Commerce Emperor Chapter 36: The Burning Dead (Patreon)

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Belgoroth surged forward in a flash of speed.

The bigger an object, the slower it moved. Inertia was one of the inviolable laws of the world. Weight reduced movement. When we last fought golems, a man on foot could easily outrun them.

Belgoroth hit the western barricade quicker than a rampaging horse.

He wasn’t so fast that my eyes failed to see his movements, but still deft enough to strike the fortifications before the archers could fire their bows. I watched in awe as Belgoroth grabbed his burning claymore with both hands and then swept aside all opposition with a thunderous strike. Houses, men, walls of wood and stone… all folded before his flaming steel as severed heads flew high alongside dust and splinters.

However frightful this display of strength, I noticed a detail that gave me the slightest glimmer of hope. Weeks of training with Soraseo had taught me to recognize the movements of a professional warrior, from the subtle way they shifted their weight to maximize the impact of their strike to their footwork.

Belgoroth’s left knee moved slower than the right. The gears in the joints jammed mid-strike; not enough to stop his momentum, but enough to slightly throw him off his aim.

Striking early proved a wise choice. We had interrupted Will before he could complete the golem. No matter how powerful Belgoroth might be, his vessel wasn’t up to the task. We had a chance to win, if we played our cards right.

If.

“We need to keep him pinned inside the defensive perimeter,” I told Soraseo. “With Marika–”

Soraseo dashed after Belgoroth without listening.

I would like to say her reaction surprised me. Sadly, it did not. The way she rushed headlong into danger with little thought for her safety or that of anyone else aligned all too well with her behavior today. Soraseo believed only blood could salvage her lost honor. Whether it belonged to her or the enemy didn’t matter.

That gallant fool.

I rushed after her when the ground shook beneath my feet. The ruins of the Abattoir erupted, rising flames throwing dust and smoke into the air. A towering shadow crawled atop the burning corpses of cultists to escape its own destroyed forge.

A grotesque demon emerged from the flames, its hulking shape a mass of swollen reddish skin and blackened veins. A dozen malicious eyes darker than murky pools stared out from its smoking skin, each blinking with a malicious glint. The largest of them occupied the right side of its misshapen head; while the left eye socket was no more than an empty pit bleeding between a tuft of red hair and a jagged jaw.

The monster let out a roar as it stumbled out of the Abattoir’s ruins, its muscular, overgrown arms and gnarled hands holding on to a hammer too big for any man to carry. The twisted legs bent under the creature’s own immense weight, forcing it to use its weapon as a makeshift cane. Tattering scraps of clothes burned all over its pulsating skin.

I couldn’t tell for certain, but from the blacksmith hammer, red hair, and single eye in the middle of its misshapen skull, I could wager a guess on the demon’s identity.

Will Costa.

I immediately decided to focus on him. Belgoroth was our most dangerous opponent, but none of my weapons could harm the Lord of Wrath. We should take out his ally first, then focus all of our might on the Demon Ancestor.

The soldiers on the roofs loosed a hail of arrows on the demon and golem alike. The former protected his head with his hand, the projectiles piercing his skin without drawing blood. The latter simply ignored the attack. No arrow could puncture through Belgoroth’s armor. The Lord of Wrath answered the challenge by punching the nearest building with the strength of a dozen battering rams. The awesome blow shattered the walls, collapsed the roof, and buried everyone standing on it under a rain of stone.

Soraseo quickly caught up to Belgoroth, her movements so quick that my eyes struggled to follow them. Her sword whistled as it cut through the air. Having noticed the same weakness as I did, she aimed for the golem’s left knee. Belgoroth sensed her approach and swiftly twisted and rotated on himself. A piercing screech echoed when his immense weapon carved the earth in a sweeping motion. I didn’t see Soraseo dodge the strike, but I heard the fearsome song of her sword hitting the golem’s armor.

Marika and a dozen brave soldiers rushed at Will from the northern barricade. The demon immediately noticed his ex-wife among the troops and moved at them to answer the challenge. Unlike his master, Will was as slow as his size should imply, but the tip of his hammer swiftly crackled with bright sparks. A thunderbolt burst from the weapon and immolated three men at once.

