Dance With the Devil

Seberg twisted around instantly to face Saffron, now that Scourge was momentarily thrown away. His head cocked to the side slightly as she yelled at him, suggesting he dodge when she released a blast out of her mechanical arm. He moved to the side in preparation… only to find it twisting towards him. “Hah!” he laughed as he was forced to make a last minute twist of his body to avoid the blast, only for it to circle back around towards him. And Saffron was smartly rushing in to join, hoping that he would be forced to pick and choose when to dodge and when to fight, buying her some time. It was clever, oh so clever! He was actually impressed!

His fighting style changed again. He fell down onto all fours and began rushing towards her. As her first few attacks came in, he dodged around her with the speed of the fastest creature alive, morphing around her strikes and follow up blasts and swiping at her legs, her sides, anything he could. At the same time, he bounced around the battlefield, the energy bullet still following after him. It would force Saffron into a defensive position, as keeping up with him was near impossible. They had seemingly reached a stalemate, with him unable to fully hurt her and she fully able to chase him. But then Scourge came rushing out of the rubble, rock and stone exploding outwards as the energy-cloaked former Dread Master zipped in front of Seberg, landing a heavy punch to his face. But Seberg was already twisting his head back, grinning as his body suddenly lurched to the side… and revealed the energy bullet rocketing in from behind. And in a move that was more horrifying than impressive, his arm swung forward to hit the bullet from behind and slam it into Scourge’s body.

It exploded, sending the two flying away from one another. Seberg flipped through the air and landed in a crouch once more, his hands hanging by his sides with his fingers still splayed violently. Scourge managed to land on the ground out of the explosion, though the top half of his gi had been incinerated in the blast. Snorting, the former Dread Master reached up and pulled off the remnants of his gi top, ripping them off of his body and throwing them onto the ground. “Look at you glow,” Seberg remarked to Saffron before he took a deep inhale. “You two are starting to get serious. I suppose I should as well.” His limbs pulsed as renewed strength pumped into his muscles, the ground cracking beneath his feet. With another laugh, he rushed back in just as Scourge joined Saffron in the assault once more.

---

It wouldn’t take Vriko very long to find Knowhere; the sounds of battle were echoing down the hall, a loud beacon for her to follow. She came rushing in quickly, her steps indistinguishable against the sounds of the Maker clones attacking. In a flurry of movement, she weaved between them, slicing bodies into pieces as she came sliding in front of Khelben, just as another Maker clone was bringing his blade down. He seemed to swing through Vriko… only no wound opened on her torso. Instead, she slowly lifted her blade up and away, as if she had just swung at him. “Full Counter,” she said coolly. The full brunt of the clone’s attack, added into her own strength, slammed into the clone, decimating him into meaty chunks that splattered on the nearby wall.

She took a moment to catch her breath, turning to look at Khelben. “Worse scrapes, huh?” she was able to ask him in that brief moment of peace. But the sound of more footsteps approaching drew her attention to the other hallway. She flicked her sword away from her, spraying gore along the wall and cleaning her blade in one easy motion before it would be coated again. “We have a timeframe on how long this is going to take?” she asked into the headset as she jumped back into battle with the clones, dodging blasts to bury herself among their ranks.

---

“My connections are growing but… I still have a long way to go,” Quentin spoke into Mythal’s mind. He could feel the strain in the Sage’s voice, the act of trying to talk, communicate with the dead and focus on a ritual taking its toll.

“Any kind of guesstimate. Somethin’ we can go by,” Mythal spoke up as he looked at the husks. They had begun to pile up against the barriers that both he and Serilda had created, quite literally climbing on top of one another. They lay against the shield with their faces looking at them, groaning and moaning as their undead, soulless eyes stared at the pair behind the invisible wall.

“Minutes… maybe… I don’t know… I’m sorry…” Quentin replied.

Mythal growled softly in annoyance, though not necessarily at Quentin. Already the situation had escalated and he simply couldn’t imagine what it was like on Earthland. “Alright, just keep workin’, Quentin. We ain’t gotta timeframe. It’ll be done when it gets done,” Mythal spoke into the headset, shooting a glance over to Serilda. “We’ve got a planet of undead husks trying to get to us. Not sure what’s happenin’ but the Terran’s bodies are… moving.”

---

Though things were definitely getting more complicated across all situations, it seemed that the one against Maker was going to be pulled off. Vandrad and Blade had kept him off balance, refusing to allow him to get close to Mercury so they could work together. And Ego and Merciala had been keeping ‘Mercury’ occupied, fighting with such believable killing intent that it had to be real. Frankly it was; the clone was just that and it perishing wasn’t going to hurt the actual Mercury. But it was important that they time it right and given how many minutes had already passed since they knew that Saffron and Scourge were fighting for their very lives. Merciala gave the word and the clone flashed the knowing smirk that she needed.

Ego cackled as she twisted her arm around ‘Mercury’s’ defense and landed the killing blow. Her toxic energy rushed into the clone’s torso as it knocked her back and she began to wail in utter agony. Already the magic went to work, breaking down her atoms from the inside, draining her body of life as quickly as an acidic liquid would break down matter.

Maker spun to look at Mercury, his eyes widening. “Mercury!!” he screamed, his magical power exploding off of him as he rushed to her, ignoring Vandrad and Blade honing in on him. But as he rushed to the clone, the future king and Terran slowed their approach, opting to watch instead as he went to the woman. He landed practically on his knees to catch her as she fell, holding her in his arms as she violently shook. “Mercury… Mercury…” he said softly, looking down at her. The damage was already too well spread; there was nothing he could do to stop it, even if he wanted to. His eyes wavered as she begged him to help her, his hand reaching up to gently caress her cheek. “No…no…” he muttered pitifully as she gagged and choked and finally settled, her body going limp in his arms.

Time seemed to come to a standstill for the Terran as he looked at the lifeless form of the woman. He didn’t even realize that tears were in his eyes, his breath caught and held in his lungs. The first person besides himself that he had ever trusted, that he’d ever really cared for… and now she was gone. Killed by the same people that she had once been allied with. His mouth, hanging agape in agony and sorrow, began to close into a bared snarl. His shoulders rose and fell heavily as his own anger began to bubble over, his breath coming in and out in pained growls. His head snapped up to look directly at Ego, filled with killing intent unlike anything he had ever shown before.

But he didn’t get a chance to act. Sharp, agonizing pain filled his entire torso and he gasped as his eyes turned to look down… to find the corpse of Mercury having shifted, burying her blade into his chest. She’d impaled him so deeply that the blade was poking out of his back, blood coating the metal and running down his clothing. A rasp of pain escaped his throat… only to find another agonizing pain shooting through him as an arrow punctured the back of his neck and protruded out the front. His eyes were bulging as thick rivers of purple blood poured out of the holes in his neck, filling his throat and mouth. The clone was smirking at him, proclaiming that she deserved an award. Then she asked him if he really had truly believed she would stay by his side after everything he had done.

Another voice spoke behind him, that of the bounty hunter. He gurgled and coughed up blood as he managed to turn to face Merciala as she stated that she would never betray Vandrad. Suddenly the clone was gone, disappearing into magical smoke as if she’d never been anything but. And that was the truth, wasn’t it? She had never been real; she had been some creation of Mercury’s. Realization caught up to him too fast as Merciala’s disguise fell away and revealed the real Mercury beneath, stating plainly and coldly that she would never choose him. Maker was able to find the strength to stumble to his feet, reaching up to grab at the arrow in his throat but unable to remove it. He looked around at each person surrounding him, unable to speak but the glare he was giving each of them speaking volumes more than he could ever put into words.

When he finally came to a stop, a loud gunshot rang out. Maker’s head snapped back and he was knocked several feet away from where he’d been standing as he hit the ashen soil hard. Just as Vandrad had suggested, Hosrius had waited for the perfect shot and when the Terran had stopped and even looked at him, he’d pulled the trigger, burying a bullet into the maniac’s head.

Vandrad didn’t wait long after the Terran’s body had gone still. Magical energy funneled into his hand and he sent it straight at the corpse in a deadly beam. When he cut off the flow, smoke billowed off the freshly burnt ground, with no trace of Maker left in its wake. Finally Vandrad let out a sigh and let his Empowerment disappear off of him.

“Did… we get him?” Hosrius asked over the headset.

"Unless he can come back from ash, I believe we did,” Vandrad said, watching the spot for a moment longer before he turned to the rest of the group. "Zemenar, we’ve dealt with Maker. Give us an update on the rest of the teams so we can split up accordingly. We need to go and extract Saffron and Scourge as well as aid Vriko and Khelben.”

A rumble of thunder rolled over the sky and as Vandrad glanced up, he saw that storm clouds had rolled in. That was strange; there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky moments ago and there definitely wasn’t any indication of approaching storms. It was then that he felt something; he couldn’t even properly call it his magical sense. It was something specific, something unique… it was as if Energy Monarch itself was sounding an alarm inside of him.

“Vandrad…” Ego spoke up, having felt it too.

Yet before Vandrad could speak, a familiar voice spoke from all around them. “I should really be thanking you all,” the dulcet, yet no-less angry voice of Maker echoed across the entire valley. “I had allowed myself to… feel. To care. To believe that someone could possibly be my equal. I let my guard down for the first time in my life… and I very nearly died because of it. You have shown me the truth that I’ve always known; I can only rely on me. No one else has the capacity, has the will, to perfect this universe save for me.”

Vandrad and Ego suddenly turned towards the ship’s entrance and there stood Maker. Blood was still fresh on his neck, lips and body but the wounds that had been inflicted on him were already healing. The look in his eye was deranged, filled with unbridled rage that could only come from heartbreak and betrayal. Blade exploded from his spot, rushing at his brother as quickly as possible. He roared as she came upon Maker, sword at the ready and swinging at the Terran’s neck…

Only for the blade to explode upon impact. Blade only had a moment to register the broken weapon before he was flying backwards, an invisible shockwave overwhelming him and continuing forward to slam into the rest of the group. It would be hard enough to push them back, force them into defensive positions so as to not lose their footing. Maker’s form began to glow, a ball of light overwhelming him and hiding him in it for several seconds.

And then it exploded outwards, shards of light that fluttered upwards like leaves falling in reverse. Maker had transformed; his mohawk had exploded into full, upright hand, spiked and stiff not unlike the way Vandrad’s hair changed. A glowing structure hung behind him, two circles around an upside-down cross. Even his clothes had changed, more regal and unscathed from battle. His hands hung down by his sides as he floated in the air before them, eyes closed as he reveled in his own increase in magical power.

"Everyone, get ready!” Vandrad yelled as his Empowerment overtook him again.

“There is no ready, Vandrad. There is only the extinction,” Maker’s voice boomed out of him as his eyes slid open. His arms came up in front of him, palms facing one another on top and on bottom. Magic formed in the space between his hands, a throbbing light that began to grow brighter with each passing nanosecond. And before Vandrad could say anything else…

“Energy Master Control Secret Art: Disable.”

