Penitent

Michael divined the group of remaining soldiers and knights in front of them and it became very obvious why they were radiating such power all of a sudden. Even as he watched, new titles were writing themselves on their souls. They were noble titles, those tied to land. Further confirming what he thought he was seeing he felt the boost from his Baron Breaker deed kick in as the golden letters settled onto them.

Trina and Lys were with the rest of the group falling back, but as Michael moved to intercept the approaching soldiers Pyotr and Suraj took their place at his side and arrows from Alvarez and gunshots from Marcus started to whizz by them and hit the enemy.

"Be careful, they've just been empowered with titles! They're stronger than they were a moment ago."

The soldiers in front of them charged and Michael met the first one with his mace, but the man quickly dodged the blow before stabbing at him with his spear. The soldier's spear thrust was incredibly strong, and would have skewered him, unfortunately for him, it needed to hit to work. Michael dodged the blow before slamming his fiery mace into the soldier's face, killing him. He deflected another soldier's thrust with his shield, nearly losing his footing from the force of the strike. He attempted a mace-strike, but on his back foot it didn't have the power to finish his opponent off.

Luckily, a bullet hit the soldier through the eye and he collapsed forward causing Michael to catch his body on his shield before pushing him off of it toward the others. Bullets were still a great equalizer even with that many titles.

Pyotr dodged around attacks from a knight, the force of which Michael could feel even from where he was standing. He made it look easy. The knight was definitely much stronger than he was a moment before. He was faster and reacted more quickly as well, but he wasn't yet used to it, and until he was Pyotr would have the advantage.

Suraj was struggling with a soldier and a knight, fresh holes in his armor and Michael moved to support and heal him, sealing his wounds even as he blocked a swordstroke from the knight who deviated from Suraj to attack him. It dented his shield, but he managed to keep his footing this time. He aimed, not at the man himself, but instead decided to aim at his sword as he swung. When Michael's mace met the man's sword, it shattered from their combined strength. His thicker mace stayed intact, and he slammed it into the knight's chestplate, causing it to cave in even as it lit him on fire.

Michael was starting to tire from healing, smiting, and fighting all at once, and after Pyotr finished off his opponent they all began to fall back. Another group of Burndan soldiers went to keep them from rejoining the rest of the column, but Marcus and Alvarez let off a few bullets and arrows respectively and were joined by several more blowgun Cantalians, dropping nearly all of them.

As Pyotr was weaving his way through the collapsing enemies, one of them tore the blowdart needle from his throat and tried to stab at him. He managed to bat it to the side as the man fell into the mud to die and they all reached the main column. The rest of the fight was them falling back, being covered by their mages, dragoons, archers, and the Cantalian poisoners. When they reached the woods the Burndan soldiers tried to follow, but in the thick swamp their heavier armor and lack of familiarity with the terrain kept them from being able to maneuver. They pulled back to regroup and Michael was gratified to see that their numbers were much reduced. He moved to fall back further with the rest of the group when he saw Pyotr fall.

Michael rushed to his friend's side along with a number of others. He had fallen, but he wasn't still, his body writhing and smashing against the wet mud of the ground. Michael grabbed his arm along with a couple other mercenaries and as he did so he noticed a small thin needle sticking out of his gauntlets, between the knuckle plates. He yanked it out quickly and placed a glowing gold hand on his chest.

His insides were a mess as even this small drop of diluted poison sought to liquefy his organs and melt his brain. Michael immediately began to try and put everything back together, channeling his divine energy through the heat of his hand. He was able to put things back in order, but almost immediately Pyotr began to deteriorate again. Michael healed him again, but the same thing happened. Still, he kept it up even as his reserves began to deplete. Each heal was the equivalent of restoring someone near death, taking far more energy than a normal injury would have.

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"There is no healing the swamp's sting," said a Cantalian with a blowgun slung at his side. "Even those whose healing allows them to cleanse illness and poisons usually cannot compete with its strength. The only reason he is not already dead is because he must've had a much reduced dose. If you move I will grant him mercy for you."

"No," managed Pyotr somehow through the haze of pain as his body disassembled from the inside out. He managed to grasp Michael's hand "He can do it. I have faith, brother."

Michael began to call to the gods as he healed Pyotr again, barely keeping him from death. "Please. You let me take Ollie's pain away. You've helped me to heal so many. Please help me save my brother."

~You already can~

The voice was strong and feminine, Seras. He could feel a bit of guidance from her, just the smallest touch of additional heat in his hand, heat that reminded him of smite. He focused the divine energy again, feeling the heat in his hand build and build until it felt like it was burning his skin. The golden glow on his hand grew until it suddenly burst into flames. He pushed those flames into Pyotr, feeling them suffuse his body inside and out. He found the remains of the Swamp's Sting and burned them away even as he brought Pyotr back from near-death once again. When he was done the fire faded and Pyotr was still, but breathing.

Michael panted heavily. He was drenched in sweat and his arms and legs felt like lead.

Pyotr sat up suddenly enough to make everyone else around them jump a bit. The Cantalians that surrounded them all went wide eyed and began muttering, some even let out loud gasps.

"I knew I was right to have faith, brother," he said, clasping Michael's pauldron with a light clang.

"The gods provide," he responded, smiling behind his visor.

Pyotr laughed. "My faith wasn't in the gods brother. It was in you."

…

With Pyotr back up, they marched back to the camp, glad that the Burndan forces hadn't pursued them through the swamp out of the clear area where the main battle had taken place. If they had then he almost certainly wouldn't have been able to heal Pyotr. Michael was near stumbling as he moved, but he still made his way toward anyone who was being carried or dragged back to the camp so that he could heal them. It seemed like Cantalian and mercenary losses weren't as bad as those of Burndan, but it was hard to tell with the chaos of everything around them.

As he went among them healing he heard whispers following him. They spoke of how he'd managed to cure the Swamp's Sting in nearly twenty men, how he'd managed to fight off a column of titled Burndan troops, how the gods sang his praises as they followed him back out of obscurity. Only one of those was an exaggeration, but he was too busy to dissuade anyone of it and felt like trying to argue against it may make things grow even further out of proportion.

When they made it back to camp, Michael made his way to the infirmary where Tallant was already busy treating the worst wounded.

"Good, I had some Bliss prepared in case you had been killed, but I really didn't wish to find out I had prolonged their suffering for nothing." He looked him up and down and quickly came back with a cup of something. "Drink this quickly; it will help with your energy."

He nodded and drank it. It was bitter, but as he started healing he could feel his energy perk up a bit. It wasn't the same kind of restorative draught he'd had back in Stent. This one seemed to be mostly made up of caffeine. It was more meant to stimulate than help recover. Still he was grateful for it as he began to go from person to person, healing those that needed it the most first. He left any injuries that weren't debilitating to save his energy for others who might need it more. Besides, he had Trina's help too once she turned up. His Eyes of Love told him that she was with Lys, and alive.

From there he went to the Breaker mercenary encampment to help them. The Gemini mercs had known to meet him in the infirmary, but he wanted to help the others if he could.

"What do you want?" asked a man in a dirty breastplate with a bandage over his left eye.

"I'm a healer. I want to help anyone I can."

"I ain't going to pay you."

"That's fine," said Michael raising a hand to seal the cut through the center of the man's eye.

The man blinked at the brightness of Michael's hand and then blinked in confusion as he removed the bandage over his face to reveal an unharmed eye.

Michael smiled at him. "Having more people still standing for the next fight is payment enough."