Chapter 53: The General's Interrogation

The title 'Royal Assassin' hangs in the air, heavier and more toxic than the red Miasma-smoke.

It is a key. A single, terrifying word that unlocks the entire, horrible puzzle.

I am Erima. I am the Arrow. My mind is a map, and the last piece has just been slammed into place.

We are not just lost. We are not unlucky.

We are the epicenter.

I am kneeling in the dark, damp, fungal-wood hovel. My hands are slick with Kizawa's blood. Outside, the red light of Torchlight paints the street in a hellish, arterial glow.

Inside, the room is cramped, filled with the impossible, nine-foot bulk of General Krell. His glowing green Rekka-spear, stabbed into the soft floor, provides the only light, casting huge, monstrous shadows. Its light is a cold, living, alien green, a stark contrast to the Miasma-red. It makes Kizawa, who is slumped against the wall, look like a corpse.

His four black, pupilless eyes are fixed on me. They are the eyes of a predator, a general, a judge. He is waiting.

"Tell me," Krell's voice rumbles, a vibration I feel in my chest. "Everything."

The Phalanx medic, a Grak-ta nearly as large as Krell but carrying a heavy pack instead of a shield, is working on Kizawa. The medic is silent, professional. He has cut away the ruined, bloody cloth of Kizawa's shirt. I see the wound. It is a yard-long, gaping canyon of flesh. It is horrifying. The medic is applying a thick, glowing, green moss to it.

The moss sizzles when it touches Kizawa's flesh.

Kizawa is conscious. He is watching the alien medic work on him, his face a mask of such profound, cold hatred that it is almost as terrifying as Krell's. His hand is on the hilt of his sword. He is dying, but he is daring the medic to make a wrong move.

"The... moss..." Hachiro whispers, his voice trembling. He is huddled next to me, his own shattered arm, with its crude, failing chi-splint, held to his chest. "It... it is Rekka-light. Like... the Spire..."

"It is the Spire," Krell growls, not taking his four eyes off me. "The blood of the Hollow-God. It heals. It burns. It gives life. It cauterizes."

As he speaks, the glowing green moss seals Kizawa's wound. It is not healing it. It is burning it shut, a brutal, alien form of battlefield medicine. The smell of ozone and seared flesh fills the hovel.

Kizawa does not make a sound. He just endures. His knuckles on his sword-hilt are white.

"Now. Talk," Krell commands me.

My mind races. A lie? A truth? A partial-truth?

The truth.

It is the only thing that makes sense. He is a General. He is not a fool like the Shaman, blinded by faith. Krell deals in facts. The Royal Assassins are a fact. My dead Stalker is a fact. Kizawa's impossible skill is a fact.

He needs these facts to add up. I will give him the equation.

"Mizuki... the 'Flame-Girl'... is real," I say, my voice a dry, rasping croak. I push myself into a sitting position. I will not be interrogated from my knees.

Krell nods. "I... gathered... that."

"She... is not a 'Goddess'," I continue. "She... is a weapon. Or... she... has one. 'First Flame'. A dagger. It... it is golden. It burns with her power."

"A... Phoenix-flame," Krell rumbles. "The old texts... spoke of it. The antidote to the Void. The one light... the Spinner King... fears."

He knows. This is not a revelation to him.

"We... were... at the Spire," I say, my voice gaining strength. "We... met Vor-Kin. We... saw the Heart of the Hollow-God."

Krell's eyes narrow. This... is new.

"He told us... the lie. That Mizuki was the 'Savior'. That she was there to slay the God."

"And... you... believed it?" he scoffs.

"No," I say, my voice as cold as his. "We listened. We went up. We saw the Heart."

I look at Hachiro. His face is pale, his eyes wide. He... is the conduit.

"The... song..." Hachiro whispers, his voice trembling. "I... I felt... it. The... God... it is in so much pain..."

Krell's gaze snaps to Hachiro. "You... felt it?"

"He hears it," I say. "He feels it. All of it. The God... it is not our enemy. It... is a prisoner. The... chains..."

"The Void-chains," Krell says, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

"Yes. They... are what is killing it. They are feeding its power to the Spinner King. The Hunters... are not an army. They are a symptom. The God's own madness, its pain, given form."

Krell... is silent. He... is staring at his spear. The green light. The blood of his God.

He... did not know this.

He thought the Hunters were the enemy. He thought the Phalanx... was the answer.

"You... lie," he whispers, his voice shaking with a new, cold fury. "The... Hunters... are monsters. They kill us. They devour us."

"They... are the God's immune system... trying to kill the God... to stop the pain!" Hachiro cries, his empathy a weapon. "I know it! I felt it!"

Krell looks at Hachiro, and for the first time, I see doubt in his four black eyes.

"The God... spoke to her," I continue, pressing the advantage. "To Mizuki. It called her 'Savior'. It begged her to free it. Not to kill it. To sever the chains."

"Impossible," Krell growls. "The chains are Void. They cannot be touched. They are eternal."

"Her Flame... can touch them," I state. "Her dagger... is the Key. We cut three."

A sharp intake of breath. Not from Krell.

From... Yogawa.

He... is awake. He is conscious, his back pressed to the wall, his eyes wide with terror, staring at Krell. He... heard everything.

"We... cut three," I repeat, my gaze locked on Krell. "And... it cost us... everything."

I gesture to Kizawa, who is now breathing evenly, his eyes closed, the Rekka-moss glowing a dull green on his back. He is stable.

