"Enma, you can handle the vanguard?" Castiel asks me mounted from his horse, doubt written all over his face, "My powers are better suited than yours for fighting in the thick of it."

I scowl and signal my men to form up behind me, not bothering to acknowledge Castiel's presence. Ahead of us is a flat plain where the grand army of the Tyrant has assembled. Solid blocks of men, formed out of slaves and conscripts stand at the front, fingering their weapons worriedly. Their numbers may be daunting, but unlike us, these men are not here to fight. Give them half the chance and they will break and run. Only fear of the Tyrant holds them in place. 

And fear can never be stronger than love. 

No, the vanguard Castiel speaks of is not these troops, but the ranks of soldiers directly behind them. Clad in black from head to toe and brandishing the double handed swords that are their hallmark, serried ranks of Blackguards stand at the ready, stiffening the line of the Tyrant's army. Completely fearless and utterly merciless, they are the opponents of anyone who has broken through the first line of unenthusiastic fodder. Most opponents would have been worn down from cutting their way past the conscripts, leaving them easy prey for the Blackguards, but Castiel, the serving boy and myself are not most opponents. 

We had journeyed north, to the lost city and acquired the power that the Tyrant had worked so hard to conceal. And with this power, we will end this conflict once and for all. No more Tyrant. No more sacrifices. A world of peace, as decreed by Anri. 

Castiel sighs, breaking my train of thought, "Fine then. I will order my men to charge once you have fully engaged the vanguard. Hold on until we arrive."

The seed of irritation that had been steadily growing while Castiel badgered me finally sprouts at my realization of what he intends to do. The so-called knight wants to gain favor with Anri. Its so obvious. First he wanted the glory of meeting the Tyrant's vanguard. After that role had been rightly given to me, the most powerful of Anri's lovers, Castiel now seeks to deprive me of that glory by swooping in like a vulture. I smirk for a moment as I recall what Castiel's power is. The power to keep taking hits without dropping dead. A suitable gift for someone whose main achievement is just being in the background. I was the one that led Anri North and opened the way to the lost city. I was the one that had the connections to raise our holy army. What does Castiel provide in comparison?

Mediocre skills as a warrior. A less than spectacular intellect. Good thing his power prevents him from getting killed. The Blackguards would decapitate Castiel a hundred times over during this battle otherwise. Though I suppose there's one thing Castiel is a champion at. Throwing a tantrum whenever Anri decides that she wants a more skillful lover for the night. If we leave the Tyrant's vanguard to Castiel, we would be here all day as he barely makes a dent against it with the feeble thrusting of his spear. 

So the job falls to me. In the past, I would have balked at such a task, but Anri had helped me find my courage. No more hiding behind servants. I am going to make the change this world needs. I am going to be the man I was always meant to be. My troops fall in behind me and as we begin to march forward, a figure pushes past the men and tugs at my sleeve. 

"Who dares?" I snarl but immediately regret it. Anri stands beside me in her signature crimson garb, her head humbly held low, with both hands demurely clasped. The wind ruffles the silk lace of her veil, causing a torrent of pride and desire to overflow from my heart. Anri had chosen to reveal her appearance to a select few, with me naturally being part of that group. And her appearance is more than beautiful, it is transcendent. I have cultivated many lovers, be they nobles, maids, commoners, courtesans, but felt nothing for them. Sex to me is more of a recreational activity than anything else. With Anri its different. She is more than a mere lover. 

I actually love her. Yes, I love her!

"Did I scare you?" I ask gently, seeking to reassure the most precious thing to me. To my relief, Anri shakes her head. 

"Let's do our best together Enma, alright?" Anri asks in her tender voice. In the corner of my eye I see Castiel frown as he canters his horse towards us. 

"Milady, it is not safe for you here." Castiel intones as he hustles Anri away, "Come, I'll lead you back to the rear."

I grit my teeth in annoyance but Anri clutches at my sleeve with unexpected urgency. 

"Come back safe Enma." Anri pleads. I nod affirmatively and Castiel finally manages to pry her away from me. 

"Do your job." Castiel grumbles underneath his breath and I give him a challenging look. Go back to sulking, Sir Knight. That's all you're good for. 

I turn to the Tyrant's army and spread my arms wide, channeling the strength that I had received from Salvation. Time to show Castiel what real power means. I was planning on holding my power in reserve, but it might be better to put on a show, establishing my dominance over my foes. 

All my foes. 

"Enemies of the world," I declare, "taste the Fire of Perdition!" I raise my hands and a cyclone of green fire erupts towards the sky, twisting and churning, eliciting a cry of dismay from the conscripts of the Tyrant's army. With a flick of my wrist, the fire is directed towards the panicking ranks that stand before me. 

