Chapter 95: Self-Defense Situation

“Do you remember when I told you I was doing this as a caveat to my vow? That I was only doing this because I promised that I could only employ violence in a case of defending those I cared for?” Willem looked over to Sarah. “This is rather stretching that boundary a bit. I didn’t anticipate assassinating heads of states.”

Sarah didn’t meet Willem’s gaze. “Unless we do this, I’ll die. Either to your king’s men, or those here. That… or I wither away slowly. We won’t be able to get to the Fount of Avaria without taking out the oligarchs—it’s bound to their lifeblood. So long as they live, no one else can use it. Fortunately, they can’t stray far from it, or the magic will break.” She looked at him. “You have complaints?”

Willem shook his head. “It’s pushy, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I was under the impression that you enjoyed pushing the boundaries.” Sarah looked at him. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.”

“The things I do for love…” Willem shook his head.

Sarah let the silence persist for a few moments. “What did you just say?”

Willem didn’t say anything as he observed the city centered around the caldera. It was a lot grander than he thought. It was like the constructions, mythology, and idolatry of ancient Greece personified in one gaudy city. The statues, monuments, the stately marble buildings… nothing he’d seen really compared, not even the capital city of Ravenveld. All of it was based in the caldera. On the outskirts of the city, there was a dense industrial district. It seemed to be where all of the labor was employed. Smoke rose from the stacks in dense clouds, almost hiding the city. Right now, they stood in the dense fields outside, which seemed heavily cultivated.

“I know you told me just to follow you, but… the Fount of Avaria is in that building, there?” Willem asked, pointing to the lowest point in the caldera.

There was a large fortification with several rings of walls around it. The central building was made of gold and black, and immaculately carved. It reminded Willem of the building that enshrined the Black Stone in Mecca, only a dozen times larger. The city itself had ring walls surrounding it, but they seemed opened

Sarah didn’t look pleased that he was changing the subject. “Indeed. And—”

A flash of green fire rose up from one the volcano’s vents and into the air, leaving a smoke trail behind. It wasn’t unusual for those things to pop up, but this one in particular was green. That was their signal to move. Willem looked at Sarah.

“Seems like they’re ready to begin.” Willem rolled his shoulders. Then, he bent over and retrieved the steel crossbow alongside the greatsword of blackened bone that Sarah had created. “This isn’t something I thought I’d be doing in this life.”

“But you will do it, won’t you?”

Willem nodded. “I’ve come this far.”

***

Raphael and Leonardo observed the green tracer fired up in the air. There have been several of these bursting free of volcanic vents in the ground, but this one was unique in design and color. They didn’t need to speak, only exchange glances.

“That’s our time to move,” Leonardo said decisively.

“You sure?” Raphael asked, not entirely convinced.

Several fires erupted simultaneously, consuming many important-looking buildings. It was obviously a coordinated strike, and it was confirmation that the signal they had been looking for was genuine.

“I’m sure,” Leonardo said.

The two of them hefted their respective unique weapons and hurried off toward the grandiose city buried in the caldera.

***

Willem and Sarah moved down the caldera’s slope silently. The rock beneath their boots was warm and uneven, chipped from centuries of foot traffic and heat fractures. They kept to the shadows, weaving between jutting stone and the occasional twisted pipe that funneled smoke, steam, or worse. Above them, smoke from the stacks drifted overhead, masking their descent in a thickening haze.

As they reached the outermost ring wall surrounding the city, they joined the flow of displaced workers and civilians fleeing the fires. Neither spoke. Sarah adjusted the gray shawl over her head, stuffing away her red hair. The guards at the first checkpoint barely looked at them—they were too distracted by shouts from all around and the sudden surge of people.

Past the outer gate, they slipped away from the coming crowd and ducked into a narrow stone corridor between buildings. The passage smelled of dust and sulfur, and the only light came from the occasional ray of light filtering past the densely-packed walls. No guards patrolled this section—the reason why became clear when they encountered numerous bodies. Sarah and her sisters had planned their route all too well.

They proceeded out of the dense, chaotic industrial zone and into the true wealth of the city. They reached the second ring, and passed through its gate. One of Sarah’s sisters peered down from above, evidently having ensured this gate was unguarded. Beyond, the streets were half-abandoned. Smarter citizens had fled into their homes, and only a few stunned residents lingered outside, watching the smoke like tourists. Willem and Sarah moved unseen through courtyards and under archways, avoiding open plazas where garrisons were still assembling. The deeper they went, the more the gold and obsidian motif began to dominate the architecture.

