The Gift Of Wrath

The sky loomed black, streaked with veins of lightning that crackled through the dark stormy skies. Fierce winds tore through the forest, bending trees like brittle twigs. 

Mr Swordsman remained unmoving against the tempest as his cloak flared wildly. His grip barely steady on the hilt of his blade.

Before him, the volcano rumbled, belching rocks and ash that thickened the sky in a suffocating shroud. Its wrath neared its peak.

He took a slow breath and forced his feet forward, each step unsteady, his body screaming for him to rest. His limbs burned as though they had become fire itself, drained yet still demanding more.

"How pathetic I am," he murmured, nearly collapsing. He caught himself, his stance shaking. "But this is no time to be cautious."

Straightening, he closed his eyes, letting his energy flow evenly through the three layers of his life force. His breath slowed, measured, until the world seemed to quiet as if he were surrounded by darkness. Blood trickled from his nose.

Then—his eyes snapped open.

A violent pulse of energy erupted from him, tearing through the air. Trees splintered, entire sections of the forest collapsed beneath the force. His lifeforce surged outward, stretching past the treeline, spilling into the distant town.

 Mr Swordsman simply exhaled, staring up at the storm-ridden sky.

The exhaustion, the pain, the crushing weight of depletion—

Gone.

The storm raged and the volcano trembled. And his newfound power rose.

#

The underground tunnel was like a vast labyrinth.

Emilia pressed forward, guided by the map sketched in the old book Kot had given her. At every few steps, she reached for a torch on the wall, igniting it to light the way for those trailing behind her.

The passage had been constructed with only a single entrance and exit—a design meant to prevent infiltration. Dugouts and chambers lined its sides, transforming the space into something more than a mere tunnel. This was an underground stronghold, complete with offices and living quarters.

Even as she walked, Emilia's mind was burdened. Where would they surface once they reached the exit?

She stole frequent glances at the book in her hands, double-checking every turn. But in doing so, she occasionally missed a torch, leaving patches of darkness in her wake. Her unease grew—not just from the tunnel's twists and turns, but from something else.

A hand rested gently on her shoulder.

"You look troubled. What's wrong?" Kot's voice dipped to a hushed tone. "You're worried about your brother right?."

Emilia shook her head. "I know he'll be fine," she said, her voice steady. "It's Hudson and Mr. Swordsman… I didn't want to say it out loud, but if the volcano is really about to erupt, does that mean they won't make it out alive?"

Kot offered a small grin. "I don't know anything about your swordsman, but I can tell you this—Hudson won't die."

Emilia let out a slow breath. "You all really hold him in such high regard," she murmured. "But to me… he's just a great guy." She hesitated, her grip tightening around the book. "Now that I think about it, I barely know Mr. Swordsman at all. I've known Hudson for less time, yet I understand him more than I do that man."

Kot chuckled. "You must know something about him. Even if it's just his favourite food?"

Emilia turned away, her expression darkening. "I don't know anything about him," she whispered. "Not even his name."

Kot quickly unsheathed his blade, stepping in front of her as a suffocating presence filled the tunnel.

The people behind them trembled, their breath caught in their throats.

"What… what kind of energy is this?" Kot murmured.

Emilia's eyes widened as she turned. Sensing life forces was never easy for her—

But this one…

"It's just like last time," she breathed.

#

Outside the tunnels, the battle raged on. Guards and mercenaries clashed. Adventurers and civilians alike had thrown themselves into the fray—helping to protect the injured.

Pasta slammed his fist against the wall, his teeth bared in frustration. "Damn it! He got away!"

Lester, blade still dripping with fresh blood, turned to him. "Hack fleeing is a blessing. That man isn't someone we can take down so easily."

Pasta clenched his fists tighter, his nails digging into his palms. "I haven't had a decent fight since I got here," he muttered, his voice low with barely restrained rage. "What am I doing wrong?"

A voice cut through the battlefield.

"We've found more survivors, Sir Bobby!" A young man waved from the distance, adventurers behind him carrying the wounded on their backs.

Bobby, still in the midst of combat, barely spared them a glance. He swung his sword, cutting down another enemy with ease. "Clear a path for them! Everyone, let's wipe these bastards out and get out of town!"

