"So this is how the outside world looks like," Reflet says to herself, while she still maintains a look of curiosity upon the towers and the field between us and the city. I presume, pondering what a new exciting world to discover and to destroy. As Grima or perhaps herself commands.
Meanwhile, the sight of arrows raining down from the sky invades my mind. In front of me, the so-called Themis is under siege by the Mad King's army. Although I will not deny at this moment I have become somewhat like Reflet: In Plegia I never heard about anything of Ylisse, their monuments, history, or leaders, therefore this place has become like a myth. Only two things are certain: Gangrel really wants to kill all of the Ylisseans and Reflet considers them barbarians.
From the hills, we have a clear look of the place. A massive fortress made out of stone and a tower reaching to the sky, seemingly scraping its surface. The soldiers in front of us blurring into the landscape. If our victory come, this only be the fuse that will ignite ylisse into fire until its eventual downfall,
But for all the pretty words I spell, victory, fuse and downfall, they are the denial of the worst. My stomach churns on the thought, my guts twisted when I gaze at this cursed place, while my mind thinks about one sole thing: Can I survive?
Reflet stands in front of us, not afraid of any incoming attacks from the enemy. Rather, a smile adorns her face, a grin from ear to ear, like a butcher ready to lacerate every inch possible. Her eyes look at the city with the eyes of a wolf or a vulture, every single drop of its body to make a carcass and be devoured by the army. She doesn't bother to look at any of us, as Grima doesn't care what puny humans like me care about the matter.
Her bodyguards remain steadfast by her, but they look more like statues than actual living beings. No one moves a centimeter away from their ordered position. But despite that, whenever Reflet takes a glance at them, she twitches, makes a growl at them, their smell soaking the air with the lovely rottenness of the putrefied corpse, the most lovely of perfumes I've had the displeasure of smelling. And speaking of corpses...
From my side, Henry is a carbon copy of "her", if you want to call him a "copy". His smile comes straight out of a painting of Francis Bacon, a distortion of what could be called a smile, for in the end is there any difference between a smile and a bite? Either way, even if we lose, he wins and if we win, his rewards are going to be way more plentiful than anyone else's.
Meanwhile, dark fliers maintain their position on the ground, waiting for their next order. Aversa is in front of everyone else, with a tome already ready in her hands, while standing emotionless, gazing at the fortress and waiting for the moment to attack and destroy Themis once and for all.
And on the farthest end, the archers await the battle, their bows resting on the ground. Their time to come out is only mere seconds away, but they remain defiant in their waiting and act like nothing is happening in the first place.
Lastly, Tharja's expression is unreadable. Is blissful ignorance on her mind? Doubtful, considering what kind of person she is. Is it some kind of anxiety about being on the battlefield? Well, she is way better at fighting than me. In the end, the most horrifying and mundane of answers come to my head: she doesn't care at all, as if it were another day of making hexes and curses. But once in a while, she takes quick glances at me and returns back to watching the Vessel.
At this point, in this realm of insanity, I can only feel the vertigo of the madness to ensue. How the heck does a person inside the battlefield work? Do I listen to orders, or is it a free-for-all? If it's the first, whose orders should I listen to? Reflet? Mustafa? Gangrel? I dwell on these little insecurities as if they hold the key to survival, even if it makes me more nauseous and makes my arms tremble more than the entire weight of my tome and dagger in my hands.
I look at the road leading to the city. An epiphany comes to me: there is no way to call it quits. If there were one, most of us would be screaming to get out of there as soon as possible. But in an army, as obvious it may sound, questioning orders is something out of the realm of possibility. Especially when you are not in charge of anything. After all, the general has exchanged your life for their military plans and left you to fend for yourself against the upcoming meat grinder.
I will try to survive no matter what. I will try to survive no matter what. I will try to survive no matter what.
Even in these little moments, I chant the phrases even if they are just as meaningless as waking up on the right or the wrong side of the bed. In the end, wasting time on this little effortless task that does nothing is better than having to deal with the full crush of reality. After all, humans need fiction to survive...
Besides Reflet, Mustafa gazes from the hill alongside his army. Its size scares me, like a volley of ants but so massive it paints the floor red. Every single person is only dedicated to this one goal: conquer Themis.
Mustafa stands in front of the rabbids dogs. Ready with an axe, he makes a speech that cries for conquest, his voice reverberating throughout the entire field.
"As the king commanded, we are going to conquer this fortress. We may not be able to survive in this endeavor, but we are going to fight until the bitter end! His order is the law and we are going to fulfill it until the day is done and Themis becomes Plegian!"
The bark rallies the soldiers, who ready their weapons at the last sentence and march towards the impenetrable fortress. The battle has begun.
The rest of us await for Reflet's order, our tactician, who, along with her bodyguards, remains still for moments, waiting for the main army to come down. Seconds pass while the Plegian army pours into the vicinity of Themis. The upcoming carnage is mere seconds and kilometers away from us.
I gaze upon the Vessel once again, her eyes paying attention solely to the infantry's march, remaining static despite Mustafa send's off with his army. Then, without any shakiness in her voice, she ecstatically orders, like a child in a candy store.
"Go now!"
We move from our positions away from the safety of the hills towards the battle unfolding before our very eyes. We are only dark mages, we aren't the most durable overall, but I can only hope they will focus on the army at the front. But even in this less accessible position, danger lurks.
As the meat grinder becomes closer, the stones that once looked polished as if they had seen no action in their entire life, become dark, broken, and corroded, little scratches recounting stories of grime and toil. The garrison gazes down at us, readying their bows for the upcoming volley. The privilege of being a dark mage is I'm not in the front, but even then...
One of the arrows lands by my side. Has it already begun? From the sunny blue sky, a volley of arrows rains down on us, turning the day cloudy with only silver and brown. They were certain from the start this battle wouldn't be any simple skirmish. No, they expected the blood bath from the beginning!
