The Spartan awoke once more. This time, he was not thrown into the waking world violently and out of confusion. He was brought in feeling fully refreshed and overwhelmingly relaxed. There were no questions or confusion about this state: this was all the benefit granted to him by the power of those soul shards.
He stood up and flexed his muscles, before nodding to himself. Yes, this will do nicely. Strength filled every part with his body, and he knew at this point that he had surpassed his own limits. Though, the flexing could wait for later.
Right now, he had to check up on the Crusader. Without further ado, he went ahead and went back into the room and checked on his associate. What he found was quite a pleasant surprise, seeing as his associate was up and going.
The man had recovered from the backlash, as he was capable of sifting through the bottles on the tall shelves without having the urge to keel over from exhaustion. His breathing was back to normal, and he seemed calm and collected while picking up a random bottle and uncorking it. At that moment, he took a sniff of the contents, before reeling back with a jolt and shutting the thing close.
“What might you be doing there?” He asked as he walked forward, his associate stepping back for a second, “Are you trying to find some alcohol to celebrate your survival?”
“No.” The Crusader shook his head, before sighing, “I was hoping to find something a bit more worthwhile in these bottles, something that could be used other than drinking. Unfortunately, they’re either alcohol or far too rotten to be of use. There is truly nothing we could save for later.”
“Surely you jest! Alcohol is more than capable of getting us some joy in these dark lands, make sure you collect each one.” He smiled as he picked up a random bottle and uncorked it. Then a quick whiff and–
Sour and rot. Those were the intense smells that hit his nose the moment the bottle came near his nose. He frowned as he looked inside the container, finding what seemed to be a greenish red liquid within.
“You’re right. We’ll need to be cautious of what we choose here.” The Spartan said as he shoved the foul liquid away from him, “Make sure they’re good, otherwise we’ll be in for a dangerous time.”
“How exactly do you want me to carry all these heavy bottles? There aren’t any bags or any tools I could use to transport all of these, and my belt is quite full at this time.”
He was ready to give a retort to that statement, at least until he took those words in and looked at the Crusader’s belt. True to his word, there was no space left in the strap, as every single loop had been filled with different bottles. There was nothing he could store, not unless he got rid of his long sword. Something the Spartan doubted would even be on the tables.
“Perhaps we could go searching for a cloth bag or basket somewhere around here. I did find quite a few areas worth checking out while scouting earlier.”
The Crusader raised an eyebrow at that statement. He seemed to have something he wanted to say, but rather than continue, he chose to keep quiet.
“Perhaps we should focus on finding the rotten bastard that is in charge of this tower and then celebrate with all the alcohol? We are in enemy territory, which means we need to hurry up and make sure that we are able to rush forward and do our job as–”
“Are you fully recovered?”
His associate jolted back from the interruption, not expecting him to speak up like that. He definitely scowled behind his helmet as he stepped forward with a grim look on his face.
“Of course I am! I am as fat as I can be and more limber than–”
“Then you can go ahead and use your divinity right now without backlash, yes?”
At that, the Crusader flinched. He seemed to have no words for that, struggling to come up with an excuse to explain everything. Yet nothing came out of his mouth, for there was nothing he could say to help alleviate the situation. Then there was no other option for him besides to sit down on the ground in defeat.
“No. I can’t.”
“Then let’s not go rushing in without a plan, alright?” The Spartan stated rather harshly, “We already saw the result of such an action when we had to deal with those soldiers from earlier. Do you really want to have a repeat of that tragedy, where death was around the corner and there truly seemed to be no hope at all?”
“I understand! I get it already.” His associate raised his hands up in anger as he looked away, “There is a time and place to rush in! But the fact that we have to sit around and do nothing irks me. We should be able to go in and do what is necessary, the longer we take, the more the citizens of this town suffer.”
At that, he harrumphed. What a ridiculous statement. Of course people were going to suffer, that was taken as fact. However, to use that as an excuse to charge in was something far foolish. Even with everything he knew about his past, that statement could not act as a means to explain away the whole issue of being reckless. His king had charged recklessly to save the country and his people, yes, but at least he had good reasoning to do so. The goal wasn’t to merely save Sparta, but to ensure the entirety of Greece would have a chance to fight against an unstoppable horde.
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This was far lesser in comparison. Fighting recklessly to try to save a mere city was not a good enough excuse to go around in enemy territory like a headless chicken. They had to be smart and plan around what was to come, especially when they were in the best position of defense. Though, the whole problem came with the fact that they were still in the hands of the tower’s master, making this whole position untenable.
