30TH

Time seems to have stopped. My eyes are just on the man who did so much for my father and me, killed by his very own supposed allies, whom I never even get to call my godfather. I feel my neck reverberate with the most obnoxious scream I can ever make. And that's still all I can do with these shackles. I can't look away, forced to face reality.

"His blood is in your hands," I hear the bastard vampire Legionnaire. "And so will be theirs."

When I look at where his gaze is pointed, Mikael is being brought by two Vanguards to us. My struggle for freedom elevates with the thought of what will happen next. Now, he's on his knees before me, eyes meeting mine as the murderer of Finnobair hovers his armament to end another life.

The helpless state I'm in will be the death of me before anything else. I can't afford to lose another life. Not Mikael, too. The only escape I can do is shut my eyes for what is to anticipate.

Please… Make it stop… 

The next thing is I'm dropped to the ground, the shackles still intact. The suddenness leaves me hinged that I don't get to decide what to do next. I can't even get a moment to register my limbs which I can move again as I'm being carried away over someone's shoulder, on my Lion-Boar pet. But immediately, I see tree roots almost swallowing many enemies but not completely suffocating them, which is buying time for the familiar faces to come and rescue the captured. There's Carvin Foyde and Iszac Ross while dozens of Astanor's men and women swarm the Vanguards from different directions. I see Grace and Kyla with them as well.

I watch the scene disappear as I continue to be taken away, last seeing Finnobair's body slowly turning to glowing dust — the same thing that happened to my father — while the ground is present with fading tendrils of light like roots from a tree, all tracing to his hand resting on the snowy soil. If any, that's the last rune he has drawn.

But I want to go back. I need to go back. I didn't see Mikael escape. And they still need my help. Even though they are more in number, most of them won't stand a chance against the Ordinals. I squiggle aggressively, feeling the solid chains leaving bruises on my skin. To the notice of the person carrying me, they halt the beast we're riding on and unmount her to rest me on my side on the soil, my ankles and wrists still connected together behind me. Despite the dim environment, I still recognize him, that body shape and face. It's him. The man. He came back, as well. He might have gone for my Lion-Boar first before getting to me.

To my notice, the shackles around me are absent of the light they had, now looking like mere ordinary chains that were once the Immortal Armament of Ordinal Ten. Perhaps those roots weren't just the result of Ordinal Twenty-One's last rune. The man thugs on the chains on my limbs, which gladly break, finally ridding me of the bone pain and discomfort. The only problem now is my hands — which are still together behind me — and my feet with a span length of the same steel, which would still allow me to stand up but limit my locomotive. When he goes for them, the chains only make cracking noises this time.

The man then moves his hand to remove the metal plates from my mouth — which gladly had nothing imbued with — finally allowing me to properly get a whiff of fresh air and use it to speak.

"Y-you came back," I almost wail, partially relieved.

He continues trying to pull the chains apart.

"Why?"

He then looks at me. And for the first time, I can read him just through the visible concern he carries. "I saw them coming on a ship. So I did as fast as I could." He adds that he only came upon my mother and the other settlers already escaping, and immediately sensed my absence. He didn't even think twice or care about the rest coming along with him.

I gaze back to the direction we came from, then plea to him, "We have to go back." As much as I want to take a moment to relish his unexpected return, something else is in need of attention. "We have to help them."

"No. We have to get you to your mother." He must've stumbled upon them by chance when they were already escaping. That somehow relieves me, meaning, she's safe somewhere with Kyla, Grace, and the rest. I could focus more on helping those left behind.

"No! We can't leave them out there!" I argue. "They killed Finnobair. What makes you think they won't do the same to the others, too?"

"Well, not like this. I can't cut through the chains. Can you try?"

"No. Whatever else this is imbued with, it's preventing me from doing so." My voice is breaking. "Otherwise I would've done so sooner."

Those mech-smith friends of Ordinal Three favored him well reforging making these. Perhaps, he should've done that when they mended this the first time for its original user.

"But can you? Break it like the last time?"

The man stares at me, blankly, taken aback by my desperate request. From what I can tell, for some reason, he's opposed to it. It probably elicited an unwanted thought, or a memory, rather. Yes, I'm asking him to transform so he can fully rid me of these restraints.

"I can't…" He answers.

"Why not?" I still ask.

"I can't guarantee not hurting you this time if I do," I remember his answers that night.

It's like going insane, but also feeling more alive.

I should have heeded those words twice then. If he does transform now, it might not only be these chains he'll rip apart.

