The next morning, Kasar awoke sorer than he’d ever been. Cryppe had used minimal Green on him overnight to speed up the healing process, but it was nowhere near as efficient as when he’d been healed after the fight on the ship.

  Vorza was taking his turn to sleep now. Cryppe had gone out to keep watch. They wouldn’t move until they knew it was safe to do so. According to Vorza, sellswords scrambled through the area and slaves hunted them. Cut throats, gashed bellies, and burned bodies. It was urban warfare out there, and Asheevi’s zone of control was far enough away that the party needed to be in better shape to make the dash.

  “Not used to time patching you up?” asked Sigvali.

  “Never thought I’d get used to Green,” said Kasar. “Then I saw how quick I can get back on my feet for the next fight.”

  “Many soldiers used to think that until a limb needed regrowing.”

  “Why?”

  “It hurts, lad. More than you can imagine. It muddles your mind. Elongates your life.”

  “I get that it hurts. I understand how it mucks up your mind. I don’t get why longer life is so bad.”

  “Look at your mentor. Look at me.”

  Kasar understood him as he said it. Vorza was older than Kasar could comprehend. What could he know of such experiences and so many of them?

  “It's tiring. It eats away. Vorza fights his own battles in his mind. When your mind is at war with itself, life loses its luster. Now imagine seeing that war within and without for centuries. All that tragedy ceases to matter. And that feels like a tragedy in itself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You killed a lot of people yesterday.”

  Kasar’s face dropped low. His mood darkened. “I know. I…”

  “When is the day you’ll stop feeling bad?”

  “Never.”

  Sigvali didn’t press further. He just looked at Kasar and Kasar looked inwards. He faltered when he did.

  “You know you won’t grieve every man you kill,” said Sigvali.

  “I don’t want to kill.”

  “Get out of this profession.”

  “That's why I am sailing away.”

  “No, lad. Get out of the drifter life.”

  “I’m a Dancing Devil.”

  “Then you will kill.”

  Kasar sighed.

  “The question is why.”

  “Have you killed?”

  “Humans? Yes. Do I care much? For a while. Then I live on.”

  Kasar frowned.

  “That is why we hate long lives. We want good lives instead.”

  Kasar remembered Warveil and its endless swaths of battlefields. “That we do.”

  “Green is bad, lad. It always has been. My country has mastered it. Our rivals have as well. The world will have sons and daughters that have seen more than two apocalypses at some point. Generations will skew up and you’ll be courting people that have seen their great grandchildren die.”

  “But it heals.”

  “And it feeds.” Sigvali’s voice was of agreement.

  “So if we stop now, thousands will starve.”

  “Thousands,” scoffed Sigvali. “Billions, more like.”

  “What?”

  “Can’t even think that big, huh? I don’t blame you. This world’s got too many people in it and that number is only getting higher. If you take Green magic out of this world: you kill off over half the population from starvation alone.”

  “But we grow food.”

  “And we don’t eat too much of it. Why do you think so? Green. If you strip it away, you suddenly make every harvest integral. Winters will kill like nothing else as it did once over a millenia ago. You think women have their babies without Green? You don’t think Green experts don’t modify the birth so it’s clean, smooth, and harmless everytime? Suddenly, you’re making the human species give birth of its own biological merit. Birth defects, stillbirths, women losing their prime after their delivery. All of these hit the world like a storm as well. If the women lose their prime after so many children, suddenly a significant portion of your defensive army reserves are lost. Your farmers are split between fighting and farming. Pregnancy takes nine months like it used to. Industry halts…”

  Kasar took time to digest all of this. He lingered on one of his points. “What do you mean about defects?”

  “Kasulta, the lizard lady. She probably had the unfortunate issue of being born without a skilled Green channeler by her mother’s side. Or perhaps her mother or father were like that. As a people, we forgot what it’s like to be born normally. It is a shame, really. She was probably treated worse than an animal in her youth. Now she acts like it from what I’ve seen and heard. My country would have treated her better.”

