“Alright, go!”
“Ha!”
“Hiya!”
Perseus, a determined little boy, gripped a pair of wooden swords that seemed oversized for his small frame, yet he wielded them with an impressive intensity. Holmes stood beside him, armed with a short wooden sword in one hand and a shield in the other. The boys attacked and defended with tireless vigor, their swords whooshing through the air and their shields clashing as they practiced their moves against Uncle Linden.
Swish!
“Again!” Uncle Linden’s voice rang out like a whip, pushing the boys to their limits.
“This is all your fault!” Holmes snapped, glaring at Perseus, frustration etched on his face.
“Stop whining and be a man!” Perseus shot back; his voice tinged with annoyance.
“Why don’t you be a man!” Holmes retorted, his grip tightening on his sword.
The clash of their swords filled the air, each strike more synchronized than the last.
Swish! Clang!
Swish! Clang!
“Good! Focus on the weak points. Every move has a flaw—you just need to find it!” Uncle Linden’s sharp eyes watched their every move, searching for openings.
Swish! Slash!
“It’s all about muscle memory and teamwork!” he shouted, his thoughts racing. ‘They’re styles are perfect for this technique, but they’re like fire and ice, they just don’t coordinate!’ Uncle Linden mused. ‘Oh! An opening!’ A sly smile spread across his face, ready to teach the kids a lesson.
“Now!” Perseus yelled.
In a sudden, coordinated maneuver, Perseus used the edge of his wooden sword to parry Uncle Linden’s attack.
“What—?” Uncle Linden’s eyes widened in surprise.
With a swift, powerful bash, Holmes drove his shield into Uncle Linden, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Bang!
“Oww, oww, oww,” Uncle Linden groaned, rubbing his sore back. He looked up to see a wooden sword inches from his face.
“Haha! We did it! Uncle Linden fell!” Holmes laughed, dancing around.
“Brats, what was that?” Uncle Linden asked, a smile tugging at his lips.
“I realized Perseus was right. I can’t always defend; I have to seize opportunities and strike,” Holmes said, his eyes gleaming. “We call it the Bashing Holmes Surprise Attack.”
Perseus rolled his eyes. “We never agreed to that name.”
“How about the Bashing Twin Strike?” Uncle Linden suggested.
----------------------------------------
With the tides of surging memories, the two men moved in unison, executing a maneuver they had practiced together years ago. Holmes distracted the Behemoth with precise shield bashes, while Perseus circled around, delivering devastating strikes to its exposed flanks.
Their movements were seamless, a dance perfected through years of training. Holmes's shield bashed against the Behemoth's thick hide with a force that reverberated through the air, creating an opening for Perseus to strike. They moved in perfect harmony, each action a reflection of their shared understanding.
"Now!" Perseus's voice echoed through the din, the command carrying the weight of their childhood drills. He quickly used his sword to block the incoming punch from the Behemoth.
Clang!
Holmes immediately pivoted, putting all his might into a final shield bash that struck the Behemoth's head with a thunderous crash. The creature let out a guttural roar, momentarily stunned by the force of the blow. In that split second, Perseus saw his opening.
With a powerful leap, he drove his sword deep into the Behemoth’s heart. The blade, imbued with the intensity of his resolve, glowed as it struck true.
As the Behemoth of Betrayal’s final roar echoed into nothingness, Perseus and Holmes stood side by side, their breaths heavy with the exhaustion of battle. They believed they had won, that the creature was vanquished. However, their victory was short-lived.
Before them, the beast’s form shifted, not disintegrating into smoke, but instead morphing into the shape of a young woman. Her hair was a familiar shade, her eyes filled with tears that sparkled with a mixture of relief and sadness.
“Hope…” Perseus mumbled, his voice trembling with disbelief. 'Did she get swallowed by a behemoth in the forest...?' He couldn't help but ask. That seemed like the most logical explanation.
"Hope!! What happened?" Holmes cried as he saw her.
"I went in search of you, Perseus. I got eaten by a Behemoth and became an Archetype of Betrayal," she said, tears streaming down her face.
Perseus's heart pounded. 'So that's why the Behemoth was so strong...' he thought, his mind racing. 'Wait... something isn't right... even though it was strong, it wasn't strong enough to be an archetype.'
Memories surged like tidal waves, the sound of her laughter ringing in their ears. The two men were paralyzed by the sight of Hope, the woman they both loved and thought lost forever.
“But now I’m back,” Hope said, her voice cracking as she fell to her knees, her sobs shaking her body.
Holmes's face twisted with confusion and relief. "What has happened to the village, Holmes? Where is my father? Why didn’t you help him?” she cried out, her voice raw with emotion. “I trusted you, Holmes!!”
