"You don't even look like him... no, you wear his face! Why is it your appearance keeps shifting?!"
Sacril shuddered and sensed that if he could not somehow convince this man that he was the major, he would be in extreme danger.
"You are Mistaken sergeant."
"Argh! Even that! The Major never called me by my rank! It was always Tyber! You can't fool me! You lie and deceive! You are a true demon! The real threat to this kingdom is you!"
It was clear he was still struggling with a strange force as he squinted and furrowed his brow as if in pain as he spoke.
"Tyber! How can you say this! with these monsters outside of our very door! We have to stop this and get down to defend this city now!"
Tyber shook his head rapidly, "NonononononoNO! You cannot fool me... OTHERWORLDER!"
With that, Sacril felt a crack, as if an invisible veil had come down; he suddenly saw true realization in Tyber's eyes.
"It's gone... the interference.. and you..."
His eyes focused on Sacril, who was well over ten feet away from him at this point.
"I will make sure you die for this. I have no idea what has been done to the Major I knew; however, I know to avenge him, I must take you from this world."
All of a sudden, this world felt very real indeed, and Sacril turned and bolted as fast as he could.
They stood on a wall between two towers, and he was sprinting to the nearest one.
Immediately, he heard fast footfalls behind him, and without looking back, could feel that the bloodlusted sergeant was gaining on him.
He flew through the tower door, not bothering to shut it behind him, as he doubted his ability to overpower the man. He then ran down the spiral staircase that led down to the main level, where the castle was for dear life.
He had managed a somewhat controlled descent down the stairs, at the last three stairs, his luck ran out.
Whether by a bad cleaning job, recklessness, or perhaps simply fate, he slipped and flew for a few seconds before crashing into the hard stone floor on the ground level of the castle.
He rolled over in pain that was slightly numbed by adrenaline and saw a massive, vengeful shadow looming over him.
tunnelvisioned on the prey before him, Tyber raised his sword far above his head. Sacril could only scramble back at a speed that was simply not fast enough.
On top of that, his back hit a wall, and he suddenly felt like a cornered animal.
Tyber unleashed the overhead slash with brutal ferocity; the situation may as well have been the same as when he had been crushed by the massive falling blade in his first trial.
however as he flinched back from the inevitable strike, an enormous clatter sounded out, followed by a shattering sound.
The madman had been so focused that he had swung his sword directly into the wall, on top of which was a rack of swords that hung there for guardsmen to retrieve when it was their turn for a shift.
no perhaps he had to be focused.
Sacril scrambled back and snatched up a sword off the ground as he retreated to a safe distance.
As he thought, Tyber did not immediately chase him.
The look of bloodlust that was etched on his face, which had looked so terrifying moments before, was now evidently an expression of extreme pain, and the apparent will to kill was now seemingly more akin to the will to simply remember what his goal was in the first place.
Tyber was gasping for air and looked utterly exhausted by the physical and mental exertion of this chase, like a robot defying its set parameters; he was now... malfunctioning.
With one final lunge, he hurled himself toward Sacril.
It was a pitiful attempt, slow and predictable, a desperate last strike.
Sacril acted out of pure instinct; he himself had no technique whatsoever, but was so much faster than the severely compromised man that it made no difference.
He simply sidestepped the attack and ran his own blade cleanly through Tyber's chest.
The lack of resistance shocked him; he had felt the blade hit bone and go straight through. Tyber had done most of the work by essentially throwing himself onto the sword after all.
The man stopped in his tracks, his sword falling from his hand, and he spat up a mouthful of blood.
He wore an extremely delirious expression that slowly relaxed as he fell to his knees.
Moments later, he simply looked confused as he looked at sacril who held his blade, although he could not utter a word.
The final expression on the strong sergeant's face was one of immense sadness, the look of a man who had been betrayed by his closest friend.
It seemed, despite his revelation, that he had eventually been unable to hold it in his mind and had gone back to believing that "Major Stout" was the one who stood over him.
Sacril stared down in immense shock at the lifeless corpse, blood coated his sword, and had gotten all over his clothes and hands.
A moment later, he heard a click.
[00:00]
The next sound that met his ears was a massive explosion.