It was this that I concluded.
There was a force behind him, something truly great and undeniably real, something rooted within this world rather than outside it.
I felt no doubt.
Rosen was not one to speak thoughtlessly, nor was he capable of lying in passing.
For him to say something he "could not" do carried more weight than any threat he could ever voice.
I braced myself for a swift and humiliating defeat, only for the world around me to shift without warning.
Daylight returned, but it was not the same day.
The sun hung at a different height. The air was different. Time had moved in a way I had not witnessed.
He walked up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Do not feel too bad. Your weakness shall become something great."
Nothing had occurred. No flash, no spell, no sound. And yet, in the next instant, I stood among bodies.
Blood clung to the warm air.
The ground was painted in streaks and pools of red that seeped into the soil like it was trying to bury the truth.
The stench was suffocating, a wet metallic rot that clung to my lungs.
Bugs crawled through torn flesh, their wings beating lazily as they fed.
Animals had already begun to tear into soft tissue, ripping pieces free and dragging them into the underbrush.
These were the bodies of those I was meant to command. The bodies of those I was meant to lead.
And I was forced to watch.
This was my punishment? How cruel.
I could not move. I could not act.
Any gesture, any motion, would stain me with an arrogance I did not deserve.
Standing still felt like the only dignity I had left.
I could no longer accept the notion that I was a good person, even by comparison to bad ones.
I must be a terrible person. I must be the worst of the worst.
Because in this moment, staring at the carnage of men who trusted me, I did not cry.
I did not lament.
I did not despair.
I did not feel sorrow.
Before this tragedy, I felt nothing.
The tragedy itself meant nothing.
What pained me was only the loss of men, the loss of troops, the loss of weapons that were to be used for future battles.
Someone stumbled toward me through the corpses, bloodied and broken, yet undeniably alive in the way their eyes locked onto mine.
It was Jennifer.
She limped forward, carrying another man slung over her shoulder with a strength she should not have had in her condition.
I do not think she noticed. But the man's head was cleanly severed.
Yes. Her eyes were filled with blood. How could she notice anything at all?
I lowered my gaze and let my sword fall from my hands.
The steel hit the earth with a dull, defeated thud.
"I am sorry."
She trudged through the bodies, the blood, and the shattered swordspears and armor.
She reached me carefully and looked up. "What are you sorry for? You look terrible."
I handled the realization that she was right, and yes, I too was injured, greatly.
I coughed in that moment and struggled to breathe.
She slowly turned her head to the man in her arms.
She realized then that he was dead, and she slowly set him down after that.
She looked back up at me.
"Come on, I'll heal you first."
Before I could attempt to refuse, my body felt slightly rejuvenated, her subtle embrace grounding me in a way I was not prepared for.
I coughed again, this time from relief. It was relief, something someone as pitiful as me should never have been able to feel.
I turned to the sky.
"You must have great plans. I must be the darkness which lies within them."
***
{Sansir Promise.}
There was word of a terrible loss in the south, something unexpected from Nicole.
Facing Rosen had been unlucky from the start. Not only was he strong, but a genius in battle.
Meanwhile, I had an easier path, an army relative in size, a battle tame, and minimal losses on either side.
It was a stalemate of sorts, one that would not last.
Rosen would come with his own army, though the same could be said for me.
I had reinforcements prepared to stop him.
There were other fighters besides Malachi, Nicole, and myself capable of holding back Rosen.
Yet unleashing them recklessly was dangerous. An example would be that sneaky bastard, Ouroboros.
Still, it didn't truly matter. I would handle the man before me swiftly.
I held my sword, running my hands through my hair as I bit down on my tongue.
Blood dripped onto my blade as the sacraments were fulfilled.
Gratell had blessed me with his dreadful power, the ability to remove mental and physical restrictions from myself.
I was at the peak of power I could attain for now. Dalinar, who stood before me on the flat, cleared land, was not.
He had spiky black hair with white split ends, black eyes dark as night, and pale skin.
His armor was unique, fully black, bearing a sigil, a broken sword across the chest.
That was the crest of Fertical, symbolizing the broken sword left behind by its founder.
Dalinar carried a long black sword and had a rough, yet annoyingly beautiful face.
He seemed confident, and rightly so.
His power was close to mine.
Earlier, I had struck him at his weakest, rendering him temporarily vulnerable, yet he remained formidable.
I knew he was stronger overall, but that would not stop me.
I summoned bronze fire, wrapping it around my blade, and blasted forward.
The soldiers around us screamed as he matched my strike.
We traded blows, flowing across the plains.
My fire rampaged, forcing steady soldiers from both sides to flee.
This battle would decide the fate of the assault. Malachi had succeeded; Nicole had failed. I had to win to settle the frozen scale.
He subtly manipulated darkness, canceling out my raging flames.
His eyes never left my neck, as if his sole goal was to slaughter me.
Ambition coursed through him, and ambition is never wise.
Using my ability, I gave him something far worse, my failures, my accidents, my faults.
As he lunged, he missed. My elbow slammed into his head, sending him to the ground.
At the same moment, I flicked my wrist, summoning a pillar of flame.
He was launched into the air, surviving only thanks to a shield of darkness he conjured at the last moment.
His eyes were not filled with rage, but with interest.
Silence fell. Everything went dead silent.
My sword remained frozen upwards, and all I could hear was his voice.
"Silent Darkness."
In a swift motion, blood splurged from my chest as he drifted to the ground.
So this was an ability that bypassed the laws of cause and effect, an ability that made all things silent.
I flipped backward, evading his next strike, and landed on my feet.
"What a terrifying power. Must you really use it so brazenly?" I asked, mostly as a joke.
He lifted his sword again. "I shall use it without thinking. I am a mindless mutt."
I let out a light chuckle. "Is that something you call yourself often?"
He narrowed his eyes. "It is the only thing you need to know."
Arrogant man indeed.