  “So if you take Green used in births away…”

  “You let our biology do the culling it was meant to. The defects rise, but they always have. Until Green squashed it and we got used to perfection.”

  Kasar gulped at the idea of his species forgetting how to perform a basic biological function without an external influence. To think that one day they may even forget how to make food. “Can Green replace food altogether?”

  “We’re getting good enough at it to where someday, maybe.”

  “We’ll be fully dependent on it.”

  “Arguably we are. As I said, if you take it away half the world dies. I haven’t even discussed the economic collapse yet. And the wars. We would explode with horrors that’ll make Lord Torvic’s genocide in the south seem like a play yard scuffle between boys and girls.”

  “Yet it heals.”

  “And feeds,” said Sigvali with a sad chuckle. “Full circle.”

  “So hard to say no to it.”

  Sigvali raised his pipe.

  “Almost addicting.”

  “Addicting?”

  “Well, yes. I get to run again after a good go of Green.”

  “Masochist,” laughed Sigvali.

  “I just want to get back to the fight.”

  “Always another a fight with you. Always a wanderlust. Vorza told me of your exploits in the sands. And the duel with Valiki of all Devils. He told me of your life before he met you too. Always on the run.”

  Kasar’s cheeks reddened at the mention of the duel.

  “Oh don’t worry. Your secret's safe with me in regards to your ‘victory’. Noble cause. Futile, but noble.”

  “Vorza says I won’t last long.”

  “You probably won’t.”

  “Makes me want to keep at it then. Out of spite.”

  Sigvali gave a hearty laugh at that. “You’re going to be raking in problems like leaves during autumn at the rate you’re going.”

  “Let them come.”

  “Frosts, lad, you’ll be good to hear about when all this is done.”

  “Speaking of which. What is the plan?”

  “Turn me in, and I just slow them down.”

  “What? That’s it?”

  Sigvali nodded. “You turn me in, and get your ticket out of here. Cryppe stays with me and helps me out of this mess.”

  “He stays? Why not us?”

  “He has the blade.”

  “That Justice sword?”

  “A Blade of Power. It’s part of our plan we’re forming.”

  “When did you discuss this?”

  “When you were sleeping.”

  “Well I can stay-”

  “No, you take your ticket out when you can. Same with Vorza. We stay and find another path out.

  “Why can’t we go with you on that path?”

  “Lad, when life's handing you a free rope out of the gutter, you take it. We’ll carve our own path.”

  “Why Cryppe?”

  “He volunteered.”

  “What if I want to?”

  “Too late.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Life isn’t. This time it’s being fair to you in ways you just can’t appreciate yet.”

  Kasar bristled in silence. He wanted to argue, but he was still so tired. All he had to do was take the easy route out. Walk over to Asheevi, turn Sigvali in, and sail west. That’s all. Why couldn’t he take it? He had his mind settled. He would go along with the plan and turn right around when they weren’t looking.

  “I understand,” Kasar lied.

  “You’re shit at lying.”

  “What?”

  “You’re fucking smirking.”

  “No..”

  At that, Cryppe walked into the room. “Slaves have made quite the warpath.”

  “They’re no longer slaves, lad,” said Sigvali. “How many of them?”

  “Don’t know full numbers. It’s death’s own horde, though. They’ve freed enough to make a warband of their own. They call it The Grim Horde.”

  Sigvali laughed at that, but Kasar felt uncomfortable.

  “Who’s their leader?” asked Kasar.

  “Some woman who picked up the leadership when they needed it in their fights.”

  “I see. Well, is it safe for us to head over?”

  Cryppe and Sigvali exchanged a glance. Kasar spotted it, and got excited. They were planning something, and he was going to pay close attention to their future conversations. They thought they could hide secrets from a Devil.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Safe as it’ll ever be,” said Cryppe. “Most of the sellswords and thugs have abandoned Shaenik. The Horde is big enough and fast enough to where any attempt to muster is broken apart. The crime lords are in shambles.”

  “Are they going to hit Asheevi?” asked Sigvali. “It’ll be a mess if our employer has a sudden war to fight.”

