An Asnean Odyssey: Bastien

Eleven

-“...but it’s not here.”

Bastien retrieved Sverker and attached him firmly to his waste. He took one last look at the pool of magma, which was still bubbling gently where Ignis had submerged, before turning around and leaving. When he reached the entrance, Aristotle was gone. Socrates lifeless head was still lying on the ground. A trail of blood staggered into the bushes and off into the distance. Bastien ignored the blood and began to head towards the ruins of the settlement he had destroyed. When he finally arrived, he found that there was someone waiting for him in the center of the village. He approached the figure and stopped about twenty feet away.

“How long?” Bastien asked casually. “How long have I been dead?”

“A few months.”

“How’d you know I would be here, Duke?”

“You decimated a small town,” Duke gestured to the surrounding rubble. “Who else could have done this?”

“A dragon,” Bastien laughed to himself.

“What are you going to do?”

“What do you care?”

“I know what you’re going through,” Duke began to pace around the clearing. Bastien did the same. “I’ve felt the pain you’re feeling.”

“You don’t know anything! She was all I knew!” Bastien screamed at Duke, his voice filled with rage. “How could you possibly understand that?!”

“You’re right,” Duke tried to console Bastien. “Maybe I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, but I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

“You don’t know anything! You weren’t there, Duke!”

“I tried to save you!”

“I needed you and you left me to die!” Bastien cried out as tears began to form in his eyes. “I trusted you, Duke, and when I needed you the most, you abandoned me. Where were you?”

“I-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bastien sliced his hand through the air. “You left me like you left Cecilia. I’m going to kill Leinhardt and Randgris, and if you get in my way, I’ll do everything in my power to kill you, too.”

“It wasn’t their fault,” Duke replied calmly.

“Whose was it?!” Bastien could feel his eyes burning. “Was it mine?! Did I do something wrong?!”

“The dragons manipulated them. They used the locket to control Randgris!”

“How would you know?!”

“I spoke to Steiner, Bastien. She helped me contact Ciel, who told me their plan.”

“You’re lying! Why would she tell you anything?”

“She said it didn’t matter, that it was too late for me to stop you, but I’m not going to give up on my friend! Do you want to know why you couldn’t remember anything before you met Randgris?”

Bastien stopped pacing, his fists clenched so tightly that his right hand was dripping with blood. His prosthetic arm was emitting a dim purple glow.

“You don’t exist, Bastien,” Duke’s voice was soft. “You have no memories because that’s when they created you.”

Bastien looked down at his bloody palm. He didn’t raise his voice, but it was still hoarse and shaky. “I breathe. I bleed. I feel...How is it that I don’t exist?”

Bastien looked up from his palm and stared at Duke. “You’re just a toy to them. They’re using you. You don’t need to do this, Bastien, you can just walk away.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can!” Duke began to close the distance between himself and Bastien with his hand outstretched. “I can help you.”

“They aren’t using me, or manipulating me, or controlling me!” Bastien began to scream again. “I do this of my own free will! If this is my purpose, then all the better!”

“I’m so sorry, Bastien,” Duke retreated a few steps. “I wish I had figured it out sooner...”

“Do you really think it would have made a difference?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re a fool, Duke.”

“Maybe.”

“Are you going to try to stop me?”

“Yeah,” Duke sighed. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“You can’t kill me, Duke.”

“You can’t kill me either, so I guess we’re at a stalemate.”

“My power is beyond anything you could imagine.”

“I’ve tasted that power, remember?”

Bastien began to unsheathe Sverker, but stopped halfway and put him back. He flexed his arms and raised his fists. “I might not be able to kill you, but you can still feel pain! I wonder if I’ll enjoy this as much as she did.”

Bastien wiped away the tears that had gathered in his eyes and dashed towards Duke, who jumped out of the way. Duke let loose two quick jabs, which Bastien ducked to avoid. In response, he punched Duke in the gut. Duke gasped and reeled backwards. He swept the ground beneath Bastien with his leg, which Bastien jumped and responded with another punch, this one connecting with Duke’s cheek. Another set of punches from Duke, easily avoided by Bastien.

“You’re getting slow in your old age,” Bastien teased.

“It’s not too late to stop this! I’m not going to give up on you!”

“I’m not the one who’s losing,” Bastien put all of his force into his synthetic arm which hit Duke square in the chest. Duke was launched backward into a lone brick wall, causing the wall to collapse on him. “You’re not done already, are you? I want to see to just what extent you can heal!”