Before long, arrows struck soldiers left and right in front of my eyes, the corpses falling down in the mud, both belonging to the lucky few who got the arrowhead stuck in the throat and the unlucky who got in their eyes. Their screams become a cacophony that announces the beginning of the struggle.
Meanwhile, Reflet - no, Grima - doesn't even flinch at their mere screams, only ants and nothing more to her eyes. She just keeps her tome wide open and gazes at the uppermost part of it, bidding her sweet time for a possible counterattack. The survivors just keep rushing to the fortress without a single care.
Little by little, the amount of bodies surpasses my estimations. Other dark mages and the infantry fall around me, leaving me to guess where the upcoming arrows could be coming from. Luck is the only reason I'm still alive, as the arrows are not hitting me, but I can only expect the worst. Our force needs to penetrate the fortress, or else we're going to give birth to a new lake with the blood of the dead.
A question comes to my mind, as the remaining dark mages begin to aim their attacks. The guilt weighs me down like rocks. The orders are to attack, to kill without mercy, but lumps in the throat question this inane order while my brain debates what the best course of action is.
Then Reflet's gaze comes unto me, colder than any winter. There is no room for questioning here. I begin shivering, my arms shaking down, my skin burning while the void begins to eat me whole. Gritting my teeth, I start Flux.
Um… dois… três.
A mist begins to form out of the air, but at the same time, always returning to the same stage of non existence. Although not much, she stops watching me and returns her attention to the battlefield. Without a single thought, I aim at the archers shooting at the soldiers. It's easier said than done, as they hide behind the fortress' walls when they're not shooting.
I form a small pellet, nothing bigger than a pebble, and launch it, always making sure a target is in sight. The pellet misses an archer and only hit the nearby battlements, its energy dispersing.
This isn't going to work! The pellet isn't hitting, damn it! What should I do? I can't fail or I'll face the fell dragon's wrath! Or worse, become the lab rat of some messianic experiment!.
Then I come across a possible solution, please work for love of everything that is sacred and holy!
Instead of making a pellet, I concentrate the energy of the tome into my palm, only focusing on making it a big orb, and aim at the archer from before. My field of vision becomes narrower as I try to find him between the battlements.
But my aim and the energy in my arm fight against each other, each trying to draw my attention. The sharp sensation of power feels like a needle perforating my arm and spreads into my veins, so much so all I can do to control it is grit my teeth.
With saliva coming out of my mouth and my arm contorting in pain, I launch the orb. The speed is sluggish compared to the pellet, the difference almost like a turtle and a hare But like the story, the archer sees it and freezes at the sight.
It hits, it hits! His body falls down from the fortress, the only remaining sign of him a few drops of blood in the walls.
Meanwhile, the archers from our rear come down from the hills and begin their attack, leading to a counter volley against the fortress. A few of the enemies fall to their deaths, others hold on, leaving us breathing room as they hide.
I breathe in and breathe out, taking my sweet time to recover from the attack. My right arm burns, swings of air the only medication as I remain steadfast to recover from my exhaustion.
This cursed attack! This damned cursed attack! Damn it, damn it, damn it! Why did it have to hit? I have killed someone that wasn't bad at all! What am I doing on this battlefield?! Why am I forcing myself to hear the screams of these people?! Why am I even trying to eliminate Ylisse when I'm not even related to this mess?! Why?!
The void inside of me grows like cancer. Why can't it only make me feel as if my head was split wide open? In the end of all things, why can't I even shed a single tear or look apathetic to it?
I shake off my head. The battle must go on, and so must I, or else…
To my utter surprise, when I look forth I see soldiers putting the stairs on the walls, trampling against each other as they climb. The archers start firing on them, while the enemy troops focus on containing the incursion.
With the enemy fire turned away from the outside, Reflet marches towards the city, walking as if it were another Sunday to her, a walk in the park. The amounts of corpses not even making her uncomfortable, just another pebble to deal with, the blood painting her shoes into a wine red and she remains normal without a single hint of disgust, unbothered by the corpses, only focusing on getting inside.
I rush to the place to rejoin the warriors for our part of the plan, whatever that plan is.
Meanwhile, I search around to see if someone has survived, only for my eyes to meet the white-haired man. Henry doesn't pay attention to me and instead focuses on the corpses of the fallen. His face twitches at the sight, trying to make a grin, as well making a poker face, only for both to flicker off, as if Henry doesn't have any idea of how to react.
I avoid looking at the carnage, at the gallons of blood dropped. But marching while ignoring the corpses proves easier said than done, as I stumble into them, almost falling to the ground and soaking my boots in the red liquid, making every step itchier than the previous.
Only emptiness comes to me when I gaze at the corpses. Despite being fellow human beings up until a few minutes ago, I can not cry for them, no matter how hard I try. I try to blink my eyes or imagine sad imagery, not a single teardrop comes. Not even the most minuscule one. As if I'm standing in the realm of nothingness and could only perceive the facts but not experience it.
The approach to the wall fills my stomach with the worst of voids, making me want to vomit and convulse before I can attempt to storm it. Not only for the amount of guts but also seeing the archers or our own falling down from the battlements., Some are still alive, their harrowing screams reach my ears, as they splash on the ground, a sudden bang sound accompanied by the crunch of bones, leaving a soaked ground to walk on.
I get onto the stairs. The climb fills my mind with dread and makes my stomach churn. After all, waltzing into the upper area can only be seen as a walk towards my own death sentence. My brain screams at me to get out of here, making my body tremble as if it's winter in hell, ready to collapse like my body has no bones, and every muscle strains to keep my posture.
Not to mention the details of the upcoming failure my anxiety fills my skull with: being dragged down and having my neck snapped by a fall, a sword crashing down in my gut, and other details only a sadomasochist would enjoy.
I manage to reach the top of the wall, corpses, broken arrows, bloodied swords and infections everywhere greeting me. I lift myself up and hear a roar in the sky. Lo and behold, wyverns fly towards the city, a dark massive wave in the sky, like missiles coming down to destroy the world. Not that far off their own role in this battle.
