Chapter 18

Notice: Sorry for reuploading this chapter, but I took the liberty of correcting several grammar and spelling mistakes that my incompetent spell-checker left out (thanks, velocidrome.) In addition, I've also revised the ending of the chapter because I felt the original simply didn't have the effect I wanted. Hope it's better this time. By the way, it wouldn't hurt to play a song like Everlasting or My Heart Will Go On while reading the ending, even if you hate BoA and/or Celine Dion.

Primary Warning: In order to compensate for being lazy and procrastinating on this chapter, this chapter is super long (sorry, Chief.) I would recommend not reading this unless you have at least an hour to spare (and that's if you're a fast reader.)

Secondary Warning: Yes, there is a huge, five-page author's note with way too many parentheses ahead, but what do you expect after spending over a month away without teh internets?

!Pathetic!Psycho!Author's Note: I'm back! (Collective groan)

Yeah, yeah, I know you all hate the author's notes, but you do have to pay a small price for reading this kewl story. However, for those of you that truly can't be bothered, I offer a painless solution besides complaining to me and being ignored: It's the little key at the extreme right of your keyboard with the words "Page Down" printed on it.

And yes, I realize that this author's note could practically be its own crack chapter, but I really need to say this stuff after being incarcerated for a month- I know I'll regret it a lot if I don't. So, before I get down to the inevitable review-picking of this author's note, I would like to say that I hope you're having a slightly better summer than I am, and I hope you haven't forgotten this story in the wake of Deathly Hallows (which I haven't been able to buy yet because there's a 999-week waiting list- boo, shame.)

Anyway, after a month with no iPod, very little internet access, and lots of time to stir up my stagnating creative juices, it's understandable that I would have a lot to say in regard to the reviews that I've received for this chapter. First of all, as a collective whole, I really have to express my utmost sincere thanks to everyone who reviewed, whether it be a few lines of chatspeak, a tightly-crammed paragraph, or a huge soliloquy telling me that I shouldn't be creative in writing battle scenes (which I've been getting a lot of lately, thank you very much.) A record 35 reviews have been obtained for this new update, and once more, I greatly thank all of you who took the time to share your opinions.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your point of view), I neither have the time, patience, or tact to write 35 review replies, so I will do the second-best thing and merely reply to the biggest-addressed issues without quoting actual comments. Please understand that all replies are written as a honest means of debate and that I do not intend to insult, berate or otherwise offend anyone with my words. To quote an earlier reviewer, take these with a pinch of salt, and maybe a little tequila while you're at it.

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1. Canonicity (press Page Down if you must)

While I appreciated the large volume of input given to me regarding canonicity in this story, I have to say, frankly, that canonicity is one of the few things that I honestly don't care about (I would use more descriptive language here, but I'm afraid of causing somebody's eardrums to spontaneously combust). Although this is strictly opinion, I feel that in the world of fanfiction, canonicity should be low (comparatively, at the very least) on the list of things that authors need to worry about. I would rather have someone tell me that my romance and battle scenes need more detail (which they do) as opposed to being told that I should take out a bunch of fancy techs simply because it's not conventional. Hello- I think the whole point of fiction is not to be conventional (Yes, I know I've said this before, and I know people are still going to say that there's a fine line between creativity and pure retardedness. I do acknowledge that, but I'm much too tired to clutter my chapter prologues with useless debate any longer, so just take these words and leave it at that.

In deference to those who commented to tell me what a prick I am for inventing (stealing) attacks and techniques that don't exist, I won't fault you for saying so. I'm not going to go so far as to blame these people for jealousy (in fact, nothing could be farther from my actual opinion), because I know what it feels like. To quote a handful of reviewers, my taking creative license with the battle scenes has "taken the MapleStory flavor out of it" and that I should "go back to basics" because "a fanfiction is no longer a fanfiction when it contains elements not remotely connected to the game it is based on". (Memo to Chief: Pray tell, how come I'm the one getting all these kinds of comments and you aren't?)

Well, I don't deny that these people have a point, because I sometimes get the same idea when I reread my chapters to myself during sleepless nights, but to quote another reviewer (slightly edited for grammar), "More important to keep yourself happy over your readers' happiness, no matter what they say. I mean, sure, you might piss off a couple people, but screw the public- if you work on keeping yourself happy, you might be able to focus on writing even more. You never know."

Well said. I've been thinking of printing this out with WordArt and framing it on the wall of my bedroom, and I guess this says a lot more than any sappy, sarcasm-laced rant than I could hope to contrive here.

As a kind of weak defense in my point of view, I've mostly used canon techniques for large-scale battle scenes, such as the point where Perion gets destroyed second time around, and I delegate the fancy stuff to the main characters because they're, well, main. Please understand that I don't deliberately do this kind of thing to invoke hostile feelings (although I like to think of it in that light).

I've noticed over the months that a handful of reviews have said that my story was good at the beginning, but got crappier as it went along, which I think is in large part due to the non-canonicity and gradually using a larger vocabulary. (Do not misconstrue this as me saying that those people are retarded- I do realize that lots of people, including me, dislike stories that make you spend more time with a dictionary than the actual book.) In regard to the larger vocabulary, I guess that's just a habit I picked up from reading other people's better-written stories and trying to emulate their language, but that's just me. However, on the non-canonicity issue, that's a separate story, which I will now tell below.

As many people have noticed, Revolt of the Archers now bears very little resemblance to the story it was nearly 8 months ago. For one thing, in December, there was no 300,000+ words, 300+ reviews, 50+ favorites, no fancy adjectives, and definitely no non-canonicity. Just another Maple fic, plain and simple.

Unfortunately, the "plain" and "simple" parts soon began to spiral out of control as this story picked up momentum, and before I knew it, this story was 8 months pregnant with plot holes, emo characters, and yes, non-canon attacks. (Bad metaphor, I know, but you can blame all the foreign movies I've been watching in my hotel room over the past month for this statement.) Hell, even the title doesn't fit anymore. This story should be retitled "Tales of the Evil Ancient Demon That Wants To Destroy The World" or something cliché like that, but too many people already are used to the outdated title. I'll probably change it after I finish the story.

The most significant change that one would notice in this story is around Chapter 8-9 (don't remember which and too lazy to look it up), when the towns are destroyed by Zeraion (possessed by Gault, if you still remember) and Athena forms the Elaesian Armed Forces as a means of resistance. Why the sudden change of plot? Why the sudden turn away from the world of normalcy and into the untested realms of weird attacks and whiny reviewers?

Because I got my level 80 Ranger effing hacked, that's why.

To be a little more chronologically accurate, I actually got hacked around Chapter 4-5, but it took Nexon four chapters' time to reset my PIN, and when I got it back I found that everything was missing (sans the clean, cruddy equips I'm wearing now which I assume the hacker didn't have time to steal, or maybe he/she wasn't interested). And just like that; mental degeneration, insanity, thoughts of suicide. (Okay, I'm dramatically exaggerating here, but I think we all know the feeling when a totally legit 3rd-job character gets hacked by some PMSing n00b with no life.) Oh, and for those of you about to say "OMG KAL BUT ITS JUST A GAME GET OVER IT AND GET A LIFE ALRDY LOL.", if that's the best argument you can venture, I highly doubt you should be reading this story in the first place.

To put it simply, I use non-canonicity as a defense mechanism (which is a pretty bad defense mechanism in the majority of my readers' viewpoints, but I really don't care), so if you'd like to comment more on this issue, well and good, but know that I will probably not pay any attention, because I don't want to put you through the indignity and suffering of another 5-page author's note because another couple people didn't get it.

So, in conclusion, I appreciate all of you speaking your minds on this sensitive issue, but PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEFORTHELOVEOFFREAKINGGODDON'TSENDMEANYMORECRAPREGARDINGSPECIALATTACKSORTHEKNSYSTEMWHICHIONLYWROTEANEFFINGPAGEABOUTBUTSTILLGAVEEVERYONEHEMORRHOIDSANYWAYBECAUSEITWASTOONONCANONANDANYWAYIMONLY14ANDTHISISMYFIRSTFANTASYEPICANDANYWAYSITSMYSTORYANDICANDOWHATEVERIWANTTOITANDITSNOTLIKEIMFORCINGYOUTOREADITORANYTHINGSOPLEASEDONTPISSALLOVERTHEFLAMESOFMYCREATIVITYBECAUSETHENI'LLHAVETOGOEMOANDINVENTNEWPLACESONMYBODYFORMYSELFTOCUTSOTHANKYOUALLVERYMUCHANDHAVEAGOODSUMMERLAWL.

1a. Special Attacks (Joke Section)

My greatest thanks to Spiraea Kozak for inspiration for this section, and hope that he/she will not kill me for taking a well-meant suggestion in good fun.

Yeah, yeah, I know everyone hates teh Thunder Spears, but then again I have to do something in the way of melee fights, because bows are boring. One of my kind reviewers, Spiraea Kozak, has politely offered a list of alternative suggestions for me to use, which I will now proceed to mercilessly dismember (Disclaimer: This is a joke intended for personal stress relief and not meant to offend. Please lighten up a little.)

1. Bow swing
I think this has already been used under the name "Power Knock-Back", but as you can tell from the great multitudes of comments that have been pouring in lately, I could be mistaken. I'll remind myself to check later.

2. Bow boomerang
What happens when an Australian archer runs out of arrows exterminating roos on his property but still feels the primal urge to throw a curved stick of wood at wild animals? Well, here's your answer…

3. Whip lash with half-attached bowstring
All right, I'm just going to unfasten this string here and wait for that large, fire-breathing Balrog with bloody claws to come close enough so I can hit it in the face with this string…

4. Strangling with bowstring
Never mind the fact that my spleen's missing from the previous encounter, I think I'll just run up to that thing's face and try to get this string behind its neck and…OHGAWDMYORGANS!!--

(end transmission)

5. Cutting with bowstring
As soon as I get out of the hospital for emergency organ transplants, I'll take this string again and…

On second thought, maybe I could just use Strafe.

6. Sonic attacks with bowstring
Fear the power of my sonic bowstring! (Holds up dangling, broken string) Yeah! Take that! You're scared now, aren't you?!

7. Pole vaulting with high tensile bow
Because of budget difficulties, organizers at the 2008 Summer Olympics have recently decided to combine two of their events into one. I'll demonstrate. (Running footsteps) Here I go…

(-!CRACK!-)

…Uh, guys, could you go get the medical dictionary and look up "stabilizer" and "lung"?

8. High jumping using bowstring as trampoline

All right, I'll just put my bow here and jump like so…(-snap-)OWWWW!!!

So much for starting a family now…

9. Rocket propulsion by blasting the ground

Flying For Dummies: Plant explosives under your feet and see what happens. Burn insurance sold separately.

(Ed. Note: I used this in the temporal arte scene when Delly was fighting Llewellyn, but I don't think anyone noticed.)

10. Circle strafing
I told you already, it's strafing…with circles…oh, never mind.

11. Firing arrows to block blows
Welcome to the special Beran edition of MythBusters, where aspiring author Kal Ancalas will now attempt to find out if it is indeed possible to halt an incoming 200-ton anvil in its tracks simply by firing arrows at it. Remember, kids, don't try this at home.

12. Using arrows as daggers
But I only use Soul Arrow, so I'll have to make a new attack called Soul Dagger or something like that…

Or I would, if everybody wasn't threatening to rip out my kidneys for inventing another "non-canon" attack.

13. Usage of arrows with altered stabilizers to create warped flight paths
If anyone can first tell me (without using Google, Wikipedia, or any reference material whatsoever) what a stabilizer is, much less how to alter one, I'll give them a cookie.

That aside, I appreciate Spiraea Kozak's well thought-out suggestion, but if I may, I suggest a simpler solution for creating different flight paths, known commonly as "aiming".

2. SEX0rZ-(ahem) Romance

I might have said this before in a previous author's note, but I'm too lazy to go back and check, so here goes: I sux at writing teh romance.

Without playing the "OMGIMONLY14" card and violently raping Caps Lock in the process like I just did above, I will merely say that certain emotions and circumstantial situations are very difficult to write well without having experienced them previously, such as love. Although my natural charisma and handsome figure have been the talk of the local social circles lately, I have thus far been unable to find a potential mate in this ever-changing world, and thus cannot muster the creative energies to write a decent love scene, so most of my "romance" comes from cheap films and pulp novels that I read on a whim. My apologies, but I still have nine chapters or so to improve, so I'll work on that.

Also, as a side note, the end of this chapter contains some really cheesy/mushy stuff (though nothing that actually requires a parental warning), so you've been warned.

2a. Delinia Arklanser/Luke Sinclaire

Yeah, yeah, I KNOW IT WAS RUSHED. Good lord, can't I make two people kiss without having to crap out an endless stream of cheesy, mushy talk and starlit nights in preparation?

All badly worded sarcasm aside, this was one of the most difficult pairings I ever intended to write in the story, mainly because the two don't spend a lot of time together, and very little of what Arklanser thinks of Red-Haired Perv- I mean, Sinclaire isn't shown in the story. I did put some of that in the temporal arte scene, but everybody skipped over it because it was so corny (another five hours of my life I won't be getting back), so no help there.

As with most of the pairings addressed here, I plan to develop the romance in the last few chapters of the story, but then again, this is from the hand of a 14-year old virgin (props to everyone who caught the implied pun), so don't expect any steamy scenes in bed any time soon.

2b. Ascion Blade/Iris Gaiden

This isn't so much a pairing as it is a cartoonish experiment in matchmaking by me. Probably to compensate for the fact that I'm a horrible romance author, I made everyone's favorite smart-arse priest hopeless at dealing with girls.

Incidentally, I enjoyed writing interaction between them at the end of this chapter (this is sarcasm).

3. Chapter Length

What can I say? I just have more to write about than others (sorry, Chief.)

The reason I made Chapter 20 unbearably long was because I wasn't going to update for a month and wanted to compensate for the wait.

I won't put down how many pages are in this chapter, because I don't want to give people heart attacks, but as stated in the author's note above, I would definitely recommend budgeting your time so that you have at least an hour, preferably an hour and a half, if you want to finish this chapter.

