Chapter Text
A loud explosion booms through the air, followed by sounds of falling rubble.
“Sounds like they’ve begun. It’s a shame though, we’re nearly finished here.”
Stark's head spins as he rests against a fallen tree. Not even 5 minutes with the demon. Linie, she was called. And the boy was already ready to call it quits. He tried to take a few steadying breaths, but a sharp pain in his right side has him panting shallowly through his teeth.
“Perhaps I’ll observe their battle. Lord Lügner gets cross when I interfere.”
Stark leans forward, bracing his hands on the ground. That’s right, Fern was up there, battling against Lügner all by herself. He knew she could handle herself. But…the least he could do was stop Linie from joining them.
Stark’s vision blurs as he shifts into a crouch. He was determined to stall her for at least a few more minutes.
“Oh?” Linie says out of surprise as Stark climbs to his feet.
What was it with demons and underestimating people? “We’re not-” Stark chokes out, “finished yet.” His voice is strained and he wobbles a bit on his feet. Yet, he hefts up his axe and prepares for an attack.
“You’re tough.” Linie says, as she twirls her axe with ease. “Perhaps I’ll be able to enjoy this a little.”
Without another word, Linie leaps into the air and slices the axe down at him. Stark dodges, moving backwards to create distance between them. The quick movement pulls at his side, and Stark clamps a hand over his ribs. He’s not sure what’s wrong, exactly, but it doesn’t feel fatal. Hopefully.
Stark continues to back away, buying himself some time. Across from him, Linie seems to be enjoying herself. She slowly stalks towards him, flipping the battle axe in her hands and spinning it deftly. Stark wonders where she’s learned the proper technique to wield this blade. It was a skill that took him many years to learn, and only because he had a great master.
Apparently tired of waiting, Linie’s walk turns into a run, and then finally a jump. Stark feels the air ruffle his clothing. He looks up to track Linie’s movement through the sky. She appears weightless for a moment, her blonde hair flowing and catching the moonlight. She would look almost…well… angelic. Except for the whole being-a-demon thing. The big horns on top of her head were hard to ignore.
In one fluid movement, the demon plummets to the ground and swings the axe towards him. This time, Stark brings up his own axe to defend. With a second to spare, Stark widens his stance and braces his arms for the blow.
Their weapons connect with a loud clang. A shockwave reverberates through Stark’s arms, making them feel wobbly. However, Stark is not thrown off balance in the slightest. It was almost as if…Linie was going easy on him.
Stark continues to analyze her as they battle. Each time Linie strikes, Stark meets the blow with his own axe or quickly pulls to the side. Linie’s blows are repetitive, and light-handed. Although she seems plenty capable of killing him, Linie seems more focused on prolonging the battle.
I can do this, Stark thinks. I’ll hold her off until I can get a good shot, or until Fern can come blast a hole through the demon.
But as soon as Stark has the thought, he hears Lügner’s pompous voice ringing down from the battlement.
“Linie, what are you doing?” Stark looks up to see Lügner surrounded by a shield of his own blood. Fern’s attacks slowly penetrate the barrier, but Lügner is quick to rebuild them. “Hurry up and defeat him!”
Stark looks back to Linie and he backs up quickly, prepared for the demon to change her strategy. Sure enough, Linie jumps and twirls in the air, managing to kick Stark in the face while she’s at it. His head snaps to the side, but he notices her arm still swinging and Stark brings up his axe just in time to block a blade to the side. The force knocks him to the ground, but he’s back up instantly and running away from her.
Her attacks were ramping up. In speed and also in power. And yet, there was some kind of familiarity in her movements.
“Honestly, how selfish.” Linie murmurs, sounding bored. “He’s refusing to do anything but fight defensively.”
So she was on to him then. Stark breaks into a sprint, and Linie soars through the sky behind him. There is a moment of quiet, where Stark can only hear the sound of his own footsteps.
Until the butt of Linie’s axe comes down hard on the ground beneath him, and Stark flips forward. He lands on his feet, but Linie is already closing the distance behind him. Unlike before, there is a new desperation to Linie’s movements. He isn’t able to run away from her attacks any longer.
Linie swings again, this time slicing through the back on Stark’s red jacket. He dives to avoid her attack, and ends up on the ground. Catching his breath for a moment, he hears a whoosh of air as Linie leaps up again. The height she could achieve, and the heft of the swing. It was not normal. It took decades of training. Centuries even.
She swings the axe at his head and he dodges to the side, but Linie twists the blade at the last moment, slashing across Stark’s eye. Now this was particularly familiar. Red hot pain cuts through his face, and the blood spills immediately, pooling on the ground. Stark is scared that he might have lost his eye, but what is even more worrying is how Linie knew to use that move on him. He covers the wound with his hand.
Stark groans, body feeling heavy from the pain and blood loss. It was nothing close to the time Eisen struck him. But it still hurt.