What if the owner of this structure had the ability to swap around rooms or floors? He wouldn’t put that as an impossibility, seeing as how things have gone so far. There could be more soldiers rushing in to take him out for his supposed crime of stealing divinity.
That was a joke in itself. If they hadn’t wanted him to steal such a prized possession, perhaps they should have been wiser and had one person run away to prevent him from obtaining their divine powers. Unfortunately for them, they seemed far too foolish to even think of such a tactic. By Tartarus, they were all probably arrogant thanks to their supposed immortality preventing them from dying in battle. If he were to bet, he expected them to believe that they were true immortals and nothing could ultimately kill them.
Though, there was one question that was plaguing his mind: how many more soldiers were there? The fact they dropped soul shards meant that the original divinity had been divided up into different pieces amongst each different squadron of soldiers that roamed these lands. Though, did this mean they split up the divinity fairly amongst each other, or was this all fragments gifted to them by the Usurper?
No, more than that: what were these memories that he was seeing? Clearly, the lord in those thoughts had to be the Usurper, as he had the goal to overthrow the current leader. That meant he was looking into the past of that man’s view, but then came the question of whom the second in command was.
He was the origin point for everything. Perhaps he was the commander of all these soldiers? If so, then there was one thing the Spartan had to admit.
He was truly looking forward to feeding that man his own teeth. For making him deal with all of these annoyances, for continuously causing problem after problem with his own selfish desires, and for being such a kiss-ass that brought shame to anyone that would dare call themselves a warrior.
Oh, he looked forward to that. His only hope was that the man wasn’t dead, else all of those fragmented memories were for naught.
“Hello? Are you alright? Or are you still worn out from earlier?”
The Crusader’s questions snapped the Spartan out of his musing as he turned towards his associate. He blinked for a little while, before smiling and shaking his head.
“Oh no, nothing like that. I was merely thinking over everything that had happened over the past while. Like everything that happened after touching that shard and figuring out what to do from there.”
At those words, his associate seemed to give off an aura of disgust. Something that certainly confused him with no avail. What on earth would compel the man to react like that?
It’s not like I’m doing anything horrible. I’m not going around eating souls from living beings, or murdering people to try to get stronger. What was happening was purely accidental and even then, the second time came from your intervention. Why are you acting like that?
This thought bothered the Spartan so much that he had to ask.
“What’s your problem with the soul shard?”
“Hmph.” The Crusader scoffed before shaking his head. “It’s unnatural, that’s what it is. Not to mention absolutely heretical.”
“What?”
“Eating souls. That’s the work of Satan and his cohorts.” The man stated, before continuing on, “Those are the vile things that we were warned by the priests, that the unholy legions that dwell in hell seek. They want nothing more than to steal the righteous souls of all humans that live. Their goal is to corrupt and destroy, which comes at the cost of destroying everything they get their hands on. Something that you have begun to do with those previous bastards.”
The Spartan couldn’t quite help but marvel at the logic the man had woven around himself. Truly, the self-righteousness was quite impressive. He didn’t know whether to pummel the man for such harsh words, or to congratulate him for being so rigid. Though, one thing was for certain: this single thought could act as a means to disrupt any alliance they have should he allow this to fester.
Something that he was not willing to tolerate. Though, he wasn’t too worried. He had an idea.
“You’re saying I’m stealing souls and that makes me a demon?”
“Exactly!” The Crusader spat, “As much as I was willing to try to let this go, it’s still too much! You cannot expect me to accept all of these horrendous acts without reason! Why, I suspect you’d be horrified if I were to do something like eat the flesh of the soldiers without any qualms, no?”
That wasn’t true, but the Spartan had an inkling that voicing his honest opinion was only going to make things worse here. So, he merely pivoted to another topic entirely.
“Then what you’re saying is that I’m doing wrong here, right?”
“As I said before, exactly!”
“Then doesn’t this mean that the one who gifted me this power is evil and corrupt, like you say?”
The Crusader nodded and got ready to rant some more. And then the realization of his own words hit him.
If the Spartan eating souls was evil, then so too was the man who gifted him such an ability. The one who had provided him with those powers was none other than God himself, the one who brought both of them to this world. By accusing him of being evil, then by default he was declaring God as a corrupt bastard as well.
Something that the Spartan knew would break this man’s thought process. So, he let himself sit back and watch as the man’s brain started to malfunction with that logic running through his head. All he had to do was wonder how long it would take for him to recover from that massive mind spiral.