“Please tell me you’ve got the stash this time, Art.”

  Arthur could see that the man, the other redeemer, was stumbling over himself. Obviously drunk and puffing out his chest as if what he was saying made any sense to him. He was in a dirty tank and black jeans, hardly how I imagined T’balt’s great enemy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You ain’t a good liar, man. I can see it in your eyes. You’re scared shitless. They tell ghost stories about me or something.” Monan laughed at himself and made his way to Arthur’s bedroom, flinging the closet door open.

  “What are you doing? This is my…” Arthur ran to stop him until Monan’s hand seized him by the throat. The man didn’t even turn his eyes from Arthur’s safe.

  “Damn… I keep forgetting the password.” He threw Arthur down in front of it. “Do you mind, buddy? There’s something I really need in there.”

  Arthur tried to bite back. “If you think I’ll…” A gun aimed at his forehead stopped any thought he had.

  “I’m keeping it clean for now,” Monan said, finger on the trigger of a service pistol that clearly wasn’t his. “Saving myself for something special. Well, that’s a lie. Truth is, I haven’t shot anyone in a while. Thought it might be fun… open the safe, would you.”

  The abbot swallowed his defiance, turning to type the code to his electronic safe. The door opened, revealing a duffel bag full of loot—all the loot that he had collected over the past week. Much of which he’d stolen or had confiscated from the believers. He presented it to Monan, who salivated over it like a pot of gold.

  Monan shoved him to the ground before sorting through the bag of goodies. “Not that one. Don’t need that. That one was a good time. Pass on that. Ooh, me likey.” He held one particular loot in his palm after haphazardly tossing several others to the carpet.

  He held it up, ogling it before placing it at the nape of his neck. He rolled the top of his spine once the loot buried itself under his skin, lighting up on the back of his neck. He took a deep breath.

  “If you’ve gotten what you wanted, then leave,” Arthur pleaded.

  Monan was looking past him. He stepped towards the two children staring at him through the doorway. He stood above them, imposing his 6-foot frame, and then he crouched, looking Acelin in the eye.

  “Hey, kid. Got any sparks for me?”

  “Wha… what are you talking about?” Acelin stuttered.

  “You’re usually a bit more feisty when you see me the first time. What, did T’balt take your loot from you?”

  “I never… had any loot.”

  “Seriously? That’s no fun. I guess he caught you before all that rough shit with your pops then… I know what it’s like having a shitty home life.” He rubbed his hand through his long, dark hair. “So trust me. Killing that bastard was something you needed. You would’ve made him pay for every little thing he did to you. All the hurt. All the loneliness. All the tears he made you cry. You could’ve taken it all back, but…T’balt took that away from you. It isn’t too late. Here I’ve got something for you.” Monan popped up one of the coins from the ground, a symbol marked with lightning. He squeezed it between two fingers, presenting it to Acelin. “Unlimited power right here.”

  Acelin inched forward. The look of the loot was so tantalizing. It was power he wanted, power he came searching to find. His father was still out there. T’balt didn’t kill him. With some loot, he could change that. He couldn’t say that he never thought about it. He could take it and be a superhero… or something else.

  Then he felt the squeeze of Genya at his back. And he remembered what T’balt did to bring him here, freeing him of that burden. He had responsibility now.

  “No thanks,” he said, taking a step back.

  “Look, kid. It's free, no strings attached.” The redeemer started juggling it in the air. “Don’t tell me you’d rather stay a powerless chump.”

  “I’m not going to take anything from you. You’re a bad guy. And I won’t betray T’balt.”

  Monan stood, and for a moment, he looked angry, Acelin’s refusal sparking something in him that he didn’t like. He tensed until the coin was crushed in his hand, some strange power turning it to dust. “Then I could show you what you’re missing out on.”

  Acelin was ready to turn and run, but before he did, Arthur had stirred to his feet and cracked a ceramic lamp on Monan’s back. The light bulb and the vase holding it shattered over his body. But Monan didn’t budge. It hardly looked like he even felt it.

