Disclaimer: Hot stuff! I'm back from Egypt, and I still don't own Naruto or World of Warcraft!
Here's the next installment of The Legend of Uzumaki Naruto!
"I despise this place, Lady Demi. I would like to reach the chapel as soon as we can."
"There are not many who do like this place, Highlord Fordragon. But it is the only way we can do what we must."
"And so close to those madmen, as well," he said, shaking his head. "I do not like this. We have already made an enemy of them, when we exposed their slave trade of the orcs—which I still cannot believe we did. What are those creatures to us?"
She smiled at him, and shook her head lightly. "Life, whoever it may belong to, is precious, Highlord. I could not let it go like that. But there are rumors of even worse acts committed by the Scarlet Crusade."
"Do you believe them?"
"I cannot say," she said. "The Scarlet Crusade is not an evil organization—they have only the best intentions. They may be misguided, but they wish to make this land safe for us."
"And they never will," Fordragon said. "They are monsters."
"What proof do you have?"
"Only my instincts," he said. "And the knowledge that blind faith will never solve anything, which they have in spades, milady. I wish you would sometimes take a definite stance."
"I do," she said, lightly. "But they are not lost forever. They can be convinced."
"You cannot convince those who will not listen. The faithful are experts at that, milady."
"Then perhaps you should stop as well," she said, smiling back at him.
He said nothing, for a while.
"I have no plan to do anything other than reach the chapel in this trip," he finally said. "And then return the same way. Heal your sick and wounded, and then let us be gone. It has already taken us weeks to reach this place. The Argent Dawn better be grateful."
"I have no doubt they shall be," she said lightly. "Now come—we'd best be there by nightfall."
"It is difficult to tell in this place—perhaps it already is." But they moved swiftly on, nonetheless. They stopped once to destroy a pack of ghouls that had gathered around a mutilated body, stripped of clothing and by the time they arrived, nearly of skin. It had been dead for several days before the ghouls had arrived, which puzzled Demi as she gazed down at it. It had been a young girl, perhaps fifteen, from what she could gather.
"What would a fifteen year old girl be doing this far from civilization?" she asked herself aloud. Fordragon, who had finished piling the dead Scourge into a heap and had set them aflame, turned to her.
"Human?"
"Yes," said Demi, frowning. She checked again. It was human—almost certainly not blood elf, which frequented these parts, and would have made for a much better explanation. There had long since been no towns left alive in these places, and even in the mountains they had probably all left, fleeing south away from Sylvanas and her Undercity as well as the Scourge. Demi stood, and closed her eyes, whispering a soft prayer that her master had taught her to speak over the dead. Fordragon watched her, silently. She then opened them, and smiled a little, before turning back to him.
"Let us bury her. Then we will move on."
Fordragon nodded. "It would be wrong to ask—but something is troubling you, is it not?"
"There is hardly something that is not," she said, softly. "And I assume you don't mean this child."
"Of course not. You have seen many dead children in your life."
"That does not make it easier each time, Highlord," she said.
"Then why do you smile?"
She blinked at him, perplexed. "I was not…"She paused, and then shook her head, and said. "Sometimes it is easier to smile and bear it, and now is not the time for tears. I will save the for when this is over, and I cannot do anything to help any longer." She smiled softly, and a little sadly at him. "You understand, do you not?"
He nodded, and went along digging a large hole near the edge of the forest, by a tree that looked less deformed than the others. They laid the child to rest there, and then, with Demi saying another final prayer over her, returned to walking, now faster than before.
"It never gets any easier? Of course it does."
"Do you hear something?" Demi asked, looking around, frowning.
"No," Fordragon said. "Nothing that is not typical for this place."
"It gets easier to push it all away."
"In the trees," Demi said, breathing faster. "I hear something, are you sure you do not?"
Fordragon listened, slowly, and then said. "Yes. I hear it."
"But don't worry, you won't need do to it much longer."
"Let's go."
Fordragon nodded. "Fine. But I do not like this."
"You won't need to do much of anything any longer."
The smell reached them long before they saw it.
Astride his steed, he rode the streets of the dead city, and listened to both the past and the present. The sweet sounds of the past—light and airy and distant, like a soft scent barely touching one's nose, leading one to pursue it further and become deeper entrenched in the slaughter that had scarred the city—forever mixed with the vibrant, earthy and voluminous sounds of the present: heavy, solid and recent, drenching one in the horror of what was around them, sucking them in until they could not escape, nor want to. The air was filled with a sweet and succulent taste that fed everything within with endless despair and rapture. The past and present blended in a symphony that only those who had lived both could appreciate its delicacy and beauty. Where else in the world could it be both night and day at once? Could chaos and order blend? Hatred and love become one? Where else could the dead and the living live in perpetual harmony? Where good and evil could coexist so perfectly that they became indistinguishable?
This city was one of a kind. A work of genius that could never be duplicated, and to try would surely be a crime against nature itself. Not even the Lords of Time, the Bronze Dragons, nor the Titans or the demons of the Twisting Nether, could create such a beautiful work of art; every piece of which was so beautiful that to look upon the whole thing at once would surely be impossible, for the mind of any creature would be overwhelmed by its awesome grandeur.
It was beauty incarnate; it was perfection.
The rider rode the streets every day, and reveled in this. He reveled in its beauty. He didn't want it ever to end. The fighting would never stop. Nobody could stop it, because it was past and present and future. It was a continuous cycle, like the sun's pursuit of the moon; death would beget death, hate beget hate, and it would continue in a glorious, unending cycle, like a mill wheel fed with a constant supply of water
It truly was a city more beautiful than any other, in his eyes.
But something was eternally wrong with the city. He wanted it to fight constantly, to rage like a hell on earth for eternity, and one thing prevented that. It was like a perfect arm on an otherwise withered body. It continued to live and fight, even though it should have long since rotted away. Against all odds it survived and nourished itself with whatever it could find and continued to fight, even though it would be so much more perfect if it died and withered and joined the rest of the body in its eternal torture.
That was what he wanted.
He wanted its corpse to join the others, and its memory to continue to fight.
