Miles could feel his muscles reach their limit, the ringing pain in his legs growing louder as he dodged a swipe from a soldier’s short sword. He forced his blade into a stab directed at the man’s shoulder, hoping to score the slight opening in his armor. Ting! Miles’ sword bounced off the steel plate, missing its target completely.
‘Dammit!’
The ex-follower quickly backed away from the Lumen soldier, avoiding a counterstrike from the man. Miles felt his heavy breathing bounce off the inside of his mask, the odor of his breath making it an unpleasant experience. Still, he wouldn’t take it off, even if his life depended on it. It was Myr’s will that he kept it on, for it was a personal item of luck. The mask had been with him through thick and thin, high and low. Miles would have to die for it to be completely separated from him.
Of course, there was also the fact that the mask was a cursed item, despite many enchanters telling Miles that the mask was made of ordinary wood and painted with regular pigments. It didn’t matter what they said, as Miles had experienced visions from the thing since he had put it on as a child. While they were strange and uninterpretable, Miles had treasured this wooden piece of him for years, hoping to get some meaning out of the mask and its visions.
‘In the chaos of life, one hopes to find meaning in the smallest things.’
Miles mentally recited one of Myr’s doctrines, his hand positioning the sword in the way the Kasani had taught him. His other hand reached for his spare dagger, readying himself to go at the armored man before him.
Miles risked a glance at the rest of the ship, noting how Dimitri and his crew fended the other two soldiers with broken bottles and long knives. He then looked toward where that bright flash had stunned everyone, seeing how James and Dahlia tried their best to land a hit on Gryff, who was easily dodging their attempts.
‘He’s toying with them.’
Miles couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, shaking his head lightly as he focused on his opponent. The soldier had faltered his stance, his expression under the helmet twisted into confusion.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing. I just thought of something amusing,” Miles chuckled again in amusement, noticing the confused look on his opponent.
The ex-follower was thinking back to his last vision, which had come to him a little more than a week ago, when he had first arrived at Vindis, before James and his crew hired him. The cryptic vision had shown Miles a depiction of a man in blue, his skull engulfed in blue flames. The burning man had a charred left hand, its blackened fingers holding a red wax seal of a seven-pointed sun.
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Seamus ducked quickly, avoiding the spear that had nearly gorged him. He quickly scrambled away, his eyes passing over Helen, who was currently fighting with another of the armored soldiers for the spear he held. The soldiers who came down to kill them were all spread out, their leader standing back to watch as Seamus and the crew did their best not to die. Lowe was in the farthest corner away from the action, doing his best to blend in with the wall as Lilith moved to defend Seamus.
The berserker tackled the spearman, who had tried to kill Seamus, her single axe bashing at his steel armor, regardless of their protection. The young man was going to assist but was interrupted by another of the soldiers, who came at him with a raised sword. Seamus quickly dodged, backing up as he looked for anything to fight back with. His eyes then settled on a cot nearby, where James had left his gear. Seamus leaped for the bloody cot, his hands quickly moving to grab at the round shield James had taken from Aldren’s pillaged armory. He turned onto his back as soon as he grabbed the shield, raising it to block the sword strike.
Seamus felt the impact of the attempted stab, his free hand moving to grab the wrapped short sword nearby.
“Get back!” He shouted, swinging the sheathed sword wildly at his attacker. Despite its covered edge, the armored man stepped back, allowing Seamus to stand back up. He could see how Helen was currently in possession of one of the men’s spears, stolen from earlier. She was using it to fend off two of the armored men. Seamus moved his focus on the other two, one of whom was currently dealing with a rabid Lilith, while the other faced off with the young man.
‘It could be so easy to kill all of them. To save your friends.’
Seamus heard the small voice in the back of his head echo in his mind. His hands shook uncontrollably as fear gripped his heart. He felt terrified, and his adrenaline did not help to raise his morale. Seamus could feel his knees wobble, his eyelids growing heavier as he slowly reached his breaking point.
