Chapter 26:
I Promise
"What are you willing to sacrifice? This would certainly solve your problem, but you would be barred from the Abyss. There is more than just war in your heart. That wolf? His paladin? Those children you have claimed as your own? What of their plight? I can see it. What you are, Arlan. The son of Areelu Vorlesh. More so than your brother ever was."
- Ao
The grimoire had everything I needed.
The risk would be great, and with my soul as it was, the chances of me ever being able to perform this spell again were negligible at best. I never attempted it before, but I knew everything there was to know about it. What it was capable of in the hands of any mortal like myself.
The power was unmatched. However, the price was something I had to consider. If I had to cast this? What would I even use it for?
I had everything I needed already. I would not ever need it again.
"Save yourself, Arlan." The wraith had whispered in my ear.
"No, I don't think I will." I smile. I found what I was looking for. This way I could save their child. He would not be at the mercy of chance. Just as he would be if I made use of
Forced Reincarnation. That grand hex would not be enough. Casca had been correct in her assessment.
I do not break any promise. Arlan Vorlesh is true.
The Knight Commander protects.
"They can save their son themselves! He is not your responsibility!" The shadow was beside himself to say the least. This was the perfect chance! I could use it to repair my soul. I could be free of this curse. The rest of my life could be with my Iomedae. Farnese, my protege, by our side. The Higher Planes would become our home. The angels our brothers and sisters.
I had found peace, but that would not save anyone. I had to exacerbate my problems. Capitalize on them in every way.
Peace was dreadfully boring, and a warmonger at idle is most dangerous. Especially to those he cherishes. I knew
exactly where I had to go. The place that would become my home would be the Abyss. That paradise for monsters.
Goodbye, my Iomedae. Farnese, you will always be my witch. I leave to you my people. Arlan's Way will belong to the both of you. It will belong to my crusaders!
I had made my decision already. There was no point in changing it.
"This will be my stage. The theater my own."
Forever, and always.
<<X>>
Guts felt as if something had gone awry. His divine senses had an inkling of something in the horizon. A change, a monumental one, and even those who oversaw the balance were concerned.
The Axiomite Godmind driven into a frenzy. The coin was about to land on the edge, and due to the contract brokered by The Godclaw? There was no way they could interfere without jeopardizing everything they worked for. They could, but if they broke the contract? The damage...
They had to compromise. They had to observe.
Powerless, as they were.
"What the hell is this itch?" Of course, Guts barely understood what the feeling meant. As far as demi-gods were concerned? The White Wolf was in his infancy. There was room for growth. He had slain two demon lords, but there was more to come.
Griffith.
Just the thought of that betrayer would have driven him mad before, but now his rage has been refined. He could control it, and he no longer felt anything but contempt for the hawk. When before he hesitated? He had felt something. A desperate wish to see if anything had been true. If their friendship had moved that bastard. If his heart trembled in any shame for what he had done.
There was nothing instead.
When Griffith had returned from the Abyss? The Falcon of Light, dispassionate as he was, had looked at them both as nothing more than a hindrance. Another bug to be squashed. Their tragedy a joke! The
Band of the Hawk meant nothing...
No, not in the face of Griffith's dream. His ambition. That which was his now. The Kingdom of Midland, or was it Falconia?
It did not matter. Guts would destroy it. He would see it fall.
Then, only after Guts had destroyed everything, that land in ruin, would he relieve Griffith of his heart. The White Wolf would tear it from his chest, and feast on it! The life would leave the pretender, and the wolf would be free.
The wind would be his!
Casca turned in her sleep beside him. The young woman had been a source of joy. Of happiness. The one thing that brought ease to his tortured soul. When all else had been taken from him.
His family would be avenged. The
Band of the Hawk would live again in this crusade. Through this glorious tribute.
Another demon lord for their altar.
<<X>>
"Are you ready, Aivu?" I take the reins. The havoc dragon was salivating at the prospect of war. How long had it been since her father fought beside her like this? The beast had desired it above all else. Just one more chance. When I was lost to her?
The grief had almost been too much. Aimlessly the havoc dragon wandered the multiverse. In search of any purpose. A way to live without Arlan Vorlesh. It had become an impossible task, but there were always distractions. A way to forget. There were always monsters, and they had become her prey! Soon a century would pass, and then another one after that. The havoc dragon would become a myth. A legend just like her Knight Commander.
