Hero Of Broken History

The letter materialized on Avian's desk with a wet slap, like a diseased fish thrown by an invisible hand. Death magic clung to it in oily waves, making the air taste of copper and old graves. The parchment itself was wrong – too thick, too yellow, with fibers that seemed to writhe when he wasn't looking directly at them.

"The Elder arrives tomorrow night."

Five words. No threats, no dramatics. Professional.

Fuck.

"That's..." Kai reached for the letter, then thought better of it. Smart. Death mancers loved poisoned correspondence. "That's not good."

"Understatement of the century," Avian muttered, using a knife to unfold the parchment fully. More words revealed themselves, written in ink that might have been blood if blood could crawl.

"Your recent activities have garnered attention. I shall visit your establishment tomorrow evening to discuss your future. Or lack thereof. Prepare accordingly."

"Oh good," Kai said, reading over his shoulder. "He's polite about planning to murder us. I appreciate professional courtesy in my death threats."

Seren had gone pale, clutching her notebook like a shield. "The Elder. The actual Elder. The one from the stories, the one who—"

"The one who's probably Seventh or Eighth Tier and could turn us into meat paste without breaking a sweat," Avian finished. The letter's edges were already starting to smoke, death magic eating through reality like acid. "Yeah. That Elder."

"The protagonist senses dramatic potential!" Leontis bounced on his heels, somehow excited by impending doom. "An ancient evil descending upon our heroes! The countdown to ultimate confrontation! The—"

"The very real chance we'll be corpses by tomorrow night," Kai interrupted. "How are you happy about this?"

"Because it's narratively perfect! Though..." Leontis's face scrunched in confusion. "I need a refresher on the power scaling. All this talk of tiers and ranks - my artistic mind doesn't retain such technical details. Explain it like I'm a child who thinks the world runs on dramatic timing."

Because you basically are.

Avian set down the smoking letter, grabbing paper to sketch. "Quick review then. Everyone's born with an Aether Core - spiritual organ that makes mana. Need a Mana Heart to pump it through your body. With me?"

"Magical organs, yes!"

"That mana flows two ways." He drew branching paths. "Mana Veins for magic - spells, enchantments, flashy stuff. Or Aura Conversion for warriors - transform mana into Life Force for physical enhancement. I use both because I'm an idiot."

"Special idiot," Leontis corrected cheerfully.

"Warriors get ranked by mastery. Novice, Expert, Master, Grandmaster - that's me - then Transcendent, then Paragon Knight. My father's a Paragon. Maybe twelve in the whole Empire."

"And the Elder?"

"The cores themselves have tiers. First through Eleventh, each exponentially stronger. I'm Sixth Tier, which is insane for my age but meaningless against someone with five centuries to cultivate. He's minimum Seventh, probably Eighth."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we already sent word to the Gold Knights and we're going to let them handle it." Avian moved to his desk. "Aurelius has our evidence from the warehouse raids. This letter just confirms when and where. The Knights live for this - taking down threats like the Elder is literally why the Empire funds them."

"But surely even the Knights can't—"

"The Gold Knights are the reason this Empire has lasted a thousand years," Avian interrupted. "They've killed dragons, stopped demon incursions, put down mad mages who could level cities. An Elder death mancer is dangerous, but it's Tuesday for them."

He sealed the Elder's letter in a protective case, preparing it for delivery through their anonymous channels. Within the hour, Aurelius would have confirmation of tomorrow's target.

Let's see how confident you are facing the Empire's hammer, old man.

Dawn broke grey and bitter, clouds heavy with promise of storm. Avian woke to find Lux pressed against his side, the spirit wolf's fur crackling with more energy than usual. She'd been restless all night, padding between windows and door like she was tracking something.

"What is it, girl?" He scratched behind her ears, static jumping between his fingers. "You smell the death magic coming?"

Her answering growl suggested yes.

The wrongness became clear when he looked outside.

Gold Knights. The full might of the capital garrison on display.

They weren't hiding. Over a hundred knights in full battle regalia had turned three blocks around the Golden Griffin into a military staging ground. Blessed weapons gleamed in the morning sun. Holy symbols blazed with pre-charged divine power. Command tents sprouted like martial mushrooms.

