Alaric didn't advance.
Lightning crawled over his armor, restless, unfocused. The spear hovered at his side, point angled low.
He looked at Brutus.
Enraged and confused.
"…Who are you?" Alaric asked.
Brutus chuckled as he pushed himself upright, ash knitting his body back together like wet clay drying too fast. He brushed dust from his sleeve, more annoyed than hurt.
"That's funny," Brutus said. "I was about to ask you the same thing."
He rolled his shoulder. Ash crackled softly.
"You're not from here. That much is obvious. Not Church. Not Knight. Definitely not from any faction I know of." His eyes flicked to the street behind Alaric, to the still-black sludge where the Heart had died. "And yet you killed that. You are unusually powerful for an error in the system."
Alaric didn't respond.
"So," Brutus went on, tone casual, almost conversational, "what are you?"
Alaric's grip tightened.
"My name doesn't matter," he said. "Let Adam go."
Brutus sighed.
"See, that's the problem. You came late." He gestured vaguely at the ruined city. "Redgate was already rotting when I found it. People desperate. Sick. Angry. Easy."
The ash around his feet began to spread, thin tendrils crawling over the stone.
"I just… helped it along. Dark magic, sure. Scourge rituals. Bit of encouragement." He shrugged. "End result's the same. Bodies."
Shapes rose from the city.
Dozens at first. Then more. Undead forms dragging themselves free of rubble and shadow, weapons rusted, eyes glowing faintly gold.
"I was building an army," Brutus said plainly. "Walking God's name makes it easier. People listen when you say 'god.'"
Alaric's eyes hardened.
"You did all this just to watch it burn?!"
Brutus smiled faintly.
"…Yeah."
Then his gaze shifted back to Alaric.
"But then you showed up," he said. "And for a second, I thought I found something better than an army."
Lightning flickered brighter.
"Such heroism! Such potential!" He stretched his arms wide. "I know a guy who would really like you."
"But, no." Brutus glanced past him.
Adam was getting up, one hand pressed to his face, blood dripping from his nose. Tani stood in front of him, tail rigid, hissing nonstop.
Brutus tilted his head.
"You won't break easily," he said to Alaric. "And neither will the kid."
Alaric moved.
Lightning detonated.
He crossed the distance in a flash, spear screaming through the air, point aimed straight for Brutus's chest.
It hit.
Straight through.
For half a second, Alaric felt resistance—
Then nothing.
The wound dissolved into ash.
Brutus caught the spear shaft with one hand.
"Oh. No," he said calmly.
Ash erupted.
A crushing wave slammed into Alaric, hurling him backward hard enough to crater the street. He barely rolled before ash surged around him, binding his arms, legs, torso.
Lightning flared uselessly.
Brutus rose into the air.
Ash tore free from his back, spreading outward into massive, bat-like wings. One beat sent debris screaming across the battlefield.
The undead army began to move out from the city.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Brutus raised a hand.
Adam was ripped off the ground.
Ash wrapped around him instantly, forcing his arms outward, suspending him in the air. A crude crucifix of hardened ash formed beneath him, jagged and wrong.
"Adam!" Alaric shouted, struggling violently.
A spear formed in midair.
Its tip hovered inches from Adam's throat.
Brutus looked down at Alaric, expression neutral.
"Don't," he said. "If you attack me, he dies."
The spear drifted closer.
Alaric froze.
Lightning crackled around him, but went nowhere.
Brutus spread his wings wide.
"I know a way to break you. To set you two forth on the path to The Scourge," he smiled.
"I don't really care for The Scourge. I just want to see goodness fall and crumble! And you are the perfect subject."
Ash exploded outward in a howling cyclone, swallowing the street, the army, the sky itself.
Alaric and Adam vanished into the storm.
_________________________________________________
The first thing Alaric smelled was smoke. And then the smell of burnt blood. Intensely metallic, coppery, and iron-like, mixed with a nauseating, sickly sweet, and putrid scent from the burning flesh.
He came to on one knee, palm pressed into blackened earth. The ground was still warm. Embers floated through the air like dying fireflies, settling on his armor and hissing out.
"…Adam!"
He looked up.
The village was gone. Burning.
Homes reduced to skeletal frames. Roofs collapsed inward, still burning. The well had split in half, stones scattered like broken teeth. The fields were nothing but ash and scorched dirt, crops burned down to stubble.
Bodies lay where they had fallen.
Some were burned so badly they were barely recognizable.
Alaric's breath hitched.
They were still moving.
Ash swirled above the village like a living storm, circling in wide, predatory arcs. Every time someone staggered toward the outskirts, the ash snapped down like a noose.
Alaric tried to save them, he did.
"You will be okay! Do—"
And just when he did that, ash impaled them through the head. Through the heart. He couldn't save them all. Whenever he saved one, another one died.
A scream cut short.
Then another.
Alaric staggered to his feet, lightning roaring back to life around him.
"BRUTUS!!"
The air split.
Brutus descended slowly from the smoke, wings spread wide, ash rolling off him in thick sheets. He didn't rush. Didn't need to.
He hovered above the village like a judgment that didn't care whether it was deserved.
"You woke up faster than I expected," Brutus said. Almost impressed. "That's good."
Alaric launched himself upward.
Lightning detonated beneath his feet as he hurled his spear, the bolt so bright it turned the smoke white. It struck Brutus square in the chest.
The explosion shook the village.
Ash scattered.
For half a second, a gap opened in the storm.
