Gwenyth stepped onto the dock of Buravon, her boots stepping onto bloody stains that were soaked into the wood. The elf looked down at the planks below her, the long marks of blood telling her that someone was drGwenyth stepped onto the dock of Buravon, her boots stepping onto bloody stains that were soaked into the wood. The elf looked down at the planks below her, the long marks of blood telling her that someone was dragged across the docks. She looked up to the town ahead, its buildings aflame. The fire was dying down now, but a mere hour ago, it had been blazing bright like an Ignition spell. It had illuminated the night air like a distant candle, its heat enough to make the air shimmer.
“Any survivors visible?” Arthur called out.
“No. There’s no one,” Gwenyth muttered as she turned back to the longship. William stepped out onto the docks, his hand carrying a sheathed sword. Arthur followed behind him, his hand grabbing at the herald.
“You stay behind. Gwenyth and I will scour the town.” Arthur’s command seemed to piss William off.
“What if it’s bandits? You can’t expect me to stay behind and do nothing,” the herald refuted as he pulled away from Arthur’s grip.
“I expect you to stay here and keep low. If there’s any chance of survivors, I’m not risking them outing you as a foreigner,” the apostle explained.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” William stared at Arthur in disbelief.
“Will, I’m not taking the chance of survivors. If–”
“There aren’t any survivors,” a voice cut into the conversation, catching the attention of everyone. Eilif Norak sat on the railing of the ship, his legs dangling off the edge without so much of a care. His brass goggles were focused on the town ahead, the light of the flames reflecting off them. “Nothing lives in that town. I can feel it through the ley lines.”
Gwenyth stared at the bounty hunter, her body sending chills down her back. He was already a mystery to the elf, but learning that he had the ability of a necromancer was more than worrying.
Arthur looked back at the town. “Are you sure, Eilif?”
“I’m sure of it.” The bounty hunter raised three fingers. “Not a single person alive, but there are three distinct undead creatures lurking there.” Eilif turned to the three before him. “They are in that town.”
Gwenyth grabbed at her saber’s hilt, her gaze moving back to the burning town. “If what he says is true…” she trailed off.
“It’s true,” Eilif reiterated. “Arthur, it’s your call,” the bounty hunter added.
The former apostle looked at both the hunter and herald, his head shaking. “Fine. Will, you’re coming with us. Eilif, watch the ship.” Arthur went ahead, his sword already drawn.
Gwenyth turned to William, who was quickly getting his own sword. She raised a hand to stop the herald. “If you’re going with us, then I suggest you keep your holy castings to yourself. There might not be anyone around, but the last thing I want is some spellcaster finding us out. The traces of your goddess are enough to be detected miles away. So keep it to your personal castings.” The elf made sure William got it through his head.
The herald nodded. “Fine,” William visibly clenched his jaw as he said it, but didn’t seem to want to argue with the elf. With that said, the three made their way to Buravon, determined to find out what happened to the settlement.
----------------------------------------
James gasped awake, his hand instinctively reaching for the air above him. He was back in the waking world, free of the dream he was trapped in. He sat up quickly, huffing as he grasped at his chest.
“I’m alive, I’m alive,” James took a few more deep breaths, getting his heartbeat under control. “I’m back in Valenfrost…” James couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m back home.”
‘What the hell happened?!’ Faust cut into his thoughts, his voice reverberating in James’ head.
“I was… I was in a dream of some sort. Illusion magic, I think. I was back on Earth, back in my old life.” James hurriedly explained what had happened to the spirit, including Iendis and her strange words.
‘That’s… something. However, we don’t have time to discuss dreams…’
“Wait, what happened?” James furrowed his brow at the spirit’s panicking tone. He then realized that he wasn’t in the same place he had fallen asleep at. In fact, James was in some dark room, filled with abandoned shields and rusted weapons. It looked like an abandoned armory, the only source of light being the lantern that hung out in the hallway.
“Faust, did you get affected by the illusion?”
‘Of course I did. That witch targeted me, too. Thank the gods for Seamus. He managed to weaken her link for a short time, which allowed me a chance to break out of it.’
“Seamus is awake? Where is he?” James peeked out of the room, his eyes scanning the hallway.
‘About that, here’s some bad news. He’s not awake,’ Faust revealed.
“Wait. What?” James blinked. “What do you mean he’s—”
‘Look out!’
