Chapter 27: The Great Plunge.


    The people had filed out of the town hall, and with them followed the void-stuffing noise that Nero had come to grow fond of.


    He’d found himself feeding off of the hope that lit up behind their eyes at the sight of him. They believed he could save Stradale, and because of them, he believed he could as well.


    With them gone however, there was only the cold practicality of Selvas and the hot pessimism of Cain.


    The trio sat uncomfortably in their chairs, and Nero didn’t want to be the one to break the grating silence with talk of whatever laid on the horizon for Stradale and its people.


    He got the feeling no one else did, Cain however was the first to speak, though her words weren’t necessarily the ones he expected. “A Light Imp.” She muttered. He hadn’t thought the woman could express surprise, he’d figured she alternated between hate and malice and sometimes, when she was feeling particularly adventurous, spite.


    “In the flesh.” Ember giggled bashfully. “Well not flesh exactly, more like, fiery, magic thingy.”


    When the people were still here, more time than Nero would have preferred was spent on Ember being the centre of attention. A bit unfair given that he was the actual Light Breather and she his sidekick, but whatever.


    From being utterly invisible to the world to having so many people focused on her, Nero was worried she wouldn’t be able to handle the attention.


    It turned out, she thrived in it. The Imp seemed to have been waiting for this very moment, answering whichever and whatever questions came flying her way without a second thought or a minute’s rest.


    Nero didn’t know why people had suddenly begun seeing her, maybe it had to do with him getting better with his Light Breathing or more people knowing he was the Light Breather, but whatever the reason, it certainly lifted a whole lot of spirits.


    Cain’s, it seemed, were not among them. “We’re truly at the end of a Cycle, and it just had to start where I came to get away from it all.” The woman’s lips curled like she’d tasted something bitter and was being forced to swallow. She was pissed, angry but most concerning of all… scared?


    “What’s a Cycle?” Nero found himself hesitantly asking. The instant both pairs of eyes set on him he felt his gut twist, his heart burn and his fist clench. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t in danger anymore, that he could ask questions, at least here.


    Cain answered. “Some say it''s a couple thousand years, some say five thousand, a few say million, though those ones are more than likely idiots. The point is at the end of a Cycle the status quo between humans and Demons is decided, do we decide our own destiny, or are we their playthings.”


    “The last one was the one where the previous Light Breather turned on humanity.” Nero supplied, and felt an odd sense of guilt at that. A foolish reaction, he wasn’t responsible for that, he wasn’t even alive when it happened. A question bloomed alongside the guilt however. “Has humanity ever won?”


    Selvas shrugged. “If we have, it’s too far back in the past for it to be recorded. Maybe the Demons would know, they’re the ones with multi millenia long lives and access to history books, not us.”


    His eyes shifted to Ember and her expression did not contradict Selvas’.


    He caught Cain staring at him from the corner of his eyes and turned sharply to meet her gaze. There was something uneasy about her stare, like she was trying to peer into the substance of his soul and peel away its layers. Nero felt a part of him recoil. “You think I’m going to betray you.” He noted, direct and pointed.


    Cain was as still as a statue. “I don’t know what to think kid, but deciding on which path you’re going to take this early on would be stupid of me.”


    In other words, you’re going to keep a hawkish eye on me and cut me down the moment you think I’ll flip.


    Would he flip?


    It would be the smart thing to do, if Selvas was right and humanity had lost practically every single time, then why would he tie himself to a sinking ship?


    Nero felt himself putting his familiar, snug skin-preserving boots on and didn’t take them off. Instead he stopped halfway. He didn’t have to make a decision on whether or not he’d plan a world shaking revolution now, especially when he knew so little about the world as was.


    He’d save Stradale.


    That he could do, that he wanted to do.


    Save Selvas.


    Everything else was tertiary.


    “Let’s focus on what’s ahead of us.” Nero pressed, trying to ease the tension. He was good at it usually but with these two specifically he found himself wishing Gunther was here. Sadly he wasn’t, he was tending to the numerous injured in the town.


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    Thankfully the survival of their town was a strong enough motivator to get them moving onto subjects that weren’t a question of where Nero’s loyalty ultimately laid.


    “The Circle will check in on Stradale weekly with a message sent by Corvix.” Cain noted.


    Nero remembered what Corvix’ were, raven-like creatures with eyes on their wings instead of heads. They were common enough birds around Stradale but he hadn’t guessed that they were also used to send messages.


    “We’ll need a way to keep them from knowing we’ve revolted.” Selvas replied, then continued with hard eyes on Nero. “During some long hunts I’ve come across rebel towns, the Circle makes an example out of everyone, man, woman, child, anything that so much as breathed will be made into a reminder of why we humans are better off licking Demon boots. And those are the ones that failed, we actually somehow pulled it off.”


    Nero didn’t know what to do with those purple eyes on him, so he averted his gaze and looked at Cain. Her gaze, expectedly, was even less comforting, but it had something incubating behind it. An idea.


    She gave it voice soon enough. “I can forge the Chieftain’s signature, write letters to tell them everything’s going well.”


    “And that’ll keep us safe?” Nero asked, hopeful.


