Sparks flew into Virgil’s face as a machete scraped against his plated forearm. He raised his saber to block one blade only to be stabbed in the back by two others. Horror after horror, the cambians kept coming. Every time he delivered a lethal blow to one five others took its place. Their wounds healed in moments, no it might be better to say they only required an entire moment to heal. A lethal wound was reduced into no more than a distant mark by the time Virgil’s saber had left the body.

There was a sudden drop in temperature. Time seemed to slow for a brief moment as someone tampered with the fabric of reality. Frost coalesced below his feet. Virgil jumped onto his back covering his face with his arms. Ice shot from the ground impaling the cambians who had surrounded him.

“Not worthy of a warning huh?” Virgil said as he stole a look back at Pim. She made no effort to disguise her disgust for him as she readied another attack.

Five columns of ice forced their way into being. They gathered around Pim before splitting off and launching themselves into the sky. The five columns shattered in the air, raining down daggers of ice over the cambian horde. The daggers dig nothing more than annoy their attackers. They bounced off the dark gray hide harmlessly before falling to the ground.

Pim scowled at the result of her spell. With a few quick hand motions the ice daggers vaporized and turned into a mist. Freezing clouds encircled their targets before latching onto their skin and freezing them. The effect barely lasted a few moments as the cambians shook the frost off their hides.

“Tch!” Pim clicked her tongue in anger. “Debilitated by magic, my ass. Near every spell in my retinue has proved the contrary.”

Virgil let out a short breath enjoying his moment of rest on the ground. It didn’t take long for a sweeping cut from a dull greatsword forced him to his feet.

“By the Gods I will mount that shitty Lord’s head to a pike! Where does he get off telling us to take on a cambian army alone while he evacuates the town from the rear!” Pim yelled in frustration.

“Has your ability to speak formally left you fair Witch of frost?” Virgil mocked. An ice dagger flew over his head in response. Virgil couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle.

This would be a long night.

***

Everything was dark. I was lost, adrift,

Dead.

And yet I wasn’t. I could still feel. At first it felt as if I was stuck in a treant’s embrace. Branch like limbs wrapped around my body smashing against me and pulling me down. I hated it.

I hated being forced down. Being locked up without a say. Being forced to accept the pain. I hated not being able to move, to being trapped. It reminded me of the summoning chamber, the pits, the torture cells. All the different prisons I’ve had to endure, each in their own unique flavor.

I’m tired of enduring.

Sometime between strikes I realized I could move. At first it was small. Just a finger or two. But soon it was my arms, then my legs then the rest of my body. I used every bit of my body to rip my way out of the branches. I often snapped off some of the smaller branches and twigs trying to make room. I wanted to be free. I was not going to be locked up again. Tearing off the limbs and shredding their bark slowly I was able to make progress towards my release.

Soon my prison was no more than a single branch pushing down on my chest. I twisted the branch first t the left, then to the right. I did what I could to weaken the branch before pulling on it with all my might. The branch was freed with a satisfying snap and with it came an unfamiliar sound.

“……..ON! I.S A….”

The noise broke straight through the darkness and bounced around my head. Like a wrecking ball it crashed into everything destroying all in its path. It took me some time to recover but soon I was back on my feet.

Standing there in the darkness with no way to tell where I was. I stood there for an indiscernible amount of time. Or well I think I was standing. But all I really did was feel. I made sure to focus everything I could on the one sense I had.

“…HY WON’…DIE!”

Usually all I could feel was a soft breeze or a kind jostle. Other times I would strike something hard. I could feel the shock reverberate within my entire body. After the shock waves of warm liquid would cover my body. Something about the warmth reminded me of home. It was comforting, kind of like a nice bath after a long day.

“…..DEMON!... IT’S…..”

The noises began to come more and more frequently. Every time I tried to relax another sound would blast around my head. I could tell it was trying it say something but, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t make it out. Some of them sounded like words. Words I recognized and yet I couldn’t understand.

“WHY WON’T YOU DIE!”

“DEMON! IT’S A DEMON!”

“HOW? HE SHOULD BE DEAD SO HOW!”

