"To the one who reads this. To the one who will inherit my sins, for I pray that my own son doesn't. I must ask a selfish request."

Yorktown burned around Naomi, who was already used to being surrounded by the flames of a dying settlement. After all, she had been there when Tyok had fallen, its defenders dying a brutal death fighting against an enemy that once was their brother in arms. Naomi had been a fairly naive person then, her skills unrefined and her body weak. She had been able to do nothing then.

'How ironic,' she thought as she cut down another of the orcs, her katana's runes flaring with power. Blood sizzled as it came into contact with the nearby flames, filling the air with the stench of acrid copper. Her gaze shifted to her surroundings, which were already beginning to resemble the burning homes and shops of Tyok.

'I wield the strength of otherworldly powers and can cast advanced runes, and yet I still can't do a damn thing.'

"Honestly, I'm beginning to regret not saving my reserves!" a voice called out. Naomi turned to see Malik standing over the corpse of an orc, his hands forming the runes for a necromancy spell.

"Resurrect," he said, his voice empowered. Purple tendrils emerged from his fingers, their tips stabbing into the cadaver below him. The Outlander watched him work, her lips turning into a frown. She would've called him something colorful had she been younger, but she couldn't really find it within herself to insult the man. Especially since she was no better.

The Eye twitched within her left socket, its barbs wiggling as if responding to her thoughts. Naomi scowled at that.

'We ain't exactly on track for Delphine's afterlife,' she told the damn thing. 'So quit it.'

The barbs did not stop at her thoughts, even when Naomi tried to will it. It only grew more frantic, as if it was getting excited.

'What is with this thing? It's never done this, not since…'

Naomi's heart skipped a beat as the Eye pulsed with a rhythm she hadn't heard in years but knew very well. She dropped without even checking her surroundings, her Alert blaring a millisecond too late. Something whipped above her head, invisible to the naked eye but clear as day to her senses. Naomi dodged to the side, avoiding another of the invisible strikes. This one hit the ground beneath her, sending chips of stone flying.

"I was beginning to think that my fun had already ended!" a voice called out. Naomi and Malik turned to the source, who turned out to be a woman standing behind them both. Corpses were strewn by her feet, their red and gold banners torn. The soldiers that had been with them.

"Shit," Naomi cursed. She moved to dodge another invisible attack, this one nearly taking her head. Malik said something, his hands glowing purple as he gestured. The undead zombies that had been shambling after him were now on the move, heading toward the newcomer.

'Idiot! Doesn't he see? She has—'

"I knew it!" the stranger called suddenly. In a blink, Malik's zombie army was dismembered and scattered, severed appendages flying out in all directions. Naomi didn't even have time to yell a warning before the strange woman reached her, their gazes locking onto each other.

"I knew it!" the woman repeated, her voice giddy. "You have one, too!"

'Oh god no.'

Naomi found herself staring at two Beholder eyes, their stars burning with purple energies. She froze there, her body stiff as memories flashed through her mind. Memories she had no interest in digging up. And so Naomi did what she could. She fought back.

Her katana missed the other woman by just a hair, the air around her shimmering with the heat of her runes. Naomi scowled and tried again, her sword slashing horizontally. The woman just jumped back from that attack, her grin falling to a confused frown.

"You're different from the others," she muttered. "Who are you?"

"I could ask the same of you," Naomi said. She put herself on guard, ready for any attack, invisible or not.

"I'm Kira," the woman revealed. "And I was sent here by the Master to take care of Seamus and this little island." Her brow furrowed. "That rhythm of yours… something's not right about it."

Naomi could feel her left eye twitch on its own, the barbs pulling back just a bit. A voice then rang out in her head, far from reality and isolated from the sounds of the real world.

She reeks of the Mad King's curse… KILL HER.

Kira stumbled back, almost as if she, too, had heard those ethereal words. Her eyes widened at Naomi, who cursed and prepared herself. Before any of the two could even act on their intentions, however, a flaming ball of pure flame struck Kira head-on. Naomi stumbled back, confused. Then she turned to the madman who had cast it.

"She was open," Malik said as he brushed his hands on his robes. He turned to the flames that had erupted from his Fireball, which joined with the roaring inferno that had consumed the nearby buildings. As Malik turned to admire his work, something invisible struck him and whipped his head back.

