Raiten:

  Obviously, she goes for me first.

  As soon as the shield falls away, the Lady’s form becomes a mere blur of motion. Kiren tries striking at her with his Meteorfang, but the chained-kunai merely slices through the air she previously occupied.

  Rather, her form zips to the ground and zooms towards me. In the few seconds before impact, I see that the force of her flight upends the cobbled ground of the ruins, scattering a trail of rocks in her wake.

  With wringing effort, I slice the whip at her form. I hear a CRACK! As it lands flush—and bounces back. Before I can even move, she’s upon me, cutting into me, three blades drawing long lines along my chest and sending me flying into the watchtower. Blood spatters and spits from my front while my back goes through two layers of hard stone, shoulder cracking, head bouncing, stars flashing, eyes watering from sheer pain.

  I bounce against the path beyond the tower before finally skidding to a stop.

  Turtled and breathing heavy, I take a few seconds to calm myself before placing my hand against that broken shoulder. The disc leans too far forward. I snap it back and growl through the pain before taking a stand. The watchtower heaves from my impact and begins to tilt over, its upper crow’s nest tumbling first. Some of the vines snap away. A plume of gray dust forms as the whole thing topples.

  It's going to be a lot harder to hold her than I thought.

  Something aches in my upper jaw. I wretch forward, holding my stomach as if about to throw up. Hawking back, I spit out the pain. Bloody red phlegm. Plus a tooth.

  Yeah. A lot fucking harder.

  I wipe the blood from my mouth and set the whip back.

  My eyes go hunting once more.

  The plume of dust obscures Kiren and the Lady, but I can hear the sounds of them battling. Orange light—no doubt Kiren’s limited fire magicks—flashes behind the plume.

  I start stalking towards it.

  No need to. She comes to me.

  Cutting through the dust, her silvery form cascades towards me. This time, I know better though. I set my feet and stare down at her charging form.

  Right before she hits, I jump to the side and flay the whip at her. Her blades skim my ankle and one of my toes goes flying. Yet, the whip itself just bounces off once more. Closer, but not there yet.

  When I land, I break my fall by splaying my left arm out and spreading the impact. Doesn’t help with the leg pain though.

  Standing is a chore: have to hop on one foot as the bone of the missing toe reforms.

  She comes at me again, but this time, without flying like an arrow from the heavens—rather she plods forward slowly. Not willing to play bull I guess. Her momentum works against her when she flies.

  Better for me.

  I stomp my foot down, grit my teeth through the pain of my toe stub eating into the dirt, and I take an Iron Winter stance.

  She stalks towards me, blade arms swiveling. The Lady makes an arc with them at my head, but pulls back at the last moment and uses the counter-momentum to swing down her hammer hand.

  Rather than backing away, I move into the strike, coming past the arc of the hammer and throwing a low kick at her leg.

  If I hadn’t been relentlessly beating every tree I’d come across in the briars, my leg might’ve snapped. But it's made of tougher stuff than that. It slams against her calf and the metal of it creaks inwards. She stumbles just as her hammer hand smashes past my shoulder, anchoring her to the ground. I try following up, but the frantic slicing of her three left-arm blades makes me circle out with the more evasive footwork of Eternal Spring. I tug the end of the whip my way, just to make sure she can’t stomp down it.

  I pivot behind her while she struggles to wrench the hammer free. With one deep breath, I lasso the whip up and snatch her waist with it. Finally!

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  But, Kiren isn’t here to finish the job.

  The ground rumbles and cracks as she leans back, pulling her huge hammer hand out of the earth. It's like watching a boy trying to lift a sword that’s far too big for him. She slings it over her shoulder and twists back to face me. The rope goes taut.

  “I’m not letting go, no matter what!” I yell. More as a promise to myself than any sort of taunt.

  She looks between me and the whip for a moment.

  The Lady shrugs, as if amused.

  Her feet begin to levitate off the ground.

  Shit.

  She soars directly up, spinning her body like a vortex. I am tugged along into it and the rope makes sickening circles through the sky. My world goes dizzy. The horizon is a blur. But I just can’t let go.

