Let's Finish This

Murry’s sword clashed against Kemal’s lance, as the hero knight pushed him back, his boots leaving a long trail on the dirt.

“Damn bastard!”

The former knight gritted his teeth, trying to push back against the powerful hero knight.

Furielle twisted through the air, slashing for the guard’s side. Her blade ricocheted off a shield, and the guard retaliated with a kick that sent her rolling several paces away.

Ludmilla marked a spot on the earth with her chalk, before dodging a strike from a hero guard. Isla backed her up with a burst of wind. But the soldier was faster than they anticipated. He jumped over Ludmilla’s sigil, and barely flinched from Isla’s spell.

Furielle intercepted his strike before he could bring his blade down on Ludmilla.

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

Despite Furielle’s confident remark… the party was facing quite the dangerous foe. They couldn’t last for much longer.

"You served the Knights. Surely you understand."

Kemal thrust forward, as Murry blocked.

"Understand what?!"

"Some burdens belong only to heroes. Not ordinary people."

This time Kemal’s lance cut through Murry’s shoulder, as the former knight gritted his teeth.

"No." He stumbled but quickly regained his balance, "They belong to whoever refuses to run away."

Kemal’s glare deepened.

“A pity you see it that way.”

Furielle lunged far faster than the eye could see. But the hero knight managed to parry her dagger before it struck.

"Give him back!"

Kemal swerved, pushing her aside.

"He chose this."

Furielle spun on the ground, before pushing up again for another attack.

"No! He chose us!"

Below the cliff, Flint’s eyelids fluttered as blood ran down his face.

The voices...

He recognized them.

"...Murry..."

Pain exploded through his ribs as he tried to move, forcing the breath from his lungs before he'd managed to lift himself more than a few inches.

"...I..."

His fingers clawed weakly at the rock.

"...have to..."

His strength failed him.

Above, Katarina's greatsword crashed against Isla's barrier, the impact splintering its surface into a web of glowing cracks before the shield finally shattered altogether.

“Stand down.” She said, almost hesitating to attack again, “Your skills aren’t meant for the front lines. Your… hero has fallen.”

Isla’s robe fluttered as wind rose around her, her gaze locked onto Katarina.

“No… he hasn’t.”

Ludmilla traced a sigil through the air, holding her hands forward just as the hero guards closed in on her.

“Repulsion!”

The soldiers stumbled back from the force.

The opening created by Ludmilla's spell lasted barely a heartbeat.

One of the Hero Guards drove the butt of his spear into the scholar's side before she could complete another sigil, sending her stumbling across the grass as the chalk slipped from her fingers. Isla immediately stepped between them, her staff catching the incoming blade before a second guard crashed into her from the side with his shield.

The hit knocked the breath from Isla and sent her skidding several paces back.

"Mmph—"

A sword flashed toward her shoulder.

Furielle appeared between them in the blink of an eye, crossing both daggers to catch the strike before twisting beneath a second attack aimed at her ribs. She ducked one blade, sidestepped another, then finally misjudged the third.

The pommel of a sword crashed against her temple making her stagger. A kick followed immediately after, launching her into the base of a weathered tree with a dull thud.

"...Ow..."

She forced herself upright anyway.

Nearby, Murry's breathing had grown noticeably heavier as Kemal's lance refused to stop.

Every thrust forced another block and every block drove him another step backwards.

Their weapons clashed incessantly as Murry desperately turned aside a strike aimed for his throat, only for the Hero Knight to reverse his grip and sweep his legs from beneath him.

He hit the ground hard.

Before he could rise, the crimson lance stopped an inch from his neck.

“We will not kill over a petty squabble. Stand down already.”

“Petty squabble, you say?” Murry spat.

The Hero Guards kept pressing until the four companions were forced together, their backs almost touching.

“Why do you persist?” Kemal exhaled as the butt of his lance landed on the ground, “You cannot win. Flee while you still live. Heroes don’t enjoy collateral.”

“There’s nothing heroic about you!” Furielle barked, wiping the blood from her lip, “Flint is twice the hero you’ll ever be!”

Flint’s eyes snapped open again, air returning to his lungs.

It was Furielle’s voice.

Kemal scoffed, “He couldn’t even save himself.”

“I don’t care! When everyone else looked at me like I was a thief… Flint looked at me like I was a person! When I was too afraid to face my past, he stayed beside me until I could!”

Furielle tightened her grip on her daggers.

“He gave me a reason to stop running! I won’t let you talk about my hero like that!”

A reason...

I... did?

Furielle…

He could hear her clearly now.

Flint pushed himself up, his hand finally gripping stone. It hurt… it really did.

But not doing anything hurt even more.

Furielle still believed in him.

“Heh…” Murry laughed. “I thought heroes always ended up dying before they ever got to see what came after.”

The knight raised his sword in front of him.

“He was the first person who made me think maybe one of them could actually live long enough to see his dream through.”

