“In terms of strength, we were even,” said Rose.
The battle of which Rose spoke was far harsher than I had imagined. I knew how strong she was. I knew it all too well. She was faster and stronger than any other living creature, and with her healing magic, she was nearly indestructible. I never imagined that someone might exist who could fight her on her own terms.
“But he was a better warrior than me, if I’m being honest,” admitted Rose. “He had a deeper repository of skills and techniques.”
“You mean his wind magic,” I said.
“Yes. I’ve never seen anyone as proficient. Our battle raged on because neither of us could land a decisive blow. The trees around us were all sliced up. They broke into pieces as they fell.”
So they really were dead even, then.
As someone who knew Rose’s strength firsthand, it was hard to comprehend.
“And while you were fighting Nero, what about your knights?”
“They would have been fighting too. I had to focus everything on Nero, so I couldn’t even glance in their direction, but I believed in them.”
“You trusted they would be okay?”
“Yes. In battle, they were far superior to even today’s knights. They would not go down without a fight.”
So how did they . . .?
Rose saw the question forming in my mind, and the hint of a frown creased her brow.
“When Nero and I found ourselves at an impasse, I think he realized something. He saw that if we all went on fighting as we were, neither side would win.”
Rose paused for a moment and put a hand to her right eye. She looked expressionless, but I saw in the minutiae of her face that she was struggling with something. It pained her.
“So he stopped fighting fair,” Rose said.
“Did he take your unit hostage?”
“Worse. Much worse. But I suppose to his kind, the actions were completely natural. That didn’t make it any less crazy. No ordinary person could comprehend such tactics.”
I saw in Rose’s face that horrible memories were flashing through her mind.
I’ve never seen her look like this before. Just what did those demons do?
“He stopped fighting fair, but he didn’t stop fighting,” Rose said. “When he stopped fighting fair, it meant that winning and losing in the traditional sense no longer mattered. Victory now meant the death of his opponent. His own survival no longer mattered.”
“Wait, what? But that means . . .”
“Yes. It’s exactly what you’re thinking. What decided the outcome of our battle was not our abilities in combat. It was a difference of resolve.”