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Chapter 39 - Chapter 39: The Dunce Emerges

Mystic Moon wept, her words fractured by sobs. "You... hateful... Why... why are you... marrying... *her*? Hmph, I know... you never really... wanted to be... my shadow. Just... go. Go already! I hate... you! Never... want to see... you again!"

Dunce, Dunce, finally understood. Mystic Moon's fiery rage, the punches that left bruises he hadn't even felt in the heat of the fight—it was all about his act with Lanny earlier. The word 'marriage' sparked a distant memory, of a promise made to the sister figure of his childhood. Relief washed over him, tinged with a melancholy nostalgia. "Mystic Moon... you've got it all wrong," he sighed, his voice rough with exhaustion and emotion. "Marrying Lanny? It wasn't real. Rockforce and I... it was a setup."

Mystic Moon's sobs hitched. She lifted her tear-streaked face. "What? Rockforce told you to marry her?"

Dunce shook his head vigorously. "Not marry *her*. It was to help her... and Ridge." He stumbled through the explanation of the plan – the staged contest, his "winning" the bow, the public claim on Lanny as his "bride," all orchestrated by Rockforce to force the Yalian Tribe Elder Leafs' hands for the young couple's sake.

As he spoke, the storm of grief and fury on Mystic Moon's face gradually shifted. Hurt gave way to wary disbelief, then blossomed into profound relief. When he finished, she swatted his arm weakly, a shadow of her usual fire. "Why didn't you *tell* me this afternoon? Idiot! Look at me, I cried for nothing!"

Dunce winced, more from her earlier hits than the tap. "You were mad this afternoon! You wouldn't listen! And... and you know I'm not quick like Rockforce. He fed me those lines... I had to repeat them over and over to remember."

Mystic Moon's relief now carried the familiar edge of her irritation, but softer, closer. "I don't care! It's your fault anyway. Showboating with that Almighty Iron Bow, causing all this trouble. Totally your fault!" Despite her words, she unconsciously shifted, pressing her body closer against his in the quiet darkness beside the river.

Dunce breathed in the scent of her – wildflowers and sunshine held captive in moonlight. He froze, unsure where to put his arms, settling for awkward stillness as she leaned on him. The icy anger she'd radiated earlier was gone, replaced by a warmth that unnerved him more than her fists ever had.

The night was impossibly clear, the moon a polished half-coin high above. Cool air whispered over the water, scattering silver shards across its surface. It felt suspended, magical. Mystic Moon, nestled against his shoulder, absentmindedly traced the bruises on his arm he hadn't known were there until now. Her touch was feather-light, her voice unnervingly gentle. "Did I... hurt you?"

The softness startled him. He shook his head, throat tight. "No. It's fine." Her gentleness was disorienting, yet it spread through him like warm honey, intensifying the strange fluttering in his chest.

Mystic Moon took his large hand in hers, her voice barely a murmur. "...I'm sorry. For earlier. For hitting you. I jumped to... conclusions."

Her unexpected apology hit Dunce like a jolt. Emotion surged, raw and desperate. "Mystic Moon... I..." he blurted out.

She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. Her eyes held an openness he'd never seen before. "Say it. Whatever it is... I... I won't get mad." Then she quickly buried her face against him, her skin suddenly warm against his neck, her heartbeat a frantic drum against his side.

Dunce tightened his hold on her soft form, the scent of her hair filling his senses. "Mystic Moon... I..." He took a breath, gathering the last shreds of his courage to speak the words caught in his throat.

**BOOM!** The moment shattered. The earth itself seemed to tremble as the thunder of hooves tore through the night, a dark roar surging towards the distant bonfires where the Yalian Tribe celebration still roared.

Dunce snapped alert. "Mystic Moon! Trouble!" He scrambled up, pulling her with him, his eyes scanning the moonlit plains. Mystic Moon shot him a look – half frustration at the interruption, half shared alarm. A hundred yards away, death rode towards the festival. Dark figures on massive warhorses became visible, moonlight glinting coldly off drawn steel – machetes, katanas, brutal blades held low and ready.

"Who the hell are they?" Dunce muttered, feeling the raw aggression in the air like ozone before a storm. "They reek of bloodlust."

Mystic Moon shook her head, her magical senses prickling. "Not good news. Raiders? Or slavers? They've timed this perfectly. Strike when the Yalian Tribe are drunk, distracted..."

"Damn," Dunce breathed, adrenaline flooding his tired body. "Rockforce and Rockforce are in there. They won't stand a chance! Neither will the Yalian Tribe!"

