Chapter 5: Head Start

3rd day of the Lone Moon 1179

It was night and Byleth was sleeping. I could tell as much by the fact that he stood right in front of me. His penetrating stare was a tad bit uncomfortable for me, but I guessed he was surprised by my appearance. It was, after all, only the second time he'd been in his mindscape since the day of my arrival.

That is not to say we hadn't talked. Far from it. It was hardly possible to discuss and fiddle with magic without communication. During his first visit, when I'd shown him the Crest of Chevalier, the blue lines running across my body had simply been hidden under my clothes. Right now, they were far too widespread to be missed.

Finally, he asked, "Why do you look like that?"

"Divine shenanigans. It's painful, but ultimately harmless."

Byleth nodded and let the point rest. It was really nice to deal with someone who didn't pry unnecessarily. He was, after all, already in the known about my visit to the old Gods.

"Now then," I began, "I'm sure you're wondering why I've called you here, right?"

Another nod was the answer I received.

"You could say it's part entertainment, part bonding and part battle preparations, not necessarily in that order. Follow me."

I turned around and started to walk towards my entertainment section. Going by the sound of footsteps, Byleth was doing as I had asked. Our walk was short and I was sure that he had spotted Sothis sitting on the couch already.

"Is she taller now?" he whispered to me. It appeared he didn't want to be rude.

"Well spotted," I answered. "Yes, she's gained a centimetre or two."

Before he could ask further questions, said Goddess' voice sounded out. "If you're done gossiping with each other, we can start," she said. "I'm curious about what you wanted to talk about urgently enough to call me down here as well. It's not like I am about to head out into combat."

"In a sense, you are, though," I countered teasingly. She looked at me strangely and huffed irately.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

I motioned for Byleth to sit and then sat down myself before responding to that. I took a moment to think about the wording of it and then spoke.

"It's something I've been wanting to talk about the last few days, but it never quite seemed appropriate. Still, I wanted to get this out of the way before Byleth's first fight against the bandits around these parts.

The topic of this discussion is an ability called Divine Pulse. As a Goddess of Time, among other things, you can manipulate it to some degree. Halt it and reverse it to some extent in particular."

The small Goddess blinked a few times. "Huh. I guess I can, now that you mention it."

"Why bring this up now?" asked Byleth.

"Excellent question!" I answered. "You'll be heading out into battle in a few hours. Contrary to fights your company has been in previously, this one will be very dangerous and risky. It's likely that the enemy will outnumber you and you're running the very real risk of suffering fatalities amongst your comrades."

Byleth nodded at that as a sense of grimness permeated his mindscape. "The prospect of losing some of our number is not something I wish to entertain, but I must. It is an unfortunate truth of the world."

I inclined my head. "Indeed, it is, but it doesn't necessarily have to be. See, this is where our resident Goddess comes in."

While I was saying that, I put my hand on her head and patted it. It had been almost two weeks since I'd done anything stupid and I felt the need to catch up. The fact that the angry face she was making was utterly adorable didn't help.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?! Are you treating my like a child again?" she shouted at me.

"Someone has to," I shot back good-naturedly, "Or else you might get a big head from all that veneration everyone keeps heaping on you."

I could see by her red face that Sothis wanted to argue further, but Byleth decided to play the part of the conciliator before she could.

"Could we skip to the point, please?" he asked.

"Spoilsport," I muttered, still grinning at Sothis for a second. Then, I grew more serious and continued where I'd left off, "Anyway, what I wanted to say, is that Divine Pulse can revert time. That means Sothis can quite literally undo anything that happened within a reasonable frame of time, including the deaths of your comrades in the case of that happening."

That still didn't clear up everything he wanted to know. "I see. But why are we here for this?"

Sothis nodded at his words while giving me the stinky eye. "That's what I want to know as well. We could very well have held that conversation at my throne."

I had to concede that point, but I had planned something else as well. "That's true," I said, "However, stone isn't comfortable to sit on, for one, and since we're talking about fiddling around with time, I thought I'd demonstrate why one shouldn't turn it back too far."

"However will you accomplish that?" asked Sothis.

"Entertainment!" I exclaimed. "To humans, boredom is an untenable state. When people are bored, they either do stuff or they think. And when they think, they come up with the weirdest of things. So, I present to you the product of someone who thought about time and what would happen if you messed with it."