If you'll notice, my chapters keep getting progressively longer, and this is no exception. Mainly, my reason for making this one so long is because I haven't updated for 40 days (travesty!) and wanted to make it up to you all for putting up with my procrastination. Besides, there's a lot I wanted to say in this chapter, and I found it would be too long to put in one chapter and too short to put into two, so I went with the former.

Also, a small unrelated aside to the person who asked: Warriors actually can KS bowmen, if said warrior is level 30+ and has Slash Blast and said bowman is level 10 and doesn't have PKB, as was the case in the first chapter. (Will people please pay attention to details next time before signing their name to comments?)

4. An Unrelated Tidbit

At the moment of this writing (August 10, 2007), there are currently 117 Google results for "Kal Ancalas". (Note that 99 percent of these are either from FF as referrals or the Sleepywood forums.)

By the way, I'd like to apologize if there are any grammar/formatting mistakes in this chapter, but you haven't experienced pain until you've spent three hours straight hunched over an obsolete laptop correcting all the bunched-up text, missing punctuation, and broken text styles because FF decided to be a bitch and forced you to upload in plain text, so please cut me a tiny bit of slack here.

Also, this is sort of off-topic, but if anyone could PM me the link to a working KOTOKO - Face of Fact MP3, I would really, really appreciate it.

Thanks, and review.

-Kal Ancalas, 8.10.07

(finally end useless, boring author's note)

The air siren exploded throughout Ellinia with the force of a bomb, its shrill cry sending shock waves through the veins of every magician sleeping at their desks in the forest city.

Cries of surprise and shock burst into the air as the biometric defense mechanism broadcast its inevitable message through the city. The news spread at the speed of sound; a large mass of Balrogs had been seen heading due east from Perion, whose communications systems had apparently been all but destroyed. Not even a single message had managed to reach the other cities, save for one.

And now Schuyler Kusanagi had to decide what to do with it.

The fire/poison archmagistress silently sat at her desk and kneaded the grain of the wood against her gloves, sparks cradled in the palm of her hand. With the archmage Grendel away on official business in Henesys-Elaesia (what that meant, she could only guess at), the head of the Ellinian Research Institute suddenly found herself in a very uncomfortable position. At her command, over a thousand specially-trained assault teams could be sent to combat the invaders- but what difference did that make when they were outnumbered nearly five to one?

I have to do something, she told herself silently, a bead of sweat making its way down the back of her neck and melting into the creases of her luminescent flame-colored gown. I didn't stay up for a week making the gravity arte for nothing, and I'm not about to stop now.

Absentmindedly, her fingers located a scroll curled up on the corner of her desk and automatically unfurled it. She eyed its contents with a half-awake glance- according to the census report she held in her hands, over two thousand battlemages and six hundred temporary thief forces on leave from Kerning City rested in her hands, along with the three couriers that Athena had sent.

It was up to her to seal their fate with a single command- a fact she was unfortunately all too aware of. She felt like the losing player in a game of chess, outnumbered and outmaneuvered until no measure of hope was left.

We have to survive, she repeated in her mind, postponing the inevitable onslaught of death, destruction, and chaos that was sure to come.

She glanced at the clock behind her.

There were twenty minutes left.

A sudden commotion in the hallway outside her office made her raise her head off her desk a fraction of an inch, as her fiery hair bobbed at her shoulders. The sound of the door opening reached her ears as a dark figure stepped across the threshold.

"Good morning." Ascion Blade calmly inclined his head towards the barely-awake magician. "You may need to get up. We'll have one hell of a time dealing with the Balrogs if you're not there to lead us."

"Mm." She blinked groggily in response and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, light diffusing into her pupils. The priest stood silently in front of her, a series of dark-ridged plates buffering his nightshade-colored robe and giving him even more of a dark, forbidding appearance than usual. His Magicodar wand glittered sinisterly at his belt.

"Nice outfit." she finally muttered, having nothing else to say at the moment. "I suppose you'll be all right, then?"

"I am." he replied, with a bland shrug. "I don't know about those two, though…" He inclined his gaze towards the now-opened door, where the source of the commotion was happening.

"Are you kidding me?!" Joseph Stalrigarde exhaled sharply and rumpled a hand through his blonde hair. "This is a freakin' bathrobe!" He cracked his knuckles and balled the corner of his left sleeve in his fist. "If I have to kill bloodthirsty demons, I'd rather not do it looking like this!"

"You don't have to worry." Iris Gaiden calmly brushed a hand through her emerald hair and buttoned the straps of her ivory-colored brocade jacket as though she were doing nothing more than attending a social event. "It's not like there's anything for them to see anyway."

The alchemist turned a nasty shade of puce. "Shut up." He calmly pressed his fingers together and laid them over his chest, whispering "Alchemist." A flash of blue light covered his form as an alchemic glyph spread across his figure, the fabric of his robe seeming to melt over his body. When he removed his palms, the robe had transmuted itself into a flexible hauberk-like garment.

Ascion raised an eyebrow in slightly impressed amusement. "I hope you have time to make fashion statements on the battlefield."

"Be that as it may," Schuyler tiredly announced, drawing herself up to her full height and hiding a yawn underneath her expression, "the only thing I can say is don't take unnecessary risks. We can't afford to lose any more people than we have to."

This dismal statement was met by a chime from the antique clock hanging on the wall. The fire mage threw a furious glare at it before silently sinking back into her chair with an emotionless expression. "You should go out. We have about fifteen minutes left until- you know." She waved the three out of her office and locked the door behind them with a silent incantation.

Ascion eyed the door with a dark expression. "She's cheerful today."

"Like somebody we all know." Iris replied shrewdly, causing the priest to blanch lightly. "Let's go."

A calm breeze met them as they stepped outside of the dim, lifeless research facility and into the Ellinian sunshine, bright and warm against their weary bodies. However, they had no time to enjoy it- the serene atmosphere was broken by the sound of marching as hundreds of magicians with stark, emotionless expressions filed past, weapons at their sides.

Ascion opened his mouth to say something, but his words were drowned out by the shriek of the air-raid siren, and he settled for nervously fingering a curved spike on his shoulder guard.

Iris turned towards him. "Did you say something?" she asked, in a surprisingly gentle tone. Oddly enough, he could hear her voice clearly over the scream of the siren- he suddenly realized that she had cast an arcane arte over them to drown out all other noise in their vicinity.

"I didn't say anything." Ascion muttered, neatly sliding his left hand into his pocket as he turned his face slightly away from the older mage.

"You said something." she replied curtly, refusing to back down. "I heard the words 'Ark' and 'Zeraion."

The mention of his older brothers' names sent the priest into a brooding silence. "Yes- I did." he finally concurred, after a drawn length of time. "So what if I did?"

"It's very unusual of you," Iris murmured, choosing her words carefully, "to, um, show affection towards anyone."

"They…" Ascion calmly replied, plucking his Magicodar from his belt and twirling it between his fingers for a brief moment, "…are my brothers, Iris." He raised his head upwards and stared into the sky, a single wisp of cloud streaking the landscape.

"I know what you mean." she whispered, following his gaze upwards. "I wish my older brother was here, too." A wistful expression crossed her face for a moment as her hair fluttered at her shoulders and waist.

His eyes darted back to earth and met hers for a brief second before the moment was lost, and they became simple pawns in the game of war once more.

Because of their position as commanding officers, they should have been at the frontlines of the guard, but then again Schuyler had warned them not to take unnecessary risks, and putting themselves in excessive danger would not help matters. Ascion finally compromised by finding a rank near the midsection of mages, while Iris took a position one line behind him and Joe one several feet ahead.

There was a swishing noise behind him and Ascion barely had time to catch the hem of Schuyler's blood-crimson and gold gown before it vanished towards the front of the large contingent of fighters. At the appearance of the understudy to the leader of Ellinia, the large bickering crowd fell silent, leaving the great forest feeling eerily empty at that moment.

"Attention." Schuyler's voice resonated over the silent trees as the units raised their heads in preparation. "There's not much I can say at this point. You all know very well that a group of Crimson Balrogs about five times our number is flying our way and are about to wipe us out in five minutes." Her words hung over the mages' heads ominously like swords hanging on slender threads.

Suddenly, her voice grew louder and stronger, more resourceful, more determined. "You all know that this is our home. We've had it destroyed once before and we all know what happened that time. I don't want to see half our population dead and the other half dying. We're not heroes. We can't- and we won't be able to all survive today." Her voice paused for the slightest fraction of a second before it rose up again. "but we have to fight. For our families, for our homes, and for this world. For our future!"

Her words were met with a massive storm of cheering as countless mages and thieves raised their weapons to the sky. "Yes! For our world and our future!" Caught by the euphoric mentality sweeping the ranks, Ascion relinquished his self-control and let out a savage battle cry that quickly carried far across the thousands behind him.

There was an explosion-like noise as lightning suddenly arced across the clear sky, which quickly began to darken as an eerie shadow spread across it. Clenching the sleek handle of his wand so hard his knuckles turned white, Ascion sucked in his breath and watched as a series of black specks suddenly dotted the sky, which grew steadily larger by the second, wings unfurled and claws bared in a storm of destruction and death.

The Crimson Balrogs had arrived at last.

Ark Wolfen's steps thudded lifelessly against the ground as he pulled himself across the soft loam of the Sleepywood forest.

"How- much farther is it?" he managed to growl before he forced himself to lean on a tree for support.

Two paces behind him, Dariel Marron gave an emotionless shrug. "A couple more hours, give or take. With the most recent battle, our current rate of speed will be slowed even more."

"That's nice to hear." The axe-crusader resolutely steeled himself and continued on, his insides shifting uncomfortably in the metal shell that was his cuirass. Every step seemed like its own eternity when he walked, yet, when strung together, the pace was somehow relaxing in its own way.

Trying to keep himself from fainting or throwing up, whichever came first, Ark put a hand to his temples and let his fingers slide down to the base of his shoulder, leaving a dark melange trail of dried blood. His fingertips touched something hard and cold and he opened his eyes to find he was clutching Ascion's pendant.

Ascion…

The thought of his younger brother alone in Elaesia left a slightly bitter taste in Ark's mouth, and he forced himself to solder on, keeping a firm grip on his neck that looked oddly like he was going to strangle himself.

"Wolfen." The Paladin's voice broke the dismal silence. "As much as I'd like to see you die a horrible death by asphyxiation, I would rather leave that to the Taurospears."

"Shut up." the latter growled, in a less-than-amicable voice. "I was thinking of- Elaesia."

"I see." The blonde-haired swordsman contemplated the trees around them for a moment before slowly sinking back into his usual silent posture. Ark sighed inwardly at the dismal atmosphere, the dark, shadowed trees reflecting off his current state of mind.

"Is something bothering you?" Lisande asked a few steps off to the side. Ark raised his head to look at the princess before finally tearing his gaze away from her. "Nothing."

Lisande faintly raised an arched eyebrow and looked cautiously at Ark before turning her attention to Ryden and Marron, lazily marching off to the side, and shooting them a serious look. Both swordsmen exchanged dubious glances before inclining their heads and slowing their pace, allowing the princess to talk privately with the wild-haired crusader.

"Ark." Lisande's voice awakened the axeman from his resolutely slow pace. "What troubles you?"

"Perion being on fire, perhaps?" the latter replied, in a slightly colder tone than was intended.

Lisande exhaled and gently reminded herself to be a little more patient. "You're not thinking of Perion. It's something else- something much closer to your heart." Her raven-blue eyes gently met his for a moment before they turned away.

"How did you figure that out?" Ark muttered, somewhat rhetorically. Lisande watched him unclench his fingers from around a small pendant hanging about his neck, after which he ran his fingers across a large rift in his cuirass. "I'm thousands of miles away from my home-"

"Ten." she corrected, at which he pretended not to hear. "-and for all I know, some madman's attacking the city of Perion, which happens to be in close proximity to the city of Ellinia, which happens to be where my brother is stationed right now."

"Ah." Lisande opened her mouth a fraction of an inch before she closed it. "Sibling love."

"It's nothing like that!" Ark snapped, in a slightly more brusque tone that he should have used. Lisande blinked, and he took a breath before running his knuckles across his forehead. "Sorry. It's…I really don't have anything to be worried about, after all…I mean, he is sixteen, and he has Iris to take care of him…" He laughed humorlessly before going on. "But, you know, I'm just used to that sort of thing. It's hard to believe that whiny brat grew up to become one of the most skilled magic-users in the history of Bera…"

"Hm." Lisande couldn't resist a small smile herself. "Your parents probably raised him well- as they did you."

She meant it as innocuous conversation, but she knew she'd said something wrong when she heard the crusader's breathing cease abruptly for a moment. "Ark, what-"

"It's nothing." His raven-black eyes blinked several times in the direction of the sky before he turned away, silently scrutinizing the trees as they walked.

The elven princess was shrewd enough to deduce what had happened from his expression. "What happened?" she asked, in a compassionate tone.

Ark directed his gaze to the forest floor and clenched his teeth. "My…my mother died giving birth to my brother." He exhaled sharply and twisted his palms behind his back.

Lisande instantly became quiet, a shadow falling over her face. "Oh, Ark, I'm sorry." she whispered, laying a hand on his cracked shoulder guard.

He gently pushed her away. "It doesn't matter, Lady. He's still my brother, and I don't blame him. I can't." He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them, his pupils gazing at the treetops. "How much time until we reach Elaesia?"

"Three- three and a half hours." she replied, a tiny trace of something- could it be emotion?- coming into her voice.

"Thank you." Ark replied starkly, before turning his attention back to Marron, who had inexplicably moved up to his original position among the ranks. "Dariel."

"What?" Marron said, in a slightly caustic tone. "I'd like to help you, Wolfen, I really would, but unfortunately, I have no experience with lovers' quarrels-"

"Cut your crap!" Ark snapped, rumpling his hair erratically; the Paladin seemed slightly surprised at the outburst. Shaking his head, Ark put a hand to his temples. "Sorry. It's just that I've been on a loose end since we saw the smoke over Perion-"

"That isn't all that's loose, Wolfen." Marron muttered under his breath, but Ark had enough tact to pretend not to hear.

