BROTHERHOOD

The Irene Desert was relentless.
It was a soul-crushing expanse of endless sand and rust under a sky of bleached blue.
The heat weighed down on us, promising no shade nor relief.

We had been marching for a week towards the end of the world, with the First Company still a day behind us.

Our progress was slowed by the land itself, and by the pockets of demonic resistance that festered like open sores across the wasteland.
On the eighth day, Cassandra, returning from a scouting mission, brought us news.

“Two of them,” she reported.

“They're positioned in a pincer, guarding the main pass into the central desert. One in the canyons to the east, the other in the ruins of an old Imperial way station to the west.”

Tulote and I studied the crude map we had scratched into the dirt.

“Both sizeable. If we attack one, the other will be alerted and either reinforce or dig in, making out main army's advance a bloody affair. We can't bypass them.”

“So we split,” Xerta stated.

“Hit them both at the same time. Cut the head off two snakes at once.” She continued.

Tulote nodded.

“My thoughts exactly.”

He drew a line in the dirt with the tip of his Flamma.

“The eastern canyon is narrow, perfect for a stealth and ambush assault. Cassandra, your skills are best suited for that. Xerta, your strength will be needed to block their escape.”

He then looked to the Veiled Knight.

“And your... abilities... will ensure there are no surprises.”

A silent, affirmative nod was the only reply.

“That leaves the western way station,” I said, even though I already knew the answer. “It's more open field. A frontal assault.”

“It will require something more... let's just say blunt.”

Tulote finished, clapping a heavy, gauntleted hand on my shoulder.

“It seems it will be just like old times, my friend. You and I, against an army.”

There was a comfort in it, a sense of rightness.
The fellowship was strong, but Tulote and I were the beginning of it all.
A quiet, brotherly understanding passed between us.

As the two parties prepared to separate, Xerta pulled me aside.

“You watch his back, you hear me? That big lug pretends he's made of mountain, but he carries more cracks than a drought-stricken field. Don't let him do anything stupid.”

“I won't,” I promised. “And you keep them safe.”

She just grunted before turning to join her own team.
I watched them go, the queen, the blacksmith, and the ghost.

Then it was just the two of us.
We walked west, mostly silent.
The endless expanse of the desert became a backdrop for the conversation that had been brewing in my soul for weeks.

“Tulote,” I began, “I was doing the maths. In my head.”

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

“A dangerous pastime for any soldier.”

“It's been almost eleven months, Eleven months since that being pulled me from my world and I landed in your throne room.”

Tulote stopped walking.
He turned to face me fully, and for the first time since we had met at the castle, the mask of Lord Regent fell away completely.
His face was etched with a sudden shock, and a deep, aching concern.

“Elven...” he breathed. “By my parents' souls, Arda... I had lost track. In the chaos, the battles... I forgot. Your time is almost gone.”

“I have a little over a month left,” I confirmed.

My own heart pounded profusely.
The one-year deadline had been an abstract concept for so long, but now it was uncomfortably close.

He reached out and gripped my shoulder.

“Then we will not waste a single second. Arda... my friend... I am sorry. I have asked everything of you. My world has asked everything of you. We dragged you from your home, put the weight of our salvation on our shoulders, and now... now your own life hangs by the slenderest of threads.”

“You didn't drag me here, Tulote,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I chose to come. And I'd pick it again. At first, it was just about getting back to my kids, simply transactional. I'd save your world, and a god would save me. But it's not that simple any more.”

I thought of Yui's final, brave smile.
Of Triton's tears at the sight of Aquarius's spirit.
Of the hope on the faces of the people in Ormas.
Of Xerta's fierce, protective loyalty.

“This has become my fight, too,” I continued. “You've become my family. How could I not fight for my family?”

Tulote pulled me into a rough, bone-crushing embrace, the way a brother would.

“And you are mine, Arda. More a brother to me than any I have known, save Aquarius. I swear to you, on his memory and on the souls of my parents, we will see you victorious. We will see you returned to your children. I will not fail another brother.”

We stood there for a moment, two men from different universes, bound by a shared purpose and a bond forged by an impossible war.
Yes, we were both lord and hero, but at our core, we were just brothers, standing at the end of the world.

—

The ruined Imperial way station was a skeletal corpse on the desert floor, its crumbling walls were a testament to the Imperium's long-lost reach.
It was now crawling with demonic scum with their black iron and ragged banners.

“No subtlety here,” Tulote observed, drawing Flamma. “Just a bunch of vermin to be stomped.”

“Then let's get to stomping,” I replied, the Gladius Nobellus humming to life in my hand.

It was quite the contrast, its steady white light to the chaotic red glow of the Flamma.

We were the plan.
We charged, a two-man army.

Tulote slammed his free hand on the ground, and the very desert rose to his command.
A wave of sand and rock, twenty feet high, crashed into the outer perimeter of the camp, burying dozens of demons and shattering their makeshift defences.

I moved through the chaos he created, my mind was calm.
Silus's lessons, Xerta's training, all clicked into place.
My swordplay was getting better.

“Don't just block, boy! Deflect! Use their momentum against them!” Silus drilled.

“Sure old man.”

A demon lunged, its serrated blade aimed at my heart.
I moved, turning my body, letting the blow slide off the flat of my Gladius.
The demon stumbled past me, overextended and off-balance.
My return stroke was already in motion, a clean, precise cut that severed its head from its shoulders before it even knew its attack had failed.

“Better,” Silus grunted.

“On your left!” Tulote roared as he incinerated a demonic captain.

“Already saw him my man!” I replied, spinning to meet the charge of a hulking, four-armed brute.

My perception of Order and my physical senses were now one.
I saw the demon's every tensed muscle, the flawed glyphs in its chaotic armour, the trajectory of its four descending blades.
Time itself seemed to slow.
I moved with a perfect preternatural efficiency.
I ducked under the first swing, parried the second and third with a single, flowing motion of the Gladius that created a shower of sparks.
I drove the tip of my blade through the weak point in its chest I had perceived a full second before.

We fought back-to-back in the heart of the encampment.
The two of us were an unstoppable force, our two disparate styles — his overwhelming power, my absolute precision —  blending into the ultimate war machine.
We fought together and as one.

When the last demon fell, its body dissolving into black ash that was swept away by the desert wind, a beautiful silence descended.
We stood in the centre of the ruined way station, surrounded by the evidence of our victory, our breath coming in ragged gasps.

Tulote leaned on his sword, his fiery aura dimming.

“It would seem,” he said, a weary grin spreading across his face, “that we still make a rather effective team.”

“The best,” I agreed, my own muscles screaming in protest.

We stood there for a long moment, watching the sun begin its slow descent towards thee horizon, painting the sky in hues of blood and gold.

“Arda, about your time... We will end this. We will defeat Dietha, and we will find a way to get you home. I will move this world, and any other, to see it done.”

I looked at my friend, at this demigod who was like a brother to me.
The fear for my children, the ticking clock in my soul was all still there,
But it was joined by something else.
A fierce unwavering hope.

“I know you will, Tulote,” I said. “I know you will.”

In the distance, a brilliant green flare shot into the twilight sky — the signal from Cassandra.
Their snake was dead, too.
We were one step closer.
But the desert before us was vast and dark, and the final hour was drawing near.