Darkness gave way to a bright blue sky as Erec slowly opened his eyes. His skin burned, and his lungs ached, and annoyingly, there was a notification in the corner of his vision. But, he heard singing. Soldiers. Not good enough to call it beautiful, but given his last sight before blacking out, it was plenty close.
[Well, what an intriguing method of dissection. However, upon consideration, it’s pretty inefficient and not nearly as comprehensive as I’d prefer. Typically, we examine the subject from the outside rather than diving in.]
Erec shuddered and forced himself up, wincing from the lingering pain. It’d become a welcome companion after every use of Fury now. Still, there was a cloth wrapped around his head, and his hair felt… gross, caked from the worm insides.
“Erec?” Olivia asked, shifting and moving to his side. She had dark rings around her eyes, and the skin on her face was sunken. All it took was a glance to know she’d pushed herself past her capabilities to heal him and whoever else was wounded in the fighting.
“Hey, Olivia,” Erec croaked out. His throat was surprisingly sore, and another smear of pain on his body. The yelling did him in too.
“Do you know how terrifying you look when you use your talent?” One of her hands turned his chin to look at him better. “Maybe I didn’t notice it before, but your eyes go red, almost like a monster.
That was new. “Wonderful,” Erec shook his head free from her. He almost regretted it as the world spun, but he’d rather she not touch him. At this point, he’d recover and didn’t need any more help, especially with VAL on his side and healing from within. “Doesn’t matter, right? We won, didn’t we?”
“You didn’t need to attack that monster. There wasn’t any way it could’ve pursued us across the open ground on our way toward the army.”
“Yeah? I’m not so sure about that. Maybe it would’ve laid an ambush. But, I’ll admit, that wasn’t what was going through my mind. Not like I thought from a rational place. Still, I don’t regret it.” Erec felt his anger sparking and flaring, and it was rather undue towards Olivia at the moment. The fire smoldered and lingered from before, or maybe his control over it was growing thinner. “I won.”
One day, would he burn away that control for good?
“…I think we sometimes ignore the price we pay to win when we shouldn’t.” Olivia bowed her head before returning a measured expression to him. “Regardless, you are healthy enough to move if you can manage. They’re waiting for their fearless leader. I’ll tend to the rest of the soldiers so we can get moving tomorrow morning. Enjoy your victory, Erec.”
She moved away, which was for the best. With his patience so thin, and the wall so easy to break, he’d rather not be around her. Not until he got more of himself back under control. She wasn’t his favorite person in the world, and he didn’t want to strain his relationship with her in the field.
He counted to ten in his head, grounding himself back to who he was and what he needed to do.
At the end of regaining himself, he pulled up the notifications.
Strength Advancement: Rank D - Tier 1 → Rank D - Tier 2
Vigor Advancement: Rank E - Tier 3 → Rank E - Tier 4
Ah, yeah. He had a feeling. Another step closer to that edge, the further his Strength climbed, the more Fury grew. But it meant more power, and the feeling led to craving. When had his need for Strength grown so strong? Was something broken inside of him?
His fingers shook as the beast inside roared with delight.
This tool would take him where he wanted to go. As long as it got him to his destination and let him slay threats to humanity, he’d keep using it. Erec got up on his twitchy legs; whatever sprained or broke was healed enough by VAL and Olivia to walk at least.
He took it slow, drifting towards the singing. It came from a small fire in the middle of the small town; Garin had a soldier’s arm on his shoulder, and the two were saying and belting out somewhat scandalous lyrics. Most of the soldiers gathered around here, including Colin, who was on the opposite side of the fire listening to Garin with his arms crossed and a frown.
As Erec came into the light of the fire, the singing cut off, except for Garin, who wavered for a few seconds. Whispers ran through the soldiers as they all took their fill of him.
It was eerie with them quiet. There was something in their eyes, either fear or respect, but regardless the expression they wore wasn’t natural. Almost like he wasn’t a person to them. Erec shifted and raised his chin in response to the stares; he wouldn’t let the tension get to him.
“I gave your dented helmet to someone to repair, rust bucket. I can’t believe you were dumb enough to abandon it on the battlefield—what a waste of resources. Fool. If it were me, I would’ve stopped and picked up the thing meant to protect my previous face before challenging another monster.” Colin’s criticism cut through the silence like a knife. It sparked a set of nervous laughter.
Without knowing the Duke’s son, they thought he’d made a joke. It wasn’t. Goddess help them if they heard one of them. Still, it brought Erec a smile.
“Didn’t really need it, did I? Feels like my face is just fine. Think they’d have to do a lot worse til people preferred yours over mine.”
“Take that back this instant. Do you realize the care routine I put in place to keep my complexion? Compared to yours, it’s like day and night. You’re lucky not to be acne-ridden.” Colin scowled.
With that, the soldiers eased off and started to talk to one another again. Whatever this ridiculous conversation had brought to light was enough to clear the air and remind them that Erec was another human.
Thanks, Colin. He knew it wasn’t intentional, and the sneer on Colin’s face said he took a moment far too seriously, but it was just what he needed.
“Come on over and join us,” Garin waved him over—a flask in hand. “We have a little something to celebrate the win.”
“Should we be drinking after a fight?” Erec asked, sitting next to him, one of the soldiers shifting aside to make the room.