"Look, I really would like to listen to more of your idiotic sarcasm, but some other time, okay?" He exhaled sharply and chewed on the tip of his tongue. "I need you to do me a favor. As a friend."

The swordsman raised an eyebrow, strands of golden hair fluttering across his forehead as his massive blade hung dangerously across his back in its regal sheath.

"What kind of favor?"

The sky over Elaesia was calm and serene, fluffy strips of cloud boiling over the calm afternoon sky as wind gusted over the dry plains. The scene was picturesque more than anything as leaves danced through the air and the grass fluttered in the wind. The surrounding land looked as though it had been freshly taken from an artist's canvas, various hues of color splashed over the landscape.

However, Colonel Reneas Aries of Alpha Division, Epsilon Regiment had no particular interest for nature whatsoever.

"Strafe!" he commanded, raising his sapphire-colored Metus bow into the air and releasing the string; with a vibrant twang, four bolts of light splintered from the limbs of the winged weapon and lanced through the air before neatly piercing through the center of a target approximately a thousand feet away.

Reneas lowered his bow and closed his eyes as the wind strew his hair messily across his face. He wiped his forehead and turned to the rest of his platoon. "Let's see how well you can do." he ordered in a curt tone, neatly sheathing his bow in his quiver.

There were mutters and the sound of gutstrings twanging as the bowmen lined up behind him readied their weapons, raising them into the air. With a collective shout of "Strafe!", several hundred spectral arrows knifed through the sky and buried themselves at the far end of the shooting range.

Reneas lifted his eyes to examine the results and sighed balefully when he saw that only about half the projectiles had managed to hit their marks. "For your sake, I sincerely hope you don't slack off when training. Just because Colonel Sinclaire's getting laid tonight doesn't mean he'll be any less pissy when he sees that aim of yours." There were snickers at the colonel's remark about his colleague, but Reneas only allowed himself the faintest of smiles before he turned back to the strip, all business. "Let's practice your elemental abilities now." he said, as he aimed his Metus and yanked back the string, red-hot flame glowing at his fingertips. "Inf-"

"Colonel Aries!" a voice abruptly shouted, and Reneas accidentally misfired, sending a bolt of flame into a small clump of brush several yards away, causing it to ignite with a loud retort. A random sniper quickly raised his crossbow in response and commanded "Blizzard!", sending a cloud of ice in the direction of the blaze. There was a loud hiss as steam rose over the troops, the flames extinguished.

Reneas nodded a quick thanks before turning his attention to the source of the voice, which, surprisingly enough, turned out to be Athena, her silvery gown and copper-shaded hair billowing in the breeze. "Can I help you, Athena?" he nodded politely.

The bowmistress sighed. "I was merely wondering if you knew where Colonel Sinclaire is right now." She did not blink or pause as she posed her request. "There is an urgent matter that I would like him to take care of."

Reneas considered the question for a brief moment before disinterestedly replying, "Haven't seen him. He's probably in his dorm right now."

"Thank you, Aries." Athena inclined her head for a brief moment before she turned in the direction of the Alpha Division barracks, her footsteps echoing in the breeze.

Reneas' eyes followed her before he noticed that the activity behind him had ceased to a standstill. "What are you waiting for? Get moving." He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the archery strip.

Seeing everybody spring to attention, Reneas silently turned his back on the units and stared up into the sky.

"He'd better not have her in his room when Athena comes." he mused faintly, before turning back and casting his hawk-like gaze over the rest of Epsilon Regiment.

---

Meanwhile, the very colonel that Athena was seeking was indeed sitting cross-legged on the bed of his dormitory, silently gazing at the nondescript bedsheets. Every once in a while, he would run a hand through his dark auburn hair and give a baleful sigh.

Delinia Arklanser was in the room with him.

She said nothing as he brooded to himself, but rather watched him with her eyes, calm orbs of crimson within the dim walls of the officer's room.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Colonel Luke Sinclaire turned his gaze towards the woman sitting opposite him upon the bed, her flame-colored hair draped over her back like a cloak. "Is there anything I can do for you, Delinia?"

"No, thank you, Luke," she replied calmly, but even the ranger could tell that she was lying- despite her words, she seemed uncomfortable, as though there was something gnawing at her mind that she desperately wanted to say.

She finally said it five minutes after Sinclaire feigned disinterest in her and turned his gaze back to the whitewashed ceiling of his dorm.

"Why?"

Sinclaire blinked and cocked his head towards the rangeress. "Excuse me?"

Her gaze sharpened as her crimson eyes met his. "Why, Luke? Why, of all people, did you have to fall in love with me?" There was something in her tone- something he couldn't quite place, but sounded almost like regret.

Sinclaire blinked for a split second before he quickly assumed a casual expression. "I should be asking you that question. You're the one who kissed me in front of practically everyone I know- which, by the way, isn't going to help my standing when I go on evening patrol tonight." he added, somewhat sardonically.

"I have my reasons, Luke, but I'd like to hear yours first." she replied softly. He sighed and mentally untied the knot in his stomach- he both loved it and hated it when she used his first name to address him.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" he whispered quietly, his voice a wisp of sound in the nearly-empty room. The words sounded so corny- why, he thought, did everything he say in the way of romance sound painfully overused- but he made the most of them by brushing aside his hair and fixing his gaze directly on the object of his affection.

Arklanser opened her mouth a slight crack for a reply and shut it immediately after, intently gazing at him. She murmured something under her breath to herself, but Sinclaire either couldn't or pretended not to hear.

"Look, Delinia-" He busied his right hand with wiping another handful of auburn hair from his face while he considered what to say. "I know this sounds cliché, but you've got to believe me. When I first saw you, I was…well, it wasn't under the best of circumstances." he finished lamely, remembering their first awkward meeting in the walls of Athena's office. "But when I laid eyes on you, I knew…I knew there was something special about you- something I couldn't find in anyone else." He sighed and tousled his hair, gazing upwards into the nondescript ceiling. "It- it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

She blanched ever so slightly at his unintentionally double-edged words, but he didn't see it. "Even after the incident with the ring, that hasn't changed anything, because I…I still like you a lot." he faltered, wisps of pink creeping up his cheeks. "Goddess, I feel so embarrassed right now." he muttered quietly to himself.

Surprisingly, she shuffled closer to him and took ahold of his hand, the one that had been ruffling his hair moments ago. "You don't need to be." she sighed. "I suppose I didn't receive such a great first impression from you when we first met. I thought you were a colossal pervert, but…" She fiddled lightly with her fingers as he turned a shade of pale pink. "I guess you do have a heart under all of that, Luke." she gently whispered, touching a hand to his uniformed jacket.

Sweating profusely, the ranger silently pushed away the urge to hug her and settled for lying back on his bed. "That's nice to hear." He lapsed into quiet thought as he chewed the tip of his tongue, wondering what to say next.

He thought of what Tales and Igzarion had told him in the conference room- so long ago, it seemed- and he wanted badly to embrace her and tell her he understood, but that would require an explanation of how and why he knew her secret in the first place, and he didn't feel like putting himself through that.

"So," he finally found himself saying, to break the ice, "why the sudden change of heart?"

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, raising an arched eyebrow in slight surprise.

"You know perfectly well what I mean." he replied, holding his dark crystalline ring up to the light and examining it. "Why, after you came back, did you suddenly feel the urge to-" He broke off the end of his sentence, but Arklanser knew perfectly well what he was talking about.

"You mean when I destroyed your social standing in Elaesia some minutes ago?" she replied bluntly, tossing a handful of her crimson hair behind her back.

"You don't have to put it like that." he muttered, chewing on his lower lip.

"If you really must know, Luke…" She sighed and turned her gaze towards the ceiling as well, wondering whether to tell him the truth or not. It was some time before she spoke, in a barely audible voice.

"…It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

His face softened slightly before he turned away from her and stared down at the bedsheets, at which she followed suit. There was no need for words anymore; what needed to be said had already been said.

After what seemed like an eternity, he shifted his glance to the glittering stone on his finger, its facets shining sinisterly in the afternoon light. "Delinia- I'm sorry." he muttered quickly, referring to the fiasco with the ring that had erupted a couple of weeks ago. "I…I didn't know-"

"I know you didn't." she replied, in an unmistakably tender voice, as she gently caressed the hand adorned with the jewelry.

He sighed balefully and reluctantly withdrew his hand from her touch. "I…I had been meaning to give this ring to you as a present." he said, his pulse shooting through his veins. "But if it bothers you, I won't-"

She silently touched a finger to his lips and plucked the ring from his hand, her fingers caressing the cool crystal. "No, Luke. It's okay." She silently held the jewel up to the light, examining it minutely. "After twelve years, I can let it go now."

He silently let his head fall back with a thump onto his pillow, breathing heavily. Just a couple weeks ago, she had been intent on burying him several feet under the ground, and now here she was, having already kissed him and was now sitting in front of him.

What else is new? he silently thought as he reached out and fingered a strand of her long hair.

He got his answer all too soon when he felt her hand- adorned with the ring- being pressed back into his palm.

"Luke…" He tilted his head upwards a fraction of an inch to see her intently gazing at him. "I know this sounds all too sudden, and I've barely known you for a couple of weeks, but…" For the first time in his life, he saw her cheeks blush a shade of deep, beautiful rose, as she clasped their hands together and stared intently into his eyes.

"…I'd like to get engaged."

"Final Attack!"

The words pierced through the air with determination and excitement as a bolt of white-hot energy pulsed through the island forest, shooting along the ground with the speed of a bullet and colliding head-on with a large lizard-like beast. It barely had time to make a sound before its body exploded, showering a large portion of the now-scorched vegetation with still-smoking flecks of charred ash.

Zeraion Phoenix let his arms drop to his sides and surveyed the smoldering wreckage with a unique half-disgusted, half-satisfied look plastered upon his face. "Far cry from a few years back, huh, Athos?"

The limbs of the Abyssal Arund shone merrily in the sun, as they always did. I've only known you for a negligible amount of time, dragon child.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Zeraion gave his usual look of exasperation at the ancient bowmaster's words.

As usual, the sleek, dark weapon made no reply.

"Never mind." Zeraion silently plucked the string of the Abyssal Arund and was pleased to find it held. "It seems incredible to believe, but I actually haven't used Final Attack for quite a while-

You seemed more interested in swinging that glowing stick of yours.

Zeraion blanched lightly as Athos' retort echoed in his ears. "Shut up. I don't particularly like using a spear, you know- I was born and raised an archer. But Gardner said it would be useful for tight situations and I suppose I might as well take his advice." He sighed and rumpled his hair. "Sometimes, I wonder why I'm stranded on this- island." He paused, refraining from using a word he knew he would regret, and continued. "If it weren't for Gardner, I would have flied back to Elaesia weeks ago."

Rathias Gardner is a Bowmaster, Zeraion. The capitalization of the title was apparent even in the spirit's tone. They do not grow on trees- you know as well as I that he, Aethenea, and Gault are the last three remaining fourth-class bowmen that reside upon Bera. If he were to suggest that you forego your ranged tactics for some time and practice your abilities in close combat, you would be hard-pressed to find a reason to doubt him.

"I know, I know." Zeraion flicked his fingers, but only a single spark made its way into the air before it fizzled out. "When…when the island switched position, I was so pissed. I wanted to fly all the way across the ocean and get back to my brothers, but I couldn't. It just feels wrong, to be living in the lap of luxury while countless others are dying thousands of miles away."

Spoken like a true bowman. The phantasmic voice washed over Zeraion for a moment before it floated away. Now, I suggest you practice Final Attack a bit more. It is your only-

"-hope of kicking Gault's ugly ass and saving the world, I know." Zeraion muttered somewhat dryly, bringing the Abyssal Arund back to his shoulders and aiming its sight at the hind of another large lizard-beast. "Double Shot!"

The simple technique sent a pair of twin bolts flying at the monster, hitting their mark with loud retorts. Angrily, the creature swung its gigantic neck to catch a glimpse of its attacker, but Zeraion was quicker; with a second retort of the string, he charged forward. "Final Attack!"

There was a loud explosion as the wayward energy refocused itself and sent itself barreling like a missile into the reptile's chest. With a groan, it staggered and collapsed to the forest floor; Zeraion examined its badly wounded body before deciding to end its life with a merciful arrow through the heart.

"That…was weird." he muttered, flecks of ash crumbling between his fingers.

In what way?

"I haven't used Double Shot for an eternity now." He silently looked at the corpse once more before turning around and walking through the forest. "But now that I have once more, it just felt…so much more powerful. It didn't feel anything like the time I was at Fire Boars and met Grace-"

The effect was instantaneous. It felt as though someone had punched him in the chest with a gauntlet made of ice, as he wordlessly reeled of the shock that her name gave him.

Even though he didn't want to admit it, he still clung to the single hope that there just might- after the whole mess with Gault attacking Victoria, might be a way to save her soul and bring her to life.

Zeraion. For once, Athos' tone was gentle, like that of a parent's. You cannot.

"What do you know?!" A moment of rage pulsed through the ranger's veins. "Even if Gault is a lying, stinking bastard, I still believe him! I'll torture his guts out and nail him to a cross if I have to, but I will get Grace back, and you won't stop me!"

There was a moment of silence as Zeraion realized the enormity of what he had said. He opened his mouth for an apology and shut it halfway. Even if he had overreacted, every word he had just said was true.

He loved her, and he would save her no matter what, even if it cost him his own life.

It seemed a year before Athos spoke. I won't. But you must remember that her soul will do you no good if you cannot stop Gault Isentryx from annihilating Elaesia.

For the second time, Zeraion started a reply and did not finish, his mouth hanging open by a millimeter as he trodded on towards the waterfall with bow in hand.

It was the way that Athos had spoke that most struck him- for the first time, he thought he could hear the faintest trace of regret in the ancient spirit's voice, as though he was sharing the pain and heartache that he himself was experiencing at this very moment.

As he walked, he suddenly remembered a single sentence Athos had said to him, whether it be from days or weeks past he did not know.

Please, Zeraion…for the sake of the world, do not make the same mistakes I did.

Zeraion fell completely silent, both physically and mentally, but as he walked, he could not help wondering for the faintest moment of time whether the legendary Asthathos Rindelasca had ever loved another.

