Arthur paused to take stock of what he had. He’d gained 65 Choice Points. That was useful, but that was something for later. He had Knightwalker’s Ten Commandments Spear, and Sorano’s Astra. Both were potentially powerful weapons. His Archive magic had successfully identified the basic way both were used, though it had not cracked all of either’s forms. Carrying both would be awkward, all the more so with his black sword still at his hip. He decided to take the golden zodiac weapon, and to create a new pocket dimension to stow Knightwalker’s spear, and, once he found where he dropped it with his Archive, Serena’s lacrima.
Which brought him naturally to his captives. Sorano and Knightwalker were purely inconvenient. Both were physically threatening enough to beat him in a fight if magic was removed from the equation. He didn’t see that happening, if that happened he’d probably already lost this gauntlet of challenges, but he couldn’t just let them run free. Who knew what other magic weapons they could acquire given freedom. He didn’t want to make another pocket dimension right now, but Arthur soon decided it was his only realistic option. He needed them contained, and that would turn them into captives and potential hostages; not that he liked the idea of being that guy who threatened women and old men to win his fights, but it was a pragmatic option. Well, except for the power of friendship being a physical, omnipresent thing here.
He paused to collect bounties; they’d give him a better idea of what was going on. He’d defeated 4 of the 5 lowest ranked members of the so-called ‘Army of Darkness’. 65 Choice Points. A victory against a higher ranking member would be a noticeable boon. He’d have enough points to buy something and still have an emergency supply. He’d also completed one for silent casting; apparently the battle against Knightwalker and Sorano had counted as difficult.
Arthur was wrong of course, it had not been an individual fight, but the battle in the castle as a whole. While he had not defeated Zero, he was still an active threat, Arthur had won in the battle. He had obtained his goals, while the captains had not. Wendy had been rescued, and the 10 captains had been prevented from forming a united front, with 4 of them removed from the picture almost entirely, and creating a second front that they must fight on preventing the remaining 6 from joining forces into a monolithic unit. On the other hand the castle had received massive damage, they had lost their captured dragon slayer without even managing to charge the tool for destroying the Exceeds permanently the Dragon Chain Cannon, the king was still a captive, and they had lost 4 of their 11 best combatants.
It was time to leave the tunnel. But he wasn’t going to the castle. He wasn’t eager to fight that castle again, or fight against the other knights in it. Especially not when his Archive confirmed that Anima should reverse the lacrima effect, and that by combining his dragon slayer magic and his territory magic he could replicate the effect and return the lacrima to Earthland.
He thought about flying there, even with Enif and Altair’s gates closed, and Enif’s star dress damaged he had options to do so other than to wait. Territory could be used to do so, but it was inefficient and poor compared to Enif’s or Caelum’s star dresses, and Caelum could simply carry him there.
But he could see it well enough. He teleported, transporting himself to the sky above the lacrima. Immediately a blast of magical energy hit him in the back. His territory armor protected him from damage, but not the impact. Still he was trying to find the source as he fell, delaying his teleportation to the island to look for the origin. That was a mistake, as from the opposite direction a massive, white tiger was leaping.
He felt it through his armoring, surrounded by territory magic as it knocked him from the air, feeling it worse when he hit a building below, and went through it to impact into the ground. The tiger’s claws ripped at his armor, both that of the compressed and the field of twisted space which pushed away and rejected the outer world and the stolen suit beneath it. Both did their work, though neither well enough as its claw toe into his flesh. It was only that, a flesh wound, but even a tiger scratch that didn’t break bone or leave his internal organs trying to spill out was still a nasty wound, blood flowing down his chest.
He didn’t have time to consider the pain. Kochab’s silver key appeared in his hand, the blue bear appearing a moment later. This was probably the spirit Arthur felt was most reliable, the bear had saved him from Georg, its armor had protected him in the castle when his territory failed him, and appearing with a roar of “Kuuu-ma~!” it was now punching a tiger off of him.