“How are you wielding your axe like that?” He asks while removing his hand, testing movement in his eye. “Those are my master’s techniques.”
Linie stares back at him with a blank expression. “I’m skilled at reading mana,” she says. In proof, she dissolves the battle axe. Stark blinks and opens his eyes to find Linie pointing a sword at him.
“I memorize the flow of mana inside a person when they move,” She answers, and swings the sword in a seemingly practiced motion. “And imitate their movements.”
Now she was approaching him, twirling and swinging the sharp blade at his head. “Just like this.”
Stark tries to keep up as Linie throws relentless attacks at him, but it’s taking all his energy to not get hit. It doesn’t help that blood keeps trickling into his right eye, making it hard to see. He creates distance between them when he can, buying time. It only serves to encourage Linie more.
Linie swings her sword at Stark again, and he ducks beneath her blade. He watches helplessly as a few hairs are trimmed from the top of his head. At least the hair is all she cut off, Stark thinks. He meets an overhead attack with the shaft of his axe and grunts, fighting against Linie’s strength.
Linie twirls around him in an effortless dance. Stark has to twist and bend his body to meet her blows. Linie swings furiously, and their weapons meet in a loud clash, throwing sparks in every direction. Stark, unfortunately, is sent hurtling backwards. He yells when his back hits the floor, side flaring in pain and taking the breath from his lungs.
He feels helpless as he watches Linie jump into the air before him and trade her weapon for a long spear. She throws it in perfect form towards his heart. Stark manages to roll away, but not before the blade slices through his coat and leaves a deep cut in his upper arm.
Stark grits his teeth, rolling onto his side and trying to maintain control of his breathing. He doesn’t get the chance to, because Linie is already over him, brandishing the spear.
Stark wriggles out from under her and hoists himself up. He forces his body into a run, even though his lungs and side are aching, and he’s starting to feel a bit fuzzy from the blood loss. Unfortunately, it seems that his luck has run out from evading Linie’s attacks.
Before he can make it far, Linie generates a small throwing blade and hurls it towards him. Stark leans back to avoid getting decapitated. The blade lightly grazes his throat and spills more blood onto his shirt.
Stark chokes a little and looks back at Linie in terror. He feels his body begin to shake at how close she was to killing him.
Linie speaks again with her cold and unfeeling voice. “I knew it from the first time I saw your movements at the mansion.” She was crouched before him unmoving, yet her words were an attack of their own.
“They’re the same as those of the powerful warrior I once memorized.”
Stark was confused. How was it possible that she knew Eisen’s technique? When did she have the time to learn it?
And the thought of his mentor, of the disgrace Linie put to his name… It was enough to compel Stark to swing. His defenses weren’t working anyway. Maybe this could bring a change of power to the battle.
Despite his fast and practiced swing, Linie’s response is immediate. She jumps away from his blade and leaps into the air. Stark’s axe embeds itself in the ground where Linie just stood. Her unharmed body soars above him, and she summons her own axe again.
Well…shit.
“Coincidences really do happen,” she continues. “Fate is an interesting thing.”
Her axe comes down heavy on Stark, leaving his arms straining to keep it from coming closer.
“You don’t mean,” Stark grits out. He had to be sure.
She answers simply, “I am imitating the movements of Eisen the Warrior”
“Seriously?” He says under his breath. “This is crazy.” He uses his axe to twist Linie’s to the side, relieving the pressure on his arms. His body starts tilting towards the ground, but somehow he stays up. Seeing Linie pause, Stark raises up his axe in defence. Okay, so attacking her didn’t work. He just needed to keep waiting her out then.
Linie, obliging, doesn’t wait for a second before she hoists up her axe and swings for his head. He moves to block.
Well, he thought she was swinging for his head. But her axe goes a bit lower than he expected. Just like Eisen, changing up a predictable attack at the last moment. He should’ve studied harder.
“I can’t win this fight,” he realizes, before her axe breaks through his guard and comes crashing down on his right shoulder. Stark yells in pain and crashes to the ground, legs giving out beneath him. The ground cracks from the pressure, sending dust up in every direction. Blood spurts from Stark’s shoulder and seeps into the dirt beneath him. His vision starts to blacken at the edges.
And now, he really feels it. The defeat. The sense that there is not a single thing he can do to save himself.
Stark exhales painfully, and lets his body still on the ground. It hurts less this way, if he just stays still and stops fighting.
Linie stands before his trembling form and dissipates her weapon.
“He finally fell,” she states simply. “I must hurry. Lord Lügner will be upset with me again.” She turns and walks back towards the castle, leaving the boy sprawled out on the earth.
Fell, have I fallen? Stark wonders. He feels his life pouring out onto the dusty earth beneath him. He feels his head spin, blood pounding in his ears, and he starts forgetting why he is here.
But there’s something familiar clawing at the back of his mind. Something forgotten.
His defenses gone, it's all he can do to be consumed by the memory.
“Stand up, Stark,” comes Eisen’s voice in his right ear.
