At the end of the day, one can have all the morality they wish to have. Ultimately, morality is imposed. Even if a single criminal may be more apt at violence and combat than the average civilian, the civilian population enforces its will through the collective of the state. In this fashion, even the most apt robber or murderer will find himself outmatched against the full force of the collective.

The idea of good men requiring strength to stop evil men is nothing but a myth. There are no good men, and there is no strength required. A million ants will devour a lion in the same fashion that an organised police force will eventually catch the most genius of criminals. Ultimately, morality is decided through nothing but strength. The mistake that people make is that they assume that strength is individual. It is not. The trespasser, who risks himself, can wield only individual strength. The common man, who serves the state and who the state serves, wields the power of all.

Words are wind. Only action is real. What is right for one may be wrong for another. Rightness in itself does not matter for rightness does not impose itself. It is only the mightiness of the rightness that can truly discriminate the false claimants to the throne from the truly deserving heirs.

– Excerpt from “The Philosophy of War”, written by Goddess Kassandora, of War.

Roars and rage. Howls and hate. Screams and suffering. Gunfire and gushing blood. The baying of goats and the clashing of metal against metal. Sword clashing against sword, sword clashing against shield, sword clashing against blacksteel plate. Sword piercing through skin and fur. Screams and words that were half-finished, their speaker suddenly interrupted by death. The engines of machinery and the rapid yet low-pitched drumming by high-calibre autocannons, backed by a choir of small arms and punctuated by the explosions of tank shell. The rallying cries of Tartarus, their sharp language with each word sounding as if the final syllables were cut off danced with the howls and growls and roars of beastmen, somehow communicating with each other purely by the pitch and tone of their screeches.

Kassandora listened to it all.

Although she saw nothing. She just sat bound with heavy blacksteel rebar rods which bound her ankle and wrist together. Her crimson eyes suddenly sharpened when she saw the dark fabric of her tent sway and Furcas return. His armour was covered in blood, certainly not his own since he did not bleed and he looked around the room in that way only cautious veterans of warfare did. “Are you back?” Kassandora asked. If he came back here, then it could mean a whole list of things but all of those things most likely required undivided attention. Kassandora simply made life as difficult for him as she could. “Are we under attack? Who is it? It can’t be who I’m thinking of, can it? Furcas? Ohh Furcas?! Are you listening to me? What do you think is happening? How tall are you? Do you know? You seem short to me.”

Kassandora spewing of verbal garbage at the demon was interrupted by a roar and the cloth of the tent being thrown away by a meteorite of flesh and golden hair that came down with such a force the entire structure was blown away. Kassandora saw the battle happening around her. Her eyes flashed past a huge minotaur pick a demon up with his hands and tear the unfortunate creature in two at the waste with a huge roar from his brown fur-clad maw that spilled over with a flood of teeth. She saw a succubus pirouette through the air like a precious and pristine dancer of ballet who wore nothing but leather. Her wings flapped, her fingers snapped, and a whole team of beastmen underneath her were suddenly engulfed within a column of scorching flame so hot it distorted the air around it. She saw a wolfman lift up his rifle, his head turn sideways so that he could put an eye to the scope, and Kassandora saw him pull the trigger. The succubus in the air was torn apart by a hail of automatic fire, the column of orange flame died with her and only darkened bones were left in its wake. A greater demon slammed a huge cleaver down upon a tank which had madly pushed onwards, although all of the Warherd’s vehicles had done so. The tank was crushed like a piece of paper being crumpled into a ball, its thick steel plate rendered almost entirely useless. Two minotaurs, huge men wider than Kassandora herself, armed with machine guns that were so heavy they could only be mounted on vehicles, opened fire upon the giant.

And Kassandora saw Divines. She saw a soldier of the Second Expedition rush forward with an axe in either hand. He roared with all the fury of the beastmen around him. Labrys hovered behind him as she twisted and swung her own pair of axes, her movements perfectly mirrored the man before her. A swarm of axes, as if they were a swarm of vicious mosquitos, circled around her as if they were the planets of a solar system and she the star. Aslana was there too, her Godwielder fighting side-by-side with Pridwen’s. The two Divines, of the Sword and of the Shield, made a perfect pair, Aslana not even thinking about blocking as Pridwen covered her angles and slammed demons back, only for Aslana’s blades to shoot forwards like bolts from a crossbow and pierce their hearts. And in the rear was Bess, Kassandora recognised the sound first, she saw the cloud of smoke second, she saw the Greater Demon that the minotaurs were trying to bring down fall third, and then only after the cloud of white cleared did she see the Goddess of the Musket. Her Godwielder stood with a musket, Bess hovered just behind him, aiming her own gun. Around her were a hundred other rifles. The triggers on them all turned in unison, locks struck matches, another explosion sounded, a cloud of white smoke engulfed Bess and a whole platoon of demons suddenly fell to the ground as their bodies were torn apart by balls of steel.

