That armor of hers was inherited from Valarie Sunwarden, the last Ascendant of Lysithara. It was a symbol of resilience, of a spirit unbroken even by rot and the cruel passage of ti.
Valarie was everything Damon once believed a hero should be. A radiant light. A wise teacher. He had not forgotten her, nor the words she had spoken to him long ago.
Her view on life and hardship had been like the sun itself. Even if the sun went down, it would always rise again.
’Life is a turbulent ocean with small islands of joy. Finding them is part of living.’
Damon bit his lip as he watched Evangeline standing in that armor, carrying those noble ideals on her shoulders.
Valarie would be proud. He knew she would.
But—
"Is she an idiot..."
It was obvious this was a trap. One she was not ant to walk out of alive.
Damon clenched his fist, then relaxed it, then clenched it again. He was low on mana, for the first ti in a long while.
His currently available mana was only about twice that of a normal person. He also lacked mana cores and crystals. He had left what little he could spare behind for Lazarak, to feed Maw.
The crowd erupted into cheers the mont she appeared.
Flowers were thrown. Voices cried out her na. People scread themselves hoarse even as the brands on their bodies burned, punishing them for defiance.
Damon’s eyes widened slightly as he watched people cheer through pain. The fairy beside him stood up, wings trembling as he shouted in support.
For a brief mont, Damon was shaken.
This was the idea of a hero.
People loved heroes. They cheered for heroes. They believed in heroes.
This was not the path Damon had ever walked.
Ever since he devoured Ashcroft the Dominator, Damon had not walked the path of a hero. No, even before that. Since he had taken the Crown of Lysithara from Vathren, he had walked the path of a ruler.
Evangeline had found her own path. She had chosen the path of a hero.
Perhaps it had been inevitable that she would walk this painful road.
And heroes always faced great evils.
She was standing before one now.
This trap was not just ant to kill her physically.
It was ant to kill the idea of her.
So Damon did the only thing he could.
He leaned back slightly and watched.
"She better have an escape path..."
He slowly reached into his shadow storage. A staff slid into his hand, and a broken sword drifted into the air beside him, hovering quietly.
At the center of the arena, bathed in soft light, Evangeline turned toward the chained Knights.
Her sword ignited with radiant brilliance.
"Surrender yourself to the authority of the great god Seraph Null," a deep voice bood from a knight clad in black third-class armor, "and you shall die a rciful death."
Evangeline’s face was hidden behind her helm. Her armor had assud its sovereign mantle form, light refracting along its surface.
"The only god I acknowledge is the Goddess of Doom," she replied evenly. "I bow to no lesser gods."
"Yayyyyyy!"
The crowd erupted again, voices rising in praise.
Damon felt like an outsider in that mont. A stranger watching a world he did not belong to.
He was the only one here who knew her personally.
To them, she was a symbol.
To him, she was just Eva.
The sa Eva he had argued with endlessly. The sa Eva he loved teasing. The sa Eva—
Her sword ca down.
Radiant arcs of light tore through the air as she clashed with the knight. Blinding flashes filled the arena as she impaled him, light eviscerating his body from within.
Damon crossed his arms, brow furrowing.
’You’re not conserving mana, Eva.’
She exploded forward again, light bursting outward in all directions. Swordlight shredded defenses, and in a breath of brilliance she breached the protected zone. Wards shattered as she cut through them, and with a single swing she cleaved the skull of a fat man wearing a toga, a chain still hanging from his wrist.
She stood over the corpse, breathing heavily, as the crowd roared.
She had co.
She had slain one of the inner branded elite.
"I ca," she said coldly. "As promised. I dare."
Her voice was so cold it reminded Damon painfully of himself.
She stood beneath the blazing desert sun, duskglass armor reflecting fire and gold.
Evangeline raised her sword.
"Warriors of Aetherus," she called out, "those who have co into this nightmare with ."
Her voice was strong, but Damon heard the desperation beneath it.
"I call upon you. These people are mortals. They bleed like mortals. They die like mortals. Rise with . In freedom... or in death."
The crowd cheered.
But no one moved.
Cheering was easier than defiance. And even if they wanted to rise, their brands would not allow it. The atmosphere itself crushed dissent.
The thunder of boots echoed as swarms of chained Knights poured in from all sides.
Killing formations activated. Arrays twisted the air. A barrier slamd shut over the arena.
At the top, a man in light robes stepped forward. His aura was deep, oppressive, unmistakable.
Fourth class advancent.
He walked with a parasol in hand, casual and unhurried. As he advanced, the entire arena fell silent, his presence alone making people tremble.
Damon frowned, unmoving.
"Now this is troubleso..."
Evangeline tightened her grip on her sword as the arrays pressed down on her, layering debuffs over her body. Her resistance held, but not without strain.
She was alone.
And now a monster of the fourth class stood before her.
She glanced upward. The space above was sealed tight.
The crowd of warriors only watched.
She bit her lip, resolve unbroken.
The man smiled.
"Did you truly believe these fools would rebel?" he said softly. "It is not the body that is chained. It is the heart. These people dare not defy. Their fate is obedience."
His aura crushed down harder.
"Surrender and die swiftly," he continued. "Die with the dignity of a hero."
His parasol shifted slightly.
"Yours will be a cautionary tale."
Evangeline inhaled deeply. The fire in her eyes did not waver.
Then, from the crowd, a figure clad in dark armor raised his hand lazily.
"’Scuse ," he said, voice carrying easily. "The entertainnt here is top-notch. Can I get a snack?"
Evangeline’s eyes widened.
She knew that voice.
Her head snapped toward the crowd.
A man stood there in dark armor, a halo-like crown resting above his helm as he gazed at her.
"Hmm. No snacks," he continued thoughtfully. "Bumr. Guess I’ll have to kill you all."
She smiled beneath her helm.
"Damon," she muttered.
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