With Nariseer retrained before him, Alisson prepared to extract whatever value he could from her.

  “I’ll make this brief…I’m not the kind of man to play with defeated foes. So let’s make this quick and painless.” He crossed his legs, and interlocked his fingers. “Will you be telling me what I want to hear in exchange for mercy? Or will you die quietly?”

  Nariseer broke into a smirk. “I’m not going to give you anything, Alisson. Not any information, and not any satisfaction at seeing me beg for mercy.”

  Alisson closed his eyes. “I cannot say that I wouldn’t act the same way in your situation. I would at the very least like to commend your attitude and skill as a general.”

  Nariseer shook her head with a sad smile. “And I would offer the same to you, were you not a bloodthirsty murderer, a soulless sophist who does anything to win.”

  Alisson scoffed. “Need I remind you that you slaughtered your own people in a vain attempt to escape? Don’t try to take a moral high ground. You lost, and you know as well as I that victory decides who is right at the end of a battle.”

  Nariseer frowned, her shoulders loosening in Dascha’s grip.

  “You were the one who forced us into such a corner…Using such an inhumane strategy. In order to save more, to have a chance to save more, to win another day against you, a monster, it was the right choice.”

  Alisson sighed. “Speaking with you is useless. I’ll send you to the homeland as a trophy.” Alisson set his sights on Nariseer with a sadistic smirk. “You can rot in a jail and march in our victory parade when I return.”

  Nariseer broke into tepid laugh. “Is that supposed to be a threat? You don’t care for appearances enough to actually want that…Just save us both the trouble and kill me now.”

  Alisson frowned, and continued looking over Nariseer without replying before she leaned forward with a smirk and continued, “Well, on with it. Don’t you wanna see a cocky enemy like me finally squirm in pain and fear? Just tell this stupid mutt to kill me…or have that doll in the corner do it.”

  Nariseer flicked her eyes to Celis, who was standing in a shadow of the tent behind Alisson.

  “…What did you just call her?” Alisson asked quietly.

  “A doll.” Nariseer smirked, sensing that her words had an effect, “It’s not a false description; She’s been sitting there with an unchanging face, stiff like a mannequin. I never took you for the kind of man to enjoy such a kind of woman.”

  “She’s not a doll…” Alisson growled, his shoulders rising defensively and his fingers clenching into fists.

  “Then what is she? Some sort of mindless whore? I guess that’s the only kind of girl that would want to sleep with a loser of a man like you anyway, it figures. Sidonians probably worship Sidonia more than their own wives, I get it.” Nariseer smiled sadistically.

  “Shut up!” Alisson stood up over Nariseer. “Dascha!”

  Dascha immediately pushed Nariseer to the ground and drove a fist into her stomach, blowing the wind out of her. Nariseer breathed heavily for a second, catching her breath, before she sputtered, “What’s wrong Alisson, can’t defend the honor of your concubine with your own hands? I bet she wasn’t always like that…She probably regrets having been with you-!”

  Alisson kicked his boot into one of Nariseer’s hands, grinding it into her fingers. “I’ll cut your tongue out if you continue to insult her, you damn brat!”

  Nariseer, still smiling through the pain, opened her mouth to speak again. It made Alisson flare with rage and before Nariseer could speak further he stomped his boot against Nariseer’s chest, hearing a crack. The pain was evidently too much for the frail general as Nariseer screamed out loudly.

  “That’s right…” Alisson squatted down to Nariseer, his eyes twitching with rage as he realized how good it felt to hear Nariseer’s screams. “Don’t forget who won this day… Me. My tactics…My strategy…My army. Sidonia won this day.”

  He lifted Nariseer’s hands up with his own, “I’ve changed my mind. You’re going to tell me everything you know about any nearby Irinian units, and what the situation looks like back home.”

  Nariseer sputtered and inhaled sharply before spitting back, “Never-!”

  Alisson grabbed one of her fingers, and with a flash activated his Opensen, and with Firo’s powers, he snapped it at an abnormal angle.

  Amidst another scream of pain from Nariseer, Alisson spoke calmly beneath his rage, “Every time you refuse to talk, you’ll lose another finger, got it?”

  Snap, snap, snap. Each time, Nariseer only remarked with a quip that burgeoned his fury. No one would speak like that of Celis and get away with it. Hell, he owed it to his army to make Nariseer’s life a living hell.

