.....omggggggggggggggg....
Fall quarter was a nightmare. I could not for the life of me find time to write or update!
Between a combination of all my classes, I probably had a paper every week, and midterms every other week. D: D: D:
Even so, this is no excuse for me to be making as a writer! /wrists /wrists /wrists
But now Fall quarter is over, and winter break has started! :D :D :D Hopefully, I can crank out another couple of chapters during break.
Some of you might be weirded out by Argos's personality change, but I assure you, it's all intentional. Hopefully, I can properly convey in words what kind of person I want Argos to seem like.
Some of you might be saddened by the fact that not all of our cast will survive... Yes, I am sad too. Whenever I think about these characters, I think about how much more they can do alive.
[FireyFlames]: The peek a boo into the future is my way of giving readers an appetizer for what's to come! But... it's been more than three months since the last update. D: You must all be starving now. Eurie and Neptunia (Tuna) both have a lot in store for them, so it'll be a while before they... possibly die? Maybe survive? I won't spoil anything.
[asdfasdfg]: LOL even some of the readers are calling him Tuna. Poor boy. I'm glad you're enjoying the story!
[eternalsnow-chrys]: If you really want to read the April Fool's Chapters, drop me a PM and I can email them to you! When the story's finished, I intend to upload everything so late-starters can enjoy them too. Hearing that you read everything in one sitting is a huge compliment, thanks. :3
[Sobriquet Nightmare]: I will try to write my time changes more clearly - thanks for the feedback. And let me assure you, I do intend to finish this. I've spent a good part of yesterday laying out the blueprints for the remainder of the story, so I've got a somewhat clear image of how the plot is going to twist and turn.
To my wonderful, wonderful readers:
Thank you for being so patient with me throughout this huge absence. This last quarter really was so busy.
Unfortunately, the next two quarters are going to be the busiest (and last) quarters for me at my university. I find myself beginning to dread the countdown to my graduation because it would mean me leaving school, and the friends I've made throughout the years.
What this means is that I probably won't be able to find the time to update the story after New Year's Eve, for half a year. I might be able to write a little bit each day, but I doubt I will be able to write entire chapters. I would be super amazed if I managed to write the remainder of the story before winter break ends. I do want to write a few chapters while I have the time though.
On the bright side, I've also written most of chapter 1 and part of chapter 2 of the sequel! I don't plan on revealing anything until I finish this story, but I think I'm about as excited as a kid in a candy shop when I think about it!
So I will be keeping you in mind, and trying to focus on writing more during the break, instead of wasting it all by boozing and beering myself up. Please enjoy chapter 18!
Beach City Comodo
The sinking sun, partially covered by the ocean horizon, painted in the sky a blood red glow that gradually shifted into a royal blue. The faint, pale moon began to emerge, alongside twinkling stars and the breezes no longer carried their daylight warmth.
It would be nightfall within the hour.
The citizens of Comodo were in a nervous panic; scurrying about quickly, carrying belongings, boarding their houses shut, and taking other safety measures. Some of them - mostly bard and dancers - had offered to help protect the city. Argos didn't know if any of their actions would do any good – Reinbach said that the Prontera Knights would be very thorough.
An irritated tic formed under the assassin's eye as he thought about the knight. Something didn't sit too well with him ever since the other young man had ordered him around. Lately Reinbach had been getting too presumptuous with him; Argos would have to even the score later.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could taste the ocean breeze and gentle sunset – in less than an hour, Argos wouldn't be surprised if the town were to be thrown into chaos. With a quick burst of concentration, he faded from sight, turning completely invisible.
"Now then," the young assassin muttered. "To reach the starling, follow the northwestern path to the outskirts of the city… Grant Graves will surely have traveled in that direction." He broke into a light-footed sprint.
Residence, Outside of Comodo
Spider felt something was slightly off as he opened his eyes that morning, but the room was still too dark to see clearly. All of their window shutters were to be closed and locked overnight – it was a habit he forced onto the other inhabitants of the household while they were in hiding.
He couldn't have been imagining it, could he? He did have a little alcohol to drink last night.
Something rustled directly left of him. His heart nearly jumped out of his mouth and he twisted around in his bed with lightning reflexes – to pounce, straddle and pin down the source of the noise.
Someone had been right next to him under his sheets! Without wasting any time, the assassin cross shifted his grasp onto the intruder, locking his or her arms behind their back.
"Is this how you treat all the women in bed in the morning?" the intruder asked sleepily.
