Chapter 188: Book 8 Chapter 23

Joan rolled to the right, narrowly avoiding the Hungry One’s massive leg before leaping forward and cleaving with Guardian Nova.

Her sword made a light thump when it hit the leg, making at most a light scrape on it. The fallen fate gave a sigh before flicking its wrist. This time Joan was ready, she narrowly rolled away, avoiding the razor edged threads before they could get a hold of her. She could do this. They were all counting on her. She wouldn’t let them down again. She refused.

The webbing shifted under her and she stumbled back, trying to regain her balance. There had to be a trick, some way to hurt the creature. It wasn’t invincible. Otherwise all of this was--

“Have you not already succeeded?” the Hungry One asked.

“Huh?” Joan asked, holding her sword at the monster.

“The Chosen have destroyed the Inferno God, have they not?” the Hungry One asked. “Was that not your goal? Is the world not saved?”

Joan blinked a few times, considering that. She supposed, technically, it was. “For now,” Joan said softly. “But that still doesn’t stop you from being a threat. As long as you exist, Arta will be trapped and the Demon Lord will return again and again.”

“The Chosen couldn’t defeat me,” the Hungry One said. “The Champion couldn’t defeat me. Now? There isn’t even a Hero. Do you truly believe you can succeed where they failed?”

“They did defeat you,” Joan said. “You’re dying. I read all about it. I saw you. They--”

“The failed insights of the departed,” the Hungry One said before one of its legs moved out, resting on the same thread that Joan stood. The thread began to turn a dark purple, though the thread the leg had come off from returned to its simple glowing white. Joan quickly moved off the thread, leaping to another before she could risk that taint touching her. She’d already died enough times to that toxic foulness.

“You’re dying,” Joan said. “I know you are. I won’t let you take my home with you. I won’t let you take Arta’s soul with you.”

“Your home?” the Hungry One asked. “It is far more my world than it ever was yours.” It slowly raised itself up to its full height. Strange, before it had seemed the size of a building, now it looked the size of a mountain. “A world you were born into by chance, a world you will likely never return to once you die.” Its hand reached out, seemingly gripping a thread from the air before tugging on it.

Joan let out a pained grunt when she felt herself tugged towards the thread. She shivered when she realized the thread was touching her. Was it her thread? Could the Hungry One hurt her through it?

“The longer you’re here, the more I learn about you,” the Hungry One said in a soft, melodious tone now. It was almost soothing, making her relax her guard slightly. “You’re so tired, little Joan. Why do you keep fighting?”

“Because you won’t give up,” Joan said softly.

“So rather than you, I should just give up and let myself die?” the Hungry One asked before giving the thread another little tug. “And my children? Should they all die as well?”

“If they decide to try and destroy the world? Yes,” Joan said. “I’m not going to just let you win. I’m not--”

“So defiant,” the Hungry One said with a light laugh. “So… bothersome. Do you even really understand what you are doing?”

“Of course I--” Pain shot through Joan’s body, though she didn’t even see what killed her this time.

Joan groaned when she was back, driven to her knees from the aches and pain. She struggled to keep herself up, digging the tip of her sword into the ground.

“You are nothing,” the Hungry One said. “You cannot win. There is nobody coming to save you. Nobody you can save anymore. There is nothing but the end. Rest, Joan.”

“I-I won’t,” Joan said softly. She didn’t care how many times she had to die. She’d never give up. So what if the Inferno God was defeated? There was still a threat. Something she had to deal with. Something--

“My children eliminated all of their minds once,” the Hungry One said, once more its voice melodious. “Tore the Chosen, the Guide and the Hero apart. Their destruction was inevitable, their defeat assured. It was only through the intervention of fate itself that more time was bought. But in the end? That is all you have done. Bought time.”

“I-I can do this,” Joan said softly before slowly pushing herself up to her feet. “I’ve d-done the impossible before, I’ll do it again.”

The Hungry One gave a light chuckle before plucking at the thread once more. “I see. So this is where this ends. Does it still give you such hope?”

“What?” Joan asked.

The Hungry one merely lifted a single hand before flicking it towards her. She tried to leap away, but this time the threads didn’t grab her.

They grabbed her sword. She tried to pull it back away, but it was torn from her grasp a moment later. “No!” Joan yelled, trying to reach for it. She tried to summon it back to her, but it didn’t come.

“I see,” the Hungry One said, the sword brought to it. It reached out to grab the sword, the blade turning a bright, glowing red. If the god cared, it showed no sign of it. Instead it held the sword in a single massive hand, before bringing the hand into a fist. A moment later the hand opened and dust fell from its grasp. It then held up the single thing that remained, a tiny golden thread.