The two began to exchange blows, giving Arthur a moment to get his bearings. His Archive kept detecting a strange pulse of magical energy, but it couldn’t immediately identify what and how, and he didn’t have time to manifest the full physical form of the Archive to actually figure out what it was right now. The tiger was huge, probably more massive overall than Kochab, a twisted white ‘tiger’ creature with exaggerated large front claws, and bony growths across its body. Its fangs were saberteeth and Arthur had felt its raw power already. It’d cut him through his territory armor, something that put its attack power on the higher end of S Class mages. It was pressing Kochab back.
But Arthur wasn’t minding that fight. He was trying to figure out where the energy blast had come from. That was when he saw an exceedingly broad shouldered man with wild white hair, and a beard. He was muscular and powerful, and Arthur recognized him. Oh he lacked the pointed fangs, and the scars, of the Georg he knew, but it was Georg. “Georg?” He called out. First Angel, and now the guild master. He’d kept himself fairly isolated within the guild - subconsciously he’d avoided getting close to anyone for a multitude of reasons - but he had lived in the guild for months, he had shared meals with him, shared experiences.
He didn’t want to have to fight him like this. But he knew as well, this wasn’t the same Georg. Though how did you go up and talk to a guy and tell him you killed his alternate dimensional doppelganger? Or just interact with them after you had killed their other world self?
He’d also promised Georg he’d come back, and he wouldn’t do that if he fought Georg - of Earthland or of Edolas - and held back.
Edolas Georg was riding a dragon. Not a dragon like the darkness dragon he’d killed, or Igneel. It didn’t smell draconic. The fact that Arthur was now identifying that instinctively by scent would be something he had to worry about; some of his guildmates did that already. Byaku, the White Tiger Dragon Slayer, for one, Georg for another. It was a sign of progress towards culmination as a Dragon Slayer, but that culmination inevitably led to dragonification as well. Arthur was not thinking about this now, that was a worry he’d only have when things were calmer.
Even in looks it wasn’t a dragon like those he was more familiar with in this world. It was a Chinese or Japanese dragon, a long, sinuous body with azure blue scales, stubby limbs, a mane, and long catfish whiskers. It could be the source of the beam that had taken him by surprise. Either way it was a threat and it wasn’t a person. He didn’t have a natural revulsion to intentionally ending its life.
He prodded Kochab to drink his honey and enter into a super charged state. A concentrated form of celestial energy, it was an emergency reservoir, a massive potential power boost; if you were skilled or powerful enough to keep the bear spirit from going to sleep afterwards. Even as he did so his magic twisted space, wrapping the dragon’s head in territory magic, and teleporting it away from its body.
Or he tried. His Archive magic beeped in the back of his mind with a notice warning him of the strange pulse of magic, a single highly powerful spike. Then the dragon’s head jerked away with impossibly precise timing, dodging like it had some sort of spider-sense. Knightwalker had done the same, but you expected as much from Erza. You didn’t expect it from some overgrown snake. A moment later, just as Kochab revealed his honey jar, a beam of energy shot through it. It was like a sniper had been waiting for just that moment to fire at his power up and deny him it. If Georg and his allies could predict his actions that well, Arthur was going to be in deep shit.
At least, however, he caught sight of what had done it. A massive black turtle - well larger than the oversized tiger - standing on a building, and with a tail like an anaconda complete with serpentine head. It established a firm pattern; Georg was attacking him with the four guardian beasts. Not that he had time to ponder that.
The white tiger had knocked Kochab to the ground. It wasn’t necessarily stronger, but it was faster and it was about as strong. It was like a heavy weight going up against another near-heavyweight who moved like a lightweight. Arthur dealt with the turtle first, though, his territory magic wrapping around it with dozens of spheres of compressed space that exploded in fiery bursts.