James felt his body kick away from the doorway, narrowly dodging a slash from a sword. James stumbled back onto the floor, his hands grabbing at his own weapon. The room grew darker as a figure stepped into the doorway, blocking out the lantern light. James stood up quickly, brandishing his trusty blade. At first, he had taken the figure for an undead conjuration, but soon realized the truth quickly when he noticed the stranger’s bowl shaped hair.
“Seamus?” James questioned.
‘That’s not Seamus. At least, not consciously.’ Faust explained. ‘He went berserk when I tried to talk to him earlier. He’s fast. Faster than anyone we faced off before.’
As if to prove the spirit right, Seamus slumped forward, his arms hanging limply in front of him for a second. Before James could question it, the younger man rushed at him at terrifying speed, his sword hand a blur. Steel clashed and James found himself contesting blades with his friend. Their swords scraped against each other, James’ own strength holding off the younger man’s push.
“Seamus?! Seamus, wake up!” James shouted. No response. Seamus’ eyes were full of cold resolution, no sign of the former man in them.
Without a word, Seamus pulled back and struck again, his movements too fast for James to track. Thankfully, he had a veteran spirit with quicker reflexes. Faust forced James’ sword hand to raise once more, deflecting a slash that was directed to his gut.
“Dammit!” James cursed as he backed away from the unconscious man in front of him. Seamus didn’t let up, however, his strikes coming back at lightning speed. Faust’s reflexes helped for most of the blocks, but James knew that his body couldn’t keep up with Seamus’ strikes. At some point during their clashes, James felt a burning pain bite at his side, the act making him falter for just a second. That second would prove fatal.
Seamus’ sword came in at James’ neck area, quicker than the blond man could react. Instead of slashing his throat open, the blade’s edge only nicked at the skin, leaving just a slight cut. James stumbled back in surprise, unsure of how he had lived through that. Once he looked at the young man before him, he saw his answer. Glowing wires of magic held Seamus back, his body stiff as he was dragged away from James.
“What the fuck…” was all James could mutter.
The caster of the magic stood a few meters behind Seamus, her hands forming complicated runes. She wore black and purple robes, her wide-brimmed hat crooked like Nathan’s. The witch before him strained with her spell, her eyes meeting with the blond man’s. James felt a cold anger run into his veins. It was her. She had been the one who had James stuck in that hellhole of a dream. There was no proof, but the young man felt it in his bones.
“You,” James gripped onto the handle of his sword, ready to attack her. Yet Faust held him back.
‘She’s helping!’ The spirit shouted in his head.
‘What?! She’s the one who got us into this mess!’ James shot back.
‘Put aside your anger, James! We need to focus on Seamus before things get worse!’
James clenched his jaw, but didn’t argue with Faust. He was right. There were more important things. For now, he was going to have to play nice.
“Kill him now! Before he breaks free!” The witch shouted out suddenly.
“What? No!” James blinked at the witch’s suggestion.
“He’ll kill us all if we let him live! Not just that, but we still have the other one to deal with!” She explained.
“Other one?!” James was confused, his mind muddled with questions and disbelief.
With confusion in the air, Seamus used the moment to break out of his binds. His sword slashed at the glowing wires, breaking them off completely.
“Kill him or I will!” the witch shouted, her hands forming a rune.
“Wait!” James tried to stop her, but it was too late.
“Night Spray!”
“No!”
Numerous purple orbs came at Seamus in a flurry, set on lighting him aflame. Seamus only watched calmly before his hand grabbed at his cloak. With a swift movement, he tore the cape off, tossing the cloth at the purple fireflies. The magical swarm reacted violently, burning and tearing through the cloak, giving the young man a couple seconds of safety. It proved to be enough time for Seamus to run past the spell’s projectiles, his sword aimed at the witch.
“Magi Shield!” The witch quickly shouted, her hands forming another set of runes. A blue bubble formed around her, the spell deflecting the young man’s blade.
“Redirect!” She swiped her hand as she shouted, her previous spell reacting to her words. Instead of hitting the wall like any ordinary spell, the remaining purple fireflies changed course, now heading towards Seamus once more. Seamus stepped away from the witch, his sword moving to slash at the incoming projectiles.
However, he wouldn’t have to.
