Knights Apocalyptica

“One of the first things required for proper enfolding within our Order is establishing the four disciplines in our youth.

Discipline to self.

Discipline to those above.

Discipline to the Church.

Discipline to the Goddess.

It often takes far too long for our initiates to understand each of these as they need to. They must live and breathe these values, to live a virtuous life.”

- Grandmaster Flames, Speech To Faculty (301, 3rd Era)

A few hours after the Rift closed, the assault ended.

Bedwyr dragged Erec along; he shook in his shredded Armor. Held on with a thin trace of consciousness of life, but only that. A dim spark persisted through the blood loss, burning everything away for power.

Rows of dead lined the outskirts of the encampment. The monsters slaughtered over a hundred Knights in the fighting, despite the presence of multiple Master Knights. The surprise Rift and speed of the Renders invading their backline caused an unprecedented loss.

Erec dimly saw a priest take control of his wellbeing—a man with haunted eyes and a trace of fear as he looked at him.

Then, he slipped into blissful darkness.

— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

[A day away.]

VAL’s voice came in and out of his mind. Brief flashes of lucidity as he drifted between unconsciousness and awareness. He saw the priest gaze at him with concern, running their thumb over their holy pendant—Often he saw Garin at his side. Once, even Bedwyr.

[Wake up.]

Ah, but the dreams.

They kept calling him.

In them, he walked a long trail with an axe in hand. To either side came horrors; he’d kill, maim, and dismember. With each step, more death was left behind, filling in the trail with a long line of corpses in his wake. Miles, all of it under a red sky. At the end of the path was a White Stag. It's hateful eyes witnessing. Watching. Let it see. Watch him kill another.

[Wake up.]

He was almost to the creature. To the slaughterer. Would it like the taste of his axe? He wanted to bathe in its blood.

[GET UP]

— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

His body convulsed as a shock ran through it; Erec’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as sweet air flooded his lungs. Everything shook; he was draped in a white cloth, and the air stank of death.

Erec pushed his way up in the bedroll—everything hurt. His whole body was in pain, and about a third of him was wrapped in bandages stained with dirt and blood; a priest stared at him, their dark eyes mysterious as they stared into his soul. Erec let out a wracking cough; his vision blurred for a second before focusing on the man as his memories returned.

He’d watched Alister die.

The image stained his mind as he watched the monster tear through the helpless Knight Errant.

This man had been there too.

“You’ve used a heretic’s weapon,” the man whispered, his voice scratchy, the noise of it almost unfamiliar; his fingers shook as he clutched a chain. A small silver pendant of a flame swung below.

All Erec’d heard in his dreams was the sound of his own heart. That constant beat of blood. He stared at the other man, letting himself come back together. On one level, he understood the words, yet they drifted by like smoke from a fire.

Fury’d never been like that before. It’d never truly consumed him so utterly.

“I did.” Erec got out after puzzling over the language; there wasn’t a point in denying it. Would he, too, be exiled? He’d gotten revenge. He’d saved Colin.

More of him came back at that revelation.

Ah, shit. Did I get the Duke’s son exiled too?

The irony there almost made him laugh. He pictured that old general’s face when he heard that the kid he’d bullied into befriending his son dragged his son into exile with him.

Tragically hilarious.

At least he’d have good company.

“You saved us.” The priest said, eventually, pulling the hood of his robe down. His iris' were silver—a sign he’d been part of the clergy for quite some time. “For that, I am grateful. Yet, how is it I handle such a grievous sin?”

“What’s your name?” Erec asked, shaking his head the slightest bit. He didn’t feel like himself, didn’t feel quite right. It was coming back together, but it felt like something was missing; this conversation should make him worry and scared. But, it was hard to care.

Not after seeing such a slaughter, such death. Such a glorious fight.

Did burning away take him to hell? Was that beast now forever free from its cage?

“Gregory,” The man lowered his head. “After your intervention, we dragged the two survivors away—that boy, he never fired the gun. If he had, it would make things more complicated.”

“Ah.” Well, good for Colin. Erec’s mind still swam; everything… seemed fake. Not as visceral as the trail of death. The care slipped further.

Care. You’re more then a beast.

The thought stabbed into his head with a flare of cold. He winced and leaned forward, gasping.

“Stay still; you’re heavily injured. Tomorrow we’ll be back within the walls, and you’ll be blessed with further treatment.”

