everyone: let me see what you have Sosuke: a knife! everyone: NO

Just here to quietly plead for a Geralt x Y/N /fem Y/N fic where Y/N gets kidnapped (did I do that right?).

You know the drill 😳❤️ Angst. Feels. Comfort and maybe love confessions at the end.

oooooo baby, we went back to our roots on this one. we got some big hurt and some even bigger comfort. hope you like it! 💖

“I might never let you go”

Warnings: canon consistent violence, torture/interrogation, choking, kicking, slapping, agressive use of the term ‘bitch’, beheading, death, overall angsty pain, softness to wrap it up tho 

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“Even if I had anything to tell you, you’d just kill me afterward. Why would I bother?” you spat the blood from your busted lip at the boots of your captor, giving him a smug red grin just to piss him off even more. You had everything he wanted, no doubt about it. You could make his dreams come true, but you’d certainly rather die than let him find Ciri and Geralt. 

He wrinkled his nose at your blood now all over his shiny black boots, “Normally yes. I would kill you-”

“I have nothing for you anyway.” you reminded him, earning you another backhand, this time to the other side of your face.

You grit your teeth and glared back up at him in a challenge. 

There was an instant of warning, just barely enough time for you to take a deep gulp of air before his hand was at your throat, lifting you off your knees, “You and your witcher playing happy little family has been a pain in my ass for far too long! I want you to watch me kill her after you betray them!" 

You wanted to roll your eyes, maybe tell him ‘I fucking wish’ or ‘I didn’t ask for a spit bath’ and pat his hand condescendingly, but he slammed you back against the cellar wall and suddenly you saw two of him. You lashed out with your legs, but with your ankle chained to the middle of the floor and the links pulled tight you could barely move. He laughed, something in his eyes told you he liked this too much, that this wasn’t simply his duty. In a last-ditch effort you clawed at one of his eyes, barely registering the blood you drew as he dropped you to the floor. You sputtered and coughed, willing your lungs to function normally at least until you found a way out as you struggled to all fours. 

“Fucking- little- bitch!” Every word was punctuated with a kick, every kick had you heaving and gasping for breath.

You curled in on yourself, bringing your knees up to your chest to shield yourself from the blows threatening to tear your lungs in half. Covering your face with your arms you focused on breathing, on just getting through his fit of rage. 

He paused, growling when there was a knock at the door, “Fuck off. I’m under orders, this time.”

The person knocked again and he stomped across the room. You risked a peek at what might be coming for you just as a sword slashed through the man’s neck, sending his head bouncing across the stone floor as his body crumpled on top of it. 

Geralt stood in the doorway, covered in what you hoped was Nilfguardian blood, looking panicked. As soon as he spotted you he rushed to your side, caressing your face before reaching to the beheaded body and snagging a set of keys. 

“Can you stand?” He sounded terrified, something you’d never heard from him before.

“Maybe.” You wheezed, sitting up so he could have a better angle at unlocking you.

When he’d freed you and hauled you to your feet he handed you his sword, “Keep close. I didn’t make too much noise on the way in but they might get worried when they don't hear any screaming.” He held your head in both hands, rubbing tears from your cheeks that you didn’t know you’d shed, “You can do this.”

You nodded, biting the unsplit part of your lower lip to stifle the whimpers clawing at your throat. He grabbed your non-dominant hand and led the way out of your cell, unsheathing his silver sword. Fitting really, for what they’d done to you, these men should be treated as monsters. 

You made it to the wall of the stronghold with no incident unless you counted passing dead and dying guards as an incident. Geralt had wreaked havoc on his way in, enough to make you worry about what had happened in your absence. He turned and gripped your hips, almost throwing you up on top of the stone wall before he vaulted it himself.

“Fall, I’ll catch you.”

Even in your predicament, those words made your heart flutter, “but, the swo-”

“Hurry.” Geralt growled and you obeyed immediately. True to his word, he caught you, but he didn’t set you down to continue. He held you to his chest and guided your legs to wrap around his waist before he took off at a sprint into the woods. You clung to him with every bit of strength you had left, burying your face in his neck and doing your best not to cry. You’d stayed strong for days, took every beating and threat in stride, and it was all surfacing now that he was there to protect you. 

Eventually, he slowed to a walk, resting his hand on your hair as the last of your willpower dissolved into more tears.

“Shhhh… it’s okay. You did so well. You’re so strong.” you sobbed in his arms as he whispered soft, calming words in your ear. He sat down on a fallen tree and leaned back, signaling for you to do the same.

His brows were drawn together but his eyes were soft, examining every last cut and bruise on your face, “Can you take a couple deep breaths for me?”

You nodded, closing your eyes and doing your best to steady and lengthen your breaths. Your throat ached and your ribs protested angrily, but you managed to get three solid inhales and exhales in a row. 

“Good, just breathe.” his fingers brushed your wild hair out of your eyes, taking your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger and tilting your head to the side.

“I didn’t tell them anything. I promise.” your voice was hoarse and watery.

Geralt rested his palm against your cheek, “ Y/N, look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, readying for him to ask if Cirilla was safe; if they could ever be safe again after what you’d undoubtedly told them.

The sincerity in his eyes and voice would have brought tears to your eyes had they not already been there, “There was never a doubt in my mind that you would die before telling them anything. Just breathe. You’re safe now.”

You nodded, taking a slow breath in and whispering, “Thank you…”

Something new flashed in his eyes, his pupils growing just a tad larger, something you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't three inches from his face, “I thought they’d taken you from me.”

Your look of confusion spurred him on, “They spread word you’d died.” His voice was thick and low and you suddenly felt the need to comfort him.

Placing both your hands on his jaw you gave him a tired smile, “I’m fine. Shaky and bruised, but fine.” you insisted.

Geralt leaned forward just enough to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and humming like he didn’t quite believe you. Your heart skipped a beat, the intimacy of your position finally catching up with you as you let a small breathy giggle escape your lips. 

“What?”

“I’m sitting on your lap in the middle of a forest. Feels a bit strange,” you muttered, running your thumbs across his stubble.

If you hadn’t had your hands on his jaw you wouldn’t have realized what was happening when he closed the distance between your lips. The cut on your lip stung at first but the buzzing in your ears and thundering of your heart pushed the sensation to the back of your mind. 

He was warm and soft and ever so gentle, letting your lips brush against each other as he pulled back, “I love you. Don’t you ever leave me again.”

You rushed forward, holding him to you like he was your lifeline, because when you thought about it he really was, “I love you too,” you gasped when you finally needed to come up for air. His hand that was wrapped around your waist traveled up your back, pulling your closer to him in another kiss, but this time you yelped.

“Ribs.” you groaned, tapping the shoulder of his offending arm.

“Shit.”

“It’s okay. It’s fine.” You reassured him, kissing between his brows where his worry line had reappeared, “Maybe just let me lead.” you smirked at him, noting the way his pupils dilated.

“As long as I get to kiss you again.”

“Oh I might never let you go, now.” you kissed him again, this time running your tongue along his bottom lip.

“Good.” he breathed, before firmly pressing his lips to yours and deepening the kiss. 

A rewrite of the ending for The Letter for the King

If we're being honest, did the ending live up to anyone's expectations? Certainly not to mine. My babies deserved better and I hope my attempt at writing can help to rectify that for anyone else looking for a happier - and hopefully better - ending. At some point, I'll probably write a fic for the entire series, possibly with an OC (maybe a younger sibling of one of the knights because I want more interactions with Piak). Feedback would be greatly appreciated! I'm always looking to improve. I struggle with accurate characterisation in fanfics when writing non-canon dialogue/scenes so if anyone has any tips then please send them my way.

I know there's maybe 12 people in the fandom (this had better become a running joke, so help me) but hopefully I will please those 12 of you. This will take place from when they exit the sewers. Without further ado, let us proceed.

