Malcolm tried to seize the initiative. He clapped his hands and, feet set wide, breathed out a long stream of fire right at Jahdiel. The elf wasn't the most dangerous one here, but his Trick was certainly the hardest one to deal with if left alone.
Jahdiel seemed to understand this too, because he sidestepped and put himself behind Alexander, using the big minotaur as a shield. The fire splashed into Alexander's open torso, and while he did have to put an arm over his face to cover his eyes it didn't do much damage.
His Spirit was too strong, Malcolm knew, and the fire wasn't hot enough to burn through in any meaningful way unless the minotaur let himself get blasted by it for long enough.
Which he didn't. Alexander darted forward, splitting through the fire stream and breaking it apart in a splash of bright orange wisps. His hand—his good hand—came near, intent on grabbing Malcolm by the throat.
Clover tackled Malcolm aside and they both sprawled on the ground. She landed with a grunt and tried to cover them by throwing a handful of seeds at Alexander, whose hand closed around nothing. Clapping her hands, Clover made the seeds sprout into a mass of roots, their green and brown tentacles wrapping together and forming a net midair.
The net was just about to hit the minotaur, but then a wall of sap rose out of the ground to defend him. Clover's roots—still growing and writhing like worms—struck the sap and were consumed by it, settling deep before the wall hardened into amber, trapping them in a statuesque snapshot of their flight.
Malcolm looked over at Jahdiel, whose hands were on the floor and whose face was set in a smirk directed right at him. Bastard. The boy brought his hands together, intent on barbecuing the smug look off the guy's face, but before he could, Alexander came out from around the amber wall.
It looked like the minotaur had decided to stop playing around, because his own enormous hands were clasped together. It must've been painful, one of them blackened by heat in what had to be a third-degree burn at best. Still, Alexander toughed it out with nothing but a flicker of pain, one he drowned out with the snarl of his battle rage.
"Look out!" Malcolm said, pushing Clover out of the way. On impulse, he then leaped into the air just as Alexander charged through, looking down at the minotaur from above.
Malcolm hoped it would confuse the guy, but Alexander slid to a stop right away. Then, horrifyingly, he saw the minotaur turn, looking up at him with hands still clasped.
Still hanging some dozen feet off the ground, Malcolm could only watch as Alexander leaped into the air right after him. The minotaur's Trick seemed to work just fine on the vertical axis, moving his great body as fast as ever through the air, and as he went he held his good hand out, winding up for a hooking punch.
Teeth grit, Malcolm went for the one thing he could think of. He twisted in the air as best he could, knees bent, and set himself up to jump off Alexander's passing fist. It wouldn't be pretty, but it was either this or let himself get hit by something that would definitely shatter bones.
But Alexander had seen this move before. He feigned the punch and, just before contact, opened his hand and grabbed Malcolm by the ankles. Grinning wickedly, the minotaur spun around and threw Malcolm like a frisbee right at the solid ground beneath as hard as his muscles let him.
Clover watched the boy coming down, and acted on pure instinct. She shoved a hand into the worryingly vanishing reserve of seeds she kept in her pocket, grabbed an entire handful sprayed them on the floor, clapping her hands a second after.
A garden bloomed in an instant. Bushels and thrushes, long flowers with wide rainbow petals, a bed of vines and roots and grass. The smell of fresh dew smacked her in a blast of wind, and just in time.
Malcolm landed on the mess of foliage, bouncing on it like a trampoline before landing harshly next to it. Clover ran to him and bent to help him up.
"You alright?" she asked, keeping an eye out for Jahdiel.
The elf was sending her a deadly glare, though he seemed impressed at the scale of her Trick. Even now the garden continued to grow, its center a tight ball of organic matter several feet across. Vines spread like cobwebs from it still, going so far as to entangle other fighters nearby, and Clover had to grimace when she saw that a Scout had gotten tied up in them along with a couple of guards.
As for Malcolm, he held a hand to his head, trying to keep it from spinning. "I feel like throwing up," he mumbled, eyes glazed over. "But nothing broken. I think."
Clover nodded and kept him from tripping on his own feet, though she still wasn't looking at him. She watched warily as Alexander landed near Jahdiel, the two of them regrouping and speaking to one another, sending glances their way.
"We need a plan," she said. They'd barely been keeping up as it was. If things kept going like this, they'd lose soon enough.
"Uh..."
Something about Malcolm's voice raised the alarm. Clover finally turned to him, brow furrowed in concern. "What? Did you break a bone after all?"
"Worse," Malcolm said, blinking rapidly. He rubbed his eyes, glaring harshly forward.
At first, Clover figured he must still be dizzy. Then, looking at him, she had the sudden impression that something was weird about him after all. She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what it was, and with a spark of insight recognized the problem at the same moment he announced it.
"... My glasses," Malcolm said. His voice was both resigned and disbelieving, because while he'd always known this could happen he had never thought it actually would, and at the worst possible time. "Clover, I can't see without my glasses..."
He squinted up at her with narrowed black eyes, and Clover stared directly back at them.