“Not going to exile me?” Erec said between clenched teeth.

“I… Such a thing seems drenched in dishonor.”

“Wasn’t aware priests had an honor code.”

“The Cardinal claims faith is above all—unapproachable, in your service to the Goddess. To serve the cardinal’s will, and therefore Hers, is to be divine.” Gregory lowered his head. “The wicked should be cast out, for they are not divine. But, every day, I must eat. Every day I may lay in my bed and resist the urge to stay therein. How can I cast out another man who has saved my life?”

“So you’ll sin too?”

“There are moments a man must choose. I am a man, not divine, like Her or the Cardinal.” Gregory shook his head. “You saved lives with your sin. So, I too shall save a life with one of my own.”

Erec looked at the roof of the healing tent—wondering what the night sky outside looked like. Would it be at peace after all the war? Would the people out there be grave and grim after such a battle?

My friends.

Another cold stab as his body shook.

“Thank you.”

The priest nodded, standing up. “I’ve burned the weapon after the battle. May her judgment of you on your last day be favorable, as I do so pray it shall be for me. There are a few who were waiting for your recovery. I was uncertain if you would for quite a long time. But I believe you to be safe. I shall go inform them of your consciousness.”

Erec nodded, trying to quell the tangle of his heart.

There was a flash of fire in him, doused with more cold. His very insides waged war—that fight was unlike any before. It loosed a part of him under check. He kept thinking about Alister—watching that blade jam into the man.

Never would he hear that man’s voice again, never to learn what he wanted to teach. That numbness of loss sank deeply as Erec pulled up the notifications to distract himself.

Strength Advancement: Rank E - Tier 8 → Rank D - Tier 1

Vigor Advancement: Rank E - Tier 1 → Rank E - Tier 3

Agility Advancement: Rank E - Tier 2 → Rank E - Tier 3

Perception Advancement: Rank E - Tier 2 → Rank E - Tier 4

“…How is that possible—“

[So you’ve noticed.]

Erec stared blankly at the notifications filling his vision. That sort of advancement—so quick, it should’ve been impossible. He couldn’t recall the number of monsters he slew; that battle flowed in one continuous dance, all of the death blended together in a tapestry of pain and blood. During it, he’d broken past another bottleneck and leaped ahead on several other Virtues. No matter how he looked at it, that sort of progress was… inhuman.

[I suspected this, but after this last… full-scale meltdown, let's call it, I’ve confirmed my fear. The lengths that Fury pushes your body to force abnormal growth to keep pace. Given the nature of this anomalous energy, the strain only increases with your power. To explain it best, let’s use an analogy. Consider your body a flask. When you train regularly, you expend the water in the flask, and it refills with rest. That isn’t how it works with Fury. Instead, Fury essentially makes water spew from inside the flask out of nowhere—to the point where the pressure of that water cracks the glass, over and over.]

“…What are you saying?”

[Given enough time, your body will mend, and the glass will heal. Stronger and more tempered than before, sure. But, rapid uses in succession too close together are bound to cause that flask to shatter completely.]

“Wait—“ Erec winced as he moved, his body convulsing.

[However, I’d assumed there was a natural limiter. That the risk was with rapid use in succession. As we learned, that is not quite the case. It kept coming even as you collapsed from blood loss. So, it seems there are more risks than predicted. It’s hard to say if it was triggered by the over reliance beforehand or some unknown mechanism. But, all the same, the glass almost exploded.]

Erec took a racking breath, coughing as his body began to shake; cold sweat drenched his forehead.

[Technically, I suppose you did die. Both from the wounds and your body tearing itself apart internally. Only now has your body been strained past its breaking point. Yet, have no fear. VAL is here. Your health care package will cover this free of charge.]

Erec coughed blood onto his hand, his body shuddering.

[In short, buckeroo, you need to learn to slow down, or you’re going to break down and die. At this pace, you’ll fly off a cliff from which simple cardioversion will not bring you back.]

For a long moment, Erec stared at his palm; his body convulsed and shivered, hot and cold waves as it tore itself apart from the inside. Burning just a bit of Fury would take that away—he knew it would. But if it did, in the end, he’d be worse off if he understood VAL correctly.

Dear Goddess, what had he gotten into?

Bedwyr strode into the tent, his eyes lighting up as he saw his brother.

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