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Read this file after completing "Arcanius Castle"

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You may have won the battle Logan, the beastly form of the elite Scourge soldier sneered, but you have failed! All four elemental swords are in the hands of the Scourge! Our victory is assured and so is your demise! With a final sadistic smile, the beast that was once one of the Scourges elite soldiers lay still as if gloating over a victory that had not yet occurred.

Thats what you think! Logan said in anger at his failure to stop the swords theft. He had fought the Scourge within Garibaldis palace and won. But even now, without Garibaldis powerful guiding hand, they still put up quite a fight. If anything, Garibaldis death only made them more hardened for battle. But it wasnt just to reclaim what was taken from them, it was for revenge against the traitor who single-handedly tarnished their reputation as the most powerful and feared army in history.

But for now, there was a more important matter at hand: the recovery of the Sword of Fire.

His legs carried him through the castle halls, past the corpses of his enemies, civilians, knights, and castle servants. The slaughter of innocent people disgusted him. Most powerful army in history? Ha! All they do is kill people who cant fight back and fight armies who are unable to match their strength and power! Such cowardice and weakness!

He threw open the doors leading into the courtyard outside the castle and ran across the stone pavement towards the gates. Where formerly stood steel bars were now crooked columns of partially molten metal where the Sword of Fire had cut as the thief had escaped the castle.

Are we in a hurry today Logan? a voice came out of nowhere.

He skidded to a halt as a familiar blue-robed soldier of the Scourge stepped out from behind one of the tall twin pine trees.

Janus? He expected any other Scourge soldier, but he certainly hadnt expected his former friend here.

Lieutenant Janus, his one-time friend replied. Second in command only to Revelin. I would address him by his rank, but only in his presence.

Logan smiled. Obviously, you still dont like him very much. That makes two of us!

I know why youre running out of the castle Logan. But speed will do you no good no matter how fast your legs carry you. A smirk crossed Janus face. It was I who stole the sword from this castle. And already, I have delivered it into the hands of Revelin.

The anger burning in Logans heart burned even fiercer at the mention of Revelins name and the fact that he now had the sword. Where is he? he demanded.

Temper, temper, said Janus shaking his finger. Thats a very good way to get yourself killed when facing the Scourge, considering you are the primary target.
Logan tried to maintain self-control in the presence of his former friend. Despite being on opposite sides, Logan never for a moment would consider Janus his enemy. 
Why are you here? How can you ally yourself with the Scourge and their cause?

What we do, we do all in the name of Garibaldi, our founder, said Janus. We honor his memory by carrying on his work and taking back what you stole from us.
Logan found himself dumbfounded by his remark. Steal what was already stolen from this land and its people? How can you claim they were even the Scourges to begin with?

Its not just what we wish to take back, Janus carried on. Vengeance against the man who betrayed and killed him will not only redeem Garibaldis memory, it will also restore the pride of the Scourge as the most powerful army in history.
It disgusted Logan that the Scourge saw Garibaldi as a martyr after all he had done, after all the people he ordered killed, including Katrina. The Scourge had murdered tens of thousands of innocent people across Earth and who knew how many in this world? And yet, now Logan himself was being branded a murderer by them?

Logan glanced around to see if any survivors in this area had heard Janus statement. What would be the consequences if the people of this land realized that their hero was formerly a soldier of the very army attacking them. When he was satisfied that he and Janus were the only signs of life in this area, he returned focus to his former friend.

Most powerful? he asked disbelievingly. Killing innocent people isnt a sign of strength, its weak! Not to mention cowardly!

Innocent is a strong word to throw around the human race Logan, said Janus shaking his head. A frown spread over his face as the cheeks on his face slightly puffed out in anger. You may be willing to believe in the basic goodness of humanity, but Im not! Not after what Ive been through!

Logan found himself staring at his former friend with astonishment. What happened to you? The Janus I knew would never commit such atrocities against mankind!

The glare Janus threw at him was as intense as a powerful thunderstorm, his eyes locked on Logan, without blinking. If thats what you believe Logan, then you dont know me very well at all!

Youre right, Logan told himself. Youre not the Janus I once knew! Damn it! Why must I lose another friend?

Janus snorted like an angry bull getting ready to charge. There was a time when I was just like you Logan. I too once had the good life. I gave to the needy and contributed to charity. And like you, I was in love with a very special woman. Only in my case, we were married. My wife and I had only been married for four months when we were expecting our first child.

Listening to Janus story instilled feelings of longing in Logan. So much that could have been between him and Katrina. So much he had missed out on because of the Scourge. But like any story that started out happily, just when one thought life was perfect, something would happen that forever changed life as one knew it and things would never be the same again. Something must have happened to Janus to disillusion him with life and the human race. I envy you Janus, he said.

Well stop envying me and start pitying me! Janus retorted. Because it only took one moment for everything to go wrong! All it took was one misfortune to forever alter the path my life was taking, an experience all too familiar to you Logan.

So I was correct!

What happened? he asked sympathetically.

Janus angry expression softened. Obviously, his memory brought great pain to his heart and his soul. Another experience all too familiar to Logan.

Life back home in Paris was good, until one night when Priscilla and I were on our way home from the opera when a man with a gun accosted us. He demanded our money and Priscillas diamond necklace, which I had given her as a wedding present. I tried to fight back and get the gun from him to protect the woman I loved. However, during the struggle, it went off and Priscilla took the bullet to her throat. As the would-be robber fled, I hurried to my wifes side, but she was beyond hope. She drowned in her own blood mere seconds after I took her into my arms and held her. I never even got to kiss her good-bye.

Perhaps now you should envy me, Logan wanted to tell Janus. But he didnt say a word.

In just one moment I lost all that I had loved, all because of one mans greed, said Janus, renewed anger upon his face. He kicked the nearby tree with such violent force it quivered. Bitterness flowed from his heart into his voice. My wifemy child gone forever! I was to be a father and grow closer to my wife as a husband. In the end, I was left with nothing! Life would never be the same.

Im not following this, said Logan. What exactly does this have to do with who you are now?

He found himself staring into Janus glare, but Logan sensed that it was Janus memory that fueled his anger. It was like staring down the barrel of a gun mere seconds before the trigger was pulled. His face reflected his anger and his words mirrored his sorrow.

What happened next stunned a grief-stricken widower. I was still holding the body of my beloved wife when the police arrived. The blood on my hands from holding her body was all the evidence it took to convince them that I did the deed. Within a few days I was hauled up before a judge and sentenced to die for a murder I hadnt even committed. Suddenly, all the good I had done before then no longer mattered to society. Now I was nothing more than a convicted murderer, nothing more, nothing less.

For two years, I was confined as an inmate of Devils Island, the most notorious prison in the world. Through it all I endured the abuse of the other prisoners and the guards, all while living off of nothing more than stale bread and water.

Youre starting to make more sense now.

By the eve of my execution by firing squad I was ready to accept my fate and welcome the end of my suffering. Death would be an innocent mans only salvation from a cruel world that had turned its back on him despite all the good he had done. A mere hour before I was to meet my maker, I received a visitor. This was a man of the cloth who I believed had come to offer me a prayer, as per the tradition. But this man did not come to offer a prayer. Instead he empathized with my plight, for he too had been rejected by his society even after all he had done for them. In this man, I sensed a kindred spirit but I found so much more. He narrowed his eyes at Logan. You probably already know who he was.