And now, he might get a chance. The side that had always shouted in anger and roared like an animal now screamed at him to move faster, to go to a place that he had never set foot in within this beautiful city. A place that hadn't been open to him, but now would be, and allow him to stand upon the rotting corpses of ten thousand men and look upon the face of his greatest enemy. The one cloaked in crimson and black, with eyes like the twilight and a heart snatched from death. The one who laughed victoriously with each Scourge killed, so foolishly. The one that would he would soon meet for the first time, who called to him whenever the sides clashed, who shouted at him insults accusing cowardice and weakness, but who was still afraid of their meeting.
So he rode on, in his left ear a voice whispering softly and soothingly for him to destroy that enemy utterly. He obeyed without question, and called out for the city to aid him, to act as his ally in the forthcoming battle. After all, no matter how much he loved this city, it was not his.
It was His.
Yamato's eyes snapped to the doors on either side of the room, and the one behind where the Scarlet Ghost stood. He doubted any of them could make it in time, especially when he recalled how fast the Ghost moved. That left them with the suicidal and near impossible option of sending one to distract the entire group while the other two escaped and located the Grand Crusader's chamber. That came, of course, with the problems of finding the most heavily guarded room in the bastion, getting in without dying, and then defeating the most important and probably powerful Crusader of them all.
The chances, therefore, were slim enough for him to consider simply abandoning the entire mission. It would be mindless to continue with such odds.
Of course, that probably wasn't going to stop him. The first thing you were taught at the Academy was that the mission was more important than your life. You should always consider the consequences of failing the mission before you consider the equation of your own life. And for the entirety of his career, Yamato had followed that. ANBU were supposed to. You could not afford to screw up a mission that could, and probably would, have dire consequences for one's village. Shinobi were supposed to die for their village. That was the rule; that was what everyone expected. Yamato was no different.
No matter how slim the chance was he knew he had to take it.
He let out a breath silently, and took a step towards the Scarlet Ghost, who remained unmoving and corporeal, unlike his name suggested. His weapons were not drawn, or even visible, but Yamato knew how fast he could draw them so he kept his body tense.
"You noticed us," Yamato said, "pretty quickly."
"I thank thee," said the Ghost, with a short bow that bore no hint of mockery. "But as I told thee before thou even arrived at this place—I knew that thou wouldst come. It was perfect."
"Truly," said Yamato, moving slowly backwards and to the side, his eyes never leaving the crystal blue of the Ghost's. "Your trap was clever, but you did nothing to hide it. I was just amazed at how you were able to tell when we came, and where to head us off."
"We have been in this city for longer than thou canst imagine. It is only proper that we know it far better than our enemies." He too began to move, with slow, fluid and deliberate steps that mirrored Yamato's perfectly. Yamato shot a look briefly to the side, where Hisari and Myrdraxxis stood. Neither had moved, and both were glancing at him and the group of Crusaders.
"But surely," said the Ghost, "this is not all of thee? I hazard a guess that the other members of thine team have infiltrated in a different way?"
"Perhaps," said Yamato.
"It matters not. They will meet with an unfortunate surprise, if they are intent on finding that which does not exist."
"Doesn't exist?" Yamato narrowed his eyes, for effect, while keeping them trained slightly past the Ghost on the door. That was where they had to go, if he recalled. "So you bluffed us, then."
"Yes." The Ghost moved in way of the door, showing that knew exactly where Yamato was looking.
"So you've set a trap for them as well?"
"There was no need. They will soon be discovered by the one that they will not be able to defeat."
"Oh?" Yamato's fingers twitched a little. He was sweating. He didn't know whether to stall longer or attack. "I have an inkling of whom you mean. But I'm still slightly confused—why did you need us here at all?"
"Surely," said the Ghost, "thou hast figured it out? It is not so hard at this point. Surely there are some observations thou canst make to stall this battle just a moment longer, as thou hast intended?"
"Of course," said Yamato slowly. Then, he reacted.
"But, then again, I have no need to anymore."
He exploded into action, and so did the Ghost. He drew a kunai and threw it directly at the charging Crusader, who avoided it, seeming to become ethereal in doing so, and appearing before Yamato before the man could draw another weapon. In a silver flash the Ghost clipped off a part of Yamato's vest with one of his blades, while bringing the other down low, slicing at his gut. Yamato hurtled himself backwards to avoid the cut, flying back towards the door he had arrived from. He landed, and then shouted, "Hisari, Mydraxxis! Complete the mission! I'll hold them off here!"
Myrdraxxis reacted without a thought. He shot towards the line of Crusaders, who converged on him, howling like wolves. Hisari stayed a second longer, glancing back at Yamato, who had already begun making hand seals, his eyes once again resting on the Ghost, who stood unmoving from where he had last attacked the shinobi. Then, the Blood Knight followed Myrdraxxis.
The Ghost watched Yamato finish his seals, and then thrust his hands forwards. The floor shook, and right in the middle of the mass of Crusaders a sinuous vine exploded from the floor, flinging men in every direction. More vines blossomed from it, wrenching the Crusaders closest to the door away from it and ruthlessly impaling or crushing them while Myrdraxxis and Hisari sped through the chaos, and disappeared through the door.
The Ghost didn't even bother watching this. He kept his eyes solely on Yamato.
Yamato stared at him. "You didn't try to stop them."
"There was no need. I know now what thine purpose here was. Something else compelled thee to come, am I correct?"
"You are," said Yamato, lowering himself into an attacking stance and drawing another kunai.
"He cannot be defeated. Especially with the advantage we possess against you already." The Ghost said.
Yamato knitted his brows together, and delayed his attack a moment longer. What was he talking about? The way the man said "advantage"—as a singular—made it immediately clear that he was not talking about the numerous ones he already possessed over Yamato—location, number, probably even skill. "What are you talking about?" he asked, softly.
"The children of course," the Ghost said. "The Princess Kira and the young shinobi that thou left behind."
"Clean up," ordered a tall Crusader, his neck thick with muscle and his eyes madness. "Thou art covered in that filth. I don't want to see thee again until thou hast purified thineselves of that disgusting refuse."
One of the men, dressed in tatters and covered from head to foot in green ichor and blood, and still holding his sword—which was similarly attired—stepped forwards.
"Of course, sir," he said. The man next to him stayed completely silent, and just stared forwards at nothing. The superior Crusader glared at him for a moment, but when he received no response, he nodded and walked off, striding with mindless purpose from the room.
