zero two

The four walked to the Knight’s Sheath, where the late afternoon rush was starting to boil. As soon as they arrived, Cyrilo snatched up Sophia. “Sophia, there you are! Be a dear and go up to Room 7. One of our customers had a little accident while trying to perform a Flying Sock Puppet and needs your attention.”

Harnessing all of his strength and gambling his life, Roc slammed Ingram square in the face with the stump of his missing arm. It was far from a graceful punch, more like a clumsy jab, but Ingram, so focused on everything else and having never expected such an attack in a thousand years, was utterly discombobulated by the hit, and inadvertently released Roc. Roc pulled away and escaped to the sky, with Ingram having just enough time to slow his descent and avoid a fatal impact. He still hit the ground with bone-breaking force, but he was alive. Roc landed beside him, staring at his vanquished opponent, with the crowd still trying to process what had happened. Until now, Roc had never acknowledged them, but now, he raised his missing arm, as though holding up an invisible fist in triumph, and the spectators erupted into cheers.

You’re still here because you’re strong, maybe not strong enough to win, but strong enough to live. How many knights and soldiers can say that? How many people in history do you think have clawed their way through the mud, gnashing their teeth and howling in pain, all for that little victory? You being here, after all that bloodshed and horror, is an accomplishment you shouldn’t dismiss.”