Logan could already guess who the stranger was. Garibaldi.

Yes, said Janus said with nod of his head. Garibaldi not only offered me salvation, he offered me a chance for a new lease on life, a chance to strike back against the world that wronged me. And so I accepted his offer. As if by magic, I was transported out of the prison to another world where I began my training alongside others to exact revenge against the human race.

Logan saw a mixture of happiness and anger paint Janus face as he resumed his story. While he and Katrina had been ignorant on the subject of Garibaldis true mission in forming the Scourge, many of the others must had known. They were among the very few who joined primarily to make make something of their life but not to pursue revenge.

Alas, fate dealt me a cruel ironic hand, for one of those whose side I trained by among the Scourge was the man who killed my beloved wife and forever changed the course of my life. Yet I cannot act out against him, for if I do take my vengeance the Scourge will brand me a traitor. Instead, I must now console myself with revenge against you Logan.

How ironic indeed that Janus now fights alongside his wifes killer. I wonder who he hates more, him or me?

So everything that happened between you and I no longer matters, all because Garibaldi is dead?

To all who allied with the Scourge, Garibaldi was our benefactor, our savior, a man who saw in us what humanity could not see or would not care about. For like us, he too suffered rejection from his own kind. To thank him for him giving us the chance society would not grant us, we joined his cause to exterminate the human race as it was and usher mankind into a new age where the Scourge would reign supreme.

But Janus, now youre no different or better than the man who killed your wife! Logan protested.

Thats where youre wrong Logan! I dont kill for greed, glory, power, or for thrill like many of the other men and women who together form the most powerful army in history. He shook his head furiously. No, I kill all in the name of revenge! What is it that the Bible says? An eye for an eye I believe! But sometimes it isnt enough!

Youre starting to sound like Garibaldi, Logan pointed out. There were several striking similarities between Janus and the founder of the Scourge. Both men once had the good life, only to lose everything, and become disillusioned and bitter as a result. It was more than enough to declare war on the human race. Standing here within the courtyard listening to Janus story was like standing face to face with Garibaldi back in his secret garden of the cathedral. It was almost as if Garibaldi had been reincarnated into Janus body. The only difference between the two men was that Logan never did look up to Garibaldi as a friend. Perhaps just as a mentor, but nothing more.

Its not just about what I want, its about whats fair! Janus exclaimed, his yell echoing throughout the courtyard. Logan took a step back in shock. The man who was once his closest friend was clearly out of his mind.

If theres one thing I had to learn the hard way, its that following the path of goodness and be a decent man is next to impossible in a world that is cruel, unjust, and unfair. Even you had to learn this lesson Logan. And yet, you stand ready to give your life if necessary to protect it? He stared disgustedly at his former friend, shaking his head.

There are a lot of good people in the world Janus, Logan protested regaining his composure. Like Katrina for example!

Who made you humanitys lawyer? shouted Janus, refusing to believe Logans words. Do you really believe there are many people like her? Consider carefully Logan. What will the people of this land think when they discover that their hero was once one of Garibaldis most powerful followers? Who was once allied to the very army invading this realm? The moment they discover the truth, they will come to see you as their enemy as much as the Scourge see you as theirs. Just as with what happened to me following my arrest, you will be hated in spite of all you have accomplished. When that day comes, even you will come to understand that humanity is not worth fighting for, that the human race is beyond salvation.
Logan hated to admit it, but he was afraid of what the people would think should they ever find out his secret. Would they fear him? Hate him? And would he still have the will to fight when that day came?

Then he remembered his promise to Katrina and that gave him the strength to push the thought out of his mind. They wont find out, he simply replied.

And how can they even consider you their hero? asked Janus. You may have saved the people in this land by murdering Garibaldi, but in doing so you only exposed them to even greater danger. All this death and destruction is happening because of you! You stranded us in this land by killing Garibaldi, the man who gave me renewed purpose in life. And for that none of us can ever forgive you, me most of all!

Garibaldi was a madman! Logan shouted in anger. Even despite the remorse he had felt in death, Logan still found himself unable to forgive Garibaldi. He wanted to tell Janus that he hadnt been the one to kill Garibaldi, but that his unknown master had done that, but he doubted that Janus would believe him. It would probably only anger him even more.

You dare insult his memory? Janus exclaimed. For that, you will die traitor!
Janus pulled out his weapon, but Logan had already taken out his shotgun. Taking careful aim, Logan fired at Janus own gun. Despite them being on opposing ends, Logan did not want to shoot his former friend.

Janus had no time to pull off any shots for the blast from Logans sawed-off shotgun had knocked his weapon out of his hands, sending it flying out to the side for several yards. In the time it took for Janus to turn his head to see where it landed in the courtyard, Logan dashed forward and slammed into his former friend, using his whole body as a weapon. He had already wasted enough time; for now he had to find Revelin and try to recover the sword.

Janus, well have to take care of this some other time! he called back over his shoulder as he slipped through the broken gates.

When that time comes Logan, Janus yelled after him, for your sake you had better be prepared to shoot first!

Logan dreaded when that time would come. Next time he and Janus met face to face, would he have the will to fight his former friend if his life depended upon it?
					#
The first thing Logan took note of as he ran outside the castle perimeter was that the silence. Not even gunfire. Except for the wind, the scene was as eerie as the grave itself.

No ones alive here, he said grimly surveying his surroundings. At least not out in the streets.

He was about to continue on his way when he spotted the body of a man propped up against a house. There was something familiar about it, he just couldnt determine what. Perhaps a closer look would clarify his suspicions. He stood before the body and squatted enough to look into the mans face. He nearly fell back once he saw whom it was.

Walter.

The front of his shirt looked like Swiss cheese with several dozen small holes punctured through the fabric. A large red stain had spread underneath. The wall of the house behind him had a large bloodstain with fresh blood flowing downward in several thin streaks, dripping onto the pavement. His lifeless face paints the shock of being humbled in death and the horror of dying in vain. Next to his corpse, lay a small dagger.

Logan felt pity for anyone who died at the hands of the Scourge. However, for Walter, he could make an exception. Blinded by a chance for glory, Walter had obviously charged blindly into the fight, refusing to believe that he had no chance of winning, and paid the ultimate price for his arrogance by taking two shells worth of buckshot to the chest.

He shook his head, disgusted by yet another senseless murder. Another civilian death added to his growing list of the souls who would never rest until avenged. A man as arrogant as Walter would surely demand revenge against those who killed him. But against the man who bruised his pride at the inn the previous evening? He would certainly never rest in peace! Logan could barely stop himself from chuckling at the thought.

He scooped up the dagger and placed it into a pocket of his trench coat. Who knew? Perhaps he would find a use for it later. Walter certainly would have no use for a dagger in the afterlife. At least now, he had no more worries about Walter taking revenge against him.

The sound of distant explosions brought him back to reality. Dynamite? Flash fires sparked from the Sword of Fire? He quickly stood erect once more and hurried back towards the city.

As he exited the tunnel leading into the city, the smell of smoke filled his nostrils. A fire was burning somewhere nearby. Stepping out onto a balcony behind the church and looking out across the streets, Logan nearly fainted when he spotted several pillars of smoke rising from nearly every building in the area, the largest coming from atop the inn. Moreover, standing in the streets below the inn were several soldiers of the Scourge, one of which was dressed in a red robe gripping the hilt of the Sword of Fire.

