The Grim Legion

by Kindred Ult

  'You are not worthy, child, but your intentions are just. Wield me.'

  Demenn thanked whatever it was that should be thanked for this small blessing and paid his full attention to Luke, who was busy spinning his weapon out around him with blazing speed. He had extended the chain to more than one hundred feet, and even though it was flowing in a gigantic arc around him, he was twirling it like it weighed nothing. At the same time, Demenn saw that Luke was slowly retracting the chain and making the mace come ever-closer to him. At first glance, Demenn could tell what he was doing: at the end of the retraction, Luke would have the built-up momentum and speed of a hundred feet housed into just a couple inches, and would then send all of that in one final strike that would be too fast to dodge and too strong to block. Demenn's best bet would be to attack now, but Luke was spinning his weapon around too fast. Demenn would get caught halfway by the chain. He would have to wait until it was close enough to Luke that he could reach him before an entire swing of the mace, thereby making Luke miss the full strength of the attack.

  'That won't work, Demenn.' Lucifer's voice broke into his head like a soft song.

  'You are more than likely correct, however, there is no way to tell except to test it, is there?' Demenn's eyes never left the flail.

  'Oh come on, Demenn.' Lucifer, for once, was sounding exasperated. 'You know that I can help you. You will die if you don't ask me for help. Your wounds are too grave, your weapon too weak, and your enemy too strong. It was a good idea to come as a group, but now that they've been taken out one-by-one, it's just you, me, and him. You need me. I'm the only one that can save you.' For a moment, he even sounded like he genuinely cared. 'Come on. Just ask me for a better weapon, for healing, for more power. I'm right here, I like you, I'll do whatever you want right now. I can save you!'

  Demenn could not deny Lucifer's logic, and somewhere within him he was touched by Lucifer's concern, but he lowered his head, gripped his sword, and got ready to spring. 'My life's not worthy of being saved. After all, I'm just scum.'

  Those last words set of a chain of memories through Demenn's head, and he could not help but reflect on his life, now that it was almost over. It had been a long one, for a human, but had been pretty short for a vampire. His life had been rather uneventful before the fateful day he had killed Wulf and avenged his family. After that, everything had spun out of control. He had been given a group to care for, and had to think of more than his own needs. He though of Lidian, with her beautiful white hair, and of Raphael and Leon, who had been his friends for many years. He had lost them along the way, and what he regretted most was that he had never truly been able to tell them goodbye. He thought of Varus and Brand, who were reconciled enemies, and of all of the vampire and werewolf captains he had fought against and alongside. But most of all, he thought of his father, mother, and little sister.

  'I'm sorry, Helen, but I never was able to find anything about the God of the cross that you always had on you... But I really did try.' He would have spoken the words, but his tongue had been pierced and probably cut in half by Luke's first blow against him, and any coherent words were impossible. He closed his eyes as Luke's mace neared the end of its circle, and his thoughts drifted to Nasoren.

  'I'm glad I saved her. She is a good person. Much better than any of us damned beings. If Brand ever lives through this, I hope they'll be happy.'

  When he opened his eyes, all apprehension that had been inside him was gone, and Luke's mace was within fifteen feet of its owner. Now was the time to strike.

  'Just a little more...Now!'

  As soon as the chain reached ten feet away from Luke, Demenn crouched and sprang forward. His body exploded in agony at the actions he sent through it, but he paid them no heed. This was the last action he asked of it. Blood was pouring from all over his body, and literally pumping from his leg, but it was as if all he had to do was run as fast as he could. He was able to devote all of his life to simply pushing his legs back and forth, and for a moment it looked like he was going to catch the gap. But then, without warning, Luke retracted the chain all of the way and sent it spinning out. With a split-second amount of clarity, Demenn realized that Lucifer had told Luke of Demenn's plan, and had warned him when Demenn had moved. He silently cursed the his creator.

  Right when Luke spun the weapon over his head one last time, the world slowed for Demenn. He saw Luke's arms extend before the left one let go and the right one shot straight out, allowing the chain to flow from it as the tremendous swing began. Even in slow motion, the moment the attack began happened in the blink of an eye, and the power of the attack was so great that Luke's right arm snapped at the elbow from the kickback. The mace shot forward at a speed impossible to describe, and it was even sent from a slight angle so that, when it met Demenn would be the exact moment when it snapped like the end of a whip.

  Dodging was pointless, as was guarding, but Demenn was not here for either of them. As soon as the attack began, he jumped into the air and flung his sword behind him. In only another moment he swung it back around and met the mace head on. From the first moment of impact Demenn knew that there was no way he could compete with the attack in terms of strength of pushing power. It had the momentum of one hundred feet of chain behind it, and it was exactly at the apex of its swing. In fact, the only reason it had not completely blown him away was because Luke had lost a bit of power from having Brand's knife enter his ribs. Still, it was too much, and Luke smiled, knowing that his final attack was the strongest. But Demenn was not counting on strength.