5000+ words

~~~~~~~~~~

The thick, rancid scent of the sewers still lingered in the air as the novices clung to the ladder several metres up. Damp metal frigid to the touch, covered in something that they wouldn't dare to ask the origin of. Even Tiuri - who had made his way to the top of the ladder - could still smell the murky water (or, at least, what they thought to be water) below.

He swung the grate at the top open, gritting his teeth as he hoisted himself up and out of the entrance to the sewer. The fresher air was a welcome comfort in the dimly lit room, candles flickering gently in the little draughts that filtered in, and he was thankful to take in a deep breath of fresher air.

Pushing himself over the edge with a grunt of effort, he turned around to help Piak climb out, safely pulling him up. It was certainly far more graceful than Tiuri's attempt to get himself out.

"You're pushing me again," Jussipo snapped, looking down and glaring before pulling himself out as well, a look of clear disgust etched upon his face.

"Because you're going even slower than you were before," Arman retorted, evidently still frustrated at having to go through the sewers.

"It's-it's in my hair! It's in my hair." Jussipo's face contorted as he tried to hide the extent of his revulsion as he essentially jumped out of the exit.

Arman came out soon after Jussipo, quickly pushing himself out, glad to be away from the dreadful place, and was quickly followed by Foldo. "It's definitely not water," Foldo choked out through the stench, his face paling as he resisted the nauseating temptation to throw up any food still left in his stomach.

"See?" Tiuri started, trying to reintroduce some positivity into their quest that seemed to lack a favourable outcome for the foreseeable future. "I told you. Easy."

The others stared at him as though he were insane, many still looking disgusted from their time in the sewer. Foldo looked greener by the second. No one particularly wanted to know what was in the sewer now that they knew it wasn't water from his expression. They also didn't want to know how Foldo found out.

The group rushed out of the room, breaking out into a run as they hurried to get to the throne room. They had hardly made it down a single corridor before turning into a hall and running straight into a line of servants.

Attempts at acting natural were made. Bowed heads, feigned interest in the exquisitely crafted banners and candleholders - although, they had to admit, they were beautiful. But, of course, despite the dirt on their clothes, they still reeked of nobility and they neither looked nor acted like the staff of the castle, not to mention the swords hanging from their belts. Still, the servants had far more important matters to attend to other than herding some wandering nobleman's children back to the feast.

As soon as they were alone, they all raced through the open doorway, speeding down more passageways, thankful not to encounter anyone else.

"That was close!" Piak exclaimed with a smile, jogging next to Jussipo, clearly enjoying the excitement.

"Be quiet," hissed Arman sharply, turning back to the boy. "You don't know who could be lurking in the shadows, listening to our every word."

"Don't talk to him like that," Jussipo replied, moving threateningly closer, attempting to turn any anxiety brewing within him to confidence.

"I'd appreciate it if you directed your aggressive energy towards the task at hand, please," Tiuri sighed. "Besides, I think we're safe for now."

"Perhaps we should be a bit quieter, it couldn't hurt," Foldo suggested gently.

They continued their way through the castle, footsteps echoing far louder than they would've liked through the stone hallways. Cautious glances were frequently casted towards the windows, the steadily rising blood moon harsh and bold against the dark sky, glaringly bright as it outshone the gentle twinkling of the stars.

"Do you even know where we're going?" Arman asked as Tiuri led them down yet another tortuous corridor. "We're running out of time. You could be getting us lost for all we know."

"Of course I know where we're going," Tiuri insisted, vaguely remembering visiting the castle once as a child. If he was being honest, he was mostly guessing the path to the feast. "It's around this corner."

The door creaked as he pulled it open, but they paid it little mind as they hurried down a set of steps and into yet another corridor. It would be a miracle if anyone knew their way around the entire castle.

"Come on," he whispered as they ducked around a wall, praying that the area would be empty.

It was, in fact, not. "Where do you think you're going?" a heavily armoured guard asked as the five of them came to a shuddering halt in front of him.

Jussipo was just about to come forward - casting worried glances towards Foldo and Piak - with a story about how they were the sons of some visiting nobles and had gotten lost when the guard keeled over following a sharp blow to the head from the pommel of a dagger. The knights-to-be watched in confused shock as he fell over to reveal Iona behind him.

"Surprise," she said, tears evidently brimming in her eyes as she looked at the people she could almost call friends before she turned them in.

Arman rushed towards her in a fit of rage, his fist raised as he prepared to strike. He was followed by the rest of the novices, ready to jump to his defence if needed, but Arman was brought to a quick halt by the blade millimetres from his throat, glinting menacingly in the candlelight. Iona urged him back in what seemed to be reluctance.

"You have every right to hate me," she began, the dagger still held out in front of her.

"Well, we do hate you," Arman claimed, jumping forward again as Tiuri held out an arm to stop him from doing anything stupid.

"I hate me too. What I did... what I've done." She finally held the dagger back by her waist, a choked laugh escaping her as she blinked back tears that threatened to spill. "I'm sorry," Iona admitted, the tears that she had attempted to withhold streaking down her cheeks despite the wary glances the group gave each other, "for all of it. I'm sorrier than you'll ever know. But I just... I wanted you to know that."

With a determined look, she furiously wiped away the tears, seemingly angry at herself for showing such emotion. Iona turned away, ready to never see any of them again.

"Iona?" Tiuri called out.

Iona stopped, turning around as hope glittered in her eyes. Tiuri approached her, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace as if to say that he forgave her, it was alright now, she was forgiven. She returned the hug with one arm, seeming to relax for a single moment.

And then the moment broke, shattering into hundreds of pieces of betrayal and hurt as she snatched the letter with her free hand.

"Every time you think you've got her pegged," Jaro chuckled as he entered the hall with two knights following, a sinister edge to his laugh, "she turns around and she surprises you all over again." Tiuri backed up to the safety of the group, fear and pain smothering his features as Iona hesitantly handed over the letter, a frown upon her face. Was this really the right thing to do? Yes, of course, Tiuri had dashed her hopes of becoming a knight, this was her only way forward. Jaro took the letter with a sickening smile, pocketing it. The group's hands reached for the hilts of their swords, prepared for a final display of courage. "Looks like the letter's not going to the king after all. Now, do you want to walk away and live or make a futile gesture of defiance and die?" Each of the boys drew their swords with little hesitation, willing to put their lives on the line to save the world they knew. "A futile gesture it is." The three Red Riders and Iona drew their swords as well, a determined grimace etched upon everyone's faces.

Jussipo turned to Piak, the brother that he had sworn to himself that he would protect at all costs. He couldn't risk Piak’s safety, not for anything, not for the world. "Stay there," he whispered, gently pushing him back.

With a fierce cry, Jaro charged towards them, the novices racing into the fight. This included Piak who had decided to ignore his brother's instructions and fight anyway with little regard for his own life and lack of training, using his lack of size to dodge any incoming attacks.

Sword clashed against sword, metal ringing out in the brutal melodies of battle. Deafening clangs that brought the children's hearts to their throats for, after all, despite all that they had been through, they were still children. Adrenaline surged through each person, the fight blurring time and reality as they solely focused on the simple motion of swinging their swords. Back and forth. Blows and parries. Attacks and counters.

Piak stayed close to Jussipo, ready to jump to his aid at a moment's notice. That was until Jaro had forced Tirui to the floor. The tip of his sword inched closer to Tiuri's throat, slowly threatening to slice through skin. Piak took the distraction as an excuse to nick the letter from Jaro's belt, instantly jumping to action.

"I've got it!" Piak called out at the same time Jussipo yelled out his name more out of fear than anger. Piak passed the letter to him as Jussipo looked towards him in a mix of frustration and admiration.

"What did I tell you?" he asked in breathless exasperation as he deflected another attack. "Tiuri!" he yelled as he flung the letter through the air, Tiuri deftly catching it. "What are you waiting for?"

"Go!" Arman and Piak insisted in sync as Tiuri rushed out of sight, quickly chased by Iona and Jaro.

In that brief moment of distraction, in those few seconds in which the group thought they could recover, one of the Red Riders lunged towards Piak, the most defenceless of them all. In that split second before the sword hit him, Jussipo saw what was happening. Not Piak, anyone but him. He wasn't even supposed to be here, he was too adventurous for his own good.

In that split second, Jussipo remembered everything he could about Piak. The way he would leap around as he practiced fighting with a wooden sword. The way he could talk about anything and everything for hours. How he would sneak him extra food from the kitchens after a particularly tough training session. How he was so carefree despite all the troubles in the world.

In that split second, Jussipo made a decision. Whatever it takes, he thought, whatever it takes to save my brother.

With a breathless but purpose filled shout of, “No!” he leapt in front of Piak. Jussipo tried to deflect the incoming sword but he knew there was little point in even attempting to raise his weapon before the sword plunged into his chest.

Everything seemed to slow down at that point. He felt as though he should cry out in pain, the agony coursing through him immeasurable. He could hear his heart beating inside his skull, strong and steady and pounding and loud, far too loud. Why was it so loud? It was becoming difficult to breathe, ragged gasps attempting to escape his lungs. Why couldn’t he breathe? Why was it so hard? The panic mixed with the agony in a violent surge, every ounce of his being fighting against the sickeningly cool metal inside him. And everything was becoming blurry and hazy and he wanted to just let go, to not be tethered to this world in which he felt so much pain. Why wouldn’t it stop hurting?

Was he dying?

And all he could do was blankly stare forward, hoping that the pain would simply vanish.

As he crumpled to the floor in a dazed heap, the faintest flicker of a smile swept across his face in the knowledge that Piak was safe, he had saved him. He hoped that Foldo would be alright. Sure, they had been friends for years, but it felt wrong to leave him after the two had just confessed their love for each other, but he would be fine, he had to be. 

Piak stood behind his injured brother as the only emotion he could feel was pure shock. This was the person he had looked up to his entire life - Jussipo couldn’t die, the very thought was inconceivable. But he had to believe it, that sword should be inside him, but Jussipo had willingly sacrificed himself to save Piak. He crouched down next to his brother, attempting to support his limp body with shaking hands.

Foldo was the first to snap out of the trance. “JUSSIPO!” he screamed, his voice cracking, his world crumbling as the boy he loved threatened to slip through his fingers. 

With a cry of despairing, rage fueled pain that no one his age should ever have to experience, Foldo swung his sword in a wide arc, forcing the knights backwards. Within seconds he was behind Jussipo, gently pulling him to his feet as he pushed Piak to safety behind him. Foldo helped Jussipo up the stairs, Arman close behind, knocking the Red Riders down the steps with a powerful blow.

The only thought running through Foldo’s head as he half dragged, half carried the stumbling Jussipo was how to save him. He was still alive, still fighting, there was still time. He would not let Jussipo die, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t forgive himself.

They rounded a corner into another deserted corridor, certain that they had lost the knights. Foldo laid Jussipo against a wall as carefully as he could, his heart clenching as Jussipo groaned in pain. Piak looked on in shock, unable to comprehend what was happening.

The world seemed to twist and turn and spin and blur as Jussipo tried to remain as still as possible, dizzying waves of nausea washing over him as darkness encroached his vision. Blood had already soaked through his tunic, slowly dripping onto the floor; a dark, thick substance that stained the ground and the novices’ moods. Foldo tried to press his hands against the wound, attempting to stop the flow of blood, but his hands shook and trembled, hot tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

“It’s alright,” Arman murmured, “I’ll do it.” Foldo gave him a nod of appreciation, withdrawing his blood soaked hands.

“I should get help,” Foldo said, beginning to stand despite his very soul shattering before Jussipo loosely grabbed his hand, pulling him back down. Jussipo could hold on until Tiuri came back, he had to hold on.

“No, stay, please,” begged Jussipo.

“It’s alright, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” Gently, he brushed dark locks of hair from Jussipo’s face, terrified to hurt him any further.

Jussipo looked to him in dazed confusion, attempting to ignore the searing pain that shot through him with each movement. “Am I going to die, Foldo?” he asked, sounding so innocent and quiet that Foldo had to resist the urge to let out a choked sob.

“No, no. You’re going to be fine, I won’t let you die,” he said with as much confidence as he could muster.

“That’s nice, I believe you. There’s a lot of blood, though.”

“Don’t look at it, just look at me.” Foldo grabbed his hand, not daring to glance away from his eyes for a moment as he offered a weak smile. “Just try to stay awake. Everything’s going to be alright, I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, completely unaware of the tragedy that had befallen his friends, Tiuri ran despite the burning in his legs, despite feeling as though his lungs would tear. He was close, so close, the dining hall was only metres away. The pounding footsteps of Iona and Jaro thundered behind him but he didn’t dare to look back, he couldn’t risk slowing down.

The room fell into a stunned silence as he sprinted in, nobility providing him with questioning looks. It wasn’t every day that an Eviellan boy charged in dressed in fine clothing. Jaro and Iona came to a hasty standstill, quickly realising that they had failed. With an awkward glance at each other, they subtly backed away, hoping that they could still escape with their lives.

Slowly, Tiuri took several careful steps forward, panting slightly as his eyes darted around the room, flicking to Viridian who simply stared at him, apparently not worried about the implications the delivery of the letter could bring. One look sent chills down Tiuri’s spine as haunting eyes met his own. The guests studied him, looking down at him, judging him for his clearly Eviellan descent despite his obvious nobility. As Tiuri approached King Favian, two guards blocked his path.

“I have a letter,” he started, his voice wavering as he stood before the most powerful man in the three kingdoms, “for the king.”

“What?” the king queried. 

“What letter?” Prince Iridian asked, oozing power.

“Who cares ‘what letter’?” Fantumar demanded as he stood up, trying to play his part in stopping the letter from reaching its destination. “Does the royal court now allow mere children to enter the presence of the king?”

“My father died for this!” Tiuri cried before turning to the king. “The Black Knight with the White Shield died too.”

“The Black Knight?” the king asked, his interest piqued at the mention of such a well respected knight.

“I have his ring as proof.” He removed it from his pocket, the precious silver almost glowing in the light of the room. Favian continued to listen in concern. “He was slaughtered by Prince Viridian’s Red Riders.” Gasps echoed around the room whilst Viridian remained stoic. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Who is this boy?”

“He is nobody,” Fantumar insisted, sounding remarkably suspicious considering Tiuri’s claim.

“I am Tiuri, son of Sir Tiuri the Valiant. Born of Eviellan, raised in Dagonaut. And we are all in danger if you do not read this letter.”

The king looked to Prince Iridian. With a nod, he said, “Let him through.”

Hesitantly, Tiuri approached the king, flicking a fearful glance towards Viridian. He bowed, holding the letter out in front of him as King Favian stood up to take it. And there, written out in an elegant script, sat the words that confirmed Viridian’s betrayal. Twenty families he had chosen to die, a member of one of those families slowly dying in the arms of a boy of another of those families within the very castle that Viridian resided.

The king studied it, hardly daring to believe what was in front of him. His own son desired to betray him? To kill his allies? No, it seemed impossible. Reluctantly, he turned to his youngest son. “What is this?” he questioned, not even sure if he wanted to know the answer. Viridian returned a blank stare in response. “Treachery? You take my crown? Kill my friends and allies?” He paused, still reeling from the news. “Answer me!” he yelled, fury lacing every word.

“You dare ignore your king?” Iridian asked, almost as furious as his father - despite sensing the betrayal all along - but twice as vicious. “Bow your head to your father!” Short, sharp paces clicked across the stone as he advanced towards his brother. “I will not tell you again. Bow your head. Beg for your king’s mercy.”

“If the world is to be healed,” Viridian began ominously, looking through the window to see the blood moon reaching its peak, a fierce glow shining into the hall, “then the power he has, the power you want to be yours, has to be mine. The decisions you take-” He stood up, walking up to his brother. “-the decisions the people on that list take will now be taken by me.”

“What is this?”

“Lives you’ve all led, lives of comfort and luxury, lives built on the bodies of soldiers like me and my enemies, are now over.” If it wasn’t for the cruelty dripping off of Viridian’s words, he would seem to be the most reasonable one in the room. “And yes, freedom is over too. And the world will have peace at last. A peace that will last forever.”

“He’s mad,” was all the king could offer to Iridian.

Iridian looked to a knight standing close by, handing him the letter. “Sir Tristan, gather your knights and send them to these families, they may need protection.” Sir Tristant gave a sharp nod, quickly leaving the hall.

“It has been foretold,” Viridian stated with an almost giddy smile. “And there’s nothing any of us can do to stop it.” He looked to Tiuri with a sneer. “Even you.”

“Brother,” Iridian hissed, drawing his sword, “I beg to differ.”

Viridian drew his own sword with a snarl. Brother pitted against brother, familial love forgotten as the two faced each other as enemies. The swords clashed together in a blur of experience and anger. Viridian was the first to give in, lowering his weapon slightly and subjecting himself to his brother’s will. Iridian took the opportunity to sink the sword into his own brother’s chest, killing him almost instantly. Horrified gasps escaped the gathered crowd as the prince that had attempted to betray them was murdered before their eyes, Favian the most mortified of them all. 

With one last look at the fully risen moon, Viridian keeled over. Dead.

But then came the darkness. From where Viridian’s body lay came a dread filled rumbling, shaking the entire room. Dark droplets of blood rose from his body, hovering in the air as they shimmered with magic and evil. They popped and fizzled in grey wisps of smoke, gathering and collecting as Viridian’s corpse was pulled from the ground by some sort of invisible force.

A rolling cloud of grey smog seemed to engulf Viridian, coalescing around him in a violent storm of malevolent darkness. Everyone in the room rushed away as the blackening cloud stretched out, absorbing every speck of light.

But Tiuri stood his ground. He may not have the magic he thought he did coursing through his veins but the idea of backing away, of faltering, never crossed his mind. He had faith.

From the dark emerged Viridian’s face surrounded by swirling wisps of the smoke, glaring out at the world he had sought to right. “NO!” he screamed. “I was to be the light that corrected this world! And you, boy, were to be the darkness! It was foretold, this cannot be!” 

As his rage seemed to grow with every second, so did the size of the smoke. Churning and surging together in violent clashes.

“But that’s where you’re wrong, I wasn’t supposed to be anything,” Tiuri replied simply, looking back into the crowd.

With shaky steps, Lavinia pushed her way through the throng of onlooking nobles. Her heart thundered in her chest, threatening to jump out at any moment. Any sense of logic had deserted her. Surely she couldn’t defeat whatever this was. The magic inside her, however, strongly disagreed. Its warmth spread throughout her body, tingling and gentle as it guided her to where she was supposed to be.

Her eyes were wide as she approached, fearing that she couldn’t do what was expected of her, couldn’t save everyone. “I’m scared,” she whispered, her breath escaping her as everything went cold the closer she got to the cloud of darkness.

“I know.” And he took her hand, guiding her into the darkness she was destined to defeat until it swallowed her whole as Viridian seethed, the smoke boiling in anticipation.

With gritted teeth, Lavinia allowed the magic inside her to spread out in a fierce glow so bright Tiuri had to look away. Viridian squinted at it, the light seemed to burn him away into wisps of dust.

“Foolish girl,” Viridian uttered with a maniacal smirk. He turned to Tiuri, the black smoke curling around him until he was obscured from view, ostensibly whisked away from the light. “You cannot defeat me, I am too powerful for you alone.” Lavinia’s eyes darted around in a panic as the cloud began to engulf her, the light shining out of her dimming.

“But that’s where you’re wrong,” Tiuri claimed, coming back into view with a dull glow, “she’s not alone.”

Tiuri and Lavinia’s intertwined hands shone with the brightest light the world had ever seen. An intense flash of white that had saved Tiuri, passing the tiniest amounts of Lavinia’s magic into him and igniting the beginnings of a power within him so great that it would be decades before it was fully understood. For now, they pushed every ounce of energy they had into sending the flow of magic into Viridian. Grunting cries of strain escaped them as all of their strength was forced into defeating Viridian.

“Stop!” Viridian yelled as parts of his magic induced body disintegrated.

“Never,” Lavinia hissed.

With a great cacophony of sound and an explosion of light that illuminated the night for miles, Viridian was blown out of existence. The darkness had been vanquished.

The two children breathed heavy sighs of relief, panting from the exertion. “You did it.” Tiuri beamed.

“We did it,” corrected Lavinia with a weak smile. “Guess you had some magic in you after all.”

“I’m not sure what it was, to be honest.” He studied his hands in confusion before looking up at Lavinia. “Are you okay?”

“Never been better.” And then she collapsed to the floor, Tiuri rushing to catch her, proving that she was, in fact, not okay.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

She gave a weak laugh. “Would now be a good time to get that reward?”

