Paladin 4: Chapter 57 (Patreon)

After the battle, Darren walked through the area and found several dead. Some were members of the Order of the Rod, but many more were former Protectors loyal to Horon. Captain Gaviel’s party had been caught after they liberated a city on the Fourth Layer from Kalaziel’s grasp. Darren had arrived toward the end of the battle when most of the fighting was done.

The lifeless forms of dozens of seraph shimmered with Divine Light as order restored their souls to working order. They gasped for breath as though coming up for air after being underwater for too long. One by one, the fallen opened their eyes and returned to the world of the living.

“I’m... alive? But I was certain I’d been killed...” a woman asked. Her eyes were wide with wonder and confusion. It was something Darren had seen a lot of in the newly resurrected.

“You were dead. Now you’re not,” Darren explained as he helped the formerly dead Protector to her feet. He picked up her sword and shoved it back into her hand. She stared at it, blinking at it as confused as she was at the sight of her own hands.

Gaviel stared at Darren, amazed at the abilities of the young human he’d come to think of as his subordinate. “I knew you had a few tricks, but this... Horon told me you brought me back from the dead. I didn’t believe it until you showed me this. Thank you, Darren.”

“It’s no trouble,” Darren waved off the praise. “We need these men and women. Just like I needed you.”

Gaviel nodded, though his eyes still shone with unspoken praise. “Aye. We certainly do need them. But if ever there is a day I can repay the favor I owe you, I will be there.”

“There are more to heal. Let’s go,” Darren said.

After finishing healing everyone, Darren and Gaviel helped everyone get back on their feet. That slowed the journey back to the secret headquarters Horon was stationed at, but for once, Darren didn’t mind the extra time. His people were making good progress on the Third Layer, and soon they would join him here on the Fourth. When that time came, he could unite the army he’d gathered with whatever Horon had left, and together they could take the fight to where this all began on the Fifth Layer of the Heavens.

Darren, Gaviel, the survivors, and the newly resurrected all made their way to the secret headquarters Horon had established hidden away on the Fourth Layer. The journey was slow as they helped the weakened seraph regain their strength, but Darren’s mind was looking at the future.

The rebel hideout was nestled in something Horon described as a suburban neighborhood. There were seraphim all around, and Darren found it quite remarkable that they were able to hide in plain sight simply by looking like a bunch of unremarkable third and fourth-order minor seraphim.

He couldn’t help but think of Thalia’s rebellion. When she tried to reclaim the Blackwind Empire from her father, she and her followers had to live in the woods, far from civilization. Considering how finely manicured the wilderness of the Fourth Layer was, there probably was no true forest or unexplored land to hide in here.

The neighborhood was rough and battered, and it seemed like the seraphim who lived here cared less about the appearance of their home than most. But that still meant the whole neighborhood was quite a bit finer than anything Darren had seen in the mortal realm. He’d have put the houses here on the same level as the Whiteguard’s wealthier districts.

The garden was overgrown, and the grand front door a bit chipped and with peeling paint. The curtains behind each window were shut tight, and bright lights illuminated the area. It blended in well with its surroundings and seemed unremarkable in every way.

“This is it,” Gaviel whispered, pulling a hood over his head as he walked to the door. He rapped on it three times. “Hold on, I just have to get us cleared to enter.”

“What’s the password?” A gruff voice demanded from the other side.

“Aurora’s Embrace,” Gaviel replied. “It’s me, Captain Gaviel. The mission was a success. Well, a failure at first, but success when we ran into an unexpected old friend.”

The voice on the other side of the door was silent. “That password expired last night. We wrote your whole unit off as lost. How do we know you haven’t turned?”

Gaviel rolled his eyes. “It’s me. I was there when Horon fought Kalaziel, and he knows my face. I couldn’t turn even if I wanted to.”

On the other side, the seraphim exchanged a few quiet, hushed words. Eventually, they decided that Horon spoke the truth, and the door swung open.

“It’s good to see you alive, Captain,” a brown-haired female seraph of a slight frame and red eyes rushed forward from the other side and wrapped her arms around Gaviel. “We all assumed the worst.”

Gaviel chuckled. “The worst might have come to pass if not for Darren here. Get Horon. He’ll want to meet him.”