  'Tyrion, Nicole, Helen.'

  With an ear-splitting snap, Luke's mace-head, which had smashed against the finest weapon ever made too many times, was cut in two by the Sword of Office. In an instant, Luke's smile vanished, as Demenn tucked his legs under him, tucked his head to the side, and went through the two sides of the mace as they flew past him. He landed a few feet behind where he had met the weapon and immediately charged. Luke's mind sped with one thought.

  'I have to run away and ask Lucifer for another weapon!'

  But as he turned to flee, an arrow embedded itself into his left foot, sticking him to the ground for longer than he was willing to spare. Niethel smiled.

  "Gotcha' punk."

  He turned his panicked face to Demenn, who was coming up at him with more speed than he thought possible, and knew where the attack would come from.

  'It's alright, if I can just dodge this last one by spinning in a circle around my trapped foot, I can get away. If I can make it through this, I should be able to survive.'

  His right foot began swinging in a circle around his left, but after only a foot it too stopped, and even though he knew he should not take his eyes off of Demenn, he looked behind him to see Varus's sword, still wedged into the ground by the handle, digging into the back of his leg and holding him there.'What? But. There's... No way he could have.' His mind was garbled as he shot his head back around to see Demenn. But Demenn was not there. Then his head tilted down, and Demenn was right in front of him. It was only then that he realized he was going to die, and his thoughts shot to his sister who, he only now realized, he had really just been trying to save from all of this all along. It was stupid that he only now thought of this, he thought. How pointless.

  Then Demenn's sword was cutting up at an angle. First it sliced through Luke's hanging right arm at the elbow, then continued up into his rib cage, slicing through each rib and tearing open his right lung and other organs, before finally snapping his collarbone and finally cutting Luke's skull in half. His brains slid out of their bowl, and his body soon followed it and crashed to the ground after hanging in the air for a few moments.

  "Holy damn." was all Lucifer was able to say before there was a flash of white and and all of them were back on the battlefield with a mass of bodies fighting around them. The white was seemingly seen by everyone fighting, because they all stopped and looked at the five warriors and the one on the top of the large throne. In moments, it s
eemed that the werepyres understood what had happened, as many had seen Lueke's original transformation into Luke, because they began kneeling. First those closest to the spectacle, then all others as well, as news was spread that they had been deceived into this battle. One, with extremely dark skin, spoke out.

  "Great King and Matriarch Safiria, my name is Wolfwing, and we werepyres would like to parlay with you to decide on the terms of a treaty." His voice was husky from the fighting, but held an undercurrent of strength that said he could have fought on for hours.

  Safiria and the King emerged from the crowd at the top of the hill, very much covered in blood, and moved quickly to Wolfwing's position. Their faces were more tired than their bodies. It was clear they had seen too many of their people die that day.

  "We will parlay." Safiria looked relieved.

  "Yes." The King agreed.

  Almost as if a spell had been broken, the fighting ceased. Those that would not stop were corralled by their own race, and the armies began to form into their own races while the four rulers, including the commander of the Paladins, spoke on the terms of the treaty.

  "Brand!" Nasoren screamed as she saw the elf on the ground, covered in his blood and vomit. She ran to him, disregarding the filth, and knelt next to him, cradling his head on her lap. When he made no movements, her tears fell hard on his face. Even as she cried, though, he opened his empty eyes.

  "What's wrong?"

  She cried even more and hugged him to her, smothering him in her arms.

  "No!" The cry came from high on the throne. Lucifer was clearly not happy. He stood, stepped off of the throne, and a second later had fallen to the ground and was in front of Demenn, who was still bleeding and was hunched over. Lucifer pointed one manicured finger at Demenn. "Whom do you serve."

  Demenn wanted to scream "You!" as much as he wanted to swipe his weapon at his creator, but as he looked at his grotesque body, he realized that he might never return to normal. It was only then that the full repercussions of his choice to use Lucifer's power came to him. Suddenly the Sword of Office burned like it had never done before. It felt like all of the fires of Hell erupted in his hand, and for the first time since he had first picked it up, the sword fell from his hand in the sight of all those around him. It thudded to the ground with all of the finality of his mind. This was his fate, this was the life he had chosen to save his comrades... His friends. This was life. It was full of worthless, weak actions that were eventually pointless until one finally caved in and fell down. Everything he had done until now was worthless, just like him. He deserved this fate, to be damned forever.

  But then he saw Nasoren, with her arms wrapped around Brand, crying into his shoulder even as she supported his weight. He realized their love, and thought that he had almost never seen anything so beautiful in either of his lives. With a start, he remembered the dream he had before the battle, remembered the peace and beauty he had felt in its warm embrace. For just one moment he felt that, maybe, he could have that kind of feeling. Maybe even one such as he could experience it. He closed his eyes, and the first thing that came into his sight was his sister's cross he had always carried with him ever since she had died. For some reason, it soothed him.

