A shuddering boom sent the Demiurgos rocketing backward. His smoke-wreathed body bounced across the ground as if caught in a storm surge. Yet Liz was not content to watch. She slammed her fist against the earth so hard it shuddered, launching her enemy back into the air. He rose, but she was already higher, plummeting to meet him with Lævateinn in a reverse grip. Although he spun nimbly in midair, he could not avoid her entirely. Lævateinn sank deep into his arm. He ripped the limb at the shoulder and thrust her away, sending them flying apart to crash into the ground some distance from each other.
“I’m impressed. You didn’t even think twice.” Liz cast a glance at the arm skewered on Lævateinn. Flames consumed it, and it swiftly crumbled to ashes. She strode toward the Demiurgos as he picked himself up, approaching at a leisurely pace. She moved like a seasoned warrior, as regal and merciless as a lion stalking its prey.
The Lord narrowed his eyes as she grew closer. “The Flame Sovereign chose well, it seems.”
His arm began to regenerate soon enough, but it came back with the skin flaking off in places, as if his flesh was rotting. To anyone’s eyes, it seemed he was losing the battle...and yet he still exuded a chilling confidence.
“Or perhaps,” he drawled as if pronouncing something of great import, “you are finally coming into your own as a vessel.”
Liz stopped in her tracks. She regarded the Demiurgos with suspicion, but what doubt she felt was enough to allay her anger, at least for a moment.
“What do you mean, I’m a vessel?”
The Lord’s demeanor betrayed surprise. “So you were blind even to that.”
He shifted backward. Sensing he meant to run, Liz bounded toward him, but too late. He leaped high and back, vanishing behind a cluster of monsters.
“I will withdraw for today,” his voice echoed. “I sense you have more sights to show me.”
“Do you think I’ll just let you go?”
Liz raised her sword at a nearby officer and barked an order. He understood at once, directing his men to butcher the monsters. The enemy ranks crumbled easily before the imperial cavalry. Once they were gone, however, the Demiurgos was nowhere to be seen.
Scowling, Liz spun back to the boy she had saved. He had been grievously wounded when she arrived, his hand severed at the wrist and a spear rammed through his abdomen, but now there was not a scratch on him. Something cold crawled up her spine, but she took care not to let it show.
“You look cheerful for someone who almost died,” she said, trying to cover her unease with wry humor.
“I’m amazed you made it,” Hiro replied. “I didn’t expect you for three more days.”
He picked himself up and walked toward her, brushing the dust from his uniform. A monster pounced at him, but he waved his hand, and its head vanished with a crack of lightning. The might he commanded was no less impressive than Lævateinn...and it was all the more unnatural that he had mastered it in such a short span of time.
“I took the Schein High Road,” Liz said. “Aura laid the way.”
The Schein High Road was one of the arterial thoroughfares spanning the empire’s five territories. It dated back to the earliest days of the empire, when it had been built by the then-great house of Schein and named to commemorate their glory. Buildings known as stations stood at regular points along its length, offering stagecoach travel. It was upon this road that Aura’s plan had hinged; she had sent letters to the nobles with lands along it, asking them to supply fresh horses. Liz and her forces had changed mounts several times to arrive at the capital, riding without rest or sleep.
As Liz’s explanation continued, Hiro looked around, cocking his head. She seemed to have brought far too many soldiers for that, to say nothing of the heavy infantry presently engaging the monsters.
“I see,” he said at last. “You sent back the soldiers you left in Six Kingdoms.”
Liz nodded. “Aura ordered most of them back to the capital before we even left.”
“I’m impressed you managed to keep a force this big secret. I’d love to know how you did it, but...another time, perhaps.”
Hiro summoned Dáinsleif to his hand. The blade exuded malevolent darkness. Seeing it, Liz cast a meaningful glance at someone behind him. Hiro caught the look, but before he could spin around, he collapsed in the dirt.
Surprise glimmered in his eyes as he looked up at the woman standing over him. “We meet again,” he groaned. “It’s been too long.”
“So it has. But while I’d love to reminisce about old times, someone needs to rein you in.”
Meteia’s eyes flashed as she looked down at him. He had not seen her face since she stood by his side a thousand years ago, after losing Rey drove him mad with grief.
＊＊＊＊＊
The cries of battle began to die down with the coming of dusk. The crimson sunset dyed the blood-churned mud a deeper red, and the shadows lengthened to cover the chunks of dismembered flesh. Monsters, men, and all other living creatures quavered before the dark.
The Demiurgos watched from afar, eyes narrowing. “All dread the night, it’s true,” he murmured, “but it was Surtr who first taught them that terror.”
He had fallen back to a modest hill, far from the front line. Before him, the battle still raged, the combatants reduced to a black, churning mass in the chaos and the twilight. He watched impassively, talking to himself in a flat voice as he reminisced about bygone days.
The primozlosta Ceryneia and Khimaira appeared behind him. Ceryneia stepped forward. “Let us withdraw for today, my Lord,” he said. “You must allow your wounds to heal.”
“A matter of no import. Soon, I shall shed this troublesome shell for something more fitting.”