A thunderous roar erupted from their allies. "Yeah!!"

And then—

The sky morphed into something horrendous.

The swirling clouds of smoke turned sickly red, bleeding across the heavens. A force unlike anything before swept through the town, freezing them in place.

Pasta's breath hitched. His blade slipped from his fingers, clattering uselessly to the ground. His wide eyes locked onto the sky—onto the thing that loomed above them.

The exact being he had seen in the void.

A horned demon, gazing down at the forest with a wide, ominous grin stretched across its face.

#

Perched atop a rooftop, Sparrow observed the eerie transformation of the sky as a small bird flitted playfully around his head.

But then—something below caught his eye.

Hack was sprinting toward the gate, weaving through the burning town.

Sparrow gave a little smile as he rose to his feet. "Ah, my little friend, it seems the time has come to bring this act to a close, don't you think?"

The bird let out a cheerful chirp.

Sparrow chuckled. "Yes, my dear companion," he murmured, stepping off the roof.

#

Hades' tattered cloak fluttered, revealing jagged streaks of bare skin beneath.

He stepped onto the air itself, commanding it to his will, and with a thunderous blast, he shot skyward.

The volcano roared, spewing fire and stone, but Hades remained unmoved, his cold gaze locked onto the inferno.

Midair, he pulled his sword back, and the very crimson sky seemed to bow before him. 

The earth trembled. 

A horned beast shrieked as tornadoes tore through the forest, uprooting trees, and scattering debris. The blistering heat wavered, a chill creeping into the air.

That was enough.

Hades' energy surged beyond its limits, his very essence pulsating with raw, untamed power. Then, with a single mighty swing of his blade, he strengthened the cold with a burst that wove the fleeting chill into an avalanche of ice.

The blizzard erupted outward, swallowing the storm. The tornadoes, now infused with his frozen wrath, carried the frost in every direction.

Hades exhaled, the world flickering grey so he remained suspended in the air for some time. He released another devastating burst—an explosion of wind so fierce it sent the raining fire and molten rock hurtling back. The cold followed, racing across the volcano, and consuming it.

A violent gust ripped Hudson from the ground, flinging him skyward. He cried out—until Tori shot through the air, seizing him just before he was lost to the storm. Her scythe shot out of its baton, its blade biting deep into a tree. Her eyes locked on Hades.

The storm raged on—a vortex of dust and lightning spiralling around the swordsman.

Then, as he plummeted, Hades unleashed one final surge. Electricity crackled outward in a massive pulse, forming an orb that reduced the frozen volcano and hills to shambles. The forest met its end as well, swept away in the maelstrom.

And then, silence.

The storm had passed. The world stood still, the once-thriving landscape now a barren, blackened wasteland.

Hades' eyes went blank as his body fell, his sword still clutched in his grip, his hat torn from his head.

Before he could crash into the ruined earth, Andy leapt in, catching him.

Standing amidst the desolation, Andy turned, taking in the hollowed ruin that stretched before him. His voice was barely a whisper.

"…This is awful."

He gently placed the hat back on Hades' head.

His gaze lingered on the unconscious swordsman.

"Just who are you, Mr. Swordsman?"

#

Pasta dropped to his knees, his eyes wide as he witnessed the wrath of the swordsman.

Slowly he lowered his head. The faint noises of the resumed battle surrounded him.

"So... That's Mr Swordsman's gift," he whispered, a tear falling to the stone floor as he clenched his fist. "What am I doing wrong?"

#

Emilia turned to the crowd behind her. They stood frozen, their faces pale, sweat trickling down their foreheads. Though the overwhelming energy had passed, they remained affected.

She took a deep breath, then stepped forward, her voice cutting through the silence. "Come on, everyone! We're almost there. We've come this far—are we really going to give up now?"

The people lifted their heads, their fear clashing with the urgency of her words. If they remained still, the eruption might catch up to them.

With newfound determination, they pressed on, winding through the tunnels until they reached an enormous metal door adorned with intricate floral engravings.

Emilia pulled out the map, glancing between it and the door. "This should be the exit," she muttered before turning to Kot. A relieved smile ghosted her lips. "We finally made it."

