“Will you not face your son? Why? Why do you turn your back to your people? Why did you abandon us?”

A moment of weakness overtook Light. He spent an entire moment in silence, equal part pondering and stalling. Light wanted to tell him the truth. To tell his son he loved him, that he did not abandon Hokron or the people of Utradem. He wanted to tell him of the council, of the fate they had foreseen. Of a fiend even the council could not halt.

The Gods were a selfish bunch. When they saw that their rule might be challenged, they used all in their power to remove the transgressor. Life, death, time, matter, space, and reality all rejected and fought the transgressor. Yet none could stop him.

In one last gambit existence itself was overwritten. Yet from the veil of nonexistence the fiend roared out and took flesh in the lands of Utradem. Seeing that the fiend could defy existence itself the council chose to delay. It could not be killed but it might be halted. They council came togethor and despite Light's protests bared Utradem from life and death. For without life the fiend cannot come into being and without death it cannot ascend to godhood.

Chaos, in a rare moment of discernment, saw that the fiend could come into existence through the life of others. However, if life were to be torn from one being and offered to a God that might claim it the fiend would never be able to grow. So, he created a blade that could drain the life from its victims and gave it to his favorite servant Undvik. Saying,

“Take this and sow chaos amongst the lands. Drain all life from those who cross you and offer it up to me so that chaos may reign eternal. Know this Undvik, so long as you never drink of the vitality of the fallen you shall always have my blessing and all who try to top you shall fall.”

When the council had called these changes into existence, they had deemed it necessary to make them everlasting. In hopes that the fiend may never find a way to circumvent its prison. Yet, when they looked into their fate once more, they saw the fiend had come to power regardless. Worst of all it was done with the helping hand of Light’s own son.

Even now the other God’s called for Light to rip the divinity from his child. To sever his remaining bond with his love. But Light was weak. Too weak to pick a side and live on without regrets. To weak to abandon his son and side with the council and far too weak to abandon life for his love.

Light stood in his kingdom hiding himself from both. Only to have his own son come to meet him, to force him into making a decision. Light could not decide he could not save one fate only to damn another. So, in a last fit of desperation he asked his son,

“Hokron which do you value more life or love?”

***

The plan was rather simple. The first defensive line was all but cleared after my rampage and the subsequent rescue. Leaving only a few patrols between us and the second defensive line. The Poet, Seamstress and I would scout ahead and take down the patrols while the rest of the caravan moved the fortress up the road. Yes. Move the fortress. Turns out the guard and pilgrims built their makeshift fort on top the remains of the wagons. With just a little tear down the fortress can be converted back into a caravan. Albeit a much heavier and slower one.

The God killers will know we are coming but they won’t know when or how. With a little luck we will be able to take out all the patrols and not be reported to the second defensive line. Once the fortress reaches the line, the Cardinal and master Guardsman will try and negotiate our way through using the hostages from the patrols. This is little more than a distraction and neither think the God killers will actually let us through. Which is why a group of elite guard will infiltrate the defensive line and clear enough god killers that we might be able to push the caravan through.

This will only leave the caravan in a worse position being walled in on both sides by God killers. This part was only glazed over during planning as but we are either to reconfigure the wagon as a fortress and prepare for a two way siege or bust our way through the third line at full speed.

Which leads me to my current situation walking around hiding in the brushes with the Poet and Seamstress looking for patrols.

“Could you be any louder? The Poet is wearing full plate and he is quieter than you?” the Seamstress whispered.

“Not all of us were raised as assassins alright! I’m doing my best.” I responded as another twig snapped under my foot. “Shit.”

The Seamstress gave me the biggest look of disbelief and disappointment I had ever seen. I was so focused on her expression I missed my footing and brushed against a bush. This got a sigh out of the Poet and a full-blown face palm from the Seamstress.

“I have to say I do like you better like this. The whole kissing and innuendos when we first met was a bit much. This seems more genuine.”

“Huh? Is this really the time to be talking about that?” She responded a little red in the face. “I only did that to get your attention. My Mother used to say that the best way to keep yourself safe from men is to control them. The best way to do that was to use your body wisely and always make the first move.”

“That didn’t work out too well now did it?”

“Oh please. I saw the look on your face after our kiss, I totally had you.”

“When you two are done bickering we have company.” The Poet interjected before I could retort.