The female seraph didn’t leave, and she clung tight to Gaviel’s side. “We’ll get him together. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

Darren was ushered into the hideout. He and all the other seraphim Gaviel had brought with him were quickly ushered past the entrance. There was a simple sitting room where the door guards had been stationed moments ago, but a wide staircase was ahead.

The small house was nowhere near large enough to hold even a single contingent of Protectors, let alone the small army of loyal followers Horon had gathered to oppose Kalaziel. The solution to this was to simply build down.

“Welcome to safe house number six,” one of the Protectors said. Though they’d all been stripped of their former stations, he wore his armor and badge with pride. “Prime Saint Horon had these built years ago when tensions with Kalaziel were heating up. Originally, he just wanted somewhere safe to house the loved ones of his supporters so they couldn’t be targeted. Turned out we’d need to hide in them ourselves.”

The area beneath the house was much larger than above ground. The chamber that opened up beneath was large enough to house the entire neighborhood, complete with an artificial sun in the sky hovering overhead. Grass and trees grew everywhere, leaving the place like a little paradise.

“You know those Pocket Dimensions we use for practice arenas? Well, every time one breaks, we send it to one of the safe houses. If we’re able to repair it, it’s quietly tucked away for a day like today,” the seraph leading their group explained.

The others made an appreciative noise, impressed by Prime Saint Horon’s foresight. But Darren saw through the bright atmosphere. There were a few hundred men and women present scattered throughout the area. They were chatting grimly around tables of equipment or open-air campfires, and their armor was dented and bruised. Most wore bandages of one sword or another, and it was tough to find someone completely unwounded.

Most of the people looked like former protectors. Still, a few had a gentler appearance than the adventure-bound enforces he’d come to know during his time in the Heavens. They were either family of the Protectors or new recruits who’d never been part of the Protectors. Darren had expected to see more of them, considering the number of volunteers he’d picked up among the seraphim as of late. But here they were few and far between.

They joked and forced levity among one another, but the truth was plain to see. Horon and his forces were losing. On the other hand, Gaviel and his group looked to be some of the strongest people present, so if they’d all been killed, it might have been over for Horon and his rebels. Fortunately for them, Darren was on their side.

The seraphim sat him and the new arrivals down with some food. “Eat your fill. I’m sure you had a tough journey here. The Prime Saint will be here to talk to you himself soon.”

The Protectors who’d been here before wandered off to rejoin the rest of their comrades. At the same time, Darren and the newer groups relaxed and exchanged a few pleasantries. Most of these seraphim had died in the battle with Commander Thorn’s forces, so all of them looked to Darren as something of a leader after he brought them back from the dead. They told him what they knew and shared their thoughts.

“So... do you think Horon can actually win?” A woman asked, brow stitched tight with worry. “Did we make the right choice joining the new Protectors?”

“He can win, but not alone.” Darren laid a hand on her shoulder. “That is what we are here for.”

The others were all anxious and uncertain, looking for reassurance from someone with the power to provide it. Finally, after being rescued by him, that person was Darren.

This was one aspect of leadership Darren never thought he was good with. But it kept happening all the same, so it was a skill that he would force himself to hone.

“You fight for a fair and just future for the Heavens. Kalaziel would not be a good Lord of Light. Others see this too. They will join us.”

The woman who’d spoken earlier frowned. “If that were true, why have none of the other Prime Saints joined us? Besides Hothar’wa, who died in the first day of fighting?”

Darren grimaced. He’d feared the other Prime Saints would be too nervous to join the fight against Kalaziel, not after his display of power. Unfortunately, the Prime Saint of Valor was a cut above all the others, and that was likely even more true now that he had started bonding the Heavenly Throne.

“The other Prime Saints are just like you. They are scared. But through victories, we can win them over. Show the Heavens we can win, and they will change sides.”

The woman looked troubled. “You think the other Prime Saints are just being cowardly?”

Darren chuckled. “I know they are. But, for all their power, they are no different from you.”

The new recruits seemed to draw strength from Darren’s words, and their shoulders straightened as their expressions became more determined. Then, one by one, they nodded in agreement, ready to face the difficult challenges that lay ahead.

Their quiet conversation stopped abruptly, and a hush fell over the area. Darren looked up to see a long shadow being cast down upon their group, complete with three sets of wings. He followed that shadow up to see a battered but beaming Prime Saint.

