In most young people’s lives, there comes a time when a son or daughter is forced to watch their parents in pain. These moments of utter agony are fleeting at best and long term at worst. An extended stay in bed, a sleepless night of coughing fit after coughing fit. Healing magic, luckily, was a great means of defending the young from seeing something truly horrible.

That luxury was unfortunately less than reliable in the case of fighting between incredibly powerful beings . Death came too quickly, maiming came with a flick of the wrist, and there was always a lack of hesitation – a moment in which someone could escape certain doom due to inexperience or humanity.

Diana’s opponent was no saint and nowhere near an inept swordsman.

Her arm, lacerated from the base of the armpit up and over her shoulder, hung together by less than a sliver of skin and muscle. No bone connected it to her, no ligaments or tendons sought to control her hand or fingers.

The battle removed the pain from the injury, her Legacy providing only bountiful bonuses. Pain equaled rage and rage equaled power, as far as the Berserker Lord was concerned. Yet as she defended herself from the Harbinger, swinging her battle axe one handed, rot began to consume.

It easily tore through her lame arm, boiling the skin and sundering what little connection it had. The arm fell, landing with a shock of carmine red and emerald.

White mist poured from Diana’s maw after each exhale, her eyes disowned her humanity, and her muscles bulged. She lost herself, reaching back, axe in hand. With speed beyond what the stone street could take, she flexed, sundering the land before her. A crescent moon escaped her weapon, ripping into the Harbinger without need of worry.

She had no worry, only anger.

The Harbinger caught the strike on his sword, redirecting it with the precision of a marble sculptor. It whipped down the street, tearing the cobble stone from the dirt and turning a dark stone building into nothing more than its building blocks.

There was no time to breathe, Diana closing the distance in a fraction of a heartbeat. Power clashed against the man’s weapon, breaking it after only a few strikes. The man was beheaded a moment later.

At least, he would have been if he was any other Harbinger. The Undying Lord wasn’t just a title, it was a sovereign. The man’s head grew back with a hail of green sparks. His sword reformed a moment later as well, and this time he attacked. A kick sent Diana somersaulting away into a wall.

Jude started to run to her, but both Glenny and Leland caught him. He fought against their restraint, hoarfrost coming to serve. He broke away easily, his strength far out classing theirs.

The Harbinger didn’t glance at him, instead returning his attention to Sybil who was now entering the first layer of ruins. At least, until Diana unearthed herself from the rubble.

Thick sickly green veins were encroaching into her neck and face, growing from the stumped wound. She swayed like a drunkard after a long night of drinks, her consciousness fading yet endlessly raging. She took a step, appearing beside the Harbinger mid swing.

The man took it in stride, allowing his upper chest to be cleaved in half. Instantly sparks reconnected the pieces, allowing him to counter unimpeded. His thin sword sliced through a portal that suddenly opened before him, before carving into Diana. Blood and green ichor fell from a gash just above her hip.

Another seed of rot was planted.

Diana disregarded her axe, dropping it in favor of a crushing hug. It was one armed, but she was still able to wrap herself around the man and break his spine. Only, it didn’t matter as it healed instantly.

The Harbinger released his own weapon, and pulled his arm back like a viper about to strike.

That was when Jude lost his own humanity in favor of a rage unbounded.

Back in the dungeon on the small island off the coast of the town Frostford, the Guardian Spirit Beast, Gelo, had assisted Jude with controlling his rage in several ways. One was that of a blessing, the other a technique to always be able to remember who he was while enraged. These, however, fell by the wayside as he watched something truly horrible.

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A parent about to die.

With a kick off, Jude flew down the street axe in hand. There was no talent in his attack, no technique, no rationale. He just attacked, all semblance of thought having been drained away by raw rage.

Starting with a tackle, Jude slammed into the wall of Harbinger, breaking both shoulders instantly. The pain fueled a brutal swing, cleaving into the man with a force previously unknown to the young Berserker Legacy. His axe only cut through skin, stopping cold at bone.

It was then that several dozen Reflections descended from the sky, lava halberds at the ready. A hand grabbed Jude by the nape, throwing him back toward Leland and Glenny. A similar gesture was done for Diana, but she suddenly disappeared mid-flight, a portal having swallowed her.

