Niklas walked into the dark courtyard, surrounded by silent figures who melted away from him, pistols and swords at the ready.
As Niklas’ eyes adjusted, he counted ten more men, including a towering figure who looked vaguely familiar.
After hearing their comrades' screams outside and seeing the flashes of the strange weapon, they stood tense, glancing from Niklas to their apparent and large leader.
The built man at the back of the compound looked at Niklas, with droplets of sweat illuminated by the moonlight beading at his temple.
He had something that glowed amber wrapping around one of his arms. As Niklas focused, he saw the light shining from familiar runes engraved in a metal circlet.
Niklas had never seen one before, but he knew what it was the moment he saw it. It was a
Remnant.
His mouth went dry at the sight of it. The man who bore it gapped at him through startled eyes. Then Niklas recognized him. It was one of the men who had approached him, claiming to be a paramount. Paramount Godric.
Niklas’ heart panicked when he saw the figures on the ground. Everyone was there, herdsmen and their families. Many of them cowering on the ground, but several of them slumped motionless in their blood, pistols in hand.
The scene told the story. Some herdsmen were foolish enough to resist. Niklas held a fleeting sigh of relief as he recognized the Sommerfeldts huddled around Lill. But then, to his alarm, he recognized the old figure of Frode face down, unstirring.
Not willing to take his eyes off the artifact on Paramount Godric’s arm for too long, Niklas searched for Esther among the subdued civilians.
The silence grew thick enough to see, taste, and feel. A heavy blanket thrown over the moment. No one seemed to be able to find their voice or the will to act. Everyone stared at Niklas in his desperation.
But then, someone found her voice.
“Niklas, run!” Esther cried, and Niklas whirled to find her straining on the ground against Wilbur’s man, Arth, who held her head up by her hair with a pistol to her head.
“What?” Arth choked, confused, as he stepped away from Esther. “You?”
“You were right!” Paramount Godric, who stood beside him, said evenly. “They are housing weapons. Artifact weapons. Paramount Alred will hang for this.”
“They are?” Arth stammered confusedly. “I mean, I told you so!”
“I don’t know you, Godric,” Niklas snapped. “Why are you attacking my people?”
“I see now!” Godric realized, looking at Niklas. “You refused me because you are already an Alred agent!” Then, with eyes flickering to Niklas’ pistol, he nodded. “And you bear an illegal weapon!”
“I don’t work for–”
“He’s their leader!” Arth cut in. “He is the head enforcer of Alred’s artifact research operation.”
Godric hissed as he recoiled, “Kill them!”
Niklas froze, momentarily paralyzed in dread as the men turned their rifles to the remaining herdsmen and as Arth jabbed Esther in the temple with his pistol.
She screamed with tears streaming down her eyes, and valor blazed within Niklas.
It was a valor like nothing he had ever experienced. Like a primal rage and fire that would melt even the hardest metals, he was moved by something beyond his control.
“Why don't you start with me?” Niklas roared as he leveled his pistol at Arth, who saw the movement and faltered.
Niklas’ weapon hummed with delight at the promise of blood.
Paramount Godric quickly stepped in front of Arth protectively and raised his palm, his armband flashing with light.
Niklas’ rage was instantly felled by the movement, replaced by the chill and realization that he knew little about the Remnants. He knew many of them were stolen from the Sharderins during the genocide, and he knew that most of the New Sharderin weaponry was based on Remnant technology. But these were pale shadows of what the Remnants themselves were capable of.
Niklas screamed as he fired at Godric, hoping to finish the paramount before Godric chose to end him. The yellow bolt of Niklas’ pistol streaked toward him, but it stopped short as if slamming into an invisible wall two feet in front of his outstretched hand. Yellow runes rippled across the air, outlining the barrier. Godric’s armband pulsed with light before dimming down again.
“No,” Niklas gasped as his weapon proved powerless.
“Where is he making these weapons?” Godric demanded. Then, reeling back, he flashed his palm at Niklas again.
A bolt of light much larger than the ones Niklas’ pistol fires crackled from Godric’s hand and streaked toward Niklas with awesome furry.
