The acrid stench of smoke wafted across the walled city of Drassington and Elena’s lips curled in distaste as the smell alone forced her to relive her failures from earlier in the week. She swiftly clenched the steel gauntlet that enclosed her fist, trying and only partially succeeding in suppressing the trembling of her only remaining hand. Each second that brought her and her men closer towards the raging inferno that had replaced what had once been the slums only served to worsen the trembling. Still, Elena gritted her teeth and forced her eyes to remain forwards, not daring to look around at the diminished numbers of her loyal soldiers. The men who had faithfully ran with her when she ignored reason over chasing that bastard demon. The men who had been picked off one-by-one in the ensuing charge back to the city after two of the three strongest warriors of their age had vastly underestimated their enemy.
In a way, the situation was almost funny. Ever since Elena had been dragged away from her mundane life on Earth to be given superhero-like magic and unbelievable affinity towards weaponry, she had bathed in the joy of a straightforward, honest fight. After the hell that was her life on Earth it was a relief to be able to face her issues, look them in the eye, and punch them. Either she was worthy and her might would prevail, or she would perish. The thrill she felt at knowing true, honest, simple challenge knew no bounds.
Sure, as was her duty as the most reasonable member of their rag-tag party of ‘heroes’, she kept the others in line, but Elena had never hidden her yearning for a worthy opponent. Not someone like the demon king – no, as much as she hated to admit it that creature outmatched any one hero in a one-on-one fight. So, after her dreary watch over the Bastille was interrupted by demons, led by a hero of their own, she had become ecstatic with joy. They joy of knowing that she had an opponent that could maybe, just maybe match her move for move. And it turned out that lizard actually was able to do just that, with both parties giving as much as they took. At least until Elena failed to do the one job she had been ordered to do: protect the Bastille, and let none of the unwilling prisoner’s escape. Especially that disgusting rat fuck in the basement.
The first of a series of failures. The weeks following saw her lacking her shield arm, trying to make do with the unexpected changes while directing a search to stop a catastrophe from engulfing the city, or even the world itself. Even so, Elena still chased the thrill of a good fight, eager for a rematch with that demon hero.
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Only when it came, she found herself unable to keep up.
And it was all her fault. The loss of her shield arm had thrown off her balance and her muscle memory, honed from hundreds of battles, still moved her body in ways that expected a shield in the off hand to protect her vitals. Even a hero, with all her magic and martial strength, she was unable to fix those issues in the short time frame she was given.
The losses piled up, the memory of each one only serving to make her even more miserable on the nights she would normally enjoy something alcoholic.
The soldiers that had fallen in the first battle at the Bastille. Kevin in the second battle, with more of her soldiers experiencing gruesome deaths that still made Elena shiver at the thought. All her fault.
But now, as her group approached the hellish blaze engulfing the slums, she could do nothing but find the whole situation a little bit ridiculous.
The once oh-so-brave hero, the great Elena, wary of a little fire. Just what happened to wanting a rematch with that demon? A little voice inside her head mocked. She shook her head in resignation as the fire came closer, slowing down as the heat licked its way across her face. It really was funny.
She laughed bitterly as she turned her back to the fire to gaze at her soldiers, feeling a slight puff of grief filled pride upon seeing their alert faces. It made little difference in the sharp emptiness inside her heart. But that did not matter now. Survival did. She straightened her head and spoke. “Alight men, spread out in three-person groups. Signal if you see anything. Look out for rats, if you spot suspicious groups, make sure to keep as close to the fire as you can bear and make your way towards me. If you spot Adrian, leave immediately and get me. I know he knows you guys are in my group, but even with that you stand only a 50/50 chance at surviving direct contact with him. I’ll deal with that lunatic myself.”
The soldiers shouted affirmative and split off into groups immediately, with Clarkson and another man staying behind with Elena.
“Clarkson, keep a sharp eye out for signals. As fucked up as this is, there might be a chance if that half-elf or those demons he was working with got caught in the blaze. If we find them, Adrian and I can work together to stop those fuckers.”
“Roger that.” Clarkson respectfully parroted before pulling out some dried fish to offer her. “Want some cod, ma’am? The lads and I caught some good ones recently. It tastes quite excellent with just a smidge of wine on the side.” Clarkson winked, holding out the snack while removing a small bottle of her favorite wine from his knapsack.
Elena’s lips spread out in a small smile, the smile growing just a little bit bigger as she noticed Clarkson’s obvious joy when she accepted the snack.