Jude’s heart triumphantly thumped, a heat unlike any other warming his frozen skin. With Floe’s blessing frosting his armor, the blood of his enemies had become additional weapons. Spikes of frozen red jutted from his bone and metal armor, each as sharp as his axe and far more pointy.

With unyielding confidence, he whipped across the battlefield, a restless spirit of war within his bones. Each breath he drew was one more monster dead, each rallying war cry, another dead Witch. The outside war had drained away, and only the thrill of rage remained. His ferocity pushed his feet faster and further than ever before, as the hordes of monsters seemed undying.

Not that Jude was complaining.

The drums of battle were sounding, deep booms of exhilarating edge. He swung deep, lacerating all who neared. He unleashed his fury on those who dared to try to stop him. His weapon, coated in a sharp layer of frozen blood, vibrated with the last streams of the many he had killed.

“Reaper,” the screams yelled. “Reaper,” the dying wailed. “Reaper,” those monsters roared.

With a mind locked away by rage and war, Jude’s subconsciousness delighted in the title. It was a good name, a powerful name. A name befitting a Legacy of the Berserker, a name unequal in battle, a name… that wasn’t quite right.

Jude didn’t know why he needed a name, nor did he actively consider choosing a name. But there, as his body laid waste to countless enemies, something clicked in his mind like a broken grandfather clock finally striking midnight.

To those watching him fight, the smile he wore sent shivers down their spines. Who smiled after killing hundreds? they silently asked, fearing the answer. But while their minds went to a satanic murderer, nothing was further from the truth.

In reality, Jude had the perfect name, one that fit him like a long lost sock.

A few steps behind Jude was Jude Two, his mirage of unparalleled loyalty and gall. For Jude Two, most saw a manic twin, a young man who forwent the usual tidings of battle and instead cherished song.

Who plays the guitar while in a war? they silently asked, fearing retribution from his twin… or rather, fearing retribution from the young musician who dared step foot on such a dangerous stage.

But again, reality was different than how most inferred. Jude Two was a Legacy of the Berserker just like Original Jude. But, where one berserker was enough, why not control the flow of battle with song?

Jude Two, like Jude Prime, realized the threat their partnership cast on an opposing army. An unyielding berserker and his song-writing a sharp axe and a bard. An unparalleled killer… and a guitarist.

On the surface, playing a song in battle was a fool’s errand. But for Jude and his mirage, who had learned some secrets from the Berserker, their music was like a dirge for the living – a song that announced their impending deaths.

A ballad of valor. A Drumbeat for battle. A Chanting heart song. A Battle anthem.

A War song.

War Song.

War Song.

The name, the title, the concept of the War Song built a fury inside of Jude and Jude Two unlike any other.

As the song Jude Two played grew louder and faster, the beat echoed across the war-torn landscape. Craters dotted the sand while sheets of ice created vertical topography. Each strum, each change in chord boiled the blood of the allies nearby, rallying them to one final push. One final hurrah against the fleeing enemy.

Their hearts sang with the fury of Jude’s, pushing their armaments into the air for a frontal charge. They rushed in behind the Judes, shedding responsibility of rank or orders. All they knew was battle, and the song that brought a warring hatred for monsters and Witches.

The song continued, for the name War Song had yet to truly live. A fledgling eagle, a new-born chick waiting to show everyone how masterful his flight was.

Jude expanded his blessed wings, allowing the chains of gravity to fall like a discarded napkin. Jude Two likewise began to fly, the War Song never skipping a beat.

Trusting both the song and his instincts for battle, Jude chased the remaining enemies, the flat black desert all but an open endless range during a turkey shoot. He’d get to all of them eventually, their cowardice like a trackable scent.

And so he did. The song only ending when the last Witch and monster died, their bodies strewn across the sand and their blood coating Jude’s axe.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

The storm of rage didn’t die right away, it couldn’t, actually. With a heart pounding raw and unleashed, Jude’s locked away consciousness fought to regain control over his war torn body. He was covered in blood, yes, but not all was from his enemies. Puncturing a hole through an army was bound to draw enemy fire, and where enemy fire went, wounds appeared.

Pain equaled rage and rage equaled strength.

Each heaving lungful of air, each deafening step he took, Jude’s body cried in the throes of agony. A sensitivity tickled across the maelstrom of mangled, improper thoughts. Where was the battle? Where was the killing? He spun around, friend slowly morphing into foe.

Movement caught his eye, a woman clad in armor and breathing in similar fashion to himself. She held a sword, a weapon that brought death and destruction. She needed to be put down, she needed to be stopped before she killed someone. Those fragments of thought created an illusionary “W,” the mark he knew to be vile.