-----

When they returned to the waterfall, as expected, Rathias Gardner was waiting for them with his arms folded, leaning against a large, gnarled tree. The limbs of his Shinebow, still resting in its quiver, gleamed in the sunlight for a moment.

"I trust you had a good excursion, then?" Gardner chose to ignore the streaks of ash and blood that lined his student's expression.

Zeraion wiped his forehead with his gloved knuckles. "Yes."

"So, you can use Final Attack with third-class artes, such as Strafe and Inferno. Am I correct?" Gardner's voice was somewhat urgent, as if he wanted to get the conversation over with as soon as possible.

Zeraion blinked, a little unnerved by the bowmaster's tone, but replied once more with "Yes."

The muscles in Rathias Gardner's face seemed to relax a little before he spoke. "Good. I remembered seeing you practice on the grounds of Henesys. In that case, we will save valuable time moving on to the next part of our…training."

"And that would be…?" Zeraion asked tentatively, his curiosity aroused.

Gardner closed his eyes for a moment before he opened them, his cobalt-blue pupils cutting into Zeraion's gaze. He shuddered and blinked- he both revered and feared the bowmaster's stare at the same time.

"I would like to see if you've been practicing your techniques, Phoenix." Gardner said, in a polite, conversational tone. For a second, Zeraion expected him to command "Puppet!" and summon several doppelgangers for him to violently destroy, but instead, he drew out his Shinebow and strung it.

"Your objective," Gardner said, as he deftly tied a silvery-red length of cord about the tips of his dragon-emblazoned weapon, "is to survive for as long as you can upon Silver Hawk. I will be aiming attacks at you from below. It is your job to dodge them in midair. While I will not be aiming to kill, I strongly advise you to keep a clear head when flying. Oh, and don't fly too high." he added, in an unsuccessful attempt to soothe his student's nerves.

Zeraion gulped, his mouth dry, and nodded. "Yes, Gardner." As he silently drew a blue-tinted summoning stone from the pouch hanging on his belt, he tasted bile and forced himself to keep from being sick. He had used his summoning techniques, using the hawk to fly reconnaissance over the island for training spots, but did Gardner honestly expect him to actually survive more than a minute a hundred feet in the sky?

I guess it'll have to come to this eventually, Zeraion thought, as he clenched his fingers about the cool, blue stone in his palm. "Silver Hawk!"

There was a flash of white light as he felt the familiar rush of fatigue wash over him- he had never really gotten used to artificial summoning- and a loud shriek as the great bird materialized in front of its master, sedately pecking and clawing the ground.

Adrenaline quickly replacing blood in his veins, Zeraion seized ahold of the hawk's feathers and yanked himself onto its back, his bow balanced awkwardly upon his back. He lay low, his stomach pressing against its arched figure, and eyed Gardner calmly gazing at him, his bow drawn and strung.

"Any time you're ready, Phoenix." Gardner's voice was cool and calculating- the same one he had used in the chess game, he suddenly realized.

His throat feeling like sandpaper, Zeraion nodded briefly before digging his heels into the hawk's sides, and he felt himself rise into the air as the lustrous green shade of the trees quickly gave way to serene azure sky.

His only warning was a shout of "Strafe!" before he heard the noise of arrows flying upward to intercept him. Without thinking, he jerked the creature's neck to the side, and it gave a loud cry as it veered sharply to the right, the spectral bolts nearly hitting him.

Panting profusely at his narrow escape, Zeraion blinked and forced his gaze towards the ground, where Gardner lay in wait, his bow raised. Swallowing and forcing himself to get over his vertigo, he carefully gauged the bowmaster's minute movements upon the ground, mentally calculating where the next attack would strike.

There was a shout of "Inferno!" as a sudden plume of flame exploded through the air, its heat nearly searing Zeraion's cheeks. He had survived by guiding the great bird several yards upward, its talons barely feet away from the blazing onslaught.

From above, he examined Gardner's face, but could not tell whether the expression on his features was satisfaction or disappointment. He waited a second too long, for in the next second the bowmaster raised his weapon upwards. "Strafe!"

The arrows came faster than he could think, and he quickly jammed his heel into the bird's side, not caring which direction it flew. It gave a shriek of pain, and he opened his eyes a crack to see that one of Gardner's arrows had struck the very edge of its wing, a few silvery feathers drifting to the ground below.

Gritting his teeth, Zeraion drew the Abyssal Arund from his back and quickly strung it. As Gardner raised his bow for yet another assault, Zeraion raised his as well.

"Strafe!" Two voices rang out as one as a storm of spectral bolts flew from both archers' bows, the sky being crosshatched by the sharp edges of eight arrows. Two of Zeraion's arrows impacted against Gardner's in midair, both ricocheting off each other and dissipating; Zeraion quickly maneuvered out of the way of the other two with a short dive.

"Impressive." The boom of the bowmaster's voice rang through the sky. "So you do know some basic aerial maneuvers, at the very least." He calmly examined his target in the sky before raising his bow. "Strafe!"

Zeraion quickly strafed to the side to avoid the bolts, but nearly felt his heart explode when he saw Gardner's bow leveled at him once more, tracking his every movement. Knowing there would be no time to dodge, he reached inside himself for a quick spell and cried "Guardian!" in desperation.

An emerald-colored barrier surrounded him for the faintest of moments before the arrows crashed against it. Zeraion felt something like a migraine rip through his head as his protection was forcibly broken by the assault, but he noticed that the arrows had been deflected just enough to miss him.

He could hear Gardner click his tongue on the ground below, obviously impressed. "Well done, Zeraion." There was a moment's pause between the two, both eyeing the other, before Gardner suddenly raised his bow and roared, "Arrow Rain!"

Oh. Shit. There was a whistling sound as hundreds of shimmering sapphire bolts cut through the air like raindrops, and Zeraion knew the end was coming fast. In a desperate attempt to evade the incoming attacks, he tightened his grip on the hawk's neck and whispered, "Down." Obediently, mindful of incoming danger, the hawk dived.

Too fast.

He saw the ground coming up to meet him, the grass and dirt becoming closer and closer by the second, until an almighty impact burst through him as pain rippled through the fibers of his muscles. Bright light obscuring his vision, Zeraion clutched his head in his hands and staggered to his feet, wildly stumbling around as he struggled to regain control of himself.

Once the pain in his head abated somewhat, he opened his eyes and saw the visage of Rathias Gardner swimming into his field of view. He shook his head and blinked, and saw that the world had stopped spinning, although a lingering ache still remained from impact.

"I appreciate the effort, Phoenix." Gardner's stiletto voice floated through the murky haze of his jumbled thoughts. "However, I may humbly suggest that there are better ways to avoid an incoming Arrow Rain assault than dive-bombing yourself into the ground."

Muttering a mixed stream of swearwords and complaints, Zeraion hobbled to the side of the waterfall and knelt at the edge of the tide pool, hoping that the cold water would bring his head some much-needed relief.

He plunged his head under the water, and suddenly he saw a flash of light in its depths. Astonished, his eyes abruptly flew open, and through the clear water, he could see blonde hair, a warm expression, and beautiful eyes of lovely sky-blue…

"Grrcccfffcff!!" The scream exploded underwater, bubbles erupting from his mouth as he cried out her name. He nearly fell over into the water, his hands wildly reaching out for her- but the next moment, she was gone, and his need for air was making itself apparent as sirens went off in his brain.

There was a noise like a balloon violently deflating as he surfaced, drawing great lungfuls of fresh air into himself and breathing heavily, as water dribbled from his hair and face into the ground below. He blinked and frantically rubbed at his eyes, staring intently at the clear water, but no face greeted him other than his own.

"Grace…" he repeated softly, his voice slightly waterlogged as he stared forlornly at the great waterfall, her eyes still visible to him in its depths.

"The Crimson Balrogs are here!!"

Ascion knew not whether it was his own voice or somebody else's that shouted out the desperate statement, but he knew he had to follow battle orders, and his instincts from years past fighting the Balrogs with his brothers on the deck of the airship from El Nath kicked into overdrive as he raised his Magicodar to the sky and let loose a fierce war-cry. Behind and ahead of him, he could see Joe and Iris rushing forward without even a sideways glance at him as they prepared to unleash the full measure of their power upon the demons that threatened their homelands.

"Assault teams 667-1000, retreat and provide tactical support from the rear!" Schuyler's voice bolted through the forest with the dexterity and urgency of a wild deer, and the magicians behind them heard. With loud roars and cries, they raised their weapons to the sky and aimed the full force of their arcane knowledge at the demonic invaders. A maelstrom of flame bolts, ice beams, lightning bursts, and holy blades streamed through the air before meeting the head of the Balrog forces head-on. There were roars of pain as the artes hit their mark, several corpses dropping to the ground.

After their shock at being hit by the initial assault, the Balrogs quickly regrouped and began to launch themselves with all their might at the Ellinian defensive line, guarded by hundreds of magic-wielding mages and sorcerers. Deadly sparks and bolts flew through the air as the magicians' elemental techniques met with the force of the Balrogs' necromancy, many a corpse flying through the air as explosions quickly seared the landscape.

As Ascion charged forward, his wand glowing with immense power, he abruptly saw the person in front of him shriek as a bolt of lightning struck him head-on, sending his limp body flying aside like a useless puppet. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Ascion jammed his wand upwards and commanded, "Shining Ray!" A brilliant flash of blue-white light lit up the landscape as the holy arte struck the Balrog in the face. It gave a ear-splitting howl as it fell to the ground, blood soaking the ground.

Ascion silently regarded his fallen prey, but there was no time to think as another Balrog lunged at him. He quickly detected the disturbance and dive-rolled across the ground, the demon's claws raking the ground where he had been moments ago. Before it could retaliate, he raised a palm and roared, "Eclair de Larmes!"

A brilliant cross appeared upon his palm before a similar symbol was etched under the ground at the demon's feet. Before it could register what was going on, the holy spell detonated, a column of light blasting through the air as another life was forfeit to the ravages of war. Ascion took a moment to brush flecks of ash off his cloak before charging forward once more, his voice blending in with the countless hundreds that stood off against the Balrogs.

Nearly avoiding being decapitated by the claws of another Balrog moments later, Ascion flexed his wrist and commanded, "Prism Lancer!" The wing-tipped javelin materialized in his palm in a blinding flash of light; with surprising dexterity, he flung the lance through the air, ripping through three Balrogs before dissipating into mana once more. At the death of its comrades, a fourth demon lunged at him, its claws coming close to piercing his face, but he flicked his wand and commanded, "Magic Guard!"

There was a crashing noise as the claws rent against his invisible shield, just inches from his body. Wincing as a brief fatigue washed over him from impact, he clenched his teeth and thrust out his arm, commanding, "Shining Ray!" A blinding burst of light, another blood-curdling shriek, and the Balrog had joined its allies in the halls of purgatory as well. However, there was no time to rest, as there were still countless numbers of the winged menaces flying across the sky, as they raised their claws and sent meteors hurtling upon the unfortunate magicians that lay below.

Aiming to strike down the aerial bombers that the demons were using, Ascion raised a palm and closed his eyes, white motes of light dancing around him as he prepared his attack. Narrowly avoiding being struck down by a burst of dark lightning, his eyes blazed with fury as he unleashed his arte. "Photonic Ray!"

The attack, burning with more might and radiance than a normal Shining Ray, exploded through the air and neatly pierced a straight line through the sky, bringing down all unfortunate enough to be in its wake. Unfortunately, one spell could not stand against multitudes of invaders, and the Balrogs retaliated through sheer numbers, meteoric explosions rocking the landscape as corpses were strewn through the air.

Through the chaos and disorder, he could dimly hear Schuyler roaring, "Assault teams 1 through 500, lead a direct attack at the frontlines!" A gigantic cheer met her words as the magicians surged forward to intercept the Balrogs, racing through the air in groups of two or three. A magician brought down a Balrog with a roar of "Explosion!" as his teammate enveloped him in the protective shine of a Bless spell. Even thieves were joining their numbers, as Ascion suddenly remembered the reserve forces from Kerning City.

Using a quick Heal spell to soothe his minor cuts and bruises, Ascion leapt into the fray with renewed strength, his wand flashing as it took out one foe after another with lethal bursts of blinding white light. No attack could faze him as he shielded himself with Bless, Invincible, and Magic Guard, and yet the demons kept coming, threatening to annihilate them all if by sheer numbers alone.

Indeed, as Ascion glanced around, he suddenly found himself surrounded by three snarling Crimson Balrogs, their claws and eyes focused on him menacingly as he stared them down. Weighing his options, the priest felt a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck. He could easily wipe out one or two of them, but three-

"Lancreaver!" a voice roared, and Ascion blinked to see the trio of Balrogs suddenly viciously impaled through the chests as gigantic spears of ice burst forth from the ground without warning. Brushing ash and sweat from his temples, he looked around to see Iris, perspiration decorating her hair and head as the fangs of her Kage glowed dimly.

"Thanks." he muttered shortly, flicking a few strands of hair from his face. "You're all right, then?"

She grunted in response, her silver-colored jacket already streaked with ash and blood from fighting. It contrasted sharply against his own night-colored armor. "Absolute's beyond the scope of my abilities, so this is the best I can do." she said, somewhat humbly, brushing flecks of viscera from her emerald locks.

Ascion took a moment from the fighting to eye her strangely. "Three Balrogs in one hit, and you say that's the best you can do?"

Her eyes gave him a half-amused, half-annoyed look. "Prove me wrong, Brigadier General Blade." she muttered, and then she was gone as she vanished in a flash of blue light.

With nothing left to focus his attention on, Ascion ducked as a set of razor-sharp claws flashed over his head, and cried out, "Starburst!" The air seemed to ripple for a moment before it exploded in a burst of dazzling light, sending bits and pieces of dismembered demon flying. Ascion shielded his face from the explosion and winced as a wet chunk of something hit his sleeve with a thud, dark crimson fluid dripping from its edge.

"Disgusting." he muttered, shaking his sleeve- however, he nearly ended up losing his arm when a bolt of lightning cut through the air near him, so close it made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. In retaliation, he raised a palm and slashed through the air with his fingers, holy magic illuminating his hand. "Reprisal!"