As quickly as the Empowerment had overtaken Vandrad, it disappeared. The cobalt aura of his burned up, as if the fire had been put out aggressively. The future king stared in horrified shock as he flexed his arms, trying to draw his magical power out. Similarly, Ego’s burning green flames sputtered out and in a flashed of light, Patricia had returned, collapsing to her knees.

“What… what did you do?” Patricia asked in bewilderment.

“I locked away your ability to use Energy Monarch. It will not be used against me, its usurper, its superior form. And I will not suffer you all any longer,” Maker replied as he gently waved his hands in front of him. The symbol on his back suddenly burst with light and thick, jagged bolts of magical lightning came rushing at the group, aiming to incinerate them to ash in one single blow.

---

Scourge had been in the middle of giving himself some room away from Seberg when it hit. His Empowerment burned up as well, leaving him powerless as he stood there, shocked. “What?!” he asked no one as he, too, tried to pull from his magical core.

Seberg already saw his opening, the former Dread Master leaving him wide open. He zipped away from Saffron and appeared in front of Scourge, slamming his fist into the man’s sternum. Scourge, unprotected with any kind of magical defenses, gasped, spittle flying from his mouth, as all the air in his lungs was punched out and his entire torso seemed to concave around the hit. He was sent flying back into the rubble of a building, disappearing once more under the collapsing ruins as Seberg turned to Saffron. “He’s starting to look more like a liability than anything else,” he informed the blonde as he rushed at her, now even more invigorated with bloodlust as he began to charge at her again.

But, even to his surprise, Scourge reappeared. And he had changed; he was sporting a tail and red fur covered it and the entirety of his upper torso. His hair had grown as well, more like a mane than anything else. He took advantage of Seberg’s moment of surprise and slammed a fist into his chest as well, pushing through and sending the rogue Rhaegarian flying into another one of the ruins. “Shut your goddamn mouth,” Scourge hissed as he reached up to clutch at the spot where Seberg had hit him. His chest was definitely damaged, red and bruising already. It felt like his chestplate was cracked, if not altogether broken.

And without Energy Monarch, somehow inexplicably torn from him, he couldn’t fully heal it at that moment. He growled as he shook off the pain as best he could. It didn’t matter; he wasn’t going to let broken bones stop him from backing up Saffron. “I don’t have Energy Monarch anymore,” he told Saffron as the rubble began to move, Seberg’s cackle echoing out from it. “Something’s happened. Something bad.”

“And I don’t know what we can do about it.”

“Blade!”

A voice echoed out from the very fringe reaches of his consciousness. He could hear rushing in his ears, pain in his abdomen beginning to rise up and send his nerves into high alert. A groan escaped his lips as the voice spoke up again.

“Blade!”

It was louder now and there was also the rumble of something. Possibly thunder or something else? Weakly, his eyes fluttered as his world began to rise back up to join the living one.

“Blade!”

Blade woke with a start, his consciousness fully returned. As he tried to move, he felt a sharp pain shoot through him from his right side. Wincing, he looked over and found a sharp point of stone sticking through his shoulder. His purple blood was coated in it and dripped down onto his body. A hand pressed itself on his other side and there was Hosrius, kneeling beside him.

“Don’t move too much,” the Jirian said as he pulled up his armband. He put in a command and then bent over Blade, taking hold of his shoulder with both arms on his good side. “Alright, this is going to hurt a lot.”

Blade expected a countdown but it never came as the Jirian pulled him off the rock. He let out a yell of pain as he was pulled free of the stone, blood beginning to pour out from the wound on both sides. Hosrius’ armband popped an opening and poured a foam over the front of the injury, causing the Terran to yelp in agony before turning the hose to the other side. The foam was steaming as it settled in and began to harden over the wound. “That’ll keep you from bleeding out. But that arm isn’t going to be any good.”

“I don’t… care…” Blade growled, trying to stand up. “I can’t… stop…”

“You will only be a hindrance,” Hosrius told him sternly, pushing down on the Terran’s shoulder and keeping him in place. As he looked back over his shoulder at the brightly glowing and somehow resurrected Maker, worry shone vibrant in his eyes. “At this point, I think we both are…”

And they weren’t the only ones. Vandrad and Patricia could only stand in there in utter shock, robbed of their abilities to participate in the fight. As Maker resolved to wipe them out in one go, Vandrad could only grit his teeth as the powerful bolts of lightning surged from Maker’s halo, lacking a better description for it, and honed in on all of them. But Mercury was prepared, summoning a metal pipe that acted as a lighting rod. The lightning curled in and struck her, covering in crackling bolts of electricity that had to fall within the millions of volts range. Maker watched with the same frantic anger, lacking in amusement or smugness at the moment, as the woman he had just wept over seemingly threw her life away to protect everyone else. But Maker… somehow knew it was something more than that. Protection was one thing and self sacrifice was certainly another but it lacked strategy. Killing herself then would only delay everyone else’s death by seconds at minimum, minutes at most.

No… this was something else. Yet another trick that she had planted to lead him in one direction so that it would work in her favor. The Mercury he’d been with had been a clone; it was entirely possible that the real Mercury could have altered parts of her biology to make him believe certain aspects. Such as her weakness to lightning, which he could already hear the sound of it being slurped up like a loud customer at a restaurant. His jaw tightened in further annoyance and anger, even as the light about her reached a breaking point and she released a guttural roar. Light zipped all around the battlefield as a new, transformed Mercury now stood before him and her allies. It was an impressive change, there was no doubting that; she looked even more mechanical and cybernetic than she ever did in her natural form. His eyes narrowed slightly; a Slayer of some kind? He’d researched the different types of magic on Earthland and knew when a Slayer consumed a certain amount of one element, they reached something called… Force.

It all made sense -- irritating sense but sense nonetheless. He watched and waited as she addressed him, admitting that his prior ‘death’ had been unsatisfying in terms of payoff. If he was going to provide a second chance for her to make sure he was in the ground, she was happy to take her shot. And in movement that even he couldn’t fully follow, she was before him, already swinging her fist in at him. It came to a crashing halt against an invisible bubble, the shield flashing into existence with a roll of light from the impact. Cracks formed where her fist had hit but the barrier didn’t give way. In fact, it had already begun to repair itself. Maker, in spite of his anger, couldn’t help but laugh; a soft, menacing sound as he hovered in the air with his eyes closed. “I suppose I should throw everything you’ve ever told me into the trash. To think I had thought I had a partner…” Slowly his eyes opened to fix upon her face. “Your opportunity to kill me is here then, Mercury. But is it worth the life of your friends? Of your fiance?”

His arm made a motion outwards and thousands of magical pellets materialized in the air above the entirety of the battlefield. His arm swung forward and the crackling pellets, fully formed of pure ethernano, surged downwards in an onslaught of explosive magical energy.

Vandrad had very little time to react but instinct was faster than he could ever be prepared for. In a rush of fiery magical power, he connected to the Ark and roared as dreadether rushed up in a wave towards the pellets. It vaporized enough of them to save the area where they were, even as the rest of the grounds were treated to explosive impacts. Vandrad kept pulling from the Ark, a magical light popping up from his lower back and forming into a tail. His armor began to crack and break apart as his muscles expanded, snapping completely off his body as his hair began to grow down over his shoulders. Vibrant red hair rose out of his flesh to cover his arms and torso and with one final surge of energy, he completed his Take Over.

It wasn’t as strong as it should be, or rather as strong as Scourge was capable of making it. And already the future king could feel Scourge’s connection to the Ark, meaning they were both drawing from it at the same time. That meant that the Dread Master must have been affected by Maker’s spell as well. The clock was ticking on how long both he and Scourge had in their Caliban forms. "Mercury, I’ve got this covered. Take care of that bastard,” he called out as he coated his arms in dreadether.

“Do you now?!” Maker roared back with manic laughter. Energy surged outwards in the direction of Mercury, a shockwave meant to knock her back. Maker’s hands ignited with flames and then exploded into large, flowing funnels of fire as he began to spin like a top. The massive pillars roared in towards Vandrad and company, forcing the future king to rush the fire and slam his fist into it, dissipating the flames temporarily. But Maker continued to spin and his path took him towards the living ship as well. He’d concentrated the beam of fire so well that as it ripped through the ship, it cut the entire top half off cleanly, a melted line through the castle illusion. It flickered and gave way to its real form as the entire top half of the ship began to fall down towards the ground.

Maker continued to laugh as he came around, bringing his arms together and focusing the pillars into one large column at Mercury. But even as he did that, more energy pellets appeared in the air, now completely focused on the area where Vandrad and the rest of the group were. Down they fell, halberd-shaped constructions of deadly light crashing towards the allied men and women.

“Ah, ah, ah!” a voice called out as a green shield suddenly appeared over Vandrad, Patricia, Hosrius and Blade. The blasts exploded against the shield harmlessly, leaving smoky remains before the barrier dissipated. A loud buzz filled the air as none other than Genesis came soaring down from the sky, landing next to the future king and the doctor. “Sorry I’m late. But apparently I came right on time to check out this delicious, hairy form of yours, Vandrad,” Genesis remarked with a playful smirk, looking at Vandrad.

"Genesis… how?” Vandrad asked, genuinely surprised.

“Growing a conscience takes some time, at least for some. For Grubar, it took about a day and a half before the ship was filled with Scengar curses that I’d really rather not repeat and suddenly we were turning around,” Genesis replied as he flexed his hands, creating two small shields in his palms before dismissing them. “Hi daddy, it’s been awhile!” Genesis called as he leapt forward, his wings opening and buzzing as he took off and joined the battle. He sent two small shields rushing at the rogue Terran, exploding against the invisible shield.

“Wait… if he’s here,” Patricia spoke up softly. Vandrad already knew the second part of her question before she asked it.

Where was Grubar?

---

Scourge was far too focused and honestly, in far too much pain, to give any answer to Saffron’s playful comment. Truly a damn shame that he would regret for the rest of his life, however short that would be, but he just couldn’t lose his momentum now. He nodded in agreement to her comment about something happening to Vandrad, the only reasonable explanation to what was happening to the Dread Master. Yet he could feel Vandrad’s draw from the Ark, meaning he was surely still alive… something Maker had done then. That was concerning.

He couldn’t think about it any further than that. “Right there with you!” Scourge replied as he swung his hands forward, materializing the glowing scythe in them. He sent a wave of dreadether towards Seberg, who easily side stepped it and then moved to dodge Saffron’s follow up attack. With a sick cackle, he reengaged Saffron, once more peppering her with strikes and hits that would hopefully make her stronger. But he never stopped moving, dodging around like an expert boxer while still maintaining a wild sense to his fighting style.

He would find an opening to land a kick into Saffron’s side. But he’d upped his strength considerably with it, an attack that was easily double the power of the others. It would be enough to send her flying once more, only this time the rogue Rhaegarian had planned ahead so that the blonde would go flying right into Scourge, just as he was moving into a new position. It would knock the two to the ground and Seberg would dash up into the air and come down towards them, a punch aimed at Saffron on top and, seemingly meant to go through them both.