~~~~~~~~~~

The corridor that the novices had taken cover in glowed with a fierce light as Lavinia’s magic spread throughout the castle. “They did it, they must’ve done,” Arman said hopefully. “Lavinia must’ve come back.”

“They’ll be here soon, just hold on a little longer, please,” Foldo told Jussipo who, even now, was still clinging to life, refusing to let death take him.

Arman’s hands had done very little to stop the insistent flow of blood, the red liquid staining his fingers. Despite his efforts, Jussipo had lost far too much blood for their likings. All colour had been drained from his face, ghostly white in the flickering candlelight. Shallow breaths occasionally made their way past his lips but they were often ragged and forced. His eyes were strained from the pain and it was evident that it was a struggle just to keep them open.

“Y’know, they had better knight me after all this,” Jussipo said with a weak smile, coughing slightly.

“It’ll be a grand celebration,” Piak stated, speaking up for the first time since the fight. “There’ll be a feast and tournaments and everyone can sing songs about you.”

“That would be nice. Their songs can’t beat mine, though, can they, Fol?”

“No, you’ve always had the best songs,” Foldo replied, a soft laugh escaping him.

It was only moments later when Tiuri and Lavinia stumbled into the corridor. Whilst she had regained some of her strength, she was still using Tiuri as support, his arm securely wrapped around her waist as she leaned on him. 

The pair stopped short when they saw what had happened, the novices crowded around Jussipo’s weak, dying body. Tiuri and Lavinia hurried over as quickly as they could despite Lavinia’s fragile state, kneeling beside him. Jussipo tried to sit up upon seeing them, gritting his teeth and wincing in pain.

“Easy, easy,” Foldo repeated as he gently pushed him back down with Piak’s help, pushing back Jussipo’s hair again, “easy.”

“Did we do it? Did we stop him?” Jussipo asked, terrified that everything they had done would be in vain.

Tiuri smiled. “How could we not stop him?”

Everyone let out a sigh of relief. Jussipo smiled. Even if he died he could go knowing that he had helped save the world. But the feeling of relief and celebration was brief as they focused once again on the tragedy. 

“Has he messed up my hair with all his… all his fussing?” Jussipo joked, the faintest flicker of a smile upon his face despite the stabbing pain throughout his abdomen. 

“Your hair looks good.”

“Better than good,” Arman added. “It looks great.”

“I’ve always had great hair,” Jussipo claimed, looking to the boy that had quickly become his entire world, “Ain’t that right, Fol?”

Foldo chuckled softly despite the tears brimming in his eyes and the clenching of his heart, placing a hand on Jussipo’s shoulder. He couldn’t let him go, there had to be something he could do.

With a peaceful release of breath, Jussipo closed his eyes, finally free of pain.

“He will be alright, won’t he?” Piak asked, his voice threatening to break as his confidence faltered, tears glimmering in his own eyes.

Shakily, Foldo placed two fingers against Jussipo’s neck, desperate for any sign of life. He was met with a weak but persistent pulse. “He’s still with us, just,” he sighed gratefully.

Lavinia’s hand hovered over Jussipo’s wound as she snapped out of her fatigued daze, a shimmering aura glowing around it, but it was fractured, flickering, faltering. “No,” Tiuri hissed, grabbing her arm. No one commented on how the magic looked stronger the closer Tiuri was to it. “You’re too weak, you’ve just defeated Viridian.”

“If I healed you then maybe I can save Jussipo,” Lavinia countered, attempting not to sound as exhausted as she felt.

“This injury is far worse. You could die, Lavinia.”

“If I don’t then he will die.” Lavinia turned back to Jussipo with a fierce determination, Tiuri’s hand falling back to her shoulder. 

The last remnants of magic and energy still residing in her soul were dragged out. Forced through her veins, scraping and burning as it clawed its way out. The magic seemed gentle and warm in comparison as it floated above the wound, an incandescent glow that seemed to twist and swirl. Blood stopped leaking out, vanishing altogether as the skin stitched itself back together. Lavinia collapsed back into Tiuri’s waiting arms, welcoming the comfort of sleep.

And then it was over, a scar being the only reminder. Jussipo blinked rapidly as he awoke, confused and mystified as the agonising tear in his chest dulled to a mild ache. Hesitantly, he placed a hand where he was sure the wound had been, amazed to find no blood. And everyone was smiling, they were all alright, they had won.

“You’re alright, you’re alive,” Foldo cried, tears freely falling down his cheeks as he grinned.

“I should hope so, you’d be lost without me,” Jussipo chuckled, looking up at him, the world brightening as the darkness of death left him. “You couldn’t have found a nicer corridor for me to die in?” He looked around the dusty, deserted hall.

“We didn’t have much time, the Red Riders were-”

“Shut up.” And Jussipo pushed himself to meet Foldo’s lips in a kiss of relief and passion and ecstasy, gently cupping his face in his hands. They felt invulnerable, immune to the dangers life threw at them.

“Eww,” Piak groaned despite his smile.

The pair broke apart with breathless smiles, their hearts pounding with love. There was no way they weren’t alive. Jussipo looked to his brother who threw his arms around Jussipo in a tight embrace, almost scared to let go. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, I’m not going anywhere.”

And they were happy.

Boruto: Sacrifices [Remade] | Chap.8 - Saving Someone Precious

Written by: Eleanor-Devil & @mirage-05​​

Prologue | Chap.1 | Chap.2 | Chap.3 | Chap.4 | Chap.5 | Chap.6 | Chap.7 | Chap.8 - You’re here

He was getting worried by now. When Isis came to the hideout about an hour ago, he wasn't really pleased - first because Isis said Mitsuki had decided to leave Konoha for some reason, and second because... the child had practically called himself to his feet. He had considered not going at all - until Juugo said he could go in his stead. He was not having that. "How long until we arrive?" he asked. The snake had herself coiled around his neck. "Not far from here. His chakra is unstable though. I don't know why." Why would that be the case? His boy had excellent chakra control, thanks to how he was made and years of training. Something was wrong... Suddenly, Isis hissed in recognition. "Orochimaru-sama!"

