Redemption Arc

Lucian opened his first real battle against a human with a spell.

As the bandit brandished his axe, Lucian held his hand out and said, “Vörr.” A pure white scarab surged out of his hands, cutting through the air toward him.

The bandit regarded the projectile with intense caution, ducking low and sidling back and forth as if to fake it out. Eventually, he darted forward and to the right, dodging it.

“Gonna make a necklace from your hair,” the bandit shouted as he ran forward.

Lucian backed up calmly and said next, “Æshra.”

The Solar Butterflies erupted outward, and Lucian used them as a wedge to stop the brigand’s approach. Internally, he could feel his magic was exhausted—he’d need to wait a while before he could cast another spell. Lucian and the bandit circled around the white butterflies, each looking for an opening. Lucian stepped into the spell—it wouldn’t hurt the caster—and thrust out with his spear. The bandit swatted it with his axe, but Lucian still cut into his knee. Before the man could retaliate, Lucian retreated back through the white spell to safety.

“Tricksy bastard,” the bandit spat.

The butterflies started to fade away, and the bandit saw that as his opportunity to advance. Lucian kept him at bay with his spear, thrusting out as he’d practiced countless times before. When axe met spear, he could tell immediately one plain fact—this man was stronger than he was. As Lucian recalled, this foe had 19 STR.

On one of Lucian’s thrusts, the bandit hooked his spear with the axe and yanked. Lucian jerked forward, stumbling, while the man reeled back with his axe held overhead. Lucian managed to recover just as the axe descended downward toward his head. He veered to the right, and the axe struck his shoulder. The spell he’d casted at the very beginning—First Sanctuary—shattered, absorbing the bulk of the blow. Lucian still felt the axe cut into his shoulder slightly.

Still, he didn’t lose track of his training. He used the spear as a quarter staff to bash the brigand in the head before following up with a stab that pierced his shoulder. The brigand tried to back up, but Lucian advanced, charging forth until he pinned the man against the wall. Once he was there, Lucian held his hand out.

“Vörr.”

A white scarab came and pierced into the man, lighting up his body with holy light. Lucian felt the wound on his shoulder abate in pain as vitality transferred between them. When the light finally dimmed, the man seemed in no position to fight back. Lucian pulled the spear back, and his opponent collapsed to the ground, mouthing words without air. For some reason, his efforts to speak words without the ability stuck in Lucian’s head, and he quickly turned away to look at the chief’s hut.

Now, only one thing remained. He should wait for the others.

***

Rowan bashed with his shield, sending his foe’s sword spinning out of his hand. Arslan seized upon the opportunity to pierce his stomach with his spear. The bandit’s ally sought to take that as an opportunity to attack Arslan, but Rowan darted forward and caught the sword on his shield. He swatted the man’s sword aside, then lunged forward to pierce his neck. The man sputtered as he fell back.

“That’s the last of them.” Arslan looked at Rowan, his breathing heavy. “You fight… very well.”

Rowan gestured backward. “Go get healed by Helen, and then check if Bethany and Tarkan need any help.”

Arslan nodded intently. Following his absence, Rowan took the time to survey the rest of the battlefield. In particular, he looked to where Lucian had gone. He’d been worried about the man’s choice of route… but he quickly spotted two bodies, one of which seemed to be a mage, and the other an axe-wielding warrior. He spotted Lucian standing near the back entrance, watching Rowan. He had neither heavy breathing nor obvious wounds. Rowan smiled, and nodded at him.

Before long, the rest of the Student Ambassadors that had come along with him caught up.

“All those other fools haven’t even made it inside the camp,” Miriam noted, looking out on horseback. “Most of them are still contending with the archers.”

“Then let’s finish this quickly, go home.” Rowan held his fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly. Lucian looked over, and Rowan gestured inside. He nodded. Then, their group entered the chief’s hut together.

***

Lucian entered the bandit chief’s hut warily. Looking around, it remained as it had been in the game. It was decorated with various trophies obtained both from people and from animals. There was even the skull of a narwhal on display, though Lucian suspected he had obtained that from merchants rather than in the waters of the river. The chief himself sat in a throne which looked made out of a palanquin with the handles cut off.

The bandit chief—a handsome but brutish-looking man in a Riverran officer’s armor—had a huge greatsword leaning against his leg. Lucian wasn’t going to get close. He’d support, but that bastard sitting there could one-shot him easily, even with First Sanctuary on. He needed to hide behind the melee fighters. Each of them could take a hit.

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“No, no…” the bandit chief said, standing up. “What is this I see? It can’t be.” He pointed a finger with dirty nails. “You must be Student Ambassadors.”

The man laughed loudly as Lucian circled around the back of the hut to rejoin with the others.

“By the hells… I used to see your ilk running about, acting important when I was in the Collegium,” the chief said, picking up his greatsword. “Never thought I’d have the honor.”

