Chapter 157: A Past Come Calling
She never understood the complaints.
Perhaps it was her own inexperience that led to this situation, she could not truly understand the motives behind those who worked to undermine all she had strove to achieve here. Maybe it was not worth trying to understand them but all the same, she felt the great desire to try.
If for no other reason than to properly understand the depths of their madness. She could think of few other words to describe what it was they were attempting to achieve in this situation. Emerald green eyes cast themselves to the horizon, she could see the distant plumes of toxic smoke, she could feel the fury of the one she had allowed to be woken from their rest. It had not been an easy choice for her to make, but it came with the belief that it would end the threat of the Chaldeans once and for all.
…Something was terribly wrong with this situation.
It was why she held herself back from continuing the assault, in addition to the fact she had seen them in combat. The human knight was a league above her in terms of combat, she had never been one for fighting in the first place, and he had been swiftly bested by the blonde woman. Yet there was something more to this situation that eluded her.
Priscilla cast her mind back to the words of the woman, Friede, before they enacted this change.
'The World of Man has burnt to ash. There is no peace to be found and no hope to cling to, thus you should make your own. The world of painted ice, the land where all find refuge. There is no greater need for it than right now. I implore you, with the Grail you might cast your will onto the world and turn this land into a haven for those left behind by the burning.'
An incineration of all humanity, murder on a scale she had never before heard or seen. Priscilla needed nothing further to convince her. Yet came the warning of the Chaldeans who would come and destroy her work, they would doom all she strove to achieve to complete annihilation. All who found peace here would be cast back into the world and burnt into nothing, that was what she had been told. The Chaldeans came here to destroy…
So why then, were they in the company of children?
Why did the blonde woman place herself in between them as though she was trying to protect them? For one whose goal was to annihilate the only ark left of humanity, there was little reason in protecting children. Rather, their weakened nature should have made them easy targets, cruel as it might have sounded.
Then there was the red haired spirit, the one whom had been deemed a traitor. She had felt him summon himself with the Grail, using his own link with her to achieve manifestation.
She had allowed it.
She allowed it even when his thoughts lingered through the front of her mind, his treacherous desires and his dislike of the world were made apparent. She had felt them deep within herself for his entire duration. He held no love for this world, not like she did. It might have been wiser to slay him then and there but she stayed her hand.
Because she disliked killing, she would do it if it became necessary but that did not mean she enjoyed the act. Yet there was something more, something different. The others had spoken of the red haired one only in passing, saying that he never once fit in with the others of their world. That a deep ambition burned within his gut, a desire that would sweep all the world aside just so he could claim it.
Priscilla had little interaction with people, thus she could never claim to understand the nature of what the red haired boy was. She could see nothing special about him beyond that of a teenager, yet he spoke of distrust to Friede. His dislike of the world and his desire to save people from it. She had not known what to say, why would he call dooming them to certain death saving them?
Saving them was what she was doing…wasn't it?
This situation was far beyond what she had initially believed it to be, but to ask the questions of the Chaldeans their true motives would be difficult. Whether or not they did intend to aid in wiping out humanity was a moot point, the fact of the matter was she had seen so many fall to the slumber, she had walked across their minds and seen their memories. She saw the sadness, the despair, the isolation.
She would not lift the world of Ariamis, not when she could give them whatever comfort she could provide. The peaceful land that took care of its citizens, where they would want for nothing. It was why she took the young girl to herself, her memories had revealed nothing but horror…and understanding.
Perhaps Jack had seen that as well.
They were both children cast to the cold and abandoned by their families for being failures.
She did not consider her goal to be so evil that it warranted this response, there might have been a difference between worlds but surely the desire to avoid seeing children suffer remained the same.
Surely the desire not to see people die around them remained a constant, she did not think this world so cruel. Atalanta had joined her once she explained what she wanted to achieve. She had merely explained a desire that all of London of this era would live without fear of suffering and death.
All Atalanta had to ask was if the children were included. Once she had confirmed, then it was a given…and she did truly enjoy the company of the indigo haired woman, perhaps they had more in common than their animalistic traits.
She might have been rough, but she was every bit as caring for the children and for Jack as she was. Even if Jack knew only her as mother, she still showed a strong bond with Atalanta.
And Atalanta was of this world and agreed fairly quickly, so what was the issue elsewhere? Why didn't they understand she held their best interests at heart?
She withheld a sigh as she moved, her invisible feat pressing upon the snow with each step, leaving prints in her wake as she wandered. She could still feel the battle from across her Reality Marble and she was certain all was not going as Friede planned.
…Perhaps moving to aid them would be the wisest course of action?
It would not do for them to be hurt or even die in her world. If the Chaldeans proved a greater evil than anticipated then her eyes might finally prove a boon as opposed to a curse.
Her gaze turned to the distant plume of smoke in the sky, the distant roar of an enraged dragon met her ears. She grimaced at the sound, feeling a pang of guilt shoot through her heart. She had not wished to wake them and now they were in pain.
Priscilla made up her mind.
"!?"
She stumbled, fighting back a gasp as the sensation assaulted her mind yet again, there was a burning familiarity in this world from somewhere. From multiple locations, something deep within her that knew what those feelings were, what those beings who walked through her lands were. Yet there was something preventing her from piercing their minds and seeing their thoughts, their terrors.
Except one.
The images she had seen were brutal without question, pain like she could not describe and such sadness she could not bear to see. Yet, there was more to these sensations than simple pain.
This was her world, she could witness the minds of all those who ventured here if they did not conceal their minds. Others had cloaked themselves well or shut her put entirely. This one had been different, like a silent cry for help that the owner did not know they were making.
So she had pushed just a touch to see what lay beyond.
And she watched a child beaten by a knight three times his size. Beaten until he was on the verge of death. But he did not die, for that would have been a kindness.
And the knight had not been alone.