  “Celis, heal her fingers. We’ll keep going as long as this takes.” Alisson sat back down in his chair, staring on at Nariseer with burning eyes as Celis neared her and healed him.

  “I see! You’ve got two dogs! Both of them can’t think for themselves-!”

  Nariseer still found the strength to speak foul of Celis as he was healed. As soon as Celis silently stepped away, Alisson motioned for Dascha to continue. His patience ran out after only a couple minutes of it, as Nariseer’s voice had since calmed thanks to the repetitiveness and the painkilling properties of Celis’s healing spells.

  “You said you didn’t like to play with defeated opponents! Hypocrite! What a weak-willed pathetic man you are!” Nariseer said between the bouts of pain.

  He stood and drew a throwing knife before jamming it into Nariseer’s stomach, which warranted a wonderful noise.

  “Back.” Alisson pushed away Dascha, desiring more. Dascha looked on worriedly but did as she was told, letting go of Nariseer.

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  He wrapped his hands around her tiny little neck, and slowly crushed it, smiling without realizing it. He saw Nariseer crack a smile for a fraction of a second in between yelling out, which made Alisson plow another punch into her.

  After that, it was a bit of a haze.

  “Alisson! She wants to talk! Stop it!”

  But Alisson didn’t listen to Firo. He kept pulling. With one hand on Nariseer’s skull and the other on her neck, he kept pulling the two away from each other, feeling a satisfying crescendo of tears and cracks as he pulled with both his Opensen and Firo’s strength, slowly increasing the tension.

  He was shaking and shivering without realizing it. His skin felt ice cold, like his sweat, and his heart beat rapidly against his chest, like he had come down with a severe cold.

  He kept pulling, and pulling. Tears fell from Nariseer’s anguished face.

  Finally, Alisson’s hands extended fully as the resistance disappeared; for Nariseer’s head was no longer connected to the rest of her body. His grip on her skull quivered, and he stared at what he had down for a long moment before releasing both pieces of her.

  He still shook and shivered, and stood up, staring down into the pool of blood that welled at the floor of the tent.

  “…I need more.”

  Alisson said to himself.

  That feeling, that satisfaction, this rush…He needed more.

  He tried to move but found that Firo was moving against him, and not with him.

  “Don’t, Alisson! Please stop! You’ve done enough for today!”

  He fought against her resistance, growling loudly.

  “Seriously, you did good! Rest for today! Please!”

  “Let go of me or I’ll rip you from my skin!”

  Firo went quiet, and the resistance let up as she moved with him. The scuffle had left him disheveled and uncomfortable in his own clothes, and his hair was suddenly now a mess too.

  “Piece of shit…!”

  He fumbled with his hairclip, trying to fix it, before giving up and ripping it from his bangs, and throwing it to the floor, alongside the cross pendant that he now found suddenly uncomfortable around his neck.

  The both of them splashed into Nariseer’s pool of blood as Alisson left the tent.

  “Where are the prisoners!?”

  Alisson ordered his men to take him to where the prisoners were, and they complied warily, eyeing his bloodied body.

  “We don’t have many here at the camp, we haven’t finished moving all of them, sir.”

  “Good enough…”

  Alisson growled before approaching a line of Irinians and drawing his sword. He began to systematically stab them, going down the line, cutting them up, leaving some bleeding and screaming out.

  The Sidonians around him looked on with wide eyes.

  He looked to them after he was finished and shouted, “Kill them all! Make them suffer and pay for what they did!” He pointed to the row of executed prisoners, “All of them! Spare no mercy and give no quarter – I want all of them dead!”

  He shouted out.

  “A-at once, General Alisson!”

  The men fearfully followed his sorders.

  “Alisson! What the hell are you doing!”

  He heard Daventdale sprinting to him as he whistled for his stallion.

  “I’m killing the enemy, as we’ve been ordained by Sidonia to do!”

  “This isn’t war! This is butchery! Alisson!” Daventdale tried to stop him, but Alisson shook free of the 51st captain with his superior strength and mounted his stallion who had come in response to his call.

  “Wait!”

  “Those who wish to do their duty, come with me! Make Sidonia and your fallen comrades proud! Kill them all!”