"That's really bad," she said. There were plenty of other words she could have chosen, but those three just about said it all.
Meanwhile, Dimple had been forgotten in the chaos. That was fair enough—he wasn't truly a threat to anybody. The guards left him alone as Alexander's nephew, and the Scouts left him alone as the one who had ridden in beside Red. It seemed like no one really knew what to make of him, so better to just not deal with him at all, particularly when they were already getting attacked by someone else.
It all left Dimple feeling thoroughly miserable. He still hadn't told his uncle everything that was on his mind, and now he couldn't even fight because he was so weak. Maybe he should have gone with Red. At least then he'd be useful.
That's what he thought. Then, all of a sudden, a pair of cracked and dirty glasses had fallen nearby.
Dimple looked down, staring at them. He bent down to pluck them off the floor and held them up, turning them about in his hand. Finally, his eyes went to Malcolm a few dozen yards away.
This was about as good a sign as any he could get, right?
- - - — MKII — - - -
Red was used to battles that started slow. You showed up, trash-talked a bit, then started throwing out some jabs. The point wasn't to actually hurt the opponent—that came later. You just had to get a taste of them first, see what they could handle. Play around. Even Lorcana, who had been trying to kill him, didn't get serious until it was clear she had to.
Harmony held no such reservations. Right away the fairy began their deadly dance, jumping from their place beside Halcyon and bouncing off the walls in a flurry of leaps so fast they nearly disappeared from sight.
It took maybe a second for Red to feel something hit him in the gut, then another two for him to get smacked right in the face. The boy brought his hands up, hunching over to keep his body as closed up as he could, all the while straining to follow the streak of shadow that assaulted him.
He supposed he should have seen this coming, seeing as he and Harmony had already gone through the usual battle ritual in their first bout. That and Harmony was actually angry with him this time. Still, he had hoped the fairy wouldn't jump straight into their pinball technique. It would only make it harder for him to buy time.
A couple of blows hit his guard before one slammed him from behind. Red gasped, but didn't bring his block down—it was the only thing he could depend on at this point. Instead, he let himself fall with the momentum, throwing himself forward into a safety roll and stopping on one knee.
Man. This really hurt. Red tried not to let it bother him as practically every joint in his body started aching or when he felt his skin break all over. He closed his eyes, trying to simply stop feeling the pain.
He didn't try to fight back, because there would be no point; he'd already tried and failed before, and the simple fact was that Harmony went too fast for him to handle when they were like this. No use in wasting energy on something that wouldn't work.
Instead, Red focused on the rhythm of Harmony's offensive. The beat was fast, but it was a beat—kneeling by the center of the room as he was, there would be around the same amount of space from there to the wall in any direction. Plus, rhythm came naturally in a fight, and it was hard not to sink into it even when you weren't trying.
Hit, pause.
Hit, pause.
The blows came like a racing heart, and Red felt his own heart race to the same tempo. It was important to know it, to feel it, because it was only when that rhythm broke that he could make his move. When that pause stretched on for just a bit too long.
Hit, pause.
Hit, pause.
Hit—
Red's eyes snapped open. Despite that one of his eyes had by now purpled shut, he felt a grin slip into his face.
Hit, pause. Hit, pause. Hit, pause, pause.
Hit, and at this one Red shifted. He turned, fist curling, one eye glancing all around.
Pause. There Harmony was, a streak of darkness lit in the joint glow of Halcyon's stem and the mass of fireflies that clouded its petals. A fast streak blurring towards him, hard to make out. Hard but, unlike some moments before, not impossible.
Pause. Adrenaline slowing everything down, Red could just barely make out Harmony's face. It was tight and cold and tinted with rage, but their purple eyes met his, and in that brief instant Red saw the beginnings of surprise.
His grin widened, and with a winding hook he threw his punch forward. Bloody and bandaged knuckles cracked Harmony straight in their obsidian face, digging into the fairy's stony cheek, bending back their head, and ultimately slamming their body away as quickly as it had come.
Harmony flew back all the way across the room, breaking first through one of the circular tables that circled its center and then breaking through the second. They then landed, dragging along the ground and finally rolling to a stop.
For a long moment Harmony just lay there, face down and surrounded by the plumes of dust and debris the broken tables had made. Those tables remained as they were, practically glued to the floor as they were, only now they were both split along the same new trench of splinters and open space.
Red kept his eyes on Harmony as the fairy slowly picked themselves up, still grinning widely. The bandages that had wrapped around his torso were all now hanging loose, ripped to lengthy shreds, so he pulled them off, feeling the refreshing feel of the pavilion's cool air against his naked skin.
"You have no idea how good that one felt," Red said, walking forward.
Harmony stood, stumbled, and put a hand on their face. It was hard to tell how bad the bruise looked with their skin all black, but their face looked bloated enough on one side, the nearest eye squinting.
Purple eyes stared at Red, wide and disbelieving. "How..."
Then, the fairy felt something strange. Their legs felt... heavy?
