God of Hell - Chapter 35 - Fate Quests For The Weary (Patreon)

“Well, that guy was insane.” Nero said as they walked out of the building. It was morning now and the bright purple sky shone down angrily upon them once again.

He still had sleep in his eyes, hadn’t been able to get much of it since getting to Dolore. 

Still there was work to be done, and he’d just have to keep on going until it was all over.

On their way to the inn, Nero spotted a familiar face, an unhelmed Crimson with his gauntleted fist wrapped around a boy’s throat as he pinned him to the wall, snarling and roaring into his face.

That was the same man who’d tortured that poor old woman. He didn’t have his helm on then, he didn’t have it on now. 

He gets some kind of sick joy from this. 

From looking directly into his victims eyes as he terrorised them.

Rage and hate simmered in Nero’s heart, urging him to call on his Light Breathing, urging him to twist that man’s head off and fling it into the air.

“Nero, I know what you’re thinking, and let me just tell you, it’s a bad idea.” Selvas urged.

“It’s a brilliant idea.” Nero countered, handed her his sword and then he was heading straight for the bastard in red. “Hello there friend.”

“What the fuck do you wan-” The man didn’t finish speaking, because Nero was too busy slamming his fist into his face.

One, two, three, four.

The man stumbled back, slipped, was about to fall, but Nero caught him and slammed his fist into his face not once, not  twice, but five more times.

By the time he was done, more of the man’s teeth were down his throat than attached to his gums. His face was a bloody ruined mess and he stared up at Nero with a mix of disbelief and horror.

“Halt!” A Gray Knight yelled, drew his spear and came stabbing at Nero.

He stepped past the thrust and rearranged the bastard’s face with a helmet-shattering elbow.

Another came and then another, and more and more.

Nero fought them off, dodging, kicking, punching and calling on everything in-between that Cain had taught him.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he was on one knee, covered in sweat, grime and blood. Nero was panting heavy pants, his chest heaved, his heart raced and thumped with exhaustion.

Scattered around him was a pile of ruined bodies, in front were a group of fresh ones, swords at the ready, but none daring to be the first to charge in and attack him.

Nero shoved himself up to his feet, set his eyes up on them and opened his mouth to speak. “I…” He began. “I surrender.” He said.

The Gray killers came at Tommy and he stood his ground. Not out of bravery, but purely due to the knowledge that turning his back on these men would spell the end of him.

He pulled out his sword, a dead Knight’s sword, and blocked the swing of his first attacker. The weapon was still new to him, he much preferred a dagger, but Cain had made it clear that using that against Knights would surely spell his end.

The second Knight was coming to do that regardless. He swung down at Tommy’s face and its edge bit into a translucent blue wall rather than his skull.

He had Sussana’s Force Casting to thank for the fact that he was still alive.

He slammed his head against the helmet of the Knight he’d locked blades with, shattered it and felt their nose give as they stumbled back.

The blue shield disappeared and a spear replaced it, Tillian’s to be exact. It struck the man’s breast plate, cracked it, but skidded off as the man leaned out of the way.

Tillian stumbled and earned a slash beneath his eyes for that, scoring the man his first scar.

Arrows from Aigburth shot through the air, Sussana hurled a bolt of energy at the enemies, the remaining Knights jumped into action, and the battlefield became a world of chaos and blood not a moment later.

Tommy sent heavy swings at the Gray in front of him and found his opponent catching them all and replying with cuts that sliced through his gambeson and drew blood from his flesh.

My strikes are too predictable with a sword.

He grabbed his dagger with his left, swung with his right, and when the Gray caught it, Tommy dashed in to plunge his dagger into their neck.

The steel sank into its target’s jugular and drank in his vitae with a murderous eagerness. But the dying man had not stopped fighting yet.

He stabbed his blade at Tommy’s chest, he moved to dodge but they were too close for him to twist out of the way. The blade pierced Tommy’s flesh, panic gripped his heart, but the sword stopped merely an inch into its target, as not a moment later the man’s life force was spent.

Tommy breathed a sigh of relief, turned and saw that the fight behind him had come to an end as well. With panic in his eyes he counted the dead amongst his teammates and found none.

Good, fuck…Good.

They were all panting, covered in blood, some of it theirs but most of it the enemy’s.

“They saw us.” Aigburth said, speaking for the first time in hours. “Those were likely just some over-eager scouts, the rest of the force should be on its way soon.”

Tommy’s relief was eradicated a moment later. With blood soaked hands he crawled up a hill and saw death approaching.

Fifteen Grays, each atop fresteeds and one Crimson leading the charge. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” He hissed.

“How many are they?” Sussana asked.

“Fifteen Grays, one Crimson.”

“Shit!” Aigburth growled.

“Oh no.” Sussana whispered, voice hollow, defeated.

They were dead, they were fucking dead. They couldn't take fifteen, they barely took on five and now there was a Crimson amongst the reinforcements. 

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead- Stop panicking and fucking think!

They were close to Stradale, far away from Dolore, this was his land, not theirs, Tommy knew it well, knew it better than any of them really. Any of them save from…

“Rollins!” He called as he scrambled down the hill. “We can’t outrun them, do you know anywhere we can hide?”