There was a face in the background of each one, a face that she knew well enough. The face of her mother.
Beyond that…nothing. The flashes would leave and the nightmares would rescind themselves, the mind fighting off her influence.
It was but a quick vision but the implications were damning enough. The hum of the soul she had peered into was so familiar that she could almost see her own reflection. Yet there was a dullness to it, the lack of Flame touch as her grandmother called it.
Divinity was another word, but Priscilla cared not. She was torn, to investigate the new soul she saw - one of such pain - or to aid the others.
A warning flared through her mind.
Jack was in danger.
Her mind was made up. Her feet carried her in a fast sprint, barely touching the ground as she did so. The bulk of her body moved unseen with only the rapid parting of the snow and a rush of wind trailing behind her being any indication there was something even moving. All before she had even realised she was sprinting.
Vilhelm scowled behind his helm as he moved through the streets, his battle with the Sapling had not done too much damage to him but it was the swift intervention of the false Saint that had caused him the greatest of injuries, even then he would recover from it swiftly enough. The problem was the arrival of the Crossbreed, he might have argued against abandoning the fight were it not for the fact his Lady was in danger.
It had not been his plan to split their forces, he would have much preferred to remain by the side of the Lady Friede while Dolion went to deal with the fleeing Sapling and his quarry, he would have been better for it considering the fact that he was ill suited for surprise attacks. He was an executioner and then a knight, he could not launch surprise attacks in full plate armour in the middle of the street.
Especially against two Ruler Class Servants, it was a wonder he had gotten as close as he had before he'd been detected. Perhaps it had merely been intervention from the Crossbreed Goddess that allowed it, but that was neither here nor there. He'd established that the Sapling was nowhere near the skill of his older self. A burden off his shoulders should they come to blows again, the brief surprises the Sapling had pulled out where now accounted for.
He would fight a mixture of sword and sorcery, yet excel at neither. An inferior style to his older self and without the superior stats to carry through with the attack. He had them beaten, if the Crossbreed had lent her aid beforehand he would have dealt the finishing blow and then the two of them could have finished off the false Saint.
Except Lady Friede was now in danger and that took priority above all else. It might have been cynical of him to speak as such, but he knew that straying far from her side had been a mistake but it was one done with her orders. He might well have disagreed with her but he would never openly voice these to her face. He was sworn to her service and he respected her a great deal to ever do something such as that.
He had swallowed his grim feelings and bowed his head, leaving with the hope that she would succeed and Dolion would not fail her.
Except that was apparently exactly what had happened, he did not know the specifics of what had occurred but they were clearly far from ideal if the Crossbreed saw fit to inform him straight away rather than wait until after the pressing threat had been dealt with. The last report signalled them as being a small group of no more than three Servants and one undead, such a paltry force should not have been able to break through the trap that had been laid for them.
Vilhelm clicked his tongue.
Such thoughts were unwelcome at the moment, they would serve to distract him from his goal. He pushed himself harder, his feet touching the ground for the barest hints of a second before they propelled him onwards, bounding through the snow with little regard for his lack of subtlety.
He rounded the next turn-
Sliding to a halt and tensing himself, widening his eyes ever so slightly as he beheld the devastation before him. Bodies of dozens of Corvians littered the ground, splayed out in all manner of poses, some were slumped against the walls of homes with their hands clasped around their throats with their eyes dulled, others lay upon the ground with no visible wound on them.
His eyes narrowed, he proceeded forwards with a great deal more caution, his hands tightening their grip on his sword as his helm turned from left to right. Examining the bodies as he passed by them and noticing a distinct lack of physical wounds. They were all certainly dead, but there was no sign of battle…the damage that had been done headed further down the streets in the same direction that he had been headed. Yet the Corvians all faced in the opposite direction.
Which meant they had been forced to retreat, or perhaps they had been enroute to the ambush zone and had themselves been ambushed. Yet it did not hide the lingering dread that permeated through this zone, his eyes darted to a nearby wall - a Corvian plastered against the base of it - and then promptly froze. Brick had been charred black, a clear pattern which painted in the final pose of the struck Corvian upon the clay wall.
It was a shadowed burn, outlining the body that now resided upon the ground. Vilhelm knew of only one method of attack that created damage such as that and burns such as those that had littered the few wounded corpses he had seen, but burn points upon the armour and the trace lines across the skin. The pattern which bloomed like a fresh tree in the spring, they came from only one form of attack.
Miracles.
These Corvians had encountered a practitioner of Miracles, a very proficient one if the bodies lining the ground were any indication. Yet not all had perished at the hands of this divine power, he saw no sign of lightning spear burns from the ones who lay upon the ground, facing the sky or facing the floor. Especially those who had been caught in the final moments of grabbing at their throats, as though they were struggling for breath.
Very little of it made sense to him, yet one thing was made certain. He was now aware of why the Lady Friede was in danger, an attack like this meant they had ambushed Dolion before he could enact his plan, it looked as though they had not even made it to the battle when they struck down. Meaning they had either encountered this one on the path to the battle, or they themselves had been stumbled upon.
Neither painted a very appealing picture. One who could turn an ambush on its head or one who could discern the presence of Assassins and massacre them all to a man. He glanced at the tracks as he came upon them, then looked to the rooftops and saw patches of ceramic tiles missing, cracked and shattered. Points where the lightning user had tossed them to the skies, likely as they fled.
Shaking his head, he continued onwards in his march, picking up speed once again as the pressing threat to the Lady Friede reared it's ugly head once more. If this was the fate that befell Dolion, then it was little wonder that the Lady Friede was in danger, such a force meeting up with the Chaldeans - assuming it was not the work of multiple Servants - was nothing to scoff at. Even if they could not slay the undead dragon, they could at least escape-
The ground shuddered beneath his feet, a roar split through the sky as a distant cloud of purple smoke rose above the skyline of homes. Vilhelm stared at the plume of toxic gas for all of a second, then broke into a mad sprint. Tearing the ground apart as he moved, no longer caring for whatever his appearance bore the sight of. They were fighting the undead dragon now, they had to be doing that. However, a dragon would be weakened to one who could wield Miracles with such proficiency.
