Chapter 9
Of Warriors and Demons
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD EVENING FEROXIANS AND WELCOME TO THE 47TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE FEROXIAN BATTLEGROUNDS! THE TOURNAMENT WHERE NAMES ARE HEARD AND LEGENDS ARE MADE! ARE YOU PEOPLE EXCITED OR WHAT?"
The roaring of the crowd was deafening. The rounded building seemed to be built to handle the mass of both citizens and travelers alike but was unable to contain their excitement as the sound of cheering could be heard a mile away. People of many different nationalities could be seen filling seats or standing, yet despite there being two sides to root for, there was no clear boundary separating the West from the East; the only way to tell one from the other being the red worn by the East and the purple for the West.
The Feroxian Battlegrounds, a tournament for warriors to gather to test their grit against the best Archanea had to offer, had finally begun. It was no secret that this tournament would decide the leadership of Regna Ferox for the next 4 years, yet it was not the main attraction for the people of Regna Ferox. Though the change of power was important to the direction of their nation, their Feroxian blood sang for one thing and one thing only.
This was more than deciding who would be the next ruler. This was more than the coin most would get from gambling on the winner. They were here to see steel class, blood drawn, and legends during the art of mortal combat.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BEFORE WE BEGIN, I AM MOST PROUD TO ANNOUNCE THAT WE HAVE A SURPRISE GUEST ATTENDING THIS SACRED EVENT ON THE EAST CORNER! MANY OF YOU KNOW HER AS THE KIND, BEAUTIFUL, AND BENEVOLENT QUEEN OF THE HALIDOM, BUT I AND MANY OTHERS CALL HER TRUE TITLE, THE GODDESS OF YLISSE! LADIES! GENTLEMEN! PLEASE GIVE YOUR BIGGEST FEROXIAN WELCOME FOR SHE IS THE ONE, THE ONLY, EXAAAAAAAAAALT EMMERYYYYYYYYN!"
If it was possible, the stadium seemed to shake from the volume of the cheers emitted. Emmeryn stood from her seat next to Khan Flavia to wave at the cheers and woots aimed her way. Standing beside her, Phila gripped her lance at the compliments, wolf-whistles, and other incongruous words better left as thoughts aimed at her Exalt. They were in a booth separated from the civilians, but she almost prayed one would test their luck just so she could have a reason to swing her spear.
"Hahahaha! Hear that, Exalt? Yer reputation most definitely precedes you!" Khan Flavia laughed, enjoying the uncomfortable look that briefly crossed the Exalt's face at the way they showed their love.
"So it would seem." Emmeryn chuckled good-naturedly, having to speak louder over the roaring crowd as she sat back down in her cushioned seat. "Your people are a lot more, enthusiastic, than what I'm used to."
She couldn't help feeling a bit hypocritical upon glancing to where her little sister and the remaining Shepherds stood. They were cheering just as loudly as the crowd but appeared to be going a step further. She, Sumia (the shy thing), and another short blonde girl held up what Lissa had shown her before the event called 'pom poms'. The princess and blonde girl would constantly turn to the brunette in an attempt to get the woman to share their enthusiasm via shaking the instruments above their heads. The moment the brunette finally built the courage to try, it only took a few shakes of the pom poms before they were sent careening into the crowd to hit an unsuspecting Feroxian.
Behind the (now hiding) trio, Stahl, Virion, a... suit of armor, and Frederick stood tall. In their hands was a painting—a painting of her brother, specifically. Frederick, the enthusiast he is, had an artisan paint her brother to 'emblazon' his noble image. Said image was a bold one: her brother standing with a scale in one hand and Falchion in the other. Above him, in big bold letters, were the words 'I WANT YOU' while his attire consisted of...of...
Oh my.
Emmeryn did her duty as a sister and quickly turned away from the painting. There were certain things a sibling just wasn't meant to see—drawing or no.
The Khan had said something, but Emmeryn was embarrassed to admit she didn't catch it as lost in her thoughts as she was. Not long after, a shirtless male, bearing muscles far superior to anything she'd had the pleasure of seeing, put down two mugs onto the table between her and the Khan. A particular drop of sweat dripped down his chest and made quite a pleasing visual for the eyes to drink in, and it did something completely different to her heart and face.
"Enjoy, your highness," the deep, smooth baritone of perfection spoke. A sultry smirk lit his double-chinned features before the Exalt's eyes followed his perfection till he disappeared behind the curtains.
The smug face of Flavia finally registered after the haze in her mind dissipated. She didn't say anything, but they both knew she didn't need to.
Not wanting to be confronted with her actions, she carefully took the foaming mug into her hands as if it were what she had wanted all her life. The mug met her lips soon after, and she sipped at it like it was fine wine. The taste wasn't pleasant, but at least it cleared her head and removed any sinful thoughts she may still have.
Thankfully, Flavia was adult enough to take the action for what it was and downed her own mug of ale in one go.
The fights couldn't start any sooner.
East Side Gates
Chrom and his selected looked to the gate separating them from the Arena in awe. They could only see parts of it, but going from the sea of silhouettes and the volume of the stadium, they could tell the building was filled to the brim.
"That's one hell of'a crowd." Sully kindly put everyone's thoughts into words.
"Yeah. The Vaikes' gettin' goosebumps just hearing em!"
"It is to be expected. The Battlegrounds is the biggest gala to be held in Regna Ferox and takes place once every few years. An event where combatants across the land come to compete in mortal combat. An atmosphere that also welcomes gambling and trade on Feroxi soil. The finite time where lining your pockets with coin, sinking into one's baser needs and gaining fame and glory garners the attention of ambitious souls... Fascinating."
Chrom listened to Miriel's words, a hand coming to rub his chin in interest. He would be the first to admit he quite enjoyed events such as this (killing aside) and probably wished deep down that there were similar events held in Ylisse, but wasn't so sure how Emm, or his people, would react to such 'barbarism' in the Halidom.
"I'M HONORED TO KNOW THE PEOPLE ARE AS EXCITED AS I AM! NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER DELAY, LET'S GET! THIS! THING! STARTED!"