Wait a minute, he knew that voice…
"What are you doing here, Colette?" Spider asked, his heart rate gradually slowing to normal.
"You don't remember?" the stalker pouted. "Must you be so cold-hearted? Don't tell me you forgot about last night!"
His eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark room. He could glimpse the figure of the woman, who wasn't wearing any…
Scratch that. He must have had a LOT of alcohol to drink last night.
"Wait, what the hell happened last night?" Spider muttered, shaking his head.
"I spiked your drink," Colette deadpanned. "Then I had my way with you for hours last night… Oh right, then there's no way you could remember that."
"Wait what!?" he exclaimed.
"Oh, I'm only kidding," the stalker snickered.
Somehow, he wasn't so sure which was truth and which wasn't. He wouldn't put it past Colette to do exactly that.
"So," he sighed. "Tell me then why you are here."
Colette craned her neck to look at him directly in the eyes, her expression serious. The effect was somewhat ruined by the compromising nature of her body position and her lack of clothing.
"It's been three weeks, Quint. Three weeks since your mission was given to you, and the starlet is still alive. It doesn't take a genius to guess how furious the assassin guild leader is." She squirmed a little against his hold.
"So how about you?" Spider asked. "Are you hunting me?"
"In a sense," she wriggled. "But more importantly, what are you going to do about your hideout here? I've managed to find you, but how long will it be until a not-so-friendly assassin cross does?"
"We're more prepared for the situation than you think," said Spider. "That's all I'll tell you. By the way, how did you find me?"
"That's not fair," Colette pouted. "By the way, is that a dagger in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"
"Not telling you," he smirked. "I still haven't found out who hired you yet. It's only a matter of time; why don't you tell me now and get it over with?"
"That'd be a breach of contract – even if you found out, at least I wouldn't have been the one who leaked it…" she wriggled against his hold again. "…Hey! I'm trying to have a conversation here! How about letting me go?!"
"Can't do that, sweetheart; you might try to pull something sneaky on me."
She sighed.
"Don't forget this, Quint. The starling needs to die. You understand the concept 'for the greater good,' so you should understand the reason behind your hit. Even if it doesn't change the fact that the assassin guild leader may not forget you, you must carry out your original mission exactly as intended. That includes cutting tail."
Spider rubbed his head in exasperation. Colette took this chance to escape from his grasp.
"There is something you don't seem to understand here," he sighed, as she began to cloth herself. "That's the one thing I must prevent at all costs, you see."
"I will continue to remind you until you understand, Quint. Right now you are one holding the fate of Rune Midgard in his hands. You are the person most suited for preventing the imminent destruction."
Prontera Church
The noise of crowd could be heard even through the heavy, bolted oak doors to the balcony on the third floor. He guessed there to be roughly four thousand civilians gathered around the front of the church, waiting for his announced speech. When Pope Hibram first entered office years ago, he couldn't help but encounter a gut-wrenching terror each time he stood in front of a huge audience. Back then, he spent his nights kneeling by his bedside, praying to God feverishly for guidance and fortitude. Fortunately, he was long used to giving sermons and speeches and any anxiety that many people might have in his situation was non-existent.
"It's time, your Eminence," one of his aides said.
"Of course," Pope Hibram replied quietly, grasping the shaft of his Long Horn spear. A pair of crusaders marched forward and pushed the doors open. The massive oak doors groaned in protest, slowly giving way to the men's strength.
The volume of the crowd outside nearly doubled as soon as the doors opened, and sunlight streamed into his office, bathing the room in an ethereal glow. He stepped out of his office into the half-oval balcony; the acoustics of the balcony was perfectly shaped to amplify his voice across any huge audience that might gather.
"Children of God," he called to the masses below. "I come before you today with a message of providence." The bustle of the crowd died down, paying rapt attention to the Pope.
"Centuries ago, when the city-states as we know them were still young and striving to grow, we bonded together to bring Prontera to greatness. Back then, we were weak, young, incompetent. We had neither the finances of Alberta nor the magical arts of Geffen. We could only rely on our iron clad will and unwavering loyalty to God."
The crowd below murmured, appearing as a shimmering of movement and voices and a blur of colors.
"Armed with the power of God, Prontera gained a rapid strength, an unshakeable might that allowed us to rise above our competition, defying all odds. With an alliance between the other cities, we managed to halt the expansion of Morroc from developing into an expansive empire. God rewarded our loyalty to him with our victory."
