Zomg, hack! New story. This one has been sitting on my concious for a while, refusing to go away until I let it out. Kinda hard to type this too being it's a few days after prom and I've maintained my French manicured fingers. Nails + typing frustrations. This was supposed to be a one shot, angst fan fiction. I figured it would be too long for a one shot, so, it'll probably be two or three chapters. Tales of a Twist: Fate of the Prodigy and Tales of the Aftermath: New Beginnings still take priority over this because those are currently my most intensive and most popular. While I upload those, read this. Bwhahaha. I've also got a LloydxRaine one shot festering in the back of my head. No, wait, actually, it's already typed. Just gotta proofread and upload it...

Oh, yes. While it does have Kratos AND Yuan in it, this is NOT, I repeat, this is NOT a yaoi. I promise you: no shonen-ai or yaoi. Sorry, Kruan/Yutos fangirls. There may be parts where it seems like it, but I assure you, I do not intend it that way. If you wanna interpret it as yaoi/shonen-ai, be my guest. Silly Kruan fangirls.

The beginning of the story with the whole Sacrifice description is kind of a prolouge. It's one of Colette's skill (her best ever because she dies -insert smiles-). Kratos doesn't have it (it would be sealed anyway because I'd cry if he died), but since it's an Angel skill and some what of the inspiration for the story I put it in. Hope it doesn't confuse you.

I proofread this a few times; there shouldn't be any typos. If there are, let me know. Anyway, enjoy. Oh, yeah. And if you haven't figured it out by now, this contains spoilers. Beat the game before reading. ... I think that's everything. Damn. That's the longest author notes I've written in a while. Did I mention I'm currently in school?

I do not own Tales of Symphonia. If I did, Colette's Angel Toxicosis would have killed her.

(Edit 6/19/2007: Fixed three typos.)

We of Cruxis bless this event and bestow upon you the abilities of the Angels.

Learned Sacrifice.

Type: Angel Skill.

Description: Heal all party members and damage all enemies in exchange one's life.

"Thy power floweth purely, ever unwavering. Accept my soul into thine embrace.
Sacrifice!"

- - - - - - - -

"Don't die before I do. Lloyd, my son." The last words spoken to a son-, no, a hero, whose father choose to bare the tremendous weight of the sins from the past. He had left behind so much more; a bright future and the remains of his family. Again.

Many would call him a fool; not worthy of being called a Father. For fathers do not abandon their children or put them in danger's way. No, a parent's purpose is to protect his children and keep them safe; to spend time with them and enjoy the remains of their limited life spans. Families were supposed to be happy. But in putting his child in danger, he made the boy stronger. And at the end, his son acknowledged him as Dad. For Kratos, that was enough.

He went up through the teleporter, strengthened by the Eternal Sword. His destination was the desolate planet of Derris Kharlan, or rather the remnants of a Fallen Hero's visions of Heaven. This place was not Heaven; lifeless beings once occupied these hallways, floating around without souls, deprived of their humanity, feelings, worth, and individual judgement and given the title of Angels. They desecrated the title of Angels: once sacred, once holy, once desire. Despicable: nothing more.

He was not alone. Moments after his arrival, a familiar half elf's figure materialized on the teleporter. The silence between them was thicker than their iron will, and just as heavy. Maybe the fact that they would be existing together for the rest of their lives had not settled with them yet as they still managed to maintain a barrier of hostility towards each other. They were the only two people left of a tainted organization, bent on ending genocide by creating one of its own; ending violence with violence, fighting fire with fire, preventing death with death, stopping discrimination by lowering the value of those with the pure blood of one race. But sacrifice was necessary to achieve a common goal. If only he'd realize that discrimination was rooted deeper than he ever imagined.

One sighed and the other locked eye contact in anticipation of words, but was disappointed upon hearing none.

Finally, he worked up the courage to speak. "We have much to do. Might as well get started." The half elf stepped off the teleport pad. "I'll be in the Great Seed Chamber breaking down the equipment."

"Alright. Page me if you need me." And with that, Kratos left to begin his duties.

