch hop on the enemy boat. I see an Outcast just off to the left as he readies a crossbow. He fires and Toothless and I both dodge. In an instant, the second after I dodge he ends up with two arrows in his chest. I fired two to make sure I wouldn't miss.

Once I see Gobber and the men evacuate the ship, I open fire with three fire arrows. A fire blossoming on the ship in seconds. As we close in on the shore, I can see at least four catapults with three marauders working each. The dragons open fire on half of the catapults, destroying them in an instant. Then once Ruff and Tuff's Zippleback sprays a cover fire of gas, I aim an explosive arrow and the entire cliff side obliterates, black smoke drifting into the sky.

Using the wind currents, we guide the smoke to cover the rest of the regiment. Toothless doves down and I leap off and ready and arrow. He lands not too far from me and we both stalk through the smoke. I see an apparition form in the mist and I'm about to fire, but I have a brief flashback to when we were training at the arena and Snotlout and Tuffnut mistook Ruffnut and Astrid for the dragon. The figure comes closer and I see it's Bucket.

I see him peer over my shoulder and I whirl around and an Outcast who was about to go for a fatal blow gets an arrow in the calf. As he doubles over, I whack him with my bow and a gash opens on his forehead. With another whack, he's on the ground out cold. There's the sound of grunting men and punches being thrown.

"Duck!" I hear Bucket command in such a powerful voice, so different to his usual bubble-brain voice, that I do. He chucks his axe and it goes whizzing over my head and there's sickening sound as it finds its target.

I look to my right and feel the ground vibrate and the Whispering Death bursts right in front of me. Roaring and scaring the off the Outcasts with just a simple roar. The smoke starts to clear and soon everyone can see one another. Toothless whips away an oncoming Outcast like a fly and Skullette shoot an arrow at another who's wielding a bludgeon. It sink into his calf and with another whack of her bow, he falls over the cliff side and plummets to the rocky shore.

Mulch has caught up with Bucket, so I leave the two and go help Gobber who's baited with one against four. One Outcast immediately loses his eye to my arrow. I shoot another that was heading for me once he noticed my presence. My arrow drives deeply into the center of his neck. Gobber takes out the other two by first knocking the first one unconscious, then spinning around and slicing the other in the jugular.

By now the smoke's cleared and I look around for Astrid and the others. I see Fishlegs and Snotlout cornered by three more Outcasts. I run over and shoulder roll in front of them. I'm reloaded, shifting my aim from side to side. Another one of my arrows finds a home in an Outcast's heart.

One leaps but I whack him away from them with the bow. It slams into his stomach and he grunts as he the wind gets knocked out of him. As he's holding his stomach, I hold his head and slam my knee in to the back of his neck. There's a snap and he falls to the ground. Motionless.

Then another one tackles me, but thankfully his weapon never reaches my flesh. We somersault back until he's beneath me and I pull out my knife and mercilessly slash its throat. I retract the knife, grab my bow again and aim another arrow and it gets buried up to the shaft in the Outcast's stomach.

I whirl around to face Fishlegs and Snotlout. "You guys okay?" I ask. Completely unfazed by what I just did. But they stare at me and my work. Their eyes wide and mouths wide open. And there's even the glint of fear. But they nod to me and I run off toward Toothless as he's making his way toward me.

"Hiccup!" I hear Gobber call. I look around and find him running toward me. "That's sit. We need to get to the camp." He tells me.

I look around and at least all of the men lie there dead. Others have run off and or stay on the ground, waiting for death. We all regroup and I find we've only lost man. I didn't know his name, but I manage to find him among the dead Outcast bodies. He had received an arrow in the back.

I sling my bow over my shoulder and take one last look at the cliff side now littered with the dead bodies of the Outcasts. Then I do the unexpected. I walk around and pull my arrows out harshly from the bodies and then place them back into the sheath. Planning to clean them later. Then I walk back over toward Toothless and while Gobber looks normal, Astrid and the others I know are staring at me with disgust and shock.

After we mount our dragons, Gobber and the other men walk toward the campsite where Dad and the other soldiers are posted. We flow no more than a thousand feet in the air so we still have visual on Gobber and the others while still having an aerial advantage over the Outcasts.

I'm a stone-cold aerial killer. Death from above.

"Hey Hiccup," I hear to my left. I look and find Astrid flying next to me.

Suddenly I'm aware of how quiet it is. I turn and find everyone with a concerned and worried look on their faces. I'm confused as to why.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"Yeah, why?" I say.

"Uh, well, you . . ." she struggles to find an answer. And if there's one thing I know, Astrid's never at a loss for words.

Then Fishlegs interjects boldly, but still hesitant. "You were like a killing machine out there. And that's not like you at all and it was really scary." He says quickly. As if he wants to get it out before I shot him off of Meatlug.