Niklas threw up his hands to shield his face, and it slammed into him, picking him off his feet and throwing him into the wall on the far side of the compound.
Niklas cried out as his armor slammed into the cement and his head rapped against the wall. His vision flashed as he dropped to the ground. Yellow light pulsed through the creases and crevices of his armor as it buzzed with power.
Niklas looked down in surprise to find his body intact. Remarkably, not only did his armor stop bullets, but it also somehow absorbed the Remnant's energy.
“Impossible,” Godric cried. “It should have ripped you apart!”
The glowing on the Paramount’s band dimmed, leaving its glow to flicker dully.
With a groan, Niklas leveled his pistol again. Stopping short, he saw a glowing yellow crack running down the barrel.
The weapon emitted a high whine as a luminous fire began to crack dangerously, trying to escape.
With a yelp, Niklas flung the prylux pistol into the air and dropped, covering his head.
The pistol shattered as liquid fire and kinetic force ruptured from the weapon, scattering onto the rooftop and causing it to instantly flare up into hot, bright flames.
Everyone cried out as the fire streaked across the roof and down the walls. A dollop of liquid fire splashed off the roof and fell onto Niklas’ arm, causing it to ignite.
Yelling in panic, Niklas quickly undid the latches, pulled the platted shirt over his shoulders, and threw it aside.
The hot air licked his shoulders, and the wound in his gut left his stomach slick and wet.
“Everyone run!” Niklas bellowed at the herdsmen and then turned to face Godric's men. Someone struck Niklas on the head with a club, and he collapsed. Several men pounced on him, pinning his arms and wrenching him to his feet.
“Get him!”
“Hold him fast.”
Niklas snarled, snapped, and fought the restraint, but his trembling and battered body couldn’t find the strength to resist.
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The men dragged him over to Paramount Godric and pulled his head back by his hair, forcing him to face the paramount.
Godric looked at the flaming compound with no small concern in his eyes but pulled out a long dagger and stuck its tip to Niklas’ throat.
The flames grew brighter around them as they feasted greedily on Niklas’ home.
“You will tell me who you really are and where you got your Remnants, Sharderin,” Godric said coolly as he seemed to ignore the peasant civilians who darted away from the fire and out of the compound. Niklas prayed that Esther and the Sommerfeldts made it, but he didn’t take his eyes off the impressive Paramount.
“Go to pit,” Niklas snapped as he bucked and kicked.
One of his men struck Niklas in the face, and he cried out as he slumped in their grip.
“Who is he, Arth?” Godric turned to Wilbur’s contractor.
“He...eh...He is a dangerous martial man that Alred had employed from abroad,” Arth fabricated the story from the air.
“Liar!” Niklas spat. “This is a cowherd compound. These people are innocent!”
Godwin groaned in frustration. “You see, I almost believed that. I was about to let them go until you showed up wielding artifacts and killing my friends. No, Arth is right. You must die.”
“No!” Niklas hollered.
“Let my children go!” Lill begged as she covered them on the ground protectively.
So she didn’t make it out.
“Let the women and children go,” Godwin commanded his men. “Kill the herdsmen.”
“That woman is a witch!” Arth shouted, pointing to Esther.
“Is that so?” Godwin asked. “Bring the witch.”
Esther cried out as Arth grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over to Godwin.
Arth leveled his pistol at the sobbing woman.
“You pink! I’ll kill you all! You will kill one of your own mothers?” Niklas snapped, unintentionally reverting back to Sharderic.
“Did the witch give you the remnants?” Godwin asked.
“No!” Niklas cried. “Let her go! I don’t know who you think we are, but it’s a lie. Tell him, Arth!”
“They are exactly who Wilbur said they were,” Arth sneered. “Kill them all.”
Godric glared at Niklas and then glanced at Arth, studying his face.
“Niklas, I’m sorry!” Esther sobbed.
Niklas strained and tensed, pouring every bit of his strength into the men who restrained him.