"Finally," Kot groaned, placing both hands against the door and pushing it open. A staircase leading upward stretched before them. "We actually made it. Guess your looks aren't your only charm," he added with a smirk.

Emilia shot him a stony glare.

The crowd erupted in cheers, hands raised high as they chanted, "Lady Emilia! Lady Emilia!"

Emilia turned away, hiding the small smile tugging at her lips. "Alright, let's keep moving," she said, tucking her book under her arm and stepping onto the staircase. "By the way, Kot, where do you think this leads—"

Silence.

Emilia's steps halted. Her heart skipped a beat.

She turned back.

No one was there. Only an empty staircase spiralling downward.

Her pulse quickened. She whipped her head forward, only to find herself no longer in the tunnels.

A vast coliseum stretched before her, its stone walls towering into the bleeding skies with distant stars flickering like dying embers. Winged creatures circled overhead, their guttural cries echoing in the stillness.

Emilia staggered back, pressing against the cold stone wall.

There was no way back.

At the far end of the coliseum, monolithic statues loomed, encircling the space. Perched atop them stood cloaked figures, their wide-brimmed hats casting deep shadows over their faces.

Emilia's fingers trembled. Her book slipped from her grasp, landing with a soft thud. She tried to speak, but no sound came.

"This must be her," one of the figures murmured.

"Where's her brother?" another inquired.

A woman crossed her arms. "Bringing him in as well would be troublesome."

A hulking figure scoffed. "An important time like this, and that damn dancer isn't here."

The woman stepped forward. "So, what should we do with her, boss?"

A shorter figure moved to the front, his presence sending a cold shiver through Emilia's spine. His voice was barely above a whisper yet it seemed to echo across the space. "We don't need to do anything."

Emilia swallowed hard.

"She already knows why we're here," the leader said.

A deep growl rumbled from the massive man. "Don't tell me you plan on leaving her to that man."

The tall woman didn't flinch. "We can't just attack the Weeping Swordsman. You know full well how his favourite person would feel about that."

Emilia watched their exchange. Though their presence was ominous, she felt an even heavier weight pressing down on her.

She knew who they were.

The disciples. Once the guardians of the Nine Realms.

The leader shifted his gaze to her, his voice quiet but absolute. "You've seen the horrors of Hades' gift," he said. "Do you truly wish to continue travelling with a monster like that?"

Her fists clenched. "You mean Mr. Swordsman?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "He's... not a monster"

The leader didn't answer.

The hulking man bared his teeth. "That gift is dangerous. It calls forth a beast that strengthens the swordsman's life force. There's more to it than we know, and that makes him all the more unpredictable and dangerous."

The leader remained still. "Emilia, we understand the purpose of your journey. That swordsman of yours poses a threat—not just to you, but to the entire kingdom. He is bound to Bloodborne by contract. Once that contract is fulfilled… if he chooses to, he will kill you without a second thought. He is, after all, a man who will do anything for his own benefit."

He turned away, his voice trailing off.

"If you ever run into one of us again… just do whatever."

#

Emilia's eyes snapped open, only to find Kot leaning in far too close. 

Instinct took over—her foot shot out, sending him hurtling into the cave's stony wall with a dull thud.

She spun around, taking in her surroundings. The once-imposing floral metal door was gone, replaced by rugged cave walls that seamlessly concealed the entrance to the tunnels. A waterfall cascaded over the opening, shielding it from view. She held her head, sweat dripping down her face. Was that a dream? 

The people of Pyrovile stood gathered before her, their faces awash with gratitude.

"Lady Emilia, thank you," they murmured in unison, bowing deeply.

She faced them and then chuckled, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "That's unnecessary," she said with a warm smile. "I didn't do much."

Kot scrambled to his feet, seizing the moment to hold her hands. "What you talking about? Without you, the civilians would've been slaughtered by mercenaries or consumed by lava. You're the hero of Pyrovile."

Emilia's smile remained, though her eyes cooled. "Oh? Hero of Pyrovile? That's… nice." She smoothly pulled her hands away, casually wiping them against the rocky wall.

Kot's face lost its colour as she stepped past him.

"I'll survey the area," she declared. "Kot, you stay here and make sure everyone gets back up safely."