At this, I walked over to the shelves and took up a DVD I had put there beforehand. I held it up and said, "My dear friends, tonight we are going to watch Butterfly Effect. So, make yourselves comfortable, kick back, relax and pay attention."

When the DVD was in the player and I'd sat down, I started the movie.

10 minutes in and after multiple pauses, I realised that having to explain all the technology on display was going to be tiresome. Ah well, a bonding moment is a bonding moment, and I've always liked spreading knowledge. I smiled and began explaining things my two friends asked me to.

However, during the moments when there was silence, there was time for me to think about other things. First among those was that I had slowly grown used to my new circumstances over the last ten days. The newfound lack of privacy had initially been rather grating, however, especially since Sothis and I had been able to overhear some of the more prominent thoughts Byleth had had during those times. It had become quite the distraction, really.

Luckily, I had also discovered a few nifty doo-dads in my command centre and I had been able to close our minds from each other somewhat. As it was now, we could simply "knock" and then open communications with a headset in my command centre in my case or with simple instinct in Sothis'. The thought-filtration system was also nifty. Neither of us would be bombarded with unformed, vague or random thoughts that didn't mean anything.

With the more trivial things out of the way, I focussed my thoughts on the upcoming engagement and my role in it. Obviously, the role was support, but I'd been hit by an epiphany that would increase the effectiveness of the systems I had access to yesterday evening.

My line about bored humans thinking was applicable here, even if I was technically not human anymore. One of my problems was my lack of physical presence and my inability to project my active powers further away from Byleth's body than a few centimetres. We'd tried that extensively during our study sessions about magic. That the solution to the problem was magical had only hit me last evening.

Black Magic worked within the confines of creation. The sephirothic and alchemical signs within the magic circle confirmed as much. I also knew that Black Magic operated on formulae. Now, what kind of formulae dealt with things within the confines of creation? Physics, chemistry and biology, of course. So, how could I, a non-physical entity, create a physical form for myself?

E=mc^2. Or rather m=E/c^2.

Of course, making a fully functional body was out of reach since my active powers didn't extend beyond Byleth's body by a sufficient amount. Nevertheless, my inability to project power didn't mean I didn't have it. As an entity with the powers of three Gods, I had a lot of energy to spare to convert into mass. I could even turn my physical into a piece of armour for him.

…. Wait a moment.

I was attached to Byleth's soul, I had special powers, I could appear physically as armour on Byleth's body and the Abrahamic God was responsible for sending me here… Was I a Sacred Gear?

The Elder was right. This reeked of a convoluted plan. I had the distinct impression that my Adonai had pranked me.

When Byleth awoke, it was with a fresh mind despite the thought-provoking things he had heard and seen during the night. The largest contributing factor to that was that he now knew about Divine Pulse. He was also glad to know about its limitations. The… "film", he reminded himself of the medium's name, was very informative about potential hazards of messing with time. Hyperion had also spoken about the "Law of Unintended Consequences." Sothis' input on the limits of Divine Pulse also made him feel secure in his knowledge.

As he did his usual checks, Byleth idly noted that it was still dark and that there were sounds of activity. Preparations were going according to plan, then. Before he made to leave the tent, he sent his thoughts inward to Hyperion as per the man's request. He soon felt the attention of his mindscape's male tenant.

"You said you had some last-minute adjustments," he called internally.

"Yes, I did. It should work theoretically and if it does, it will eliminate at least one weakness you currently have," answered Hyperion. "Now then, let's try. I'll channel my power through you."

Not a second after the other man had finished speaking, Byleth started to feel a small shudder go through his head. If he had been looking into a mirror, he would have seen a standard magic circle appear on his forehead. In its centre, the Crest of Fraldarius shone prominently. Soon, the shudder intensified and then there was a feeling of weightlessness.

"Manifest," sounded Hyperion's voice.

Suddenly, as if to spite the previous sensation, a weight settled on Byleth's head and his vision was suddenly overtaken by…. He had no name for what exactly all those dots and lights were.

"Congratulations, you've just gained a new piece of equipment. You are now the first and only wearer of the Helmet of the Three Lights. Don't complain about the name, please. I haven't had a better idea yet."

Byleth was left speechless "…. What?"

"Well, you remember how we tried to get my powers to do something outside your body? Those efforts have borne fruit," said Hyperion. "You'll be happy to know that the helmet has many useful features, such as an advanced air filtration system, night vision, life sign detectors and sensors with medium range. You're currently looking through the visor, which allows for full 170° vision range and protects your eyes to boot."