The sannin saw what the snake's eyes already caught. A small, white rattlesnake, sliding on the ground towards them. "Koburo!" he exclaimed as he recognized his son's pet snake. The snake stopped in front of them and rose to its full height, hissing non-stop. The female snake immediately replied to him, and it was all it took Orochimaru to wait until they were finished. "This is not good..." said Isis finally. Thank you for stating the obvious, he almost said, but he had no patience. "What is it?" "Koburo says Mitsuki-sama was attacked by a group of ninjas... He tried to stop him, but when that didn't work, he rushed as quickly as he could to find us..." Orochimaru had only listened to half of what she said. "Lead the way, Isis!" And they were off again. He was trying to focus on just finding his son, but it was hard. Why was he attacked? How bad was the situation? And most importantly... Why did he leave the village at the dead of night in the first place? He reached the end of the river pretty quickly, that was where they were supposed to meet... He turned around himself, teeth gritted. "Where to?" "His chakra is getting weaker, he's in the woods away from the river... I'm sure-" Then there was a poof sound and the man felt the weight on his shoulders suddenly being completely lifted. He stopped dead in his tracks, his mind racing, his eyes widening. “What is that child doing…?” Isis disappearing could only mean one thing. Mitsuki was too weak to keep the connection. He simply refused to think of another possibility. He would not let some sort of low specimen take his masterpiece away from him. Anyone who even thought about hurting his boy... would pay dearly... The only problem was... now he had no leads on the child. Isis could sense his chakra... With her out of the picture, the most he could do was to follow the sounds of a fight... which was another problem, seeing that there was none. How was that even possible? There was a warm, healthy breeze in the spring night, and air dispersed sound... It was logically impossible that he would not hear a battle going on. Unless... The sannin gritted his teeth. He had never, ever let emotions control him before. He would not allow such a thing to happen now. Something on the forest floor near the river then caught his eyes and he stopped just for a minute to check. Blood...? Without the moon, there was not enough light, but he was positive that it was blood. He was becoming really, really unsettled now - how was he to find Mitsuki? He checked around to see if there were any leading trails... But after a few steps, they had stopped... Was the boy taken to somewhere else? His blood ran cold. He ran to the tree where he could last follow the trail... “The hell are you doing Suzume?! Finish him!” Finally getting what he had been waiting for, he jumped on the tree to get a bird's eye view. Before he did that, though, he noticed more blood stains on the branch he landed... "This vermin seriously grates on my nerves. Hiraku, I have a job for you.” With the words, he turned to face the direction they came from. He noticed a couple of things all at once, and his pulse quickened. There were two men apparently arguing, one heaped on the ground and the other... There was no mistaking the tousled white-blue hair. It was his son... His hair, his clothing... What did not belong to him here was, the sannin realized as he took in the scene... blood, lots and lots of blood from the wounds across his body, and pooling underneath him... For a moment, he could see nothing but a dark red haze in front of his eyes... Mitsuki was... badly injured...? And those scoundrels were just standing above him, while he lay broken on the ground...? They were not dead, not chopped to pieces, not begging for their wretched lives...? He felt something crunch as his hand balled into a fist and although it was hard, he peeled his eyes away from Mitsuki to take a look around, see if there was any other low life. He noticed a barely conscious man not too far away, and a movement drew his gaze to another with... only his head on the ground. That seemed like Mitsuki’s work... "I want the boy's head." Instinct - instinct for blood - took over and Orochimaru jumped from the tree he was standing on - leaving a big, hand-sized crush on its side. ... Goro approached the boy and stood there for a minute, looking at the boy with a soulless gaze. It wasn't his fault the boy attacked them. The damned brat had caused them to lose at least a third of their chakra - and they were supposed to go after the Hokage - now they had no chance at all. He was going to pay. He would make sure they wouldn't return empty-handed. Just when he raised the sword and swung it however... The unconscious boy was no longer there. He didn't even see anything. "What the hell...?" "You want his head?" came a booming voice from seemingly nowhere. Goro, and Hiraku behind him, looked around to pinpoint the source. "I shall give you one!" Then there was a mighty explosion, enough to shake the forest from its roots. ...and out of the explosion rolled a mahogany-haired head... Their comrade, Hideyoshi's lifeless eyes stared at them from the ground... ... Naruto had barely had enough time to activate his shield a nano-second before the explosion - thankfully covering everyone. As the sound of the blast died down, Boruto and Sarada's eyes widened. Their scream rang in the night as sounds of a fight could be heard from somewhere very close. "MITSUKI!!!" ... As the brunt of the blast started to fade away, Orochimaru straightened himself from the position he was in, leaning completely over his son to protect him from the explosion. He took one lingering look at him before gently lowering him to the ground, as if afraid to break him even more... which, if he had to be honest, he was. "You just hang in there for a minute, child," he whispered, though he did not know how Mitsuki could hear him. ... The two cloud ninjas had barely enough time to cover themselves - and recover from the shock of seeing Hideyoshi's disembodied head... Suddenly, a vicious shuriken attack came from behind the flames, and being caught unprepared, Hiraku felt the blades piercing his skin, although not enough to kill, and pinning him to the tree behind him. Goro took out a kunai and threw it blindly towards the flames, just in an attempt to slow down whoever was coming from in between, only a tall silhouette visible. Then he activated the lightning blade once again... Orochimaru stepped out from the flames, his eyes burning, his blood boiling with bloodlust. He took in the expression of the bastard who ordered for Mitsuki's head... How his furious and aggressive demeanor faltered and changed rapidly into one that of panic and desperation. Of course... every ninja in this wretched world knew about his reputation. "What's the matter… not so brave now?" the sannin hissed through his teeth as he bit his finger, allowing a drip of blood to ooze from the cut. "Not the same as going against a child… my child, is it?" The blond's eyes widened when he heard that. Out of all the people that could find them... They fought the son of one of the most feared creatures in the world...? 'Holy shit...' he thought as his hand with the blade started dropping to his side. Then he turned and tried to run. "Kuchiyose no jutsu!" Three large snakes erupted from the ground and immediately surrounded the man, hissing and snapping at him. "Where do you think you are going? We just began!" And with that, Orochimaru leapt forward. ... The signs of the battle were making themselves more and more clear as they approached a certain place in the forest. They had known they were close when they found Mitsuki's belongings and his traveling cloak all abandoned behind a tree. It didn’t take them too long to reach the scene, thankfully, but Konohamaru couldn’t shake off the sick feeling that they were late… he could only hope that they weren’t too late. “Keep your head cool, don’t engage, just find Mitsuki!” he called out to his team - and just in that moment, his eyes detected movement. Lightning fast, him and the Hokage sprang in action. Naruto jumped and blocked the path of the man who was trying to make a run for it, his teeth clenched. “Not so fast.” Konohamaru was a little disappointed that the man he had to find was already immobilized against a tree, oh, he could do with a fight… “Don’t try anything funny.” he pretty much growled. … There was a fight going on... They didn't know how many enemies there were... But none of that mattered to Boruto right then as he was frantically looking for his best friend. The snake that was still coiled on his arm had gone silent and… very still a couple of minutes ago, sending an ominous shiver down his spine… it was the only connection to his friend, and losing it could only mean that they needed to find him as soon as possible.   "Mitsuki!" he called desperately, turning around himself, eyes searching everywhere. Cold dread gripped his heart, and his breath came out hitched. Where was he?? "B... Boruto..." he heard Sarada choke out, her voice barely above a whisper, and he followed her gaze... His eyes widened as his heart almost came to a stop at the sight in front of them. A scene that was right out of a horror movie... His friend... Broken, blood covered and unmoving... right in front of them... ... The sannin watched with great satisfaction as his enemy scarpered away for him - tried to, at the very least. Orochimaru was toying with him, making him think that he could escape... but of course he was not going to allow him to escape. No, he was going to enjoy each and every moment of causing this poor excuse of a human being agony. Goro slashed at the snakes with his blade, but they were quick, easily dodging it. He was getting weaker... Keeping the blade on required a lot of chakra, and he had already lost quite a lot in the fight. Gritting his teeth, he threw the blade away and took a kunai out - he had to bail out of here, and for that he needed his strength. He- Suddenly, Orochimaru jumped right in front of him, out of nowhere, and before he knew, the blond took a strong kick to his chest, forcing him to fly backwards and landing hard on the ground, the kunai in his hand flying to the other side. Before he could even get up, he felt something crawling up his wrists, armpits, knees and feet... The snakes all hissed at him, baring their fangs, their tiny pupils seemingly reflecting hatred... He raised his head a little and met a pair of golden, serpent-like eyes, glaring at him with such a cold expression that he felt his blood freeze. The snakes tightened around his limbs, and a pain-filled moan escaped his mouth despite himself. "Does it hurt?" Orochimaru hissed, squinting. "Is it even remotely close to what you did to my son?" "We didn't attack the child!" Goro yelled. "We just defended ourselves!" The frown deepened more, and the snakes tightened more, too, so much so that he began feeling numb. "Consider this self-defense, you worthless scoundrel." Raising its head, the snake on his right armpit dug its fangs deep into his arm - so deep it almost reached the bone. The man let out a cry, his body jerking. "Holy... shit... Stop..." The sannin came to kneel beside the man, grabbing his head roughly and pushing it back, looking in his eyes with a hellish fury. "Try to have some dignity, scum! You are not dead... No, not yet, I guarantee you that it's not gonna be easy... But you are paralyzed. You will be unable to move, unable to scream." His eyes glinted maliciously. "Allow me to see how you will like it... Where would you want me to start?" ... “I surrender! Please…!” Whatever Konohamaru expected, it wasn’t this. “You… what??” “I surrender!” Hiraku repeated urgently, almost a frantic look in his eyes. “Please… do you know medical jutsu? You have to check on the boy, I’m not gonna try to escape!” The Sarutobi didn’t even have time to process this or let panic settle in because just then, he heard the screams of two of his students. … "MITSUKI!!!" Sarada and Boruto both yelled, finally snapping out of their shocked stupor. They both leapt forward, almost tripping on their own feet in their haste. There was no reply. Boruto felt his pulse quickening as he fell to his knees beside his friend, and he gasped at the full-on sight. The younger boy was lying in a pool of his own blood - a huge pool at that, and the wounds on his chest and stomach were still bleeding. "Oh god..." Sarada whispered in a shaky voice. She grabbed Mitsuki's hand, putting two fingers on his inner wrist. "I... I can't..." she mumbled, tears filling into her eyes. "B... Boruto, turn him over gently, I need to listen to his heart." "W... wha... He doesn't..." Boruto whispered weakly, gathering his friend gently in his arms. The way in which Mitsuki's head listed limply to one side scared the living out of him. As Sarada laid her head on Mitsuki's chest, he lightly slapped his friend's cheeks. "M... Mitsuki... H-hey... Can you hear me? Answer me..." His voice broke. "Please...?" But no reaction came from the boy, his eyes remained shut as the trail of blood running down his mouth and the horrific wounds gave Boruto a twist in the stomach... not even when Momoshiki and Kinshiki attacked the village had he seen this much blood at the same time... Trying to hold back whatever was trying to make its way up his throat, Boruto kept shaking his friend gently. "Come on... M-Mitsuki... say something..." Sarada was growing desperate... Why couldn't she hear anything...? Her hand grabbed Mitsuki's clothing as she felt a coldness spreading through her body. He... couldn't be... right...? A slow, dull thump reached her ears then, and her eyes went wide. "He's with us..." she whispered, straightening up and once again taking in the terrifying sight of her friend. "Why did this happen to him...?" she mused, unable to believe this was real, and her hand balled into a fist once again as she made a quick calculation in her head. Then she looked at Boruto. "Boruto, hold him as still as you can." she said firmly, and the blond only then realized that he was shaking - badly. As he tried to get a hold of himself, Sarada completed the hand seals she had learned from her mother, and held her hands over Mitsuki's body. "Kyuukyuu no jutsu," she whispered, and felt her chakra flowing, raising a dull green aura around the blue haired boy. It took a while and although it seemed like forever to Boruto and Sarada, the reaction they so wished happened. Mitsuki, still without opening his eyes, began coughing and gasping for air. "Thank God," Boruto mused, so relieved that tears almost fell to his cheeks, but he managed to get a hold of himself. This was not the time. "Mitsuki..." he called to his friend once again as he grabbed the younger boy's chin and turned his head to him gently. He very nearly sagged when he saw a flicker of gold. "B... Boruto..." Mitsuki whispered weakly, and the blond had to lean over a bit. The blue haired boy then turned his head a little. "Sarada..." The girl gave a shaky smile at that as tears brimmed her eyes. "You came..." Mitsuki mumbled, and Boruto saw a lone tear rolling down his cheek. "Of course we came, you baka, did you really think we’d let you go like this?" It was just then that Konohamaru reached the kids. He came to a halt, frozen on the spot as he took in the scene. It felt like all sound and air had been drained from where he stood as he watched with bated breath Boruto and Sarada… His mind had become sluggish all of a sudden for some reason. He was having trouble truly processing what was happening in front of him. Of course, he had told his two students to find their teammate… but… surely they haven’t found him yet, this broken figure couldn’t be him… His heart skipped a beat as finally, the two seemed to be able to reach Mitsuki. Konohamaru let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he rushed to the kids. The boy’s eyes turned slowly to him. “Konohamaru-sensei…” The jounin was on his knees the next second, assessing the situation closer… God… “Don’t talk, reserve your strength.” His voice came just a little tense and harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. He was worried beyond words and… if Mitsuki did what he thought he did… As always, though, even in this condition, the boy was attentive. “Sensei… I- don’t-” he couldn’t finish his words as a hiss of pain escaped his mouth. Sarada winced. “I- I’m sorry,” she stammered in a shaky voice, tears in her eyes. “I… I wish mama was here… This doesn’t work, I’m not good at all!” “It’s… alright… Sarada…” Mitsuki said weakly, and Sarada’s eyes widened, her hands shaking even more. “I… feel better… already…” “Sssh…” their sensei warned him, his look as well as his tone softening, he didn’t trust his voice to say anything more. Boruto couldn't take his eyes away from his friend. "You... you idiot... You just hang in there, do you hear me?" He felt his friend weakly squeezing his hand, and tightened his hold only slightly. "How... how stupid could you be? Why would you do this to us, you damn jerk?! I'll never forgive you for this! Leaving the village without even saying goodbye... How dare you even think you could leave the village, anyway? Huh? Who gave you the right to do that? We certainly didn't!" "Boruto," Konohamaru’s tone was gentle but firm. “That’ll be enough.” "No, y'know what, let's hear it from him!" the blond snapped, trying to hold back angry tears. It wasn't just out of the need to let it out that he was doing this, as much as he didn't want to show it, he was afraid. He was really, terribly afraid that if he didn't keep talking, he would lose his best friend. He glanced once more at him, and felt his pulse quickening when he saw Mitsuki's eyes almost closed. "No, no, no!" he cried out, holding his friend's head, trying to be gentle in his panic. "You're not fading out on us! Keep your eyes open! Keep your eyes open or I swear I'll kick your sorry ass to oblivion, do you understand?" His eyes burned as the tears threatened to fall, and he gulped hard to force them back. "Remember our promise!" he yelled, his voice breaking at the end. Mitsuki blinked once, trying to focus on him. He tried to lift his left hand, reaching for his friend, and Boruto held onto it as if for dear life. "I... remember..." Mitsuki whispered, squeezing his hand ever so lightly. "Good for you," the blond said as a lone tear escaped from his eyes.   ... Naruto was quick to take over the guy he was facing, he had managed to knock down the brunet. He had heard his son's and Sarada's screams earlier but in order to not lose focus, he hadn't looked in their direction. But now... He gasped at the horrible sight of Mitsuki badly injured, he could tell that the boy was literally fighting to stay awake... "Oh god... Mitsuki!" He made a run to get to them... ...and then Orochimaru leapt in front of him from out of nowhere, drenched in blood and with a very dangerous look on his face. "Do not..." the sannin began, and his heated voice was more like a hissing than anything. "...dare approach my son."        

Help Unwanted - Part II

Continued from previous story

It had been a few hours since the Garlean went to tracking down the merry band of heroes non-stop. As most of his prey, they didn't have the stamina nor the will power he possessed and had to make camp within a secluded ravine. There were six of them, all in different armor and wielding different weapons, including magic staves. They didn't look like a rag tag group of freedom fighters he was used to putting down. These individuals looked like they had some war miles on them.

Arcuris let out a sigh after lowering his binoculars and rubbed his eyes as the sun started to sit along Gyr Abania. He sat against a flat surfaced rock face before reaching into his side satchel. He pulled out one of his syringes, popping off the safety cap before stabbing himself in the side of the neck with it. He gripped the dirt harshly, his armored claws digging in the ground as the pain surged throughout his body. Arcuris stopped gritting his teeth as the pain subsided, placing the empty syringe back into his satchel.

The Garlean stood up and put his reinforced face mask back on, the same skull faced helmet he wore after becoming the magitek experimentation on his body. Only now it was painting black, as most of his armor was. He checked his weapons, counting the magazines and explosives he had on the bandoleers and satchels around his armor and coat. With his preliminary checks completed, he made his path down the rocky ravine, keeping an eye out for any of the six assigned as sentries. By the time he reached the area the heroes were resting, night had fallen across the land.

Arcuris spotted the first sentry after sneaking up on the encampment. He drew the shotgun from his back holster and slowly crept towards her. The sentry turned away from his direction for just a moment, long enough for the Garlean to get to her. He cracked her in the back of the head with the butt of the weapon, knocking her unconscious. He dragged her a short distance and hid her before making his way back to the outskirts of the encampment.

three of them were sitting by the campfire speaking to one another as the other slept nearby on a small bed. Arcuris looked a little more and spotted a woman, her hands clasped together in irons and she was chained to a heavy post. She looked devoid of any kind of emotion other than fear, no doubt from being dragged out of her home. The Garlean held up the shotgun, putting the stock to his shoulder while walking slowly from the shadows. One of the Ala Mhigans spotted him and tried to draw a bow.

Arcuris pointed the weapon specifically at him but also stated to the other poignantly as his voice boomed from the face mask, "Draw that weapon and it will be the last thing you do. Give me Kristin Fuller and you all walk away. Otherwise..."

The one appearing to the be the leader shot a glare at the Garlean, motioning for his friend to lower his weapon, "I guess Ribald couldn't even send a local to fetch his daughter? He went and hired from outside?" He noticed the attire of Arcuris and shook his head, "A fucking Garlean. Go figure..."

Arcuris said once more as his finger neared the trigger of his weapon, "The girl or you die. Final offer."

The leader cursed and snapped his fingers to his friend. One of the others went and got the key. However, he did it slowly and Arcuris knew better than to trust them on their word alone. He looked and counted that there were only four of them, one less than he counted all together. He saw the leader look behind the Garlean and made a suspicious motion.

Arcuris turned quickly and blasted the one that tried to sneak up behind him, shooting them twice in the chest. The man fell over, blood filling his lungs and coughing harshly as he dropped the knife in his hand to the ground. The leader yelled in anger, grabbing his sword as the others near him grabbed their implements of battle. Arcuris quickly loaded the weapon once more, firing the shotgun into the arm of one of the assailants before it was knocked out of his hands by the leader.

Arcuris quickly grabbed the knife from his side and slashed the leader across the face. He then turn his body quickly and used the momentum to kick the Ala Mhigan in the jaw, knocking him over to the ground and nearly knocking him out. Another shot a bow, hitting Arcuris in the arm with an arrow, biting deep into his flesh. The Garlean snarled in pain, hurling the knife with deadly precision into the neck of the one who fired the bow. Blood poured from the knife stuck in his neck before he fell over, trying to grab the knife as blood rand over both of his hands.