"Idiots," Mystic Moon spat, pragmatism overriding sympathy. "No perimeter guards. Too busy drinking. This is going to be a slaughter."

"We have to help! What do we do?"

Mystic Moon's mind raced, the glow of their moment shattered, leaving calculation. "Warning them's too late. They'll hit before we get close. We get in there. Rescue Rockforce and Rockforce. If we can help the Yalian Tribe... we'll see." Survival of their small group was her priority now.

Dunce nodded grimly. "Go!"

They threaded through the Yalian Tribe camp, past startled livestock, skirting the edge of the roaring bonfire circle. What they found was chaos given flesh.

They were too late.

Black-clad Raiders, mercenaries working for unknown masters, had crashed the celebration like a wave of death. Dunce saw it unfold like a sickening nightmare: blades hacking indiscriminately into the panicked crowd of revelers. Men, women, children – the Raiders carved a crimson path through sheer terror. The raw, animal sounds of fear and agony fused into a single monstrous roar.

"Raiders! Raiders!"

"My boy! No! Noooo!"

"Leg... my leg! Godsdammit!"

Rage, pure and scorching, ignited in Dunce's veins. He spun towards Mystic Moon, pulling his massive Heavenly Sword from its back harness. "Stay here! I'll find Rockforce and Rockforce!" He launched forward before she could argue.

Mystic Moon caught the flicker of desperation in his eyes. She couldn't stop him, only pray. "Live!" she hissed after him, clenching her Angel Staff. "Stay sharp!"

But Dunce was already charging, a lone figure against the dark tide.

The Yalian Tribe were lambs led to slaughter. Dazed by moonshine and celebration, caught utterly unaware, even the three Presidenttains were stunned into uselessness. Numbers meant nothing against steel and ruthless speed. It was pure massacre.

Dunce reached the fray, his Heavenly Sword blazing with crackling white Vital Aura. But hundreds of Raiders had already breached the festival grounds, cutting down dozens before wheeling their mounts near the forest edge, re-forming for a second, annihilating charge. Corpses littered the trampled ground; the scent of blood, smoke, and terror was thick enough to choke on.

He couldn't think, only act. Roaring his defiance, he gripped the Heavenly Sword and charged *at* the massed Raiders. Panicked Yalian Tribe surged around him like terrified cattle.

"STOP!" Rockforce's voice cut through the din. The chieftain appeared, grappling Dunce. "What are you doing? Suicide!"

"They murdered them!" Dunce yelled, eyes wild with fury and tears. "Hundreds! Kids! Look!" He gestured at the carnage.

Rockforce appeared beside Rockforce, battle-honed instincts overriding shock. Rockforce's axes dripped blood; his eyes burned. Rockforce scanned the reforming Raiders. "Professional. Planned. Looks like we fight or die right here. Buy the Yalian Tribe time to wake the hell up!"

Rockforce slammed his axes together. "Let's carve these bastards up!"

Driven by adrenaline and shared purpose, the trio – Dunce at the center – surged towards the incoming wave of Raiders. Rockforce shouted strategy over the cacophony: "LEGS! TAKE THE LEGS!" His broadsword flashed, unleashing a powerful yellow arc of energy aimed low at the charging mounts.

Rockforce needed no further instruction. Twin axes spun, mimicking Rockforce's strike. Their combined attacks scythed through the legs of the leading warhorses. Animals screamed and went down in a tangle of limbs and metal, tripping the ranks behind them. The dark charge stumbled, its deadly cohesion fractured.

Dunce, caught in the rush of fury, didn't aim low. He leapt, Heavenly Sword raised high. "DIIIIE!" The sword came down in a brutal overhead arc, packed with every ounce of his rage. Three Raiders vanished under the blow, cleaved through gear, horseflesh, and bone, the shockwave buckling mounts beside them. It was savagery on a scale that shocked even Rockforce and Rockforce.

The fight dissolved into brutal melee. Dunce was a berserker, each swing of the massive sword claiming lives. But the numbers were crushing. Swords and axes met flesh; cuts blossomed on all three warriors. Rockforce saw Raider squads peeling off to flank them. Encircled, they were dead. He cut down a Raider dragging Mystic Moon's name through the mud, grabbing Dunce. "Fall back! NOW!" They fought towards a narrowing exit.

Too late. The Raiders closed like a trap.

Three figures detached from the rear Raider ranks – clearly lieutenants – and moved with unnatural speed towards the embattled trio. Dunce, focused on survival, missed them until it was almost too late.