Looking down, Harmony noted that their feet seemed to stick to the floor whenever they tried to pull them up. It was a subtle thing, barely noticeable, but the resistance was there. Something had stuck to the soles of their feet, a kind of transparent film.
In a second, Harmony recognized it. Their gaze snapped to Red again, then to the pavilion's entrance. No one there now. The fairy looked around the room, eyes swiping through the walls, and soon enough they found what they were looking for at the other end of the room.
Daphne on that big riding snail, crawling fast and sideways along the pavilion wall, leaving behind a thin but wide trail of mucus. Already they'd made it a few times around the whole room, and Harmony could make out their path by the glint it made against Halcyon's light. A greenish, glittering glaze strung in parallel circles.
The Head Scout met Harmony's gaze. Fearful, but also defiant, and getting spotted only seemed to embolden the woman. She kicked against Bessie, hoping to go faster.
There was only one option. The world blurred, and in a second Harmony was flying right at the damnable snail, twisting around to hit feet-first, zeroed in on Daphne's neck.
Just as suddenly, a sledgehammer slammed into the fairy's side. Their obsidian body bent, caught in an instant of pain and disorientation, and in the next moment Harmony found themselves sent back the way they'd come. They beamed through the air, landed, and slid roughly along the ground until they hit the wall, crashing against it with a deep thump.
Harmony glanced up once more, arm curling against the agony in their abdomen. They saw Red falling through the air, caught in the backswing of his swiping punch.
When he landed, Red sent the fairy a smile of smug satisfaction. "I figured that'd be the first thing you went for when you found out what was happening," he said, pointing at them. "Getting a bit predictable, aren't we? You might be fast, but catching you's no problem if I know exactly where you're going!"
Harmony coughed and blood came out, a blackish red that splattered on the ground and dribbled down to their chin. At the sight of it, the anger that had only simmered in Harmony's look now found full expression, drawing down the fairy's brow in a murderous glare. "Petty tricks from a hopeless child. Two meager blows!"
Red scoffed. "You're tougher than before, I'll give you that." He spread his arms, inviting. "But sure, come at me. Let's see how many more of those you can take."
It was a clever enough scheme. Wind Dance could make sure that no blow from Red actually hurt, but only if Harmony saw it coming, and when they bounced around as they had been the sheer speed was too fast to react dependably. If they didn't bounce around and fought more straightforwardly, Red would have no offensive recourse, but Harmony's strikes wouldn't carry much force. The boy was too durable to get meaningfully hurt by anything less than Harmony's maximum speed.
So that meant Harmony had two options. One was to target Red, and the other was to target Daphne. But if Harmony chose the former, Red would only have to wait for the mucus to slow them down to strike back. And if Harmony chose the latter, Red would know what trajectory to intercept. Either way, Harmony would get hit, bottlenecked into one of two bad options.
The smart thing to do would have been to simply leave. This little trap only worked in an enclosed space like this, and while it got increasingly more effective as Daphne covered the walls with slime, it also lost all its effectiveness the moment Harmony decided to run through the exit.
This battle wasn't actually important, after all. The only thing that truly mattered at this moment was to stay conscious and let the Crown of Thorns expand its reach. All Harmony had to do to win was leave the room, and they saw that very clearly.
But what Harmony saw even more clearly was Red's smirking face. He had, impossibly, gotten the best of them. He had walked in, broken a piece off Halcyon, and even gotten two good hits in. The little human bastard.
Before this was done, Harmony would see that grin wiped off the face of the earth. So, instead of leaving, Harmony bent their knees, glared right at Red, and then leaped.
In moments Red had to bring his hands up again, curling up to defend against a barrage of blows. They hit him on the shoulders, on his legs, on his exposed back, on the back of his head.
Sometimes they made him stumble or fall or flinch in spiking pain. Sometimes he threw a punch, noting that they'd slowed, and Harmony would take advantage of his lowered guard to kick his teeth in. Sometimes he'd have to place himself close to Daphne, and he'd get hit hard whenever he did, and even Daphne would get hit a few times, but never enough to stop her efforts. Red always made sure of that.
So Red took his punishment, but none of that mattered. All along Red still smiled, and all along he counted the rhythm in his head, and all along he waited for the perfect moment.
Hit, pause.
Hit, pause.
Hit—
- - - — MKII — - - -
"Fire on nine!"
Malcolm immediately turned, hands clapping, and shot a stream of sloppy flames. The wave of sap that had been set to wash over him melted and evaporated away in a cloud of sizzling smoke, and though he couldn't see it beyond some vague shapes and colors he could definitely smell the waft of burnt honey.
Clover's hand squeezed on his shoulder, and Malcolm could feel her shift from her place behind him. "Three o'clock, move!"
Something big popped and ripped on Malcolm's right, but he didn't bother trying to squint at it. Instead, he followed Clover's direction, letting her pull him away as the sound of ripping rope rattled the air; overstrained vines snapping.
They stumbled out of the way just in time before something big shot through a hair's breadth away. A rush of wind followed, and Malcolm figured they'd yet again avoided Alexander's charge.