The citizens of Prontera were primarily affiliated with the Church; nearly everyone in attendance believed the words that came out of his mouth were sanctioned by a higher divine power.
"With the power of God, we were led to victory over our enemies," he shouted, his voice reverberating across the crowd below. "With the power of God, we live in peace today as the reigning power in Rune Midgard! And once more, we must turn to the power of God to smother any threats posed against our peace."
Surprised whispers floated around in the audience.
"Yes, it is true," Pope Hibram said. "There currently exist a handful of individuals who wish to usurp the ill King Tristan from the throne, to replace him with an imposter woman claiming to be his daughter. That woman's name is Daphne Trenton, and she desires nothing else but to grab the crown for herself. As we speak, our Royal Justices are on the task of capturing Trenton, who has hidden herself in the Beach City Comodo."
Residence, outside of Comodo
A young woman sitting by the curtained window of the darkened room sighed despondently. She had neatly cut hair that reached halfway down her neck and deep red pupils that glowed like embers. For a moment, it seemed as if she would open the curtains to the window to peer outside, but before her hand reached to pull it open, she changed her mind and dropped her arm.
"It would be easier if you weren't sitting by the door, Daphne," Caroline stated as she walked into the room. The second girl had her hair in black pigtails and wore thick glasses. In her arms was a bulky cloth bag packed with what seemed to be herb leaves of various colors.
"I know, I know," Daphne sighed. "It's just so frustrating being cooped up inside all day without any contact with anyone from the outside. It's been at least three weeks since I left the orphanage! At least that haircut I got yesterday was a refreshing change of pace."
"It looks nice," Caroline smiled. "Hey, if you're really bored, Nick knows how to do tarot readings!"
Daphne gave the alchemist a semi-skeptical look.
"Do you really believe in those kinds of things?" she asked.
"It's more a question of how interesting it is," Caroline puffed. "At least it's better than sitting inside all day doing nothing."
"Fair enough," Daphne shrugged. "I suppose I will ask for a reading." She stood up from her chair and left the room.
Nick, or Nicholas, a clown by profession, was busying himself tuning his harp, a glowing silver instrument that looked as if it just had a thorough polishing – it reflected the flickering candlelight with a lovely luminescence.
"I hear you can do tarot readings," Daphne said, looking at Nicholas.
"Of course," Nicholas smiled, giving a small half-bow with his head. "Would you like to have your fortune read?"
"If you would be so willing." Daphne took a seat at the table in front of the clown.
With a dexterous flick of his wrist, Nicholas produced a thin deck of cards from what appeared to be nowhere. He shuffled briefly, then held out the deck to Daphne.
"Cut the deck please," he said. When Daphne had done so, Nicholas shuffled once more and dealt the cards in a fixed pattern across the table. He flipped over the first card on the wooden grain of the surface.
"The Lovers," he read, in his usual quiet voice. "It will not be before long when you will encounter someone who admires you. This person is someone you know."
Behind Daphne, Caroline tittered in a girlish manner. Daphne felt a low flush warm her cheeks. She couldn't help but picture Reinbach's face in her mind's eye.
"An upside down Temperance… this person is currently struggling with some inner turmoil and self-control. Perhaps during your encounter with him, you can help him with this problem."
He froze as he flipped over the next card, then recoiled, as though the card had burned him. A brief moment of shock flashed in his eyes, and he immediately tucked the card into his palm.
"I must apologize," he said abruptly, pocketing the card. "This tarot reading is now over." He began plucking the remainder of the cards on the table into his hands.
"What?" Daphne said, surprised. "Why? Did I do something wrong?"
"No, it is not your fault. You must forgive me – I simply cannot continue this tarot reading. I will not tell you why."
Beach City Comodo
A long and deep horn call pierced through the dawning air. Within seconds, the thundering sound of peco feet and war cries shook the city. The citizens of Comodo began to panic; fearful cries and wails filled the night.
"So they're here," Reinbach growled, gritting his teeth. He flexed both of his arms experimentally, wove his fingers together and stretched his forearms. It felt somewhat strange to be able to flex his right hand again. "Zimba, Eurie, if you want to back down now, it's not too late."
"Someone's gotta try to talk some sense into the boss," Zimba shrugged. He placed his ear to the ground, listening carefully in an attempt to gauge the distance of the cavalry. Eurie said nothing, only shivering with anxiety.
Behind Reinbach and Zimba stood Eurie and several other bards and dancers. They would essential for providing supportive songs and dances, as well as additional manpower.