The arte neatly dispatched the Balrog with ease, slashing aside the demon as though with an invisible sword. Ascion tensed and raised his hand in preparation as a sudden flash of blue light lit up in front of him, but it turned out to be none other than Schuyler, her face shadowed by her flame-red hair as her cloak billowed out behind her. Her Kage glimmered evilly at her waist.

"At ease." she said, and Ascion could notice a series of burns and cuts decorating her crimson-gold gown. "You…aren't hurt, are you?" he asked tentatively.

She tossed her head in annoyance. "If I want to be healed, I'll ask you for it. Anyway, I have to remind you that you- and the other two that went with you- need to survive at all costs. If anything hasn't happened, our courier should reach Elaesia by now with the news. It'll be a bit of a stretch, but if we get reinforcements, we'll be able to drive them back." Despite the circumstances, she managed a smile.

Ascion couldn't help the corners of his lips turning up as well. "That's good to hear. You have any other plans for us?"

"Hm." She bit her lip as a ball of dark flame whizzed over their heads, narrowly missing them. "I'd love to stay and have a chat with you, Blade, but I gotta go. The frontlines are getting hammered as we speak."

"Wait!" Ascion uttered, but in a swish of her cloak and a flash of blue light, she vanished deeper into the depths of the forest. Putting a hand to his forehead, he firmly gripped his wand with his sweat-streaked fingers and ventured further into the ravages of the battle, ready to bring death to another wave of demons.

"Shining Ray!" he commanded without really aiming, and his efforts were rewarded by a flash of light and a thunderous roar of pain from above. Instinctively dodging the nearest Balrog's swipe at him, he rolled across the burnt ground and slashed the air with his Magicodar. "Reprisal!"

There was a brilliant burst of light as the spell neatly did its work, two halves of Balrog rendered towards the ground. Behind him, there was a shout and a brilliant flash of blue light as a Balrog screamed in pain; a corpse dropped with a loud thud to the ground as Ascion recognized his teammate.

"Joe." he spoke up briefly, and the alchemist gave a quick nod in recognition. "You've seen the frontlines- how are we doing?"

The alchemist shook his head, tufts of scorched blonde hair fluttering into his face. "All right, I guess. I mean, a party of Crimson Balrogs attacking our defensive line is no picnic, but we have significantly more magicians than Perion, so we've got a few more healers to help cover up any holes in our defense." He brushed ash off his gauntlets before turning to face the priest. "You're not having any trouble, are you?"

"No." Ascion shook his head as well, in a vain attempt to clear his smoke-smarting eyes. "You- haven't seen Iris anywhere, have you?" he added as an afterthought.

The latter seemed slightly surprised (and suspicious) at the question, but truthfully shook his head. "I don't know. There's at least a hundred mages here with green hair, and she could be any one of them. Shit!" he yelled suddenly, as a bolt of dark flame arced across their heads. With a quick flick of his fingers, he commanded, "Earth Transmutation!" There was a loud scrunching noise as a large spear of rock suddenly pulled itself from the ground and impaled the nearest demon, accompanied by a howl of pain.

"Nice." The priest allowed the faintest bit of admiration to creep into his voice. "If only all the reserves from Kerning were half as skilled in alchemy as you, then these Balrogs would all be dead by now."

Joe spat on the ground. "Well, they aren't." His pupils seemed to dilate briefly for a moment- Ascion heard him faintly mutter something that began with an "R" before he quickly said, "Well- battle on." Before Ascion could say any more, he was gone with a swish of his scarves.

"Damn." Ascion swore silently as the sounds of battle raged over his ears, explosions rocking the landscape as bodies were strewn every which way. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he found himself thinking once more of his brothers.

A sudden bolt of lightning exploding at his feet made him spring back to reality, and he retaliated by swinging a fist upwards. "Photonic Ray!" The spell exploded with a burst of golden-white light as sparks of light energy lit up the sky; Ascion kneaded his fingers through his hair and breathed deeply, but all he got was the stench of burning corpses and blood.

Out of the corner of his ears and above the din, he could hear a female voice unmistakably bellowing, "Assault teams 800-1000, retreat and cast support artes! Assault teams 400-799, deploy to the frontlines at once!"

He had no idea how Schuyler could possibly manage to keep all the numbers of Ellinia's combat units straight in her mind, but there was no time to ponder that- with over two thousand magicians fighting at the border that separated the great forest city from the rest of the world, it seemed as though they were evenly matched- sheer numbers versus magical skill. The fight could easily tip to either side with a little nudge.

I can provide that nudge, he thought to himself, as a little bit of courage he hadn't known was there before blossomed inside of him. Through the haze of fighting, he imagined for a brief second that he could see Iris, her flashing green hair and silver jacket every bit as beautiful and deadly as the ice and lightning artes she unleashed from her fingertips.

He clenched his fist, drew something from the inside of his cloak, and bellowed, "SUMMON DRAGON!"

A divine gust of wind blew across the landscape as the summoning arte took hold, scions of mana and matter fusing in mid-air as a blue light enveloped the ground before him. Both demons and magicians stopped fighting for the slightest fraction of a second to watch the spectacle before them, the gigantic silhouette of a figure making itself apparent through the shady forest.

Finally, the great cobalt-blue wyvern materialized in front of its master, dangerously snarling and purring as it clawed the ground. Unlike the rest of the smaller drakes that flitted through the air, Ascion's dragon was easily the size of a small house, its great wings unfurling in the midst of the air.

Swiftly, Ascion flicked his fingers and commanded, "Teleport!", instantly sending himself upon the back of the dragon's mount. He then stared straight ahead into the midst of the demons that were flying towards him, death in their crimson eyes.

Thinking of Ark, Zeraion and Iris, Ascion Blade shouldered his wand and carefully rose into the air, as the wings of the great dragon beat through the air, creating a rhythmic pulse that matched the throbbing of his heart.

"Let's go." he whispered, soaring forward.

Zeraion Phoenix silently leaned against a large tree in the great forest upon the Isle of Ascension, the Abyssal Arund shouldered at his side.

"Strafe!" he commanded, sending a quartet of bright golden arrows into the air with a flick of his wrist. The projectiles hovered ever so briefly in the air before returning to earth with a vengeance, striking what seemed to be a nest of lizard-beasts.

"Uh-oh." the ranger mouthed quietly before a swarm of sharp-toothed reptillian hatchlings exploded forth from the damp forest soil, ready to claw him into breakfast.

You know what to do, Zeraion. Athos' voice chided him.

"Right." He spat briefly on the ground before raising his bow and commanding, "Inferno!" The fire-based arte exploded forth from his arm as a orange-crimson wave of flame surged forth along the ground, searing several of the incoming lizards where they stood.

"Final Attack!" The familiar surge of wild energy ripped through Zeraion as his arms crackled with bursts of golden-range lightning. He struggled and closed his eyes as an orb of orange-hot energy coalesced at the limbs of his bow, before literally ripping itself from his hands. The burst of energy ripped across the earth with much more force than the original attack, incinerating a wide range of land several hundred feet in front of him.

You've improved. Athos' voice carried nothing except a base sense of satisfaction.

"Thanks to you." Zeraion shrugged disconsolately, eyeing the destruction he'd wreaked moments ago. "Funny how that never happened when I was using it before, though."

What never happened? The spirit's voice was almost teasing.

"You know, with the whole energy-being-ripped-out-my-arms deal." Zeraion shook his arms, keeping his laissez-faire attitude as usual about his training. "Is that supposed to happen?"

Ah. You mean energy localization. The ancient bowmaster's voice became slightly more serious. Yes, that can happen if you build up a strong enough charge beforehand or if your technique is…advanced enough.

"Really?" Zeraion asked, his interest piqued.

Hm- well, in your case, I suppose it is just sheer luck. Zeraion blanched slightly as the bow trembled in his hand. It is a common side effect of a not-so-common technique.

"Is…it good or bad?" Zeraion ventured to ask.

Well, that depends. Athos' voice became somewhat conversational once more. It provides quite an effective boost in terms of power to your Final Attack technique, but I suppose it also goes without saying that the risk of injury to your person is significantly larger.

Zeraion winced inwardly, remembering what had happened the last time he'd injured himself while practicing Final Attack (his insides also gave a momentary lurch). "You don't think…"

Oh, I sincerely doubt anything life-threatening would happen to you. After all, it all depends on the mental strength of the person utilizing the technique, and your mental abilities are quite capable from what I can fathom. Besides, if anything goes wrong, I will aid you.

"That made me feel a lot better." Zeraion muttered, shouldering the Abyssal Arund and listlessly taking aim at a stray anthill on the ground.

He regretted making the shot almost as soon as his fingers left the string, for a sudden storm of surprisingly large insects suddenly exploded from the seemingly inert mound of earth, headed towards him with vengeance on their mind.

"Oh, for-" Quickly, Zeraion reached into the pouch on his belt and held up a summoning stone. "Silver Hawk!"

Within seconds, he was safely in the air, the Abyssal Arund holstered across his back in his quiver. He eyed the ground with derision as he gently soared across the sky, riding the wind currents.

"That's the last time I do that again." he muttered.

You could have just used Puppet to divert their attention.

"Yeah, but-" Zeraion shook his head in annoyance. "-where's the fun in that? Besides, Gardner said I need to practice this anyway, and this seemed like a good time to start."

I find it reassuring that you practice only when being chased by hordes of angry Formicidae, Zeraion.

Zeraion silently lay closer against the body of the hawk and muttered something that sounded like "Shut up."

It took him the span of a few minutes to reach the waterfall, the cascade of magically-enhanced water rumbling through his ears when he came within range of the great watercourse. He landed with the slightest of thumps and caressed the hawk affectionately before it disappeared. Looking around and noticing with some relief that Rathias Gardner was nowhere to be found, Zeraion settled for stretching on the ground, the soft grass tickling the back of his neck- even after days of strenuous training, he still found time to appreciate the natural beauty of the island.

"Phoenix!"

…shit.

Trying without much success to stifle a yawn, Zeraion pulled himself up from the ground and looked up into Rathias Gardner's face. "Hey, Gardner."

"And the best to you as well, Phoenix." Gardner replied calmly. As Zeraion examined the man in front of him, he could see, surprisingly, that Gardner's brow was furrowed with sweat. This shocked him a little- he had always thought that the bowmaster was the kind of person that never sweated, or showed any form of stress for that matter. What exactly had he been doing?

Hiding his curiosity behind an expression of blank indifference, Zeraion asked, "What are we doing now?"

"I would think that would be apparent to you by now, Zeraion, since we've been doing the same thing for weeks." Gardner replied, his eyes closed. When this elicited nothing more than a blank look from his student, he answered, "Training."

"Oh…right." Zeraion muttered, feeling rather stupid at the moment. Gardner neatly strung his Shinebow and raised it to the sky, firing a single arrow into the air. Zeraion watched the arrow fly through the sky before it passed over the sun, forcing him to look away. He turned back to the bowmaster with a puzzled expression. "What was that for?"

"You'll see." Gardner said flatly before resuming his normal expression. "Now, if you please, I think it would be prudent to practice your fusion artes."

What do you think I've been doing the past few hours? Zeraion nearly retorted, but he remained silent and shouldered the Abyssal Arund, aiming blankly at a tree. "Inferno Strafe!"

The fireballs quickly coalesced at the string of his bow and catapulted themselves at the tree, striking it squarely in the trunk with great explosions later. Mere seconds later, it had been reduced to ash.

Gardner did not give his usual "You've improved since I saw you last" speech to his student, but rather remained thoughtfully silent, examining the ashes as though he expected something to rise out of them any moment.

Slightly unnerved by his teacher's silence, Zeraion reshouldered the bow and aimed into the sky, blue lightning crackling at the limbs of his weapon. "Arrow Vanquisher!" The bolt of lightning shot into the sky like a rocket and disappeared briefly into the blue abyss before a sudden series of cobalt-colored beams rained from the clouds, bringing death upon multitudes of monsters below. Zeraion winced as the bolts scattered in the forest in the background.

He started to open his mouth, but Gardner silenced him with a wave of his left hand. "The ecosystem of the land is well balanced, Zeraion. You would be hard-pressed to destroy this island, save for a truly cataclysmic event- and while fusion artes are impressive, I am sure, they are nowhere near the amount of force needed to derail the Isle of Ascension from its position in the sky."

"What about changing the time of day?" Zeraion muttered out of the corner of his mouth, but Gardner did not hear the comment.

He raised the bow once more and recited the last of his three fusion techniques. "Omega Crush Rain!" A helix of flame and lightning exploded from the points of his bow and erupted in a wide arc through the sky, splintering into an innumerable number of fiery orbs that crashed across the forest, sending plumes of smoke into the sky. Zeraion lowered the bow and brushed off a few droplets of perspiration that had accumulated on his forehead.

Gardner eyed the wreckage and pronounced himself satisfied with a swish of his head, his ponytail fluttering in the wind. "Well done, Zeraion. There is a matter I must attend to in the forest, so I trust you will be sensible enough to practice by yourself for a while."

He turned around and ventured into the forest, his enigmatic exit not soothing Zeraion any. Sighing and thinking of the events going on in Victoria Island at the moment, Zeraion briefly considered tailing the bowmaster to see where he was going, but thought better of it. Given Rathias Gardner's dexterity compared to his own, it was virtually certain that he would be discovered, and although the bowmaster had never lost his temper in front of his student, Zeraion did not feel like tempting fate.

He aimlessly wandered to the edge of the waterfall and peered into the tide pool, as though expecting to see her face once more in the clear water, but the only face that stared back up at him was his own. Silently muttering, he splashed a few drops of the cold water into his face and turned back to eye the forest scenery.

"Fuck this." he muttered, the swearword awakening his tired senses more than the cold water on his forehead. Resigned to the fact that the rest of the day would probably be very uninteresting, Zeraion turned the Abyssal Arund over in his hands out of boredom.

That would not have been very productive if not for the fact that a sudden flash of light- very brief, but unmistakable- caught the ranger's eye. He squinted, looking down at the bow's ornate material, as flexible as wood yet harder than steel, and something on the surface of the bow's limb caught his eye.

