Redemption Arc

Lucian’s senses were all in a jumble. He could smell nothing, could taste his own blood. His ears rang so badly it felt like he was standing next to a concert speaker. His vision was blurry enough it seemed like Belcourt was using some kind of cloning spell. The whole of his body tingled like it’d been numbed. Fighting in this condition and coming out on top would be a difficult feat. Lucian had power, but he hadn’t trained to use it.

But Belcourt was a spellcaster first, and Martyr had sealed his magic. So long as Lucian never let go, he thought there’d be a chance.

Lucian hooked his leg behind Belcourt, then slammed down with all his might and cast the strongest holy spell he could. His MAG had spiked tremendously, but he was still only using three-word spells. He couldn’t rely on them for damage. He needed to focus on using them to heal. Meanwhile, the rest of him would become his weapon.

The First Inquisitor tried to push Lucian off him, but he’d already ensured that he would be tightly entwined with his opponent thanks to the Blessing of the Soothsayer. He yanked free the Voodoo Dagger and tried to stab again, but Belcourt caught his wrist. His foe felt weak. Lucian could tell Belcourt had the same poisons coursing through him, weakening him while it strengthened Lucian.

Lucian dropped the dagger and slammed his head against Belcourt—once, twice, until he went for a third time and Belcourt opened his jaws wide and bit at Lucian’s face. The natural human instinct would be to recoil, but the moment Lucian lost his hold, Belcourt might play for time. He turned his head and Belcourt chomped down on his cheek. Lucian punched him in the side of the head again and again with his adamantium-armored hand until the jaws tore off a mouthful of his flesh, and then Belcourt writhed to break free.

Lucian sat up, then pounded his open palms upon Belcourt’s face again and again, casting simple powerful holy magic right into Belcourt’s eyes until the pain in his face vanished and his eyes were wrecked. Belcourt wrenched his arm free from underneath Lucian’s knee, then slammed him from the right with both his grotesque wings and his arm. Lucian was pushed off from the sheer force of it, but he didn’t release Belcourt. He gripped the First Inquisitor tightly and brought him into a roll, which ended up reversing their positions. Belcourt pinned Lucian down, now.

Belcourt tried to stand, but Lucian wrapped his arm around the back of his neck and punched the First Inquisitor’s face hard, twice, with a fistful of adamantium—the first caved in his teeth, and the second seemed to shatter his eye socket. Belcourt jammed his knife-like nails into Lucian’s neck, then pulled Lucian’s head back to expose the jugular as he moved to bite it. Lucian saw death coming.

Then, nine holy blades pierced through Belcourt’s back, one of them inches from Lucian’s eye. That was Aurelia’s doing. Lucian slammed his elbow into Belcourt’s face, pushing the blades deeper into his flesh. When the holy weapons were pulled free, Belcourt staggered out of Lucian’s grip. His wings spread out, his intention clear from the fear on his face.

Knowing Belcourt intended to fly, Lucian tackled and grabbed his leg with both arms in a mad lunge. Belcourt’s claws ripped into Lucian’s back repeatedly and pushed away fiercely. Lucian lashed out with holy magic, barely even conscious of the spells that he was casting. Belcourt’s attention was diverted for the briefest moment when Aurelia interfered, and it gave Lucian time enough to lunge up, wrapping both his arms around one of Belcourt’s wings.

Lucian took the First Inquisitor’s twisted wings of flesh, and with his overpowering strength, bent it in ways it wasn’t meant to be bent until he could feel cracking and popping. Belcourt howled loud enough even Lucian could hear it, and then Lucian felt claws and fangs pierce his flesh. He didn’t relent, though—he pulled, pulled, until suddenly Lucian felt all resistance cease, and he tore the wing free.

With Belcourt’s wing in hand, Lucian bashed him in the knee with the limb as hard as he could. A morningstar of holy light on the tip of Aurelia’s tail bashed into the First Inquisitor’s head, forcing him to his hands and knees. Lucian released the wing, raised both hands and clenched them tightly, and then smashed them into the back of his neck. Belcourt crumpled to the ground, and Lucian followed. He grabbed the First Inquisitor’s long white hair, planted his knee in his back, and then started slamming his face upon the ground with as much power as he could channel.

Aurelia joined in, and Lucian didn’t flinch as she expertly wove spears of light around his body to pierce Belcourt as Lucian slammed his face into the ground again and again. Whenever he tried to rise, Aurelia put an end to that—she impaled his hands to the ground with two of her tails, and chopped at his legs to end their thrashing.

When Belcourt’s hair tore, Lucian grasped his head with both hands and resumed slamming it upon the ground with as much force as he could muster while blasting holy magic into his skull whenever he could. The only resistance Belcourt still posed was bashing Lucian with his one remaining wing. But Lucian had endured far worse than that already, and he kept up his assault.

Lucian didn’t relent. He kept slamming and slamming, his only thought about what might happen if Martyr did trigger. He’d die, Aurelia would die, and everything would come to naught. All the pain he felt seemed like a nonfactor in the face of that. So, he kept going, again and again, until his hands lacked something solid to grab onto.

Lucian sat there in confusion as Belcourt’s body turned to ash. His brain was so one track that he thought for the briefest moment he’d failed, and the devil was getting away to cast Martyr in safety. But when he saw purified essence course into him and felt it uplift his body yet further, plus the demonic energy coursing into his dormant Inquisitor’s Mark, the brain fog cleared.

Belcourt was dead.