The inn! Anges! Her father! More innocent people in danger! He had to act quickly to save them.

Despite their ferocity, the flames burning around him were nothing compared to the rage burning within his soul. The fire within him flared into life as if a canister of gasoline had been poured over it. 

He leaped off the balcony to the streets below to confront the squad. Revelin, you sadist! he exclaimed.

Revelin only grinned a wicked smirk. So, here comes the so-called hero of the land once more. His comrades chuckled. Just as we expected and hoped.
Logan narrowed his eyes glaring at Revelin. But one of his comrades caught his eye as well. Among those in the squad, underneath the hood of a black robe was a familiar woman with copper colored hair tied into large twin curved pigtails resembling the horns of a bull. A woman he recognized as Bellatrix.

Bellatrix was the sole woman on the squad that opened fire on Katrina that evening three months ago. She was known among the Scourge for her immense hatred and contempt for all men, save Garibaldi, whereas she respected all her female comrades, all except for Katrina. Like many of the women who joined the Scourge, Bellatrix had signed on to make something of herself and find her place in a male-dominated world while taking revenge at the same time.

Hey, wait a minute. Revelins smile suddenly vanished. Why are you here? Dont tell me Janus couldnt stop you!

What do you think? Logan glared hatefully at his archrival. He merely stalled 
me. I didnt kill him though.

For a moments hesitation, Revelin stared at Logan, bewildered at this information. Then a smile spread across his lips. You didnt, did you? Or you couldnt? Or wouldnt?

His comrades smirked smugly. Whatever Logan had just told them, he suspected that they had just formed a new strategy to use against him, involving Janus.

It matters not! said Revelin. Hundreds of our soldiers may have fallen before you, but our numbers are still vast. You have only barely begun to penetrate the body to attack the heart. You are still heavily outnumbered and the Scourge remains all-powerful!

All-powerful? Logan was himself incredulous. Ha! All you do is slaughter defenseless people and armies who stand no chance against you! Deep down, youre all just a bunch of cowards!

If anything could provoke the Scourge into arming themselves, those words did the trick. Revelin himself kept a steady grip on the Sword of Fires hilt. Watch your tongue Logan! Nobody mocks the glory of the Scourge and lives to tell the tale!

I already have! Logan said with a triumphant smirk.

But of course you did, Revelin spat, every word was like acid. Were a laughingstock upon the human race to have been defeated by just one man! As long as you breathe, we cant show our faces anywhere among the rest of humanity! By now, they are all belittling us behind our backs.

Logan snickered. Are you really that embarrassed to think that someone is now your equal in every way? Are you too proud and arrogant to tolerate the fact?
Had Revelins eyes been Medusas glare, he would be a stone statue by now.  No matter!With all four elemental swords back in our possession, we will reclaim our lost glory and exact retribution! But now is not the time.

Oh no you dont! shouted Logan as he reached into his trench coat for a gun. 
Im not letting you slip through my fingers again!

Revelin only smiled triumphantly. As you wish Logan. But if I were you  and Im not  but if I was, I would focus my efforts on more heroic matters, such as saving the people within these walls of fire, unless you would rather see them perish and pursue your own selfish desire for revenge!

Youre one to talk! Logan wanted to tell Revelin. Who are you calling selfish? And your top priority now is vengeance, all in the name of your bruised ego and wounded pride!

Logan found himself at a dilemma. Once more, it appeared that Revelin was going to cover his tracks. Peoples lives were in danger of being snuffed out by the fires burning all around him. 

Damn it! he muttered to himself. Revenge and justice in Katrinas name would have to wait. He pointed an accusing finger at his enemy. Someday Revelin, you and I will have it out, and you wont like the results! He turned and started running towards the inn.

Oh, Im sure I will! Revelins voice shouted after him as already assured of his own victory.

By now, crowds of surviving civilians were gathering in the streets, desperately trying to get the fires under control. Using buckets filled with water taken from fountains, wells, and barrels, they fought to save the lives of those trapped within. Several brave men charged into the fiery dwellings without regard of the danger to save anyone they could.

What these people could really use it the Sword of Water, Logan told himself. Murlocks vision two months ago had shown Garibaldi using the sword to rapidly extinguish the flames that claimed the lives of the king and queen, Minervas adoptive parents.

Outside the inn, Logan found a crowd of civilians desperately trying to put out the blaze using similar methods.

Logan! Give us a hand here! We could really use your help! one of the men shouted to him. A woman handed Logan a small wooden bucket and directed him to a barrel of water to fill it. At that moment, he saw three men come outside the inn, one after the other, bringing along those they had rescued. One came outside carrying two small children, a boy and a girl. The last came outside leading Agnes who was frantically trying to break free from his grasp, stamping her feet onto the ground as they slid upon the ground.

No! she cried. Let go of me! Father is still trapped inside! I have to save my father!

Not on your life! her rescuer told her firmly. You go back in there, youll only get yourself killed!

As much as Logan admired Agnes bravery, he agreed that she should not go back in. He watched as two men grabbed Agnes arms and tried to restrain her. Someone else will have to go in there and try to save him!

Remembering his promise to Agnes about ensuring the survival of her and as many people as possible, Logan stepped forward. Ill go! he called aloud. Ill save her father! He dumped the water he carried over his body and dropped the bucket.
Do be careful Logan! a voice called out to him.

Without regard for his own life, Logan fearlessly charged into the burning inn.
Already, he could feel the heat upon his skin through his trench coat. Silently, he cursed himself for not removing it before running in, but he considered against leaving it here. He had worn it throughout his previous adventures. It provided some protection from the elements and acted as a thin layer of armor over his skin, if still doing little to stop enemy bullets from cutting holes in his skin.
Wiping the sweat that was beginning to pour down his face, he hurried onward. Tongues of flame ate away at the walls, floor, carpets, and framed portraits, leaving behind black scorch marks everywhere.

Before hurrying up the stairs, he decided to check the lower floor first. There were no signs of life within the main hall. He headed into the tavern where he had ate and drank the previous evening. That was where he had last seen Geoffroy the previous night.

Portions of two wooden beams had collapsed, weakened from the fires burning above. The ceiling above that section had caved in, its support system weakened, leaving a gaping hole from where the morning light shone above.

Several tables had been knocked over, one of which had rolled into the fireplace. Some of the chairs were also lying upon the floor but some still stood upon all four legs.

Geoffroy! he called aloud over the roar of the crackling fires. Where are you? Its me Logan!

He stood silent, waiting for a reply. He hoped that he had been heard and would hear a reply. It may have been his ears trying to trick him, but he could have sworn he heard a cough. Over the roar of the flames, Logan heard an explosion and felt the ground slightly rumble beneath his feet.

Overhere! he heard Geoffroys voice. Another faint cough sounded over the flames.

Geoffroy had been pinned underneath the fallen debris that had once been a portion of the ceiling. Although he had managed to free much of his body, one of his legs was caught underneath a large wooden plank and he was unable to pull away. To make matters even worse, one of the flames snaked across the floor towards him like a crawling snail. If he wasnt freed quickly, it would be upon him like a ravenous vulture. Logan knew from watching Murlocks vision that to be roasted alive was one of the worst fates man could endure.

Logan quickly rushed to Geoffroys aid and used whatever strength he hand to lift the plank. The innkeeper pulled his foot free and crawled forward several more feet.