“Carapace!” James’ voice echoed with magical ability, his body reacting to the word. The Night Spray spell impacted with a rusted shield the blond man had grabbed from the armory, its metal growing red hot as the spell set it alight with magical flame. James breathed heavily, the aftertaste of berries still in his mouth. He turned to Seamus, who only stared at him.
“Seamus! Wake up! I know you’re still in there. I need you to take back control!” James hoped his words would have some effect, but the young man before him didn’t even seem to acknowledge his words. Seamus had already raised his sword, his weapon mid-swing.
James turned to block the attack with his heated shield, feeling the recoil of the strike send him tumbling back.
‘You’re going to have to knock some sense into him. It doesn’t seem like he’s waking up soon,’ Faust spoke out to James.
“How did he get like this?” was the only thing James could respond with. Seamus readied his weapon once more, this time locking gazes with James. The blond man raised his shield, his left arm sending out waves of cold to alleviate the burning pain it emanated.
“You’ll have to kill him,” the witch sounded out from her bubble, her hands tearing the seal off what looked like a potion.
“I’m not doing that,” James answered through gritted teeth.
“You have to! He’s dangerous to us and himself! Letting him live any longer will–”
“I’m not killing him!” James shouted in anger, waves of heat bursting from his gaze. “He stays alive, or so help me god I will throw you down into the canals myself!”
The witch stared at James with a look of surprise, her eyes staring at a spot above his forehead.
“Do you understand?!” James barked.
The witch scowled. “I understand. No killing.”
James turned his attention back to Seamus, who was as still as a statue.
‘He’s still standing there,’ Faust noted.
“He’s waiting for my next move,” James muttered. He took a few slow steps to his friend, watching as the man before him breathed slowly. Seamus sounded as if he was asleep, his breathing akin to snoring, almost. Yet Seamus was standing there, his body tensing up the closer James got.
“Seamus… It’s me, Ja–” His attempt at talking was cut short when a sword slash struck at his raised shield. Faust’s consciousness had flooded James for only a second, enough time for the spirit to block the lethal attack. James stepped back, his own sword moving to slash at the young man’s hands. No dice. Seamus quickly dodged, his weapon a blur almost. James moved to block but was too late. Sharp cold pain seared at his right shoulder, the successful hit enough to make James wobble and stagger. Seamus took this chance to advance upon James, his sword swinging down on the blond man.
Clang!
In a desperate attempt, James raised his shield to block the attack once more. Unfortunately, doing so made him lose his footing. James fell to the ground hard, his shield raising to block any more attacks from Seamus. It would prove useless, as Seamus simply kicked the shield out of James’ hand. He aimed his sword’s tip at James before thrusting one last time.
Faust clicked into control, the spirit possessing James’ body for another split second. This time, Faust redirected the upcoming blade into James’ left shoulder, the sharp steel stabbing into him. Thankfully, it only pierced a couple inches deep thanks to a combination of the Carapace spell and gambeson he wore.
“Fuck!” It was still far from painless. James gritted his teeth as the sword stabbed at his shoulder. His bandaged hand grabbed the sword’s guard, preventing Seamus from pulling it out. Using his left hand’s cryomancy, James froze the young man’s hand to the handle, keeping him in place. If talking was out of the question, there really was only one non lethal way of defeating Seamus.
“I’m sorry, but I have to do this.” Using his free hand, James grabbed at his friend’s head, forcing his will onto the young man. Almost instantly, James felt his eyes burst with unbearable heat, his ley lines impacting Seamus’. Images flashed in James’ eyes, showing him what plagued the young man’s memories.
At first, it was memories of the past few months, including training and the interactions with people from Yorktown. Soon it turned to the Battle for Yorktown. James saw how Seamus had survived that fight. He saw how Seamus had killed Lumen Knight Hugo, his eyes seeing the halberd that was driven into the knight’s skull. He saw the events of Aldren, watching as the woods burned around Seamus. Images of Vindis and Yorktown showed up once more. Now he was watching the Siege of Yorktown. James saw as Seamus slaughtered the marauders, his movements not unlike before. He watched as Seamus freaked out at the realization, how his body shook with terror.