Chrom tuned out the roar of silhouettes to give his attention to the Feroxians behind them currently readying themselves for battle. Men and women, both wearing armor and not, conversed amongst each other even though they were all about to go out and likely die to entertain a crowd. How they could be so casual towards the ones they were meant to be cutting down was a cultural difference Chrom would probably never understand.
The sound of gate gears churning echoed in their admittedly compact corridor. At once, the men and women turned their conversations into raucous cheers and hoots before banging their steel together, against their shields, or even the ground. Once the gates were fully open, they marched out one by one and immediately pandered to the crowd via holding their weapons high for them to see. On the West side, the same thing occurred, painting a picture of celebration over the competition.
It...was fascinating. Many of them would ultimately be killed on this day, yet none showed fear or hesitation. Was this what Flavia meant by-
"The Feroxian Spirit."
All heads turned to the voice. Sitting on one of the stone benches, a man with raven hair pulled back into a ponytail and a beard smirked back at them. His armor, crimson in color, bore many dents and scars, a sure sign he'd seen many battles if the ear he was missing wasn't proof enough.
"Yer slack jaws speaks volumes, friends. 'How can one break bread with those likely to be on the edge of their blades? Do they not know fear?'. Tis common for foreigners. Those who do not know of our culture often question the spirit we show towards battle."
"Does it have anything to do with religion?" Chrom asked, the roars of the crowd beginning to pick up in pace as the announcer once more put them on the edge of their seats.
The man waved off the question with mirth. "Nothin' like that, friend. Our spirit ain't got nothin' to do with religion or Gods. Sure, some of us are believers, but it's got more ta do with history than higher beings."
"History?" Robin pondered, she along with her fellow Shepherds ignored the arena even when the sound of a horn signaled the start of combat.
"History that goes back as far as a century. You may find this surprisin', but the history of our people is held deep within the core of every Feroxian."
"You refer to the Battle of Nostradamus, no?" Miriel piped in, probably the first time any of them had heard the woman invest in anything that wasn't her books.
"Haha! Good ta hear it reaches even you silver spoons!"
The scholar pushed up her glasses, no sign of offense to be seen on the intellectual. "If we do not know our history, then we are doomed to repeat it. The Battle of Nostradamus was not only fascinating in its ties to why the North has refrained from making contact but also in how Regina Ferox cultivated into a flourishing society while giving credence to the singular individual who made it all possible. It is not too farfetched to suggest Archanea is beholden to Regna Ferox and its ancestors for their roles in thwarting such an adversary. I can hardly fathom the state of our society if fortune did not favor the bold."
Coming to a lull in her dialogue, the mage had the mind to notice the eyes that were now on her. Even the Feroxian bore wide eyes that hinted at stupefaction. "Forgive me. Topics of history often give way to conversational stimuli."
Far from being offended, the Feroxian laughed, "Took some of the wind out of ma sails, but appreciate the enthusiasm nonetheless. The Battle of Nostradamus did, in fact, hold an important historical chapter in our culture. I'd even go as far to say it was the beginnin'. However, it wasn't the battle itself that was uplifted, but the man who led 100 against a force said to number in the tens of thousands. One man and a handful of nomads who singlehandedly halted the vanguard and ignited a flame in every living Feroxian across the snow lands."
The ravenette leaned back, steel clashing in the background while he looked as if he was reminiscing of better days.
"A century ago, the Northern continent sought to colonize Archanea. A fleet with 300 men a ship and weapons made of mithril in each hand. A fleet so mighty, on day one of their arrival in Regna Ferox, they slaughtered The Hawks, known to be one of the most ferocious tribes to have ever walked the lands that century. They continued their march from the West, slowly claimin', slaughterin', pillagin' anything that dared stand in their way."
"Till they embarked onto the territory of the Lions."
"Correct again, Red" the man laughed, Miriel touching her glasses in what the Shepherds knew was acknowledgment. "Y'see, the Lion Tribe weren't exactly mighty in numbers, but sheer fuckin' will. One man in that tribe was worth 10. When the North invaded their territory, they first had to cross the frozen River of Nirvana. It was done easily enough with the North's mastery of Ice magic, said to have been lost in time. Can ya guess what the Lions did?"
"They took a defensive along the banks of the river. From there, they could rain down arrows onto the northerner's forces and pincer them in a flanking charge?" Robin analyzed, her tactical mind demanding she gives input to the query.
"Not a bad guess, girlie. Sure, rainin' arrows onto da dastards would have been the safer option. Watchin' as the northerners slipped on their own feet while scramblin' away like sheep does sound like a fittin' image. But ya forgot one thing," a fist came to his plated chest, "they're Feroxians. Ain't no way they could call themselves such if they didn't get in there to get their hands dirty! However, they were not stupid. They enjoyed battle just as much as any other tribe, but any historian would tell you charging a force of 3,000 with 100 men is the height of stupidity; bravery or no. And the one thing they had over the others was the will to use this up here." The ravenette tapped his head while giving a megawatt smile. "So, if they couldn't charge and they didn't use archery, there's only one thing left they could do to such a force on a river of ice."
Robin eyes widened as she realized where the only logical option they could come to was. "They broke the ice."
"They broke da goddamn ice."
"Pardon, but that is where I find the text to be wholly inadequate in its elucidation. Technologically speaking, Feroxia has never been known for their talent in magecraft along with no documented script to inherit skills with such capabilities. It is not often I question the validity of history, but might you enlighten me on how such an impossibility became possible?"
Despite not understanding half the vocabulary used by the mage, the ravenette smiled at the one part he could.
"That, my dear, is where the legend begins."
The Shepherds watched the man stand, his armor clacking as he walked to the other side of the room. He came to a stop before a statue. The very same statue that could be found all over the capital of Regna Ferox along with paintings and even memorabilia. A statue of a shirtless, flowing-haired man built like the sculpture that depicted him with an axe the size of the Prince and a Lion's head hovering over his shoulder. Obviously, Chrom had never met the man, but the statue alone was enough to make the Prince dread their encounter.
