*************
Virgil Boone
Siphoning air into my lungs, I look forward toward the shadowy landscape. Pale lights in the distance are the only indication of the coming army led by two legendary demons. Inyan, the Fanged Horror, and Urau, the Beast Of The West. Each invokes a primal fear within my body, shaking me to the bones without even seeing them. I've heard endless stories about their strengths over the years and the awful things they've done. To be this close...
My hands shake, though I'm not entirely sure if it's anticipation or fear.
Yet, I stand, at the precipice of Bent, toes hanging off the fortress. Johnny, Tomas, and Marshall are beside me, the three not getting any sleep. Thankfully, I only need an hour at this point every few days, and I'm fully rested.
I wonder... how low would it be had I taken another Nightowl instead of what I did in Starbluffs?
Shaking my head, I glance back, seeing the throngs of soldiers preparing to fight. Many of them rested during the break, but the standard three shifts have deteriorated to two from the many casualties. Slowly, gradually, they are breaking. Fools. They should all know to retreat, that what they are doing will lead to their deaths.
Yet, they do not. The man, just a few steps from me, inspires such confidence that I could almost imagine a church rising from his ashes. I was told to join this advance party, the usual strike team of Marshall and Tomas expanding to incorporate Johnny and me. The main requirement is speed and stealth, which I have in excess. Deaths in the Boneyard, as they call it, mean you will not be buried. You will only be grieved.
And gazing out into the darkness, the light of the encroaching army barely visible, I realize what is to come for me. Few of the soldiers are Nightowls, and none have as many as me. I... I don't think I will have much time to rest these next few days. That's fine with me, I suppose. I haven't had much since I was a child.
I just worry for Wyatt. The kid will kill himself with so many enemies to slay. But my worries have already been extinguished. Marshall, exuding such pressure that I wonder if he and Johnny are genuinely at the same Sigil, knocked Wyatt unconscious so he could rest, quoting, "The boy must rest. Let the men handle the war.".
So, I only wait patiently for the call to war. Abraham is to stay in cover, releasing his Nightmares here or there, and Bonfire is to remain upon the walls, unleashing his flames to all who deserve them alongside his ragtag group. Blake stands their guard, protecting them from any sneaky demons or overzealous beasts they might have under their control. She hasn't yet gained control over her Absolution, but she's working toward it every day.
Silas, the Bado, and Lennox are not yet allowed to join the fight. Marshall is still wary of them, not entirely trusting any. As expected, Skyswain was furious at being useless, but Silas didn't seem much too bothered. Neither did Lennox.
Stealing one last look behind me as Marshall whistles for us to move, I see the boy genius and his guards.
Up above and behind me, atop the tower that Ash Poke, the sniper of Bent, sits in, are Earl, Primrose, and Autumn, though the latter is soon to leave Bent. Ash's bullets are different than Johnny's as he goes for power over accuracy or quantity. Each shot from his rifle explodes with the force of five cannons.
Beside the Colonel is a young man who made a weapon with similar stopping power without a Craftsman, proving that the mind is the most crucial factor to ingenuity. I look forward to what his Coil can do on a battlefield like this. The range is insane, approaching five miles. As long as he can appropriately aim it with his Sigil, I reckon he might be able to break that rule I've long held in my mind. Earl could potentially kill something three Sigils higher tonight, but I'll just have to wait and see. I could always simply be overestimating him.
Nevertheless, I must move, the other three vaulting off the wall and downward. Each of their bodies can ignore the force of the fall, but I cannot. As I leap off, I prepare a Flicker, waiting for the moment I touch the ground to cancel out my momentum.
And I do so, my feet sinking into the ground before shuttling me out at a velocity double that of my fall. Struggling to catch myself, Ether swirls within me as I breathe Shaded to life, my brand of Adrenaline Surge. As long as light does not touch me, the skill works five times as well as the original.
My feet fly underneath my legs, rapidly catching me up to Johnny and Tomas as I force myself faster, Soundless decreasing my weight to lower the cost of movement. To keep up with these legends is difficult, but I pride myself on my speed, and even as they start to gain distance on me, I don't worry.
I have an ace, one that helps me understand how Wyatt is so powerful. Or at least partially. Every time I advance, my Absolution does so as well. Thinking back to when I killed a Bado just starting to turn, I remember the words from The Cabin as I put them into action.
Your Absolution grants one more boon alongside the twist of incorporealness as you take a step upwards. The Fog hides much from the world, allowing you to slip undetected. But for the Slipping Nightshade, your moments where you bridge the gap between the Fog and your realm using your indelible will, you can create friction. And this friction slides you through the world as you harbor light.