Naomi blinked, and the sound of gurgling reached her ears. She watched as the Necromancer fell to the ground, dark blood leaking through his hands as he failed to keep whatever was left of his jaw together.

Footsteps sounded out from the flames beside her. Naomi turned to see a figure walk out of their blaze. Despite being hit by a direct Fireball, Kira's clothes were barely tattered and only slightly scorched. She sighed as she stepped through the flames, her hand brushing that black hair of hers.

"What exactly are you?" she asked, her eyes flashing dangerous purple. Naomi stared back, her sword hand trembling as she considered options. She then cursed herself for thinking that a peaceful conclusion was even possible.

"If I'm being honest," Naomi said, hand already pulling apart the bandages that covered her left eye, "I'm not sure myself. But I do know one thing." Her left eye grew with intense heat, the barbs deep within her socket vibrating with magical anticipation. "You're not the first I've faced. And you won't be the last."

Kira's frown slowly turned into a smile, her arms crossing. "Oh really? Well then, come forth, Outlander. Show me a good time."

Despite herself, Naomi couldn't help but smile back, her left hand already grabbing at one of the spare knives on her belt.

"Fuck it. Let's do this."

James felt a cold shock overcome him as he watched Dahlia's fragile body fall back to the snow. Her eyes glanced over at him, almost pleading, as blood spilled from her open throat.

Reality seemed to blur then, the falling snow becoming nothing more than specks of white that fell over a reddening horizon. The only thing clear to him now was the dying body of the woman he cared for more than anything. The woman who had saved him. James stared at the scarlet liquid that stained her lips, which moved without sound.

Voices shouted around him, mumbled and incoherent. Helen tried to get to Dahlia in time but was kicked away by Eilif, who had finally ripped the ornate dagger from his skull. He stepped to the fallen veteran, holding that bloodied thing. Ready to do to Helen what he had done to Dahlia. To what he had done to countless others.

Rage overtook shock.

James rushed ahead, equipping his hand ax. He threw a wild swing at Eilif, who managed to see him coming. The 'immortal' simply sidestepped the attack, casual in his movements. James redirected his ax, aiming for the bastard's jaw. Blocked by two bloody daggers, a malformed mask watching him with emotionless goggles. James forced the two knives down and tried to push.

Eilif sidestepped again, quickly pulling away and making James stumble forward. Faust took control of the Jarl at that moment, managing to block the dagger strike that was aimed at the gap underneath his arm. James snapped back into control just a second later, eyes burning as he rushed again.

'James! Calm down!' Faust called to him. 'He knows that you're angry! He knows what you'll do!'

James hesitated, faltering mid-charge. That short moment of rationale, however, was quickly shoved to the side when his eyes caught the stained snow behind Eilif. Dahlia lay there, unmoving, her once vibrant eyes now staring at the clouded sky blankly.

'James no! Don't—'

Faust went ignored as James rushed Eilif in a dash. He threw his ax at the immortal man, who dodged it. It left him open, just as expected, and James used this chance to slide down and grab his fallen longsword. Using his empowered strength, he thrust forward, his weapon's length outranging Eilif's dagger. However, things didn't go as well as he had hoped.

Eilif just took the strike head-on, the point sinking into his belly with a sickening sound. He moved forward quickly, running himself through just to get close. James let go and stepped back, avoiding another set of dagger stabs that were aimed at the gaps within his armor.

Still, despite missing his chance to gut the Jarl, Eilif had one more trick.

"Push."

James tried to move out of the way but failed as his body was caught by a vortex of wind that threw him back. His breath was knocked out of his lungs when he struck against the solid door of Dahlia's hut, which groaned and creaked at his arrival. James rapidly blinked his eyes, his breaths shallow as he tried to get oxygen back into his lungs.

A kick interrupted his recovery, the boot being all that was needed for the door to finally give way. James landed within the small hut that was his home, the winds of the outside world rushing into the building in a roar.

"Bind."

Bands of blue energies materialized and wrapped themselves around James, holding him down before he could even get the chance to resist.

"I have to give it to you. You didn't do so bad," Eilif called as he walked into the building, cracked goggles glinting as they looked at James. His mask and hood were getting weathered and torn, revealing bits of pale skin and a shaved head. His voice was also getting clearer, possibly from the damage done to the mask that covered the lower half of his head.