A mage grabbed his staff in the chaos, the air humming around her as she summoned a fireball that struck Arcuris and exploding, knocking him back and charring his flesh and his clothing. He snarled and looked up at his burned face, tissue exposed and burnt. To her horror she could see the skin and the flesh slowly pulling over the wound and sealing the blood and exposed tissue back together. She summoned more magic, firing a bolt of lightning through his chest and then sending shards of ice through his leg, trying to stop the monster.

Arcuris was sent to one of his knees from the blasts of magic. The mage seemed exhausted from using magic from being awoke from sleep and it was wearing her out quickly. One of the others ran towards Arcuris, hoping to finish off the wounded Garlean. To his surprised horror, Arcuris dodge the sword swing, and kicked the man in the side of a knee, breaking it so severely that bone and blood jutting out from the side. The man fell in pain, screaming in pain as blood leaked on the sand from the horrible wound.

Arcuris' eyes turned to the intimidating black and red from the resonant powers, charging at blinding speed, much too fast for the mage to react. He swung with such force that it crushed her jaw and the side of her head, sending blood and teeth out of her mouth as she spun around, striking a rock with her head before falling face first to the ground. The leader stood up from his dazed state, and charged to the Garlean. Arcuris dodged his swing with his inhuman speed before punching the man in the side, crushing his ribs.

Arcuris grabbed the sword as the leader stumbled forward and hacked the back of his legs, severing the back of them. The leader yelled in pain, falling down as his legs collapsed underneath of him. Arcuris stared to the man. He snarled and glared down as if he demonic eyes were about to set him on fire. He pulled out the pistol at his side and fired it into the leaders head. The back of it exploded as gore shot from the back of it, sending the man's corpse to the ground with a heavy thud. Arcuris walked over to the one he left mangled with a crippled leg.

The only one conscious shouted, "You sick piece of shit! I'll kill you for thi-"

Arcuris aimed the gun for his head and shot him, executing the man with a single shot. As he put his pistol back on his side holster, looked around and shook his head and yelled, "Gods fucking damn it now I have a mess on my hands. Why didn't you just give me the woman?!" He walked over to the captive woman who was shivering in fear at the sight that was laid in front of her. She didn't look to Arcuris as some of the captors' blood was splattered upon her clothing. Arcuris looked down at her and her condition and he frowned.

She turned away from him, placing herself in a fetal position and closing her eyes tight, trying to get away from him. She heard him rustle around and heard her shackles unlock. Arcuris pulled all the chains and restraints from her and tossed them to the side as the campfire started to die behind them. She slowly looked up to see him holding his open hand to her as he knelt down.

Arcuris spoke with an urgent tone yet low enough to not startle her, "Your father wants you back home. I'm here to retrieve you."

Through the Drinking Glass

Pairing: Mentioned AusHun and AuSpa

Characters: France, Prussia, Spain; mentioned Germany, Austria, Hungary

Summary: The Bad Friends Trio have been together through thick and thin, always with a glass of booze between them. A look at their intricate history from the War of Austrian Succession to modern times through the love of bars and pub crawls.

The end of the Wars of Austrian Succession, 1748 A pile of military jackets sat stacked in the middle of a round table. Their intricate designs and cloths were now splattered with a mix of sweat, blood, and beer, emitting a strange odor. None of the parties sitting nearby noticed though. They were too high off of a post-victory sense of euphoria. They were loud and rowdy, disturbing the peace. Of course none of the patrons or the owner had the heart to tell the brave soldiers to quiet themselves down a bit. Not when they were celebrating protecting their respective countries from the threats of the British and Austrian Empires.

There were three that were louder, more uncontrollable than all the others. They were regulars here and everyone knew there was no point in trying to calm them since it would only cause them to get more raucous. The apparent leader’s voice could be heard over all others in the pub. "Al’ight, al’ight." Gilbert stumbled over his words. By now, he was well into his fifteenth drink and was slowly becoming more intoxicated with each sip. He would soon be incapable of stringing even a few words together coherently. "How fuckin' gorgeous was that pussy Austria's face was when he had to accept that Silesia was my bitch?" Despite what he said not being remotely funny, the three men broke out into hysterical laughter. Francis clapped while trying to catch his breath. When he spoke, he didn't sound much better off than the Prussian besides him. "The look on the limey though! That's what he gets for walkin' 'round like he's better than moi! Non - like he's better than us!" The trio roared in laughter again. It was getting to the point where courtesy might have to be forgone. All the other customers were beginning to be disturbed by their antics. Even the bartender was polishing the wood of the counter with a bit too much force and gritted teeth. "Si, si. Mi amigos, that was all great." Antonio was the most sober of them all. He was the last able to speak, not being much of a fan of chugging drinks down one by one. The Spaniard preferred to savor the flavor and bite that each sip contained. "But we're forgetting Hungary's look of shock at how weak her little boy thing actually is." He sighed dramatically while clutching a hand to his chest. "Dios mio, did I try to warn her, but she wouldn't listen. I swear on Isabella's grave." Prussia looked mystified as he did every time Spain alluded to his rulings under the Hapsburgs. "I still don't get how you could've been with him." He smirked, an evil thought coming to mind. "I bet his gay ass loved it. Probably tried grabbing at you all the time." France, on the other hand, was in awe of his green-eyed friend. "How did you manage to get the Pope to approve? I asked him about the possibility of me and Arthur, but he threatened to excommunicate me." All this talk about taboo subjects was the final straw. The owner grabbed all of them by the collar and threw the meddlesome trio out, threatening to call the authorities if they weren't off his property in five minutes. He hollered that they were only permitted to come back if they could wizen up and learn to drink responsibly.  They never returned. --- The dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire, 1806 An excited, young Spaniard and his slightly older, obviously amused French friend entered into a familiar pub on the border. Shockingly, it was decently packed for a Wednesday night. It seemed to be that most of the patrons had the mid-week blues. "Mon ami, first rounds on me," France purred, thinking back to the events earlier this week. They flashed through his mind in quick succession causing him to chuckle in satisfaction. "It's been such a splendid week." Spain raised the glass freshly placed in front of him. "You finally stopped that little menace. Who was he anyway? 'Holy' something-or-other, always going after Veneziano." Just then, it began dawning on him who it could've possibly been. His eyes widened in shock and a sense of fear for what would come. "A-Amigo...that wasn't his brother?" Francis shrugged lazily and flipped some stray hair out of his face. "Who even cares anymore?" Cockiness and something darker was etched across every one of his facial features as he raised his glass. "Allies are interchangeable, it's defense against intruders that matters! Big or small, the French empire will defeat them all!" This received loud cheers from about half the room. The other half, the Spanish half, looked bored or threatened by their neighbors. Antonio himself was clearly in the latter category. Ripples of national pride now spread throughout the room, causing the two nations to ignore an ominous presence lurking besides them. As France continued on with how great he was, a scoff from the shadowy figure cut him off. The pair turned and who they saw made their stomachs lurch. An albino with fiery red eyes and a hand twitching towards the hilt of his sword glared at them. "So you think you're some great military force because you killed a little kid?" Prussia spat down at the Frenchman's feet.  Spain took a step back. He didn't want to get into this. Not tonight. France instead rose from his seat, never breaking eye contact with his challenger. "I see you're here to avenge that weak brother of yours." He smirked, a thought crossing his mind. "Do you care to learn how he begged and cried for mercy at my hand? Oui, that can be arranged." Gilbert ground his teeth together as his hand wrapped tight around his sword's hilt. "With that attitude, you're just asking for me to senselessly beat you. In the honor of those lost, of course." He drew his sword as the other man in front of him drew his and uttered, "Of course." Just as the Prussian was about to lunge, a strange feeling came over him. He didn't know what exactly it was, but he damn well knew who it was from. The silver-haired man smirked to himself as he put his weapon away, much to the confusion of the opposing forces around him. "Nein. I may have been born to fight, but I'm better than this." He locked eyes with his former friend and winked. "Next time we meet, it'll be on the battle field. Make sure to fight with honor this time around. It's what God would want." The strange nation left as quickly as he came, laughing to himself the whole way home. Not once did he put a thought to what the other two might've gotten from his words. --- After the final battle of the Franco-Prussian War, 1871 Gilbert strutted into his favorite bar and plunked himself right down besides Antonio, who was desperately trying to ignore him. This amused the Prussian greatly. He became giddy, laughing with childlike glee. "Oh! Get over yourself, Toni! Francey-pants knew he had it coming!" Prussia laughed some more and slapped his friend hard on the back. Spain flinched before frowning in displeasure at the situation. This was the second time this century his two best friends were pitting themselves up against each other and, for the second time, he was in between it. Lord have mercy. The brunette sighed in deep dissatisfaction. This was turning out to be one hell of a time period for him. He only hoped the next century would be better for everyone. "Francis is coming here. I just don't want you to bring me back into this unnecessary fight. I love you both, but no amount of cheer up charms can fix this." He swirled his drink around in it's glass and sighed once more. He needed better friends. Prussia gave a dissatisfied grunt before turning his attention to his beer. He angrily thought about how Antonio said he wouldn't pick a side, but it was become more and more apparent that that was truly a bold faced lie. Gilbert was beginning to feel more like a used rag than an actual friend. Just as he talked himself up enough to leave, the last person he wanted to see walked in. The temperature in the room seemed to drop and a steely silence rang throughout. Francis slowly continued forward, never breaking eye contact. "Mon ami, the usual. S'il vous plaît." He lowered himself onto the other seat besides Spain. For someone whose clothing was torn and whose usually silky hair had knots in it, he looked smug. Gilbert sneered as the Frenchman approached. "It sucks when someone takes something of yours, doesn't it Frakreich?" He spat the German version of his former comrades name out. His tone was icy yet his eyes were fire. He made sure to push his coat jacket back so everyone could take note of the gun in his holster. Just so no French bastard would try anything funny. France tried ignoring him, he really did. He was poor and his resources were exhausted. It would be pointless to start another war over this. But getting a gun flashed at him while he was unarmed? That was crossing the line. He smirked, trying to keep his normal air of arrogance around him. "Stealing my land won't make Holy Rome come back to you." Seeing that his words had the desired wounding effect, he turned around and raised his glass. "But take my land, mon ami! The French never forget - go ask the British. We'll just come back for you and hit you with all we've got." Antonio didn't want to be here for this. He quickly paid his tab and rushed to the door. If this was what his friendships were becoming well he...he'd just need to stick with the Italy brothers then and hope to make amends with these two later. He stopped with one hand on the doorknob and looked back at them. "Will this ever end?" The Spaniard sighed before making his leave home. Meanwhile, Gilbert had closed the space between them. The Prussian gripped the other's collar tight, pinned him up against the bar counter with his revolver pressing hard into France’s abdomen. "If I were you, I'd learn some goddamn respect. You're a coward, you're weak. You rival the greatest armies in the world and you've been losing ever since Napoleon got fucked over in Waterloo. You know who did that? Me. Me and England." Prussia pushed the other man away and took a step back. He never lowered his gun. "So, please. Give me your worst. I'm the greatest military in the world. I'll crush you." France was frozen in complete shock. He didn't move when the Prussian left. He didn't move when the door swung shut. And he didn't move once the time it would've taken Gilbert to stalk off a meter away passed. He only moved once one thought kept repeating itself in his head. He would show Prussia who was weak. He would show the whole world what a coward really was. --- Signing on the Treaty of Versailles, 1919 Prussia sat, slumped over across the bar. "Free State of Prussia," he grumbled. "So lame. So unawesome. Just as unawesome as my land being taken away." As soon as the Allies officially released the terms of their peace agreement, he had rushed over here. After all, it seemed more like Germany's problem now than it ever was his. "Stupid Bruder. He took my job." If he hadn't already been hammered, he would've been bothered by France being here. But Antonio had made sure that both of them had gotten nice and tipsy before allowing them to catch sight of one another. Who said the Spaniard wasn't smart? "Ah, mon ami, at least your stupid cousin is away from the girl now." Francis slung his arm over Gilbert's shoulder. He leaned into the German in an attempt to stay upright. "I did you one favor, non?" Spain jumped in. In times of great warfare and destruction like these, even he had to force his trademark smile. "You did us all a favor. Now he can finally get married to that piano he actually loves." For his part, he was still bitter over how little attention he received during his time as a Hapsburg. Some wounds heal slowly. The Prussian nodded his head along to all of this. Was he in control of Germany anymore? No, he was just a German state. But the positive was he still had most of his land and Ludwig let him do whatever. It was a great arrangement, especially adding this on top of Elizaveta being available again. Who knows, the two of them might even restart their hunting trips together. Gilbert looked at France and checked him out. Yes, this new revelation pleased him greatly. So much so that his drunken haze made him almost want to kiss his friend-turned-rival-turned-frenemy right here, right now. He didn't think that would fly though so he went with a very hard pat on the back. "You're a pretty big Arschloch and you've screwed me over for years, but Ich liebe dich." Francis roared in laughter and returned his friend's affections. Antonio watched in a state of shock. This wasn't how he expected everything to go. But who was he to complain? Neither of them were arguing and seemed to actually be much happier than they’d been for the past four years. His smile turned genuine and his laughter joined that of the other two. "Si, I told you two everything thing would turn out alright in the end!" France and the new Free State of Prussia didn't appear to hear him, though it didn't matter. Things were beginning to look up. --- Dissolution of Prussia, 1947 Numb. That was the only feeling to describe it. Gilbert sat in the farthest corner of the bar, staring emptily at the glass of beer shaking in his hand. This was not how his life was supposed to be. This was not how the war was supposed to end. Everything was going to be better for him. Everything was going to be returned to normal. And then he rose up. A warm hatred rose up and bubbled throughout the former nation. Hatred for Austria, for allowing the little cretin to be born and thrive. For allowing him to live long enough to the point where Prussia was forced to feign respect. There was hatred for Germany, his very own brother, for blindly accepting this man's words as fact. For swallowing up any autonomy he had left in the name of ther fatherland. And then, there was a deep sense of loathing for the Allies and the monster himself. How he could envision the little prick with his toothbrush mustache yelling, invading, conquering. He could imagine how tickled the creep would be at him being split apart and thrown to the communist masses. The ruling of the Allies was the worst though. He kept hearing their decision ring loud and clear throughout his head. "Dissolved." Gilbert whispered, not even aware of the fact that Francis had arrived now with Antonio shouting behind him. France stepped up to the table. His head was down and his features were gaunt. He didn't look as ethereal as he normally did. He looked mortal and old, almost haunting. "Prussia, Gilbert." His voice was barely above a whisper. ". I didn't...no one wanted for this to be the final outcome. But you have to understand why-" Gilbert jumped up at this and spat in the Frenchman's direction. "Fuck you. None of this was my fault, yet I bear the repercussions? Nein. Dissolve Germany. I'm just as much a pawn as anyone else was in this God forsaken war." His eyes were cold and he regarded neither of his two companions with any compassion. "Split the nation up and give half to Russia, huh? Make the Russian half mine? Nein. You all knew exactly what you were doing. The crime I'm paying for is unifying all the Germanic states in a way you didn’t approve of and having a superior military back in the day." With a heavy mind and heavier heart, he inched towards the door. He turned back and left them with cruel parting words before leaving into the night. "Never talk to me again, cowards." --- Berlin Wall destroyed, 1989 This might've been the best day of Gilbert's life. He couldn't stop crying and hanging onto Ludwig. He had truly believed for the last twenty-eight years that they would never be reunited. Now here they were, in the heart of Berlin going to a bar they had once frequented together. One surprise along the way was seeing Austria come running down the street, with Hungary a pace or two ahead, looking uncharacteristically thrilled to see him. It killed Gilbert to admit it, but the sight of Roderich was more emotional than he wanted to admit. The party of four entered and Prussia was faced with the biggest surprise of all. Francis and Antonio sat around looking anxious in the middle of the room. The same Francis and Antonio he had told forty-two years prior to get out of his life. Regret and shame instantly pulsated through the man while he cautiously approached the table. "How's my favorite Arschlochs?" He sounded more nervous than he wanted to admit. Prussia hoped they weren't here to dump cold beer on his head and give him the lecture he rightfully deserved. Spain was the first up. He embraced his friend right away, happy tears pouring out of his eyes. "Gilbert! Amigo, you're alive! And you still have all your eyelashes! I thought Ivan would've made them all fall off!" His delirium caused him to ramble. The Spaniard pulled Francis into the embrace, who had been standing around awkwardly before. "Francis, isn't it a miracle? Oh, we were all so worried! Welcome to democracy, my friend!" France didn't start crying till his head was buried in his friends neck. It was silent and would've gone unnoticed had Prussia not felt the way the collar of his shirt now clung to him in certain patches. "Gilbert, I'm sorry. We've been putting each other through so much for so long." He looked up and into his friends eyes. "I will leave you alone after this, we both will, if that's what you want." Gilbert seriously considered it for half a second. He thought how for the last forty-two years he didn't have to worry about either of them getting in his way. That it was just him prowling as a lone wolf while he tried to get up Elizaveta's skirt. He thought about how it was even sweeter without Roderich's piano playing waking him up at four am and then his brother's yelling waking him up at five. He thought about how much easier it would be on him to walk out and put all the blame back on the five parties that meant the most to him here. Then he remembered how much moping around he did. How he couldn't go out drinking every night because he could no longer afford it and that it wasn't fun without his partners in crime. How he only played flute solos with a polite audience of other nations to occasionally listen instead of with a piano or violin accompaniment while Ludwig sat, listening in peaceful bliss. How he could always hit on Hungary, but now she'd be stronger to fight back and didn't that make it that much better? Prussia smiled and looked at them all. His gaze ending on his two moronic friends. "You know, I think everything's a bit more awesome with you Arschgrobblers making it hell for me."