My toes and ankles slide into the ground beneath me as Ether roams my body, creating minor holes in reality, the hallmarks of Flicker. And as I slip into the ground, a trick I learned not too long ago as it is more complicated than ordinary objects, I release the Flicker and fling myself out of the ground at twice the momentum.
The combination of Shaded and Flicker allows me to continually increase my speed, hinging on the fact I can control it. The limit is relatively strict, for my senses are not as sharp as they could be. Perhaps, I'll have to see if I resonate with a Comanche or a Prowler for the reaction speed. I know I won't with an Augur; I already tried long ago.
And so, I Flicker along the remnants of old battles, keeping pace with two Angels and Tomas, a man who should be taking the leap soon. I've heard of his exploits long before he even became a 5th Sigil. The Unyielding Wall trained the man from the time he could crawl to this day. If he didn't reach the Angelic Realm, I'd be surprised.
Gradually, over minutes, we near the alabaster lights of the demons. The two Angels, in their camp, move in ornate wagons evidently stolen from the Estates. White rays of torches held by the weaker demons that lead the beasts below using their hypnotic control glimmer along the terrain.
Our job is to assassinate as many lower controllers as possible before the demons get close. Demons are low in number, after all, and make up for it by controlling wildlife and their personal strengths. Johnny and Marshall will take Inyan and Urau, distracting them as Tomas and I go to town. And like a shadow, I do as told, descending upon the closest demon, his allies none the wiser.
I navigate through the chaotic battlefield, a shadow among the hordes of demons. Each step is calculated, and my movements are precise and deadly. As I swiftly dispatch the demons that stand in my path, their twisted forms crumble before me, unable to withstand the force of my blade.
But I am not alone in this dance of death. At my side, a figure emerges from the shadows, a being of unparalleled agility and ferocity. Tomas proceeds with a grace that echoes that of a wolf, his actions guided by instinct and sheer brutality. Together, we become a formidable force, an unstoppable duo carving a path of destruction through the enemy lines. Yet, we are uncatchable, diving out of retaliating troops counterattack before they even arrive. Ghosts in the wind, we move, unable to be seen, prevented, or stopped until our prey falls. I attack demons from their backs, appearing from the ground only to vanish through it once more. They never even saw me coming.
Flicker, Shaded, and Mask prevent my capture as Tomas' sheer brutality and speed give him the grace to escape any encirclement.
Amidst the chaos, my senses are heightened, attuned to every sound and movement. The clash of steel, the thundering footsteps of the approaching beasts, and the bloodcurdling roars of the demons merge into a symphony of battle. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and the acrid stench of demonic deaths.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Not far from our mission, I catch glimpses of two legendary warriors engaged in a fierce struggle against their demonic adversaries. Their movements are swift and precise, virtually quicker than I can witness. One wields a weapon with unrivaled precision, its shots carving through the fabric of darkness. The other, a paragon of strength, stands resolute against the onslaught, their fists clashing against the demonic forces with earth-shattering impact. Trees tremble and splinter as the battle rages, bullets whiz through the air, and demons' roars mingle with the sounds of steel meeting flesh.
The Iron Consul is the only one to brandish a weapon in the clash, Marshall preferring his fists, Inyan favoring his fangs and the teeth that garnish his whole form, and Urau relying on his massive form of brutish strength that approaches' Marshall's capability. But between them all, it is evident that none surpass Marshall as he lifts an entire oak with his arms and slams Urau hundreds of feet away as the tree snaps into a thousand pieces. The tumbling demon roars in anger as Inyan comes to back him up.
In this dark and treacherous night, allies and enemies blur, as multiple times Tomas and I almost strike each other, and the line between victory and defeat becomes tenuous. But I press forward, my resolve unyielding, driven by the knowledge that the fate of the fortress and its defenders rests upon our shoulders. The more slain here, the more disorganized the beasts and the weaker the siege. With each enemy I vanquish, I inch closer to the light building within. As the night grows darker, the glimmer deep within forms.
But the demons Tomas and I are killing aren't all weak. Some are mighty, approaching the 5th or even the 6th Sigil, relegating us to ignore them for now. Yet, they do not wish to be neglected.
One rushes after me, a line of blood that follows his every step, staining the earth with a crimson shade. His face is covered with horns, almost as if that is all he is, as he roars at me.
"Stop running, worm! I want a taste!"
I Flicker into the ground, gaining a burst of momentum and extending the distance between me. Yet, as I exit the floor, I notice another demon before me. I'm unsure what Sigil it has, but its confidence tells me it must be high.