The ambush would fail and Lady Friede might be harmed - or worse, killed - in the surprise attack. His presence there was now more pressing than ever.
A sensation tickled him, he ground his body to a halt once more and fought back an irritated snarl at the familiarity of it. He had been sure they would have succumbed to their wounds but encountering him now of all times, this was something that he could not allow. A distraction that could not be tolerated but if he wished to proceed, he would need to break through.
The distant figure solidified as they exited Spirit form, leaning on their right side rather heavily patches of dark blood stained their once white robes with such abundance that it could be said it was red stained with white, rather than the alternative. Their left arm was missing entirely, a smooth line from their shoulder to their hip had been sliced through, completely detaching their left side from their body as well as the wing that had resided behind the limb.
The burning greatsword used as a crutch to support the Servant, the flames had not dimmed in the slightest since he had last witnessed them. The laboured breathing of the Servant was loud enough to be heard even at this distance, a deep rumbling noise that ended in a croaking sound like snapping wood. It was almost insulting how they sought to stand in his way now…
Except this was one whose very legend revolved around trickery, and he was one who had deceived them all with his intentions right up until the moment he had left. Not even his mother hand understood what he planned to do. Appearing before him now meant that it was liable to be yet another treachery, but between risking that and rushing to the aid of the Lady Friede, he was put far outside of his comfort zone. A prolonged battle was not one he could afford-
"Fufufufu…" The grumbling chuckle of Sulyvahn echoed out, the Pontiff forcing himself upright with the sword, turning himself slightly to the side to hide the full extent of his injury from Vilhelm. Not that it mattered, he had been there when he saw the Spirit lose the limb as well as the shock from the attack, had it not been for the intervention of the Lordkin boy, Sulyvahn would have died then and there.
Which only infuriated him further, especially since he could feel the amusement rolling of Sulyvahn now. He had no reason to be this confident unless he was aware of something.
"You seem troubled, Vilhelm." Despite the clear pain in his voice, Sulyvahn forced his words out with the same sense of confidence he had when they first met. Tinged with that faux ignorance as though he did not know what was going on. Vilhelm straightened his posture, not granting the half-spirit the dignity of a reaction to his words. "Could it be there is something beyond me that has attracted your full attention?"
"Forcing false bravado into your words insults only yourself, Sulyvahn." He responded in a calm voice, his eyes moving past the Pontiff to the street for a split second as another draconic roar sundered the air. "We both know that you are well past your ability to content my skill in your current state." Making a lazy gesture to the missing limb "What you do now is little more than suicide at the end of my blade."
Sulyvahn did not speak for a moment, then released a guttural cough mixed with laughter. "I could be bereft of both my arms and you would still be no match for me…" he exhaled "You remain the same, even after death. Content in this stagnant little life of yours, dropping to your knees in reverence to one who cares only what her image showcases." the woodland man jerked his head back up the street "What image do you think she displays now? One of composure or one of panic?"
"Speaking of sights you shall not live to see is a staple of you, one that you have never once lost." He countered swiftly, he felt the amusement drop from Sulyvahn's posture, though it was a token victory he held no interest in. What he truly wanted was to get past the Caster as swiftly as possible, killing him would be the best way forwards but there was no telling how long that would take him. It would occur, but the distraction might prove to slow him just enough. "Your inability to accept the nature of others clouds your vision to better paths."
"Are you truly going to engage me in a debate now?" Sulyvahn chortled, shaking his head from side to side. "You do my own work for me. Though I admit that you could have chosen a better topic to discuss as your precious Elfriede is turned to a fine red mist by my allies."
Vilhelm grit his teeth, his posture tightening. "Can you truly not see this path is for the best?!" he snapped, losing his composure and pointing downwards "An ark by which humanity can escape their destruction?"
"Under the loving care of Friede?" The Caster spat the word as though it was disgusting "Is that how you convinced the abandoned crossbreed to ally with you? You were doing the world a favour…No. I think the world has seen more than enough of your influence. I have stomached more than enough of your aid. A cancer that must be expunged from the root upwards to ensure it never returns. You and your paradise. Like the Gods, Elfriede cared only for the worship dropped at her feet, nothing for those she cursed with co-existence with the rot."
"You resent that which you could not find comfort in. Perhaps if you had spoken more with the Lady Friede, you might have been cured of this poison of the mind-"
"Poison? Is it poison to wish for something more of the world? Poison to recognise the flaws of your own home and work to correct them? It was not me who was ill of mind. It was all others of Ariandel who suffered from this toxin of the mind, you and Elfride were simply those who were self-aware of your nature." With a derisive noise, Sulyvahn snarled "All of them dragged into that hopeless little world so that your precious Lady could stand atop that frozen waste and declare she had the answer?"
"Did you wish your roles reversed?"
"I offered the true answer. I have always offered the true answer that you could never accept. You think I will let this hell be unleashed upon the world a second time? That I will allow all this world can offer to be swept aside by the blizzard of rot?" Shaking his head from side to side, Sulyvahn dropped his voice into a deep growl "This time, for sure, I will correct the existence of Ariandel."
"Ever the hero, aren't you Sapling?"
Sulyvahn did not respond immediately, then let out a dry chuckle "Heroism? A naive hope for those who cannot see the filth of the real world. I am so much more than a Hero…and I am so much more than you." the amusement returned to his voice, the burning sword was pulled from the ground and pointed towards him. "The real question is, how long do you think Friede can last without you there to protect her? Who do you think she is fighting right now?"
Vilhelm narrowed his eyes, there was a knowing tone in the Pontiff's voice, as though he was aware of something that had eluded him.