I look around, and all I can see are enemy archers and our own soldiers laying down dead, the stone walk filled to the brim with their blood. From here, I can still see some far-away fighting, the archers making one last attempt to eliminate the intruders with their knives, while our swordsmen and axemen cleave into their ranks, the end closer than ever.
But the stone walk is as narrow and filled with corpses, and my right foot is right on the top of the cliff, only allowing me to walk within the few gaps the corpses don't cover yet.
I make the mistake of looking into the bottom of the stairs. Vertigo punctures my brain, my neck straining while I taste bile on my tongue, dizzying my own left and right. I try to ignore it and turn to my left, but it doesn't help. Between the blood and the hands mark, it is another death trap. In other words, either option can only bring me death.
After a few minutes of shouting, gruff and grime, the last of the archers meet Naga in her eternal sleep with his own dagger stuck in his head. The soldiers then come in my direction for some odd reason. Then I learn the reason: the stairs necessary to get to the ground level and fight in the city is this way, so dumb of me.
Anyways, the other part of the army is already there, resting for the time being. Mustafa stands in front of them, while I see Reflet waiting for the others to arrive.
From my position, I'm able to gaze at the city center, nestled between buildings. A massive group of soldiers is entering, ready to eliminate any 'vermin' they come across. I see large lines of spears and swords ready to exterminate us and, at the same time, I see the palace where the duke probably is. The end gets closer with every moment.
I reach the bottom of the stairway, Reflet gazing at me with a sword in her right hand and a tome in her left. Her mouth is a straight line and furrowed eyebrows adorn her face. She comes to me and without a single hitch asks me in a clear tone "Gabriel, what tome do you have with yourself right now?" She whispers the order without a hint of emotion while pointing her sword to my hands.
I gag at the question. "I- I have Flux."
She frowns at it, her face almost turning into a scowl. "Only that?" Her voice is as chilling as the winter, almost as if she wants to kill me.
"I ha- have Goetia as-" I reply while staggering. She interrupts me by turning her back to me and beginning to walk to her bodyguards.
"Goetia. You shall be using that. You are going against the army along with other dark mages. You are going to release a large Goetia spell with the others and decimate the army."
I try to approach her and almost scream at her, while I stumble on some rocks. If I go there, I will die! "Wait-"
She turns her head and glares at me like a dragon ready to kill me, leaving me gasping and my belly frozen, sweat falling on my brow. "This isn't the time for waiting, Gabriel. You are going in there and following the orders I instructed you to, got it?"
Grima, oh Grima. Aren't you powerful enough to do it yourself?
I pick up Goetia from my backpack and guard flux, expecting the worst. As with the other dark mages, we march towards the camp, although I can't seem to find Henry in here. A pleasure and displeasure at the same time, the devil's paradox, where sometimes the devil you know best can be worse than the devil you don't know.
"Please, Mustafa. Get out of the way and scatter your soldiers." Grima stares at the generalwhile putting one of her hands on his shoulder and pointing at the army with her sword.
"You may be the daughter of Validar, but don't underestimate and don't order us around. We are here to conquer the city. So please, let my troops do the job." Mustafa patiently removes her hand from himself.
The fell dragon instead stares at his eyes, and before long, Mustafa cowers in fear, his body trembling while Grima's expression doesn't change for a bit. "You don't know who you are dealing with" She lets him be and alongside her bodyguards and us moves along, ignoring the main army. Perhaps, another worm to step on she might think.
Mustafa frowns and tells his army."Disperse! We are going to focus on the remaining enemies in the city!"
I hear some gruff complaints from the infantry, but Grima scatters her aura, making the entire air cold and everyone around simple sheep ready to be eaten by the wolf.
I shrug. It's do her bidding or die trying.
We march toward the center, toward this unimaginable obstacle in front of us. The air feels thicker as the spears and swords appear closer and closer to my own very two eyes. The majority is still stuck in a defensive position, but some break away from their position, to challenge us front and center, to make us pay for what we have done to their city.
But Grima, who is beside her bodyguards, observes the flock running to her with their lances and swords. One and two, her sword swings left and right, the soldier that approached her falling down lifeless.
In a few seconds, I hear giggles coming from her. Giggles that soon contort into a thunderous cackle, the Vessel enjoying herself as if this were one of our small conversations. Soldiers start running away from her, abandoning their blades or going back to the main group, trying to preserve their lives. The common folk stare at us from their windows but retreat the moment they see soldiers fall on the ground or beg for their lives.
But for Grima, it's all the same. It doesn't matter if they are running or begging for their life. She enters into a trance, chanting and dancing with her blades, moving from target to target and slashing them into bits, their begs ceasing and soldiers upping their pace.
She doesn't pay any attention to us, doesn't stare back or signalize anything, ignoring even her bodyguards. The bloodbath becomes way more important than whatever tactical advantage. The streets become filled with fallen soldiers. But everything has to end, her chirping ceases when the main army comes within our sight with their shields facing us. She stops dancing and moving her blade, only remaining quiet. She turns her head to us with a frown.
"Eliminate them," she orders, furious.
Without any hesitation, I bring Goetia to my face, opening it's pages, trying to discover a method to do it right and read its phrase.
Let disorder become the center of action and you shall end up ruling the world.
What musical pattern does the phrase have to not explode into my face!? One, two, three? This is not a waltz, what am I supposed to do!?
Meanwhile, the soldiers march from their defensive positions toward me, the one who is paying more attention to a book than the battlefield.
Damn it! There isn't enough time! I let the energy flow into me, piercing into my skin, my fingers receiving the electrical current and striking one of the soldiers' shields.
