Book 8 Chapter 24

Andreas’ spear fell to the ground, disappearing into her shadow. A moment later it came flying out from the Hungry One’s shadow, nearly impaling the god. It nearly toppled to the right, the spear grazing one of its legs.

For a moment, the leg was severed entirely. No, not severed. It was as if the leg had been cracked in two, leaving a splintered remain in its place. A moment later it was fully there again, only a small crack caused from the graze.

“YOU WILL DIE!” the Hungry One yelled before forming a ball of fire in its hand, sending it hurtling at her. Searle’s shield once more interposed itself between her and it, scattering the flames.

“Been there, done that,” Joan said. “I promised I wouldn’t this time. How about you just hurry up and die already? Who knows? Maybe you’ll be reborn as something not so miserable and vile!”

Myrin’s bow pulled taut, an arrow of magic forming in it. It released, sending the bolt straight at the god. Its hand swept out, striking the arrow and sending it away, only for the winds within the arrow to release and envelop it in a razor edged hurricane. It tried to shield itself with its arms, letting out a pained shriek.

Hardwin’s sword flew through the air, piercing straight into the god’s chest, clear through the other side.

For a moment, Joan could see the Hungry One as it was. Wounded, bloody. Legs having been torn off, half their upper torso missing, their abdomen shattered. Then a moment later the creature reformed.

Joan glanced up at the crown on her head. Korgron’s crown. It felt warm, safe. Kind. It was glowing with a golden light. Her eyes widened. She finally understood.

Thalgren’s hammer flew through the air at the Hungry One. It tried to leap aside, but it wasn’t fast enough. The hammer crushed it down, knocking it from its web and down to the world below (or was it above? She didn’t know anymore.) Once again the body was destroyed as it had been.

However, a moment later it reformed… Just in time for ice to erupt underneath it, Chase’s gauntlets slashing up its body and leaving trails of water, which quickly turned to slashing blades of ice, severing the god’s arm from its body.

“This is what happened then, isn’t it?” Joan asked, staring at the fallen god.

She wasn’t on the web anymore. In fact, they weren’t in the empty void at all. Instead, they were now in a destroyed, barren field. She was so much smaller, or the god was massive again.

But it was so wounded. Limbs scattered, body in pieces. Again and again the weapons of the Chosen struck, again and again it tried to attack her, but Searle’s shield was always there. The god would reform itself, only to be torn apart again. Now she understood what the crown was doing. It was suppressing the gods power. Holding it back. Struggling to make the dreams match reality. Was this the fight that had killed the god, so long ago? But then what happened? Then--

Joan saw it, her eyes going wide.

Guardian Nova.

The Star of the Hero. Once the Star of the Champion. Slowly she pulled away from the crown and she picked up her blade once more. It was her blade. A gift from her predecessor, perhaps. But hers now.

Joan’s body moved on its own, though she didn’t resist it. The god struggled to fight, but it was being driven back. Wounded. Beaten. She began to walk towards it.

This was what happened so long ago. This was that final moment, that final time. Where the god had been destroyed. Killed. It had died.

“You died there,” Joan said softly. “You truly did die, didn’t you? That’s why you came here.” She started to lightly jog towards the fallen fate. “Where you could dream, where you could force yourself to still live!”

When she ran past it her sword cleaved true. The hand that tried to stop her was cleaved in half, the god’s torso cut open. Revealing its purple, tainted heart.

It was time to finish this. She spun back around to face it and ran once more.

“W-wait, please,” the Hungry One said. “M-mercy...”

Joan froze in place, her eyes going wide. It wanted mercy?

“What?” Joan asked.

The wounded, defeated god whimpered, giving a soft, weaving cry. “P-please. I… am b-beaten. You have won. Please… no more… I surrender...”

Joan clenched her sword tightly, but she couldn’t do it. She needed to cut, but she couldn’t. It was beaten, wasn’t that enough? “You will stop this?”

“I will do as you wish… please…” the Hungry One said with a weak, raspy voice.

Joan started to lower the blade… Before flicking it up and cutting through the Hungry One’s hand that attempted to strike when her guard was down. She then stepped in, one final time, and drove the sword deep.

Cleaving through the Heart of the Hungry One, finishing it off in one, final motion.

Joan stood there, panting for a few moments and staring at the dissolving corpse of the fallen fate. “That trick always worked on the Hero,” Joan said softly. “You can’t trick me the same way anymore.”

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Joan blinked a few times when the world suddenly changed again. She was back in the blank, empty expanse again. A white void on all sides. What? Just like when she had arrived. She--

“Where are we?” Arta asked.

“Arta?” Joan asked, turning around to face him.

The Demon Lord stared at her in bewilderment. “Why did you bring me here? What is this place?”