Yet it would never hit. Instead something else would hit [/i]him[/i]. He was so focused on Scourge and Saffron, his wild senses had never even alerted him to the heavy footfalls rushing in. But a massive tank of a creature slammed into him as he came down, tackling him and carrying him several feet before it spun around and sent him flying into another set of ruins. Scourge could only look up in absolute fucking shock as Grubar stood staring at the spot he’d just thrown the Rhaegarian.

“Jumpy little shit, isn’t he?” the Scengar grunted.

“Grubar..?” Scourge asked. “How?”

“I had Genesis hack into your communication network; wasn’t hard since we were already connected to it in the first place. From there, he used that computer brain of his to triangulate everyone’s positions and we split up,” the Scengar punched his fists together. “He thought I should go help Hos but… I had to do right by you.” It was clear he was talking to Saffron, even though he wasn’t directly looking at her. “I know I have a lot more to do to make up for what I said but… I ain’t leaving. So might as well use me while I’m here.”

Before he’d even fully finished his sentence, Seberg reappeared behind him, already in motion for a kick. It landed heavily against the Scengar’s armor, knocking him forward and the rogue Rhaegarian had already landed and dashed in front, his hand in a knife edge. As it came up to try and pierce Grubar’s armor, it connected… only enough to crack the plating. But the Scengar had slammed his hands around Seberg’s hand, stopping it before it went too deep.

He looked down at Seberg with a glowing grin. Wait, glowing? Something was flickering behind his teeth. “Gotcha,” he said briefly. “FIRE DRAGON ROAR!” And with that chant, flames erupted from his mouth, completely swallowing up Seberg and bathing him in fire.

As the fiery eruption pilfered out, Seberg was nowhere to be found. But a glance off to the side would find him crouched on another part of the ruins. Smoke billowed off his form, his skin blemished with ash but not nearly as burnt as it should be. He grinned down at Grubar, Saffron and Scourge. “This just keeps getting more fun…” he commended them, even as his muscles expanded further. His hair seemed to grow as well, sharper peaks that extended away from his head. He gripped the piece of ruin beneath him and shattered it before he charged in once more, clearly basking in the uneven odds and the new surprises that kept coming.

Vandrad was completely on the defensive. The Ark granted him a lot of abilities, many of which he hadn’t tapped into or properly utilized, but none of the ones that he had used gave him flight. He’d always paired Energy Monarch with the alternative power. Now without his original magic, he was able to give himself superhuman ability with Caliban but even that wasn’t wholly practiced. It was only under Victoria’s training had he even been able to tap into it and he was nowhere near Scourge when it came to controlling its magical drain. But if he didn’t use it, he would be completely and utterly powerless and unable to protect the likes of Patricia, Hosrius and Blade. Already the Terran warrior had been injured enough to get out of the battle but it could only get worse if Maker decided to take his attention off of Mercury for even a moment.

But the rogue Terran seemed to be thinking of everything, all at once. He’d used his flames to attack the group on the ground as well as the ship, sacrificing the unique vessel that he’d once marveled over and showcased with such pride. He knew it was compromised, he could feel it in his very core and so, rather than let it fall, he had resorted to burning everything to the ground. He’d sliced off the top half of the ship, letting it fall to the ground with a thunderous crash that kicked up ash and dirt all over while melted pieces of the now fully materialized ship dripped down to the surface. Then he’d focused his fire on Mercury, temporarily focused on the ship, thereby betraying that there were people inside that she was concerned about. He wasn’t able to hit her properly but he’d pushed her back.

Only for someone else to join, just in time to save Vandrad and company. The homunculus came soaring down from the skies not unlike a hero from the story books, utilizing his unique shielding to protect the attack group that wasn’t Mercury and then launching himself into the battle, pounding his weak attacks against the Terran’s shield. Maker’s eyes flitted over to the homunculus with disdain. “Genesis…” he growled.

“The one and only, daddy,” Genesis said with a chuckle as he glanced at Mercury. “Every barrier has limits and I’m more than happy to back up that fine ass of yours to find its breaking point.” The homunculus grinned as he summoned more orbs and tossed them against the shield, causing it to flash into existence with each impact.

So she knew Genesis personally. The way they spoke to one another, with such friendly, jovial comfort. She’d sought him out, no doubt thanks in part to Hosrius and Blade. Maker’s rage grew ever stronger as more magical power surged up from inside of him, his halos growing brighter. His shield intensified just in time for Mercury to summon a full squadron of drones that completely surrounded him. Lasers burst to life from the devices, peppering his shield with impact after impact. The shield was fully alight as it was hit, rapidly repairing itself just a beat faster than the blasts that hit. “ENOUGH!” Maker roared as another shockwave ripped off of him, this time made up of an intensive, dense wind that would crush the drones all around them.

But he wasn’t done. His hands snapped out and the ground began to rumble throughout the entire area. And much to the surprise of everyone present, the ship he’d just cut in half began to pull itself from the ground, lifted by some unseen force. Maker’s body twisted back, as if he was preparing to throw a javelin… which it seemed was exactly what he was going to do. With a grunt of effort, his arm flung forward and the ship would go flying, tossed away from the battlefield and seemingly destined to crash into the forested area beyond the perimeter of the former du Wolff lands. He seemed confident that in doing so would put the people inside in extreme danger, possibly resulting in the ship exploding.

---

Vriko was so focused on the fighting, she almost missed the sudden change in background. As she finished dicing up a clone, her brow furrowed as she realized that the stony backdrop had changed into something much more alien and weird. There was also the sudden rumble, which she thought was just from the battle outside. She continued to focus on her battle, unaware of the ceiling rapidly losing stability and threatening to fall. The first time she became aware of it was when an arm was suddenly around her waist. “What the-?” she asked as Khelben essentially tackled her out of the way of the falling ceiling, rolling on the ground with him holding her close.

When they came to a stop, she found herself on top of him. A full sensory overload hit her as she realized how close he was, the smell of his body, the warmth of him against her, even with their clothing on. Her blush was as bright as a fully illuminated light as she pushed herself up and off of lying on top of him, only to find herself essentially straddling him. She looked back at where they had been, finding jagged metal pieces of the ceiling occupying the space they had just been. Khelben was talking into the headset, addressing the Rune Knights on Teras Prime and asking them to hurry up in the nicest way possible, given their situation.

Not that it was improving. The ship rumbled and loud screeching as the metal was unceremoniously manipulated filled the hall. It felt like the entire ship was trying to life… which made Vriko painfully aware that they were, in fact, probably being lifted up. “You gotta be fucking kidding me!” she cursed, her embarrassment forgotten. Twisting her katana around, she reached down with one hand to tug at Khelben’s suit, enough to stretch it slightly off his body. With a single thrust, she buried her katana through it and into the floor beneath as she held onto it, and him, for dear life as the ship was then thrown, causing the room to lose all sense of gravity.

---

While Mercury was dealing with keeping the ship from getting too far or taking too much damage, Maker’s hands extended towards the ground. Once more the earth rumbled beneath the feet of Vandrad and company, the soil splitting before rocky mounds began to thrust up from below. The future king grabbed Patricia around the waist and leapt into the air just as the ground shot up from beneath them and Genesis was forced to throw one of his shields around Blade and Hosrius, the rock column sending them flying up. The homunculus moved to go and catch them but a loud crack of lightning shot out of Maker’s hands, zapping him and immobilizing him. The rogue Rhaegarian motioned his crackling hand down and slammed Genesis into the ground, even as Hosrius and Blade crashed to the ground. The shield burst upon impact, scattering the two bounty hunters on the cracked and broken ground, both men lying motionless.

He disconnected his stream of lightning, just in case Mercury decided to dart in and suck it up for an additional energy boost. Instead his hands spun inward towards his chest, once more making the same shape they had when he’d disconnected Vandrad and Patricia’s Energy Monarch. The air pressure began to intensify, gravity seeming to jump up several levels and pressing down into the broken soil below. It forced Vandrad and Patricia to the ground, even as Maker drew from their locked away Energy Monarch to increase his own magical power.

Genesis flew up beside Mercury, capable of handling the increased gravity… if only barely. “His mastery of his own Energy Monarch is annoyingly impressive. And that shield of his has a ridiculous threshold. I can only think of one thing that might shatter it.” A shield globe wrapped around him as he looked at the powered up Xocili. “Distract him for me. When you see me coming down, hit him with everything you got. Together… I think we just might do it.”

He let out a small laugh. “It’s been fun, Mercury. I’d hoped to party with you one more time but… well, that’s just the way things work out.” With what apparently seemed to be a farewell, he shot up into the air, his wings buzzing loudly as he ascended high into the sky. He would continue his ascent until had passed just into the thermosphere. Once there he stopped and began to pull in energy from the ultraviolet radiation of the sun. His body shook from the effort, the spots on his chitin covering beginning to gently glow…

---

“How about we just survive this before you make any promises?” Grubar was able to tell Saffron before Seberg was suddenly upon them again. Scourge and Saffron joined in and the melee between the four picked up. Slayer lacrima or not, Grubar was still the weakest of the group, getting knocked around and only managing to avoid major damage because of his natural resilience being boosted by his slayer abilities. But he held on, fighting with all of his might right along with Scourge and Saffron.

But the battle was beginning to turn. Scourge and Saffron had been fighting for what felt like hours at that point and the exhaustion that came from that near constant stream of powering themselves was beginning to wear and it was showing. Meanwhile Seberg, though covered in soot, cuts, bruises and blemishes seemed to be going just as strong, if not getting stronger. And it would only be a few more minutes of constant fighting that one of them was bound to make a mistake that would, almost certainly cost them their life.

Scourge seemingly was the one that did. As he finished up an attack, suddenly his Caliban form seemingly reached its limit. Just like that, he returned to his base form, eyes wide in surprise as he realized his time had run out. Seberg grinned as he quite literally kicked off Grubar and launched himself at the former Dread Master, his killing intent so strong that it was almost palpable. But just as his punch came in, Scourge’s lips twitched into a smirk. A final burst of magical power adjusted his trajectory, putting him just beyond the reach of the punch but still close to the rogue Rhaegarian. With both hands, he wrapped himself around Seberg’s arm and pulled back.

Seberg growled and brought up his other hand to quickly free himself. But Grubar had seen Scourge’s opening and read it correctly. He, too, had caught himself after being kicked off of and charged in, slamming his entire eight-foot frame into Seberg and grabbing his other arm. They would only be able to hold him for a second… but it was the second that they needed.

“Now Saffron!” came the combined yell from both men, using whatever leftover strength they had to open Seberg completely up, removing any kind of defense for the briefest of moments.