And from there, me and other dark mages begin to do the same, the electrical attack spreading its rays towards the shields of everyone and the air around it, like a tendril. Some smoke emerges from their shields and a burning smell raises up into the air, while at the same time my skin burns and itches
A liquid spreads through my arm, sticky. I take a quick glance at it and, to my horror, lacerations go through all of my arm, blood pouring from them. I cease immediately, closing the tome and letting my own sparks fade away.
I take the moment to breathe, gaze back at the front, only to get robbed of air and stand shocked. The shields are burning and melting away, while the soldiers behind them are burning like a pyre, a massive human pyre with electricity surrounding it all. The dark mages never stop.
The harrowing screams infect the air as the molten metal and flesh become one, leaving these people to an agonizing end, contorted on the ground, while they beg for their goddess to let it end.
Bile begins to come up in my throat, bitter and salty at the same time. I refuse to open my mouth, or else I'll spill my guts out. I close my eyes to avoid seeing any more of it, gulping down vomit, and walking away from the massacre
In the end, the aftermath becomes clear to everyone. The fires cease the smell of burnt flesh in the sky the only thing left of it. After that, I stop holding it and let the accumulated stress out in the form of a nasty liquid.
As for Reflet, all I can say is that she has a smile large enough to cover her entire face, almost as if she is cackling at the scene. She is happy.
"What a lovely smell. What a fragrance. This is beautiful,'' Reflet says as if she talking to me, turning her head to me.
"We still have to fight off against the guards before entering the castle. The battle hasn't ended. Rather it's only begun," Reflet commands to us, the time for pleasantries over.
Now, on to another phase where the end is close, but reaching it is a herculean task... Hell, what can I do but obey?
Ignoring the smell in the air, we cross the crisped and carbonized human remains, the only thing left of them their contorted final position, in fetal positions, with stretched up arms and legs.
Against my will, bile piles up again. I try to avoid spilling it out again when I see Reflet frowning at me.
Then I notice Henry, still gazing at the carcasses left behind. Where was he all this time? Was I so focused that I ignored he was marching along? But even in this place of death and doom, there is no smile on his face. He just looks at the carbonized bodies with utter boredom and annoyance, glowing at them with furrowed brows. Perhaps carbonized bodies aren't the greatest for experiments. Either way, this Henry is a far cry from the bloodthirsty being I know, only remaining in his frustrated state of affairs.
I can only do the same thing as him: keep my gaze on the cursed aftermath. I stop in my steps, almost hypnotized by it. The horror still consumes my mind. I was the author of this. There is no one to blame but me. I sigh while at the corner of my sight I see Henry snapping out of it and march.
I don't get more time to reflect on my actions, as Reflet barks her next orders, "We don't have time! We need to go to the castle now! Stop staring and go back to your position, Gabriel!" With the coldness of winter, as if death was knocking on my door waiting for my summary execution, I sprint to catch up to them
My arm stings, sweat soaking my head and arm, saltiness prickling my wound and leaving me to only grit my teeth to alleviate it. I swing it around, making it burn less than necessary, though it's only a temporary solution for the wound.
I look at the front, gazing at the blocks getting narrower at every step. We get closer and closer to each other as we progress, the atmosphere stuffy, almost as if there is less air, leaving me to inhale more air. As that happens, I notice Tharja marching alongside us. Why are people appearing now? Or am I noticing them only now? Whatever the time for insults is not now.
The palace is getting closer. It isn't a castle, but rather a statuesque site, with a pointed white marble tower stretching to the sky. So clean and white that one wonders how it remained intact all these years.
My sightseeing is stopped by the guards in front of the gates, a massive stone door with a Naga symbol sculpted into the stone. Some guards wear heavy armor, covering them from head to toe, while others use lighter armor. Spear in their hands, they brandish their shield and use them for protection, almost like the roman formation. Ten or fifteen. Grima comes from behind her bodyguards and whispers to me, "Use goetia again."
I tremble and look warily at my arm. What if the cuts get worse and an infection sets in?
"I said use Goetia" she orders again, this time louder and clearer, pointing with the sword at the guards.
"Gabriel, what do you think you are doing?" The reaper growls as she grabs my arm, making me almost scream. She becomes confused when she sees me gasping for air. She then pulls my sleeves and surprise comes to her face, and not out of happiness, but of horror. The lacerations have painted my arm in a very bright red, almost as if my arm is self-destructing.
Before she can bark another order, we hear other soldiers coming from behind us. Of course, that was supposed to happen. The thing we always need is an ambush right now, on the thick of it, Of this bloody hell! I look behind me and see dark mages being cut down, swords splitting their skull, some with an arrow stuck in their hearts. A new bloodbath begins, except we are now the victims and not the perpetrators.
"Use Flux!" Reflet orders, letting me go as she gets into the thick of the battle, barking orders left and right to her bodyguards and everyone else. Meanwhile, I place my backpack on the ground and replace the Goetia with Flux, picking the page, but with no idea where to shoot.
Henry, who is now by my side, turns his back to me and focuses on the ambushers, his Ruin in hand, conjures the massive X, and lets it float in the sky, waiting for the right moment to launch it.
When three or four people try to pile upon him, I see the white-haired man smirking for the first time in a while. He launches the X toward the group, its surroundings burning in the process. When it hits, it burns the one in the center and makes the others drop on the ground like flies. Since he doesn't seem to need my help, I turn back to the front, in case someone needs my help.
Tharja is readying a Nosferatu, the summoned mist hiding her, but it only lasts a few seconds before she aims at the guards and attacks them. Some avoid the incoming missile, but others are not so lucky and fall down like husks, the armors sounding empty. At the same time, she readies more mist.
One of the soldiers picks up his shield and runs toward the dark mage, with his lance ready as he screams obscenities. The mist dissipates, causing the man to break into laughter.
Dammit!
I grit my teeth. Um dois três, like a waltz. The flow comes to my body, although it prickles as it hurts my arm, little signs of the energy coming out from the wounds, shocking my arm. The mist comes to me, and I focus on one sole spot, an orb.