I ignored them. I couldn’t make sense of the words so there was no reason to waste the effort. I just kept letting myself feel. Tearing at anything that I could grab ahold of. Then, everything went quite.

Finally.

The sounds stopped. Now I could just rest. I was free. Finally…..

“By all that is touched by light, you truly are far gone. Come fair Challenger the Path does not end here.”

The words shattered the darkness around me. Light flooded into my eyes and I shot up.

Before me sat a sight that could make undead puke. The Cardinal laid up against a blood-stained cobblestone wall. His throat still torn in two, yet his eyes the very definition of life. Our eyes met and he briefly waved his one good arm to greet me. I was barely able to manage a halfhearted wave in response.

Everything around me was a sea of red. Bits and pieces of what I could only assume to be the guards littered the field. Nothing was left intact. Not the bodies, shields, pikes, or armor survived. I looked down at my body and nearly threw up. Not a bit of my flesh showed. I was covered head to toe in bits of cloth, wood, steal and bone. Memories flooded into my mind. Memories of myself yet one who was not me. A demon who rampaged fifty guards with nothing more than his hands. A beast who tore his prey limb from limb. Chasing down all those who tried to run. I remember their begging, the crying and screaming to let them go. The sounds I ignored, that which wasn’t worth my effort. It was their earnest cries for salvation.

Only one was able to escape. The woman who had destroyed my head. I had ripped off her arm and the remaining guard sacrificed themselves to allow her to escape.

Just like Myrica. So much for giving back to the world huh?

A cold metal hand clasped my shoulder and lifted me up. The Poet briefly examined me. A wave of energy filled my body. All of my thoughts and emotions disappeared. It was like a complete reset. Everything was set back to normal. All of my makeshift armor fell to my feet. The Poet wrapped me in a woolen cloak before speaking.

“I have walked the Path with many challengers yet never have I seen one who had such a n adverse reaction to the dagger. You are fortunate that I was nearby. Any longer and you may have truly lost yourself in ‘Courage’.” He sighed before continuing. “Normally I would rush you to the 2nd trial. If you have any chance of surviving what is to come you will need the insignia of ‘Temperance’.”

The Poet gently lifted up the dagger and ran his fingers across the three insignias.

“What are talking about?” I asked more than a little confused.

“The dagger has many abilities most you will never need nor encounter. The ability to steal the life of others is called ‘Courage’. Courage is as much a blessing as it is a curse. In order to counteract the curse of ‘Courage’ the insignia of ‘Temperance was added. Its sole function to maximize the blessings and hamper the curses. Normally it is awarded to those who pas the second trial.

“I had no idea you were so susceptible to the curse. It would be an understatement to say that you need to acquire ‘temperance’ in a timely manner. Unfortunately, the God Killers have formed many defensive lines from here to Alcoz.”

“What a minute curse? What is this about the powers and why wasn’t I told sooner?”

“The less you know of the dagger the better your likelihood for survival. As I said before very few are truly susceptible to the curse. Even fewer able to make use of its abilities.”

“Anything else I should know about? Or are you just gonna keep the rest in the dark until it tries to kill me?”

The Poet simply handed me the dagger without responding.

“Asshole.”

“Now, now, no need for such foul language between friends.” The Cardinal stood as he spoke. The guttural sound his throat made barely passing off as speech. “I must say you really did a number on me fair Challenger. It has been a while since it took me so long to regenerate.”

“Sorry for draining you. I couldn’t think of any other way out. I… uh… sorry.”

“All is forgiven under the God of light. That said please never do that again.” The Cardinal said with a smirk.

“Yeah I promise.”

“Good! Now fair Poet I heard something about defensive lines?”

The Poet didn’t have much in terms of exact numbers. But from what he had heard and scouted out their seemed to be multiple platoons patrolling the woods and trail up to the tower. Three major defensive lines stopped all traffic to the tower. One was a simple checkpoint of temporary tents and a few weapons. This was the line the caravan was ambushed at and where we currently resided. A second line full of wooden stakes, watch towers and a large number of guards was a few miles north of the first line. The third line was an actual stone wall. The Poet wasn’t able to get to close to the wall and wasn’t able to get much information on what it contained. With all three of these lines and patrols there was no practical way to get to the tower without being caught.