It was the latest in a long line of close calls, and both Rangers knew their luck couldn't last forever. Both of them were getting far too tired, and Clover was running out of ammo. If it was to be a battle of attrition, they would soon lose.
The one thing they had going for them was Halcyon's stem, which functioned as a useful barrier to keep on their backs. Clover had slowly and arduously led them to it at the chamber's center, and at first Malcolm had been confused while stumbling up the lean hill on which the flower stood. But, as its greenish glow strengthened in his blurry vision, he understood.
Alexander wouldn't dare charge straight at Halcyon for fear of damaging it. That meant that, as long as Clover kept their backs to it, those backs would be relatively safe from unseen attacks. It was only one safe angle of many that their enemies could strike from, but one was better than none.
"Three again," Clover said, voice hitching. "Fire, fire!"
Malcolm clapped and blew, fire clashing against another wave of sap. He felt Clover's hand ease its grip on his shoulder and knew he'd stopped it just in time. She made for good eyes, though it wasn't exactly ideal. "We won't last like this," he muttered.
Clover sighed behind him, and he could hear the frustration in her tone. "I'm not sure what else to do. Honestly, I'm just waiting for Mom and Red to finish things upstairs."
If they finish things, Malcolm thought darkly. Mind whirling, he tried sounding a bit less cynical out loud. "I wanna be alive when they do. How many more seeds do you have left?"
"Not many."
"Enough to hold Alexander down?"
A beat. "For a bit."
That would have to be good enough. "Drop 'em all," Malcolm said.
"What—"
"All of them on the ground. Just trust me."
He did have an idea. A longshot idea, but all of this was a longshot anyway so it fit the mood. Hearing the patter of seeds falling and bouncing on the soft ground below, he tried explaining it. "When Alexander next passes—"
And that's when everything went wrong.
Listening to Malcolm, Clover watched as Jahdiel sent another wave of sap from their left and Alexander charged from their right. It was obviously coordinated, and though she was momentarily surprised, it was also a wonder what took them so long.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
"Crap," she mumbled, shoving Malcolm forward out of Alexander's way. Then, with Jahdiel's sap bearing down on them, she used all her strength to push the boy further, knocking him onto the ground and out of harm's reach.
As for herself, Clover tried her best to avoid the orange goop but couldn't manage it. She got covered up to her knees in the stuff, and it hardened a second later, trapping her in an amber mold that no amount of pulling could get her out of.
"Clover?" Malcolm asked, pushing himself up nearby. The boy looked around, squinting, and though he glanced her way he didn't seem to recognize her. "Are you there? What happened?"
"What happened is I finally pinned down one of you human fools," Jahdiel spat, strolling toward them. Hearing him, Malcolm brought his hands up, but the elf only laughed. "Lost your sight, have you? I wondered at your unusual tactics."
Jahdiel walked past Clover, and as he reached Malcolm sap rose out from the ground and formed a spear in his hand. Malcolm put his hands together, stepping back at the coming shape, and Jahdiel laughed again. "Shoot me if you dare, but you'll burn your friend if you do."
That wasn't exactly true. Clover was close, but at that angle Malcolm could breathe fire at Jahdiel without her getting caught up in it. Still, blind as he was, the bluff did its job, and Malcolm hesitated.
"Leave him alone, you creep!" Clover said, trying to help Malcolm gauge her location by her voice. "He's defenseless!"
"Oh, I highly doubt that," Jahdiel said. He watched as Malcolm took a deep breath, seemingly about to throw an inferno at him despite the consequences. Reckless boy. The thought made Jahdiel smirk. "Oh, don't bother worrying about me. Your life already belongs to another."
And so Alexander came. The minotaur lumbered over, judging by Clover's entrapment and Jahdiel's confident stance that there was no need for a sustained attack. His hooves clunked deep against the wooden ground, and once he reached the mound of Halcyon's stem they left shallow grooves on the packed dirt.
His shape was impossible to miss, and looking up at it Malcolm couldn't help but retreat another step. His back touched Halcyon, and with a small gasp he felt the nectar stick to his shirt. Malcolm planted his feet and pulled himself off the flower's stem, an effortful task that the two enemy Greenkin watched with some amusement.
"Well, Councilman," Jahdiel said. "I suppose he's all yours."
"Yes..." Alexander looked down at the blind Ranger, noting how the boy kept his hands defiantly together. He still felt anger, still wanted to wring that little neck until the head popped off, but the sight of Malcolm backed into a corner and squinting pathetically up at them cooled the rage.
This was no longer a battle. Alexander felt himself there not as a warrior, but as a giant staring down at a blind boy. It was... unseemly. Discomforting.
Meanwhile, Dimple finally reached them. He passed by Clover first, quietly assessing the amber that consumed half her body, hands coming up to help before realizing there was nothing he could do to help her escape.
But escaping wasn't what she needed. Seeing him, Clover noted first the pinched look of terror on his bull face, and then the cracked glasses cradled in his hands. She leaned forward, glancing at Jahdiel and Alexander's turned backs to make sure they hadn't noticed.