There were a lot of things that Vriko wasn’t but she did happen to be very creative when it came to moments of improvisations. That wasn’t a skill that she was born with; she had that particular ability beat into her by the likes of Serethar and Archimedes during her training. The ability to quickly maneuver out of a situation that was turning around against her and gaining the advantage again. So when she felt the ship moving, she knew it wasn’t under the guidance of the vehicle itself. Someone else was moving it and she highly doubted it was Vandrad, Mercury or anyone else she knew down there. And it wasn’t like the hallway was lined with seats that they could strap into. So with a slight pull and a hard stab, she pinned Khelben to the floor and hung onto him for dear life as the ship was thrown, the world around them shifting as gravity pulled at them seemingly from all sides. She’d worry about holding so tightly to him later, if there was a later. The way things were going, the ship was probably going to explode once it hit, killing them and destroying everything on board. One mission failed.

But as she was just beginning to prepare herself for that end, she could feel the slight pull of gravity in a different form. It was in the direction they were going but it also felt like the floor was pressing against them. That meant they were… slowing down? She didn’t dare lift her head up from Khelben’s chest, just in case some loose object smacked her and caused her to lose her grip. But he said Mercury’s name and she could only assume that the Xocili woman had found some way to save them. The last thing she wanted was to owe Mercury anything… but she couldn’t help but say a silent, internal thanks to the woman’s interference. Within seconds they had stopped and been set down, the ship shuddering as it came to rest. She pulled herself up from him, pulling the katana out of his shirt and making a note to apologize about it later. She stood up slowly, only for Khelben to practically jump to his feet and race to the console for Knowhere. As he explained, the ship was losing power, which meant that Knowhere was in trouble of losing power as well. He was doing his best to take whatever leftover energy the ship had left to funnel it into the living database but everything was failing right after the other and they were down to ninety seconds before catastrophe struck.

Vriko’s eyes snapped to the Xocili as he yelled for her, informing her that more clones were coming. “Why can’t you all just die?” she growled as she once more charged towards Maker clones, crawling and cutting their way through the debris. “Keep that damn thing online as long as you can, Khelben. I’ll keep these guys focused on me.”

“How noble but you--” One of the Maker clones was starting to spit out something smarmy and she stopped it before it went too far, cutting his head off right at the mouth. And then once more she was in the thick of it, weaving between enemies and magical blasts to cut down as many of the insufferable clones as she could, buying Khelben as much time as he could possibly get for Mythal and Quentin.

---

Mythal had been forced to sit on the ground, his magical power severely drained. As he sat with his head hung, he lifted his eyes as Zemenar’s voice came through, informing him of the situation with Knowhere. “Son of a bitch… won’t make it easy,” the Darkness Slayer groaned. “Quentin, give me some good news…”

“I wish I could but unfortunately, ninety seconds won’t be nearly enough time to secure all of the remaining spirits. At absolute maximum, drawing as much energy as I can, I could make it three minutes,” Quentin told him, sounding just as if not as exhausted as Mythal.

“Khelben… Quentin can’t do ninety seconds. Maybe double that if he really tries, which he’s definitely gonna start doin’ now,” Mythal said, both informing the other Xocili and telling Quentin what to do in one breath. His senses picked up on something and he lifted his head to see a wave of husks racing at them, a tidal wave of undead bodies groaning and hustling as much as their decrepit limbs would allow them. “Seri, better… reinforce your shield… just have to hold for thirty more seconds.” Mythal was panting softly at that point. He could feel the increased strain on his magic and he closed his eyes, giving a small shake of his head to focus on staying awake. He knew that Quentin could still work if he were to pass out…

But if something went wrong and the husks got in… he’d be a liability to Serilda. Not that he wasn’t that already. This damn day just couldn’t get any more complicated.

---

And yet it could.

Vandrad had never felt as useless, including the short amount of time that he had been without his magic. All he could do was play protector and he wasn’t even managing to pull that off as well as he’d have liked. He’d managed to grab Patty before the ground gave way and Genesis had flown in for a last minute grab of Hosrius and Blade but one bolt of electricity had been enough to take the homunculus’ attention away from that. Both of the alien bounty hunters had crashed to the ground and were incapacitated from what the future king could see. As he landed with Patricia, Maker took hold of the gravity in the area and intensified it, causing Vandrad to buckle under its weight. He held Patricia up as best he could, drawing even more from the Ark than he wanted. Already the bottom of the barrel was beginning to show, between him and Scourge pulling from it at the same time. He had maybe a minute before he lost the Take Over and then he would be pushed down too.

Maker was reveling in the pain he was causing to the group on the ground. From where he was, he could see Hosrius and Blade struggling, pushing the side of the Jirian’s face down into broken stone fragments, undoubtedly cutting into his flesh. Blade was lying on his back, his limbs splayed out as the ground cracked and gave way beneath him, pushing him into a humanoid-shaped crater that would be his tomb. And there were Mercury and Genesis, the only two that had managed to stay empowered, just barely managing to keep themselves from crashing to the ground below. Maker’s eyes narrowed as he watched his creation’s shield surround him and then he was off, soaring up into the sky. Attempting to run away or seek help from somewhere else? It wouldn’t matter; he’d just need to focus a different element around the homunculus and bring him crashing back down…

But before he could do that, Mercury’s scream drew his attention to her. Even from where he was, he could see the tears flowing from her eyes, feel the rage pouring out through her words. He snarled in his own fury, earnestly angered further by the fact that she felt she had any right to be angry. His hands flashed as he exuded more energy into the gravity, looking to put real hurt on the people on the ground… but then his head was exploding with pain. He let out an anguished yell as the right side of his face was filled with searing hot pain unlike anything he’d ever felt before. His one good eye snapped around in frenzied concern and rage for the perpetrator and found none. But then he realized it was the chip; the damn upgrade that she had created for him to work with his clones. She’d hacked into it and was turning it against him.

“MERCURY!” he roared as he threw his right hand up to that side of his face, his flesh already beginning to bubble and burn away from the attack. His other hand attempted to move forward, ready to unleash hell upon her with more of his own attacks but she had already begun the next part of her assault. Grease wrapped around his shield and exploded into flames, making his entire world a flaming inferno. He seethed between clenched teeth as his left eye snapped around and looked at the fire that billowed off of his shield. Pulling his right hand away, he waved it in front of him and created a slipstream of air that robbed the fire of its oxygen, putting it out in one motion.

But she wasn’t done. His good eye went wide as two massive mechanical hands slammed together around his shield, taking a firm grip of it and pressing in on him. He snarled as he threw his hands out to reinforce his shield with his magic, amending the cracks as they formed but unable to do much of anything else. Then he was moving, the hamster in a ball at the whim of the hands that held it. Down he went, tossed to the ground with such force that he left a round crater in his wake, his body bouncing inside the shield violently. He barely had time to look up before the first fist came crashing down, slamming into the shield and pushing him and his globe further into his crevasse. Slam, slam, slam -- the giant fists punched his shield over and over and over, the ground bending away with each new impact and further abusing the former du Wolff lands.

With a thought, he forced gravity around the single point of the chip in his head and crushed it until it was nothing but atoms. The right side of his face was maimed and scorched, his once pristine green skin darkened and bubbled. Yet he couldn’t worry about that as he funneled even more magic outward and warped the shield into hands as well. But rather than counter her attacks, he teleported out of the dent, reappearing in front of Mercury. Both hands snapped around her, squeezing her in place as he roared. “YOU WILL NOT WIN. YOU ARE NOTHING. A PEBBLE ON MY PATH, A HINDRANCE TO MY JOURNEY! YOU AND THIS ENTIRE PLANET WILL BURN BEFORE MY WRATH!” He bellowed at her, his voice filled with pain and rage. He took her and tossed her away from him as the hands began to fill with magical energy.

Far above them, in the upper echelons of the atmosphere, Genesis was glowing bright. He strained to move his body, the sheer amount of energy gathered in his body so overwhelming that the slightest bit of lost concentration and he would explode. His pupils were gone, washed over by the glow of his sclera. And then he fell, body going limp for only a moment before it adjusted, diving head first towards the surface and gaining momentum with each passing second, every passing foot. A sonic boom shot off of his dive bombing form, rending clouds into wisps as he came soaring downwards. The first sign of his approach was the odd show of light that seemed to be getting closer, just beyond the dark storm clouds. But as he got closer, the dark plumes were torn asunder, revealing the glowing meteor that was the homunculus.

Counting that Mercury had seen it and followed through on her word to unleash hell on Maker, the rogue Terran was once more forced on the defense. He pulled his arms close to his chest as he pushed magic outwards against her assault and, for the first time since the battle started, the shield would begin to shrink in. It would get closer and closer to his body, the Terran forced to relieve space for durability and losing tremendously. Finally, just as it was merely an outline around him, Maker managed to look up. His single eye opened wide as he saw the rapidly approaching object.

“HI DAD!” Genesis screamed above the roar of his fiery approach. “GIVE ME A HUG!”

“NO!” Maker screamed as he brought up his right hand in a last ditch effort to defend himself, to use some kind of magic to push him away, anything! But it was far too late. The speed in which Genesis hit made it impossible to fully see him hitting Maker but there was no escape from the massive detonation that followed. Fire and heated air shot out in a terrifying display of carnage, swallowing up the area. The shockwave from the impact was powerful enough to send everyone flying away no matter how strong their magic was, flinging them away from ground zero with prejudice. The sound of it would travel for miles, along with the sight of the mushroom cloud that began to grow up towards the sky.

---

It had come down to the wire and, frankly, the timely arrival of Grubar. If he lived to admit it, Scourge would be the first to say that he probably wouldn’t have been able to grapple Seberg and keep him off balance to give Saffron her opening, at least not without sacrificing his life in doing so. But as he laid his trap and the rogue Rhaegarian leapt right into it, he pulled whatever leftover magic was in the Ark to him and gave himself a push out of the way of his hit. His hands wrapped around Seberg’s limb tight and he pushed himself forward with the grab, pulling the man’s arm with him. And Grubar, bless his massive alien soul, followed suit with the other arm. And Saffron had already been moving, anticipating their acts, moving with such determination that she became nearly a blur. Yet Seberg was still able to pull his arm free of Grubar and slam it into the Scengar, knocking him away and then shot it over to Scourge, punching him with enough force to knock him away too. But he was not fast enough to stop the blonde, half-cocked to throw a punch at her when her fist slammed into his chest. For the briefest of seconds, he wanted to laugh; that sacrifice for just one punch?

But then he felt it; a sharp pain jab into him. He leapt away from her just as she jumped back, looking down to find some kind of metal syringe stuck in him. The plunger was fully depressed as well. He pulled the casing out, looking at it briefly before he crushed it in his hand and began to laugh. “Poison?! That was your hail mary? Oh you poor idiots; no one told you? Poison doesn’t work on me. My Blood Marker will purge that right out of my system. But that is very annoying. So for that, I think I’m going to break all of your legs first and see how you crawl.”