"3,000 walked ice that day. 3,000 Northerners, assured that nothin' could halt their march. Til they heard the roar. The roar of a Lion." A hand came up to touch the Lion on the statue. "Believe it or not, it was not a spell that shattered the ice, but an axe. With one swing, the ice cracked under the steel. Shortly after, two thousand northerners sunk beneath the river, splitting their forces in half and sending disarray amongst their troops. Not long after, 100 - yes, 100 men took on the remaining 500 that did not cross and defeated them soundly while the ones that did cross could do not but watch as their brothers were slaughtered to the last man."
"And then the remaining forces faced the man that killed over a thousand men with but a swing of the axe. The Chieftain of the Lions, the one known as The Mountain, and the man who would become the first and only single reigning Khan of Regna Ferox, Godrick Feroxian. The man responsible for singlehandedly changing the course of history and turning Regna Ferox into the mightiest warrior nation in all of Archanea."
East Side Balcony
"FUCK YEA!" Flavia exclaimed in lieu of her side's victory. Emmeryn clapped in congratulation to the female knight still standing down in the arena, yet couldn't exactly match the Khan's enthusiasm. The bout looked arduous, entertaining even, and the conclusion did hold her attention, but the blood spilled and lives lost needlessly sapped whatever enjoyment she could garner from the event right out. If not for her station and putting up appearances, she would have excused herself halfway between watching a man get impaled.
"Come on, Exalt! Drink up! Battle is best enjoyed with ale in yer system!" Flavia urged, pushing the Exalt's not even half-finished mug closer.
"My apologies, but I think I've had more than enough," Emmeryn respectfully declined, getting a raised brow from the Khan who glanced down at her fellow leader's ale.
"The hell you talkin' bout? You've barely touched the thing."
"Perhaps, but with reason. Alcohol isn't... one of my strong suits."
Flavia stared at the younger woman for a bold minute. A cheshire grin soon replaced the unmoved stare. "You're a lightweight, aren'cha?" Her silence was answer enough. "No shit?!" Loud guffaws left Flavia's mouth, hand smacking the armrest of her chair. Emmeryn said nothing. She wasn't exactly embarrassed about her inability to continuously consume alcohol, but she would be remiss to say the way the Khan outright mocked her did not urk her even slightly. "Ok... Ok, I'll let it slide this time. But after the tournament, win or lose, you and I will share a drink! No excuses! I'll even demand it in our contract if you even think about slipping away."
Emmeryn was not at all looking forward to the experience.
"ALRIGHT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! ARE YOU HAVING FUN?!" the announcer shook her out of her thoughts, a thundering cry of approval following shortly after. "ARE YOU READY TO SEE MORE ACTION? YOU ARE? GOOD! BECAUSE THE NEXT FIGHT ON THE CARD WILL BE A FIGHT YOU DO NOT WANNA MISS! NOW, TYPICALLY I WOULD HAVE THE HONOR OF INTRODUCING THIS MAN AS THE CHAMPION OF THE WEST, BUT IT WOULD SEEM THE KHANS HAVE NO SHORTAGE OF SURPRISES THIS YEAR! HE IS THE MAN HAILED AS THE GREATEST SWORDSMAN OF THE WEST! A SINGLE SWING WAS ALL IT TOOK FOR HIM TO WIN HIS VERY FIRST VICTORY HERE IN ARENA FEROX AND HIS NAME IS FEARED AMONG ALL WHO DARE STAND ON THE OTHER SIDE OF HIS BLADE! HE'S BEEN THE REIGNING CHAMPION OF THE WEST SINCE HE WAS BUT 15 YEARS OF AGE AND IS SAID TO BE YOUR NEXT KHAN OF THE WEST! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! STAND ON YOUR FEET, GET LOUD, AND GIVE A LOUDER FEROXIAN WELCOME TO NONE OTHER BRAVE, THE FAST, THE MIGHTY: LON. QUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"
The energy in the stadium seemed to reach its max as the crowd's chants began to cheer in sync.
"LON~'QU!"
"LON~'QU!"
"LON~'QU!"
"LON~'QU!"
Emmeryn looked down to the stands where people were jumping up and down as the gates of the West Khan opened.
Out walked the man in question.
Shaggy short black hair followed by the familiar foreign attire home to the warriors of Chon'sin. A blue yukata, if she remembered correctly, with three cut tails followed behind him adorned his top along with black shoulder pads that connected one - another into a turtle neck. A red and blue obi completed the cosmetics with a sword nearly tucked into the belt. He wore pants and shoes of course, but none of it seemed as visually appealing as the unique array of colors and style that the yukata captured.
Hoping to inquire further on the West Khan's best fighter was to be part of a simple exhibition, Emmeryn looked over to her fellow ruler.
The curiosity died on the tip of her tongue. For once, Flavia wasn't smiling. The confident grin that had been present with the woman since they'd first shaken hands was now replaced with a bewilderment
"Is something wrong, Miss Flavia?"
The Khan didn't even glance her way to reply, "Lon'qu has been the West Champion going 8 years. If he's no longer representing the West, then that can only mean," the hand on her armrest tightened, the wood creaking under the pressure the older woman exhibited at the conclusion, "That bald Oof found another card to play."
Teeth gritted, Flavia stared across the Arena to where she could see Basilio sitting with a leg crossed and chin propped on his knuckles. She couldn't see her fellow Khan's face, but she was sure he was making that infuriating grin that always made her want to separate his head from his shoulders.
"AND HIS OPPONENT! A VETERAN OF AND ALSO A KNIGHT REKNOWN IN THE EAST AS THE HOUND! HE HOLDS THE TITLE AS CAPTAIN OF THE EAST AND WAS ONCE A CHAMPION HIMSELF! DON'T KNOW IF THIS IS A PUNISHMENT OR THE RUGGED DOG OF THE EAST WANTS TO SEE IF HE GOT IT ONE LAST TIME, BUT I AM HONORED TO SPEAK HIS NAME! LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! THE MIGHTY! THE FEROCIOUS! THE HOUND-"
East Side Gates
Chrom stared at the back of the man readying himself for his time in the arena. The end of the bout in the Arena brought an end to the tale. He, more than any of his allies, felt the growing pit of unfulfillment in his gut―as if he needed to know the ending of that tale no matter what. Not wishing to have such a pit continue to form within him at such a time, he walked forward, the question already at the tip of his tongue.