I caught up to Will, my invisibility cloak keeping me hidden from his many eyes. I struck at his heel with my rapier. My blade bit his thick skin, but though I sank the entire length of it into his flesh, I failed to reach the blood underneath. Will was a towering mountain of muscle, nearly as tall as his master’s golem vessel. My stinger had little more effect than that of a mosquito.

I barely managed to remove my weapon before Will lumbered toward the northern barricade. Soldiers immediately threw javelins at him. The weapons stuck into his skin without inflicting any more damage than my own strikes. The only exception hit one of Will’s many eyes and caused it to burst with black blood. The demon responded by striking the ground with his hammer and crushing a man to death in a single blow.

At this point Marika’s soldiers backed away in fear; with only my friend daring to face the giant.

“I knew you’d be there, Ka,” the demon declared with a guttural, masculine voice. “Told you, haven’t I? A weapon’s worth is determined by how many lives it takes. Look at my masterstroke, my son of steel.”

“You had a son, Will,” Marika spat as she raised her hammer. It looked like a toothpick when compared with her former husband’s.

“A failure polluted by your flesh.” The demon lifted up his own weapon, his main eye glittering with malice. “That child, I created alone. With my own two hands.”

Will brought down his hammer on Marika and attempted to squash her like a bug. My friend proved quicker. Showcasing her training and resolve, she charged straight at Will’s legs. Her former husband’s weapon fell on an empty spot in a flash of lightning and an eruption of dirt; Marika’s own warhammer struck the monster’s knee with enough strength to leave a bruise.

Will immediately attempted to stomp her underfoot in retaliation. I seized the opportunity to stab the eyes within reach. My rapier darted at the nearest eyeballs, each thrust of my weapon causing them to burst. A fountain of black blood erupted from the demon’s waist and the pain distracted him long enough for Marika to follow up with a second blow. Will’s knee fell to the ground.

I blind, she smashes. The thought put a smile on my lips. Simple enough.

I prepared to follow with another round of stabbing when an explosion of blue flames tossed me back a few feet. Selestine, who hadn’t left her vantage point atop the belfry yet, used the opportunity to launch a fireball at Will. She blasted the demon’s back with such heat that it left me sweating. Her azure flames seared Will’s skin so deeply that they finally exposed his naked flesh.

Marika cared nothing for it. She continued smashing Will’s weak knee with rage that would please the Lord of Wrath. She struck and struck, breaking bones and joints alike. It unnerved me to see such savagery coming from her.

“Beni won’t even speak to me now!” she shouted in between strikes. “Because he’s scared of you!”

“Good,” Will rasped back, his weapon crackling louder than a thunderstorm.

Realizing the danger, I quickly grabbed a berserk Marika’s shoulder and shoved her as far away from Will’s hammer as I could; her surprise at being touched by someone she couldn’t see was enough to jolt her back to reality.

Thunderbolts rained down around us. My ears rang with the booms and bangs of their impact as they hit the ground, the air itself burnt and smelling foul. My eyes went white from the flashes. Marika and I both dived to the ground to save ourselves. I would rather eat ashes than blasts of lightning.

“I couldn’t stand his mewling and prattling, always distracting me, always getting in the way of my work!” I heard Will growl with terrible anger. “The two of you were keeping me away from greatness!”

More blasts followed in the distance. Belgoroth had smashed his way out of the containment zone and now made his way to the meat market. I could no longer see him nor Soraseo, but I could guess their location based on where Vernisla and her wyvern riders were flocking to. The Lord of Wrath was clearly aiming for the city’s most populated areas.

Did he intend to slaughter all of Walbourg’s citizens on his lonesome? The prospect sounded frighteningly plausible to me. What weapon could pierce his steel hide? What warrior could match him in battle?

Will’s roar reminded me that I should focus on my own problems first. The demon had turned around by the time Marika and I had risen back to our feet. We fled in different directions, barely dodging a blow that would have torn a ship apart. Marika had managed to run far enough to avoid the blowback, but I had no such luck. The shockwave blew a cloud of dirt and dust into my face with such strength that it flung me against a pile of debris. A surge of pain raced through my skull when my head hit stone.

