Penitent
Chapter 92: The Wrong Martyr

They all looked at one another and at her, unsure of whether or not they should go for their blades.

She laughed, a bold, loud, laugh that echoed across the cavern they were in. The laughter turned to coughing after a few moments and Jakub handed her his flask again so that she could clear her throat. She handed it back after she’d settled, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve.

“Well, your timing is absolutely wonderful I have to say. Truly couldn’t be more ideal.” She shook her head. “You poor unlucky bastards.”

“Seems like our misfortune is to your benefit,” said Davi.

She shrugged, “That’s true. Now I get to have my second death a little more slowly than I was expecting.”

Lance was looking out of the bubble, peering into the darkness to see if he could find the creature that had attacked them.

“The monster. Tell me what you know of it,” he said, not looking toward her.

“Well, it’s definitely going to kill you, first of all,” she said.

Lance turned to look at her, his eyes intense, a bit of the mania Michael had seen in him months ago peering back through.

She swallowed a bit as she assessed the look in his eyes. “It started attacking us the moment we reached this chamber. Most were cut down before they could even react. A few ran, but I heard them die as well. Cyrus…” She shuddered. “I think the creature left him hurt and screaming to try and draw the rest of us out to help him.”

“Meu deus,” muttered Davi, shaking his head.

Francesca’s head whipped toward him. “You’re from Earth?” she asked.

He went to answer, but Lance held up a hand and shook his head.

“You’re those poor bastards that they force to fight in their wars.”

“Better than being slaves,” said Ollie.

She laughed, and switched to speaking italian, "Parli italiano?"

"No," replied Davi.

"Of course I have to speak English, can't even escape that in a whole other world. Is that what they tell you? That we're enslaved? Even if that was true, how is that any different from what they do to you?”

“Unless you have something to tell us that involves the monster, stop talking,” said Lance.

She smiled at him and switched back to Hume. “Or what? You’ll kill me? If you went through this much effort, you’re here to take me alive. If you were here to kill me though, what difference is it to me if you off me or the creature does?”

Lance grimaced, unable to form a response, then shook his head. “You want to get out of here just as much as we do. Please, for now, just tell me whatever you can that might help us escape. We need to get out of here.”

The woman paused, surprised by the sincerity in Lance’s voice. “Fine. From what I can tell it’s almost impossible to damage and very fast. The first time we encountered it, it was perfectly hidden against the wall before it struck.”

“So it’s durable, powerful, and intelligent enough to try and manipulate us. Can it speak? Be reasoned with?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t heard it say anything, and I’ve tried to communicate with it multiple times.”

“Hmmm, we’ll need to consid-”

Michael found himself unable to focus on what anyone was saying anymore, his attention moving toward the statue in front of him. This was the first one he’d seen that wasn’t destroyed. He could still hear gentle whispering coming from it.

~Champion~protector~survivor~redeemer~

The words didn’t form sentences, but it wasn’t hard to read their meaning. He looked more closely at the statue. The figure was beautiful as he’d been able to tell that even from a distance. She had high cheekbones and her hair was tied back in an elaborate braiding style. There was something regal about her. He ran a hand along the stone of her plinth, finding it warm to the touch, and incredibly smooth. He felt that whoever had carved her had done so with love and devotion. He moved around to the front of the statue, where he saw writing that he immediately recognized.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

Seras,

The lady of Iron

Defender of the weak

She who shields

“Seras,” he muttered, feeling a kind of warmth blossoming in his chest as he said it. He placed a hand on the words and felt the heat in his hand he’d grown so used to. He divined the statue and saw it glow brilliantly with golden words infusing every part of it. He could hear the others planning behind him. Most of it amounted to throwing a few spells, shooting a gun, and running like hell. He kept his hand on the stone and closed his eyes, bowing his head.

Seras, Lady of Iron, Defender of the Weak, She who Shields, please grant us your protection and give us the strength to survive this.

He felt warmth spread through his body and the words he was hearing shifted again.

~Devote~consecrate~pledge~vow~

Michael listened to the words for a few moments, but didn’t quite understand what it was telling him. Still, he felt calm and relaxed, which was a far cry from how that creature had left him feeling moments earlier. He turned his attention to the others.

