Redemption Arc

As Lucian watched Metterand storm over, cutting across the waterlogged hallway, his mind hadn’t yet decided on a solution. He had a few potential candidates, each with problems. It was generally bad to be wavering like he was. Sometimes, people get too caught up in their own heads. They can’t just pick a plan and follow it, so the storm hits them head-on. That was Lucian’s problem, a lot of times.

This is why I played turn-based strategy games.

Metterand cast out cruel magics, but Lucian had a plan for that. This was the only bit that he’d been totally prepared for. He tore a scroll and cast a highly magic-resistant ward before him. It blocked the whole corridor, and then some. Dark magic battered against its surface, but the ward held.

Thanks, Denzel, Lucian thought. He would have never been able to afford that if he didn’t have the prince to rely on. Metterand knew what it was, so he ceased wasting his magic and picked up the pace.

Speedrunning helped me solve my problem with indecision. Encounter a problem? Pick a solution, do it as fast as possible, move on.

Potions? They were intended for ambush. Metterand could dodge them. He knew Lucian’s fighting style—he’d even commented on it. Besides, simple consumables wouldn’t be much use in the face of overwhelming power. Scrolls? Lucian had one left. It was just backup ice magic, and not a spell strong enough to slay Metterand. Give Metterand the Saltbelly treatment? Small problem with that: all Metterand’s stats exceeded 100 when he was like this. Lucian didn’t have enough power in his Inquisitor’s Mark to figure something out.

For a surefire plan… looks like it has to be that way, Lucian accepted with a heavy heart.

There were a few blessings in the game that worked well no matter what sort of build the player had. The blessing in this place was one of them. In the latter half of the game, the quality of the blessings doled out increased substantially. The one that Lucian had gotten now wasn’t an exception. Its ability was among the best, useful in all circumstances. It wasn’t a death touch or anything like that, but it could turn the tide of a battle.

And it can only be used once per day. I’d planned to use it on Aurelia or Metterand’s second phase, but survival comes first.

Lucian started pedaling backward as he reached into his satchel and produced a potion. He downed it. It felt like acid hitting the back of his throat. He got out another one and poured it down just as quickly. Already, he was starting to feel the effects of the first. His eyes were twitching, his hands were shaking—and it wasn’t the fear, this time. He downed potion after potion.

Or perhaps more accurately… poison after poison.

“Are you trying to die easily?!” Metterand shouted, nearly upon Lucian.

To say the least of the agony he felt, this didn’t seem like the easy way out. For his final trick, he produced a dagger and held it in front of him shakily. His legs were about to give—in fact, they did. He fell on his rear, only barely holding that dagger up. His arms felt like pudding. His eyes were bleeding, at the same time blood flowed from his mouth and nose. He had an understanding that it hurt, but he just didn’t feel it. Maybe it was the adrenaline.

But when Metterand neared, ready to crush Lucian’s skull, he triggered the new blessing inside of him. He didn’t even see Metterand—all he could remember was the alert for the blessing’s prompt. He clung to it in his head for dear life.

What did the blessing do?

You’ve received the Blessing of the Soothsayer.

+10 HP

+5 DEX

+5 SPD

You’ve gained the ability to achieve favorable outcomes in one round of combat once per day.

The description was more than a little opaque, but the effect couldn’t be clearer. For one engagement only, all of the enemy’s attacks would miss, and all of his would hit. That was how it had been in the game. In this reality, things were a bit different. He could see countless futures unfolding before his eyes. He saw myriad different ways in which his brother-in-law overcame him.

And yet at the same time, Lucian also saw a future where exactly what he wanted happen.

It all happened so quickly, yet it felt so slow that Lucian could practically narrate every detail. Metterand bashed through Lucian’s ward with his shoulder. Once he was through, Metterand swiped out with a hand, the claws of the devil trailing just behind. Lucian leaned back until he received only the slightest touch to his nose. Metterand stomped on the ground just before Lucian to stop and swing once more, but then Lucian kicked his leg. The duke’s foot lacked traction on the watery rocks—he slipped. Lucian stabbed out with his dagger as Metterand fell.

The duke, for all his flaws, wasn’t careless. Metterand triggered his defensive magic as he fell. The moment that Lucian dagger met with his neck, a burst of wind exploded outward and threw the dagger from Lucian’s hands.

But then, this was still the perfect future.

The dagger flung upward violently, hitting the ceiling with enough force it immediately bounced back downward. It fell right back into Lucian’s hands, who completed the stab. It didn’t even break Metterand’s skin, but Lucian felt triumph.

Lucian had taken care of a few errands while in Golvenne. One of them was getting this dagger—the Voodoo Dagger. In terms of raw ability, it was utterly awful. It had one effect that couldn’t be overlooked, though.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

On hit, it shared every status effect that its wielder had with its opponent.

Lucian heard his brother-in-law cry out in pain—or maybe that was himself. Either way, as soon as the dagger met flesh, Lucian activated the Blessing of the Titan’s Heart. His heart quaked with one incredibly powerful beat that sent tremors through his whole body, and then all of the terrible afflictions plaguing him disappeared instantaneously.

Each of those poisons alone were incredibly nasty. Together? They were intended to weaken Aurelia enough to kill her. Against Metterand, who was a fair bit weaker, they might kill him outright.