Just to stop upon the man speaking up again.
"Godrick led the combined tribes of both the East and West towards the shores of Nostradamus. Upon arrival, they bore witness to just what they were dealin' with. Tell me, Prince: when you see a fleet large enough to cover yer Capital. When you see steel and technology that vastly outshines yer own. When you know in your bones that you are outnumbered and outmatched, what do you do?"
The question caused Chrom pause. He was no tactician, nor did he particularly think hard whenever he swung his blade. However, he did not think the obvious to this question was the answer. Yes, surrender was most likely the most tactically sound choice in this situation, but to be at the mercy of his foe did not at all sit well with him.
"I'd fight."
The smile on the man's face told the Prince he'd chose right.
"Ya got more spirit than I first gave ya credit for, Prince. Yes, if ya gonna go off logic, then you'd surrender. Fightin', when ya know yer gonna lose and die anyway, isn't a fight at all. But if that was yer answer, then you should be ashamed to call yourself a warrior."
Turning his head, his gaze once more fell on the statue of his ancestor.
"When the tribes doubted their victory, Godrick did not show fear. He did not cower at their numbers, nor did he falter. There was no need for logic when your home was about to be taken. Instead of running, he charged headfirst toward the Northerners with nothing but an axe in hand and an indomitable will of steel, and the courage of a thousand men. T'was not the Gods that gave him strength, but his spirit. Together, they fought, bled, and triumphed. We, an uncoordinated bunch of nomads who only knew where to point a stick, fought off a force said to number in the tens of thousands with inferior weapons."
"That, my friend, is where the Warrior's Call was born. The Feroxian Spirit."
"-UNMOVEABLE! THE HOUND! RRRRROOOOOOMAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"
The announcer's cry followed by their gates opening brought an end to their conversation. Chrom gazed at the knight, Roman, one last time. The amount of respect the man got from him in just one conversation was astounding.
Not knowing if this would be their last encounter, Chrom outstretched a hand toward the knight. "May victory shine upon you this day."
Roman through his head back and laughed before taking the Prince's hand into his own.
"We're just the warm-up, kid. Somethin' fer the folks ta be entertained with while they wait for the main event. But I appreciate the gesture, nonetheless. All I gotta say is to ya is: fight, and on this day, make damn sure my Khan reigns supreme!" His peace said, he slammed down the visor of his helmet and marched into the light. Louder cheers met his arrival as the knight made a show by twirling his lance around his form till he was in front of his opponent.
Chrom would like to say the fight was close, but it would have been an insult to the former Champion's skill along with Roman's pride. Yes, the man put up quite the fight, but there was a reason Lon'qu was said to be in line as the next Khan of the West. The man's speed and precision proved too much for the knight that had grown in years. Somewhere in the bout, Roman took an overextension. The move cost him a hand along with a slash that opened him at the hip. The healers would likely be able to put the hand back if treated right away, but the hip injury that made him drop like a puppet with its strings cut was all any healer worth their salt to know the man's career had just ended.
On this day, Roman's duty as a Knight of Regna Ferox ended, yet the man was still able to show his respect to Lon'qu despite being on his back while giving the people one last wave before being stretchered into the stairs leading to the medical center below.
Chrom would have liked to at least have a brief respite after witnessing a man he'd not spoken to only minutes before his career ended. Sadly, the people were hungry for more and the announcer was all too eager to give it to them.
As the final card of the tournament was announced, Chrom looked to the four Robin and he selected to take the challenge. Robin, Miriel, Vaike, Sully, and their last pick, Cordelia. The woman hadn't said a word since she'd arrived and tended to avoid his gaze, but she'd fought side by side with him and Robin had vouched for her. That was all the reassurance he needed.
All looked back to him, not a hint of hesitation or fear to be seen on either of their faces. Whether they were motivated by the knight or what they sought to gain from their victory, they all looked determined.
It brought joy to his being.
"ALRIGHT, YOU LOT! MAKE SOME FUCKIN' NOOOOOOISE!"
A familiar Khan's voice interrupted the jolly jester the people had come to know and love. Standing with a foot propped on the edge of her balcony was Flavia, silver sword on her shoulder and a broad grin on her face. A mage stood next to her, illuminating the same horn spell that allowed the announcer from early to have his voice heard to the masses.
"FOR TOO LONG HAS THAT BALD CYCLOPS KEPT YOU BORED AND STAGNANT! WELL, I SAY: FUCK THE WEST!" A chorus of 'FUCK THE WEST' from nearly every easterner rang through the stadium. If not for the laughter and cheer mixed in with the chants, Chrom would have foreshadowed the crowd turning violent. "THIS IS NOT ONLY A DAY OF CELEBRATION, BUT A START TOWARDS NEW LEADERSHIP! AND SWEAR ON MY NAME AS KHAN, MY CHAMPION, WILL, DELIVER!"
The roar of the masses followed the woman's declaration, the blonde making sure to glare over at her fellow Khan that had, by now, risen from his own chair. Though he still wore that infuriating smirk, her excitement shone brighter.
"HAILING FROM YLISSE, HE IS NOT ONLY FEARSOME, BUT A PRINCE YET TO BE BESTED IN COMBAT! WIELDING A BLADE AS OLD AS ITS LEGEND AND THE CHOSEN CHILD OF YLISSE! FEROXIANS! GET OFF YER ARSES AND GIVE YOUR LOUDEST FEROXIAN WELCOME TO THE PRINCE OF YLISSE: CHROOOOOOOOOOOM!"
Their gate opening, Chrom ignored the jabs of his apparent 'undefeated streak' from Vaike to focus on controlling his nerves. Together, he and the Shepherds marched forward to the cheers, and even boos, of an eager crowd. Looking around, silhouettes of both men and women hopping, sitting, and moving their arms in exaggerated motions met his eyes. Traveling further to the right, his eye landed on the balcony holding Flavia and his sister. He couldn't hear over the crowd (along with both Vaike and Sully's own shouts of vigor), but he was sure his sister (both) was wishing him luck.