They reached the lowest tier unmolested. The Fount stood at the center framed by unusual glowing mist, its polished surface catching sunlight and firelight in equal measure. The bridge leading to it was lined with ceremonial braziers, most of them now unlit. Rather than tend to the fires, the majority of the guards had congregated here. Willem hefted his crossbow and greatsword.

“Seems like it’s time for Junior to have his fun.” Willem spun the surprisingly light sword.

***

Raphael watched from a distance as great flashes of aura tore through the guards lined up side the important-looking building at the center of the caldera. It wasn’t difficult at all to recognize who was responsible for that, and he smiled as he picked up the pace.

“He’s here.” Raphael turned his head to look at Leonardo. “And I can see your Red Raven, too.”

Both of the lunatics of the Villamar family seemed to be consumed by bloodlust for a moment, and their rapid pursuit doubled in intensity as the pair sped toward the Fount of Avaria.

***

The ogre’s club came down hard, smashing stone as Willem rolled to the side. He sprang up blade first, and slashed across the beast’s knee—deep enough to stagger. The ogre roared, backhanding wildly, but Willem was already gone, darting behind its flank like a wolf.

He moved with three limbs for a moment, one arm holding his sword as he lunged forward with a snarl. The ogre twirled and thrust its club at him quickly, but he vaulted off its weapon and landed squarely on the beast’s shoulders. His sword flashed consecutively—one, two, three cuts along the incredibly thick skin on its neck—leaving searing gold scars with every strike. The ogre slammed its shoulder into a wall, but Willem dropped first, rolled, and came up stabbing.

The blade drove into the soft flesh of the ogre’s armpit, and sunk deep. Willem pulled his blade out and dodged backward in an elegant spin, anticipating the ogre would simply attempt to fall on him. It did, breaking the stone with the sheer impact of its fall. The wounded beast stared at Willem with pure hate as it clambered back up to its feet. It grabbed its iron club, hefting it as if for one last engagement. As it charged, Junior stepped back, retrieving a steel crossbow. He pointed it… and then ceded control to Senior. A golden bolt surged out, hitting it right in the eye and continuing past until it hit the ceiling.

Willem heard heavy footsteps behind and turned his head to see what was approaching as the ogre fell at his feet, shaking the ground. Sarah sauntered up in her chimera form, her body coated in blood. Some of it was around her mouth, he noted.

“Did you eat someone?” Willem asked as if he was scolding a dog or a child.

“A coincidence, I assure you,” Sarah said as if embarrassed, wiping her mouth. “I wouldn—” She stopped. “I don’t have to justify myself to you. Even if I did eat people, you’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Fine, fine, very well. Where to next?” Willem asked, back to business.

“It’s just as my sisters said,” Sarah mused. “This place was nowhere near prepared enough for us. I half expected this to be a trap of some kind. My sisters don’t normally engage in fights unless there’s a strong chance of winning, so I assumed this would merely be a trap or an easy fight.”

“Easy fight? Do you know how many of these damn things I’ve fought?” Willem pointed ahead to the fallen ogre.

“You mean how many Junior has fought,” Sarah argued. “No matter. Come. I know where my inhuman masters will be congregating. Once they’re dead… the whole machine will collapse.”

***

The doors to the grand chamber groaned open, their blackened brass hinges screeching across the silence. The room inside was cavernous—vaulted ceiling, obsidian walls inlaid with silver, and a long crescent table raised on a platform like a judge’s bench. The oligarchs were arranged behind it in hastily-worn armor, their jeweled rings flashing as they clutched ceremonial weapons of unparalleled quality that had never before been used for battle.

Sarah walked in, standing tall and proud with most of her bestial body covered in blood. No one could think of words to say. This was a life-or-death situation, and that was the only thing on people’s minds at present. One of them leapt over the crescent table, rushing forward with a great streak of silver aura trailing their blade. Sarah only lowered her head, allowing the one on her back to step out with crossbow raised.

A bolt of golden aura jolted through the air, and though the swordsman tried to bring his guard to bear, it struck him squarely in his left shoulder and he spun ungracefully, clattering at their feet. Willem’s eyes shifted subtly, and he grabbed his greatsword and stabbed it into the man’s neck as he laid there defenseless.

“You forced me into a self-defense situation.” Willem shook his head, one hand holding the crossbow and the other the greatsword. “Running at me all crazily like that. I felt very threatened. I had to defend myself.”