The Higher Planes could always rely on her for aid. The Lower Planes feared her in every way.
The hollowness did not dissipate despite that. That hole in her heart, the bleeding had stopped, but it was still there.
It had endured. There was no salve for it.
Then a miracle happened.
Aivu should have known that I
lived somewhere. There was a swelling of pride. Her father. Her Knight Commander. The terror of the Abyss. The adversary they feared above all others.
The havoc dragon had found it. The purpose she had lost. When her father would leave for the Abyss? Aivu would follow him.
All those facets? Those aspects? The avatars of the champion known only as Arlan Vorlesh? They would know of her friendship.
The Abyss would be routed.
<<X>>
Regill could feel it. This was just the beginning! The Abyss? It waited for the gnome. He would wage war in every plane. In every universe nestled within that realm. He had served Asmodeus dutifully, but it was never quite the same. The Prince of Darkness was nothing. He was not his Knight Commander! His commanding officer! His leader!
His friend.
The bleaching should have taken him. Death should have claimed him. The gnome spurned his destiny! He broke free of it because he had promised. Just as it was for Arlan Vorlesh? That was something sacred to the gnome! The authority of his general overshadowed any curse. Any blight. No matter how severe it was!
"Arlan Vorlesh, my Hellknight. My masterpiece." There is not a day that goes by where he is not thankful for that meeting. If it was anyone else he would have called it fate. However, this was Arlan Vorlesh.
The breaker of it. "My magnum opus
, and realized in truth!"
The Knight Commander, through conquest, had orchestrated everything. Their meeting in particular. There were those that feared him. The gnome was brutal. Uncompromising, in every way. The essence of what it meant to be a Hellknight, and because of that? There was no other that could teach Arlan Vorlesh. The Knight Commander required the ideal, and he was most exceptional of all.
He caressed the havoc dragon. Those scales were pristine. One of many in their army, and he surveyed the troops around him. They had mounted their own beasts. A few of them at least. There were many but not enough to accommodate their whole army. The rest of his soldiers had no choice but to face the demons on foot. Regill would unleash hell from above, and watch over them.
"To war, my crusaders! My Hellknights!"
The Kingdom of Midland would fall. Glory awaited them all.
"Do not disappoint The Knight Commander! He expects results from all of you!" The gnome lifts his hammer into the air, and spurs the soldiers into action. The crusaders cheer as one in response. "If you dare to fail? I will lash you all myself!"
This would be revenge. These people, once slaves to these monsters, had now known what it meant to be free. All thanks to The Knight Commander. Their lord and their liege. Their liberator.
They had their pride. Their lives. Their families. Their people. A land to call their own.
Soon they would have
everything else.
"Yes, sir!"
<<X>>
The Skull Knight rode on his horse. The one that had been gifted to him. The crusaders around him wore the same armor he did centuries ago. It brought back memories. Ones that he wished that he could forget. This nightmare? He never thought there was way he could actually end it, but then he met the champion. The herald.
The harbinger of change.
There was hope when before there was nothing. How futile it had been. A thousand years he had fought, and a thousand years he had experienced nothing but failure. He was just a nuisance.
He had never prayed before. Not to any deity, but there was faith. A belief he did not have before, and it was because of this, that he prayed.
"Arlan Vorlesh, my friend. I will wage war." The prayer would be for The Knight Commander. The person who changed everything. "I will fight again!"
The Kingdom of Midland was ahead of them. The crusaders were hungry for the blood of these monsters. They were not afraid anymore. They were warriors all. Berserkers in the service of vengeance itself.
They prepare every weapon. They set their sights on the capital.
They roar.
"Charge forward, into the depths of the Abyss!"
The Sword of Actuation hums with power, and the plane is torn asunder by it.
The Skull Knight had been reinvigorated.
His heart became a blazing inferno!
<<X>>
Falconia.
This place that Griffith had built from the ashes of the Kingdom of Midland. He wonders if it was all worth it. Those sacrifices he had made to make it this far. The people he had betrayed. The
Band of the Hawk? He had replaced them, but it was not the same.