“-attrition. We can just keep drawing him out, shooting or throwing spells at him, and then Michael can heal us if we get hurt. We have the benefit of a healer, and it doesn’t,” finished Marcus.

“It’s a good plan, but we don’t have the time. We have a day if we’re lucky. Once more Tusinians show up we’ll be captured and likely hanged even if we survive the monster,” replied Lance, who was practically vibrating with eagerness to get out of there, his hand grasping the hilt of the sword at his waist tightly.

Francesca was watching him warily, eating some dried fruit that Pyotr had given her.

Michael stepped forward. “What if I draw it off?” he said.

“No,” replied Ollie. “None of that self martyring shit.”

“When it realized I was healing you, it targeted me directly. Maybe if I can draw its attention long enough, the rest of you would be able to get out.

“No,” said Pyotr this time. “Ollie is right, none of that.”

“It’s not like I’m going to try to die,” said Michael. “I’m the only one who could draw if off for a good amount of time. I can continuously heal myself, fight, and run longer than the rest of you.”

His friends shook their heads and crossed their arms.

Lance on the other hand was looking at him sorrowfully, as if the decision had already been made.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“No, he’s not sure,” replied Marcus, stepping between them.

“...please,” came a soft voice from behind Lance.

They all turned to see Jakub looking down at the ground.

“I just want to go back home. I miss my Dad. I miss my sister. I didn’t mind fighting men, but this… I want to live.”

Michael moved over to him past Lance and placed a hand on his shoulder. Jakub had taken everything stoically and treated him far more kindly than most of the other students he knew at the academy. He was ready with his sword and his shield at their side since they'd been travelling as well.

“You will.” He looked at the others. “I’m doing this.”

“Come on, even if we do get out we don’t know that the creature won’t just follow us. This could be pointless,” said Marcus.

“It didn’t attack my camp,” said Francesca, her voice steadier with a meal in her. “We had no idea it was here until we came into this particular cavern.”

Michael unclasped his helmet and placed it over his head.

“The longer we wait, the weaker we’ll be. We have limited food and water as it is. We should go now.”

Lance nodded. “I agree.” He looked at Michael. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said as he started to move toward the bubble that protected them, looking around carefully for the creature.

The others stood with him, and came up with a plan. First, Michael would move out into the cavern to draw its attention. Davi would carry Francesca as the strongest of them. Jakub would lead the way out with Crick. Pyotr and Lance would bring up the rear.

Michael took a step out of Seras’s protection, his shield and sword ready and his head on a swivel. None of them had been able to locate the monster in the darkness. He raised his sword hand, making it glow with golden light.

“Move!” Marcus yelled behind him.

He threw himself forward as the obsidian monster slammed down onto the ground where he’d just been standing. He parried a bladeswipe with his shield and slashed at the beast’s stomach, but it caught the blow with one of its other hands. Michael changed tactics and let the creature rake across his chestplate with its claws, ignoring it as he slashed at its stomach, managing a shallow cut across it, crossing the one that Lance had left earlier. He continued to attack, letting the monster hit him with anything non-lethal so that he could focus on getting some hits in. The pain was immense as he was covered in wounds he could only barely seal before another was opened, but he was managing a few superficial wounds on the creature as well, which he hoped would be enough to let him hold its attention.

He considered letting it injure him worse so that he could attempt to transfer whatever pain he endured back to it, but it was taking all of his focus to be able to block it's blows. If he took that moment to divide his focus he might be eviscerated before being able to manage anything.

After managing a small cut on the creature’s face he turned to run, the monster following him closely as he made his way for a tunnel at the far end of the chamber, opposite the exit. He nearly reached the tunnel when the others started to make their way to the other exit.

The monster made a kind of rapid clicking noise that sounded almost like laughter and Michael turned around in horror as it ignored him completely and made its way for the others.

“No!” he yelled.

They all turned to see the creature approaching. They were halfway to the exit and it was moving specifically to cut them off from the statue.

Lance and Pyotr moved to intercept it, trying to give Jakub, Crick, and Davi time to rally, but it moved right past them.

Jakub barely managed to raise his shield as the monster’s sword arm snapped out, severing his head from his neck.

Everyone was frozen for a moment in shock, and the creature laughed again. It opened its mouth in a wide sharp toothed grin.

“I was listening,” is said in a voice like nails scraping stone.