Respawn Point Ch. 2: The Power of Anime

We came to a wide stone wall. It was both the first monument to civilization I'd seen in a month, and one of the biggest stone structures I’d ever seen. Where the forest parted, I could see the wall's length extending infinitely either way into the forest. Pink wool fell in fluffy tapestries from the top of the wall, shreds of its bright color falling loose and trailing across the gravel road like leaves. Just beyond the wall you could see the tops of castles, not like the stone and brick castles in parts of my old server, but ornate buildings with rooftops curved and plated like the backs of dragons, peaking in triangular green and mahogany arches. My feet moved on their own, pulling us towards the structures. San snored on my back, still conveniently unconscious. I wondered when--or if--she’d wake up; whether I’d have to carry her to her home in the server or whether I’d be able to put her down and walk. But it wouldn’t matter.

We had encountered mobs on the journey there, but for some reason I couldn't spawn my drills. I chalked it up to exhaustion, or at least something like that. Maybe I copied San's hunger, I thought. Though, I had to wonder if San was a mod user herself... If I'd maybe copied something I couldn't use.

Copying mods happened by touch, and happened automatically. I... Didn't actually have any control over it. Call it my weakness. Take the drills for example. I copied them from a griefer who had been attacking my server--or, my ex-server I guess--but I had to touch them or at least make some kind of contact, so... Basically for my power to work, I need to be punched in the face. Not a great mod in my opinion, but it's what I had to work with. At the very least, I wouldn’t have to worry about it here. I just had to get through those gates and--

"STOP!"

"YAMERO!"

Two voices split the cool serenity of the woods, the rustle of leaves falling silent, hushed by their commanding tones. The guards strode forward, stepping in sync as their feet crunched the gravel beneath them, their faces coming into view.

One wore a black jacket that flowed around him almost like a cape, his long black hair falling back from his face in jagged shards. As he neared however, my intimidation began to melt into bemusement. He had belts EVERYWHERE. Two crammed into the loops of his pants, several wrapped around his arm, and two in an X across his chest, almost like the straps for a sword sheathe. But they weren’t holding anything. In fact, they all appeared to be completely pointless. As were the two belts on his left leg and the leather wristbands that poked out from his sleeves. He was the peak of superfluous; the fashion polices’ most wanted.

"State your username and your business here, normie." Belts glared, his foot planted dramatically in the gravel.

"Cyrustheslayer." I spoke quietly, trying to keep my voice calm. What in the Nether is a normie? I asked to myself, somehow split equally between fear of authority and baffled glee. I realized quickly that I was over my head.

"I have this girl, I think she's one of you guys?"

"HOSUTESU!" The other guard cried, reaching for a sword from her side. I flinched back, clutching San tightly. The guard drew closer, barking at me in a language I’d never heard before. My lips searched for a response, but there was nothing I could really say. I squeezed San’s legs, hoping this didn’t go the way I figured it would go. The way it always goes with modders.

The girl had long pale-green hair tied in a frayed ponytail, her bangs splayed in front of her eyes. A necklace of large purple beads hung around her neck, dangling about the sandy tunic she wore. She carried a bundle of blades at her side; 3, 5, no, 7-- Swords spilled out of the sash she wore around her midsection, at least ten of them sitting in their sheathes, hanging in the tight fabric. Two more swords were mounted on her back, my mind spinning as I tried to count them all. She pulled the two blades from their sheathes, one in each hand. Her eyes were piercing, merciless.

"You're right, Zolo," The guard with the ridiculous belts bellowed, "This looks like a hostage situation."

Excuse me?! I looked to the unconscious girl on my back, then to Zolo and the belt man standing on the path in front of me, each taking up their own battle stance. I hiked San upwards on my back, my feet moving almost automatically backwards. I glared at San as I tried to shake her awake.

"I- I think there's been some kind of mistake, I found this girl in the woods, I'm trying to take her back to her server."

Belts glared at me, his hands glowing with an ominous light. "Why don't we hear that from her, then?" He questioned, stabbing a finger at the air between us. From where I was standing, I was just a skinny loser in an oversized coat who wore scarves in overly-warm weather-- probably the least intimidating, least threatening person you could encounter. What harm could I do? Well, I did impale a stranger with a magic drill… but that’s beside the point! I began to sweat, nudging San as I stepped lightly away from them. She still didn’t seem to want to wake up. I swallowed, speaking quietly.

"Well, she’s unconscious because she uh... Lost a lot of blood when I stabbed her."

The two stepped forward. I looked anxiously at the swordswoman's abundance of swords. The ornateness of their sheathes, the sheer amount she was carrying, I knew they had to be a mod. A strange confidence burned in the back of my mind. Maybe I could copy them. Use them against her. As I struggled to strategize however, doubts began to consume my mind. Would I even be able to touch her swords without getting impaled on them? While carrying a girl on my back? And that’s only if my mod worked the way I thought it did. It didn’t exactly come with an instruction booklet. But just then, the swordswoman stepped forward, bringing her sword level with my nose. I pushed forward slightly, hoping to nudge it, but missed. The swordswoman looked confused, but dove forward, swinging her swords at me with swift, deadly accuracy.

"Please, I don't want any trouble--" I shook, lowering San for a moment. The swordswoman must have thought I was going to drop her and run because she dashed forward, swords slicing through the air. I fell back trying to dodge it, a stinging pain lashing my chest as the steel tore my flesh. I grit my teeth, San falling to the gravel behind me as I spilled onto the ground, the gravel scratching my hands. 

The woman spun a sword around her palm as if testing her own dexterity, squinting at me. She replaced her other sword, removing a new one that was untainted by my blood. Pain gripping my chest as my shoulders pivoted, I tried to rise lifting San over my shoulders in a fireman’s carry, holding my hand out in front of me. It took getting sliced by her katana... But I had it. Air swirled around my hand and energy flowed through my body and into my wrist, warming it. I felt solid matter push against the inside of my palm as the sword manifested. The swordswoman saw what was happening and rushed forward, only for a perfect copy of her katana to appear between us, blocking her blow.. The steely blade bit rang like a bell as it collided with her sword, my blade knocked from my hand, both of us thrown off our balance.

"K- kushō--!"

She swung another blade at me, trying to straighten herself, her body moving just as fast as before, if not faster. I moved my arm just in time, blocking the blow with another new blade, the edge cracking and its tip flying off behind her. Her eyes flashed, her hands grabbing for the next pair of swords. Teeth gritted and her face strained, she seemed more frustrated than defensive, angrier with herself than she was with me. Instinctively, I pushed my sword arm forward, the arc catching the side of her head just as her blade came against my cheek. Energy seemed to swell around the sword, bursting as I thrust it forward and sending a shock through the air. The blow threw her body into the dirt beside the gravel path, the swordswoman grunting as she collided with the ground. I spun the sword in my hand, (nearly dropping it) trying my best to look suave and powerful as I hoist San farther up on my back.

“Seriously, I’m not here to hurt anyone!” I cried, trying to argue my innocence while standing over someone I’d bludgeoned, “Can’t we just act like civilized players and talk this out?”

The belt boy stepped forward, putting a hand in front of his face, fingers spread, his other limbs thrown out in a bizarre stance. "I am Jortaro..." He shouted, his outstretched hands forming fists that glowed with a red fire. Jortaro pinned me with a dark glare. His hands flashed, becoming a pair of glowing red boxing gloves with golden spiked knuckles, "And in the name of anime,” He said, thrusting a fist forward in a menacing pose, “I will punish you!"

Jortaro shot towards me, his fist sailing past my head like an assassin’s arrow, air rushing past me as atmosphere rushing past me to fill the vacuum left by the attack. There was more power in his arm than anything I’d ever experienced, mod or otherwise, but he seemed to be flailing around wildly, his fists exploding in every direction as he shouted “ORA ORA  ORA ORA!!” into my face. I spawned two swords from my hands, Zolo’s swords, formed like an X to block the impact. Before he threw out his next punch, I swung one of the katanas, the blade gliding through the weeb’s arm the same way it sailed through the air. Almost no resistance. They were more than just normal iron swords. A stream of red shot across my vision as I severed the weeb’s right hand at the wrist, his red-spraying boxing glove flying into the dirt beside us. Jortaro staggered back, grabbing his reduced appendage.

“N- No! I’ve been-- Non-fatally wounded! Wh- What if I bleed out!”

And yet, the guard was smiling, his staggering labored and dramatic. Was he really joking around while he had a hand missing? DO WEEBS EVEN FEEL PAIN?! With his boxing glove still on, he tightened the notches in the belts on his right arm, stopping the blood flow and preventing any further blood loss.. “HA! As if an honorable weeb would die in such a manner.”

“DOES ANYONE BUT ME FEEL PAIN?!” I wailed. Belts scoffed at me.

The weeb grimmaced at me, his eyes burning with homicidal intent, “You’ll never understand anime. No outsiders will”

He threw out his left fist, the X-shaped swords two narrow to block the impact, the punch colliding with my stomach with tremendous power. My feet skidded across the gravel as I struggled to keep my balance, the reverberating force of his attack sending dull aches through my body. In addition, my counter-balance was slumping. San was falling down my back.

