Chapter 4: Battle of the Red Cliffs: Part II

The fire attack had succeeded, and the sinking fleet of Wei proved that much. But the price was far too heavy: Wu's flotilla was also overrun by the beasts Cynthia had spoken of, attracted by the very flames their fireships had created. Standing on the main flagship of Jiangdong, Crimson Cloud, Zhou Tai cursed himself for the dilemma he had inflicted on himself before the battle. Should he have supported Cynthia before the Supreme Commander and spoken of these monsters, and risked execution for such apparent nonsense? Or should he have remained silent, and watched her warning eventuate itself? He did not know what to do. And by failing to choose, he failed his entire army.

"Our fleet is under attack!" one of the lieutenants had screamed.

"Cao Cao's counterattack?" Zhou Tai had cautiously confirmed.

"No! By… monsters!"

The fiends had begun to swarm the triumphant troops of Wu, cutting short their jubilant celebrations. They crawled onto the junks and galleons from below, from the waters of the river, and leapt with superhuman range from the shores to the flotilla. Some, capable of superhuman flight, had swooped down from above, from the dark sky. They tore viciously into the soldiers, feasting on their guts, those relished intestines that were of such nourishment to them. The disoriented, frightened humans attempted to drive them back with their spears, their halberds. They were of no use – normal metal simply could not penetrate the thick skin of the creatures. The massacre continued on the Wu boats, even as the remaining Wei ships were obliterated in the milieu of the bloodstained river.

How could I have erred so catastrophically? Zhou Tai gritted his teeth in silence, blood trickling from his lip. He stared wordlessly, furiously, at the distant Wu ships that were overrun by the sudden horde. He had to act. Why was he still standing here? He had to do something!

"This isn't your fault," murmured Cynthia, who moved to stand beside Zhou Tai's devastated form. "We'll do our best to muster a counterattack." She drew her sword, the fires of the barges lighting her eyes. "Currently, my other comrades haven't arrived yet. I will do this alone if necessary. Please stay here. I won't let those vile beasts touch a hair of your head."

She looked back in surprise as she felt his hand on her shoulder. His scarred face was thoughtful, enlightened, as if he had realized something he had always known. "When this is over, I will apologize to you for my cowardly weakness. But for now, I cannot stand by and watch you fight for us."

Cynthia shook her head. "Normal weapons are largely ineffective against these monsters, Master Zhou – "

He shook his head. He raised his dao. "Duskstrike," he growled. As if in response to its name, the sword began to hum quietly, its blade now tinged with a blood-red quality. Cynthia's mouth dropped open. Zhou Tai nodded, giving a slight smile. "Let us go, Lady Cynthia."

She gave a broad smile, and nodded. Together, they lunged, jumping over the portside and onto the starboard of an adjacent vessel, cutting into the throng of Yoma that were devouring the innards of dead Wu troops. Zhou Tai turned and slashed, cleaving through two beasts that tried to flank him. His movements were not so much graceful as they were smooth and uninterrupted, slicing through Yoma flesh like warm butter. Cynthia was no less powerful. Her Claymore was designed specifically for annihilating these unnatural creatures of the Isles. She kneed a lunging hulk, pushing it away, and twisted, slashing its adjacent comrade. She turned to deflect the attack of another Yoma and blocked the blade with her gauntlet, thrusting once again into her adversary's chest.

But she hardly felt vindicated. For that meant that the most of the Wu navy was underwater or soaked in their own blood, blood from human flesh torn out by Yoma claws and talons. Nothing was worth this.

Zhou Tai blocked a claw with a gauntleted hand, but grunted as his black armour cracked under the superhuman force. It had gashed his hand open nevertheless… these creatures were truly formidable. He felt warm blood and sweat trickling through the cracks in the protective metal. He grasped Duskstrike harder, and thrust it into one of the wild foreign demons, then sliced upwards, eviscerating it with a burst of light from his blade. These marauders would go no further! He stabbed forwards, that same radiance shooting through another one of the wretches, and it imploded from the inside, bursting into a haze of purple gore and meat. Cynthia riposted and battered away a lunging Yoma, opening herself up to a sidelong attack. He quickly spun and slashed past a cowardly monster that tried to bury its fangs into her ribs.