"It's been a while since I've met someone so persistent. Even someone as lucky as you shouldn't have made it this far. I applaud you for that."

Eilif stopped by James' head, his free hand dropping the longsword that had impaled him earlier. He knelt down just a bit as if he was showing the younger man how little the 'fatal' strike had done. James tried to reach with his left hand to see if he could at least drain the fucker. No luck. The binding spell had the precaution to restrict his limbs, making it difficult to even cast spells.

"That spirit of yours is probably to blame. Gods know that the Centurion is nothing but stubborn."

Eilif coughed—or laughed, James guessed—his goggles breaking away from the bound man. He stood back up again, hand digging into his pocket as he surveyed the hut. James tried to figure something out. He tried to cast a spell, his fingers forming the runes for Summon Ice. Like before, nothing happened. The binds were even making it difficult for his hands to move.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

'Calm yourself. Take a deep breath.' Faust said. 'Let's think about what we can do.'

'There's nothing!' James argued. 'We're trapped, and we're helpless! The Ravens outside can't even help, not against Eilif. Helen is injured, Marion is far gone, and Dahlia…'

'James, don't focus on that,' Faust whispered. 'Focus. What else can we do? Other than casting spells and forming ice from nothing.'

James stopped struggling against his binds, his breathing growing softer. He looked to Eilif, who had taken out a small crystal. It was a bright thing, the greenish glow pulsing with vigor as the immortal man held it out. He was busy with… whatever he was doing. James didn't exactly care about that.

'We can… We can drain Life.'

'Alright, there's a start. What else?'

James clenched his jaw, trying to think. He had tested this with Dahl—

'No. Don't think about her.'

He had tested his limits half a year ago to see where he lacked in skill and talent. He remembered Malik marking down his fallacies and failings, which were many compared to the list of what he was capable of. One of which was…

'Control of the undead,' James thought. He remembered the draugr he had fought back during his first meeting with the Necromancer. He didn't even have to form runes to do the commands.

'But the corpses Malik placed are done for. Eilif dismembered them all.'

'Not all of them,' Faust said. 'There was one where he only stabbed into the skull.'

'I can't control it if the damn zombie isn't even… I wouldn't say alive…'

'Just try it. It might be our only choice here.'

James frowned but didn't argue further. He could hear Eilif knocking over furniture and items. So he closed his eyes and focused. He really focused, trying to replicate the times when he had established connections to undead creatures. To when he had ordered that draugr.

There was nothing at first, only the blank void that was the back of his eyelids. There was a vague sense of something else, but James quickly realized that it was just Faust. So, he ignored the spirit and instead attempted to expand his mind. He tried not to think about his situation, about Dahlia. He just focused and 'reached' out into the void.

And something reached back.

"So cold… So so cold… Want to go back… Back home."

A soft voice. It belonged to a gruff man, or what was once a gruff man. He sounded faint, cold, and tired. James reached for it with a metaphorical hand, grabbing onto the voice. It shifted, the words growing louder.

"Someone… Someone needs me… No… I served my purpose I—"

The voice rambled on and repeated itself. James faltered, almost feeling guilty for it. This was once a person, an actual soul who lived and breathed before they were killed by either him or Malik.

There is no soul there, a voice called to James. Analytical and cold. Gryff. It's just a shadow of the marauder who wanted nothing more than to pillage and rape whoever fell on the other end of his blade.

James hated to admit it, but he clung to those words. As if they were justification enough. And so he pulled again. There was resistance from the other side, the 'shadow's' voice growing frantic as it repeated gibberish and pleas. James wasn't having it. So he pulled harder and harder until finally…

Something snapped, and James found himself being sucked into a void beyond his body, the frosty air growing colder.

Kira brought down another set of slashes upon the heretic that was Naomi, the air buzzing with static as the invisible blades flew upon their target. And just like before, the cursed woman disappeared in a blink, reappearing a second later with the dagger she had thrown earlier. Kira cursed softly as she landed on the street, which was riddled with marks made from her swords.