"If I were to make a rough guess, given the necessity of the dragon and the danger she likely faces…perhaps she has encountered a certain Unkindled who currently travels with Chaldea?" Sulyvahn mused with an edge of mirth in his tone, a goading note to his words as he continued onwards. "He did regale me with the story of how Friede was slain and he took her weapons. I saw the sword he wielded, a certain black blade…Which of you died first, I wonder? Did he slay her before your eyes and drive you into a mad fury? Did you die valiantly defending your mistress…or were you put down like a rabid cur simply stripped of your weapon because he found it mildly useful?"
…
Vilhelm said nothing, in the second Sulyvahn had stopped speaking he had charged himself forwards. The sword erupting in black fire and angling downwards, carving a burning line in the snow at his side as he moved, the steam rising from the point of contact as he built up more power in his arms, tightening his hold on the hilt to such a point that the metal of his gauntlets groaned.
He pulled the sword upwards the second he was close enough, the blade lept from the ground and trailed an arc of black fire behind it as it moved. The Pontiff waited until the last moment, then reversed his grip on his greatsword and swung downwards, matching the strike at the very last second and locking the edge of his burning sword against the waving design of the Onyx Blade. The tip of the black sword hovered barely an inch from the front of the Pontiff.
The two of them stayed in that pose for a split second, then Sulyvahn shoved the weapon to the side, stepping closer and returning his grip to its original posture and swinging the sword back across his body in an arc. Vilhelm ducked under the horizontal slash, bringing up his left hand and flashing out the crimson shield as the Caster attempted a kick, the shin bouncing off the Dark Hand.
Vilhelm leaned forwards, thrusting his sword and forcing the Pontiff into a spin to avoid the attack, as he twisted he held the sword horizontally against him and slashed outwards. He jumped backwards, the tip of the fire cursed blade passed just in front of his armour before he rushed forwards, swinging into the Pontiff and quickly finding his weapon locked in combat once more, the Caster having reversed the movement and twisting the sword to catch his swipe with the flat of his blade, tip pointed downwards and braced against his left side for support.
It was telling he was ignoring the clear pain he was in from having the burning greatsword pressed up against his body, the fires just as dangerous to Sulyvahn as they were to him.
Sulyvahn pulled, then pushed, dragging both weapons in an arc above their heads before forcing them down into the snow. The combined heat of the blades hissed and spit, flakes of boiling water and steam hurled themselves at the fighters as they struggled, with a twist of movement, Sulyvahn shifted his grip once more and dragged the weapon upwards.
Vilhelm's left hand snapped upwards, not a moment too soon and brought forth the Dark Hand shield once more, the swirling mass of red light stopped the strike dead in its tracks, keeping the sword there for precious few moments. Vilhelm pulled the Onyx blade backwards for a thrust, the Pontiff reacted first and shoved, using the strength of the shield to grant leverage to his body as he kicked off the ground, twisting himself around to the left side of Vilhelm and bringing his greatsword up once more.
"You're moving slower than I remember, Vilhelm!" The taunts resumed, an air of mockery about the Caster. "Surely the thought of Friede being in mortal peril should drive you into a maddened fury, yet you stumble around like a squire on his first day. Do you care so little for your mistress?"
The Cold Blooded Hangman.
That was what he remained, the last face many would see before death.
Regardless of their begging or pleading, he would see nothing but death.
Again and again.
Those horrible expressions.
So he tuned them out.
He felt nothing as he stared at them, heard their plea's of mercy.
The cold face of justice, a man who dropped his victims even as they begged for more life.
…How horrible.
Their faces remained with him even now, those permanent expressions etched into his mind.
Even knowing they deserved death, that did not make the burden of carrying their final words any easier.
Perhaps he resented them? These people who committed such crimes lingered on his concious for so long after the fact. Like a poison that moved through his mind.
That's what it was. He was poisoned with their faces, with their guilty expressions and their earnest begs. How could one beg so loudly after being found so guilty?
Why does he continue to do this?
When will it end?
"You hold such a weight upon your shoulders, good Sir Vilhelm."
Ah, yes…there was one thing that kept him going…
"Though you end life, take heart in the many souls you protect."
Just one thing…
"But should there ever come a point where you can find yourself unable to do your duty, I shall harbour no judgement if you shall lower your sword."
"There is no shame in wishing a gentle peace, Sir Vilhelm."
A gentle peace…that sounded rather ideal, but not something for the likes of him.
"All deserve to have a rest, Sir Vilhelm. There is not a single soul that should find themselves spurned from the grace of paradise. If there is nothing else, I shall carry the weight of your sins."
There was quite a bit of weight to his sins.
"When the moment comes you cannot bear it further, I shall let you leave in peace."
The moment came.
And he stayed.
Because that peace she promised…it was something that everyone deserved.
It was something he could see and feel.
It was something he would kill for.
Because it was for her sake.
For the sake of all she would strive to do.
He believed in the peace she spoke of.
Because some burdens…truly are too heavy to bear.
It was barely a second after the words passed through Sulyvahn's lips that Vilhelm coiled his body, the Pontiff furrowed his wooden brow as the Saber twisted himself side on, pulling the sword back and grasping it with both hands.
He'd jumped to grant himself some distance, but now that felt as though it might not have been the greatest of ideas. The silence that came from the knight was concerning as well, he would have expected loud words of rebuke or staunch defences towards Friede. Instead he was met with silence, nothing but the howl of the wind and the crackle of flame.
The aura of the knight had shifted, there was barely a sense of anger about them. Instead they remained frozen the moment they had moved, still as a statue to the point where they could have been thought to pass out on their feet they made nothing as much as a flinch. The sword still poised backwards, the tip pointing behind the knight.
A beat.
