Redemption Arc

Frankly, the last thing that Lucian had been expecting was for Belcourt to attack first. He thought that either Belcourt would be attacked after he left, or the Golemancer might try and play on the rules of hospitality to force him into active combat. Instead, Belcourt removed his mask. That was tantamount to a declaration of war.

When the dark magic finally faded from sight, Belcourt stood as he really was. It was somewhat like a seraph had descended to the earth. Belcourt was clad in almost priestly vestments, white and silver in equal measure. The remnants of his practical, casual outfit hung off him like tatters. His long white hair had grown longer still, and his whole face was revealed. His mouth was a monstrous thing that hinted at a hunger ill befitting the form he inhabited. It had too many teeth and a perpetual wide smile. Wings of molded flesh contained by gilding spread wide, making him seem larger than he was.

When the mask fell, the truth was revealed. Beneath all the shows of civility, Belcourt was someone who wore the flesh of angels and demons both to serve himself.

“Kill him!” the Golemancer demanded.

Belcourt held his hand out, and a holy spell took shape—a sphere of brilliant white-gold light erupted around him, shielding him from projectiles. The powerful enchanted arrows of the Golemancer’s constructs slammed against the shield, blocking all. Lucian recognized the spell: Star Shell, an incredibly powerful holy spell that immobilized its user while protecting them from all damage. It could be bypassed, but Lucian suspected he’d not have the time. Was he attempting to hold out until reinforcements arrive?

Everyone else took the opportunity to armor themselves up in preparation for the coming battle. Aurelia and all the monastics manifested, while the others drew their weapons. Aurelia stormed to Lucian, carrying his satchel in her jaws—he slung it over his shoulder gratefully, then made to get on Aurelia’s back. His own bonded arm slammed against his chest, stopping him.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” the Golemancer asked of Lucian. “You need to come with me to safety. I cannot risk you suffering injury.”

Then, there was a large quake that reverberated across the citadel. All looked toward its source and found it quickly. The Golemancer’s metal giant on the outside had locked into a grapple with a hulking titan of flesh, and had been pushed back to the point where its legs were pushing up against the citadel. Ballistae fired upon the giant of flesh, powerful magic and metal blasting it to bits in moments. But then, another walked out from the darkness, and the golem walked forth to meet it.

Just as Lucian thought, this wouldn’t be Belcourt alone.

“Yes, Lucian, run to safety,” yelled Belcourt, his voice much more haunting now. “It’ll make it easier to use this.”

Belcourt held his hand up from safety and cast yet another spell. Lucian wasn’t too concerned—Star Shell was a two-way street in that its user couldn’t harm nor be harmed. When he saw the spell Belcourt cast, his eyes practically bulged out of his head.

A clock of light appeared above Belcourt’s head, its hands spinning wildly before it burst and surged into his body. There was no way Lucian couldn’t recognize that spell. It was called Martyr. Lucian figured it out, then. Belcourt had decided to fight with the conviction to die. Hell, not just the conviction—the intention.

Martyr was a suicide spell. It was also one of the biggest pains in the ass to overcome in the entirety of War of Four. It had a huge AOE, it hit through walls, it almost always a one-shot, and the only real ‘counter’ was killing the units that used it before it activated. With Star Shell concealing Belcourt, that didn’t seem like an option. Fortunately, Martyr gradually ate up power—its caster couldn’t use other spells while it was activating. It drained all of their magic every turn to increase its power.

There were entire maps in War of Four that revolved around hunting down Martyr units as they appeared. If one Martyr got off, the player could lose more than a few units. Only one boss used Martyr—but only when she was at incredibly low health, so it was just a race to take her down before it cast. Not like this. Not Belcourt, unharmed, using Martyr at the start while shielded.

With Belcourt’s high holy affinity and incredibly high MAG stat, if he got Martyr off… a lot of people would die. The citadel would be wrecked. The moment he’d cast that spell, they’d already won, and already lost.

It didn’t make sense. Belcourt, ending his own life? The idea of it was inconceivable.

“It seems you realize the idea,” Belcourt shouted. “What’ll it be, strategist? There’s going to be a price to pay! The only question is how you’re going to pay it! You run, I’ll go for the Golemancer—that old bastard can’t stop me from getting him, and you know it. You stay, I will too—Martyr myself and you in the same swoop. Will you give up your old friends to stall me while you and the Golemancer escape, or take a chance and lose it all? What’ll it be?!”

“He’s gone mad,” the Golemancer said. “Lucian. Come, now, or that spell will kill us all.”

The adamantium armor raised its gauntlet to Lucian’s neck, vaguely threatening.

Lucian could flood the arm with the Golemancer’s mimicked demonic energy to seize control of his arm once again… but that would give up the game. For now, until he could get all that he wanted, he needed to be sure to make the Golemancer think he’d won.

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“We’re going to be partners,” Lucian said. “And I’m not seeing you lose everything—and if that spell goes off, we will. What’s yours is mine, right? Let me handle this. And I will handle this.”

“I can’t risk that!” the Golemancer shouted.

“I’m not risking a damn thing,” Lucian said with confidence he didn’t feel. He looked at Belcourt. “The First Inquisitor just made my job way easier. So, unless you want me to die for certain, lay off.”