That child, he assaulted him again, these
emotions were weakening him. They were beginning to make him doubt. He grips Radiance as tightly as he can. This blade would serve him. It would serve the child. Griffith knew that much. He had done everything he could to prepare for his rival.
Arlan Vorlesh.
The
hero that had reminded him so much of himself. Despite that, Arlan Vorlesh was mortal. He had rejected godhood, and in that moment The Falcon of Light began to wonder. What if he had done the same? What if he had not been weak?
"No, I made the right choice." It had to be. It was worth it. He had achieved everything. His dream? It had come to fruition.
"Not by your hand, Griffith. It was the will of The Godhand." That voice? It was always their will. He had every intention of betraying them. His rule had to last, and for that to happen? The Godhand had to fall.
Nosferatu Zodd was in the shadows. He could feel it. That death of his. The day had come. This would be the end. That clarity made him regain his pride. He could not beat Griffith, but he knew the truth.
Femto had been a pawn in their game.
"That dream was never your own, Griffith. It belonged to The Godhand." The chimera has no fear. Not anymore.
"..." The demon lord listened. He could have slain the apostle for his insolence, but he did not. The influence of the child was undeniable now. "What would my dream have been without them?"
The hawk had to wonder. What ambition? Everything was a part of their design. Their plan. He may have been made into one of them, but none of it was him. It was The Heart of Darkness. They were all pawns!
"What have I done?" The hawk falls to the floor. The humanity he had thrown away flooding back into him.
The truth had become clear. When he became a demon lord. It didn't move his heart before, because his transformation took everything mortal from him.
The child had broken that. This was how it vexed him.
"Disgusting." Zodd couldn't believe he swore fealty to this coward. "Stand up, and fight! Face your death with dignity, Griffith!"
Femto rises, and he looks towards the horizon. Charlotte Beatrix Marie Rhody Wyndham was behind him, or whatever was left of her corpse. When the young woman had witnessed the truth? The princess had taken her own life. Her savior was a monster.
"Guts, I--" Femto shakes his head. "I will not die like this! I have my dream!" He had to fight for it.
Forever a pawn in this game. What a wretched thing. No dream to call his own.
Only the dreams of monsters.
<<X>>
The Hand of the Inheritor flew over the city. The apostles had been let loose. These demons were devouring the citizens. Their chains broken as everything that restrained them disappeared.
"My brothers and sisters, these demons have turned against their own people!" He thrusts his sword towards the firmament. The heavens answered his call. A thousand angels, the best he had to offer for this crusade, and his friend. The Knight Commander who had saved him. When all hope had been lost. "Be their salvation when all is lost!"
The angel conjures up a
Storm of Justice, and holy light rains down. Countless demons are brought to heel. They are burned to ashes in the chaos. There would be hope. These angels were no apostles! They were no demons! They were servants of the divine, and they would protect these mortals from whatever was lurking in the shadows!
The Heart of Darkness would not prevail this day. This victory would belong to the righteous.
The heroes of this realm!
"Shepherd them all, my angels!"
They would save these people.
<<X>>
"Goodbye, Sonia!" The azata lets loose another arrow. Irvine was surrounded by too many of them, but he had to protect all of these people. These mortals? They were not at fault for what the demon lord had done. "Desna, prepare a hearth for me! When I come home at last!"
The azata would die as he lived. A servant of life, and a guardian of Elysium. The civilians behind him took comfort in knowing they were safe, but they could see it. All of the wounds. The ranger was bleeding. The torture had commenced earlier, but he did not speak once. Not even as they interrogated him. His honor had remained intact. Those secrets would all die with him.
A dozen arrows fly through the air, and each one pierces something vital. The wounds do not heal. A demon falls to the ground. An arrow having pierced through his forehead.
Locus and Rakshas were among the apostles. They were here for the traitor. The
Band of the Falcon had sworn allegiance to Femto, and they would not allow this transgression to go unpunished. The betrayer had to pay.
Irvine laughs at them.
"If you feel courageous? Come and claim my life for yourself!" They would die with him. The azata would make sure of it. "I will show you what it means to be a ranger!"
I should have saved him. I should have kept my promise. I should have done more. Sonia, I wonder if she would ever look past this failure of mine.
I will not break another oath.