Then the fourth guardian beast made itself known. It was the phoenix, Suzaku, a great, red bird, with long, vibrant tail feathers. Its screech filled the air before its fires wrapped around the black turtle and began to restore it. Arthur didn’t hesitate, even when his archive magic again detected that spike, equally spread through Georg and the four guardian beasts. His head swept towards the phoenix and immediately followed through with the basic tactic: kill the healer first.
The phoenix though seemed to know not only that it was coming but precisely where, dodging by the smallest of margins and with airy grace. Arthur realized to his horror he’d gotten sloppy. The blast of darkness had hit the giant lacrima, and it seemed to grow smaller. How many people had he just killed? Did it include Minerva?
He didn’t get the chance to process. The azure dragon was flying in close, breathing a blast of fire. It tickled across his territory armor; it had enough power that, given time, it could melt through his armor, but alone it was no threat to him. More threatening was the series of magical spikes, and his Archive magic’s identification of the magic: time magic.
Unfortunately it wasn’t alone. “You should just surrender. There’s no shame in knowing when you’re beaten,” Edolas Georg said, dispelling the notion that he was Georg. Georg would have told Arthur to keep fighting even in surrender. Arthur felt something, though. His Archive magic identified it as time magic of a similar but different sort than that of the beeps. It was affecting him, instead of Georg and the four beasts, and he could feel his body growing weak. Maybe it was an aging curse, but the pain from the wound on his chest flared, as if hours of its soreness and slow bleeding were compressed into a second.
The tiger left Kochab without finishing him off, jumping from the bear to strike into Arthur. Its claw dug into his arm, adding another wound to the one he was already bleeding from. Its power was definitely more than he had expected or could deal with in a straight fight, especially when he was light headed from blood loss.
It felt like he was fighting Georg again. But he wasn’t a helpless, neophyte, untested by battle. Now he was a dragon slayer, and he could feel a dragon’s ferocity in his veins. His heart beat with its power, the darkness eating at his mind.
He lashed out with his dragon slayer magic, an implosive sphere of darkness forming around Edolas Georg and attempting to crush him out of existence. Against Serena this would have been useless, for the same reason it was useless for Serena when Serena had inadvertently taught him the spell. Even without that option, sufficient power could resist it; it’d be far from a sure kill on Georg or Hyberion. But if he was going to live he had to hope that Edolas Georg didn’t have sufficient power; and that the four beasts lost coordination at least with Edolas Georg dead. His mental loop through his Archive had informed him that Edolas Georg was at the very least directing them and seemed to be supplying them with magical power through something. Arthur had hoped to find out and teleport it off.
Fear, pain, anger, and impatience all had come together. There was no more waiting for the chance to spare this world’s Georg. Instead, in a spike of rage, he created the Banishing Shadow, a pseudo-black hole forming around and enveloping Edolas Georg. And once it had the four beasts fading into nothing more than colored smoke swiftly dissipating into the air.
“I’m sorry, Georg,” He panted. “I wasn’t strong enough.” There’d been no sign that Georg was particularly a monster. He could have just been a patriot. Someone who wanted to improve his world. And while the ‘turn a city into lacrima’ plan was a sort of villainous plan for that, the idea of wanting to improve the lives of those who you shared yours with wasn’t something he could condemn as a whole. But he’d killed him anyway. Because ultimately Arthur valued his own life more than those of others. It and the lives of those he cared about.
Of course he still wasn’t the one who’d started this by abducting innocent people to murder for their magical energy. You choose to fight for someone doing that, and well, your life might not be unilaterally forfeit, but you try and kill someone to do it and they might kill you back.
He lay there, too tired, and hurt to move. But he needed to. Now more than ever he needed to see that his wounds got tended to. Plus he had to check the damage he’d done to the lacrima. He pulled himself slowly to his feet, looking towards Kochab. He didn’t want to immediately dismiss him.
He had little choice, closing the gate to save energy before turning his head up towards the giant lacrima. As he watched, one of the winged bull creatures used as mounts in this world was engulfed in flames. Usually they were much larger and black. This one had been small and white.
