The group weren't given time to mourn Lotte's passing. Soon enough, an array of light-beams were cascading through the smouldering forest, fired from the unerring mouths of Barrel Demons which had gathered in response to Atroma's presence. Even Dorma's formidable magic couldn't raise a barrier strong enough to resist the beams' disintegrating touch, and so the group was forced to stay light on its feet, ready to dive away at a moment's notice.
"How many are there?" Shilahi pondered, training her eyes on the treeline to watch for any more flashes of light.
"Four or five, based on the intervals between beams." Fusala answered, "They do not pose a tremendous threat, but should other Demons be given the opportunity to approach, juggling our responsibilities would become quite a hassle."
"-Meaning we need to be rid of them quickly." Barion summarised, "Witilla, you said that Barrel Demons use body temperature as a way to identify targets, didn't you?"
"Y-Yes…" The shrinking girl seemed quite affected by the sudden death of Lotte.
"Getting close would waste too much time…" He considered their options, "Dorma, could you use a spell to eradicate all of them at once?"
"Naturally." The sorceress smiled, "Though, I would require some time to incant a spell of the required potency… time I would need to spend standing still. Long enough, I fear, to present myself as an ample target."
"There's no need to take such a risk." He assured, "We'll make use of the pits Atroma has so graciously created with its thoughtless treading. After all, a hole filled with boiling magma should interfere with a Barrel Demon's ability to track us, wouldn't it?"
"I see. With the drastic change in air temperature, the pits should create a kind of thermal smokescreen to obscure our positions." Fusala summarised, "Barion has presented a surprisingly thoughtful strategy."
"Hey, now- don't make it sound like I never have any ideas…"
"It's certainly worth a shot." Dorma resolved, "My plan was to send Witilla forward to destroy the Barrel Demons, seeing as she can most likely control her body temperature, but Barion's strategy would provide us with more time before Demon reinforcements arrive."
"I can see the smoke from one of those Godless pits just over there." Pale pointed out, staring towards a plume of darkness rising not far into the treeline, "Shall we get moving?"
"Yula-" Barion called, "Are you still fit to fight?"
"...Yes." Lifting her head, the sorceress nodded resolutely, "Of course."
"Aid Dorma with her incantation once we reach the pit." He instructed, "Once those Barrel Demons are dealt with, we'll need to move quickly. Atroma must be destroyed before this valley is completely overrun with Demons."
"Barion." Fusala spoke up, "I believe entrusting you with the anti-matter bombs would be the most efficient way of ensuring our success."
"Well, if you insist…" Extending a hand, Barion watched as the Homunculus dropped the surprisingly small spheres into his hand, "It's just as simple as throwing them, right?"
"-Once you transfer a small amount of magical particles into the ignitor, yes. Please ensure that you do not accidentally set one off beforehand. Your chances of survival would not be particularly high."
"I don't doubt that…"
"Oi. Are we planning on moving anytime soon?" Shilahi hurried, "No doubt we'll be taking another of those beam volleys in just a moment."
"Right, right…" Barion resolved, "Let's get moving."
There was something fundamentally wrong about leaving an ally's bisected corpse to rot in the middle of the battlefield, but each and every one of them had learned through trials of their own that prioritising their own lives was more important. Almost as soon as they started to move towards the shimmering haze of superheated air rising from Atroma's tracks, a second volley of light beams cut their way through the forest, tracking their positions almost perfectly. Even Barion, Shilahi and Witilla's exceptional reflexes only allowed them just enough time to yank the slower members of the group out of harm's way before they were reduced to bubbling masses of flesh.
An unbearable heat radiated out from the melting pits Atroma had created in its wake--the perfect mask for creatures who relied on temperature to identify their targets. The creature's lumbering form could easily be seen above the burned-out canopy, attempting to work its way out of the confining valley.
"A high-level barrage of magical missiles should deal with those Barrel Demons well enough." Dorma commented, taking her place behind the burning pit relative to the Demons' location, "Are you certain you're up to this, Yula?"
The girl nodded, "Absolutely. I won't allow Lotte's death to be in vain."
"Well said." She smiled, "A third-order circle will serve our purposes."
As the two sorceresses began preparing for the spell, Barion met with the others to run over their plan of attack once more.
"How many of these bombs will it take to destroy Atroma's leg?" He asked.
"Three, I predict." Fusala answered, "However, this will leave us with no bombs to deal any further damage. Though Atroma will be immobilised by the attack, it will almost certainly not be defeated."
"That's fine." He assured, "If it gets to that point, then we've already won."
"If you're that confident, then I won't object." Shilahi resigned, "What I've been interested in knowing is--could something like this happen to you, Witilla?"
All eyes turned to the girl in question, each interested in hearing the answer for themselves.