The man was pale with terror, but sprung into action at the thought. “C-caves, but, the ones around here are home to-”

“Lead us to them then.” Tommy cut him off, not letting him finish his sentence because it might just shatter whatever cohesion his group still had left and leave him second guessing his actions.

Rollins nodded, moved quickly and they followed. He imagined the hooves beating behind them despite knowing full well that the enemy was still too far away for him to hear it.

He could see them now though, hungry for his blood and eager to bathe the earth in it.

He could see the cave too, angry and dark, gaping wide like the maw of some great beast eager to devour them. Tommy charged into the darkness.

He looked behind to see the cavalry approaching at last, they were close. The Crimson leapt off of his fresteed and began charging forwards on foot. He was faster than a fresteed, and would have only been on it to help cover long distances.

Tommy and the group continued ever deeper, all the while he was certain that his end was just around the corner. 

The Crimson entered first and then the Grays followed.

“We need to stop running!” Tommy told them.

“What?!” Sussana looked at him as if he was spewing madness.

“We’ll run out of stamina before their beasts do, it’s better if we stand our ground while we still have gas in the tank and fight.” Aigburth said. The Mercenary likely had experience dealing with mounted foes.

“Shit.” Sussana shook her head as if wrestling with her very. “Shit, shit, shit, yes, you’re right.” She drew out her dagger, stopped and twisted on her heel.

The rest did the same, weapons out and eyes wide at the mass of bodies approaching.

Aigburth, Rollins and Sussana all fired projectiles at the bastards and were successful in bringing three fresteeds and their riders crashing down into the hard ground.

The second volley was less effective as the enemy was expecting it, they parted ways like a swarm of flies and only Sussana managed to down one. Despite the caves, there was enough room for fresteeds to manouvre and charge like they did in open ground.

The third round of attacks wouldn’t come, the enemy were going to be upon them before they could let it out.

That was when the blood curdling scream of a Face Eater clawed through the walls of the cave.

The beast soared into the air like an arrow and came crashing down into the mass of bodies like a falling boulder. The ground cracked on impact, pummeling bodies into mounds of twisted flesh and filling the air with the horrified screams of the Knights.

“We need to get out of here!” Tommy yelled.

The group was already moving ahead of Tommy, there was no visible exit, so they'd have to circle around the Knights.

The Face Eater lifted a Gray into the sky by its feet and tore their head off from their socket. Warm blood rained down upon them from the ceiling, steaming in the air, flooding Tommy’s nostrils with the reek of iron.

Many Knights were fleeing out the other way, some on foot, others of their beasts.

The Crimson swung an angry blade at Tommy and he barely blocked. “You rat!” The impact sent him stumbling back, pain reverberated through his arm and he nearly fell down on his back, instead saved only by the walls.

His allies were already at the exit. Tommy was alone.

Fuck.

His heart sank and his enemy moved.

A slash chased Tommy and met the wall behind him instead, biting into it, birthing a spray of sparks and mangled stone above his head.

Tommy dropped his sword, rolled out of the way and tried to sink his dagger underneath the man’s helm.

He earned himself an elbow to the face and saw stars. Tommy fell onto his knees on weak legs and found that they would not move to his commands, not when he urged them to run and not when the Crimson swung the blade for his neck.

Something slammed into the man in red, cracking his armor and throwing him backwards at a stumble. Rollins didn’t even look at Tommy when he swung a dagger at the red Knight. “Get the fuck out of here, Stradale needs you more than it needs me!”

Tommy didn’t want to, he wanted to stay and fight, die a martyr, a hero, maybe that way, that way Stradale would forgive him.

But this wasn’t about him.

He was the Mightier of the two and by a fair amount. When the battle came, he needed to be there.

Tommy tore his eyes away from the pair and ran for the exit. 

Only when his lungs started to burn did he stop. He saw the Crimson step out, armor cracked but not broken, in his hand was a sword, in the other was Rollins’ severed head.

“No…”

The Knight set his eyes on Tommy, started running at him and was plucked into the air by the Face Eater.

There, in the purple clouds, Tommy watched the man spasm and cry as the monster’s jaws bit into his head. His armour popped like an insect’s shell, limbs bounced uselessly off the creature’s body. Then he went still.

It dropped the man and the Crimson landed on the ground with a wet thud. Plate ruined, body mangled, entrails spilled out everywhere and the flesh around his face missing.

The beast beat its wings and began swooping downwards again. 

Towards them…

It neared his remaining allies and Tommy chased after it on weak, slow and useless feet.

No, no, no!

They ran as well but the Face Eater was too fast, it descended next to the three, Tommy’s world slowed and then the beast kept on soaring, until it crashed into fleeing Grays, leaving his allies unhurt. Going for the bigger meal.

The hills were filled with the sounds of dying Knights as the Face Eater hunted them down one by one. When it was done, and the beast flew away on large wings, there was a single sound that replaced that grotesque symphony.

Laughter, Tommy’s, loud and frantic and uncontrolled. And then sobbing, his again.