Dark Abyss

Chapter 11: To Stand Against Fate

Byleth despised the act of taking another individual's life.

Whether they were enemy or ally mattered not, and neither did the fact that he happened to be exceptionally talented at it. Each life lost in war served only to further mankind's failures, and yet, he knew that certain sacrifices needed to be made.

While some may say those sacrifices were made in the name of the greater good, Byleth chose not to make such a distinction. They were simply sacrifices, come about because two people happened to stand against each other at a given time.

"I- I'm sorry… Lord Lonato…"

Byleth yanked his blade out of the dying man's chest.

He knew that the cold and unyielding way in which he did so did nothing to portray his true feelings. He knew that that the students, the knights and even his own battalion would see nothing but an executioner of the church.

It was also precisely what he wanted.

"Be careful. You are treading on thin ice."

"Advance." he ordered, pressing on deeper into the forest. The fog was unnaturally thick, and Byleth realized there must be some sort of magic involved. Unfortunately, most of their preliminary scouting and reconnoissance was rendered useless because of it.

"Use the fog to your advantage and turn the enemy's strength against them."

"Yes, Professor!" his students chorused.

Ferdinand and Bernadetta worked splendidly together; the former utilizing his lance to hold nearby enemies at bay, while providing time for the latter to nock and let loose her arrows. The Knights of Seiros protected their flanks, and Byleth felt confident that they would remain unharmed.

"You truly have grown protective of them… The girl in particular."

He caught a whiff of ozone in the air, and narrowly managed to avoid a blast of dark magic sent his way.

"Mages." said Byleth, raising his arm and moving behind the nearest tree. His battalion of archers quickly stood in formation, listening for the slightest hint of movement.

It was a quiet, eerie battle.

Aside from the sporadic clanging of steel, often accompanied by a hair-raising scream, the forest was enveloped by a deathly silence. He was about to give up on locating the mages when rustling reached his ears - perhaps the sound of robes caught on a stray branch.

"Aim at three o'clock. Sixty yards."

A gentle, almost unnoticeable breeze kissed the side of Byleth's face.

"Curve slightly to the right." he instructed, before bringing down his arm.

"Fire."

With a twang and the sound of displaced air, a volley of arrows were released. They went soaring into the sky, almost seeming to hang still in the air before falling back down - hopefully also striking true.

There was no time to seek out the corpses, however. Time did not allow for that, and each second wasted gave Catherine the opportunity to reach Lord Lonato before he or his students could.

When the fog began to thin out, he hastened his steps.

"Have faith, Byleth, but do not delay."

He would not.

Monica gleefully stabbed the professor's beautiful dagger into her victim's gut.

She pushed the soldier down onto the ground, leaning over him on all fours. Each twist and turn of the razor-sharp dagger brought forth such delicious screams, and Monica wondered if she would be ever able to stop.

Byleth had said to use the fog to her advantage, and she made sure to follow his order to the letter. Deep within the thick, all-encompassing mist, no one could see her wicked smile - the sadistic grin of someone exacting her rightful vengeance.

Lonato's militia may have been comprised mostly of peasants and loyalists, but to her, it hardly mattered.

They worshipped the goddess and served her interests, be it in one way or another. As far as Monica was concerned, they were only marginally better than the followers of the archbishop, and nothing but death could absolve them of their crimes.

She did eventually cease her assault, but only because the fog which obscured her from view was beginning to fade.

At once, the previously silent battlefield grew loud with angry cries and mournful wails. What once made up a lush, green forest had become tainted with corpses and blood. Tall trees had been felled, foliage set ablaze and moss stained crimson.

For once, she could even appreciate the talent of her surface-dwelling peers. Whether it was Caspar driving a spiked fist into his enemy's face, or Hubert shredding his foes apart with deathly magic, each instance of violence left Monica craving for more.

"Why? Why do you insist on fighting such a pointless battle?"