"You're on our side, right?" she whispered. After a moment of hesitation, Dimple nodded, and Clover reached into her pocket. "I need you to do something for me."
"Get it over with," Jahdiel was saying, amber spear resting in his crossed arms. "The sooner we're done here, the sooner we can go help the director." Alexander glanced at him, and Jahdiel coughed. "Not that they need our help, of course."
Grunting, Alexander reached for Malcolm. Seeing the large shape of his hand made the boy draw back, ready to blow, but Dimple's voice stopped them.
"Hold on!" Alexander and Jahdiel turned to Dimple. Even Malcolm squinted at his direction, and their narrowed gazes made the small minotaur clench tighter on his fisting hands. "I... just wanted to say, uncle. I'm sorry."
Alexander blinked, annoyance at the interruption dissolving into befuddlement. "You're sorry?" he asked, just to make sure he'd heard right.
"Yes. S-Sorry." Dimple stepped forward, standing between the two other Greenkin and right in front of Malcolm. Jahdiel now looked at him warily, so he'd have to make this quick. "I'm sorry uncle, because this is probably going to hurt a lot."
"Hurt?"
Jahdiel's arms came loose and he swiped with his spear, but Dimple was already moving. The young minotaur ducked as he ran, the spear's amber tip slicing off a few strands of fur. His left hand opened and seeds came tumbling out, clattering like marbles, and as they hit the ground Dimple tackled Malcolm as hard as he could.
Alexander and Jahdiel looked down at the seeds, processing, and at the same moment recognized what would happen next. But it was too late; Clover had already clapped her hands, and in an instant the mass of seeds exploded in a green bloom that consumed them both.
Dimple and Malcolm landed in a heap just beyond the reach of vines, and as soon as they did the former pulled the latter up to a kneel. "That won't hold them long!" he said frantically.
Malcolm, coughing at the sudden puff of dust, glared all around. "What are you—"
"Here!"
Dimple opened Malcolm's glasses and shoved them onto the boy's face. Malcolm flinched, blinked against the lenses, and the first thing he saw was Alexander and Jahdiel both tangled up in bundles of plant matter. The Greenkin struggled to break free as bark and thick ivy continued creeping up their bodies in branches, growing around them like two twin trees.
"Don't kill them!" Dimple said. "Please!"
Malcolm was already clapping his hands, recognizing the opportunity. He stood and steadied himself, glancing down at Dimple. "I'll try," he said, trying to sound sincere.
The truth was he couldn't have cared less at the moment, because Alexander was already clawing away at his plant net, pulling off entire clumps of wood and leaves.
Breathing in, Malcolm felt his body grow hot, steam rising from his reddening skin once more. If he wanted to end this, his flames would have to break through that monster minotaur's Spirit. None of his flames had done so yet, but it was now or never, and in thinking this Malcolm allowed his own Spirit to boil, melting against every fiber of his body, forming what felt like a miniature sun in his chest.
It hurt, but Malcolm forced it hotter, and just as he thought he might burn himself to death from the inside out he finally let it all out in an exhaling scream.
A white waterfall of flames streamed from his mouth. Pure white light washed over Alexander and Jahdiel, first charring at their plant entrapment and then burning it away in disintegrating chunks of floating black particles.
Dimple felt the heat of it even from behind Malcolm, his fur and skin scorching. Sweat collected all around his body and almost immediately evaporated in a rush of burning wind. It was hard to breathe, and harder still to see his uncle, who'd been entirely taken in by the bright wave of destruction.
Glancing at Halcyon, he saw all the nectar turn to steam, floating up the stem and piling against the clumps of whirling fireflies several feet above. The flower's green stem even started browning a bit, near enough to the heat to burn even without direct contact, and Dimple was about to shout a complaint before the light suddenly vanished and the heat went with it.
Malcolm stood before him, heaving and slumped, a hand clutching hard on his chest. Nearby, Clover shook her legs, the amber having melted back into malleable sap that stuck wetly on her pants.
And there on the ground lay Alexander and Jahdiel, both of them charred and naked. Dimple saw that his uncle's fur had all been burnt away, so that he looked like a giant newborn. Or at least one that had just come out of a roasting oven.
Dimple stood, shaky on his hooves, then made his way over. He looked down at his uncle, aware of Malcolm and Clover behind him, and for a horrifying moment he thought the big minotaur was now nothing but an empty husk. But then the great body shook, racked with a series of dry coughs.
Kneeling, Dimple almost put a hand on Alexander but thought better of it. Touching would only hurt him now. Instead, the young minotaur pulled his own shirt off and laid it softly on his uncle's hips, trying to at least salvage some of his dignity.
"I really am sorry, uncle," he said, voice choked with tears. "I really am!"
- - - — MKII — - - -
Daphne watched the battle in a sort of haze.
It was impossible to see Harmony as the fairy bounced this way and that. Rarely, she could spot a streak of black, like a shunting shadow, but most of the time Daphne just found herself glancing around at nothing.
