Chapter 839 (2/2)

Weren’t they?

“Surrender,” The Spearman said, and the runes around the two of them seemed to rumble with the weight of the Spearman’s words. It seemed, at that moment, that the Spearman spoke with the will of Tellus. “Your image is not enough, boy.”

Shal’s hands tightened on his remaining spear, the movement aggravating his broken collarbone. It was so hard to keep his grip on the spear in the face of the entire world. But he had to. This was… his dream. This was Pronto’s dream. This was the only way that their tragedy wouldn’t happen again, repeated endlessly until Auto Rach ceased playing with dolls to satisfy his twisted desires.

But against the wall of darkness and death rising behind the Spearman-

“Shal.”

Blinking, Shal turned. Slowly, his gaze focused on Randidly, who stood at the far end of the room. Strange. It hadn’t even occurred to Shal that Randidly was still there, watching. It wasn’t like him to forget that they had a witness to this battle. In fact, everyone was witnessing this battle.

They were waiting to see who controlled the Soul of Tellus. By the numbers, the world was filled with people who saw the same world that the Spearman spoke of. And yet-

Of all things, Randidly held up his strange plant spear, offering it to Shal. “Here. Take this.”

Silence filled the room. The Spearman was just as shocked as Shal was, and likely just as confused when he was reminded that Randidly was present. But Shal grinned. The world is against me, and all I am given is a spear. How typical. How… heroic.

Which sent Shal into a fit of chuckles, further aggravating his injuries. Even through the pain, however, he continued to laugh. Because Randidly had brought back a very old memory to Shal’s mind.

“Let’s play Hero,” Pronto said, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

Pronto was fourteen now and had deep bags under his eyes. His skin was turning pale and translucent.

This was one of Shal’s last good memories of Pronto before he had been consumed by his own desire for power. Soon, the process happening to Pronto would necessitate that he be isolated.

But Shal didn’t know that yet. So he frowned at his younger brother. “Hero? Again? We aren’t kids anymore, Pronto. While Father is on the frontline, we need to be training. If the Wights attack in numbers-”

“Booo,” Pronto waved his hands, a desperation in his eyes. “I just really want to play hero, okay? Please, Shal?”

Shal frowned but slowly nodded.

Which he regretted when Pronto hurriedly said. “And this time, I’m the hero.”

This confused Shal. “But… aren’t we both always the hero?”

“Not this time. I’ll be the hero. I really want… I need to feel like a hero today.” Pronto finished lamely.

This brought all of Shal’s teenage attention to his little brother. Even Shal noticed how miserable his brother was. But Shal only thought he missed Aemont. Pronto always took the separation harder than Shal. Not that Shal didn’t miss him too, but… Pronto was special to Father in a way that Shal was not. To see that man causing Pronto this mental anguish only caused his resentment for his father to grow.

So Shal sighed and said. “Fine. So I am… the villain?”

“No!” Again, Pronto looked desperate. “No, no villains. Just… my assistant alright? You’ll give me my spear, and stuff.”

Shal’s mortified look must have been amusing because soon Pronto was giggling. “Don’t give me that face. Here, uh, let’s practice. ‘Shal, my spear!’ Now throw me that stick-”

Shal did throw the stick, but point first, and Pronto hopped out of the way. Very quickly, the game devolved into a javelin fight between them, and the day was long and warm.

Finally, Shal’s chuckles subsided. Still, he grinned widely and looked over at Randidly. Lightly, his apprentice switched his grip and tossed the precious spear that he traveled to the Death School to find over toward Shal.

At the moment of the throw, Randidly’s face shifted; he saw Pronto, bright-eyed and grinning.

Shal caught the spear and turned to face the Spearman. Rather than simply accepting his grip, the spear came alive in his hand, slithering across him, sniffing and chirping as though it was sizing him up. After about ten seconds of this, it returned to his hand and straightened.

And lengthened a few centimeters more than it generally was for Randidly. Twisting its head like a snake, the spear considered him, seeking approval. Out of the corner of his eyes, Shal saw that out of the deep darkness behind the Spearman… several small fireflies emerged, floating slowly over toward his side.

Shal blinked back tears. A spear that’s a snake, huh… watch me, Pronto. It’s time to play Hero, one last time.