A few feet ahead stood Edelgard, fending off a pair of soldiers on her own. Neither of her foes managed to gain an advantage; their weapons only finding the bit of her axe.

Monica broke out into a sprint, barely catching the reply.

"What, you thought we were just gonna do nothing while you try to kill our-"

Her dagger cut deeply into his throat, cutting him off abruptly, and Edelgard used the moment of surprise to disarm the remaining foe. There was a flash of silver, and the man's head was cleaved open, coating the princess' face in red.

"Damn. I was hoping to find out more about their motives."

"Who cares?" said Monica. "The professor is counting on us. You can worry about these fools once the battle is over."

"Right."

The professor in question stood currently far ahead, appearing a streak of black as he tore his way through Lonato's militia. In the meantime, his archers made sure he never had to engage more than one or two enemies at a time.

He was quickly closing in on Catherine, who led the charge with the Knights of Seiros. She appeared to have focused on one target in particular - an elderly man atop an armored steed.

"Is that-"

There was a beam of violet light, and suddenly both Monica and Edelgard found themselves standing next to Linhardt, much closer to the bulk of the fight.

"No time for questions. The professor wants you two at the front, so I'll be warping you there now. Bye."

"Linhardt, wait-" exclaimed Edelgard, to no avail, as they were promptly carried forward another couple of hundred yards.

"Ah, good. Mister Hevring received my instructions, then. I was beginning to fear Miss Macneary might not have been able to relay my message."

Byleth looked little worse for wear than he had before the battle. He flicked his wrist, and most of the blood on his blade came off, splattering against the ground.

"Lord Lonato will fall within the next minute, unless you do exactly as I ask."

He turned to Edelgard.

"I want you to throw your axe with as much force as you can." said the professor; his expression severe.

"And you must aim for Lady Catherine."

Byleth had witnessed Lonato's death thrice already.

At first, he had simply not managed to reach Catherine in time, and the old man found both himself and his steed cut down in a single, swift strike.

While unfortunate, it had not bothered him much. Sothis used her ability, and the second time around, Byleth made sure to hasten his steps. For a moment, everything appeared to be going to plan.

"It is not your fault. You could not have predicted he would seek the woman out of his own accord."

The mere sight of Catherine seemed to rob the man of all reason. He had charged recklessly, ignoring Byleth completely, and ridden straight to his death.

The third and final time the man had died, it had been by Byleth's own hand. It was clear that Catherine constituted the main obstacle to his success, and so, much as he intended to do now, he had the woman incapacitated.

While she lay on the ground, knocked out cold and surrounded by her knights, Byleth had approached Lonato and ordered his surrender. The man had shocked him by spitting at his feet, declaring that he would rather die here, on the battlefield, than executed at the hands of Lady Rhea.

He had called the archbishop a witch - a vile woman and an infidel - someone who had deceived the people and desecrated the goddess, before forcing Byleth to kill him in self-defense.

"Perhaps there are certain events which are fated to occur… Fixed points in time, if you will, which inevitably correct themselves no matter how much we seek to change them."

Byleth refused to accept such a thing. That would mean he was not in charge of his own destiny, and merely walked along a predetermined path, toward a predetermined fate.

He would keep trying.

"Byleth… I cannot turn back the hands of time indefinitely. I wish you to succeed, but…"

"P-Professor!" said Edelgard in shock. "That's-"

"Please trust in me, Miss Hresvelg. Do it now, or it'll be too late."

He understood that what he asked amounted to both heresy and betrayal, but there was no clear alternative in sight.

"Miss Ochs. On my mark, I'll warp you behind Lord Lonato. Wound him gravely, but make sure not to kill him. I will take care of the rest."

A roar of anger reached their ears, and all three turned to see Lonato and his men charging in Catherine's direction. She braced herself, and Thunderbrand crackled with sacred energy. He recognized the stance, and knew precisely what it entailed.

"Now!" ordered Byleth, and rushed toward Catherine. He was pleased to see an axe soaring past his face and straight toward her unprotected back.