"...Well, yes." She admitted, "Mutated Archons were intended to protect Black Luna against catastrophic system failures. Only, they present such a tremendous ecological threat to the planet that repeated use of their strength could result in the world becoming uninhabitable. I believe that, recognising Barion and Manyu's existence beyond the events of the last Demon Age, Black Luna realised the threat they posed to its plans and initiated the mutation procedure in Atroma."
"How likely is it that this is going to happen to you?" The Hermit insisted.
"I… I don't know." Her voice carried a tinge of fear, "But, even if it were to happen, I wouldn't lose my independence. I decided on my own terms that this world was worth more than the sum of some celestial experiment… I'm here of my own free will."
"What about the others? Tiamat? Leviathan?"
"It's possible, yes…" She continued, "If Black Luna identifies a major threat to its system… it may initiate Protocol-11."
"What exactly does that entail?"
"Protocol-11 is a system of commands executed from Black Luna's artificial intelligence which will guarantee that all evidence of this initiative is destroyed. Alongside the Archons, Angels will also undergo mutations, becoming an unconquerable force of violence capable of annihilating all life on the planet."
"I'm sick of hearing about this…" Barion muttered, clenching his fist, "Our world, spoken of like some kind of disposable experiment… people have lived in fear of Demons for millennia, believing that the 'Hero' is the only one who can save them. But who really is the Hero? Who am I? Who is this 'Barion' from the past--the one who supposedly murdered Avl II?"
"I believe you may already know the answer to that question." Fusala interjected, "Based on the evidence we have gathered from both Miss Witilla and the Aelven Archives, only one conclusion presents any rational explanation for this world's circumstances--that you, Barion, and potentially Manyu, are just as artificial as the Demons who seek to destroy this world."
"...That- that can't be true." Barion rejected, "I'm human."
"Fusala is correct." Witilla supported, "Barion and Manyu… those who are codenamed 'SEED 1' and 'SEED 2' by Black Luna, are integral to the development of a 'myth' used as propaganda to divert attention away from the truth. By propagating the ubiquitous story of the 'Hero' and 'Demon King', Black Luna's true nature is less likely to be discovered."
"...But, what about the assassination of Avl II?" Barion countered, "I don't fly into an uncontrollable rage whenever I hear the words 'Black Luna', so why did the past… or, rather, the previous Barion succumb to it?"
"It's quite possible that, like myself, the natural conditioning of Black Luna has been worn away by genuine emotion." Witilla explained, "Barion, you have lived for hundreds of years, have you not? In that time, you've no doubt been irrevocably exposed to what is known as 'the human condition', and as a result are now capable of resisting Black Luna's internal programming."
"This is all too much to take in…" He pinched his forehead.
"You must understand one thing, Barion." She warned, "-That, if you mean to destroy Black Luna, it will inevitably execute Protocol-11. If you are unsuccessful in your attempt, it would mean the end of this world as we know it."
"As if the stakes weren't already high enough…" He replied, "But I don't plan on letting that happen. With how much support we've managed to rally--soldiers from Fleecia and Khazman, some of the brightest minds in the world, and most importantly of all, the means to not only eradicate Demons permanently, but attack them at the very source."
Their conversation was interrupted by the shattering cries of magical spells being fired. Flashes of cerulean light accompanied the barrages of crystalline missiles from Dorma and Yula's staves, allowing their incantations to become empowered by the magical circle. As if in retaliation to their attack, completely unguided beams of light streaked across the forest floor not far from their position. A few moments later, distant explosions could be heard through the blackened treeline.
"I would be a little worried if that much wasn't enough to rid ourselves of those Barrel Demons." Dorma commented, "Magical missiles are incapable of striking anything but their target, so I can give no greater guarantee that the path to Atroma is now relatively safe."
"It's time to get moving, then." Barion resolved, "Dorma, Yula--could the two of you use Hastening spells to get us closer to Atroma?"
"Do you understand who you're talking to?" The sorceress almost sounded offended by his request.
With barely a whisper, light flooded from the crystal atop Dorma's staff, surging magical particles through the bodies of everyone present. Manyu himself barely had any trouble casting the same spell using his own body as a focus, so it was only natural that Dorma could replicate its effects in her sleep.
"Couldn't we outpace any Demons we encounter on the way there?" Pale suggested, "Why must we waste time destroying them?"
"That would certainly be faster, but allowing ourselves to be overwhelmed by a backlog of Demons hot on our heels presents too many risks." Dorma replied, "Considering we're entrusting the defeat of Atroma to a single man, it may be for the best if only one or two of us accompany Barion. The rest can remain as a rear guard to guarantee an escape once the deed is done."
"Right. Shilahi, you're coming with me." Barion decided immediately.
"Naturally." The Hermit rested her spear on her shoulders, "I wouldn't miss an opportunity to see this creature defeated no matter how many Demons stand in my way."
"The two of you had better be on your way, then. Goddess knows Atroma isn't drawing any closer." Dorma smirked, "Return here once you're successful. Unless the two of you plan on walking back to Tor."
Barion and Shilahi didn't waste any time in stealing towards the mountainous creature, leaving the rest of the group to hold the line against the encroaching hordes of Demons. As expected, the Heavenly King's presence had drawn a horde of the creatures in from the valley's entrance, who seemed unperturbed as they were crushed in the hundreds beneath Atroma's granite heel.
"What a nostalgic feeling." Shilahi couldn't help but grin, "To think I would once more be given the opportunity to selfishly indulge myself in a banquet of slaughter."
"I would have thought that 500 years of meditation would have calmed you down a little."
"On the contrary, I realised that denying myself the pleasures of battle was only hurting me." She replied, "We may strive for peace, but in truth, I feel most at home swaddled in the ceaseless, bloodied vortex of war. It has never been my way to live so comfortably."
"Hm." Barion paused, "I understand what you mean."
"Ah, but you and I--we're different sorts, Barion." She continued, "I can tell that beneath the enlightened strikes of your fists resides a man who wants only for a world that moves half as quickly. But in the time between this age and the last, you've struggled to accept that. The fact that you understand yourself now--that is what will guarantee our victory against Black Luna."
"You're awfully talkative today."
"Yes, well…" She smirked, "The time for talking is over, it seems. We've a welcome party to attend."
For an army as impressive as Gria's, pushing through such a tremendous horde of Demons would border on the comically impossible. Few soldiers or mercenaries had ever tangled with the creatures and lived to tell the tale, but Barion and Shilahi were of a different fold altogether. For the two of them, there was nothing more familiar than the sight of seemingly insurmountable odds.
From Hounds to Barrels to Chimeras--and even an abundance of Emitters, there seemed to be no end to the Demons gathering beneath Atroma. When the horde clashed with Barion and Shilahi, the sounds of tearing flesh and otherworldly screams filled the valley with the nightmarish chorus of battle. Beasts engineered specifically to stand above all life found themselves outmatched and outmanoeuvred by a mere duo of mortals. Shilahi's spear lashed out to pierce flesh as tough as steel, pointedly targeting weak spots and freezing Demons in place at its point of contact, whereas Barion's lifelong dedication to the martial disciplines of the Beastkin gifted him with the strength to annihilate entire droves of the Godless creatures.
All the while, the two of them pushed deeper into the encircling horde without a single thought between them dedicated to strategy or retreat. On the contrary, they would have loved for nothing more than to spend the rest of their days drowning in the blood which dyed the forest floor a muddy crimson. Once, Barion had been ashamed of his distinctly unheroic attitude towards battle, but Dorma had made him realise that refusing to embrace his inner desires was only holding him back. The man who accompanied Shilahi through that sea of Demons was stronger than ever before.
As they drew close to Atroma's mountainous form, Barion reached into his pack to retrieve the miniscule anti-matter bombs Fusala had prepared for him. Using dark magic, he didn't hesitate to infuse one of the black spheres with magical particles, before throwing it with unerring accuracy towards Atroma's already-damaged leg.
The resultant vortex was neither an explosion nor an implosion--only the immediate cessation of all matter within a given radius, instantly carving a perfect chunk out of the Fiend's thigh, the weight of its tremendous body causing the limb to buckle as if almost about to snap in half. As Shilahi busied herself with clearing their position of Demons, Barion tossed another bomb towards the leg--and for good measure, immediately primed and threw the third so as to avoid wasting any time.
In an impossible instant, Atroma's leg was fully severed from its body, becoming just a lump of useless skin suffused with rocky clumps. Naturally, the Fiend could no longer maintain its balance, arms rising in a desperate attempt to maintain its posture as the mountain that was its flesh fell slowly to the ground--thankfully in neither Barion nor Shilahi's direction.
The impact from its descent was one that not even they could hope to resist, immediately sending the two warriors to the ground alongside every other Demon on the battlefield as an earthquake ravaged the valley. Atroma's sheer girth had proven too much for even the terrain to contain, with its gargantuan arms splayed uselessly over the mountains overlooking both ends of the decline.
"Fusala was right--it isn't dead!" Shilahi exclaimed, "I hope your 'plan' to put this creature down for good is more sophisticated than they usually are, Barion!"
"Perish the thought!" He yelled over the rain of soil that had been kicked up by the Fiend's fall.
Immediately making a move for Atroma's severed leg, Shilahi was forced to follow alongside Barion as he forced his way through another group of disoriented Demons. The limb itself was more akin to a feature of the land than anything that once belonged to a living beast, almost flattening an entire forest under its impossible size. The wound wrought from anti-matter bombs leaked a torrent of boiling, red-hot blood onto the land.
Barion placed a hand against the splitting, rock-like skin and nodded, "Hm… this will do."
"-And what exactly are you proposing?" Shilahi asked.
"I'm sure you can hazard a guess."
"I certainly can. But that guess is so completely absurd and unbelievable that I can only hope you aren't seriously considering suggesting it."
"Just keep an eye out for any Demons."
Shilahi could only stare as Barion kneeled down and dug his fingers into a crevice on the Fiend's severed leg. It reminded the Hermit of her youth--watching her childhood friends taking hold of a fallen log in the boreal woodlands and jokingly attempting to lift it into the air. Only, they had done so with no expectation of actually succeeding. They entertained a fantasy completely beyond what they were capable of as warriors. And yet, somehow, Shilahi couldn't bring herself to be surprised when she witnessed Atroma's leg buckling in Barion's grasp.
Heaps of soil trickled from the sky like rain, and the stretch of forest around them was completely enshrouded in a thick shadow. Shilahi blinked. What she witnessed simply wasn't possible. With only his two meagre human hands, Barion lifted the entire leg above his head, struggling to maintain his balance as beads of sweat ran from his forehead.
"...Don't go dropping that, now. I'd prefer not to die today." She requested.
"D-Don't even… joke about that…" The man could barely answer her, devoting all of his strength to simply keeping the limb in place. Kneeling down once more, Shilahi was forced to follow his example or have her head bumped by the severed leg. Barion took a deep breath before exerting himself in a manner he had never attempted before, extending his legs while focusing every ounce of his strength into his arms. Loosening his grip at the same time, the limb was thrown high into the air, visible enough from just about anywhere in the country that even the rear guard, several kilometres away, were drawn to the sight.
"Wha-" Pale exclaimed, "What's happening over there…?"
"Best not to ask too many questions…" Dorma replied.
Feeling liberated after relieving himself of the weight, Barion had no trouble at all executing the next stage of his plan--leaping high enough into the air to meet with the skybound limb, once more placing himself below the mass of flesh in order to guide it towards its intended target.
"If this doesn't work…" He panted, "...No. I wouldn't want to entertain the thought…"
Atroma couldn't possibly have anticipated its fate, with its head burrowed thoroughly into the earth. Barion almost wished that he could see the Fiend's reaction to what was occuring, but recalled all-too-well that, like most Demons, it likely wouldn't feel a thing.
"...And with this, the reign of the Heavenly Kings…" He began, digging his nails into the volcanic skin, "...Is over!"
Heaving the limb over his shoulder, it was sent crashing down to the ground, drilling into the cavernous wound near the back of Atroma's head as it embedded itself in the ground, leaving a monolithic spire of molten flesh rising from the tip of the Fiend's body. Casting a cursory glance to the north, Barion could just about make out the two remaining columns of light on the horizon, and smiled to himself as one of them--a scarlet shaft rising into the heavens, quickly disappeared.
"Hm." From the ground, Shilahi crossed her arms, "Just who am I meant to tell this story to? Not even Emir would believe what happened on this day…"
A second later, Barion landed next to her, less gracefully than he would have liked.
"Dear oh dear…" He muttered, exhausted, "I can't believe that worked."
"Impaling a Heavenly King with its own severed leg isn't quite the strategy I had in mind… the fact that it was the size of a mountain notwithstanding…"
"We have to get back to the others." He replied, "No doubt Dorma is incanting a Gate as we speak."
"Has the thought never occurred to you that you may just be a slight too strong, Barion?"
"You say that, but…" He paused, "-If it wasn't for Fusala's anti-matter bombs, or Manyu's call for aid, the rear guard supporting our back line--or the fact that you helped me to conserve my strength by accompanying me… one strong man is only a small piece of the greater puzzle, wouldn't you say?"
"How very humble of you to say." Shilahi smirked, "But this fight hasn't won us the war."
"No." His face straightened out, "-But it's moved us to this point, where we can converge on a solution to attack Black Luna directly. Now that we understand more of its nature--perhaps more than we should, the time draws close."
"Hm. The final battle, eh…?" She mused, "Somehow, I feel like we've already been here once before."
"In the past, we were only perpetuating exactly what Black Luna desired." Barion recounted, "But this will be different. A future completely free of Demons--no--free of a distant empire's machinations, finally allowed to live the lives we please… is on the horizon."
"A free world…" She closed her eyes, "Do you really think… that something so hopeful is possible?"
"I know it is." He resolved, beginning the slow walk back to their comrades, "And we will be the ones to usher it in."