<<X>>
The havoc dragons encircle the capital. I survey the anarchy below, and that is when I leap from Aivu. This was not something I could just watch. I had to join the fray!
I land with the grace of a feline, and unsheathe my bastard sword. Frostbite was ready for anything. The apostles in my way are frozen solid by the blade, and those who survive the frost? Are assaulted by electricity. I cast
Chain Lightning, and a dozen of them burst open. Their blood paints everyone and everything around us crimson.
"I am Arlan Vorlesh! The Knight Commander of the Sixth Crusade!" I stab the bastard sword into another apostle, and twist the blade until I am certain the wound is fatal. "I will deliver you all to the Abyss! Prepare yourselves!"
I cast
Vampiric Touch, and grab one of the demons. The life drains from it, and then I hurl the corpse at another apostle. I speak another incantation, and hurl a
Banshee Blast at another group of monsters. They die.
They will all die!
I begin to cackle. I give into everything. The rage. The madness. There was only war in my heart, and a desire for victory! The spoils of war would belong to Arlan Vorlesh!
They would always belong to me.
They had to be mine. If not? Then why do any of this? What was even the point of it all?
I could not live without war. I could not live in peace.
I was alive on the battlefield.
"Everything just as it should be." I repeat. It had become a mantra. This was my
ascension.
An apotheosis to call my own.
"Does it always have to be this way, Arlan?" The whisper of Caelum Vorlesh. If only I could hear it. It goes on deaf ears. I laugh, and I laugh. The world does not laugh with me. I tear another apostle apart with my bare hands. The creature desperately tries to escape, even as I remove every limb, but I do not let it.
They are afraid of whatever I had become. I was a mortal, and because of that, I could be
worse than any of them.
The truth becomes clear. The haze begins to fade. The nobles that had gathered at the castle are more afraid of the mortal who would invade their capital. When they witness me, drenched as I am in the entrails of my victims, they run away as if I was an infernal devil.
When all I did was serve as a reminder. That no monster would live.
I would make sure of it. That was my promise.
My pledge.
"There is nothing more I could ask for." Nosferatu Zodd stands in my way. The chimera does not transform. There has been a change. I recognize it. There was no apostle standing in my way. I saw a warrior.
"It would be my honor to die by your hand, Arlan Vorlesh." This was not the welp that had been cowed by Femto. It was something else entirely. This was Nosferatu Zodd.
The myth.
"..." I felt a weariness I had not before. Then I reach for Frostbite. I did not need my magic. This was a duel. I would show him that much respect. "I have come for Griffith."
"Guts has already challenged him." The White Wolf made it here before I did. My crusader did not know. "I can't let you interfere. This is their battle."
"I made a promise." There is something dangerous in my tone.
Primeval. "I will not break it."
"I know." The chimera does not budge. Instead he reaches for a great sword. "
That is what you are." He smirks, and it is one filled with rapturous admiration. How he dreamed of this.
Our blades clash against each other. The castle feels it. The capital begins to shake after that, and in that throne room they waited.
This war would be the last for Nosferatu Zodd.
I wonder if he ever found peace. I
recoil at the thought of it. What a horrid thing.
If only for his sake?
I hope he found a war to call his own.
<<X>>
The White Wolf had forced his way in. The apostles were not even a hindrance. Nor any kind of obstacle. They died, and they died. They screamed, but it did not move his heart.
Guts felt nothing as he slew them.
This was a chore. The power of a deity, and it belonged to him. It made a triviality of enemies that had been fierce.
"It has been a while." The White Swordsman looks around, and notices the corpse. The princess of all people. A knife had been plunged directly into her heart. When he examines it? He realizes what happened. "The truth is hard to believe."
"It is, Guts." The hawk was waiting. "In fact, I had expected Arlan Vorlesh to arrive before you did."
"I had to take care of this myself." Guts smirks. "I asked for a favor, and I think he is going to be late." The smile becomes crooked. "This was
never what you wanted. It was what they wanted."
"It is what I wanted." Griffith fights against it. The doubt. "I chose all of this."
"No, you threw away everything for a dream that didn't even exist." The wolf chuckles at that. "What I went through? What you did to Casca? This all worth it for a dream someone else gave you?" He stops at that. "
I want an answer."
