The four images immediately adjacent to Hirrus fell in seconds, but not before Shining Sprocket faded. It left him with only Electric Field, Eyes On Me, and Going Ape as buffs. Every second this fight continued, the weaker he got.

He had to consider his options.

There were eight versions of Fidelis all smirking at him from different places in the room. He needed a plan beyond sprinting around like an idiot.

A plan that wasn’t doing exactly what Fidelis wanted.

“Hm,” Hirrus said, grunting the sound as a plan crystalized in his mind.

He knew what he needed to do. Just had to get it right the first time.

If Fidelis saw it coming, that would be it. The plan wouldn’t work the second time. Just like his blast of Mortal Ray across the whole group. Fidelis may have been too cocky to react properly the first time, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Hirrus thrust his hands out at the farthest image. Purple pellets flickered from his fingers, racing across the room. The boost to ATT that Eyes On Me offered was more than enough to make the TK Bullets Arcana finish the damaged image.

The nearly negligible cooldown on the Arcana let him shift his attention down the line to the next image. And then the next. Two of them managed to use the columns in the room for cover, but the five he could see were cleared up in seconds. The tactic had the added benefit of undoing most of the damage he’d just taken with his Cosmic Barrette.

“Nice trick!” Fidelis yelled from behind one column. “You’re really close to being fast enough. I’ve got five seconds left on the cooldown. I might actually have to fight you for a second or two.”

With the last few seconds of Electric Field, Hirrus bolted for the voice.

He came around the column to find Fidelis ready and waiting.

The hooked blade smashed up into him.

Another critical hit.

Fidelis had to have some absurd gear to have every strike land critically. The blow did four thousand two hundred and sixty-nine damage. Hirrus tried to bring his axe down fast enough to hit the man, but the shimmer came out faster, and the figure burst into a puff of smoke instead of a spatter of blood.

“You almost had me there,” Fidelis called from the opposite side of the room. His voice had a sing-song quality to it. “If your attack speed effects were still on, I think I may have taken a hit. Too bad, though. Now I only have to stay out of your reach for three more seconds.”

Hirrus broke into a run across the room. At a full sprint, he could close the distance faster than Fidelis could count down. Even if he didn’t have time to kill the man, he could still land a single blow, enough to make his plan into a finishing move.

Fidelis didn’t even move as Hirrus came.

“Three, two,” he said as Hirrus charged, unmoving as he counted down on three fingers.

Hirrus' axe came up into the man’s gut with all the force he could muster. The blow was a critical hit, dealing six thousand four hundred and ninety-three damage.

Fidelis vanished in a puff of smoke.

Hirrus' momentum carried him through the unexpected smoke. It washed over his face, smelling faintly of the breeze on a crisp spring morning. He passed through it, unblinking.

How could it have been an image?

“Jesus… how are you so bad at this?” Fidelis asked. He came around from behind the throne in the middle of the room, clapping his hands and laughing. “You’re literally a computer. How are you so bad at fucking counting? That’s the funniest goddamn thing I’ve ever even heard of.”

Hirrus found himself searching his memory for the last few moments.

He’d struck down one of the images immediately after the Mortal Ray had damaged them all, and then four had leaped up at him. After them, he’d taken down five with TK bullets, and then the two more- that was twelve.

Only twelve. Not thirteen

He couldn’t very well argue with the evidence right in front of him.

“I also can’t believe you bought that I only had three seconds left,” Fidelis continued, still chuckling to himself as he shook his head. “Can you imagine if this was actually on a ten second cooldown? I’d be indomitable. I wouldn’t need a guild at all. I’ve only got a little bit left, but not three goddamn seconds.”

Hirrus snarled and charged again, giving the man no time to reposition. But Hirrus’ buffs were down, and so Fidelis ducked down behind the throne, using it for cover. Hirrus rushed around the left side, and Fidelis bolted out the other side, cackling as he maintained his distance.