He was in a manga. Its rider was important. If Wendy had managed to free the lacrima, maybe it had been one of his allies; he didn’t expect them to have fire magic, but the army captain might. Or maybe it was Mystogan. He was the rightful prince and had spent years closing anima portals. Whoever it was, they were important, and he was going to see who had jumped off of it.
Arthur crossed the distance through teleportation, quickly disappearing and reappearing where the man was falling. Immediately his Archive magic screamed about time magic. Arthur was beginning to really hate time magic. Though as he saw the lightly crispy body of a man falling in slow motion, while another man ran straight up a sheer wall to leap to catch him, Arthur realized whose time magic it was and felt a deep feeling of relief.
The man had been caught, but his mount was still falling. Arthur’s hand flicked up, layers of territory magic forming beneath it, each one insufficient to completely stop its fall, but hopefully enough to slow its impact so that it didn’t get hurt as much. Like falling through branches instead of falling straight to the ground. He hoped.
The slow magic ended as Racer landed, and Arthur started to offer him a wave. “Good to see a friendly face,” Arthur said leaning against a wall. He was low on blood, he should be blacking out now.
Racer looked at him for a few moments. There was a half scowl on his face. For a few heartbeats neither he nor Arthur moved or spoke. “You really don’t consider us enemies, do you?”
“Arthur!” Wendy’s voice sounded out, loud and clear. She was starting to run out of hiding towards him.
“Just the little dragon slayer I hoped to see,” Arthur said, sliding down against the wall. “I think I might be on the verge of blacking out.”
Wendy’s eyes went wide, rushing to his side and wincing as she looked at the wounds. Arthur had an anemic pallor on his face. It was sheer grit and determination more than anything keeping him on his feet.
Wendy’s magic began to work across his body, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile a bit. Racer brought the burned body and placed it onto the ground beside them. The body moved, the man stirring despite the serious burns all across his face. On his back was a set of magical staves, and a half scorched cloak.
It was Mystogan, Arthur realized almost immediately. The mysterious S-Class Mage of Fairy Tail, actually the rebel prince of Edolas, and its version of Jellal. Tears were running down Mystogan’s face as he slammed the ground with his fist. “It’s too late,” He said. “It took me this long to gather vestiges of anima effects large enough to send the lacrima back to Earthland. And it’s all scattered now. It’ll take me twice as long to do it again if it’s even possible. And we don’t have that time.”
“How long do we have?” Arthur asked.
“Hours, and then it’ll be irreversible. Just a few hours,” Mystogan’s voice was bitter. “The only option is to get to the anima device itself, but the castle has mutated.”
“I can create an anima,” Arthur said, “But I don’t know if I can reliably do it from here.”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Mystogan looked at him. So did Sawyer and Wendy. “You can create an anima?” Mystogan said, hope cutting through the pain in his voice.
“I think I can. I wrestled a small one earlier, my Archive observed it, I should be able to replicate it on a larger scale, but it’ll take time, effort, and…” Wendy had begun healing him, but she was being forced to split her efforts between two badly wounded individuals. Arthur would survive at this point, he just wasn’t sure he could fight, or stay conscious through the strain of controlling the anima effect.
“It’s defended,” Mystogan said.
Arthur wished they had Gemini, it’d be easy to deal with everything with Gemini. If only Angel was here. He still had Faust, the king piece needed to come into play. He was too narratively important, and too useful. Arthur wasn’t sure how to use him, though. He was afraid to directly threaten him. If he did he had to mean it; he didn’t trust his ability to bluff.
“Boss man, don’t freeze up,” Racer said. They really needed to be properly introduced at some point. “You said it’s defended, how?”
“By me, of course,” Came a voice from above, even as flames filled the streets. The cobblestone was suddenly covered in flickering, dancing flames, leaving only a ring around the three Earthlanders and Mystogan. “Surrender and I will spare your lives, otherwise I will burn you all to ashes.”