I may hate Tharja for what she has done to me in the past. But I doubt that I would be able to sleep tonight if I saw her body.
Whatever the meaning of my actions, Tharja dodges the guy, leaving him wide open to my attack, which hits his head, making his body crumble with no sign of the helmet and brain matter scattering all around. Tharja looks at me for a moment, unreadable, and then turns back to the front.
The surviving guards remain steadfast in their defense, leaving no breach to exploit. Reflet gazes at them but doesn't move, only watching as if she had all the time in the world. Then a grin comes to adorn her face.
One of the soldiers tries to recover the position but ends up placing himself too into the fight, and from there a bloodbath begins. Reflet breaks away from us and releases a small ball of energy from her tome, which detonates in the ground, shocking both of the guards on the left and right, who drop their shields. As the moment is right, she stabs the neck of the soldier on the left, turning her whole body and using the momentum to kick the other in the head, knocking him down.
The soldiers try to maintain their composure, turning their shields away from us and against the Vessel. But there is only fun to be had for Grima, as she chants again the same song, the air getting thicker, while their grips become unsteady, their shields dropping and their blade shaking from top to bottom.
Then the dance of the dead begins. Grima smiles ear to ear, chanting her song and swinging her sword left and right. Then, for one moment, she looks at me and laughs, like this is nothing, her giggles like from when we first met, the same person who I have shown Portuguese to, the one who smiled at me at the arena. This is Reflet.
When that happens, I swallow my pride and ready another Flux to help eliminate the soldiers or distract them from attacking her. The pain is insurmountable, saliva coming out of my mouth as I form little pellets for my attack. My aim gets slippery and my arm slugs around even when I try to make it steady. But If I'm doing pellets, then…
Instead of releasing them one by one, I put each into my finger and release, spreading it like a shotgun. One of the soldiers is hit and knocked out of the fight. My arm is taken back by the force of the attack as the mist dissipates.
But from there confusion takes hold from each one of them, a few turn away from Reflet, one part remains in the position while the rest can't keep locked into one sight. And one fatal mistake is made, the person closest to reflet takes a scare from my shoot and turns the s shield towards me.
The golden opportunity arrives, and Reflet perforates the neck of the closest man. One by one, the slashing happens, the remaining guards dropping dead from the continuous relentless attack. Not a second is wasted, as once someone dies, Reflet immediately goes to the next. The game was rigged from the start.
When only one is left, the poor sap tries to surrender, dropping his weapon. My ears catch his cry, a boyish one. But to Reflect, he is the same as the others, and with one swing of the sword, his head flies. My mouth is wide open. Tharja just frowns at the event.
But this isn't the time for mourning, as one thing remains: the ambushers.
I turn around to the events unfolding. Soldiers pour out from God knows where, Henry keeps using his Ruin as his life depends on it, still smiling like nothing is happening. But his legs tremble and his arm falters, sweat coming out down from his brows. Damned if I do and damned if I don't. Um… dois… três...né?
Energy begins to flow from my arm, but the mist only flows to the tip of my fingers. And even then, the moment I make the pellets, they disappear as soon as they are made. I take a look at my arm. It is pale, shaking, and even lifting a finger is a herculean task, as they all weigh more like rocks.
My sense of direction is messed up, my vision distorts the figures around me, Henry's eyes stretching to an impossible degree. My eyelids get heavier by the second.
Oh, I'm slipping away.
I slap myself with my left arm, trying to maintain my conscience even if it is all pointless, pain distorting my vision further, only the sound of my slap reverberating in my ears.
Despite this, I see Henry maintain his slaughter, the wolf killing the sheep. No, the wolf killing others for orders, after the wolf of man is man itself. Perhaps he will lose after all, but I need to help the guy, right? Why bother?...
I need to survive somehow, right? Perhaps just stopping will be the better option. I need to accept the time has come for me to fade away and stop rambling and complaining. For now, I need a rest.
I focus on letting the energy flow but then my vision becomes too dim and I lose my sense of consciousness, Henry is no longer visible, nor anything more distant than my hand. Am I even still alive?
I stop concentrating and the sensation of prickled energy ceases. My legs drop and I fall to the ground. My head touches the cold pavement, while I can only sense my arms. I breathe in and breathe out, but even then the air barely passes through my nose, just enough to refresh my brain. In the end, exhaustion is catching up to me and I need to stop. Má sorte, né?
The glimpse of death runs through my mind. Perhaps I will discover if the afterlife truly exists or not. Or if my own atheism was wrong. Where does the body end? Where does the mind end? I will never know the answer. After all, death robs everyone of their senses. Yes, senses. After all, is there anything I can do to recover what I have lost?
Maybe it will not hurt to try anyway.
With my last hold in any consciousness, I put my hand into a bag, grab a flask and take it to my mouth. I remove the clap and let it drop, drinking its content.
I feel my own heartbeat again. My vision goes from black to grey. I move my own legs, only centimeters, but still, move them. I feel the wounds sting and burn, but then they glue each other together, although the blood pressure on the skin, almost as if ready to burst at any moment. I lift my chest, heavier than an anvil, almost falling again on the ground, but I manage to get my torso in a vertical position rather than horizontal.
I can only see the aftermath of the battle, dark mages laying dead and collapsing in every direction. I would be with them if it hadn't been for the vulnerary…
Henry stands in front of the ambushers' bodies, curving himself to gaze and appreciate his work, while Tharja gazes in my direction. I notice it, and she turns her head away, making it impossible to see her expression.
Anyway, I focus on resting. Have I lost too much blood? I don't know. What I do know is that every time I try to move my arm, it trembles more than anything else, my whole body throbs in pain. At least the tome is near.
I crawl like a bug toward and pick it up. The pages are stained with mud. I try to clean them with my clothes, put my own cape over it, in an attempt to salvage the writing, but before I can finish, Reflet runs to me and grabs me by my shoulders, a look of horror on her face.