Long and short of it we were going to have to fight our way out. I was wondering if the God Killers would let me and the Poet pass since we aren’t on the pilgrimage but seeing how I treated the guards I’m thinking that might be a hard sell.

“Well I suppose we should collect the rest of the guard if we are to stand any chance in combat.” The Cardinal spoke while rubbing his chin in contemplation.

“I have recovered most of the pilgrims and a few guards already. However, I have seen no sign of the master Guardsman. Who is, arguably, are most valuable asset.” The Poet replied.

“What about the Seamstress I heard her screaming while I was being brought here. Have you rescued her?” I asked.

“I have not seen nor heard the Seamstress. Although, I have not explored much of the area.”

“Well let’s rescue her and if we’re lucky we might get the head guardsman too.”

With our course decided the three of us made our way through the village checking each building as we went. The village was deserted and completely quiet. Only the occasional bloodstain and mush of a corpse reflected any possibility of life in the village. It was after the fifth corpse paste that the Cardinal finally looked at the Poet for answers. The Poet simply pointed back at me before looting some clothing and shoes from a closet and giving them to me.

I threw the clothes on quickly trying to hide my shame and embarrassment. What had I done? What on earth could I have done to turn this many people into,

‘That’?

We pressed on and eventually came around a wine cellar. The door to the cellar was locked togethor with what resembled a padlock and an internal wooden bar. The doors didn’t look to sturdy and I figured given enough time I could probably break them. I lifted back my sword only for the Poet to stop me.

“Its metal plated that sword won’t do anything other than call every guard in the area.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” I asked more than a little aggravated.

“No need to be so prickly. When faced by an seemingly insurmountable obstacle I have always found it beneficial to pray.” The Cardinal interjected.

“What?”

“Watch closely.” The Cardinal moved inspected the padlock for a moment before removing two metal scraps from his pocket.

“Those are from when I…”

“Oh God of light please guide my hand. Steady my will and leave me unfaltering. Allow me to overcome all obstacles in your name. For I am your instrument and through me your will shall be done.” The Cardinal spoke slowly and clearly as if he were speaking to a child.

He bent the metal scraps and stuck them into the lock as he prayed. After a few quick movements he pulled the scraps out, bent them, then repeated the process. By the time he had finished his prayer the Cardinal had picked the lock. The padlock fell to the ground with a thud and the Cardinal looked back at me and an unamused Poet.

“God always provides.”

“Have you ever done anything priestly in your life?” I asked. More amazed than anything.

The Cardinal ignored my question and nodded his head to the poet. With a sigh the poet drew his saber, planted it in between the doors and used it to lift the wooden bar. The Cardinal opened the cellar doors and motioned for us to enter.

The temperature dropped as we walked down the steps. It didn’t take long for the sounds of whimpers and tears to pollute the air. With a nod from the Poet the three of us quickened our pace and found ourselves before a thin wooden door. I opened the door and was assaulted by the stench of blood. I was no stranger to blood I was covered in loads of it not even a few minutes prior. But something about blood festering in a cellar for who knows how long just made the stench unbearable.

There were three naked bodies chained to walls of the cellar. All were in varying states of decay. Two were muscular males with cuts and bruises covering every major surface of their bodies. The other was the body of the Seamstress beautifully laid out for all to see. Hell, for some reason her wounds almost made her more attractive.

The Cardinal began removing the chains as soon as he entered the room. In moments all of the three were free. We took turns trying to wake them but none if us succeeded. Just before we finished arguing over whether we should carry the bodies or wait for them to regain consciousness. I was grabbed by the Seamstress.

“Wow… I mean are you ok? … uh Hello?” The only response I got was some mumbling into my stomach.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I was so scared.” The soft tearing voice broke up as the seamstress began to weep into my stomach.

“I was so so scared.”

“Ok um… ok…. It’s ok. It’s fine it’s all ok now.”

After my pleading look got shot down by both the Poet and Cardinal, I resigned myself to my fate and embraced the Seamstress. And so, I spent what felt like a few hours awkwardly trying to comfort the most beautiful girl I had ever met.