by J. J. Pavlov
"Yes, and by bringing you along, I'm fulfilling her request." Ninlil remarks sarcastically. She always seems to care about Tamariki to an almost obsessive degree.
"Do you know where she is?" Going along with her, Asoko asks with a furrowed brow.
"In the arena or the training hall."
Of course, where else could she be?
"Even when the alarm rang? Surely, the maids must have told her to evacuate." Scratching her head, the Crawling Chaos is skeptical about Tamariki being that much of a musclehead. If she's in the arena, she's most likely already fighting the invading humans, and if it's the training hall in the central section of the castle, the maids must have told her what's going on.
"Then, the entrance hall or the courtyard."
"Why there?"
"You think she'd go anywhere but in the direction of where all the fighting is likely to happen?" Ninlil doesn't even turn around when she poses this rhetorical question.
"Good point." Asoko replies with a sigh.
When they round a corner, they very nearly run into somebody. Ninlil nimbly avoids the crash, while the Crawling Chaos behind her manages to stop in time. Her eyes are instantly drawn to the voluptuous woman next to Tamariki. For some inexplicable reason, she's wearing what appears to be a latex gimp suit complete with a gas mask.
"Daica?" Tilting her head, Asoko looks through the lenses of the mask to see the familiar amethyst eyes.
"Mahkotoh!" A little dark elf suddenly pushes Tamariki aside with a crab pincer and exclaims. That must be Kamii, whom her other half has talked about many times during their journey through the Khurut Sultanate.
She was prepared to rush into Asoko's arms, but suddenly stops and tilts her head as a frown plays over her face. Then she turns to her little sister.
"Who is that?" The little dark elf asks, apparently having seen through the fact that the person before her is not the Chaos she knows. It would seem Daica didn't have time to tell her anything about Asoko's identity.
"I'll explain later. We need to find my mother." The Crawling Chaos suggests with a look out the window behind her, where the flying fortress looming over city is clearly visible. "We have to do something about this."
"Woah!" Tamariki remarks as she stares at the grim spectacle outside. It seems that she only now noticed the hard to miss floating mountain casting its shadow over the burning capital. Maybe they were in the inner parts of the castle or haven't looked out any east-facing windows until just now. "What are they doing?!"
Asoko learned since their first meeting that Tamariki has a strong sense of justice despite being a battle-maniac. Seeing the city attacked by a human army is stirring her anger even though she lived among their kind at the academy. Then again, she was mostly isolated, even from her fellow demons.
"I'm going!" With these words, the horned demon prepares to charge toward the window, definitely aiming to break through it and jump down into the city.
"Stop!" Ninlil, who barely reaches up to her waist, bars her way.
"Don't stop me!" Roaring at her, Tamariki's anger flares up. "They're killing civilians!"
"I know." Lowering her head, the catgirl grinds her teeth. Although she may have lived in the Kingdom of Lares for thirty years while predominantly surrounded by humans, she's still a demon. And since the kingdom is currently not part of the Alliance, the majority of the invading force must be from the empire. In other words, she won't hesitate to kill them to save her own people. "But we can't just go out there on our own."
Among the enemies are most likely many champions of the gods. Even Tamariki's cheat-like ability won't do her any good if she faces somebody who could potentially kill her in one hit. If the champions are powerful enough to make it into the history lessons, some of them may be capable of doing that.
"Then what?" The towering demon won't be persuaded so easily.
"Find my mother and ask her." Asoko chips in. She doesn't know what the best course of action should be in this situation, but as the demon queen who surely fought many battles, Pelomyx should know what to do here. "She said something about the Forerunners Chamber."
"I know where it is, but why would she..." Ninlil lowers her gaze in thoughtfulness. Then she looks up with determination once again. "It doesn't matter. Let's go."
Coming to a stop in the ash-laden streets of Arkaim, Rolan and the others nearly run into a melee between the human invasion force and demon soldiers.