"What in the name of all the stars in the sky are you talking about?!" shouted Byleth internally.

"Oh. Sorry about that. You don't know what all of that means," began Hyperion his explanation. "As you know, we didn't get far with my powers, literally. So, yesterday, while I was thinking about that problem, I came up with a solution. I designed this here helmet after I came up with a way to actually make it.

If you remember what I told you about physics, you'll also remember that I theorised about the viability of the field in Black Magic. The spell that brought this helmet into existence was my first time casting Black Magic utilising physics. I'll explain in more detail later, but I basically turned energy into matter.

Now here's the relevant part for your own magical studies. The Crest I used to power the spell was the Crest of Fraldarius. It corresponds to the Emperor Arcana and symbolises, among other things, stability, protection and realisation."

"Hyperion," interjected Byleth.

"Yes?" answered Hyperion.

"Now is not the time for a study session. What are all these things you mentioned the helmet has and how are they useful in battle?"

Hyperion's voice sounded distinctly embarrassed. "Whoops, my bad. Anyway, like any helmet, this one will protect your head. It's better than current models, though, because it covers your entire head and is full of useful technological mumbo-jumbo. Being a deity of innovation and technology has its perks."

"Go on," said Byleth.

"Ah yes. The air filtration system will prevent poisonous gases from affecting you. Night vision works by gathering and amplifying photons, tiny bits of light, so you can see in the dark. Sorry about the green tint you'll see, but that's just a side effect of the technology. As for life signs, the body burns nutrients. My powers are capable of detecting these small fires as well as the souls of any living being. Now the sensors are based on invisible light I'll be sending out from the helmet. I'll be able to gleam rough information on our surroundings in the range of a few kilometres.

Using divine powers is cheating and I love it."

Byleth processed that as quickly as his mind allowed. "That is very useful," he finally said.

Hyperion elaborated a bit further. "That it is. Oh, and I'll also make sure to process that information in my command centre so the notifications don't flood your vision. I don't think it would be good for you to go into combat without being used to new features. Now, here's the final thing you should know:

I can do this now."

Byleth was almost startled that he could hear Hyperion's voice outside of his head. "Now you don't have to constantly parrot me for your father."

"Also useful," answered the mercenary.

"Indeed," said Hyperion. "I think I have wasted enough of your time for now. I've made it so you can dismiss and call upon the helmet at will. Till later."

After those words, the helmet disappeared from Byleth's head to wherever it had come from. He took a few seconds to gather himself and then stepped out of the tent.

She was groggy. There was a slight ache at the back of her head. She blinked a bit and then noticed that her surroundings were unfamiliar. Confused, she tried to make sense of it. Then her eyes shot open.

Monica's memories of last evening rushed to the fore of her mind. Her breathing sped up and she swerved her gaze around the room fast enough to give herself whiplash. She tried to wiggle to see how tight the ropes-

There were no ropes. Monica looked down. No ropes, no cords, no nothing. She still wore the clothes she'd worn before so nobody had done… that to her while she was out. A small relieved breath left her lips at that realisation.

Confusion spread through her again. What was going on? Had someone found her and freed her from her captors? She didn't know what was going on at all. Deciding to find out what she could, she stood up and inspected the room more thoroughly.

After barely a minute, she finally spotted a small note lying on a table at one and of the room. Having walked there, she picked it up and read it.

Esteemed Lady Ochs,

It is likely that you are currently upset and confused. Know that you are not in danger and that the door is unlocked. Your abduction yesterday evening was staged. More information will be made available to you once you leave your temporary quarters.

What the Hell was this? Staged? Why would anyone do this? This was outrageous! Plus, whoever wrote this could be lying. She had to make sure she could fight her way out if that was the case.

Looking around the room again, Monica searched for anything she could turn into a makeshift weapon in case things went south. In her rush to find a weapon, she tripped on something and fell back onto the cot on which she'd woken up.

"Damn it, who put this thing- oh."

Now more confused than ever, Monica looked at the thing she'd tripped on. It was the short sword issued to every student of the Officers Academy. Just to be sure, she unsheathed it and noted that the blade was unbroken and still sharp. That definitely lent credibility to the small note, but if last night was any indication, caution was a virtue she would do well to adhere to.