  “You… Monster.” Arthur backed away, having only drawn the Redeemer's attention.

  “And a monster is what you just pissed off.” Monan grabbed him and drove his fist right into the man’s stomach, sending him down to his knees. And the beating ensued. Monan kicked him across the floor like a ragdoll, over and over and over and over. After the fourth kick, Arthur could barely breathe.

  “Stop,” he pleaded.

  Monan wasn’t in a mind to listen but in a mind to inflict damage. Just as physical exercise, if nothing else. He drove an elbow straight to the abbot’s back, driving him to the floor and sending a shockwave through his spine. “See this kid? This could be you. In many lives it was. You could walk over everyone and do anything you wanted. A hundred people did whatever you said because you had real power. If they didn’t, you’d grind them to dust. But hey, you want to play powerless, then it's fine by me.”

  He lifted his foot, looking to curb-stomp the abbot to death. Just before he brought his boot down on the man’s head, the little girl jumped in to shield him with her body.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Genya spread herself over the man’s head, determined, looking up at his attacker. “I won’t let you hurt him anymore!” She yelled at him as if the force of her squeaky voice would propel him away. Monan paused if only to observe the absurdity.

  This rogue little girl trying to be a great big protector, standing in front of a man, a literal goliath compared to her. “Isn’t that cute?” He reared himself back again.

  Acelin was scared out of his mind. Everything in his body was telling him to run away. To get himself to safety. This man. He was going to kill the abbot, and he couldn’t do anything about it. It was the same feeling he felt when his dad came home. Helplessness. It was what T’balt saved him from. But if what Monan said was true, then in one life he had the power to save himself from it… But that life was not this one. He closed his eyes and felt helpless again.

  Then he saw Genya rushing to action, and he almost felt ashamed that the little girl was braver than he was. He was supposed to be the one protecting her.

  “Acelin.” Genya looked up at her big brother, standing between Monan and their demise, without a single piece of loot to protect him.

  “I promised I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” He spread his arms apart, letting the length of himself cover her from Monan’s sight.

  But Monan could only laugh. At first, ironically, and then hysterically. “Oh.. are these your protectors, Arthur? Oh, I get it. You think I won’t curb stomp them just because they’re kids.” He laughed again.

  And Acelin’s heart dropped.

  Arthur felt like the biggest fool. How pathetic was he that he had to be protected by two children? One of them a looter.

  But what could he do? His insides felt like fire. This man, having some indomitable power, was going to kill them, and Arthur would have to watch these two be torn apart in front of him.

  He was already a sinner. He knew it. But if something were to happen to his soul, he knew that it would be for this moment right here and now. Letting his pride and belief dictate his every action. But there was no correct belief that led to children dying. No matter how he tried to justify.

  He pictured Martha’s face, knowing that she might be ashamed of him now. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t in a position to care about what happened to his soul. He was in a position of survival.

  And just then his body began to smoke.

  Monan went to seize Acelin by the throat, but he was cut off by Arthur, suddenly back on his feet. The abbott snatched his arm and tossed the man to the window. outside.

  Monan was caught completely off guard, not realizing he had left his feet until the glass shattered and he had hit the grass outside the house. When he scrambled to his feet, he saw Arthur’s body reforming after turning into pure black smoke.

  “You kids get out of here!” Arthur commanded. They took a moment to realize him and thing he was now. The thing he had to become. But Acelin grabbed Genya and pulled her to the opposite side of the house and out the front door. “Good.”

  “Wow, Art. I never thought I’d see the day. Who knew this was what it took for you join the dark side?” Monan crossed his arms, smiling. The abbot must’ve swiped a piece of loot from the ground while he was distracted by the kids. Smoke loot was a particularly tricky one to deal with. Maybe the old guy just got lucky. “Now you made me ready for a fight. Hope you can live up to my expectations.”