"HARHARHARHAR! YER REALLY PULLING OUT ALL THE STOPS, FLAVIA! ITS CUTE!" A shout from the West overpowered that of thousands. Looking to the West balcony, he saw the tower of a man that could only be the current leader of Regna Ferox. Gods, was everyone in Regna Ferox built like a Lycian God? "WELL, IF YER GONNA PULL SHIT OUTTA YER ARSE, THEN MIGHT AS WELL DO THE SAME!"
Without hype or preamble, the West gates opened. From the darkness walked their adversaries.
Two figures stepped into the light. The light of the arena reflected off their masks, portraying a sense of mystery about themselves. On the left, the blue-clad swordsman walked levely next to their Chon'sin garbed companion. Both came to a stop a fair distance from the Eastern Champion who shared a similar level of shock with his fellow companions.
"Chr-Chrom!" Robin's voice came out choked, a level of fear he'd never heard from his newest companion.
"I know." Chrom glared at their adversaries, not entirely sure how to feel about the two who he'd admit garnered his respect. Questions of if they were working for the Khan even back at Kidnapper's Keep ran through his mind, but the reminder of what he had to gain if they won pushed down any frustration or doubt he had.
Between his musings, the Khans continued to banter for a bit longer before Flavia ended it with a demanding 'KICK THEIR ARSE, BRAT' before taking her seat. That declaration seemed to be the signal to start, the sound of steel being drawn brought his attention back to his adversaries. The Prince was reaching to follow suit but froze when his eyes finally registered the sword his fellow bluenette hands.
Red hilt, gold, round cross guard surrounding a tear drop hole above the rain-guard with a gold fuller and a silver edge. Despite not holding it, just like his own, he could feel a connection to the sword. A connection born within every wielder of the divine blade.
There was no mistaking that blade. It was the very same one he was reaching to unsheath at this very moment.
"Where did you get that!" The words left his lips unbidden.
He was met with silence.
"There's no way..." Unsheathing his Falchion, sound around him ceased to exist as he charged towards the awaiting bluenette. Midway there, he stomped on the ground and leaped high into the air. Blade over his head, he zeroed in on the bluenette before swinging his sword forward. The sheer force of the swing forced his body forward and into a spin that catapulted him downwards towards the awaiting bluenette.
*Clang!*
Falchion met Falchion. Sparks flying and feet now firm against the ground, Chrom strained against the bluenette who somehow had the strength and balance to block his strike completely. In another show of strength, the man pushed his sword away completely to follow up with a few over-the-top swings he knew was meant to test his defenses. Despite being on the back foot, he swung low after a perfectly time deflect to throw the man off.
He was met with steel once again, in the same motion and movement as the Prince himself. Not given time to ponder, Chrom blocked while backpedaling, the movements of the man known as Marth beginning to turn all kinds of gears into place in his head.
"Tell me," before he knew it, their blades were connected and his lips were moving, "Who taught you how to fight like that?"
Teeth grit, Marth sent a kick into the Prince's stomach to create distance. Staggering back, Chrom glared back at the illusive man just in time to see him leap into the air, hold Falchion above his head, and begin descending in a spin much like - no, EXACTLY like he had moments ago.
"My Father!"
So stunned he was, the Prince almost forgot to dodge. Leaping out of the way at the last moment, Chrom skid to a stop and found himself surrounded by his allies once more. Looking up, he saw Marth, holding his blade towards him in challenge while his companion stood idle behind.
"Chrom!" Robin stopped next to him, worry still present in her voice. "Marth is a formidable foe, but we must take caution. He is not the most dangerous on their side." Chrom glanced at the other figure who hadn't so much as drawn his sword. He knew not the man behind the mask, but going from what Robin and the Shepherds that had occupied her that night, he and everyone who followed should be feared - which also included Marth.
...Whose mouth was twitching into what the Prince thought was a smirk. Chrom never pegged the man to be petty, but it would seem this day was keen on nailing surprise after surprise upon his shoulders.
"I'll handle Marth," Chrom declared. "Formidable he may be, he is still human. When either of us are done with the other, then we'll finish it together."
Robin gulped, knowing the 'human' in question was anything but. If anything, any effort they were to put in against the demon in skin would only put off the inevitable. She was a tactician, but far from a miracle worker.
Their chances of winning were practically zero the moment that man walked into the field.
"We," showing confidence she didn't feel, Robin tried reassuring the Prince and their allies, "will try."
It was taking everything within Lucina not to smile.
Jitters of excitement ran up and down every part of her, a feeling she'd admit currently having no control over.
She crossed blades with her Father.
She crossed blades with her Father.
For the first time in her 16 years of life, she had crossed blades with her FATHER! Not only that, but she'd have the pleasure of not only fighting her Father, but a portion of the Shepherds as well? Even the famous Cordelia herself?!
Gods...
She... she needed to breathe. Any longer and she feared she may faint from the excitement.
"You alright there, Princess?" Her teacher's voice was suddenly next to her. She'd like to think he was concerned, but she knew the man well enough to even hear the smirk in his tone.
"I-I'm fine." Gods, was that her voice? Since when was it so shaky? "Don't worry about me. Victory is all that matters here."
"Try saying that again when you're not smiling like an idiot."
Was she smiling? Gods, she was! But, but she couldn't stop! The more she thought about crossing blades with her Father the more her bones began to jitter and sing.
What if she won?
Was this what true happiness felt like?
If so she didn't want it to stop!
And oh Gods, her Father was charging!
Sword arm coming up, Lucina parried her Father's incoming blows with ease. Jabs and slashes accompanied the onslaught, her arms shaking from every powerful blow from the man who taught her everything she knew. Absentmindedly, she realized the man was slowly but surely leading her away from her teacher, but her mind was too focused on her Father's style.
And just how, predictable he was.
Their sword styles weren't exactly a mirror. His style clearly relied on slashes - the power between every graceful blow meant to weaken her guard just enough to deliver a decisive blow that would leave her open enough to finish the job. The only thing that differed from their style was she preferred quick jabs and speed over power.
An advantage that made her the perfect counter to his style.
Chrom suddenly decided to forgo swordplay and shoulder-checked her, forcing her on the back foot for the first time in their exchange. But even then, she couldn't help but realize how slow her father was compared to the monster that was her teacher.