Yet when Kassandora’s eyes crossed the mountain of golden hair before her, she could not tear them away. The Goddess before Kassandora stood tall. Taller than any Kassandora knew bar Arascus himself. Even when she was hunched over, her arms swinging loosely and her tail pointed straight up, she would tower over Kassandora. Tufted ears that popped out of the top of her head, like two mountains making themselves known in a snowstorm, bounced as the woman reached for a glass flask filled with crimson at her side. She threw it into her mouth, her teeth crushed it, and she swallowed, glass, cork and blood.

Fer stood before Kassandora, facing Furcas, and the dust on the ground raced away from her as the Goddess of Beasthood began to burn whatever the blood she had just swallowed was. “Kassie, give me your sword.” If an earthquake was given voice, it would speak in the same way that Fer just spoke.

Kassandora did not think nor argue nor barter nor do anything other than what she was told. When a decision was good, then a decision was good. Joyeuse materialized in the air without any heralding. In one moment, Fer stood alone, in the next, Kassandora’s greatsword of black metal fell from the ceiling above them and stabbed the ground by her side. Fer pulled it out and made the posture of a perfect sword-fighter. One leg forward, the blade held perfectly straight her face and ready to intercept a blow from any angle. She took a deep breath and exhaled in the same way Kassandora had seen someone else do it.

Kassandora put two and two together. She had just drank Aslana’s blood.

Furcas took a step back and launched. “I am Furcas, this is the first time we meet, Goddess Fer.” He said and swung his glaive in his hand. It became a blur for a moment.

“It will be the last.” Fer growled and charged forwards without waiting for the demon to answer or strike posture or defend or prepare. Kassandora watched the swordsmanship. That was Aslana through and through, yet it was not only Aslana. When Furcas counterattacked, Fer would roll to the side in the same way that Labrys did. She would raise her arm as if she had Pridwen’s shield, and she would parry by smashing her elbow into the inside of Furcas’ elbow with all the precision that the Goddess of the Musket had.

And for the first time, Kassandora actually saw Furcas on the back foot. The demon knight raised his glaive and parried one blow as Fer relentlessly pummelled him with Kassandora’s blade. Spark after spark burned in the air as blade making contact with blade with blade crashed against each other. Furcas actually took a step back and started using both hands to fight. With one arm, he spun the glaive and forced Fer into retreats. With the other, he tried to grab or punch the Goddess of Beasthood to slow her down. Kassandora’s eyes barely kept with the speed the two warriors were moving at. Two blurs of violence given humanoid form. Fer cut Furcas and Furcas cut Fer. Blow after blow was exchanged, wounds closed on both of the fighters. On Fer, her own blood left marks of crimson running down her body, on Furcas, scraps of flesh were thrown off the demon and then regrown by whatever it was that powered him. For now, they were equal, each one unable to push the other, yet Kassandora saw the issue.

For all of Fer’s strength and power and aptitude and skill with handling the weapon, it was strength that had been borrowed from fellow Divines. The two were matched now, but that equality started to slip moment by moment as Fer burned up the strength that resided within herself. Her movements got slower, her blows became less accurate, even the handling of Joyeuse started to lose its expertise. Kassandora took a deep breath as the battle raged on around them. Fer’s Warherd may have charged in, but they were still woefully outnumbered. Slowly but surely, the forces that came to rescue Kassandora were being pushed back. And the same happened to Fer. Slowly but surely, her offensive transitioned into a defensive, whereas Furcas did the vice-versa. He started to seize the advantage and force Fer back. Eventually, the Goddess of Beasthood was in a flat-out retreat against the knight, almost unable to keep up with the onslaught coming onto her.

And eventually, the Goddess of Beasthood jumped back to put distance between herself and Furcas. Kassandora looked from her sister, panting deeply as she sucked in the cold air of the underground, to Furcas. The demon knew he had won. He lowered his weapon and stood there, casting a glance at his army force Fer’s back. And then he laughed, in the same way he did when he showed himself to Kassandora.

Fer dropped Joyeuse onto the ground and she sighed heavily and took a deep breath. “That’s it Kassie. I’ve burned it all up.” She said. “What’s your opinion on his state?” Kassandora didn’t even know what to say, Furcas was obviously regenerating, and regenerating quickly. Without blood and working organs, it was just strands of muscle sinew that grabbed at each other to rapidly close the wounds Fer had made with the sword. He was still injured at the leg, were Fer had managed to slice down from his thigh to his calve, yet he was quickly coming back together.