The voice came from a young woman with long, black hair, and a cold, cruelly beautiful face. She was wearing a red dress with a golden yellow cross placed directly across her breasts and up and down her torso. She was hovering awkwardly, rising and falling with bursts of rocket-like flame from around her legs.
Arthur cursed himself for his sloppiness. He was just so exhausted. Even after Wendy’s magic had healed him, the scar of the tiger’s claw ran from his collar bone almost to his navel, and his shield arm bore another, nasty one. He thought Wendy healed scars, though given the pressure she was under and the fact that she was fairly obviously tired herself. She’d focused on mending his blood loss over aesthetic, and he was still light headed. Mystogan’s flesh was still a massive scar. She’d gotten them back where they could stand and fight. But Mystogan’s staves had been charred, who knew how many useful tools she’d destroyed in her attack on him.
Arthur’s hand twitched, attempting to envelop her in his space. Fire burst across her flesh, and he watched his magic melt before its heat. “Run,” He said. “I’ll handle her.”
“You don’t sound confident boss man, besides, you’re needed at the lacrima,” Racer said, and he was gone in a flash. And almost as quickly he was falling to the ground flames searing across him, rolling in the fires that were burning on non-flammable stone.
“Needed at the lacrima? You’re the one whose roar reverted those people from lacrima, aren’t you?” The dark haired woman said, looking at Arthur. “Surrender yourself to my custody and I’ll spare the others. If you don’t I will burn them all.”
Racer was screaming fire still burning across him. Arthur’s heart seemed to pound. And then a massive gale blew through the area, the tops of several buildings falling towards the woman. She turned towards them fire flaring out, and Arthur tried his territory magic again. He wasn’t going to try to teleport just a part of her; it was slower than teleporting all of her, and while not by much it was enough slower that a wary opponent could dodge or counter it especially as its energies were relatively fragile. It was not a useless technique, but he was realizing also that it was not one he could over rely on. No, he was just going to blow her up.
His territory magic exploded around her, and she felt towards the ground below. The ground which had turned from solid stone into a flowing sea. It had enveloped Racer, cutting off his screams, and now it swallowed her up as well. But where the ground spat Racer back out, the fires smothered from lack of air and perhaps some trick of magic, it began to solidify around her.
“Sorry we were late,” came the voice of Hoteye of the Oracion Seis. “After Racer and the little lady ran to catch the falling man we were delayed by a contingent of guards.”
We in this case included Midnight as well, the dark haired dark mage rushing towards Racer. Concern filled his voice as he checked on his guildmate’s, and friend’s, wounds, helping Racer to his feet.
Fire erupted upwards from where the woman had been buried, the woman rocketing forth on a jet of fire even as molten stone fell from around her body. “Don’t count me out yet.”
The zodiac weapon Astra appeared in Arthur’s hand, and he began to prepare himself for magical battle. He wasn’t certain how much more stamina he had. He’d lost a lot of blood, and while Wendy’s healing had helped, and he still had plenty of magical energy it was becoming harder and harder to use it properly. He knew a solution. Murder a dozen people with his black sword and he’d be overflowing with life and vitality once more. Arthur was certainly willing to consider killing enemy combatants, common soldiers included, but that wasn’t an option right now.
Mystogan grabbed his arm. “You can’t fight here,” He said. “They’re already reinforcing the lacrima, you need to go, and go quickly. Let us handle her.”
Arthur looked at him. He didn’t trust their ability to do so. She was a bonus boss that he had willed into existence, they weren’t on the same level of power that he was, even all together and he wasn’t sure he should count Wendy or Mystogan. Also she was worth at least 40 choice points if he beat her alone.
“Go!” Mystogan said, “Every moment you wait the odds that everyone will be saved when it’s sent back is reduced, and the chance that they use the lacrima before we can save it is increased.”
Those words struck Arthur like a physical blow. Midnight’s magic protected the group, redirecting the woman’s flames back at her, though the same tool that gave her the ability to manipulate fire seemed to protect her from the vast majority of the harm it’d do to her.