One by one the Harbinger killed the ghostly defenders, each molten wound they endured nothing more than paper cuts.

Both Leland and Glenny threw themselves to stop Jude from returning to battle, but luckily a portal opened below his feet. Jude fell in, but the portal didn’t instantly close.

Spencer’s voice rushed through it, “Hurry! Jump in! You’ve got to go—” A shockwave removed another building from the street. The portal smeared shut, stranding Leland and Glenny.

For Leland, who was already planning to stay and assist Sybil by any means necessary, that wasn’t an issue. For Glenny, who wished to leave, well, he still could shadow step away.

“Leland!” Glenny shouted over the booming call of the Reflections’ march. Searing heat coursed through the street as emerald beams of pure rot ran rampant. “What are you doing?! We—”

The pair met one another, seeking cover behind an explosion of rosy red mana. Who threw such a spell? They didn’t know, only that it felt more than dangerous. The red whipped back and forth smashing into buildings on either side, desperately trying to keep the Harbinger from entering the Ruins and deeper.

The Harbinger muttered something, and a moment later the red-mana mage was gone, no doubt teleported. But that… that wasn’t right, right? It was too quick, the teleporting. Spencer was running interference on the Witch, making it so her power was limited in speed and scope.

Leland’s heart sank at the thought. Did something happen to his father?

“You go. I’ve got to try and help somehow. If things get too bad, then my dad will portal me out.” Leland knew he was lying to his friend. If his guess really was true, then there would be no portals to have.

“You can’t be serious!?” Glenny yelled back with a mulled curse. “Leland you can’t go off solo again! Remember what happened last—”

“I do, Glenny. I do.” Leland stood, summoning his grimoire. “And I couldn’t live with myself if I just allowed a Harbinger to take Sybil!”

The rogue hesitated. “Then I’m coming with you—”

“No! No. This is going to be a gamble as it is, you should retreat and make sure Jude is okay. Please. You can’t help in this scenario.”

Glenny stared at Leland, a lifelong friendship flickering through his mind. “No. We are in this together.”

The pair stared at each other for a long moment. Their trio had been defeated, their third member gone for who knows how long. Did they dare go it alone? To fight where their parents failed?

Leland spun and sprinted off, Glenny matching his speed with ease. They had plenty of ground to cover, the battle exiting the city and venturing into the decrepit ruins of the Reflection Kingdom. Overhead, Reflections fought, dive bombing into Undying Soldiers, striking without recourse or reason. Occasional adventurers or city guards were on the path deeper into the destruction, but the number of dead bodies far outweighed the number alive.

Luckily the Harbinger wasn’t killing indiscriminately, only targeting those who sought to slow his progress. Nearly all of the civilian population had long since evacuated.

Rounding a corner, the ruins quickly turned into black stone piles of rubble. Buildings, churches, homes, everything that once was, was now remnants of brick and mortar. Walls, partially collapsed, only standing by ancient concrete and proper engineering. A perpetual darkness spilled into the land, casting deep shadows along the rise and fall of the long dead.

A lack of life spoke to that of monsters, beings who hid in the corners or spawned in the shadows. Undead eyes watched as the pair crossed their territory, something deep within telling them to remain stationary. Instinct, even in magical creatures with the sole purpose to kill, was a powerful deterrent.

They ran for what felt like hours. In reality, they only crossed half of the Reflection Kingdom, stopping in the center. There Sybil stood, at the heart. At the hearth. A creation made of the same white bone as her mask.

A prime obelisk, untouched by the ruination around it, stood reaching into the heavens. A chiseled womanly face was cast into the white material, a white so pure, so honest, that it spoke whispers to those who stared. A presence was near, one far beyond that of a normal human. A god, yes, but something possibly even beyond.

The Harbinger stood a dozen paces away, watching with the intent of a murderous deviant. Splattered in blood, the man didn’t care. Nor did he wish to. Not when he was so close to his goals. He took a step, closing the distance to Sybil almost instantly.

In that short hesitation, a wicked blade collapsed, pinning him to the charred ground.

From their hidden vantage point, Leland and Glenny watched Carmon step into the fray.