Finality

⭑ · · ᯓ 𐃈 ᯓ · · ⭑

For a second, he could only hear a sharp ringing in his ears, his vision fading into white. Felix couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t even really process what had just happened. Then the sound rushed back all at once.

“The inn!”

“Someone get help!”

Festivalgoers fled in every direction as the fire raged beside him. The inn hadn’t stood a chance, the flames collapsing the entire top floor in a matter of seconds. Felix rolled painfully onto his side.

Elora.

The elf was still inside, along with many others. Felix tried to rise, but a hand grabbed his cloak feebly. Kite’s eyes were terrified.

“Kite!”

All other thoughts disappeared. Felix dragged Kite onto his lap, one hand pressed desperately against the wound on her neck. Blood rushed between his fingers as her complexion paled, a soft glow emanating from Felix’s hand.

“No, no, no—look at me. Kite, please!” Felix’s voice shook. “You’ll be alright; I’m healing you. This is nothing, right?”

It’s not working… my magic…

The wound refused to close. He tried pouring more and more mana into his holy magic, but was met with the same results. Again, nothing.

“Come on!”

Kite convulsed against him, trying desperately to pull air through a throat that would no longer cooperate with her.

“WHY ISN’T IT WORKING?!”

A pair of boots touched down softly upon the street behind him.

“Bloodletting.”

Felix went still. Through the ringing in his ears and the roar of the burning inn, Crow’s voice remained perfectly calm.

Lightning flashed, and Felix slowly looked over his shoulder. Crow stood a few steps away, one bloodied scythe hanging loosely at his side.

“One of my divine blessings. Any wound I inflict with a blade won’t heal unless cleansed by holy water or by an exceptional holy mage.” The man explained plainly. “Curious. That strike should have been fatal. Another blessing? Oh well, it matters little.”

Felix suddenly remembered Kite’s other divine blessing, One Last Chance. A power that could cheat instant death, but there was only one problem… Since his magic was only Intermediate Class, there was only one way to heal her wound, and that was by getting the holy water.

Felix heard panicked screams all around as several explosions rocked the Citadel. The guards hadn’t arrived at the inn, and he immediately assumed that the events were connected. Their assumption that Crow wouldn’t attack them in a crowded area couldn’t have been more wrong.

“How could you…?” Felix looked on with hatred. “All those people, Kite didn’t deserve this!”

“All necessary to get to a man like you.” Crow shrugged. “Kite was too crafty to ignore, and you chose the battlefield. If you want to blame anyone, blame yourself for hiding behind them.”

Was it really…?

“…Not…your…” Kite rasped, squeezing his forearm. “…fault.”

No…

Felix stood without a word, carrying Kite in his arms.

“Now where do you think you’re going, Hero?”

“The church. Get out of my way.”

His goal was to carry her to the Citadel’s cathedral to the six divines.

“No.” Not only had Crow blocked the way forward, but two identical copies of himself stepped out of the shadows to box Felix in. “If you want to get through, you’ll have to fight your way.”

Felix looked down at Kite’s pained face. He didn’t have a choice. He wasn’t fast enough to outrun three Crows, let alone one. If he wanted to help her, there was a single way to do it. However…

“After the last time we fought, I did a little research into that battle axe of yours.” Crow waited patiently, explaining as if he had all the time in the world. “I’m a bit of a weapons nut, you see.”

Crow jostled the large sword resting on his back. Felix didn’t react.

“Your axe is one of a kind. Infinite Parry is its name. The dwarves trapped a living soul with its own divine blessing inside that violet crystal of yours.” Crow smiled faintly. “An ability that blocks any physical attack you’re prepared for. It’s too bad you don’t have it now, but unlike last time, I’m not here to test you.”

Crow and his doubles circled Felix. His weapon trapped in the flames, Felix was unarmed at the worst possible time, but he didn’t care.

“Have it your way...”

He set Kite down gently.

If a fight is what it’ll take…

“HAAAAAAAH!”

Felix charged in like a man possessed, desperately swinging to connect with anything he could. The two doppelgängers, along with Crow, moved in, punching and slashing whenever they saw an opportunity. Only Crow himself held a scythe, the same one he’d used on Kite.

“Your aura...”

Crow noticed Felix’s eyes as they glowed with the same intensity as the axe’s gem, his aura surging like a cloud of miasma. A fist connected with Crow’s face, miraculously, as Felix somehow managed to keep up with the speed of the gang attack.

The assassin’s battle experience told him that Felix had not only gotten stronger, but that if left standing for much longer, he might begin to overpower them—a far cry from the drubbing he’d received before.

“RRRRGH—!“

As Felix slammed one doppelgänger into the ground, splattering his skull with inhuman force, Crow moved in with a bone-crushing knee right to Felix’s nose, which sent him crashing backward.

Felix tried to force himself up, but nothing below his neck responded. He was frozen stiff on the ground.

No, get up, damn it!

“You’re wondering why you can’t move.” Crow tapped the flat of his scythe against his shoulder. “A fast-acting paralytic. Sure took a big dose for you, though. I had to assume raw force wouldn’t be enough this time.”

When did he poison me…?

Only then did he feel the cuts littering his body. Each was small enough to ignore when the adrenaline was coursing through him, but the attrition was now self-evident as he lay on the ground.

Everything had gone wrong. Felix reached out a healing hand towards Kite, who lay next to him. If nothing else, he wanted to provide what comfort he could before the unthinkable came to pass.