I turn to Snotlout and the twins and Snotlout almost avoids my gaze if it weren't for a flick of his eyes in my direction. The twins just stay silent. I don't know how to react or reply since I was honestly in a daze as I was fighting. Only focused on protecting those I care about. And to destroy those who put them in harm's way.

I was honestly, oblivious to what I was doing; only knowing I have a drive to eliminate those who try to attack me. It was as if it was a second nature. And now I see, it's completely out of my personality. Completely out of my realm. That's what makes it so scary. It's so not like me.

"I'm sorry." I say. It's the only thing I can think of to say.

I can't apologize for killing the Outcasts, apologize for killing them in order to protect my friends. It's my only option. Those men are out for my flesh. And they would've killed me if I didn't strike first. So apologizing for scaring them is the only thing I can do. While it's harsh to admit, they need to see that for war, it's kill or be killed. Just like Mulch said. Better than the days when it was kill or be killed

You're out on your own in war. Everyone's out to make sure you don't live to see the morning. It should be a second instinct. And they know this. I'm surprised that they're scared for me rather than for the war. But when I dig deeper inside me, I realize they should be. Suddenly I'm very upset, and I know it's connected to them. It takes a moment before I figure it out, and when I do, it's almost too mortifying to admit.

I just killed about six, maybe seven men. And I didn't even flinch, didn't hesitate, didn't even have the slightest tremor in my hands. If I were still me, the old me, I would've tried to compromise with them, then if that failed, I'd try to find some form of bail out. But instead, someone else, some Monster, took control over me and just massacred those men. The war has changed me. In ways that I know aren't good.

Now no one can even picture me as the scrawny, little embarrassment I was before. And now, I find myself wanting them to picture me like that again. But I know they can't. He got blown out of the water the minute I joined the war. Now, I'm someone else, and they see it. It's someone I don't want to be, but have no choice to be.

They see me for what I am. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly.

I really have become the Dragon Conqueror. And I did it no matter what the personal cost. I had to put aside my feelings in order to do it. The success of the rebellion hinges on my shoulders, my willingness to be a pawn, to accept responsibility for countless lives, and to change the course of the future for Berk. And I did it.

We soon land at the campsite and the first thing I do is greet my Dad with a hug, and tell him about the wedding. He's pleased to hear it went well, and it proud that I handled it well. Skullette greets Chief Boggs with hugs and kisses and she begins to tell all what's happened. I see my squad walk up and I notice someone missing. Gobber, Skullette and Mulch and Bucket were all with me. There's that woman, True who went along with Dad. Hunter and Lucas were with Dad. Maybe that's it. Hunter's alone.

"Where's Lucas?" I ask. And there's that feeling of tension that's so thick you can cut it with a knife.

When we're in my Dad's tent, he tells me that while they were scoping the outer perimeter of the camp, they were ambushed by Outcasts with crossbows. On found Lucas' brain. He was gone before the medics could reach him. They couldn't even bring his body back since the ambush was too strong. Gobber apparently promised a speedy replacement. My guilt floods me since I was so insensitive. But Dad tells me it's okay since I didn't know.

But that night, as I'm coming back from a bath in the creek, I hear Hunter in his tent. It sounds like he's just finally broken down over his brother's death, and I hear his muffled sobs through the tent. When I get to my own, I feel my own tears reach out and mourn the loss of Lucas.

So in his honor, and Lucas' permission, I take a piece of his clothing – his weapons are too good to lose and I doubt he wants to part with them. It's probably the one thing he has to feel closest to his brother - wrap it in leather and set it on fire. I give it a gentle push it out into the water. It floats toward the middle, then once the wood burns through, the whole thing sinks into the water. I jab a small flag with the symbol of Berk into the dirt. So people know a brave warrior was lost.

Lucas grips my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. I know he appreciates this. We both go to bed that night both feeling a little better. I clean my weapons by the water, wanting to suddenly rid them of the blood. I go back into my tent and try to sleep as best I can. But my dreams are filled with horrid graphics of Lucas. He's calling, pleading to me. But when I try to help him, it's like I'm stuck in place and can't move.

He's soon swallowed by the blackest hole I've ever seen. It's like the one made from the Whispering Death. He screams as he plummets into nothing. I wake with a start and sweating even in the cold weather. I'm breathing heavy and my tent seems deprived of oxygen. It's around midnight when I crawl out of my tent and position myself on a camp stool near the fire.

The rest of the night I slip in and out of a horrid dream state trying to save Lucas even though it's inevitable. In the morning, I know I have bags under my eyes, and my muscles are sore from the cold wind. And yet I feel well rested. My drive to avenge Lucas powers me through early morning training then the two hour fly it takes to get to Tower 3.

We land a couple miles from the border of the wall surrounding the Tower and the small village. I do the same as before and pull the hood of my cape up over my head and conceal my sheath of normal arrows and a knife.

