Even So, I am The Hero (1/4)

Even So, I am The Hero

…

“They are loathsome and vile. Creatures of betrayal and greed beyond measure.” A voice like rolling thunder resounded from the dying man. Of four arms, only one remained. That one arm had a hand that clutched a wound pouring black blood over his chest. The being that terrorized five nations and laid waste to three lay in a crater before his throne. Despite all my strength, only that one wound was true. “Beyond redemption. The flames I promised suited them better than you, Heston.”

“The battle is over. Go in peace.” I knelt and clasped my hands together at his feet. The perfidious powers that pursued his soul were already at work. Gray skin was turning into black. That which turned became soot. Soot that began to fall apart and float in the idlest breeze. They were hastening his death to claim his eternal soul. A miracle spread across the stones, encircling him in grace, but it only slowed the inevitable. One cannot stand against a whole pantheon. “I will pray for you and see your soul absolved.”

“And, who shall pray for you? Who shall pray for all the others under the yoke?” His gods were tearing apart his body for his soul. The dark gods all gave them their blessings. In his passing, the power will remain within him. The first to claim his soul will also take the power of the others of the malevolent pantheon. They used him in life, and now they will use him in death to further their own ambitions on a cosmic scale. “You have seen it. You have felt it. This world deserves to burn… burn until something better can come forth.”

Faint memories and old pains surged.

The sight of my first love’s face contorting into a sneer as she laid in the arms of another.

The sensation of the annulment falling from my hands as swords sworn to me left wordlessly.

The declaration of my heresy resounded in my ears while I was scourged of blessings and miracles.

Then, finally, falling into a ravine, burning from without, while warmth poured from my chest, as my teacher watched me plummet whilst aflame in the darkness.

Still, despite those memories, I clasped my hands together in prayer.

“Oh, Goddess of Death and Peace, heed my mourning prayer. I pray for the soul of this man before me. Let him be cleansed of his sin and his burdens in this life, so that he may begin anew.” I absolved him and there was a keening wail. A cacophony of screeching voices with tongues both new and ancient. Those who sought his soul and the power within sought to disrupt my prayer. My heart clenched with pain, my eyes stung and I felt blood seep from my nose, ears, and eyes. Unfortunately, I have uttered this prayer many times in journey. Despite the pain, I could utter without a single error. “As your paladin, I have taken his current life with my own hands. He is excised from this realm, along with all that he has claimed and gathered, as the toll for his misdeeds. Let it be so, that all his earthly works and mortal life be repayment for his cleansing of sin.”

Divine motes of light began to flow from the miracle that surrounded the dying man. The throne room was in ruins, but anything that could be offered was taken. The castle, stone by stone, weapon by weapon, and artifact by artifact… I gave it all to the goddess in hopes of saving his soul.

It should’ve been over then, but then the tyrant laughed harshly.

“No. This is not the end. It will never be the end!” His hand, covering his puckered wound over his heart, instead wrenched at the wound. Bones broke and cracked, flesh tore, and black blood sprayed across his chest. He roared with such power that I was nearly thrown away by pure primal force. Then, there was a horrific noise akin to blade being pulled from a freshly-made wound. Instead of a blade, however, the Demon Lord pulled out his own heart. “Oh, lords of malice! Oh, perfidious tyrants of the shadows! Hear my demand! My soul and your powers are forfeit now and forever, unless you accept my bargain! Heed my words, or find yourselves bereft of both prize and power! Grant me another chance at vengeance against the followers of your foes, or have your power and might lost forevermore!”

His words shook the world and the world answered.

The night sky darkened to pitch black. The light of the moons faded in an instant. The divine radiance of the rite struggled to maintain itself. The winds howled and the roaring of dark goads shook the very earth beneath my knees.

His hatred of the world was so strong that he was willing to damn even his future life cleansed of all his sin.

I clasped my hands in prayer, trying to hasten the ritual, but it was to no avail.

A gash came upon reality where the grey titan held up his black, still-beating heart.

My eyes stung and my vision was dyed red. Scars both old and new along with opened all over my body. I felt blood staining all the bandages across my form. Pain and agony renewed itself. Once again, I felt as though I was burning alive and falling to the depths of ravine where stone and frost awaited me… when the only miracle that saved me was that my heart was on the opposite side of where my teacher expected it to be.

But I held on and kept the ritual steady, and with my faith and devotion, the ritual was renewed and a golden hue encapsulated the man I was trying to save.

But he refused.

He exerted his strength, and extended his hand with a roar that filled my skull with the sound of a keening wail, and I watched as his heart entered the realm of the dark gods.

Then, in an instant, the darkness that enrobed the night sky and diminished the light of the twin moons vanished, the gash between realities disappeared, and the body of the Demon Lord collapsed… bereft of a soul to be absolved.

He was dead and gone, but I failed.

The miracle faded and I stood.

The whispers of the goddess reached me across vast distances of both space and time.

My duty was done.

It was time for me to be rewarded.

Time forr my wounds to fade, for the power I held to be returned, and for a chance to live away from all that I once knew.

If I bowed my head and accepted, I will close my eyes, and awaken ready for a new life… perhaps even in another realm under the purview of the gods of light.

A world not teetering on the edge of the dark gods’ rule, but where there was happiness, and light.

Temptation called for me to accept, but my duty was not yet done.

“Lady Thera, I swore and oath to cleanse his soul and end this cruel game of the dark gods. I have not achieved that.” Since time immemorial, the dark gods have had their champion and the gods of light have had their own. Through all known history, all have suffered, as the dark gods harvested souls through the actions of their champion, and upon their death, they fought for the one who would be empowered the most. Once the battle was decided, they would choose another, and the cycle would begin again. Forcing all to fight, to kill, and to suffer. “I have not brought forth the age of separation. If I stop here, then this world will continue to suffer.”