“Why exactly are you in here when all of your men are out there being killed?” Rowan asked.

“Because they’re fungible. I’m the only one of any substance,” the man said flatly at once. “You can find men of their standard anywhere.”

Lucian had to admit that he had a point. In comparison to all of those people they had fought outside, the chief was on a different level. He had the same HP as that ogre, even if the rest of his attributes were a lot lower.

“Or maybe you’re terrified that it’s over,” Rowan said.

At that, the bandit chief lunged violently, wielding that greatsword with reckless abandon.

Lucian had played this fight many times in the War of Four, always with this cast. He knew how it played out like the back of his hand. On hardcore difficulty, it was very easy to lose a character if the player didn’t take the proper precautions. In particular, it was very easy to lose Olivia Vantz-Leon.

The chief had an ability—Wild Counter. It allowed him to retaliate against any melee attacks, returning some of the attacker’s damage back at them alongside his own. Olivia was a glass cannon. She dealt crazy damage with her rapier and could generally get multiple attacks off on opponents thanks to her very high speed, but the chief could easily turn that strength against her with Wild Counter to kill her in one round.

As soon as the fight began, it was clear that the chief was stronger than each of them individually. His sword pierced out toward Rowan, and though the man blocked one attack, the second seized him in the shoulder and sent him staggering back. Arslan thrust forth with his spear, Lucian cast forth a white scarab, and Vlad shot an arrow at him. He ate the arrow in the shoulder, the spear shortly after, and the scarab last, lighting his body with white light.

The moment the spear pierced the chief, though, his eyes gained a hunger to them. The man lashed out violently, his sword slicing Arslan across the torso—the movement was startlingly similar to what Lucian remembered of Wild Counter’s animation.

As the fighter fell back, Lucian was quick to press in and place his hand on Arslan, saying, “Þael.”

The healing magic circled over Arslan’s body, healing him partially. He looked back and grudgingly told Lucian, “Thanks.”

Lucian hung in the back with Miriam and Helen, supporting the warriors with healing as they kept the chief contained. He kept a particular eye on Olivia, watching to see if he was going to be in danger. Then… he saw her step forward.

***

Olivia felt totally overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of the opponent they had found. She didn’t think any of them were expecting to find someone so skilled in this brigand camp. This man was fighting against all of them without breaking stride. Even Rowan, who she had to admit seemed the strongest among them, had been tossed aside easily. From what he’d said, he was probably a graduate of the Collegium.

I have to do my part, Olivia thought. For my kingdom, I must do my part.

Though she was terrified, she stepped forward, bringing all her training to bear. She lunged in, slashing out. She cut the chief’s arm, and then pulled back as she had been taught for a devastating thrust. It was as excellent a blow as she hoped, and she pierced the chief right in the stomach.

Then, Olivia met the chief’s eyes. She saw an abyssal hunger rising.

That chief lashed out with such speed she could barely track it. The greatsword was nearly as tall as she was, and it sliced through her leather armor easily, opening a great gash on her chest. Before the pain even registered, she saw the man pull back for a thrust just as she had. As she saw the gleaming blade, a thought came to mind.

I’m dead.

Then, a hand touched her shoulder.

“Élûn.”

Olivia saw a swirl of white magic in her vision seconds before that greatsword rocketed forth with ungodly speed, piercing her stomach. It caught on a holy spell which quickly shattered, and though she was stabbed… the wound wasn’t half as deep as she feared. As she fell backward, Lord Lucian Villamar, that man she detested so much, advanced forward.

***

Lucian stood before the bandit chief, judging correctly that he wouldn’t need to actually fight.

A bolt of lightning cut through the air, slamming into the chief. It was followed shortly after by another, which sent him staggering back—lightning was Miriam’s top proficiency, so he knew who the spell’s caster was. As the chief spasmed, Rowan lunged in, jumping on the chief and sinking his blade in the man’s chest.

Both of them collapsed to the ground. Lucian watched for more, but… it seemed the boss was dead.

Lucian turned back, checking to make sure that Olivia was alright. Already, Helen was tending to the wound she had accrued. The red-haired woman stared up at Lucian, her expression indiscernible.

“Think you’ll live?” he asked.

Olivia nodded wordlessly. Lucian left it at that.

Rowan stood up from the corpse of the banded chief, his breathing heavy. Once he caught his breath, he said, “Let’s bring this man’s body out into the middle of the camp. It should convince the rest of them to surrender.”

“Why didn’t they surrender to begin with?” Miriam asked. “They saw nine ships surrounding their island. Why fight to the last? They must have known things were going to end up like this. I’ve never seen brigands with stronger morale.”

People gave some halfhearted proposals to answer Miriam’s question as Lucian walked toward the exit. Lucian knew the truth. These men weren’t themselves. Once outside, he looked upriver.

It was barely visible, but… a flood was coming. And with it, the second stage of this mission.