‘No!’
Seamus forced himself to wake, his body tensing up as he steeled himself. Or at least tried to. He was still afraid, still shaking, but his focus was there.
‘I don’t need to be a heartless killer to save myself.’
The young man unwrapped the cloth around James’ sword, his other hand gripping the round shield he had taken earlier.
‘I can do this.’
Seamus Halvorson steeled himself for the upcoming fight, his teeth gritting as he looked the soldier in the eye. He took the stance taught to him, the same one Yorn Halvorson took on the night of his last stand.
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Bron could hear the fighting from his cell, which resided below the decks of the royal ship that had taken him prisoner. His face was swollen and red, a result of the beatings that the knight had given him days ago. Ever since they had taken the elf bandit prisoner, he had been subjected to abuse, both mental and physical. He had tried to escape multiple times and fought back against his captors in hopes of freedom. Yet nothing ever worked. It was all worthless, as Gryff had prevented it. The knight controlled what he could or could not do ever since he had been ‘lucky’ enough to survive the raid on this damnable ship. Still, Bron was determined to be set free, to be rid of the abuse and mental torture they had subjected him to.
The elf struggled with his lock, his fingers fiddling with the makeshift lock pick he had been secretly making. He had barely enough time in the past days to even forge it since those Lumen soldiers and Gryff himself had kept a close eye on him. Now Bron was all alone, left to free himself from his shackles. He listened as the lock clicked once, then twice, and finally, three times. Freedom. Bron had to stop himself from celebrating, mainly because he was doing his best to keep quiet. That and because talking hurt. The elf stood up, his eyes scanning the magically lit area. The knight had stored essentials down here, things such as potions, food, water, and even some runes.
The last item on that list was one of the main reasons Bron had broken out. Normally, the imprisoned bandit would be giddy at all the loot available, but the elf wasn’t the same bandit he had been all those days ago. He had been broken, his psyche beyond repair from the abuse Gryff had put him through. Bron knew that even if he attempted an escape, the men Gryff was fighting would lose to the knight. There was no doubt about it. Even if they somehow won, Bron knew that anyone strong enough to kill a Lumen knight was not the friendly type.
The elf had already known this ever since the fighting had started, which would beg the question of anyone about why he would even attempt an escape. The simple answer was the small velvety bag in which the knight had kept his spare runes. Bron leaned down to search through it, picking up the three stones left in there.
‘Two Fireballs, one Candlelight.’
The reason the bandit wanted these runes was not to escape spells blazing. The simple reason was that Bron wanted to go out in a way that would fuck over the knight, no matter the consequences.
Bron held both Fireball runes in his hands. He then took his final breath, accepting his fate. He prayed Caelus would take him in, for he knew that whore Delphine would never forgive him for this.
“Fireball.”
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Dahlia went for another strike at Gryff, determined to at least land a scratch on him. The knight easily dodged her attack, fist moving to punch at Dahlia’s nose. Fortunately, James came in, his hands swinging wildly at the knight. The shaman wanted to call out the young man for being an idiot and fighting with his hands. In reality, however, she was thankful that he had prevented her nose from being caved in.
As James fended off Gryff, Dahlia looked for anything the young man could use as a weapon. The three were currently on the royal ship’s main deck, as their fighting had carried on over there in the span of a few minutes. Dahlia glanced at where Miles was, the ex-follower clashing with one of the sword-wielding soldiers. She watched as the mercenary disarmed the man, sending his short sword to the main deck.
Dahlia used this opportunity to call Liam, who was taking a break from his and Dimitri’s fight with the other armored men.
“Liam! Throw me the sword now!” She watched the lanky wheelman react to her words with initial confusion, but his face then focused on the fallen short sword, his hands moving to grab at it quickly. Without hesitation or question, Liam tossed the sword to the royal ship’s deck, the blade clattering onto the wooden planks. Dahlia quickly moved to grab it but was interrupted by Gryff, who kicked at her shoulder, sending waves of pain over the shaman’s arm.