The fire grew dangerously hot on all sides. Niklas growled as he felt exhaustion overcome his body and crowd his mind, threatening to make him black out. He struggled for breath. Between the smoke, two men holding him in a bear hug, his exertion, and a cramp in his chest, Niklas couldn’t breathe. He slowly slumped in his enemies’ arms.
Edgar cradled Niklas’ head. “Niklas, Niklas, can you hear me?” he cried.
Niklas opened his weak eyes. The teenagers lay dead around them. Most of their bodies still smoldering with fire.
“Edgar?”
“It’s okay, brother. I have you. I protected you.”
“How?”
“We’re Logas, brother. That makes us family. And nobody hurts our family.”
“Where are they?” Niklas asked, confused.
“Dead. They are all dead.”
He was only thirteen. But he was always there for Niklas. “No one hurts my family.”
Niklas opened his eyes, and the edges of his vision misted black. Fire flared brightly like the compound around him. Nothing else mattered. His family was in the beast's maw, and only he was there to protect them.
“You’re lying to me, Arth,” Godwin decided as he turned to the man.
“GET AWAY FROM THEM!” Niklas roared and seized upon an unknown strength to throw all five men off him. His hands slid back, and he grabbed the hilts of his Drone blades, which fastened to the back of his belt. They sang their sweet song as two feet of Drone steel slipped from their sheaths.
Niklas spun on his attackers and cut them down one by one.
The attackers cried as they drew pistols, daggers, and long, slender Relrin swords.
Niklas danced through them, cutting and chopping.
“Stop!”
Niklas wouldn’t stop. They tried to counter, and a few blades slashed at his exposed skin, but he didn’t feel it. He scored inside a hamstring, spun and cut a tendon, then parried and ran another man through the chest.
“STOP!”
Men dropped at Niklas’ feet. Niklas spun and saw Arth point his pistol at Esther. “Esther!” he roared as he charged.
Crack! Arth’s pistol fired as Niklas slammed into him and carried him across the compound over to the crackling flames on the walls.
Arth screamed as Niklas threw him into the flaming open doorway of the Sommerfeldt apartment. Arth’s screams were drowned by the roar of flames as Niklas dropped a blade, slammed the door shut, and ripped the handle off, distorting and twisting the internal latch beyond functionality. It hissed as it burned his hand, and he felt that.
Niklas threw the handle aside as he turned to find the remaining men running out of the compound.
No survivors, he decided and lunged after them. He choked on smoke, and his vision grew dark despite the bright flames.
“I said stop!” Godwin bellowed. Niklas looked just as Godric plowed into him from the side. Niklas went down and almost lost hold of his final blade.
Godric was quickly on his feet and drew his Shrye blade and shortsword. His stance was similar to Erik's, but Niklas didn’t see it as flimsy this time. He had learned his lesson. The Relrin fighting style was deadly quick. Godric didn’t look like a thug. He was a warrior among his people.
Niklas noticed the light of Godric’s armband bleeding into his skin, causing his eyes to flash with golden light.
Niklas settled into roach form two and snarled at paramount with primal rage.
The fire within began to die, and exhaustion ate at his focus. Both men were enraged, beasts of their own pack, and they couldn’t let the other cut down their family.
Relrins favored quick stabs; Niklas preferred slashing and deep thrusts. Last time, he had been humiliated, but this time, he held a blade he was trained with.
Godric’s eyes flashed, and he lunged with inhuman speed.
Niklas barely managed to deflect his strike, which was much easier with the shorter Drone blade. Niklas ran in, and Godric’s short sword came out of nowhere and up toward Niklas’ side. Godric struck with much more force than his men.
Niklas grabbed Godric’s wrist with his burned hand, but not fast enough. Niklas let out a sharp inhale of pain as it licked his naked torso, biting in an inch. Niklas grunted against his incredible strength as Godric slowly pushed it in deeper.
“See!” Godric sneered. “You are only a man.”
Niklas reared back and smashed his forehead across the bridge of Godric’s nose. Godric let go of his dagger and fell back, cursing.
“So are you,” Niklas snapped.
Godric’s dagger was still sticking in Niklas’ flesh, a line of blood running down the groove cut down the middle.