I gesture to Hachiro's shattered arm.

"It... cost her... her power. She... used it to save them. To save him."

I point at Kizawa.

Krell... understands... sacrifice. He nods, a slow, grudging respect.

"And... then... the Assassins came," I say. "We were ambushed. We fought. We... won. Barely. The floor... gave way. She... fell."

The last word... hangs in the air.

Krell looks at Kizawa's sleeping form.

"And... you... followed," he says again. He... understands the narrative.

"Yes," I say. "We followed."

"You... are fools," he repeats, but this time... it is not an insult. It... is a statement of fact. An observation.

"But... you are fools... who have wounded the King."

He stares at me, his gaze so intense it is a physical weight.

"The Spinner King has never sent his Royal Guard into this city. Never. They... are for his Web. For his enemies in the Abyss. Not... for us. We... are cattle. We... are not a threat."

He paces the small room, a tiger in a cage. His cage. His city.

"But you... You arrive. You... carry the 'First Flame'. A weapon... we thought was a myth. A weapon... that can TRULY harm him."

He stops. He is vibrating with a new energy. A terrible, dawning hope.

"And you... you use it to damage his chains. His property. His food supply."

He is connecting the dots.

"He... is not afraid... of the Hollow-God getting free," Krell whispers, his voice a conspiracy. "He... is afraid... of YOU. Of HER. He... is afraid... of the FLAME."

"He sent his Assassins to the Spire... not to kill the God... but to kill the GIRL."

He slams his fist into the fungal-wood wall. The hovel shakes.

"And... she FELL!" he roars. "She fell past my city! She fell into his parlor! You... fools! You have delivered the only weapon in creation... directly to the enemy!"

The accusation hits me like a physical blow.

He... is right.

The... despair... is absolute.

I have no answer for that.

I... close my eyes. We failed. Mizuki... is gone. And we... are the ones who doomed her.

"No."

The voice is a croak.

I open my eyes.

Kizawa... is awake.

He is sitting up. The green moss is a *puckered, glowing scar on his back. He is pale. He is shaking.

But he is awake.

His blue eyes are not filled with a vacuum of rage.

They are filled... with a *cold, perfect, crystalline clarity.

The chasm... is gone.

He is... Kizawa.

He looks at Krell.

"She... is not... a weapon... to be delivered," Kizawa says, his voice low and even. "And she... is not gone."

He pushes himself off the wall. He stands.

He is unsteady, but he is standing.

He picks up his two swords. He sheathes them.

"She... is the bait," Kizawa says, his voice so cold it burns.

Krell... stares at him. "Bait?"

"She... is the most dangerous thing the Spinner King has ever encountered. He... thinks he has her. He thinks he has trapped her. He... is wrong."

Kizawa... is a terrible liar. But... this is not a lie.

This... is... FAITH.

"She... is Mizuki," Kizawa says, as if that explains everything.

And... maybe it does.

"She... is buying us time," Kizawa continues. "And we... are going to use it."

He turns to Krell.

"General. You are right. We... are fools. We... are broken. We... are not your soldiers."

He taps the hilt of his sword.

"We... are the weapons."

Krell's four eyes narrow at the *sheer, unadulterated arrogance.

"You... are an insect," Krell snarls.

"I... am an insect... that makes Royal Assassins look slow," Kizawa counters. He... is not bragging. He... is stating a fact.

He points at me. "She... is an insect... who can kill them with a thrown stick. And she... is the one who devised the plan to restructure your entire Phalanx."

Krell... flinches. He... did not know that.

Kizawa points at Hachiro. "He... is an insect... who can EAT your Miasma-poison... and punch a Hunter to death. He... is the one who held the line when the Void backlash shattered his arm."

Kizawa... points at Yogawa.

Yogawa squeaks.

"And he... is a scholar. He... has a magic you have never seen. He... is the one who got us down here alive."

Kizawa takes a step forward. He is face to chest with the Grak-ta General.

"We... are the fools who fell from the sky. We... are the only variable in your *entire, *miserable, dying world. We are the only ones who can follow her.

He is not asking for help.

He... is offering a deal.

"You... want to kill the Spinner King," Kizawa whispers, his voice a venomous promise. "You... want to save your city. Your God."

He gestures around the ruined room.

"We... are how you do it. We... are your Royal Assassins."

The silence... is absolute.

Krell... is a General. He... is a pragmatist.

He... is being out-maneuvered by a *half-dead, six-foot insect with blue hair.

And... he knows... Kizawa is right.

"You... will follow my command," Krell growls. It... is not a question.

"We... will follow the mission," Kizawa counters. "The mission... is MIZUKI. She... is the Key. We... get her back. Then... we use that Key to unlock your chains. And his."

He stabs a finger down at the floor.

The Spinner King.

Krell... stares at him for a *long, long time.

Then... he nods.

Once.

"Phalanx!" he barks.

The Phalanx medic shoves a pouch of the green moss at me. "For... his arm," he grunts, pointing at Hachiro.

"And... him," he points at the still-fainted Yogawa. "He... is weak. Carry him."

Krell turns and strides out of the hovel.

"We... move," he roars. "To... the Nexus. The... Assassins know you are here. They... will be more."

He looks back at Kizawa.

"Try... to keep up... Insect."

Kizawa... smiles.

It... is a real smile.

"Try... to keep up... General."

He steps out of the darkness... into the red light of the street, his twin blades at his side.

We... are not prisoners.

We... are not fools.

We... are a vanguard.

And... we are going to war.