“No… it’s not like that…” Holmes tried to console her, reaching out, his eyes filled with pain and confusion. Perseus, unable to face her directly, turned away, his chest tightening with guilt and uncertainty.
"What do you mean? Wait… where’s Uncle Linden?” Holmes asked, his voice filled with a sudden dread.
“He charged into the center of the horde…” Perseus said, an ominous feeling creeping over him. He glanced at Hope, noticing something off in her expression, her movements.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
'Something isn't right… this can't be Hope,' Perseus thought, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the girl before him. He tightened his grip on his sword, readying himself.
“Isn’t it obvious? He’s dead,” Hope said, her tears abruptly stopping, replaced by a sinister grin. She lunged at Holmes, a dagger flashing in her hand.
Perseus's eyes widened. 'No… it's an illusion!' Realization struck him like a thunderclap. "Persistent Strike!" he shouted, launching his attack to intercept the Behemoth's slash.
"No!" His attack struck the dagger in the behemoth’s hands, but it wasn't enough to fully deflect the dagger’s trajectory.
The blade sliced into Holmes’s armor; the injury painful but not fatal.
“Looks like I missed your heart,” the Behemoth said, still posing as Hope, its voice dripping with malice.
----------------------------------------
“Noo—” A villager screamed as the poison bead fell off of his hand. His eyes reflected sheer terror as he looked at the Behemoth’s maw about to swallow him. However, the reflection in his eyes were slowly replaced by a purple glow. His body convulsed, mysteriously dying before the Behemoth could reach him.
Lorian and the priest scanned the battlefield from their vantage point. They saw the chaos unfolding. Groups of Behemoths were tearing down the Tapestries of Trust, which had been holding the Behemoth of Betrayal at bay. Villagers fought desperately to protect the tapestries, but their efforts were in vain.
A villager screamed as a Behemoth’s maw closed in on him. “Avenge me! Protect the village!” he shouted, biting on a black bead. His body convulsed as he was swallowed by the creature, sacrificing himself in a desperate attempt to weaken it.
Lorian, staggering from the sight, felt a sharp pain in his head with every villager’s death. Blood trickled from his nose as he looked towards Perseus and Holmes, bewildered by their inaction. A strong sense of nausea and dizziness took hold of Lorian as he leaned on the wall for support. The sun had walked away from spectating as the amethyst night sky now bore witness to the struggle of the villagers.
“What’re they doing?” Lorian asked, seeing the two men standing there, seemingly entranced by the Behemoth. The village’s defenses were crumbling, and the Tapestries of Trust were losing their power.
“That Behemoth of Betrayal is very intelligent,” the Priest explained, his voice strained. “The Tapestries of Trust were weakening it. As soon as some of the tapestries lost their power, it pulled the two strongest men on the battlefield into an illusion.”
“Illusion?” Lorian asked, struggling to comprehend. His hands pressed on his temples, his mind in complete chaos.
“Each Behemoth possesses a unique power,” the priest began, his voice grave. “The Behemoth of Betrayal wields the Deceit Mask. It can transform into someone you trust, ensnaring you in an illusion. That’s what’s happening to them right now." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the battlefield. “But there’s hope. Maintaining such an illusion requires immense mental effort. Its mobility is severely restricted, and it must pause to think before launching any attack.”
As he spoke, the priest's mind raced. ‘No matter how cunning a Behemoth is, it cannot rival the power of an Archetype. Losing the so-called strongest warriors to such a deceptive creature would be quite shameful,’ he thought, glancing skyward, as though he eagerly awaited the arrival of something.
----------------------------------------
Inside the illusion
“Holmes, it’s not real! It's not Hope!” Perseus shouted, his voice slicing through the thick haze of illusion.
Holmes, eyes wide with conflicting emotions, blocked Perseus' attacks, not letting them reach the Behemoth. “But what if it is Hope? What if it actually swallowed her? It’s your fault she went alone into the village!” he screamed, his shield bashing toward Perseus with a mix of anger and desperation.
“Then why would she attack you if she was Hope, you dimwit?” Perseus retorted, his strikes growing more frantic.
“She’s an Archetype now and doesn’t have control over her body! Maybe we can cure her!” Holmes yelled, tears streaming down his face, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief.
“It’s not an Archetype, it’s lying! It hasn’t swallowed Hope!” Perseus pleaded; his strikes relentless but filled with sorrow.
“And how would you know that, huh?” Holmes demanded, his rage blinding him. Perseus’ face fell, his attacks faltering as a deep pain crossed his features.
Behind them, the Behemoth’s confident smile wavered at the sudden shift.