Now a bit more confident, she sheathed the sword again and strapped the scabbard to her belt. After that, she approached the door, one hand on the sword's handle, and opened it. As the note had said, the door was unlocked and gave no resistance at all. Slowly, she stepped out of the room and surveyed her surroundings.

The hallway she stepped into was rather short. It didn't lead to many rooms either. Fortunately for her, there seemed to be no heavy door one would see in a dungeon, nor were there iron bars or anything of the like. At the end of the hallway, she spotted a woman who seemed to have just stood up from a chair at the exit.

"Good morning, young Lady," said the woman. "I hope your accommodations have not been too uncomfortable. We don't get many good beds down here and this was the best we had on short notice."

Monica nodded stiffly. "It was alright," she said. Her tone was hard as she demanded, "I want to know what's going on. The note promised me answers."

The other woman nodded back at her. "Fine with me. I'll take you to the boss so he can explain things to you. Please don't wander off, though. It's easy to get lost here."

As the woman went ahead, Monica followed and took in the sights of the place they were walking through. The building didn't seem to be in the greatest of states, but the walls showed signs of good maintenance. It appeared that the place was rather poor, but could still afford to get work done correctly. The things that truly looked like they were about to collapse were merely ornamental.

The people on the other hand looked a bit wary and unfriendly, but they went back to whatever they were doing once the novelty of seeing an outsider had worn off. Speaking of which, the people Monica could see were doing things that wouldn't be too out of place on a market square in some of the less affluent towns she had seen. That was reassuring inasmuch that she could assume that she wasn't in some kind of bandit camp. Of course, there was the possibility that she was in a place run by a slaver ring, but her state of dress and the recent decline of such ventures all over Fodlan, courtesy of the numerous public executions conducted by the Church of Seiros and the rather bloody "statements" from the Savage Mockingbird, made that highly unlikely.

Along the way, the woman who guided her spoke up. "Just so you know, none of us really wanted to do what we did to you. The boss didn't either, really. I've been under him long enough to know when he doesn't like something he's doing."

Monica tried to press her for more answers, but beyond a "The boss is going to explain" she got nothing out of her. So, they walked for a bit longer in silence.

Along the way, they split off from the main market area and headed over a small bridge over a canal to a more secluded but still frequented area. It was not long after that the two of them headed into another short hallway that ended in just one door with a guard staying outside.

While they were approaching that past of the hallway, Monica could hear a woman's voice yelling.

"-out of your mind?! Do you even know what kind of trauma you could have inflicted on her? I can't believe that you would do something like this! You better have a good reason for this atrocious conduct or, by the Goddess, I will-"

Before the tirade could go on for any longer, the guard bashed his fist against the door and he shouted, "Boss, they're here!"

A muffled "Let them in." could be heard from outside, together with a rather loud sound of indignation and the words "This is not over, Yuri!" The guard opened the door and motioned for the two women to move inside.

"Step right in," he said while moving aside.

Monica followed her guide into the room, taking in its details. It looked like a mix between a classroom and an office, what with the blackboard at the back and the neatly organised desk in the middle. Behind said desk sat a young man with purple hair and eyes, who nodded at the woman beside her.

"You're dismissed. Enjoy your free day," he said.

Monica barely noticed the guide leave as she finally spotted the young woman standing at the side of the desk. She recognised that slightly curly, two-coloured hair. Only one person she knew had this outer blonde and inner purple colour.

"Constance? Is that you?" she asked.

The young woman by the desk smiled brightly at her and laughed. "Yes, it is I!"

If her appearance hadn't convinced Monica that it was her, then it would definitely have been the laughter. Even though her voice had changed since Monica had last seen her, Constance's laugh was too distinctive to mimic.

"It has been far too long, dear Monica. I'm glad to see you, even if Yuri and his brutes were far too rough on you," continued the girl of two hair colours while glaring at the man behind the desk.

"I resent that remark," commented Yuri. "I don't take brutes on important missions. You really don't understand how dirty work actually works." He chuckled lightly.

After that, he shifted his gaze to Monica and stood up. Then, he bowed deeply while addressing her, "I do, however, apologise for the unpleasant situation my troupe and I had to put you through. We were being watched by outside forces and we had to make it look as convincing as possible, but I sincerely regret that such actions were necessary."