He took a single step towards Saffron… and stopped. The amusement in his face seemed to pause and then melt into confusion as he felt something wrong. “What… what the hell was that?” he asked her, reaching down to tear his shirt open to look at the wound. Thick, purple-black blemishes were already running underneath his skin in all directions. He clawed at his torso, leaving deep gashes as he stumbled back, his breathing picking up in a panic. “No. No!” he cried as the dark mark wrapped up around his neck and crossed over his face. And with a sudden gasp, his entire body stiffened. He stood there like a statue, staring wide-eyed at some realm beyond any of their comprehension. And then he fell, falling backwards and landing heavily on the ground behind him.

Scourge pulled himself up from where he’d landed, half-sitting up as he looked at Seberg lying on the ground motionless. Grubar managed to push himself out of the ruins he’d been thrown into, thick dark green blood running down the sides of his face as he panted in pain. “Did… did we do it?” he asked, trying to take a step forward and falling onto his hands and knees.

“Not… until he’s dead,” Scourge said with a grimace as he forced himself onto his knees, his entire body aching.

He was just about to tell Saffron to do just that when a far off explosion shook everything around them. The ground rumbled and the shockwave came moments later, hitting with enough force to bend the trees around them and send the fragments of ruins they had broken off flying about. Grubar was knocked over from the pressure, sliding against another ruin and grunting when he hit it. Scourge just barely managed to hang onto the ground to keep from completely falling over.

“That came… from where the rest of them are,” Scourge said as he turned to look in the direction, a mixture of exhaustion and concern filling his face. But that was nothing in comparison to what overwhelmed him as he turned back and saw before him.

Seberg was back on his feet and he had changed. The blemishes that had corrupted his skin had taken on a spiral pattern over his body and had even extended beyond his flesh, hanging off of him in flapping strips. His clothes had been dissolved in the after effect of the Myn and the lower half of his body was completely coated in the black-purple substance. His eyes had changed too, his sclera as black as pitch with glowing orange pupils. And they were firmly focused on Saffron.

“You bitch,” he growled, his hands flexing slightly. “You thought you could take me out with this?! There is nothing stronger than me, not even this!” His muscles flexed and a wave of terrible power resonated off of him, filling each of their veins with a dread so palpable that their bodies would refuse to move. He raised his right hand, the back of it facing Saffron, and the malicious energy wrapped itself around his limb. “You tried to take it away from me. I can feel it in this, your intent, your… goal.” His fury-filled face twisted with wicked delight. “I’ve decided you’re going to die first. I’m going to run you through with this same weapon you tried to use on me. And then you’ll get to lie there, bleeding and listening as your friends are torn apart. And when you try to access that power of yours, that glowing magic that makes you oh so unique… you’ll find it gone. The last thought you’ll ever have is how you died, useless and powerless to save anyone.”

The energy around him kicked up, the air growing tense and even more dreadful. Scourge could only watch in absolute horror, his body refusing to listen to anything his brain tried to tell it. Time seemed to slow for him as the reality of what he was watching came crashing down in his mind. He was about to watch Saffron be killed, impaled on Seberg’s hand and robbed of the magic that she loved so much. Images flashed in his mind; memories of all the times he’d been with her. From the first moment they had met in Fairy Tail, her fierce, spunky attitude that carried cutting if not amusing words. And from that moment on, he had been fascinated with her. She’d come to him, looking for something exciting and it had brought them closer than he had ever imagined.

The knowledge that he would never see her smile again, feel the warmth of her body against him as they snuggled close. Her laughter filling the room as they laid and watched some outrageous show she’d found. Teasing messages sent to his iLac, poking fun at him and trying to distract him. It was all going to come to an end and he was going to be forced to watch it. His heart was throbbing in his ears and yet all he could hear was silence, frozen in the moment before tragedy was sure to strike. And somehow, in that moment, he became aware of the return of his magic. It was small and weak but Energy Monarch was there; enough for one single teleportation.

He could run. If he could will his hand to his head, he could teleport far away before Seberg got to him, before Seberg even got to Saffron. He could escape and never have to watch her die. It would make him a coward… but…

“I am not the man that puts himself in harm’s way for others; I’m the one that figures out the way to avoid such needless self-sacrifice. There is nothing and no one that can change that fact about me. I am Scourge, Vandrad. And it would truly be asinine to try and hide that fact under a different moniker just to humor other people.”

His own words flashed in his mind as he once more stood before Vandrad, laughing off the future king’s attempts to humanize him. That’s right; he was Scourge, the weapon of the Dread Masters. He had been brought up to destroy and upend, to tear down the ruling towers of the gods and demons and bring power back to humanity. He was a tool that would bring satisfaction through worser actions, not through any other means. The memory kept playing, with Vandrad staring at him with silent but steely scrutiny. He remarked about misjudging Scourge and walking away, insisting that their break was over. And that was it, the solidifying factor that he needed to-

"But…” Vandrad stopped, his back still to Scourge. Both versions of the former Dread Master balked, staring in surprise. "Then again, maybe you’re the one misjudging yourself. Because when you find someone worth fighting with, fighting for... your entire perspective changes. I’d be a fool to deny it, having gone through it myself.” The future king turned to look over his shoulder at Scourge. "Those chains of yours will feel like nothing when you realize it yourself. And then nothing will stop you from doing what you have to.”

Was it some trick of his mind? Had he blocked that part of the memory out under an ocean of denial? The small fluttering in his stomach every time he gazed into Saffron’s eyes. The stupid smile that came across his face as she lay on his chest, ingrained in whatever mindless drivel was on the screen for them. The comfort, the safety, the trust, all of the emotions and feelings that he had denied experiencing were breaking through his carefully crafted walls and hitting him harder than Seberg ever could. And if his own stupid, denying self was stronger than any of the Rhaegarian bastard’s punches, then his dread, his aura of paralyzing fear… it was nothing to him. And nothing would stop him from saving the woman he did truly, genuinely and deeply care for.

Maybe even love.

Time was still moving slowly as Seberg exploded from his spot, rushing at Saffron with his arm primed and ready to strike. And even as he moved slowly, floating through the air like some guided marionette, Scourge’s body shifted as well. Every inch that Seberg moved, the former Dread Master matched, his arm rising up in equal measure. A stupid, self-amused smirk tugged on his lips despite what he knew was coming, what he was doing. His eyes stared glued to the back of Saffron’s head, imagining her face, that same smile he had grown so fond of. And as his fingers found his forehead, he knew what he had to do.

Damn you, Vandrad. You knew back then, didn’t you?

Saffron would suddenly be pushed, the last of Scourge’s physical strength coming through as he materialized mid-movement. She would be shoved out of the way, shoved to the ground and away from the danger. And when she wound turn around, she would find Scourge standing where she had just been, fully impaled by Seberg’s hand. The black limb stuck out from his back, covered in gore and dripping with blood as the rogue Rhaegarian stared in earnest shock at the man that he had just run through. Scourge let out a ragged, wet cough that spilled blood from his lips, even as the Myn coating Seberg’s hand surged up in through the open wound.

The rogue Rhaegarian ripped his arm out, Scourge’s body jerking forward from the sudden removal that sprayed even more blood to the ground. His body remained standing for a moment longer before slowly it began to topple backwards, almost seeming to fall in slow motion. And yet that stupid smile of his remained, coated in his own ichor, staring at Seberg as he fell. He had no quip, no snark to throw at the Rhaegarian about missing his mark. None of that mattered. He hit the ground with a wet splat, his body completely limp and somehow even that didn’t matter.

All that mattered to him… was that he had finally found someone he was willing to put above himself. Someone that made him feel… human.

Grubar, for lack of a better phrase, had no fucking idea how to explain what he’d just witnessed. First Seberg had stood back up after the impact of whatever they had injected him with and promised to kill Saffron. Then Scourge was there, pushing her out of the way and taking the hit that ran him right through. Then Saffron hadn’t gotten up in some kind of trance, summoned a sword a pair of massive fucking wings and manhandled Seberg like he was her own personal toy. Then he had tried to stab himself with his own hand and then he was gone and Saffron suddenly was over by Scourge. He would watch in utter awe as her wings and halo disappeared, even as she was already beginning to fix the hole in his gut. Then she was crying and pleading with him.

The Scengar forced himself to his feet, grunting in pain but pushing through as he limped over to the blonde woman. By that point, she was utterly flummoxed and as she turned her gaze to him, she asked what happened, where Seberg had gone and why he was staring at her in such a way. “Saff…” Grubar said, still staring at her in wonder. “You… had these wings. And a ring over your head and a sword. You… grabbed Seberg and tried to make ‘em kill himself. Then he was gone and you were here and you were… healin’ him…” he said, gesturing to the unconscious Scourge. “You… don’t remember?”

That was something else entirely. Had she blacked out and done all of that without even realizing it? It was kind of horrifying to think about. But that was something they could worry about later; she may have healed most of Scourge’s injury but the deep bruising still didn’t paint a good picture about the damage inside. He bent down and gently pulled the headset off of Scourge’s ear. “Yo, dunno who is on the other side of this thing but it’s Grubar. Seberg’s gone; whatever you did to him didn’t work but he ran away because…” His gaze shifted over to Saffron for a moment before he continued. “Doesn’t matter, he retreated. But Scourge ain’t looking so good. He’s injured… sort of. Damnit, hard to explain and we don’t have a lot of time. Get someone here to help…”

“And what the hell is going on with the others?”

---

Blade could only stand and stare in wonder as he looked upon the living face of his brother. “Halcyon… how..?”

“It seems you’ve made a lot of… interesting friends in your travels, Raeran,” Halcyon said with a chuckle as he moved closer to the other Terran.

Blade frowned and shook his head. “I gave up that name long ago, Halcyon. When I failed to stop Maker. When he…”

“I know.” Blade’s eyes snapped up to his older brother, which brought a semi-amused smirk to his face. “The man knitting our souls back together explained it to me. Once I was caught up, I knew I couldn’t allow myself to be attached to the rest of the Collective.” He reached out and took Blade by the shoulders, looking him over. “Look at you. So old now. And tired; I can see the exhaustion in your eyes, brother.”

Blade allowed himself a small moment of amusement, snorting. “It has been a long couple of years, brother.” His eyes shone with emotion and he threw himself forward, hugging Halcyon tight to him. His older brother returned the hug just as hard. “I have missed you so much…”

“And I you,” Halcon replied softly. The hug lasted for several long beats before finally he pulled back. “It seems Eriladar is still alive as well.”

“He has become the monstrosity that we always knew he would become and worse. The things he has done…” Blade shook his head in disgust.

“What our people made him,” Halcyon corrected him gently.

Blade’s brow furrowed, his head tilting slightly. “W-What? What do you mean?”

“Quentin explained everything he’d heard, up to and including what Maker had told… I believe Mercury was her name. I’ll admit that portions of his story are fiction, twisted to make himself look fully the victim… but he is not entirely incorrect. But there will be time for that later. Right now, he has become something that will endanger everyone in the galaxy. And I have come to help you.” Halcyon reached behind him and when his hand came back, the broken handle of Blade’s sword was in his grip.

“How did you..?” Blade began to ask.

