Final Chapter — The Unworthy
Three days after the fall of Fiedras, Laoria was still burning.
The fires had stopped spreading, but they had not stopped burning.
Smoke drifted between the buildings. Bodies were carried through the streets beneath white sheets. The survivors tore down the red banners of the Bloodlord and replaced them with whatever cloth they could find.
There were no celebrations.
There was too much work to do.
Mikael hated it.
Not the rebuilding.
The rebuilding was fine.
He hated the statue.
It stood in the center of the square, already taller than the surrounding houses.
A sculptor had somehow captured Mikael's heroic expression perfectly.
Unfortunately, the heroic expression had never existed.
Mikael stared at the statue with a drink in his hand.
"You've made me look handsome."
The sculptor smiled nervously.
"You are a hero."
Mikael looked at the statue again.
"That's unfortunate."
He turned away.
Behind him, one of the Four Horsemen approached.
The scarred one.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
"You are leaving," the Horseman finally said.
Mikael shrugged.
"Probably."
"You were given a position at court."
"Yeah."
"Gold."
"Didn't want it."
"Land."
"Too much responsibility."
"Women."
Mikael paused.
"...How many?"
The Horseman almost smiled.
Almost.
"Go."
Mikael grinned.
"Gladly."
He started walking toward the eastern gate.
"Mikael."
He stopped.
The Horseman looked at him.
"For what it is worth..."
He struggled to finish the sentence.
"...you did save us."
Mikael scratched the back of his head.
"I mostly fell down."
"You still saved us."
Mikael smiled.
"Then I guess falling down is my greatest talent."
He continued walking.
He had nearly reached the gate when he heard screaming.
Not distant screaming.
Close.
The kind that made the blood inside a man's stomach turn cold.
Mikael stopped.
The Horseman behind him reached for his sword.
Then came the sound.
A bell.
Once.
Twice.
Then again.
The alarm.
Mikael sighed.
"Of course."
The eastern gate exploded.
Blood cultists poured into the city.
Hundreds of them.
They wore the colors of Fiedras, their faces painted red, their weapons stained with blood. Behind them came something much worse.
A giant.
Its body was wrapped in iron chains.
Its skin was covered in glowing red symbols.
And inside its chest burned a pulsing mass of blood.
The Horseman drew his sword.
"Fiedras left a final weapon."
Mikael stared at the creature.
"Can we kill it?"
"No."
Mikael looked at him.
"That's a pretty bad answer."
The creature roared.
Windows shattered throughout the street.
People screamed and fled.
Soldiers rushed toward it.
The giant swung one arm.
Twenty men disappeared beneath it.
Mikael's grin vanished.
For once, there was no joke.
No drunken confidence.
No accident waiting to happen.
Just fear.
Real fear.
He took one step backward.
Then another.
He could leave.
The eastern road was open.
Nobody would blame him.
He had already killed Fiedras.
He had already done more than anyone expected.
He was Mikael.
The unworthy.
He wasn't a knight.
He wasn't a king.
He wasn't one of the Four Horsemen.
He wasn't even particularly brave.
He turned around.
And walked back toward the city.
The scarred Horseman watched him.
"Mikael?"
Mikael pulled his spear from his back.
"I changed my mind."
The Horseman stared.
"Why?"
Mikael looked toward the screaming civilians.
"...Because I'm apparently an idiot."
Then he ran.
The battle that followed was nothing like the battle against Fiedras.
There was no strategy.
No prophecy.
No chosen hero.
Only people trying to survive.
The Horsemen fought at the front.
Soldiers surrounded the creature.
Mages threw everything they had.
Nothing worked.
The giant tore through them.
Mikael moved through the chaos, stabbing wherever he could, dragging wounded soldiers out of its path.
He wasn't winning.
He wasn't even close.
But he kept moving.
A soldier fell beside him.
Mikael grabbed him by the collar and dragged him behind a wall.
"Stay there."
The soldier coughed.
"Who are you?"
Mikael pointed at himself.
"You don't recognize the statue?"
The soldier stared at him.
"...No."
Mikael sighed.