Don't get her wrong, her Father was every bit the talented swordsman he was hailed as. Every swing of his sword was held gracefully without a single wasted movement. He hadn't yet gained Aether, nor any of the Skills his future self was said to hold.
Not even his stamina matched. He was said to be able to stand on the front lines of a battlefield and continue fighting even an hour in without pause, yet it's only been 10 minutes since they'd crossed blades and he was heaving while sweat poured down his face in droves. The training she received hadn't been long, but the huge gap in skill and speed gave her a clear advantage in this fight.
The realization made her feel... weird. She was still happy beyond belief, but fighting her Father when he was but a shell of his future self would make the victory... hollow. If not for the fact they needed Basilio as leader, Lucina would have probably thrown the fight. But that was not the case, and they needed this victory.
It was time for her to go on the offensive.
Naruto had to give the Shepherds credit where credit was due.
These kids were good - scratch that, they were talented. As far as the best and worse goes in this world, they were definitely on the higher side of the scale.
The mage made wind and fire with precision close to homing missiles. The blonde fighter wasn't much but muscles, but said muscles were anything but for show. The man hit like a truck and nearly broke his tanto in half if he'd blocked it directly. The short-haired redhead was no better. The only difference between her and the shirtless one was she preferred the lance and wasn't as thick-headed.
Then there were the remaining two.
The long-haired one who looked more like a painting than a warrior fought with literal perfection. Every swing of her lance was graceful, yet controlled. Every step she took held purpose and every jab and swing of her lance was poised perfectly to always hit her opponent; evidenced by the numerous amounts of cuts constantly healing around his body. He was sure out of all of them, she would have been the one to last the longest if he were to go all out.
Now the tactician herself; the bread to their butter. Standing in the back and acting as support, her voice constantly rang through the fight, redirecting the rest of them as if they were pieces she actually controlled. With just a glance of those eyes, she could practically read his movements and expertly intervened via a spell thrown his way or a shout to redirect her allies into a new position. If not for her, the fight would have been a lot less troublesome.
It was truly remarkable. Their teamwork was truly remarkable.
Gosh, Kakashi-sensei would have been proud...
Spinning out of the way of an incoming javelin courtesy of the very precise Pegasus knight, he brought up his tanto to deflect the lance jabs from the grounded cavalier. A particular wide swing left her open and Naruto took the opportunity for what it was. An axe met his advance, forcing him back.
And into a fireball that engulfed his body, nearly knocking him off his feet.
"...Ouch."
The heat was nothing compared to the likes of Sasuke or Madara, but it was still fire, and since his skin wasn't naturally resistant to magic it still very much hurt; even if it wasn't enough to break his henge.
If only his kimono was made with the same fabric as mages. The top had been completely burned off till nothing but a thin strip of fabric connected the front to the back. And he just got this thing tailored too... Eh, it is what it is. He'd just have to put in another order once he revisited Chon'sin.
Glancing over to the fight of the bluenettes, he saw the princess finally putting Chrom on the defensive. Cuts littered the Prince's body, foreshadowing his defeat at the hands of his own daughter. Huh, guess the princess wasn't as bad as he'd thought.
"I think I remember reading somewhere that playing with your food is a sign of sociopathic behavior."
The blonde raised an inquisitive brow as he deflected the axe, lance, and sword swung at him in tandem, "Since when do you read, Fox?"
"Since I finally looked into this thing called the internet. Lots of interesting news, books, and even places where I can speak to like-minded individuals. Even found a group to share my points about you monkeys."
"Oh," a kick sent the Fighter away while a judo throw sent the Cavalier flying into the Pegasus knight. "And how did that go?"
"Fine, actually. They even asked to meet up, to which I oblige. Turned out to be a bunch of edgy post-pubescent fools dressed in sheets who didn't even have the decency to look me in the eye when screaming at my magnificence." Naruto sent the image of an incredulous stare into his head. "I know, right? Rude. Thought about eating them then and there, but I remembered this guy called Jesus Christ and a lot of your kind asking what he would do. So, I waited for them to all turn around, THEN I ate them. Didn't taste all that good, but at least I held restraint enough for them to turn their cheeks."
"And I'M the sociopath?"
"The difference between you and I is that I'm open to my feelings of want and destruction upon the human race, while you're just a little shit in denial... Oh, and watch out."
Something swept the blonde off his feet before he could even refocus. What felt like hundreds of blades began dancing along his skin, cutting and tearing till his body resembled that of blended meat. The henge he was wearing constantly flickered out, but it became increasingly harder to keep reapplying the longer the spell drew on.
When the wind finally fizzled out, he was dropped unceremoniously to the ground with a wet *splat*. Blood pooled around him and all he could let out was an, "Ouch..." while the crowd around them began cheering louder. And HE'S the sociopath?
"You don't look so good."
"No... Shit..."
"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to get distracted in a fight?"
"Fuck... You..."
This was not a fair fight.
Nothing about this fight was fair.
For one, they outnumbered them two to one, yet the odds were still stacked in their opponent's favor. Marth was a problem she was sure Chrom could handle, but the mysterious swordsman was but a spark of the wildfire.
Naruto, the man they'd met back in South Town and the same man that had haunted her every thought since she'd first seen his aura. The same man that threatened her on a daily and was a constant presence over her shoulder. The man that she wasn't so sure was the cause of the slaughter at Kidnapper's Keep.
That man now represented the West Khan and currently stood between Ylisse and gaining her the army they needed.
That was an impossibility.
Simply an impossibility.
The man fought like nothing she'd yet seen in this world. His attacks were fast and unpredictable, something her front line found out firsthand upon their first exchange.
The only reason they hadn't lost yet was due to Cordelia and her peerless skills, yet even if she was the most skilled among them, they were still fighting a demon in human skin.
A demon that just sat up from a fucking REXCALIBUR!
How?!
Just, HOW?!
She SAW him shredded! She saw the blood! She saw him hit the ground! She'd seen his life energy flicker out for a moment!
So how? HOW was he still standing up?! How was he untouched? That spell took everything from Miriel! They were now technically down a fighter and their opponent STILL walked?!
How! How how how how how HOW!