My vision blurred. A warm liquid trickled down my forehead. My blood. It stuck to me like an old friend I never wanted to see. My ears rang with tinnitus. Strange, I thought I had sold that one away long ago.

“Ugh…” I grunted while holding my head. My eyes blinked as I tried to adjust my vision. By the time I realized making any noise at all was a mistake, Will’s shadow already loomed over me.

“There’s something there… someone I can’t see,” Will rasped. To my horror, his remaining eyes suddenly stared at me all at once. “There you are…”

My eyes darted to my hands. Some of Will’s blood stuck to my cloak, alongside ashes and cinders.

Dirty spots. Invisibility’s worst enemy.

Will was already charging at me. I thought my last hour had come when roots thicker than tree trunks suddenly burst out of the ground and coiled around the demon’s legs. The sudden obstruction stopped him dead in his tracks.

Selestine flung another fireball from her vantage point and nailed Will in the chest. The blast incinerated the skin of his chest and unveiled the charred ribs underneath. Between the blowback, the roots around his leg, and the damage Marika had done to his limping knee, Will quickly lost his balance. He crashed onto his back, his mighty frame shaking the ground on impact.

“My apologies for the delay,” I heard Mr. Fronan’s voice behind me. An invisible hand helped me stand up. “My old legs do not carry on as swiftly as they used to.”

“Don’t apologize,” I replied, smiling when I noticed Marika rushing at Will’s head. “You arrived right on time for the finale.”

As I knew she would, Marika immediately exploited Will’s incapacitation to smash the back of his head. The difference in size made her warhammer look like a surgeon’s tool, but it proved effective enough. Her first blow crushed Will’s main eye; the second cracked his skull open; and the third spilled his brain all over the Abattoir’s ruins. A red cloud of corrupted essence surged from her ex-husband’s corpse and swiftly consumed him.

Within seconds, a Devil Coin glittering among the ashes was all that remained of Will Costa… alongside his oversized hammer and the smoking blood drenching Marika’s armor, of course.

“Ah…” Marika panted heavily through her helmet, her lungs gasping for air. She lowered her bloody warhammer and stared at her former husband’s ashes. “Is… is it over?”

I nodded sharply. “He dropped his coin.” Which I quickly picked up for safekeeping. “It’s as over as it gets.”

Marika looked at me, then back at Will’s ashes. Her mind clearly struggled to accept the reality of her situation: that her ex-husband, the father of her child and the man who had haunted her for so long, was indeed gone. I didn’t need magic to guess her thoughts: it was too easy; it’s a trick; it can’t end like this.

I could hardly blame her. The last clash happened so swiftly that Will couldn’t even react. I doubted he saw his demise coming at all, or realized that his former wife had struck the final blow. But then again, such was the nature of death. The reaper rarely took appointments. It mostly exacted its toll when it was least expected and left the living behind to pick up the pieces.

“Miss Marika, are you well?” Mr. Fronan asked with a hint of concern.

It said something about Marika’s current state of mind that being addressed by an invisible Druid did not cause her much surprise. She had likely imagined many ways how the final clash with her husband could have happened, only for reality to disappoint her.

“I feel exactly the same,” she confessed. “I expected… more, I guess?”

“We always do,” I replied. I understood her well. While I did feel an unmistakable rush of satisfaction after killing Sforza, it only lasted until I realized my life would go on afterward. “Killing is easy, moving on is harder.”

Marika pondered my words in silence. I could tell she understood that truth, but it would take her a bit longer to accept it.

I tried to cheer her up with clever wordplay. “I confirm it though: he was far too thick-headed for you.”

My joke caused Marika to burst into nerve-wracking laughter. All the tension she had accumulated from her fight erupted like a floodgate. Her hand instinctively moved to her visor as if to cover her mouth. It lifted my spirits for a moment.

Then I heard an explosion in the distance and remembered we had only dealt with the lesser evil.