“Darren! By the Heavens beyond the Heavens, you’re alive? I can hardly believe it! We already had a toast in your honor when we thought you were dead, but I suppose we can have another one!” Horon reached out to help Darren to his feet. Bandages wrapped around his bare arm, and Darren couldn’t help but notice the Prime Saint limping slightly as he walked.

Darren took Horon’s hand, though he only tugged on it gently while pulling himself up. “A toast sounds wonderful, but you are out of bread.”

Darren gestured to the empty picnic baskets. There had only been one or two rolls of bread left, and he and the other new arrivals had finished them.

Horon laughed and clapped Darren on the shoulder, though the act made him wince and glance at his bandaged hand. “Very funny. Gaviel said you had a strange sense of humor.

I look forward to getting to know it better. Speaking of Gaviel, I hear I have you to thank for bringing him back in one piece?”

“I helped where I could,” Darren replied.

“And for that, I am grateful. Let me see to the new recruits, and we’ll talk more, yes? With your strength, you deserve to meet the rest of my inner circle here.”

Darren stood to one side as Horon welcomed the new recruits. They looked up at him with beaming eyes full of adoration. Horon was good at inspiring people with his words alone. Darren had always needed to rely on his deeds for that.

The new recruits cast brightened eyes toward both Darren and Horon as they departed, leaving the grim camp a little brighter for their presence. As soon as they were gone, Horon wrapped an arm around Darren’s shoulders as though they were long-lost brothers and guided him back to a small cabin they were using as his personal command station.

“I heard most of the story from Gaviel. But I want to hear from you as well. Did you truly resurrect the dead?” Horon asked, wonder in his voice.

“It’s a skill,” Darren explained.

Horon chuckled. “I bet it is! Legendary rated, probably, yes? No, don’t tell me. Forgive my rudeness. I shouldn’t pry into an ability that is no doubt one of your most coveted powers. I will tell the others to keep the truth of what you did hushed up for only those who need to know.”

“It’s fine. Lots of people know.” Darren’s entire army knew of his power to resurrect the dead. And by now, most of the lower layers probably did as well.

Horon’s smile started slipping from his face when he closed the cabin door behind them. The strength left his shoulders the moment he was behind closed doors, and he sagged in place. He reached for a chair, slipped into it, withdrew his three sets of wings, and winced.

“Apologies for sitting. Pull up a chair yourself. I made the mistake of crossing blades with Kalaziel again and am still recovering. I’m putting up a strong face for the men, but whatever he hit me with is quite painful.” Horon winced as he adjusted himself in his chair, trying and failing to find a comfortable position.

Darren had noticed Horon’s wounds when he first appeared, but only now that Horon was no longer attempting to hide them did he see their full extent. Kalaziel had done more than cut him up when they last fought.

“Can I see?” Darren asked.

Horon raised an eyebrow. “Think you can resurrect healthy and whole if I kick the bucket?”

“Maybe. But I could also fix you without dying.”

At the offer of healing, Horon eagerly shrugged off his armor. The bandages fell aside to reveal an unnatural blue hue spreading across Horon’s body. The strange color was deepest near a few tiny nicks, probably left by Kalaziel’s favorite Diamondrazor Mace.

Darren sensed a powerful Demonic Aura emanating from the wounds. In a way, the poison acted much like his own purification ability. Except instead of converting Demonic aspect things into Divine aspect things, this did the opposite. It was slowly trying to transform Horon from a Prime Saint into a Prime Sin.

“Demonic poison,” Darren muttered.

“You know what it is?” Horon asked, voice hopeful. “If you can identify it, we could find a cure.”

Absolute Analysis quickly told Darren the name of the poison. “Blightgod Venom,” Darren read aloud. “It isn’t from the Sacred Seas.”

Horon grimaced. “That makes things a lot harder then. The outside world is a large place with many dangers. Who knows where this Blightgod Venom came from.”

“Whether here or from afar, Demonic Aura is Demonic Aura. I will purify it.” Darren laid his hands on Horon and activated one of his other legendary abilities, Order from Chaos.

The poison fought against his power at first. Its essence was corruption and devouring all that was Divine in origin. A lesser purification ability would have only aggravated Horon’s wounds by fueling all the greater venom.

But Darren wielded a legendary purification ability, which was probably the strongest in all of the Sacred Seas. The poison was outmatched, and Darren wrestled with it bit by bit.