But he could not turn in time to stop a treacherous drive from behind. Curses! He gritted his teeth reflexively as he felt a sharp, overwhelming sting in his midsection. The creature had punched past his armour and dug into his stomach. It roared and tore out several chunks of flesh from his abdomen. His vision turned red as he staggered back, his knees buckling. He had not expected such strength, even from an inhuman foe.

I am a fool.

He groaned in pain, crumpling to the ground, and his hand reflexively released his sword. He could feel his own inner organs exposed in the cold air, and he did not possess healing abilities like Cynthia did. "Master Zhou!" she screamed, watching with horror the blood that poured from his body. "No!" She dashed towards him, but the wild punch of a Yoma threw her back. He struggled up, his trembling hand searching for Duskstrike. But his triumphant attacker was quicker than his weakened body. It reached for his head –

And its arm was promptly severed by another sword… of the Claymore class? It was swift, blinding, as if the very wind could not withstand its bladed edge. Several Yoma tried to tackle the sword's shrouded owner, but they could not even brush her. With an efficient stroke, they fell apart into several portions of dark, fleshy tissue. Cynthia gasped in relief as a grey cape fluttered in the evening wind atop a nearby boat. "We will not let our allies fall before these beasts from our own Isles," said the newcomer, her mild, melodious voice somehow more audible than even the shrieks from the dying ogre. "We will put an end to the mistakes of our Organization," she declared, flicking back her wavy hair, her large silver eyes glimmering in the moonlight. "And we will rid this land of our Continent's demons."

Cynthia felt herself regaining the strength she needed to slice another Yoma in half. She took Zhou Tai's limp body in one arm, warding away the remaining Yoma, her sword pointing threateningly at them. "You… you're our saviour," she breathed.

"Why, thank you," smiled her compatriot. She aimed her sword at the remnant fiends, who began to back away nervously.

"My name is Windcutter Flora, and I am here to support the valiant soldiers of the Middle Kingdom."

*

Flora looked impassively at the Yoma that had overrun the boats. As one, they lunged at her, severed limbs and body parts still clamped in their jaws. With a face of serenity that Cynthia rather envied, Flora raised her sword up in a disciplined, classical stance of offensive duelling. She sidestepped one attacker and slashed down, before shifting stances and smashing her pommel into its comrade's skull. A loud crack, and it fell back painfully into a throng of heaving demons. Utterly unfazed by the seeming endless horde that swelled across the river, she turned to Cynthia. "Please take that man to safety," she said, leaping off the ship's plank and onto the starboard. "I will hold back our aggressors, until not a single one remains standing." She resumed her guarded stance. "Go."

"Thank you, Number Eight," mumbled Cynthia, taking Zhou Tai on her back and fleeing Flora's side. She leaped desperately off the wretched ship and into the cold river, and felt her nerves momentarily freezing as the biting iciness stabbed into her body. Raising her head from under the waters, flinging excess hair from her hair and gasping for breath, she began to swim to shore, dragging Zhou Tai's body with an aching arm, her legs kicking frantically below. Their armour weighed them down significantly, and she felt her heart pounding in panic. What if she grew too tired? What if Yoma attacked them mid-stream?

Ironically, that notion galvanized her burning muscles, and she stroked at the water harder, pulling him along inch by inch, until she felt her hand touch the shallower banks. Refusing to yield, she threw herself forwards, dragging him up to shore, their soaked bodies heaving exhaustedly along the sand and grass. She rested him on a small mound before collapsing beside him. She crawled up and cradled his head tearfully. "You're safe, Master Zhou Tai. There is no need to worry. Please, don't give in. I'll save you."

But how?! I can't pour my healing Yoki into a human being who… isn't part-Yoma.

I promised I wouldn't let a hair of his head be touched. I've failed him. He must be so disappointed in me.

He coughed, water and blood spraying from his mouth. "I… hate myself for having doubted you," he murmured, his deep voice growing fainter. He took one last glance at her before his eyes rolled over. The wound was too much. The pain was too much. Oh, if only he could fall unconscious now! He convulsed, and through his watery gaze, her tearful silver eyes had merged, coming together to form the beautiful full moon that beamed down on Jiangdong. At the very least, he would die a tranquil death, in the arms of an ally. But, still… what a pity.

He had hoped to get to know her better… after this was all over.

"Is this… the end?"