Lightning bridge the gap, but Sarah reacted fast. Her wings spread out wide, and shadow magic burst from them, intercepting it in a flurry of feathers of black shadow. In the next second, Willem raised up the crossbow. His eyes shifted, and Senior took over. He only needed a second to fire, and the quarrel soared through the air and took the councilor in the chest.

“Why did you make me do that?” Willem asked. “You gave me no choice. I had to defend myself,” he opined as he walked forward.

The chamber exploded into movement.

The first bolt of magic came as a blast of force, poorly shaped, ripping through the air toward Sarah. She didn’t flinch. Her wings spread, feathers bristling with the dark magic etched into the bone beneath. The magic shattered against a wall of black ash, crackling harmlessly into smoke.

Willem moved forward at a steady walk. The oligarchs that knew how to employ aura hopped over the table, coming to meet him in tandem.

Another spell—arcing lightning, sharper this time—veered for him, but Sarah swiped it from the air with a lazy twist of her wing, unraveling it mid-flight. Willem didn’t even glance her way. His eyes were fixed on the nearest oligarch, a robed man fumbling with a shortsword glowing with faint blue aura.

Willem lunged. The aura burst to life along his blade—gold, jagged, precise. His strike came from the side, wide and brutal, and the oligarch barely managed to raise his weapon before the impact caved in his defense. The sword slammed into his chest, split mail, and sent him toppling backward with a cry.

A fireball blossomed overhead. Sarah caught it with a flick of her wrist, and the heat folded inward, consumed by her own magic and spat back as smoke. Willem had already moved to the next. These were ostensibly trained men with some mastery over aura, but he dealt with him far easier than he had the guards or the ogres. One after another, he carved through them as if they were tall grass in a field.

From behind the crescent table, a coordinated volley of magical fire and wind exploded outward—messy, uncontrolled, but dangerous in volume. Sarah’s wings swept wide, catching most of it in a radiant veil. What got through licked Willem’s shabby clothes with embers, but he pressed forward, golden aura now pulsing around his body.

Willem exhaled as he stepped forward through the smoke. None of those that came after him were alive. “Why do you make me do this?” he muttered. “I’m a peaceful man. You, on the other hand, have been very confrontational.”

Willem vaulted the heavy table. Steel met blackened bone. Willem parried a mace with a wrist wrapped in aura, and swiped a spell out of the air as if it were a fly. Willem slammed his sword into a man’s thigh, twisted it free, then used the same swing to knock the head clean from a half-raised axe. He never stopped moving, never gave them room to breathe.

A councilor took the time to prepare a spell of immense power. Before he could, Sarah landed behind him like a storm, claws ripping through his spine before the first syllable could form. By the time the last councilor fled like a madman wreathed in wind, Sarah was already on the move, her shadow creeping along the ceiling. She dropped on the final caster like a thunderclap. His scream cut off abruptly as talons tore through flesh. Silence followed.

The room was ruined—marble cracked, magic burned into the floor, and the scent of metal. Willem stood at the center of the raised platform, sword resting on his shoulder while the golden aura faded.

“Self-defense,” he said again, glancing to Sarah. “Tragic, really.”

Sarah looked a little confused as she stood there amidst them all. “Is this… it?”

“Unless all of these people are doppelgangers, and the real councilors are hidden away.” Willem wiped his blade down on the body of one of the nearby councilors. “You had me prepared for something a lot grander than this. It’s like watching the Soviets die all over again.”

Sarah blinked. “The Soviets?”

“Dirty commie bastards,” Willem said like it was a disease. “Spent decades starving their own people, building statues of themselves and calling it progress.”

Sarah glanced at the fallen councilors.

“Within, everyone could see the rot and decay. Without, it seemed like they rivalled the biggest nations in the world. I thought they were our main threat right up until the day someone walked in and told them no.” He kicked a jewel-encrusted helmet across the floor. “The nation collapsed faster than their crummy apartment blocks.”

Sarah looked down at the carnage, thoughtful.

He cracked his neck and started walking. “Can’t fix stupid, but you can bury it. I don’t think you even needed me for this.”

“I think you underestimate just how powerful you are.” Sarah walked up to him. “You and Junior are fighting as if you’re one person. It’s a terrifying sight.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. I just wait until I see something I don’t want to deal with, and then hand it over to him. I imagine he does the same.” He gestured toward her. “Don’t think anyone escaped, but… I suppose you’ll only know once we visit the Fount. Where is it?”

Sarah looked up, taking it all in. “Follow.”

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