"What happened, Gabriel? "Reflet asks me, the ferocity from before gone as she stares worried at my sorry state of affairs.
"I'm tired. I'm tired as heck," I reply, still trying to catch my breath and feeling like my wound will burst. She grabs me and lifts me up, leaving me with my legs still trembling by the effects of the anemia.
"Don't worry, I'll just call a white mage and they'll heal you just fine. What matters is something way more important, Gabriel. You get healed, then we are going to finish Themis off once and for all. We'll eliminate the duke and I- we are close to our objective." Reflet replies somewhat excited, with her eyes sparkling and seemingly ignoring my state.
I, for one, don't think that ignoring my wounds will help me much. On the contrary, it will be the beginning of the end for me.
True to her words, a white mage comes down from a wyvern mounted by Aversa of all people. Yes, sometimes I wonder If relying on this is a good idea or not. But I acquiesce, letting the white mage cure the wound with his staff. The shallow healing from before is improved, with the skin being rebuilt and tendons reconnected. My arm is mobile once again, but even the best of white mages can't help my exhaustion.
"Reflet, look around us. Don't you think it's a better idea to let us rest for a moment?" I say, still staggering. For once, she shrugs.
"Acceptable."
And for the first time today, it seems I will be able to breathe.
The palace stands in front of us, its jewel still the sole piece left to be conquered and become part of the plegian territory. The once closed-off gates are now torn apart, leaving the entrance free for anyone to cross. Only Reflet's orders stop us from invading the place and ending this battle.
I, Henry and Tharja are the only ones left accompanying her, besides her bodyguards. The rest were too exhausted to attempt the last invasion necessary to end it. And who can blame them? In the sweat and blood of today, the soldiers rest on their walls, while reflet frowns at their laziness as if they were fools.
I'm the foolish one instead.
"We are going to finish the bastard right here and now. Make the lineage of the Ylissean demon pay for what they have done to us. We are going to exterminate these worms from the face of the planet. Only those useful to us may survive, got it?"
Instead of doing any gesture or pointing out what we are supposed to do, she marches inside with her bodyguards. That leaves with nothing else to do besides follow her and go along with whatever her plans are going to be. My legs twitch, how long can I keep with this game?
For an entrance, it could be said that the person who designed it had way too much pomposity. Statues of the older dukes adorn it, the walls made out of white marble, with the hallway shaped like a trapezoid. The ceiling has paintings. I can only imagine what they are supposed to be, besides massive dragons fighting with or against humans, with a now splattered Naga symbol.
But for all of its glory, Reflet doesn't pay attention to any of it, focused only on the path ahead. One that leads to the end of this battle and the next phase of the war. May Grima know what she is doing, or otherwise she will only doom us.
We arrive from the white-laced hallways to a central area. A massive staircase leading to another floor, the walls painted in white, sapphire, and green. Patterns of fleur-de-lis alongside the Naga symbol adorn the walls, with paintings of what I assume are members of the family at the top of the stairs. A giant painting with the Duke and his daughter, a person so familiar, and yet her name escapes me.
But for all of its pompous nature, I can't imagine if there is something more luxurious lying somewhere in here. Then I watch the ceiling. It is painted with the figure of a blue-haired man brandishing his swords alongside Naga blessing him from the sky and his army and another blue-haired lady by his side.
We stop our steps, leaving in the center of the room. The silence stalks us with the pictures gazing down at us. Our steps were the only sound in the room, now only reduced to one choice: Should we go left, right or the stairs?
Steps creak against the marble as if they were cackling. left and right, step by step, and what is this? I look at my right and my left, nobody comes from either side. one and twos come into my ears. I take a glance at the top, a bright flash blinds us and I jump to my left.
Dropped on the ground alongside with the tome and grazed arm, I take a glance at what I stood: A arrow, reflet and the others gaze at the arrows but I refocus my sight on the top, Archers.
I grab my tomes and get up from the ground, gritting my teeth while staggering from standing up from the ground. Damn it, of course, they were going to ambush us! Um… dois… três. Que nem uma valsa.
"You go against the lancers. You help them. You focus on eliminating the archers." The coldness in her voice paints the order while I hear the steps spreading out with one coming towards my direction. The archer readies another round.
"Gabriel, get in the back help my bodyguard eliminate the archers, Henry-" I take a glance at my right, one of the bodyguards, he carries with him a bow and arrow. At least, help me just this once.
My vision tunnels towards the archer, stretching my twitching arm to aim in his direction while the mist funnels into my finger. His arm slowly moves as if the time came to slow motion as the orbs form under the palm of my hands. Steady, steady, I lock in position and the sweat touches the eye, It's now or never.
With the flick of the hand, the orb travels into the air and hits the man in the neck. Dropping his bow and body into the rails, gravity making fall in front of me. One done. How many remain? One, two, three, four, five?! There are too many of them!I intensify the flow of energy in my veins, letting it prickle me from the inside out. The mist intensifies, hiding me and the bodyguards. I need more to stay alive. We need more if we wish to win.
I prepare more of the orbs, there isn't enough! A tipping point appears a sudden shock spreads into the injury I like to call arm. The mist dissipates, only remaining in my arm, although the bodyguard takes an opportunity. He walks in front of me and launches his shot
The arrows hit one of the archers' jugular, making blood spray out and painting the walls and marble red while blinding the ones close to him at the same time. One of them drops his bow and removes the blood from his eyes.
That brief opportunity is not wasted, and the creature in the form of a human readies a second arrow and shoots the poor sap, in which the arrow struck in the eye before he can react. He screams and stumbles into the marble, falling to his death. The sound of his neck breaking resonates throughout the room.
This brief counterattack is enough for allowing me to create the orb and aim at a third one, who has the same idea of countering the counterattack. Sensing my upcoming death from that, I don't waste time aiming and realize the ball of energy. Perhaps pure anger made me do this, but with adrenaline, everything becomes secondary to survival. And with that, the orb flies and hits the man, making him explode into little bits. That leaves only one.