  “No. I think they’re taking a break. They have lost a lot of their own with how much they’ve thrown themselves at the enemy. I saw them retreating to the compound.”

  “This is it then.” Sigvali lifted himself to his feet. “Just one final march to Asheevi’s quarters and it’s all over.”

  Cryppe and Sigvali exchanged another glance and nodded.

  Kasar woke Vorza up.

  “Damn it,” his mentor groaned. “It’s like I just put my head on the pillow seconds ago.”

  “We have to go, Vorza,” said Kasar.

  “Aye, so we do.”

  “This is it. We’re almost done.”

  All of the men looked at each other and nodded. One final march, a discussion, and they get their voyage. Simple as that.

  ***

  They jogged to Asheevi’s place. At least at first. Kasar and Sigvali were in no physical condition for something so strenuous. Around them the estates burned. The roads lay splattered in blood, cracked from spell damage, and littered with bodies. Many of the rich and elite had either died trying to survive, or had escaped into the jungles. Some may have even switched sides to Asheevi’s side of the city. Other crime lords had taken charge and filled the power vacuum.

  “Kingdoms have fallen today,” said Sigvali. “And it’s only been a night or so.”

  “Kingdoms?” asked Cryppe.

  “Oh, yes.” Sigvali huffed as he tried to keep a steady pace. He still was weak from his captivity. “Some thug or lord tries to seize control and his ally cuts him within the hour. No friends here. Only rivals and enemies.”

  “What’s the difference?” asked Kasar.

  “Rivals have something to prove by winning.”

  ***

  They reached Asheevi’s side of town when they heard Ostrik and his crew.

  “No use sneaking, eh?” asked Ostrik. He looked like he’d been ridden over by a horde of cavalry. Kasar noticed Rend was missing a hand. Kasulta herself had a limp. “You’ll just hear us coming.”

  Kasar, Vorza, and Cryppe drew their weapons.

  Kasulta hissed in delight. Rend looked haggard and helpless. Ostrik for once was not smiling. He laid his eyes on Sigvali.

  “Out of our way, Ostrik,” said Cryppe.

  “I’m going to be blunt,” said Ostrik. “He’s mine. If you keep him, I’ll kill you all.”

  “Grab Sigvali and go,” said Kasar. “We’ll hold him.”

  “You can barely fight,” said Cryppe.

  “They can barely either.”

  “Lad’s right,” said Vorza. “You can just carry him and drop him off. Asheevi will honor our agreement, but only if you enter with him. Go now.”

  Vorza sounded angry. His memories from the spells had not vanished. Where was Dumai, they could not tell. He had survived Vorza’s battery enough to spread lies to Shaenik. Neither Devil could smell his casts, nor his presence.

  “Where’s your bard?”asked Vorza.

  Ostrik and Kasulta’s eyes spat venom at Vorza.

  “How’s his face? Can he still eat?”

  Cryppe had already grabbed Sigvali and left. He’d dropped a puff of smoke formed with Red magic where he stood to mask his position.

  “Get him!” roared Ostrik, but Kasar didn’t know if it was meant for the two of them, or Sigvali. Either way, Ostrik charged.

  Vorza leaped into the air, and slashed apart Rend’s casts against the fleeing Cryppe. Kasar staggered forward, adrenaline pumping in his heart, keeping him up. His body failed him. Too many wounds, and not enough time or Green to heal them.

  Kasulta slammed into him before he could dodge. His back hit the ground, and he could feel energy surge into Kasulta’s fists. “Let’s see if you hear this, Devil.”

  A thunderclap from her palms striking sent Kasar into the depths of agony he didn’t know existed. The world quieted around him. He wished he could rip off his face. His head wanted to pop. He couldn’t focus on anything but swirling emotions and pain like he’d never felt before.

  He didn’t know if he was screaming.

  When his eyes processed what was before him, he saw Vorza dueling with Ostrik. Rend was nowhere to be seen. Above him, Kasulta grinned as her fist rose to strike him.