“Lux told me to tell you ‘this is Mythal’s trick. That means you only get to do it once so make it count.’.” The elder Terran chuckled. “Our people have lent a bit of their spiritual energy to Lux and he has brought it and me to you.” He held the handle out to Blade, who took it gently into his hands. Immediately a beam of light sprouted from the broken guard, forming into a humming, glowing sword not unlike how Mythal would bring out Hopebringer.

“Are you..? Will you be gone, once this is over?”  Blade asked quietly, his eyes peeling away from the sword to look at Halcyon once more.

The elder brother smiled. “No. I will be right here when the battle is ended. I will never leave you alone again, valonqar. That I promise you.” And then he gave Blade a playful punch in the shoulder.

The standoff above the crater was still raging, a veritable hurricane of debris and vicious winds surrounding Maker and Vandrad. Neither seemed to be gaining the advantage over the other. But as Mercury began digging out Patricia, beaten up and barely conscious, one more explosion would draw attention away from the whirling scene above. As the rocks and stone settled, a figure would come soaring out from the newly created hole, Blade soaring up into the sky. In his hand was his sword, now alight with the spiritual energy of his people. And flying up right beside him was none other than Lux.

“It’s about time I got to help kill a big boss!” the Lightbringer cackled as he soared ahead of the Terran. Light energy funneled into his hands as he looked over his shoulder at Blade. “I’ll clear the way, space man!” And as he threw his hands forward, bolts of light erupted from his hands just as they came upon the field of debris and death. The crackling rays of light ripped through the soaring pieces of stone, breaking them apart as the pair flew into the storm and headed straight for Maker.

Blade barely registered Lux’s words, though somehow, deep inside, he understood what was being said to him. His eyes were solely focused on Maker, the massive mutated form of his brother still clashing with Vandrad. His hand tightened on his handle as he felt the strain on his body; Lux had apparently done a patch job on his shoulder while he was talking to Halcyon but he was still weak, depleted. The runes surrounding him began to flicker as his pools began to run dry.

Then he felt… something. Some kind of refreshing energy that was refilling his pools, if only barely. He looked back and there, on the ground below, was Patricia, having been pulled from the rubble by Mercury. She had awakened enough to throw her hand up and utilizing the minimal power of Energy Monarch that had replenished, she had combined it with her Arc of Time magic to shoot a single blast at him, enough to refresh him, to keep him from falling then and there.

But he would still need more to get to Maker.

“Lux!” Blade called out. “I… I need you to throw me,” Blade called out to the Seal.

Lux turned his head to look back around and shook his head, a wry smirk on his face. “All you mortals are all the same, so limited.” With that snarky comment spat out, he slammed on the metaphorical brakes and gave Blade enough time to catch up. From there he grabbed the man’s free hand and began to twirl in his spot, a second tornado within the larger one. “Alright boy scout, make… it… count!” He came back around and sent Blade soaring upwards, throwing an aura of light around him to protect him from any of the debris.

Up above, Maker was snarling and roaring with rage. Vandrad still wasn’t budging and his magic pools were running dry. He’d already been pushed beyond his limits and he was running out of options. But there was a glow that was quickly beginning to grow brighter that he could just barely see out of his peripheral vision. He turned his head enough to look and his eyes shot wide as he saw Blade soaring up towards him, wielding some kind of enhanced sword. “No… you will not…” he growled through his exhaustion, pulling his malformed arm back while his good one stayed put forward. He would simply extend his shield around and block the attack, preventing the last ditch effort. Then he could simply grab Maker and use him against Vandrad. It was the perfect plan…

Except that Vandrad knew Blade was coming. His fist opened up and grabbed Maker’s shield, fingers piercing the energy field like it was a tangible ball. And then his arm jerked away and to the side, shredding the shield to glittering fragments. Maker was stunned, frozen as he stared at the fluttering remains of his protective shield. He barely even heard his brother’s scream.

“MAAKKEERR!!” The Terran warrior was screaming at the top of his lungs as he came upon Maker. The malformed madman, the rogue Terran, could only stare as Blade’s arm swung. There was no sound, no skin-crawling noise of the blade tearing through flesh. There was just a streak of golden light as Blade soared past Maker, the aura around him dissipating and the sword shattering, leaving only the hilt once more. But behind him, Maker had been cut in two, sliced around his midsection and ripping through both his arms.

Blade wouldn’t get far. Vandrad appeared in front of him and grabbed him by the collar, stopping him from flying any further. With his other hand, he pointed it at the top of Maker’s body, now falling towards the ground. A dark, smoky orb floated out of the tumbling torso and up into Vandrad’s hand. His fingers closed around it and the orb shattered into millions of pieces, fragments that flit into the air and dissipated.

Maker hit the ground hard, slamming into the side of the crater and making a brand new one. The other half of his body had dissolved on the way down, leaving his upper portion as the only remnant of him at all. Down came Vandrad and Blade, the future king setting down the Terran warrior. Then all at once, whatever power had been fueling him ran out, the special aura snapping out of existence. Vandrad’s eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed backwards onto the ground, fully unconscious.

Blade bent down to check on Vandrad, finding his pulse strong, despite his injuries. Summoning whatever leftover strength he had, he pushed himself to his feet and hobbled over to where Maker had fallen. Rather than the giant that had just been in the sky before, all that remained was a normal sized Terran, albeit in terrible shape. His right side had lost its purplish tint, now gray and sloughing off of his body like runny ichor. Maker was remarkably still breathing, though it was ragged and short. Blood coated the area all around him, pouring out from the stumps of his arms and his torso.

His right eye turned slowly towards Blade as he came into view. “Min…otia…” he said softly, his voice ragged. “I should have… known it would be you…”

Blade was silent for a long beat as he took in the sight of his brother. “Who is Minotia, Maker? For it is not me. When I was…” He stopped, breathing in deeply and swallowing hard. “When I was still your brother, I was called Raeran.”

“Rae…ran…yes, I see…” Maker let out a small chuckle, causing him to cough up blood. “Of course. Mother’s old… rhyme. Raeran, he ran…”

In spite of the situation, in spite of the overwhelming hatred he had for Maker, Blade couldn’t help but smile a little at the mention of their mother’s old playful tease. He knelt down. “Who is Minotia, Maker? Why do you think I’m him?”

Maker considered him for a long moment, lips opening and closing softly. Finally he sighed. “It doesn’t… matter. It’s all over. All of my… plans. Everything I’ve… built for. Dashed to pieces… Just because I deigned to… because I allowed myself to… care for her.”

Maker coughed again, more blood spitting up over his chin. “Tell Mercury… tell her when I see her in Hell… we’ll have a lot to talk about.” His lips pulled back into a soft, self amused smile, his lips coated in his own blood. And with one last exhale, the light in his eyes flickered out, his chest falling and going still finally.

Maker was dead. The battle was finally over.

Grubar had, surprisingly, anticipated Saffron losing consciousness. He couldn’t really predict it but considering how hard she had been sobbing and whatever the hell power she had just used, it only made sense that at some point, her body was gonna pass out. He spoke to Zemenar asking for help and at the mention that Scourge was still in danger, the blonde woman began to weep once more. The older Xocili informed the Scengar that they had completed the transfer of Knowhere but the team that had been fighting Maker was out of communication. Considering the massive explosion that just rocked the area they were at, that was hardly a surprise. He sounded worried, as any father would be in that situation. “Yeah, we heard and saw some kind of giant explosion a bit ago. Don’t know what from but…” he let out a small sigh. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

A portal appeared and several healers came rushing through. They had to gently pull Saffron away from holding Scourge, telling her they would take care of him from there. Grubar moved to stand beside her, resting his hand on her shoulder. Sure, they weren’t anywhere near good at the moment; he imagined he was in for an earful once everything was said and done. But he was the only foundation of care she had at the moment and he wasn’t about to ignore her silence, desperate need for grounding. Unfortunately, that was when everything caught up and she toppled over. The Scengar caught her and hoisted her up into his arms. “It’s alright, kid. I got ya,” he told her gently as he followed the rest of the healers through the portal to New Rhaegar, planning to find somewhere for the Fairy Tail mage to lie down.

She’d earned it. And hopefully, by the time she woke up, she would be in for good news. That was the only thing he could hope for

---

Hosrius was likewise unconscious, though he looked far worse than Blade had. Maker had been unusually cruel to the Jirian, using the gravity alteration to push his face into sharp shrapnel and gravel. Hosrius’ face was a mess, blood seeping out from wounds that were still filled with rock and sediment. But other than a few bruised ribs and a sprain or two, that was the worst of his injuries. He was alive, which was a better outcome than they could have hoped for. Patricia had managed to push herself up to her feet, wobbly and her clothes and utter mess but somehow still having the strength to stand. She wandered over to Mercury and Hosrius, kneeling down next to the Jirian. “Go ahead, I’ll stay with him. Just in case,” she said softly, sitting down next to Hosrius.

Blade was quiet as he sat kneeling in front of Maker. A cold feeling had washed over him… and he hadn’t quite figured out if it was satisfaction or agony. His careful nature told him to take precautions, cut Maker’s head off just to make sure he was well and truly dead. But reason proved itself champion in that moment, understanding that his brother was well and truly gone and there was no trick, no deception at play. Maybe that’s why he was so cold; he’d been hunting his brother for so long, he’d never actually imagined the end of the road. And yet here they were, one sibling dead and the other his murderer and there was no satisfaction to be found.

He didn’t even hear Mercury approach until her arms were wrapping around him. He broke from his reverie enough to look down at her limbs, tightly encasing him in a warm hug. He reached up and lay a single hand on her arm while his other gently reached up towards his face. She must have leaned over and dropped some tears on him in doing so. But as he felt the warm flow, he realized they were coming from his own eyes. It felt silly to be weeping over Maker’s death yet sense rarely overwhelmed how one felt inside. Villain that he was, he was still his kin.

He would stay there for quite some time. The next time he reconnected with the world, the battlefield was bustling with activity. Portals had opened in several different places and healers were picking up those that couldn’t move themselves. Vandrad, Patricia and Hosrius were all taken away on stretchers to receive medical treatment. Blade finally pulled himself to his feet as Themesycia approached him and Mercury. “We’ve received word that Quentin is finishing up the last bits of his spell but almost all your people were saved. There was one that--”

“My brother, yes,” Blade spoke up softly, turning to look at that former duchess. “Lux brought him here. I believe he’s still merged with me at the moment.”

Themesycia nodded in understanding before she gestured to Maker’s body. “What would you like us to do with this?” It was a sensitive subject and her tone conveyed her understanding of that fact. Disrespecting the maniac’s corpse seemed due, if only because of his actions, but no one person felt any desire to do so explicitly, if only out of respect for the Terran warrior that still lived.

“We should burn it. Turn it to ash like he did the rest of my people.” His tone was not cruel, even if his words sounded as such. If anything, it seemed he was resigned in the understanding that he was the only one of his people that hadn’t perished, physically, and he’d rather they all share the same fate.