“Why chase me?” Fidelis laughed, dancing out of Hirrus' reach. “That eager to trade blows? Well I’m not. If you want me to stand and fight, you’ll have to make me. Considering that counting to thirteen is out of your reach, I’m pretty sure you’re shit out of luck for outwitting me.”

Despite his words, Fidelis reversed direction, and his hooked blade whipped out towards Hirrus' face. The strike just barely clipped just above Hirrus' eye, dealing a critical blow for four thousand eight hundred and forty-five damage.

The hit was hard enough to actually give him pause, especially with the sudden curtain of blood blinding him in one eye. Fidelis went right back to darting away, the pause drawn by the blow giving him time to extend his lead.

Hirrus stopped chasing.

He didn’t actually need to catch Fidelis for his plan to work. Instead, he reached out with an Arcana, pelting Fidelis' back with Snow Barrage. It hit him for three thousand four hundred damage, slowing his cast speed with the added effect.

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the fucking camel!” Fidelis shouted, slapping at the back of his neck. “Every fucking time right down my back! That shit is cold!” He whirled on Hirrus, but stopped running. Fidelis took up a pose, obviously ready to dodge Hirrus' next Arcana. “Is that the best you have? A few thousand damage of out-of-season pranks? My nephew throws a better snowball than that and he’s eleven.”

Hirrus snarled, but said nothing.

He feared for a moment that he’d let something of his plan slip.

If Fidelis saw it coming, he could think of a way out of it. He didn’t want to talk his way out of his own plan.

“Time’s up, though,” Fidelis said, taunting in that sing-song voice again. He planted his feet, obviously about to activate his Arcana again.

Hirrus rushed him. Split Second let him cover the gap Fidelis had foolishly felt confident in.

But that wasn’t the only trick.

Even as Fidelis managed not to flinch at the sudden gap closer, Hirrus lifted his right leg and planted it firmly on the guild leader’s chest. The Arcana Hiden Sokyaku slammed four thousand six hundred and twenty-one damage into the man, and, more importantly, interrupted the Arcana he was casting.

Fidelis hit the ground on his back, knocked over by the Arcana physically, but as the momentum skidded him to a halt he stayed on his back, the fight taken out of him by the interruption of the Arcana.

“What’s the matter?” Hirrus asked, stalking towards the fallen man. “What happened to your bluster? Your confidence? I thought you were a one-man army. Stand up! Show me what you’ve got!”

Fidelis let out a groan and grasped at his chest where Hirrus had struck. He rolled to the left first, and then back to the right, struggling up to his knees.

Without hesitating, Hirrus stepped up and planted his foot in the same spot, shoving him back down. Not hard enough to deal damage, but hard enough to hurt.

Fidelis cursed and curled up, raising his hands to protect himself.

“I said stand up!” Hirrus yelled, stepping up to tower over the downed man. “Show me your fight! Your fire! Show me the bold idiocy that made you think wiping a town of the map would come with no consequences!” Hirrus kicked the hands away and brought his foot down on Fidelis' chest, pinning him to the floor. The thrill of combat was draining out of him, leaving nothing behind but the bubbling of his rage. “Stand up! Show me that you deserve to die like Julissa did, on her feet and fighting a foe she couldn’t dream of matching! Show me that you deserve as good a death as the one you delivered to my home for her!”

Fidelis grabbed at Hirrus' ankle, trying to twist it to free himself. Hirrus just put more of his weight on that foot, grinding his boot down into the splint mail, making the man gasp and grunt in pain as the weight against his chest grew.

“Or are you a worm, maybe? Writhing beneath the boots of better men? Begging and eager for a death as disgraceful as your actions?”

Fidelis grunted and cried out as Hirrus' heel ground against his ribs.

After a moment’s struggle, he gasped and let go of Hirrus' foot, raising his hands in surrender.

“I yield,” Fidelis said, barely above a whisper. “I am a worm. Please, give me a death as disgraceful as my actions, oh mighty better man.”