He carefully examined the bow once more, bringing it just inches away from his face, and saw that there was something edged onto the surface of the weapon, an elegant carving of some sort. As he looked closer, he could see that they were letters- nearly invisible, only visible in the bright sunshine of the Isle.

It took him some minutes to read the narrow, convoluted script on the weapon, but he finally got the letters straight in his mind and pronounced the single word aloud:

"Falchion."

Miles away from the destruction occurring at Ellinia, three figures sat in the shade of several large palm trees overlooking Florina Beach, the waves lapping at their toes as a gentle breeze ruffled their hair.

"Hm." Rysdale Tales got up from his seat in the sand and cracked his knuckles, his hands illuminated in the sunshine that streamed from across the horizon. He wore a rather modest swimsuit that seemed a cross between shorts and a pair of martial artist's pants, but as if to compensate for not wearing a uniform at this moment, a scarf was tied about his neck in a deft knot, its two ends billowing in the breeze. "It's nice weather, isn't it?"

"Heard there might be a rainstorm over Ellinia." Traphes Igzarion responded calmly, his face shadowed by his long jet-black hair as he lay on the cool sand with his head against the tree trunk, his arms folded. A black-colored Metus bow was partially buried in the sand next to him. Almost as if to accentuate his dark, forbidding image, a crimson bandana was loosely tied about his forehead.

"Well, Ellinia's different." Tales raked a fistful of hair from his face and lay back against the sand once more. "The place has so much magic running through it at any given moment, it's virtually impossible to predict the weather. Remember when there was a sudden blizzard in the middle of March-"

"-which you started, if I recall correctly." Natalia Arundale finished for him, in a gentle, yet temperate tone. Like her two companions, her current beach attire was modest and showed off very little of her otherwise alluring figure, but what was visible was flawless, a very faint tan already beginning to spread across her exposed skin. Her light brown-orange hair dangled at her shoulders as she aimlessly traced patterns in the sand with her fingers.

The sniper brushed off the remark with a short chuckle. "Any sixteen year-old could have screwed up a terribly complicated artificial arte, Natalia."

She sighed in response to his comment and flicked a strand of her hair out of her face. "Artificial artes aren't that hard. You just need to keep the Iselian constant in your mind when summoning-"

"This coming from the one Devil Child who decided to skip all the books and summon the most dangerous weapon known to mankind." Igzarion muttered flatly, his voice directed at his surrogate sibling. "You damn near killed yourself the first time you tried to summon Gungnir-"

"Shut up, Iggy." she retorted, giving the back of his hand a quick slap as her cheeks turned a shade of pink; the latter rolled his eyes. "Okay, so I might have gone a little bit overboard with that particular trick- but it all turned out for the better, didn't it?" She tried to make a weak smile that quickly died against the sober looks of the other two. "Without it, I never would have got past the temporal arte-"

There was a snicker from Tales, while Igzarion looked somewhat chagrined. "It's just lucky you have a high magic tolerance," the night-haired ranger muttered, twisting a few strands of his long hair between his fingers, "otherwise you'd never be able to last more than a year practicing that technique-"

"Cut her some slack, Iggy." Tales murmured, staring up at the great fronds of the palm that rose above them. "She is a lot more skilled in lightning magic than we all are, and she is Athena's niece. There's no need for you to be jealous."

Igzarion turned a shade of puce. "What?!" he spluttered, sitting up and glaring down at the sniper with fury. "I was not- I mean-"

"I rest my case." Tales pronounced, satisfied as he sat up as well. "You want a duel or no?"

"I'd rather not." Igzarion muttered, as he turned his still-simmering face away from Tales to his bow.

"Suit yourself." He shrugged before turning to Natalia. "And you?"

"I'm not sure if I should in these clothes." she murmured shyly, tugging lightly at the strap of her suit.

The sniper adjusted his glasses and gave his trademark sly grin. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle." he said, in a teasing tone.

Natalia's face went several different shades of color before it returned to normal. "Fine, Rysdale," she huffed, "if you really want, I'll give you a fight to remember." She indignantly plucked her Golden Arund from the sand and strung it, the tone echoing across the seashore.

Without making even the slightest motion of discomfort, Tales drew his Marine Raven from the sand and strung it as well, holstering the large weapon at its side. "Iggy, would you do the honor of serving as referee?" he called from the side.

"Whatever." Igzarion barely glanced upwards, looking as though he would rather be doing anything than officiating a deathmatch between his two friends. "Any time you're ready."
There was a combined shout as both bowmen drew their weapons, aiming for each other.

"Blizzard!"

"Inferno!"

A series of glacial floes ripped forth from one end of the shore even as an incoming bolt of orange-red flame rushed from the other. The spells collided in midair, the elements of fire and ice canceling each other out as the attacks fizzled out into sparks and steam.

Running neatly along the sand, Tales raised his crossbow and aimed it at Arundale. "Strafe!"

In response, she threw herself backwards and dive-rolled out of the way of the projectiles, the heavy bolts crushing through the trunk of a wayward palm instead. In retaliation, she drew back the string of her bow and aimed without hesitation. "Arrow Rain!"

Tales had a moment's warning before the sapphire-colored bolts of energy arced downward to strike him from above. With little time to dodge, he raised his hand and commanded, "Puppet!" A large plush dummy materialized above his head just in time, absorbing the force of the incoming attack just in time.

She nodded briefly before saying, "I doubt we'll be able to get at each other much with ranged attacks, Rysdale."

He paused before replying, "Well, suit yourself." He flung his Raven aside, sending sand flying into Igzarion's face, and folded his hands. "I summon thee from the frozen depths of the abyss! Blizzard Sword!" An arcane glyph formed underneath him as he focused the power of the artificial arte into his hands, ice-blue bursts of energy crackling at his fingers. Within moments, the thin, deadly brand was resting in his palm, four feet of unbreakable crystalline ice ready to cleave any enemy apart.

Arundale's eyes flashed for a second before she, too, tossed her bow into the golden sands aside her stepbrother and pressed her palms together. "Open thy gates of hell to vanquish thy enemy! Gungnir!" There was a massive flash of white lightning as the gigantic six-foot long wing-tipped lance rested securely in her hands once more.

They met with a ferocious impact as sparks were thrown in the air from the collision of lightning and ice. She breathed heavily before swinging her arms above her head and preparing to bring the blade of the spear upon his head; he quickly swung the blade of the great sword upwards to nullify the incoming attack and lunged, the thin edge of the sword whistling as it knifed the air.

She twisted herself out of the way, the point of the deadly sabre barely missing her by a couple of inches, and whirled around to face him once more. "Astatos!" she roared, plunging the blade of the divine weapon into the sand. There was a thunderous retort as a bolt of white-hot lightning suddenly ripped forth from the ground where he had been standing moments before, but he was prepared- with practiced dexterity, he rolled out of the way, his hair flying in the breeze, and flicked his left wrist. "Frigid Grave!"

Large, pointed spires of crystalline ice erupted from the sandy shore of the beach as the arte took effect; Natalia quickly gauged the disturbances in the air and leapt aside of the great icy towers that threatened to impale her where she stood. Dodging a sudden eruption of frozen sand underneath her feet, she raised her hand just in time to hear him command, "Icy Hellpike!"

She swore silently as he cast the follow-up arte, icy-blue spikes much sharper and deadlier than the original spell blossoming like rosethorns from the large slabs of ice already set in the ground. Using Gungnir to flay aside the incoming tendrils of ice that lunged towards her, she clenched her fist and swung her hand in a circular motion as she dodged an incoming shard of frozen magic. "Lightning Saber!"

A large, curved sword formed of volatile, blue-white bolts of electricity tore itself from the air around her, protons and electrons in the air separating to form a deadly bolt of magic that hurtled towards Tales with the force of a ballista. With little time to respond to the attack, he leapt aside and commanded, "Bastion!" A sheen of emerald-colored magic threw itself in front of him as the defensive arte blocked what Puppet could not, bursts of electricity exploding just a few feet from his face.

Deciding to forgo casting spells for the moment, she lunged forward, sparks still tickling her cheeks, as she held the lance of destruction in her hands. She thrust forward with a crescent slash in midair and felt it strike thin air; the next moment, the everfrozen blade of ice was flying towards her midsection. She quickly plunged her left arm downwards, spear in hand, and managed to stop the sword just inches from her body.

"Impressive." he whispered, just loud enough for his voice to tickle her ears.

She wrenched aside his icy blade with a sudden burst of strength and did a pirouette on the heels of her bare feet upon the sand, lashing out at him with the lightning-charged lance. He quickly averted the attack by throwing himself across the sand, before vaulting himself upward with the hilt of the sword, and she could see his weapon glowing an eerie iridescent bluish-white in preparation for another spell.

"Absolute!" he called, swiping the air with the blade.

"Lightning Tempest!" she shouted, stabbing her lance through the air.

The two spells briefly coalesced in the same area before they exploded simultaneously, a gigantic maelstrom of icy wind and lightning sparks storming in the blast radius of the artes. Both Tales and Arundale leapt to the side as the magic detonated with a thunderous retort, sending frozen sand, sparks, and chunks of earth flying everywhere.

They both panted from exhaustion upon the ground as the mana in the air dissipated; Tales finally broke the silence, his blade disappearing into the abyss with a flick of his wrist.

"Good duel." Tales murmured, in a strange tone- whether it was sarcasm or grudge, she did not know.

"R-right." Arundale felt her mouth going dry. "You too."

They were interrupted by a disinterested noise from the side by Igzarion, who was eyeing the pair while wiping flecks of dirt and sand from his face.

"We have a visitor." he muttered, gesturing upwards, and both Tales and Arundale looked up to see Delinia Arklanser eyeing them, her hands folded across her chest and her White Nisrock slung across her back.

"Nice get-up, Iggy." the rangeress muttered, eyeing the latter's bare chest and bandana, before focusing her attention to the other two Devil Children. "I-I have something urgent to say."

"Well, say it quick. We were having a nice walk on the beach until you arrived." Tales untied his scarf from around his neck.

Arklanser's eyes flitted briefly across the smoking crater in the sand before she shook her head, her flame-colored locks dancing about her waist. "I…it's…" She struggled for a moment with what she was about to say.

"Oh my god!" Arundale clapped a hand to her mouth. "Are you pregnant?"

Both Tales and Igzarion abruptly burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, while Arklanser looked mortified. "No- of course not!" she snapped furiously, the faintest traces of pink creeping up her cheeks. "I…I just wanted to say that L-Luke's getting deployed to Ellinia!"

"So…you ran all the way from his room to tell us that your boyfriend was taking a little training excursion to Ellinia?" the sniper said, between chuckles.

"It's- oh, shut up, Rysdale!" she screeched, clawing at a handful of her hair. "It's not about L- I mean, Colonel Sinclaire at all!" She breathed, trying to steady herself, as she put a hand to her forehead. "It's- Ellinia's under attack by Gault!"

Both Tales' and Igzarion's chuckling stopped dead at her last sentence. "What?" the sniper said blankly, apparently at a loss for words for what seemed like the first time in his life.

"I told you, Ellinia's under attack!" she cried. "There's a group of Crimson Balrogs attacking the city's defensive line as we speak, and a courier just came from Ellinia to ask for reinforcements!"

"And I suppose they sent Epsilon Regiment to deal with the situation." Tales muttered, resuming his usual caustic demeanor as though nothing had happened. "Just accept what happened and move on, Delinia. It's just a simple military campaign- these things happen all the time, and he was in the EAF after all. It's not like you didn't expect this thing to happen-"

"No, I didn't!" she snapped, and he could see a tiny tear of dark crystal forming at the corner of her eye. "What- what if he-"

Tales bit his tongue in exasperation as Arundale reached forward to steady her friend. "Oh, Delinia." she murmured gently. "It's not like his fate is sealed. He'll survive."

"This is Gault we're talking about." Arklanser snarled, steel in her voice.

"Good point." Tales cracked his knuckles. "And I suppose if you want us to go all the way there and risk our lives for his sorry-"

"Rysdale, I thought you were the one who was all for taking a direct offensive against Gault." Igzarion muttered, still lying under the tree with his arms folded. "How do you think Laura would feel if her dear little brother broke his promise to go after the one that took her life?"

Tales turned his head a fraction of a degree towards the ranger, his gaze deadly serious as a vein bulged in his temples. "I was being sarcastic, Iggy." he said in a level tone.

"Right." Igzarion made a gruff noise as he shrugged his shoulders and rubbed a few grains of sand off his Black Metus. "All right, let's go-"

"No." Arklanser's voice cut him off. "Rysdale's right. I can't have you risking your lives for something I want-"

"This is war, Delinia." Tales retrieved his Marine Raven from the sand, his mood changed after Igzarion's remark. "I believe the whole point is to risk our lives here. Besides, we've been friends since childhood, and I think I'd regret getting the chance to blow up Gault's sorry ass without you."

She bit her tongue. "Thank you, but I insist. If we know Gault, he'll probably attack the other cities while we're still in Ellinia, and then where will we be?" She sighed and fingered a strand of her hair, gazing into the sky. "I'll go alone, and you three will go back to Elaesia just in case Athena needs- something else." she finished, somewhat lamely.

"All right, Delinia- I guess you just want to be alone with Luke." Tales muttered, throwing up his hands in mock defeat. She turned a light shade of rose as he cracked his knuckles once more. "I don't blame you for doing so, but I really don't like the idea of you running off alone into the untamed wilds without support." The sniper's eyes slyly flickered to Igzarion, still lying recumbent on the sand. "Have Iggy go with you."

Igzarion sat bolt upright. "What?!"

"Oh, you were the one so eager to get up and knock off a few heads, Iggy." Tales said airily, waving a hand. "Anyway, you need the battle practice- I think you're still rusty from the temporal arte."

"You-" Igzarion's knuckles whitened briefly on the handle of his bow. "I…don't want to go if you don't feel like going, either." he muttered feebly, which did nothing to help his situation.