They both knew that cleaning out the planet would take a lot of time. Not like they were on a time limit. The planet slowly floated away from the gravitational grasp of the brand new world named Kyoushin before their departure and neither Seraphim had any intention of going back. It was over.

Kratos turned his attention to the Mana Fragment Warehouse directly to his right. He stepped to the door, expecting it to open automatically upon sensing his presence approaching like it always did but ended up running into the cold metal slab; face first. Rubbing his now swollen forehead with his right hand, he took his left and attempted to pry open the sliding doors from the center. One single arm was not strong enough to force entry, so the Seraph retrieved his right hand from its soothing duties. With their combined strength and support from a certain glowing Cruxis Crystal, adorned on a golden Key Crest, now fading away, he separated the two halves of metal that made up the door and entered the building. The area was dark and slowly collecting dust around the equipment. Angels were assigned routine cleaning duties, but to Kratos' knowledge, none had survived.

While trekking the abandoned warehouse, Kratos spotted the communicator against the wall. He remembered when his figure would appear in a holographic form, demanding items from the guard and receiving them without refusal. Back then, merely the mention of his name necessitated respect, while his mien filled the room with awe and fear for those who knew of his great power. That great power was gained through much sacrifice and the lives of many people; dishonesty, ignorance, misguided loyalty, and alliances. But now all that was gone like a broken promise and only a man remained. The shell of a man; full of emptiness. Full of nothing.

- - - - -

Somewhere in a much deeper part of Derris Kharlan, the half elf approached a room better known as the Great Seed Chamber. Decaying twigs and twisted roots layering the stone path and blocked his way, but they merely screamed in pain as his nimble, boot-covered feet crushed them into dust, slowly raining down on the ground in a minute snowfall of impurity. His soft angelic ears ignored the noises as he continued down the path before stopping in front of a large, crescent moon shaped altar. The sight of the altar pained him momentarily until a sense of solace took over his heart. No longer was his love trapped within the confinement of the most important seed to ever exist in the world. No longer was her soul merged within the salvation of the world. She had been set free to rest in peace forever.

Yuan sighed to himself and walked around to examine the remains of the chamber. Most of the equipment and steps had been destroyed during Mithos' temper tantrum after Martel's body was sucked out of Colette's body; burnt marks and holes scarred the faces of walls, windows, and the ceiling. When the worlds were reunited and Derris Kharlan slowly began to bid farewell, pieces of the Tower of Salvation stuck to the planet like a magnet. The half elf was hurt when he found out that the Chamber had been one of those unfortunate pieces to float aimlessly, but refused to openly admit it. This was one of the rooms he wouldn't mind never seeing again. Fate had a cruel way of working against those who had painful ties to the past and leaving a gentle reminder of one's mistakes; as if everything worked against the wounded, the broken hearted.

He pondered the most effective way to do his job. Maybe it would be best to merely break down the equipment piece by piece, in case, for some strange and odd reason, they'd need it again. But, no, for what reason would they want to resurrect the dead? Yuan shook the idea from his head and moaned his annoyance. How could he even consider such an idea after the four thousand years of emotional hell he'd been through? If Martel deserved to be resurrected, then so did all the failed Chosens who lost their lives at the end of their journeys. And... what about his dear subordinate Botta? Fueled by the embarrassment of even allowing such a thought to enter his mind, the half elf grunted before stretching his folded arms through the opening of his long black cape.

He dug down deep within his soul, tapping into the power of his Cruxis Crystal. Once again, he would use it to destroy... just this one last time. Words began to swell up, pushing their way through his chest and releasing from his lips like molten lava erupting from the earth. Underneath his feet, mana gathered in a powerful harmony, preparing to do his bidding. It began to glow a shade of purple; the same as the sky when Derris Kharlan was revealed above Sylvarant and Tethe'alla. Symbols drew themselves within the circle, an intricate array of Elven and Angelic lines, shapes, and patterns which meant death for anything that was targeted.

"Thunder of the Heavens, Lightning of the Sardonyx Skies, awaken from the depths of thy slumber! Lend me thy powers! Show me thy strength! Indignation Storm!"