    “Not for long.” Cain answered, trampling over his hope with as much grace as a speeding truck. “Sooner or later, they’ll send someone over and there’s little we can do to keep up the charade then.”


    “How long do we have?” Nero asked, killing hope and thrusting himself fully into the arms of reality.


    “A couple of weeks, a month at best.” Cain shrugged, though from her, the gesture seemed impossibly grim somehow. Like an oracle resigning their people to damnation.


    “Two weeks.” Nero hissed. “That’s not great.” What could they possibly do in two weeks? Weeks ago, Nero had paid attention to the guards, gangers. hunters, labourers, fighters and any other profession who had a disproportionate amount of Might and more to find that Stradale had about a hundred Mighty. With the guards and with the number of hunters killed, Stradale had significantly less Mighty men left, and many of those that remained would still be recovering from their wounds.


    Nero tugged at his mind for answers, looking at the problem from every which way it came and could find none that truly seemed to withstand much testing. They could stand their ground and prepare but something told him Stradale could not repel what the Demons were ready to throw at a town which killed one of their own.


    Only one thing seemed to hold even a sliver of a chance against the tide of fuck that was heading their way. “We can ask for help, yes?” Surely there were other towns and people who were free, who would support their cause and help them fend off an assault.


    Selvas’ eyes narrowed in on him and he felt like she was looking at him from another angle. There was a mix of fascination, stupefaction and plain curiosity in that gaze. “You really are from another world aren’t you.”


    Cain chose a blunter approach. “No one is going to help us.” She said, then drummed a finger against her chair. “But there’s quite a few idiots who are just desperate enough to die for our cause.”


    Selvas hummed in agreement. “A good number of hunters will come over for the right price.”


    Cain shook her head as if wrestling between thoughts. “That’ll help, but if you want to withstand a Circle force, you’ll need heavier hitters than a bunch of desperate hunters.”


    Selvas’s face scrunched up in thought for a half moment. “The Death Rattle crew could help.”


    Cain began a snicker then caught herself mid way. “Oh, shit you’re serious.”


    Nero didn’t appreciate being lost. “Who are the Death Rattle?”


    “A small group of bandits, thieves and all around the worst people you may have the pleasure of meeting.” Cain helpfully informed him. “Each one of them can easily take on a Crimson, but they’ll cost a lot to even convince to help us, and that’s if they don’t decide to turn us in for a better price instead.”


    Crimsons… That brought memories of Nero being tortured by a man in blood-red armor.


    “We don’t have much of a choice.” Selvas pointed out matter of factly.


    Cain bit her teeth. “I suppose we don’t.” She sighed. The woman often had a look to her, like she hoped to god her next fight would be her last and was disappointed that the previous one wasn’t. She was strong, stronger than him even, and yet she always seemed so, so tired. “Where did you hear they were last?” Cain asked.


    “Dolore.” She said, looked at Nero and then elaborated. “A city maybe a week or two from here.” She explained.


    Cain winced as if she’d just gotten even more bad news. Her next words were heavy for a reason Nero could not place. “Well, just try not to draw attention to yourselves.”


    Cain wouldn’t be coming, she had to deal with forging signatures and letters.


    Much of the rest of the conversation was a matter of logistics. It wasn’t all bad, the crystals they’d be giving to their defenders wouldn’t be coming from the hands of the people of Stradale. The Chieftain had a huge stash of riches that would be put to good use now.


    Still, it was money that could have been given to the people instead, now it would be used to keep their heads from sitting atop pikes.


    Nero was busy packing for the journey to Dolore when he felt something click behind him and the hinge of his door creak open.


    His hands were alight within moments, eyes turned on the target and mind filled with thoughts of violence and death.


    There was a huge man in front of him, powerful, terrifying, but today, tonight, Selvas’ father was no threat. He had a runed bandage wrapped around his head but all in all, he seemed to have come out of the fight with the Demon better than Nero had.


    “Executioner.” Nero greeted and the light died in his palms.


    “Just Alfie.” He corrected, eyes creasing with guilt, and Nero felt a fool for calling him that.


    “Of course.” He corrected. “Alfie.” He nodded. Somehow the man looked different without the shackles around him. Taller for one, brighter, but somehow more feeble? Nero couldn’t imagine the thoughts that were going through his head, the things he had done at the whims of that monster. He was thankful he couldn’t.


    “I’d like to say thank you.”


    It was an expected reply, one that Nero had been hearing quite a lot since he’d killed the Demon that wreaked havoc upon their town. People looked at him with bright eyes and an adoring smile, as if he was some sort of hero.


    Normally, he’d roll with it, not just because it made things easier for the people to see what they wanted to see but because much value could come from being viewed as a demigod. And Nero was an expert in looking out for himself.


    This time however, when talking to a man who’d been made into a weapon of destruction for the monster he’d killed, Nero chose honesty.


    “I appreciate it, but really, I think everything I did, I did for Selvas.” Nero told him.


    “I know.” Alfie said with a warm smile. “And I’m thanking you for that.”


    Nero opened his mouth, shut it, then nodded.


    He watched Alfie leave the room on heavy legs, turned and finished up his packing.


    He’d survived Stradale, but now he had the rest of Limbo waiting for him.