It fought in his grasp, struggling to cling to Horon’s wounds. But Darren was relentless. He wouldn’t stop until he was victorious. There seemed to be a bit of sentience in the poison. Realizing it was outmatched, the poison began to flee into the rest of Horon’s body. It wanted to hide from his grasp to burrow deep and lurk in wait to flair up another day.

But Darren would not be evaded so easily. He expanded the scope of his purification power until it enveloped Horon’s entire body and area around them. No demonic presence would be safe in his presence. Soon, every last vestige of the poison had been scoured from Horon’s body.

Horon began healing as soon as the poison was gone. With the power of a Prime Saint, his wounds were hardly visible when Darren passed him a vial of Fountain of Youth water.

“This is good stuff. What is it?” Horon asked as he tipped down the full glass.

“Water from my fountain of youth,” Darren explained.

“Huh. And here I thought that was a human myth...” Horon chuckled. “You’re a mysterious man full of wonders, Darren. I wish I had a way to thank you properly. If I had any daughters, I’d want you to meet every one of them!”

His smile faded a second later, though, and it was soon filled with the same unease he’d worn when he’d first sat down, though the wince of pain he’d had then was gone. “Now, to the reason I asked you here. I don’t like to talk about the real situation in front of the rest of the men, but things are grim out there. If we’d lost Gaviel... well... I don’t think the force could have taken his death and that of those who’d gone with him. I would have had to give up and lead my people as far from the Sacred Seas as I could get. We would have become refugees in some distant land. I was dreading the idea of even voicing the option.”

“Now you don’t have to,” Darren replied.

Horon grimaced. “Maybe. But looking into that abyss made me regret not considering the option more fully earlier. If we can’t win, it’s best to flee while we still have the strength to make something for ourselves in the outside world. That would have been a lot harder without Gaviel and the other Fifth Orders. With that poison, I’d only be able to last a few decades to help my followers establish themselves.

“Now that I’m cured, you’re here, and Gaviel and the other Fifth Orders have returned, we’re back to where we were when all this began. We could flee here and now and, with our combined strength, carve out a new Sacred Seas far from Kalaziel’s reach. We could call it a holy pilgrimage and get some mortals to come along and build a new civilization. It might be our best bet to preserve what we have. Let Kalaziel have his Heavenly Throne. We could build a new one somewhere else.”

Horon turned to regard Darren as though pleading for a solution. Horon didn’t want to leave everything he had ever known behind, but he wasn’t seeing another option.

But Darren had fought his way through similar thoughts before. In the end, he’d decided to stay and fight. And now, so would Horon.

“You speak as though we can not win.”

Horon stared up at Darren. “How can we? We’re outnumbered and overpowered. He has the support of the other Prime Saints. Kalaziel has been building up to this for centuries. Who knew he was hiding so many souls from members of the Order of the Rod? Or was he planning to sacrifice half the population of Whiteguard to empower them? Seven Hells, he even found a way to drain the essence of my Protectors and install his loyal subordinates in their former bodies...”

Horon’s hands dug into his hair, choking back something halfway between a sob and a shout of fury.

Darren laid a comforting hand on Horon’s shoulder. “You’re wrong, Horon.”

Horon peeked up at Darren through the gap between his fingers. “Wrong?”

“I didn’t come to the Heavens alone. Nor have I spent this time idle. The lower layers are no longer under Kalaziel’s control.”

Horon’s eyebrows rose. “That was you? I chalked up the rumors of successful rebellions in the lower layers to my subordinates, trying to fabricate a hopeful narrative for us.”

“It’s true. I was there. And they will join us here on the Fourth Layer soon enough. So many Protectors are with them.”

Horon sat a little straighter, fingers drumming against the table before him. “We’re still outmatched. I fought Kalaziel before. You did too. I can’t hope to beat him.”

“We have Ashe,” Darren reminded him. “That’s one more Prime Saint.”

“And I am pleased to have her. But one more Prime Saint just isn’t enough to turn these tides. Especially when Ashe is not fighting at full power. Apologies, Ashe, but it’s the truth.”

Ashe manifested from Melancholy a moment later, taking her humanoid form and crossing her arms. She wore a smug grin as she shot a look at Darren.

“Maybe we don’t have a third Prime Saint. But how about a human Paragon?” Ashe asked.

“A what?” Horon asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

Darren smiled.