CHAPTER 49
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: JOHN HEDEKIRA
A sensation I don’t normally feel in Kiilda: wind. Intense, vision-distorting wind. A wild, sporadic breeze whips my face and bare torso, warning me to open my eyes with caution. When I do, I’m surprised with what I see.
I’m still in Kiilda. The terrain for the final fight is the same as the terrain for our first clash. I stand in the plain where the giant hole was, a forest on one side, a mountain in the background…only the hole is gone, and so are many of the trees. There are also two huge boulders, fifty yards away, on either side of me. The entire subworld has been reduced to a dusty, desolate wasteland. Whereas before everything was still, now everything is being tossed about violently; the green grass is being covered in brown flakes of dirt, trees are losing their leaves and branches, and I can’t even see the sky because of how intense the breeze is. The subworld of Kiilda is in an uproar in anticipation of the final battle. And here I stand in the center of the subworld, alone and without a weapon, like a sacrifice to the demon.
Literally—there’s an initial pang of panic as I realize that I am being proffered like a sacrifice. My arms are chained at the wrists, with the chains attached to the enormous boulders fifty yards away from me on either side. Although it was worthless, I’ve been stripped of my shirt. My wounds are healed, including my face, but I’m still trapped. It’s only a matter of time, I’m sure, before Kiilda shows up. I’m only beginning to register and comprehend the changes around me—
Its here.
At first, all I can see is Its silhouette, freakishly tall and bold. Then I can perceive the red eyes of the demon, piercing even the shield of wind and dust. And then the turmoil of nature seems to ease up about Kiilda, and I’m able to see the rest of the demon clearly.
I grunt. Word…! I think. Clenching my fists, I wrench against the chains, pulling with all my strength in an effort to blame them.
Kiilda abruptly bolts towards me. The demon runs so quickly and, in the tumult of the wind, it almost looks like the monster runs on the air. I tense, crying out and franticly trying to break the chains, but they hold fast. “Word!” I scream. He said he wouldn’t leave me! He said this was possible! Now it seems like I’m completely helpless. I’m going to become infected again. I’m going to lose the final fight.
Soror will be lost forever.
But there’s that spark—that tiny flame burning within me. I can feel it. I can feel it making a difference. I believe in it. And because of it, I quit fighting the chains and stare Kiilda in the face as the demon is about to come into contact with me.
Kiilda’s blade slashes across my chest. For a moment, I don’t feel the pain, and then it comes all at once. I cry out; it’s as if my skin is on fire. The demon follows up with a slice across my stomach, and then It shoulders me in the chest. I’m tossed about by the strength of Its attacks, but I remain on my feet, pulling on the chains as a means of steadying and anchoring myself. After this initial assault, Kiilda retreats, bounding backwards twice, and It assumes Its usual, eerie stance: standing completely erect and motionless, clasping Its sword with both hands, the tip of the blade facing the sky.
I grunt and whimper, gasping for breath, leaning forward on the chains and allowing them to suspend me. Dangit, I think. I can hardly breathe, and my stomach feels like it’s going to fall out; I think I might vomit. But as I survey my body, I’m astonished to find that Kiilda’s sword failed to cut me; I’ve only been bruised. That’s weird. That’s…incredible.
It must be the zoecharia.
Nonetheless, there are large bruises already forming over my bare torso, and I think one or two of my ribs are broken. I’ve yet to complete gathering my wits before Kiilda charges me again.
I stand up straight, thinking hurriedly for a means of escape. Dangit! I think, I have no time!
The tip of Kiilda’s blade jabs right into my stomach. I haven’t been pierced, but still I lurch forward, coughing up blood simultaneously. Then Kiilda swipes downwards at both of my arms in quick succession. I scream, a jolt of nervy pain lancing through my limbs. Kiilda pivots, as if It intends to gain momentum and then slash for my neck—and It does. But I’ve anticipated it, so I bend at the knees and squat beneath the attack. Bounding upwards and using the chains to suspend myself, I kick at the demon, landing my feet squarely on Its shoulders, and I push with my legs, endeavoring to shove the monster away.
