Sins of the Forefathers: A LitRPG Fantasy Isekai

I didn’t see an easy way out of this.

Hell, I’m not sure there was a way out of this.

While the majority of my attention was focused on grimly fighting to my last breath, my core ring was sparring a thought to what we could possibly do to get out of this. A smaller, more cowardly part of me was wondering if I could just…run.

Abandon everyone I’d gotten to know in the Nocturne Division, grab Sylvia, and turn my tail over her protests.

And. Just. Run.

It…might be possible.

In the chaos of the battle, would the gathered Loyalist forces really notice two people making a break for it? Especially if we discarded our masks and our Order armor? At that point, we could do our best to either hide out in the city, or maybe even flee over into Tlatec. Maybe we could find refuge in Tlazo’s laboratory while we waited for the Uprising to come and lay siege to the city. Surely he'd extend refuge to the daughter of an old friend.

I think Grey would forgive me for making the practical decision to save his daughter’s life. Even if it meant abandoning my comrades to die in this fish-stinking, blood-soaked warehouse, my mentor struck me as a utilitarian man. Considering his history, surely he would accept the grim calculus of weighing his daughter's life as more than that of the Nocturne Division.

But I…

I…

I…didn’t want to be that man.

I didn’t want to be the person who cut and run at the first sign of true adversity in war. I didn’t want to be the man who was remembered as the coward who fled the last stand of the Nocturne Division, of the Order of the Eclipsed Dawn.

As I used a wide swing of my left spear to make room for myself in the melee, I considered it.

Death.

I think, for the first real time since I’d dipped my toes in this war, I considered what it meant for me to really, truly die. While this was far from my first combat engagement, or even my first large-scale one, I’d never really considered my own mortality. That was a laughable thing to realize, taking into account the number of deadly encounters I’d been involved in. But it was true.

I don’t think I’d ever confronted the possibility seriously. I’d…always had someone, or something to fall back on that tipped the scales. Whether that was the presence of those much more powerful than I, or if it was the ludicrousness of my own Precursor abilities, I had never seriously thought I was about to really, truly die in battle.

I was…strangely okay with it. Maybe it was just the adrenaline coursing through my veins, being enhanced by the abilities of my core ring. But I don’t think I was terribly frightened by the possibility.

I was finding that there were more important things than my own life.

It was a bit odd.

And now it was looking more and more possible, as members of the Nocturne Division began to fall all around me. We were being overwhelmed from the sheer number of Loyalist soldiers fielded against us. While one-to-one I would bet on a Nocturne Agent any day of the week, I wasn’t sure about near ten-to-one odds. I…even knew some of them.

Jangle, the Agent that had been supporting Sylvia, had been caught by surprise from a questing arrow. The normally jovial man was speared by its barbed tip straight in the jugular, and there was nothing anyone could do to save him. Not before he bled out.

Spike, another member I knew and had even played a few card games with, had been nearly bisected by the greatsword of a Loyalist heavy soldier. Somehow, I’d caught his eye as he bled to death from across the battlefield. I’d seen the last spark of life leave him through the eye holes in his mask.

I’d even caught a glimpse of the whip-wielding female Agent I didn’t know being dogpiled by a group of nearly a dozen soldiers. I’d heard her screams as they held her down and skewered her with a barrage of spear thrusts.

I’d heard those same screams come to an abrupt end, as well.

However, none of those Loyalist soldiers could compare to the might of General Longstripe. The man had seemed to realize there was nobody else among us that could possibly challenge him, but that didn’t stop his advance through our ranks. It just meant that he was taking the time to really enjoy himself now.

Longstripe was almost leisurely strolling through the chaos of the battlefield, and directly challenging the Nocturne Agents he came across. He was followed around by a group of sycophants who were hemming in those unfortunate enough to catch his gaze. His posse would encircle my erstwhile comrade, and force them to confront the General in a one-sided duel to their death.