As if on cue, three lights began to peak through the brush. Hushed voices could be heard as the God killers neared our position. Five armored soldiers were standing in a “V” formation Three with lanterns. The Poet took hold of my shoulder and silently guided me behind the cover of some roots. The Seamstress threw up her hood and stealthily made her way up to the edge of the brush. Dagger in hand she tapped her foot against the wood three times.

What followed could have belonged in a Hollywood film. The God killers approached the Seamstress and the moment the first soldiers lantern passed over her head she grabbed it and flipped him over her shoulder. The moment he hit dirt the Seamstress’s dagger was in his throat. Before the second soldier could ready his halberd, she snatched the lantern off the ground and threw into his face. She drew a second knife and stabbed it in the back of his knee, taking him down. Then as if the motion had been repeated a thousand times, she swept his flailing arms away and pinned her dagger in between his eyes.

The remaining three had regained their composure and trained their weapons on the Seamstress. My crossbow flew from it’s back holster and with a quick shik the crossbow fired leaving one soldier screaming in pain while holding his left eye. I holstered my crossbow and rushed from my spot behind the roots. I drew the bone dagger in my left and my broadsword in my right. I jabbed the one bone dagger into the chest of the screaming soldier and drained.

Using his body as a shield I rushed forward. Not wanting to hit an ally the soldiers moved their weapons to the side which the Seamstress took advantage of. In one swift movement she was between both guards and had a dagger stabbed vertically through both of their chins. The fight must not have taken an entire minute, yet my heart was pounding.

“Well done.” The Poet said with a small applause. “I believe there are a few more patrols in the area so might we pick up the pace?”

“Says the guy who didn’t help at all.” I made my displeasure known. The Seamstress pulled the crossbow bolt from the husk and it handed it back to me.

“Thanks for the assist. You should drain the rest so we can move on.” The Seamstress said. I looked back to the Poet for permission. The Poet simply grabbed my arm and shook his head. I turned to the Seamstress before speaking.

“I think it’s better not to turn them into husks if I don’t have to.” In response the Seamstress pointed down to the drained soldier and raised her eyebrows.

“Starting now.” I added.

We continued on. Taking out patrols as we went. Since I wasn’t going to drain them I made good use of the hand crossbow. Shooting God killer soldiers anywhere their armor didn’t cover. Four patrols later we had reached the second defensive line.

Either I wasn’t listening well or the Poet’s description of the second line was ridiculously big. What I thought was just going to be a temporary fort made from some debris and rubble like our own turned out to be a wall that could make the Berlin wall blush. Wooden stakes pierced one hundred feet into the sky. Archers posted every ten feet with even more spearmen in between. Not only did they have the wall but also a draw bridge and a moat. A. Fucking.

Moat.

As my hopes if easily breaking past the wall were slowly crumbling a familiar figure caught my eye. It was that of the middle-aged woman who destroyed my head. She was wearing full plate armor aside from a helmet and was commanding the troops atop the wall. As tempted as I was to shoot her in the head right then and there, I decided to exercise patience.

“Who is that woman giving all the orders?” I asked.

“Hmm, where? Oh, you mean Swordsbane. She was an old inquisitor apparently the Cardinal knew her.” The Seamstress responded.

"Swordsbane? What kind of name is that?"

"Supposedly, in her time as an inquisitor, she has never lost in a battle of swords."

“Indeed. Swordsbane was once an inquisitor for the God of Life. She used to complete her duty with utmost pride. When the Gods abandoned Utradem she did all she could to hold the church togethor. However, it was not meant to be and the church fell despite her efforts. Abandoned by her God and her only home she came to hate all associated with the Gods. In her hatred she founded the God killers."

Initially it was a peaceful organization one that strived to help people cope with their new godless situation. However, it gradually turned more violent over time and the result is as you see now. A shame. A true shame.” The Cardinal finished.

“How did you get behind us? When did you even get here?” I asked more than a little shocked at the sudden appearance.

“I am a man of many talents and I have been always with you through Light’s blessing. Now fair Challenger, fair Seamstress, I believe it is about time I tell you the rest of the plan. You see our challenger is hardly the first to use the dagger nor the first to struggle with its curses. When a challenger is consumed by the curse they become deformed. They slowly turn into more monster then man and lose control of themselves. Fair challenger I believe you have experienced this yourself. To say that these cursed monsters are powerful is an understatement.”

“By all that Light has touched you have not…” The Poet began but his voice soon trailed off. The thundering sound of a giant’s footsteps rang out through valley.