Thank you Logan, said Geoffroy with a grateful smile as Logan helped him to his feet. Youve saved my life. His smile faded. I only wish I could say the same for my beloved business!

Were not out of the frying pan yet Geoffroy! said Logan. We need to get out of here! Agnes is worried about you!

My daughter! Geoffroy said. From the sound of his voice, he was frantic and worried about the safety of his only child. Is she?

Dont worry about her, said Logan. Shes safe outside. Can you walk, or should I help you?

Im alright, said Geoffroy. He shifted on the foot that had not been caught under the rubble. My ankle is twisted but I can still walk on my own, even if I cant run.

Logan looked down at Geoffroys foot. Covered in a black leather shoe, it was impossible to notice any injury or even the magnitude of one. Satisfied that it was nothing serious, Logan resumed eye contact with the innkeeper once more. At least now, he wouldnt have to bear the burden to using his body to support Geoffroy.

Come on! Im going to get you out of here!

Im afraid I cannot allow that! a voice boomed.

Logan and Geoffroy turned and stared ahead to see a brown robed soldier of the Scourge approaching them from several meters away with his gun drawn. Had Revelin seen him enter the inn and ordered one of his troops to follow him and finish him off? Had this been a trap? 

Escape is impossible Logan, the soldier sneered. You took the bait and fell right into Revelins trap! We bombed the entrance to the inn and now youre trapped!

That would explain the explosion I heard earlier! So, this really was Revelins plan after all! Not man enough to fight me face to face? Does he really have to resort to trickery and traps to defeat me? That arrogant coward!

Within the hood, Logan saw the face of another of Katrinas executioners. Under normal circumstances, anger and his thirst for justice would draw forth his weapons. However, after realizing the irony of his enemys statement, Logan found himself smiling in spite of his situation.

But so are you! he said. Youve just dug your own grave!

The soldiers face remained stoic. It doesnt matter if I dont walk out of here with my life; the important thing is that you dont! Even if it kills me, I will restore the pride and glory of the Scourge! And my comrades will forever remember me as the man who killed the man who brought shame upon the most powerful army in history! Although I hardly believe you deserve such praise Logan! Or rathertraitor!

Despite the surrounding heat, Logan felt his blood run cold at the mention of the word traitor in the presence of a civilian. 

Such a pity, the soldier continued, you were among our finest troops back then.

Traitor? asked Geoffroy. He caught the innkeeper staring at him, mouth open in shock.

Uh oh!

Its a very long story Geoffroy. Ill explain later.

Save your breath Logan, said the soldier. Considering the situation, thats how I intend to prolong my life before I kill you. However, I can still escape this inn from the balcony. You however wont have that chance!

Logan narrows his eyes as his lips curve down into a tight frown. If you think Im going down without a fight, youre crazy! But even if he was killed, at least his own death would be avenged by the flames.

As Geoffroy took shelter behind one of the overturned tables, Logan quickly grabbed one of the chairs and held it up like a shield as the soldier opened fire. Splinters of wood erupt from the seat of the chair as after absorbing two barrels worth of buckshot. As his opponent reloaded, Logan threw the chair with all his might. His aim struck the soldier upon the left shoulder, knocking him off balance and inducing a cry of pain from his mouth. Charging forward, Logan grabbed his enemys gun and pulled it down just as the soldier regained his composure and pulled the trigger.

But for the soldier, it was a split-second too late. For at that moment, the barrels of the sawed-off shotgun were already pointed at his left knee. The resulting boom at close range blasted through the flesh straight to the bone. Fresh blood erupted from the wound.

The soldier screamed a blood-curling cry as he collapsed to the floor, clutching his knee. This injury would surly leave him immobile and helpless. Taking out his own shotgun, Logan took out his other kneecap with another two shells worth of buckshot, inducing another cry of agony from his enemy.

He reloaded and put the barrels to his fallen opponents face, but stopped. Anyone else would consider putting the poor man out of his misery with a blast to his heart or his brain, but not Logan. The memory of Katrinas final moments after being pumped with hundreds of bullets and buckshot pellets and left to die a slow agonizing death made him think otherwise. Two soldiers from that squad were dead by his hand, but their demise had been quick and merciful. It would not be so for the final three, especially Revelin.

A sadistic grin spread on his mouth. This soldier had dug his own grave by destroying the entrance to the inn and sealing himself inside. Perhaps he had intended to commit suicide to escape being roasted alive if he could not escape. Now, he would suffer the fate it was originally his plan to cheat. As Katrina suffered slowly and agonizingly, so too would he. A fitting death. He would not be as lucky as those before him.

Logan pulled out a canister of hairspray he used along with a lighter to make an instant flamethrower and put his finger to the nozzle. He ignored the groans and grunts of pain and agony as he sprayed onto the soldiers face. Some of the flammable liquid went into his eyes, causing a cry of agony to explode from the mouth. Damn you! the soldier shrieked. Logan ignored him as he emptied the canister over the rest of his opponents body from head to toe, then he tossed away the useless container.

Geoffroy removed himself from his wooden shield and stood. Come on! he shouted. We need to get out of here!

But how? asked Logan. We cant leave through the front entrance anymore!
We must get to higher ground at once! said Geoffroy. Theres another escape route above!

Walking as fast as his twisted ankle could allow him to, Geoffroy started moving forward. Logan followed him, ignoring the moans and pleas of his fallen enemy as the flames crept towards him. This is just the beginning! he said with a sarcastic smile at his opponent. And he was right. Death would not end the torment his enemy would soon endure. This was only the start of what was to come, for surely his soul would burn for all eternity in the fiery depths of Hell.

Just as they were about to walk out of the tavern, Logan heard the intense screams of the fallen Scourge soldier. He turned just in time to see the flames engulf his enemys body like a flock of vultures. For several long moments, Logan watched as his opponent flailed helplessly upon the ground, screaming as if he were an animal caught in a shredding machine. The flames burned through his cloak, searing his flesh straight to the bone. Then, the body lay motionless, charred and blackened. 
Three down, two to go Katrina!

Come on! said Geoffroy! Up the stairs! Weve got to get to the balcony, its our only chance!

Logan followed the innkeeper up the stairs. He kept a short distance behind Geoffroy to help him. Obviously, it pained the innkeeper to walk on a twisted ankle.

Logan, Geoffroy began, that soldier called you a traitor. Is it true that you were once part of the Scourge itself? Looking at the innkeepers face, Logan saw that it was apparent that Geoffroy himself was having trouble believing it. Please tell me it isnt so!

Logans face grew warm with shame, warmer than it would have been by the fire. He lowered his face. I cant.

The moment they discover the truth, they will come to see you as their enemy as much as the Scourge see you as theirs. Janus words tormented him as if they were pot lids clanging together like giant cymbals.

Im ashamed of myself for keeping it from everybody. But I was afraid that if people found out, they would hate me.

Geoffroy shook his head. Dont talk like that Logan! In spite of what happened, you are still a great hero! You saved my life, you defended my daughters honor, you saved our land two months ago, and now youre fighting the Scourge to defend our land and its people. Youre a traitor to the Scourge, but not to this land and its people! I believe in you Logan and so does everyone else!

Logan lifted his face, but his spirits would not. Would everyone else believe in him should the truth be told or discovered?