We ride on horseback for the rest of the trip. Not wanting to take any chances, knowing that Alvin's probably kept everyone on high alert of my arrival, the minute the iron fate and two guards come into view, I shoot one down, and while the other looks at his partner in confusion, he's gone before he can even turn his head to find where the arrow came from.

The gates open from one of our secret operatives form the inside. We park the horses and I follow Gobber and the others into an alley that merges with a paved street that leads to the tower. I keep to the side, head down, looking like I'm doing nothing more than hurrying home.

Dark skies cover the sky, and a chilly breeze is blowing, carrying hints of the storm to come. I calculate no more than ten minutes before a fierce round of winter rain hits, reducing visibility to nothing. I pick up the pace. I exit one alley, turn left, and stride along the street, my cloak wrapped close, my expression neutral. I make a right into another alley between what seems to be an armory and an abandoned warehouse.

No one seems to be following us, but the number of guards on duty has defiantly increased. Even with the remaining numbers of soldiers Alvin has. The alley twists away from the street and ends abruptly at the edge of an expanse of waist-high yellow grass about fifty yards wide. Beyond the grass, the wall around the tower looms. There wasn't one for Tower 10, must be due to the fact that it's closer to the town of the Outcasts.

Immense steel ribs joined by tons of concrete as thick as twelve men standing shoulder to shoulder wrap around the tower. Every one hundred yards, a turret rises. Guards assigned to the wall spend most of their shift in their assigned turrets. But from I was told, three times a day – at dawn, at noon, and at night – they leave the turret to do a detailed sweep of their section of the wall.

I reach the edge of the field just as the first drops of rain slam into the ground. The guards in the turret closest to me step into the steady downpour, swords in hand, and walk north with measured positions. Everyone gets into positions, ducking beneath the grass. I rise from the center of the field. I stay low to the ground and race across the field in spurts – sprint, drop, roll into a crouch, and repeat. Beneath the curtain of rain, aided by the swiftly falling darkness, I'm nothing but a shadow.

But if Dad can still see me, then so can the guard above him too. In seconds I hear the whoosh of a body plummeting to the ground and brace myself. He lands slightly to the right of Gobber, but all of his attention on me. Gobber slams his fist into the side of his head, and drag his unconscious body back under the lip of the roof. A quick scan of the area confirms that no other guards are perusing me.

I reach the wall before the faint glow of a guard's lantern has completely disappeared in the distance. I estimate just under ten minutes before the guards return. Just under ten minutes to capture the tower, subdue whatever guards try to fight, and ride off before Alvin arrives. The driving sheets of rain make it hard to be certain, but I'm pretty sure one just ran for Gobber. But I know they can handle themselves. I reach the wall and start up a ladder.

I make it to the top before the others can reach the base. The rain pounds into me, but I barely notice it due to the cloak, and the adrenaline that I've become so dependent on when it comes to fighting in the war. The rungs are slippery, so I wrap my hands in my leather cloak, grasp the metal, and climb as quickly as I can.

I scramble over the lip of the wall and race into the rounded stone turret a few yards to my left. Rain pounds the walkway as I grad the handle of my bow, finally reveal it from my cloak. I don't have long before the guards return. I drag my cloak closer to my body and now the rain is falling in opaque sheets. I'll be lucky if I can see two yards in front of me. Which means the guards won't be able to see me either. But it also means I can't see what waits for me in the tower.

Ducking into the doorway, my hands shake as I rehearse my plan.

Run out the doorway. Sprint and take out any guards I encounter. Find the winch to iron the gates. Grab the edge of the wall. Vault over. Set the tower on fire and wait for Toothless to retrieve me. One wrong move and I'll never be heard from again.

It has to work. It will work.

I take a deep breath and sprint out the door.

With my sheath ready, I lock an arrow in place. A guard who was returning is dead before he even sees me hurdling toward him. I need to get to the turret that houses the winch to open the gates. Once everyone's in, we can storm the tower.

I duck into another doorway that's just a closet for weapons. I manage to find another bow and an extra sheath of arrows. Rather than carry more weight, and considering the weapons I bought back at Tower 10, I just load the arrows into my sheath, the once I check to see if the cost is clear, I sprint back out again.

I skid to a stop when I see and Outcast guard. His back is turned to me and as I load an arrow he turns. I'm about to fire, when the weapon is dropping to the ground and the unarmed man is holding up something out to me in his gloved hand.

"Stop!" he cries.

I waver, unable to process the turn of events. I can't stay long; Dad and the others will be waiting for the gates to open. And with the downpour, they'll die from hypothermia or ammonia. My fingers have all but decided to release the arrow when I see the object in the glove. It's the symbol of Berk. Sewn into the material. And undercover Outcast.

