God of Hell - Chapter 43 - Your Local Healer (Patreon)

Nero called on his Light Breathing, pressed it against the enemy and watched as it eviscerated it out of existence.

“Now the other hand.” He told the sick boy, and  watched  him offer it. 

As Nero held a flaming palm over the infection,the pus and rotted flesh evaporated as if they were never there in the first place.

“It tingles,” the boy giggled.

“Told you it wouldn’t hurt.” Ember chimed. “Now please try not to play in swamps from now on.” She warned and the boy nodded with eyes that made Nero know he would not be listening to a word she said.

His mother must have recognised the look because she glared at him right after. “Now what do you say?” She prompted him.“Thank you Lord Light and Miss Guardian!” He beamed.She smiled apologetically at Nero, bowed reverently and the pair were soon out the door to get further treatment. That was Britta, former thrall of the late Chieftain and now free woman of Stradale.

Nero sat for a minute, stretched and yawned before the next patient came to see him. This one an old man with a wound infected badly enough that it had spread to his neck and would find his brain soon.

Luckily Nero’s Light Breathing killed all Demons, and given that Demons were any organisms native to hell, that included bacteria as well.

He saw to the next after him and the next after that, three weeks since the revolution and the God of Hell, destined saviour of mankind and ender of Demons, was the local healer to a town full of country people, and he… Fucking loved it.

It was a good gig, Gunther paid him for his labour and all he needed to do was turn on his magic for a few seconds and then he was grand. It turned out that Demon deleting powers came in handy in more ways than just punching the bastards really hard.

It helped, of course, that the kids absolutely adored Ember and she loved the attention.

Stradale wasn’t going to be under attack any time soon, according to Cain, not with Mercury dead and the Lady of Dolore locked in a rebellion.

Come to think of it, that was perhaps the only thing the woman said to him since he got back to Stradale, and he couldn’t blame her. He did however miss the weight of his blade on his side, she’d taken that too.

Nero healed one more patient and saw his light flicker and die in the process. A wave of nausea hit him like a truck, an annoying side effect of exhausting his Light Breathing, something he’d been doing quite a lot of lately.

“Alright then, that’s me done for the day.” He sighed and got to his feet to deliver the news to the crowd in the hallway. It was never a pleasant thing to do, but Nero took solace in the knowledge that Gunther had ensured that the most critical cases got priority over those who could afford to wait a few days.

Still he found that he was always pushing himself to make his Light Breathing last even longer than it had before. It had actually worked and now, he could call on his Light Breathing for half again as long as he ever had before starting this job.

That wasn’t all he was able to train however, he and Cain didn’t do much physical training anymore but the Death Rattle Crew were always up for a spar and the more he pushed himself with them, the more he was able to draw out his Might. 

Stradale was safe for now, but he was still the Light Breather and many would make a target of the town simply because of his presence.

And when they do I'll be ready for them.

He made his way out of the Chieftain’s home, which was now Gunther’s though Nero supposed it still was the chieftain’s home given the man’s new position.

The first thing he met was the chilling air of Stradale, and Nero found himself drawing a deep breath in. It wasn’t just because the town smelled that much better now, but also because Nero himself felt better.

The walk through Stradale was as uneventful as it was yesterday and the day before, and Nero cherished that. Even at night the town was still buzzing with work, labourers fixing walls, patching roofs and making roads.

Gutters and channels were dug where once refuse was piling, and the streets had become devoid of the mounds of excrement and putrid sludge that it had harbored within its corners.

Such a rapid change was only possible because the work force of Stradale had almost doubled in three weeks, majorly due to a great number of people fleeing from their towns to come here. A good number of the refugees, however, were from Dolore, and Nero had no shortage of horror stories about the civil war over there.

A civil war kicked off by my actions.

He found his mood soured at that, found his mood soured even further at the recollection that he wasn’t there right now to help the city. Instead he’d chosen to wait and protect Stradale from invisible enemies.

Gunther had made the point that Stradale was weak as it was, and couldn’t afford to lose him, or dedicate any strong number of its fighting force to a defence until it had recovered from the losses incurred during its own. 

Nero had agreed. But that was when he first got back, since then, the town had skyrocketed in number and was already in a better condition than Gunther had taken control of it in.

Nero decided he would have a conversation with Gunther about sending aid to Dolore tomorrow. He should have been fighting, should’ve been making every Demon pay for what they’d done, and that he wasn’t was a moral failing he would correct.

The men and women of Stradale cheered him on as he walked, showering him with praise and appreciation for protecting them. Nero smiled back and waved with bright eyes and a magnetic grin, it didn’t matter that he didn’t kill the Chieftain alone, didn’t matter that he wouldn’t have stood a chance against Mercury without a surprise attack and it didn’t matter that he wasn't even around for the rebellion that earned them their freedom.

He was their Light Breather, their flawless hero, and Nero knew better than to damage that perfect image in their eyes.