I may be the first and only civilian in this land to know the truth, Geoffroy went on, but I will keep your secret! You have proven yourself worthy of my trust in many ways.

Logan found himself smiling. Thank you Geoffroy.

They continued up the stairs until they reached the top.

Well need the key to get back into your room, said Geoffroy. My daughter had a spare key. Thats how she got into your room this morning to alert you to the Scourge attack.

So that explains how she got into my room. I was wondering about that.

Logan reached into his pocket and found the key to his room. He unlocked the door and stepped through.

Being back in this room brings back so many memories, said Geoffroy. My wife lay in that bed as she brought Agnes into this world. It was in that same bed where she died.

Geoffroy gazed one last time around the room. Logan understood that this would probably be the last time anyone would be here. The inn was going up in flames. Eventually, its supporting architecture would be so badly burned its durability would no longer have the strength to hold up the roof. Soon, the inn would collapse, yet the fire would continue to burn until nothing was left but smoldering rubble and ashes. If they didnt escape soon, they would be buried, left for the fire to consume. Death would come from being crushed by collapsing debris or being roasted alive.

Logan, do me a favor, said Geoffroy as he removed the painting of the family portrait from the wall where it hung. If you make it and I dont, watch over and protect Agnes. Shes all I have left now. And give this to her.

Logan slowly nodded, remembering his promise to Agnes the previous night. If he couldnt have saved Katrina from death, he would find atonement for his failure in protecting her Iconoclast double. I swear! he said taking the painting and tucking it away safely inside his trench coat.

Logan threw open the doors to the balcony. Youd better go first Geoffroy! said Logan. Ill help you over and then Ill come after you.

Geoffroy was the first to step outside, but suddenly, without warning, a shot boomed through the morning air. Logan saw the innkeeper lurch back in place before keeling forward over the railing.

Oh my god! Agnes voice screamed in terror. Father!

Logan rushed out onto the balcony and peered below to see Geoffroy struggling to push himself up. Blood was dripping from his chest onto the stone pavement. Revelin and a squad of soldiers were standing in the courtyard of the inn, with Revelin himself advancing towards the fallen innkeeper, thin wisps of smoke rising from the barrels of his shotgun. The smoke was the evidence that he was the one who shot down Geoffroy.

Logan pulled out his Tommy Gun and aimed it down at his arch-rival. Revelin only laughed.

Shoot me and my troops will slaughter the entire crowd!

In response the soldiers pulled their weapons out and held them on the crowd, threatening men, women, and children. Revelin positioned himself over Geoffroy, clutching the Sword of Fire in one hand and his shotgun in the other. Logan watched as another squad of soldiers tossed bundles of dynamite at the statue of his own image outside the inn. Moments later, the explosion reduced the monument to broken stone fragments

Wearing a cruel smile upon his lips, the Scourge commander slammed his shotgun upon the innkeepers back. Geoffroys arms spread out and he crashed to the pavement. Next, Revelin kicked the innkeeper in the side so swiftly and forcefully, Geoffroy rolled onto his waist and onto his back. Logans gut ached with disgust and anger at Revelins cruelty. He had no honor whatsoever, striking a wounded man while he was down. Logan found himself staring down at Geoffroy and saw the innkeeper staring up at his beloved inn and at him.

Logansave yourselfget out ofhere now! The innkeeper choked weakly.
At the front of the crowd of civilians, a man and woman restrained Agnes by her arms, both knowing that if she tried to interfere, she would be killed.

Father! she shrieked trying to free herself. Revelin glared towards her with a sinister grin.

Logan put away his weapon and stepped onto the railing of the balcony. Carefully, he hoisted himself onto the slanted roof, turning once more to the unfolding tragedy below.

Geoffroy coughed and spit up blood. I love you Agnes he called aloud. Logan watched in horror as Revelin held the Sword of Fire above the innkeeper. Close your eyes daughter!

Agness had given up her struggles, the impending doom of her father had sapped her strength and her spirit. I love you father! From the sound of her voice, she was on the verge of crying, barely fighting back her tears.

Dont look! Geoffroy called out a mere moment just before Revelin plunged the sword down into his chest. Instantly, his body spontaneously combusted.

No! Agnes cried. Oh my god! No!

Logans eyes went wide at this atrocity. His stomach churned with nausea and he had to turn away to avoid gagging. He put his hand to his mouth and forced a swallow. But the sight had already been stored in his memory like a photograph. Geoffroy had been the first and currently only citizen to know his secret and he now took it with him to the grave, but Logan found no relief in his death. If anything, he only felt an overwhelming powerlessness at yet another failure to save a life. Yet Revelin had known that Logans concern for civilian life was among his weaknesses, and he had taken advantage of it.

Its just like the death of the former king and queen of this whole realm a thousand years ago!

Revelin pulled the blade out of the innkeepers chest. Within only a few seconds, what had once been the innkeeper of Arcanius finest inn was now nothing more than a charred, blackened skeleton.

By now, Logan had managed to pull himself up onto the roof. Despite the damage so far, the roof at his feet felt stable and solid. But now he had to climb further up and escape on the other side of the building. But Revelin by now had seen him making his escape. The other troops realized that he wasnt going to lose his balance and fall.

Drop him! Revelin commanded. The squad raised their weapons and opened fire.
Bullets ricocheted beneath his feet as he hurried further up the roof. Luckily, the angle wasnt steep enough to slow him down or prevent him from advancing. If there was one thing he learned during his experience in gunfighting against the Scourge, it was that a moving target was much harder to hit than a stationary one. As long as he kept moving, his chances of taking a hit were slim.

He ran past the dormers and chimneys until finally he reached the flat midsection where both sides of the slanted room formed the shape of a triangle with a flattened top. He had just stepped onto it when a stray bullet sliced his side. Then another buried itself in his right calf. A third bullet struck his back. His trench coat provided almost no protection from enemy fire. 

Screams of horror tear from the throats of everyone in the crowd when they saw their champion hit. No! he heard Agnes cry out.

His body spun around a hundred and eighty degrees and swaggered. He struggled to keep his balance, holding his arms out to the sides of his body at horizontal angles. Down below, the soldiers ceased fire, confident that they had dealt enough damage. The crowd was restless, but threat of being shot kept them at bay. Logan saw Revelin raise his own weapon up at him. Obviously, Revelin had ordered his troops to cease fire so he himself could deliver the last shot, all to avenge his wounded pride and his bruised ego. Logan tried to react, but his wounded body refused to obey his spirit. A cloud of expelled gunpowder erupts from Revelins gun and within a split-second, Logan felt the impact of the blast hit him in the chest. The screams of the crowd once more rang within his ears. Agnes voice cried out his name as he staggered. His strength finally gave out as gravity embraced him and pulled him backward, away from Revelin and his squad. And just moments before he plunged, his hat was pulled away from his head by a sudden gust of wind and was carried down towards the soldiers, landing at the feet of Revelin who wore a triumphant smile upon his face.

He slid downward until the roof beneath his back disappeared and he plunged into an alley behind the inn. Was this the end? After all he had gone through, all he had struggled for, everything he endured, was he about to become another casualty of war? Had the Scourge finally achieved victory over him? Was he to die here alone in this alley? In all his struggles against the Scourge, never before had he come so close to his own death, not even his battle with Garibaldi.