"Does it make any difference? I made my choice--"
The wolf doesn't let the demon lord continue. His fist collides against the ward. That protection he could never overcome before. The divinity of The Heart of Darkness?
It breaks like glass.
The Falcon of Light is hurled back. That blow had loosened one of his teeth. The hawk proceeds to spit it out.
"What about you, Guts? You're not human anymore." Griffith isn't fazed by it. He knew what the wolf had become. "What did you have to sacrifice for this? Who exactly?"
"I'm not like you, Griffith! This was my sacrifice! This power? This immortality? I didn't want any of it!" The White Wolf reaches for Dragon Slayer. The great sword would drink the blood of a demon lord. "I threw away my humanity for Arlan Vorlesh."
The debt he owed? The promise had to be reciprocated.
More than anything else? The
Band of the Hawk had to be avenged. This was the culmination of everything The White Swordsman worked for. The revenge he had dreamed of. Now within his grasp. After so many years.
His fury had become tranquil. When before it was wild. Guts knew what he had to do. This obligation to all of his brothers and sisters had to be fulfilled. This was just another demon lord in his way.
Another body to build into the foundation of this crusade. At the temple that would honor them all. Judeau. Pippin. Gaston. Those mercenaries he called family.
Heck, even that
bastard Corkus.
Griffith reaches for Radiance. The blade which had ensured my victory centuries ago. There was an ethereal quintessence dwelling within it. It carried the same miracle I had brought to this land. This would be a challenge.
Femto would not die just like that. His dream could be salvaged. This vision he had for it all? It had come to pass, and he would not let it go.
It was all he had left.
<<X>>
Casca had to hurry. That child had to be saved.
Her child above all others. The love of a mother overpowering everything else. There had to be a way. Griffith had to die. Her son had to live. There had to exist a world where both of those things could come to pass.
Unlikely as it was.
When she falls from the alcove, and directly into the throne room? Her wolf was already about to pounce. Guts growling like a regal beast, and that enormous hunk of metal clashing against the most radiant blade she had ever seen. The brilliance of it overwhelmed her.
The White Wolf was not the only one who had come for revenge. It was owed to her, but this was delicate. If they were not careful their child could die.
No, not revenge. What they desired above all else was justice. I had taught them that. Their hatred found a guide. Their Knight Commander was ever present. I had become part of them.
Dawnbreaker by her side. The blade I had commissioned for her, and which I customized to my exact specifications.
"I will end it!" The bastard sword is unsheathed. Whether the hawk would relinquish her child or not? This reunion had to happen. Casca would meet her child. "This tragedy!"
The person that had tormented them both. Their friend. Their leader. The one they trusted above all others. Who had saved them, and summarily condemned them.
There was no place to hide. The hawk would answer for his crimes.
Griffith doesn't notice it. Not until the paladin had already approached him. The bastard sword is swung, and it stops for only a fraction of second as it collides against a ward, before it lacerates his face. The hawk turned his piercing gaze towards her. When before that look would have broken her? Casca instead felt contempt. This person, who they had sacrificed everything for, and who had betrayed them both?
What a miserable existence.
Femto had been wounded by a mortal of all things. That vaunted beauty of his tarnished by one of his own. What composure he had went with it. The demon lord had sacrificed it all for nothing. These mortals were a threat. The sacrifice had changed nothing!
These crusaders had come bearing death.
This dream of his was in shambles. The princess had died. The Kingdom of Midland, which he had claimed by conquest, and had made into his Falconia? It had been for naught.
It was over.
"This is my dream! These are my people!" The throne room had made an exit. It had been replaced, and the demon lord had driven them directly into the Abyss. This was his realm. The sanctuary for his dream. Where nothing might trample on it. "I will rebuild my broken empire! I will see it prosper!"
This plane had a name. It had represented the hawk.
"Welcome to my domain,
Somnium."
This would be their grave.
<<X>>
I enter the throne room. The chimera had proven to be a distraction, but in the end he died. He did not transform.
Not once. The warrior died as he lived; not beholden to anyone but himself.
The Heart of Darkness did not claim him. That soul of his belonged to war.
The same as my own.
"Of course." I had to be late. There was nothing. Just the corpse of the princess. I take a moment to examine the area. Where had they gone? I make my way towards the young woman.