I rest my head on the snow in surrender, suddenly recalling my failure to save my Godfather and his friends. Even with my powers, I wasn't able to save them. And now it's happening again. Is this how useless I can get? If I can't save them, how can I save the world from another war? At this point, I've failed when I haven't even begun with anything. Or worse, wasted the second life I was given.

Too lost in my misery, I don't even realize I'm in the man's arms as the Lion-Boar takes us away, not until my ears ring over something approaching. It's fast. Screaming is the only reaction I'm able to do at the moment, but it's too late, and I'm separated from my company after a blast sends us flying. I find myself in the freezing water of a river, enduring the pain sustained from the impact.

Through the pain, I manage to crawl out of the numbing waters while parsing the area to look for the man and my animal companion, but I only find the object that compromised our escape — the polearm armament of the Third Legionairre, the blade inserted through the moist but firm soil that cleared a pond-wide layer of snow around it. Of course, he can keep up. I don't forget that he's also a vampire. But, I don't see him yet.

From what I can tell about the surrounding area, this is the edge of the settlement, but not the same place where I once went. It's still packed with trees, while the direction where the water flows seems to lead to a distant cliff. At least, that's what the faint light from the remaining fires galloping over the distant parts of the forestry shows me. I rest upon a tree, quivering with the atmosphere piercing through the steel chains hugging me.

"Perhaps, I should've made it quicker." I hear his metallic voice echo through the trees. He's hiding. But what for? "Finnobair is always full of surprises. But I guess that's the last thing he'll pull off of his sleeve."

My instincts push me to begin crawling like a worm and put my back against a tree, then begin tugging on my still-tied hands on my back.

"But worry not," He continues. "As I said, you'll join him soon, along with the rest who conspired to aid you and your father."

Suddenly, his spear is gone, leaving a trail of blue dust on its former spot. What I thought was the sky suddenly clearing for the moon to shine was rather the same weapon immediately reappearing in its owner's grasp. At the moment, I expect my hellion instincts to finally take over and burst me out of these chains so I stop the spear's blade from impaling me. Instead, a boulder does. I don't get to see the exact moment it intercepts the Ordinal as I duck down to avoid the falling tree barks.

Once I can look again, I witness the number of trees it cost behind me and those across the river bank. Normally, no ordinary being would survive such an impact. But that's not the case. Still, it should buy extra time for me to free myself. It won't be long till he resumes his opportunity. And he won't miss it again, for sure.

As for how a flying rock is able to fly at that speed and wreak havoc, that in itself is enough to tell me what did it. Or, rather, who? His closing sounds catch my attention from behind me, and then he jumps out, landing in the area of the wrecked trees. He ignored me, or, perhaps, didn't notice me.

I don't spend another second watching what the man does next and resume performing every method that would come into mind to split these chains — thugging it apart, sawing it onto the fallen tree's bark, or into a rock, whatsoever, which none come to any use, and my forearms just end up bruising.

Another falling tree catches my attention above the treeline from the same direction, signing the brutal clash that is occurring. I can't help but worry due to the fact that the man is not in control in that form as he said. I don't know how long he can stand against the vampire. I can't help him like this. All can do for now is shift the concern to my pet companion. I'm able to stand with my trembling limbs and begin stumbling looking for her.

I consider the ditch the polearm armament left as a starting point, and I immediately see her just a few yards from here. Her unpleasant condition makes me rush to her. She's on her side, the bed of snow beneath her dilute with the red stain dripping from that large cut on her side. The clean look of the cut justifies what did this to her. The vampire aimed well. From what I can assess, it's not that deep of a cut. But the size is still considerably fatal. She's barely moving and breathing as if it brings her more pain when she does, but her eyes are on me.

My flexibility saves me convenience as I'm able to reach down to tear out a huge portion of the fabric hugging my leg from behind. After that, I only have to guess where to place it to cover the wound while facing back. I manage to, though barely covering the entire exposed flesh.

What do I do now? I can't abandon her here. Or she'll bleed to death. Going back wouldn't be an option either given my current status. Sure, I can walk, but it won't be enough time to get help. Plus, who knows who could be waiting for me? Or rather more of the Legionairre are already on the way here, too. I don't even know what had already happened back there. Maybe, none of those who went back for us even managed to last, even with Ordinal Fourteen's surprising presence, who went all the way from the Barrier with extra assistance. I dare not even imagine the aftermath back there, or who would prevail between the two who are still clashing in the distance, or even Ordinal Thirteen and Twelve who might have already found my mother and the rest with her.