I chose this path and lost everything, because my success would mean the gods of light may part from this world once their foes lost their champion forevermore.

If I succeeded, then this world can finally leave the eternal cycle of conflict that has beset it since time immemorial.

It would have a chance to choose its own destiny.

For such a future, I was willing to endure anything.

Thus, I prayed to my goddess to allow me to pursue the Demon Lord.

In reply, she whispered to me that the Demon Lord returned to the past… and that to fight him I would have to endure it all again, then face him after I already fought him once and only narrowly won. My victory was uncertain, while he would be twice empowered by his patrons, and I would have to survive all the trials I endured once again.

Knowing all of that, there was only one answer I could give.

With a prayer, I once again beseeched her once more to allow me to pursue the Demon Lord.

After all, I was her chosen hero.

How could I choose any other path?

With that I received my goddess’s assent, and a heavy deep weight fell upon me, as all my strength faded.

I fell backward as I lost the strength to stay standing.

But instead of falling onto rock and dirt, as the last of my strength faded, I felt two hands catch and lower me gently.

Before darkness claimed all my vision, for a moment, I saw my goddess’s face.

A kindly visage with a small, sad smile all framed by golden locks.

The face of my most stalwart companion through my whole journey would see me off as I pursued the Demon Lord.

Mustering up all my strength, I gave her a smile in goodbye.

Then, I knew no more.

…

Interlude: Satel

…

I fell back as the instructor’s blow sent me crashing onto the ground. My back stung as rocks scratched into it through my thin tunic, and I did all that I could to maintain my grip on my spear.

“Get up! Staying on the ground is death!” The instructor roared at me, and I rolled to the left out of instinct. His padded club collided with the dirt of the training ground. “Good, but not good enough, Satel!”

I got to my feet, clambering by pushing off the ground with my hands, but I was not fast enough.

Another kick, my sides screamed out in pain, and I was flung out of the training ground.

The sharp pain and my landing were followed by coughing that made the pain in my chest worse, while blood came up my throat.

“Healers! Get over here now! Punctured lung!” The instructor yelled out and I could hear his footsteps. I knew that it was over, that I already lost, but I couldn’t stay down. Despite the pain, despite my body telling me to stay down, I forced myself up even as I felt something pierce my insides. Before his footsteps stopped, I managed to stand with my practice spearhead pointed his way.  A cruel laugh left him. “Get over here before someone worth keeping dies!”

Then, I felt his foot hook behind my ankle and pull me off my feet.

I fell back and the pain intensified, but no further blows came.

“Lesson’s over. Next time, learn to look at all your opponent’s limbs instead of just their weapon. The freaks usually have more than one pair of arms and legs.” He spoke, before spitting onto the ground away from me. “You there, Heston, you’re up next! Show me all that training you’ve been doing hasn’t been for nothing!”

Heston.

The name alone made my blood boil, while the healers tended to my wounds.

The prodigy of the camp came forth from the bench where all the others had sat. He stood will was a grim determination set on his face, and opposed the instructor with skill and ferocity we couldn’t hope to match.

While we all struggled, he stood above us all… and ignored us.

Like we were beneath him.

I looked his way as the pain began to fade.

But most of all, it's because he had the name of someone who saved me, whose spot he took to be here, because he had noble blood.

I gathered myself and managed to sit amongst the others, but my gaze turned towards the sky.

 That horrible night was still clear in my mind.

Our village burned.

Monsters roared, while soldiers yelled to muster up the courage to oppose them.

Everyone was running, screaming, and crying, while snow and ash fell around us, and the twin moons bore down upon us like uncaring eyes.

Amidst all of that, there was Heston.

My friend who carried me on his back to safety, before running back to find more people to carry. He exhausted himself, burned his arms and legs, but he endured through the night. Through the darkness, through the flames, and through the frigid winter chill, he saved twelve others.

I once dreamed of a prince to marry, or a baron, or even a merchant.

Mother told me that was what I had to do to have an ounce of power. Once I managed to snag the eye of someone with wealth, I needed to be ready to give them everything, even if it meant losing everyone else. It was the only way for me live comfortably, for my children to be happy, and all other regrets will fade with time more easily with wealth.  

I believed her and trusted her words… until I watched Heston fall only to be caught by a soldier who called for healers.

The smile on his face, covered in soot, and pockmarked with small burns was still clear in my mind to this day. His clothes were taters, blood seeped from wounds, and he was straddling between life and death, but he looked at all he saved with a deep smile that held incredible joy.

He deserved to be here.

He deserved to train amongst with all children found blessed by the gods.

Not this young noble with his name that pranced about on the training grounds, pretending as though his teacher was not bought by his father.

I looked to the faraway sky and wondered where he was now.

Where he went after waving me goodbye on the back of a wagon with a face covered in loose bandages.

Sometimes, I had dreams.

Dreams where I journeyed with someone like him whose face I did not recognize, and we fought together against great and terrible monsters. Sometimes the dreams were here, in this training camp, where he stood for us against the harsh teachers.

Then, there were the nightmares.

Nightmares where I looked at his face through a doorway. A face contorted in sorrow before he turned his back to me.

Nightmares where I looked down at an unrecognizable, burned figure lying dead and alone at the foot of a massive, terrible demon’s corpse.

Nightmares that always ended with a robed figure holding a lantern with a baleful blue flame looking at me with disgust through golden locks.

Those nightmares always stopped me from wondering anymore.