I cast
Speak With Dead, and the corpse levitates into the air.
"What has happened, Charlotte?" I demand of her. "Where is the demon lord? Where is your betrothed?"
"There was an intruder. The White Swordsman had come to claim the life of my love." That was a problem. The conflict had most likely escalated. "The hawk that had deceived us? He has become
desperate."
They were in the Abyss.
There were no more questions I needed to ask. I dismiss the spell, and the cadaver collapses to the ground. I did feel pity. The young woman was an innocent in all of this. I could cast
Raise Dead, and bring her back...
No, I could feel it, the young woman did not want to return. I would not force her.
"A problem, but there is always a way to remedy those." I cast the spell
Dimension Door, and make some adjustments to it. The residual ether lingering in the throne room resonates in response to it. "The solution will present itself."
The doorway is synced. I enter the portal, and when I exit it? I am in the Abyss.
This realm was pristine. There was nothing to it. Ivory, but it was empty. A void. Whose expanse was boundless. No celestial bodies. No constellations. No nebulae. No galaxies. It was as hollow as the person who claimed it. Quiet, most of all.
A place to rest. This realm of silence.
In the distance, I saw them. The battle was not over. I drew Frostbite again, and made my way towards them.
I had a way to save them. I would not waste this opportunity. I could hear her.
My Radiance. The blade I had called my own. It was in anguish. It did not want this, but it had no choice. The child was worthy.
I had to free her.
"The Plucking has come, Griffith!" I would strip him bare. I would take
everything from him. I would watch my crusader enact his glorious retribution.
Then I would save their son.
This victory would be complete. I would accept nothing else. They deserve a second chance. A life of peace. A reality where their demons would taste defeat at last. They would have it all.
"What about you, Arlan? What about your life?" The wraith had to watch as I threw it away. Once more, just like when I had cast myself into The Worldwound for the sake of Golarion, and now for these people.
"They are my life, Caelum!" There is no hesitation. I
belonged to my crusaders. "There is no purpose but this one! There is no path except for what I have chosen!" This canvas for my portrait! The world to be carved by my hands! Arlan Vorlesh would decide!
I would grant them this miracle. Whilst I still had the power.
I cast
Walk Through Space, and appear in front of them. "They did not lie! I can see the resemblance!" Frostbite buckles against Radiance. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Griffith!
I have come to pluck your feathers!"
"Why did you have to ruin everything?" Femto grimaces at that. That composure he was known for was gone. "What made you decide to crush my dream?"
"It was just a whim of mine! A fleeting fancy that drove this!" I had to be condescending. This creature deserved every violation. "Why not, Griffith? It has been a
joyous occasion!"
There was no demon lord I despised more.
"I stole all of it, Griffith! Guts belongs to me! Casca is mine now! This crusade has even given me a crown! I have succeeded in every way that you have failed!" Frostbite begins to crack. It couldn't hope to match Radiance, but I only required a distraction.
I cast
Polar Midnight, and amplify it with
Conduit Surge, before imbuing the bastard sword with the spell. Frostbite reverberates with power, and everything it touches ceases to exist. Their
future is obliterated. It was not like Dragon Slayer. It did not destroy anything in the past. It fixated on what would happen, and when there was no future? There could be nothing else for anything in the present.
Radiance endured despite that. It did not need any future. The blade would simply create another one.
Griffith, on the other hand, had no such defense. At least not as he was. When the magic envelops him he undergoes a transformation in order to survive. Femto remained. His burgundy armor which was a part of his body, and which pulsated like it was alive. That helmet which had been forged in the likeness of a falcon, and of course those
wings he sacrificed everything for. He had thought they were a way to freedom. When their promise was that of slavery. The demon lord in all of his grotesque magnificence.
Almost all of him.
Griffith had lost one of his arms, and the wound was not healing. Frostbite was not as lucky. The bastard sword had been disintegrated.
I make use of the spell known as
Slay Living, and a black flame engulfs both of my hands. Anything living that I touched would burn. I throw a punch, and my fist meets Radiance. Griffith may have lost one arm, but he still had another one!
The problem was that I wasn't the only one he had to fight.
Guts takes advantage of that momentary distraction. Dragon Slayer carving through history, and that is when it crashes against the demon lord. The hawk is sent hurdling away. That living armor he wore saved his life, but it had been scorched by the flames.