The clash was bone-jarring. Rockforce, Rockforce, and Dunce were battered back by the coordinated attack. Other blades snaked in, finding openings. Fatigue wore at them. Death felt inevitable.

Then, the world ignited.

A piercing cry, like a hunting eagle woven with ancient fire, split the sky. Light, blinding and intense, erupted from a point behind the Raiders. A Phoenix, sculpted from living flame three yards across, screamed towards the fray.

**Soulblaze!** Mystic Moon's desperate gambit. Even empowered by Pyre Blood and her Angel Staff, casting such powerful Battle Magic was beyond her limits. As the Firebird manifested, Mystic Moon collapsed, every drop of her power consumed, her skin drained of color.

The Phoenix struck perfectly. It tore through the Raider ranks encircling the trio. Flames hotter than a forge engulfed men and horses. Screams turned to ash mid-cry. A hundred Raiders and their mounts vanished in a curtain of cleansing, horrific fire before the Phoenix winked out of existence.

Rockforce and Rockforce used the stunned second to fight towards Mystic Moon. Dunce, seeing her fallen form, felt fear sharper than any blade. He dodged a swing, scooped her limp body up, and bolted towards where Rockforce and Rockforce hacked a path.

The surviving Raiders recovered instantly. Seeing the source of the devastating magic, seeing the prize, a savage cry rose: "KILL THE WITCH!" They charged again, bloodlust renewed.

Rockforce and Rockforce reached Dunce first. Dunce, staggering under Mystic Moon's weight and his own fatigue, was slow.

"HERE!" Rockforce yelled, shoving Mystic Moon into Dunce's arms. "GO!"

"Go! We'll hold!" Rockforce roared, axes swinging wildly.

Dunce ran, knowing hesitation doomed Mystic Moon. Rockforce and Rockforce fought a desperate rear-guard action, buying precious seconds before vanishing back into the chaos, trusting Dunce to get Mystic Moon clear.

But Dunce, drained and burdened, couldn't outrun the hardened Raiders. They closed. He managed to cut down two, shoving Mystic Moon behind him with a fierce protectiveness. Then the blades came again from all sides.

He blocked, twisted, hacked. But there were too many. A lieutenant's blade, sharp and deadly, whipped towards Mystic Moon's exposed throat. Dunce was tangled parrying another attack. Mystic Moon saw the cold steel through eyes blurred with exhaustion and terror. Thoughts of home, her choices, the strange journey, Dunce's awkward kindness, flashed. *Dying here... at least it's with him...*

"No!" The word tore from Dunce's soul. He spun violently, throwing his back between the blade and Mystic Moon.

The lieutenant grinned wickedly, pouring power into the killing blow aimed directly at the fool who'd shield the witch with his own flesh. The steel connected hard and deep into Dunce's shoulder blade. Blood Skeleton bloomed across his already ragged robes. He cried out in agony.

Then, instinct and forgotten power took over.

The band holding the black blade at his chest – Divine Guard – flared with impossible brilliance. White light engulfed him. Then, like a collapsing star, the light detonated outward. The lieutenant and the dozen Raiders closest were thrown like ragdolls, bones crunching as they hit the hard earth.

The impact dropped Dunce to his knees. Pain swallowed him. He kept Mystic Moon clamped tightly against him with his left arm. His head swam. The Raiders surrounding him hesitated, shocked by the sudden explosion of light.

"Dunce!" Mystic Moon cried, anguish sharpening her weakened voice. She saw the wound, the blood staining his back crimson.

Rage, exhaustion, and the agony of the wound coalesced within Dunce. He looked up. His eyes, reflecting the crackling fires beyond, held no warmth, only a killing cold that made the battle-hardened Raiders flinch. They instinctively backed away, clearing a space around the kneeling pair.

He had to get her out. He couldn't die here. She deserved life. He stabbed the heavy Heavenly Sword point-first into the earth to free his right hand. It found its target – the cool, familiar grip of the black dagger strapped over his heart. The Dunce's Blade.

A palpable wave of *wrongness* washed out from him. The air thickened, turning frigid. Horses whinnied in pure terror. The Raiders, suddenly feeling an ancient, soul-deep dread, gripped their weapons harder, confusion battling primal fear. The lieutenant screamed orders: "Finish him! Now!"

Driven by fear of the commander more than the kneeling boy, the Raiders surged.

Dunce was lost. The cold power of the Dunce's Blade flooded him, drowning his thoughts in its ancient, hungry malice. Survival instinct merged with the dark power's desire. He focused not on escape, but on annihilation.