"So, it's settled then." Tales smiled as amicably as he could under the circumstances. "Iggy, you'll go with Delinia to fight off the rogs, and Natalia and I will go back and wait to be sent on another suicide mission. Come along." He took ahold of the latter's wrist and pulled her towards the ship near the docks, who managed to throw Arklanser an apologetic glance before Tales pulled her away.

Muttering obscenities under his breath, Igzarion drew his bow from the sand, grabbed his clothes, and cast a glance at Arklanser, she just a centimeter taller than him. "Well, I suppose- we should go then." he said, with an involuntary jerk of his neck. He then directed his gaze towards the sea and clenched a fist. "Silver Hawk!"

Igzarion's hawk burst from thin air with a loud screech, its talons thirsting for blood as it bayed towards its master. Without so much as a backwards glance at her, he pulled himself onto the great bird's back and rose into the air. On the ground, he could hear a second shout of "Silver Hawk!" and saw Arklanser rise into the sky next to him moments later.

"Thank you for going with me, Traphes." she murmured as they flew onwards to Ellinia.

Igzarion merely gave a noncommittal shrug as he stared forward into the sky. "It was nothing. I just wanted to get away from Rysdale, is all." He silently gripped the neck feathers of his hawk. "Besides, with Gault against us, I guess we're all in the same boat now."

He turned towards her, and he was surprised to see a faint blush across her cheeks- he hadn't seen Delinia Arklanser's cheeks turn red in what seemed like a decade. "Why are you so interested in Colonel Sinclaire, anyway?" he muttered suspiciously, a few locks of his dark hair flying through the air as he flew.

"I- I have my own reasons, Traphes." she muttered, turning her gaze to her own bird. Igzarion silently gazed at her for a moment before staring back into the sky- another thing Arklanser hadn't done in over a decade was stutter. Why the hell was she-

Almost out of habit, his gaze flitted back to her for a precious moment, and as he looked, he thought he could detect what seemed to be a ring of black crystal hanging upon the fourth finger of her left hand.

Igzarion's expression didn't change, but Delinia caught his sharp, hawk-like gaze and shyly glided off to the side, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking at that very moment.

The Crimson Balrogs continued to soar over Ellinia as war continued to erupt between the magicians of Bera and the demons of the Sanctuary, lethal spells exchanged between the two sides as the death count numbered higher and higher.

Schuyler Kusanagi jumped and swore as the tree she had been standing behind broke with a tremendous crash, a Balrog looming above it; she angrily thrust her Kage upwards as the fangs of the demonic staff glowed with fiery mana. "Explosion!"

There was an almighty outburst of flame and a howl of pain as the Balrog imploded, flame bursting from every pore of its body as its lifeless, blackened husk dropped to the forest floor. The head of the research magicians-turned leader of the Ellinian resistance grimaced slightly as she kicked its scorched body aside.

Well, at least she couldn't deny that this was a lot more exciting than working a desk job at the laboratory.

Wincing at the number of minor cuts and bruises she'd accumulated over her aching body, she silently staggered to her feet and waved her staff, silently commanding, "Meditate." Maybe she had been a little too arrogant when talking to Blade a few hours ago, but she would really have appreciated that Heal right about now.

A sideways glance at the frontlines told her that although her forces were valiantly trying to prevent the Crimson Balrogs from breaking their defensive line, there seemed no end in sight to the numbers of demons that threatened to enter the city boundaries at any moment- and if that were to happen, the citizens of Ellinia would be done for, just like the ones at Perion.

That must not happen, she silently told herself, as she forced herself to ignore the aching in her limbs for what seemed like the thousandth time.

However, she couldn't avoid the more-than-inconvenient truth any longer- unless some kind of miracle occurred within the next hour, they were all doomed.

"Oh, Goddess." the fire magistress whispered, closing her eyes and uttering a quick prayer. She had never really been the religious type before, but now seemed as good as a time as any to pray for salvation.

Suddenly, she heard a loud cheer from behind her and opened her eyes a crack, but there was nothing to be seen. As she began to turn her head away, there was a sudden loud gust of wind and a loud crack as several trees fell, and then something gigantic and blue whizzed into her field of view for a fraction of a second before it disappeared, followed by several loud explosions and flashes of light.

"…!" Schuyler scrabbled to her feet and saw that the thing she'd mistaken for a missile had turned out to be a gigantic dragon, its great spiked wings unfurled and its talons drawn as it let out a thunderous roar. She strained her eyes and saw that there was a single figure seated upon the dragon's back, but he or she was too far away to see any clear detail.

"Teleport!" she commanded, snapping her fingers, and a flash of blue light swallowed her up before it deposited her upon a high-seated branch several hundred feet away. As the dragon rushed past her with a gust of wind that nearly unbalanced her, she caught a glimpse of the priest's face, his determined expression as unmistakable as the chocolate-colored hair that wavered in the breeze.

"It can't be." she whispered, as she stared in shock and awe at the figure that was quickly speeding off into the distance. "Ascion…"

As the Balrogs stared in amazement at the great blue figure that was speeding towards them, they had a moment's warning before it roared, "Judgment!" There was a sudden pause as the sky's fibers seemed to ripple for a moment, then utter chaos as bolts of heavenly light ripped forth from the thin air, striking down the demons where they stood. Taking advantage of the temporary break in the opposing forces, Ascion charged forward straight into the heart of the Balrogs' formation. "Shining Ray!"

His spell exploded with the force of a missile, throwing several Balrogs out of the sky as they fell to the wrath of his holy abilities. A quartet of the demons charged forward to intercept him with death in their eyes, only to be blown away as he commanded, "Eclair de Larmes!" A cross appeared on his palms before bolts of light erupted from his hands, skewering the Balrogs several times before they fell to the ground, dead.

Meanwhile, upon the ground, Iris Gaiden was valiantly dueling the demons that were swiping at her with their dangerously sharp claws, her Kage staff glowing with arcane energy as she cast arte after arte at them. "Ice Strike!" she roared, slamming the point of her weapon into the ground. The earth trembled loudly before gigantic ice crystals erupted from the ground, freezing the Balrogs with arcane pulses of icy magic; a simple cry of "Thunder Spear!" was enough to dispatch them from there.

"Shit." she muttered as she saw another wave of demons rise up from behind a hill, their eyes focused on her. The handle of her staff was slippery with sweat. "Don't these guys ever give up?" she moaned as she readied herself to fight some more.

A Balrog soared at her, its wings spread wide as it raised its claw, but she was ready, and she slashed the air with her staff as electricity crackled about her. "Thunder Spear!" There was an almighty crack and a burst of lightning as her attack struck its mark, the Balrog crumpling to the ground. Another soared towards her with its fangs wide; she spun out of the way and roared, "Cold Edge!" A curved wave of icy mana spun from her staff, striking the demons around her and knocking them back; she finished them off with a cry of "Lancreaver!" The ground rent itself apart as she cast her ultimate arte, ice and blood decorating the landscape.

"Ascion…" she mouthed silently, unheard by all except herself. "Where…are you?"

She got her answer mere seconds later when she heard a familiar roar of "Reprisal!" above her; she shrieked and leapt out of the way as two dismembered halves of a Balrog hit the ground at her feet. Wincing and looking upwards, she could see the silhouette of a great cobalt-blue dragon, its gaping maws wide as it sent blasts of light energy at its enemies. Riding upon its back was a short figure, with unmistakable chocolate hair and dark, forbidding robes-

"Ascion!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the trees, but he either didn't hear or couldn't, as several Balrogs were now surrounding him; there were more flashes of light from above, and more Balrogs fell. Iris swore silently and clutched at her staff; how could he put himself in danger like this-

"Lightning Transmutation!" a voice called from behind, and the ice mage spun on her heel to see a familiar blonde-haired alchemist, his face streaked with ash as cuts decorated his armor. Blue energy crackled at the tips of his fingers as the transmutation array on his palm quickly faded. "Hey. How are you holding up?"

"All right, thank you." she replied, which was a lie. "And you?"

He gave a sly grin and cocked his cap sideways on his head. "Oh, this is cake. Just set a few convenient trap seals behind some trees and the rest practically takes care of itself-" He cut himself off upon seeing the somber look on Iris' face. "Is everything all right?" he asked, more gently this time.

"It's Ascion." she muttered. She regretted saying the words almost as soon as they tumbled from her mouth, but Joe paid little attention to her words' meaning.

"Oh, you mean the little joy rider up there?" he muttered, pointing a finger into the air. "I wouldn't worry about him. He can take care of himself up there. Earth Transmutation!" he suddenly roared, and Iris spun around just in time to see a large fireball hit the makeshift shield of rock that Joe had transmuted from the ground a split second ago. "You need to keep your wits about you in this place." he added calmly, now twirling a Steely knife about his finger- where he had got it from, she could only guess.

"How much longer is this fight going to last?" she muttered, raking beads of sweat from her forehead.

The hermit shrugged. "Truthfully, I'm not sure. We've been fighting for a few hours, but then again, I can't say how many Balrogs they're going to throw at us." He sighed and flicked the knife into the air, catching it with a quick motion of his wrist. "They'll have to run out sooner or later."

He was right, but not in the way he'd expected.

The air was suddenly filled with screams and explosions as an earthquake-like noise filled the air, and Iris and Joe whipped their heads around to see a herd of Tauromacis, Taurospears, and even Wild Kargos rushing at them from the front. What these lesser monsters lost in power to the Balrogs, they easily made up for in speed as they mowed across the magicians, cleaving them aside like blades of grass.

"Shit!" Iris knew not whether it was her own mouth or Joe's that had swore before the hermit suddenly held a pair of shining knives between his fingers. "Shadow Partner…Flare Transmutation!" he shouted, in short order, as a pitch-black silhouette of himself seemingly detached itself from his body and flung two projectiles into the monsters' midst to join his own. The quartet of knives each struck a monster before they detonated, shards of red-hot metal flying everywhere as the alchemist finished his spell.

"How did you do that?" Iris gaped, as the smell of ashes rose into the air.

"I simply transmuted the carbon steel of the knives into flammable and combustible elements, such as phosphorus, and used a small magic charge to detonate them." he replied, in a tone that suggested the transmutation he'd just performed was no harder than clapping one's hands. "Anyway, you need to go and join the frontlines- they need you! Now!" he shouted, with sudden urgency, as more monsters from the Sanctuary streamed across the ground.

Iris blinked as the alchemist seemingly vanished into the stream of activity, as shouts and explosions rang through the air. Knowing the truth in his words, she swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth and gripped her staff firmly. I've got to do this. For Ascion…and for everybody.

With a furious battle cry, the head of her staff blazed with angry lightning as she unleashed the full measure of her power, joining the ranks of hundreds of magicians that would soon do battle against the monsters that threatened their home.

Meanwhile, Schuyler watched the ongoing battle below with trepidation as she hung on the branch of a large tree high above, unseen by all. Quickly applying an arcane arte to enhance her eyesight, she scanned the fields below and found that the ranks of Crimson Balrogs were quickly diminishing, replaced instead by hordes of Tauros and Kargos. They seemed to do a much more effective job than their larger predecessors, moving across the landscape with shocking efficiency.

"F…" The fire mage ground her teeth, her swearword hidden by a sudden hiss of breath through her teeth. She felt immensely guilty, as though the massive battle and slaughter that was going on below was all her fault, and in fact she was powerless to prevent it.

"I need to do something." she muttered, rubbing her temples with her right hand- but in fact that had been what she had been telling herself the whole time. It was about high time she got off her lazy behind and decided to do something about it, she thought, as her staff blazed in her hand.

With lightning precision, she inserted her hand inside her robe and nimbly picked out a scroll from within its depths, the paper tinted a slight yellow from oxidation. Unfurling the scroll, countless equations and theorems scribbled upon its musty page, her sharp eyes briefly scanned the arte for a second before she stowed the scroll back inside her gown.

"Let's see if this will do any good." she muttered aloud, as she raised her staff to the sky and kneaded her hands in preparation to cast, bits and pieces of arcane knowledge whirling through her mind like a miniature tempest.

With a roar, Schuyler Kusanagi launched herself off the high tree branch several hundred feet in the air, the head of her Kage blazing an eerie lavender color. As she fell, she slashed the air with her staff and bellowed, "Caustic Aura!"

At once, the head of her staff blazed fiercely with energy as a burst of lavender-white light erupted from the jaws of her weapon and diffused through the air, blanketing the entire battlefield in its wake. For the briefest of seconds, both sides paused to look into the sky, which now looked as though a great purple blanket had been thrown over it, the very fabric of the air seemingly disintegrating.

Only seconds later, the true nature of the magistress' arte was realized. Mere moments after inhaling the purple-tinted air, the monsters began to slow their assault as the magic in the air invaded their systems. Then, all hell broke loose as large groups of Tauros and Kargos suddenly stopped their attacks in mid-lunge and began writhing and having convulsions upon the ground. The magicians quickly took advantage of this opportunity and slew the dying monsters by the hundreds, demonic blood soaking into the Ellinian ground.

As Schuyler fell, moments before gravity and the ground were about to bring her a painful death, she closed her eyes and uttered "Teleport!" just as the hem of her long gown came within yards of the grassy earth. The arte whisked her to safety as she landed feet-first upon a pile of monster corpses, slightly windswept but otherwise unharmed.

"S-Schuyler!" The flame-haired leader of the magicians whirled her head around to see Iris Gaiden rushing towards her, her face pale. As Schuyler neared, she could see that the emerald-haired mage was having trouble breathing. "Calm down."

"What the hell did you do?!" she gestured wildly, pointing at the violet fog that blanketed the forest.

"Oh, just a little poison arte I devised a little while back out of boredom." Schuyler said in a dismissive tone, examining her fingernails. "Damn near risked my life getting a good position for it, but I guess it was worth it." She eyed the field of monster corpses before her and laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, and you can breathe." she added, taking note that Iris was literally hyperventilating. "It's only modified to attack the physical systems of non-humanoid organisms."

Iris relaxed and took a deep breath, wiping perspiration from her temples. "I guess Tauros don't qualify under humanoid organisms, then." she muttered dryly, gazing at the corpse-littered ground. "Have you seen Ascion, by the way?" she added as an afterthought.

