“I am the wings that beat in the north wind, the young eagle who soars in the sky!” Just then, an announcement came down from the sky, followed by a sublime crash. It was Hero who rose to meet the young man in the chain mail cloak as he dropped down holding his sword overhead. The iron shaft of Hero’s spear clashed against the steel blade of Sid’s sword, and after a moment’s delay, cracks appeared along the ground at Hero’s feet from the impact.
“My name is Orestes!”
Hero managed to shake Orestes off, and after the young man alighted on the ground once more a little farther away, the two glared at each other.
“How surprising—I didn’t think he’d come from the sky.” Shiden, who would have been cut in two from head to groin if he hadn’t been defended by Hero, didn’t actually seem all that surprised. “It looks like there are more of them. Do you mind taking care of that?”
Orestes was followed by Stewart, Whitehead, and Mace, who also swooped down from the sky. Reincarnators swarmed to the spot where they touched down, ready to meet them in battle. Engine, Reflector, Repeater, Fleetfoot, Fortress...these were all equally powerful warriors—Chief-class Reincarnators from the Project!
“Atten...tion!!!” A deafening cry boomed across the temple—not one amplified by a machine, but someone’s bona fide, natural voice. Who could be the owner of this imposing voice, which resounded like an earthquake? None other than the scion of the giant clan, the towering Halberd. With a broad grin on his face, he stepped through the entrance of the plaza, crushing a troop of Reincarnators beneath his feet. “We are the Halberd Brigade! The victors of the Holy War and the strongest force in all Terea! I myself am the giant whose valor in battle is known in heaven and earth—Halberd! We have gathered at the castle walls, scattered the pitiful forces of the Reincarnators, and have just now returned! We are those who are about to mop up the enemies who have infiltrated the Acropolis! Gah hoo...gah ha ha ha ha ha...!”
The giant swung his lump of iron, reducing the Reincarnators lined up before him to pulp, then pointed at the enemy commander, Shiden, and charged. The wave of people hurrying to surrender to the Reincarnators faltered and stopped where they stood. If they went any further now, they would be killed—not by the Reincarnators, it seemed, but by Halberd.
“It’s good to see you, Orestes. You’ll do nicely for my test run.” Hero thrust his spear toward Sid, then performed a half turn. He struck at Sid with the butt of his spear, then pressed upon him further, stepping in and striking with the palm of his hand. Not to be outdone by Hero, Sid stepped in and tackled his enemy as Hero was about to put all his momentum into his own maneuver—but he was too heavy to move! Sid lost the struggle and was repelled!
“This is the body of the hero Prodotis. It’s not the same as the body of the nobleman you faced up until now.”
“Even so, the one you’re praising is Prodotis. Could I ask you not to talk so high and mighty?” With a sullen expression, Sid rose to his feet and brushed dust off of his clothes.
“Indeed. And right now, I am Prodotis.” Hero removed the mask covering his mouth. Sid felt his heart race, then he slashed at Hero to stop him! Hero kept him at bay with his spear in one hand, and began to speak calmly. “Listen. People of northern Redguard, citizens of Vulcan. Do you recognize my face?”
The intercom picked up Hero’s voice, making compensations and adding a mysterious echo before broadcasting it. The hologram in the sky changed in tandem, and zoomed into Hero’s face. His white, translucent skin put one in mind of a corpse. His silver hair was long and fine, its texture resembling a cold blade. He was tall in stature. His shoulders were far broader than the average man’s, the muscles much thicker.
“You must all know me. After all, this city has passed down my story through generations.”
“Orestes! Don’t let that man say his name!” cried the lieutenant Whitehead at the top of his lungs. Whitehead himself had been waylaid by two troublesome Chiefs, Fortress and Fleetfoot, and was unable to move.
Sid answered Whitehead’s call. Fearless of repeating his previous failures, he stepped forth boldly, entwined his blade with phosphors—and struck at Hero! Hero looked up in the air, glancing at the living drone that the Reincarnators used for photography. And then he swung his spear. The sword and spear collided, then stopped, remaining locked together. The impact between them kicked up a wind, disturbing both combatants’ hair. Sid yelled, and the phosphors surrounding his sword exploded.
A night wind blew in from the north, snuffing out the flames from the explosion. Sid stood stunned—Hero’s body had not budged an inch. There was no trace of him having activated his Skill. In this contest of strength, Sid had utterly lost.
“My name is Prodotis.”
Ah. Before Sid could mumble a response, Hero drove his foot deep into his stomach, sending him flying. This scene was broadcast live, so the people of Vulcan witnessed their hope’s light, the warrior in the chain mail cloak, meet his sudden defeat. “The hero Prodotis will participate in the Reincarnators’ Project. Surrender now, people of Vulcan.”
The camera shifted, showing the tableau that met Hero’s gaze as he looked up. Behind the spear he held in his hand was the solemn gabled roof of the temple. In the center stood the city’s deity, Amputation. To the god’s left was depicted the very man who now addressed the people, Prodotis, wielding a spear, with silver hair flowing behind him.
Hero’s performance was intended to give the impression that this myth had been revived. Taking the name of the hero of antiquity would reinforce the Project’s legitimacy.
The plaza fell silent, and the people gathered there exchanged glances with each other.
It was at that moment, as the crowd stood helpless, that from above their heads a rust-colored gale blew in. With a high-pitched ringing sound, Hero’s spear intercepted the assailant’s sword.
“Took you long enough, Aegisthus.”