More images flashed, this time back when the young man was a prisoner of the marauders. What flashed after that made James sick to his stomach. Blood Moons. A fortress on fire. Screaming women and children. Burning ships. Ravens picking at corpses. A man losing his life in front of him. More images. Women dragged out of their homes, their hair pulled at by marauders and savages alike. Men in black armor killing off the wounded. Merchants being taken as prisoners. Another flash. He was met with the gaze of someone beyond menacing. Their pupils were the shape of four-pointed stars, which burned with purple magic. Before he could comprehend what he was looking at, the vision changed.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The next and final flash was a memory much more vivid. Seamus was hiding, his attention focused on a beach covered in bodies. Standing among them was a man clad in steel and jewelry, all of it dirtied with crimson and sand. He was covered in arrows and spears, his body soon falling on its knees. Right in front of him was a man in black. Deimos wore no helmet, his bear cloak covering his armor. The Red Death only grinned as he raised a long ax, before he brought it down on the fallen Jarl.
Seamus screamed, his body recoiling from the flashes. James fell back in shock, watching as the young man before him squirmed and grabbed at his head.
“Make it stop! Make it fucking stop!” Seamus yelled out.
“He’s exposed!” The witch exclaimed from her bubble. “Finish him!”
“I said no killing!” James shouted in anger. He moved to grab at Seamus’ fallen weapon, making sure that the young man wouldn’t be able to fight back.
‘I don’t think he’s unconscious anymore,’ Faust muttered.
The spirit was right, as Seamus was currently screaming out in pain, his body moving around as if he was on fire. James felt guilt weighing on him, as he had just forced Seamus to relive painful memories that he probably had blocked out these past few months.
Seamus banged a fist on the ground, his voice slowly going quiet. The young man was now curled up in a ball, his hands moving to hug at his knees.
“Seamus,” James muttered to the younger man. No response. “Seamus,” James called out once more, louder this time.
“I should’ve died on that island,” Seamus muttered softly. “I should’ve fought and died for my clan… But I was a coward. A fucking coward!” He shouted.
“You’re not a coward,” James responded. “What the marauders did wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault.”
Seamus remained quiet, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I tried to kill you… Didn’t I?” His voice was shaking now. “I… I couldn’t control myself. I can never control myself…” Seamus did something that surprised James. He laughed. “I thought I could harness it. After all, it saved me the first couple of times. Instead, it tricked me into letting myself fall into its instincts and it almost killed you.”
“Seamus.”
“At the end of the day, I’m a conflicted mess. A failure who can only cause problems!”
“Seamus!” James shouted once more, this time catching the other man’s attention. “You’re not a failure. You are not a coward,” He stated. “You’re a hero to Yorktown. You’re an inspiration to the younger guards. And most of all, you’re my friend.”
“James, I–”
“Stop it. Stop living in your past. You’re more than the man you were last year. You’re not a coward anymore. I saw what happened. I saw the same thing you did.” James stood up. “There’s no more discussing this. You’re not going to sit here and loathe yourself for the next five hours. You are going to get up because there are people who need you.”
James moved to grab at Seamus’ shoulders. He propped the young man up. “Lilith is still asleep. Archibald, Bjorn, and Dimitri are still waiting for us. I’m not going back without you. I will drag you if I have to.” James stared into the younger man’s bewildered eyes.
“Why? Why are you adamant on me?” Seamus asked shakily.
“Because you have more to live for. You have a life to look forward to. And I’ll be damned before I let you waste it!” James could feel his eyes burn with magic, his visage reflected upon Seamus’ retinas. He could finally see what he looked like whenever he used these eyes. He looked wicked, the glow in his eyes outlining the edges of his skull. Still, the younger man blinked, his expression from before slowly dissipating.
“Alright,” Seamus managed out, his hands raising. Slowly and gently, he stood up, a look of hesitation on his face. James sighed, the heat from his eyes dying out quickly. He felt bad for having to resort to it, but it seemed to have worked on Seamus.
“How precious,” the witch’s voice called out. James felt his anger from before returning, his focus now turning on the witch nearby. He hadn’t forgotten the hell she had put him through, both mentally and physically, with those damned skeletons.
“You,” James breathed out in anger, his hand grabbing at his weapon once more.
James made his way to the bubble shield that encapsulated the spellcaster. “You can’t break it. At least, not with physical force,” she boasted.
“Really? You want to test that theory?” James raised his left hand, which was covered in frost. He was more than ready to test out his abilities on the woman who had forced him to relive his life on Earth.
The witch scowled at him. “As much as I would love to see you fail at your attempts, there is a bigger problem.”
“What would that be?”
