Sinners of the Last Crusade

ALONG THE way to the hill, Sirius encountered more soul feeders hauntingly lurking but only cut down ones that were in his way. He didn’t have time to exact vengeance on them for what they did to his friends. But Sirius knew they would all get what was coming to them.

After what seemed like an impossibly long jog to the foot of the hill, Sirius’s watch confirmed that he’d only been traveling for an hour.

The dead trees sticking out of the ground all the way to the summit looked as dry as bone.

Another monochromatic palette of a wasteland awaited Sirius yet again, except this time Lucien was on the other side. He wasted no time reuniting with his friend, but soon discovered that the soul feeders had surrounded the blond teen as he brandished his broadsword and heater shield. Sirius quickly drew his pistol, while concentrating on all of the mana flowing within him, and pulled the trigger.

He fired several bullets at them, leaving thin streaks behind. At first, it didn’t look like anything happened, but the next second, the bullets ruptured the soul feeders, electrocuting them and connecting each bolt like a ring around the sky-blue-eyed Pawn.

Once the shock died out, the soul feeders collapsed and started dissipating into the air as black ash.

This caused Lucien to release a weary breath before looking towards his friend and nodding. “It’s about time you got here!” he remarked.

Sirius chuckled with relief that he really was as lively as ever, then playfully retorted, “Nah, bro, it looked like you had everything under control.” He immediately embraced him and slapped his back hard. “Been looking everywhere for you.”

Lucien rasped, “Well, what took you so long?” He returned the slap, but it wasn’t as hard. “I couldn’t catch a break.” He panted, and his weight soon slumped against Sirius. After retracting a bit, Sirius quickly handed him a stamina pill.

“You ran out, huh?” he said, noticing that all of the pouches on Lucien’s belt were opened or not fastened properly.

After swallowing, he slowly postured while adding, “Liquid mana too. Used it all up during the waves.”

“Damn, man, and you were the furthest away.” He uncorked the last vial of green liquid and handed it to him.

He nodded, then took a swig of the mana potion, but stopped halfway, realizing, “Your mana’s also pretty low, dude. What happened out there?” before passing the vial to him.

Sirius took a sip and relayed to him how he carried all thirty-one students to the teleportation statue one at a time. He sighed. “Whenever I got a little further, I found another one. And another one, and another one… I couldn’t just leave them there, Lucien. They were so helpless.”

Lucien clenched his jaw, then responded, “Damn. I saw some on the way here, but I couldn’t stop to help them….” He rubbed his forehead, feeling disappointed in himself. “I was trying to keep the soul feeders away from our friends.”

Sirius quietly looked at the ground, sympathizing.

Handing him the vial to finish it, Lucien added, “But I can’t imagine what it looked like when… some of their souls were being devoured.”

“That’s how Theo went,” Sirius muttered before drinking.

Lucien’s mouth was agape. “Theo… Oh, God-King,” he expressed in disbelief. “He’s really…?” Clenching his jaw, Sirius nodded, and Lucien hung his head. Tears welled and fell to the ground, as he ran his fingers through his medium-length hair. He sniffled and quickly wiped his tears away before posturing up, slowly asking, “How many more…?”

“Ten,” Sirius bluntly replied under his breath, an immense feeling of guilt pressed upon him.

Lucien nodded, as expressionless as his friend, but both of them were trying to keep their composure because they knew that this battlefield was no place to mourn their dead.

After a few minutes of letting the liquid mana revitalize their soul energy, Sirius informed Lucien, “I’ve got a handful of stamina pills. That should be more than enough to get us back to the statue. And the soul feeders outside are pretty docile.”

Lucien rolled his shoulders and nodded.

They began jogging over the ridge without fail. Side-by-side, they continued across the wasteland. No soul feeder approached or stood in their way. It seemed like everything was finally going to be okay.

“Another ten-minute jog like this and we’ll be back,” Sirius estimated after glancing at his watch.

“Home at last,” Lucien exhaled, squinting towards the thin teleportation statue in the distance.

The pair was only a few minutes shy of their destination when all of a sudden, a black void cracked open before them, its edges lined with a sickly yellow glow. Its presence rippled throughout the proving grounds, knocking Sirius and Lucien flat against the charred earth.