The only stable thing she could pay attention to was Red himself, and for minutes now she'd watched the boy with his hands up, shifting mildly on his feet and standing still as he was stung over and over. Only rarely would he take a swing, and only rarely would that swing strike true, though when it did it seemed to hurt Harmony plenty.
Daphne had already been hit a few times by Harmony's pinball kick, and it had rattled her hard enough to almost knock her off Bessie as the snail carried her around the room's wall. Even now she could still feel the aftermath of each and every blow, not only in the bruises they'd created but also in the pure psychic shock of them. A nearly invisible force knocking hard against her, any defense completely useless against it. Never before had Daphne felt so vulnerable.
So it had come with growing shock to see Red take on the sustained assault. More than that, he retaliated. The instant Harmony slowed, the boy would turn and hammer with his fist at a target Daphne could barely even perceive. And more than a few times he'd thrown himself like a wall in front of her, defending her from a blow she hadn't even noticed would come.
The whole thing left her speechless and exasperated. Daphne considered herself fairly competent, but this wasn't a fight she could even imagine herself in. And I actually considered not bringing him, she thought ruefully. Once again, Clover had been right.
This wasn't a fight between people, Mystic or otherwise. It was a fight between monsters.
But even to Daphne's limited sight, something about the battle started feeling off. Red seemed to slowly, almost imperceptibly, step further and further away. It only became clear once Daphne noticed that the boy now stood just by Halcyon, right under the shadow of its great petaled head. Each hit from Harmony had driven him further and further in that direction.
A second later, Daphne realized why.
"Get out of there!" she shouted, but too late.
One more hit made Red take a final step back, and his back struck Halcyon's stem. At once he felt himself stick to it, the nectar working like glue against his naked back.
Eyes widening, Red looked over his shoulder and saw the wall of green he'd become attached to. "Oh, shit."
Oh shit indeed. He would have pulled himself off, but then Harmony hit him again, not breaking his guard but driving him even further into the trap.
Daphne pulled on Bessie's reins, meaning to ride over and help somehow, but then another invisible blow struck her, and it struck her hard. The Head Scout shouted her pain, knocked well and truly off Bessie's saddle, and the snail mewed with worry as she fell several feet down to the ground.
Harmony continued their barrage now, striking Red again and again, ping-ponging back and forth across the same distance, speed increasing so much that now a sort of blurry black beam formed across the room.
"You were clever!" the fairy said, and moving as fast as they were their voice bounced with them around the room. "But cleverness is not enough! Power is all that matters in the end, and I am more powerful than you!"
Red felt his arms hit again and again by an endless rattle, and eventually that rattle broke through his guard. Harmony kicked his bruised and bloody hands away and struck his open chest, his face, his abdomen. The blows came quickly, like a spray of bullets, pounding the boy deeper and deeper against Halcyon's stem.
Across the room, Daphne lay on the ground and watched, scowling with joint frustration and horror. She tried getting up, but as soon as she did Harmony came again, kicking her and knocking her hard against the wall, stealing all the breath from her lungs.
Bleary-eyed, Daphne saw the fairy go back to Red, driving him against Halcyon, riddling him with newer and harsher injuries, surely breaking bones, and the boy screamed.
- - - — MKII — - - -
"... Joseph?"
The voice came weakly, and Dimple looked down, meeting Alexander's eyes. The older minotaur breathed through his teeth, face blackened with burn scars, pained tears streaming down.
"Uncle..."
"Why?" Alexander asked. He groaned, racked with another series of coughs. "You... betrayed me. Your family."
Dimple stared sadly down at him, then raised his head. "Look. Can you see it?"
Alexander frowned, and doing so hurt terribly. But he bit down on the pain, turning his head to follow his nephew's gaze.
Malcolm and Clover had gone back into battle, now helping some other Scouts against a gang of guards nearby. Around them more battles weaved in and out of each other, spears stabbing, clubs raised, blood spilled.
Bodies littered the floor all throughout the chamber. Most of them were dead animals, bears and wolves and deer, some slashed apart, others with spears still sticking out from their flanks. But there were plenty of dead Scouts, and plenty of dead Greenkin too; some clad in blue, others not.
Combatants had to fight around the bodies, and sometimes even had to step over them, driven against the dreadful obstacles. Screams of anger and cut flesh rang out, echoing in a cacophony of war.
"Greenkin fighting against Greenkin," Dimple said, shaking his head. "Humans kill us, and then we kill them, and soon enough it's just killing for the sake of killing. If we try doing things like they do... if we try to solve all our problems just by fighting, then we'll only make the same mistakes they did. Just look! It's a massacre, and we're doing it to each other."
Alexander couldn't respond. Partially because speaking hurt, but also because he simply had no energy with which to refute Dimple's words. All his anger had been burnt out of him, and now all he wanted was to rest, sleep, maybe even die.
But Dimple kept talking, looking imploringly down at his uncle. "Humans aren't our enemy. Their problem isn't that they're different, it's that they think they are. Beastmen, fairies, satyrs, minotaurs, humans... We all have to eat, we all feel afraid, and we all try to hold on to the things we love. We're really all the same, in the end!"