It was frustrating. It was BEYOND frustrating! It made her want to rip her hair out! How exactly was anyone supposed to fight this monster?! This devil!
Now standing tall once more, the mask the devil wore fell to the ground in shambles. His unblemished upper body was now completely exposed to the world.
Along with his face.
A face she'd never seen before looked her way.
That was not the face of Naruto Uzumaki. It was the face of 'Haku', yet, wasn't? The face was too delicate-too feminine. Yet, he was, a man? It, wasn't Naruto?
No! It, it was Naruto! It HAD to be! Yes! It was! It was definitely him! The aura was unmistakable! She would not be fooled!
The demon suddenly looked down at himself before lifting the hilt of a sword in his hand.
Good. He had no weapon. It did little for them, but a demon without a sword was better than a demon with one any time of the day.
He looked back up and she knew his gaze was aimed right at her.
She stared back unbidden. She would not show weakness here.
He threw the hilt away and the tactician prepared for his next move.
Then he dashed forward.
Right pass Sully.
Around Vaike.
Dodged the sweep from Cordelia.
And straight to the tactician.
Her heart leaped to her throat.
He went right passed her.
Choking reached her ears not long after.
Spinning around, she witnessed the shinobi's arm firmly planted into Miriel's abdomen, bending her entire form forward before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell flat.
Robin was already preparing herself for a spell, but the man was already moving once again. Just like before, he dashed forward in zig-zag lines, the tactician not even able to bring up her arm before he was on her.
Only to pass right by her once again.
Swinging around, it was a partially prepared Sully's turn to catch the brunt of the shinobi's assault, the man now holding a bronze sword all too familiar to the tactician.
Watching from a 3rd person point of view, the way the man used his body looked extremely unorthodox, yet every move flowed together. Every stroke from his small blade looked exaggerated, yet made him unpredictable. A wide swing in a reverse grip aimed to take off Sully's head, yet though she moved her head out of harm's way, the shinobi's momentum did not stop. His back was suddenly exposed, the perfect time for Sully to make her move.
The kick sent into her torso followed by the roundhouse connecting with her unguarded head made any advance cease. Vaike and Cordelia were quick to intervene, but they may as well have been moving in slow motion compared to the shinobi. Spinning, his only hand caught the incoming axe to his front while he caught the lance aimed at his back between his underarm. Another spin and Cordelia was sent flying while Vaike was hoisted into the air via his own axe before being slammed into the ground; hard. Meanwhile, a still-dazed Sully was sent flying across the arena with a spinning kick to her exposed stomach.
She did not get back up.
It was Cordelia who fell last.
Out of all of them, it was clear she was the only one capable of keeping up with the man in both skill and speed. Even with his wild movements, she was able to deal the most blows while keeping her team relatively protected.
In the end, it wasn't skill that caused her to lose the bout, but complete unpredictability. In fact, Robin was sure no one in the Arena expected the shinobi to do what he did.
As a man, there were unwritten rules in a fight that one just should not cross. The biggest of the rules was to never, under any circumstances, go for the groin. As a woman, said rules were never brought into the equation for accessories they did not have, nor did they hold such devastating weak points that could end a fight, or even potentially kill you, with just a single strike.
So it was completely understandable why Cordelia would never expect the shinobi to kick her right in the groin. One moment Cordelia readied herself to defend against the perceived kick to her temple before said kick arced at a completely different target.
Right between her legs.
Cordelia's eyes immediately shot wide, pain she'd never felt before rocking her entire body. Her legs left the ground, such was the force of the attack, and she suddenly found herself on all fours, bile threatening to leave her throat as she hacked and writhed on the ground. Somewhere between her standing and writhing, she had lost her weapon, but it was hard for her to even think about such a thing while her body was too busy trying to numb the pain in her lower body.
Blinded by agony, she barely even registered the arms that wrapped around her front. She was lifted off the ground moments later before another blinding pain from her head smashing against the cobblestone ground made her see the ceiling, then darkness - left in an undignified heap with her legs stretched over her head and her small clothes exposed for everyone able to see. When next she woke, her best friend would tell her story; along with the embarrassment that would surely follow.
Mouth agape, Robin watched the shinobi jump to his feet after delivering what she believe was the textbook definition of a suplex, of all things. Around him lay her friends, all unconscious; alive, but out of the fight.
They...
They truly never stood a chance.
Out of desperation, Robin took a chance and hurled a spell at the man while his back was still turned; not even waiting to build the proper mana. One hit, any hit, would do!
In another show of unpredictability, his leg dug under the downed Cordelia before kicking her up into the path of the lightning bolt. The bolt struck her friend dead on, sending waves of horror and hopelessness the likes Robin had never felt before.
Then she was forced to catch that same friend when he scooped her out of the air and tossed her as if she weighed nothing. She was successful, but was knocked clear off her feet to land in a heap on the floor. Pushing herself up, she looked down to check the woman's pulse - the relief of a steady thump being the first she'd had since the fight had started.
Not long after her fall, another landed next to her. Riddled with cuts and a particular gash that went along his sword arm, Chrom looked to have seen better days. Turning her attention forward, she saw Marth now standing next to the shinobi looking none the worse for wear aside from a small opening in their side.
It was all too clear where the outcome of this fight was heading.
"You've seen better days." Lucina couldn't help but comment on her now shirtless, unmasked teacher. Naruto blinked before looking down and around his physique.
"Eh, I've had worse. And you? Kicked your old man's ass?"
"...My father is as formidable as the stories proclaimed him to be."
"Sooooooooo, that a yes?"
"He was formidable."
"That's still not an answer, Princess."
'No.' Denial began to set in. 'No no No NO!' The albino's fist tightened, her nails threatening to break skin as she stared down the duo standing over them.
Yet again.
Yet AGAIN she failed!
How many times has it been at this point?
How many times has she promised Chrom to succeed, only to fail in the end? How many times will it be before her failure cost one of her friends their lives? How long will she have till they stopped trusting her altogether?
"That side of yours gonna be OK?"
"It is a flesh wound. It will not hinder me... What about yours?"
"...A flesh wound," the man looked down. "Emphasis on the "flesh" part."
"Wouldn't it be more of a 'skin' wound then? Since more skin than flesh is showing?"