The fire burns. My enemies burn. Everything burns. 

.....

Everything burns. 

Enma's sword channels and amplifies my magic like a dream as I lash the surroundings with whips of flame. The grass smolders and the rose bushes of the von Amsterg manor are ablaze, sending choking smoke into the air. There is nothing in the three worlds that can stand against the Fire of Perdition once it has been fully unleashed. My title of Master Chance is not just for show. There is only one problem. 

The Sacred Executioner is fast. He performs a flash step the moment I start casting, neatly avoiding the Fire and immediately closing the distance between us. A fatal mistake if performed by a regular mage, the drain on the core would render the caster stunned and vulnerable immediately after a flash step. The Executioner would normally be serving himself up to me on a platter. But I know from experience that my opponent can handle the strain of this maneuver. I immediately raise Enma's sword to guard as the Executioner steps out of the ether in front of me. 

But the blow I expect does not come. Instead the Executioner poofs into non-existence and I sense a looming presence beginning to form directly behind me. So that's how my opponent intends to play it. Fine. I drop my head and dash forward as fast as I am able into the rose bush maze, putting some distance between me and the Executioner. Let's see who can last longer. My flames or the Executioner's ability to keep up with his flash steps. 

I perform a pirouette as fire spews from the tip of Enma's sword. An ever widening fan of flame ravages the maze, driving the Sacred Executioner back as he attempts to corner me. The fire does my bidding, it will not harm me, no matter what. Turning the maze into a sea of flame would not only render me invulnerable, it would also prevent the Sacred Executioner from safely flash stepping towards me. Digging deep, I unleash my power in an unabated torrent, allowing the fire to spread throughout the maze, torching the walls and scouring the ground. 

Nowhere is safe for my enemy. I sense him desperately trying to retreat, hacking a path using his sword, but at every corner, I direct the flame to cut off his charge towards safety. Like a tightening noose, the Sacred Executioner is running out of places to cower as I keep channeling my power, adding more fire to the fuel all around us. Burn, let it all burn. Take away this stain on my ancestor's honor. Let us finish this final reckoning that has been delayed for far too long. 

And it seems the Sacred Executioner has gotten the same idea as well. My senses tell me he has stopped running and is instead moving closer towards my location. How much damage can the Executioner take? I know the Fire of Perdition can hurt him, our first encounter had proven that. So let him come to me, wading through the fire. With a cry of exertion I redouble my efforts and the flames burst ever higher, reaching out, grasping, for something that none can see. 

The Executioner is moving much more slowly now, though still heading in my general direction. I grin, realizing that my plan is working. The fire is slowly but surely killing him. Even if my opponent survives long enough to make it to where I am, it would make no difference. In his weakened state, I would be able to finish the fight easily. I cough lightly as the smoke covers everything, obscuring my vision. A visceral excitement surges within me in anticipation of dealing the final blow. 

Closer. The Executioner is very close, but I can't see him yet thanks to the smoke. Will he barge through one of the burning walls? Or perhaps flash step to my rear again? I ready Enma's sword and stifle a laugh. It would be a hilarious end to the feud if the Executioner stumbled out of the smoke and ran himself through my sword. And he's here. Any moment now he's going to show up. My legs tense in readiness to pounce. 

"Damavand!" a muffled voice shouts and the ground explodes outwards from underneath my feet, sending me soaring head over heels up into the sky, high above the hedge maze. 

Tricked. I've been tricked. My mouth goes dry as I see a large hole below me with the Executioner standing right in its center. He didn't walk through the fire. The Sacred Executioner tunneled his way into the ground, that was why his progress was so slow. The Fire of Perdition could not stop him after all. My opponent's feet shuffle rapidly and he vanishes. A flash step. So is this how it all ends?

I look up into the clear blue sky as the sun shines kindly open me, my body performing a graceful flip from the momentum of the explosion. In my dream, Enma's lover told him to do his best. Did I measure up in the end? I did my best, I really did. So please don't judge me too harshly. My new mobile buzzes in my trouser pocket in the middle of these ruminations and I reach out for it. How strange that I can still think of doing something so trivial at a time like this.

A message? 

TRAITORS DIE IN SHAME

A shadow forms above me, the Executioner having completed his flash step and bearing down with his sword raised for the final stroke. So this is how it is. No salvation. No redemption. Just a balancing of books, paying back an old betrayal. A memory comes to me, completely unbidden, as the blade closes in on my neck. 

What do you owe the True Emperor?

My life. I owe the True Emperor my life.