The ten commandments spear, in its speed form Silfarion as that was the form that Arthur had left it in and one of the few he actually knew how to access, manifested in his hand. He tossed it towards Racer. “Racer, do you know how to use a spear?” He asked.
“I usually stick to knives,” The man said.
“Try this one,” Arthur stated before Caelum’s silver key materialized in his hand.
“Go save Crocus, boss man,” Racer said, and for the first time Arthur didn’t hear the note of mockery in the title Racer had given him.
Fire erupted up from under Midnight, the mage screaming as he fell to the ground. “Don’t think you’ve got me handled just yet,” the dark haired woman said.
“Go!” Mystogan screamed, pulling one of his least charred staves from his back. “Now!”
The draconic part of him wanted to stay and fight. To prove himself worthy of his territory by crushing the enemy who dared to defy him. But he knew better than that; Racer and Mystogan were right. Arthur was going, though, teleporting away even as Hoteye, Mystogan, and Wendy all three attacked the fire woman together. He’d have to hope they could handle her.
This time no one immediately shot him when he appeared at the lacrima. It wasn’t unguarded, but he had a chance to teleport a second time, transporting himself to the floating island before they had even taken stock of his arrival. An alarm call was going out, the soldiers immediately beginning to call out warning that an enemy had appeared.
The soldiers began to gather where they had seen Arthur, but he was already behind their lines, and with a roar he released a blast of darkness, it wasn’t a normal dragon’s roar, he spread the beam out into a wide wave of shadow. It lacked the penetrating, destructive force of a true dragon roar, not strong enough to slam through a person’s body in its entirety, but It was a wide-area attack which knocked men flying. The aerial cavalry moved to catch the falling soldiers, and Arthur’s hand moved to Caelum’s key.
He summoned forth the mechanical celestial spirit, the metal sphere appearing. “Don’t let anyone come near,” He stated, before weaving together a barrier from his territory magic. It was almost a dome, only sliver from the top to the side pointed directly towards the massive lacrima showing. He couldn’t reinforce it as well as he’d like; he didn’t have time to truly create a new space between them. But it should keep the riff-raff out.
The lacrima was smaller than before. He was worried about that. He’d hit it with his dragon’s roar before. He’d have crumbled under the weight of guilt if it wasn’t for what his Archive had recorded in that instant; the lacrima hadn’t been damaged, it had begun to revert to people. He was still terrified about what might have happened to those people, but he hadn’t killed them. He had just dropped them out of the frying pan into the fire. Still given the motivation behind making the giant lacrima in the first place the Edolas Army was unlikely to have killed them, so much as tried to turn them into lacrima.
He pushed it from his mind. He had to. There were still people he had to save before he could let himself feel guilt over people he might have doomed. He told himself that if this helped him stop Acnologia, and remove that looming threat from the world it was all worth it. But here and now, he needed to deal with the lacrima that was here. He’d figure out how to save them soon enough.
He touched the silver key of the grandfather’s clock. It and Aries were his only combat capable spirits that he had not yet summoned. “Horologium, my life may be in your hands,” He stated. Offering a small prayer to the Celestial Spirit King that should an emergency happen, Horologium would come to save him.
Then he began to gather the magic required to replicate anima. It was not easy. His territory armor faded. He could not afford it. His overclocking shut down. He could not afford it. There was only the barrier and Caelum. He’d have to put his faith in them. He could feel Caelum beginning to fire upon the aerial cavalry, its beams cutting down anything that flew too close.
Winds began to howl, a funnel cloud starting to form around the lacrima. His magic was working to bridge dimensions. He trusted that the dimension Zero had tried to send him to was Earthland; his Archive magic indicated it probably was. Edolas had differences in the magical background radiation of the world compared to Earthland. The world on the other side had matched Earthland. It was a path he could follow. His Archive’s physical manifestation took shape, the hard-light supercomputer filling the dome he had made completely. It was mapping the path between realities, even as Arthur’s magic began to weave its way across that path.