Monica's hand tightened its grip on her sword's hilt. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Anger started to rise in her and she felt rather justified when she started shouting. "Outside forces? Necessary?! Would you explain what the fuck that is supposed to mean?! How can you just attack me an make me believe you were going to sell me off as some kind of toy to the Dagdans, and then have the gall to claim it was necessary?!"

"Arundel," came the simple reply.

At once, Monica deflated. "What?"

Constance, too, stared intently at Yuri. She'd not really known the exact details of what he and his band of lackeys had done to bring her childhood friend her, except that it was apparently a kidnapping with all the fanfare of one. The thing that held her back from yelling at him again, aside from the fact that Monica had already done that, was that Yuri never did anything without a reason. So, she waited for him to explain the cryptic one-word statement.

"Yesterday," he began, "I received a letter from someone who found out about a planned abduction and assassination attempt on you. According to that letter, the group who came here for that purpose are deeply involved with Lord Arundel. And before you ask, yes, there was a group of outsiders who were watching us. They even attacked us, presumably in an attempt to get to you.

So, since we were being watched, we couldn't just tell you and convince you to come with us. They would know that somebody figured out their plan and we couldn't let that happen. To that end, we had to make it look real and give them a credible motivation to overhear. And let me be clear, I do most certainly not risk the lives of innocents, in this case you, on the possibility that we might convince our antagonists of a half-baked lie. Therefore, making it look like you were kidnapped on the orders of Dagdans who have retained some semblance of wealth was the best option we had available."

His face softened as he finished his speech. "Again, you have my sincere apologies for the way we treated you."

Neither of the two young women knew what to say. People out to assassinate Monica were a concern. People within Lord Arundel's sphere of influence even more so. They still didn't have the full picture, however. There was one big question hanging over this.

"Who sent you the letter?" asked Monica.

"They signed in titles rather than names, but it was not very hard to guess. The letter was signed with 'The Blade Breaker, the Ashen Demon and the Younger,'" answered Yuri.

The Blade Breaker? The famed former Captain of the Knights of Seiros? Preposterous. Then again, a valiant knight like he was reputed to be would send a warning to someone. What still didn't make sense was how the letter had reached this man before her, Monica mused.

"How can you be sure?" she asked. "And why would the legendary Jeralt send a warning about my abduction to you of all people?"

Yuri smiled. "My, aren't you a smart girl? You're asking all the right questions." After a moment's pause, he went on. "I can confirm that the letter most probably came from him and associates of his. I had one of my people investigate the messenger. She used to be a Knight of Seiros serving under Sir Jeralt's command until he left the Knights. She left with him, but sightings of her at the Monastery are still reported every few months. It's likely that she gathers information for his mercenary company.

However, I don't know how he got credible intelligence on a plot on your life. The messenger doesn't even know about the letter's contents so she's out as a potential source. The letter promised me answers, though, among other highly valuable information. I guess we will have to wait for a time."

Neither Constance nor Monica were quite happy about that. However, it was useless to worry over it at this point if no more information was forthcoming at this point.

"So," asked Monica, "What now? Bringing me here can't very well have been the entirety of your plan."

At that point, the guard outside banged his fist against the door again. "Your appointment is here!" he shouted.

"Ah," said Yuri, "Step 2 of the plan has just arrived. Perfect timing." He turned his head towards the door. "Let her in!"

As the door opened, an older woman stepped in and took a look at Monica before narrowing her eyes and glaring at Yuri.

"Why is the girl here?" she demanded. "She should be on the surface. Someone's going to notice that a student is missing soon."

The surface? Are we underground? thought Monica.

Yuri simply said. "She was in danger, still is. The letter you brought asked me to save her life, and I did."

"Asked you-" Jana paused for a bit. "Wait, you are the Savage Mockingbird? A kid like you?" She let out a dissatisfied sigh. "Life's not been easy on you, then. I'm sorry."

Monica and Constance stared. The Savage Mockingbird? Constance turned her head in an almost mechanical fashion to stare at Yuri.

The young man simply smiled and answered the question she seemed to be staring at him rather than asking. "I never tried to hide that. Everyone just assumes that I'm his errand boy. Whyever would an infamous crime lord walk about openly? No need to fool others when they fool themselves."

Letting his smile go, Yuri opened a drawer and lifted the false bottom. Then he lifted the second, thinner false bottom. From that particular compartment, he pulled out the small stack of papers that had started this mess and laid it on his desk.

"Since this affects all of us, I assume I can trust you not to spread the contents of this letter," he said.