“One such cursed resides in these woods. Our caravan lacks the strength to break through the defensive lines. But if we were to lead the cursed being to the wall, they would take care of the problem for us. Not to mention the God killers will be plenty busy subjugating the cursed and will not be able to spare the manpower to go after us. It is only a shame that we cannot use the same strategy for the third defensive line.”

Oh God.

A decrepit ball of strewn togethor bodies overtook the top of the trees. Each body moving and struggling to break free. The cursed flesh golem crushed everything that dared get in its way. No tree, boulder, or mountain could stop the beast as it forced its way towards the wall. The archers were the first to spot it. The entire wall flew to life. Archers began to unleash volley after volley onto the beast as spearmen took their positions on the wall. The draw bridge opened and a small calvary squad rushed from the gates.

“Ho, they even had calvary. What a surprise.” The Cardinal commented nonchalantly.

“What have you done?” I asked my voice breaking in weakness. I almost became something like that. I was so close to becoming a monster with no way back. The memories of the curse flooded into me.

“I have done what is necessary. If you wish to survive in this world you will learn to do the same. But fear not for God forgives all and with his guidance you are never truly alone.”

“You’re a monster”

“Fair challenger, I am but a man attempting to walk upon the holy path of penance. Where I alone I may have faltered in this decision. But I am no longer alone. I must care for my people. My church once more. I will not fail in my duty as Cardinal, as I said once before, so long as I wield this title I will do everything in my power to aid those who still worship the Gods.”

I looked over to the Seamstress hoping she would back me up. She was frozen stiff. Her eyes unfocused as she watched on with terror. She gently pressed her hand up against my shoulder and squeezed before making eye contact. Her teary eyes were shaking with fear.

Screams snapped my attention from the Seamstress. The ball of flesh tore itself open, creating two arms that began to block arrows and swat at the calvary beneath its feet. The cursed made its way to the wall unfazed. No amount of damage seemed to halt its progress.

“In condemning the God killers and resurrecting a cursed to a fate of suffering so that you may benefit you have already failed in your duty as Cardinal.” The Poet’s voice was soft but firm.

“Fair Poet sacrifices must be made. Though we both know that words are meaningless between us. As no matter what we say neither of us will change our view.”

The Poet rose from his spot and began walking towards the cursed only to be pushed back by a shockwave. The cursed had reached the wall. With an ungodly scream the cursed pushed both of its hands up against the wall and pushed. The entire wall was uprooted. Chunks of dirt flew up as the wall fell back onto itself. The cursed struck down on the wall once more and any remnants of the god killer soldiers were flung into the air.

The Poet rose up once again and began his march forward towards the cursed. In one smooth motion he undid the brooch on his cloak and drew his saber. His rusted plate mail began to shine in the sun.

“What is it that you plan to do fair Poet? I assure you that no blade can halt the cursed.”

“I know.”

The Poet brought the pummel of his saber up to his helmet and placed it against his forehead. With one deep breath he plunged the sword into the ground and spoke.

“I ______ beseech you. See that your servant is in need and aid me. Grant me the strength that I might bring rest to he who lost himself to your power.” Reality crackled as the words took form around the Poet. Yellow sigils bean to circle around his blade. In a final whisper meant only for himself the Poet pleaded. “Hokron please grant me strength once more.”

The yellow sigils laid themselves upon his blade. With one hand the Poet raised his sword above his head. The sword shined as a beacon drawing all of life’s eyes. The cursed spun to meet the light and let out another ungodly scream. It charged forward. Towards the Poet at full steam. In response the poet only lifted his free hand.

Chains of light wrapped themselves around his arm and with a single motion they shot out. Each chain burned itself into the cursed flesh wrapping around it until not a single body remained unbound. The Poet slowly walked up to the struggling wall of flesh. When he was within arm’s reach, he lowered his chained hand and steadied his saber. The Poet thrust the saber into the cursed being and both he and the monster disappeared in a fit of light.

Thunderous screams rang out throughout the forest. I felt the warmth of blood slowly descend from my busted eardrums. Soon the light began to fade and, in its place, stood a silent Poet and still monster. The chains of light cooled and took physical form pinning the cursed to the ground. The Poet took a moment to mourn the suffering of the cursed before whipping his saber clean and making his way back to the brush.

I tried to stand and meet him only to lose my balance. Seeing this the Seamstress pushed my arm over her shoulders and helped steady me. With the help of the Seamstress I made my way to the Poet only to again be interrupted. But this time it was by an unfriendly face.

That of Swordsbane.