In spite of the surprise attack, the demons have begun to consolidate their defenses. Many streets are barricaded, and others, where Chosen Knights aren't present, are deadlocked. This is the third such street embroiled in battle, and it seems that getting closer to the towering castle will become progressively harder.
"Shouldn't we... help?" Hreidunn asks while they run in the opposite direction of the battle. Due to the chaos, neither human nor demon troops seem to be paying any attention to them, so they still have the leeway to choose what to do.
"Help whom?" Gram asks in a grim tone as he nods at a group of human soldiers chasing after several non-humanoid demons. None of the latter look like soldiers, and while some may have claws and sharp teeth, they obviously have no will to fight.
"Dammit!" Rolan shouts in impotence. He would want to stop the empire soldiers if not for the fact that he has to get to the castle as quickly as possible. Ascertaining the safety of Runa comes first, even if he has to close his eyes to the massacre of civilians.
This is all wrong.
They enter an alleyway and round some crates stacked up high before very nearly running into a couple of green-skinned demons huddling together in fear. Their red eyes widen in terror as they seem to recognize the group around Rolan as humans.
"Shhh. We're only passing through." Gram quickly brings a finger to his lips to calm them down. Only now do they notice that the demons have a young boy squeezed between them as if to shield him with their bodies. How can the Empire of Terminus call these people pure evil when they can feel love and compassion, just like humans do?
Leaving behind the family, the human group quickly runs through the alleyway. They don't know the layout of the city, so all they can do is haphazardly try to find a route toward the castle. Sigurd's sense of direction aids them greatly, but it's only enough to find the way. His impeccable ears are unable to tell where battles are raging, as they're happening all around them.
They suddenly find themselves on a broad street, filled with carnage.
Rolan's feet come to a stop when he sees the Electi ahead of them slaughter every demon they come across. There are two Chosen Knights among them, who hurl destructive spells into windows without speaking any incantations.
It seems that with the help of those two, the empire has overcome the demon opposition and pushed ahead. Countless corpses are strewn across the ground where they have passed through.
Before Rolan lies a young girl with red skin and a single horn protruding from her forehead. A stuffed doll is just outside of her slack hand's reach, as she seemingly extended her hand in the last moment before the massive gash running from her shoulder to her hip claimed her life. Her empty eyes seem to be staring at Rolan, their unmoving gaze a silent reproach. His inaction allowed such a young soul to perish.
This isn't what he wanted to fight for.
Mustering all his willpower, the leader looks away from the all-too young and innocent corpse before him. But all across the street are bodies of dead demons, unarmed elderly, women and children next to the few that wielded weapons in their defense. All their gazes seem fixated on him in accusation, and he presses his eyes shut.
Suddenly, a high-pitched scream causes him to look up, upon which he sees three Electi entering a house of which they broke the door down just now.
As if that's the final push that brings Rolan's mind over the edge, something snaps inside him. Without a word to his companions, he runs toward the door with his hand on the hilt of Roshanee, dodging other soldiers turning toward him in surpris
e.
When he reaches the broken door, he sees one of the Electi in the process of pulling his spear from the chest of an unarmed man with gray skin and silver hair. With her back against a large wardrobe, a similarly gray-skinned woman is staring up at the two soldiers, who approach her with their swords poised to strike. Tears are streaming down her face as she flaps her mouth in hopelessness.
"Stop!" Rolan rushes forward and tries to shout, but the armor of the gods enhances the soldier's speed and causes him to move faster than he anticipated. The leader's eyes widen at the crimson bloom before him, as the innocent woman's blood is spilled. The lifeless body falls to the floor, never to rise again.
"Huh?" The other soldier turns around upon realizing that somebody just called out to them. Under the helmet, Rolan can see the man with the distinct face of a person from the empire. The expression he shows doesn't contain a hint of doubt in his actions. His companion turns around as well after pulling his sword out of the woman's chest.