Perseus’ shoulders drooped, his voice barely a whisper. “...Who would know what an Archetype feels like more than me...” He avoided Holmes' eyes, staring at the ground, his voice breaking. “You have to trust me on this... Use Myriad of Questions... If she’s truly an Archetype formed by swallowing Hope, she’ll be able to answer them.”
Holmes' eyes flickered with inner turmoil as he glanced at the figure of Hope. His heart pounded in his chest, torn between trust and doubt.
Suddenly, Holmes began firing off a barrage of personal questions, each one a desperate attempt to pierce through the illusion. His voice shook, but his resolve strengthened with each query.
Perseus watched, a faint smile forming as he heard Holmes' questions. Renewed determination surged through him. He readied himself, the glow of his Persistent Strike intensifying.
With Holmes’s Myriad of Questions disrupting the creature’s mind and Perseus’s Persistent Strike slicing through its defenses, they attacked with a ferocity born of desperation and an unyielding bond.
'Not...good....can't move...' The Behemoth struggled to defend from the attacks.
The Behemoth, now unable to maintain its illusion, roared in frustration. Holmes and Perseus, moving in perfect harmony, executed their Bashing Twin Strike once more. Holmes’s shield bash created an opening, and Perseus, with a powerful leap, drove his sword deep into the creature’s heart.
“You are not Hope! For hope lives in our hearts, hope grants us victory”
Slash
This time, the Behemoth let out a final, agonizing roar. Its form shuddered and collapsed, dark smoke billowing from its body, dissipating into the air as it disintegrated into nothingness.
Roar!
Sounds of roaring reverberated throughout the battlefield as the smaller behemoths scattered, witnessing the death of their leader.
"We did it," Holmes said, glancing at Perseus with a rare smile.
"Just like old times," Perseus replied, grinning back.
"Sorry... for doubting you,.." Holmes uttered, his gaze drifting downwards. His hand pressed on the fresh wound on his chest.
"Pftt...since when did you become so well mannered?" Perseus teased, meeting Holmes's eyes with a smirk.
However, their smiles quickly disappeared as the illusion lifted, revealing the true devastation around them.
The battlefield was silent. Perseus and Holmes, fully awake from the deception, stood amidst the wreckage. The weight of their victory was heavy with loss. Fallen villagers, torn Tapestries of Trust, and smoldering ruins painted a grim picture. The acrid stench of smoke and charred debris filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. The ground beneath their feet, once firm and solid, was now littered with the corpses of Behemoths and men alike.
Holmes and Perseus, covered in blood and sweat, stood back-to-back, surveying the aftermath. The villagers, despite their losses, began to rally, working to restore the Tapestries of Trust with slow, weary movements.
The villagers, witnessing the defeat of the largest Behemoth, initially stood in stunned silence. Then, a hesitant cheer began to ripple through the crowd, slowly building into a chorus of relief and cautious hope.
“We won! We actually won!” they exclaimed, their voices a mixture of joy and exhaustion.
Holmes and Perseus, standing at the heart of the battlefield, could not join in the celebration. The weight of their responsibilities and the lives lost hung heavily over them.
"Did we really achieve the impossible?" Chief Holmes murmured to Perseus, his voice tinged with cautious optimism and a hint of sorrow.
Perseus, sweat and blood mingling on his brow, managed a weary smile. "For now, it seems we have."
A villager standing next to Lorian murmured, “It’s finally over…” He sank to the ground, tears of relief streaming down his face.
"No..." Lorian responded involuntarily, his eyes widening with every second. Above the edge of the forest, the wisps of black smoke were consolidating, forming what seemed like a cocoon.
"What... is that?" Lorian asked, his voice filled with dread.
"They can't see it until it hatches. Only you and I can see it for now," the Priest suddenly spoke up, his tone grave and foreboding.
Perseus and Holmes turned their gaze towards the ominous formation. The fleeting sense of victory was overshadowed by the impending threat. The villagers, still unaware of the looming danger, continued to repair the Tapestries of Trust, their hope fragile but burning bright.
As the cocoon of smoke pulsed with dark energy, the Behemoths at the edge of the forest suddenly began leaping skyward, vanishing into the air. The villagers gasped in surprise, but the Priest and Lorian saw the truth—the Behemoths were merging into the cocoon, causing it to crack faster.
Crack~
A deep, resonant sound echoed across the battlefield, reverberating through the hearts of all who heard it. Holmes and Perseus exchanged a glance, their expressions hardening. The air grew heavy with anticipation, a palpable sense of dread mingling with the faint glimmer of hope.
As the cocoon continued to fracture, a dark silhouette shifted within. The battlefield fell into an eerie silence, each crack in the cocoon a harbinger of the unknown. The oppressive quiet was broken only by the occasional whisper of the wind, carrying with it the distant scent of pine and decay from the surrounding forest.