Author's Note: Took me a bit longer than planned with getting this last installment in. I wanted to revisit this storyline and so here it is. Thanks to those that stuck around for the story.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, that honor would belong to Namco.


The world was dying, you didn't need a mana lobe to see that, just open your eyes and there was the decay eating away at what remained. Spyrix use along with spirits being depleted were the cause of it, but the bottom-line was the humans using those powers without restraint, no longer caring for the future, that was a luxury none of them had anymore. The present was all that remained, and if you were lucky you'd get to see the sun rise one more time. If not? Well then be grateful you breathed your last of this decrypted world.

I stumbled out of the warp hard, slamming myself against the wall to catch my breath and brace for the pain. It always came in tremors that chased up my whole body, growing worse each time as I could feel the catalyst growing further on my body, leaving a searing pain in its wake. I slumped to my knees as the pain ran its course. I felt the catalyst burn up my back resting at my nape, my fingers twitched a little from my dead arm. I had some movement in it, but that was why I had another arm to spare. I didn't bother with it for long, pulling myself to a standing position, my arm held close against my body, the chromatus dissolving in its wake. I didn't feel the wound in my stomach anymore, the blood staining my arm telling me it was still there. But I hadn't felt anything in the last year.

Did Bisley know the extent of his wish? He may have at the time, but didn't look far enough ahead. Or he was ignorant as all great kings when their reign was on the rise before the unavoidable fall. I remember that day and many others with a sharp clarity, ready to slash the remainder of my sanity to ribbons.


Rieze Maxia and Elympios were made aware of the success of Bisley Bakur, with the disappearance of Canaan and his following announcement of what transpired there. The fact that spirits were to serve humans without incident, and eradicate the remainder fractured dimensions.

"So he pulled it off after all," Julius mused aloud discarding the letter he received from those still loyal to him in Spirius. I didn't say anything, clenching and unclenching my fists. Elle did this to save me, she wanted me to live, and it would only insult her if I was to have second guesses, even though it no longer mattered.

"So it seems," I spoke softly. Julius turned his head to me, the high collar of his coat hiding most of the catalyst there as his hand held tightly to a cane.

"Yeah," he ended the conversation for my sake as I turned my back allowing myself to be used as a crouch as needed.

"We'll have to be more careful from now on," I stated to break the silence.

"We'll manage as we always have; besides Bisley will have more troubles to deal with then us. Let's get moving."

Rieze Maxia was in disarray with the deaths that occurred, eyewitnesses claiming it were Spirius Agents that carried out the deeds, Bisley's act became a rallying call to the Rieze Maxians to not lose anything else dear to their very lifestyles, their culture. With opposing ideals like that there could only be one outcome. War broke out within months of Bisley's triumphant. Whatever treaties that were in developed died with Gaius and Rowen, and there were no further peace talks.

We stayed in Rieze Maxia to be as far away as we could of Bisley and his agents. We provided what support we could to the Rieze Maxians, while still remaining in the shadows, leaking information of Spirius fighting tactics, disrupting trade routes, but only what was needed, we couldn't risk any more than that. As far as I was concerned their war meant nothing to me, we had each other, and we were going to survive.


The familiar scent of the ocean drove me away from my thoughts, as I blinked back into the present. I pulled the hood over my head, pulling my clothes tighter against me, and exited the alley into Marksburg proper. The bridge meant to unify the countries was in ruins with sentries posted at both ends as though the collapsed structure wasn't enough to keep the other out. Wyvern screeches and cannon fire from the Elympian Flagships, reverberated overhead; the Schism had a crimson tint mirroring the blood or the sunset was anyone's guess. The bustling atmosphere of Marksburg was long gone, replaced with the lament of the dying; bodies were huddled together, some held weapons, some still breathed, most wishing to be dead and leave this nightmare. I walked to the center of the plaza, where a monument stood to commemorate those that died a year ago. It's the first time I ever saw it. It may have been well taken care of with plenty of prayers and offerings laid out gently around it at some point but now it was only a broken slab of rock, just a memory of long dead times.

"Ludger Kresnik," a voice called to me. I dropped my arm to my side, out of habit than anything else as it rested on the hilt of my sword. I felt a blade at my throat, and released a mirthless chuckle.

"It's been a long time since I heard that name, Milla Maxwell."