In the middle of the carnage, a lone figure knelt in the corpses, basking in the puddles of bubbling blood. Killian dipped his long fingers into the crimson and painted three thick lines of blood from his eyes to jaw. He unstrapped his gauntlets and took a dagger from his belt, cutting open his wrists to the bone and raising them to the storm above. “Come to me,” he moaned. “My strength. My gifts. I will be free from my shackles.” The blood slithered through the cracks of the concrete floor and amassed into a magical, throbbing orb, bigger than the flames of the Sentinels themselves. “I break my vow to the Valans. Give me blood. Give me freedom. Give me back my will.” The blood forced its way into Killian’s veins. He felt his bones break and rebuild stronger; his muscles tearing, doubling in their density; his Valan armour turned darker, the excess blood latching to the metal and covering him in spikes of solid flesh. His sword grew lengthier, sharper, now sharper than godsteel. A loose helm manifested around his sweaty head. A visor resembling a face of pure agony and pain, a vertical crest, three rows of black iron spikes. He rested the two-handed blade on one shoulder, laughing maniacally as he cursed the Valans. “I’m free!” he cackled. “I’m going to find that fucking prince and fuck him in the arse! How dare he speak to me that way. I’ll kill this wretched city. I will not be stopped a second time.”

  “Has he gotten taller?” Vera joked. “Talk about a growth spurt. Did your cock get any bigger?”

  Killian swung his sword from afar. An arc of blood came for the fox, which she barely ducked under. “Fuck,” she wheezed. “You really wanted me there, didn’t you?”

  “I’m going to fuck you raw,” Killian threatened, stomping closer with a grin under his helm. “I should’ve done this at Caron. I don’t take orders from anyone! My contract is broken, a thousand souls of Vatanil blood in my veins and now I am free!”

  “You live in Vatanil. Nobody here is free, darling,” Beion joked. “Harm the fox and I shall put my fist into your hole… and that won’t be pleasant for either of us, especially if you had a large dinner.”

  Killian raised his sword a second time. Beion blasted him with a quick burst of fire before the arc came, and Killian tumbled down the deep slippery stairs to the street below.

  “Stay here,” Death ordered. “Snow, your sword. Give me it. This is how I get closer to Stroke. I will kill this pathetic idiot.”

  “Nah,” Snow chuckled. “I can’t let you have all the fun. Souls are stored in me, right? Us three will kill him. You need to find that little shit-prince first.”

  “That is illogical,” Death grunted. “You aren’t safe without me. Why would I search for Stroke if I don’t have the power I need?”

  Snow grinned smugly and pointed up to the rooftops. Yellow-eyed owls watched on. “Fate,” she whispered. She put a hand on his neck, kissing his cheek. “Trust me, Death. I command you.”

  “Trust is a feeling. You cannot command my feelings.”

  “Then do it out of choice, ya big idiot,” Vera snarked. “There’s only so many steps. He’s bound to be at the bottom by now. Decide now, or we’ll lose the big cunt to the fog.”

  “You will look after them?” Death asked Beion. “If it gets too dangerous, you will take them to Hell and out of this city?”

  “Of course,” he promised. “I’ve grown too fond of the fox and the human to let harm come to them… and that bastard tried to cut me in half when I stole his letter. We’ll handle him.”

  Death gave them all a firm nod, kissing Snow on the forehead and making her squeal with joy as he rushed down a different set of stairs. “If you die, I die,” he reminded. “Do not fail.”

  “Did you see that? He kissed me!” Snow yelped. “I didn’t even have to ask him to!”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Beion chuckled. “We’re all gonna die. I don’t know how we’re going to kill him.”

  “Don’t be a pussy,” Vera said. “There’s three of us and one of him. The odds are in our favour!”

  “He’s taller than my grandfather,” Beion sighed. “But you’re right. I took on this battle. Demons don’t surrender.”

  “And neither will we!” Snow raised her sword. “He shall fear the man who killed the dragon of Caron! I am a conqueror’s wife!”

  They too slipped down the stairs, meeting Killian on their arses. He didn’t attack, he didn’t even notice them at first—he stood, sword in hand, staring upward into the clouds of Sentinel fire. He’d been a prisoner to a contract with the old King Godric Valan since his failure, and now he was free. He was never able to tell a soul about his contract, and now he was free. He’d spent decades taking orders, watching his own actions like a spectator, and now, finally, he could make his own choices.