I hear a hissing sound and turn my head into my back, a mist surrounds Tharja, who uses the opportunity to eliminate soldiers pouring out from both of the corridors. Then I notice the origin of the hiss, Henry uses his ruin to massacre them into a bloody pulp. I can't stop looking at it.
Even when Reinforcements come, henry is still into a hypnotic state, reading another X and launching towards them. A defensible funnel turns into a slaughterhouse, as their guts fly everywhere, their organs painting the walls. The event happens so fast that I don't actually register their screams, only the drip of blood clinging from the corpses.
And last but not least, the remaining archer flees from the scene, dropping his bow and trying not to look at us. But before he can do that, an exposed part of his leg is hit by an orb of mine, something that makes him fall to the ground in agony.
He tries to crawl away, but Reflet runs to his position and grabs him by his hurt leg. He squeals as he tries to punch Reflet, all in vain as she barely registers the hit. She goes to the bottom of the stairs and drops him into the ground, kicking the injured member once the body drops into the ground, the crunching sound making me want to vomit.
Grima stares down at him with a murderous glare. "Where is the duke?"
The man tries to say, "Tonmerrat! Tonmerrat!'' He begs and begs, trying his best to be understood.
Reflet stares back at us "Does anyone here understand Ylissean?" Pure hatred is in her voice "No one? Gabriel, do you have any idea of what this thing is trying to say?" She stares at me with empty eyes.
I avoid her gaze - a gaze more painful than any of the wounds made by Goetia. Seconds pass in my head, as I try to decipher what the screaming man is trying to say. Tonmerrat, tonmerrat, nothing comes to my mind.
"Sorry, but I have no idea," I reply, expecting the worst.
"Shame." She punctures his head with her sword, ceasing the crying sound and leaving the room in more deafening silence, emptiness and the piled-up corpses.
"Let's find him and eliminate anyone that dares to stop us." Reflet says colder than hell. "It's of the utmost importance that he dies." She points in all directions. "Half of my bodyguards go to the right, the other half to the left. The rest goes with me on the stairs. Exterminate at sight."
With that, Henry and Tharja go alongside the whims of the Vessel, sweat piling up on my face way more than ever during battle. It's long lost its salty taste to something more bitter and repulsive.
We get into the stairs, reaching the top where there stands the painting of them, of which I see Reflet scowling at, slashing a part of it with her sword and looking back at us growing. There are only two paths to tread: Left and Right
"Do you have any idea of where we are going to go?" Tharja says without any emotion, but Reflet screams back at her.
"Silence!" Tharja staggers back, her eyes and mouth wide open. In her reaction, she let her hair fall into her face and walks away from the vessel. But such minor things don't affect Grima at all, stuck with her hand on the chin and with closed eyes, thinking of what happens next.
The little moment of silence, I sat on the ground waiting for her orders to come, touching my face only to leave the hand filled with sweat and the other hand with a beating heart, did the worst truly ever pass?
Henry gazes at the bodies, in huddles, moving their arms and putting his grubby heads into the orifices of the wounds, giggling to himself. " Finally finally" he whispers to himself. Truly vultures are like crows.
A few moments pass, she grins her canines in full sight. laughing, she points to our left, "There, they are there!" How!?
She runs towards it, leaving us without much of a choice and follows in her footsteps.
The hallways covered with green wallpapers lead to another area of the castle. The entire walk, silent, our steps the only sound. The paintings feel like they're watching us, almost like their pupils follow us through the palace. Reflet doesn't pay attention to any of them. Tharja scowls at the weirdness of the paintings, while Henry just ignores them, perhaps because they aren't corpses.
In the area, another basilica is in place. The painting there maybe shows the founders of Themis. Workers construct the castle while a noble-looking man shows the glory of this new building with his hand. The floor is made out of marble and there are two hallways. one in front of us and one to the right.
"We are going to split up and search for the duke. Even the smallest sign of him recently being there must be reported." Grima orders, running to the front hallway, while Tharja and Henry go to the right one.
This hallway begins with two doors. Reflet goes to the one on the left while I consequently go to the one on the right. I slam the door open and what I'm met with is the sight of a massive bed with floral patterns woven into the blanket, a massive mirror in front of it, and windows from which the city can be seen.
"There is no one here!" I shout while I get out of the room.
"Same here," Reflet replies, grouchy at the result. But even then, there are more rooms to explore. We go further into the hallway. No more rooms in sight. The tension is creeping up on me. One, two… No matter how many steps I take, it seems to only stretch more and more. I gulp, perhaps an ambush may lie in front of us.
Then we get to the end of the hallway, a simple wooden door that leads to another corridor with a rectangular area wide open and a stone door. Glass windows are on each side. Naga, the blue-haired man, and others stand with their swords or other regalia. There is the same stone gate from the entrance, but only now in the interior and at the top of it. The symbol of Naga is painted blue, with green completing it. It seems they are fond of splattering their symbols everywhere they possibly can think of.
I open the door, the tension eating me. But alas, all I can see are shelves and shelves of books. And when entering, this is all I can see. But not a single human soul. So forgetting all sense of logic, I don't explore it. I close the door and turn away from it with Reflet glaring at me
"I didn't find anyone here. They might have escaped. Don't you think it's enough?" I try to maintain my calm, gulping as I answer, while Grima replies furious "Don't you dare think that we are going to stop. You barely explored the room, what makes you think it's done?"
"I'm not the one that has super localization abilities. Besides, there is another door right there, I point to the door inside the church-like hallway. Don't you think we should at least have a look at it? After all, I doubt they would put decorations on an insignificant room, don't you think?"
She snorts but acquiesces. Instead of going to the library and searching it's far ends, we walk to the gate, the stone thumping with our steps. We open the last remaining gate.