  Monan charged him directly, letting his drunken instinctlead the fight. Though his punch only went through Arthur’s body as it turned to smoke and dust before appearing again behind him. Monan kicked backward only for the same thing to happen again. This time, the abbot disappeared completely. Monan searched around until the shadow appeared above him.

  Arthur’s smoke-cloaked fist nailed him straight in his cheek, knocking Monan on his ass.

  Arthur felt good. Better than he ever had before. The adrenaline made him feel as though he were flying, his muscles swelling and contracting like they did in his youth. This was for all the pain and all the stress. Deep down, this was for Martha.

  He gathered all his strength, striking Monan with blow after blow, eventually nailing one straight to the center of the man’s nose. He could feel the blood burst beneath his fist, and Monan bent backwards.

  But just when he thought he’d gotten the upper hand, Monan snatched his wrist. Once he was touched, he couldn’t apparate, so Monan pulled him in and struck him with a straight to the chest.

  The impact exploded on his ribcage, sending him through the wall of his home. To Arthur’s surprise, that kind of impact only winded him. Not a broken bone in his body. The loot was some powerful stuff.

  “Damn, Arthur, that actually hurt,” Monan said, nasally through his broken nose. He extended his arm. “Alright, let me introduce you to one of my favorite weapons in the game.” In his hand formed the hilt of a sword, but just the hilt at first. But then a searing brightness formed the blade in a blinding show of light. He pointed the blade, and the whole thing extended straight at Arthur.

  He didn’t see it coming, the speed of it too much for him to track. It wasn’t a real sword. Its damage was the searing of holy light. Instead of stabbing, it seemed to burn a hole completely through his shoulder. He screamed at the sudden pain.

  Monan aimed to attack again, this time, Arthur smoking away, taking the defense. He kept himself unapparated to avoid that deadly light. The small hole in his shoulder told him that another hit from that weapon may be fatal.

  He used the smoke to disorient his opponent. It seemed he couldn’t only turn his body into it but also create it. Arthur summoned a field of smoke while disappearing to the point where Monan couldn’t tell which was smoke and which was Arthur. He guessed wrong.

  Arthur appeared and landed two blows before disappearing again. It would be a game of cat and mouse, praying that Monan didn’t catch him again. The redeemer caught on, leaping out of the smoke and circling the light around him. The weapon was changing shapes, only constrained by the abilities of moving light, which eviscerated everything it touched.

  Arthur struggled to keep out of its way and could only hold his smoke form for about 30 seconds at a time. When he was forced to reappear, not even the cover of a tree stopped the light sword. It sliced a four-foot-thick oak tree in half without resistance. The abbot had to disappear again to avoid the falling tree.

  When he next reappeared, Monan correctly predicted him and was right on top of him, aiming the light at his head. He was off only by inches. Kilgrove summoned more smoke, swirling it around them both to try disorient the redeemer. Monan tried to escape it, but Arthur kept it on him. He seemed to hate it. Inside the thick air, the light of the sword refracted and became disjointed, almost like Monan couldn’t control it.

  But even still, the weapon made any time Arthur appeared to attack a gamble for his life. Their struggle continued for several minutes. Arthur repeatedly avoided Monan’s attacks, and Monan caught on enough to dodge Arthur’s appearances.

  Then, one good time, Monan predicted him. And he sent the light sword straight through Arthur’s stomach.

  “Ohh…” Monan looked the man right in the eye, strangely smiling at his triumph.

  And Arthur Kilgrove fell.

  “Valiant effort, brother. But I’m just better.” Though when he looked down, the abbot was still alive, muttering something. Some form of last words. Monan thought that he should try to hear them. Maybe it was some fleeting wind of courtesy for having entertained him for a bit. He leaned down closer. “What was that?”

  “To… hell… with... you.”

  Monan tilted his head. That’s when he was surrounded completely by the believers. At least 20 of them, all armed with some loot or another. All aimed at him. All of them led by one T’balt Ferrier.

  Monan rolled his eyes. “Well, ain’t this about a bitch.”