12 Miles Below-Chapter 55Book 8 - - Reason to fight

He didn’t fight like anything I’d seen before. I mean, there was a sword, and he was swinging it through people, breaking their cohesion and sending them packing back home.

That’s where the similarities to any normal combat ended.

Maybe To’Aacar was a very close possibility, in how that Feather had constantly upended Wrath during their fight. Each kick, punch or connected blade could allow To’Aacar to teleport Wrath into an alternate position, redirecting her attacks and orientation constantly.

Conviction’s abilities were similar. He swung his blade, then vanished.

And reappeared behind some victim once more swinging in a flash of occult. And vanished again. Only to reappear in another flash of occult, once more attacking.

There wasn’t a single moment Conviction needed to defend against anything. Every swing was singular, aimed to cut through someone.

This would have been fine and defendable against, even if he appeared right behind us - if it hadn’t been at the speed of insanity.

It felt more like he was all over the vault at the same time. Flashes of occult everywhere, cries of pain and surprise from the Winterscars. Even Wrath was kicked out of the air at some point within the first two seconds of the fight.

Father and two other had been quick and lucky enough the protofeather appeared slightly too far and at an angle they had a chance to defend against.

Everyone else was forced to trigger their occult dome shields to protect against any direction, which was much easier to do in the occult space this strange alternate world existed in.

It didn’t matter because in a few more seconds, Conviction had basically attacked everyone in the room at least four times over, and people were strained to their limits.

Father had been able to block with his occult blades more often. His digital avatar here looked like his past human self within Winterscar prime, but his current body in real life had all the speed and processing of a Feather, and that was seriously helping him keep up with the speed.

Nine other Winterscars also had the same advantage - their stolen shells boosting their cognitive speed, letting them somewhat keep up with Conviction’s brutal dance between our entire force.

And Sagrius was the slowest of us all, but he didn’t need speed. Each blade that sliced for him was blocked by an occult dome as the man was too entrenched with the deep willpower of a relic armor mixed with the ability to actually use that willpower like a human would.

The rest of us didn’t have much of a chance. Conviction slaughtered Winterscar knight after knight. All our surface techniques were useless against an enemy that simply vanished and reappeared, slashing and stabbing with a thin hardly visible blade.

And for each knight that died, Conviction had less knights to focus on, which meant he’d appear and deliver more and more hits.

I tried to launch a swarm of occult ghosts after him, except there was nowhere to really focus on. By the time he appeared and attacked, he was already gone. I couldn’t task my ghosts to move fast enough.

I couldn’t even keep track of him fast enough.

Instead I felt my hand get cut off, as he flashed through from my right side. Then stumbled on the ground as my leg was sliced clean.

And before I could even properly fall on the floor, I saw a rapier stabbed in my back, right by my spine and out my chest.

He was already attacking someone else before I could even grunt in pain.

I could feel my cohesion in this world weaken, but sheer spite at having been taken out this fast was keeping me together.

Someone threw an occult pulse, the kind of thing Drakonis had done. It sucked inwards all the occult around, creating more of a black void in this world than an implosion of air like it had in the real world.

And that had somehow stopped Conviction’s rampage.

I looked around me. Most of the knights were fading off, sliced and diced into pieces. The rest were gravely wounded like I was, struggling to keep it together or even stand back up.

Only twelve of us remained standing. The nine clan knights that had taken Feather shells, although quite a few of them had been clearly cut through. Father and Wrath, both looking still at full capacity. And Sagrius, who remained standing like a pillar.

Conviction had reappeared back on his dais, the centerpoint where all the chains that were shattered led back to. “I expected this speed from you, traitor.” The protofeather said, violet eyes looking over to Wrath who had lost a wing but otherwise looked mostly unharmed. The eyes roved over the remaining knights. “But for mankind, I commend the rest of your speed and alacrity.” He said, flourishing the rapier, point ending upwards, the blade perfectly center to his face. “Perhaps this final era has brought the best of you back. It is, unfortunately, not enough.”

The vault doorway opened, and through it came a spear of occult, blinding fast.

I’d seen that spear already. And I remembered I'd even given the secrets of it to someone who could use it to the fullest.

Looks like he had.