He was older, Alexander realized. Dimple had always been small, but he'd grown into his father's face. The same lean muzzle, the same stocky nose. And his eyes were the same bright hazel, though it was hard to tell whether that was the color or the sheen of tears.
"The humans forgot that, and now we're starting to forget it too, but we can't!" Dimple said. "We have to make the humans remember that we're really all on the same side! When we kill them, we're killing people like us, and we can't fix the world by destroying ourselves!"
Alexander stared up at him, eyes half-lidded. Then, slowly, he spoke in a raspy voice. "Tell them..."
Dimple frowned, leaning closer.
Gulping, trying to wet his charred throat, Alexander tried again. "Tell them. See if they listen..."
Drawing back, Dimple's frown deepened. But, after a moment of thought, he nodded and got to his hooves. He looked over the whole room from his perch atop the small hill and, cupping his hands to his lips, he shouted as loud as he could.
"Stop fighting!"
The sounds of killing and breaking carried on, eating his words. Glaring now, Dimple shouted loud enough to make his throat hurt.
"Stop! Fighting!"
"You stupid coward."
Startled, Dimple turned and looked down at Jahdiel, whose own charred body lay beside Alexander's. The elf seemed far worse off, body almost all blackened, but despite that he glanced up at Dimple with a savage grin. "Idiot. Naive fool... You think words can stop this?"
He laughed, but it turned into a hoarse fit of coughs. Some smoke made its way out of his mouth, and after it was over Jahdiel turned his head to spit out a wad of black ash.
"Your problem, Dimple... is that you never understood our anger. Our hatred." Jahdiel grimaced, and his body shook in a sudden spasm of pain. Still, he continued glaring up at Dimple, relishing in the minotaur's disappointed hopes. "When it comes down to a fight... there is no stopping it. It's kill or be killed. And the longer it goes on... the less anyone wants to lose. We won't ever give up... We won't ever surrender to them. I won't ever surrender. I would rather die."
Dimple grit his teeth, but didn't know what to say. Instead, he looked back up at the battle, glaring out, and shouted at them all, trying again.
"Stop fighting!"
- - - — MKII — - - -
Harmony hammered Red again and again, feeling the exultation of victory. Their feet were covered in Bessie's slime, but it hardly mattered now. Red was a completely open target, and the crown still did its work, and Harmony only felt their Spirit rise.
Already their injuries—what few there were—had mostly healed, bruises settling and cut skin knitting back together. Power surged through them, and soon the fight would end, and Harmony would have no more enemies.
"You lived!" Harmony shouted, too energized not to. "You survived our last battle. You could have left, and been safe, but no! You had to come back, and why?! Because you were arrogant!"
Harmony kicked Red, who by now seemed just about dead, torso a red and purple blotch, and something cracked, though it didn’t sound quite like bone.
"You were selfish!"
Another kick, and another crack.
"Shortsighted!"
A surge of power, and one final kick, and to Harmony's sudden alarm they felt something give.
Red, having been dug deeper and deeper into Halcyon, now broke completely through the great flower's stem. Harmony followed, foot planted solidly on Red's stomach, bending the boy over with the force of it, and soon both of them flew right through to the other side.
Red landed first and Harmony landed on him, foot still planted on his stomach. The fairy held him against the floor, towering in their victory, but any good feeling curdled once they turned around.
Halcyon, the flower of their promise, got sliced right through and crashed like a felled tree onto the ground. It bounced once, petals fluttering harshly, before sticking right to the floor in a surge of dust and fireflies.
Speechless, Harmony watched it happen with wide eyes. Seconds ticked by, and the fairy almost convinced themselves that this all hadn't actually happened. That any moment Halcyon would simply rise again, stick itself back together.
But that didn't happen.
"You..." Harmony, entire body shaking, stared down at Red. "Look... Look at what you made me do."
Red turned, and when he opened his mouth a splash of blood streamed down. He blinked back the disorientation and the blurred vision, and when he finally saw what Harmony was talking about he had to hold back a laugh.
"You're seriously gonna blame me for that?"
Harmony bent down, putting more weight on him and forcing out some more blood. "You made me! I..." All at once, shock and a hint of shame shot like a current through them, and the fairy looked down at their own jet-black hands. "I... I lost control..."
At that Red did chuckle. "What did you call me again? Arrogant, selfish, shortsighted? Aren't you just talking about yourself?"
He shook his head and, very casually, grabbed Harmony's ankle. The fairy shot up, looking down at his grip with the sudden terror of quick realization.
"Look at you," Red said. "I break off one little piece of that stupid flower, and you go so crazy that you end up splitting the rest of the damn thing in half."
Slowly, he pushed himself up, Harmony still trying to pull their ankle free from his grip. They might have managed it, except it wasn't only Red—his hand was slathered in Halcyon's nectar, stuck to it through Harmony's own doing.