The prominent heave the creature before me produces forces the tears out of my eyes. It's as if she's already running out of air preserved. Gently, I rest my face on her furry neck, sobbing hopelessly. Just how can things get worse? Just how many more lives should be taken? Just how unfortunate can I be? Just how useless can I be?

Maybe I can just die here, and wait for Ordinal Five to let her arrow fly just yards from my right. What's she waiting for? She's been holding that string stretched for two minutes now since she got here. She still doesn't release it. I do her a favor and face her direction to provide her with the bullseye target. She probably waited for this moment as well since the incident at the Citadel. Still nothing. Is she trying to be like Ordinal Three — waiting for my last words? I should give it then.

"Do it," I say, sniveling. "Kill me. Kill me, but her."

I then drop my face to the snow, knees still propped while my tied hands rest on my back. I then sense her stretch the string farther. At least, she'll make it quick — probably painless, even.

And in a blink of an eye, I hear the ammo fly. I even expect the immediate feeling of it impaling my skull. But, no. Instead, my hands are free, and the chains are falling off my frame. What's happening?

I slowly rise back to look at her confusingly, and there's the familiar sense of emotion in her eyes — sympathy.

"Go," She says, voice almost breaking.

My instincts sense no other ill intent in her voice. But the questioning about it remains at the tip of my tongue.

"He`s gone too far," She says. "Stop him."

This doesn't make sense. I'm sure that not long ago, she kept Finnobair in place for the vampire Ordinal to kill him. Why the sudden realization when he's already gone?

I don't have much time to think about it. As much as I'm against leaving my pet, I have to go after the man and help him. With my muscles only recovering from discomfort, I leave immediately with trust in the Ordinal Bowwoma's genuineness.

Back to the river, the aftermath of the chaos is only what I see. Neither the man nor the vampire Ordinal is around. Perhaps they might have dragged their duel somewhere else. The claw marks and blade cuts should be enough of a trail to follow, only that I have to keep my guard up knowing that it's not only the Ordinal who I should be wary of. I could really use a weapon now, but I don't have time to look for one. I can only rely on my hellion abilities to cooperate.

Where are they? They couldn't have gone far. Or maybe I'm heading in the wrong direction? My natural vision has adjusted to the darkness and I don't see any more trails I can follow but the nearing cliffside. I barely even hear the faint noises of the settlement from this point. I dare not to let my focus tilt off with all the persistent anxiety I'm bearing over the situation of my other companions. Especially my mother, whom I still haven't heard of. Two Ordinals were after her with the other escapees.

The skies remain clear of any snow clouds, but my still-drying clothes and the gentle gusts are starting to sheer me with the cold. My icy breaths are just a start.

A groan echoes and it startles me. But I'm immediately pushed seesawing in between gladness and worry. I see his head and toes peak on both sides of one tree, and running past that reveals his gruesome status. He's still in his creature form upon closer inspection. Other than his bleeding navel, his missing right arm, snapped protruding bone spines, blood brighter than his dark fur trickling from his navel, cracked skull-cased head, and devoided eye sockets that are home to the red pupils make my heart sink.

I lay a finger under his neck and feel no pulse. I refuse to conclude yet when I'm clueless if it's the case for a creature like him. The only good sign that I can deduce is him not yet shedding fur. A normal Wolf-Breed would revert to human form when in a dying state. But what else am I supposed to do? I can't even carry him.

Out of the blue, the familiar sensation of time slowing down envelops me, and then the delayed growing whirring sound hits my ears. I immediately comprehend it as a sign for me to evade, and I do. There appears the familiar armament of Ordinal Three, impaled halfway through the tree's bark behind me, and my heart raises. The only means one thing…

Immediately, it disappears into blue sparkles. And knowing where it'll reappear next, I react and I'm able to not let my chest that he was aiming for be torn open. Still, if only I could have been able to control my hellion abilities sooner, or, at least, never been compromised by those chains, maybe I wouldn't be pinned into the same tree, crying in excruciating pain with his armament shoved through my left shoulder. Despite that, more than half of my concerns are still about the man as I make out the Ordinal's face having two fresh, diagonal claw marks running across his face, his blue eyes almost voided with his purely dilated pupils, teeth grit with a rage never seen before. His legionnaire suit is even damaged, half his robe and armor platings missing. The only reason I can deduce is that no one has ever been able to touch him this far since the Old Hellion War. But somehow, seeing him like this, makes him look so… revealed, as if this isn't the Oridnal who greeted me back at the Citadel in Otima and watched me get almost killed by hundreds of soldiers — or the same person who had me in chains and made me watch the people I care about as they almost got killed by his hands before my eyes a while ago.