He braced himself for the impact upon the stone pavement below. The fall would surely break his vertebrae together with his skull. By the time he was found by the citizens, he would be dead from internal bleeding and they would find his brain oozing blood onto the stone beneath him, hemorrhaged by bashing against the inside of his skull. A tragic end for a noble hero.

But the pain never came. Luckily, his fall had been broken by a red canvas tarp set up by vagrants living on the streets to provide shade from the hot sun. The kinetic force from the impact catapulted him back into the air. His vision went from skyward to the buildings in the alley and finally to the street below where he crashed, landing on his stomach. Luckily, his second fall had not been very far and he didnt hit the stone surface hard enough to break any bones.

He lay motionless upon the stone pavement, weakened from his injuries. The pain coursing throughout his body sapped his strength. He was so weak, he couldnt even rise, much less move. The red stains on his shirt gradually grew bigger. Blood dripped down the right leg of his pants onto the streets as well out of his nose.
Katrina he moaned, forgive memy love. I failed.

Over there! he heard a voice call out. We found him!

Had the Scourge come to confirm his death and finish him off if necessary? He heard footsteps racing towards him. Moments later, he heard a voice call out again.

Logan!

Gazing down upon him were two surviving Arcanius guards. Hes wounded! We need to get him to a healer immediately! one of them frantically shouted to the other.
Strong arms reached down to seize him and help him up as his vision became blurry. In the fight to remain conscious, he was losing.

Logan, hang in there! Hold on!

Finally, blurred vision emerged victorious and darkness engulfed him. His sight went black and then nothing more as consciousness slipped away, leaving him with nothing more than the misery of his failure.
					#
Logan a familiar voice spoke from the darkness surrounding him. He found himself floating in a strange place, surrounded by nothing by darkness. His body slowly spun in circles as mysterious unseen forces pulled him forward. His entire body felt immobile and numb.

Was this a dream? Or was he dead and his soul being escorted to his eternal resting place?

Logan the voice spoke again, but slightly louder. It was the voice of a man Logan would always remember. A voice that would forever be imbedded within his memory.

It cant be! Youre supposed to be dead! he wanted to cry out, but he couldnt. His mouth refused to open.

Do you consider that a victory? Had he come back from the dead to torment Logans mind? Or were his words spoken in a past conversation reminding him of the futility of his efforts? You are merely delaying the inevitable!

Even though the Scourge had been trapped in Iconoclast and their victory against humanity on Earth denied, the massacre continued.

All your efforts will be in vain, Garibaldis voice spoke those familiar words from their confrontation in his private garden of the cathedral. Why? Why must you interfere?

Because somebody had to!

You simple-minded fool! Can you not understand the odds are against you? You are only fighting a battle you cannot hope to win!

I only hope my death was not in vain. Someone must take my place and finish what I started! Or have the people lost hope now that I am gone?

He waited for Garibaldis voice to return, there was nothing but silence. He floated cold and lifeless in the darkness.

After what seemed like an eternity, a light broke through the blackness of the void and all feeling of sense returned to his body. He found himself lying upon his back on a bed within an unknown place, sunlight from the late afternoon sky shone beams of light through the stained glass window. A lone chair stood up against the wall near his bed. A groan crawled up his throat and expelled itself through his lips. It didnt take him long to realize that he wasnt dead after all.

Where? Where am I? How did I get here?

The pain throughout his body had slightly weakened, allowing him to sit up, even if just slowly. Fighting the pain, he forced himself up and pulled away the colored bed sheets covering him. Much of his clothing had been stripped off his body, leaving him clad only in his underwear and socks. His trench coat, shirt, pants, and boots lay on top of the nearby dresser. But his hat was nowhere to be found. Then he remembered that it had fallen off the top of his head after he had been blown off the roof by Revelin. On top of his clothes was the locket containing Katrinas picture together with the medallion whose power had transported him to this world.

It was then that he saw a silk cloth wrapped tightly around his calf. He felt another tight wrap around his back and his chest. The cloth coverings had been stained with his blood, yet the flow had halted. Touching the redness, Logan saw that his finger remained dry when he pulled it back, leading to the conclusion that he had been unconscious for about a day.

He had full mobility of his arms, but his right leg was still bothering him. It would take days before he would be able to stand, much less walk.

The door slid open, catching his attention as a man clad in a green robe stepped in. The robe had no hood. His skin had begun to show the signs of aging through wrinkles. Much of his hair was gone, leaving a ring of gray follicles around the sides of his bald temple and a small beard covered his chin. Logan saw a smile spread over his face.

So, he spoke, at last you are back with us. I had faith that you would wake up despite your recent ordeal. Ive been coming in to check on you every few hours. Its good to know that your recovery is going well.

Logan surmised that this man was a monk judging by his attire and his manner.

Careful now, the monk spoke as he placed his palm upon Logans chest and gently forced him back onto his back. Dont move too quickly. While your spirit is strong, your body has not yet fully healed. Weve cleaned your wounds and halted the flow of blood. Luckily, none of your bones had been broken and your vital organs suffered no damage. But you still need to rest more in order to complete the healing process.

No damage to the bones or organs. That was good news. I am a very lucky man. Wait till Revelin and the Scourge see this!

Three questions had been on Logans mind. Where am I? How did I get here? How long have I been out for? Now he had a fourth which he immediately asked. Whowho are you? Where am I? Who brought me here?

Its alright, the monk said gently. You are in the Monastary of Judgment. I am Harmondi, head monk of the Brotherhood of Judgment. You passed out from your injuries and some surviving soldiers of Arcanius brought you here. Youve been unconscious for two and a half days.

Almost three days. Whats been happening in my absence?

The townspeople were worried about you, Harmondi continued. They worried that you wouldnt pull through. Without you, the land and its people are without hope.
Without hope. That must mean no one else can take my place should I fall in battle. Im humanitys only hope. But Im in no condition to fight now.

I thought monks were forbidden to speak, he said. His statement sounded more like a question.

We do not take oaths of silence, said Harmondi. Except when dealing with the public. We have secrets to keep. It would be very dangerous if these secrets were discovered.

I wonder what theyre hiding?

You had a few visitors while you were unconscious. Normally, we dont allow the public to enter our home, but in your case, we could make an exception. One of them was the daughter of the late innkeeper.

Agnes! She is alive! But her father. She must be stricken with grief at her loss.
I sent her away after a few minutes. The poor girl blames herself for what happened to you. However, we have decreed that no more may enter for it may interfere with your rest and healing.

The door slid open, revealing a second monk standing in the doorway, but he did not enter. Harmondi?

Harmondi turned his head. What is it brother Bartola?

Our guest has another visitor. I tried to turn her away but she was quite insistent.

Harmondi sighed. Very well. Send her in.

Bartola stood aside and allowed a woman to enter. Logan! My son!

Logan felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. It was bad enough that he was bedridden. The last thing any man wanted was to have his mother take care of him. For when a man is unable to do so, it is a bruise to his pride.

Mother? Logan asked in shock. What are you doing here?

I feared something like this would happen, said Maria as she pulled the chair up beside the bed and sat on it. And it turns out my motherly instincts were correct.

Logan began to sit up but his mother forced him back down with a gentle hand. Lie down son. In case you dont know it, youre badly injured.

Maria was carrying with her a small cloth bag. She opened it and took out a needle and a spool of colorless thread.

Where did you get that? he asked.