"Sweet mother of..." Kai breathed from beside him. "That's not a response team. That's a fucking army."

He was right. Avian counted at least six Knight Commanders, their golden cloaks marking them as veteran monster slayers. Inquisitors in white robes moved between formations, blessing weapons and warriors alike. Combat medics prepared triage stations. Siege weapons - actual blessed ballistae - were being positioned on nearby rooftops.

"The warehouse raids," Seren said quietly. "They must have found evidence of something massive. This isn't just about one Elder."

She had to be right. This was the mobilization you got when facing an existential threat to the Empire itself. Whatever Aurelius had discovered in those death mancer dens had elevated this from 'dangerous criminal' to 'enemy of the state requiring overwhelming force.'

"Look at them," Kai murmured, something like awe in his voice. "Perfect formations. Overlapping fields of fire. Divine wards on every approach. They've turned this entire district into a kill box."

The Golden Griffin itself had been transformed into a fortress. Guests evacuated with apologies and compensation. Staff replaced by knights in servant's clothing who moved with military precision. Every window held a crossbowman. Every door bristled with blessed steel.

"No wonder the Empire's lasted so long," Avian admitted. "When the Knights mobilize properly..."

"The protagonist's performance venue has been militarized!" Leontis complained, though even he seemed impressed. "Though I admit, the sheer scale of heroic might on display is rather inspiring."

As morning crawled toward afternoon, more forces arrived. Elite units Avian recognized from military texts - the Dragonslayers in their distinctive scaled armor, the Silver Spears who specialized in mage-killing, even a contingent of Pale Riders who fought undead exclusively.

"They're taking this seriously," Kai understated.

"They're taking it personally," Avian corrected. "Death mancers in the capital, operating for who knows how long? The Knights' reputation is on the line."

Lux's growling suddenly spiked, lightning crackling through her fur in agitated patterns. She faced the window, lips pulled back to show fangs of pure energy.

"What now—" Avian followed her gaze and cursed internally.

Thane stood on a rooftop across the street, barely visible in the afternoon shadows. But it wasn't his presence that made Lux react so violently - it was the way darkness clung to him like a living thing, shadows moving independent of any light source.

Shadow spirit. Parasitic little shits that feed on negative emotions. No wonder Lux hates it - shadow and lightning are natural opposites.

Their eyes met across the distance. Thane offered a mocking salute before melting back into darkness that shouldn't have existed in daylight. Whatever he was planning, it would have to wait. Bigger problems were coming.

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The afternoon passed in tense preparation. Seren declared she'd stay in their suite - "I'm a historian, not a warrior. I'll document, not participate in suicide." Kai and Leontis, however, had other ideas.

"We're Bronze-rank adventurers," Kai argued, checking his arsenal of alchemical surprises. "Guild regulations say we assist in city defense during major threats."

"The protagonist cannot miss such dramatic potential!" Leontis had somehow acquired armor that gleamed despite being obviously secondhand. "Besides, with this many Knights, we'll basically be spectators with good seats."

Avian didn't argue. They were right - with this much firepower, their participation would be largely symbolic. But he kept Lux close, her presence a comfort as evening approached.

The sun touched the horizon, painting the sky in shades of blood and warning.

Then the temperature plummeted.

Not gradually, but instantly. Windows frosted over. Breath became fog. Down below, Knights shifted into combat readiness with practiced efficiency, prayers rising like a wall of faith.

The Elder had arrived.

And he hadn't come alone.

Twenty figures in dark robes flanked him as he walked down the main street, death magic rolling off them in synchronized waves. Where the Elder was ancient power refined, these were his disciples – younger, hungrier, eager to prove themselves. They moved in practiced formation, clearly experienced in group tactics.

"Shit," Kai breathed. "That's a war party."

He was right. This wasn't an arrest anymore – this was a battle. The death mancers spread out as they approached, taking positions that would let them strike from multiple angles. Professional. Coordinated. Ready.