"You're pretty damn fast," Kira remarked to Naomi, who was panting heavily. Avoiding most of her strikes had clearly put a strain on the Earthling. If Kira kept this up a bit longer, perhaps she'd be able to finally land a solid hit on her. "But your speed won't last you for long, will it? So why don't you be a good girl and—"

Naomi blinked out of existence, the air around her whipping in a rush. Kira turned quickly, already preparing to throw another set of slashes. No one appeared there, which did little to ease Kira's nerves.

'She retreated?'

Kira turned back to where Naomi had been and did her best to sense where she might be. Her Beholder Eyes twitched in her socket, the magic within them vibrating. The heretic was still close…

"I see," Kira muttered, her eyes narrowing as she searched the desolate street. Her grin grew when she noticed something shimmering amongst the flames, similar to the waves of heat but just stable enough to be something else entirely.

A slash struck the invisible Outlander, who recoiled as the magical blade broke through her illusion and Carapace. Kira was upon her in just a moment, already summoning an invisible sword into her fingers.

Naomi managed to block the attack with her curved blade, the runes on its steel flaring as it held back Kira's strike.

"That's no ordinary invisibility spell, is it?" Kira asked, leaning in. Her eyes couldn't detect it, which meant that it was either far beyond her abilities or it was something a bit more unconventional.

Naomi growled as she kicked Kira back, her sword moving for a stab. Kira dodged the attack, her invisible blade scraping against the strange katana. She rushed Naomi, her free hand outstretched.

No slashes came from her. No, Kira didn't even have the chance.

"Flash Strike."

Kira's instincts kicked in the moment those words echoed in the air. She cast Fly and Dodge at the same time, avoiding a sword strike that was aimed at her neck.

Seamus Halvorson stood in between the two women, head hanging as if he were half asleep. His sword, a bloodied iron thing, was raised high above him. Naomi and Kira stared at the young man, who was standing creepily still, like a statue of some forgotten warrior.

Then he turned and struck toward Naomi. Naomi blocked the attack in time, her eyes widening with surprise. Even Kira couldn't help but blink at the sight, confusion mixing with joy as she watched Seamus pull back and try another swing.

He was fast, really fast this time. Kira could see faint yellow afterimages following his movements, a clear indicator that he was using Haste.

'So he can cast other spells.'

And he was fighting the Outlander. Kira guessed that perhaps the young man didn't yet realize that the two were technically on the same side. That Beholder eye probably didn't help. Before Naomi could retaliate properly against Seamus, nonlethally, of course, Kira decided to spice up the chaos.

She rushed forward, forming one of her blades at her fingertips, the air turning taut with static. Wielding the invisible sword, Kira tried for a stab at Seamus and Naomi, attempting to skewer the two in one fell strike. Seamus dodged almost immediately, his afterimage glimmering gold as he sidestepped. He didn't even look at Kira as he swung a blind strike toward her.

Kira ducked under the swing, using another Dodge to avoid her head getting severed. She pulled her sword back just as Naomi tried to parry the strike and went for another stab at the young man. Seamus somehow seemed to sense the blade, despite its transparency, as he barely managed to move just out of its trajectory.

Naomi came in a moment after, her katana aimed at Kira's head. Kira cursed as she summoned an upward slash, this one making contact with the inbound weapon. A sound like scraping glass echoed in the air, and Naomi recoiled back from Kira, her sword high above her head.

All three of them went still for the moment, the air filled with the crackling of flames and the smell of copper. Kira smiled, her eyes pulsing with excitement.

"Oh, this is going to be fun."

Eilif glanced at the doorway to the hut, half-expecting one of the guardsmen to try something stupid as trying to help. Thankfully, not one came. He sighed a ragged breath of relief. Dealing with the return of the troublesome Earthling was more than enough. To look over his shoulder constantly was going to get annoying and costly for his Blessing. He was already beginning to reach the limits of its magic, the Blessing of Potency fading away with every increased regeneration. If his master had to bail him out again…

There weren't many things that could make Eilif shudder. Even with his immortality, he couldn't help but dread the idea of failure and the punishment that would befall him.

'I have not failed,' Eilif thought as he knocked over another trunk in the hut. Clothes spilled out onto the floorboards like guts, bringing nothing but frustration to the Immortal. He kicked through them, finding nothing. The glowing crystal within his grasp pulsed again, signifying that they were close. Eilif raised the seeker, which filled the room with an eerie green hue. It was so bright that the immortal man was having a hard time figuring out where the source was.