Bastien stood beside the rubble and waited. Nothing happened. He gestured with his metal arm and the bricks were knocked aside. Duke was laying in the rubble, still conscious. The bone in his left arm was protruding from his elbow and his left leg was twisted around the wrong way. Bastien bent down and twisted his leg back, then pushed the bone back into his arm.

“We’re not done yet!” Bastien lifted Duke to his feet. He took another swing at Duke’s face, but Duke ducked and headbutt him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Duke tackled Bastien to the ground and began pummeling his face. Bastien managed to knock Duke off and rise from the ground. Using his gnarled arm, he grabbed Duke’s left hand. A wave of ice shot through Duke’s arm, freezing it solid. Bastien put his foot to Duke’s chest and kicked him away, shattering his arm. Duke cried out, but remained on his feet. He took another swing at Bastien, who easily dodged it, then thrust his arm into Duke’s stomach. Duke froze. The purple glow of Bastien’s arm brightened, then gathered in Duke’s gut. An explosion of electricity split his body in half, sending his torso flying up and over Bastien, showering him with blood. Duke’s legs stood for a few seconds spurting blood before they keeled over. Bastien approached Duke’s severed torso, his entrails leaking out onto the ground, writhing as they tried to find their other half. His eyes were still open, gazing endlessly into the starless sky.

“Now you might have an idea of my suffering,” Bastien bent down beside Duke. “A man needs to know when to cut his losses.”

“I heard it was a dragon.”

“Ha, do you believe in the tooth fairy, too? It was obviously the Cockroach King and his disciples.”

“You’re both wrong.”

“Yeah, what was it then?”

“The Demon of the Aether.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“The Demon of the Aether is a manifestation of raw power created from the hatred of man. It’s a truly unstoppable force, capable of leveling cities.”

There was silence. The rest of the soldiers laughed uncontrollably. A thick fog surrounded Asnea, limiting vision to a few feet.

“What’s that?” one of the soldiers pointed out over the horizon. A faint purple glow pierced through the mist.

“Form up!” the captain cried out. The soldiers assembled in their units in front of the gate.

Stone spires erupted from the earth, skewering the front line of soldiers. A few of the novice recruits turned and ran for the gate, but were quickly skewered as well. Through the fog, Bastien emerged, Sverker at his side bathed in purple flame. “Charge!”

The soldiers rushed Bastien all at once. He twirled and danced between their blades, slicing and stabbing and ripping them to pieces. He picked up one of the fallen knight’s swords and threw it in the air with Sverker. The two blades began to twirl around him as he grabbed a knight and tore into his throat. Bastien threw the drained body aside and began to focus his energy. He reached up towards the sky and pulled his arms downward with all of his might. A shower of meteors rained down upon Asnea, crashing through buildings and demolishing the wall that surrounded the city. The knights stopped fighting and looked at the sky in fear. Bastien, however, did not. Sverker didn’t stop swinging and feeding until every soldier was dead. The city lay in ruins, but the castle remained untouched. Bastien made his way through the rubble up to the Castle gate. It was open. He quickly dispatched of any knights that stood in his way as he made his way to Randgris’ tower. When he flung the door open, it was completely empty. Bastien rushed upstairs, everything was gone. He flung open the hatch and dropped into her sanctuary. It was empty. All of her belongings were gone, save for the mirror. Randgris was nowhere to be found. Bastien looked at himself in the mirror. His clothes were soaked in blood and charred at the edges, to the point where the original color was indiscernible. He held Sverker loosely in his gnarled, glowing arm. Bastien’s deep black hair now shared the gnarled, glowing properties of his arm. His face was covered in a web of cracks that were more prevalent on his upper face. The cracks were emitting the same bright purple glow of his arm. A long, jagged horn was protruding from the right portion of his forehead like a lightning bolt. A smaller horn had breached the surface of his skin on the other side of his face. A phantasmal wing that appeared to be made of bone was attached to his back. He tried to touch it, but his hand passed through it. Bastien tore his shirt off and ran his fingers along his back. He could feel his ribs through the crater in his skin that the wing had left when it sprouted. His skin was pale and cracked, like it was ready to peel off, but it didn’t emit the glow that was present on his face.