The onyx blade exploded, it was neither a jolt of fire nor a river, it burned like the sun. A jet of black flames rushed forth from the blade with such suddenness and ferocity that the body of the knight did not even adjust for the momentum, instead letting it be pulled along with it. The feet of Vilhelm left the ground a second later, all while the flames of the sword screamed. His body spun in the air, a black wall of fire soon surrounded Vilhelm like a tornado of fire.
Sulyvahn kicked off the ground jumping backwards as the power of the sudden stream let Vilhelm close the distance between them in less than the blink of an eye, raising his sword upwards to block the next attack as the sword reached the point of perhaps the fifth spin, Vilhelm's feet had not even touched the ground when the sword slammed into his guard, his entire arm jerked to the side as the propulsion of the sword trumped whatever strength he had in his one arm, snapping the limb to the side and leaving him wide open.
His single wing beat once, an awkward movement that sent him further backwards.
Vilhelms feet hit the ground, then left it once more as the fires burned as brightly as ever. The propulsion not letting up in the least as the knight accelerated to well beyond his original speed, his body surrounded by a cloak of black flames that drove him onwards, the sword moulding into the inferno that surrounded his body, the thickness of the blaze so great that nothing of the Onyx blade could be seen, instead it looked as though Vilhelm was swinging a solidified rod of pure heat.
The distance was crossed again, still spinning his body like a vortex and swinging downwards. Sulyvahn reversed his sword and braced it against his body. The blade fell and crashed into him with the entire weight of the knight behind it, Sulyvahn found himself blown backwards, his body twisting through the air as he tried to land on his feet, single wing beating furiously to realign his body.
If he had visible eyes, they would have bulged from his skull as he noticed that Vilhelm was upon him yet again, the roar of the fire howled around him, his vision full of nothing but pure obsidian with flashes of white leaking through, the heat of the inferno clung to his skin, patches of embers forming on his robes as they burned. He brought the sword up in a hasty guard-
The weapon was struck with incredibly force, Vilhelm swung with both arms and batted the sword aside, still spinning his body and launching a kick directly into Sulyvahn's gut, dragging a river of fire behind him as he did so and slamming the burning boot in his chest, the Pontiff struck the snow a second later and in the same breath, was bounced off the snow and righted his body while still in the air. The second his feet touched the ground he accelerated backwards, swinging his greatsword upwards and unleashing a torrent of profaned flames onto the direction of the black knight.
Even if it did not hurt him, the flames would likely-
Vilhelm burst through them like a tsunami, the rivers of black fire ripped through the profaned flames like water bursting from a dam. The knight slowned not even a single step in his pursuit, barely even registering the existence of the attack in the first place from the looks of things. Sulyvahn angled his blade, already bracing his body for the glancing blow his guard would receive, the sword pulled backwards and into a preparation for a thrust, Vilhelm threw his whole body into the move, with the power of the black flames propelling him onwards like a rocket.
One foot touched the ground and it was ample enough to kick, shattering the earth beneath the armoured step and launching the knight. The tip of the blackened fire sword smashed into Sulyvahn's guard, rocking his whole arm as he angled the blade ever so slightly and forced the tip of Vilhelms weapon to slide over the face of the blade, carving across it with a blackened trail of fire and coming dangerously close to his neck. With a twist, Vilhelm angled the sword at the last moment so it cut into his right shoulder as it passed.
Biting back a hiss, the black flames licked at his skin with grim results. His body cracked and split under the head, burning embers formed on the surface of his robes and upon his wooden skin itself. With a snarl, Sulyvahn backhanded the sword away from his torso and twisted his body, swinging his left leg upwards and landing a solid blow onto Vilhelm's side. The knight gave a single wheeze as Sulyvahn sent him spiralling through the air, the recoil from the kick similarly sent him into an uncontrolled launch and crashing into the building on the street, Vilhelm striking the house opposite in an explosion of obsidian flames.
The house had not even fallen before the Knight went bursting through the front of the building once more, each stepping dragging with it another spark of abyssal flames. Sulyvahn fought back an exhausted noise as he watched Vilhelm bound towards him with his sword held high once more. With a snarl, he pushed himself back onto his feet and peeled his body from the brick wall behind him, clay blocks clattered to the ground as his body was ripped free of its confines.
This was no longer something that he could underestimate, if it had ever been like that. He had never seen Vilhelm do something like this before and the chances were that he could not keep it up for very long, few could utilise magical energy so violently for so long a period of time, in addition to that, every burst of fire had originated from the sword rather than from the knight himself. It meant the sword was the cause but even then, there was no way he could channel that much power into himself and not exhaust his body.
The Profaned greatsword burned in his hand, matching the intensity of the Onyx Blade with its own brilliant glowing blaze casting a light over the street as though the sun was rising from the ground up. Angling his body, Sulyvahn lowered himself into a sprinting posture and took in a deep breath. Vilhelm was already halfway across the street and if he waited any longer, then he would lose the momentum he had managed to secure. He pressed his legs down, pushing his feet off the ground and sending himself skywards. His body soared through the sky for a brief second, sword held aloft as he crossed the distance between himself and Vilhelm in the single jump, swinging the Profaned greatsword down in an arc towards the knight. Vilhelm did not slow himself, instead swung upwards as he charged.
The sword swords crashed into one another with an explosion of fire, all Sulyvahn could feel was the furnace blasted in his face, his skin cracked and shattered as splinters were blown from his cheeks, his clothes were set alight and the flames quickly moving to claim his skin a similar matter. However, it meant very little to him. He would not lose to Vilhelm, not to the likes of one of Friede's bootlickers.
Not to someone like that.
"Rrrrhhhhaaaaa!" With a roar, he pushed forwards and kept on swinging, matching Vilhelm blow for blow as the two continued their relentless assault against one another, their bodies being consumed in the fires, flashes of fiery blazes and consuming onyx filled the streets with the blurs of both Sulyvahn and Vilhelm moving between each clash, the two men dancing between one another as they tore apart the street with their combat, the ringing of steel had become deafening, the sounds of metal screaming out as it was pushed beyond its limits.