I lower my bow and retrieve the man's weapon. Once he tells me something I know that will qualify him as an official rebel, he leads me to the turret with the winch and once I activate it, the ruble of the gates opening vibrates through the tower. The rebel Outcast orders me to run, but since he helped me, I refuse to leave him behind. Together, we'll have a better chance at getting out of the tower alive since now it'll be flooded with guards wondering who opened the gate.

We run and while I take our at least four guards in front of me, the Outcast rebel takes out any from the back who materialize from any hidden rooms. We're at the stairwell that leads to the gateway. We sprint out and I can see they're open wide enough for everyone to get in. we're running and I call back to him saying good job as we make our way to the tower. I can see Gobber and Dad punch a few Outcasts while others battle against each other, protecting my Dad and squad.

Astrid grabs the shield of an Outcast and uses that for her protection. Fishlegs and Snotlout fly on their dragons, shooting at the tower. I have the Outcast rebel still close behind and just as I think he's going to make it with us, a flaming catapult boulder comes out of nowhere and blows off his legs.

I skid to a stop as screams emanate from Astrid, thinking I've been hit. Blood stains the muddy ground and smoke darkens the sky even more. A second catapult seems to split the air and leaves my ears ringing. But I can't make out from where it came from.

I throw my weapon in the mud and reach the Outcast first and try to make sense of the torn flesh, missing limbs, to find something to stem the red flow from his body. Another rebel Outcast pushes me aside, wrenching open a first-aid kit. The Outcast clutches my wrist. His face, gray with dying and ash, seems to be receding. But his next words are an order. "My spear."

His spear. His weapon. I scramble around, digging through chunks of tile slick with blood, shuddering whenever I encounter bits of warm flesh. Find it rammed into the ground head first. Wedge it free and retrieve it, wiping it clean with bare hands as I return it to the Outcast.

The one providing first-aid has the stump of the Outcast's left thigh cupped by some sort of compression bandage, but it's already bled through. He's trying to tourniquet the other above the existing knee. The rest of our squad has gathered in a protective formation around us. Dad's attempting to retrieve True, who was thrown back into a wall by the explosion. The Outcast works desperately to fix the one wounded, but I know it's too late.

Growing up, watching Gobber bring in an occasional wounded warrior when I was younger, I've learned that once a pool of blood has reached a certain size, there's no going back. I kneel beside the bloody Outcast, giving him someone to hold on to as he's released from life. But he has both hands working on his spear. He fumbles with the head of it, and as I'm about to offer to help him since I can't stand looking at the way he childishly messes with it, suddenly it top pops off and he shakes out a small arrow tip.

It's a Brodhead arrow tip. These thing can shoot through anything.

He places it in the palm of my hand and encloses my fingers on it. "Take it. This'll shoot him down." He tells me

There's a loud snap of a trap. I look and four cables, attached to tracks break through the mud, dragging up the net that encases an Outcast. It makes no sense – how instantly bloodies he is – until I see the barbs sticking out form the wire that encases him. I know immediately.

There are orders to drag the Outcast to shelter, but he'll just be in more pain, and I don't want to put him through that. He's already too far gone. I turn back to the Outcast. His lips are moving, but I can't make out what's he's saying. Though the firing seems to have ebbed a little.

I lean my ear down to his mouth to catch his harsh whisper. "Aim for the heart. Don't trust him. Do what you came to do."

"W-What? What?" I ask, but it's too late. His eyes are still open, but dead. Pressed in my hand, glued to it by his blood, is the arrow tip.

Rage and fury overtake my panic and fuels me. My body reacts before my mind does. I hide the arrow tip in my belt, shoot up and sprint. Retrieve my bow and practically plow through the gang of Outcast soldiers, arrows finding places all over their bodies, barreling into the Tower. The next thing I know, I'm at the top of the tower, my bow slung over my shoulder.

There's the body of an Outcast soldier at my feet. Bloody and mutilated. There are forty-one slashes at his face and throat. My feet stand in a pool of blood. Splatters of blood on my uniform and even on my face. I'm breathing heavy and there's a sense of satisfaction. The blade of my hidden knife on my forearm is doused in blood and my fist is clenched tight.

I pull out some wood that's been kept in wooden boxes and pile them all on top of the Outcast's body. The blood begins to dry from the winter cold and I manage to find a fire arrow in my sheath.

I simply strike it against the sandpaper of my bow and lazily toss it on the wood. I walk to the edge of the balcony posted on the tower and call to Toothless. He flies under me and when we reach the ground, I hop off and just walk forward. Not bothering to hide my face with splattered blood. The blade of the knife still visible, my face neutral.

Everyone stares at me. The feeling of their gazes burns through my skin. Their faces range in 'aw' and horror as they try to piece together what I've just done. I'm still trying to figure it out myself. I pass the body of the Outcast who aided me in the turret. I mourn silently and give him my final goodbye as the tower collapses behind me.