The songs and dances from bard and dancers weren't ordinary entertainment – they had magic woven into their rhythms designed to aid or debilitate physical movement or mental focus. Reinbach remembered one of his instructors claim that one knight and one bard were better off than five knights. He wasn't sure how fifteen bards and dancers, a knight, a sage and a rogue would fare against a small army, but it was comforting to know that they weren't alone. They needed all the help they could get.
An approaching hailstorm of footsteps from the main entrance of the city alerted them of the cavalry's arrival. Just as Weiss and Ozworth said…
"They'll reach the city in one minute!" Zimba said. "Those guys weren't lying!"
"Right!" Reinbach yelled. "The first wave will probably be Volkov leading the Prontera knights – knights are better suited for leading a charge. The invading platoon can't all fit on the narrow beach, so expect an attack from the city entrance!" He raced to the entrance, determination set in his eyes. Remember the training… "Neptunia!" he called.
"I'm on it!" the sage responded from atop a small cliff. With a few well-practiced waves of a thick tome and some mumbled incantations, a sudden breeze hitched up along the ground below in the sand ahead of Reinbach.
"Violent Gale!" Neptunia yelled. The breeze abruptly picked up tempo and grew into a small whirlwind about fifteen feet in diameter.
"Thanks!" Reinbach charged straight into the swirling wind and continued running. The wind followed him; its eye directly centered on the knight. He felt supportive magic quickening his movements and flowing through his muscles. "Here I go," he said, hefting his Zephyrus spear in his hands. "Eurie!"
"Right!"
No sooner had she said this, Reinbach heard the humming of strings and swooshing of whips. Another surge of energy filled his muscles. He felt as if he could take on ten men.
The first line of cavalry galloped through the city entrance just as Eurie and Zimba caught up to him. Reinbach estimated them to be about forty-strong. They were outnumbered, but there was no telling how the battle would turn.
"Ready?" asked Zimba.
"Idiot. I wouldn't have started this if I weren't."
"That… those aren't knights!" Zimba cried. Indeed, the first wave did not consist of knights as Reinbach anticipated; they consisted of crusaders.
"Crusaders!?" Reinbach cursed.
"They knew we were anticipating this!" Zimba cried. "And they switched accordingly!"
At the center of the rushing line of crusaders, a brown-haired paladin with a neatly trimmed goatee slowed his peco to a stop.
"That's… Uriel Margaret." Reinbach noted. "The Royal Justice of Crusaders!"
"Focus your attacks on Kristoph Reinbach and ignore anyone else!" Sir Margaret shouted to the crusaders. "According to our information, his sword arm is still recovering! Fight accordingly!"
Reinbach's eyes darted to and fro in a struggle to keep his eyes on multiple opponents. Behind him, he was sure Zimba was doing the same thing, while Eurie was maintaining her supportive dances.
"We gave you your last warning, Reinbach!" Juniper Weiss roared, barreling forward with a Haedonggum sword raised high. "I won't hold back now!" He swung the blade down with brutal strength.
"I didn't expect you to!" Reinbach roared back, stepping backwards out of the attack's path. The magic-infused wind from Neptunia's spell flowed in his muscles, aiding his movements. Weiss's sword sunk deep into the beach sand. Weiss grabbed the hilt of his weapon, closed his eyes and planted both feet firmly into the ground.
What's wrong with Weiss? Reinbach wondered, sidestepping an attack from another crusader. Why is he just standing there? …Wait… NO!
The crusader's eyes shot open. "GRAND CROSS!" he bellowed. A large, glowing X on the ground around the Haedonggum shone brilliantly before a cross-shaped beam of light erupted upwards.
Reinbach barely had any time to dodge the destructive holy magic. The tip of his boot was burned off in the light of the attack. Had he not been aided with Neptunia's supportive magic, Reinbach would probably be missing a lot more than the toe of his boot.
"These guys!" growled Zimba. "They're persistent!"
A smoldering X on the sand was left in the aftermath of the Grand Cross. It would be bad news to be hit by that magic.
A small trickle of blood flowed from Weiss's mouth and nostrils.
"The next one won't miss," he said, spitting blood.
"Weiss… that attack…"
"Showing pity?" Weiss snarled. "Is that something you can afford to do, Reinbach? I learned Grand Cross knowing what would happen to me! I knew what my decision would cost me! Don't tell me you didn't have the resolve when you defected!"