Yet neither one backed down.
He caught the kick in the chin, grunting as his vision spun around in circles and being forced a step backwards. He responded quickly, slashing upwards and extending the blade into a fiery beam once more. Atalanta reacted to that swiftly enough, turning her body and letting the blade glide over her front while swinging her legs upwards.
Her shins struck the flat end of the sword, even with the hiss of fire touching fur the weapon was still struck with enough force to wrench it from his grip and send it flying upwards, the sword shot through the floor above them, disappearing with a crash of wood. He stepped backwards, arm going wide with the force.
Atalanta flipped backwards, her hands touching the floor and coiling her body inwards, drawing her legs close to herself while performing the angled handstand. After a split second, she pushed off the ground and thrust her legs forwards. Ash raised his left arm in front of himself, gritting his teeth as her feet slammed into his guard and very nearly knocked him over, had it not been for the fact he was enhanced with his pyromancies, he was certain she might have.
He moved quickly, pushing his left arm to the side and dragging her feet with it. His right arm came down as she was spun, a brief look of surprise on her face which quickly shifted into worry as his right arm fell down like an axe. His fingers spread wide like claws and sharply clamped down around her left ankle. With a grunt, he pulled her forwards and swept her off the ground, spinning his body on his heel as he did so and swinging her forwards.
She smashed through the closet wall, Ash wasted no time in pulling her back from the rubble and swinging her in the opposite direction, this time shattering the wall with the back of her head and shoulders. He knew he wouldn't have long to hold her, she would likely break out of this hold soon, but it was just the fact he was able to finally get a hit on her that was something he jumped at the chance of exploiting for all it was worth.
The stone crumbled as he pulled her away from the damage, he doubted the building could suffer many more blows such as this and perhaps he might have been more inclined to care at an earlier junction.
But there was something about this woman, her words, that vexed him deeply. Especially since he had spoken with her and she had appeared quite reasonable. If it truly was a case like Jeanne d'Arc and her altered self and this one was a construct made in facsimile of the original with her values twisted to the whims of her new master, then perhaps he did owe it to Atalanta to remove this insult to her.
Her body twisted, with incredible core strength she pulled herself upwards and took a swipe towards him. Ash leaned himself back, the claws just skating past his armoured shin, and then pulled his arm upwards and dragged the woman along with it. Her face struck the remains of the wooden flooring above with a sharp crack, shattering the remnants and sending splinters crashing down to earth as he pulled her down as fast as he could, this time her body fractured the ground.
He pulled her towards himself as fast as he could, her body leaving the ground as he dragged her legs past himself and released his hold on her leg. His right hand clenched into a fist as he drew his arm backwards. Atalanta's face came into his field of view as she twisted her head to stare up at him, her eyes locked onto his fist and then became acutely aware of the fact she was no longer touching the ground and was being rapidly pulled into the air.
Ash swung down, with the clear intent of driving his fist into her face and then hammering her skull into the floor with as much force as he possibly could. Her arms blurred and her hands clamped down around his arm in the split second before the punch landed. In the next moment, her arms wrapped around the rest of the limb and she twisted her head to the side. Instead of striking her, the fist struck the floor next to her.
Her legs came free of his arm and snaked upwards, they fell down and coiled around the back of his head and shoulders, bending slightly and locking his neck down with the joint at the knee. Ash found that he had barely a moment to realise what was going on before Atalanta pushed, driving her legs downwards clockwise and pushing him towards the ground, he dropped like lead, his face struck the floor with a weighty thud.
Letting her lock him down like this was a recipe for disaster and he could already feel her grasp on his arm tightening. His increased endurance would only afford him so much leeway. The sound of his titanite armour creaking in protest as Atalanta started to pull on the limb sent alarms ringing through his body, he did not need a repeat of what had occurred last time to strike him yet again. Especially not with his dominant hand.
Slamming his left hand into the ground between the two of them, he channelled magical energy into the palm and let loose another pyromancy. This time calling upon the pillars of fire, the floor erupted with head as towers of red hot flame shot upwards all around them, drawing a cry of alarm from Atalanta as the molten towers spit out splotches of Chaos fire in every direction they rose from, their bases leaked out the thick burning rivers of magma, the sound of roaring jets was deafening and swiftly overcame her alarm.
The pressure left his arm a moment later, he drew his limb back to his body and out of the woman's grasp, turning himself to face her only to catch her shin in the side of his head, snapping it backwards with a sharp crack, then going downwards as she stomped on his face with an armoured heel. His body contorted, a tightness around his shoulders pulled him upwards as he realised a second later - the moment his body left the ground - that the woman had grabbed ahold of his cape and pulled him into the air with it.
Wind rushed past as the room blurred around him, feeling his body meet resistance briefly with a shudder before it gave way, a cacophony of chaotic sounds - crashes, rumbles and snarls - met his ears as he was spun around by the item of clothing. His desperate attempts to reach behind him were met with failure as he picked up more and more speed, the room becoming indiscernible as he moved at speeds which made it impossible to make out specific details.
Then the pressure on his neck was released, accompanied by a roar, he was let loose of his hold and in the next moment, he found himself outside once again, twisting through the air and barely catching sight of the house he had just been inside crumbling in on itself as the last of the supports gave way, at least the half of the house that had not followed him when he was sent flying through the upper floor and the ceiling with a single throw of the woman.
It was not even a second later, the building having not even collapsed, when Atalanta came bursting through the ruins and into the air with a powerful beat of her wings. Her bow flashing in her hand as she climbed higher than him, nocking an arrow and drawing it back faster than he could register. He dimly realised what was going to happen, his hand flew to his bottomless box and flipped it open as fast as he could.