Joan held out her hand, willing her sword to return to her hand. But it didn’t appear. No. No no no. Guardian Nova was like her. She kept coming back, so it had to as well. Why wasn’t it coming back? It should--

“A sword has no dreams,” the Hungry One said. “It has no will.”

Joan gave a small whimper and took another small step back. It was always laughing, wasn’t that a part of it? It had to have some will of its own, didn’t it? It had to. It felt like it had a will of its own. Or was she just imagining it? What even was it? It was her weapon, but--

“Do you cling so desperately to being the Hero that you need place life where there is none?” the Hungry One asked. Joan let out a shriek and jumped back when suddenly the fallen fate was directly in front of her, now standing only a few feet taller than her. Yet so, so much closer. It didn’t attack her, however. Instead, it held out the small golden thread. “Do you desire this?”

Joan blinked a few times and stared at the thread. What even was it? The fates had given it to her, but then it had gone into her sword. What was she supposed to even do with it? How was it supposed to help her? Slowly, however, she reached out for it. Even if the god killed her now, she’d come back. She wouldn’t--

The thread burst into flame the moment her fingers locked around it. Joan screamed and pulled back, holding her seared hand and stumbling back. She let out agonized sobs, staring up at the Hungry One. For the first time she had a clear view of its face and, honestly, she wished she hadn’t. Primarily because there wasn’t much of one. There was a mouth, filled with a row of sharp, wicked looking teeth. A nose above it. But there were no eyes. She would have almost preferred the eight eyes of a spider, but instead there was nothing. Yet she could feel the god watching her when she pulled back.

It had been so long since she’d been burned, so long since she’d had to truly fear fire. She tried to summon her sword again, but it didn’t come. There had to be--

A swirling wall of fire surrounded her, making her unable to suppress a shriek. She looked around wildly, but there was nowhere to escape.

“It is true,” the Hungry One said. “You have quite a bit of experience with death. Shall we test it?”

“No no no no no no no please no,” Joan begged, unable to stop herself. She collapsed to her knees and tried, desperately, to cast a shielding spell of some kind. Something, anything, to protect herself. She managed to form a protective cocoon of ice around herself and, while it was incredibly cold, it did protect her.

However, the ice was already melting and she could see the bright, orange glow of the flames coming closer and closer. “Please no,” Joan whispered softly. She could already feel the heat pushing away the cold. She sat down on the ground, clutching her knees to her chest and closing her eyes. “No no no no. Please no,” she begged, wishing the flame would go away. There had to be a way out. Anything but this. Of all the ways for her to die, she couldn’t do this. There had to be a way to escape. A way to--

The flames burst through the ice and she let out an agonized scream.

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“H-help me,” Joan pleaded, clutching at the webbing as the tears dripped down her face. How much longer did she have to do this? She could already feel the heat approaching her. She didn’t care who did it, or why. The gods, the fates, the Chosen. She’d have even taken the Nameless One at this point. She couldn’t take this for much longer.

“Just sleep,” the Hungry One said. “This is not a battle you can win. Give in.”

Joan just shook her head. She just had to hold on. It would be okay, somehow. It always was. The Chosen would come for her. Yes. The Chosen. They’d save her. This was the Dream Realm. So long as she believed, so long as she kept fighting, she wouldn’t die. She’d died so many times before, so many terrible ways. She had to do this.

The flame washed over her once more and she screamed when she felt herself being seared.

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How long had she been here? Hours? Days? It was all a dream, in some ways. So real in others. Why had she thought she could do this?

The flames approached slower this time. She curled up as tight as she could, whispering it would just end. Why? Why did she keep coming back? Why hadn’t anything changed? What was she even fighting for?

“You’ve already lost,” the Hungry One said softly.

“Help me,” Joan whispered. “P-please. Please help me.”

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Why weren’t they here?

“The Chosen can’t come here,” the Hungry One said in a soft, taunting voice that seemed to echo through her bones. “Nothing can. Not even the gods can come here now. There’s nothing here but me and you.”

Joan gave a soft whimper and curled up even tighter, the flames licking at her. “W-why? Why, then?” Once more she was enveloped in flames and another slow, agonizing death came.

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Joan couldn’t even move anymore. She was too tired, too hurt, too terrified. She’d long since lost count of how many times she had died. She felt something on her side and, slowly, she was flipped over to stare at the Hungry One.

“I… I’ll s-stop you…” Joan whispered.

The Hungry One gave a light chuckle. “So foolish. You still haven’t realized?” A leg was put against her chest and began to, slowly, apply pressure. Joan let out a gasp of pain when she felt a bone break. “You didn’t come here. I invited you.”