Two empty eyes stared back at him, drilling into his mind a sickening realization.

It had already come.

. . .

Kite had passed away.

. . .

“No…” Tears streamed down Felix’s face. “Kite…”

This is a bad dream, right? A nightmare?

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Felix wondered if this was where he, too, would meet his end. Crow slowly approached.

“That’s enough!”

A wooden object cut through the air like an arrow, diving towards Crow. Instinctively, the man chopped the bird statue into splinters, the spirit releasing from within.

An ice spear tore through the curtain of smoke, narrowly missing his face as he leaned backward. It buried itself into the chest of the surviving doppelgänger behind him instead.

“Hm?” The assassin narrowed his gaze. “Not bad.”

The sound of boots got closer.

“Step away from him, monster.”

Elora emerged from the burning inn with one side of her cape reduced to blackened shreds. Blood ran from her temple, and her left eye had been burned completely shut. Several remaining wooden birds circled above her. Felix’s eyes widened with the hope of her arrival.

“…Elora…?”

Elora’s gaze moved past Crow, first landing on Felix and then on Kite’s body beside him.

“…Miss Kite?”

“Gone.” Felix sobbed in whispers. “I couldn’t…”

“I see.” Elora nodded. “I’d hoped we’d become friends...”

“Hey, I recognize you,” Crow smirked. “You were there that day in Crestalis when I got that kill contract. What? You want to lodge a complaint after twenty years?”

“After I finished dragging whomever I could from the inn to safety, I found it strange that the guards hadn’t arrived until several did, and ambushed me.” Elora glared intensely. “Those were your men in disguise, weren’t they?”

“Ding ding. You’ve got good instincts, elf.” Crow praised her, smiling with his sharpened teeth. “You must be the spearwoman from this guy's old party. A worthy challenger.”

“My name is Elora Greenbriar, Champion of Crestalis, friend to Felix, Prim, Victor… and Kite.” Elora tightened her grip on the haft of her spear. “For their honor and that of my people, I shall have my vengeance.”

“Are you gonna come take it?”

Crow split into three once more, but those doppelgängers split into copies of their own. Soon there were seven of them, including the original, and each pulled out two scythes.

“Have at you!” Elora readied her spear.

They started off their assault by dousing the orange festival lanterns by cutting them down, knocking down any other source of light that could aid the half-blind Elora. Felix saw figures jumping in and out of the shadows, moving on all fours like wild beasts.

Elora moved brilliantly, her clashes with Crow illuminated only by sparks from flashing blades and dry lightning cracking overhead. Felix witnessed the silhouettes of no less than four doppelgängers get brutally sliced into pieces by Elora’s counterattacks.

That’s strange, Crow thought, wearing a tense expression. Her vision should be shot.

Not only was one of Elora’s eyes badly burned, but Crow or one of his doubles should have been able to easily strike her down from the shadows. Instead, she blocked every attack with uncanny precision, redirecting the blows with the haft of her weapon.

That’s when Crow finally noticed the green eyes circling overhead. He smiled wryly.

“So that’s it.”

Crow’s focus shifted as he peeled away from his doppelgängers, taking to the rooftops. He systematically destroyed each of Elora’s spirit dolls. Her vision worsened, and she began to sustain damage.

Two enemies rushed her at once, the first sacrificing its chest to take her spear with it. The second ran right into her, but as she leapt back to create some distance…

“Elora, look out—!”

Felix’s warning came too late as a lightning strike revealed her shadow against the building behind her. A hand pierced through the last surviving doppelgänger’s back and straight through her chest, holding Elora up.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you you’re a little old to be playing with dolls?”

Blood dripped from the corners of Elora’s mouth as she tried to breathe through the hand lodged deep in her torso. An incantation began from her shaky lips as hatred filled her eyes.

“Yggdrasil… ancient root of all living…”

“That’s enough of that.”

Crow ripped his hand out of Elora’s chest cavity, holding something as he did. Still beating within his palm, he watched Elora’s heart pulse once, twice, until it moved no longer. Her body finally hit the ground, face-first in the dust.

Felix waited for his companion to move. He searched desperately for any sign that she was alright as he lay there, powerless to stop any of the carnage he’d just witnessed. None came.

Mortal fear gripped Felix as Crow tossed the heart aside, collecting Elora’s spear with the same bloody hand and turning his attention back to him. The rain started falling right then and there, washing away the red that had seeped into the street.

“The three of you were strong,” Crow said coldly as lightning struck once more. “But things didn’t work out in your favor this time, did they?”

“Crow, you…”

Kite had been ambushed before she could even think to evade; Felix had lost his weapon, the guards were compromised, and Elora entered the battle already injured. Crow had done his research; he had outmaneuvered them. There was no denying it.

He loomed over Felix with Elora’s spear raised over his chest in the light of the dying fire. Unfortunately, life offered no second chance, and the end could come when one least expected it to.

I’m sorry, everyone...

“Rest now, Hero.”

The spear fell, squelching through tendon and bone, and the story ended.

. . .

The Hero, Felix Atlasse, died.

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

“AHHHHHHH!”

Felix screamed, his breath ragged as he scanned the library with bewildered eyes.

Elora was kneeling nearby, Prim limp in her arms. Kite, meanwhile, stared at him wide-eyed, one hand still reaching toward him.

Alive…

They all were, including himself. Felix shot upright, one question tearing through his mind.

“What the hell just happened?”