“Your older friend. The Lumen veteran, he’s lost control.”
“Lost control? Like Seamus?”
“In a way. He’s imagining everything around is his enemy. He’s been destroying everything on the upper level, both undead and furniture alike.”
“This is your spell. Can’t you cancel it out?”
The witch huffed. “Dream weaving isn’t an exact science. I simply tried to make your friend to relive his past. It should have made his body fall asleep, as with any man. Yet he fought against the spell and brought out whatever demons he had buried deep in his mind. He’s fighting with this imaginary threat and is swinging at anyone who comes near.”
James looked to where he had last seen Harald. The ladder that led up to the upper floor was still there. Beyond the trapdoor, he could hear the faint sounds of fighting.
“There are still skeletons?” He asked.
“Of course. I kept their magic up after I realized he was fighting the spell. I was going to reinforce them, but he woke up.” The witch gestured to Seamus, who was currently sitting next to Lilith’s sleeping form. “I tried to force him back to sleep, but as it turned out, he was fully unconscious. Pure instinct kept him up and fighting.”
“It’s not pure instinct,” James muttered softly. “It’s something more.” He didn’t really know what it was, but James now knew that Seamus’ mind had been fractured at some point. Judging from the flashes he had seen, the young man had gone through traumatic experience after another, which had damaged his psyche beyond repair. It could explain why Seamus couldn’t remember certain things and the dramatic changes in both his emotions and way of speaking.
“How strange. You saw into his mind, didn’t you?” The witch asked.
“Why do you care?” James asked.
“You really don’t know how unique you are,” the spellcaster laughed. “Mind alteration is a rarity. You manage to do it without so much of a touch. Hel, I have the gift of dream weaving and it is still difficult for me.”
“Your point being?” James asked in a hostile tone.
The witch simply smiled. “There might be a way to calm your older friend down. Non-lethally of course. You just need to listen to me, and this will go without a hitch.”
“I’m listening.”
----------------------------------------
Harald took down another of the William clones, his arms burning with exhaustion. He was getting tired, his body not willing to keep going for any longer. Yet he couldn’t afford to give up. He couldn’t give that damned witch the satisfaction of defeating him. Harald wasn’t ready to give in.
“Just die!” William’s voice called out, the young man’s visage appearing from thin air once more.
Harald took his stance once more, his eyes focusing on William’s swing. The same opener that young man had used all those years ago. The veteran sidestepped the soldier, his own weapon moving to block William’s advance. Success. Sparks flew as Harald deflected the oncoming swing, leaving William stumbling. He took this chance to move in, his elbow pushing William back. The younger man, however, held his poise, tanking the elbow shot full on.
Harald watched as William went for another stab at the veteran, intent on finishing the fight early. Another sound of steel clashing sounded out, this time from Harald’s quick counter with his brace. William’s attempt was foiled, and it left him wide open. Harald could’ve swung in, finishing the soldier before him. Yet he restrained, as he had lived this fight a hundred times before. He would be a fool to let this simple mistake be the end of him a second time.
William regained his footing mid stumble, his left hand already swinging a hidden dagger that would’ve cost the veteran the match. The young man scowled, as he had surely betted that Harald would have tried for a follow up attack.
“You should pay for what you have done. For what you did!” William shouted.
“You think I haven’t already?” Harald growled. “I’ve lost everything in my past life. Every waking moment, I am reminded of it. Every day I’m still alive, I suffer in the memory of it all.”
“It’s not enough! It will never be enough!” The soldier before him cried out in anguish. “Once you’re dead. Once you’ve been dragged to Hel, then perhaps I will be at peace.”
Harald clenched his jaw in anger. “Then try it! I deserve it, don’t I?” He raised his arms. “Come on! Do your worst!” His words seem to strike a nerve with William, as the young man charged in yelling. Harald readied his stance, ready to go through with this fight once more. As expected, William went in with his same opener, both hands on his sword as he swung at full force. Harald countered the attack, driving William’s blade to the ground.
He kicked the sword out of the young man’s strained hands, leaving him defenseless. Without so much of a breath, Harald stabbed through William’s torso. Half of his blade’s length sank into the young man’s chest, drawing a pained gasp out of him. William’s eyes widened at the sudden movements, his lungs trying to suck in as much air as possible.