Ember was a dot in the distance, she could go farther away now, almost double her usual radius, and often used it to play annoying pranks like jumping out of corners shaped as a malice-hornet when people least expected her.

A part of him wondered if she’d ever be able to just venture off on her own without him one day. He found an odd terror at the thought and knew it was selfishness; Ember was her own person regardless of his thoughts on the matter.

It didn’t take too long to reach his house, well Selvas’ house to be exact, he just kept a lot of his stuff there and she hadn’t the sense to throw it out yet. 

He opened the door and Ember scattered the dark away by shining brighter. Her control over her form had improved a lot, and he was quite impressed with that.

She also seemed to have a more collected grasp of her thoughts, yet another thing he found himself being happy to see.

Nero heard Selvas in the workshop, hammering at something metallic. “Babe, I need to talk to you!” He called out and the hammering stopped.

“Well, hopefully my company will do love.” A gruff voice came from the other end—that probably wasn’t Selvas, as Nero did not remember being in a relationship with a man.

“Uhm, Alfie?” He asked.

The big man appeared, grinning ear to ear. “Hey there you two.”

He put a giant pinky finger out for Ember to balance on and took Nero in a large hug. 

Nero hugged back, laughing as the man squeezed hard enough to let something pop in his back. Hugs from Alfie were more a test of skeletal durability than anything.

“What are you doing here?” Nero asked, then swallowed. “Uh, don’t tell me you’re moving in.”

Alfie rolled his eyes. “I prefer using Sel’s metal working tools.” He made his way to her workshop and Nero followed.

There, on a table were two flintlocks positioned next to one another. 

“Uh, does Klaus know you have his guns?” Nero asked gently.

“Yes.” Alfie said. “And Gun, singular.” He told him. “The other is a replica I made.”

“Huh.” Now, actually eyeing the objects made it look obvious, one looked brand new while the other was worn. “So, you’ve made a working gun?”

Alfie’s face darkened. “No, still can’t figure out how to make that work in this place,” he admitted. “And none of the new runesmiths can work those scripts in,” he added. “But I’ve narrowed it down to simply finding a skilled enough one and sourcing the same kind of metal whoever made this did.”

“Well, easier said than done.” Nero smiled. “Damn, if it’s that hard for even you to figure out, Klaus’ grandfather must have been an absolute phenom.”

“Yeah, damn fucking Germans.” Alfie growled.

Nero huffed, chuckled then found himself laughing.

Afie raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, it’s just… Nice to be reminded of home.” He smiled.

Alfie grinned sadly. “Yeah, we two are the few non-locals around here aren’t we.”

“Do you miss it?” Nero asked.

“Sometimes?” He said. “You?”

“No.” Nero shook his head and Alfie nodded as if that made perfect sense.

“The fuck are you two doing in my workshop?” Selvas glared from the other end of the room. Ah, she was back home.

“Leaving, actually.” Alfie said and like a thief started to scuffle out the backdoor.

“Oi, you’ve left all this scrap metal lying around you fascist bastard!” She yelled but Alfie was already out the door. Fascist, apparently, was one of the family’s favourite words. As someone who’d gotten rich by helping fascists, Nero wasn’t sure why. 

“Sorry Selvas.” Ember apologized.

She shook her head. “You can go anywhere Ember, not like you can mess up the place.” She said and then set her eyes on Nero. “You, on the other hand, seem prone to damaging my shit.”

“Is this about the time I melted your gear-”

“Yes, this is about the time you melted up my gears, and then proceeded to promise to never step into my workshop again.” Selvas agreed tersely.

“Well, I promise again.” Nero said, and took one large step out of the room.

Selvas rubbed the bridge of her nose the way she always did when she was fighting a smile. “I ought to kick you out.”

“And yet you won’t.”

“And yet I won’t.” She lost the fight.

God, he loved her.

“How’d hunting go?” He asked her.

“Went well.” She grunted, slipping her bow off of her back. “Lots of killing.”

“Lots of killing eh?” Nero asked. “Anything else new and unusual happen or was it just that?”

“Shut up.” The edge of her lips arched up in a grin. She was placing her weapons away as they chatted, back turned to him. “What do you want to talk about?” She asked.

“What makes you think I want to talk ab-”

“You’re pacing.” She noted, sliding a drawer shut.

Nero stopped pacing. Ah. “I think we should help Dolore, their Demon Lady is vulnerable, she’s likely never going to ever be this vulnerable again, if there’s any time to strike them, it’ll be now.”

Selvas didn’t turn back to him as she replied. “We already killed a massive chunk of their Knights, I think we've done our part.”

“That’s not what I mean, Selvas.” He sighed.

She turned to him now, beautiful, cold eyes seeming to crystallise the very moment around them. “I know what you mean Nero.” She told him. “And I don’t think it’s worth the risk.”