  We go through the wet crystals of the clouds, into that sun-splendored plain beyond our world. My grip loosens—I break my fingers to keep a curling hold around the handle.

  I vomit blood along the way. The redness spirals down and disappears amongst the puffy heads of the golden-hued clouds.

  Finally, the spinning stops. My grip strength is at an end, but the broken fingers keep me in place; I’ve become a tail-end to her body now.

  She looks down upon me and raises her blades.

  If she had a mouth, I imagine the conniving Lady might smile at this juncture. She slowly passes the blades down.

  The metal tugs against the whip. But the blades don’t slice through it.

  She arcs it back and through once more, this time a proper slash. Nothing. The whip doesn’t break.

  I smile. “I’m not that stupid!”

  Well, in reality, Kiren thought of the failsafe. He used what limited Incanta he knew to make the whip strong against metal. Temporarily albeit. A few more of her slashes might break the enhancement, but my bravado deters that.

  The head of the Lady begins to vibrate and she screams out once more—this time in frustration. I laugh as the whip shakes and my body rocks back and forth along with it. My stomach dances.

  I stop laughing when she dives down and my body flips upward as she passes me, running her blades along my ribs. More blood squelches out—along with a few innards.

  The world nearly goes dark, but I pound my head to keep awake. Air goes thin.

  She keeps diving down however, and, not for the first time in my life, I fall along with my enemy, like two angels cast down from the heavens.

  …

  Durest:

  Of course, he goes for me first. And this time he runs. Lucky us.

  He moves scary fast, stomping across the road and raising his zweihander high. When it cleaves down, however, it is met by two bearded axes in a cross guard.

  Gareth stands in the knight’s way, growling like a bear against the weight of the blow. The two struggle against each other, the knight’s sword bearing down, pushing Gareth back. The big man sets his heels into the ground, but they roll back the dirt as he is pushed away.

  Two arrows bounce off the knight’s armor. A third finds it way through a chink under the armpit, whipping the knight to the side. Nimra notches another arrow while Gareth pounces, delivering a leaping double hatchet smash against the knight’s chest. The axeheads scrape on the metal.

  My enemy stumbles back.

  Then, he pendulum-steps forward into a thrust. Gareth side steps the blade, but it follows him as the knight turns his thrust into a slash. My protector is forced to drop low as the blade passes above him. However, the knight kicks Gareth with an armored foot, forcing him on his back.

  Another flaming arrow comes whizzing the knight’s way. He catches it without looking—cracks the arrowhead and snuffs out the fire.

  Nimra tenses next to me.

  I step in front of her, saxe at the ready, arms shaking.

  The knight turns his void black gaze back upon us.

  But before he can even begin to march our way, two arms hook around the knight’s chest, hands clasping together. I hear Gareth roar in effort as he picks the knight up and smashes him overhead.

  The knight’s helmet rings out as it bangs against the ground. He rolls over and falls back flat on his chest. Gareth straddles him, unsheathing his hatchets once more, but an armored hand goes to his neck and slowly, the knight builds back up to its feet. Five arrows come in rapid succession but they too just bounce off the knight’s armor.

  “Ah damn it all,” Nimra mutters before throwing away her bow charging at the knight with her rapier.

  Tilting his head her way, the knight raises Gareth’s body even higher—my poor protector now doing his best to kick his feet against the knight’s chest.

  “Nimra—don’t, he’s going to throw—” Gareth chokes out, but it's too late. The knight tosses Gareth into Nimra, the big man falling upon her like a catapult shot, and the two go tumbling off the side of the road in a tangle of limbs.

  Like a frozen idiot, I watch all of this unfold.

  Calmly, the knight picks up his fallen zweihander from where Gareth threw him.

  Then, he wipes the sword off on one of his metallic arms.

  He faces me. The sun shines oh so perfectly upon his white armor, making it glow as if it is heaven-made.

  And like the angel of death sent by God to kill the infants of Jarusba, the knight approaches once more, sword outraised, and not a scratch to his name.