Dust plumed, ears rang, and lungs burned.

This was the same effect that took place and crippled the Pallethorpe Village class, but this time would prove drastically different.

Reddish-orange tentacles shot out of the rift, slick, wet with a sticky substance that coiled around Sirius and Lucien with crushing strength before hurling them back again. Sirius’s teeth cracked together as he slammed against stone, his vision swimming, while Lucien rolled further away, his blond hair matted with black gravel. Despite their aching bodies and blurred vision, the boys stood, grunting through the pain as they raised their shields and drew their swords. They weren’t going down easily. Not when they were this close to the end.

Since it appeared that the tentacles couldn’t reach their position, both imbued their soul power into the pistols to fire into the void. Sirius’s bullets crackled lightning streaks once more, while Lucien’s was a bright gold, emitting a blinding shine from the element of light.

These two Clockwork Harmonies unleashed a devastating result in the void, electrocuting and exploding upon whatever that retreated its slimy tentacles.

It let out a blood-curdling screech.

Knowing this wouldn’t be over easily, Sirius and Lucien consumed another stamina pill before grabbing their blades and dashing towards the obelisk while repeatedly glancing at the void in order to dodge any more surprise attacks. But their escape stopped instantly when the void started looking back at them: a large single eye with a yellow sclera veined with rot, its vertical pupil narrowing in predatory focus.

More eyes blinked open in concentric rings until a massive, circular body forced its way out of the abyss. From its reddish bulk writhed tentacles, thick and twitching as though eager to flay the world. Its maw spiraled with inward-pointing teeth, dripping with sizzling, light green ichor. While soul feeders were shadowy, humanoid, and possessed their own capacity to strike fear into people, this interdimensional creature was a grotesque and otherworldly abomination. It was unlike anything anyone in Chesslandiya had ever seen, and it left Sirius and Lucien speechless and filled with dread.

But that changed in mere moments. The pair went on the defensive again when the creature slammed one of its tentacles where Sirius stood, splitting the ground into jagged shards.

He rolled right, shield rising just in time to deflect another limb that cracked like a siege hammer.

Some distance away, Lucien ducked low from another appendage aiming to kill, blade parrying a strike that would’ve cleaved him in two.

While a third tentacle swept low, both boys leapt high, their armor rattling as yellow rays of energy beamed from its eyes and scorched the area beneath them.

“Cut left!” Sirius shouted to his friend, deflecting a smaller energy beam with his shield.

Lucien sidestepped, his sword engulfed in white and yellow light that he used to sever a tentacle that was batting towards them.

The appendage writhed and fell, ichor hissing where it struck.

Sirius mirrored him from the other side, lightning bursting as his blade carved clean down the length of another.

The creature howled, limbs drawing inward, body coiling like a spring, before launching skyward with impossible speed.

“Brace!” Lucien ordered, gripping his shield tightly.

The creature plummeted like a meteor.

Fire spewed from its maw in a sweeping cone towards Sirius and Lucien, who slammed their shields together overhead, crouching against the blaze. The inferno struck hard, metal glowing red beneath their fists, boots sliding back as the blast shoved them towards defeat. Their arms quaked and flesh blistered.

And just when their strength began faltering, the flames suddenly cut off.

The creature screeched in agony after something penetrated its body and forced it to the ground. The dust of death fountained high on the battlefield, and from within it stepped a figure.

When the dust started settling, Sirius and Lucien let out short coughs and perceived something moving towards them.

She walked as though untouched by ash or heat. Her royal blue hair streamed in the smoky wind beneath a black transparent veil. Apart from her hair, it was as if her dirndl uniform and peaked cap were one with her surroundings: dark and gray. She glanced towards the recovering pair, specifically in Sirius’s direction, her magenta-colored eyes beneath rectangular framed glasses gazing into his, as she uttered, “You are unhurt?” There was a gentle undertone to her harsh words.

He quietly nodded, awestruck by her sudden appearance, and beneath her peaked cap, he swore he saw her crack a smile, despite her intimidating aura.

Her black cape settled down once the dust mostly cleared, and the long sword she wielded dissipated into her soul. This chronarm, or soul weapon, was bound to her mana signature as a ranked individual.

For those promoted to the Knight class—a horsehead shaped mark on the back of one’s dominant hand—it usually entailed a melee chronarm.