  Somewhere inside of Kasar’s ailing mind, he remembered he still had hands. He still had breath. She wanted to hurt him, but he could still strike back. If not for survival, then out of spite. Kasulta noticed something on Kasar’s face.

  Pure vindictiveness..

  His fingers latched into her eyes and gouged deep. Blood streamed out of her sockets. She probably hissed. Her fists flailing, energy surging outward. She had gathered so much, but it still had to go somewhere. It released into the ground beside them.

  The ground unearthed. The shockwave launched the two. Kasar still couldn’t hear anything. All he knew was, the world spun around him for some time. The ground smacked into him and he rolled to a stop in the dirt..

  When his dizziness cleared, he could see, in the distance Vorza trying to get to Kasar. Ostrik maintained pressure on him. He suddenly smelled rancid breath. He turned to see an enraged Kasulta hurtling toward him, fists ablaze again. He dodged this time, letting her sprawl away leaving a trail of flame behind her. Kasar limped to Vorza, trying to get to him. Where was Rend? He could turn up and ruin everything with a spell if they weren’t careful.

  Curse it all, he couldn’t hear anything. He would have felt better if his eyes had been gouged instead. That may have been why he survived against Kasulta seconds ago, however. Not his skill. Her blindness. He couldn’t think straight, nor walk straight. The world felt so chaotic, yet so empty. Next thing he knew, his feet tripped. He toppled down the hill.

  Again, Kasar recovered, head spinning and throbbing from the tossing about.

  Vorza seemed to have won his duel with Ostrik. However, he now fought a host of thugs. When did they come into the battle? Irritation pricked him from his cluelessness. He was falling behind in the game of intelligence. Things were progressing too fast.

  Around him the smell of blood and the sight of war clashed around him. He spotted someone he never thought he would. Rhea covered in blood, sword in hand, and rejuvenated by purpose and hate. She hacked apart the thugs in her path. So she was the leader. She’d survived! Now she’d brought in the exact help they all needed.

  She stormed in with the freedom fighters each armed with a weapon and wearing the armor of their slavers. Vorza acted on that brief moment of relief and dashed to Kasar. He spoke to him, but Kasar couldn’t understand.

  He shook his head and pointed to his ears, tears bubbling in his eyes from the anguish..

  Vorza yanked him to his feet. He could read his lips. They roared for him to go.

  Behind Vorza, Kasulta approached, fists burning with fire. Her eyes were waterfalls of crimson.

  Vorza sensed her and pushed Kasar away. “Go!” his mouth yelled. He spun around and engaged Kasulta.

  Kasar stumbled away, the fighting around him having escalated. Now hundreds of thugs and fighters and sellswords raged on against each other. He thought it’d be a simple hike to Asheevi. He hoped Cryppe and Sigvali had made it back. He hoped Asheevi would keep her word. He wished he could be resting to fight the next fight. It had come to him too soon. He was so tired. He’d killed so much, been broken, and they’d battered him to his core.

  He just wanted to sleep.

  Kasar saw Ostrik in the distance. So he survived against Vorza. His face meant war. His eyes connected with Kasar. Half-Heart now made his way to Grimblade. Whether it was Shaenik’s men, thugs for various crime lords trying to seize control over the situation, guards, or Rhea’s men, he hacked them apart nonetheless just to get to Kasar.

  He wasn’t in any good shape himself. Vorza had slashed his left arm well enough so it now dangled, bloody and broken. He only had his one scimitar, the one bestowed unto him by the goddess Ania.

  Kasar gulped as the battle raging Ostrik engaged him.

  The young devil thanked his stars he had his saber. Vorza must have shoved it into his hand. He hadn’t even noticed. Steel clashed and Kasar realized that perhaps his hearing began to return. He could hear the ring of metal. He could hear the screams of combat. Worst of all, he began to hear Ostrik’s words.

  “I’m going to carve you,” he spat. Mumbles. Muffles. His hearing returned again. “You think you matter?” His hearing dipped. “Life is petty. Lives are cheap.” Metal clanging. Roars. And gone again only to flicker back. “Only what you do matters, and even then-” Kasar felt his saber rip free from his hands. Ostrik’s boot slammed into his chest. He rolled down the hill of rubble and bodies, landing hard on a cobbled street below. Above, the fighting raged on still.