  The black-eyed owls hooted at him. He pointed his sword at them and speared them with blood, sucking their flesh into the cuts on his wrists. “The feathery fucks can coo all they wish, I follow no gods but myself,” he whispered. “The blood of a demon shall put fire in my veins. The three of you stink like a brothel, disgusting. I will fuck your corpses so hard my tip shall come out your mouth.”

  “Such a charmer.” Beion kept a flame in his palm at all times. “Remember my promise, dog. Fist. Arsehole. Pain.”

  “This is your only chance to kneel and take a clean execution,” Snow yelled. “I’m a knight. I’ll give you a quick death.”

  Killian speared Snow with an expected attack of blood. She kept her sword to her chest, which parried the strike, but it still felt like a violent kick in the tit—her back met a concrete chimney and she rolled down a slanted roof, slamming into a horseless cart filled with rotten carrots and sacks of grain.

  Beion beamed him with fire. The Blood Swordsman protected his face with his gauntlet as a shield, pushing against the flames to get closer. “Little pigs,” he whispered. “I’ll break you in.”

  Vera used the fire as a distraction for her attack. She stabbed him under his armpit with the blade, then in his waist. Killian struck her to the ground with one clean punch, catching her on his sabaton and kicking her into the base of a Sentinel tower. He could’ve used his sword to kill the fox, but he wanted fun. His first true battle in so long, of course he wanted to savour it. He blocked the fire with his blade and charged for the demon, shattering Beion’s kneecap by swinging the large hilt into joint. He took his opponent by the throat, breaking an arm as he did so. “Weak,” Killian hissed. “You were all fools to think you could rival me.”

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  “Shithead!” Snow yelled. She wobbled with her sword in hand, her hair dishevelled, nostrils bleeding, one cheek bruised. “Put down the demon and I’ll be merciful.”

  Killian tossed Beion through a window. He fell flat onto a table, a screaming family hiding underneath it.

  “Little bunny, come to offer yourself?” Killian smirked. “You were ready to use that pretty mouth on Prince Harren. I’ll make you a deal, the same one. You do a good job, and your two weak friends can live.”

  She winked at one of the owls, raising her empty hand to the clouds above. She flashed Killian her bloodied teeth, giggling. “I’m, gonna cut off your head,” she promised. “I killed a dragon. You are nothing to me.”

  “Little bunny, don’t delude yourself. You are nothing—”

  “Golus!” she interrupted. “Kill the Blood Swordsman and eat his remains! Slaughter him! Rip him apart!”

  The rocky golem came down on the Blood Swordsman like a meteor. It caved in his breastplate first, then clamped its maw on his helm. The godsteel refused to bend, fighting the ruby teeth of Golus. Killian stuck his blade into the dark rocks, spearing the beast with dozens of tiny arcs of blood. He punched it in the jaw, then a second time, then took his sword with both hands, using it as a hammer to smash against its head. Frustrated, he instead took the sword by the tip of the blade with magical fingers of blood coming from his wrists. He smacked Golus in the eye with the pommel, sending them to collide with a nearby smithy, reducing it to rubble.

  “You’re pissing me off!” he shouted at it. “I’ll rip those gems out your gob and add it to my armour, you pest!”

  Snow used the battle between beast and man to find Beion. He was dazed, not entirely sure where he was or what had happened. She snapped his arm back into place, making him yell like a donkey kicked square in the bollocks, then dragged him out the home by his pointed ear to find Vera. She too was unconscious, and Snow woke her with a smack to the gob.

  “Gods, again?” the fox whimpered. “I was having another nice dream… I had a dream we were fighting Killian Entrail.”

  “We are fighting him,” Snow said. “He kicked our asses.”

  “I didn’t think we would lose that fast,” Beion admitted. “Where is he now?”

  “Fighting Golus,” Snow said.

  “Splendid… who is that?” Beion asked. “I never heard that name during our travels.”

  “Big rock creature,” Vera said. “I thought you met him. I swear you have. Have you not?”

  “Too many questions,” he said. “We need a plan to kill him. My fire doesn’t do much. I can’t get close to him, or he’ll just break me piece by piece.”

  “I can get close to him! I’m fast like a fox; he won’t see me.”

  “He did see you,” Snow sighed. “That’s why you got flung into the Sentinel like a… why aren’t the Sentinels attacking Killian if he is a threat to the city?”