And at that moment, shots of electricity ran out from the ground, to the walls, and into the ceiling, creating a giant mass of electrical insanity. The sounds of lightning twitching and festering signaled the coming of distinguished power. Then the mass spread from a single ball until its circumference touched the edges of the walls all around the room. Suddenly, a lightning shower began to rain down in the Chamber. Circular masses of electrical mana the size of meteors fell in a rapid succession, destroying everything in its path with an amazing thunder explosion, too stunning to believe.

Within seconds, the job had been completed. Yuan inspected the room once more; pushing random buttons and pulling levers with a single finger, making sure nothing reacted or gave any signs of life. Everything was in a complete wreck. Satisfied with the level of destruction, he leaned against the sturdiest wall he could find and let his body slide down until his bottom hit the floor with a thud. He felt... drowsy.

Yuan took deep breaths through his nose, exhaling through his mouth, moving his cerulean hair to and fro in accordance with his breathing pattern. Beads of sweat collected on his forehead as well as his cheeks before cascading down his flushed face. "Haven't... us-used.. that spell si-...since... Khar-Kharlan...the Ancient Kharlan...Wars," he somehow managed to blurt out between short breaths. He moved his head from side to side, uncomfortable with either of his sweaty cheeks being on the wall for too long.

It had been over four thousand years since he called upon the extraordinary powers of the lightning. Back then, the half elf was forced to defend a carriage carrying some very precious cargo.

"Martel."

Yes, inside that carriage all those years ago sat an injured Martel Yggdrasill. The carriage was driven by a familiar human; the only one Mithos trusted, for the twisted fourteen year old boy half elf, sick of discrimination, prejudice over a bloodline he could not control, being mistreated and unable to find a solid foundation of reliance, wouldn't even allow his own human parent tend to his sister's wounds, nor could the root of his elven heritage treat her body. They'll kill her, he thought. They can't be trusted.

A crack of the reigns commanded the dragons to increase their already irrational pace. Faster and faster, the carriage traveled down a dirt path, marked by dead grass, at the speed of sound. Kratos tried his best to make the ride as smooth as possible, though he was failing miserably. Far too many pebbles and boulders blocked the road and attempting to avoid them all seemed impossible. Martel lay in the arms of her shaken brother, motionless if not for the soft, yet random recognizable movements she made just to assure her brother of her life. She tried to speak but ended up coughing up blood in abundance. The attack was more powerful than she expected and her force field broke before its intensity even reached her body, causing her to feel the full effects of the blow. She was hurt. But Mithos knew; she was dying.

They were almost to the Old Kharlan Bridge, a safe point with half elves specializing in the healing arts. It was then that Yuan realized the carriage was under heavy attack. Most of the opposing forces turned their attention to the old broken down buggy, and every so often, an elemental meteor would barely miss impacting the side, thanks to Kratos' sharp reflexes and quick thinking. The windows of the buggy were covered; Mithos would have had a heart attack if he saw the horror outside and Martel would have surely died in an instant. Even if Kratos could have driven faster, Yuan knew they weren't going to make it. Something had to be done. He had to stop them.

In a desperate attempt to save his companions, a troubled Yuan ran behind a tree, out of the view of the war. He snatched a green bag from his back, grabbed the ends, and held the bag upside down, allowing all the contents to drop on the grassy ground. Then he dropped to his knees and ransacked his belongings, shifting around the disheveled pile; his eyes were concentrating on a certain shape, color, and appearance. He smiled when he found it: The Elven Book of Magic, a book containing hundreds of pages of intense spells, used only by high class elves from Heimdall. Unknown to them, Yuan "borrowed" the book before being run out one night.

He forced the book open and flipped through the pages like a madman. He needed something. Anything. Anything powerful enough to stop them. Something strong enough to get Martel to safety... Something like...

"Indignation Storm!"

He hadn't even noticed that he had read the Elven words covering the pages until he felt an incredible amount of mana heading towards the skies, only to rain down from the Heavens, striking all things evil in his eyes with a tremendous lightning feast. It was as if Volt himself took a hand upon the land and personally swiped them out. With the majority of their predators taken out, Kratos successfully made his way to the bridge; precious cargo intact.

