Raiten:

  I wake up in the middle of a small crater—-hear the scrape of metal on rocks. Rain patters against my forehead, washing the blood from my eyes. When I try sitting up, pain lances through every fiber of my body. Everything feels broken.

  Yet, impossibly, my hand still clutches onto the whip.

  And it’s being dragged. Along with my body.

  The ground slides beneath me. I crane my head up to see the bloodied back of the Lady. One of her legs is destroyed, blown apart. A purple glow illuminates the ground below that. Scraps of metal litter around me. She’s trying to fly off. I groan something out. Her efforts to levitate pause as she turns back to me, face vibrating like some wretched Eldritch thing that means to swallow the world whole.

  Or at least, me.

  Slamming back to the ground, she walks toward me. I try willing my legs to heal faster. Sometimes, I can vaguely prioritize one part of my body to take precedence in terms of regeneration.

  Doesn’t really help here though.

  She stomps down on my chest and I scream out in pain. Her remaining foot sinks deeper into my chest. Things crack. I raise a hand and slam it against the foot.

  Blood bubbles out my mouth. She keeps pressing. Raises her hammer hand and her blade hands.

  I close my eyes.

  Death has often been a far off dream for me. A reward. Respite.

  Of course, I’d have to apologize. For my weakness. But, if I could see my mother, then…

  The Lady screams out. At first I think it is a cry of victory—some banshee shriek of war. But no.

  It is resistance. One that I recognize.

  The pressure comes off as she slinks away, holding her head and stomping against the ground. She convulses, flails. Tries flying away once more, dragging me along with her. Yet she falls back into the crater. Turtles onto her knees.

  “Whatever it is you’re planning, Raiten,” the head warbles in Sadai’s voice. “Do it now!”

  I want to weep. We’ve lost. Kiren isn’t here. She might’ve killed him before coming after me. I should’ve reckoned that was the case. But no. Instead I fought. Like a stubborn bastard, I fought and fought and fought until this wretched end.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Like a slave.

  Get up. You useless piece of shit.

  Your mother does not want to see you.

  The heavens will not accept you.

  You haven’t killed them all yet.

  Remember your purpose.

  My legs gain some life.

  Your only fucking purpose.

  It.

  Is.

  Not.

  Over.

  And like the mangled corpses of the plagued that scour the lands, I rise. Blood washes off me from the downpour. Born anew in the storm, limbs cracking into place and wounds closing up, I stomp up to the hunched form of Crooked, of the Spear, of the Lady. Of Sadai.

  I hook my arms under his shoulders and pull the metal thing close to me. It resists weakly, still too busy fighting the battle within. I untie the lasso ‘round its waist and tie the base of the blade hands together, folding them against the hammer.

  She headbutts me from behind. I fall back, nose bloody but job complete.

  Sadai’s screams mix with hers. “Hurry little cub. I can’t hold her much longer.”

  I crawl my way out of the crater.

  “Kiren!” I yell.

  The storm answers back with a rumbling of rain and a spattering chain of lightning that ripples across the sky.

  I yell out again. No response.

  Sadai’s screams are slowly being eclipsed by hers. Turning back to her, I raise my hands weakly and adopt an Iron Winter stance.

  Even if the plan is a failure, I’ll still fight you.

  Only one of us is leaving—

  “Sorry for taking so long, Raiten,” a voice says. I turn back to see Kiren, his shoulder bleeding and his left eye closed with a purple bruise swelling bloody.

  Surrounding him is a torrent: a whirlwind that encapsulates that familiar flock of red birds, the fireflies, a hodgepodge of sticks and stones from the ruins, and of course the orchestrators of this mess—the wind sprites.

  Kiren limps past me and gazes into the crater.

  Then, he points at the writhing form of the Lady.

  “What are you waiting for?” He asks the sprites. They cackle like the little devils they are, before, with a fierce speediness, they take their little tornado of life to surround her. Birds fly ‘round her, forming a red tunnel to imprison the glowing mass of fireflies and rocks that spin about, compelled by the wind sprites.

  “I don’t know how Umbrahorn managed to convince them. Fickle things,” he mutters as he raises his hands.

  “They like their tricks,” I mutter back weakly, remembering how Sorina used to both loathe and admire them.

  “Well, this is one of hell of a trick then.”

  With that, Kiren closes his hand.

  Three shields form around the crater, one after another.

  And slowly, they begin to close in around the screaming form of our assailer.

  Just like that, we’ve won.