From a seamstress living here in this city, said Maria as she cut a length of thread with the dagger Logan took from Walters corpse the slipped one end of the thread into the eye of the needle. She knotted the two loose ends together.
Harmondi turned to head for the door. I will return later with something for our guest to eat and drink. Would you also care for something lady?

No, thank you, said Maria. Not right now.

As you wish, said Harmondi closing the door behind him.

How did you get here? asked Logan.

By ship, said Maria. She removed the cloth around Logans leg wound. Logan saw that even though the wound no longer bled, the skin had not yet begun to heal and close. He slightly grimaced as his mother inserted the needle into the flesh one side before sliding it forward into the skin on the other side. He repeated the process, gradually sewing the wound shut. I left Tamirtania early last morning and traveled across the sea for a day to the desert. A caravan taking dead trees from the desert for firewood met me at the seaside and gave me safe passage to the city. He told me about what had happened and when I heard you had fallen in battle, I feared the worst. To think that my only child would die in war as my husband had. But I can hardly contain my joy to know that you are still alive.
Once she had closed the wound, she cut the threat from the needle and began to repeat the process for the wound on the side of his torso.

You should consider yourself very lucky son. Some of those bullets and buckshot pellets narrowly missed vital organs. If that werent the case, there would be nothing to be done.

Pain is for the weak. Right now, Im feeling very proud of myself.

So youre sure you dont want to go back home? he asked.

Maria nodded. I will not. Not when there is work to be done. We are in a war and there will be people who need medical care.

Things are only going to get more dangerous before they settle back down, he told her.

I know, said Maria. But I am not afraid. Im more afraid for you my son. You need to be more careful. Next time, you may not be so lucky. You almost got yourself killed here in this city!

But I feel fine now mother! he protested. I can take a little pain, it means nothing to me!

Alright son, I know you are a strong and durable young man, but you need to rest now until you are healed. Youd be as good as dead in your condition right now. She sighed. If only your father was still alive. He would be so proud of you!
As Maria finished sewing shut the second wound, Harmondi returned with a bowl of hot soup made with vegetables and a golden goblet of water. He set them on the bed and instructed her to feed Logan and help him drink. Logan felt his face grow warm with shame. Here he was, a twenty-four year old man being taken care of by his mother. This hadnt happened since he was a little boy bedridden with a fever.
Still, watching his mother work, Logan saw her lips curl into a slight smile. Here she was doing the work she once loved before her husbands death. Aiding her son, a legendary hero in another world at a time when people needed him the most. Logan wondered if she would regain her passion for this job and return to work at the hospital once they got homeif they survived.

I am amazed that your injuries are not as severe as they should be, said Maria. It looks as if they will heal later this week. In my days as a nurse during the Great War I have seen gunshot wounds where the limb would have to be amputated in order to prevent gangrene. Many gunshot wounds take weeks or even months to heal. I wonder why yours are healing so quickly?

You can thank a very special healing salve. Harmondi gestured towards a small
crystal jar with a lid on the top standing on the dresser. The wizard Murlock is the only living person in this land who knows how to make it. This particular batch is fifteen centuries old.

Just how powerful is this salve? asked Maria.

You have already seen for yourself how powerful it is upon the wounds of your son. It greatly hastens the healing process for injuries that would take hours, days, weeks, or even months. The most severe injuries are healed within a matter of days, up to a week.

If only my people had the ability to create such a powerful ointment, we would have no need for hospitals, said Maria, greatly impressed. There would be good business in the market for such a salve.

We only use it for the most serious of injuries including deep lacerations, bruises, torn muscle, and fractured bones, Harmondi went on. Sadly, even the power of the salve has its limits. It cannot heal internal bleeding nor can it heal dislocated bones, damaged organs, or lost limbs. Should a person also lose the vision in one eye, then there is nothing that can be done.

On second thought, said Maria after taking this into silent consideration, we would still need hospitals.

Once Logan had eaten and quenched his thirst, Harmondi said now he should rest. Her work done, Maria stood and followed the head monk out for a warm meal herself. Logan felt the sandman sprinkle his sleep-inducing sand into the eyes before he felt himself slipping away once more into lethargy.
					#
For the next four days, he lay completely bedridden. Although there were no more visits from the public, by now, the citizens were aware that he had regained consciousness. Logan surmised this due to the donations the monastery received in the form of food, most consisting of fresh fruits and vegetables. One peasant farmer even killed one of his young oxen and donated a portion of the meat for the monks to put in their stew. Each day, Harmondi brought him food and water, feeding him by spoon. By the seventh day of his stay, Logan was growing impatient. How much longer would it be before he could rise up from his bed or stand up?
The pain in his calf had dwindled over time. By the sixth night, it was gone completely. Whatever torment his body had been in from the pain was weakening as well. His body was fighting a winning battle. The spirit of this warrior would not be defeated so easily. Although he would surely carry the scars for the rest of his life, all that mattered now was that he lived.

He sat up in bed, pushed the covers away, and stood. He put on his shirt and pants to provide further warmth from the cold desert night. The question of whether his body strength had been restored was quickly answered. With a sole pillar of moonlight as the only light available, he walked around the room. He was pleased to note that his legs now functioned normally. The thread closing the wound on the calf of his leg was strong and durable, his mother had made certain of that. He jumped in place and felt no pain as his feet once more touched the floor.

He desired to explore the monastery. Opening the door from his prison for the past week led him into a small room with a corridor to his left and another door to his right. The corridor led to a large outdoor balcony with pillars holding up slanting beams of stone. He had no desire to go outside into the desert air and instead opened the door. He walked down the stairs and into a small library. To his left was the monastery chapel where the monks prayed. He wondered how many people in Arcanius were praying for his recovery.

Inside the chapel, one of the monks knelt before the stone altar. His hands were clapped together and his head lowered. Judging by the bald temple and the ring of gray hair surrounding the back of the skull, it was Harmondi.

Harmondi looked up from his prayer as Logan approached. Ah, good! The strength of the body once more begins to match that of the spirit. The head monk rose to his feet. Dont stay on your legs too long though, he said as he placed a hand on Logans shoulder. Although your wounds are healing, you still need to take it slowly until recover your full strength.

It was true. Even now, Logan felt the strength in his legs begin to falter. After being bedridden for a whole week, his body had not yet become accustomed to simple movement. 

While I have faith in your spirit, Harmondi continued, your body is still in conflict with the wounds it has endured. Perhaps a few more days and we shall see some improvement.

He gently forced Logan down onto one of the pews in the front.

Sit right there, he said. I will bring you something to eat and drink.

Logan was left to himself as Harmondi took his leave. Right now, he felt like he was being ungrateful for not yet thanking Harmondi for all he had done. If not for him, he wouldnt be standing here.

Sitting there by himself, Logan found himself asking many questions.

How much longer will I be here?

Whats been happening in my presence?

Do the Scourge believe me to be dead?

How will they react once they find out I am actually still alive?

Does everyone else in the land think I am dead?

And how it is possible that my wounds could have healed so quickly?

Harmondi returned with a golden goblet of water. Brother Bartola accompanied him with a bowl of hot soup. Logan drank the water and began to eat his soup. Harmondi sat back down and instructed Bartola to stay should Logan ask for more. As he ate, Logan felt renewed strength invigorate his body. He quickly finished the bowl and handed it and the goblet back to Bartola, asking politely for a refill. Bartola nodded and left.