“What am I?” Bastien raised his hand to touch the mirror, but the blood from his fingers smeared onto the glass and began to drip down its smooth surface, obscuring his face. “What have I become...”

Bastien slammed his fist into the doors of the castle, flinging them open. A group of twelve Holy Guards were waiting for him. Bastien raised his arm and closed his fist. The air around the guards condensed, crushing them. Bastien carefully stepped over their corpses and up the stairs. The path he took to get to Leinhardt was still clear in his mind, and he followed it until he reached the throne room. Leinhardt was sitting in his throne, waiting.

“I was wondering when you’d get here.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Bastien began to approach the Divine King. “You’re an evil man, and you deserve nothing less than death.”

Leinhardt cackled maniacally. “Good and evil, right and wrong. None of that matters, Bastien. All that matters is who wins.”

“I’m going to win,” Bastien stated. The room was silent, except for the sound of blood dripping from Sverker and hitting the carpet. “I’m curious, though, how did you protect the castle from my assault?”

Leinhardt reached for his neck and produced the locket. “I wanted the Philosopher’s Stone for a reason.”

“What did you do with Randgris?!”

“Nothing. She chose to leave my service.”

“Liar!”

“Does it matter if I am?” Leinhardt rose from his throne and picked up the enormous sword that sat next to him. He drew it, casting aside the sheathe. The blade itself was split down the center into two halves, both of which were serrated on the outside. It wasn’t made of metal, but appeared to be much sharper. “You’re going to die, either way.”

“You can’t kill me!”

“And you think you can kill me? The Divine King Leinhardt, Blessed by Dragons?”

Leinhardt rushed towards Bastien, sword raised. Bastien lifted Sverker to block, then grouped his gnarled fingers together and thrust them into Leinhardt’s gut. Leinhardt grabbed Bastien’s hand and flung him over his shoulder, sending him flying into the wall. Bastien pulled himself out of the indentation and dashed at Leinhardt. He extended his arm and threw three balls of magma at Leinhardt, who casually deflected them with his blade. Through the splash of fire Bastien lunged, but to no avail. Leinhardt caught Sverker between the blades of his sword and wrenched him from Bastien’s hand. Leinhardt lifted his sword above his head, gripping it with both hands and brought it crashing down on Bastien. He raised his gnarled arm and caught the blade, causing the stone floor beneath him to buckle and crack under the sheer force. He conjured up a gust of wind to blow Leinhardt away, then rushed to grab Sverker from where he had landed.

“That’s an interesting arm, there. I wonder, did it hurt when she cut it off?”

“You bastard!” Bastien screamed as he slammed Sverker’s blade into the ground. A small patch of thorns grew from beneath Leinhardt. Bastien plunged Sverker deeper, and the thorns blossomed into spiked pillars, which Leinhardt nimbly avoided. Bastien ripped Sverker from the floor, bringing a chunk of stone with him, and flung them both at Leinhardt, who slashed them out of the way. Bastien had already closed the distance between himself and Leinhardt and placed his prosthetic hand on Leinhardt’s ebony armor. He dug the tips of his fingers into the metal and pried a small chunk from the chest piece. Leinhardt grabbed Bastien by the neck and thrust his sword towards Bastien’s chest. Bastien unleashed a jolt of electricity from his arm that shocked Leinhardt, causing him to drop his sword. Bastien pulled Sverker back to him and thrust him into the hole in Leinhardt’s armor. Leinhardt gasped deeply. He stepped closer to Bastien, forcing Sverker further into his body. Leinhardt smiled as he began to fade and dissolve into the white mist that Bastien was ever so familiar with.

He felt a burning sensation in his gut as he was lifted into the air. Looking down, he saw Leinhardt’s sword plunged through his stomach, chunks of his flesh caught in the teeth of the blade. He was dropped down, then lifted up again, driving the sword further through his body. Leinhardt swung the sword behind him, ejecting Bastien onto the floor of the throne room, leaving various organs and chunks of flesh behind him.

“How naive. Did you really think you were the only one who could use magic? Such an old trick, too,” Leinhardt cackled as he approached Bastien. He picked up Sverker and began to lower it onto Bastien’s head. Bastien raised his hand in an attempt to divert the blade, but Leinhardt kept pushing until Bastien’s hand was pressed against his temple. He could feel Sverker cutting through the flesh of his hand and slicing his tendons.

“If the hero never dies, what does that make you?”