"Kristoph!" Neptunia shouted. "The shore!"
Reinbach glanced at the shore; his insides squirmed wildly. Another platoon of cavalry was charging them from atop a narrow sandbar – about fifty crusaders.
That sandbar wasn't there earlier! he cursed. Why is it there now!? A cold, sinking feeling settled in his stomach.
The low tide.
The sandbar, submersed underwater and completely invisible a few hours ago, was completely unaccounted for. As soon as the sun had set, the receding tide made the sandbar traversable and accessible from a distant peninsula.
"Damn… DAMN IT!" he swore. "PULL BACK TO THE TREES!"
"GRAND CROSS!" Weiss bellowed.
Reinbach barely had enough time to dodge the second attack. Weiss coughed into his hands – blood splattered onto the palm of his leather glove.
Three weeks ago, Comodo Residence
"And so," Grant Graves said, "We'll have you trained by Zimba here."
"Yo!" Zimba beamed.
Reinbach blinked in surprise at Zimba, then looked at the paladin.
"Sir?"
"As you are right now, I can't help you with your training," Grant said. "Your sword-arm has fractured and needs rest. Without a high priest, it will take a few weeks for it to return to normal. My healing can only do so much. As such, none of the training regimens that I'm authorized to assign will be any use."
"I still don't see what Zimba has to do with this."
"Zimba… is uncommon, in a sense," said Grant. "We were lucky to have him on our team."
"Let me demonstrate," Spider called from across the room. He pulled an orange from under his cloak and hefted it back and forth between hands, then without warning, hurled the fruit at Zimba.
"Oi!" Zimba yelped. He caught the offending fruit a few inches before it hit his face.
"And… once again." Spider hurled a second orange at the rogue.
"Stop it!" cried Zimba, catching the second fruit in his other hand.
"You…" Reinbach said abruptly. "Don't tell me you're left-handed!?"
"Ambix… ambides…" Zimba struggled with the word. "Eh. I can use both."
Spider threw a third orange Zimba. It hit him directly in the forehead.
"Urgh!"
"That was for drop-kicking me yesterday," Spider smirked. "Apology accepted."
"Wait," Reinbach said. "So… he's going to be the one training me?"
"He's the best one for the job right now," Spider shrugged, pelting Zimba in the stomach with a fourth orange. Zimba grunted in protest.
"It ain't funny anymore," he whined.
"Is it really necessary to train my left hand?" Reinbach asked dubiously.
Grant chuckled.
"You're the last person who should be asking that, Reinbach. Let me put it this way. Most everyone in the Prontera Chivalry has a right sword-arm. Even if a knight-in-training is left-handed, their instructor is right-handed, and trains them in a right-handed fighting style. The Chivalry places an emphasis on a uniform army, and having one or two left-handed fighters is frowned upon. It's politics. Have you ever sparred against a left-handed knight?"
"No. No one fights left-handed."
"The rogues, on the other hand," Spider interrupted, "don't have such rules or traditions. No one gives ten zeny if a left-handed rogue runs amok." He threw another orange at Zimba, who barely managed to dodge.
Grant picked up two wooden training batons and tossed one to Reinbach.
"Raise your stance," he said, then gripped his own baton in his left hand. "Come attack me."
Reinbach stared blankly at Grant's left-handed stance.
"What's wrong?" Grant demanded. "Hurry and attack. Don't use your injury as an excuse; it should be strong enough to attack after I healed you yesterday."
The young knight lunged forward awkwardly, only to have his attack immediately parried. He found himself staring down the tip of Grant's baton.
"I'm… not even sure how to attack something like that," Reinbach admitted.
"And neither will any knights or crusaders we might encounter later on," Spider said. "This is a perfect opportunity. While your right hand has a chance to recover to 100%, you'll be training your left-hand until attacking with it is second nature."
"Still doesn't answer my question," Reinbach said. "Why Zimba? Can't I learn from you?"
Grant shook his head.
"I'm not a real left-handed person, and I don't know all of the left-handed sword techniques. As I said earlier, right now, Zimba is the best person for the job."
"Gee when you put it that way, it almost sound like you don't like me," Zimba pouted. "How can anyone not like me?"
Comodo beach, present
"CAN'T EVEN WORK IN PEACE," someone bellowed from across the small army of crusaders. There was a resounding bang and a handful of crusaders were sent flying overhead. "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO MAKE WEAPONS WITH ALL THIS VIOLENCE GOING ON!?"