The Crusader who had spoken then turned and smiled at the other, and said, "Shall we clean up?"
"No," the other muttered, looking annoyed. "I'm not getting in a bath with you again."
"I didn't mean it like that. I meant that we should change our form," the first said, laughing. A moment later, in a puff of smoke, he became a far shorter boy with short black hair and a vacant smile, and in another moment, he became the same Crusader, now dressed in perfect attire. The other busied himself with the same, changing into a blonde-haired boy and then back into his first form, still looking annoyed. Had any Crusader walked in, it would have been easy to tell that they were fakes. The emotions they expressed were completely foreign in the Bastion, and probably hadn't been seen for half a century, when the city had been whole. But thankfully they were alone, as all of the other Crusaders had been either killed or dragged off somewhere, foaming at the mouth and still screaming and trying to fight. Naruto had watched one of them in this state, thrashing like a wild animal trying to free itself from a trap, shouting nonsense phrases and laughing too. He hadn't thought it possible for a human to look like that.
He was suddenly glad that he had never seen himself in a mirror, when he had used the Kyuubi's chakra. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to see yourself like that.
Being the only two even slightly sane and still alive, the captain had seemed surprised by their presence, but thankfully hadn't apparently thought about it much. It must not have been so uncommon for those to survive battle with the Scourge. But both Sai and Naruto knew that they couldn't keep up their ruse for long. The jutsu ate chakra like a starving man, so they would have to act quickly.
The hallways were wide and empty, and stretched on forever. Some were lined with doors, some of which they checked and discovered to be small storage rooms or bedrooms, so simply clad that they looked little different from cells—in stark contrast to the rest of the palace.
The air was sweet smelling, like flowers and various spices, but underneath that was something else—coppery and salty, the smell of blood and steel. Even though it was a bastion, it could not completely isolate itself from the death that surrounded it. Naruto could smell the distant burning of the ghostly city, wafting from the windows. It was very warm; even the thick walls did nothing to protect the bastion from the infernal heat.
Neither of them knew where they were going. The portal could be anywhere—if it indeed existed—and no matter where they tried, it led to the same places—closets, rooms or another hallway. More than once they met other Crusaders on the way, who gave them no more than salutes before moving on. But having no idea where they were going, and each time they opened a door they became that much closer to being discovered or doing something out of place, Naruto began to worry. What was worse was that Sai didn't seem to be. The boy continued to walk, and kept his expression completely controlled. It didn't look out of place on the Crusader, but Naruto could almost see Sai's face beneath it. The boy's expression—whether it was one of his smiles or even nothing at all—never looked natural. Naruto disliked him for exactly that—because he didn't take emotion seriously. He kept his buried deep down; it wasn't that he didn't have them, because Naruto didn't believe at all that the boy was somehow missing them. He kept them hidden like everything else about him.
But he had to admit that he was a good shinobi.
No matter how loathe he was to admit it.
They entered soon a larger room with many doors, furnished the same as all the rest. Sai stopped and looked around, observing each door intently for only a second. He cast a look at Naruto.
"We should split up."
Naruto wrinkled his nose. Truthfully, he liked the idea but that also posed some problems. "Why?"
"We won't find what it is we are looking for if we just search around like this. It is rather pointless, wouldn't you say?" He smiled like Sai, but it looked completely out of place on the Crusader's face.
"It's too dangerous," Naruto said.
"But surely you would be happy to get rid of me?" The Crusader tilted his head to the side, like Sai.
Naruto narrowed his eyes. "What?"
"You don't like me, that's obvious. So this would be the best chance for you to get away from me, and it would double as being beneficial to the mission. Why not take it?" His smile slowly faded into nothingness again, and he just stared at Naruto.
"Because..." But he trailed off. Sai stared at him, smiling.
"Because…"
He didn't get a chance to finish.
A door to their right opened, the twisting of the bolts particularly loud in their ears. Accompanying it was the muttering of somebody—a man—who appeared a moment later, gaunt and thin with wild eyes. He dragged behind him a leather sack from which a pair of legs only just emerged from the bottom. The sack was chained up near the top, but whoever was inside did not struggle, nor did they even move. Naruto could see blood caked at the person's feet, which were smooth and delicate looking—probably a woman's. He briefly shut his eyes as the man crossed the room hardly looking at them, to a door just across from him. Before the man left, however, he turned and grinned at the two of them, as if they had shared some inside joke.
"Just bringing the bitch angel to the master. No worries." He gave them a little wave, and then went through the door, slamming it shut. His mutterings continued for a few seconds after he was gone.
"What was that?" Naruto whispered, frowning.
"It was a girl," said Sai. "One that we'll probably never know." He turned and glanced around the room again. "Which door?"
"That one," Naruto said, pointing to where the man had just exited. "He's going somewhere, and that's the best lead we have."
"Very well." Sai opened the door and moved past it, followed quickly by Naruto. They entered a much larger hallway, lined with statues, and only one door at the very end. There was no sign of the man or his grisly cargo, save for a smell of lingering blood. As they grew closer to the other door, voices reached their ears, indistinct and muffled by the door. Sai strode purposefully in front, opening the door and entering a massive room made of pure white marble, heavily decorated in crimson banners and golden statues. To their immediate right, raised above the rest of the floor with steps leading up were a pair of massive golden doors, and to their left were more doors, large and inlaid with carvings of severe looking men clutching swords and shields. The room was flooded with Scarlet Crusaders, dressed in soldier's garb, standing in a long line that led from one set of doors to the other. The muttering man from earlier was walking along it, still dragging the bag, and soon entered the golden doors alongside a woman with long, golden hair, and somebody else that Naruto couldn't see over the tops of the Crusader's heads. Whoever it was disappeared into the next chamber, and the doors soon closed.
The Crusaders did not move at first. They stood ramrod straight until near the doors to the left, Naruto heard a very familiar voice.
"Dismissed. Return to your posts. She will soon be ours."
The Crusaders broke rank and began to leave. Both Sai and Naruto stood respectfully to one side of the door, letting the Crusaders pass through it, giving nods to a few but keeping their faces completely emotionless. When the room was empty they crossed it, heading for the door directly across from them; it was small like the previous one. They would not dare to enter the golden doors, because both of them realized that it wasn't their target. Naruto hoped Yamato would get there soon.