The four of them looked over the letter and read it thoroughly. It talked of dangers and secrets enough to cause a war. It actually predicted one as well. The war to come would be devastating and brutal, but there would be ways to twist its outcome into the right direction. When they finally read over the next step of the plan, the headaches truly began to form.

"Papa is going to be furious and then he'll worry himself sick," said Monica.

"Goddess damn it," breathed out Jana. "Time for a road trip."

Byleth's gaze was intense as he stood next to his father, not that anyone could tell. A blackish-grey helmet covered the entirety of his head. The red eyes and the demonic snarl on it made it impossible to make out. Jeralt's initial surprise at the helmet's sudden appearance had given way to a long-suffering sigh and then rational consideration. Consequently, Byleth had volunteered to scout ahead and figure out how large their opposition was. He had just come back to give his report of his excursion.

"So, kid, how many?" asked Jeralt.

"The intel we got from the village was roughly correct. I counted 83 in total," answered Byleth.

That was a slight numerical disadvantage for the company, but a well-executed ambush would see them succeed. Still, there was quite the risk involved in this. Of course, he had told Father about Divine Pulse, which had led to much cursing and another long-suffering sigh, but as he well knew, there was a limit to it.

"Alright, then. Tell the lads and lasses to get ready. I want the camp surrounded before we even think about beginning the attack. We'll start as soon as you're at the primary attack point with me," ordered Jeralt.

"Understood."

And with that, Byleth ordered the individual teams to move to their designated positions as they neared the bandit camp. They moved as fast as they could without making much noise since the most optimal time for an ambush was just before dawn. The bandits standing watch would be tired from their shift and they would be careless because of the encroaching light. With that thought, Byleth moved along the perimeter and inspected each team as he made his round.

"You know," he suddenly heard Hyperion's voice, "It's astounding for someone like me to see small unit tactics in a force such as yours. Of course, it's logical because a lot of magic has an area of effect, but it's still strange."

"It is strange to many people in Fodlan as well. Closed ranks of massed troops are still the standard," commented the mercenary.

Byleth could make out faint muttering along the lines of "bloody Franco-British army doctrine of the Great War," but he did not quite understand. Deciding to not question it for now, he refocussed on his task. His inspection of the teams did not take too long. After only roughly twenty minutes, his round was complete and he joined his father back at his post. Not wanting to risk being heard by the sentries, Byleth gave the ready sign and prepared himself to storm the camp. Father nodded and raised the war horn he always carried with him to his lips.

The thunderous sound broke the morning's silence and the war cries of the mercenaries shattered it completely as they stormed to the shoddily put-together palisades and heaved each other over them. The actual "gate", if you could call it that, of the camp was attacked by two whole teams at whose point Byleth and Jeralt charged towards the surprised guards. Worried shouts rose from the camp as Jeralt closed in on the enemy. Then his horse crashed into the first guard while his lance skewered a second one and all hell broke loose.

Before the remaining two gate guards could so much as react, Byleth was upon them. Their hurried attempts at striking him down proved entirely ineffectual as he easily dodged the axe swung at him and deflected the sword of the other bandit. Redirecting the force of his movement, he lashed out with lightning-fast speed and slashed open the neck of the axeman. The sword-wielding bandit attempted to take advantage of Byleth's commitment to the attack, but the shoddy strike was parried by the plate gauntlet of the mercenary's left hand. Said hand then found purchase on the bandit's head and pulled him off balance. With all the force befitting his title, the Ashen Demon lashed out with his foot and kicked the bandit's knee inward. The man's scream of pain was reduced to a gurgle with a slice to his throat.

The short fight had lasted but six seconds, Byleth mused idly as he started running into the camp, where he saw his father cutting down another bandit, who had attempted to intercept one of the teams climbing over the palisade. The two teams following him were on his heels and formed the effective spearhead as planned. The bandits rushing out of their tents would soon be organised enough to put up a proper defence, however, which meant that the spearhead's job was to keep them busy long enough for all the teams to make it over the palisade and form up. The real fight was about to begin.