“You think that fixes things?” Hirrus bellowed, his voice filling the room. He lifted his foot and stomped it down again, aiming higher. Fidelis cried out as Hirrus' boot ground against his collarbone. “You think your death brings back what I lost? Undoes what you did?” Hirrus raised his axe above his head, trying to decide if it would be more satisfying to bring the weapon down on his neck or his skull. “Do you think begging for the death you deserve is what I want?”

“Then what do you want?” But even as the words were leaving the man’s mouth, Fidelis suddenly, frantically, began reaching for the hooked blade that was on the floor, still just within reach.

For a half of a moment, Hirrus feared that Fidelis might be able to use his weapon to escape.

But then he remembered. He was stronger. He was in control.

Fidelis couldn’t stop him.

He didn’t hesitate. The icy greataxe arced down.

With a single blow, Hirrus finally put an end to Fidelis, the last of the strong.

“I want my wife back,” Hirrus said to the corpse before spitting onto the part of the remains that was most recognizably Fidelis' eye.

A strange calmness overcame Hirrus.

His heavy breathing stilled, losing the panicked huff of combat.

Hirrus knew he was now level seven. He also acquired all the Arcana from Fidelis and his officers all at once. He wasn’t sure why now, though, but that wasn’t important.

What mattered was that justice was served and his revenge was finished.

He felt the rage leach out of him at last, but instead of satisfaction, what rushed in to fill the gap was loneliness.

Longing.

In this moment, he wanted Julissa in his arms.

The trail of corpses and blood that followed behind him for days and miles now was nothing to him. He could hope it would be enough for them - that it might cause the Last of the Strong and their ilk to think twice before destroying another town.

But for Hirrus? There was no satisfaction to be had in a dozen mutilated corpses to match the love of a good woman. The love of a woman who saw good in him.

“What would she say?” he asked the empty room. “Would she still see the good in me now? Here? At the end of all of this?” He stared down at the blood on his body. After the day he’d had, it was all over him. From the misting on his face from cleaving Andrew in half, to the spatter from Maggie’s surrender, to the still-wet droplets on his boot and calf from Fidelis' last moment.

“She may be alive after this mystical ‘reset’ happens,” Hirrus said to the blood all over himself. “But I may… I may never have her back.” He put his axe away and then wiped at his face with tired hands. “Why did I think this was right? Why did I think this was worth it?”

The room didn’t have an answer.

Instead, a small block of text appeared before him, giving him a new question to answer.

Event complete.

The Last of the Strong’s stronghold has been overcome!

You may take ownership of this stronghold and all its contents. This will displace Last of the Strong until such time as they can retake the stronghold from you. You will acquire the contents of the Last of the Strong’s treasury kept on this premises, which can be instantly transferred to your own stronghold, wherever it may be, and even if the stronghold is retaken, you will retain a Torn Flag as a permanent memento of your conquest!

You may unmake this stronghold. Its contents will be destroyed, along with the Last of the Strong guild, but no other boons will be gained from this event. The Last of the Strong guild name will be permanently retired, and all Guild Levels, Guild Reliquary contents, and Guild Trophies will be destroyed forever. Also, no doubt, you will make many enemies for life, who will not soon forget what you’ve cost them.

Hirrus glared at the text.

It was no choice at all.

He considered himself an enemy of all who would be proud of the name responsible for the destruction of Yenon, from Fidelis all the way down to the nobodies he’d been fighting in the street.

“Unmake it,” Hirrus said, glad for the distraction from his existential crisis. “Let it be a message to them all. Whatever we are to them, we are not here to die. We are not here to be used, abused, or killed. We are people.”

Another text message appeared, this one accompanied by a tag.

[Global Alert]: Last of the Strong has been Unmade by a raid group of one (1) members, led by Hirrus Callabryn! They are the 31st guild Unmade on this server, and the 1st unmade by [GUILD_%TAG_%NOT_%FOUND].