“It’s okay,” Joan said, unable to suppress her glee. She couldn’t help it. She lunged forward and hugged him. “It’s finally over! It--” The words caught in her throat and her eyes went wide. She felt the blade piercing through her abdomen. Slowly she looked up at Arta, her eyes wide. “W-wha… what? W-why?”

“You’re my enemy, Hero,” Arta said, before shoving her away. “Why did you think bringing me here would change anything?”

Joan stumbled back, a hand moving down to the blade embedded in her torso. It hurt. Oh by the gods it hurt. How? He couldn’t… could he?

She saved him, though. Why would… why would he? But she’d done everything right. She’d saved the world. So why… now? Why did he kill her now?

She saved him.

Joan collapsed and stared up at him, clasping the sword before giving a low, soft chuckle.

“What? What are you laughing at?” Arta asked. “You’re dying, Hero.”

“I-I know,” Joan said softly before coughing. “I… wonder if this time it’ll stick. Who knows? Dream Realm a-and all.”

“What?” Arta asked.

“If… it does? Arta? Just… know… I forgive you…” Joan said before giving a light cough.

“What are you talking about?” Arta asked.

“You’re… free now…” Joan said before closing her eyes. “Just… be… whoever you… want… to be…”

Joan wished she didn’t have to die. But, oddly? She didn’t mind so much now. Her work was done.

She’d stopped the Inferno God. She’d saved Arta. She’d killed the Hungry One once and for all. The Chosen were united. The memories had been fixed. There were probably more children of the Hungry One they’d need to deal with, but honestly? She trusted the Chosen to figure it out. They didn’t need her anymore.

It had taken she didn’t know how many lifetimes, but she’d done it. She’d finally saved the world. Even as the darkness rushed in, she couldn’t force herself to truly resist it. Her work was done. Now she could just rest.

------

Joan’s eyes opened and she let out a soft groan. No blank, empty void. No, she was back on the battlefield. A few feet from Arta--

Who was already rising to his feet and had his sword! “Shit shit shit shit SHIT!” Joan said. She barely rolled to the side in time, narrowly avoiding a stab from the Demon Lord before she tried to scramble away.

“Just DIE!” Arta yelled before holding out his right hand and a tuft of smoke appeared in it. “What?”

Joan blinked a few times and stared at him. “Uhhhh…”

“What did you do to me?” Arta asked. He then looked around, before shaking his head. “I can’t control them! You little bitch! What did you do to me?” he asked before charging at her again, sword drawn.

Joan gave a light squeak and tried to get away as fast as she could. She felt exhausted, though. Like she’d been fighting for days. She wasn’t even sure she could lift her sword now.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Arta came to a stop when a dark gauntlet wrapped around his neck from behind, yanking him back.

“Demon Lord, forget her,” Penthe said.

Joan stared, her mouth falling open. Penthe? What was Penthe doing here?

“Gil?” the Demon Lord asked. “When did you—”

“The Chosen are coming,” Penthe said. “We need to go, before it’s too late.”

“Do you really think I’m coming with you?” Arta asked. “How did you even get here?”

“Look around you,” Penthe said. “The only ally you have here is me. What do you think will happen if you stay?”

“I…” Arta said, though he trailed off when he looked around. Joan slowly did as well.

Without any more obsidian trolls to fight, she could now see just how many people were here to help her. Even if Searle wasn’t here, help was on the way.

Arta gave a growl before looking to her. “This isn’t over.”

“Yes it is,” Joan said before she could stop herself.

Joan couldn’t see Penthe’s face beneath her helmet, but she swore the armored woman was glaring at her. She wondered where she’d gotten that armor from, anyway. She doubted there was just another demonic suit of armor laying around, but with Penthe she was willing to bet there were more backups and plans than she could imagine.

The ground suddenly shifted under the pair, swallowing them up. Joan waited for a second before, finally, she just fell backwards.

“Joan?” Bauteut asked softly before walking into her field of view. She stood over her, looking down. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes,” Joan said softly. “No. I think? A-are the Chosen out yet?”

“Not yet,” Bauteut said before kneeling down. She then reached out and pulled her up. “Is… uhhh…”

“It’s done,” Joan said softly. She let Bauteut pull her to a sitting position, before slowly turning around and just collapsing on her friend again. “Oh gods it’s done. It’s finally DONE!” she said before, what felt like the millionth time, she began to cry.

For once, though, it didn’t feel like she was crying because she was scared, frightened or upset.

She was just so relieved. So happy. She’d done it. They’d done it.

They’d saved the world.

“I… am going to take the longest nap I have ever had when we get home,” Joan said softly. “I never want to do anything dangerous again.”

“So a month? Maybe two before you fling yourself at certain death again?” Bauteut asked.

“… Better make it one,” Joan said before giving another sniffle.

They’d done it. They’d done it they’d done it they’d done it.

They’d saved the world and they didn’t even need the Hero.

They just needed her heroes.