She loosened it at the same time he pulled forth the large weighty blocks of reinforced wood. Slamming the twin doors against one another and creating the best barrier he could think of. A tremble passed through his body, his arms screamed in protest and he found himself falling to the ground once again, flashes of purple light rushed around either side of the twin tower shields as more arrows struck it and exploded, his defence held firm for whatever good it was going to do.
The shudders stopped, he turned his head to look down to the ground he was rapidly approaching. A frown came upon his face, he could turn his body to brace his landing a bit easier but that would expose himself to further attacks from the Archer and relying on her to miss was a fool's errand, she had already proven herself an incredible marksman.
Regardless, he was left with little choice.
He turned his body, keeping the shields locked together above his head while he aimed the rest of his body down, his legs poised to take the brunt of the impact. Another frown came upon him, he noticed that the woman had not fired an arrow in a good second-
Atalanta appeared in front of him, bereft of her bow and with her claws spread wide as if going for a tackle. Ash widened his eyes in alarm, already preparing to counter her. Except she did not go for a tackle, instead her hands swung up and clamped down around the frame of the twin shields, anchoring her body while she snapped her legs together and let the momentum of the sudden shift in angle carry her forwards.
His eyes bulged and he let out a gasp, bone cracked beneath his armour as she swung a two footed kick into his gut, bending his body and pulling the shields apart above his head, the arms coming to his side and coughing out what he assumed was probably blood, though it did not leave his helmet. She released her hold on the shields, letting him fly away from her as she twisted in the air and brought the bow forth once more.
There wasn't time to bring up both shields as she was already loosening an arrow at him, he brought up the left shield to cover his body as best he could. The arrow exploded, the shockwave reverberated through his arms and shoulder. The guard had been hasty and balancing in the air was impossible for him, the end result was to be expected. He spun through the air, unable to control himself and sent crashing through the rooftops and into another building.
Debris in the form of tiles, brick and wood dropped down around him as he smashed into the floors, letting out a deep groan as he released his hold on the shields, dismissing them back to his bottomless box and already moving to try and find the next weapon. There wasn't time to be selective so he grabbed the first thing he could think of, pulling the sword out and pointing it towards the hole he had crashed through, flipping onto his back and quickly rising up to his feet.
He paused, if only briefly, to stare at the plain longsword in his hands.
…How long had it been since he held this weapon?
The thoughts were banished from his mind, his left hand ran across the surface of the weapon and painted it with fire, pulling the hand away and twirling the sword in his grasp, still aiming towards the sky and waiting for the appearance of the woman. His eyes narrowed as he was rewarded with nothing.
His brows furrowed, though he did not lower the sword. The silence was telling, Atalanta had not hesitated to pursue him further yet now she was remaining behind? Something was wrong with that situation-
The wall to his side exploded inwards, he turned on his heel and raised the flat of his blade instantly. The weapon clashed with the front of Atalanta's bow, locking it in place and illuminating the savage snarl of the woman with its flames. He twisted the sword and dragged it across, forcing her to take a step backwards as he advanced and thrust the weapon forwards.
She leaned back, shifting his thrust into a stab as he followed her downwards. The woman ducked her body to the side, the sword pierced through the floorboards, she lashed out with a sweeping kick as she did so and struck the blade with her shin, tearing it from the ground. This time, he did not lose his hold on the weapon and let the momentum of the kick carry him as well, turning his body and performing a complete spin as he brought himself around. Reversing his grip on the longsword and charging forwards the second the animal woman was in his line of sight.
He slashed downwards.
Atalanta snarled and raised the bow over her left side, her legs locking down as she blocked the blow. Ash pushed forwards, his left hand thrust itself forwards and clamped down around her throat, she widened her eyes as he swung her around, dragging her feet off the ground and slamming her into a nearby wall, denting it inwards as his sword pierced through the side of the building with ease, still locked with the blow, and he started to push it forwards with all his might.
A furred hand came away from the bow quickly, pushing up around his arm and then wrapping around it with her whole limb, prying it away from her neck and bringing up her leg and pressing up against his abdomen to give herself more distance from him. With a single grunt, she pushed against his body and forced herself backwards, the wall opened up behind her as she rolled back into the street.
He gave chase, breaking through the ruins and moving after her. Granting her distance now would just let her use her bow again. At close distance she might have been his better but he was gradually picking up what she was able to do the more she moved, with his nature as an undead he could afford injuries she could not. Sooner or later she would make a mistake and he would be able to get her.
Kicking off the ground, he launched himself through the air towards the woman as her head snapped up and faced him once more.
The snow parted in front of him, a small cloud being kicked up as though something had landed in it. A split second later he detected a presence, accompanied by the air shimmering and a large form easily a head taller than himself fading into existence. He had just enough time to widen his eyes behind his helmet before a large hand clamped down around his head, the rest of his body continued forwards, swinging around the new anchor point and pivoting his body so his back was now facing the ground.
The grip was tight but it was just enough to hold him, a moment later he felt himself moving through the air at a rather…mediocre speed, as though it had been a lazy toss rather than the brutal throws of Atalanta.
It gave him enough time to turn his body as he moved through the air and land on his feet, tensing his body up as his eyes fell upon the new arrival, briefly raising an eyebrow as he stared at them. Though the new presence could not be denied, a strong Lordkin now stood before him, very likely a Goddess.
The flames in his left hand turned black instantly, they would prove far more useful in this fight.
The woman, standing a full head over him with fur growing from her body styled into a manner similar to a dress, platinum coloured hair extending down her shoulders, a full fluffy tail swaying behind her and a humanoid face with vibrant green eyes stared right back at him. A large scythe held in her right hand easily as long as he was tall and a blade half his height, yet the hold on the weapon was lazy, as though she did not intend to swing it.
After a moment, she raised it up, holding it like a bar and blocking Atalanta from advancing past her to get to him as she readied herself. He was clearly not alone in seeing the movement as peculiar as surprise flashed through the features of Atalanta, the woman's face scrunched up in shock as she stared at the new arrival.