Naruto then made the mistake of glancing to one side, where they had heard the voice of the giant "milord" from Tyr's Hand. He was standing there, perfectly still, blocking the carved marble doors. Even though his helmet remained on, Naruto knew that he was staring straight at him.
He stopped.
Sai did too, glancing only just briefly at Naruto and "milord", before spinning and launching a kunai straight at him.
The giant slapped the weapon from the air with his gauntleted hand, and uttered a low chuckle. The giant had recognized Naruto long before Sai's attack.
"I've found you."
"Come with me."
Lady Demetria's tone was somewhere between joyful and furious when she strode into the room and set her chameleon gaze on its three occupants. Kira jerked back slightly from the power evident in Demetria's voice, but did not look away from her eyes, which were fixed solely on Kira.
"You were concerned about your other friend, weren't you?" she asked, and smiled at Kira, her personality once again changing to suit the situation. "I'm going to bring you to her."
Kira felt a tremor of fear. "Why?"
"Must you ask that? You should know by now that you won't get a straight answer." The woman's eyes passed to the fox and Kira's best friend. Tsuwabuki growled and Kylia shrank back. "They can stay here. I don't particularly like dogs." She grinned nastily at the two of them, making Tsuwabuki growl more and Kylia shrink even further. Demetria spun on her heel and made to leave. Kira didn't move.
"What's going on?"
"Many things," said Demetria, "even as we speak. If you don't hurry, you may miss it all. They don't need to see it," she added, gesturing to Kylia and Tsuwabuki. "They're not important parts to this. Now come, princess, or you'll miss seeing your friend become something very beautiful."
"Beautiful?" Kira muttered.
"Gorgeous, even," the Scarlet Oracle said.
Kira got up and made to follow, mouthing a silent "I'll come back" to Kylia, who registered it with a slight nod, but kept her eyes trained on Demetria. Demetria didn't acknowledge this, until after they had left the room and were walking down the hallway, Demetria slightly in front now with a ghastly spring in her step.
"Your little pet—the black-haired one—seems afraid of me."
"You look a lot like someone she loved very much," Kira said, softly.
"Your mother? Demi Wrynn?" said the woman, grinning.
"Yes," said Kira.
"It is an interesting resemblance, is it not? Even the old man made the mistake. I wonder why I look so much like her? Perhaps I am she?"
"You're not," said Kira, although she still did not entirely believe it. Kylia had told her that she had thought that the giant man wearing the red horned helmet had been her mother's guardian, former High Lord Bolvar Fordragon, but neither of them could be sure of that, either. She hadn't seen his face, only recognized his monstrous presence and his mannerism of standing straight up, and his smell of hot steel. But that didn't mean it was he. Kira clung to that hope.
"Why not?" Demetria said. "Was she not as pretty as me? Or as powerful?"
"She wasn't like you at all," Kira said. "She was kind, generous, smart and amazingly beautiful, and she would never have joined a cause like this. She would have never let herself become what you are."
Demetria looked down at her, with eyes that revealed surprisingly nothing. Then she smiled again.
"Do you even remember her all that well? How old were you when she died? From what I've heard, Anduin has been alone for almost ten years. You couldn't remember that much about her, could you?" She bent down and whispered into Kira's ear.
"How well did you know your mother, little princess?"
Kira grit her teeth, but didn't answer. She didn't want to. All she remembered of her mother was a smile, a beautiful, loving smile that no matter how hard she tried Demetria would never be able to reproduce. She remembered everything else from talks with Benedictus, who had loved her mother like a daughter, and her father, on rare occasions. She had memorized every little thing about her mother from photos and paintings and stories, and had dreamed about her voice and her smile.
But that did not mean she had known her mother.
So she remained silent.
Yamato and the Ghost clashed again.
Whatever the Ghost's blades were made from, it was far stronger and sharper than the iron that Yamato's kunai were made from—they tore them apart like butter, quickly showing Yamato that it wasn't worth fighting the man hand to hand. The Ghost was amazingly swift and dexterous, far more so than he, so each time they did he came off the worse of the two. But he had learned that long-range fighting was just as difficult.
The Ghost had a jutsu which allowed him to summon blades of pure light, which had enough power to pierce his wooden shields—which were so saturated with his own chakra that it usually took a lot more to break through them. And coupled with the Ghost's speed, it was more than enough to show Yamato that he might lose this battle.
He dodged a strike aimed at his stomach, and kicked at the Ghost's legs. The man lifted his own and kicked back, so that Yamato only struck the bottom of his foot, and he was unprepared for the extra force, so he was thrust off-balance, allowing the Ghost to move in and slice a shallow wound across his arm and shoulder, just as he twisted out of range and jumped back. He thrust a palm up at the Ghost's face, but the other man leaned away, avoiding the wooden spike that had emerged from it. The Ghost lunged forwards then and slammed his head into Yamato's nose, and then slashed at the man's sides with both weapons. Wood extended from Yamato's flesh and deflected the blades, and he then swept the Ghost's feet out from under him and hammered him into the ground with a punch, and began to viciously kick his side, hardening his foot with wood and making spikes blossom from it for extra damage. But true to his name, the Ghost seemed to evaporate, speedily rolling away, leaping up, and then disappearing again.
The room was not empty, but they were the only two left alive. Yamato had decimated the other Crusader's using his Mokuton jutsu.
The Ghost reappeared at the other end of the room, making a seal. As if summoned by God himself, orbs of light began to erupt around him, sharpening themselves into glowing swords soon after. Yamato wiped his bleeding, probably broken, nose with his uninjured arm and shook himself. His body was already exhausted and the Ghost didn't even seem to be panting.
"Blades of God."
The Ghost thrust his hands forwards, and they shot like lightning bolts across the room. Yamato clapped his hands together, which caused branches to erupt from his own body, twisting together to form a tight knot in front of him. The several of the blades slammed into it, and sunk in almost half way before stopping. The others flew past, harmlessly.