But Kiilda doesn’t budge. Instead, we remain frozen in our positions for a moment; me suspended in the air, pushing off against the demon’s broad, stone shoulders; Kiilda crouched low in an offensive position. As I suspend myself against the demon, I shout in my thoughts, Word, you told me you’d be with me!
As Kiilda begins to disengage, thus removing the leverage I was using to keep myself aloft, I drive my feet against the monster, backflipping away onto the ground. I land roughly on my butt, and I grunt, clenching my teeth, staring up at the demon. “Dangit!” I think again. I know I have the zoecharia. But what good is it if I don’t know what difference it makes?
“John,” the Word’s voice echoes in my mind, once again in a tone that is notably human, “don’t let Kiilda just batter away at you. You have the zoecharia. If you want to break the chains, then break them! I’ve given you everything you need to break free and fight Kiilda—”
I rise to my feet slowly, watching Kiilda carefully, but still paying full attention to what the Word is telling me. Kiilda seems to notice my readiness to go again, to clash once more. It falters for just a moment, and then rushes towards me, Its sword held at the ready by Its side.
“—the only thing holding you back,” says the Word, “is you.”
I perk up, my eyes widening, and I grunt.
Somehow from inside my chest, a bright, but small, bluish light flares into existence. The light is still inside of me, but it shines through my skin. The ground beneath me starts to rumble. Then it seems like the whole subworld is being rocked. The wind tears around me even more intensely. I can hear rocks beginning to crack and shudder.
I spread my feet wide. I crouch down low. And I bow my head. Beginning with my left side, I reach over with my chained-left-hand, wrenching against my bonds with all my might. I growl, and it evolves into a cry. Kiilda suddenly slams into me, knocking me backwards, but I quickly regain focus, pulling away from the chains with my right arm now. Kiilda strikes my arm as I pull, right on the tricep, and while my body jerks in response, I don’t stop trying to break free.
But it’s not working. Dangit. It’s not working! Yet then I grit my teeth, tugging even harder, growling, “No.”
“No” to what?
“No…”
To the chains.
“No!”
To myself. Don’t give in. Don’t give up. Don’t doubt.
I roar, yanking both arms forward in opposite directions so that they cross…
…and, with the sound of rocks clapping, the sound of thunder booming, the chains explode free from the boulders on either side.
Electrified with so much momentum released upon me as I lose the resistance placed on my arms from the chains, I begin to pivot involuntarily. But then I lunge upwards as I do. The chains are still about my wrists, but I’m no longer bound to the boulders. Surging upwards into the air, I keep on pivoting, using the chains like whips. I cross my arms again, causing the chains to lash outwards towards Kiilda, and, in accordance with my intentions, they wrap themselves around the demon.
Then, as if in slow motion, I violently, powerfully flip sideways in the air, using every muscle in my arms, shoulder, and back, to make the chains—and Kiilda—lurch sideways. The motion is executed perfectly, fluidly; I don’t know how I figured out how to perform the action. It feels as if my mind and body are working as one, my imagination now made manifest through my corporality.
And the demon is launched off Its feet, tumbling roughly against the grou
nd, until It slams against the boulder that had been keeping my right arm chained.
I land on the ground, breathing intensely, feeling fully alive. The chains drop from my wrists, blowing away into the dust around me. This is more like it. Surely, Kiilda has finally been injured too.
Emerging from the cloud of dust and rubble caused by the demon striking against boulder, Kiilda surges upwards, cloak and hair fluttering, and It alights on the ground twenty feet in front of me. I grimace; Its body is still perfectly in tact. “Word,” I say. “I need my sword. Is it still here?”
There’s a pause, during which I listen intently with my mind, and then I hear him reply, “If you want your sword, make it.”
I grunt, still squinting through the windy, dusty air at Kiilda. “How?”