Twisting backward, I see the first one sliding along the ground, flowing blood that acts like an icy hill for him to move down. My mind quickly analyzes his capabilities as I think of a way out.
Probably an Occultist-Swimmer combination. This means he's likely weak up close but can heal fast. I'll have to stay away from his hands; most swimmers can expel water from their hands. And with this one, I reckon it'll be blood.
Rotating my head to analyze the other as Ether simmers in my body, I hear a piercing whistle that breaks through the night.
The retreat signal. Something must have gone wrong.
Without hesitating for even a fraction of a second, I Flicker deep into the ground, feeling the fragments of the realm I'm partially connected to scraping away at my mind. I hate doing this as it is excruciating, but it also practically leaves sieves in my body for Ether as it fills me with saturation. Not just that, but with too many uses, my mind begins to buckle. Gradually, these trips become less dependent on my will and more focused on whatever creature is on the other side that is intrigued with me.
The brown darkness of the dirt, once below my feet, covers my vision as I rotate myself with a small burst of Ether, pointing my head toward the fortress. Then, I release Flicker, the action hurtling me out of the ground and out of danger as I struggle not to grunt in pain. But the speed is much too fast, and I tumble along brush before regaining my balance. Once I do, however, I haul ass right back for the fortress.
Quickly, I find Tomas similarly retreating and just as lost as to what transpired. He raises an eyebrow, and I can only shrug as we hurry back together.
Continually, we peek back for either of the Angels, but neither appears—a half-minute passes, then a whole, and still nothing. At the two-minute mark, right before we reach the field in front of Bent, they emerge. But not all is good. Marshall is aiding Johnny in running as a basin-sized hole exists in the Iron Consul's chest, his heart visible. Or, I should say, half of his heart. The other half is gone in the wind.
The Wall shouts to the wall as he twists on a dime, his feet leaving slight trenches.
"The Consul is wounded! Scott! Get your ass out here. It's an emergency! Marksmen! Ready your weapons! They are close!"
After he commands his soldiers, Marshall glances at Tomas and me, calling us forward as he holds onto Johnny, the man unconscious, still grasping his gun.
"Come here. A third Angel finally appeared. It seems the demons are finally throwing their weight in. Curan, Nature's Hand, lied in wait to ambush me. However, Johnny was there, and the demon was able to knock him unconscious in one blow, disallowing his Power to work. You two will have to keep the army at bay while I hold the three until Johnny is recovered enough to rejoin. The wall will help, but aiming at night is far harder than at day."
I nod at his command without much other choice, and Tomas does the same. Marshall speaks again but is quickly cut off by a roar and a fifteen-foot-tall creature rushing for his life.
"Good. Retreat a bit so those on the wall can help you. And---"
"MARSHALL!"
The Unyielding Wall responds to the challenge as he tosses Johnny's unconscious form at us. He vanishes with a burst of rock into the air before a shockwave that shakes my feet resounds. Unable to see the two Angels battling it out through the rising debris, I take Johnny with Tomas and withdraw.
After about ten seconds, a bespectacled man with an entourage of guards, including Millie, the third Colonel in Bent, appears from the gate of the wall. The man is the highest medic in the frontier, Scott Harbor—a 6th Sigiled capable of healing almost any wound with his Priest-Occultist mixture. The only negative is that he has little to no combat potential, never fighting a day in his life and focusing on healing others.
Without hesitating, I hand Johnny over to him as blood pools from the Angel, his breathing slowing. Scott nods at me as white light appears in one hand of his, and blood falls from the other.
"Thank you! Now go! Don't bring more attention to me! We can't allow Johnny to get finished off! He'd already be dead were it not for him being an Angel!"
Seeing the reason in his words, I turn away and return to the battle, Tomas already doing so.
I dive back into the raging battle, my senses heightened and my resolve unwavering. Explosions rock the ground beneath me as the cannons from the fortress behind unleash their thunderous fury upon the encroaching demons just now showing themselves from the far treeline that fades slightly with each battle. With every step, I navigate through the chaos, my blades ready to rend through any demonic flesh that dares to stand in my path.
Quickly, doing as told, I join the horde. The demons assail me from all sides, each a grotesque manifestation of the Mother Below's creativity. Some are massive, towering over me with gnarled claws and blazing eyes, while others are swift and nimble, darting through the air with an unnatural agility. But most of these things are humanoid. I spent over a decade learning how to kill my fellow man. It all comes to fruition now. I twist and spin, my movements fluid and precise, anticipating their every strike and countering with lethal efficiency.
With a swift slash, Necrosis bolstering my machete, I sever the arm of a grotesque monstrosity, its acidic blood splattering across my mask. I leap into the ground with Flicker, avoiding a sweeping tail of a hulking demon. And shuttling out of the earth with blinding speed, I drive my blades deep into its exposed flesh, silencing its menacing roar. The battlefield becomes a symphony of violence and chaos as I dance amidst the screams and the clash of steel.
I feel at peace. It's been a long, long time since I've done this. And back then, it was against much weaker foes. My feet move with impossible alacrity as I only grow faster, the dark of the night deepening. And as it all sinks further into the abyss, I feel the light within building.
And through the smoke and the fire, I glimpse an old man at the forefront of the battle. His presence commands respect and awe, as he faces off against not one but three legendary foes. Each opponent possesses unique powers and unmatched skill; their movements are unstoppable by any but the General. I am both captivated and filled with a sense of dread as I witness their fierce exchanges, the earth trembling beneath the weight of their blows.
Marshall bobs and weaves between the three with simple but brutal movements, unleashing strikes here or there to damage them with his unstoppable might. Curan harries him with plants, massive outcrops of vines and wood emerging to strike Marshall as Inyan and Urau press him closely with their teamwork.
But I cannot linger on their struggle for long. The demons and nearby beasts surrounding me press closer, their ravenous hunger for destruction unabated. I switch between swift strikes and defensive maneuvers, exploiting their weaknesses and exploiting every opportunity to drive them back. With each demon I fell, I can bring a flicker of hope to this bleak battlefield just as it adds a small luminance to the glimmer within.
Amidst the chaos, I draw upon every ounce of strength and skill within me, honed through endless tragedies under lock, key, and contract. My focus sharpens, and time seems to slow as I navigate the ebb and flow of battle. And amid the sharpened focus, I see Marshall, only fifty feet from me, stumble, the trio of Angels managing to finally break through his defense. A long gash runs down his gut as he doubles over for a moment.
Forcing aside the demons nearby and Flickering beneath, I shoot myself out to aid him, knowing it very well may be useless. But I must. This is THE Unyielding Wall. I have to. Inyan is just a moment from crunching his jaws down upon Marshall's neck as Urau is about to break the man's arms. Even Curan has vines wrapped around the man's body, keeping him pinned.
Yet, as my body flings itself through the air over the charging beasts and demons, the whole world hears a crackle of lightning and a blast of air. I catch only the aftermath of what transpires as Inyan flies back, slamming into the ground, rolling half a dozen feet away from Marshall.
Partially knowing the cause, I don't pause, forcing myself forward as I allow the light within to emerge. My fifth Sigil is one I thought impossible to resonate with. Yet I am. The Nightshade is born from a Priest joining the mix in honor of my late brother. And I guide my radiance to my palm, pointing it at Curan.
Marshall was Vernon's hero—the man he always wanted to meet. I never delivered that wish to him, but he shall save his hero's life in death.
"Within the dark, the future is undecided, yet, it is within the dark that the greatest changes occur. Light can only be nurtured with the grimmest shade. Upon the moment of deepest darkest, you emit the brightest light."
The skill of my 5th Sigil, Illuminate, allows me to build a store of light within myself at night with the more I struggle, the more it produces. And it can be released to kill any foe I might possess. It dissipates should I touch the sun, however, and cannot be used under the light of day.
And so, a beam of concentrated radiance, one that fills the night with the brightest light, is born. It moves with the inescapable speed of light, striking Curan with all my turmoil for the whole night as I feel myself wobble and fall to the ground. I don't get to see the result, slamming into the mud as my body is on the edge of Ether saturation. Sweat lines my whole form as I shake, demons inches from me.
Yet, before I am killed, a savior swoops in and picks me up. Tomas noiselessly cradles me as he swiftly flees. And as we run, I see Curan holding onto a piece of missing flesh from his side, the green skin incinerated along his hip. The wound might only be the size of a hand, but it elicits undying pride within me.
Meanwhile, Marshall surges through the horde, retreating and joining me and Tomas. He simply nods to me as I'm set down beside Scott, the two returning to the battle, only not as deeply. A moment passes with the non-stop rumbling of gunpowder before a hand squeezes my side. Looking up, I see Johnny gripping his gun so tightly his knuckles are as alabaster as Abraham's skin.
"You did good, Virgil. Rest up. I won't be ambushed again, and it seems you put some fear into Curan."
Smiling, I sink into the dark, my light momentarily extinguished.
I did it, Vernon. I did it.
I saved him. And... I hurt an Angel.
You'd be proud of your older brother, right?