Griffith doesn't have any respite from that. Casca was on him. The paladin had cast the spell
Holy Sword, and her bastard sword had begun to glow. However, the young woman knew that would not be enough. She makes use of
Smite Evil on top of that. Casca plunges her bastard sword into his chest. The armor, buckling under the strain, and having already been weakened by Dragon Slayer, is pierced through. The blade did not stab into his heart, but it did manage to perforate one of his lungs.
Griffith could not help but cry out in agony. Dawnbreaker was made to fell monsters, and he was most certainly one. The demon lord uses the pommel of Radiance, and slams it against the young woman. The paladin is launched backwards by the force of the blow, and her ribs are broken. Along with her sternum.
I catch her before she can hit the ground, and quickly cast
Heal. I repair all the damage that was done to her. Then I reach out with one of my hands, and cast
Harm. The demon lord regurgitates bile. Whatever had amounted to his liver and kidneys had ruptured.
Radiance ignites. The demon lord ignores all of his grievous wounds, and in a wide arc he swings the blade at us. A beam of holy light erupts from it. Guts tries to stop it by hurling Dragon Slayer at it. The great sword intercepts the blast. Before being flung back by the force of it. Grunbeld was no match for it.
The White Wolf undergoes his metamorphosis. In his place stood a dire wolf, and he was steadfast. Ready to protect everything he held dear. The howl could be heard not just in this realm, but also in every other one. The gale blew everything away, but when it collided against the laser? It was at a stalemate, but the standstill would not last, and the dire wolf would die.
I had to fix that.
I cast
Heroic Invocation, and focus all of that power on Guts. When before the dire wolf barely held his own against the blast? Instead Griffith struggled against the wind which had been bolstered by my spell. I cast
Umbral Strike, and amplify it with
Conduit Surge. It joins the tempest. Which had become a whirlwind of frigid necrosis.
Guts could not best this alone, but he would
never be alone! I had seen to that!
The magic crashes against the holy light of Radiance, and Griffith is engulfed by it. The demon lord is drawn into the cyclone. Before being thrown through this realm of Somnium, and surpassing even the boundlessness of it! This power could not be contained by any kind of universe!
Griffith screams in anguish. The hawk is assailed by temperatures which had dropped
below absolute zero, and the negative energy clawed at his wretched life. The wind tore everything else away from him. The status of a demon lord he had sacrificed everything for?
Stolen by it.
Everything had been torn from the betrayer, and what stood in front of us was mortal. This was no demon lord. No, it was a broken enemy. Radiance falls, and clangs against the ground. The blade was free at last.
Griffith collapses. He couldn't ignore his wounds anymore. This regal and refined general, this ruler, that had the countenance of a deity, brought low to his knees!
"I lost." Griffith admits. Whatever pretense was gone. The doubt he felt had been proven true. This was not his dream at all, and he had betrayed everyone and everything for nothing! It was a lie! They had tricked him. "Do it, Guts."
There was no redemption.
He didn't even feel remorse. The Heart of Darkness had been immaculate in this rearing. Whether it was his bloodline, or his environment, it was crafted to make him into this. Who else could he have become? He realized all of this by some measure, and that is why he desired a revolution of sorts. It was not about
securing anything! It was about revenge!
"I can't believe it." It was profound what I felt.
This disgust. I had cast
Detect Thoughts, and even as the hawk fell he blamed everyone else. "They played a part in this. No doubt about that, but there was always a choice." I grabbed the stump, where his arm had been severed, and squeezed. Griffith grimaces in pain. "The problem was that you chose poorly!"
I cast
Foresight and show him everything. The world as it could have been, if he had rejected The Godhand. In that reality, I see a person much like myself. Who would overcome everything. The harbinger of miracles. The
Band of the Hawk triumphant.
The Godhand brought to death. Griffith dying despite that, but as a hero instead of a villain.
"I had it all. I was born for a purpose I had not chosen. The same exact choice had been given to me, but where you succumbed to everything within
and without? I rebelled against both!" Perhaps it was too much to ask. Who could do such a thing? Surely, there are few mortals who can choose this. When everything is set against them. Their pedigree. Their parents. Their reality.
