Chapter 90

Unbent

“Verdammt!!” a robust voice screamed out amidst the flying rain of guts and blood. “Rückzug!! Zurück zum Turm!!”

The formation was well beyond broken, their flanks trounced, their vanguard long since having caved in to the charging madmen on the other end. The few dozen that somehow still remained in a fighting condition scurried back through the piles of ash and soot and the smoke-doused ‘battlefield’. The houses and buildings around them lay razed, unrecognizable, and the city they once called their home was all but gone.

They didn’t even have the time to pick up the corpses of their fallen friends and instead had to run back like cowards.

“E-eh? Lukas?! Wast machst du?!” one of the men paused abruptly and glanced back where he saw a towering figure stop and turn around, facing the burning front. “Komm zurück! Du kannst sie nicht aufhalten!!” the man, however, seemed to ignore his warning, roaring out into the sky with a voice that seemed to drown out the sounds of the explosions and the cries.

“KOMMT HER IHR SCHWEINE!!” he slapped his chest violently as he summoned out a pair of massive, blood-shimmering gauntlets that latched onto his hands. The gauntlets easily weighed over a hundred pounds each, yet the man seemed entirely unfazed by the added weight.

“Verflucht! Dieser vollidiot!”

The others, however, didn’t pause to join or help the man; rather, it was pointless. Inside, they were praying he would buy them an extra few minutes so they could retreat to the base nearer the Tower.

Lukas didn't look back, nor did he wonder how many ran off or whether anyone even stayed to help him. He didn't care; seeing all the destruction, the ruin, the bloodshed, and the absolute collapse of humanity... left him hollow. He spent days and weeks wondering just how could people suddenly turn swords at one another -- but there was no answer to it. They just... did.

To him, if he could buy a few extra minutes, save an extra few people... that would be enough. He never believed that the Tower would bring him glory, or that it would change his life much. Good things, after all, never really happened to him... and, if they did, they were just a prelude for something far more awful to occur.

“Idiot!” a voice rang next to him as he looked to the side. He recognized Finn even through the latter’s bloodied and dirtied face. He was a young man, yet to even hit twenty, barely 150 centimeters tall... yet, in many ways, he was the bridge that held their group from collapsing countless times before already. “Ich... ich kann dich wirklich nicht alleine lassen...”

“... Finn,” Lukas mumbled, his lips curling up into a bitter smile. “Wir werden sterben.”

“Gut.” Finn grinned. “Lass uns helden sterben.”

“... ha ha ha ha ha,” Lukas laughed freely after a moment, slapping his chest loudly. “Ja. Als Helden!!”

“AAAGGGH!!” a group of over twenty people stepped out of the smokescreen in front of them, all fanged and hot-headed. Bolts of magic were immediately fired upon the two as Lukas stepped forward and threw a raving punch forward, his gauntlet rearing like a car’s engine, destroying the incoming attacks.

Finn ducked by the side of his stalwart frame and began tossing out needle-thin ‘daggers’ at the enemy’s vanguard, precisely hitting the vital points of the three of them and killing them immediately.

Lukas pushed forward, punching out yet again but this time at the ground below, ripping out a massive boulder and hurling it forward, forcing the enemy to scatter to the sides.

“STERBT!!” he yelled out, desperately trying to calm his nerves. After all... dying was scary. He didn’t want to die. Nobody truly wants to die unless there’s no other choice. Death... death was terrifying to him. He didn’t live long enough. He never even got to fall in love properly, or go skiing, or go to Bloodstock Open Air.

There were so many things he wanted to do... but... he won’t be able to do them. Realizing that, he similarly understood he may as well leave it his all here if it meant that the end was nigh. Roaring once again, he slammed the gauntlets together and rammed forward with his shoulder, blocking a stealthy blade strike and ripping a hole through a tall man’s chest, killing him on the spot.

He spun on his heel and executed a swift roundhouse kick, nimbly evading a bolt of fire and slamming the back of his foot into yet another man, similarly killing him immediately.

Glancing sideways, the sight he witnessed froze his blood; Finn stumbled forward as a shimmering blade of a sword cleanly sliced through his neck, beheading him in a single, swift motion. The head fell forward while the body pulled back, the look of terror imprinted in those sky-blue eyes.

"FINN!!!!" he yelled out yet again, his throat beginning to ache, but he couldn't care for it -- every inch of him hurt, now. He ran forward but suddenly stopped, looking down. He saw a barely-visible, thin thread cut cleanly through his right knee, splitting his leg in half as he stumbled forward and rolled. He couldn't even recognize the pain as his mind was swarmed by too many things. Too many sights he wished he could forget in a moment of peace.

He looked up, expecting to at least see the clear, blue sky one last time... but it was in vain. Everything... every corner of his view as doused in ghastly gray, clouds of smoke drifting above him, the scent of scalding flames and charred corpses reaching his nostrils. He was never much of a believer in hell... yet, now, he was certain: this... this was it. Everything matched. The pain, the utter helplessness, the reality that he would never be able to escape from it--

“FOUND HIM!!” E-eh? Englisch? “SHIT, GET DIYA TO HIM QUICK!! HE LOOKS JUST ABOUT DEAD!”