I noticed the distant shine of Vernisla’s firehawk as she and her fellow flyers dropped runestones onto the world below. Plumes of smoke arose from Walbourg’s suburbs, obscuring the glow of the Firemoon above.

Something landed a few feet away from me with great strength. I turned towards the source and found myself facing Selestine.

“The Lord of Wrath remains,” she said after wiping dust off her robes. “His Berserk Flame grows stronger with each death.”

I blinked as my mind struggled to process her sudden appearance. I glanced at the belfry she had leaped from, then calculated the distance. Had she jumped all the way from there? I couldn’t see anything short of a bird achieving a similar feat.

Who was this woman? What was she?

No matter. We had a much more pressing issue to deal with.

“Mr. Fronan, have you completed your task?” I turned around to look for him, only to stare at empty space. Unlike my stained cloak, Mr. Fronan’s remained completely invisible. “So that’s how it feels…”

“Oh, my apologies.” Mr. Fronan’s head popped into sight after he removed his invisibility cloak’s hood. It was quite the grotesque sight to see just his head floating in the air. “I cluttered the secret passage with thorns. I doubt any cultist survived the Abattoir’s destruction.”

“Then Belgoroth is our last source of concern,” I said. I would have loved to say that I found the notion reassuring. “Lady Selestine, I suppose you cannot simply petition the Artifacts for a good old-fashioned divine punishment?”

“I have tried,” Selestine replied with a tired sigh. “The Artifacts answered that they already acted against the Demon Ancestors centuries ago when they created us. They will not intervene in a mortal conflict.”

For the first time in my life, I was seriously considering committing blasphemy. Alas, I doubted we could change the Artifacts’ mind. They would have already smote down the Demon Ancestors if they had the power and will required to do so.

We were on our own.

“What about indirect help?” I asked. If we couldn’t convince the Artifacts to act against Belgoroth, we might at least try to work around their restrictions. “You mentioned calling down the rain to extinguish a forest fire once. Can you call a rainstorm to smother his flames?”

“It will limit the damage Belgoroth causes to the town, but it will not stop him,” Selestine replied with a stern look. “The situation is dire, Lord Waybright. The seal has grown so porous that Belgoroth can project his consciousness outside its confines. We must pursue him with haste.”

“Not without a plan,” I insisted. I was just as tense as she was, especially since Soraseo and Vernisla had already engaged Belgoroth in battle, but rushing in without a strategy would get us all killed.

“Robin speaks wisely.” Mr. Fronan nodded slowly. In spite of his lack of combat experience, he appeared determined to risk his life for the cause. “Lady Marika, you know more about golems than any of us. Do you have any idea how we may disable that infernal machine?”

“I… I’m not sure what’s going on,” Marika admitted. “I’d wager Will placed the Berserk Flame inside the golem’s chest. It probably overwhelmed the souls used to move its components and allowed Belgoroth to control the frame like a doll.”

“Can either of you exorcize the flame then?” Mr. Fronan asked her and Selestine.

“I can, if I get close enough,” Selestine confirmed. “The flame hasn’t matured into a newborn Blight yet. I can disperse its essence, dilute it until it loses all consistency.”

“If you get close enough,” I repeated, my voice heavy with skepticism. A risky prospect so long as the golem remained active. “We’ll need to immobilize Belgoroth first.”

“My plants might limit the golem’s movements, but that one is faster and stronger than any other,” Mr. Fronan said. “I doubt I can immobilize the fiend for long, if at all.”

“I noticed structural faults on the golem’s left side,” Marika added. “If we focus our efforts on the weak points, we should eventually destroy the joints.”

An idea crossed my mind. “Mr. Fronan, please lend Marika your cloak,” I said while my hand searched for a piece of paper inside my purse. “Here’s what I suggest: Marika will use it to sneak up on the golem and sabotage it. Since a golem is an object, her power should work on it.”

“My power fuses two objects I can touch together, Robin,” Marika reminded me. “Even if I manage to sneak up on Belgoroth, I still need resources to merge with the golem.”