"What are you-?" She started to speak up, but was cut short before she could finish her sentence.
"Jack is in peril, please get her to safety. I shall join you momentarily." The woman spoke in a gentle voice, though its commanding tones could not be ignored. Atalanta looked as though she had initially wanted to argue, though swiftly thought better of it as she turned on her heel - though not before shooting him a final glare - and launched herself into the air with a few beats of her wings. Leaving him behind with the tall woman, he'd seen such features before.
A crossbreed, though this one was much taller than the likes of Yorshka.
The woman stared at him for a few moments longer, then she eventually spoke up. "I have sensed your pain from across the world, it calls to me even now." Ash remained impassive behind his helm, though he internally frowned at her words. "It is why I stand before you now and offer you this chance to lay down your sword and accept the comfort that this world brings. It is a comfort that you, more than any other, are in desperate need of."
He frowned at her, if she had seen his face she would have known just what he thought of that option. Regardless, she presented herself as one who propagated this world and the rot that festered within it. If she - like Atalanta - was one who deemed this existence acceptable, then they marked themselves as enemies against both himself and humanity as a whole.
He would not let them suffer this fate, even while he debated their worth.
This fate was not one he would allow.
"I shall accept nothing of this frozen land." The words came from his mouth with force, ensuring that he could not be misunderstood. "Nor shall I tolerate any who believe this existence can be justified. Those who willingly take to this land should be dealt with mercy, rather than be allowed to linger in this unending state of anguish-"
"There is no anguish to be found here." The woman matched his tone this time, her eyes narrowed at him ever so slightly with a touch of heat entering her voice even as she made no moves against him. "Do you not see? Have you not witnessed it? The silence of the streets? The tranquillity of the air? A far cry from the suffering that once haunted the streets of this era. A land where even those who were abandoned by all others and were shown not an ounce of kindness can find acceptance."
"Debating this with you is pointless. If you believe this world just and right, then there is no sense to be found with you. Any who could see value in this land do not truly understand humanity. There is not a single human who would ever see this as something valuable-"
"How certain your words are." She cut him off, leaning her head to the side and pacing, still facing him as she moved back and forth, dragging her scythe through the snow. "Though I ask, how much do you understand of the world in which you stand? Though perhaps that is why you seek to undo my efforts to save humanity. Aiding in an incineration that will see their race reduced to nothing."
This time, he did blink.
"Are you bereft of sanity?" He asked after a moment of silence, earning a puzzled look from the crossbreed. "Our efforts here work to undo your own. It is through your own hand that this era is laid waste, the longer this hell remains painted on this land, the greater the damage you inflict. In seeking to save humanity, you doom it."
Besides, if this was the salvation she envisaged, then humanity was better off dead than accepting of this. This state where duty was all but abandoned, where one would remain listless and accepting of whatever came their way. Unable to ever achieve a true sense of completion.
"And if this-" Gesturing around himself, he made no effort to keep his disgust from his voice "-is your attempt at salvation of humanity. Then the humans of this era are truly better off dead."
"...Has cruelty turned your heart so cold?"
"Cruelty?" He parroted the word, tasting it in his mouth and finding it foul. Did she have even a single ounce of sense in her being? What she was doing outed her as a cruel one. Depriving these people of the chance to find their duty in life, to pursue their sense of purpose and finding that completion that kept humanity going. That should have kept humanity moving. This world rejected that, as if saying simply existing was more than enough. These people who lost everything were granted neither mercy nor the chance to rebuild themselves.
He shook his head from side to side, pointing his sword to the crossbreed. "No. It is you who is the cruel one. Forcing these humans into this world, removing their chances to live by their duties and robbing them of their purpose. The incineration can only kill them, what you do here annihilates their very being. You turn them into hollows in all but name."
The woman stilled, her pacing halted and her eyes narrowing. "...What of those humans who accept this world willingly?"
What of them? Had he not made that clear to her?
"If they are unable to find a duty to provide purpose, if they can no longer find a true meaning behind their existence then its continuation is to suffer. If that is how they can only live, then the greatest kindness that can be offered is a swift and merciful end to them. If you have any who live like that, then I shall put them to rest as they deserve."
"And it is you who decides this?"
"There can be no other." It was a simple matter of experience. He had seen the end result of striving for existence above all else. The people of the Painted World begged him for death to release them of their lives. To have their world burned away into nothing as they could not tolerate the rot any longer. Beyond that, the state of the world at large. From ambition and greed forcing it to repeat a cycle again and again, the undead who lost their way and turned to mindless creatures.
He would not allow something like that to come to pass ever again.
He could not.
The woman said nothing for but a few seconds, then her voice came out cold.
"I see. So that is what I would have become had I remained with her as you did."
…Her?
"Her?"
The expression shifted, confusion coming to her features before understanding settled upon them. "So you truly remain ignorant. Memories buried so deep within one's soul that they cannot be said to exist at all…perhaps this ignorance is why you reject this peace."
"What madness do you-?"
"In that case, I shall elucidate you." She waved a hand towards him, her expression shifted into something apologetic. "This world - my home - unlocks all memories within it. An art taught by my Grandmother. For what comes next…you have my sympathies."
He felt an alarm ringing through his head, he kicked off the ground and launched himself forwards.
Do you understand your purpose?
"Yes."
Do you doubt your existence?
"No."
With no worry, your body will not hesitate.
"I will worry for nothing."
With no fear, your sword will not falter.
"I will fear nothing that crosses my path."
You are of powerful blood, this grants you great strength.
"I shall use this strength for your will."
This is your value.
"I understand."
This duty is your life, my will is your soul, my words are your courage.
"I shall not fail in my duty."
This is your value.
"I do as you command."
Do you understand?
"Yes, Mother. I understand."