"Y-yes, ma'am…" 

Emilia emerged from the cave to find herself surrounded by a lush, vibrant forest. Towering trees stretched toward the sky, their emerald leaves swaying in the gentle breeze and no lost civilisation. 

She moved through the trees, breaking into a light run and taking notes of her surroundings. Before long, she saw the Pyrovile and a desolate wasteland at the hills. And the volcanoes were no longer in sight.

"We actually did it," she murmured.

Her gaze darkened. "Hades… That's what they called him." Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. "Is that his real name? And that energy back there… Was that part of his gift?"

She fell silent. The pulse of power she had felt—it had mirrored Mr. Swordsman's, yet it was different. More ominous. And yet, there was something else beneath the surface… A yearning.

She couldn't put it into words, but one thing was certain—she disliked the gift.

Her eyes flickered toward the distant gates of Pyrovile. Reaching into her bag, she retrieved a scope.

Two figures were at the entrance.

#

Hack burst through the gates, his breath ragged as he came to an abrupt halt. He slowly turned to the hills above. His eyes widened at the sight. The trees were all burnt and the earth darkened.

His pulse quickened, sweat dripping down his face, yet his lips curled into a wide grin.

"How… How is this possible?" he muttered, wiping his forehead. Then his voice rose with manic delight. "Yes! The Supreme Being has finally shown me favour!"

Panting, he threw his arms open to the desolate sky.

"I can start anew… from nothing," he declared. "I'll rebuild. I'll carve out my own domain—just as it was meant to be! I never needed those hypocrites anyway."

A slow, amused chuckle came from above.

"Now, now. Let's not use such vulgar words, shall we?"

Hack's grin froze. His eyes snapped upward.

Sparrow sat lazily on a gnarled branch, surrounded by a flock of birds, their vibrant feathers flapping against the noble's form. 

Hack's expression twisted as he unsheathed his blade. "You sneaky rat, as always detecting your lifeforce is a challenge"

Sparrow gave an amused smile.

Hack frowned, his grip tightening around the hilt. "This was your doing! How did the damn chart end up with that girl?! It was you, wasn't it?! You bastard!"

Sparrow idly stroked the feathers of a small blue bird.

"I said—no vulgar words."

Hack's fury burned hotter. "And where is that useless Tony?! He was supposed to complete the mission. And you—" he pointed his blade at Sparrow "—you were supposed to get us out of town with your gift!"

Sparrow let out a breath, shaking his head. "Tony is dead, Hack. So please, no vulgar words."

Hack scoffed. "Why am I not surprised? I knew he'd gone soft. Spent too much time lounging in that cosy mansion of his." He sneered. "What a damn joke. No wonder he couldn't even keep his rogue workers in line."

"Shut up."

Sparrow's voice barely a whisper, but the weight of his words scattered the birds around him.

 He sighed, rubbing his temple.

"I had hoped for a pleasant conversation first, but I see that won't be happening." 

He hopped down from the tree.

Hack levelled his blade at him. "I always knew you were a traitor. You acted too clever, too damn smug. We were comrades in the war, but that never stopped me from suspecting you."

Sparrow clasped his hands behind his back. "Well, aren't you perceptive?"

"Of course, I am," Hack spat. "And I know your little bird trick, too. Using your gift drains you fast. So here's what's going to happen—I'll carve through each of your precious pets until you're too weak to run. And then I'll cut you down."

 His smirk returned. "We both know I can do it."

Sparrow's gaze darkened. "The Hack I knew was far more perceptive."

Hack raised a brow. "Huh? What the hell are you—"

A wet, sickening crack echoed through the air.

His breath hitched. Blood dripped to the ground.

His shoulder—crushed, clamped within the talons of a massive bird.

 He barely had time to register the pain before he looked up—into the gleaming, predatory eyes of a monstrous bird.

Hack's heart pounded. He turned his head, teeth bared. "You cunning little bastard… When did you?-"

Sparrow smiled.

"You mocked Tony for losing his edge, yet look at yourself. You let your arrogance cloud your instincts." He at the beast that held Hack in its grasp. "If I let my temper control me, do you think my friends would stick around? But my dear companion over there… he was wise enough to position himself right behind you after his friends flew off."