“Use those,” I said upon bringing out a letter. It had gathered a little dust from the fighting, but mostly remained intact otherwise. “This is a countermeasure I brought in case Vernisla’s bombardment started a city-wide fire: a contract similar to those that let me teleport supplies to Roland’s army. Once you sign it with your blood, you will buy dozens of water barrels from me. They will immediately teleport to your location.”

Marika’s eyes squinted at me behind her helmet. “Wait, you thought we would screw it up and set the city on fire?”

“This outcome sounded likely to me,” I replied bluntly. Since nothing ever went our way, I had grown wise enough to prepare countermeasures. Thankfully, I had plenty of leftover contracts dating from our march on the capital. “If you do it beneath Belgoroth, they should crash on him and douse his flames.”

“I can fuse the wood with the golem’s joints until they replace them,” Marika guessed. “Belgoroth’s own flames will consume them from within. He’ll fall to pieces.”

“At which point Mr. Fronan’s roots will restrain him long enough for you and Selestine to exorcize him.”

“Still, Robin, that’s risky,” Marika said, her eyes full of doubts and skepticism. “Belgoroth has Soraseo’s power. He won’t need to see me to sense my approach. He only needs to pay attention to the movement of the air.”

“He won’t, if we can distract Belgoroth long enough for Mr. Fronan to restrain him.” Not if I threw Belgoroth off his game. “At a certain point, I will throw off my own cloak and draw his attention. This will be your signal to act.”

“You want to become our bait?” Marika’s eyes widened in horror as she tried to dissuade me. “Robin, that’s suicide!”

Mr. Fronan proved more circumspect, but no less skeptical. “I strongly urge you to reconsider, Robin. This creature will kill you in a single blow.”

“Not if you’re quick enough,” I replied, both as encouragement and as a prayer for my own safety. “I know a way to distract Belgoroth, but it won’t last long. I will need you to trust me on this one.”

My comrades exchanged glances. Marika was the first to nod in assent after snatching my letter; she worried for my safety, but I had earned her trust over and over again before. The others followed soon after. Mr. Fronan swiftly returned his invisibility cloak to Marika and helped her vanish from sight.

“Lead the way, Lord Merchant,” Selestine said.

It wasn’t so difficult to follow the Demon Ancestor’s path. His passage scarred the streets worse than any tempest. He had rampaged across the meat market with abandon after breaking through the barricades; setting houses on fire, crushing stalls underfoot, stomping wagons, and carving the road open with his sword. I saw fire and smoke everywhere I looked. I shuddered to imagine the potential death toll had we not evacuated the area beforehand.

I gained an idea when we reached the suburbs proper.

Belgoroth had slaughtered his way to inhabited areas, where Walbourg’s Moonlight Riders mercenaries intercepted him. A sea of fire and bloody flesh stood as a testament to their doomed attempt. The corpses of horses cut in half alongside their riders littered the ruins of blasted streets. Piles of charred skeletons burned like candles. Soldiers, beastmen, and humans… the dead all looked the same. I heard screams echo in the distance, the call of firefighters desperately trying to either rescue civilians trapped under debris or smother the flames that threatened to consume the city itself. How many had perished? Hundreds? More?

Belgoroth showed no sign of slowing down either. His metal frame loomed over a large plaza whose buildings he had all scrupulously set ablaze. Streams of yellow fire bellowed out of his visor to incinerate the few knights valiant enough to challenge him. Their spears burned like foresticks. Their horses were crushed underfoot like ants. The golem cared nothing for their courage or their sacrifices. Belgoroth walked on, his heavy footsteps leaving death and burning craters in their wake. A swing of his sword swept away all obstacles.

It was then that I understood a simple truth.

Only Heroes could stop a Demon Ancestor.

I knew that since the night I received my mark, but it was only now that I understood it. Belgoroth wielded a mere fraction of his mark’s power in his current form, and yet no conventional force could stop him. Once the Demon Ancestor fully escaped—a certainty if he had grown powerful enough to project his consciousness beyond his seal—he would tear through anything in his way. He would lay armies to waste and reduce castles to rubble. He would become a natural disaster, a hurricane of fire and steel that wouldn’t stop ravaging the world until he had fully set it ablaze.