"Good."
Then the giant came crashing through the wall.
Mikael was thrown across the street.
His spear broke.
His ribs screamed.
Blood filled his mouth.
He looked up.
The creature was standing over him.
For a moment, Mikael remembered Fiedras.
The arena.
The severed head.
The Horsemen calling him lucky.
The kingdom calling him a hero.
He had never believed any of it.
And now he finally understood.
Being worthy had never mattered.
The creature raised its arm.
Mikael laughed.
"Fuck it."
He reached into his pocket.
There was one thing left.
His old pouch of coins.
The very pouch he had originally entered the arena to find.
Mikael looked at it.
Then at the monster.
"All this..."
He threw the pouch.
"...for a fucking pouch of coins."
The pouch struck the creature's face.
Nothing happened.
Mikael stared.
"...Worth a try."
Then the Horsemen attacked.
The four of them struck simultaneously.
The creature staggered.
Mikael saw the opening.
Not because he was stronger.
Not because he was chosen.
Because he happened to notice something.
The glowing symbols.
They weren't random.
They formed a pattern.
A pattern he had seen before.
On Fiedras.
On the arena floor.
On the blood cultists.
A connection.
Mikael's eyes widened.
"The heart!"
He pointed.
"It's not in its chest!"
The Horsemen looked at him.
"It's inside the throat!"
The giant roared.
Mikael smiled.
"Yeah. I know. Weird."
The Horsemen understood.
They attacked again.
One severed the chains.
Another cut through its arm.
The third blinded it.
The fourth drove his sword into its stomach.
The creature fell to one knee.
Mikael ran.
He had no spear.
No sword.
Nothing.
So he used his fists.
He climbed onto the creature's back.
The monster grabbed him.
Mikael screamed.
"LET GO OF ME!"
It didn't.
"SERIOUSLY!"
It didn't.
"THIS IS GETTING FUCKING ANNOYING!"
Mikael punched its throat.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Blood sprayed across his face.
The creature opened its mouth.
There.
The glowing red heart.
Mikael reached inside.
His hand burned.
His skin began to blister.
He screamed through the pain.
Then he grabbed the heart.
And pulled.
The creature froze.
The entire city went silent.
Mikael tore the heart free.
For one second, it beat in his hand.
Then it stopped.
The giant collapsed.
Mikael fell with it.
Silence.
Then cheering.
Not the awkward silence from Fiedras's death.
Not fearful whispers.
Actual cheering.
Thousands of people filled the streets.
"Mikael!"
"Mikael!"
"THE SAVIOR!"
Mikael lay on his back.
He stared at the sky.
Then covered his face with both hands.
"Oh, fuck me."
The Horsemen approached.
The eldest looked down at him.
"You saved the city."
Mikael groaned.
"Don't say that."
"You are a hero."
"Please stop."
The Horseman smiled.
For the first time.
Mikael slowly sat up.
The crowd continued chanting his name.
He looked at the statue in the distance.
Then at the dead creature.
Then at his burned hands.
He laughed quietly.
Maybe he wasn't worthy.
Maybe he never would be.
He had made mistakes.
He had run from fights.
He had been drunk when he should have been sober.
He had been lucky when others were skilled.
He had survived battles he should have lost.
He had never been the greatest warrior.
Never the bravest man.
Never the chosen one.
But when Laoria needed someone...
He stayed.
Mikael stood.
He looked toward the cheering crowd.
Then raised one hand.
The crowd became even louder.
Mikael smiled.
"Alright."
He pointed toward the nearest tavern.
"First round's on the hero."
The crowd laughed.
And for the first time since the fall of Fiedras...
Laoria laughed too.
Not because its savior was worthy.
But because he wasn't.
And perhaps that was what made Mikael different.
He never became the hero the world wanted.
He simply became the man who stayed when everyone else had every reason to run.
The statues would call him a hero.
The bards would call him legendary.
The kingdom would call him its savior.
But Mikael knew the truth.
He was still Mikael.
Still reckless.
Still broke.
Still an idiot.
Still unworthy.
And somehow...
That had been enough.
THE END