“He-“ Kassandora began and immediately stopped when Fer charged forwards. She realised she had been used as bait, to make Furcas think he would have a moment of pause in order to regenerate. Yet even with that, the demon managed to raise that glaive of his as Fer fell upon his. It was just slightly too slow to hit Fer’s heart, yet the Goddess of Beasthood twisted, caught Furcas’ arm with her own, and then drove the blade into her gut to keep it still. The demon tried to pull away, yet it was too late. The Goddess of Beasthood had managed to close the distance.

Fer’s fist punched straight through Furcas’ chest. Steel shards of armour and dried pieces of flesh exploded out of the demon’s back, yet Fer’s fist did not. It did not stop though either, for her arm retreated just as quickly as it had charged in as Fer jumped away, a whirlwind of golden locks. Kassandora’s eyes bulged when she saw what Fer had pulled out of the demon’s chest. A horrible heart of black and smattered with blue veins, it still beat in Fer’s hand. If Kassandora’s eyes bulged, then Furcas’ dull and lightless orbs finally gained focus as they almost popped out of his head. He raised his glaive in preparation for another onslaught and Fer raised her palm to stop him. She twisted to the side, and held the demon’s heart away from him, in the same way one would tauntingly keep a sweet from a child.

“I could crush you.” Fer growled.

“You’re not strong enough.” Furcas said, although he did not move. Kassandora saw Fer’s face tighten, she saw the muscles on her neck tighten, she saw the woman’s arm twist and veins pop out from the under the skin. Furcas smiled. “I told you.”

Fer stood there for a moment as Kassandora thought of the obvious solution to this problem. It was… Kassandora looked at Fer again. Baalka’s blood had almost killed her sister, Irinika’s had turned her ears dark for a decade. She better not be thinking of what Kassandora was dreading. “Run before I kill you demon.”

“I am sure you would like to kill me monster. We still tell tales about your brutality. Fight me like a proper Divine and not like some savage beast.”

“Do not lecture beasts about man’s morality Furcas.” Fer growled as she put Furcas’ heart still beating between her teeth. “I eat people and I love my family. Do you know what means demon?”

Kassandora tried to lunge forward, yet arms and legs were still bound. “FER NO!” Too late. The Goddess of Beasthood swallowed Furcas heart as the demon’s eyes bulged in horror. The most update n0vels are published on novel★fire.net

“You want a challenge? You want a battle? You want a fight to death? Battle your strength and mine combined.” Fer twisted her neck as Kassandora felt a wave of heat emanate from her sister. Furcas grabbed his glaive with both hands as Fer raised her hands. Layers of dried bone fell off her claws as they sharpened themselves to be as thin. The hole in her chest closed up immediately with the sort of reconstruction that was only seen when mages pulled castles out of cliffs rather than when clerics carefully tended to wounds. Fer cracked her neck as Furcas’ jaw dropped. He was given no pause and no quarter though, immediately Fer charged forward and the demonic knight had to raise that glaive of his in a defensive parry.

The first blow, he managed to actually knock Fer away. On the second blow, Fer was faster as she burned up the demon’s heart within herself and the demon was slower. Furcas was knocked back. On the third blow, Fer caught that glaive of his with her open palm. She held it, blood running down her arm, and then the blade snapped in half. Furcas jumped away. Rather, Furcas tried to jump away. His legs got him an inch off the ground, and the Fer’s claw caught his shoulder and slammed him back down into the ground. Stone shards exploded up around the demon and Fer’s fist slammed into the demon’s chest once again.

Furcas still moaned something as Fer got off him and raced past Kassandora. A sharp claw caught the steel binding her and cut straight through it. The Goddess quickly got up as Fer made another round and came to a stop before her sister. Her mouth twisted into a smile, her eyes were almost tearful in their happiness, and she could barely form words. Kassandora knew that the exact same expression was repeated on her face, yet she didn’t care. She stepped forward to give her sister and a hug and Fer pushed her away.

“Not now Kassie.” Fer said. “I have to burn him before he burns me.” The Goddess of Beasthood turned around and launched herself at the closest demon. Thick blacksteel plate amour, a shield that was an inch thick of the metal, a cleaver that could go through bone, none of it stood a chance against the combined strength of two world’s champions.

Whether Demon Legionnaire fully armoured or succubus flying with rings of fire for protection, whether tiny imp that reached up to one’s knee or whether hellsteed cavalry that left trails of flame as it charged, whether greater demon the size of a barn or whether the magma-battery automaton Tartarus had invented, none of it stood a chance against fury given form.

Kassandora’s eyes lost track of Fer, her sister became a blur that left behind only explosions of blood. The Goddess of War looked down at the dried corpse of Furcas, each shower of blood wilted his body closer and closer to annihilation, until he became nought but ash carried away by a cool breeze coming in through the crack of two continents.

– – – End of Arc 14: The Second Expedition – – –

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