The ex-knight’s gaze hardened.

“So you’d best wait until it’s all said and done before you write him off. This kid has a nasty habit of surprising people.”

Murry…

He believed in him? Even when he had deemed himself unworthy?

Flint’s ribs screamed as he climbed higher.

“Nonsense… followers must know when to stand down.”

Followers.

Isla’s grip tightened around her staff at the sound of that word.

That was what she had allowed herself to become.

Someone who watched Flint’s back.

Someone who followed wherever he led and waited for him to make every difficult choice.

She had told herself that staying close was enough.

But she knew better now.

She didn’t want to follow him.

She wanted to stand beside him.

Not as someone he had to protect.

Not as someone left behind to pick up the pieces.

As his equal.

And if she wasn’t strong enough to become that person yet…

Then she would become stronger.

“You’re wrong.”

Isla’s voice carried across the cliff.

She raised her staff, meeting Katarina’s gaze without wavering.

“A hero doesn’t need followers.”

The wind gathered around her.

“He needs people strong enough to stand beside him.”

Her fingers tightened around the splintered wood.

“I may not be that person yet…”

Her eyes drifted toward the edge of the cliff.

“…but I will be.”

She lifted her chin.

“I’ll become someone who can stand beside my hero.”

Isla…

Flint’s breath caught.

Her… hero?

Even after he had hesitated…

Even after he had failed her…

Even after he had fallen…

Isla still saw him as one.

Flint’s boots finally found a narrow ledge. He was almost there now.

“Flint may be reckless, and irrational…” Ludmilla pushed her cracked glasses up her nose, “But he taught me that failure doesn’t mean defeat.”

She looked toward the cliff.

“You truly fail only when you stop trying again.”

Flint drove his axe into the dirt and roots above him, using the handle to haul himself another few feet up the cliff.

In the end, it was the woodcutter’s axe that pulled the hero back up.

Reach!

Ludmilla’s words spurred him on for the final stretch.

Failure wasn’t defeat!

“Surrender. Now. My patience is wearing thin.” Kemal called one last time.

“Hm.” Ludmilla grinned, pointing at him, “You’ve made one rather critical miscalculation. Our hero is coming!”

Our hero, huh…

A bloodied hand gripped the edge of the cliff, and Flint slowly pulled himself back into view, the red coat torn and tattered yet still clinging to his shoulders.

Flint stumbled as he stood on the battlefield once more.

“Flint!” Isla called in relief.

“You idiot… were you taking a nap down there?” Murry let out a heavy breath.

“I knew you’d come.”

“Me too. I even calculated the seconds.”

Flint smiled, despite the blood running down his head and side.

His chest tightened.

All this time...

He thought a hero was someone extraordinary.

Someone chosen.

Someone stronger than everyone else.

Someone who never hesitated.

Someone who always arrived in time.

Someone like Hero Knight Kemal.

His eyes slowly drifted across the four people standing beside him.

No.

That wasn't what they had seen.

Not in Vega.

Not in Celeste.

Not in Bell Village.

Not today.

They had never followed him because he carried the Bloodblade. They had never believed in him because he was the strongest or because he always made the right decision.

They believed in him...

Because whenever someone needed help...

He always chose to step forward.

Even when he was afraid.

Even when he failed.

Even when he fell.

A quiet smile spread across Flint's face.

Maybe...

I wasn't just trying to become a hero.

Maybe...

I already was one.

He looked up at Kemal.

The doubt that had clouded his eyes since the caravan attack was finally gone.

He gripped the hilt of the sword still resting on his hip.

“Bound unto fate…”

“Ignore the others. Stop the boy.” Kemal said coldly, as a hero guard charged at him.

At first I thought a hero shouldn’t need this sword…

“Break mortal tether…”

The hero guard lunged, as Flint side-stepped his strike.

But I was wrong. Somewhere along the way I decided that protecting people took priority over my dreams.

“A crimson gate, bind thee forever…”

Another strike, another dodge by Flint.

I thought that if this sword would let me protect those I wanted to protect… then I’d lay down my dream.

“Temper the crown…”

For a moment I even thought about laying down my own life.

But the abbot was right all along. A weapon doesn’t make a man evil and drawing it…

Never made me less of a hero.

“For death won’t be undone…”

“I said stop him!” Kemal prepared to attack him too, but Murry intercepted him with the last of his strength.

“Not yet, pal!”

“Demand a sacrifice…”

I thought the Bloodblade would decide whether I could become a hero. But a sword has never decided what kind of person carries it.

Only the person carrying it decides what kind of sword it will become.

“Till judgement has been won.”

For the first time, Flint felt truly connected to the blade. It didn’t need to tempt him or convince him.

Flint didn’t have anything to prove to himself anymore.

He and the Bloodblade…

They were finally aligned.

Let’s finish this.

“Let’s finish this.”

SHIIIIINK