“Worth the risk to what?”

“To Stradale.” She told him, back falling against a wall, arms folded. “We already killed a Chieftain, killed a Warden. How much longer till the Circle decides that the only way to stop a much larger domino falling is to erase ground zero?”

Nero shook his head. “If that’s their plan they won’t come for Stradale, they’ll come for me, the Light Breather.”

“And when they do?” Selvas asked.

Nero opened and closed his mouth, then clenched his jaw, feeling a special kind of fool.

She’s not just worried about her town, she’s worried about her boyfriend being murdered by a world full of angry Demons.

Would he risk Selvas’ life for a city full of strangers? Well, he’d already made his decision when it came to her or Stradale. Still, he didn’t just want to risk Dolore’s Demon winning. Nero looked down to shaky hands. “I… isn’t that selfish?” He asked.

“Yes.” Selvas didn’t hesitate in her answers. “I think we’ve all earned ourselves a little bit of selfishness.” And in that moment the moons chose to breathe their light upon the lines that ran across her wrist and neck. Nero knew there were more underneath her furs, memories of the torture Mercury had put her through.

She was healed, but Gunther had told him that the scars would never really disappear.

God, what am I thinking, I have a home here, I have Selvas, why the hell am I so eager to leap into another death sentence.

Hatred, that was why.

This wasn’t about helping Dolore, it was about making Demons pay.

“Maybe… Maybe you’re right.” Nero sighed and saw relief in his girlfriend’s face by the fractional movement of her eyes.

“Thank you.” She murmured.

“I’m heading out for a run.” He told her and after a kiss to her cheek was soon breathing in Stradale’s cold breeze.

Ember followed behind as he walked, taking the form of a Knight, wreathed in golden armor. It was a curious choice, but a lot of things about her were curious lately. She could affect matter a bit more physically now, feeling like a gust of wind against it when she did.

He, however, thought there was something more important at play here in her garment. “You want to fight?” He asked her.

“Yes. I want them… I want them all to burn, I want the air to to be thick with the scent of charred scales and flesh” She answered, face folded into a frown so intense he would have thought it that of a woman rather than a child. No, it was something more ancient, something that had seen the oldest monoliths mankind had erected for any god, perhaps something that had witnessed the very first steps taken by his kind. 

Something shifted in her eyes and it was gone without a trace, though the frown remained, it was softer, one of conflict rather than anger. “But… I like it here.” She said, “And Selvas is nice, the last three weeks have been nice as well.”

“I… I see.” Nero nodded.

It was disconcerting when she did that, and it seemed the more time passed, the more often she’d do it. There was a day where he just saw her staring emptily at the skies, tears running down her cheeks but not a sound leaving her lips.

He’d asked her what she was doing and Ember immediately snapped out of it, all smiles and claiming not to remember what he was talking about.

“You should be running!” She chimed, happily, dragging Nero out of his thoughts.

“Shush, you just enjoy watching me suffer.” He groaned and began stretching. He’d been focusing on Speed like always, but this time he’d made it exclusive, dismissing Strength and Toughness in favour of making himself even faster.

He knew why he focused on it with Cain, knew why he focused on it even harder now. 

Mercury.

Like a poltergeist, the monster still haunted him in his dreams, it didn't matter that he was dead, didn't matter that Nero had been the one to kill him himself; he could still see his shark-like teeth grinning at him every time he closed his eyes.

He wouldn’t, couldn’t feel safe until he was faster than the Demon.

Fast enough to escape.

No. Fast enough to win.

He started with a sprint like he always did, pushing himself as fast as his burning muscles could manage, in his mind's eye he resurrected Mercury beside him, both racing to the walls of Stradale.

With glowing red eyes and legs like lightning, the Demon left Nero in its dust. He got to the wall long after the monster had, but a moment faster than he did yesterday. And a moment slower than he would tomorrow.

Nero turned around and readied to make his dash to the other side. He’d be out here till early morning, dashing from wall to wall until he couldn’t feel his legs.

He sprinted again and Mercury left him with only a vision of the Demon’s back.

Something stepped into Nero’s path and he dug his heels into the dirt, slowing instantly but failing to completely prevent an impact. He collided with the figure and both were sent to the ground.

It was a man, a refugee judging by the fact that Nero didn’t recognise him, with long, dark hair and recently shaved skin where a beard had been.

“I’m so sorry.” Nero said, quickly scrambling to his feet and holding out a hand out to him.

He shook his head free of a daze and looked up at Nero with questioning eyes. “Are you the Light Breather?” he asked.

Nero smiled. An unfortunate first impression. “Yes.” He told him awkwardly.

“I see.” The man said and Nero saw something bright hovering behind him, like Ember but slightly red where she was golden. He held his hand out, around his wrist was a runed shackle, that of a thrall, and out of his palm leapt a raging ball of fire, racing angrily towards Nero’s face.