Niklas gasped as he pulled it out and let it clatter to the ground.
Regaining composure, Godric turned to Niklas. His nose snapped back to place on its own, and the blood stopped flowing. To Niklas’ horror, he realized that Godric had somehow healed himself.
With a snarl, Godric charged Niklas, his eyes flashing as he sped. Niklas tossed his drone blade up and caught it, bringing it up and pointing down just in time to parry Godric’s strike with Mantis eight. Niklas ran in, and the blades made a high screech and spat sparks as Niklas ran the length of his sword. Niklas grabbed Godric’s sword hand at the pommel of his sword and gave him two quick jabs in the shoulder.
Godric didn’t even react to his wounds as they began to weave together, instantly mending themselves.
Godric dropped the sword and stepped around Niklas. Grabbing him by the waist in a bear hug, Godric pitched Niklas over his shoulder like a sack of wheat and threw him back on his head.
Niklas saw flashing stars when his head hit the ground. He struggled to his feet, but his vision was blurry.
Godric tried to tackle him again, but Niklas, trusting his training, kicked in and spun, tripping Godric and sending him onto one of his motionless men.
Niklas’ vision pitched and wheeled as the pain in his chest spiked and started to cramp.
Not now.
Niklas fell back. He was far too dizzy to stand.
Godric was on top of him in an instant.
“You’re one of them, Pit boy!” he cried as he wrestled the Drone blade from Niklas’ hands.
“You killed my friends!” Godric clutched the drone blade with one hand and reared up with his other hand clamping around Niklas’ throat in an iron-tight vice.
Niklas gagged but had no recourse.
“And now you die!” Godric struck down.
“Let him go,” Esther screamed, as out of nowhere, she threw herself at paramount, raking his face with her nails. In the blazing hot light, Niklas saw that Esther had dark, glossy blood on her shoulder. So she was alive. What was she still doing here?
“No!” Niklas choked at her.
Godric snarled and slashed at her with Niklas’ Drone blade. She shrieked and fell away.
“Mother killer!” Rasmus yelled as he jumped on him, sinking his teeth into Godric’s blade hand.
Godric bellowed and shoved the boy off of him.
A wooden bucket flew at Godric and struck him in the face. Lill let out a slew of curses as she found other projectiles to throw.
Niklas tried to push him off, but Godric was too heavy. His remnant-powered steel fingers dug into Niklas’ throat. His weight crushed down on Niklas’ wounds.
A ring of black circled Niklas’ vision and shrunk to a pinprick.
Robin and Ivar rushed back into the burning compound, grabbed discarded rifles, and brandishing them like staffs, rushed him.
Godric snarled. He ignored them, quickly reared up, and brought the Drone blade down.
Reflexively, Niklas threw up his hand, stopping the blade two inches from his face. To his horror, he saw that the blade had gone through the center of his gloved hand. He couldn’t feel it but could feel his body relaxing. His entire vision misted black.
Niklas gurgled in an attempted scream as he pulled out his reaper knife, and with a snap, he thrust the blade under Godric’s jaw and up into his throat.
Godric gagged and regarded Niklas with wide eyes. “No,” he choked and then slumped.
Niklas felt something warm and sticky drip onto his eye. Blood dripped freely from Godric’s mouth and onto Niklas’ face.
Ivar pulled Godric off of Niklas, and Robin rushed to Esther.
Niklas tried to pull himself up but collapsed with a groan. He tried to suck in air but choked on smoke instead.
“Let’s go!” Robin gagged over the roar of flames. Niklas couldn’t stand.
Ivar began to hoist him up, but Niklas threw up. “The armband,” Niklas croaked. “Get it off him!”
Burning compound or not, it wouldn’t do for Godric to stand up again and come after Niklas’ people.
Robin nodded, turned, and slid the armband off of Godric. The writings on the metal no longer shone with light.
The two men dragged Niklas back out of the flaming structure by the arms, and Lill led Rasmus and Eshter out.
Through blurry eyes, Niklas watched the compound burn.
Niklas threw up, and everything went black.