  When he opened his eyes, it was lying across his clothed chest. As he looked down, he saw that he was back in his vampire form. His gaze shifted to Lucifer, who was livid, and he smiled. "I don't know, but it sure as hell ain't you."

  Lucifer's face scrunched until it looked like the folds of skin on it would overlap one another, and his eyes were slits within his face. Without any warning he lunged forward, but stopped short with a gasp when an arrow buried itself in his leg. As his hands went toward it and his face changed to that of surprised pain, Demenn could only watch as Niethel came up from behind him, picked up the Sword of Office, and stood between him and Lucifer.

  "Remember me?" His voice carried without any effort. "I'm the one you called worthless."

  Before Lucifer could respond he was cut in half, and Niethel was already behind him, his sword already finishing the swing. He turned around to see Lucifer's two halves splat to the ground, and he smirked.

  "You're no god."

  Lucifer's body condensed into black shapes before flowing through the air, coming into one, and floating in front of Niethel.

  "Not yet." It whispered with the voice of an endless echo in a pitch-black cave, before flowing out and into one of its own portals. And just like that Lucifer was gone.

  Demenn looked at Niethel and gasped as a change began to take place in him, but before anything could truly take over him he threw the sword away from him with a look of disgust. He turned to the Commander of the Paladins. "Careful with that. Seems it's finally ready to make a new E, and I'm not going to be that guy."

  The Commander called out to a close vampire slayer, who came up and picked up the weapon. He stiffened before being encased in a ball of light, and then E stepped out from within the light. Safiria cried out and went to him, touching his face.

  "Brother!" She looked to on the verge of tears.

  "Hello Christina." His voice was business-like, as if he had never left.

  His tone changed her face, and she took a step back. "Do you intend to kill us all, brother. You know that your two armies more than likely could right now."

  He did not even think for a second. "No, not unless you do not agree with my terms."

  Her eyes flashed. "Which are?"

  "To not kill humans, and to treat all who do kill humans as murderers and publicly execute them." His voice was firm.

  All of the leaders agreed, and they were about to leave to sign the treaty when Sophella walked up to Niethel. He was still standing where he had thrown the sword away, and had not moved. She looked up at him.

  "Why didn't you take the sword? That was your chance to finally prove to yourself that you were brave. You could have been E, instead of just, you." Her voice was terse, but her eyes showed that she was glad he was alive.

  He grabbed her by the small of her back and drew her to him, holding them together and kissing her with his bleeding lips. When they came away, shock was in her eyes, and he laughed.

  "Because it's Niethel that you love, and I wouldn't give that up to be the ruler of the world." His voice smiled wider than his face.

  Normally, such strong remarks would have earned him a hard slap, but this time she just chuckled and placed her head on his chest. "Yea, that is quite an honor."

  Niethel's smile, which looked like it couldn't have ever gotten any wider, grew twice as much, and he turned to Demenn with a face that could blind the sun. "Hey, Demenn, I'm getting married!"

  Demenn chuckled, but even that movement felt overpowering. "That's great Niethel," he said weakly, "but I could really use some—"

  His voice stopped short as a piercing pain shot through his entire body. It stung him like nothing before, and when he looked down, he saw a familiar blade sticking out of his chest. He staggered forward and fell to one knee while turning around. In front of him, his hands still holding the handle that was no longer in them, was Varus. His face was ashen, but his jaw was set.

  "Wh-why?" Was all Demenn could stammer out, as he felt his strength slowly leaving him.

  Varus said nothing for a moment before shouting back at him with a voice filled with pain and anger. "Because you killed my sister! You killed Korinna! I told you. I told you!" His voice was dissolving into sobbing, but his face was filled with rage. "I told you I'd kill you. Told you not to trust me! Why'd you have to trust me? Pretend we were friends? You can't be friends with someone who killed your sister!" He fell to his knees, making his eyes on the same level with Demenn's. "This was my revenge! Just like yours. See, we're no different. I was right!" His voice became desperate. "You would have done the same thing. You did the same thing. I'm right. I swear I'm right! I loved my sister!" He was crying when he was hoisted to his feet by a half-dozen vampires. They held him back with their strength, but he dragged th
em along with him toward Demenn. "I loved my sister!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, his eyes boring into Demenn's. "You deserved this! You deserved this!" Tears were falling down his face.

  Demenn felt the holy water beginning to corrode his flesh as Varus was brought back away from him. His face contorted in pain. A crowd was gathering around them, of all races, and the five leaders were still close enough that they came. At first, everyone was silent, but then one solitary voice called out.

  "Kill him."

  The soldiers near Varus pulled out their weapons, but Demenn's cry stopped them in their tracks.