Harmondi, he began once they were alone again. I just wanted to thank you and the others for all you have done.

Harmondi nodded with a smile. You are most fortunate to have survived what would have killed anyone else. Surely, this is a sign that the land still needs you.
One question still tugged at Logan. If I may ask, why do you not allow visitors?
Harmondis smile faded into a slight frown. Curiosity is a dangerous mindset Mr. Logan. You see, we are more than mere monks who isolate ourselves from society and the rest of humanity.

Youre hiding something arent you?

Harmondi sighed. Im afraid you are correct Mr. Logan. For generations, the Brotherhood of Judgment has been more than our home. It is a sanctuary where those who live act as the guardians of an artifact of terrible power. What I am about to tell you is something my fellow monks have never told anyone throughout the generations since our establishment. I am about to tell you a story which is an important part of this worlds history.

Long ago, a malevolent sorcerer waged war against this land and its people with this artifact in his possession. After his defeat and death, our ancestors took it to this desert and built this monastery. Those monks vowed never to let it fall into the wrong hands again and dedicated their lives to safeguard it. Through the generations, we have kept the knowledge of its existence out of the memory and minds of the people of this land. Currently, you are the only outsider to whom we have revealed its existence.

Sorry I asked, said Logan, now regretting his question.

Bartola returned with another bowl of soup and goblet of water.

Other than you and our brethren, the wizard Murlock is the only other individual in this land who knows of this artifact. For it was Murlock himself who instructed us to detain it from the eyes of minds of the public.

I dont think I need to know anymore, said Logan. Youve said too much and Ive heard too much.

So be it, said Harmondi. We can only pray that it does not fall into the hands of the Scourge. While they have withdrawn from Arcanius, as long as they march in this world, we cannot let down our guard.

Logan quickly finished his water and soup. This time, he did not ask for seconds. His body felt stronger after eating. Perhaps now, a little more rest would do the trick to heal his injured body back to normal strength.

He slowly pulled himself back up to his feet. Yes, said Harmondi, get some more rest. Your body needs it. Good night Mr. Logan.

Good night, said Logan as he made the journey back to his bedroom.
					#
He awoke greeted by beams of pink light shining through the window. Dawn had come to the desert and his body felt stronger than it had been since he last walked on his legs. Having fallen asleep in his shirt, kicking off his boots before climbing into bed, all he had left to put on was his trench coat, boots, Murlocks medallion, and Katrinas locket. He would leave the monastery and start looking for his hat. He also found the box containing ring he was planning to give Katrina when he asked her to be his wife and placed that into his pocket.

The last item he put on was Katrinas locket. He opened it once more and gazed upon the face of his lost true love. Before her, Logan had two other women in his life, but none had the emotional passion or romantic connection and that he had with Katrina. Both women he briefly courted broke off the relationship after finding out he was a gunsmith. One simply hated guns and wanted nothing to do with anyone who even worked with them, the other was afraid someday he would shoot her even by accident.

His dreams that night took him back to a time when he was still among the Scourge, long before her death at the hands of Revelin, Bellatrix, and the three others on Garibaldis order. On his twenty-fourth birthday, two days before St. Valentines Day, his mother had sent him a freshly baked apple pie. No one in the Scourge celebrated the birthdays of their comrades or even sent their congratulations to the families who had one, but Katrina was an exception. She always made sure to visit her niece and nephew and bring them gifts on their birthdays, doing the same for her parents and older sister. Her comrades often mocked her for her considerate and compassionate heart. Never in all his life had he known a more caring person.

On his birthday, she asked Logan to meet her privately outside the cathedral one evening.

I made this for you, she said placing a cupped hand into his own. He felt something touch his palm as if something had been placed there. As she pulled it away, Logan flattened his palm and found a small golden heart attached to a silver chain. Opening it he saw her picture.

Whenever you look upon this, she said, nothing can keep us apart no matter how great the distance between us.

Logan thought that this was the nicest present he had even received in his whole life, all twenty-four years of it. Thank you Katrina! he said with a smile as he placed it around his neck. Ill treasure it always! He promised himself to get her something special on Valentines Day.

Many within the Scourge knew of their growing relationship, including Revelin, Janus, Bellatrix, and even Garibaldi. Garibaldi frowned upon romantic relationships within the Scourge; Logan never understood why until that evening in his private garden after he turned against the Scourge. Logan now understood that Janus didnt like to see them together as it reminded him of what he had lost. Bellatrix, having been spurned by a lover of hers in the past, often lectured Katrina on the subject that men were not to be trusted and that they only used women, but Katrina never listened. 

Back in the Scourge, Bellatrix and Katrina had been rivals equal to the rivalry between Logan and Janus. No woman trained with more passion nor fought with more ferocity and killer instinct than Bellatrix, driven by her hatred and her desire for vengeance against a male-dominated world. As Logan and Revelin were never fond of each other himself, Katrina and Bellatrix had a mutual dislike of each other. Katrina thought of Bellatrix as nothing more than an unfriendly, arrogant, hateful, and self-righteous bitch. Bellatrix considered Katrina too softhearted and weak to be a good soldier, even despite the fact that both women were well adept with guns. 

Both had joined the Scourge to find their place in the world. On Earth, women were not allowed to vote anywhere and certain jobs were reserved solely for men. Girls were raised for the singular purpose of finding a husband and raising a family. But here in the Scourge, Garibaldi gave these women a chance to make something of themselves, defy the customs they were raised in, to forge their own destiny, and be someone worth something much more than the world expected. Many of the women in the Scourge were bitter with the world in which they grew up. Katrina was not one of them and while she refused to wage war against it, Bellatrix relished the chance.

In his mind, he could still see Bellatrix assisting the other four pumping Katrina full of lead at her execution, when a sudden noise brought him back to reality. Gunfire?

His ears registered the sounds of several more gunshots somewhere within the monastery together with several screams and cries of agony. What was going on? Was the monastery under attack? Who was slaughtering his benefactors?

Impertinence! he heard Harmondis voice shout in anger. The noise seemed to come from outside the door.

Hand over the boy old man! An unfamiliar voice was heard, but Logan now understood what was going on. The monastery was under attack by a squad of Scourge soldiers! Somehow, they learned Logan was still alive and were now hell-bent on finishing the job. Panic gripped his heart. Knowing that Harmondi would stand no chance against the invaders,he raced to the dresser to prepare himself for battle. He had to get ready.

I will not tolerate this assault on the house of the righteous! He tried to ignore Harmondis angry words as he opened the drawer.

Stand aside old fool! Your faith shall offer no protection from the wrath of the Scourge! 

Never!

Logan had just taken out his shotgun and Tommy gun when the boom of a shotgun blast followed by Harmondis cry of anguish pelted his ears. And then nothing more.

Damned old fool! a voice outside spat. Now lets get this over with! Death to Logan! Glory to the Scourge!

The horror of these senseless killings and murder was too much for Logan. The Scourge would stop at nothing to eliminate the man who severely tarnished their reputation as a powerful unstoppable force, even if it meant spilling the blood of innocent people who would protect him, such as Harmondi and the monks who had dedicated the last few days of their lives to healing the lands savior and champion.

Rage at the Scourges cruelty and meaningless bloodshed guided his Tommy gun at the door just as it slid open, revealing a brown robed soldier and two of his comrades standing outside the door, their weapons ready to spill his blood and once more cripple his renewed body.