As Jortaro prepared for his next assault, metallic clicks sounded from behind me as the swordswoman staggered to her feet, pulling four swords out of their sheathes. Her head was still bleeding from my drill’s impact, but her eyes were straight, sharper than ever. She held two swords in her mouth and two in her hands, dropping two swords so that they fell on her sandals between her toes. In a way she was the most ridiculous and most terrifying thing I’d ever seen. A weeb’s maximum potential. I thought I saw something behind her, a shadow of something. In that moment, I thought it was part of her. A dark entity, like Herobrine but cast in a smoky form of purple and black. It was only then, as terror crawled under the surface of my skin like insects and the cold miasma behind her stared into me that I realized…

There was no way I could fight my way out of this…

“Omae wa mou shindeiru…”

I was already dead.

With a dual scream of battle, two gatekeepers dove towards us, a shrill metallic sound filling the air behind me and a flurry of fists filling my sight. My arms stuck out in front of me, guarding my front out of instinct, failing to do anything to guard my back. I hoped that San would be safe since she was from this server, that maybe she’d even be a good shield, but I didn’t know that for sure. Maybe they were willing to kill her, given she’d just respawn there anyway. I clasped my eyes tightly shut, my arms tightened, followed every other muscle in my body. My entire being felt like a brittle stone lined with cracks. I waited for the attack, waited for a scream of pain or an instinct to dodge. Waiting to shatter. But suddenly--

"TP SLEEPINGSW0RDZ0L0 AND「JORTAROKUJORT」 TO ME"

A voice shattered the sky, silencing the swords, the wind, the leaves, my heart-- everything. It spoke with a roaring, furious authority, like the cry of a mother bear. It spoke above everything, the command seemingly stealing the breath from the air. Some time passed with my eyes clamped shut, too shaken by the words to understand them fully. It was only after I pried them open to see the empty ground on either side of me that I realized it was an admin command. Words, like a spell, given to only the most powerful figure in a server. Words that had wrested the two gatekeepers from the air. My legs felt shaky, unstable as I pivoted around, searching for the source of the voice.

I looked up the path, immediately stunned. The purple shadow I had seen behind Zolo, the dark miasma, was actually a person. She had glowing purple eyes and wearing a heavy purple sweater, eyes glinting behind a pair of round glasses, her face hidden in a cloud of dark brown hair. Both of the gatekeepers were slumped at her sides, fidgeting as she held them by their collars like disobedient children.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, my mind raced to prepare an apology, hundreds of escape routes and pleas clouding my mind, my legs wobbling. I tried to choke out an apology without my mind made up, garbled parts of words fruitlessly spilling out. The purple glow began to dissipate, but the admin’s eyes still burned with impatience. Words, Cyrus, words!

“S- so, I know what you may be thinking--”

I was knocked over by an unknown force, falling forward into the gravel.

"Slenda!!”

Chalky white dust engulfed my vision and I struggled to pull my head up, only to see San--incredibly conscious-- dashing towards the admin. I gritted my teeth, trying to reconcile that she was shaken awake by the battle, or maybe she just happened to wake from her slumber by some sort of coincidence. But nothing seemed to justify it. I coughed up dust, looking down the path, unamused. The admin recoiled, dropping the two gatekeepers as the creeper girl dove into her, wrapping her arms around her as the two crashed to the gravel path, San laughing gleefully as they did.

A shadow stretched over me as I rose to a sitting position. I turned, hands curled into unintimidating, bony fists, only to see a smiling girl bent over me, her hand extended. She wore a leather jacket over a pine green hoodie, her hair a burnt shade of brown, as dark as the leather, dangling from the sides of her face and tied in a dry ponytail behind her head. Her skin was darker than mine, an oak to my acacia, her lips full and pulled into a hospitable smile. Her eyes burned with smoke and embers.

“Sorry about that,” She sighed, lifting me to my feet, “I’m Roxxie, one of the operators here. I hope San didn’t cause you any trouble.”

“Well…”

“What in the Nether are you both doing?!” The admin boomed, knuckles white at her sides. Roxxie and I turned to watch her, “You two were so reckless, you could have hurt San, you know that she can’t--!”

The admin, Slenda, caught sight of me and immediately clasped her lips. She gave me a snide, secretive look before looking back to her subordinates and barking further condemnations at them. Her voice was jagged now, cracks of anger and exasperation evident. She was less the roaring bear I had heard calling out the admin command and more of a yelping dog. Though an admin didn’t have to be especially imposing to be scary to me. Just having the commands was enough.

“Like killing San would be a huge loss,” Jortaro scoffed, just loud enough for me to hear him, “We’d only be losing the griefer who tries to blow up the server every other week.”

Zolo nodded weakly in agreement, though she seemed to be hiding her expression from the admin. Slenda gave him a look of death, clutching the creeper girl close to her. San didn’t seem phased though. And, if I’m gonna be honest, I don’t think she can be.

“Come on, let’s go,” Slenda ordered, tugging San through the gates, “You’re gonna open up a fresh bottle of sake and mellow out with me.” San stuck her tongue out, saluting Slenda.

San looked over her shoulder, waving at me as she left down a fork in the gravel path. You’re welcome. I chuckled, waving back. Slenda gave her operator a signal, Roxxie nodding and motioning for me to follow her as San and Slenda vanished in the server’s buildings. Roxxie patted me on the back of the shoulder, nudging me away through the gates and past the glares of the two gatekeepers. Even though I was welcomed by their superiors, there still seemed to be something seething in them. More than just defeat.

“San and Slenda are… A pair.” The operator smiled, her dark brown eyes flickering with embarrassment, “Slenda’s been cleaning up after San’s messes ever since we found her. I can only hope she didn’t trouble you too much.”

“Found?” I asked, trying to avoid getting into me and San’s scuff.

Roxxie shook her head. “Funny enough, Slenda stumbled upon her in the forest one day. Wandering around, half naked. She was hissing at players, animals and, uh… Trees.” She giggled, looking nostalgically down the road. That sounds about right, I shook my head, At least she’s consistently insane.

"You have such a cool mod!” She cheered, looking down at my arms, her eyes blazing, "So you were probably a dungeon crawler in your old server right? Or some kinda PvP master? Girlfriend probably thought you were pretty cool…"

I hesitated, my face hot.

I looked down at my hand, a smile creeping onto my face. My mod was almost like an old friend now, even though I’d only had it for about a month. Sure it was an old friend that magically transformed into a drill and sometimes swords that I used to kill zombies, but then again those are the best kind, right? I remembered the first fight I used it, in the fight that got me kicked out of my server-- the fight with the griefer. I thought of the fights with mobs, endermen, spiders, zombies, all things which I had been terrified of all falling easily to my new weapon. And then there was San. The only conflict I didn’t I didn’t plan for, but the only one with a real positive result. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

"I wasn't good at much before the mod honestly," I said, shrugging, "Just hung around in the spawn town library. But now I guess it’s good at getting me friends."

"Or getting you into trouble,” Roxxie smiled, holding up a hand. She was more than right, though the line struck me as odd. She only knew about the fight I got in with the operators… Right? Not my old server? A stream of thin smoke, soon lit by a feathery wisp of flame drifted upwards from her sleeve, snaking around her wrist and sitting in her hand, “You’d think I’d be doing a lot more with this fire mod I have, but all I used it for in my old server was griefing and pranks. And uh, they weren’t very good pranks.”

Roxxie giggled as she spun on her heel and continued down the path in front of us, her feet clapping up the gravel beneath. Weebs stared out at us from the alleyways beside the path. There was something dutiful in their expressions. Something defensive. An occasional child would run out in front of us, yelling something like “KAWAII” or “DOKI DOKI” before sailing back into the crowds. Some weebs fought with swords in the clearings behind buildings. It seemed that conflict was a weeb’s natural state.

A smile crept onto my face as I watched two weebs run across a nearby rooftop, arms flapping dramatically behind them. Seeing insane sights and characters like this, I remembered what I liked about big servers like this, and I guess the world of Minecraft in general; everything around you is a part of someone’s imagination. Every ornate rooftop, every ridiculous weapon, all of the strange styles and languages, they were all something that started in someone’s imagination. Something that someone believed in. Even the mods, though no one was truly sure where they come from, seemed to come from our dreams, our wishes. I still remembered dreaming of mine, swimming in the darkness of my mind, a voice offering from the void. I looked down at my hand, remembering when I planned for this to be my saving grace, the power that would make me a hero. It was only just starting to do me good.

"Don't be afraid to use that here by the way," Roxxie said, an odd sweetness in her voice, "We could use someone to set some players straight here. Especially someone new."

Though we had mostly walked through grey, blocky buildings up until this point, the spawn area was filled with the ornate castles and towers I’d seen from the outside wall, the weeb citadel finally meeting my expectations. I could see the pink woolen clouds that surrounded the city more clearly now, that I had just barely seeing poking over the walls. They weren’t wool however. They were trees. Modded trees known as cherry blossoms. In the exact center of the server was a creeper statue, its head topped with long blue hair. I may never understand weebs, I thought, looking up at the blue-haired effigy, but if they can make something like this, they couldn’t be all bad.

A laugh sprung from my cheek, the image of me as some kind of cop or peacekeeper more ludicrous than anything, even the weebs. A Cyrus dawning huge shoulder pads and shades stood in my mind's eye, a picture frame in hand. DON'T MAKE ME USE THIS. He boomed, glaring at the masses.

"I can hardly regulate myself. Heck, I'm only here because I accidentally ran through one of your players. I'm going to spend most of my time here mod-free if that's alright with you."

Her face turned cold for a moment, eyes falling unamused and her mouth flat, "That's fine." She flashed a thumbs-up paired with a grin, "You don’t have to be a part of it if you don’t want to. I understand how people from Vanillakings are, I know a few.”

Her words fell like a slop of snow off a rooftop; slow, quiet, but landing with a cold, sharp thud. So she did know me. I never mentioned I was from Vanillakings. I’d avoided mentioning the name before now just for the sake of leaving anew. For a fresh start. But she knew where I came from. We walked forward in silence for a few moments, the sun peeking through the breaks in-between buildings as we walked into the square.

The operator showed me to an empty room where I could stay while in the server. I hadn’t thought about it in earnest before that point, but looking down at the soft linens on the bed and the warm glow of the room’s redstone lantern, I realized how much I just wanted a home. There was something I still couldn’t shake about the server, how Roxxie seemed to know me, and how the guards seemed to act towards their leader, but as the soft linen of my mattress filled my view, all seemed to drift away. I’ll get the answers I needed in the morning.

Dark Angel: Creation. Part 13. Body Guards. Sin and Celia

Sin: You are NOT COMING! *It came out gutturally between gritted teeth. I refused to shout at the shifter whom I had THOUGHT I had brought into my household as a housekeeper but whom now seemed to believe she was some kind of bodyguard. She just tossed her red hair over her shoulder with a jerk of her head and put her hands on her hips as she drew all 5’8” of her body up into a defiant posture.* Celia: “Oh.Yes.I.AM!” Sin: *Of course Celia, on the other hand, did not hesitate to end her declaration in a shout. Shifters, I fume. Their emotions are always close to the surface. Swallowing the exasperated retort I had been about to throw out, I fix my gaze on her while I try to marshal logical arguments. Not that they will probably sway her. Indeed, her green eyes were practically throwing out fire. And of course, she and Declan had been listening in on a meeting that they should never have been close to. I had intended to send them out of harm’s way before taking my next steps. Now, apparently, she and Declan weren’t giving me a choice. Having heard that I had commanded my forces to operate in pairs to watch one another’s backs, they had decided I needed someone to watch mine as well.* Celia, be reasonable. I am going to Valhalla. It’s friendly territory. I’ll hardly be in danger there. Celia: "Then my going shouldn’t be a problem, should it?” Sin: *She adopted a sweetly reasonable tone that didn’t fool me one iota. She was not going to be reasonable at all.* Just what do you propose to do if I am attacked? The weaponry Sean and Adrian gifted you with won’t stop what I am in the most danger from. Your daggers and your guns with their enchanted ammunition are well and good against anything from demons to Unseelie, but they will not stop reapers, and reapers are where the danger is right now. *She just smirked at me.* Celia: “That’s being taken care of as we speak. Sean and Declan are having a conversation that will see us armed with angel blades and bullets made from melted down reaper weapons. Though…”She pauses as though listening for a moment, “Declan will need a couple of days to have the bullets prepared. But I’ll have an angel’s short sword in my hands before we leave this place.” Sin: *Sean. He must be speaking to her. The wolf shifters did not have the natural ability to communicate with others that reapers did, but reapers could communicate mentally with anyone they chose to link into. Apparently Sean had made that connection with my housekeeper and groundskeeper.* I could just go without you. *She narrowed her eyes at me* Celia: “You could. And as I’m no longer a mortal shifter, but a ghost with a wolf’s tracking ability, I can follow you anywhere. And if you leave without me,” she continues, “I will have no choice but to follow you without the angel blades and put myself at greater risk. But at least I would be your early warning system if anything goes south. Cannon fodder, I think you’d call me.” Sin: *I press my eyes shut tightly and squeeze the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, seeking to avert the burgeoning headache this woman was giving me.* Celia:“We aren’t staying out of this Sin.” Sin: *Her words were no longer angry, just factual. And that, more than her emphatic anger, convinced me I had no choice in this even before she continued.* Celia: “What the Horseman of Death has done, hoarding power, communing with demons, allowing himself to be duped by Lucifer in the pursuit of power greater than the Creator’s…, it’s a threat to every realm, every plane, and every being in existence. That the lesser gods have turned to the reaper corps to deal with this rather than uniting and dealing with it themselves both infuriates me and makes me determined to see they don’t end up with more power in the end.” Sin: *My brow furrows and head tilts quizzically at this assertion. I had not seen it in that light* It was logical for them to come to us with this. Everything dies, even gods in the end. Their fear of the Horseman’s actions was intelligent. And as Freya and I have a longstanding…connection, it was equally logical that she be the one to come to us. Though, I would have preferred she come directly to me rather than through my former lieutenants. *And now she truly is exasperated with me. Sparks of earth magick are literally swirling around her.*

Sin: “What choice did you give her, Sin? She knows you too well. Rather than convening a war council that would draw those you love into it, you’d have tried to handle it yourself. And from what I overheard from that meeting you just had, you would have died doing it. Then not only would the pantheons no longer have the strongest weapon in their arsenal – YOU –, they wouldn’t have been able to recruit the reaper corps because the Horseman /owns/ their souls. Even your friends’. The magical blockade that Bryn has put around the four of them is the absolute only reason they retain any autonomy from him at all. Through that she’s protected all the rank and file that support them. The threat of you going ham on Him is what’s kept Him from eliminating her. If you tried this on your own and died, the Horseman would eliminate all four of them and cow the common reapers into submission. So no, Sin, you /didn’t/ give Freya a choice!”