  Ostrik flipped him over and pinned him down. A dagger appeared over the young Devil’s face.

  “Even then,” he continued. Kasar could hear better again. “You will never be enough for the billions of lives in this world. And your legacy.” He cackled. “Will die too. Mine won’t. I’ll carve you, and I’ll carve a piece of the land for my own. I win, Grim. Your memory and all you think matters dies with you. This is for Kasulta’s eyes.” Another cackle. Kasar could see the tip of the knife begin near his eye.

  He felt his saber’s hilt. It had made it near him with the fall.

  Kasar grinned. Ostrik frowned.

  It was now the Devil’s turn to be a mad man. A laugh burst through his lips as his saber slashed into Ostrik’s scalp. A chunk of his flesh severed. A splash of blood. A roar. A cackle from Kasar. Manic as Ostrik’s had been for Ostrik’s laugh was no more.

  The Devil stood upon his foe’s sword arm, crushing it under his boot. He could kill him now. He wanted to.

  “You’ll carve nothing,” roared Kasar. “Nothing but a hole for yourself to die in. You are nothing.”

  Ostrik bellowed in pain as Kasar ground his boot into the stone ground, with Ostrik’s fingers underneath.

  “I get to leave here and you get to try and find me as I know you will. Because I know you’re that pathetic!”

  “Come back Grim!”

  Kasar was already walking away. He could have killed him. But he’d won. Part of him relished the situation. He wanted Ostrik to live with the pain of having lost against him. It started as a competition. And he’d won it. A smile appeared on his face.

  He wasn’t proud of his excitement. He enjoyed it nonetheless.

  “Grim!” he roared. “Come back!” He sounded so desperate.

  His hearing had not reached its full form yet, but enough to know Ostrik was limping toward him.

  “I’m not done with you.”

  Kasar waved his hand dismissively. He could try to attack. Kasar was ready.

  “Come back, you swine!”

  “After I earn my reward, eh?” Why was this so addicting? To gain victory so sweet. Why was it so sweet? All this blood, all this pain… He should be mortified. Yet his grin continued to grow.

  “No, you don’t,” Kasar heard a voice say before bliding agony struck him like a cavalry charge.

  Kasar doubled over. The wound from Asheevi’s crossbowman. Rend had healed him, but he knew not fully. He’d figured it was due to Rend’s Soul source depleting. It was a trap from the very beginning, planted into his body. A purposeful flaw in the healing. Somewhere, Rend flexed his hand, and a flash of Red surged with pinpoint accuracy.

  Ostrik struck his fist into Kasar’s head. The young Devil fell over. Victory was so fleeting. He should have killed Ostrik. He should have left while he could, at least. He’d slowed his pace. He’d failed because the satisfaction was too great. Now he’d never reach that boat. As Ostrik’s punches rained on Kasar, he realized Vorza would lose another in his life. He would return home correct. Kasar was not long for this world. However, Kasar wouldn’t die for his naivety. He’d die for his arrogance. His rivalry. The taste of bitterness of a snatched victory, and blood flooded his mouth.

  Kasar would chuckle if he could. Ostrik wasn’t killing him. He was making him suffer.

  “This is how we found Dumai,” growled Ostrik, in his ear. There was so much blood dripping off of Ostrik’s scalp where Kasar had slashed him. Kasar couldn’t see through the grime and grit. He realized much of it was also Ostrik’s.

  “Bashed and battered to a pulp,” continued Ostrik, frothing at the mouth. “Left to die. All alone. He is a friend of mine. I’m coming for your old man next, you know? Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. I’ll let him head back to his home, settle down, maybe start a family. Then I’ll leave him and his kin to die as well.”

  Kasar now tried to fight. He couldn’t. Ostrik had him pinned. He’d been enhanced by Rend with all the vigor he was showing. Or maybe his rage drove him that far. Kasar remembered his duel with Valiki. Though Valiki had let him win, he’d channeled his own kind of power then. One powered by pain and a raw goal he had in mind.