“W-what?” Joan asked before giving another whimper. “I-invited m-me? W-why?”

“Because, little Joan,” the Hungry One said, its mouth growing into a wider grin. “I know where you will go, what you will do.” The leg applied a bit more pressure, causing a few more agonizing cracks and making her struggle to breathe. “The Chosen cannot come here because their gods forbid it. Because they know what I would do if I could get a hold of them.” Slowly, a finger moved and pointed towards the center of the web, where she knew Arta’s soul was bound. “They know I could return, fully, if I could get a hold of them. But you, child, hold no protections. Your soul… is mine. And from it I will take the Chosen and regain all that I lost.”

“W-what?” Joan asked. “T-that’s not, you c-can’t. I-I was--”

“Sent here to stop me?” the Hungry One asked before the foot applied just a little more pressure and she could feel something inside her crumble, tearing into her from the inside. “I am a fate as well, Joan. I knew exactly what you would do, how you would do it, long before you came. I knew this outcome.”

Joan rasped, the life fading from her eyes again.

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“It was never possible,” the Hungry One said.

“H-help me,” Joan begged, praying that something would come. But nothing did. She could feel the flaming cocoon wrapping around her, trapping her.

Joan closed her eyes even as the flame washed over her. She couldn’t do this any longer. She was so tired, so scared. Was this all truly for nothing? Could this thing truly use her against the Chosen? Was this what the fates had meant? She was so tired. So scared.

It hurt. She didn’t want to be here anymore.

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“H-help me,” Joan begged again, struggling to crawl away from the god.

“Why won’t you just DIE?” the Hungry One snapped, for the first time their voice sounding almost annoyed.

“I could ask the same of you!” Joan snapped back, moments before she felt something pierce her leg and drag her back. Flame seared over her once more.

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She couldn’t move. Joan could hear the flames approaching, but she didn’t dare open her eyes. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this. She’d failed. She’d failed. She’d failed.

She’d failed.

Just like she always did every single time. Damning who knew what. Was failing all she could do? If she could just--

“Goodbye, little Joan,” the Hungry One said. More fire. More pain.

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Joan huddled up. The Chosen would come. She just had to hold on. She just had to endure. Even if the gods said they couldn’t, they would. They’d save her. She just had to hold on.

“Why won’t you just stay dead?!” the Hungry One asked.

There it was again. That small hint of anger, of annoyance.

Possibly fear.

Joan slowly opened her eyes and watched the approaching flame.

If the Hungry One really knew what was going to happen, why was it so desperate to make her give up? Did it see a way that she could win? That she could defeat it? No. Did it see a way that it lost? For her to escape?

Did it see a way where help came?

Joan tried to summon her sword to her hands, but nothing came.

“Nothing is coming. Nobody is coming for you,” the Hungry One said.

“T-they will,” Joan said softly. “I’m not… alone… I’m not… I… I trust them…”

One more the flames enveloped her.

But this time when she returned, she felt oddly less terrified. Less afraid. That was right. She hadn’t done this alone. None of this had been about her. She’d come back as Joan in order to direct them. To trust them. The Chosen would come. They’d finish off this god, once and for all. She just had to trust them. That was all. The flames came so much faster this time, but she refused to give in.

The Chosen would come. Because she knew they would. She refused to believe this was impossible. No matter what. They’d created an army to protect her, they’d shatter this realm itself if that was what it took to save her. The world shifted and rumbled around her when she opened her eyes, but she slowly began to crawl to her feet even as more fire raced along the webs towards her. “I-I won’t give up. How many t-times do I have to tell you this?” Joan asked. “The Chosen will come. They ALWAYS come! They’re my heroes! And they’re going to save me! And they’re going to kill you! They’re going to put a stop to ALL OF THIS! YOU’LL NEVER HURT OUR WORLD AGAIN!” Joan screamed.

The flames enveloped her.

The flames were scattered in all directions, rebounding off the white, shimmering surface of Searle’s shield.

Joan blinked a few times and stared at the shield hovering in front of her. Then the spear embedded in the ground besides it. The hammer spinning slightly above her. The crown that lowered onto her head. The gauntlets that were cracking their knuckles to her right. The sword that was resting to her left. The bow, pulled taut, above her.

The Chosen but not the Chosen.

“Well, this is new,” Joan said softly, but she couldn’t help grinning and turning towards the Hungry One. “Told you they’d come.”

The Hungry One let out a low, furious growl before leaping at her.

It was impossible for her, Joan knew.

It had been impossible for the Hero.

But it wasn’t impossible for them.