Not for long, he effortlessly pulls then swings his weapon with me still clinging to it, and I fly back to the snow. I retain stillness as every subtle movement I make only worsens my physical misery. Now, I feel like my arm as if it's about to fall off.

My eyes are shut, squeezed even. And through my lids, the increasing bright blue light from the Ordinal's immortal armament warns me of my coming end. I can't help but think of the irony, that a single Ordinal has brought me to this near-death state, despite surviving so many fatal-like encounters. But I don't forget that he's the Third Ordinal. It took him all the might of most of his armies and fellow Ordinals who sided with him to get to this point. He made predictions, planned countermoves, and even used my resting godfather. If any, in his part he earned it. The only shameful thing about it, is me dying for the masked envious motive he had after all this time. His grudge over the idea of not being able to live a normal life still went unrestful years after my father's death. Or apparently, it had, only that it awakened upon knowing of my existence.

Out of instinct of refusing to surrender, I manage to prop to my knees, my other hand clasping on my shoulder while forcing my innate abilities to once again come to my favor. It's working. My veins under my skin crawl with the familiar hellion color, only weak and faint, and it won't be enough to avoid what's coming.

Right when I sense the Ordinal's coming finishing blow, I gaze in his direction to witness it and a figure's shadow cast before me. It was so quick as lightning that I was not able to parse what it was, and I felt it smash against me. So much force is absorbed that we catapult through the trees. If any, a tree should have stopped our impact. But no.

The next thing I know is that my right arm is the only thing keeping me from falling to my demise, my fingers clinging onto the dent of the damp rock as I remain dangling. Or should I say, us, when my impaired limb is also holding the man?

The clear skies provide enough light for me to see the missing trees — some, burning — up ahead of the impact cost. I don't see the Ordinal, leaving me the assumption that the impact also affected him. But I doubt it will keep it at bay for long.

I look back down at the man and watch the subtle wind carry his shedding fur and his dissolving skull that's slowly revealing a portion of his face as if it is a mask as he slowly returns to his human form, only to see him looking at me.

I scream in pain and struggle trying to balance my hold on both arms. His missing arm and bleeding belly make us locked here, and the chances of our survival are dependent on my grip. To add, there's nothing for him to step onto when the edge of this clip is literally spire-shaped. Calling for help is not an option either.

"Hold on," I squirm. "I'll pull you up."

That attempt only worsens the misery and further loosens my grip. Tears are present on my cheeks due to both the physical pain and the knowing feeling of the next occurrence.

"Let me go," He whispers through his skull.

I say nothing and keep forcing myself to pull him up, hoping that in any second, my powers would finally emerge to get us out of this situation, until he begins slipping from my hold.

"Kyvin," He calls. "It's no use. It's either one of us or both of us. But either way, it can't be you."

"Shut up," I retort, hiding away the tears. "I can pull you up. Just hold on."

"Look at me."

It takes me seconds to obey him, and now I can see most of his face as the rest of his body constantly sheds fur.

"He's not stopping until you're dead."

At this point, I don't want to care about that. I can't lose another person. I can't lose him. I don't want to. Not when he finally came back for me to put closure between us.

"You never told me your name, you know," I say through the sobs.

He manages a light smile through the weakness manifesting on his face, probably the kind of smile that I've seen for the first time. "You never asked."

"You gave too much of a stubborn impression," I say back, and that smile persists.

"Killian," he says. "It's Killian." I could have been calling him that. But I guess I have to admit my fault for not asking that sooner.

"I still haven't repaid you, you know, Killian."

"How many times do I have to say that you never have to?"

Suddenly, he slips a little further, his hand sliding to just my hand due to my shoulder's bleeding trickling down to his forearm. Through the physical pain, I tighten my hold and look ahead attempting to pull him up again. But then, I see the figure of Ordinal Three stumbling fast from the distance with his armament, setting me in more rush. Panic, pain, misery, and all sorts of unwanted emotions take over. But I still get to look at Killian for one last time and get a quick glimpse of memory of the person saying the same set of words he breathes with through those glassy blue eyes.

"Live for me."

Then he snatches his hand away.