His Archive began to blaze out with warning. Something was drawing energy from the lacrima. Someone was killing the people stored in it. Arthur began to rush to finish his work, pressing his magic to completion faster. He was worried he was getting sloppy. Arthur was pushing his control to its limits. But he didn’t have another option. He couldn’t do this as slowly as he would have liked.
Pieces of lacrima began to break off and fall to the ground as the drain continued, though its pace began to slacken. Wind whipped about, pieces of the island starting to shake and break off as the lacrima started to become less and less opaque, light passing through it as it started to phase from reality. The drain on the lacrima cut off completely; the lacrima was no longer sufficiently in this world to be drained from within it. The drain was turning however towards Arthur himself, energy slowly being pulled out from him.
He felt Caelum’s gate close. His barrier was breaking apart, something draining the magic from it. Arthur didn’t have time to defend himself, he could only rely on faith, hope, and prayer; his trust and belief in his celestial spirit.
Right now he had to finish his pseudo-anima, it was at the final step. Once it was complete it was complete. If he stopped now the lacrima would slide back into this world and whoever was draining it would use it like they had already begun doing so.
His Archive was shattered by a single powerful blow, but it was no longer necessary for the spell. Arthur found himself crammed into a grandfather clock. It was a shield that separated the spacetime inside of it from anything outside, his ultimate defense.
“Before this one asks, I am we-” Horologium began before Arthur felt the energy of the gate which connected him to this world sucked clean from around him, Horologium’s silver key shattering.
Arthur looked at the man who had done it. It was an armored man, or at least Arthur assumed it was a man beneath the heavy armor. The chest plate of the armor was a soft, creamy near white, same with portions of the front of the arms and legs, but the sides, back, and even the parts of the front closest to the sides were black with dark blue markings upon it. The helmet sloped forward from the front of the head, a stylized, dragon-like mouth, with a gun barrel inside of it. Mechanical wings spread behind its back, and a ‘tail’ made of a series of small blades formed together into a whip swished behind its back.
Arthur was uncertain if it was a robot or a suit of powered armor, but the raw power he could feel from it was overwhelming. No. It wasn’t the power from it; it was the power it was drawing into it. His power. It was feeding on his power. He was in for a fight. And it wasn’t going to be an easy one.
“Could we maybe talk?” Arthur asked. Something inside of him was raging. Even as he asked to talk, that part of him was screaming to tear into the knight and tear him apart for the audacity of stealing from him. It was a bubbling rage inside of him. It was only an itch in the back of his head, a simmering, bubbling thing deep under the surface. And it felt almost foreign. He knew where it came from. It was the dragon seed deep inside himself.
“Are you offering to surrender?” The black knight asked. “I can’t assure your life if you don’t.”
Arthur considered it. He could still teleport. He thought. He hoped he could use that to get away before the armor drained away the magic of his teleportation effect.
“I still have your king. I could kill him before you could stop me,” Arthur threatened.
“You kill the king and we kill our captives as well,” the knight said. “I captured your five little friends who helped defeat Ultear and Panther Lily, as well as those people you reverted from lacrima previously. You kill the king and I can no longer assure their safety.”
“So saying you have hostages too,” Arthur said glaring at the knight.
“That is a crass way of putting it, but not inaccurate,” the knight sighed.
“Can you even promise their safety?”
The knight’s head shook slightly. “No, I cannot. That will be up to the king.”
“Then I can’t just hand him over to you,” Arthur said.
“I didn’t want to have to use force…”
“But I can offer a deal. I mean if you fight me, what do you think is the chance that I will lose alive? I’m a dragon slayer, so you do want me alive, don’t you? Besides I have more magic than anyone else here,” Arthur spoke with a confidence he didn’t really feel. His hand on the black sword at his waist. His Archive could only register one thing about the knight before him: anti-magic coating shielded them. He wasn’t certain Astra could harm the knight, but the black sword wasn’t magic as this world understood it. Even if it was, it was a god-slaying weapon. It might punch through the armor. Maybe. His mind was considering the options he could buy. A magic style. An increase to his magical power. He didn’t think his motives were pure enough to benefit from For My Friends. The Knight might let him win with his sword. It felt like his best chance. But he wasn’t going to spend till he knew what he needed and how.