“Dammit!” she cursed, gritting her teeth as she slashed her dagger at Gryff, who countered by grabbing her good arm, pulling her suddenly towards his awaiting elbow. Everything went slow, Dahlia’s eyes widening as she stared at the upcoming strike. She was then pulled away by the hem of her shirt, the attack missing her nose and face. James had thrown her onto the deck, his hand carrying the sword Liam had thrown.
James yelled out incoherently as he attempted a stab at the spellcaster’s neck, only to be countered by Gryff’s quick hands, which redirected the attack to the side while locking the blond man’s arms in a hold. Dahlia then watched as Gryff aimed his hand at James’ forehead, his chanting accompanied by the cold blue glow on his fingers. Dahlia moved to shout, to stop it, but she would be too late.
“Ice Lanc–”
A loud explosion boomed throughout the ship, interrupting Gryff’s spell. The deck quickly moved in response before it tilted away from Frostbite’s port. The three fell onto the deck as it tilted towards the black waters below. Dahlia moved to hold on to the mainmast, keeping herself from falling.
“James! Grab something!” She shouted, watching as the young man tried to grab onto the planks that made up the deck. He failed to get a grip as he and his sword slid down the deck. Gryff was also falling, failing to hold onto anything as he tumbled towards the awaiting sea. Dahlia had no doubts the freezing waters would likely kill James and maybe Gryff. It was both a twisted thought that horrified her.
“Cursed fucking–!” Gryff swore loudly, his hands trying to find anything to grab onto. In the end, the cryomancer gave up, his body shifting so he could face the oncoming sea. As soon as the knight reached where the deck ended and the sea met, both of his hands moved to touch the black waters. Gryff shouted out a spell, five large runes materializing above the water as he formed his hands.
“Frost’s Blight!”
Dahlia watched in stunned bewilderment as ice quickly formed before the runes, freezing the sea below. The spell’s effects spread itself out into the black sea, forming mounds of snow and meters of ice that reached even Yorktown’s docks. There were even snowflakes floating around, adding to the setting.
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“Delphine’s tits,” Dahlia muttered the blasphemous words out of surprise, her eyes watching the incredible show of magic. The ice slowly stopped, the edges of its spread resembling that of a flower. James and Gryff both landed on the newly formed ice, with James sprawled out onto the snow as Gryff regained his composure.
As Dahlia hung onto the ship’s mast, she noticed how open the Lumen Knight was now. His back was turned to her as he focused on James, who breathed heavily as he tried to stand. Without a second of hesitation, Dahlia let go of the mast to slide down the slanted deck.
The shaman was perfectly positioned above the knight, allowing her to get the optimal jump on him. Dahlia aimed her dagger downwards at the cyromancer, teeth gritted as she aimed carefully. A second later and Dahlia’s ornate dagger pierced through a chink in Gryff’s armor, blood spurting and staining the blue robes he wore underneath.
“Agh! Fuck!” Gryff shouted out, his hands quickly grabbing at Dahlia. The shaman barely had time to react as he threw her over to the ice below, her dagger’s tip tearing out of his wound. Dahlia landed on the ice with a resounding unf, snowflakes falling all around her. She could see how Gryff’s blood stained the snow, making him stand out.
Dahlia forced herself to stand, yelling as she charged at the spellcaster. She wouldn’t give him the chance to act. Gryff barely had time to block as his hands were busy freezing the stab wound shut. She slashed at him, hoping to get in a lucky hit. Gryff dodged the attempts, his hand over his shoulder as he stared daggers at Dahlia. He moved in a blur, his knee making contact with her stomach. She could feel her organs rearrange themselves, her lungs losing all the air they had held. Dahlia stumbled back breathlessly, her hands instinctively clutching at her stomach as she tried to process what had happened. She could only watch helplessly as Gryff’s fingers pointed straight toward her face.
“Ice Lance!”