The warrior-in-training is sprawled on the ground, muscles tight with exertion. Eisen lightly taps Stark’s butt using the sparring stick, making the boy flinch.
“No matter how battered you get, you cannot fall.” He reminds him. Eisen’s long facial hair twitches as he speaks.
“Yeah, but there’s no way I can beat you,” Stark replies. He braces his arms on the ground and shakily pushes himself up, keeping his back turned to his mentor. The day is beautiful, sunlight shining through the trees and lighting up the outside of Eisen’s wooden cabin.
“Of course you can’t,” Eisen says simply.
Stark turns back towards him, but Eisen continues.
“I’m stronger than you.”
“Then-” Stark interrupts.
“But,” Eisen continues, looking up at Stark’s face, “You got back up. That means you haven’t lost yet.”
“What kind of logic is that?” Stark asks dejectedly.
Eisen isn’t phased by his reaction. “Stark, I’ll teach you the secret to defeating powerful opponents.” Eisen grips the sparring stick tighter. “It’s simple. Keep getting back up and hitting them. For warriors, whoever’s still standing at the end is the winner.”
Stark allows a moment to ground himself. His ears are ringing, but he can still hear trees rustling in the wind and the distant sounds of battle above. He can feel the wetness of the ground beneath him, seeping into his clothes. It was warm, and sticky. His head pounds, but feels less foggy. In order to prove himself as a warrior, he must heed Eisen’s advice. He must rise to face his opponent, and continue to fight until the end. Until he’s the only one standing. He just wishes it didn’t have to be so hard.
“Damn it, Master.”
Stark grits his teeth and starts pushing to his feet. He winces as his ribs send a jolt of pain down his body, and he straightens quickly. But the quick movement also worsens the headache he has, making his vision go dark for a few seconds. Maybe the blood loss was getting to him.
Linie halts her steps.
“You and your weird logic,” Stark says to himself. He shuts his eyes tightly and blinks to clear the remaining spots from his vision. “I guess your brain’s made of muscles, like the rest of you.”
Linie turns back to him. “You should’ve just stayed down. You already lost.”
Stark looks up to meet her eyes, determination growing. “I’m still standing.” He says, body tensing and preparing for battle. “Besides, I remember now. My master’s blows were heavier.”
She says nothing, but Stark thinks he can see a hint of irritation. Or, excitement.
“Yours are just imitations after all,” he finishes.
At that, Linie summons the axe back to her hands, and drops the blade into the ground. She drags it slowly in his direction, pulling up dirt.
“Then I will use those imitations to send you to your end.” She yanks up the axe and points the blade at his face, crouching down into a fighting position.
“Erfassen,” she calls, summoning the imitation spell. Stark imagines her turning into Eisen. Which move would she imitate next?
Sparks rain down from the sky as somewhere in the distance, Fern and Lügner’s mana collide in a deadly firework display.
It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to find out.
Before Linie can move to attack, Stark dashes towards her. With showers of energy falling around him, Stark leaps into the air. He feels time slow, peering down at Linie from above.
Her expression is the same dull, bored one she’s worn all night. There was only one move Stark could use to destroy her. And it might cost him everything.
Stark grips his axe tightly in both hands. Just as he reaches the peak of his jump, Stark heaves the axe behind his head. His shoulder screams in pain, but Stark doesn’t let his grip loosen.
He thinks there might be shock on Linie’s face, surprised he would leave himself so open for attack.
Stark starts to fall back to the ground, and swings his blade. But the next thing he knows, Linie is driving her axe into his left side. Blood spurts from the wound, but Linie didn’t strike hard enough to kill him. At least, not enough to kill him immediately.
Stark forces himself to keep the blade raised. Linie’s axe was still embedded in his side.
“I was prepared for us to kill each other,” He chokes out. “But I shouldn’t have been so scared. Your attacks don’t have any weight behind them at all.”
“Lightning Strike!” Stark calls, as he puts every bit of remaining energy into the swing.
Linie pulls out her blade, but it’s too late.
Stark’s arms and core whip down the axe at an impossible speed. Lightning crackles and cleaves a line straight through Linie with a thunderous BOOM. Stark thinks he sees a hint of fear in her eyes, but he can’t be sure.
The lightning strike carries far into the trees behind Linie, singeing the greenery and causing a burning smell to fill the air. In front of him, though, Linie’s body disintegrates into the night air, becoming nothing more than dust. It all happens so fast. Within moments, Stark finds himself alone in the forest clearing.
“Linie!” Lügner's voice carries over from the battlement.
She was gone, just like that.
Which meant…
Stark falls to his knees. Which meant he could take a break.
Stark finds his vision darkening and his center of gravity shifting backwards. There’s a whole lot of spinning going on. Somehow he ends up on his back, eyes closed. He has the sense to start putting some pressure on his side.
Distantly, Stark clenches his right hand around the wound as best as he can, and floats his way into unconsciousness.