This slaughter was but an appetizer for the devastation to come.

Hope remained nonetheless. I managed to get a glimpse of Soraseo slashing at Belgoroth’s heel. Her attacks had little to no effect, yet she insisted on throwing herself at him again, and again, and over again. She wasn’t mad enough to neglect her defense, but she charged in with no plan beyond striking at the golem’s joints.

I ran after the Lord of Wrath as fast as I could, my lungs aching from the strain of my short breath. Selestine more than matched my speed while still uttering prayers somehow. I picked up words spoken in ancient Erebian and noticed the golden glow of her mark under her clothes. Mr. Fronan followed far behind, his age slowing him down. Marika alone I couldn’t see. I took it as a good sign.

“Take position!” I shouted at my allies, my hands swiping off the dust and dried blood on my invisibility cloak the best I could. “We won’t have another chance!”

Above us, Vernisla’s wyvern rider squad converged on Belgoroth and dropped fire runestones on the golem. Explosions swallowed the Lord of Wrath, his chest plate cracking and gears flying out of his left shoulder. However, when they moved around for a second run, the Demon Ancestor grabbed a handful of debris with his free hand and threw it at the flyers. The stones flew across the air with lethal speed and precision. A wyvern had its wings shredded; another saw its head shattered like a watermelon. The others either lost control of their flight or lost their riders on impact. Vernisla and her firehawk alone managed to avoid the deadly counterattack. They circled above the golem, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Soraseo charged at the golem once more and jumped into the air with the grace of a bird taking flight. Her blade whistled and screeched when its edge struck the golem’s left flank. This time, Soraseo did more than chip away at the enemy’s armor. I couldn’t tell whether it was an accident or her power informed her of the perfect spot to target, but the results spoke for themselves: the cracks opened by Vernisla’s bombardment ruptured further and reached all the way to the golem’s shoulder. The pressure finally proved too much. Vibrations sent bolts and yellow flames flying in all directions, and the golem’s severed left arm fell onto the ground.

Belgoroth lost patience with Soraseo’s interference this time. He swung his claymore with his right hand the moment her feet touched the ground, the blade leaving an arc of flame in its wake. Soraseo’s power guided her movements. She dodged the attack in a blitz of speed and landed atop a pile of debris, unharmed and defiant.

Since he couldn’t strike at her body, Belgoroth swiftly switched targets.

“Your father died cursing your name,” the Lord of Wrath said, his thundering voice echoing across the battlefield. “Kinslayer.”

He struck at her spirit.

And it worked. Soraseo froze in place, her proud sword briefly lowering. Her hesitation lasted a few seconds. That was enough.

“Had you not taken the love of his life, sorrow would not have claimed his heart.” Belgoroth’s visor burned brighter than the sun. “You slew the two souls who brought you into the world, mother-killer.”

His fiery gaze lit Soraseo up like a candle.

It happened in an instant. Yellow flames surged from his visor in a torrent of light that swallowed my friend whole. Her armor’s red paint melted as the fire kissed her flesh. My friend’s legs failed her, and for the first time since I’d met her, Soraseo screamed.

My heart sank in my chest. The searing heat of the battlefield could not warm up the blood freezing in my veins. I briefly forgot all about the plan and my exhaustion alike. I outpaced Selestine herself in the blink of an eye as I rushed to Soraseo’s side. I was too slow, and Belgoroth raised his foot to crush her.

A shadow descended from the sky with a screech.

Vernisla and her firehawk fell upon Belgoroth in a surge of speed. The bird’s talons closed on the golem’s shoulders and then lifted it a few feet above ground; its wings frantically flapped so fast they whipped up a strong wind, yet they still managed to drag the much heavier golem away. Belgoroth’s foot missed Soraseo by a few inches.