The knight’s metal claws clenched. It made for awkward fists, and they seemed to notice it as their hands opened again and pulled apart and back. His claws were on full display, gems visible in the palms which likely were some form of weapon as well. “What is your deal?” The knight asked.
Arthur wasn’t completely sure. He just wanted to keep the enemy talking. As long as he was talking Arthur’s magical energy could slowly regenerate, and standing there was buying him a chance to rest physically as well, at least a little. “The people who were reverted from the lacrima. I want to send them home. If you have me you shouldn’t need them.”
“I cannot promise you anything, but I will talk to the others.”
“I’m not done with my terms yet,” Arthur said. “You claimed to have my friends who had fought alongside me. Keep one of them, and release the others.”
“No. They won’t accept that, I’m certain of it,” the knight’s words were firm and certain.
“Just the little girl then. She’s too young to be caught up in this.” Arthur was glad. He still had the knight talking. As long as he was talking there was hope.
“I’m sorry but she’s a dragon slayer. I am almost completely certain that they will refuse to give her up.”
“How do I know you even have them?” Arthur asked.
“I’ll try to get them to release one. But I still need to know why this is worth it?” The knight said solemnly.
“Because I have your king in a pocket dimension. I’m sure your friends in the castle can confirm that. You might be able to feel the energy for all I know. But don’t try to absorb it. I will crush the dimension and everything inside of it.”
“And then they will die. You went this far to save all those people in the lacrima. You might have caused some substantial damage and deaths along the way, but I doubt you’d squander those lives so callously.”
“He unified the world by war. He hoarded the world’s magic in his own, personal playground. He helmed the anima project. If I kill the king this world breaks back into war. If I don’t; I have every belief that the king will continue to wage war but now against other dimensions. I’m not squandering lives by killing him. I’m doing it by sparing him.”
The knight took a step back, his shoulders slouching a little. The helmet nodded slightly. “I see. I can understand why you feel that way.” From the tone of their voice, Arthur suspected they agreed themselves.
“So do we have a deal?” Arthur asked.
“I will have to talk to others, I cannot just agree.”
“Do we personally have a deal?”
The knight paused, a few heartbeats passing. “Tell me what happened to castle guard lieutenant Sorano.”
“Sorano?” Arthur asked, just buying time.
“The woman who pursued you and the king into the emergency tunnel.”
“I captured her along with the king.”
“She’s alive?” Arthur heard the hope in his voice.
“As long as I don’t kill her. I’d prefer not to have to. She hasn’t committed any interdimensional war crimes or helmed attempted genocide to my knowledge.”
The knight was quiet for some time. “Release her as a sign of trust,” He said.
“How about I release her when I see my people, and the king after I send them home with my magic?”
“Alright,” the knight said. “I’ll go talk.”
“And keep the soldiers back, if I so much as catch a whiff that one is thinking about approaching this island I will not be held responsible for the consequences,” Arthur menaced.
“Understood,” the man said with a weary, tired voice. The man turned to leave, and Arthur collapsed in a tired heap. He needed to figure out a plan. He’d bought himself a chance to survive. From what he’d gathered they wanted the dragon slayers alive; and not as lacrima. He was pretty sure they wanted them as magical batteries of sorts. Not a good fate to end up as. But he’d bought time to rest and recuperate, and to think and plan.
His Archive’s functionality was down by 60%. He’d have to spend time and energy to repair it. Energy he didn’t have in abundance right now. Still he needed to make himself do it. More than he needed energy in abundance, he needed something like his Archive. And he needed sleep. He spent almost an hour working on it before he succumbed to this latter need.