But Yuan learned an important lesson that day: strength comes with sacrifice. Suddenly, he felt drowsy and soon after, dizzy. He tried to walk around but fell to his knees again; his vision grew blurry and became more and more unclear as he tried to focus on things in front of his field of vision, until finally he collapsed from mana deprivation and fatigue.

Over the years, Yuan became stronger. So strong, the spell was put in the back of his mind. It was too powerful to be used again but too memorable to forget, for it was used to save a Goddess: The Goddess Martel.

- - - - - - - - -

Kratos stacked up the fragments in piles of ten in order to count them. Inventory had to be taken, even though most of the equipment would be discarded into the deep void called outer space. With his sharp and nearly photographic memory, there was no need for a paper and quill to keep track of things. He had forgotten how to forget; a skill he'd give anything to reclaim for there was so much he wished to have no knowledge of anymore.

By the time he finished, about one hundred stacks of mana fragments lay before him. He took a moment to examine his work and rest before remembering his next steps. Making a mental note, Kratos packed them into boxes and proceeded to take each to entrance of the emergency exit. That's where the two agreed on dumping everything.

It took about fifteen trips, but after a few hours, all of his boxes sat in front of the emergency exit. Some other materials, obviously scrap for they were deformed beyond belief, lay next to the teleporter. Kratos figured they were Yuan's trash, so he choose not to bother them. The last thing he wanted to do was argue with the half elf over discarded equipment.

Slowly but surely, each room received the same fate. All of the south section's equipment had been packed and moved for removal in a matter of hours, which felt like days to Kratos. Derris Kharlan had no method of time management, due to all residents having an unlimited amount of it. He grew weary as he did his task, but not in the sense of desiring sleep. Slumber was not what he wanted; for what he truly desired was eternal rest.

Then the time came. Kratos stood before the entrance of the Exsphere Storage Room. He could feel an evil presence radiating from the inside: the presence of lives stolen by a single parasitic stone. Despite his command, his feet disobeyed his dictation; they would not move further. Maybe they were telling him something in the form of a silent protest; warning him of the danger and horror that lay inside. But what could possibly be inside that was more horrible than what he had seen for over four thousand years? What could Destiny possibly have in store for the man at this point in his life?

With a sigh and a silent grunt, he forced his body to approach the door. This room could only be opened by a member of the High Cruxis Order; a title the Seraph was in possession of. He shifted his vision to the lower right and located the magitechnology scanner. The slab felt so cold as he laid his hand upon the top. He waited for the sound of confirmation and the door to open. But it never came.

"Access denied. You do not have permission to enter this room. Please seek the assistance of a member of the High Cruxis Order," said a monotone voice, resembling a lifeless angel.

Kratos looked at the door; half confused and half irritated. A few more failed attempts before he contemplated seeking Yuan's assistance. He quickly voted against it.

"Hmph." The Seraph folded his arm and laid them against the chest of his white uniform. "Mithos... Even in death, you stand in my way." He held his head down for a moment, smirking in annoyance.

But it was of no matter. He knew other ways of getting inside.

Kratos stretched out his hands and forced his fingers into the side of the door; the point were the door met the frame. Suddenly, he cried out in pain, retreating his fingers to find them swollen and bleeding. Something must have stung him.

Now slowly becoming enraged, the man balled his hands into fists, ignoring the shots of pain pulsing through his still swollen fingers. He tilted his body to the side, pulled his right fist back, well behind his back in order to gain more power, and aimed carefully before allowing it to charge at the door. A large sound was heard upon impact; it could have easily frightened anyone within earshot.

One strike was not enough; the slab merely had a dent in it. Kratos smirked with satisfaction, glad to see he was making progress. He took in a deep breath and brought back his fist for round two. After what was a rather violent experience for the door, he managed to dislocate the metal from its placement in the side of the wall. A bit of shaking and he was able to pull it out, throwing it to the ground without a second thought and ignoring the noise of landing.

Darkness greeted him as Kratos explored the inside. He carefully made his way through the broken entrance, waiting patiently for his eyes to adjust and guiding his feet as if he were learning to walk for the first time all over again. It seemed like every room had the same lack of light, but not just any lack of light. It was more of an abundance of darkness; as if the rooms were hiding secrets. Sinful secrets.