The former duchess would nod again. “Come, you two need to be checked out and healed. I believe you all are overdue for some rest,” she said, reaching out to take Mercury’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze as she turned to look at Genesis, being gently tended to by some healers. “He will be missed. We’re working on crafting a device to keep what is left of his body intact. He deserves a proper burial and I’d like to honor him by putting him on New Rhaegar.”

“Thank you,” Blade said softly. “In spite of his creation, he proved a better person than Maker ever was. The only thing I ask is that you remove one of his fingers. Grubar will need proof of death to complete his bounty and a biological component, even one as degraded as that, will work.” He reached up and placed his hand on his head. “I think I need… to lie down.”

“I understand. Come, I’ll take you myself,” Themesycia said, sliding her arm under his and holding him up. Blade would take one last look at Maker and Genesis before nodding and walking along with her towards an open portal.

---

Several days had passed since the battle by the time that Saffron woke up. Surprisingly -- or perhaps not so -- she had been the last one that had remained out after the events that had taken place. Vandrad had been the first to wake up, having expended a decent amount of his magic and suffered several minor injuries that his latent abilities had all but taken care of. After that, it was a sequence of different people coming back to the land of the living and being given the rundown of everything that had happened, both in the battle and afterward.

When the Fairy Tail mage awoke, she would find herself in a single room. It was late afternoon, the orange glow of the descending sun pouring in through the large window. The room was rather large but it lacked a lot of the medical equipment that most people would expect in such a place. A computer chair, built to lean back and accommodate overnight guests, sat near the window facing her bed. And in it was Hosrius, staring out the window. Or rather, it looked like he was. The entire right side of his face was bandaged up with some kind of blue mechanical compression pad, digital and magical symbols flickering over the translucent material.

His head turned back to her as she woke, his eye widening as a warm smile pulled on his face. “Hey, about time you stopped sleeping,” he said, pushing himself up off the chair so he could walk over to the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Well that’s almost what happened, if Grubar is to be believed,” Hosrius said with a chuckle. He was already reaching over to grab the pitcher of water and fill a glass, handing it over for her to take. Once she had finished, he took the glass again and filled it with water, placing it on the side table so it was close enough for her to reach if she wanted more. Now that she could speak properly, she asked how long she had been unconscious. “Three days. You’re the last one to wake up, surprisingly. But it sounds like you used a power you never even thought you had so it’s understandable that it wiped you out.” He took another glass and poured himself some water as she processed that bit of information.

But she wasn’t quiet for long and she turned her attention to the next important question; asking if they had won. He smiled down at her. “Well, I highly doubt I’d be here to talk to you if we didn’t,” he joked, inserting some humor in the moment before he continued. “Yes, we won. Unfortunately Genesis was forced to sacrifice his life to make it happen and I… really wasn’t much help. But Maker is dead, Knowhere is safe and Seberg… well, you scared the absolute piss out of him. For all intents and purposes, we succeeded.” The fact that they had only lost one person was damn near a miracle, all things considered. Still, the loss of the homunculus was still great.

As if the knowledge of everything she was hearing sparked her memory to life, she was suddenly trying to push herself up into a sitting position. She called for Scourge, her eyes snapping to the Jirian and looking for some kind of answer. “Relax, Saff. Take a breath, okay?” Hosrius said, leaning down to place his hands on her shoulders. “Scourge is alive. Cyrene says if you hadn’t healed his wounds, he wouldn’t be but he is alive. He had some damage to his organs but she was able to fix what you didn’t. He’s still got some bruising and he’s going to be moving with a limp for a bit but… he’ll make a full recovery. He’s a few rooms down; Cyrene won’t let him get out of bed or else it would have been him sitting here as well.”

He gave her a warm smile. “It’s okay.” And with that, he pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. “Grubar told me what he had seen, what little that was. I know that Seberg…” He couldn’t even bring himself to say that Seberg had almost killed her. Saying it outloud would have made it more real, made it hit him harder than it already was. After a moment, he sighed and pulled back. “Everyone’s milling about but if you’re feeling up to it… we could go see him. I know he’s been dying to know when you woke up.”

It was true that Hosrius and Saffron showed their affection for one another in less physical ways. The truth was, he’d realized, like her, that she was the closest friend he’d ever had and that included Grubar. He’d never felt as close to someone as he was with her, at least not in a long time. And he’d been forced to live with the thought for the entire timeline of the battle that he may never see her again. But to see her again, fairly uninjured and having escaped certain death, had been an overwhelming feeling and the Jirian couldn’t help but reach out to hug her. “If it weren’t for Vandrad, I don’t think Blade, Patricia or I would have. He threw himself in front of the blast and absorbed it with his magic, basically draining himself at the same time. But we still got knocked around and buried under rocks. I know that we don’t usually do this kind of thing but… I resisted back before we left, when I thought you were going to your death. I promised myself I wouldn’t let an opportunity pass again.”

He asked if she wanted to see Scourge and she admitted she did but also asked if he was okay. “Oh this? Just trying a new look,” he said with a laugh, patting the compression pad. “Maker did some crazy things with his magic; apparently he had some kind of hyper-inflated version of Energy Monarch. He was able to manipulate gravity and pushed my face into gravel like he was trying to… how was it put? ‘Trying to bully me out of my lunch money’ I believe is what I was told. I’m going to have some scarring but nothing serious, no damage to my eye. Just means I’ll look more rugged than pretty from now on.”

With that matter settled, he helped her get to her feet. She was still a bit wobbly and took a moment to find any kind of steadiness in her legs but after a moment, she was ready to move. He kept his arm out for her to hold as they moved out of the room and down the hallway. Hosrius watched her as they came upon the door, unable to sense her uneasiness but knowing there were definitely some nerves firing off. As they rounded the corner, they found a room not unlike the one that she had been set up in.

Scourge was sitting up in bed, staring out the window. His lower half was covered by a blanket but his top was covered by a hospital gown. He had a bandage wrapped around his forehead and some gauze taped to the side of his neck. He didn’t see them enter, apparently lost in his own little world at the moment. “Off in your own little world and here I am bringing you a visitor,” Hosrius spoke up, pulling the former Dread Master’s attention to them.

His eyes went wide immediately. “Saffron!” he gasped, already reaching down to throw off the flimsy hospital blanket and swing his legs over.

“Hey, don’t make me bring Cyrene in here. She told you to stay in bed until she says so. So keep your ass there, I’ll bring her to you,” Hosrius chastised the injured man. Scourge tsk’d, a sound not unlike the noise that Vandrad made when he was annoyed. But reluctantly, he swung his legs back up and adjusted the blanket. Hosrius continued with Saffron, bringing her around the other side of the bed and grabbing the extra chair as he did. He swung it around and eased it into place so she could sit right beside him. “There, see? She’s alright.”

“Are you alright?” Scourge asked, looking at Saffron. “Grubar had told me some things and it sounded like you were mostly okay but I…” his voice trailed off.

Hosrius glanced between the two before he cleared his throat. “Well, I just remembered that I… was going to go check on Patricia. I’ll be gone for a few minutes so uh… you two play nice,” he added playfully, wagging his finger between the two before he took his leave, casting them a glance in the doorway before he disappeared out of sight.

“Not exactly coy, is he?” Scourge remarked with a small amused snort. Then his eyes settled on Saffron once more. “I was relieved to hear you were okay. I had no idea if I had… really done much of anything beyond delaying Seberg.”

Scourge had both been prepared and totally unprepared for Saffron to come strolling into his room. He had expected that someone would have notified him first, given him a heads up so he could screw his head on straight and find a way to properly prepare himself for everything that was going to come with that. He’d had a lot of time to think, at least as far as he was concerned. He had never expected to wake up again but instead he’d woken up nearly a full day after the battle. He was sore and in pain but no doubt alive because there was no way in hell that his afterlife was going to involve Vandrad at all. He’d been ordered to bed rest by the sharp-tongued but no less attractive Cyrene, who was not moved by any attempts of charm to allow him free range. So there he had sat, lost in his own thoughts and refusing to talk about them to anyone until he had figured it out himself.

So yeah, a little heads up would have been nice. But as he turned to look at Hosrius, a quick and witty retort already loaded up, it died in his throat at the sight of the blonde mage. Protective instinct shot through him, nearly pushing him out of bed until the Jirian was quick to warn him of the consequences of doing that. So with a Vandrad-like noise that he would earnestly never forgive himself for, he returned to his spot, eyes flicking between Hosrius and Saffron even as he brought her over. Despite the Jirian’s comment, he still asked if she was okay and she was quick to insist that she felt better than he looked. That helped ease the tension in him, the former Dread Master letting out a small laugh. “Then you must feel right as rain since we all know even injured, I look fantastic,” he returned back, giving both of them a flash of his usual charming smirk.

Hosrius seemed to sense that they needed a moment and excused himself, though he wasn’t exactly attempting to play it off well. Both Scourge and Saffron remarked over the matter in a shared point of view, finding a small moment of joint humor before falling silent once more. He’d rehearsed this in his head a number of times and yet now that the moment was here, he found himself stumbling over himself yet again. Luckily she broke the tension, though perhaps not in the best manner. She called him an idiot, though her tone was far kinder than the words and the way her voice wavered spoke to the anxiety she was feeling beneath. As he stared at her, she told him that he shouldn’t have done what he’d done. As she saw it, the strength he had was better served getting away so that he could fight in future battles. “No,” he told her simply. “Even before whatever strange power you pulled out to save Grubar and I, I would never agree with that. Magic power and strength hardly makes up for everything you bring to the table.” His tone was soft, sentimental even. It was a good start but he was still balking at getting any deeper.

She went on to say that her life wasn’t worth the risk, especially as there was no logical explanation to why she had survived. “It was worth the risk. I would do it again without question. Even if it bought you mere moments more or living, that is still a chance for you to show everyone what I’ve always known; you’re just as unique as Vandrad or any of the rest of them.” He’d heard about whatever force she had tapped into that had sent Seberg scurrying away like a rat and though there was absolutely no way he could have predicted it, it was clear that even in spite of that, he believed her life mattered more than his.
Well arguing with her wasn’t exactly the best start to his proclamation but frankly, she was making him all sorts of frustrated with her self deprecation that she seemed to believe was reality. She asked how he was feeling and continued the thread, taking a moment to collect the courage to ask the real question; his magic. He stared at her for a long moment before he sighed. “Yeah… about that.”

He raised his hand and a ball of magical energy popped into existence. He flexed his hand so that the ball bounced up and came back down to hover above his palm. “No explanation to why it didn’t affect me. Vandrad theorized that maybe the Ark counteracted its effects but considering it worked on him…” Scourge stared at the ball for a moment longer before he closed his hand around it, pulling the magic back inside of him. “It’s possible whatever you did to me could have taken care of it as well but… well, there’s no way to test it. So I’m stuck without answers but still capable of using my magic. I’d call it lucky if it wasn’t so frustratingly confusing.”