Aside from suddenly appearing, there was another factor about her that was foreign to the boys.

“Get out while you can,” she coldly advised, returning her attention to the creature.

It started convulsing and growing back into shape to continue the fight.

“I will hold it off,” she added.

“Who are you?” Lucien asked, gripping the hilt of his blade.

She lowered her head as she turned around. “Even if I tell you now, you will not remember when you return home,” she stated. When she lifted her head, she appeared not much older than the two friends. She glanced between them and muttered something lengthy, but whatever it was, it was something only Sirius could hear.

He responded with a nod, “Oh, I see. Well, then we’ll make sure to thank you properly next time. But still, thanks for saving us.”

She nodded, her eyes delivering a momentary glimmer.

Sirius sheathed his weapons and turned to his friend. “Let’s go, they’re waiting for us.”

Before Lucien could get a word out of his mouth, the creature let out another blood-curdling screech.

In quick response to it, and buying time for them to escape, the blue-haired Knight dashed forward with her sword.

The white obelisk glowed turquoise when Sirius and Lucien stood upon the square platform. But just as they were about to teleport away, the creature appeared to have the upper hand.

One tentacle was sliced off by the Knight, but another wrapped around the blade, while another started constricting her like an anaconda. Several of its eyes glowed a sulfurous yellow, readying to fire its beams.

Sirius gasped, and he instinctively dashed away from the statue, brandishing his pistol and fired more lightning bullets to stop the attack.

Lucien jolted forward, attempting to follow him, but was teleported back to Sacrarium of the King.

The creature shrieked and let the Knight go as it fixated upon the fledgling Pawn, his sword sparking with purple bolts. It roared with an intimidating shout, ichor and rancid heat blaring towards Sirius as it swung its slimy appendages at him.

He again leapt forward without thought, blade erupting with lightning as he severed two of the limbs in one mighty slash to regroup with the Knight, who postured to one knee. Sirius planted himself between her and the creature, his shield raised high with his right arm scarred in spots of red and light yellow.

Her eyes lowered, her expression saddened, knowing he had suffered so much before she arrived. “You are very sweet for doing that, Sirius,” she muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

The creature’s appendage curled overhead as Sirius was preparing to make his move. But he suddenly found himself levitating. “What the—!” he gasped.

The Knight’s hand was lifted with a soft green glow around it—the same aura that surrounded Sirius. She softly spoke, “Thank you… but it is not the right time yet.”

She sent him back to the statue. “No, wait!” he pleaded, extending his left hand.

But she was long out of reach.

The turquoise glow enveloped him.

Her long dirndl uniform, silky blue hair, and radiant magenta eyes all blurred instantly from Sirius’s mind.

* * *

Sirius awoke on cold marble flooring. The sterile white glow of the Sacrarium of the King enveloped him. Rows of classmates lay around him.

Some bodies were still. Some stirred weakly. And some were covered completely in a white blanket.

Relief and regret all collided in his chest.

Lucien tended to his classmates, administering medicine or bandages according to the direction of the Bishop-class healers, who were dressed in white robes with faceless reflective masks.

When he saw his friend’s golden eyes, he staggered towards him, armor and parts of his class shawl scorched but intact. “Sirius, you made it!” He helped his friend sit up as he handed him a canteen of water, followed by some liquid mana.

Sirius panted and held his head in both hands, shaking it like he’d forgotten something important and couldn’t recall.

The clerics were tending to everyone as the warm sunlight shone through the square multi-colored stained glasses of the sanctuary.

Things were going to be different from that day forward. Not only because the class witnessed an otherworldly crusade like no other, but because the white Pawn marks on Sirius and Lucien’s hands darkened to black.

Black as the wasteland they returned from, and black as the dread and fear that consumed them after realizing it wasn’t soot from the battlefield.

Having sensed this anomaly on holy grounds, the sanctum guards rushed in and huddled around the pair.

These clockwork automatons were clad in pure white armor with gold accents and light blue capes. They were powered by a harmonic core—a tourbillon—that cycled mana and the god-king’s will. Their spears were ready to skewer Sirius and Lucien as they forced them to their feet and took them away to stand trial before Chesslandiya’s deity, God-King Dajayatan.