The Scourge Returns

“Draw it out?” Arata parroted Leona’s words back at her, his face contorted as if she’d just told him the sky was yellow. “You couldn’t just say make a sword with it?”

She was still struggling with an oncoming wave of enemies, a vein bulged on her forehead. “Less of the sass!” She barked. He’d loved to have thrown back another insult but he was too busy with the foe ahead. He swung his hammer low, just enough that Arata had to back away from the blade he had just summoned to existence, currently still laying on the ground. Another swing, vertically over head this time which Arata jumped out of the way of, landing on his rear and sobbing. Luckily he could reach the blade now, and using it he blocked the oncoming swing.

Unfortunately, the blade shattered, its pieces becoming ink blots on the ground. “Holy Hell that’s weak!” He complained. “Leona, the pen you gave me is a dud, throw another!”

She struck down another thug with a palm strike to the chin. “There is no other, stupid Reinhardt! That’s your sword!”

Arata had never heard such bull. He could remember Reinhardt’s sword! It was matte, no shine to it and the handle was wrapped in the skin of the blue viper. Even the pommel was decorated with a jewel from the hottest volcano, said to be an ancient cursed artifact and yet he tamed it. This was a pen… a G-pen to be specific.

He quickly drew another blade, this one given more edges and gothic aesthetics but that cracked immediately. Like, no word of a lie dear reader, I apologise to interrupt your story but… it didn’t even get hit, it just couldn’t stand how “edgy” it was…

I’m sorry…

“Oi, Reinhardt!” Leona called. She’d been surrounded, barely given the space to take a step and hammer swings were flying left and right. She somehow managed to block one and dodge another, which then hit one of the other thugs on the backswing, but even still they kept swarming. “Little help here if its not too much trouble!”

His eyes had wandered from his own fight, and a club connected with his arm. “You aren’t going nowhere punk!” His attacker playfully laughed, as Arata dropped to the floor holding his arm. “I got you, this is gonna hurt!” His club was over his head, his twisted grin and wide eyed look blocked out the sun above. This was it.

The pen scraped against the stones below, not a sword, a box?

The club swung down viciously, but Arata finished his work. He’d drawn a handle in the box and pulled up as hard as he could. With no idea it would work he closed his eyes so tight no light could pass through. But, no slam connected with him.

This drawer from the ground shot up and smacked the grunt in the chin, knocking him for six. Amazed his plan worked, he took his chance to stand, still wobbly from the attack. He held himself up on the wall, drawing another blade on the bricks. “Please let this work!” he prayed, reading to block the next club swing.

This time, instead of smashing immediately, it absorbed the impact perfectly. He somehow managed to push the attack away and with his new stone sword, he took down the one grunt!

“I did it!” He cheered…

Leona was off her feet, held down by four massive grunts with another one stood over her with a rock in hand. “Hold her still!” He commanded.

“We’re trying! She’s so strong!” another replied.

Arata rushed over to help but was batted away. Despite his victorious moment, it all fell bleak again! “Leona!” He called. She struggled, screaming out with every movement and yet they held her.

“Time to go…” They told her. She took one look at Arata and realised, he couldn't save her… her yellow-gold eyes closed with tears falling…

And then her eyes opened at the speed of light. No longer a warming yellow-gold, replaced with a rusty, blood red. A terrified expression replaced with a smile from a nightmare, and a strained scream now a bloodcurdling chuckle.

That rock never hit the ground. The grunts holding her shot up into the air, flying a good few feet away. Arata had merely blinked and the scene had changed from damsel in distress to demon causing death. She sat atop the grunt that had aimed to crush her head, smiling so menacingly he began to quake. Down rained punches, each time the sound was louder. He was out cold after the second hit, but she was still swinging way past that.

She had looked so sweet, so innocent when his eyes first glimpsed her that first time he read the series… he was glad the booze had deleted the memory of her demon form. Each hit was like the handle of an axe slamming down, sprays of blood spewing every time like they were being mutilated. The others around numbered far too many and planned to surround her, even the one that was aiming for Arata realised that if he didn’t try and overwhelm this monster they wouldn’t survive.

Slowly and steadily they crept to her as she kept swinging down. Not a sound, for fear of this beast to be tempted and continue her assault. Evan Arata kept quiet, fearing she may attack him if he tried to warn her.

It was unfortunate however. One of the grunts had accidentally stood on a branch, it’s satisfying snap twisted her neck as if the sound was her cracking her spine. That menacing glare again… oh god that glare

*-*-*

“Good thinking Reinhardt!” Leona cheered, her rage now dissipated and replaced with her usual bubbly persona. “Trapping these criminals in a cage to save us!” She added.

Nervously he nodded, in fact it wasn’t his idea anyway but he still feared talking with her. “That cage is for their protection not ours… He replied to her internally. The dust had settled, and any of the grunts that had not either run off or been beaten in the battle were now covering in the cage as Leona growled at them. The Queen’s men tended to their wounded, keeping a few to keep watch in case more enemies were hiding in the shadows. The Queen herself emerged from behind the gates, rushing to Leona and Arata posthaste.

“Dear heroes, are you unharmed?” She asked, eyeing the threats to her palace. Leona broke away from her vicious cat act to sweetly bow to the Queen. “Rough as it was, your majesty, we are fine. Thank you for your concern.”

She smiled back at the feral one, moving closer to the cage and watching them. “So, this is Mühelos.” She commented. “Where is your master? What has he done with my daughter?” Her words were firm but calm, demanding a response but showing no emotion.

They looked back and forth at each other, like children looking for someone to blame when they are caught red handed. None of them wanted to speak. She knew they’d play dumb though. “I don’t care about your crimes, I don’t care about your organisation. All I care about right now is finding my daughter. If you fear what will happen to you if you talk, know that you will be under my protection.” She explained, even her own closest guards were unsure of it. To be given safety from the Queen would obviously mean staying in the palace, but surely she wouldn’t want such scum in her home. “Your majesty” one of the guards called “I don’t think this is wise, we should take these men as prisoners and interrogate them. I’m sure we can get Princess Plotgerät’s location from them…”

“You are sure?” She repeated. “I will not take chances, not now. I need certainty. Can you guarantee your interrogation will get my daughter back?” She stared right through him, like she could see his indecision. Her stare feeling heavier and heavier as the seconds ticked by.

“I know a better way to find your precious daughter.”

The voice echoed off the cobbled stones, reaching down from the gatehouse. He’d been sitting there, on the rooftop throughout it all and not a soul had seen him. His black leather jacket and the three sword insignia the full length of his back. His jet black tattoos of broken skulls and howling wolves. Those soulless eyes and the bags beneath them. And the thin lips that hid the fangs behind them. Arata remembered this man.

He remembered this scene. The visitor dropped from the roof and landed in front of the heroes.

This man was…

“Täter.”