The sounds of his movements intensified miraculously and echoed against the walls of the abandoned storage house; he could even hear his heart beating. What was this strange feeling overtaking his body, causing the human part of his domineer to react in such a way; making him explore with caution? He heightened his senses and reached for his sword, slightly jumping back when his hand failed to grasp the familiar, cold hilt of his Flamberge. Then he sighed and remembered that the sword had been left in the care of his son. The Seraph was sword-less, yet not vulnerable. Snapping his back straight in a military position, he demanded his body to regain the feel of control he was known for; the familiar sense of confidence that saved his life on so many occasions and made him into a cold, killing robot. He had a job to do and convinced himself that he was merely deviating from the task at hand by letting blind fear domineer his actions.

That's when he heard sounds coming from a corner. Kratos grunted curiously and moved to the side, allowing the small stream of light from behind him to flood the room, giving a bit of relief to his eyes. When a cloud of dust moved, he confirmed that another presence resided in the room.

The Seraph held out his hand, all fingers extended as if he were stopping something from colliding with his body. A white mana circle formed beneath his feet as he chanted a spell in an unmusical voice.

"Sacred powers, cast your purifying light upon these corrupt souls! Rest in peace, sinners! Judgment!"

Pure white mana swelled up into the sky. Sharp beams of light fell from the Heavens, illuminating the area if only for a moment. Kratos stepped back in shock when he noticed the glistening of eyes in the corner. His guest was another person.

"Who's there?" he asked, receiving no reply. Frustrated by the silence, he charged for the corner and ripped back the equipment shielding the figure. "Impossible..."

The man was face to face with his guest, staring into a pair of deep red, lifeless eyes.

"Lord Kratos?!" the being replied. Lord Kratos... it could only be an angel referring to him with such a disgraceful title.

"If I am?" was all he could manage to reply. The shock of finding a surviving angel still hadn't set in. Maybe he should have listened to his feet and set the room on fire, for he could deal with screams of agony. It would have been best if he had burned everything and everyone inside the room, that way, he would not have to give a speech of disappointing news. Fate, why do you continue to pain me?

"What has happened? Lord Yggdrasill is no where to be found, the Eternal Sword is gone, and Derris Kharlan is deserted."

Kratos sighed, closing his eyes and thinking for a moment before finding the courage to reveal the truth. "Mithos is dead and the worlds have been reunited. The Age of Lifeless Beings is no more."

The angel looked back in disbelief. "Impossible!"

"If that is how you feel, then our conversation ends." Kratos stepped back and folded his arms.

"No!" the angel replied in a fret. It stood to its feet so fast it nearly tripped. "It is a surprise to me. When I noticed everything happening here, I stayed in this room, expecting Lord Yggdrasill to rescue us. Has the Goddess been resurrected?"

"No. She has been put to rest, like she deserved to be."

The being shook its head, refusing to believe the words of its lord. How could ultimate power be defeated? Was there truly no hope for a world without discrimination? "I see..."

"Currently, Derris Kharlan is floating in space aimlessly. We've left the gravitational field of Sylvarant and Tethe'alla."

"I...see... So it really is over. I am the only survivor."

"Yes."

"But, Lord Kratos, what is to become of me?"

Kratos looked back, wide eyed with shock. This was the first time in a long while that he truly did not have an answer. How could he when he did not expect to come in contact with someone who was ignorant of the end? Why is the end never really the end; just another door that Fate creates to torment those who are still healing scars?

"..." He said nothing, for he had nothing to say. There was no future for the angel, as its future had been destroyed once Lloyd dealt the final blow to the boy's Cruxis Crystal. But there was another option. It had to be done.

"... Lord Kratos."

The Seraph broke from his train of thought and spotted a lone sword on the floor next to the angel. "Hand me that sword."

Oooooo! I'm leaving you in suspense! How evil of me. -insert evil laughter- This story may be updated within the next few days, depending on my schedule, as I've many things to do. I tried to describe Indignation Storm as best as possible. Just think of it as Genis' Meteor Storm, Colette's Judgment, and Thunder Explosion all in one. I'd give anything to make it a real move...

Read, rate, love, hate; just leave some sensible comments. Tootles.