It lanced right into Conviction as he stood, but the protofeather was already parrying the attack, deflecting it upwards into the side of the vault wall where it shattered through, ripping cracks across the terminal wall. Violet eyes looked back at the entry. “The same weapon as my progenitor. Show yourself, imposter.”

Keith Superior walked into the vault, another spear prepared in his outstretched hand. Floating just above him, like lightning trapped in his will.

Damn I look pretty badass. I thought.

He shot me a very small wink. Of course we do Prime. You inherited my devilishly good looks.

Conviction launched himself straight at Superior the very next moment, barely stopped by Father attempting to redirect the attack by jumping directly in the way, blades flashing out. Violet eyes locked on him, and narrowed.

I don’t think I’ve seen Father actually lose a fight one on one before, not without everything going wrong.

Conviction proved that incorrect.

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There really were entities stronger than Tenisent Winterscar one on one. Three or four in the entire world, maybe.

And it just so happened this was exactly one such entity.

The protofeather struck, blade flashing faster and faster, until Father’s defense turned from determined, to desperate, but he still somehow kept up.

In a single blink, Conviction grabbed him by the chestplate at the exact moment Father failed to defend against, then threw him out of the way, just in time to see Superior launch another bolt of pure occult spear right at his face. This time Conviction dodged, letting the spear pass right over his chest before he vanished, reappearing that same moment behind Superior.

I launched an entire army of occult ghosts to collapse on Conviction, all of them speeding as fast as they could to press the protofeather. Trying to get to him before the protofeather could stab Superior directly through the head.

Conviction’s eyes turned my direction for a half second, sword about to cleave Superior in half. And during that half second we locked eyes, a spinning dagger was thrown right at my face.

I blinked.

“You’ve returned.” Urs said, watching as I snapped back to reality. Back outside the terminal, in the real world. “Have you uncovered what was sealed?”

Ah. I'd been killed. So thoroughly killed that I didn't even notice the decohesion.

“We have.” Wrath said, slowly. She equally stood up from the water where she’d sat down near the terminal.

The Winterscars were all up. Only a handful of the clan knights remained in the trance, likely within the terminal. One by one they were waking back up. Faster and faster. Conviction was ripping us apart and speeding up for everyone he no longer had to mess with.

I didn’t even know if Superior had survived or managed to escape the deathblow long enough to press the attack again.

But in my head, one set of words went through my head.

Come forth, champions of mankind. Or I will break free and destroy everything beyond.

“Shit! We can’t let him out of this terminal,” I turned straight to the Chaptermaster, “Get people on the physical shut off switches, if we mess this up, something worse is going to be escaping out of there and we’re screwed if he does.”

The Chaptermaster asked no questions, instead he turned to the nearest imperial crusaders, “Execute the A01 Decree, have men stationed at all breach points, and prepare to separate power on command.”

The crusader saluted, and raced out.

I made the count at who was still in there fighting: Three clan knights, Father, and Sagrius remained in a trance. The rest of us were already on our feet. No, the other two clan knights had shuddered to life.

Which meant it was just Father, Sagrius and Superior holding off Conviction alone in there.

We had to go back. I signaled as much, two fingers making a quick hand-sign for advance, directly at the terminal. The rest of the knights here understood.

We’d need to keep piling in there again and again, no matter how many times we died. Father and Sagrius were not going to survive for much longer alone. We’d overwhelm the protofeather with sheer numbers.

“What have you found within the containment?” Urs asked again.

“A shard. A copy of A01, and it’s been waiting inside the terminal for all this time. It’s breaking free too.” I slapped my hand on the terminal. “We’ve got to stop it.”

***

Tenisent Winterscar fought with every ounce of his speed and ability, blade flashing in every direction as he adjusted and adapted the surface combat schools into something to fight against an enemy that could strike from any angle around him.

Conviction did not let up, and Tenisent had no illusions this would be a battle he could win.

All he could do was endure.

The protofeather fought in a way that was far more elegant and deadly than anything he’d ever seen. Turning the bladework more into a dance than the true life-or-death struggle Tenisent knew it as.

Sagrius was at his side, arms held in the stance of a hand to hand fighter, knowing his own blade would never be fast enough to handle anything. All he could do was hold Tenisent’s rear angle and hold off, acting as a shield. Occult dome shield appeared again and again just in time to hold off the onslaught until the protofeather seemed to take a pause.

The whirlwind ended.