The Golemancer let out a frustrated shout, but Lucian felt the pressure in his arm abate, and found he had control once more. The devil scampered off elsewhere, leaving Lucian in the courtyard with Belcourt and the others. Despite the earlier doubt and hesitation, they started to rally around Lucian—or rather, Rowan, who came to join Lucian.

“Sacrificing yourself, are you?” Belcourt shouted as the battle began to intensify on the outskirts. “Fine with me. You’ve proven yourself to be worth giving my life up for some certainty.”

Rowan came to Lucian. “What’s the plan, what do we do?”

Lucian could hear the clock of Martyr ticking down. There had to be a way. There had to be a way to end all of this without flaw, without anyone dying. Sticking around while the clock ticked downward probably wasn’t the brightest thing, but he was floored by Belcourt’s choice. It seemed so contrary to his character.

He came up with something. It’d have to do.

“All of you, go,” Lucian said. He looked at Aurelia. “Even you.”

“Are you sacrificing yourself twice in one god damn day?” Arthur demanded angrily.

Lucian looked at him. “No. I haven’t done sacrificed myself even once. I’ve got some tricks, like I always do. Without me, you guys would’ve died to that bloody Dragonwarden construct, so trust me and get the hell out of here.” He looked at Rowan. “Go! I’ve got a plan, and all of you are a hindrance!”

Rowan swallowed. “Never could give your orders, anyway.” He looked to the others. “Let’s trust Lucian.”

Everyone fell in line immediately once Rowan gave the word. The effect that he had on them was amazing—enviable, even. But Aurelia didn’t leave.

“Go on,” he told her, waving.

Aurelia shifted back, looking as everyone else left without her. “No,” she said, looking at Belcourt. Once they were gone, she looked at him and said, “You’re lying. I can tell.”

“No, I’m just not 100% confident,” Lucian said. A fireball landed in the courtyard, cast in from the outside. “This is your chance, Aurelia. A good opportunity to get out of the Mentor’s Seal, no strings attached.”

“I don’t want out.” Aurelia faced ahead with a shake of her head. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Lucian said.

“I’ve changed my mind. Good luck,” Aurelia said dryly, though didn’t move.

“Star Shell will wear off soon,” Lucian said. “Once it does, we move. No plan for you, really… just go crazy.”

Lucian reached into his satchel and started sorting through his bottles while the luster on Star Shell dimmed. There was only one way that Lucian dealt enough damage to be able to kill Belcourt before Martyr went off, and that was using his newly acquired blessing: the Blessing of the Ruined Garden. It gave him all stats up +2 for each individual type of poison affecting him.

The problem was… the blessing was active only for as long as the poison was. The moment he was cured, his power would be gone. He needed to stay poisoned. He couldn’t use the Blessing of the Titan’s Heart. But holy magic, with its lifesteal capabilities, was the perfect thing to use with this build. The hard part would just be coping with the poison. It was easy in a game, but in reality? Less so.

“…I was feeling rather confident earlier, but do you really have a plan? Truly?” Belcourt asked, his body pulsing with holy light waiting to erupt. Martyr gradually ate up power—its caster couldn’t use other spells while it was activating. It drained all of their magic every turn to increase its power.

In one hand, Lucian started casting healing spells. He left them dancing in the air, waiting to be used. In the other, he started downing poisons. “Yep. You inspired me,” he called out. “Decided to kill myself, too.”

Lucian felt a strange sensation as the Blessing of the Ruined Garden procced. He felt the poison’s diminishment alongside a burst of power. He felt his vision blur even as the sensation in his body intensified. One after another, he endured various ailments brought about by the poisons he’d procured to help with this blessing.

“You look ridiculous,” Belcourt shouted. “Swaying like a drunkard. What in the world are you doing?”

“You’ll know soon enough,” Lucian promised.

It felt like time was slowing as Lucian drank more and more, his abilities growing as his faculties failed. He felt more powerful than he ever had, but his heart was pumping like he was having a heart attack. His ears started to ring, his nose started to bleed. He didn’t feel any pain at all, strangely… but that was alarming in and of itself.

Then, Lucian had gone through it all. He retrieved the last bit—the Voodoo Dagger—and clenched it tightly. He walked into the spells he’d prepared. Vitality coursed into him, healing him to full HP after he’d raised his maximum. His world wasn’t clear, not quite… but it was much more manageable.

Aurelia said something he didn’t understand, and then shifted into her divine beast form. Lucian reeled back his arm, facing Belcourt. He watched the Star Shell like a stalker waiting for their victim to go to sleep—that is to say, crazily. Belcourt had cast Martyr, meaning he couldn’t use any other spells for their fight. Lucian was counting on that.

The Star Shell faded, and Lucian used the Blessing of the Soothsayer, choosing the outcome he wanted. In what felt like a tenth a second, he’d bridged the gap between himself and Belcourt, thrusting forth the Voodoo Dagger. The devil raised his arms to block, but the dagger pierced right into his wrist. He stared right into Belcourt’s ugly visage, and grabbed it with his other hand. His hand came alight with holy light as he prepared to end Belcourt, the First Inquisitor.

All he had to do was not let go.