“On it,” Eine Frau? “Lock others up, but don’t kill anyone. Cain will smack you.”

“Shut up! Why would you even think I’d kill someone?!”

Lukas felt lost -- who were the newcomers and why were they speaking English? He understood them -- yet, he fancied that they were just figments of his imagination. Did his life ever set him up for something like this? Strangers appearing in his darkest moment, out of nowhere, to save him? No... if anything, even if they were real, they were likelier to be his enemies. Yet... he continued to breathe. He heard screams and cries, but nothing happened to him.

Then, abruptly, he saw the face of a woman loom above him -- she was beautiful, he reckoned. Long, black hair spilled by her ears, and a pair of blue eyes looked at him worriedly. Ein... blauer Himmel?

They were the skies he longed to see before his final breath. Clear, brilliant, and beautiful.

“Damn, he’s banged up pretty badly,” the woman glanced to the side, forcing Lukas to do the same. There, yet another one appeared, looming over him. Another pair of eyes shining in the ghastly world of gray -- but these ones were green, like the open and breathtaking meadows. “Don’t worry,” the first one focused on him again, smiling. “You’re gonna be up in just a moment. Diya.”

“Y-yes!” there was a momentary lull... and then he felt it. The warmth akin to a thousand suns surged through his veins, the ghastly-gray world vanishing in lieu of one full of the golden hue. Everything cleared up as his blood and heart roared in unison. The wounds... stopped hurting. His mind... calmed down. And, to his shock, he now felt what, just a second ago, wasn’t there -- his right leg.

“W-Was...?” he mumbled in shock, still not understanding what was happening.

“See?” the blue-eyed woman grinned from ear to ear. “As good as new!”

“...”

“Jamal, you about done?” she looked to the side and hollered.

“Yeap, I’ve handed them to the Guard,” a man’s voice spoke back. “What about you?”

“Well, he still seems to be in shock,” the woman said, helping him sit and then stand up. “But, otherwise, just needs a shower.”

“Holy shit!! Just how big is this guy?! Seven feet?!” a man’s voice exclaimed as Lukas looked to the source. It was a black man draped in fancy-seeming armor, a sword strapped to his waist, a look of shock on his face.

“Oh, shut up,” the blue-eyed woman rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Sorry about that -- he may be a bit dumb, but he means well.”

“Oi, did you just say I was dumb?”

“I did.”

“... tsk.”

“A-ah!” Lukas suddenly exclaimed, startling them. “Finn! Wie geht es Finn?!” he quickly looked around, praying inwardly that the sight he’d seen was just his imagination and that Finn made it out as well.

“E-eh? What’s he talking about?” the black man said.

“He... he’s looking for someone,” the green-eyed woman spoke out in a mellow tone. “Finn.”

“Finn!” Lukas ran forward suddenly, like mad, slumping over and rolling forward yet immediately getting up as he quickly reached his destination. There... something inside of him cracked. He gingerly reached out with his arms and picked up the head from the ground. “Finn...” tears rolled down his cheek like a pair of violent rivers as his teeth dug into his lips, bleeding them. “Kannst du ihn heilen?!!” he spun around and asked the green-eyed woman. “Heile ihn!”

“...” he startled her, he realized, as she flinched back. Even before she spoke, however, he saw it in her eyes -- he saw the answer as clear as her eyes themselves. “N-Nein...” she said. “Es tut mir Leid...”

“...” he turned silent, everyone else doing the same. He looked back down and into the horror-filled eyes of a man who didn’t judge him. Who didn’t treat him differently because of how he looked. Who joked with him, drank with him, and fought with him. Until the bitter end. “Finn...” he knew that crying was pointless, that he should get up, thank these people for saving him and get out. Yet... his knees were glued to the ground.

“... your friend?” a gentle touch landed on his shoulder, startling him as he looked up. The black man crouched next to him, a hardened expression on his face, the eyes full of sadness.

“... y-yes...” Lukas replied in a crackling voice.

“He stayed with you?”

“... y-yes...”

“He must have been a good friend.”

“... yes...”

“Yeah...” Lukas pulled in the head and cradled it tightly against his chest for a moment. He didn’t care how it appeared to the onlookers and how crazy they thought he looked. At the moment... he just needed to say his goodbyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” the blue-eyed woman said. “Jamal, get the body.”

“Yeah. Where are we meeting up with Cain?” the black man -- Jamal, Lukas realized -- asked back.

“They’re waiting for us on a plaza near Römer,” the woman replied. “With the chopper ready.”

“Alright.”

“Lukas,” the same woman pulled his attention away and forced him to look up, into her sapphire-blue eyes. There was a faint, yet painful smile on her face as she extended her arm toward him. “Let’s go. We’ll explain everything once we get out of here.”

“Y-yes...”