James interrupted the attack with a tackle, sending the sharp piece of ice into the sky. Dahlia blinked, watching as James struggled with Gryff, his sword moving to stab the knight. She tried to move in to help but quickly felt her body react negatively, jolts of pain coming from her shoulder and stomach. Dahlia winced and rested on the front mast that was half stuck in the ice. She watched helplessly as James fought with Gryff, his strikes missing all the cryomancer’s vitals.
“This is getting annoying!” Gryff shouted, his eyes burning with anger as he grabbed at James’ sword arm, swiftly striking his elbow against the young man’s own. Dahlia watched in horror as James recoiled in pain, screaming out in pain as his arm was unceremoniously broken. The sound of bone breaking was enough to shake the shaman to her core.
“James!” Dahlia ignored the pain in her gut, moving in to save the blond man from getting killed. Unfortunately, Gryff wouldn’t allow it. He quickly turned to her, his boot moving to kick her back to the half-buried ship. Dahlia tumbled onto the ice, her hair now loose and obscuring her vision. Still, she can hear Gryff’s voice clear as day.
“I’ll be honest, the both of you are the first to do some actual damage to me in years,” the spellcaster muttered in frustration. Dahlia forced herself to get up, her hand brushing away her hair. She could see how James tried to pick up his sword with his left hand, struggling to use it to slash at Gryff. The spellcaster seemed unfazed as he dodged the pitiful attacks. James tried to kick at the knight, who simply moved out of the way before he kicked at James’ knee. The kick was hard enough to severely injure it, drawing another pained yell from James.
“Why are you doing this? We did what you wanted. We got the samples,” James spoke out, his breathing heavy as he tried to stand back up.
‘Stay down. Please,’ Dahlia begged silently.
“Did you take me for an idiot?” Gryff asked. He watched as James stood back up, sword in his left hand. “Do they even know?” The spellcaster added, a small grin appearing on his lips as he chuckled dryly.
“What?”
“Do they know? Your friends in Yorktown? The people on your ship? Do they know that you’re from another world?” Gryff asked.
Dahlia’s eyes widened at those words, her heart skipping a beat.
Even James looked shocked, his face losing color as he tried to respond, “What are–”
“Don’t play stupid, James Holter. I saw the ritual site of your summoning. I found the otherworldly clothes you’ve hidden. I have even found a remnant of your past.” The spellcaster moved a hand into his armor, pulling a small leather item. He opened it, tossing it to the ice below. Dahlia stared at the open leather packet, her eyes focusing on the small image. It was James, younger and without a beard, but it was him. Dahlia looked up at the otherworldly man, who stared at the item with the same amount of surprise.
“James Holter and Dahlia Astera,” Gryff stated, his voice loud and commanding, like that of a judge. “I have found you guilty of tampering with higher levels of magic beyond your limits and endangering the sacred ley lines of Azura.” He pointed a finger at both Dahlia and James. “I hereby declare your execution in the name of Delphine’s authority.”
Wasting no more time, Gryff moved in on James, who tried to fight back with his working arm. Unfortunately, he would stand no chance. Gryff redirected James’ own strike, attempting to stab at the man’s abdomen. James resisted with tense arms, his body shaking as he pushed back against the knight. Dahlia tried to get up, yelling as she fought the overwhelming pain in her body.
Both men struggled with the sword before it flew out onto the snow-covered ice. Gryff locked James’ good arm before head-butting the young man’s face. Dahlia could hear the impact from her position, seeing how blood speckled from James’ broken nose. Another strike then contacted James, this one sending the young man reeling his head back from the pain. With no warning, his Carapace spell broke, the magical shell around his body suddenly becoming visible as it shattered from the stress of the attacks.
“I’ll deal with you later,” Gryff muttered, his cold blue eyes narrowing as James’ body slumped in his hold.