The shinobi's head snapped to the bluenette, mouth agape and eyes the size of dinner plates, "Did, did you just attempt to make a joke?!"
Lucina was stone-faced behind her mask, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"No! I heard it! It was terrible, but I still heard it!"
"You are mistaken."
What... What was she even here for?
Her magic wasn't as potent as Miriel and her swordsmanship were arguably the worst among the Shepherds. Her tactics were all she had to offer to the Shepherds, yet it was undeniable at this point that her failures have heavily outweighed her success.
Did, did she even deserve to be a Shepherd?
"Come on! Do it again! This is a moment meant to be recorded!"
Lucina sighed, "Must you be insufferable at a time like this?"
"The hell you talking about, Princess? This is a moment meant for the history books! Oh Kami, wait till I tell the squirt about-"
No! NO! She couldn't fail again! She won't fail again! She needed to think! There must be SOMETHING she could do! Some way to win that she just wasn't seeing!
"They're on their last legs, but I highly doubt they will willingly surrender. You wanna finish this, or shall I?"
"Allow me. If I'm going to change the future, then it should be by my hands."
"Heh, it's your show, Princess."
She needed a spell! ANY spell! A spell that could tip the scales! A spell that would help them win!
Lucina stopped just far enough from the downed prince and tactician to be able to react. Her Father tried standing to his feet, but the intentional wound to his calf made it a painful task. Meanwhile, the look of pure hatred Robin sent her way nearly made her flinch. It was the same face that haunted her dreams nearly every day. Day after day, that same face, twisted into sadistic glee as she murdered her friends and family one by one.
A spell that would rend their flesh! A spell that would completely eviscerate these fools!
The albino's hand was outstretched to her, yet Lucina did not falter. She was sure she could handle anything the woman dished out at this point in the timeline and was also sure she could dodge it.
She had a spell.
Yet she couldn't stop her smile. Both her Father and Robin were fighters, and it brought joy to know they still would fight till the end.
It was there all along.
She was going to save them; both of them She was going to save them all.
A spell.
For a brighter future.
To kill them all!
"Naruto, something's wrong."
The sudden voice of his partner made all joviality leave his body as he directed his attention inward. "What do you mean?"
"Something feels off. I can't explain it, but the air around us has, shifted. I can't explain it clearly, but all I know is that it's coming from that woman."
Naruto blinked before turning to the woman in question. She looked pissed, yes, but aside from her clear displeasure, he didn't see, nor feel, anything out of the ordinary.
A hand reached towards Lucina, yet he could still feel nothing from the woman. She was building up mana, but it was so weak that he could barely-
His body suddenly jerked. His chakra felt like it was trying to leave his body. Not only that, but it felt like all the chakra in the air had suddenly been sucked out of the air and began moving rapidly towards-
"Goetia."
The single word rang like a pen dropped in silence.
"NARUTO! MOVE! MOVE RIGHT NOW!"
What happened wasn't gradual, but instant. A magic array blinked into existence around the albino. 0.3 of a second later, purple flames danced along the woman's outstretched hand.
Naruto was synced with Kurama at that say instance, golden flames engulfing his form as he charged towards the unsuspecting time traveler not yet aware of the danger her life was in.
Only halfway toward the girl and a stream of purple flames was already shooting toward the bluenette.
A hand was able to grab Lucina's wrist.
He wouldn't have time to block the attack with his body.
He wasn't even sure he could.
He didn't have time to think or pray that she would live what he was about to do.
Gripping tight, he yanked; hard. He pulled with so much force that her arm stretched past what was humanly possible before she was flung to the other side of the Arena and out of harm's way. The last thing he saw of her was her shocked face.
Then the spell consumed him.
Pain consumed him.
His legs were lifted, the force of the spell shooting him back, back, back, through a wall, back, back, through another, back back back.
His arms were suddenly missing.
Then the flames consumed him anew.
Red suddenly painted the unsuspecting citizens and foreigners of Regna Ferox. Yelps of surprise echoed in the air before curses and bickering replaced the joviality.
Then a woman screamed.
Many heads turned in the direction of the scream.
Their eyes soon followed the terrified woman.
More screams followed suit.
In the middle of the street with blood and viscera scattered were a pair of disfigured legs.
Above those legs, the distinct lack of the human they belonged to.
An Arena filled with thousands, yet not a breath could be heard.
The people of Regna Ferox sat with mouths open.
The Shepherds sat with mouths open.
Emmeryn sat with hands covering hers, while Flavia stared in shock.
Basilio stared in shock.
On the Arena floor, Marth lay unconscious, blood leaking from her head after her harsh greeting to the wall.
In the middle of the Arena, Chrom sat untouched, but slowly inched his head to his right.
Sitting next to him, hand outstretched and magic arrays disappearing around her, Robin stared not at the hole she'd sent a man through, but at the glow that now illuminated behind the glove of her outstretched hand.
For the first time in over a thousand years, six eyes opened to the world.
A/N: I can't help but find it funny how the Shepherds are being try-hards while Lucina is having the time of her life, Kurama misinterprets the meaning of the phrase 'turn the other cheek' and Naruto treats it like any other day in the park. Meanwhile, Emmeryn sees a shirtless, sweaty, beefy warrior for the first time while Morgan is, once again, a background character.
And yes, people, Godrick IS directly inspired by Godfrey from Elden Ring. Imma need y'all to remember that because it will be very important to the story down the line.
Yet another slow update, but go it out. Nearly everything here was written from scratch, yet took time. Finish this this morning and I'm honestly proud of it.
Next chapter Sparks the conclusion of the first Arc and we move right on into the prelude of the war. Then there are three arts right after. I didn't plan for the story to be over 500k words, but with my pacing it looks like we are heading that way...
As always, make sure to leave a review and a follow and hope to see you all next time!
P.S. Getting rid of all the chapter names. doesn't really affect the story, but thought I should let you know.
P.S.S. This story is now on AO3 for any future lemons. I say that because the next chapter contains a scene where our favorite blonde gets laid. Still haven't decided if I'll be the one writing the lemon or if I'll find something else to do it, but it's still being up for the bait till the chapters out. Most likely I will post it on AO3.