“The gado of a Knight is intimately connected with his spirit,” the Word tells me. “Your sword is always with you, so long as you possess your gado. If you want your sword, then draw it.”
Kiilda charges me again—so confidently, so routinely. It hasn’t been fazed in the least. But Its wrong. At first, It seemed so cunning, as if It knew everything. As if It were the god of this world.
You know, I’m starting to believe that gods might exist…
…but Kiilda isn’t one of them.
I stretch out my right hand.
My sword…
I flex, so hard my fingers quiver.
The weapon of a Knight.
What does it mean to be a Knight?
The zoecharia in me burns a little brighter. Kiilda is ten feet away from me, drawing back Its blade to slash at me, but I close my eyes. I think of Soror.
And then I draw my sword.
There’s a flash of golden, white light. As if I were drawing my sword from a metal scabbard, a beautiful, metallic screech sounds from the light. All at once, I feel the warmth of the hilt within my palm, and I see the glint of the blade shining in the golden light. And, joining the blade and the hilt together, my golden gado burns brightly like the zoecharia in my soul.
Just before Kiilda’s sword strikes my head, I parry the demon’s blow.
A cloud of dust and wind extends outwards in every direction from where we stand, and for a moment, everything seems to freeze around us. Kiilda still appears the same as ever, but if I had to guess, I’d say that It was expressing shock. We both stand there, our blades locked, and we stare into each other’s eyes; Its bright red, mine bright green.
Then we start.
Even as we disengage, I can tell that, all of a sudden, with the zoecharia burning inside me, we’re evenly matched. I still grip my weapon with two hands, understanding that Kiilda is still stronger than me, but it almost feels like I don’t have to. My sword feels so light. I feel so strong, so empowered. Word…
We both clash violently, but lithely. Our blades whistle through the air in big but fast motions, nearly imperceptible because we move so quickly. We both cut sideways at the same time, our blades clanging, and then I twirl my sword, sending an over-the-head strike for the demon’s crown. It blocks, moving as fluidly as ever, yet to my astonishment, the arms of the demon nearly give way to the strength of my blow.
Is this even possible?
I disengage as Kiilda shoves me away and then lowers Its head, darting after me at a swift run. I leap backwards twice, still feeling light and free, and then I deflect two slashes from Kiilda without losing any ground. Then I spin, gaining momentum, and I cut at Kiilda. It blocks, our blades screeching against each other as mine slides rapidly across Its.
Right after completing my spin, I immediately flow into another, this one more powerful than the last. And then again. And then again. Time after time, my sword slams into Kiilda’s, and slowly the demon gives way. At last I pivot again, only this time I uppercut, unlike the previous sideways-slashes, and I catch the demon off guard.
My sword severs through the top of Kiilda’s shoulder.
I grunt, astonishment, satisfaction, and hope swelling within me. Kiilda back pedals, Its expression still the same, but It seems…confused.
Yes. That’s right. I can cut you. I can wound you. I can defeat you. I am stronger than you.
I rise up against It, raising my sword, and a bright golden light suddenly emits from my gado. I plant my foot, and in a sturdy, powerful motion, I stretch outwards, stabbing my sword into the opposite shoulder of the monster. Kiilda freezes, standing erect, and I know that somehow, the monster just experienced some sort of pain.
I permit Kiilda to stumble backwards again, my sword sliding free of Its stone body. Squaring up again, I wait, pausing to see how the demon is going to react. How many times do I need to hit this thing before it dies?
There’s a loud crack, and then a sound like leaves rustling, and the incisions I inflicted on the demon seal shut. Without anymore hesitation, Kiilda charges me again.
Gasping with alarm, but still planting my feet firmly on the ground, I think, It can regenerate?!