The first phase, at least. And given how debilitating they were, I’ll have time enough to get away. But what a waste…

Metterand spasmed, writhing and crying out in pain. Lucian tried to get away, but Metterand’s foot lashed out and hit his arm. It broke immediately, and sent Lucian staggering away to slam against the wall. Lucian looked at the wound. He saw bone—his bone. If he hadn’t experienced wounds like this before in that tournament against Denzel, he might have stayed fixated on it. Instead, he focused on a future. Preferably, one in which he lived.

Metterand shouted in rage. If he was trying to say words, they didn’t make any sense. Lucian was about to stand up and make his silent getaway, but Metterand recklessly cast magic. The first was nowhere near him, but he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t get hit by a stray. There was only one place that he could get to with immediate cover—the hole in the wall where the blessing had been, with the waterfall. He took his chances, jumping. The water pounded into him, casting him down into the pool below. His arm screamed out in pain, but he endured.

Pathway out over there, if I remember right, he reminded himself.

There were quite a few problems on his mind. What if Aurelia had taken the story item? What if the monastics had arrived? All told, this wasn’t turning out to be the smooth operation that he’d anticipated. He just had to figure out whether or not he got his objective. He swam, healing his arm up. His insides were as much of a mess as his arm… and that was the least of his concern.

I’ve used my trump card early. I still have all my tricks, but if Aurelia figures anything out, suspects me at all… not a chance I can stop her.

***

Did the big mouth die?

Aurelia no longer heard the sounds of fighting where she’d left them. They had carried on for quite a while. It sounded like quite a chaotic battlefield, almost as if the two of them were recklessly firing magic in every direction. She wasn’t trained in magic, but in her divine beast form, she could tell how strong people were. And Lucian… she was sure he was weak. Very much so.

That stood in stark contrast to the countless of her brothers and sisters standing there in their divine beast form, watching her. Individually, she could definitely handle them. Even the abbess wasn’t her match, standing at the forefront. Together, they might be able to beat her. They had come at quite an unideal time. In particular, it was when she’d finished Lucian’s instructions, and the damn sarcophagus opened up. Aurelia stayed right in front of the sarcophagus, concealing it with her form.

Bastard showed up, ruined my life, then died pitifully. Do I have that right?

The abbess shifted to her human form. “Aurelia. I don’t know what you’re doing in here, but I think some explanation is owed. What is this?” Dorothea’s aged face was creased with worry. “Aurelia, dear?”

Just wait for Metterand to arrive. Wait for them to find him. Trying to explain myself now… I might get ambushed by him, killed in one hit while I’m vulnerable.

“Aurelia? Aurelia!”Abbess Dorothea demanded.

“Hey,” said a voice from the side.

Aurelia glanced her head over to see Lucian standing there. He was soaking wet, and busy draining water from his satchel. His clothes had a lot of blood on them—hard to tell how much, because some of it had likely been washed off. But… considering his opponent, he was quite whole. He’d gotten away? Not so shabby after all. Perhaps he had some tricks.

“Outsider, why are you here?” Dorothea questioned.

Lucian walked straight for the sarcophagus. “My brother-in-law ambushed Aurelia in her room while we were there,” he said. “When she didn’t go down as easily as he expected, he fled here. We gave chase. He was after…” Lucian paused at the sarcophagus, reaching inside. He pulled out an object, holding it up. It looked like a glass eye… or perhaps not. It looked made out of a gem. “…this thing.”

“Have you profaned our esteemed ancestor?” Dorothea demanded, stepping forth with eyes wide in horror. “Aurelia? Why are you just idling there?”

Aurelia didn’t move. She hoped that this man had a plan. Confessing to the crime didn’t seem like the brightest thing to do.

He called me the idiot. What’s his genius idea? she thought bitterly, watching him closely. Maybe I should bite his head off, take that eye myself. Would that win me the First Emperor’s favor?

She felt someone approaching from behind, and looked backward. She tensed, expecting further fight, yet the state that Metterand was in was beyond shocking. He was bleeding from his eyes, mouth, nose, and ears. He staggered like a drunken man, barely alive. He was covered in wounds which seemed to be from magic.

Aurelia glanced at Lucian. He didn’t seem to be surprised. He had his hands on the sarcophagus like it was the expected outcome. He was capable of this?Aurelia was in shock. She had plenty of time to gauge Metterand’s abilities. He was definitely weaker than she was, but the gulf wasn’t tremendous. Her instincts, which hadn’t before failed her, told her that Lucian was weak. Far weaker than that man. And yet…

“He’s under the influence of a devil!” Dorothea said decisively. “Everyone, advance.”

Aurelia’s brothers and sisters, which before had been guarding against her, moved to guard her. Dorothea shifted and jumped over her head, landing in front of the sarcophagus. Metterand continued to walk out, broken and battered, before he stood before them all.

“You.” Metterand pointed. His finger arched over Dorothea toward her, but Aurelia knew it was directed toward Lucian. “You set me up. You had this planned right from the…” he coughed, then vomited blood.

Uncouth, Aurelia grimaced.

Duke Clemens Metterand stood with his back straight, clouded eyes staring right ahead. Then, a crack split his face. It was like the crack made on an egg moments before hatching. Darkness drifted out of the crack, emanating upward into the air. More cracks formed, while the first extended. A terrible, fleshy splitting sound filled the room as they ruptured his mortal form, and darkness poured out of Metterand’s body like a flood.

And then, Metterand’s body burst apart, unleashing an all-too-familiar torrent of darkness. This was the power of the demons. This was the power she wanted so desperately. It rattled her more than she expected—she found herself taking a step back as something inside him burst free. The gore, the viscera of it all unsettled her.

Is this really the ability of the Last Inquisitor? Aurelia found herself asking. Or is it something else?