Nearly everyone present couldn't help but turn their heads to look in the direction of the voice. Another handful of crusaders were knocked into the air.
"RETIREMENT ONLY A FEW MONTHS AWAY AND YOU CURSED MAGGOTS SWARM UP IN MY TOWN? I AIN'T GONNA STAND BY AND LET IT HAPPEN!"
Through the crowd of the crusaders, Reinbach caught a glimpse of an old, yet muscular man swinging a heavy hammer with a head the size of his chest. Each of his blows was wild and devastatingly brutal, yet controlled and compact – the deadliest combination. He knew without having to ask – this man was a mastersmith. Years of experience and strength were written in his swinging attacks, almost like an artform.
"Jefe!" Neptunia called.
"Leave the mastersmith to me!" Uriel Margaret roared to the crusaders. He drew a dagger from his belt and rode closer to the old man.
"YOU WANT SOME OF THIS, SONNY?" bellowed Jefe.
Margaret slashed open the skin of his own palm. Blood dripped profusely from the cut, trickling down the length of the blade. He extended his fist towards the mastersmith and pointed the dagger downward to the sand. The blood began to smolder and glow white; the glowing light extended downwards, turning the dagger into a full-length sword.
"That's Martyr's Reckoning!" a crusader remarked. "General Margaret intends to finish this quickly!"
From what Reinbach remembered from his studies, Martyr's Reckoning was a reckless maneuver that entailed coating the user's blade with his own blood. In doing so, the weapon became dangerously explosive.
Margaret swung the glowing sword towards the old mastersmith; each swing splashed a smattering of his shining blood onto his opponent. A particularly large amount landed on the Jefe's huge battle hammer and smoldered violently before exploding.
"There's no time for you to be looking away!" Weiss shouted, lunging forward with his sword. "General Margaret said your sword arm was injured! You'd better not use that as an excuse when you lose!"
Reinbach backstepped out of Weiss's attack, stared at the crusader, and then sighed. He shifted his grip on his spear.
By shifting my grips closer together on the shaft of my spear I can increase my range at the cost of control.
"It looks like I can't hide this trump card anymore." With a well-practiced counter-thrust, Reinbach slammed the point of his spear directly into the center of Weiss's shield and knocked him backwards several steps into another crusader.
Surprise was written on Weiss's face. Reinbach could tell he was not expecting an attack from so far away. He stepped in and closed the distance between him, Weiss, and the new crusader.
By shifting my grips further apart I can increase my control and power at the cost of range. From this close, I don't need range!
Reinbach thrusted with his Zephyrus with rapid precision. Weiss and the other crusader were forced on the defensive. He shifted his grip again.
If I shift my hand in such a manner, I can easily change the orientation of my weapon, and thus, the handedness of my fighting style!
"Wha – " Weiss stumbled. "Left-handed!?"
"I didn't sit down doing nothing with a perfectly good left-hand the last few weeks!" Reinbach growled. He pushed forward, jabbing, and thrusting easily past their defense. With a well-executed twist of his spear, Reinbach forced Weiss's Haedonggum out of his hand. He shifted his handedness again and repeated the same twist on the other crusader's sword as well, sending the weapon flying.
"Urgh!" Weiss shifted his shield directly in front of him, closed his eyes and began chanting again rapidly.
I can overextend my attacks easily without losing balance by using my spear as a counterweight!
"I won't let you fire off another Grand Cross!" Reinbach yelled. He planted an axe-kick directly onto the top of Weiss's shield, knocking that out of his grip too, and slammed the butt of his Zephyrus into his chin. Weiss slumped to the ground, unconscious. The other crusader edged away, knowing he was clearly outmatched.
My fighting style is constantly shifting, constantly adapting, constantly extending or retracting! It is the perfect fighting style in this situation!
"Who's next!?" roared Reinbach.
Zimba surfaced from underground behind him, dropping from his hands several of the crusaders' weapons to the ground.
"We can do this!" he exclaimed. "That old guy bought us some time!"
Residence in Comodo
In the darkness of the room, Nicholas reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the card that he was so quick to put away in Daphne's presence.
"I couldn't possibly tell her. She must not know about this. No one must know about this," he quavered. "It's best that this be a secret be buried with me."
He flipped over the card and looked at the macabre image printed on it. A robed skeleton, holding a scythe. Near the top of the card, the word Death was printed in curling calligraphy.
"Princess Daphne," he whispered. "Please be careful."