He sighed as he shifted his body slightly to look at her. “Listen Saffron, I have something I need to get off my chest. And if I don’t do it now, I may never work up the nerve again.” Okay, he’d opened the door, now he just needed to follow through with it. He stared at her for a second, which felt like minutes to him, and he swallowed hard. “I know we… superficially and unspokenly kind of set our own boundaries for what our relationship had been. We were friends that would occasionally, rather consistently actually, sleep together. And I thought I was fine with that… no, that’s not how I want to…” he groaned and shook his head.

Finally he lifted his head up and looked at her again. “When I was there, watching Seberg prepare to kill you… I couldn’t bear the thought of it. Of never hearing your voice again, of never… seeing you smile again. Hearing some spitfire comment or your stupid giggle when we watch those dumb horror shows. Something in me refused to accept that and with what little energy I had, I did what I had to to try and prevent that bastard from robbing me of you. Even if it cost me my life. Because as much as I’ve tried to deny it or tell myself I’m incapable, I have feelings for you, Saffron. Complicated, confusing feelings but feelings nonetheless. And I know, I know that makes everything we’ve had more difficult moving forward but… we almost died. And I wasn’t going to let another moment go without letting you know how I felt.”

For the longest time, Scourge didn’t believe he was capable of love. Granted, that was because his world had been shaped by the controlling hands and words of the Dread Masters and they had always made sure to reinforce the fact that he was barely human in their eyes. But after some time, even once the charm of their lessons had begun to fade, he still earnestly believed it. After all, how could he feel something that he’d never experienced? He was a borderline sociopath that acted as required to succeed in whatever task he’d put before him. He felt no guilt or remorse over the men or women he had been forced to kill, save for the ones that the Masters had, once again, forced him to. He was witty, quippy and all too willing to share a bed with anyone that could keep up with him. And that’s what it had been with Saffron.

Yet over time, something had changed. The mutual understanding that, at some point, he would end up sleeping with Mercury slowly began to take a one sided belief. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attracted to Mercury any longer, nor was he stopping flirting with her when given the opportunity. He just didn’t feel any desire to… go through with anything. He was satisfied with the one partner he had, if only because she proved she wasn’t just capable of keeping up with him physically but mentally and spiritually as well. Their friendship meant more to him than just the occasional romp or viewing party -- she’d become someone he could trust, confide in and find comfort in. They were the seeds of love that he couldn’t recognize and it wasn’t until he almost lost her that the blinders came up and revealed to him what he’d been hiding from all along.

So rather than slide back to where they were comfortable, he decided to speak from the heart. Losing his usual cool edge, he stumbled over himself in a confession that he would swear had been rehearsed but everything he had practiced seemed to disappear into smoke. Instead he had to improvise, telling her exactly what he felt for her. And her reaction seemed… positive enough. She seemed relieved -- no, she seemed happy to hear the confession, as if she had been harboring those same feelings and probably believed they’d never be reciprocated. It made the sense of dread that hung over him over his bundled words break away, his heart pounding in his ears loudly.

She was silent for a moment as tears teased the corner of her eyes. She cursed softly and looked away, trying to clear away the tears before they fell. She insisted that he didn’t make things easy. He let out a soft laugh. “If I made things easy, you wouldn’t have kept me around this long,” he teased her back, a flash of his usual smirk crossing his face as he kept his eyes on her. At some point, she just gave up trying to wipe away the tears, her emotions far too strong to be controlled. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and somber as she recalled the trauma, going through each moment leading up to his being impaled. Scourge’s brow lowered a bit, frowning softly in acknowledgement of how awful it must have been to watch.

She spoke about looking at him, limp and unmoving and how she suddenly felt a desire, a need, to make Seberg pay. She said she had tried to use Energy Monarch similar to how he did, trying to expand her ability so that she could do something, anything. And she had felt something but feeling it was the last thing she remembered before she was suddenly on the ground with Scourge in her lap. She was begging him to stay, even as she noticed the injury had been healed and Seberg was gone and Grubar was telling her that she’d done a lot of terrifying, unexplainable things. Finally she looked up at him, eyes wide and as blue as the ocean itself and spoke of her she had thought he was lost to her. He shifted in his bed gently, easing himself to the edge so that he could better reach out and take her mechanical hand in his. “I know… and I’m sorry. I know it’s just as unfair for me to have sacrificed myself and made you go through the same thing I was scared of. But you didn’t lose me, Saffron; you saved me. And I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for that.”

He squeezed her hand and gave her a soft, meaningful smile, even as he reached up with his other hand to wipe away a stray tear from his eye. “And now we’re here, alive. Granted, you’re in much better condition than I am but that’s hardly a stretch from the usual,” he said with a small playful chuckle. “I’m sorry that it took me thinking you were going to die for me to get over my damage and realize how I feel. If I had known before…” he trailed off and gave a small shake of his head. “Well, I don’t know if it would have made things better or worse. But at least I would have done right by you. As you know, I’ve have… years of trauma that numbed me to anything emotional, at least when it came to real emotions, especially around myself. But you… you broke through all of that without even trying. No one has made me feel like a real person before. I always felt like I was less than others, not worthy of care or affection. And though I’m sure others would argue that what we show one another is hardly affection, it always felt right and… perfect.”

He let a small smile return to his face. “Hardly the place for such a declaration but… I’m glad I got a chance to say it.”

It was all too relieving to hear how glad she was that he had gotten the chance to tell her how he felt. Saffron continued, admitting that she had never expected to hear it and trailed off on a thought as she took a moment to center herself, giving him sass for essentially forcing her to speak her thoughts. Apparently she had been harboring feelings for him for some time as well. It had annoyed her to no end, considering his reliance on his charm, his outrageous name and the fact that he had given her a business card the first time they met. He chuckled softly even as she continued, saying that she hadn’t said anything because she knew he wasn’t on the lookout for anything serious. To be fair, she wasn’t either, she’d been hurt from her last relationship and wasn’t really open to anything romantic. But it had happened and she had chosen not to put their friendship in danger or pressure him to have to make a choice between being with her or not. Understandable, given the way he was and how he had spoken about the matter. But she finished her thought by saying that she really did like him, taking his hand and pulling it to her chest so she could hold it tight.

It was a perfect romantic moment that he never thought he’d have. Sure, he’d had steamy moments before but nothing that really felt like the same kind of enchantment. It seemed they were moving towards the next step, both of them taking a leap into something he was wholly ignorant of and one she had been avoiding due to her trauma. But before he could even process what came next, everything came to a halt as she stated that his words about it being complicated were true and expressed her attachment to Trevor. He’d completely forgotten about the other man in her life, the one that she had casually started sleeping with besides him. She’d talked about Trevor a fair number of times and Scourge had been all gung-ho that she see what she could explore with him. After all, he was hardly the jealous type and he was so far in denial at that point that he never considered anything beyond.

“Right… Trevor…” he said softly. He could tell just felt terrible having to bring it up, even as she explained that she hadn’t planned on any kind of relationship with Trevor coming either. It seemed he was similar to Scourge in a lot of ways; flirtatious, charming, impressed by her fiery attitude rather than intimidated and apparently pretty extra. As she said, she had a type and she was not a fan of it at all. “Such a curse to be attracted to charming men who aren’t scared away,” he added his own humorous quip, trying to alleviate some of the tension that had filled the room.

She had apparently had a moment of hesitation when Trevor had made the indication that he was ready for something more. Her thoughts had gone to Scourge and what she already had with him, seemingly unwilling to part with it. But given the knowledge of what he had supposedly wanted, she didn’t want to carry a candle for him that would never be returned and pass up on the chance for something real, something steady and true. They didn’t have any labels but it seemed they had progressed enough that something definitive would have been coming or should have been coming, though that had all been thrown into a state of disarray because of everything he’d said.

Well he felt like an idiot. Not because he’d waited too long or missed his shot, clearly that wasn’t the case and he wouldn’t have felt guilt for that anyways. Or at least, he believed he wouldn’t. No, he just felt terrible for putting Saffron in a difficult situation. He could see how frustrated and anxious she was, rubbing her head and trying to settle herself down. It was the absolute last thing he wanted and probably the last thing she needed at the time. She insisted that she couldn’t just go and break things off with Trevor like he was nothing; she did truly care for him and doing so wouldn’t be fair to him or her feelings either. Especially given the fact that she had told him that she might not come back at their last conversation, giving him a heads up to the mission ahead of time.

But she didn’t want him to believe that she didn’t care for him or that he was lower in some kind of made up competition for her affection because she did really like him as well. Her emotions boiled over and she buried her head in her hands. Scourge did not wait long to push himself up a bit on the bed and slid closer to take both of her hands in his. “Saffron, breathe for me,” he urged her gently, holding her hands tight as he let her anxiety simmer up and down as it was wont to do. “First off, I’m not worried at all about how much you care for me or Trevor whatsoever. I know you wouldn’t be having this reaction if we didn’t matter a lot to you and it really doesn’t matter who is above who. I’m not one of those men that believes the heart can only truly want one person; call it my emotional damage but I understand that anyone can feel desire and affection for multiple people at once.”

He gave her a small, assuring smile once she would look up at him. “But clearly you have some things you need to process, as well as talk with Trevor about. I’m not going to urge you to make any decisions on the matter; that isn’t my right. And no matter what, I will always care for you and will be happy for you no matter what you want. Besides, maybe Trevor is a modern man and can get behind a thruple?” he added the last part as a joke, simply wanting to break her anxiety and get her to laugh or call him an idiot -- either way would work. “So take a beat. We’ve been through a lot and probably need some time to settle. I’m not saying we alienate ourselves from each other but I think it’s right that I let you work out things that you need to and if you need me, I’ll always be there.”

He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. He would hold her gaze for a long few beats, giving her a soft smile so she would know he would understand. She was in an impossible situation, one that he couldn’t possibly understand. And while it had been meant as a joke, he didn’t see any reason for Saffron not to consider staying close to both him and Trevor. But that was hardly a topic that could be brought up so soon after his admission and without her seeing where her and Trevor were and what could possibly be in the future for them. He couldn’t find it in him to be selfish like that, which was a miracle in and of itself. It seemed a lot of things could change after almost dying. Speaking of…

“But I have been thinking lately. Now that you and Vandrad have both felt it appropriate to point out that clinging to my ‘name’ the Dread Masters gave me is a bit ‘cringe’ as you would put it, it got me wondering. Perhaps a change is in order. Say what you will about near death experiences but they clearly provide wonderful moments of clarity. So… let’s say Seberg did kill someone then. He killed Scourge. The weapon of the Dread Masters is no more. Instead, I’ll have a real name. I had considered going by the surname Ragnos, since technically I am a clone but that felt like clinging to something that doesn’t mean anything to me. And I’ve had a list of different aliases that are just remnants of who I once was. So I decided; something fresh and new.” He flashed a confident smile. “You’re looking at a man reborn by the name of Cedric Thane. Hopefully that is far less edgy for you.”