It was his duty to end her—

A hand thumped against his chest. “Ease it big guy, battle’s over. Didn’t you hear the crescendo into the coda? Even the song ended.”

Jude looked the man in the eyes, his eyes. A perfect copy of himself stood before him, albeit much cleaner and less gnarled. The man held a guitar, his guitar. He followed the man’s arms to his hands and fingers, finding familiar calluses and knuckles.

A dam burst in Jude’s mind, the rage flooded away. His legs went right after, the exhaustion of fighting for hours finally catching up. His mirage caught him, easing him to the ground.

“War Song, huh?” Jude Two asked. “Mom’ll like it.”

Jude took deep, pained breaths. “What does it mean?” he asked his twin.

“No clue. But I think it fits, huh?”

“Music and war. That’s so us.”

Jude Two chuckled. “That’s so you.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You’re being obtuse. We are the same person. What we do, is what you do.”

Jude rolled his eyes and whispered like an old man, “Yeah whatever, ruin the moment why don’t you?”

Ignoring him, Jude Two said, “When you are all patched up, maybe you should talk to Leland. Us thinking of a title and name like that means something, right…? You felt what I felt, right?”

“I don’t know. I was enraged. Your memory is more intact than mine.”

“I… don’t even know how to describe it. I felt almost whole? Like the flow of battle was a part of me, like I could be anywhere at once, killing whoever stood before me… and I wasn’t even the one fighting. I was just strumming along.”

Jude coughed. “Sounds about right. I felt as if the beat of the song was commanding my body. Every chord you played brought me one step closer to actually becoming music.”

Jude Two let out a sly whistle. “Yup, that sounds like Leland’s whole ‘understanding something beyond our understanding’ thing.”

“Glenny’s going to be so mad.”

“Yeah, now he’s the only one of us who hasn’t had some strange ethereal vision of power.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” a new voice said. Both Judes looked over, finding Leland among the dead bodies of a wicked army. A green glow poked out from under his coat and shirt, soul green. “I think Glenny was the first one of us three to have these ‘ethereal visions of power.’”

“Against the Sightless King?” Jude asked, remembering the battle well.

“From his description of his thoughts during the fight, yeah, I’d say so,” Leland confirmed.

“So we won?” Jude Two asked, ignoring the conversation. “Can you heal him already?”

Leland slowly flipped through the pages of his grimoire, making Jude stew in his own self-inflicted agony for as long as possible. “You know, it’s pretty stupid, what you did.”

Eventually he found the pages, activating his four healing scrip spells. With a tap on Jude’s shoulder, webs of life turned the immediate area into a nest of resilience. All wounds on his body snapped closed, his heart evened out, and a strange warmth cradled his body like a mother holding a newborn.

“Why does it feel like you are holding me?” Jude asked, his voice fluttery.

“Ah. I think that’s the Heartgem the Mending Flame Lord gave me. Trust me, I’m not radiating ‘holding you’ vibes right now.”

“What are you radiating?”

“’Are you kidding me’ vibes.”

“Why?”

“Jude. You somehow got all the soldiers near you to charge into battle with you, abandoning their posts in the process. Do you have any idea how mad Captain Curtain is going to be? I sent Zeke to find him before he figures out it was you who did it and court marshals you!”

“Oh… I don’t remember that.”

“I do,” Jude Two helpfully added. “I think I can abstain from doing that again in the future. It

was rather spur of the moment. Don’t want anyone accusing us of mind control.”

“Why can’t you be more like him, Jude? Responsible.” Leland asked, his tone playful yet serious.

“Where’s Glenny and Gelo?” Jude asked, ignoring the question.

“Glenny went back to the bastion to sit with Gelo and Elin. Isobel… is well… stalking me again. On the bright side, everyone is perfectly healthy! No injuries to report.”

“That’s good. That’s good… wait, what?”

“About everyone being healthy? Only you and Glenny got your hands dirty in the thick of it. But unlike you, Glenny returned completely unscathed. I see myself spending the next few hours healing people, but that’s par for the course as far as I’m concerned.”

Jude gave his friend a tired glare. “I meant with Isobel, and you know it.”

After a long, suffering sigh, Leland muttered, “She has deemed herself my new guardian and is actively ‘protecting’ me. Where she is, what she’s doing, I don’t know. Only that—”

His words were cut off when a figure appeared a single step behind him, seemingly from nowhere. “You like to hear yourself talk,” Isobel interrupted.

Leland flinched at the sight of her. “Don’t do that! We force Glenny to pay us each ten gold every time he jump-scares us!”

“We do?” Jude whispered to Jude Two, who shrugged.

“We do now!” Leland screeched. “New rule! I’ve decided! No more jump-scares!”