Once again at the head of the formation, he charged into the slightly more organised defence of the bandits further in the camp. Resistance was harder this time and there were more than two people aiming for him. As was sensical, the second rank of defenders started jabbing spears at him. While that made sense against any other opponent, Byleth was a bad choice for this. With fast reflexes and a strong grip, he took hold of the spears and pulled on them while kicking one of the bandits in the first rank. An odd and empowering rush went through his body and instead of the slight imbalance he had hoped to cause with his move, he had pulled the spear wielders hard enough to make them stumble into their comrades in front of them and had caved in the chest of the one he had kicked. The line destabilised and the men and women behind Byleth crashed into it.

"What was that?" he asked internally as he moved again, idly slashing at the exposed arm of a bandit.

"Probably the Crest of Flames," answered Hyperion. "Now focus, one of the teams to the south-west is in trouble!"

As Hyperion indicated with a red marker that entered his vision, there was a team whose entry area had not been cleared properly due to the limited time available to Jeralt. They had ended up surrounded and were already down a man. He was bleeding a lot from the stump where his right hand had been, but he was not dead. The rest of his team was a bit better, but not by much. Some had minor slash wounds and one was bleeding from the gut. The obvious suspect was the dead bandit spearman on the ground. All in all, the situation did not look well for the mercenaries.

Thinking fast, Byleth ordered his two teams to press the attack while he moved to reinforce the other one. His legs carried him as his blood sung with the thrill of combat and the determination to save his comrades. One of the bandits saw him coming and moved to intercept him. Contrary to the ones he had encountered previously, this one gave competent resistance and parried more than one blow of Byleth's sword and fist. Eventually, however, the Ashen Demon's superior strength brought the bandit to his knees. The mercenary's sword stabbed him through the stomach and his life fled him.

With his intent set on moving on, Byleth tried to pull the sword out, but it refused to budge. It seemed the fuller hadn't been made properly. He cursed and pulled harder. It took him a full five seconds to pull the sword out and run towards his beleaguered troops. It appeared, however, that he was too late. The four that were still standing bled rivers out of their torsos as they sustained more and more wounds. A slash to the ankle brought one of them down and the others soon followed. Before Byleth could reach them, they'd already been stabbed to death, including the one with the severed hand. Then, the world was bathed in black and white and purple.

"I refuse to accept this outcome," he said to the friends in his head.

"You better have a plan of action, then," commented Hyperion. "Reversing time is useless if you cannot change the result of a situation."

Sothis pitched in as well. "I agree. You have all the time of the world to think of something right now, though."

Byleth nodded. That made a lot of sense. "Don't worry. I have something to turn this around."

Time wound back and suddenly, his sword was stuck in the freshly dead bandit again. Not even thinking about pulling it out this time, he reached into a pouch on his belt and took out one of the stones he stored there for situations like these. With all his might, he threw the stone at the head of the bandit who would strike the ankle of one of the mercenaries in the future he had reversed. Once more, a rush went through his body and the rock sped off as if flung by a sling. It impacted the bandit's head, which burst like a grape and splattered blood, bone and brain matter over the combatants around him.

The shocked bandits twitched and more than one of them turned their heads, a weakness that was quickly exploited by the mercenaries. They lunged forward, reversing the momentum of the fight, and brought two enemies down before the others could react properly. By that time, Byleth had reached them and began punching the remaining adversaries with his metal-covered fists. Swift kicks and leg sweeps brought two more bandits to the ground, where stomps to their throats put them out of their misery. The last three of the outlaws fell in quick succession after that.

Byleth took a quick look to take stock of the situation. By the look of things, the other teams had made it over the palisade without too much issue, something which Hyperion confirmed with his sensors. This meant he could dedicate his attention to the rather important matter of preventing the newly one-handed mercenary on the ground from bleeding out. The man already looked pale and it had barely been a minute since his hand had been cut off.

Once more thinking quickly, Byleth knelt down and took hold of the stump. He also took notice of the severed hand, which the wounded man had apparently picked off the ground and held to his torso. The Ashen Demon had an insane idea at that sight. He grabbed the severed hand from the pale man and put it on the stump while speaking to the two beings within his mind.

"Sothis. You're a Goddess of Life. Help me heal this man, please!" he pleaded.

"I'm not sure if I can help, but I'll try," she answered, showing a surprising amount of uncertainty in her wavering voice. "Hyperion, how can I channel my power through this contraption of yours?"

While this was going on, the team of mercenaries was staring at Byleth. "You can't reattach things that've been cut off," one of them said. "Everyone knows that!"