Hack let out a furious snarl. "You damn—"

The bird's beak clamped down.

His words never left his throat.

The creature tore his head clean off.

Sparrow sighed, flicking away a stray speck of blood from his coat. "How unpleasant."

A slow clap came from the distance.

"Sparrow. Ruthless as ever."

Sparrow turned his gaze.

Lucas stepped forward, flanked by two guards. 

Sparrow studied him. "I see you survived," he murmured, watching as the bird on his shoulder flapped its wings and let out a shrill cry.

Lucas smirked. "Is that an issue?" 

His guards stiffened, hands reaching for their blades.

Sparrow didn't answer. Instead, he gently stroked the monstrous bird's beak, and in an instant, the beast shrank back to its normal form.

Lucas chuckled. "Still the same know-it-all from the old days, aren't you, Sparrow?"

A single cherry petal drifted between them.

 Then, both men stepped forward, embracing.

"The town is quite something," Lucas remarked.

"I hear you've become a bard," Sparrow whispered.

Lucas laughed. "And I hear you're still as sharp as ever."

Sparrow tightened the hug. "Yes," he murmured, his voice soft. "But we have other matters to attend to, don't we?"

Lucas smiled. "Yes… off to the second realm—"

Sparrow twisted his neck.

The snap echoed through the silence.

Before his guards could react, two monstrous birds descended upon them, their beaks tearing through flesh and bone in an instant.

Sparrow released Lucas, watching as his body collapsed onto the earth.

He stared out into the distance, a bright smile still resting on his lips.

#

The snowstorm howled through the frozen expanse of the Fourth, its icy breath sweeping across the towering pines. Amid the swirling white, Thorne and his crew stood unmoving.

Before them, a lone figure in a blue mask emerged from the blizzard, his posture calm, almost indifferent.

Thorne exhaled, his breath a fleeting cloud in the frigid air. "You should be at the town of flames," he muttered.

"Let's kill him, let's kill him," Bastian chanted, his fingers twitching with anticipation.

Thorne's gaze cut through him—colder than the storm itself. Bastian fell silent.

A soft hum filled the air as translucent, glowing blue cubes materialised around the masked man. "Now, why would I go to the Seventh," he said, "when the man I seek is right here in the Fourth?"

Thorne's jaw tensed. "We both know what answer awaits if you confront him," he warned. "I'm giving you a chance. Leave while you still can."

The masked man took a step forward. "I came for Darius. Thorne, step aside."

A lilting voice chimed through the storm. "What a fun group I've stumbled upon," it mused, lighthearted yet brimming with mischief. "Come on, come on, come on—fight already."

Both men turned.

Perched atop a frost-covered branch, a woman swung her legs lazily, watching them with a gleam of amusement.

Thorne looked up to her.

It seemed she had concealed her presence all along, or she had just arrived.

Zephyr's curved blades slid free as the chains binding them swayed in the wind but Thorne and the masked man remained still, watching.

The woman wore a straw hat adorned with delicate ornaments, her vibrant robes a striking contrast to the pale world around her. A sheathed sword, a small jug, and a collection of seashells and bells hung from her waist, swaying with her movements.

Thorne's muscles coiled. "So you're one of them—"

She vanished.

In an instant, she was inches from him, her crimson eyes locking onto his as the faint jingle of bells echoed between them. "You can use my name, you know," she murmured, a playful lilt in her voice.

Thorne brushed past her without so much as a glance. "I have no need for your name, disciple."

She pouted, twirling effortlessly around him as her blade grazed the coarse fur at his neck. "So rude," she said, with a smile. "I was thinking of paying Hady a visit but that has to wait a bit. Hope he doesn't get mad though"

Zephyr moved, but Thorne halted her with a single raised hand.

With a sigh, the woman returned her sword to its scabbard—a simple, well-worn sheath with a small feather dangling from it. "Too much of a hassle to fight all of you anyway," she said, stretching her arms.

She reappeared atop the tree. Her speed was inhuman.

 She waved at them. Just as she was about to vanish into the storm, she paused.

"Oh, and by the way," she grinned. "The name's Lily. Nice to meet ya."