  “How the fuck would we know?” Vera said. “I’m not a Valan. I don’t know how they work.”

  “It’s red… red means they’re angry. How do we make it attack him? Can we?”

  “We can’t,” Beion said. “Tricky little things, according to the notes left behind by Stroke’s old protector.”

  Snow kicked the bottom of the tower. “Useless piece of shit.” She shook a fist at it. “Can’t you see we need help!?”

  “That’s not going to aid us,” Beion said. “That oaf isn’t bright, but he isn’t going to wait for us to get clever. If we fight by the side of whoever Golus is, we could find an opening to get under his plating and cut something important.”

  Snow tried her hardest to form a secondary plan if the first one failed but had no clue what to do.

  What would Death do? she thought. If I had his fighting skill, I could fight him with this sword… but that blood shit he has took me out with one blow. I’ve got to think like him, I’ve got to think like a conqueror—I’ve got to be strategic.

  Vera’s lips thinned into a determined line. “I’m still fast. I’ll fight with the rock. Remember Deilon? I’ll go for his ankles.”

  “Get his helmet off,” Snow said. “It’s godsteel. Get it off and we just need to get lucky.”

  “If we live through this, my darlings, I think we’ll be the luckiest souls to ever walk,” Beion said.

  They found Killian battling Golus. The Blood Swordsman had the advantage, targeting the beast’s feet. Then, the beast turned to a puff of blue dust. He turned to Snow, confused, seeing her smirk.

  I can summon and unsummon him as much as I want… bet he didn’t expect that, Snow thought. Now face him a second time!

  She resummoned him. He landed on top of Killian, bashing a fist against his shoulder. Vera used Golus’s attacks to slice open the back of Killian’s heels, going for his throat after he fell to one knee—he struck the fox with an arc of blood, catching the side of her waist and splitting it open, then grabbed her by the freshly open wound, using her as a shield.

  “Let her go!” Beion ordered. “Let the fox go!”

  Vera stuck her fingers into the slits of his helmet and jabbed her nails into his eye. He tossed her away, ripping out a portion of her intestines as she did so, but not before she grabbed the bottom of his helmet, dragging it off him.

  “Little bitch,” he snarled. “Blinded my left.” He attacked Golus with a spear of blood, impaling his neck and sticking him to a wall of cobble. “This fight is beneath me. All of you are beneath me.”

  Beion blasted Killian with fire, protecting Vera. He threw a lasso of blood around the demon’s wrist and severed the hand.

  He limped to them, ignoring his cut heels, raising his sword above the two of them to kill both in one strike.

  But, before he could bring it down, a sharp blade pierced the back of his neck and came from his mouth. He choked on the metal, eyes wide, groaning as Snow struggling to dislodge it from the skull. She’d let her companions be distractions as she climbed to a rooftop, leaping down whilst the brute had forgotten about her completely. He reached behind grabbing her by the hair and slamming her to the ground, stumbling back with the sword still in his throat. He gripped the edge, forcing it out himself, wobbling in place.

  “Bitch,” he said wetly. “Can’t… kill… me…”

  Snow took the opportunity to summon the sword back to her hand. She stabbed him between the plating, pushing the sword into his liver. He struck her again, but she did the same—the sword found his lung, and finally, the Blood Swordsman fell to one knee, waving his hand in wild motions, his gifts failing to do damage—he threw spurts of blood at Snow, trying to form sharp arcs of magic, but was unable. She stood proudly, panting hard, unsummoning Golus with a quick whistle.

  Vera screamed as Beion pushed her organs back into her body, sealing the wound with a flame, melting her flesh. “It will suffice until we find Death, he can heal you.”

  “Fuck, that hurts,” Vera squealed. “Gods, I’m never fighting again unless Death gives me something cool to fight with.”

  Snow had never executed someone properly before. She felt a rush of excitement, her hands trembling from both happiness and pain. She raised her blade and plunged it downward into his throat, the tip reaching the bottom of his lungs. It came out easier, and then she held it vertical, pressing guard into the gaping wound and cutting off his head in one harsh blow. Her shoulder ached from it, but she felt proud from the satisfying thud of the sweaty-haired head hitting the stone. She grabbed it by his locks, raising the had with a roar, feeling his soul enter hers, ready for Death to take.