  Alisson called as he spurred his horse toward Na’baath. Dascha tried to keep up, sprinting on all fours, but was left behind, barking and whining at Alisson as he rode out of her reach.

  He arrived at Na’baath, and ordered what groups of prisoners he found to be executed, slowly. He decided chasing live prey would be a better use of his abilities, and charged deeper into the city toward the sounds of fighting. He dismounted his horse and walked through Sidonian lines toward a fortified house.

  “Wait, General! It’s not safe! They have this whole area locked down!”

  Spells were fired out of a building and toward Alisson as he crossed a street.

  “Obice.”

  He deployed three shielding spells in quick sucession as they were brought and broken by the intense amount of fire as he walked toward the building, completely draining him of mana. It felt so exhilarating to fight with so little care; to bathe in his own power and control of a situation – He didn’t need this mana as a safety net…He didn’t need anything! Only his own power!

  He dove through a window, impaling an Irinian. He threw knives to his sides, cutting down another two, and continuing a flurry of bladework through the whole building until its walls were covered in blood.

  “W-wait! I surrender! I give up!”

  Alisson broke into a crazed smirk at the surrendering man in the corner of the room. He threw one knife at a time into each of his limbs, listening to his screams, each time feeling them reverberate through his cold and shivering body.

  “What a rush…” Alisson said to himself, feeling phlegm leak out of his mouth as he smiled. Sidonian troops arrived in the moments thereafter,

  “Sir, are you alright?”

  “I’m feeling great, thank you for asking…” He walked past the surrendering man who was still yelling out in pain and pointed down at him,

  “This one, hang him.”

  “W-where are you going, General?” A Sidonian asked him nervously.

  “To find more.”

  Alisson vaulted out a broken window and whistled for his horse, quickly mounting it and going on the search for more, still feeling his heart thumping against his chest at lightning-fast rate, not wanting to feeling to end.

  Finally, he found another hold out, and dismounted off his horse.

  Just then, a group of Angels landed behind him.

  “Brother Alisson, stop this madness.”

  He flashed a look back at them before continuing to pace toward Sidonian lines. They flew nearer and grabbed him. “Stop, please.” They said in calm, monotone voices.

  “Let go of me! Lest I you wish I do not spare you the same wrath I give to the enemy!”

  Sidonians from the combat lines infront of him saw Angels struggling with him, and rushed to his aid,

  “Get your hands off the General!”

  The two sides quickly descended into a physical scuffle of pushing and punching, wrestling Alisson free.

  “Thank you, comrades, these Angels seem to be traitors!”

  Just before he could speak any further, he heard a familiar voice call to him from down the street,

  “Alisson! Stop! Just rest for a moment!”

  It was Daventdale, alongside several 51st; siblings he had fought with for decades. Seeing the sight made him stunned for a moment, and he stepped back.

  “Excuse the General’s behavior, but this is urgent!”

  Daventdale dismounted from his horse, and before Alisson could react, Daventdale embraced Alisson in a hug.

  “Please, Alis, calm yourself!”

  He was stunned, and shook and quivered.

  “Get…get off of me…” Alisson muttered between heavy breaths.

  Claus, a large womanly healer, neared, also embracing Alisson. “Alis…You’re scaring us.”

  A glow resounded through the area as Claus began casting a low tier healing spell on him. Both of them were taller than him, as most grown Nekomata were, so he was smothered from both sides.

  “S-stop it…I’m not wounded! I’m not so weak as to get wounded from these-”

  “Please, be quiet, Alis…” Daventdale spoke into his ear, and Alisson stiffened. “You’ve saved me so many times from bloodlust…You stopped us all so many times in the past.” Daventdale continued, “I never thought it would be our turn to help you.”

  Alisson shivered as he felt his comrades hold him tightly, the healing spell flowing through his body gradually slowed his heart and warmed his veins. He realized he had been breathing heavily as if he were exhausted, and slowed his breathing with a few deep breaths.

  “Better now?” Claus asked, smiling gently at him.

  Alisson didn’t respond, looking away. Without his hairclip, his bangs fell over his eyes loosely.

  With a heavy thud, another Angel landed behind him.

  “Alisson.”

  It was Throne Constantius.

  His 51st tepidly backed away, and Alisson turned to face him guiltily.

  Constantius stepped forward and laid a hand on Alisson’s shoulder.

  “We need to talk.”

  ***

  End Movement 5