I had set my feet, thinking I would be able to block whatever attacks Kiilda would send; but then I realize that It has too much momentum. I’m already leaning backwards in anticipation to retreat, but Kiilda is too quick. The blade of the demon flashes upwards, and I attempt to bat it aside, but It’s too strong: the sword slices the top of my right shoulder. The pain is intense; I grit my teeth, time seeming to freeze as I fall backwards. To my surprise, blood sprays from the wound and commences running down my arm. Dangit, I think as I fall toward the ground. If I can cut you, you can cut me.
I land on my back, but I throw myself away from the demon as I land, somersaulting backwards up onto my feet. My breath comes out angrily as I huff, endeavoring to ignore the pain. Warm blood runs down into my hand, making my grip on my sword loose, and some of it streams down the side of my chest. Kiilda now seems to wait, regarding me with Its dull, eerie stare. I stare back through the wind tearing across the fields, squinting. Dangit, I think. This hurts…this hurts a lot. He’s still faster. He’s still stronger.
Dangit, I have the zoecharia! What will it take to kill this thing?
I breathe deeply, staring back at Kiilda.
“Don’t let your wounds faze you,” the Word tells me. “They will not destroy your Life. I’m still here.”
My mouth falls open.
“I’m still here”
Wind whips through my hair, striking my face, my eyes. The ground beneath me begins to shake.
I’ve been alone all my life. I’ve been abandoned.
“I’m still here”
I was the one that had to comfort others. But I was still alone. There was no one there for me. I’ve always been alone.
“I’m still here”
A shiver runs through me. For the first time in my life—the first time in my life—I utter, with complete conviction, that blessed realization: “I’m not alone.”
Kiilda stands tall and ominous before me. My surroundings cry out and shake, trembling. The world is falling apart. But it’s okay, I think in a soft, child-like voice, Because I’m…not alone.
Not anymore.
A huge, golden light flares into existence, emanating from my sword. I grunt, raising my blade, not knowing what’s happening, not knowing how I’m doing this. But I’m filled with confidence as my blade surges with the bright, sizzling light. I feel the zoecharia in my soul burning brighter. I’m being empowered. Someone is filling my body, my soul, my everything, with power.
I stare at Kiilda through the torrent of dust and wind.
“John,” the Word says in my mind, his voice now becoming more familiar, “every person with zoecharia in his soul is able to utilize the power of charia, a form of light and goodness used to counter the Evil. Every time you ask for it sincerely, it will be given to you. And every time I know you need it, I will provide it. Your sword burns with charia even now.
“This is your final chance, John. Kiilda is both
the monster that stands before you, and the subworld Itself. This world is falling apart because Kiilda has reached the pinnacle of Its strength, and Its ready to do anything possible to kill you. If you are defeated by Kiilda here, there won’t be a second chance.”
I grunt, stiffening, my heart commencing to pound.
“Either you defeat Kiilda,” the Word says, “or It defeats you.”
I breathe deeply, even as the ground is rocked by another tremor. The mountain on my left—upon which I fought Kiilda—shudders and cracks loudly, an avalanche ensuing about midway up the mount. The breeze around me intensifies. Its trying to throw me off. Its trying to distract me. To distract me from this one moment. This one shot. This final attack.
I squeeze the hilt of my sword as hard as I can. The golden charia on my blade shines brighter. The power surging through my weapon casts away the wind around me, forming a swirling, circular ball of air around me. I stand up tall, my eyes reflecting the light of the glowing charia, and my heart shining with the light of the Word’s life. Alone, I know I may be nothing before this demon. My torso is bare, the rest of my clothes tattered. My own blood paints the right side of my body. But I feel clothed in the Word’s power. I feel alive, though I stand across from the face of Death. And, though I’ve never felt this way before, I feel like me. I feel like a Knight.
Kiilda crouches, and then pushes against the ground with Its feet, launching Itself toward me. In a single instant, the demon unveils Its power: a strange, supernatural form of darkness begins to radiate from the stone skin of the demon. The monster’s hair becomes a black fog, and the cloak of the beast suddenly assumes a liquid-like, mystical appearance, spreading outward like the wings of a dragon, and wrapping around the demon like a shield. The weapon of the demon turns into a snake-like, black chain. And for the first time, the unholy monster cries out, screaming hoarsely and ghoulishly: “DEATH!”