Nature and nurture.
They defined most people, but the fact there were exceptions like myself, meant the possibility was manifest. Any outliers exist for a reason.
It is never impossible.
Which meant some responsibility belonged to Griffith. Whether he acknowledged it or not.
"Get out of the way, Arlan." Guts had retrieved Dragon Slayer, and he was prepared to put an end to this. The dire wolf was gone. The transformation had been dismissed.
Casca blocks his path. The young woman had a look of desperation about her.
"What are you doing?"
"It is not over, Guts! Our son is alive!"
Guts stops at that.
"What are you talking about, Casca?" Guts looks back at Griffith, or rather what was
left of him. "What has this got to do with--"
"Griffith had need of a host! Any kind of vessel that was able to contain his essence!" I had to explain quickly, before everything went wrong. I did not need any distractions. "Your child is that host! I can separate them! I can save your son!"
Guts had some difficulty processing that information. The White Wolf had frozen, and had done his best impression of a marble statue.
"Be patient, his
execution will have to be postponed for a few seconds." I clap my hands together, and this realm begins to disappear. Somnium vanishes, and we are back in the throne room. I reach for Radiance, and the blade levitates. Before gracefully floating back into my hand.
I would have need of her.
"I would have you hear my plea, Mystra!" I shout, and the plane trembles. This universe had felt it. The power I was about to conjure forth.
This sacrifice. The ley-lines around us are filled to the brim with magic. The Weave pouring into them. This was a spell that this world was not prepared for! "I ask of you a blessing! I pray that I receive an answer!"
The words I speak have power. The realm can scarcely handle this, and the magic escapes into every other one. The Weave begins to envelop the wheel. The Mother of Mystery embracing it, and from her succor I
feel it.
"I, Arlan Vorlesh, make a wish." I had cast it. The spell had been aptly named
Wish. Self-explanatory, as it was. This incantation could fulfill any desire. There was no restriction, and with it the impossible became a certainty. This miracle? It was the most powerful spell in the repertoire of anyone who ever practiced the arcane. "I want to save a life!"
Griffith clutches at his heart, and his soul is torn from his host. The Heart of Darkness would not let go of it that easily, and it is drawn back in. Only for there to be an explosion! The Weave felt slighted and fought back! It purges the influence of the Abyss.
The child had made his entrance. Their progeny took after Guts. The boy looked just like him when he was mortal, but there was definitely
something of Casca. The hair, for starters. That had to be her. The child was absent of any clothing, and born again.
Casca doesn't say anything. Instead she rushes towards the boy, and embraces him. The boy doesn't know what to do. He looks confused by the gesture. Slowly, he
attempts to do the same. There is some sort of curiosity. That of an infant. How much of his life had been stolen? "
Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
This miracle the last I had to give.
The rebound had hit. There was a price. I knew
intuitively that I could never cast this spell again. I had thought as much, and I could not use it to save myself. I was
destined for the Abyss. Instead of loss? I felt contentment. I watched this reunion, and I knew the choice I made had been the correct one.
"I hope that Gale Dekarios will be as wise as you, Arlan Vorlesh." I could hear a whisper. I knew not from where.
It had to be The Mistress of Magic. The One True Spell.
I hear a croak. No, it had to be a
caw. A truly pitiful one, and that is when I find the hawk. Griffith had become one. The bird had a missing wing. Part of his beak was broken. I
could end his misery myself, but I turned towards my crusader.
Guts nods his head. Recognizing what this meant.
The White Wolf walks over to the animal, looks down at it, he frowns in distaste, lifts up one of his boots, and then crushes the bird beneath his heel. There is a sickening crunch. Griffith dies not as a mortal or a immortal, but as a beast.
The Godhand stood as one, and then...
The Heart of Darkness.
[] It is time to celebrate. The battle is almost won. In Arlan's Way a festival is held. I cherish these moments with my crusaders, because I know that soon I would leave. I realize that Guts and Casca do not have a surname. I decide to give them one. A house to call their own.
[] The Skull Knight is waiting. King Gaiseric wishes to speak. I had no doubt that it was about Void. The last of The Godhand. Their rivalry had lasted for a millennium. The demon lord was within his grasp. The grudge could be satisfied at last. Where it all began...