Yamato unwound the knot and hissing, formed the branches into sharp spears. He stretched them out, like makeshift arms, and sent them straight at the Ghost. They went at all sides, ensuring that the Ghost had no direct route of escape, and fell upon him from both above and below. But he hopped up and kicked off one branch, flipping through the air and landing lightly on top of another. He then brought his hands together and pulled them towards his chest. The action was far too purposeful, so Yamato glanced back to see the blades that had passed him before returning to him. They came all in a line, aiming for the exact same place. Yamato began to turn, but realized a shield would be pointless. He waited.
But he waited too long. As the blades neared him, he felt the tendril the Ghost was standing on quiver. He had no time to look up and back before the blades struck, and he had conjured no shield to protect himself from either attack. He made a seal right before a blade slammed into his stomach, and the Ghost fell upon him, slicing in an "x" shape across his back, cutting clean through him. The rest of the light blades impaled him in a line across his chest and stomach, and stopped before they went all the way through and killed their creator.
There was a lot of blood.
The Ghost pulled back, ripping his drenched blades from the body of one of his Crusader brethren. "An interesting art, that is. Thou art a master of battle, walker-in-the-night."
"I have a question," Yamato asked, from somewhere behind him. "You're the only Crusader I have known who has spoken of 'God'. They all talk of the 'Light', but it seems to me that it is a fairly big leap from 'light' to 'God'."
The Ghost turned, and stared into Yamato's large brown eyes. "Thou art correct. My concept of the Holy Light—for that it was we all worship—is far different from my Crusader brethren's. I belief it is an entity—a supreme being that has shaped us all. They believe it to be a set of ideals, which they have perverted for their own use. Thou wilt find that the Forsaken have done similar. Ideals are far easier to pervert than gods, are they not?"
"So why are you different?" Yamato asked, calmly opening a utility pouch on his belt and removing a small black ball—a soldier pill–and popped it into his mouth and relished the increased stamina and dulling of the pain in his wounds, which had begun to exhaust him even further. "Why believe something different from all the rest?"
"I could pose thee the same question," the Ghost said. "Why believe anything different? Because we are raised to; because it suits us better than another belief does; because it holds a special significance to us due to some event in our lives."
"I thought you guys were big on conformity," Yamato said.
"I am different from them. I serve according to my own beliefs, not theirs."
"So why do they serve?"
"Because they cannot help but. They have been maddened by darkness." The Ghost cleaned off his blades using his scarlet pant-leg. You could hardly tell there was blood on him. "They have been deceived. I chose not to be. I must hold God in my heart, I must see the truth. They cannot see the truth, because it would unmake them. It would destroy everything that they believe in, and they could not accept that."
"And it doesn't for you?"
"I recognize that some evils are necessary," he said. "For I know that God shall forgive me, in the end."
"How convenient for you then," said Yamato. "You believe something different because it suits you better."
"No," the Ghost said, lowering himself into a battle stance. "It is because I was raised to."
He shot straight across the room at Yamato, who flung out his hand. Five small barbs erupted from his fingertips, but the Ghost saw this and jumped over them, arcing through the air and landing but a foot away from Yamato. His swords flew out, but Yamato moved back, and thrust out his other hand, sending more barbs. The Ghost crossed his blades and blocked, and then swung them again. Yamato's arms became lined with wood, and he blocked the hits easily. Tiny vines then wrapped around the blades, pinning them to Yamato's arms, and allowing the shinobi a full target. The Ghost realized this, let go of his weapons and kicked, but it was too late. Yamato spat one last barb, which struck the Ghost in the right shoulder. Though it was barely the size of a thumbtack, the barb was laden with enough of Yamato's chakra to make it expand to the size of a small oak, which it began to do as soon as it pierced the Ghost's flesh.
Yamato had spent the entire time they had talked building up the attack.
The Ghost flung himself backwards as vines began to shoot out of his shoulder, wrapping around his chest and creeping up towards his neck. They began to burst from his right arm as well, shredding it like paper and making blood fountain. The Ghost did not scream nor did he flail back in blinding pain.
Instead he raised a hand, summoning a blade of light, and with the detached precision of a surgeon he removed the chunk of his shoulder and the entire arm that had been infested with Yamato's vine.
Shit, Yamato thought. He'd never seen anybody do something like that. The pain must have been beyond anything imaginable. Yet the Ghost did not cry out or even seem to be panting, or show any sign of strain. Even as the blade cauterized the wound, stopping the flow of blood, the Ghost remained as silent as ever.
Breathing slowly out, the Ghost summoned another blade. It floated but inches from where his arm used to be, and he rushed at Yamato again.
It was frightening how persistent he was. Perhaps Yamato had made a mistake.
The man was not much different from the rest of the Crusaders.
He knew he couldn't block the Ghost's attacks now. It would be too dangerous. He dodged and weaved away from each strike, noticing that even as the man grew faster, he did not appear angrier, nor did he become clumsier. In fact he seemed to grow sharper and more deft with each swing, until with each one he managed to clip Yamato's person—just barely—sometimes hitting nothing but cloth, other times just barely nicking the flesh.
The fight grew faster, dirtier and both knew it would soon end. Yamato was always on the defensive, having no chance to even make a seal or gather chakra. The soldier pill kept him going, but that was it. He would not win if it continued like this. But no chance presented itself. He saw no way in the scant second between attacks to get in a hit, or to reverse the situation. He couldn't weaken the Ghost; he needed to finish him in one blow.
The Ghost suddenly changed. He backed off, and fired the blade at Yamato, raising his remaining hand and making a half-seal.
The blade made a sound like nails on glass, and exploded.
Yamato flung up his arms to protect himself. Thousands of tiny blades struck his flesh, peppering his arms and chest and legs with wounds so small that a pin could barely fit through one. But they were so numerous that the flesh on his arms seemed to peel away, and blood began to flow copiously. He grit his teeth, willing himself not to scream as the Ghost flew at him, forming one last blade, intending to end the fight.
His arms useless, Yamato couldn't attack, and could hardly move from the pain in his legs. He only stared at the Ghost, who ran with the same fervor as the Crusaders Yamato had seen before him, but his eyes were different. There was no rage, no passion, no zeal. Nothing. He had fully accepted the truths of his doctrine into his heart, so much so that he did not blind himself with its glory. He did not let it consume him, let it fill him with the hatred of every other faith because of the doubt in his own. But nor was the doubt entirely gone, like the Crusader's, whose faith was so great that whatever they were commanded to do in the name of it they would do without question. He accepted everything about his doctrine, and did not care about others. He did not care if his was the right or the wrong, he just followed it. But nor was he fighting Yamato on basis of his faith alone. He was doing it as he had been ordered, as if he were a shinobi himself. He was fighting because it would dishonor him and his master and his faith.
Yamato could understand him.
He could understand what made this man fight.
The Ghost stumbled suddenly, not as if he had tripped, but as if something had struck him violently in the chest. He clutched at it shaking, and the blade near his arm vanished as he stumbled a few more feet forwards, until he was right next to Yamato.
The Ghost said nothing. His crystal eyes stared at Yamato the entire time, even as they clouded and became unfocused.
Yamato said nothing. He stared at the Ghost as if his face were masked too.
The Ghost slid back, and then crumpled to the floor, his heart stopped by the last remnants of Yamato's vine, which had buried too deep into his body before he had managed to remove it. It had slowly traveled through his circulatory system until it had filled his heart from the inside out, suffocating it.
The room was filled with perfect silence, until Yamato took one step forwards and clapped his hands together, bowing his head slightly over the Ghost's corpse, and closing his eyes.
"Namu ami dabutsu."
Their walk took them back to the large entrance hall before the Grand Crusader's chamber. It was now filled with Scarlet Crusaders, standing all in a line and staring perfectly straight ahead of them. Demetria skipped between them, as if they were a row of flowers, while Kira trailed behind, every so often glancing at their emotionless faces. Behind them she noticed the giant Crusader in the horned helmet, standing in front of the closed marble doors and staring straight at her. She shivered.
They stopped at the golden doors, and didn't enter. A moment later, a door slammed and Kira turned to see one of the most horrible men alive, dragging a leather sack, walk across the pristine marble floor and then up the red carpet towards her. The man looked like a skeleton, thin and bony, with wild stringy hair and even wilder eyes. He was whispering something she couldn't make out the entire time he walked, hefting the cargo with great difficulty and wheezing in between his mutterings. But he seemed happy, to her disgust.
"Interrogator Alcond," Demetria said, smiling. "Couldn't you have been more gentle with such precious cargo?"
"Precious? Wretched!" the man snapped, then looked down and mumbled, "but very precious yes…so ever precious." He dragged the chained up sack past Kira, and into the Grand Crusader's room. When Kira saw the feet dragging from beneath the sack, she choked and stumbled back, horrified. She could see the blood all over Sakura's feet, and even smell it along with a number of other unpleasant things. She very nearly called out the girl's name, but Demetria laid a hand on her arm.
"She's just fine, I think you'll find. Don't make a scene, little princess." She guided Kira into the room, and the door shut with a boom behind them.
The Grand Crusader sat in his throne, as monstrous as ever, his small, terrible eyes fixed on Alcond and the sack. He waited until Demetria pranced forwards, wrapping her arms around his leg and laying her head against his thigh. "I bring to you, Your Holiness, the shinobi girl that I've sought to turn."
He glared down at her, and then at the sack. "Is she alive?"
"Quite." She waved to Alcond, who gave a quick nod and unfastened the chains from around the sack, and then carefully lifted it off. When the sack had reached Sakura's now clothed chest, she demonstrated how true Demetria's words were by thrusting her arm out, striking Alcond full in the stomach. The blow was so powerful that Alcond likely perished before he even hit the wall, which he struck with enough force to create a crater twice the size of his own body, which was nothing more than pulp at this point. He crumpled to the floor in a bloody heap as Sakura stood up and thrust off the rest of the sack.
She fixed her eyes instantly on Demetria, who remained attached to The Grand Crusader, smiling coyly. Sakura shot forwards, bringing her arm back for a stone-dusting punch, her eyes furious. For a second Kira thought she would be successful, but that didn't last. The Grand Crusader leaned forwards and caught her around the middle, hurtling her violently backwards. She struck the wall just to the left of the door, making a much smaller crater than Alcond before crumpling to the ground, spitting blood and moaning.
Kira instantly went to her side, placing her hand against Sakura's stomach and then her back, and gathering healing chakra to her aid. Sakura looked up briefly, looking straight into her eyes, before looking down again, and muttering something Kira couldn't hear.
"What?" Kira whispered.
"I'm sorry," Sakura said.
"Now, now," said Demetria, detaching herself from the giant and walking towards them. "This isn't a private party. You shouldn't—" She stopped speaking when the ground shook, and a loud boom echoed through the room. Demetria frowned and looked at the doors.
It was happening just outside.
"It matters not," the Grand Crusader said, his voice hot with anger. "The Highlord will deal with it, whatever it is. The other shinobi, I suspect."
"No doubt," Demetria said.
"The Ghost has headed off the other ones. But they all must be destroyed or turned now."
"The Highlord," said Demetria mockingly, "won't kill them. I've made sure of that. Our healers may have difficulty healing them, but they will live, and will join our little pink-haired cutie and our little princess in our ranks." She glanced at the two girls, smiling. "Are you getting all of this?"
Other shinobi? Kira thought. Then that meant that Naruto had come! He was here! He could—no. She stopped herself, with only a look at Sakura. She couldn't rely on him. Naruto was fighting his own battle, and they had theirs to fight. Kira turned to Demetria, staring straight into her ever-changing eyes and her beautiful face that was so like her mother's.
"Come now," said Demetria. "We have a ritual to complete. Your Holiness, if you may?"
The Grand Crusader reached to the side, and lifted up his monstrous blade, which he laid across his lap. He put a finger on the edge, and ran it along the entire length, coating it in a layer of his blood, which was more black than red. Demetria walked towards Kira and Sakura, the latter just beginning to recover. Kira made a seal and raised her hand, intending to fight her mother's double.
Demetria didn't let her, by swooping forwards and striking both of them in the head with her finger. Kira suddenly couldn't move, or rather, she couldn't move on her own. She was standing, and soon walking towards the Grand Crusader, who now stood, and seemed as huge as half the room. Sakura was right by her side, looking as strained, furious and terrified as she felt. The Grand Crusader lifted his sword into the air, holding it above them. They both turned their heads up, and opened their mouths.
"Let the fire," the Grand Crusader said, "consume you."
A drop formed on the tip of the blade, right above Sakura's mouth. She just stared at it, unable to move, unable to close her eyes. She didn't know what was going to happen but she knew that she couldn't stop it any longer. She was powerless. Kira had been right. She needed somebody, and that somebody wasn't going to come. She was going to lose herself here, and it was because of a few stupid mistakes, mistakes that she should have never let herself make. She wanted to close her eyes.
She didn't want to see her life fall in a drop of blood.
But it wasn't a drop of blood that fell.
It was an elf dressed in red.
The ceiling burst open and she fell like a sinning angel, her sword raised back in preparation for a massive chop. The Grand Crusader heard the sound, and looked up, seeing in the last few moments a woman with pale gold hair roaring down, and swing a huge blade down onto his bared neck, smiting him with such force that when she struck the ground, the room shook as if a meteor has struck it. His head fell like a rock onto the floor, and his neck spurted a geyser of nearly black blood across the now ruined marble floor. In that second after, both Sakura and Kira regained their ability to move, and Kira shouted what they were both thinking.
"Run!"
Demetria stared like a child transfixed by her own parent's murdered bodies. The Grand Crusader's headless form took one step and then fell, crashing heavily into the ground, while the pale-haired elf stood, grinning triumphantly. She and Myrdraxxis had arrived just above the Grand Crusader's room, and it hadn't been difficult to sense the monstrous presence beneath them. The only thing that had bothered Hisari was that it hadn't felt like a human down there. But that hardly mattered now.
Demetria then saw the two younger girls flee, and snarled like a rabid dog. She took off after them, glancing once over her shoulder to shout to the elf girl.
"Good luck, beautiful!"
She pushed open the doors and disappeared.
Hisari stared after the woman, not understanding her words. She felt, however, that they had been more a warning than an honest well-wishing, and she felt a chill down her spine suddenly. It was quite unconnected with the feeling of power and victory she felt at slaying her opponent in one blow, and it was not pleasant. Then she heard a slight shuffling—the sound of cloth on stone, and the clink of metal armor.
The Grand Crusader, headless, was standing. Where his head had once been was now a black blob, which was growing bigger and bigger, even as his body grew smaller and smaller. His muscles shriveled and skin wrinkled and his bones shrank, and the black mass grew wings and horns and then arms and legs; soon it had an outline as well. A buzzing accompanied the mass's growth, growing louder and louder until it seemed as if the entire room were filled with huge, buzzing insects. When the Grand Crusader's body was no larger than a child's, the black mass stopped growing, and the last things it grew were eyes.
Small, crimson eyes.
"How embarrassing. My brothers always told me that I was absent-minded. It seems that they were correct."
Naruto backed slowly away, panting heavily. Blood ran down the side of his head, making it hard to see from his right eye. Sai stood next to him, in no better condition than he. The boy was not smiling now—his eyes were focused, and his face now truly emotionless. He was staring at their opponent, and the giant Crusader was staring right back, holding the monstrous sword parallel with the floor.
"Good," he said, like an instructor observing a student. "But your attacks are cowardly and weak. Neither will aid you in combat."
"You're very kind," said Sai, smiling again. "To give me such an informative lecture during our battle, but please do not. This is a time for fighting, not words."
The giant nodded. "Of course."
Sai's brush, wet with ink, conjured a cloud of kunai which the giant easily blocked, his blade flickering like a strobe-light in a circular motion, hacking them into small clouds of ink. Naruto rushed forwards at the same time, his blade glowing light blue with chakra. He aimed a strike at the giant's knees, while a clone stepped on his back and went for the giant's neck.
But the giant slammed his head into the clone's nose, dispelling it with a violent cracking sound, and then whirled his blade down, knocking Naruto's sword from his hand, sending it spinning across the floor. Naruto jumped back, summoning more clones, but the giant's blade moved with god-like speed and dispelled them just as quickly as he summoned them. He struck out with a kick, but it did nothing but make a metal thud when it struck the man's breastplate, and make him lose his balance when the giant moved forwards at the same time as the kick. The giant then kicked Naruto swiftly in the side, and backhanded him out of the way with his gauntlet. Naruto shot like a bullet backwards, rolling across the floor until he hit the wall.
"That will not work," the giant said. He spun and advanced on Sai, who had drawn another creation—a pack of wolves. They leapt from the page, becoming almost as tall as Sai himself, and ran at the giant, howling distantly, as if they were not truly there. Their claws raked his armor, causing superficial damage, but even their strength did not deter the man from his charge, straight at Sai. The boy lowered himself and leapt high into the air, sending another rain of painted kunai down atop the giant. The giant ignored them this time. When he reached the spot Sai had just jumped from, he stopped and threw his sword into the air, straight at the falling shinobi.
Naruto saw this. "Idiot!" he roared, picking himself up and vanishing in a blur of motion. In half a second he had reached the place Sai would have been skewered, only to see one of his wolves leap up and absorb the sword's deadly flight, allowing Sai to reach the ground unharmed.
Sai's face was completely emotionless.
And for once, Naruto thought, it looked natural. Nothing in his face was fake or forced. He looked completely comfortable bearing not a single sign of emotion. His body moved smoothly, without a bit of labor from fury, frustration or pain. His black eyes showed nothing, not even an ounce of something, and it coincided exactly with the rest of his face. Even as he recovered from one attack, he prepared another, this one slightly different from the last, as if testing by trial and error what would be most effective in defeating the so far unstoppable "milord". He looked exactly as a shinobi should in battle.
He looked exactly like a tool.
Naruto twirled as the giant defeated Sai's next attack by breaking the neck of the painted panther he had created. Naruto created a clone, and sent it to retrieve his sword, as he rushed at the giant, making a few seals as he did. The giant punched him in the chest, but with a hiss, he took it, hardening his muscles with the Kongou. The giant did not seem affected by his resistance, or surprised by his attack. Instead, he punched Naruto in the face this time. The blow hurt—quite a lot—but Naruto remained standing, having hardly budged and inch. He roared and drove his fist into the giant's stomach, and forcefully ejected the chakra he had built up earlier.
"Katon: Kaenhira!"
The blast slammed into the giant, blasting him back and shattering his breastplate. He uttered a low "umph" and stumbled a few times, but remained standing. Naruto seized his chance.
His clone threw his sword across the room. Naruto caught it, and gathered chakra into it, before launching himself at the giant, who was clutching the charred wound on his stomach. Naruto roared and used Kazaashi to move right up to the giant, swinging the blade downwards. But the giant moved with sudden, vicious force and slammed his fist into Naruto's stomach, and then grabbed the boy by the arms and thrust him away. Naruto landed on his back, sliding across the floor, until the giant came up and stomped on his right hand, making him let go of his sword with an awful cry.
"You are not alert," the giant said. "And your companion has not once attacked in the confusion of those last few moments."
Sai, for once, didn't answer. He did not move from where he stood.
The giant kicked Naruto's sword away, and then stomped on the boy's stomach. Naruto could not cry out as the air left his lungs completely and he issued a strangled gasp and spat up blood. The giant then reached down, and grabbed hold of Naruto's neck.
"One should not," the giant said, "leave an enemy alive when he can just as easily destroy him. I will not make that mistake with you again, boy."
Naruto choked, and tried to speak, but he couldn't, so he just pointed.
The giant turned, just as Naruto's blade speared him in the back, going straight through his left shoulder. The giant reared up as Naruto's previously created clone ripped the blade out and made to stab again. The giant got up and whirled around, battering the clone with the back of his fist and dispelling it.
When he turned, Naruto had gotten up and out of range. The boy, clutching his throat, was grinning.
"You are not alert," Naruto mimicked, spitting some blood onto the floor. "Bastard."
The giant moved his left arm experimentally, and seemed to find the pain bearable. He seemed prepared to attack again, and Naruto had managed to stand when with a loud boom, the golden doors behind him flew open.
Two figures—one sporting golden hair and dressed in white robes, the other with pink and dressed in little more than a ripped peasant's shirt, flew from the Grand Crusader's chamber, making straight for the side door nearest them. Naruto turned at the sound, but had smelled them both long before he recognized them, and when he did, his eyes grew wide.
"Sakura-chan? Kira-chan?"
Neither stopped in their pursuit, but Sakura glanced once at him, giving him a look that he couldn't register before it was gone. They disappeared through the side door.
And then another person left the Grand Crusader's hall, smiling: the golden haired woman Naruto had seen before.
"Fordragon, you dog! Remember that these children are precious cargo!" she cried, and continued then in the same direction the two girls had left. "Don't kill them!"
"Of course mistress," the giant said. "You need not worry."
"Ever the faithful hound."
Then the woman was gone too.
Naruto stared after her, just beginning to comprehend the situation. He didn't know why or how they were here, but he felt a sudden desire to find them. In fact, he suddenly needed to go after them. He needed to protect them.
The look Sakura had given him dawned on him.
"Oi! Sai! Can you beat this bastard?" he cried to the boy.
"I don't know," the boy said, smiling. "But I know I could with your help."
Naruto grit his teeth. He felt an urge to just leave the boy there alone. He almost acted on it too.
But then, he felt something stir within him. It was a white-hot flash in his stomach, not unlike what he had felt when he had used the Kyuubi's chakra. But it was different; he felt no power from it, only anger.
Then, he felt something stir behind him.
In the room that Sakura and Kira had just exited, he felt something horrible. Sai felt it too, because he was looking at the door, although his face showed nothing. It was something huge. Something hot.
Something awfully familiar.
Fen felt the building shake.
It was not a violent shake, only a slight tremor that was enough to awake him from his dozing and draw his attention away from the door that Naruto and Sai had entered what seemed like hours ago. He glanced down the street both ways, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He saw all manner of disgusting zombies, ghouls and nearly every other variety of walking dead, but nothing large enough to make the building shake noticeably. But a moment later, it shook again, and then again, and then the sound reached his ears above the din of the ghostly city.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
The sound was a mixture of broken glass and ruined stone, rotted wood and rusted metal falling into a gigantic heap all at once. Three buildings in the distance fell within minutes of each other, the dust rising over the tops of the other houses so that Fen could see. Another fell very near to his, just down the street from it, in fact. Though he no longer had a working heart, he felt desperation and a hint of fear rise up in him as whatever was toppling the buildings approached. It came into view a second later, barreling down the street towards the courtyard.
"STEIN UM STEIN!"
Ramstein entered the courtyard not through the street, but through the buildings surrounding it. Its body seemed completely repaired from before. New stitches lined its skull and two of its arms, all of which had been reattached, and it sported a new chain and two very new weapons in its meaty fists—one a gigantic sickle, the other a giant carving knife drenched in ichor and dust. It smashed its way into the courtyard and ran straight at the bastion doors, which were as big as it was. It began to hammer on the door with its weapons, raising a god-awful cry from the Scourge about it. It bellowed to them in their own, unintelligible language, and they too began to assault the doors; they scratched and bit and banged on the heavy metal doors, while larger and larger dents began appearing, dealt by Ramstein.
What the hell are they doing? He wondered, staring at the door as it grew closer and closer to resembling a crushed tin can. What the hell had gotten into them? Was Ramstein still sore about losing to Naruto? Did he even remember? Was he trying to find the boy, or had he been ordered to attack the bastion?
And who had repaired him?
Then, somehow, over the bangs and the howls, Fen heard hoof beats.
The air seemed to chill significantly. Fen scrambled away from the edge of the building, the skin around his eyes growing taught in surprise.
A black rider appeared at the end of the street, and Fen knew that whatever plan they had made was now shot to shit. He scrambled to his feet and blinked across the street, running along the rooftops towards the side of the bastion.
Screw the plan, he thought. We need to leave, now.
Well I'm back, and sorry for the achingly long wait. I had a grand time in Africa, but I'm glad to be back home as well. I did miss anime!
How was the chapter? I found it a little hard to get back into the rhythm, but I hope you guys like it. Next chapter is probably the last big chapter for this arc. Expect lots of battles!
And remember, tell me if this chapter sucks!
And lastly, before I go—for those following the manga recently, who hopes that Sasuke dies? Won't go into more detail than that for those who aren't up, but I really hope he dies, even though it would be completely irrational if he did. I just really want him to…die…
Anyways, see you next week hopefully!
General Grievous