With such a massive gulf in power between them, none of the challenged Agents lasted very long. He’d already gone through three separate Nocturnes, in this way.

This was nothing more than sport for him now. It was only a matter of time before he singled me out. There just weren't that many of us left.

I felt my face harden, behind my mask.

Well, there was no need to draw this out then, was there?

After the death of Jangle, Sylvia had sought me out so she could have a partner to fight with. We’d been back-to-back for a while now. With the idea of a plan growing in me, I swept out wide with both of my rainbow-glowing spears in an almost complete circle. In a split second, I noticed that nearly all of the Loyalist forces that had been collected for the assault on the warehouse district seemed to have gathered inside this one. Even the archers Serpent had told me about seemed to have migrated to vantage points so they could fire inside the warehouse. I couldn’t see much, if any remaining Loyalist squads outside of either the doors or the holes in the walls. Good.

That suited my idea perfectly.

With enough space cleared and only seconds to spare, I spun in a circle to face Sylvia. She was covered in blood from the endless melee, likely from both Loyalist and our own comrades. Alarmed, she looked at me in tired confusion, which only grew when I ripped off my mask and tilted hers up. Before she could say anything, I leaned in for a quick kiss.

When I pulled back, I smiled at her, at peace with my next move. “When you get the chance, run, okay?” I said quickly, lancing out at a Loyalist who was running at Sylvia’s exposed back. He skipped back to avoid my weapon, but it had done its job. In the confusion, I quickly slipped the map I had grabbed earlier out from inside my breastplate and slid it into Sylvia’s, to her exhausted bewilderment.

“Nathan, what…?” She tried to say, forgetting my codename. I shook my head, though, not answering. She might try to stop me if I explained myself

I may not want to run from this fight, but I didn’t begrudge anyone else.

In fact, I was counting on that. Hell, for all I knew, there were other Agents that had already made a run for it.

My face exposed to the air, I turned to face the circle where Longstripe had just finished up executing another Nocturne. He seemed to be fond of exploding heads, as he was cleaning brain off of his maul from his latest victim.

I narrowed my eyes in his direction before I broke out into a run.

Straight at him.

Sprinting through the chaos and the hordes of Loyalist soldiers, I collapsed my left spear and momentarily sheathed it, dodging blades all the while. When I reached the dueling circle, I slammed the butt of my remaining spear into the stone of the warehouse floor and used it to pole-vault straight into the air. Midflight, I stretched out a hand and caste a Poisonthorn Shot directly at the General already tracking me with his eyes. Almost contemptuously, he reached up and swatted the corrosive thorn out of midair with the back of one hand. It tumbled through the air, while the poison sizzled on the back of his bare hands uselessly.

I don’t think it was even burning the hairs on the back of that fist.

That was fine, though. It had done its job.

I just wanted his attention.

Once I touched down inside the circle of jeering, confused soldiers, I stood up to my full height and slammed the butt of my spear into the stone below once more. It cracked under the force of my strength, still reinforced with Sylvan Vigor. I took a deep breath, expanding my chest to its fullest.

And bellowed.

“ATTICUS LONGSTRIPE!” I screamed into the chaos of the battlefield, my voice echoing off of the crumbling walls of our once hidden warehouse headquarters. “I, NATHANIEL HART, APPRENTICE OF GRAND MARSHALL GREYCTON OF HOLLOW HILL, CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!”

As the soldiers around me quieted, taking in my words, I heard the fighting outside of the Loyalist circle slow, if only slightly.

It was the reaction from the General across the blood-stained stone from me, though, that I was most interested in.

Thankfully, he took the bait.

His pitiless black eyes lit up in sudden interest as he took in my proudly standing form. They raked over me, from my blood-soaked Order armor to the spear clutched tightly in my fist, and finally resting on my unmasked face. I felt the tell-tale sign on the back of my neck as many people suddenly used Observe on me. However, with my Status hidden through my racials, they would only see what I wanted them to.

