ACT VII : DEFIANCE

The power overtook Siegfried with such force he dropped to his knees. Nightmare was awake.

The flesh of his right arm contorted and writhed until it was as it had been before - leathery, a mottled greenish-brown, with numerous spines and three massive claws. His hair turned from golden blonde to bright crimson as though it was suddenly soaked in blood, and emerald-green irises turned to the color of flames once more.

Burke and Cadel stood motionless, dumbstruck.

Nightmare rose to his feet. "How ironic, miserable human... In your attempt to save these pathetic maggots, you lead me right to them." Siegfried's protests grated against his consciousness, stronger than ever, alternatively begging and threatening. Irritating noise.

He and Soul Edge shared the same rush, the same moment of giddiness when he rushed at the two men - they were unarmed, defenseless, and the first, Cadel, went down immediately, felled by a single sweep that tore across his chest. Burke's fighting instinct kicked in and he threw himself at the demon puppet, trying to tackle him to the ground. Ordinarily, Nightmare could have torn the man away easily, but he was weakened - what little sleep he had gotten hadn't managed to restore any of his energy.

Burke had him from behind, now, in a headlock, with his forearms pressed against Nightmare's windpipe, choking him. He clawed at the man's arms until all that remained of them were bloody ribbons of flesh over exposed bone, but his grip did not loosen. He would hold on until either he or Nightmare were dead.

He managed a rasping growl of frustration. Fear wasn't an emotion he was familiar with, Soul Edge had suppressed all traces of that, as it would hinder his resolve, his impulsive inclination to destroy everything in his path. But beyond the anger at barely being able to breathe, uneasiness had started to work its way in. He was not invincible... Was it possible he could be made to face death just as he made these pathetic weaklings?

Just as he started to feel the world move in circles around him, and the dull ache in his chest turned to a stabbing agony, screaming for air, something pulled Burke away, off of him, and he took in an enormous, stinging breath, coughing slightly. He turned in time to see Burke slammed into the ground on the end of Astaroth's enormous battle axe.

There seemed to be no urgency behind the action, however, and Astaroth didn't appear the least bit concerned as Nightmare sat, taking in grateful lungfuls of air for a few moments before he had steadied himself enough to speak.

"Astaroth. Go to the village. Don't let yourself be seen. When you return I expect to know if there are any worth taking. If not, we move on." He didn't bother to express any gratitude for Astaroth's assistance in the fight. The way he saw it, Astaroth was a pawn, a tool to be used, and his help was Nightmare's right - no, Astaroth's duty as a servant.

The golem shrugged and trudged off towards the village at the bottom of the hill and Nightmare stood, thinking over all that had just happened. He had been foolish to allow the human to regain control like that. Siegfried could just as easily lead him to a trap and injury or death as he could a host of human souls.

For the first time since he had fallen asleep, the sword spoke to him. You fool! I told you not to let the human take control, and then you let this weakling maggot best you! I've begun to reconsider your worth as a puppet!

For a split second, he was ashamed, but irritation replaced it so quickly it was as though the emotion had never surfaced. He had been obedient of the sword's orders, he had taken human souls as he was instructed. Soul Edge was the one that had sapped all the energy from his body just as soon as it was acquired, leaving him exhausted. It sensed his anger and laughed.

Oh, you fool, you pathetic little fool. Do you honestly believe you could ever stand against me? I created you, child, you'd best remember that, ere you question my will ever again.

The irritation faded, replaced by shame again. But mostly for his humiliating near-defeat at the hands of a human. A spark of doubt still existed for the authority of Soul Edge.

Nevertheless, it sensed his relent and calmed considerably. Remember your place, my creation... You stand above these humans, but you will always answer to me. I am superior, I am the endless night, I am darkness incarnate. You are merely the hand that carries out my will.

Remember that.

He moved into the city, Astaroth trailing behind him. He hadn't gone back for the armor that Siegfried had torn off, and was slightly disappointed he would not be making his appearance as the monster these humans had come to know him as. He had taken a threadbare, blood splattered cloak from one of the men he had killed, and the hood would do a good enough job of hiding his face until he could get his hands on another helmet. Pulled around his spiny shoulder, it would hide his arm, too, for as long as he needed to hide among the humans.

Astaroth waited on the outskirts. He could not blend in so easily and would wait until the slaughter began to join in.

The familiar sights, sounds, and faces made Siegfried almost seem to mentally writhe in abhorence for what he knew would soon transpire, though Nightmare no longer found his protests quite so irritating.

Rather, they amused him. He decided he would toy with the human's mind, do everything he could to make him suffer even more.

Soul Edge wordlessly fed Nightmare mental praise, pleased with the decision.

The strongest of the human villagers were the easiest to track - a war veteran, a young carpenter, a hunter. Nightmare was disappointed - all paled in comparison to the battle-hardened warriors he was used to killing, but he needed nourishment, and he needed it now, so these weaker ones would have to do.

The war veteran was alone, behind the carpenter's dwelling. He seemed to be stacking neatly-cut pieces of wood, but stopped and turned around when he heard Nightmare approach. He appeared confused at first, trying to place if he had seen the newcomer before - but then his eyes darted to the sword, and he knew at once that this was the Azure Knight.

"Demon! You'll not defile this place! Blaen, come quick-"

The man didn't have the chance to finish his call for help before his head hit the ground, soaking it with blood.

The carpenter had heard him, though, and came charging out to his defense, armed with a saw. Upon seeing he was too late, he looked sickened, but his face contorted with rage and he charged forward, right into the point of the blade.

Rushing straight to death. What imbeciles these humans are.

Panic seized the rest as they heard the commotion, watched the demon puppet, now accompanied by his servant, sweeping through the village like a maelstrom, slaughtering all within reach. Siegfried's grief was so strong he couldn't even muster a word in protest anymore. Nightmare sneered.

But when he turned to face another, recognition flared up again, and something else. Something that gave Siegfried's frail will such power it held Nightmare in place like a vise, unable to make any movements.

Rizel!

Siegfried's memories of the girl that stood before him, with a knife clutched in her hand, were strongly associated with those of two others Nightmare had felled - Josef and Rawlin, he knew them as. With her raven-black hair and grey-blue eyes, she must have been related to them somehow. But the feelings he associated with her were different - feelings Nightmare didn't recognize - and somehow held such power Nightmare couldn't just push them aside, ignoring them, or even acknowledge and mock them. They had given Siegfried power over him.

You won't touch her, monster.

He would have begged to differ. He would have scoffed at the fool's pathetic indignance and just killed the girl and continued on, were he capable.

But he could not move.

The girl seemed to be frozen in place as well, contemplating on whether to attack or run, and hesitantly decided on the latter. The relief at seeing her flee until she was out of sight weakened Siegfried's mind again, and Nightmare charged off in the direction she had run, bent on destroying what had given his human host even that brief moment of power. But she was nowhere to be found, and he quickly grew frustrated and gave up.

It wasn't worth the effort to kill the rest of them, the sword told him, and after getting Astaroth, he started back towards Ostreinsburg.

What was that emotion, that gave the human such power? The thoughts and memories associated with it seemed so powerless, pathetic, meaningless... And yet they had given the host enough strength to physically prevent Nightmare from even moving.

Whatever it was, that was the one emotion humans possessed, he decided, that he envied.