Unable to contain myself, fueled by so much power rushing into and through me, I cry out too, roaring my defiance with all the breath I have left. And I charge headlong at Kiilda, rising into the air to meet It.
It’s my power against Kiilda. Our power against Death. I raise my sword above my head, even as Kiilda does too.
Right before we collide, the power already imbuing me intensifies, even as Kiilda’s darkness surges even more.
Crying out with all the breath I have left, I close my eyes, let my soul take control, and slash downwards.
CHAPTER 50
There’s a massive explosion. For a moment, I am completely blinded by a mixture of white and golden light. A giant, golden wave of charia extends outwards in every direction. Somehow, I still remain airborne, even after I struck at Kiilda. Finally, the light fades, and as it does, so also does the wind and dust. Everything becomes still.
Still aloft in the air, I look upon Kiilda, which hovers directly in front of me. The demon’s whip-blade, motionless in the air an inch away from my face, suddenly droops, jingling as it plummets to the ground, and the arms of the beast go slack. Awe and astonishment suffusing me, I look upon the blow I dealt Kiilda. A smoking, devastatingly wide crack runs up through Kiilda’s body, beginning at the groin and continuing all the way up through the demon’s face. All at once, the body of the monster begins to crumble.
The world around me begins to swirl, just like it has so many times before, and I feel myself beginning to slip away into unconsciousness. The voice of the Word comes to me, “John! You did it! Don’t be afraid: you’re just passing into the Gray Lands. You can be at peace now. You’re safe.”
I find myself listening and giving in to the advice of the Word. Allowing my body to tilt back in the air, I slowly begin to fall towards the ground. But my eyes don’t leave Kiilda, who still stares back at me with Its eyes glowing red.
But then something bizarre happens, and it all happens in a few short seconds. I suddenly experience intense heat. The air around me is abruptly filled with flames, and I gasp with alarm. The sky goes dark overhead, and I can’t help but look about franticly in response. What’s happening?
I search for Kiilda, endeavoring to locate the demon, and I do—only it’s not Kiilda. In Kiilda’s place, there is the form of a strange person: his body is like that of a human, only his skin and hair is red and glowing, like the fire around me. A black mask covers his mouth and nose and deep shadows shroud the rest of his form. In the hand of the person is a dull, gleaming white sword.
I don’t know why, but whoever this is, he looks familiar.
The vision passes a moment later, as quick as it came. I’m back in Kiilda, and then I feel myself get whisked away to the Gray Lands. And as I fade into unconsciousness, I wonder, What was that?
End of Vol. 5
COMING UP NEXT
THE STORY CONTINUES IN VOLUME 6: THE BLUE SHIMAI
EPILOGUE
PROTAGONIST: KAT MEIROU
A bright flash of light appears to my right. I grunt, a pang of fear running through me. As was my duty, I have been watching the entrance to the Gray Lands for half the entire day. To my relief, no one has come from the Golden Lands—meaning no Evil have arrived thus far today, with or without human sacrifices. I hate the Evil. They scare me.
I was just about to return to camp. So what now?
I’m a skilled warrior, and an even better spy. I know how to remain unseen. Gently peeking out from behind the tree I’ve been using for cover, I grimace as I prepare myself to look upon the face of a horrifying beast.
But it’s not a horrifying beast.
It’s a human—and there aren’t any Evil with him.
I crouch back behind my tree, my heart still pounding, even though I know that I shouldn’t necessarily be afraid. It’s just another human…like me.
But no humans ever come alone through the portal. No human ever beats Kiilda. Could he be one of them, the people trying to exterminate me?
…And I’m not referring to the Evil.
Thanks for reading the fifth volume of The Golden Lands! Feel free to leave a review at your favorite retailer and spread the word!
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends