"Kane, I want you to hold his arm straight," said Maleagant, taking a seat on the ground underneath Bauer's arms that Kane held up, speaking slowly enough for the boy to count the words, which signalled to him to importance of his job. "Make sure they are not fully extended, otherwise it will be harder to pull the needle. Also, you cannot move the arms when I say I'm removing the needle. Understood?"
"Yes, sage."
"Okay, then I shall begin with the first one. I'm removing the needle."
Kane extended Bauer's arm, making sure not to go too far, lest he cause more issues for the sage and the patient. Despite it taking about a minute, Maleagant did stand up, putting the bloody needle aside on a piece of white cloth.
"Good," he said, going under the other arm. "Now let's get to work with this one."
Again, the process did take a while, but it went smoothly. Next were the legs, which were even easier since Kane only needed to restrain the feet to secure the legs in place. The removal of the needles in the legs also went by faster, and Bauer felt relieved knowing that he'd be spared the pain of his muscles writhing against the foreign object.
"Well done!" said Maleagant, carrying the tray of bloodstained needles into the other room. "Now," his voice echoed, "all you need is to rest for the night."
"I need some fucking rest," mumbled Kane, feeling the weight of his eyelids increase with each passing second. "It's been such a long night."
"I appreciate it, sage," said Bauer, continuing to lay on the table, "but I must leave as soon as I can."
Maleagant's head peered around the doorway, wearing a frown. "And why is that?"
"The nefandites will be searching for me. If they find me here, then they will not hesitate to incorporate you all into their human sacrifices."
"And you believe they won't come here anyway? Hmm?"
"W-well... they would, but I can go and fight them. After all, I once stood by them and watched as they destroyed people's lives."
Maleagant pressed his lips together and looked at the ground, playing with his beard before he stepped back into the room, walking over to Bauer.
"Young man," he said, pulling a chair next to Bauer and taking a seat, "we all make mistakes. Believe me I've had my fair share! However, that does not mean that we should continue to make mistakes when we know we're doing something wrong."
"But I have nowhere else to go... and I must try stopping them at least. The Final God has emerged, and I feel like I'm not making use of my time. I could be fighting them. I don't want to have to say that I should've fought. I don't want to carry more regrets."
Maleagant nodded, pondering on the words. "Do you know what the definition of regret is?"
"I... I guess it's a feeling of wishing that I had done something else when I had the chance?"
"Yes, exactly. To put it simply: Regret is an opportunity missed."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you are rushing to a decision. You are making a choice based on regret. That is a mistake."
A loud bell rung across the city, forcing Maleagant to put a pause to his words. Wasting no time, he stood up and picked up his walking stick, ignoring the questions the other two asked as he stepped out, slamming the door behind him.
"What is going on?" asked Kane, breaking the silence while he and Bauer stared at the dark door.
Bauer let the question hang in the air for a bit, pondering on the sage's words, before saying, "I don't know."
***
The moon had finally disappeared behind the mountains, letting the sky engage in a battle between the darkness of dusk and the light of dawn. The echoes of the city bell travelled with the chilly wind, while Maleagant walked against the wind, eager to find out why the Bell of Peril was rung.
Could it be? he wondered as he held a hand over his face, blocking the harsh and relentless wind. It would be quite bad if it was.
He walked onward in solitude for about a minute, nearing the intersection leading to the southern exit of Thalamar, finding every guard he'd come to know over the years standing together, brandishing their weapons. A group of them charged forth, disappearing behind the buildings. Maleagant, seeing that the guards were rushing out, dropped the farce that he was a senile old man, and ran against the wind, each stride larger than the last, until he got around the corner.
Maleagant watched as red and green lights flashed in the distance. It's them. He watched as guards ran through the grass, intercepting none other than the nefandites, and there were more than just laymen and militiamen.
Maleagant looked off to the platform a guard stood atop, where the Bell of Peril rested. "Guard! Do not send anymore of your men into battle!" he commanded.
The guard looked down, removing his helm just to make sure that he wasn't imagining things, revealing the face of Ephraim.
"Sage Maleagant?" he said. "You must retreat to your home! It is not safe to be outside right now! The nefandites are prepared to storm Thalamar!"
"Ephraim, hold your positions, and do not let anymore men beyond the pillars!" Maleagant returned his gaze to the ensuing chaos ahead, watching a turmoil unfold in the land, becoming littered with dead bodies and blood splatters. "I shall deal with them myself!"
"What!?" called out Ephraim, his brows furrowed and his jaw slackened as he watched the old man run into the wild like he was reliving his youth. Ephraim shook his head, deciding to heed the sage's words. "Everyone hold your positions! We will wait for the sage's mark!" he yelled, returning his gaze to Maleagant, who was now just a small blue speck in the distance. Man I don't get paid enough for this shit, so he thought.
Maleagant huffed and puffed, watching as guards and nefandis fanatics fell, a heartbeat for each of the innocent souls lost in the moment. With wide eyes and a clenched jaw, Maleagant pushed his limits, picking up more speed, each step leaving behind a blue smoke that was lost in the wind.
In no time, Maleagant made it just in time to save a guard who laid on the ground, just seconds away from a knight ready to deliver him to death, who arrived in the form of a black glaive. Maleagant placed his walking stick in between the guard's face and the glaive's edge, stopping the glaive without moving an inch. The knight leapt back, assessing the situation before he made any hasty moves.
"Retreat while you still can," ordered Maleagant, looking at the guard from the corner of his eye. As soon as the guard retreated with any others who could manage, Maleagant studied the knight's armour, which gave off an otherworldly aura.
His helm was designed with a sharp and heavy triangular top, where the bottom half curved inward and branched off to the sides like a boar's tusks, giving it the shape of a star. Many thin lines streaked down, across where the helm's visors should have been, adding on to its sharp and rigid appearance.
As for the rest of his appearance, he wore segmented plate armour, layered with all the protection a melee fighter could ask for. As for the finishing touch, he wielded a black glaive that curved at the tip. Its edge serrated and thin like a shark's teeth.
"Death has come, old man," said the knight, his gravelly voice soaring with the wind, distorted by his mask. He twirled his glaive as he walked forth, ending it off with a single swing down to the side, followed by the grass dancing in response to his theatrics. "All shall wither... under the reign of the Final God."
Maleagant wore a scowl, taking his battle stance, planting one foot forward whilst using the other as a pivot, holding the staff diagonally across his body with the tip facing downward, with one hand gripping the base of staff and the other further down. He took a deep breath, ready for a duel to the death.
The knight leapt forward, swinging down with all his might against the thick, grey, and crude weapon, though he watched as Maleagant defended the attack, holing his ground with ease, not even flinching at the collision.
Instead, Maleagant quickly pushed the glaive up and followed up with a jab straight at the knight's breastplate, sending him sliding back as the knight dug his glaive in the ground and held his chest with the other hand, grunting.
Again Maleagant took his battle stance, taunting the knight as he said, "You have much to learn, it would seem."
The knight let out a quiet yet baleful laugh, stepping forward as he held his free arm behind his back and the glaive extended out to his side. "I must respect my elders by taking it easy at first, should I not?"
"You leave yourself open," said Maleagant, stepping forward as well, switching his intention to strike first this time. "All it takes," he stabbed straight at the knight's breastplate again, "is a well placed—"
Within a split second, the knight deflected the jab over his shoulder, returning a counter attack with a downward swing into a flurry of attacks, instantly putting Maleagant on the defensive once again, forced to walk back as he defended against the series of attacks.
"All it takes," said the knight, continuing to keep one arm behind his back as he swung relentlessly, "is one touch of my blade to sunder you where you stand."
Maleagant continued defending, until he noticed a pattern, and found the chance to sidestep another downward swing, stepping on the dull end of the blade and jabbing the knight on the breastplate once again, forcing him to fall on his back as he lost the grip on his weapon.
He watched as the knight quickly picked himself back up, before kicking the glaive over to his feet, which caught the knight off guard, hesitant to pick it up.
"Go on," said Maleagant, standing defenseless. "Take up arms once more."
The knight tilted his head, before picking up the glaive as he said, "You are a fool, old man. You should deliver death while the opportunity presents itself."
"No, for I shall not regret missing the chance to kill mercilessly."
The knight scoffed, staring into Maleagant's eyes. "Such noble character... shall be your undoing."
"Then let it be decided on this final round," he replied, taking his battle stance once more. "Fate shall reveal the fallen and the victor."