Lucian rose to his feet shakily, then triggered the Blessing of the Titan’s Heart. Hundreds of poisons left his body, and with them went the strength they offered. Lucian felt unimaginable pain in that moment, and crashed down to the ground face first. He struggled to move, then felt a nudging turn him over to his back.

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Aurelia stood over him, panting in exhaustion. Her eyes were wide with what seemed like concern. He gave her a delirious smile of triumph.

“Be dead without you,” he said, and in his stupor stroked his hand across her face like she really was a big dog. She froze up. He realized what he was doing, and his hand fell to the ground. “Sorry. But you saved me. Bastard almost got his leech teeth into my jugular.”

Aurelia nudged his face with her snout, and he laughed. She sat back, then let out a howl with a peculiar intonation. It was returned. Lucian set to work healing himself, and Aurelia looked around to be sure it was safe before transforming to her human form.

“I let them know that the hunt is over. They’ll be returning.” Aurelia knelt down beside him. “It looks like the other demons are falling back.”

“That would have been a different story if he had his magic.” Lucian shook his head. “Martyr… hate that spell. Damn, my back hurts…” he winced, feeling countless lacerations.

“He finally experienced what he did to many. Including…” She looked away. He heard her sniff. “He deserved a worse death. A slower one. I wanted to be the one to give that to him. But this was satisfactory.” When she looked back, she had a faint smile of contentment.

“Including who?” Lucian pressed.

“The Aurelia that could’ve been,” she said. “That’s who Belcourt killed. I never got to know what she would have been like.”

Lucian recalled Belcourt had been the one to induct her—or maybe groom her—into the First Emperor’s employ. This was somewhat personal to her.

“The Aurelia of right now is fine,” Lucian said sincerely.

Aurelia looked genuinely happier than she ever had been when he said that. Why was that? Did she genuinely respect him?

Still, she looked at him and said, “Only fine? That’s the best you can muster?”

“You’re the only one that stayed,” he said. “I told them to go in case I failed, but honestly… I didn’t want them to. Not you, either. But they did leave. You didn’t.”

“Best remember that.” Aurelia smiled faintly. “Although you’re being too generous. I’m not fine. I haven’t paid recompense to the people I’ve actually wronged. That still needs to happen. Not to gain your trust, but because it’s the right thing.” She leaned in. “Speaking of the right thing, you’re going to scam that Golemancer very, very badly, aren’t you?”

Lucian grinned faintly, but didn’t answer.

“Good. And once you’ve learned how to take the form of the divine beast… I want to tell the monastics the truth,” she said.

Lucian felt unease creep in at the idea he’d once pushed so strongly for. She’d mentioned this idea before, but a lot had changed since then.

“Are you sure?”

“Very. I don’t think I can live with myself, otherwise.” Aurelia sat back.

“…you might die,” he said quietly.

Aurelia shook her head. “I don’t think so. But if that does happen… well. That’s how it is.”

Lucian sat up and was about to reprimand her angrily, but a voice cut across the courtyard.

“Lucian!” Rowan shouted, entering on the back of the divine beast shadowed by Miriam and the others. “You really won against him?”

Lucian glanced at Aurelia, but her attention had already gone to Rowan. He rose.

“Nope, I died, as you can see.” Lucian shook his head at his own bad joke. “Belcourt was a spellcaster, and he sealed his spells. It was close, but I pulled through.”

Rowan studied him. “You look like hell.”

“I had my doubts, but… you truly did it. I didn’t have your measure in the slightest, Lucian Villamar,” the Golemancer said, speaking from his golem masterpiece on high. He descended down the walls like a spider on its back. “The enemies retreated. Their plan, it seems, relied upon Belcourt’s spell breaching the Citadel’s defenses. They fell back once his death was confirmed.” He came to stand before their party and looked between them. “We have much to discuss. Details to codify, an alliance to negotiate, and a strategy to plan.”

Lucian nodded, and then rose. He helped Aurelia up.

“Let’s not delay for the next meal,” Lucian said.

“Agreed.”

***

“A blessing of the gods?” the Golemancer repeated.

Lucian nodded. “You can’t blame me for not disclosing that. With Belcourt here, I had to keep my cards close. And it worked, in the end—I took him out. If I hadn’t, that Martyr spell would’ve finished, and your prized little citadel would be a ruin.”

The Golemancer considered that, looking at Lucian with calculation. Then, he nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Considering that my body has a blessing of the gods…” Lucian began, spinning his game. “And considering how much you owe me… I think a little consideration is in order. My blessing is powerful. Now, I’ve never heard of a demon possessing someone that has a blessing of the gods. Might be happenstance, but it might not be. Might explain why your ability doesn’t work.

“I just think that we should take our time with this,” Lucian explained. “Make sure that no one loses anything. You, or me.” Lucian held his arm covered in adamantium up, now partly concealed by a sleeve. “After all, I’m not going anywhere. One thought, and you can do what Belcourt couldn’t. But the gods have shown me favor, and I think the both of us would be better off if I managed to keep their blessing. Given what your eyes do, that can be done, right? We have to make sure that it’s safe. For the both of us.”

“What do you suggest?” the Golemancer said.

“Staying here longer, to take the proper precautions,” Lucian said. “Won’t be going anywhere. But patience is a virtue, and before you dive blindly into the unknown, the both of us ought to understand the risks.” He offered his hand.

The Golemancer stared at his hand for a long while. Then, he shook it. “Patience is a virtue. Agreed.”