"Gentlemen," the Elder's voice carried impossibly well, conversational despite the distance. "What a magnificent welcome. The Empire's finest, arrayed in all their glory. I'm genuinely touched by the effort."

Commander Aurelius stepped forward, golden armor blazing with divine light. If the numbers concerned him, it didn't show.

"By imperial decree, you are under arrest for necromancy, conspiracy, and crimes against the natural order." His voice rang with absolute authority. "All of you. Surrender, and you will be granted the mercy of a clean death."

"The natural order." The Elder smiled, and nearby windows cracked. "Children, show these knights what we think of their natural order."

The battle erupted on multiple fronts.

Kai had fought death mancers before. In warehouses, in cemeteries, in dark alleys where smart people didn't go.

This was different.

The cultist bearing down on him wasn't some half-trained fool playing with forces beyond comprehension. This one knew his craft, death magic swirling around him like armor. Bone spears erupted from the ground. Necrotic bolts filled the air. The temperature dropped twenty degrees in his vicinity alone.

"Guild regulations," Kai muttered, diving behind an overturned cart. "Assist in city defense, they said. Civic duty, they said."

A bone spear punched through the wood inches from his head.

"Nobody mentioned the fucking death cult army!"

But Kai hadn't survived this long by fighting fair. He pulled three vials from his coat – one blue, one red, one that hurt to look at directly. Academy training said never mix alchemical compounds. Academy training had never faced twenty death mancers.

He threw all three at once.

The explosion wasn't large, but it was weird. Blue fire that froze instead of burned. Red ice that melted upward. And something in between that made the death mancer's protective spells hiccup like broken music.

Kai didn't wait to see the full effect. He was already moving, knives finding gaps in confused defenses. The death mancer fell with steel in his throat, magic dispersing into foul-smelling smoke.

"One down," Kai panted. "Nineteen to go. Fantastic."

"THE PROTAGONIST STANDS AGAINST EVIL!"

Leontis's voice boomed across the battlefield, magically amplified and somehow carrying perfect stage projection despite the chaos. He stood atop an abandoned vendor's stall, cape billowing dramatically, lute raised like a weapon.

The two death mancers advancing on him paused, confused.

"Is he... posing?" one asked.

"In the middle of a battle?"

"INDEED!" Leontis strummed a chord that made reality wince. "For what is battle but the ultimate performance? What is heroism but art given flesh and purpose?"

The death mancers exchanged glances. Then they shrugged and raised their hands to cast.

That's when Leontis's true purpose revealed itself. The posing, the shouting, the dramatic nonsense – all distraction. While they'd focused on the ridiculous bard above, three Gold Knights had flanked their position.

Blessed steel met unprepared flesh. The death mancers fell before they could complete their spells.

"Thank you for the assist, good sirs!" Leontis called to the knights. "The protagonist appreciates professional cooperation!"

One knight – young, probably newer to the ranks – actually smiled. "Good distraction, bard. Keep it up."

Leontis beamed. This was heroism. Not the solo glory he'd imagined, but something better – being part of something larger, playing his role in the grand performance of good versus evil.

"ONCE MORE!" He launched into another verse. "LET THE MUSIC OF JUSTICE RING FORTH!"

In the hotel lobby, the real battle raged.

Aurelius fought like the Emperor's own wrath, holy fire carving through death magic with brutal efficiency. But even he couldn't be everywhere. Death mancers had breached from three directions, forcing the Knights to split their forces.

The Dragonslayers held the east wing, their flame-blessed weapons turning undead summons to ash. Silver Spears took the west, disrupting spell after spell with runed steel. The Pale Riders pushed straight up the middle, channeling divine energy that made the air itself hostile to undeath.

But the Elder wasn't fighting directly. He stood in the center of his disciples, directing the battle like a conductor with an orchestra of death. Where he gestured, knights fell. Where he spoke, blessed weapons corroded.

"Tighten formation!" Aurelius commanded, parrying necrotic blades with mechanical precision. "Don't let them separate us!"

Too late.

Five death mancers raised their hands in unison, chanting in harmonies that predated human language. The Elder added his voice to theirs, and death fog erupted not from one source but from six.