“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” Harald murmured. He helped the younger man onto his knees, his sword still inside his torso. “Don’t fight it. It’ll hurt less,” Harald advised. William did as told, his hands shaking as he tried to relax. His lips were moving without sound, as if he was trying to come up with the words to say to the veteran.
“It… It isn’t fair,” William managed. “You’re supposed to lose. Not me…” The young man gasped again, his jaw clenching at the pain.
“You did win,” Harald muttered. “A long time ago, you won.”
“Yet here you are… Alive.” That last word was coated in venom, its potency enough to make anyone flinch.
Yet Harald seemed unaffected by it. “Believe me. You won. In more ways than you can imagine.”
“I hope… I hope death comes for you, Stroud. I hope it comes and leaves you nothing more than a cold, wet corpse, pierced by the blade of Lumen,” William choked out. He tried to breathe in more air, possibly to insult the veteran even more, but he failed to do so. Instead, William slumped on his knees, sword still inside of him. Harald could only stare at the body, his hand moving to grab the dead man’s shoulder.
“I hope so too,” he muttered softly. With little ceremony, Harald wrenched his weapon out of the corpse. He let it drop to the ground, where it already dissipated. Harald muttered as he wiped his weapon down, counting the seconds that went by. Once he had hit half a minute, a voice shouted out.
“Harald!”
The veteran blinked. He had expected William’s voice, but this felt different. He turned to the clone that had just appeared. It was William alright. Yet he looked off. Harald squinted before realizing that this clone was flickering.
“Harald! You need to stop fighting!” William shouted. That was not what the veteran was expecting. Was that witch’s magic deteriorating? It would only make sense, as the clone before Harald differed from the rest. William this time looked like he was nothing more than a flickering illusion, different from the surreal versions that came before.
“I’m close to breaking out,” he realized out loud. Harald was getting close to breaking the spell. All he needed to do was to keep fighting. The witch was obviously trying to trick him into stopping, as Harald’s fighting had been weakening her hold.
“Harald! You need to listen!” William shouted this time. His voice was even deteriorating, as it sounded like it was overlapping with someone else’s voice.
“You must take me for an idiot.” Harald raised his sword to William.
“Harald, it’s me! It’s—”
“Shut it!”
Harald rushed down the young man before him, his swing already aimed at William’s neck. He never got to strike him down. William had somehow dodged the swing, almost as if his reflexes were on par with the veteran. Harald’s swing struck nothing but air, the wide attack leaving him open to the young soldier. William, however, did not use the chance to counterattack. Instead, the flickering clone grabbed at Harald’s face with his left hand. In an instant, everything went white.
Harald cursed as he stumbled back, the screen over his eyes fading as quickly as it had come.
“What the…? Where am I?” He was no longer in the dark void. Instead, Harald found himself standing in a spot he had never expected to find himself in again. Rain poured down on the veteran, the ground below him now of grass and mossy rock. Waves crashed against a distant beach, the only people around being that of his old comrades. A ring of blue flames surrounded Harald and William.
“What did you do?!” Harald turned to the man responsible. William’s visage still flickered, but it was far from the veteran’s only plight.
“Harald, you need to listen to me! We can get you out, but you need to stop fighting.”
“Like hel I will,” Harald growled. He readied himself once more. This was a fight he had run through hundreds of times before. He knew exactly how to defeat William, how to counter him, how to kill him. William raised his own sword in defense, his focus on the veteran. “I’m sorry for doing this.” With that, the young man rushed Harald.
The veteran moved to deflect the incoming attack, ready to counter it like before. However, William’s attack never came. In fact, he wasn’t even fighting like before. The soldier slid to Harald’s shins, his boot kicking at the older man’s leg.
“Agh!” The veteran buckled and fell onto his knee, his sword hand wildly swinging at William. His swing contacted rusted steel, sparking against a shield that had come out of nowhere. Before Harald could react, William’s hand grabbed at his head.
Like before, the world went white.
----------------------------------------
“Bind him!” James shouted at the top of his lungs. As requested, glowing ropes of magic materialized out of thin air, wrapping themselves around Harald’s form.
“I’ll kill you!” Harald shouted out, his arms straining against the magical bindings.
“He’s going to break out of them!” The witch exclaimed.
“I just need a few seconds!” James breathed out. He had only connected to Harald for a second, but it had been enough to temporarily stun him. James and Faust just needed a few more seconds to snap Harald out of it.
