Spoilers for Chapter 8 and Marianne's paralogue. Mild content warning for violence.
*
Claude was no stranger to violence. Their months at the Monastery thus far had given them valuable battlefield experience, and coupled with their cool composure, the future leader to the Alliance was convinced that there was little out there that could faze them.
Remire Village had proven him wrong.
The smell of smoking wood and charred flesh was impossible to ignore as Claude dashed through the village alongside their stalwart professor. He’d never show the discomfort and disgust, of course - a leader’s gotta keep it together no matter what, right? - but he could tell that this scene would be playing back in his sleep for a long while.
Byleth, ever the stoic, showed no sign of slowing down as they led the charge, barely regarding the burning buildings or the corpses that decorated their hellish landscape. As two assailants emerged from behind cover to try and pick off Byleth and Claude with throwing daggers, Byleth whisked their relic sword like a whip and cut the men down without a hint of emotion on their face.
Damn, Teach. I guess that’s why they call you the Ashen Demon, huh...?
“Do you see anyone?” Byleth announced, shaking the sword once with their strong arm to shed some of the blood before retracting its whip-like form back to normal.
“Can’t say I have yet,” Claude said, keeping pace while picking off a third assassin hiding behind a nearby barrel with a well-aimed shot from his bow. “Unless you count the bad guys, of course.”
It was difficult to keep the levity in such a grim situation. Aside from the horror of the village going up in smoke as half of its citizens seemed consumed by some strange bloodlust, the Golden Deer had gotten separated amidst the chaos. Byleth jarred themselves to the side as they spotted another group of villagers under attack. “Don’t worry, Claude. They’ll be okay.”
“Of course, Teach. This is a cakewalk after what you’ve trained us through, right?”
Claude readied his bow, the string dug deep into his fingers. Everyone in their house could hold their own in a fight.
Except for maybe one...
*
Marianne stumbled through the blood-soaked mud, her uniform caked and torn amidst the attackers that she had evaded thus far. She had managed to slip away from the maddened villagers with their sickles and pitchforks, but she could feel the exhaustion setting in. Her talent in healing injuries didn’t extent to herself. Self-care had never been her strong suit.
The mage had gotten separated early on when one of the houses nearby fell to pieces, the stonework barring her intended path to keep formation with Raphael. Her cries for aid had been drowned out amidst the licking of flames and the clashing of iron. Now, she was alone on the battlefield, with no idea where Claude or Byleth or anyone else might be.
A blast of dark magic erupted from around the corner of a nearby stable. Marianne shrieked and threw herself to the side behind an overturned cart. She couldn’t even tell if that had been aimed for her. It was such a chaotic situation that she could barely tell where she was or where to go. Where was the professor when she needed him...?
Marianne heard the whinnying of horses from afar, only for it to be cut short by the telltale sound of lances skewering through meat. She felt her blood run cold, the fear threatening to overtake her entirely.
And now, somewhere deep in her bones, something was snapping.
“N-No!” Marianne cried out, her worst fear now coming to life. There was all manner of dark legend about what the Crest of the Beast could do, and she had spent so long keeping it buried as deep as possible, but the smell of hot blood and the sight of frayed meat around her was enticing it like bait. “I-I won’t...!”
A rumble of thunder echoed across the distance. A scream died out with a gurgle. No matter where she turned, Marianne saw death.
Did her throat always feel so dry? Was the sound of her heartbeat always so deafening? Was there blood seeping in her gums or was it simply her imagination? The girl doubled over, wincing as pain bellowed from inside her every pore. She dug her hands into her ribs, trying to contain whatever was threatening to burst out from her frail cage of skin and bone.
No matter her conviction, it was no match for the Crest of the Beast. Marianne fell to her knees, her breath thin and ragged as if she were being choked by an invisible force. A guttural noise - somewhere between the wheezing of a broken throat and the snarl of a feral animal - escaped her lips.
Marianne disappeared as her eyes went as blank and white as snow.
*
Claude clambered atop a tree that had miraculously remained untouched by the fires thus far (although he didn’t intend to stay up for any longer than he needed to.) He squinted as he scanned the roads around him, trying to spot anyone in a familiar yellow uniform to assist.
A few houses away, there was a flash of steel as Lorenz fought back against a robe-clad madman, the lance deflecting their attack with ease.
“Not my first choice, but now’s not the time to be picky...” Claude muttered to himself, before turning his head down to inform the awaiting professor of his discovery. “Hey, Teach, I spotted Lorenz. He’s over by-”
The whole village seemed to shake as something erupted in the distance. Byleth staggered and leaned against the tree for support while Claude had to swiftly wrap his hands around the nearest branch for fear of falling straight down.
What was that? An explosion? What could cause an explosion like that-?!
A bestial roar followed, deep and feral. Claude turned his head back, staring out towards the edge of the village. The blanket of gray clouds in the sky and the vista of trees lining around the village border shielded the area from light, but the fires below were just enough illumination to show the source of the bloodcurdling noise.
A looming figure, towering high above the fragile buildings below, bellowed with rage. The creature looked vaguely humanoid, yet from what details he could make out from the distance, it definitely reminded Claude of the Black Beast that Miklan had transformed into. It also reminded him of something else, yet he couldn’t quite place it...
The savage giant advanced. The Beast was free.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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