He leapt over the thick root of a tree, drawing back his arm and readying a spell in his free hand.

"Lady Catherine!" he shouted. "Watch out!"

The woman barely had a chance to react before the spell left his hand, disintegrating the axe only inches away from hitting its mark. She made a sound of surprise when Lonato rammed into her; the full force of a galloping steed sending her tumbling painfully on the ground.

A moment later Byleth's dagger found itself impaled between the lord's ribs, courtesy of Monica, who had materialized directly behind him on the back of his horse.

The Knights of Seiros acted as he suspected they would, and immediately raced to the aid of their fallen heroine.

"Step aside, quickly!" exclaimed Byleth, shoving his way past a knight to kneel at Catherine's side. She was unconscious, but also mostly unharmed. With some healing, and a decent amount of rest, she would make a full recovery.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Lonato's men acting much the same way. Were he not preoccupied with healing Catherine, he would have smiled. Even as the enemy retreated, vowing to exact revenge, his good mood did not dissipate.

He had succeeded in cheating fate.

"You never cease to amaze me, Byleth. Whether it is for better or for worse remains to be seen."

Catherine groaned as she regained consciousness.

She was surrounded by a handful of knights and curious students, and much to Monica's dismay, resting her head on the professor's lap. The very small, faint and reasonable part of her mind told her that it was necessary - that it was a simple act to gain her trust as he continued to heal her.

The other, much larger and more diabolical part whispered words far more sinister in nature. For instance, how delightful it would have been if the woman had never woken up at all.

"What happened? Where's L-"

"Dead."

Byleth's curt reply was enough for her to fall silent once more.

They had almost returned to Garreg Mach; the trip through the Oghma Mountains not taking longer than a few days by carriage. Though the ride was bumpy and uncomfortable, it was a definitive improvement over trekking the rugged path.

A slightly larger cart would not have been unwelcome, however. It was rather cramped with a dozen people inside.

"Good." Catherine said eventually. "That means… I didn't make a complete fool of myself."

"You shouldn't say such things, Lady Catherine. Your presence was invaluable to our victory."

Monica held back a snarl at the professor's words. He had a silver tongue, that much was certain, but his tendency to direct it at people other than herself was something that would need to change.

As though he had read her mind, Byleth looked toward her and smiled.

"As was yours, Miss Ochs. I can't thank you enough for delivering the final blow when we could not."

Monica giggled at that, knowing the secret that the two of them shared. Even as she planted the knife between the cracks in Lonato's armor, she had the foresight to whisper a few words in his ear.

If the old man had any sense at all, he would appreciate the value of his newfound allies.

Byleth let his hands pass over Catherine's face and chest, sending soft pulses of healing magic through her body even as his eyes were locked with her own.

"Though some of Lord Lonato's men may have survived, the lord himself suffered a fatal wound. You've done the church a great service."

He had to be teasing her by now, thought Monica. Another giggle threatened to escape her throat. Her, of all people, aiding the church - what an utterly ludicrous notion!

"I had no idea you were so skilled in the art of white magic, Professor."

Linhardt was eyeing the professor's handiwork interestedly, and Monica recalled the time when she and Solon had found him studying the art. She remembered how scared they had both been, fearing that the church might be attempting to strengthen their influence over him.

"I wasn't." he replied. "Following our last mission, I realized my inadequacy could have cost us dearly."

His eyes flickered over to Bernadetta, who blushed and attempted to hide behind Ferdinand.

"That's our professor, alright!" said Caspar. "Studying as hard as his students!"

"Harder than you, at least!" quipped Dorothea, causing the students to share a laugh, while the handful of knights present looked at Byleth with even more respect.

"Garreg Mach is in sight!"

The coachman's cry caught their attention, and everyone inside the carriage scrambled to get a better view - everyone except a certain princess.

A certain princess who, much to Monica's amusement, glared at Catherine in poorly concealed rage.