Then the reveal comes to us. The room has one slighter lower level, which has some other paintings and marble flooring. But it has a small staircase that leads to a higher level with a throne where a man sits with a woman on his side. The feature is similar to the painting. Then it dawns on me that it's the duke. Our objective is in front of us. But there is always a but, some of the garrisons still remains.
Readying her sword, Reflet whispers to me, "Get ready! This is the last thing you need to do today!". She stops looking at me and only turns to enemies, who in a few seconds may kill us for good.
"Sorry, but ready your Goetia. We are going to need it." She says while still focusing on the enemy. Damn it. I get the backpack and leave Flux on the ground, readying the Goetia in my left hand. The right arm almost twitches as if sensing the coming laceration.
I focus on the coming battle. Once again, my belly feels colder than hell and I sense sweat forming under my brow. The energy prickles in my arm, and I only wish to run! It is the end, but it's an end-to-end all endings off.
"I will survive. I will survive. I will survive," I say to myself to calm down my nerves before I end up in a grave.
The soldiers rush us, weapons ready to kill both of us, no sign of trembling or shaking, only a duty to fulfill. No mages or archers, but even then…
I begin to breathe in and breathe out, while I take my time to conjure Goetia. Before we can go any further. They surround us from all the sides, making our only escape option the gate behind us.
Reflet comes in front of me, making herself the target of their aggression, while I stay behind, safe from any possible aggression. Deflecting the upcoming attacks in her dance, anyone going for the kill is slashed by her blade. But while this happens, from the gaps, another enemy comes for me and grapples me by the left arm, pressuring it and causing me to scream in pain.
I punch on his face but nothing comes of it as he shrugs it off, reading and pointing his swords at my chest. The sense of time becomes null, as the seconds become hours with the sharpness against my gut, readying to finish my life once and for all. What am I supposed to do!?
Then I remember Goetia. I ready the tome and let the energy flow through me. I raise my free hand, confusing him as he hesitates from stabbing me. That allows me a brief second to eliminate the bastard. Yes, the moment I have been waiting for!
I release Goetia on him, his armor getting the brunt of it. His blades fall, as does he.. I look and see the little lacerations into my arm forming again. Dammit, is this tome cursed, or am I just a complete failure?
From the corners of my eyes, I see reinforcements - Henry and Tharja - running toward us, both of them with their attacks ready. Tharja is surrounded by her mist and Henry has his X of ruin ready to eliminate the guy, thank God!
While this happens, Reflet continues her defense. While the soldiers focus only on her, I can't stop and I notice other of them coming, with her on my side. What can I do? Then I notice a faint whispering from my back. "Crouch", I go into the ground and see in front of me, a black mist passing above my head and hitting the man, dropping to the ground.
With it, I go back up and see some of the soldiers standing back away from me, withdrawing to the upper part. While Reflet slashes through the few who attack her, cutting their neck or their hands, not allowing for a moment of rest to happen. Noticing their peril, they run away.
It's time, I ready Goetia but time returns to a standstill as I scream at the top of my lungs. The electric rays pierced yet again part of my arm, the legs contort like noodles, rocking my arm. It hits some of them, turning them into walking fire pits, and I drop, coughing in pain.
DAMMIT! I Get up, but my whole legs are soft as gelatine and taking a step is like slashing a muscle. I stand there like an idiot without an idea of what the hell I'm supposed to be doing. Henry touches my shoulder and pushes me to the sides, turning his head and letting out a smirk, turning back to face the wall of people blocking us from getting into the duke and his daughter.
The guts fly when he launches the X away from his hand, the bodies going in all directions and leaving an open path where the duke remains seated but cowering in fear while his daughter tries to remain by his side.
"Themis is dead." Reflet proclaims colder than hell, walking towards the duke's direction, pointing her swords towards them. The daughter tries to shield her father, but he pushes her to the other side. Reflet cackles and in one swoop the duke's head falls into the ground.
The battle of Themis is over.
So that was quite a big chapter. I will be honest that as much as I'm proud of it, the process of writing it was one of the more stressful chapters as of yet. Doesn't help that I often rewrite entire chapters and this was one of the more intense with almost every single scene changed or touched from the original draft, Specially the third scene that passed two rewrites by now and by this time I'm calling the quit.
The only thing that I may hope is the chapter was worth the wait for anyone that is reading the fic and despite it many mistakes on grammar, pacing and any other failures of it.
Anyways, This chapter is going to be quite important and in many ways, it will change things not for the better. If you have noticed by now, this will be a very different plegian war compared to the other fics, not only in the point of view but as well in the events, because they will be a little bit different compared to others.
Besides it, vacations are coming closer and with it, I can dedicate full time to writing the entirety of this fic. We are more less about 45% percent done with the story about this point, so you will probably see an increase in the release schedule, but I don't promise miracles.
In a final note, I have some other ideas popping in my head, I hope I can write them one day. Don't worry I will not start writing them until the 5 or so chapters are finished, but I often wonder if people actually want to read my other stuff. So yeah, just giving food for thought.
Also thanks to Cavik for beta reading this fic and everyone for keeping reading this very weird and sometimes really awkward fic to read. If you want to contact me or talk with more interesting people than I am, you can either dm or go to the discord server where I participate in: discord. gg / 9XG3U7a
Crowbars357: I know, keep doing what you want. It always good have a joke or two when you have some horrible funny situation in the fic
2010SI: Thanks for the kind comments. Well Gabriel's physical condition is less than stellar, imagine someone who is barely threading by the needle and only eating because he needs to eat. He isn't anorexic, but isn't exactly health at the same time.
Well, I didn't watch that movie, so yeah, then if it feels like it then I guess you are valid. About Henry being angry is more a case of a person being over the edge, because he lost his favorite thing and can't do anything to get back, namely being able to deal with bodies, because he is on commading duty. And it's quite ironic that comment of yours, since this one of the longest chapters yet.
Firlz: I will take it as a compliment, but yeah there is still a lot that can be done with the malapropism.