And that included my name. But not much else.

Longstripe stroked his chin, leaving streaks of blood on it from the gore that had dripped from his weapon to coat it. “Oh?” He mused mockingly. “One of the Uprising cutthroats dares to bare his face before me? And he’s one of Greycton’s personal lapdogs at that. Well, well, well.”

I smiled sharply at the mountain of a man across from me as the circle of Loyalists watched the confrontation with baited breath. To my satisfaction, I saw that more and more of the Loyalist forces in the warehouse were gathering to gawk. I wasn’t just any faceless blade in the dark, after all.

I was directly connected to the most famous face in the Uprising, and one of the most legendary figures in Herztal alive today.

“Cutthroat is right,” I said, mockingly. “Do you have any idea how many of your men I’ve personally killed, over the last week? I’m not sure even I can count the number of soldiers I’ve ambushed and butchered.”

It was about three in fact, and butchered was a wild exaggeration. I liked to consider myself more methodical than that.

But my taunt had the desired effect.

The amused twist to Longstripe’s lips died, as a snarl started to grow on his ursine features. He wasn’t the only one to be displeased by my boast, either. Jeers and shouts of hatred erupted from the onlookers, as some of them jabbed out at me from the circle. One of them even connected, and I felt a spear graze my left arm. It found a weak point in my already over-stressed armor, and carved a bloody line down it before it retreated.

I didn’t flinch or even acknowledge the blow, though. Not with my pain sensors as suppressed as they were. Instead, I just kept my eyes fixed on Longstripe.

See, I think I had a read on this man, both from my own observations, and from the small file we had back down in the basement.

Longstripe was one of the rare few Herztalian high officers who actually cared about his soldiers. He famously tried to attend the funeral of every soldier who ever served under him. He drank and ate with them in lieu of sequestering himself in his own personal quarters. He fought on the frontlines, instead of hiding behind them.

And he was fiercely, fiercely loyal to the Crown of Herztal.

This was a man that was likely infuriated by the random assassinations of his soldiers, that had been happening on the streets of Elderwyck.

Longstripe’s grip on his maul tightened, the steel of the haft creaking from the force. “Is that so,” He said dangerously. The air started to become heavy from the force of the Ki he was emitting.

I didn’t let up.

“Oh yes,” I said maliciously, playing it up. Not too much, though. I didn’t want to come off as an unbelievable, cackling villain, or else attention would be stolen away from my show and back on the Agents I could see taking the chance to flee.

I was happy they could see my sacrifice for what it was.

“In fact, I’d say I’m the main person that’s been doing it,” I said with a smirk. “There hasn’t been a moment I haven’t been out on the streets, hunting your men. Not since I stepped foot in Elderwyck. It’s all been me, Longstripe. After all, this bloodshed was what my master wanted, sending me here.”

Longstripe’s expression passed from rage, into a much more ominous flatness. His bloodlust was still palpable, though, as the shouts and insults from the crowd only grew louder. I was painting myself as the boogeyman that had been haunting them, after all. I was the monster they’d glanced over their shoulders in fear of.

Letting out a breath so heavy I swear I saw steam mixed in, Longstripe surprisingly handed his maul off to another nearby soldier. They staggered under the weight of the massive hunk of metal, requiring help from another watcher. Meanwhile, the General cracked his head side to side, and then slowly started to do the same to his knuckles, one by one.

“I’m not going to kill you, boy,” He said, almost conversationally. “Instead, I’m going to beat you only mostly to death by breaking every bone in your body. Then, I’m going to tear off your limbs, and when we finally crush Greycton’s little Uprising, I’ll throw your beaten, broken, moaning body at his feet and laugh. And I’ll do that all with my bare hands.”

“C’mon then,” I said mockingly, getting to a stance with only one spear, as the General brought his fists up.

“If you think you’re hard enough.”