Goddard would never have expected that rain splattering against his helmet could be so loud. Every single droplet resounded like a thunderous boom inside his ears. Not even the melody of thousands of soldiers surrounding him could drown the sound out.

Or perhaps it was simply his fear messing with his mind, considering the precarious situation he was in at the moment. Goddard sighed. Who was he kidding? He was shitting his pants, for he knew death was drawing closer.

“Give up! We can finish this without any bloodshed!” Miranda of Frumentum, beloved great-granddaughter of the Golden Giant himself, shouted at him from the hilltop she stood upon.

A sour taste welled up in the inside of his mouth as he recalled the last few weeks she had spent chasing him. After being left behind as the rearguard to cover the retreat of the main army, Goddard and his troops were quickly minced into bits by their enemy’s sheer numbers and firepower.

It was all a haze of blood and screams from then on.

Goddard was awoken from his reminiscence by the sound of hundreds advancing as one, spears pointed right at him. The infantry, however, didn’t pose a problem, simply due to the lack of warriors in their ranks. The people carefully marching against him at the moment were but cannon fodder, their only purpose being to drain his aether reserves further. The true striking force was gathered around their precious princess, awaiting the moment he couldn’t hold out anymore to rush in for the kill.

Gripping his halberd so hard that his knuckles started to turn white, Goddard released a deep breath. His time had come. He could feel it in his bones. He would certainly not survive today’s encounter.

It was ironic, really. A group of people far weaker than him would bring an end to a life that was spent pursuing ultimate power.

Trusting his senses that had rarely ever failed him in his many decades on the battlefield, Bloodstorm marched into the direction of Miranda. He would show them.

Before he could even start running, however, Miranda slung a bow around her shoulder and fired off an arrow that he barely avoided. Then came another, this time fired by another archer, faster and faster until he couldn’t hear anything aside from the sound of arrows futilely bounding off his armour. He forced himself to push against the force that seemed to come from every direction, lifted the buckler in front of his helmet and advanced.

But the arrows came from everywhere, making every inch he gained feel like a battle in of itself. The ground trembled as hundreds of people moved at the same time, and occasionally arrows strong enough to cause him to pause in his advance put dents and rips into his armour.

With the possibility of death once again drawing closer, Goddard realised that it couldn’t go on like this. They had likely prepared enough arrows to drown the entire valley in a storm of steel and wood. If he didn’t manage to break out before his aether reserves ran low, he’d die a miserable death in the hands of common soldiers!

That was not an option. It was a fate unbefitting of himself. In his desperation, Goddard flailed his mind in a search for a way out. And he found it in an almost forgotten technique he had hoped that he would never be forced to use: Last Light.

It was the forceful dissolvement of the entirety of matter he had gathered inside his core. He would essentially destroy his entire life’s work for one single blast of power.

And then, he would turn into a normal person. Not that it mattered, since he would die by the time Last Light ended, anyway.

Under his helmet, a deep sigh escaped his lips as his body began to light up with blinding brilliance. His channels bulged and broke as an unprecedented amount of aether shot through them. On the outside, one could only see numerous rays of white light shine through the cracks of his armour as a white avatar of his body underneath the armour appeared, quickly growing in size until it was as tall as three men. The sea of arrows that had threatened to overwhelm him mere seconds ago parted as Goddard rushed through it, stomping many a unfortunate soldier straight into the ground on the way.

The similarly enlarged halberd swept through the battlefield with ease, gouging deep lines into the ground wherever it went whilst turning dozens of soldiers into bisected bloody halves within seconds.

In response, Miranda simply ordered a retreat, and the tightly-packed ranks of armoured men and women dispersed like dust in the wind. The casualties instantly reduced, and Goddard’s avatar was bombarded with arrows once again.

Truly living up to his nickname, he killed his way to Miranda, who fired arrow after arrow that penetrated deep into the highly compressed blinding white aether that his avatar was comprised of. Her bow in one hand and an arrow in another, she evaded one strike after another in a flustered manner. Finally, an overhead swing hit her bow head-on, causing her knees to buckle at the sheer force. A pillar of soil shot up from the ground, helping her block the next strike that caused her to be sent barrelling.

“Protect the princess!” one of her many subordinates shouted whilst throwing himself in his way. Dozens of halberds, spears and all other kinds of weapons moved to obstruct Goddard’s path, and his avatar rippled due to the mighty blows they rained down on him from all directions.

His halberd cut across the air, blocking numerous strikes. Bloodstorm’s body twisted and shifted as he methodically smashed dozens of men and women out of his way. His goal was the death of Miranda, and everyone in his way was but an obstacle he would forcibly remove.

But the person in question had long since moved away, now carefully keeping her distance whilst shooting arrows at him like nothing had happened. And with every attack Goddard suffered, his aether reserves dwindled.

The shrinking giant roared with an intensity that shocked the entire battlefield. It fought with the ferocity of a wounded beast, managing to take down soldier after soldier before finally succumbing to the combined efforts of thousands. In the end, the last remnants of the white giant exploded in a blinding flash. Soldiers, warriors, raindrops and muddy soil were pushed aside alike, shooting out in all directions.

Left in its wake was a Goddard who was too exhausted to even lift his arms, devoid of any semblance of aether. He was lying in the middle of the crater he had dug out himself, without any resemblance of strength left in him.

A group of warriors with Miranda in its centre, entirely covered in mud and blood, slowly approached him. Panting heavily, Goddard heard their once vibrant melodies quieten to the level of an ordinary person.

A manic grin formed on his face. He had killed over two hundred soldiers and ten warriors by himself, even when cornered and exhausted – An achievement even his late instructor would have been proud of.

