Konrad was beyond tired. Once he squinted at the sun, he'd no longer open his eyes. Welf dragged him into cover to fill him in on the details, but most of it went right over his head.
"This ain't looking good," the blacksmith noted, trying to slap some life into him.
"He hadn't touched food for days," Father Alastair claimed.
Why was his voice so muffled? And all that shouting?
There might've been a battle going on, but he was at the end of his rope.
If only he could summon adrenaline to keep himself awake. Or caffeine. That'd do fine, too—anything to kick his blood sugar off ground level.
"Konrad? You still hear me?"
The redhead shook him, but he saw Lu's face instead, like he often did in his dreams.
He seemed—scared? That smug and confident bastard?! That was new.
"The Inquisition captured the Heavenly Tool," he said, whatever that meant. "The tribes are losing the battle. Your twin—"
Oh, right, he had a twin, too. Did Welf say what his name was?
An evil twin? An identical one? Did he have to fight him? Befriend him?
Father Alastair's rendition of the prophecy echoed in his mind. Something something—one blessed by the spirits, the other cursed. And he was the latter, so—
"Hey, Konny boy," that was another voice he recognized.
The hazel eyes staring into his soul, surrounded by freckles—Lily.
"If you win today, we'll continue where we left off—"
The memory was still sharp. Alone, in her room, on the bed.
Caffeine? Adrenaline? Screw that, this was all the motivation Konrad needed. He pushed himself off the wall, forcing his eyes open, and—
Yeah, that battle wasn't looking good.
The tribesmen broke the gates—rotted away a long time ago—but they were stuck. The Church's armored shieldwall wouldn't budge. Their arrows bounced off.
The Inquisition's crossbowmen did much better.
They had a slower rate of fire, but they made every hit count.
The Church outnumbered the ragtag tribal army two to one.
"Who's leading this attack again?" Konrad saw a massacre, not a battle.
"Your blessed twin," Welf spat, twisting the words with disdain. "We tried to stall, but Eyna—"
Eyna. The Heavenly Tool Lu referred to?
What could he even do in his state? Lily's promise was tempting, but with his nose already bleeding—oh, and his arm was, too. When did he get injured?
How'd he get here? He had some essence left, but—he needed time.
Summon fire, shape it into a wall, and give it about a hundred mana. Now that he had the adamantite as a reference, he could use his spells in a more controlled manner.
His flames cut the battlefield in half, blocking the archers' line of sight.
It should've stopped the massacre until he came up with something better. But it also made him a target.
"Take out their shaman," someone barked, and he recognized Otto's voice.
Shaman? Him? He noticed the Inquisitor on the top of the stairs of the church annex. They reinforced that elevated position, and he wasn't alone, either.
Apart from a squad of armored soldiers, he held something else he knew all too well—
Silvery violet hair, wrapped around his fist, and a purple-eyed beauty belonging to it.
"Eyna," Konrad yelled, ready to conjure another fireball.
"Not so fast, Nimrod," the Inquisitor taunted, raising a dagger. Nim-who? "Even if you don't burn your lover to cinder, I can cut her throat before you finish chanting."
"Who do you think you're talking to?" a voice—his voice?!—demanded.
But it came from somewhere else. Behind him? Across the wall of flames.
Konrad turned, and then he saw him.
A boy, wearing wolf pelts, holding a shaman's scepter, and levitating above the carnage. Not only did he have his voice—he had his face, too. Konrad's jaw almost hit the ground—
Then their eyes met, and the stranger's face distorted in disgust.
"So it was true. You're on the Inquisitor's side," he claimed, aiming that scepter at him.
"Me?!" The boy almost forgot about the battle around him.
His twin. It must have been—but what was that ridiculous claim? And that outfit?!
"You harbor the Inquisitor's Executioner, and a priest," the twin accused him. "And you attacked my men with those cursed flames. Prepare to fight me instead, Konrad, the Cursed."
Harboring? Attacking? Fighting him?
Right, he took Sister Stella hostage, and she still cowered from his raging inferno. He also freed Father Alastair, a captive from the same catacombs. But he only shielded the tribesmen—
Screw it, that idiot wearing his face pissed him off—and he had a fireball ready to launch.
Before he'd think it through, he threw the flames, and his twin's scepter flashed with a blinding light. The fireball exploded before reaching him, and rain started to fall.
Did that idiot try to put out his wall? The only thing shielding his men?!
The crossbowmen were ready to fire—but they didn't. They'd even forgotten to aim, watching their duel, if you could even call it that.
Well, he could understand their confusion.
"So the Prodigy, the king sent, and the tribes' leader—wasn't the same?!"
The Inquisitor's grip on the dagger slackened, his eyes darting between the twins. The attackers didn't seem that much surprised, but they were in no shape to press on, either.
And his twin? Where'd he go? His fireball didn't hit him—
Lu's face appeared again—no, Gabrielle? Why did they look so similar?
"The Heavenly Tool," he or she reminded him. "Save her."
Was he hallucinating now?! It didn't matter.
He had about fifty mana points left—not enough to fight a war or a magic duel. And to recover from the other planes, he would've had to find the cracks first and—
Who knew when his head would explode from overcharging?
He had already felt the symptoms for a while.
His nose never stopped bleeding. His knees buckled.
The best he could do was one last illusion, if he kept it simple. Would that be enough?
"Otto Ostfeld," he shouted across Halaima's ruins. "I have your little aide. I offer you an exchange: you give me back my—Eyna, and you'll get your Executioner back in one piece."
He paused for too long.
Almost said tool, then servant, then blushed when he tried correcting it to lover.
He'll have time to figure that out when—
"Hah, why would I want that failure back?" the Inquisitor hollered. "Look how she's cowering from your pathetic magic. She let you escape—you can keep her."
That had to be a bluff. Right?
"Breaking in a new servant, with an innocent face like hers," he grabbed Eyna's chin. "It's something I'll be looking forward to."
Father Alastair's words came to him—he burned Stella's parents in front of her. Sick bastard—
"Let's see, if you'll live that long," Konrad's voice taunted him—but the boy didn't speak.
The twin—now behind the tight formation—raised his scepter, and huge boulders formed out of thin air. Crap. His dopplegänger was good—but that'd squish his haremette, too.
Fifty mana. What could he do with it to—
Summon light. Concentrate, then scatter, and—
"Everyone, close your eyes," he gritted through his teeth.
Then, the world turned into an endless, white void.