"Who are you?" The Electi with the spear, who killed the woman's husband earlier, asks in a markedly unfriendly tone. It seems that he recognizes Rolan as a human, but he has judged by his shabby clothes and banged-up breastplate that he's not one of them. There should be no reason for a human to be in Arkaim at this time unless they're traitors.
"Mama!" A young boy suddenly emerges from his hiding place inside the large wardrobe. His felled mother had tried to defend it to the last before being so mercilessly cut down.
The soldiers are surprised, but react incredibly quickly; both the sword and axe wielders immediately turn around to swiftly behead the boy. But this time, Rolan is faster.
Drawing Roshanee, he leaves behind a blinding streak of light that runs through the gaps between the two soldiers. In the blink of an eye, both Electi are disarmed, as their weapons are cut into pieces. Keeping the glowing sword in his hand, he stands between the two humans and the demon boy with a determined expression.
The two men look at the hilts of their weapons with dumbfounded expressions. Both the sword and the axe looked enchanted, so a regular sword shouldn't have been able to leave even a scratch on them.
"What are you doing?" The man with the axe growls as he drops the broken handle to draw his sidearm.
"No, what are you doing?!" Rolan shouts at him and covers the demon boy. "Can't you see that these are innocent civilians?"
"What?" Through the visor of the helmets, he can see both Electi stare at him in incomprehension with their eyes wide open.
"Innocent civilians? Those are demons - the enemy." The one with the spear states, showing that he feels neither remorse nor apprehension at killing a defenseless family. "If you're defending them, you're an enemy as well."
With these words, he springs into action and charges with his spear aimed at Rolan. But suddenly, Gram crashes into him from the side shield-first and sends him flying into the dining table, breaking it in the process. Since the Electi are wearing heavy armor blessed by the gods themselves, he's unhurt.
"I thought we were better than this!" The big man roars, a desperate look on his face. It causes the men from the empire to flinch. "Who are the real demons here?!"
"What do you-" The soldier nimbly stands up from the remains of the table, only to stop when he sees Vigdis entering after Gram with her staff raised. The sapphire in its tip is glowing. "Wait-"
"Galeos Submersos!" With a swing of her staff, she completes her spell and summons a sphere of water inside the man's helmet. Taking off his helmet and grabbing at his face, he tries to remove the water sticking to him.
"That's enough." Hreidunn calls out to her niece. She was reluctant before, but she can no longer avert her eyes from the truth that the actions of the humans are wrong here. Still, she can't have Vigdis harm an Electi.
At her aunt's words, she draws back the staff and cancels the magic, causing the water to flow down into the soldier's armor and drenching him completely. Gasping for air, he spits out water before glaring up at the group of newcomers.
"What's wrong with you?" One of the two near Rolan points at the water mage. "Why are you attacking us to save a demon?"
"The fact that you do not understand why is the very reason." Sigurd enters the house as well and glares at the two soldiers. It's rare to see him look this angry, but coupled with the crossbow trained on them, he makes for an intimidating appearance. After all, steel bolts were explicitly invented to pierce armor - and even those blessed by the gods may be punched through at this range.
Rolan takes his opportunity to walk past them with the demon boy in his arm. He's shivering after witnessing the death of both of his parents, and can only cling to the one person who came to save him. The leader knows that saving this one boy cannot atone for his inaction so far. But now that he has made this move, he will try to save even more.
They quickly exit the house and back out onto the street, where the advancing soldiers have moved further ahead while pushing toward the barricaded defenders down the road. Thus, nobody is nearby to notice that he's carrying a demon child in his arm.
Leif, who stayed outside all this time, stares at Rolan with round eyes. He didn't expect him to defy the Electi and champions of the gods - and in extension, the gods themselves - to save a demon. His eyes are swimming as he tries to think of the consequences that may befall them all.
"You're safe now." The leader turns to the boy and assures him in an attempt to take his mind off the horror he just lived through. He realizes that his own voice is a little shaky. Whether that is from suppressed anger at the despicable attitude of the humans or realizing the gravity of his own irrevocable actions he doesn't know.