“Do it now! I can’t hold it much longer!” With that warning in mind, James moved to grab at the veteran’s head, this time using both hands. As soon as his fingers made contact, James’ world changed once more.
This time, it wasn’t just a flash of images.
James found himself looking through the eyes of someone else, his sword clashing against another. Rain poured upon the both of them, the ground below now made of grass and dirt. Blue flames encircled both fighters. When he looked at who he was fighting, he saw Harald. Yet this Harald was not the veteran he was so accustomed to.
This man in front of him was someone else entirely. His armor glinted with enchanted runes, his sword embedded with the same treatment. His salt and pepper hair was cut short, his beard trimmed and neat.
Harald growled in anger. “Azlene’s Wrath!” he shouted. Flames bursted out around Harald, driving James back.
“Ember Slash!” Harald’s shout rang out. The flames that had encapsulated him were snuffed out, showing that his swing was already upon James, sword set aflame with magical embers. James felt his body move to the side, narrowly dodging the swing.
“You need to stop Harald! I’m here to help you out of this!”
“Silence illusion! You are nothing but a witch’s incantation!” Harald stood up straight, his sword raising to James. “I’ll be damned before I am tricked!”
‘It’s no use. James, you need to fight him.’ Faust’s words echoed in the otherworldly man’s mind.
‘We can’t break him out?’
‘I’ve glimpsed at his head. This is a memory he’s reliving. The only reason he’s stuck is because he keeps winning this fight.’
‘Are you saying that I have to beat him?’
‘You have to. He’ll only be able to break out once he goes through with it to the end. If he keeps winning, the dream will reset.’
James swallowed hard. This was going to be very difficult.
‘Don’t worry about it. Just follow my lead. I saw the memory. I know how this fight ends,’ Faust encouraged.
James nodded. “Got it,” he muttered. He looked up to Harald, who stood waiting for the next attack.
‘First, go for his opening. He has it right after his initial swing, so you’re going to have to feint.’
James followed the advice, his feet scraping against the grass below him. He recalled his last training session, remembering when Harald had taught him how to feint attacks. James took a deep breath, his arms moving to swing.
As expected, the younger Harald before him fell for it. The veteran swung at James, who was already backing out quickly.
‘There it is! Strike at him! Don’t be afraid to injure him, this is just a memory!’
James followed Faust’s advice, his arms moving to raise his sword. He swung down on Harald’s side, where his armor was weak. The blade cut through the opening, making a sickening sound of flesh being sliced. Harald winced at the strike, his sword moving to swing back at James.
‘Drop!’
The blond man did as told, dropping to the ground in a squat. The veteran’s attempted slash hit nothing but air, leaving James uninjured.
‘Stab at his armor, there is a weak point right where his liver is!’
James propelled himself from his squat, using his spring to gain the momentum needed to break through the weak point. There was the sound of steel cutting through metal before it was followed by the fleshy sound of a successful stab. James and Harald fell to the ground, where both men struggled to fight. The soft grass and dirt so turned to mud as kicks and punches were thrown. James found himself absorbed in the moment, his fists landing on steel and skin.
‘Grab your sword!’
James took the spirit’s advice, his hand looking for the sword in the mud. It didn’t take long before he finally found it, his fingers grasping at the handle. James struck Harald with the weapon, his blade hitting steel, cloth, and flesh.
‘James! You need to calm down. If you kill Harald here, it’ll restart the memory!’
Faust’s words did nothing to stop James. He didn’t care that his anger got the better of him. He didn’t care that his mind was getting carried away. It didn’t matter, as long as it meant winning.
Soon enough, however, the fight began to die down. In the end, James found himself on top, his boot pinning Harald’s arm to the ground while his hands held a sword’s edge to the veteran’s throat. Both men were out of breath, their armor and clothing covered in a thick layer of mud and blood. James blinked, realizing that Harald was no longer fighting back or throwing insults. He simply laid there, defeated. The blue flames that encircled them both were now gone, the runes on Harald’s armor dead and without an ounce of magic.
“The duel is over!” A voice called out. James looked at the source, seeing a man in beaten steel armor. Still, through the blood that stained it, James could make out the wax seal that signified him as a Lumen Knight. The knight raised his hand to James.
“William Thatcher, you have beaten Harald Stroud, former champion and herald. You now take his mantle and status! Hail, the new Herald of Azlene!”