“I wonder, do you think having a little booze in you would make you fight better or worse?” Garin began to theorize, passing over the flask.
Erec looked down below, knocking back a bit of amber liquid within, before passing it over to the soldier next to him. It burned down his throat, and his face felt numb; would Boldwick approve or disapprove of this? It wouldn’t be enough to render him useless. But the question had merit. Would it even lessen his power if he were to call Fury while intoxicated?
Being sober isn’t important right now.
He’d led them to a fight, and even looking around now, they’d lost a couple of people. But with this battle, they got back to a place of safety. They were unsure about who he was, especially after seeing Fury in full force, but hopefully, they got a glimpse of him being just another person like them. With that, they could trust him.
Once they got back to the army, he would need them.
Erec was under no illusion that getting back to the army's main host would end this hunt. Thanks to Colin and VAL, they had a lead on the White Stag. But that meant little if no one would take him seriously, and to do so, it was all about presentation. With so many Knights above his rank, the best way to stand out and command attention to make his voice heard was to force them to listen.
He needed the people around him. If they were willing to take extra steps beyond this with him, he’d have his wish.
To them, he’d be a leader and hero. And as long as they held him in a place of command, those above him would have to pay him attention when they rejoined the army. For better or worse, he couldn’t afford to be just another initiate in their eyes.
Social capital.
What a damn headache.
Garin slumped next to him as the fire crackled and popped. The conversation flowed around, grieving a couple of lost soldiers, praise for the fighting, and a celebration of the future to come. Mixed emotions, to be sure, but today these soldiers saw that the puppets weren’t almighty and that humanity could lash back.
For the first time, they’d made real progress against the White Stag and its insidious plans.
— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —
“You really are something, aren’t you?” Boldwick snorted over the radio as Erec finished his report. “Well then. As far as I can see, you’ve taken care of the roadblock keeping you from returning to us. You’re clear to advance, initiate.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll be returning quickly.” Erec replied, watching Jefferson in the corner of the tent.
During the fight in town, the possessed suddenly launched an attack. None of them had gotten free, thanks to preparation and quick action on their defensive unit.
Somehow Dame Yuvia ended up breaking her bonds. The Stag faked her comatose state and, with an unpredicted amount of might, lashed out and started the attack.
Sir Jefferson cut her down.
His swift and decisive action saved the situation from spiraling out of control.
They’d set him there mainly as a way to keep him away from the main fighting, having never expected the coward Knight to aspire to such an act. It made Erec almost feel bad since he proved himself.
It was sad that Dame Yuvia died, as incompetent of a leader as she was; at least now, it would make things a little simpler.
Erec couldn’t help but worry about Jefferson, though. After returning and finding out what happened, Sir Jefferson hadn’t spoken much to anyone. He drifted about and did what was asked of him.
“Congratulation, initiate. Once you’re back with us, that’ll be the first real victory in your cap in your likely violent and excessive career.” Boldwick let out another chuckle before the communication feed cut off.
Erec waved to his friends that it was acceptable to leave. They’d spare no more time. From this point forward, it would be a fast march back toward the army to take full advantage of their hard-won reprieve.
His friends filtered out of their command tent, and Jefferson moved to follow.
“Stay here a minute,” Erec said. The man paused and turned, head lowered. Erec wasn’t sure what to say for a moment, despite being the one to ask him to stay. If he were being honest, he didn’t even clearly know why he did—only that a part of his gut screamed at him too. “You did well.”
“Did I?” Jefferson asked, bitter in his tone.
“I didn’t expect you to pull through, let alone keep things together back there. I’m sorry I didn’t think of the Stag making Yuvia appear out longer than she was. We’re all grateful that you didn’t hesitate.”
“I am a Knight Errant.”
“I suppose you are.”
“And you’re an initiate.”
“Did I ever deny that?” Erec asked; there was anger threatening to burn inside, but… No, this moment didn’t call for it. There was something unseen lingering here from Jefferson, but it wasn’t a threat or condemnation of himself.
“I don’t think you should be an initiate. Not based on what I’ve seen. You’re something else. There’s a couple like you in every class, those bound for more. They leap ahead while the rest of us humans scramble in the mud. Sometimes I wonder what’s it like to be blessed by the Goddess and be one of them.” Jefferson’s voice broke slightly, a sad twang to it.
“Shouldn’t look at it that way. I don’t see myself as blessed. If anything, I bet the Goddess would hate my guts. Fine by me since I’d hate her right back too.” Erec felt surprised by the blasphemy coming out of his mouth, but it felt right. Any being so careless to burn away that many lives, well, he found that it’d be hard to be okay with them. “We all appreciate what you did. It couldn’t have been easy. When we return to the army, I’ll see if Boldwick can find a place for you in the back lines, somewhere away from the fighting.”
“No,” Jefferson said sharply.
“No?”
“Seeing you, even at your age. It’s disgraceful how I’ve acted. No, Initiate. Wherever you go off to, I will go as well.” The man slammed his fist again, his chest piece in the form of a salute, before storming out of the command tent.
[Wow. Maybe we really should have thrown you onto a managerial track. Huh.] Erec stared at the exit. Whatever weapon he could get, he’d take.