Sin: *Now the exasperation is mine. Pacing and running my hands through my hair, I finally turn to her.* So what would you have me do? Cower at home while the others make preparations. I cannot do that. At the very least I need the Inguz rune dealt with. *Calmly she looks at me, obviously satisfied she has made her point. God save me from the females of all species.* Celia: “Contact Freya and ask her to come here where you can consult with her behind your wards. This place is well-protected and the best hidden of all your properties. Only those you love most know of it. While you’re doing that Declan will be working on the weapons for us so we’ll be prepared to watch your back before the battle and be in it when it comes. You can keep in touch with the others from here and if they need you, they’ll let you know.” Softly now, she adds, “You were a soldier, a general before you were a king. Zav was there and he’s told the stories. You know you have to let your subordinates do what they do best without interference if you’re to succeed. And you need to spend some time getting your head in the game Sin. I’ve known you long enough to know you don’t care if you survive this, only that you succeed in killing the Horseman, too. That’s not enough. Once he’s dead they are going to need you more than ever. If your council of war was right and it’s actually Lucifer pulling the strings? It won’t stop with the Horseman’s demise. The others are strong leaders. Sean could keep them together. But he doesn’t have the power to stop Lucifer.” Sin:*Ruefully I drop down onto the steps of the lanai.* In life you weren’t a soldier or a strategist. You took care of logistics for your pack. You arranged supplies, schedules for the pack’s common non-security tasks. School, childcare, food. You were always organized and smart, but you left the fighting to Declan and his security teams. When did you become this...* smiles reluctantly* Amazon? *She sits down on the steps beside me and smiles back* Celia: “When I agreed to keep house for the most powerful being I’d ever encountered.” She sighs and continues. “Your life isn’t easy Sin, though you like to pretend it is. You’ve got powerful enemies and powerful friends. Pack life taught me it’s smart to keep an eye on the agendas of both. In your context, it’s literally a life or death proposition. You didn’t have to offer Declan and I the chance to be together for eternity. You could have let the reaper assigned to take our souls do his job, and there would have been no guarantee Declan and I would have met again for lifetimes, if ever. But you interfered. And not because you really needed a housekeeper or a grounds man. I’m not sure you even know your reasons. But I do know we owed you our allegiance from that moment on. And that you’ve earned our respect and affection since. So we became what you needed us to be. And we’d do it again.”

Sin: *I breathe out a sigh and nod in acknowledgement of her words. I understand this because I too have respect and affection for them both. And I too would do whatever was necessary to assist them. Which is precisely why I would have kept them safe, but who am I to deny them their choices? I will dishonor neither their decision nor their courage.* Then so be it. I will have an honor guard until the battle comes. When it does you shall have a part in it. I will take your advice and ask Freya to come here. *smiling a little* She likes the ocean. It is very different from Asgard’s offerings. And you have my word I shall not venture out without either you or Declan at my back. Celia: “I’m going to go inside and get you a glass of wine. And then I’m going to go help Declan at the forge. It will go faster with us both working on the ammunition. Just remember what I said, Sin. They need you alive when this is all over.” Sin: *She leans over and kisses my cheek – something she has never done before, and all the more meaningful for it. Then leaves me to my thoughts. Rising, I walk down onto the sandy beach and gaze out at the ocean, losing myself in the infinite expanse of dark blue shimmering beneath the full moon. Perhaps she is right. Perhaps I need to find a way to survive.* #TBC

Hellcat meets ghost

((I wrote something vaguely dark about when Hailey met Rei for the first time. It’s funny to think that from here, they become friends, and eventually Hailey adopts Rei’s reincarnated self. Warning: violence, blood, rape threats, and...well, bad language. Reader discretion is advised.))

How had it come to this? Hailey reached up and wiped away the thin trickle of blood making its way down her cheek. Her opponent's blade, the katana that felt wrong, had gone straight through her ironskin as if it weren't there at all. Only hellcat reflexes allowed her to pull back in time to keep her face intact.

Standing across from her, her foe grinned. And grinned. And grinned. An infuriating, arrogant, and utterly confidence smile. The rabbit, or Rei as she'd named herself, bowed theatrically. An overabundance of showmanship that only served to infuriate Hailey further.

"Not bat, cat," Rei said softly. "You realised that whatever meagre defence your face might have provided would not stand up to my blade, and you backpedalled out of the way before I could do any lasting harm. Next time, if I were you, I'd try to avoid being hit altogether."

Hailey did not dignify her with a response. The hellcat bunched her skeletal fingers back into a fist and tensed into a defensive stance. Seeing this, Rei's smile seemed to broaden.

"You know, I'm starting to suspect that I'm going to enjoy this," said the swordswoman. "So...let me make you a promise, cat. I'm going to rub your face into the dirt and then fuck you until you start begging me for more. How does that sound? I promise you'll start enjoying it...eventually."

The threat did absolutely no damage to Hailey's nerves. On the other hand, Rei's tone made her shiver. A voice that held all the tension of a steel cable. It sent a chill up the hellcat's spine. It made her suspect that maybe she'd bitten off a little more than she could chew.

"Brave thing you did there," continued the rabbit. "You saved that girl from me. I commend you for such a naïve and pitiably selfless act. But you've only taken her place. And if I'm honest, you're cuter than she was and you look like a lot of fun to fight, so it's a win and a win for me."

Again, the hellcat did not reply. What she was thinking was that she wouldn’t be sticking her neck out for a random human on a whim again anytime soon. What she knew in her heart was that she'd do it again in a split-second. So she kept her eyes fixed on her enemy, and the corner of her mouth pulled downwards ever so slightly into a tight scowl. And she waited.

Rei shook her head and spread her arms widely. Theatrically. Ridiculously.

"I'm going to be here all day, cat. Are you inviting me to attack? Because I can if you want. I like to have my way with girls on my terms, but I'll concede a thing or two now and then. It keeps things fresh."

Despite the rhetoric, the swordswoman did not wait for a reply. It only seemed to take an instant, but suddenly she'd closed the gap between them, all ten meters of it, and her sword became a streak of silver in the peripherals of Hailey's vision. The hellcat threw up her right arm to parry.

Rei's cursed katana clanged, actually clanged, against Hailey's skeletal forearm, slamming into the hellcat's radius and ulna. Hailey grunted. Despite the lack of nerves, something in the back of her head registered the phantom, sympathetic pain of a sharp metal object colliding with her bones. It didn't quite hurt, but she still felt it.

Rei gave her no time to dwell on it. Even as her first attack connected, the swordswoman was somehow, impossibly, already making a follow-up attack. Her blade seemed to sunder the air itself. The rush of the attack, the whoosh of wind, kissed Hailey's face as an upward strike sailed clean through her guard, between her bones, and almost drew a red line vertically up her face. She'd thrown herself backwards at the last second, and it was enough to unbalance her.

Rei did not let the opportunity slip by. Her foot slammed down, propelling her forward, ramming her shoulder straight into the hellcat's armoured sternum. Rei didn't flinch, but Hailey felt a force akin to being headbutted by an angry rhinoceros, even though her chestplate. At seemingly the exact same moment, seventeen sword strokes landed on her, almost all at once. Each slash bit through armour and ironskin as if both weren't there, and Hailey felt all of them. All deep enough to wound, none deep enough to leave serious, lasting harm. The damn rabbit was playing with her.

The hellcat did not take nicely to this. She hurled an uppercut, too winded to curse or growl, and her boney knuckles connected. It was the only clean shot she would make this battle. Rei took a step back, surprised, and amazingly, somehow seemingly unaffected. Hailey barely had a moment to savour her meagre victory before another shower of sword-strokes peeled half of her armour off her, shearing off layers of metal at a time.

Hailey stepped back, gasping for breath. She felt a whole lot lighter, and a whole lot more open, with half of her chestplate torn off and red trickling out through the gaps. Rei's smile still adorned her face. She was infuriating to look at, but Hailey suspected that her chances of wiping away that smile were near non-existent. The hellcat knew that she was outclassed.

Hailey snarled and launched another devastating punch. It was a blow so fast that a normal man would have had trouble tracking with the naked eye, and so powerful that it would have left a sizeable hole in a stone wall. Rei's katana seemed to fly up almost of its own volition, and the rabbit parried the blow effortlessly. She didn't even shift on the spot.

Hailey barely had a chance to register this before Rei's foot connected solidly with her own. A single swipe, and the hellcat was off balance again, flailing out to try and hit her foe. Another whirlwind of slashes met her instead. Hailey hit the floor with the remains of her armour hanging off her in scraps, winded. Some of the strikes had been with the blunt side of the sword. Rei's malicious smile confirmed that she was indeed only playing with the hellcat.

Hailey was starting to see grey at the edges of her vision. Each strike had been a shallow one, but between all of them, the hellcat was losing a fair amount of blood. The beginnings of a red pool were forming beneath her. Death by a thousand cuts, it seemed, would be her end. She felt a boot on her back.

"This is the part where I deliver the first half of my promise and rub your face in the dirt," Rei said nonchalantly. "You lasted almost a minute. That's significantly longer than most people do, so you can take some solace in that."

A minute? How could it have been a minute? It felt much, much faster. Impossibly fast, almost. Hailey tried to get up, ignoring her life as it dripped out of dozens of tiny cuts. Something slammed into the back of her head and forced her down again. It felt like one of the steel capped boots that Rei was wearing.

"You really should stay down, you know," the rabbit said conversationally. "I can't fuck you until you beg for more if you're not conscious enough to feel it."

Hailey didn't reply, growling through gritted teeth. She could taste dirt mixed with her own blood. And damn, did her nose hurt. She tried to rise again as the pressure on her head receded.

Something flashed by her face. The midnight blue trouser-leg of Rei's tuxedo. The rabbit had taken a knee next to her fallen opponent. Hailey found out why a second later when the fingers of her foe's right hand found purchase in her hair and squeezed. Rei slammed the hellcat face first into the ground again. And then she pulled back, and slammed down again, and again, and again.

The fourth blow saw Hailey coughing blood. The sixth made her unable to see straight. The eighth made something in her nose crunch. The twelfth blow broke her nose entirely, and blinded her with her own blood. This time, when Rei pulled back, she held the hellcat's head up. Hailey could feel the blood dripping off her nose. She gasped, gulping down air, and hoped that Rei wouldn't slam her face down again.

The rabbit didn't. Instead, she closed the fingers of her other hand against the hellcat's throat and started to squeeze. Hailey had no idea whether her enemy was trying to kill her, or just playing with her some more, but she wasn't about to let it happen. She couldn't feel her pendulum, and her limbs were a little too sluggish to move. So with supreme force of will, she ordered the bones of her right hand to close into a fist again, and struck.

To the hellcat's credit, the blow would still have caused a good deal of pain to the average human, and maybe even fractured one of their bones. Rei seemed to find it almost amusingly weak. But it did the trick. The pressure around Hailey's throat receded, although it was more a gesture of pity than anything else.

"You really are impressive," Rei said. "Most people probably would have given up by now, and those that wouldn't have probably also wouldn't have been able to hit me with something I could actually feel. You know, I think I'm starting to like you, cat."

Hailey's breathing was irregular and laboured. She knew that she was done for, but she just didn't feel like giving up. A solid punch to her gut forced the air out of her and left her gasping and wheezing. Though she couldn't see it, every time she breathed, flecks of red spattered out of her mouth.

She curled her right hand into a fist again and punched. This time it didn't even graze the rabbit. Rei let her go, and Hailey fell face first (and not at all gently) into the small pool of her own slowly-cooling blood that had formed under her.

This time, her attempt to get up didn't even lift her off the ground. What did, however, was a deft kick from her opponent. It flipped the hellcat onto her back, and for a moment, nothing seemed to happen. And then Rei spoke.

"I've changed my mind. I like you. I'm keeping you. You're coming with me."

Hailey felt two hands, surprisingly gentle, the same two hands that had utterly demolished her moments ago, lift her into the air. She knew what position she was being held in. If she had the breath left for it, she might even have spluttered out the crude, broken approximation of a chuckle. Rei was princess carrying her. Oh, how utterly ridiculous.

"I can see your...interesting right arm preparing to launch another attack," said Rei calmly. "I would threaten to drop you, but I suspect that wouldn't deter you in the least. So...be a good girl, and rest assured that you won't so much as give me pause, and just stop trying."

Hailey didn't stop trying, but she couldn't manage it any further. Blind, head spinning, and muscles weak to the point of immobility, she felt her bones collapse into a heap, loosely dragged after her on the ground, still tethered to her by magic, as Rei carried her off. This was it then. The most ignoble defeat of her life, and probably the most painful. As her consciousness slipped out of her grasp, she had to wonder what was going to happen next.