The fog rolled through the lobby like a living thing, but worse because it came from multiple directions. No escape. No safe ground. Where it touched, reality corroded. Marble crumbled. Steel rusted. Flesh aged.

"Divine shield wall!" Aurelius roared. "Now!"

The Knights responded with trained precision, holy power flaring in a protective barrier. But even divine light flickered against this assault. The Golden Griffin groaned, support beams aging centuries in seconds. Cracks spider-webbed across walls.

Through the chaos, the Elder moved toward the back of the hotel, four disciples covering his retreat.

"Service tunnels," Avian said, watching the Elder's retreat from above. "He's heading for the old sewer access."

"Then we cut him off," Kai suggested, but Avian was already moving.

"No time for that. Direct pursuit." He drew Fargrim, the blade singing eagerly. "Lux, with me. You two help the Knights - get them out before the building collapses."

He didn't wait for arguments, taking the service stairs three at a time. Behind him, the Golden Griffin was dying - support beams cracking, walls crumbling, the death fog eating everything it touched.

The service tunnel entrance was already open, black blood on the threshold. The Elder and his disciples had passed through moments before. Avian plunged into darkness, Lux's lightning providing flickering illumination.

The tunnels were pre-Empire construction, stone worn smooth by centuries. He'd memorized the layout while Kai was planting evidence, but that advantage meant nothing in a straight chase. The Elder had a head start and knew where he was going.

But he's wounded. And I'm faster.

Avian pushed harder, Grandmaster rank burning through his channels. His younger body protested - this level of enhancement wasn't meant for a twelve-year-old frame. But Dex had pushed through worse.

Ahead, he could hear them. Multiple footsteps, labored breathing, the Elder's voice giving sharp commands. The gap was closing.

A disciple materialized from a side passage, death magic already gathering. Avian didn't slow. Fargrim took the cultist's head before he could finish his spell. The body hadn't hit the ground before Avian was past.

"He's following!" another disciple shouted. "The boy with the demon blade!"

"Slow him down," the Elder commanded. "All of you. Buy me time."

Three disciples turned to face their pursuer while the Elder continued fleeing. They spread across the tunnel, death magic rising like a wall.

Avian smiled. In the narrow confines, numbers meant less than they thought.

"Lux."

The spirit wolf understood. Lightning exploded down the tunnel in a blinding wave. The disciples screamed, magical defenses shattered by divine fury. Avian followed in the lightning's wake, Fargrim carving through stunned opponents.

One managed a spell - bone spears erupting from the walls. Avian twisted, took a grazing hit across his ribs, kept moving. Pain was just information. Blood was just lubrication.

The last disciple fell with Fargrim through his heart, demon blade drinking greedily.

Ahead, the Elder had gained distance but not enough. Avian could see him now, robes tattered, one hand pressed to his wounded shoulder. No more disciples. No more shields. Just an old man running from consequences.

The tunnel opened into a junction where three passages met. The Elder stumbled into the center, clearly exhausted, trying to decide which path to take.

That moment of hesitation was all Avian needed.

He burst into the junction at full speed, Fargrim already swinging. The Elder spun, raising a hand wreathed in death magic, but he was too slow. Five centuries of life had made him cautious, careful, used to having shields between him and danger.

Fargrim bit deep into his already injured shoulder, and this time the blade fed properly. At the same moment, Lux struck from the side, lightning coursing through ancient flesh. The Elder's scream echoed through the tunnels as he staggered back, caught between demon steel and divine lightning.

Black blood sprayed across tunnel walls. But behind them, more footsteps echoed - reinforcements from above, death mancers fleeing the Knights' wrath.

"Master!" They poured into the junction, desperate to save their leader.

Above, the Golden Griffin shuddered. The death fog had eaten through too much. The building was dying.

The Elder straightened despite his wounds, death magic beginning to swirl. His eyes held terrible recognition as he looked at Avian.

"Those forms," he whispered. "That stance. I know you. I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!"

"Good," Avian said quietly, shifting into a guard that had died with the old Empire. "Then you know why you should have run faster."

"So be it," the Elder said, and darkness erupted from him like the death of stars.

The real fight was about to begin.