Urban Knight - Return of Legends

Demons, they called them.

Abyssal monsters from the era of gods, waging an eternal war against humanity and the other races of good, simply because evil was their very nature. For the longest time, they weren’t much of a threat. Their generals, the Cardinal Sins, had vanished without a trace.

But demons had become more active in recent years, decimating villages, winning many skirmishes, and growing in numbers. The balance was already shifting in their favor. The rumor was they finally had a new leader, a king of sorts—and this very creature was blessed with not only overwhelming power but also fearsome intelligence.

Ascalon was a knight among knights, a man of honor, bearer of the Exemplaris spear and the Aegis greatshield. The one blessed by the light and hailed as a hero throughout the nineteen realms, and believed by many to be just a fairytale—but who could fault them? He was truly a fable.

When the Golden Alliance formed—twelve different countries with dozens of races coming together to raise an army—they made it his burden to lead them. But not even this legendary warrior could have known what was waiting for him on the battlefield.

“Push forward!!!”

His voice echoed throughout the battlefield—among the clamor of steel against steel, shouting cries, and flesh being torn apart. The voice belonged to the leader of a renowned company of knights, Ascalon Rendland—an armored man with short golden hair partially covered by the white hood of his cloak.

His face had a huge scar crossing his left eye, and his visage was one of determination with furrowed brows, as he was known not to falter, to not show the slightest hint of fear or exhaustion. He was leading a charge into an enormous but abnormal structure. With his impenetrable greatshield on his left hand, and a huge, heavy, silver lance on his right, Ascalon pierced through horned creatures of nightmarish appearances.

Six long days. That was how long the battle had been going for. After great effort and the sacrifice of his comrades, they had just finally reached the enemy stronghold.

It was a tall, otherworldly structure made from brick and pulsating flesh alike.

Giants stomped in the distance, monstrosities rampaged in lunacy, and even former allies were being forcefully awakened from the dead to rejoin the fray as cheap fodder for the demons. But soon, it would all be over.

“Be brave! The final hour is at hand, we carry on!”

Ascalon’s voice was clear and firm, but a hint of agitation could be perceived. A horrible stench surrounded his forces as they charged and battled at every turn, with no moment to rest.

They had made it so, so very far, but even his trusty knights were starting to fall behind, and he could see them faltering.

Of the twenty-four warriors that accompanied him, twelve remained. Some had lost parts of their armor, or had half-broken weapons and makeshift shields. Their very bodies were barely hanging in there, bandaged as best as possible.

Most of them were beyond their limit. They could keep going, faith and hope still present; their belief in their leader extolling them to deeds only heard of in legend. But Ascalon knew he couldn’t protect them when facing off against the one they came to defeat.

The brave twelve fought up the stronghold, right next to their righteous leader, but many fell during the ascent. By the time they arrived at the top of the climb, only six remained. But they were almost done with their journey, they had to be. As they stepped out of the staircase, they could see the distance, having emerged at the rooftop.

They could hear the roars and the clashing of the battlefield below. But everyone was focused on a single point, where a devilish horned creature stood, his mere presence making their hairs stand on end. Taller than any of them, with skin of a reddish color and pulsating veins, a pair of leathery black wings and black, long hair that went past his waist.

The air around him was warping, as if he was emanating heat from his body. He gazed upon them, with yellow, horrible eyes that seemed to dig into their souls; and hope vanished.

How could such a monster even exist?

Ascalon strengthened the grip on his lance and shield, bracing himself at the sight of the demon. It was an oppressing, overwhelming feeling that he had never felt before—not even against huge minotaurs, or necromancer’s terrifying aberrations. Even a proud dragon would bow to this being, he thought. Sweat started to slide down his back as he saw the devil’s lips part.

“Hah… is this it?”

The creature spoke, and everyone froze in primal fear. His voice felt otherworldly, made their ears ring in pain, and his tone was… full of disappointment. The nightmarish face went through various emotions, from frustration to anger, and ended with a deadpan stare.

He had already lost interest in them, and Ascalon felt desperation, as his blood started boiling. The demon before him seemed unimpressed, unbothered.

He had measured them, and found the knights to be no threat at all. Was his journey in vain? Ascalon’s thoughts raced, spiraling into dread, until the silence was broken once again.

“D-d-demon! Y-you stand in t-the pre-ssence of Ascalon Rendland, h-hero of the realms! Pre-prepare yourself!” Ascalon didn’t need to turn his head to know who had spoken. It was Hidalgo, the weapon master, one of the most courageous men he had ever met.

But even bold Hidalgo was stuttering, barely standing his ground, as his mace shook in his hands. He had taken the burden of declaring the battle, against the desire to run away in fear.

Ascalon couldn’t show his knights, his friends and brothers, a sorry show—not as long as they still believed in him. He had to stand his ground, it couldn’t have been all for naught. He readied himself, pointing the tip of his lance to the demon, and watched as the being smirked.

“Ha ha! You humans are amusing.” His smile widened into a grotesque, mocking grin. “But still, only humans.”

The demon raised his right arm, and slowly lifted his index finger, as everyone tensed up. The next moment… splatter!

The sound of liquid hitting the ground, their armor, and even their faces. The first to turn his head was Robetorick, the flag-bearer, looking in horror at where Hidalgo stood, reduced to a pool of black-ish blood. Robetorick suddenly vomited, multi-colored liquid rushing through his mouth in an instant, and everyone started to panic.

Ascalon simply strengthened the grip on his lance, while grinding his teeth in anger. He had to be angry, focus all his thoughts on preparing for battle, or fear would overcome him. Him, of all people—the mere notion seemed like a joke. But no, it was reality.

The moment he readied himself to charge, another of his knights ran past him. “Aahh!!!!!!” Ricardío, the youngest one, with his longsword held up high, ran fueled by what he thought was courage.

But it was just a delirious charge, induced by panic and terror. “Stooop!!!” Ascalon screamed in desperation, as Ricardío exploded. Just like that, two of his men were defeated—no, annihilated, without even making the demon take a single step. What in the world was that unfair difference in strength?

No wonder the demons were gaining the upper hand throughout the realm, their commander was an existence akin to a God.

“Now that? That’s not even amusing.”

The devil spoke again, his smile gone, seemingly offended at how such a weakling would charge against him. Again, anger filled Ascalon’s thoughts—and the hero of the realms finally moved.

His speed was inhuman as he crossed the distance between him and the demon in a split second. His heavy spear directed at the creature’s chest, like a locked-in projectile, glowing with the power of light. His shield raised before him, covering most of his body, an impenetrable moving fortress.

“You. You I’ve heard of.”

As the demon spoke, Ascalon felt a blow to his shield. His entire left arm went numb, and his body shook as he felt his feet leave the ground.

It took him a moment to realize that he was blown away a good distance, a new experience for the knight. Still airborne, he mustered the strength to cleave the shield into the ground, and stopped himself from going further, as it would’ve meant falling from atop the structure.

Pain like he had never felt before ran through his left arm and he was certain that it had been broken.

“Not as impressive.” The demon hissed, showing again that hideous grin of his. He then raised his right arm again, and waved his hand in the direction of the knights, as if to scare away some flies.

Ascalon moved, ignoring the pain and mustering all of his strength into a dash, as there was no time to think; he knew what that fiend was going to do. But the horrifying splatter sound was heard again.

Heltilio, Artanis, Terrym, and ‘Turtle’—the four remaining knights were no more. Ascalon felt true despair as he stopped on his tracks. He was supposed to lead them to victory, as he had always done, but there he was, unable to react in time to shield his trusty companions.

Ascalon’s feelings sank even deeper, when the devil spoke again.

“Is that the extent of a Goddess's blessings? …How?” The creature looked irritated.

“How could we lose for so long?! Were my brethren really that weak? Hah… but it’s alright.” He seemed more relaxed, content.

“Our era is now, I’ll make it so. After all, this human was supposedly the only one capable of stopping me, or so He said.” The demon was pretty much talking to himself, but managed to keep Ascalon distracted from his own dread.

What was that creature even talking about? Ascalon wasn’t in the right mind to make sense of the demon’s gibberish, but at least he was recovering little by little, thanks to the blessings granted upon his body—even his arm was pretty much healed.

But the resting time was short-lived, and the monster now stood before him. He didn’t even sense it get that close, probably a product of mental fatigue, but it was his chance to strike.

Ascalon’s blessings manifested in a golden, warm aura, enveloping his whole body as it steadily grew around him. The demon peered at it with an amused look, giving him a chance to show his prowess.

The radiance expanded, the world bathed in a celestial light, and Exemplaris resonated with the gift of celestial might.

With all the strength and speed he could gather, Ascalon pulled back his spear and promptly pierced forward. A normal warrior wouldn’t really do much damage from that close with such a huge, heavy lance; they would need more momentum or a brute’s musculature.

But the hero of the realms was no normal person, and the blow from his Exemplaris struck like a bolt of lightning. The force of the impact made the very structure shake, as the ground trembled and the air parted in a shockwave.

A mere second later, a golden ray erupted, and a blinding luminance swallowed the demon’s figure whole, ascending toward the sky with unstoppable force.

“Oh? So this is the color of my blood, huh?”

Ascalon knew his attack had hit the target, and felt the spear sink into flesh… but it was too shallow of a feeling. As dust and brilliance dissipated, he saw that his trusty lance had barely penetrated the demon, it was just the tip.

Crimson, blackish droplets ran through the spear, but it was clear there was no damage at all. His instinct made him raise his shield, as another huge blow made him soar through the air yet again.

“Pathetic!”

The creature’s voice exploded, and before he could even try to regain his balance, another blow struck his back. Despite his armor under the cloak, he felt every single bit of the pressure as his bones snapped.

Pain ran through his whole body, making him lose the grip on his weapon and shield, as he, once again, was sent flying like a rag doll through the air. He hit the cold floor and rolled a few times.

He tried to compose himself. It took a lot of strength, both physical and mental, to get on a knee and start getting up. But his body was done for, from three mere blows, something that anyone who knew him would think was impossible.

Ascalon’s vision was blurry, his ears rang and his body was shaking. His hope and courage were slowly being snuffed by this unfathomable being. His thoughts began to drift away, his sight falling on the bloodied remains of his knights.

What could he do? How could he turn the tables? There could be a way… A trump card he had been saving—a power Ascalon hadn’t fully mastered yet, so it was a dangerous gamble. But even with that idea on the back of his head, every path he imagined was engulfed by darkness.

“Let’s end this charade!” Again, the demon’s voice shook the air, as he stretched his wings and took flight. It was the most he had actually ‘moved’ since the start of the fight, so it was worrying. The wind pressure alone made the knight lose his balance, but Ascalon managed to keep standing, somehow, watching as the creature gained altitude.

Little by little, he could see flames starting to gather in the distance, into a small sphere that kept growing and growing. His eye widened as the fire engulfed the skies, a huge fireball the likes he had never seen before, a conjuration of such sheer size that even the high mages of the north wouldn’t dream of.

With a grin on his face, the demon flicked his finger down, and the giant ball of fire began to descend.

‎

“Curse you!” Ascalon’s eye darted through the battleground as he shouted, trying to locate his greatshield. He had recovered a little thanks to his blessings, but he doubted it was enough to resist a spell of that magnitude.

He ran and grabbed Aegis, then crouched and tensed up his body as he raised it. He poured as much of his power as he could onto it, as even the light inside him was fading, and braced for impact. Soon enough, the heat started to envelop him, and a second later he felt the impact.

Scorching fire raged around him, as his greatshield started to heat up to an intolerable temperature. He was blocking it but suffering much damage, taking him beyond his limits—though the structure below wasn’t as durable as his will.

The tower started to crumble furiously, and his footing was no more. The power of the fireball made him plummet to the ground below among the falling debris. A huge explosion ensued as both Ascalon and the fireball struck the earth, what was left of the battlefield trembling in response.

As the spell subsided, little by little, a raggedy hero weakly rose from the ashes. His cloak was gone. His armor? mostly melted. And even some of his hair and skin had been burnt in some places.

Ascalon wheezed in pain, his lungs full of ash and smoke. He had to recover a bit, and then, even if it meant gambling his life away, he had to try and use his trump card. But even then, he felt that it would not be enough. As he thought that, he slowly raised his head to meet the demon’s gaze, and found the sight a bit surprising. The devil was seething with anger, and showed a grotesque expression of both hate and disgust.

“Y-you… you would dare intervene?! After all this time?!”

For a second, Ascalon was confused, but then slowly realized that his wounds and exhaustion were starting to recover faster. Light engulfed him little by little, and a ray of pure goodness descended from the sky, parting the clouds and shining on the whole battlefield.

A feeling began to fill his chest, invigorating his whole body. Never had he felt this way before, but still, he knew. He knew what was going on, as if it was a given.

“Ah… my… my Goddess.” Ascalon’s good eye shed a few tears as he looked up at the sky. He couldn’t see anything other than light, but he knew that his Goddess was on his side.

Truth be told, he wouldn’t have believed in all that ‘chosen by the Goddess’ tale in his youth if it wasn’t for the blessings that dwelled in his body.

This was, in fact, the first time he had seen any kind of “Godlike” intervention. Never before had his prayers been answered, or the Gods commanded him directly, but here She was, Athanya’el, Goddess of light and the third throne of the great Gods. Hope began to rise again, overflowing from his chest as he smiled boldly, there was nothing to fear now. But the feeling was short-lived.

〘 “No. This isn’t. Your cue.” 〙

A… voice? No, it was something beyond mortal comprehension, and it made him freeze. His whole existence shook violently. He wanted to scream, but the pain was so unimaginably strong, it was indescribable. He was being torn asunder—until the light suddenly grew stronger, and he could finally regain his senses.

Ascalon could feel his Goddess was also in pain, enduring something unknown, and his head moved as if guided by an invisible hand. His eyes focused on the distance, where an almost impossible darkness was swallowing the sky, earth and everything around it, like a black hole of pure malice.

As a Goddess interfered, ᏕᎧᎷᏋᏖᏂᎥᏁᎶ else had deemed it fair to manifest.

He could hear the demon rejoicing, joyous laughter and shouting in a language unknown to man. The darkness in the distance began creeping ever so slowly, but it swallowed the whole world in what seemed like both a second and an eternity. He couldn’t hear even his own breathing, he couldn’t feel anything at all. Did his body even exist anymore? And as his mind began to crumble, a new ‘voice’ broke through the desperation.

⌠ “Oh my dear Ascalon, it’s okay now…” ⌡

Light enveloped him once again, and he regained his existence. A feeling of pure bliss was washing over him like a warm, loving embrace. He felt nothing could harm him anymore as the otherworldly voice spoke again.

⌠ “I don’t have much time… I’m so sorry, Ascalon” ⌡

The voice seemed so frail, and exhausted. He reached through the light that was keeping the darkness at bay, but couldn’t grasp anything.

“My Goddess, wh-” Something gently pressed on his lips, a finger keeping him from speaking another word.

⌠ “I’m sorry, I can’t explain right now… Or ever, I don’t think. I don’t know if I can meet you like this again. My brave, proud knight.” ⌡

Her voice was shaky, he could’ve sworn she was crying if it weren’t because of her Godlike nature.

⌠ “‘We’ knew the outcome, but… I couldn’t help it. I broke the rules, anyway, so there’s no going back.” ⌡

She paused, and spoke with more resolution this time.

⌠ “But I won’t let it be for naught. I can go all out now. Yes… I’ll renounce it… I’ll renounce it all, and preserve you, Ascalon Rendland, for it is not the time nor place for you to be vanquished!” ⌡

He wanted to ask what she meant, what was she going to give up for him, and why? What were those rules she spoke of, what was going on with the darkness and the being that commanded it? He could feel Athanya’el could perceive these questions, and almost could picture her smiling softly, but there was no answer. The warmth he was feeling grew stronger, he felt so at peace he began to close his eye.

⌠ “I really hope we can meet again, as impossible as it is…” ⌡

He thought he heard something as his consciousness started fading, into a long, deep slumber. He was at the mercy of fate now, but he could rest for a little while—maybe he had finally earned it.