His hand tightened on the dagger's grip. Mystic Moon shivered violently in his arm. The Blade's soul-chilling aura enveloped her. Then, the Pyre Blood at her chest pulsed faintly. Warmth surged through her, thin but potent, forming a crimson glow that pushed back the invading cold. Dunce felt the barrier shield her.

It was the last rational thought he grasped.

As the three lieutenants charged, blades flaring with their own brutal energies, Dunce threw back his head. A sound erupted from his throat – part battle cry, part soul-shattering howl. He drove the dagger forward.

"FIRST FLICKER!" His voice, amplified, echoing with something impossibly ancient and chilling, cut through the din. "SOULS ARE HARVESTED!"

Only Mystic Moon, shielded by the Phoenix stone, saw it clearly. Not a thrust, but a flicker of impossible speed. A slash of purest, coldest void-blue light cut the air. It passed *through* the charging lieutenants and continued deeper into the massed Raiders.

It was over in less than a heartbeat.

**THUD. THUD. THUD.** Three heavy impacts. The lieutenants landed hard on the blood-soaked grass. Not dead – already shriveled husks, lifeless, desiccated shells with eyes wide open and empty. Their souls were gone.

Mystic Moon gasped, terror warring with awe. Dunce sagged, retching, the dagger-hand now limp against his chest. The cost of wielding it was crushing. His Vital Aura was gone, expended. And the Blade's malevolence, its hunger, clawed at his own soul now, seeking to devour his will. He felt his consciousness fraying at the edges.

The wave of soul-chilling dread emanating from the Blade intensified tenfold, freezing the battlefield solid. Every Raider within a hundred yards... stopped. Not frozen – simply emptied. Life Rockforce fled their eyes as if snuffed out. Their mounts staggered, snorting bloody froth, collapsing seconds later. The survivors at the very back of the formation, beyond the dread's epicenter, cracked. Minds shattered by the glimpse of the abyss, they screamed wordlessly and fled into the moonlit darkness.

The cold retreated from Dunce as suddenly as it came. A soft blue light pulsed once from the amulet against his skin – the Dragon's Heartscale – and the invading evil within him vanished, drawn back or consumed. He had no strength to analyze it. Consciousness vanished like a candle in a gale. He crumpled backwards, hitting the ground with the last scrap of care – turning so his wounded back took the impact, shielding Mystic Moon's form as darkness claimed him.

The sound of fighting returned with vengeance. Rockforce, Rockforce, and the Yalian Tribe charge – hundreds of furious men, women, and youths on stolen horses, fueled by grief and rage – smashed into the fleeing remnant of the Raiders, cutting them down with vengeful fury. Rockforce and Rockforce were like whirlwinds of death.

"ENOUGH!" Rockforce's roar stopped Rockforce's axe mid-swing over the last surviving, twitching Raider scout. Rockforce snarled, "Why?! He pays for Dunce! For Mystic Moon!"

"He can't fight back, brother," Rockforce rasped, hauling the stunned man up. "See? Their minds... gone." He shook the Raider. "Who sent you?!"

The scout stared through Rockforce, drooling, mind shattered. "Tandor't... don't... please... Dunce... forgive... Reaper... wrong... we were wrong..." The words were barely coherent, choked with primal terror.

Rockforce dropped him, turning back towards the nightmare scene near the now-dead bonfire. "Move!" he roared. "Find Dunce! Find Mystic Moon!"

They pushed through the scene of horror – hundreds of Raiders and their mounts, standing silent and utterly still. A touch, and they fell like rotten timber. Rockforce understood. He'd seen the cold touch of the black dagger before, but never like *this*.

They found them near the edge of the carnage: Dunce collapsed backwards, Mystic Moon cradled protectively in his arms. Both were unconscious. Mystic Moon was pale but breathing steadily. Dunce's face was etched with pain even in unconsciousness, his back a ruin, his arm locked around Mystic Moon with desperate strength. Rockforce tried gently to pry them apart, but the unconscious grip was iron.

Rockforce, tears cutting paths through the grime and blood on his face, gently lifted both bodies together. "We got you, brother. We got you." He cradled the pair as if they were priceless, fragile glass.

The three Yalian Tribe Presidenttains approached, grim-faced. Rockforce gestured at the scene of silent death, his voice hollow with shock. "Who are they, Presidenttains? Why this? Why now?" The scale of the horror Dunce had unleashed... it shook him to his core. What had been unleashed when the soul dagger drank deep?

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