Then it closed.
Brutus drifted backward, armor cracked, ash already sealing the damage.
"That won't work," he said plainly.
Alaric didn't slow.
He followed, lightning tearing the air apart as he struck again and again, each blow shaking the sky. The ash recoiled, ripped apart, vaporized.
And they came back thicker.
He was hurting Brutus.
It just didn't matter.
A wave of ash slammed into Alaric midair, crushing him back down into the village square. Stone exploded. Fire leapt higher.
Adam screamed.
Alaric twisted, eyes snapping toward the sound.
Adam was on his knees.
Hands raw and bleeding where he'd clawed at the ground.
In front of him were crucifixes.
Dozens of them.
Ash-forged, jagged, uneven.
Bodies impaled upon them.
The Elder hung at the center, head slumped forward, robes burned black. Adam's aunt was hung beside The Elder, arms stretched wrong, eyes open and empty. Hunters. Farmers. People Alaric had spoken to.
Everyone.
Every last one.
Adam sobbed, the sound tearing itself out of his chest.
"Please—please—!" he cried, scrambling forward before ash yanked him back by the ankle. "Stop—! I'll do anything—just stop—!"
Brutus descended between them.
He gestured casually.
The crucifixes rose higher.
Adam screamed again, voice cracking, breaking, turning hoarse. Rage bled through the sobbing, raw and uncontrolled.
"I'LL KILL YOU! I SWEAR—I'LL—!"
Alaric forced himself upright, lightning screaming around him as he took a step.
Another.
His armor was cracked. Blood ran freely now, streaking down his face, dripping onto the ash-covered ground.
"What...what do you want?" His voice shook.
Brutus looked at him.
And then smiled.
The ash tightened.
Around Adam.
Around the crucifixes.
Around the village.
Brutus rose again, wings beating once, hard.
"This isn't about the Scourge," he added. "I told you that already. It's about watching something good realize it can't save everyone."
He looked down at Adam.
Then back to Alaric.
"And seeing what it becomes after."
Alaric screamed.
Above them, Brutus hovered.
Below them, the village burned.
And Adam cried until his voice was gone.
Brutus hovered for a long moment.
The fire below crackled and roared, heat warping the air, turning the ash into slow, spiraling ghosts. The crucifixes trembled where they hung, suspended by nothing but his will.
Adam's sobbing had gone thin. Strangled. Like his lungs were giving up before his heart did.
Brutus looked down at the burning bodies. Then at Adam. Then at Alaric.
Then he sighed and opened his hand.
Wood snapped. Ash screamed. Bodies twisted as they dropped, arms tearing loose, legs catching for half a heartbeat before gravity finished the sentence.
They hit the fire.
Flames surged up like they'd been waiting.
The Elder disappeared first. Then Adam's aunt. Then the hunters. Then the rest. Cloth blackened. Skin split. Bone glowed.
Adam screamed.
Not a word.
A sound pulled raw from somewhere too deep to survive.
"No—no—no—please—PLEASE—!"
He dragged himself forward, hands burning, knees blistering, fingers splitting open as he clawed through embers.
"I'll do it! whatever you want! I swear! I swear!"
Alaric moved.
He caught Adam from behind, armor hissing as heat bit into him, lightning flaring in useless sparks.
"Adam. Stop!"
"LET ME GO!" Adam screamed, thrashing wildly. "LET ME GO. LET ME DIE WITH THEM!"
"I can't...I can't let you..." Adam said, voice breaking.
Adam turned on him.
His eyes were ruined.
Red. Wet. Empty and full all at once.
"YOU PROMISED," Adam screamed. "YOU SAID YOU'D PROTECT—YOU SAID—!"
His fists slammed uselessly against Alaric's chest.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Above them, wings beat once. Ash rippled outward. Brutus was already turning away.
Then he stopped.
Just long enough.
"Oh," he said, casually. Almost kindly. "This part matters."
The fire crackled.
The village screamed.
"You'll replay this," Brutus continued. "Over and over. Every choice. Every second. Wondering when you lost."
His eyes flicked to Alaric.
"Was it when you hesitated?"
Then Adam.
"Or when you believed someone like him could save you?"
He smiled. Cruel. Wide.
Certain.
"You'll never agree."
He lifted higher and higher up into the sky.
"And that's the part that lasts."
Ash folded around him.
"Earn your right to kill me."
He was gone. He left with a laugh.
Silence rushed in too fast.
Adam went still.
Then he inhaled.
And screamed.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" His voice tore itself apart. "I SWEAR IT—I SWEAR ON MY BLOOD—ON MY LIFE—ON MY SOUL—!"
Alaric held him.
Not because he was strong.
Because if he let go, Adam would walk into the fire.
Slowly, Adam collapsed. He wasn't unconscious. He was hollowed out.
Alaric stayed there long after the flames died down.
He looked at his hands. They were shaking.
Covered in soot. Blood. Lightning that hadn't mattered.
'Have I....failed?'
The thought came quietly. Worse than screaming.
'Was this my duty? To arrive too late?'
The fire reflected in his armor.
In his eyes. In his soul.
'Was it a mistake to wake? To rise again?'
Behind him, the last beam collapsed into embers.
'Should I exist at all?'
The stars burned bright and sorrowful that night.
The heavens themselves could not bear to look away.
And beneath their light, Alaric and Adam lay among the dead. Among the fire.
For the first time since he awoke from that tomb, he wished he hadn't.