Aside from his silver hair and gray skin, the demon child looks no different from a human one. His green eyes look up into Rolan's, then he averts them again as he looks at the corpses littering the street outside the house.
"No, don't look." Turning the boy's head away, the leader quickly spares him the view. "I'm Rolan. What's your name?"
"I-" Just when the boy opens his mouth to reveal two rows of sharp teeth, a bolt of light pierces his forehead and leaves behind a sizzling hole near the center of it. He slumps in Rolan's arm lifelessly, dead in an instant.
For a moment, he stares at the demon child with his mouth hanging open, unable to process what just happened. But then the realization washes over him in a wave of horror. He spins his head around to see where the attack came from.
"I made it in time." A woman in a layered white and beige dress with golden embellishments is floating in the air a short distance away. She has long black hair that reaches the base of her back threaded through a hole in her golden ceremonial helmet. Her pale complexion and drooping green eyes make her look sleepy. But coupled with the nonchalant smile on her thin lips, she appears insidious instead.
A staff with a headpiece in the form of a large open eye made from gold rests in her hands. It marks her as an adherent - and most likely a champion - of Framtith, the Guide of Tomorrow.
"It tried to bite you just now." She's referring to the child as if it was an animal, not a hint of remorse in her voice.
Floating down near them, the woman remains half a step above the ground to avoid getting her robes dirtied in the puddles of blood that have formed in the streets. Behind her, a trio of what appears to be Chosen Knights in unique suits of armor follows her closely. A squad of Electi is following them, waiting for orders.
It would seem that she's somebody important even among the champions, possibly even the principal follower of the goddess Framtith.
"Lady Precanta, the road to the castle is clear." One of the three Chosen Knights, a woman with white hair and translucent ice-blue eyes, who wields a staff with a ring headpiece, steps forward and addresses the woman in the robes.
"Precanta?" Sigurd suddenly mutters in shock, but the ephemeral-looking champion trains her piercing eyes on the bard.
"You are in the presence of Lady Precanta. Kneel!" She orders in a commanding
voice that stands in sharp contrast with her almost sickly appearance.
"Now, now." Raising a hand, Precanta calms her down. Bowing her head, the Chosen Knight steps back in line. "It is my first time appearing before a person from the Kingdom of Lares. They do not adhere to all of us, as regrettable as that may be, so they surely have never seen a statue of me."
"Who are you?" Rolan suppresses his anger and asks, not genuinely interested in learning her identity. He just wants her to formally introduce herself so that he knows whom to direct this seething rage at.
"You may know me as Framtith." She replies with a widening smile that causes a shiver to run down the leader's back. Her sleepy eyes remain cold, not a hint of warmth in their green glint. "And you are Rolan Helt, the one destined to become the hero of this age."
Asoko and the others are in front of the Forerunners Chamber, into which her mother seems to have retreated while leaving the city to fend for itself. Mithra appears to be standing guard outside, and he's now listening to the Crawling Chaos argue at him.
"Why isn't mother coming out?" She shouts, hoping for Pelomyx to overhear it on the other side of the door.
"She is convening with the spirits of the previous kings and queens." Replying in a level tone, the court magician doesn't let Asoko's emotions get to him.
"I don't understand what there is to convene with spirits about!" Shaking her head before grabbing the mage's dark blue robes, she shouts at him. "If you won't open the door, I'll go in myself."
But before she can make good on her words, a differently-pitched bell from the previous alarm, which had stopped a while ago, suddenly begins to ring in the castle. Mithra and Ninlil are the only two who understand its meaning, and the latter's ears prick up.
"The front gate has fallen!" She explains with a deep frown.
"Please head for the entrance hall." Mithra requests of the former maid leader. "If the enemy was able to break through the defensive line composed of the kirali guards, they must be elite indeed."
"And what about you?" Asoko glares at the court magician. Judging by his title, he should be the most powerful mage present, aside from maybe her mother. Of all people, he should be there to join the battle or at least guide it.