Eventually, he found it. As Eilif held the crystal before him, the pulsing turned into a straight hum, the magic within its opaque prison reaching its zenith. He watched with some level of awe as the glow within disappeared, the hum dying alongside it. Just as the light died, something else began to shine within the hut.

It was sitting near the cot, almost hidden. Eilif hadn't even noticed it. Not until now. He stared at the two runic glyphs that glowed on its silver finish, signifying it as the second of its kind. A piece of godhood itself. Eilif knelt down before the silver vase, its size unassuming and its engraved letters unreadable.

"It was enchanted," Eilif said as he saw the faded inscription of runes. It was designed to emit a spell of Charm and Minor Order to dissuade anyone from looking at it too closely. The fact that it could dissuade Eilif meant that the runes were cast by a powerful caster. Still, it was not enough to dissuade the crystal from finding it. A neat little thing taken from Yorn's own study. Eli didn't explain much about it, only that it carried a piece of the artifact within it, making it attracted to finding its original.

"Why is it here?" Eilif muttered as his fingers neared the silver vase. It was a mistake he wished he didn't make.

Images flashed within his skull, too fast and too sudden for him to react. Hundreds of years of memories flew past and burned themselves into his eyes, almost as if they were angry at him. Angry that he had forgotten. Eilif staggered back, voice dying as he tried to process it all.

A fallen legion.

A century of torture.

The scent of burned flesh and acrid iron.

The head of the one he held so dear to him…

Eilif stumbled in place, his body flaring with heat as he burned and sacrificed memories. He gave as many as he dared, ripping the fabric of their recollections apart and sending them to the cosmic wind. Life burned in his chest, each and every reserve fading as fast as they went.

Eilif was so invested in purging the past that he had neglected to focus on the present.

A rusted sword hacked into his skull, the shock sending the immortal man back to reality. He turned to the source, confusion, rage, and a whole plethora of emotions mixing deep within him. He actually faltered when he saw a half-decayed zombie in front of him, the same one that he had buried a knife within. He had killed it then. Yet here it was, standing there with… with eyes that burned with a heinous blue glow reminiscent of only one man.

"You look as if you've seen a dead man," the thing rasped, a throaty something echoing out from its withered lips. Laughing. It was laughing.

'He could use possession,' Eilif realized at that moment, recognizing the sight before him. 'James Holter can use possession.'

Eilif pulled back and stabbed at the undead creature, who took it without reacting. There was no time for the how. Eilif would need to kill this man right here, right now. James held the grip on his rusted sword, which slid out of the Immortal's head with a sickening sound. He swung again, and this time, Eilif dodged the attack. He shoved James with an elbow, sending his undead carrier stumbling back.

'The body is weak and slow. Even if Holter is enhancing it, there's no way for him to properly fight. This fight is mine.'

Just as that thought ran through his mind, Eilif was interrupted by a kick that struck his side. He fell back, rolling on the floorboards. He attempted to get up, his dagger blindly swiping toward whoever had stupidly tried their luck. However, instead of some plucky guardsman, Eilif was met with the sight of James' actual body, which stood right next to the undead corpse.

There was a moment where Eilif was sure he was losing his mind. Until he saw the posing on Holter's original body. The way he carried that longsword and the casualness of his body language. Hel, even that kick was familiar…

'No, it can't be.'

"I think he's seeing double," the undead man said. 'James' chuckled darkly at that, his sword arm flexing as he stepped closer to his ally.

"Faust…" Eilif muttered. He stood up straighter, his mind aching from all the memories he had purged. Yet despite all that, the sense of recognition was ingrained within him.

"I am Faust Desimir!" James—Faust—called out to Eilif. "Centurion of Cyrus' Legion and Champion of Caelus!" He raised his sword in challenge. "I hereby sentence you to death, assassin. Any last words?"

"Always theatrical when you get full control," the real James rasped right next to him.

"Last words?" Eilif asked, ignoring the undead creature. He brought his dagger to bear, and every bit of hesitation cleared from his head. "Please. As if you could make such a demand from me. I will gut your host like a silverhead and flay whatever is left of your soul. Only then will I be finally rid of your annoyances!"

Without waiting for an answer, Eilif rushed forward, dagger flashing as it went straight for Faust's throat.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.