  What was his goal now? Sigvali and Cryppe were probably with Asheevi now. Vorza would be fine on his own until he got to his ship. He never would find out what Cryppe and Sigvali had planned. Kasar could die.

  But he was angry. Oh, how he festered with rage as Ostrik spoke into his ears. Close enough to his face so his voice was his world. A world of pain. And Kasar would give it to him back, two fold. He latched onto Ostrik’s ear with his teeth and bit down hard. Ostrik roared in pain, but Kasar held on, grinding his teeth to gnaw through flesh.

  Ostrik yanked his head back and off came a chunk of his ear. Kasar spat it out with a crimson grin. Another punch sent Half-Heart to the ground. Ostrik collapsed beside him. A pool of blood they lay in, soaked to the bone. Not all of it was theirs. The battle had subsided, but so many had died. Above, Rhea and her freedom fighters hunted down the stragglers.

  No mercy for those who’d shackle them. They had their choice. Rhea and her fighters now made theirs.

  Rhea pinned down a fleeing sellsword. He begged. Kasar could even hear the words as his hearing returned to full form. He could hear that he had a son. She spat in his face and slit his throat.

  “I killed him too, I bet,” she said. She moved onto the next batch who raised their hands to surrender. Kasar felt as if she’d personally slapped him with the seething contempt in her voice.

  “Wait please!” another one cried. “We were just-” She thrusted her sword into his gut. Ripping it free, she moved onto the others who fled.

  Kasar tried to get her and her fighters to stop. The senseless killing forced the sellswords and thugs to pick up arms and fight. If they were to die, they’d die with blades in hand. So many freedom fighters died when they didn’t have to. The battle would have been over. They should have captured them and moved on.

  One fighter lay bleeding out, no healer paying him heed. He raised his hand to Rhea to call for help. In the carnage, no one listened. They just kept killing.

  “Stop,” croaked Kasar. What drive did he have now? What rage? Just a helpless watcher.

  Ostrik rose beside him, having recovered his breath. “You have a fight in you, Grim.” He cupped his ear. “I really want to hurt you more.” He loomed over Kasar. “I like it.” Ostrik had more blood on his flesh than skin the way he looked. Kasar couldn’t say he looked any better based on how he felt..

  Had he accepted death like the ones Rhea and her fighters slew? Or would he die fighting? The bite had been thrilling. The satisfaction of it sparked something inside him again. Oh, yes, he’d fight.

  Ostrik’s thumbs neared his eyes to gouge them out. Kasar gnashed with his teeth. He flinched back and sent another fist to his face. Again he wrapped his thumbs around to sink deep into his sockets. Kasar continued to gnash and bite and swivel his head from side to side. What sadistic animals they were.

  Then something strange happened. Ostrik didn’t hurt Kasar. He looked up and bore fear in his eyes. A hand grabbed him and yanked him to his feet.

  “We have to go!” It was Rend. His eyes met Kasar’s. He could see pity in them. “Asheevi’s men are coming now. Battle’s over.”

  “Grim!” roared Ostrik.

  Rend whispered in Ostrik’s ears. He didn’t channel Blue to mask the words either. He wanted Kasar to hear. “Let him live. He won’t come for you. But you can always hunt him down.”

  “Or I cut him now,” spat Ostrik. He could barely stand. Rend practically held him up himself.

  “There’s money to be had with him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Shaenik.”

  “Shaenik is finished.”

  “You think a man of his talents wouldn’t have backup.”

  Ostrik smiled like a drunkard now. He was losing consciousness. So was Kasar. All that blood loss. His vision blurred.

  Ostrik stabbed Rend with his finger. “Bet he can hold a grudge too, eh?”

  “Yeah. Now we go, Ostrik,” said Rend. Ostrik couldn’t argue if he wanted to. With that, he left and Kasar left the world of the waking. He didn’t want to awaken, but just for thinking that. He knew he would.