Gryff unceremoniously shoved the other man’s body to the icy ground, his gloved hand wiping the blood from his face. Dahlia stared at James’ unmoving figure, seeing the puffs of steam rising from his battered face. He was still alive, barely conscious for sure, but still alive. Adrenaline pumped into the shaman’s veins, her pain soon evaporating as she forced her body to move. She slowly stood up, her shaking hands clenched into fists. Gryff didn’t seem to care as he flexed his fingers.
“Well, then. Let’s see if you’re any different.”
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Helen could feel how her attacks were growing sluggish, the spear in her hands growing heavier with every thrust. She was growing tired, the adrenaline in her veins slowly dying out. The bastard in front of her seemed to get tired as well, but his attacks didn’t seem to falter from it.
‘Damn Lumen bastards.’
Helen knew better than to underestimate these men since she had fought with them back during the Outsider Wars. She had never expected to fight those same men years later.
‘First time for everything.’
Helen scowled, dodging a slash from her opponent’s sword. She had injured the other one, who was currently nursing his hand after she had taken his spear.
Helen had hoped the bastard would stay back for now since she was already struggling to deal with one. She risked a quick glance at Seamus and Lilith, both parties dealing with two other soldiers. Seamus had slipped on his chainmail during the scuffle, courtesy of the terrified gnome who was currently staying away from the fight. It surprised Helen that Seamus was fighting for his life, his shield and sword fending off the armored men. Even if he was shaking and clearly terrified, he was still fighting.
‘After this… I’m going to apologize to that kid for calling him a coward.’
Helen turned back to her fight, watching as the man in front of her prepared for another attack. Then, there was the sound of a loud booming explosion, which shook Frostbite’s deck enough to make everyone stumble around. Helen struggled to keep her feet planted, feeling how the waves affected the ship’s hull. The ship would soon stop moving as the waves outside turned dead quiet. She could feel the ship suddenly stop rocking, the temperature inside lowering even more. Everyone was quiet, confusion settling in as they all looked at each other. Helen wanted to look out of the windows nearby but noticed how the behemoth in the back suddenly stepped up, his halberd’s end scraping the wooden planks.
“Enough. Our time has run out. I’m finishing this.” The knight, Hugo, waved off the soldiers, his red eyes looking at the trio of fighters.
‘He’s going to kill us all. Dammit.’
Helen gritted her teeth, knowing full well that they wouldn’t be able to win this fight. The man was a solid wall of steel and would most definitely kill them all. Even if she somehow survived an encounter with him, there were other soldiers to deal with. Helen ran through every possibility in her head, silently cursing as every single one ended in failure. She looked at Seamus. His eyes widened with fear as he backed away slowly.
‘He doesn’t deserve to go out like this. He isn’t a fighter.’
Helen thought back to her time in the war, how she had seen many young men like Seamus fight and die for no cause. He was still young, full of life.
‘I can still save him. Even if it ends with the rest of us dead.’
‘Look at you. Heart of gold,’ the little voice in her head congratulated.
‘Fuck off, will you?’
Helen took a deep breath, her eyes focused on the knight in front of her.
“That young man over there is Seamus Halvorson, son of the infamous Yorn Halvorson,” the ex-marauder suddenly called out, her words causing Seamus and that old gnome to curse out loud. “You can check for his birthmark on his head. It’s proof enough.”
The knight stopped his walk, tilting his head in confusion. “Why would I be interested in this?”
“You should be. He has knowledge of the hidden vault Yorn owned. He would be too much of a valuable asset to kill, no?” Helen asked.
“Helen, what the fuck?!” Seamus hissed at the ex-marauder, who ignored him.
“You might have a point, marauder. Why would you tell me this?” Hugo muttered.
“Think of it as a bargaining token. You let me free, and I give you Halvorson.” Helen grinned at the behemoth, who chuckled in response.
“A marauder attempting to save their own skin by selling out a crewmate. I wouldn’t expect less. No deal.” Hugo gestured towards his men, who perked up. “Detain Halvorson. I will deal with this scum.”