Conviction stood on his dais again, blade cutting through the air, as if resetting. The eyes showed no mercy. The grim determination of someone who had resolved himself to a difficult path. And.. something deeper lurking behind.

Tenisent wasn’t certain what. But he could feel it was something… familiar.

All around the vault, cracks and fissures within the walls remained where the other Keith had fought. Superior, Tenisent knew he was called. Similar to the shard of A01 here, this was a copy of his son. Different in skills. A potential future in what Keith could have been had the boy studied and practiced a completely different path forward.

Capable of equally vanishing in place and reappearing elsewhere within the digital sea, an ability he had used over and over to launch multiple spears from alternate directions after his son had been cut through with a dagger.

It had been a valiant attempt. And Tenisent felt a flicker of pride deep down that both versions of his son had stood and fought against an enemy that overshadowed even his own skills.

And both had fought in completely different ways than he could.

They’d grown strong. Any other foe would have been cut into pieces from the army of ghosts, or smote out of existence from the rain of spears.

But Conviction was more than a simple foe, and he moved faster than Keith Superior could fight against, catching the wayward soul, stabbing him through the heart in one fatal blow, forcing him back to the safety of the mite blood fractal deep under their feet on the other side of the wall.

Soon, Conviction had whittled the rest of the expedition forces here, leaving only Tenisent and Sagrius as the final combatants.

“You still stand. Good.” Conviction spoke from his center dias, having reappeared there. “Resolve yourselves, or I will escape this cell and the world will fall.”

Tenisent glared back at the violet eyes ahead, trying to understand why the protofeather had stopped the combat here when a few more seconds would have seen them both dead.

And he realized what he’d seen within those eyes.

A mirror.

“I know what you are. And I know what you want.” Tenisent suddenly said, standing taller.

Conviction narrowed his eyes down at the human soul before him. "And what am I then?"

“A coward. If your life will bring this world to ruin, you have a duty to end yourself.” Tenisent lifted his sword, tip pointing at the protofeather like an accusation. “Only a coward would remain alive when their life curses all others.”

Conviction stared Tenisent back. There was no hostility in those eyes, no outrage at the insult. “You speak in experience.” He simply said.

“I do.” Tenisent remembered the years of darkness. Of drinking himself each night to a stupor. Knowing each breath he took was a waste of oxygen, deprived from the world where it could have been given to someone else more fitting for it.

The despair each morning, when he found himself still very much alive despite his best attempts otherwise. The self-hatred. The loathing. The guilt. That he was failing his family each day over and over again, and unable to stop himself. “I was that coward. Now, I stand until I have atoned for the years I have wasted. If you cannot do the same, then stand aside for those who will.”

The words cut into Conviction deeper than any blade had been so far. He closed his eyes, then opened them again and drew his blade, tip up. “I am a loyal blade of her will.”

“You are a coward seeking death in the only way that would be acceptable to your misbegotten pride.”

“I cannot be disillusioned, son of man. I can only be stopped.”

“You can be stopped. You only choose to leave that burden to someone else.” Tenisent hissed back.

A bottle or a blade, both would kill as easily.

But Tenisent knew he wasn’t going to get through. Not anymore than anything he could have told his past self in that darkness.

Conviction truly could only be stopped by being beaten. It was the only fitting way the protofeather could think that would allow him to end it all.

All that was left in the vault were them. The others would likely be racing back down here, but so long as one person remained alive and fighting, Conviction would remain here to fight, even if he could have left so long ago.

Sagrius stood back up on his feet, breathing by reflex. The man once more drew his blade, for all the good it had done him thus far.

Tenisent turned to give Captain Sagrius a glance.

The man stared back, then slowly brought his blade up in a salute. “For… House… Winterscar.”

And he heard it in his voice. An echo of the true captain.

The armor within must be growing exhausted, unable to hold off this much damage. Even the depth of its own resolve had limits.

Tenisent drew his own blade and returned the salute. Words he’d never have uttered in the past flowed back, like an old litany from an era he no longer belonged in. “For House Winterscar.” He replied.

For what it was now.

There was nothing more to say between them. It was them against a demi-god. They would either hold Conviction here, or they wouldn’t.

The Protofeather loomed over them, and flourished his blade one more time. Waiting for the pair to prepare themselves.

And then launched himself directly once more into the fray.