His breath suddenly escaped his lungs when he a plated boot smashed through a gap in his armour. He hacked and coughed instinctively, gasping for air with what little strength he had left. Two hands grabbed his helmet, forcing it off his head.

Light flooded his vision, blinding his eyes that were accustomed to darkness.

“May your wicked soul forever drown in the endless seas up above,” a muffled voice said before an impact sent him reeling.

The shortest of moments before Goddard sank into eternal darkness, he heard a voice mumble a string of incomprehensible words into his ears. Then, the world was forever silenced.

John looked at the orderly cobbled road in front of him. The faint sounds of rain splashing off a barrier could be heard all around their merry group as they advanced in an orderly row of twos. With the exception of their esteemed teacher, who seemed to be unaffected by their march that had lasted for a good week, every one of them was exhausted, despite their strengthened bodies.

Mechanically placing one foot in front of the other, John wondered just how he was supposed to survive another week of this torture. His body hurt from the training and sparring their teacher put them under every time they had reached their goal, and the sandals that used to be new not too long ago were close to being shredded. Not to mention camping outside…

He shuddered. Perhaps the only saving grace of the entire journey was the very road they were treading upon. Wide even by modern standards, it would have been capable to fit five to six cars driving next to each other comfortably. It made one wonder why they were even marching in pairs. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

Not to mention the convenient function of blocking all incoming rain with what seemed to be a barrier erected centred around the road itself, only allowing the occasional gentle breeze through.

Engaging in idle banter with Ronny and the rows in front and behind him, they quickly arrived at their next stop: A rundown two-storey inn that also happened to have a barrier protecting it from the rain.

The old man waited for them to gather up around the entrance and performed a count to make sure that no one had gotten lost along the way – A pointless action, given the fact that he seemed to hear every single word the entire group uttered in his presence without losing track of it.

“No training today. Rest well, for tomorrow’s journey will be that much longer than usual,” he said with what could only be a sadistic smile.

A mixture of groans and relieved sighs came from all around, but their teacher acted as if he didn’t hear them, simply declaring, “You know the drill. Listen to the kind uncles and aunts who will show you your rooms whilst I settle things.”

As they entered the rowdy bar that also doubled as a reception room, a heavy-set middle-aged woman approached them upon seeing their teacher, ushering them upstairs. They did so in excited chatter, accompanied by the wry smiles and numerous frowns of various soldiers as soon as they saw the crests of a golden gate etched onto the clothes they wore – A mandatory sign of their identities as aspiring warriors of the Golden Gate.

Feeling enough malicious glares staring him down from behind to cause goosebumps to appear, John couldn’t help but once again doubt whether that symbol really served to improve their safety. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and would certainly not be the last.

‘Well,’ he thought to himself, ‘everything beats camping in the wild.’

Past the stairs, they were led into their rooms one by one in pairs that had been arranged beforehand by their teacher. Sighing as he was told that he would be staying in the same room as Logan tonight, John followed the older woman with slumped shoulders.

A single bed, a drawer and a table in the main room and a simple bathroom in the other, it was a temporary residence far above John’s expectations. A window adorned the wall opposite of the entrance, showing the seemingly endless rain flowing down an invisible barrier outside. The stone hanging from the ceiling barely managed to illuminate the somewhat dim room, giving it a downtrodden look despite the homely furniture.

Once the door had been closed, Logan jumped onto the bed that was supposed to fit an average male with elation, instantly occupying the entire space for himself. He hugged the only pillow available as if it were made of gold.

“Leave some space for me, will you?” John grumbled out loud as the fatigue from travelling all day suddenly hit him like a soft pillow from behind.

“No way in hell. Go search for your own bed to sleep on,” came Logan’s muffled voice through the pillow.

John’s response came in the form of a foot that shoved Logan to the edge of the wall. “Just stay on your side and we won’t have any problems.”

Logan jumped up. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem here is you hogging the entire bed to yourself. If you stay on your half, then we can get this over with peacefully.”

“My ‘half’? Who do you think you are to decide something like that on your own? Does the bed belong to you?”

“Look, don’t you think it’s fair for both of us to get a half each?”

“I think it would be fair for you to sleep on the ground! Now let me sleep in peace before I have to beat your sorry ass.”

Both sides frowned. Clenching his fist until his knuckles turned white, John slowly approached Logan. Who did that little shit think he was? Why couldn’t he just act like a normal person and stop being such a whiny little fuck? And god damn, what made him believe that he could hog the pillow without asking him?

Before any of them could do anything else, a familiar cough sent shivers down their spines. It came from the door, but when they looked, no one seemed to be there.

Two gulps broke the silence.

No longer saying anything, John closed his eyes and stomped off to the bathroom in order to brush his teeth. Once finished, he returned to a bed that was only half-occupied. Clicking his tongue at the fact that Logan hadn’t even brushed his teeth before going to sleep, John laid down on the other side.

Though the lack of a blanket – Which Logan had wrapped around himself until it was questionable how he was going to stand up – was somewhat annoying, John chose to ignore that in favour of some much-needed sleep.

His eyelids fell down like shutters, and he almost subconsciously curled up into a ball.

It was comfortable. The faint sounds coming from the busy pub below were soothing, and the temperature was just right to enable him to sleep even without blanket. And yet, there was something in the air that made him unable to fall into slumberland.

Just as he was beginning to wonder whether it was going to be another sleepless night, a voice he had not expected – No, hoped would be far more appropriate – to ever hear again, disturbed his entire being.

“Hey buddy.”