“What? Fuck you! Lumen scum!” Helen pretended to act dumb as she mocked a frown. Of course, not before flashing a look to Seamus, who seemed to realize her ruse.
“Wait! Helen!” Seamus attempted to reach her but was interrupted by a group of armored soldiers. Lilith tried to intervene, but Seamus shouted to the redhead, his hand making strange signs. “Forget me! Help her!” By then, the knight had already reached Helen, his red wax seal showcasing the seven-pointed sun of the Lumen Knights.
Helen quickly moved in on the knight, her spear aimed at his exposed neck. The knight blocked with his arm, the spear’s tip bouncing off the steel gauntlet. He then swung his halberd down on Helen, who swiftly dodged its edge. The halberd struck down on the map table, destroying it in one swing. Helen wasted no time as she moved to his side, aiming her spear at another gap in his armor. The Lumen Knight then somehow moved way too quickly, backhanding the spear out of Helen’s hands. The blunt end of his halberd then came down on Helen, striking the left side of her face.
Pain flared up by her left eye, tinting its vision red as she stumbled back, spear falling on the floor as a result. She blinked rapidly, unsure of what had happened. Helen then watched in dumb silence as Hugo’s halberd came at her in a flash, a sharp pain burning across her gut. She instinctively grabbed at her stomach, her jaw clenching as warm blood soaked her hands and armor.
‘No, no, no.’
Helen knew full well how terrifying strikes to the gut were, as she had seen many men and women die brutally to similar wounds. Before she could determine whether her guts were spilling, a steel boot kicked her away, sending her to the ground.
However, before Hugo could finish her, the berserker from earlier came at the knight, her primal shouts distracting the behemoth. Helen saw how the red-haired woman carried one of the soldier’s short swords, something she definitely stole. Lilith used both her ax and sword to strike at the knight, her blades bouncing off his armor.
In response, the annoyed Lumen Knight slammed Lilith against the hull of the ship, drawing a shout from Seamus. The young man was currently being restrained by the soldiers, who held him down as he watched. Helen looked on as Lilith tried to fight back before the knight ripped her short sword from her hand. With no hesitation, Hugo stabbed clean through Lilith’s left arm, pinning her to the hull as she cried out in pain. Helen snapped out of her stupor, blinking as her eyes focused on the fallen spear. She hurried on all fours to the weapon, ignoring the pain in her stomach. As soon as her left hand went for the spear, however, a halberd’s edge slammed down on her fingers, splitting bone and flesh.
The pain was blinding, making the ex-marauder shout out a cry of pain. The halberd’s edge ripped away from her appendage right after, allowing Helen to pull back. She dragged back her hand, hypnotized at the sight of her remaining fingers. Helen blinked, finding the situation all too surreal. She never saw the knight coming.
With no warning, Hugo grabbed Helen’s blonde hair, holding her in place. He forced the ex-marauder to look at him. Helen could see how the Lumen Knight’s eyes shined a crimson red, an unnatural color that gave her the creeps. She never saw anything like it.
“Once you marauders are all dead. The world will be a better place,” the knight’s deep voice spoke out. He slammed Helen’s skull against the wall, her vision instantly blurring. The ex-marauder barely had time to react before he slammed her head against the ship’s hull once more. Throughout the chaos, her ringing ears picked up the sound of Seamus’ shouts and pleas. As Helen felt the blood run down her forehead, she couldn’t help but laugh at the pain, her grin joyous and genuine.
She wasn’t sure if she had lost her mind or if she was happy knowing the fact that Seamus would be safe. Imprisoned by the royal bastards for sure, but safe nonetheless.
‘He’ll escape, you bastards. Just like he did with us.’
Helen laughed in amusement at that thought. Those royal fucks will never see it coming. The ex-marauder’s head was then slammed against the hull for the last time, her eyes rolling back to her head as her final thoughts ran through her mind.
‘I just wish that I would be alive to see it.’
Helen Dunn’s world went black.