Byleth ignored him and focussed on gathering his magical power. "We're ready," he heard Hyperion say after a few seconds of fumbling sounds. With that signal, he formed the magic circle and used the Crest of Chevalier as the centre again. "Now!" he shouted inwards as he made his magic flowed through his body. A burst of power so overwhelming that he nearly lost his focus latched onto his own magic and followed it through the circle into the spell itself. The bright light that resulted from this nearly blinded everyone looking at it except for Byleth, whose vision was shielded by the helmet's visor.

When they had blinked away the spots, they looked down at the stump, numbly noting that it and the hand were once more conjoined.

"What in the world," one of them muttered.

"It's a fucking miracle. I can't believe it," another one said.

"By the Goddess," whispered the man on the ground as he wiggled his fingers.

"Stop gawking and get back to the battle!" ordered Byleth. "You're not in a state to fight so I want you to get our injured comrades out and bring them to me. Understood?"

Broken out of their reverie, they shouted, "Aye!" Then, they ran towards were the fighting was happening.

Byleth put his focus back on the re-limbed man. "You stay here. I want to make sure that everything healed correctly."

The man nodded numbly. With the kind of blood loss he'd suffered, he didn't want to go back in the fight any time soon.

As the battle went on, about half a dozen more injured mercenaries were treated by Byleth, though none needed as drastic a procedure as the first one. That happened to be a good thing since Sothis had developed signs of massive exhaustion right after it. Luckily, Byleth's own power was more than sufficient for the wounded. The team system's efficiency was the greatest contributing factor to that in his opinion. Wounded comrades would be quickly replaced by fresh ones before they could sustain lethal wounds.

After only twenty minutes, the whole affair was over. The bandits had all been killed or taken captive and the wounded were not in danger of dying. Right now, a good chunk the mercenaries dug through the camp's stores to find what supplies and loot they could. The loot would be returned to the affected villages as per the contract and most of the supplies would be taken to supplement the company's own, also as per the contract. Another part of the company was busy piling up the bodies for mass burial in the coming hours. There were also a few men and women walking around and delivering water to the exhausted fighters.

It did not take long until Byleth was approached by his father, who, apart from a nick or two on his left upper arm, was in unharmed condition from the battle. The older man dismounted from his horse and gave his son a quick check to see if he was hurt before he asked him a simple question.

"So, what's this I hear about you performing some kind of miracle? It's the talk of the company."

"I reattached a severed hand," responded Byleth.

"You what?" Jeralt palmed his face and sighed deeply. This was going to be a headache.

With the battle over, I could divert my attention to Sothis. She looked like she was about to fall over. It was worrying and I hoped she wasn't hurt. I asked, just to be sure.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," she said tiredly. "I'm just so… sleepy."

She was nodding off and I actually had to hold her to keep her from falling off her chair. Out like a light, huh? I gently picked her up, careful to not entangle her head dress or her bands hanging from her wrist anywhere, and decided to carry her to the bed. While she'd normally insist on sleeping on her throne, I considered that to be rather uncomfortable, and right now she was not awake to protest.

Once she was on the bed and I had the covers pulled over her, I put my hands on her head and used the powers Psyche had gifted me. Ever since I had received those, I had been in the habit of performing a soothing treatment on Sothis every night before she went to sleep. Since I hadn't been able to do it in this instance, I had to content myself with doing it now. It was harder than when she was awake and took longer, but she deserved some good sleep after that overcharged spell.

As I continued to channel my power into the sleeping Goddess, I wondered how our scheme to make a kidnapping to fake a kidnapping to prevent a kidnapping was proceeding.

AN:

And that's a wrap, folks. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.

After some feedback on the fight scene last chapter, I decided to go a bit differently about this one. Hopefully, the increased length hasn't made it suffer from emptiness-syndrome.

Once again, I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed this story. It's great to have all of you reading it.

Some of you might be confused by the word Adonai, which I used in this chapter. It's Hebrew and means Lord. In theological context, it refers to the Abrahamic God. Using "Lord" in a place where lords frow like weeds quickly gets confusing.

Now, this time's story recommendation is You Are (Not) Complete by BardInTheForest. At over 1.8 million words, it is probably the longest Evangelion fic ever written. I genuinely consider it a masterpiece of character development. I should mention that it has crossover elements with Sailor Moon. It's also a harem story, but you should know that it has its own very unique twist one it. Do not ever fear that there is not enough character development for anyone because of this. The 1.8 million words don't come from nowhere.