"You act all high and mighty, but really you feel the same things we all do," Red said, and now he reached over to grab Harmony's shoulder. "All that talk about how you're gonna save the world... You're really just looking to let loose and take your problems out on everyone else."
Harmony gave up on breaking free, and now started simply hitting Red in the face as hard as they could. Palm strike after palm strike hammered down on his cheek, and then elbow after elbow on his head, but none of it seemed to elicit much more than a squinting of the eyes.
"What did you call it before?" Red asked, and with one hand gripped solidly on Harmony's shoulder he went ahead and pulled his other hand off. Harmony's ankle came free painfully, bits of skin stuck to Red's palm. "Nature's game, right?"
Grinning, Red curled that palm into the tightest fist he could. "Let me break it to you. Games are supposed to be fun. Winning doesn't mean anything if the people playing all feel miserable by the end. So I'll do us both a favor and make sure you lose before you ruin it for everyone else." He pulled his arm back, muscles flexing. "Next time, learn to play better!"
With that, Red stepped in and punched Harmony as hard as he could. His fist dug into their face, just about crumbling it around his knuckles, and with a shout Red kept going, throwing himself fully into the blow.
Harmony fell back and Red went with them. He pounded the fairy's face right into the ground, cracking the wooden floor in a spiderweb of breaking planks.
And then he kept going, because he knew Harmony wasn't the same as before. One punch had been enough to break their hand once, but now with that crown on their head he'd seen the fairy take plenty more punishment. So Red let go of their shoulder, pulled his arm back, and punched Harmony a second time just as hard as the first.
The spider cracks expanded with an avalanche of popping wood, and then the whole floor crumbled underneath them. The two fell, through the air, falling down to the room below alongside a shower of splinters.
But Red still wasn't done, so he wrapped his legs around Harmony and, just as they landed on the second floor of the fight, punched again.
That floor broke apart too, sending them further down in an even bigger wave of fragmented wood. Then, Red punched Harmony through the floor below that. And the next one. And the next one. And the next one.
Red punched all the way down.
- - - — MKII — - - -
At the entrance chamber, Dimple huffed, voice hoarse. He cupped his hands over his lips again, ready to keep shouting for everyone to just stop, but then he heard a rumble from above. Jahdiel heard it too, and even Alexander opened his tired eyes.
The three looked up. Some of the Scouts and Greenkin nearby looked too, the sound too strange and loud. All of them noticed how the ceiling seemed to tremble, and how Halcyon wriggled with each beat, and how the thump like cracking concrete seemed to grow louder by the second.
And then the ceiling broke in an explosion of wood chips and dust and frenzied fireflies. All of it fell right beside Halcyon, some of the debris sticking to the stem, and among the visual noise two entangled bodies dropped fast through the air.
They crashed on the hill near Dimple, catching plenty of attention. The whole chamber fell silent, watching as the forms were enshrouded by plumes of dust.
A shadow rose from within the earthy fog. Slowly, the dust settled, and everyone saw Red standing over a downed Harmony.
The boy panted, energy spent. He looked around at them, one eye purpled, and brought a hand up to wipe away the blood from his nose. He sniffed, then brought a fist up.
"Alright," he said, words slurring. "Who's next?"
Harmony still and unconscious at his feet, slowly transformed. Their obsidian skin seemed to recede back into pure ivory, and their deep purple hair faded into a bright yellow. The crown on their head, thin and thorned, gently fell out, coming to rest on the ground beside them.
Everyone stared. Then, Dimple realized this was his chance.
He cupped his hands, turning back to the rest of the crowd. "EVERYONE!" He screamed fighting through the dryness of his throat. "IT'S OVER! STOP FIGHTING! THERE'S NO POINT ANYMORE!"
They stared at him now. Dimple felt their gaze, some glaring, others perturbed, and he stared stolidly back, willing them to listen.
"He's... right."
The words weren't shouted, but they were stern. Lorcana, white plumes dotted with blood, looked around at the others. Her eyes were heavy. Hurt. Forceful.
"The director... Without the director, there is no point," Lorcana said. Then, to make it clear, she held out her silver spear and dropped it. The metal ring of its clatter pierced through the silence. "The director wouldn't want us to die for nothing. Everyone. It is over..."
For a long, tense moment, the air stilled with the residue of hostile intent.
Then one guard dropped his spear. Then another. The clatters followed in a rain of defeat. They were joined by curses, despairing shouts, and disappointed mutters. The Scouts and their Greenkin allies watched, still cautious, as the enemy disarmed themselves.
Their relief came slowly, paired with a heavy dose of disbelief, and Dimple joined in that feeling. He looked on as the fighting stopped, looked on at the many bodies standing and fallen. He felt warm and cold all at once, certain it had all ended, lost in the wake of its happening.
That knot of emotion came out in a single, exhaling sob. And then he turned to look at Red, wanting to thank the boy.
But Red had already fallen onto his back, hands behind his head, lips curled into a sleepy grin. His face, beat and spotted with wounded colors, nevertheless seemed altogether at peace.
After all, it was finally the end of what had been a very long day.