The firehawk immediately aimed for the nearest burning building, clearly intent on crashing Belgoroth against its side. The Lord of Wrath swiftly skewered it midflight with the tip of his sword. The hawk let out a screech as its foe and rider both crashed into the flames with it. The building crumbled at the impact in a bright flash of silver and yellow lights

I was too focused on Soraseo to take a closer look, or even consider the implications. I reached my friend swiftly as she rolled into the dirt. I knelt at her side and immediately winced upon seeing the damage. She had burns on the few patches of her face exposed behind her helmet. Her armor had become so hot I dared not touch it. It was cooking her alive.

“I’m here!” I told Soraseo, even though she couldn’t see me. I reached for my waterskin and poured all of its content on the flames consuming her and watched it turn to steam the moment it touched her. I might as well have tried to douse a volcano with a bucket. “Sell me your flames! Sell me your burns! A package deal with your sword, your armor, your helmet, anything!”

I only received screeches of agony for an answer.

There was no death more painful than being burned alive.

Still, I refused to give up. With Soraseo unable to form a contract with me, I removed my cloak and used it to smother the flames the best I could. Belgoroth arose from the burning building right as I revealed myself to the world. His thick metal frame loomed over us like the shadow of death.

With no other choice left, I stepped in front of Soraseo and faced the Lord of Wrath. I challenged him with my best weapon; the only one that could save me now.

My words.

“Sheath your sword, Belgoroth!” I shouted as loud as my lungs would allow it. “I have come to save your soul!”

The Lord of Wrath reacted as I expected him to: by ignoring me and raising his sword for the kill. Thus I followed with a more cutting strike.

“What did I expect from a coward too afraid to repent!” I taunted him. “A weakling too scared to be a true Knight!”

The Demon Ancestor’s arm jammed and his sword remained pointed at the sky. The full weight of his attention fell upon me.

I had walked into the heart of a Blight, faced demons in battle, and met with the Devil of Greed herself. None of these experiences could compare with the lethal pressure radiating from Belgoroth. The very air burned within my lungs; the smell of blood, sulfur, and rotting corpses overwhelmed my senses. A tidal wave of fury and murderous anger overwhelmed me. Each breath felt like my last. I wanted to lay down, to beg, to die, all to escape the torment ahead of me.

I had none of Soraseo’s ungodly agility and reflexes. A twitch of Belgoroth’s wrist would end me forever.

But the Lord of Wrath held back his sword.

“I have nothing to prove to you,” Belgoroth replied with seething hatred. I didn’t buy it. The fact he answered me at all proved otherwise. “Who are you to challenge me, fool?”

“A better Hero than you!” I countered.

When a surge of light erupted behind the Demon Ancestor’s visor, I knew I had guessed right. I had detected a chink in Belgoroth’s armor in the way he addressed us mere mortals. The same weakness that all the angry, self-righteous types shared; the frailty I had glimpsed inside Florence’s heart.

Their deep-seated need to justify themselves.

The sages say the quill is stronger than the sword. I prayed that they were right as I opened my mouth again. “Daltia changed, you know? She shed her demonhood and became a Hero again. You can do the same. You can become a true Knight once more.”

“This is a trap,” Belgoroth said, wisely. “A distraction.”

I didn’t bother lying. He had Soraseo’s power. He would detect all hints of a lie. The best I could do was to give him a genuine offer.

“We do not need to continue this pointless feud,” I argued without answering him. “Lay down your sword, renounce your cursed mark, and cast away your demonhood. If Daltia succeeded, so can you.”

“You know nothing, false Hero.” Belgoroth waved his sword at the sea of fire around us. “Look upon your fellow man’s work. These flames burn with a thousand years of hatred. Were your hearts pure, I would not be compelled to destroy you.”

“You are not compelled to do anything,” I replied. “Yes, mayhaps a Demon Ancestor of Wrath will always exist in one form or another, but it doesn’t have to be you. It doesn’t have to be Belgoroth.”

“You are wrong, Merchant. Once my Berserk Flame consumes this loathsome world, naught will pray for a Demon Ancestor to grant their wish. Ashes cannot hate each other. The dead cannot covet the goods of the living, nor wage war.”

I held my head high. “Is it the world that you hate, or yourself?”

“Both.” He did not deny it. “All I seek is oblivion. Pangeal’s cleansing shall be my salvation.”

“You can be saved without taking a single life.” I removed my glove and unveiled my Merchant mark. “I will buy your curse, if you let me.”

A tense silence fell upon us, followed by a raindrop. Dark clouds answered Selestine’s prayers and shed tears onto the land below. They began to douse the flames, cloaking Belgoroth’s melting frame in a cloud of steam. Soraseo wheezed behind me, critically wounded, but still alive.

“I can make a deal with you. Take away the anger that burns inside your heart. Your fury, your ability to hate, your sins… everything that makes you the Lord of Wrath.” I pointed at his own claymore. “Sell them to me alongside your sword, as you once bound your soul to your bloody adamantine relic. My class will merge your malevolence and metal together.”

Belgoroth’s burning visor let out a spark of scorn. “No steel sword may hold all of the world’s hatred.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” I conceded. “Maybe a mindless avatar of wrath will break out of the sword the moment we form our pact. The point is, it won’t be you anymore. I can’t affect your soul, but I can separate your demonhood from it.”

My mark shone brightly on my skin, but it did not hurt me the way it did when I offered to purchase a man’s soul. Would it allow a trade of this magnitude? I couldn’t tell, but I was willing to try.

“I can give you a fresh start,” I continued. “Turn you mortal and allow you to die with dignity, if that’s truly your dearest wish. All you need to do is sheath your sword.”

Belgoroth glanced at my mark, then at Soraseo grunting in agony behind me. “You hate me for slaying your allies, yet you would offer me peace?”

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation. I hated him, I loathed him, but I would stand by my word. If Eris was entitled to a second chance, so were her colleagues. “Yes, I will.”

Belgoroth stared at me in utter silence. His ability to understand motions allowed him to detect any hint of a lie in my body language. When he found none, when he realized I would follow through with my word, it took him aback.

I think… I think that for a brief moment, the brave and noble Knight once chosen by the Goddess herself to bear her mark considered my offer. The doubts he had carried with himself for centuries resurfaced stronger than ever.

In a single pulse of my heartbeat, the Demon Ancestor of Wrath pondered the pointlessness of his own existence. Before him stood the opportunity to truly prove himself worthy of the unstained Knight mark he had corrupted; to give up the mantle of cruelty which had defined him and take his first step on the noble, harsh path to redemption. For the first and perhaps only time in his long existence, Belgoroth truthfully considered repenting.

The flames of his hatred swiftly extinguished that last glimmer of hope in an instant.

“If you had noticed your mother’s cough earlier,” Belgoroth said, his voice a raging inferno, “She would still be alive.”

His cruel taunt hit me like a dagger to the heart.

“You think protecting these people will let you atone for your negligence, you useless son?” Belgoroth mocked me, his own words echoing those I had told myself countless times. “You couldn’t even save your own flesh and blood.”

“At least I’m trying!” I replied defiantly. “You gave up! Back then and now!”

“I see you fight with words, as all Merchants do.” Belgoroth raised his sword again, its tip blazing with infernal flames. “Pray that your weapon skills prove great–”

Roots surged from the ground under Belgoroth. I couldn’t tell whether Mr. Fronan waited for Belgoroth to attack, or if he had hoped the Demon Ancestor would accept my proposal, but he now acted swiftly. Belgoroth tried to sweep away the plants the moment they burst out of the ground, only for barrels of water to fall on him out of nowhere and throw him off his aim.

Marika’s magic surged and the golem’s legs collapsed swiftly under their own weight. The blazing sword crashed to the side with a clang of steel, alongside the severed hand that once wielded it. I saw Selestine rush to the golem’s armless and limbless torso, the mere touch of her hand on the metal suppressing the baleful flames inside it. Belgoroth’s helmet lost its fiery luster.

I shook my head sadly, then immediately knelt to Soraseo’s side. She struggled to breathe and barely hung on to life by a thread. I grabbed her hand and held it tight.

“It’s alright,” I promised. “You are safe. You are not alone.”

She never was.

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