The fire mage shrugged. "Who hasn't?" She breathed deeply and stared into the sky. "He's still daredeviling the pants off the Balrogs stupid enough to stay here, but I have to admit that despite the obvious danger, that is a brave idea." She exhaled, blowing purple haze into the air. "He's probably the strongest unit we have here at the moment, though."

"Aside from you." Iris added quickly, and Schuyler raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know you were one to kiss asses, Gaiden."

The ice mage immediately flushed several shades of puce, but Schuyler pretended not to have seen her subordinate's expression. "Anyway, that aside, I think I've bought us a little time with my airshow just now, but unless those reinforcements from Elaesia get here soon, our defensive line won't hold up much longer."

Still pink in the face from Schuyler's crude comment, Iris swallowed and wrung out a handful of her hair. "R-right. I guess I should go back to the frontlines now; can't have that happening." With a feeble laugh, she waved her staff and commanded, "Teleport." There was a flash of blue light as she disappeared, leaving the fire mage to her own devices.

Before Schuyler could collect herself, she saw more demonic troops coming at her from the side, and she forcibly swore. Her poison arte had only covered a localized area, and it would be much too exhausting to climb up a tree again and throw herself off it.

Lunging forward, she commanded, "Magic Composition!" Two orbs of red and green magic briefly formed at the jaws of her staff before they merged and launched themselves forward with a loud bang. Smiling grimly, she slashed her staff repeatedly through the air, the fiery poison-laced bolts soaring across the landscape. Each one hit its mark with a small explosion as caustic steam rose into the air. A Taurospear charged forward at her with its lance raised, intending to run her through; she deftly teleported out of the way and aimed the jaws of her weapon at it. "Meteor Lancer!"

A thin shaft of red-white flame pulled itself from thin air and slammed itself into the ground underneath the oxlike beast, before it detonated with power that belied its weak look. Bits and pieces of dismembered monster flew everywhere as Schuyler pulled a sleeve over her eyes; the Tauros were still streaming forward, and there were still no sign of the Elaesians.

Silently cursing under her breath (she found she was doing a lot of that lately), she cast a Teleport spell and found herself standing upon a fairly tall branch of a large tree. Maneuvering herself carefully across the wide limb, she closed her eyes and focused herself upon the battle below. She could still see Ascion, zooming around on the back of his dragon as he ferociously dueled any Crimson Balrogs still foolish enough to enter the fray.

Aiming her staff at the furious melee below, she closed her eyes and uttered, "Explosion!" There was a thunderous noise as her arte ripped apart the air with large bursts of heated flame, displacing a Balrog just mere feet away from Ascion. The latter briefly raised his head and nodded his thanks towards her before doing a barrel roll to avoid a bolt of lightning in midair.

Still keeping her point upon the limb, she steadied herself and focused her sight on the ground below, where hundreds and hundreds of monsters and magicians were still dueling ferociously. Keeping a careful grip upon her Kage, she slashed the air and commanded, "Magic Composition!" Using the high altitude of the branch as vantage, she furiously sniped away at the monsters from below, doing anything she could to tip the outcome of the battle in their favor.

Ascion noticed Schuyler flinging bolts of magic at the demons below them with deadly accuracy; he barely had time to recognize her face before a Balrog swept at him, its claws raised. He dived, the Balrog's claws coming so close they swept through his hair, and quickly spun around. "Reprisal!" he roared. A thin bolt of light spun from his fingers and flung itself towards the Balrog, the holy magic slicing through its body like paper. The dragon below him let out a massive screech as it opened its mouth and let out a blast of white lightning, incinerating a small line of beasts upon the ground.

The priest's hawk-like eyes scrutinized the ground as he silently contemplated a plan. They seem to be gathering more units on the ground below and are trying to surround us. If I can break their formation…

He exhaled, stroked the back of his dragon's neck, and brushed perspiration from his forehead. The collar of his robes were soaked with sweat and he loosened them, undoing the topmost pin near his neckline. Far below, as he squinted his eyes, he thought he could see a flash of emerald hair upon the ground, dancing and twirling in the wind.

For a fraction of a second, the tiniest droplet of regret rested in Ascion's chest.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, a sliver of breath in the cool air.

Then he dived.

The monsters and humans dueling upon the ground had a moment's warning before something blue and gigantic hurtled towards them with the speed of a rocket. People below screamed as the figure of Ascion Blade finally showed itself in all its terrible glory, his robes flying behind him as he brandished his wand furiously through the air, the roar of his dragon drowning out all other sound in the area.

Iris Gaiden raised her head a fraction of an inch to see white pillars of flame erupting like steam vents from the forest floor below her, shooting their deadly payload into the air and scorching countless scores of monsters to a fiery crisp. Though she was at least fifty feet away from the source of the magical conflagration, she could still feel the heat sear her face and stepped back gingerly.

Once she'd applied an ice arte to herself to prevent herself from succumbing to the extreme heat, she dashed forward and examined the burnt, scarred ground. She picked up a handful of ashes and stared in wonder; unlike normal ashes, the cinders she currently held were snow-white and crumbled to microscopic flecks in her hand. Her mouth hung open in amazement as she wondered what kind of arte could be powerful enough to merit this level of destruction-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shout from Ascion overhead as more pillars of flame exploded forth from the ground, neatly striking down countless Taurospears and Kargos and reducing them to charred shells of white that crumbled at the slightest touch. The heat was intense, too intense, and Iris would have collapsed if not for the fact she'd summoned a temporary ice wall around herself to guard herself from the flames.

And then, suddenly, she remembered.

"Sacramental fire." she whispered, a single murmur in the now somewhat deserted clearing; no one dared venture into the burnt-white area save for her. She had read about it in Grendel's gigantic encyclopedia on a rare occasion when Ascion hadn't been in his room, and it was probably the most dangerous spell a priest could use- aside from Heavenlapse, of course- but how the bloody hell could he possibly have used such a complicated and destructive arte? There had only been three recorded instances of sacramental fire being used in history, countless hundreds had lost their lives attempting to practice it- and for the Goddess' sake, he was only sixteen!

Well, that was another thing she'd have to ask him, if she ever got the chance.

Far off in the depths of the ancient city Meteon E'traia, Gault Isentryx made not even the slightest noise of anger or discontent as he scryed the fields near Ellinia, the image of the teenage priest slaughtering monsters by the dozens with bursts of snow-white flame.

"Hm." The faintest and deadliest of smiles crossed his face for a fraction of a second before he broke the telepathic link between his mind and the battlegrounds, opening his eyes. The shock of his crimson pupils seemed to fill the whole hall with an evil air as he breathed, eyeing each tile of the ancient destroyed city as though each one had done him a personal wrong.

The sable-haired bowmaster silently tapped his fingers on the arm of his makeshift throne of ice. It definitely suited his sinister image more than anything; the cruel king ruling over his frozen lands with an iron fist.

He closed his eyes and seemed to mouth something, the faintest of hisses making their way out of his mouth, unintelligible to all except the demons of eld that had inhabited Bera since its creation; the Balrogs.

Sure enough, moments after his utterance, a tall, forbidding figure with great wings folded across its back stomped into the hall, footsteps echoing like miniature earthquakes across Meteon E'traia's walls. A gigantic crystalline spear made of ice rested in an ornate sheath draped across its back, easily the size of a grown man's height and a half. Ice-blue plates adorned the foul creature's body as a helmet of convoluted, icy spikes rested upon its head.

"Is there something you require, milord?" Balthazar of the Devil Three spoke. His voice, although horribly distorted and grating, was still barely intelligible- indeed, he and his two companions were the only arch-demons in existence capable of human speech.

"Do you think I called you here for a cup of tea?" Gault replied, in a silky tone that sounded as though the next person who sought a cup of tea with him would die an exceedingly painful death by poisoning. "I wanted to ask for your opinion on a certain matter."

Balthazar merely shrugged and said humbly, "I doubt I should be the one to consult on such matters, Lord Isentryx."

Gault's pupils flashed briefly. "Who do you suggest I ask, then- one of your dim-witted companions? Or perhaps Raizen?" The bowman gave a caustic laugh at his own jest, as the Omega Balrog remained stonily silent. It was some time before Gault resumed the conversation. "As it is, I would normally handle such a matter myself, but I find such trifle somewhat stifling to the brain. Besides…" He kneaded his knuckles on the arm of his seat. "I prefer asking your opinion, because you seem to have quite the penchant for bloodlust." The silky tone had crept back into his voice somewhat.

Balthazar sighed deeply. "If that is your will, milord, then so be it." He folded his massive barrel arms across his chest and asked, "What is our current status in Victoria?"

"Not bad, actually." Gault closed his eyes in thought for a moment. "It is true that our demonic forces are being diminished at a rapid rate, but it is no matter- after all, our units outnumber the Victorians ten to one." He smiled briefly at the thought of more bloodlust before he continued.

"Currently, Perion is in shambles. Ellinia is, as we speak, besieged by a few thousand Crimson Balrogs, Taurospears, Tauromacis, and even a few Wild Kargos that I suppose decided to tag along for the ride. The magician forces are fighting valiantly, and I must admit it is one of their few honorable traits- but as we all know, death is the one thing in life that is certain."

"I see." The Balrog considered the information for a moment. "And what do you propose to do about the city of Ellinia? Do you plan on sending yourself into the fray?"

Gault immediately held up his hand, silencing the Balrog like a candle being snuffed out. There was a slight bit of contempt on the bowman's face as he stoically replied, "As things stand, I have no intent of showing myself to the populace at large. I will only do so at Henesys-Elaesia, when Athena Pieralasca herself decides to surrender." There was a brief moment of madness that showed in his face when he said the sentence- an expression that managed to unnerve even the Balrog for a fraction of a second. "For now, a simple solution to this problem will do."

Balthazar remained silent for a moment before he spoke up. "With all due respect, milord, I believe the situation should require a bit more consideration. You see, the Ellinians have a fighter on their side that is extremely skilled in holy artes. His name is Ascion Blade-"

"What?" Balthazar winced as Gault raised his voice, showing genuine interest in the conversation for what seemed like the first time ever. "You mean Zeraion Phoenix's younger brother?"

"Yes, the youngest son of the priest Rafael Wolfen and the swordswoman Avelyn Blade." There was a slight touch of bored farce in the Balrog's tone. "His ability with holy spells is impressive- he has even mastered the art of sacramental flame. Only Lisandea, the prophet of the Final Four, Grendellus, the leader of Ellinia for several centuries, and Rafael himself have ever used that deadly technique in history." Balthazar exhaled, completing his soliloquy. "I doubt he should be taken lightly."

"Yes, Zeraion Phoenix's little brother." Gault repeated, sounding as though he had not listened to a word the Omega Balrog had just said. "Younger siblings are quite troublesome, aren't they, Balthazar?"

Balthazar looked somewhat confused for a moment before he replied, "I'm not sure I can answer that, milord."

Gault exhaled in annoyance, tapping his fingers against the arm of his seat; the Balrog winced ever so slightly. "Be that as it may, I do not worry about Blade- or even the whole city of Ellinia, if need be. Whatever losses we may suffer will be minimal. I will make sure of that."

The Balrog looked as though he was going to ask for clarification of this dark statement, but he shut his fanged mouth in mid-speech. However, Gault noticed his second-in-command's baffled expression and said, "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, Balthazar. The Holy Grail of secret weapons, if you will."

"Ah." Balthazar sedately scuffed his clawed greaves across the floor. "You mean Raizen."

Gault opened his mouth a fraction of a centimeter before he closed it, then said, "Yes. Grace Raizen is the perfect vessel for my use. She is an accomplished ice/lightning archmage with unsurpassed abilities, and she picks up forbidden magic and artes like moths to the flame. As if things couldn't be more convenient, Zeraion Phoenix happens to take her as a love interest. Ha!" he suddenly shouted, as Balthazar really did flinch this time. "The harlot!"

Balthazar looked unconvinced, but decided wisely not to question Lord Isentryx further. "I see. So is that all you plan to do regarding Ellinia?"

"Yes." Gault threw a hand up in mock exhaustion. "That is all."

Feeling slightly convinced that his superior had recently sustained head injury of some sort, Balthazar turned without another word and left the hall of Meteon E'traia, leaving Gault Isentryx to his own devices.

While the malevolent bowmaster Gault Isentryx brooded silently in the caverns of Meteon E'traia, the burdened ranger Zeraion Phoenix sat upon the bank of the tide pool on the Isle of Ascension, skipping stones over the surface of the clear water.

With a heavy sigh, Zeraion flicked his wrist and sent a flat piece of stone flying across the tide pool. It skimmed the surface of the water once, briefly, before it hit a ripple in the water and sunk to the bottom of the water.

Oh, to be that stone, Zeraion thought, as he bounced another pebble on the flat of his palm. Even if he sunk to the bottom of the water, at least there he could be with Grace for a precious moment, and never have to worry about the fact that there was somebody out there named Gault Isentryx that was attempting to purge Bera of all that were non-bowmen.

"Inferno!" he muttered, the stone glowing cherry-red as it lay in the flat of his palm, yet the hot rock did not sear his skin. With a quick motion of his wrist, the heat-enchanted pebble skipped four times across the surface of the water, kicking up a cloud of steam and a hiss with each bounce until its heat died out and it sank to the bottom of the pool.

He watched its descent with a heavy glance, then pulled himself off the bank of the pool and silently trotted to the wood hut that he shared with Gardner. Evening had fallen, and the bowmaster had ventured into the forest for another one of his matters- what that entailed, Zeraion did not know, but as he'd learned from reading the diary, it was better not to ask questions where Rathias Gardner was concerned.

He cast a glance at the sky; the sun was beginning to set, and for a moment, he thought of Ark, Ascion, and the rest still in Victoria Island, but he forced himself to tear his thoughts away from them for a moment. They could wait. Defeating Gault was all that mattered now.

You've grown, a voice in his head said, and he immediately checked himself for the Abyssal Arund out of force of habit. However, the voice was not Athos'. It was his own.

He turned towards the waterfall and gave one last sigh before turning back to the clearing, cracking his knuckles. The Abyssal Arund was currenly lying on his bed, and he did not feel like running the distance, short as it was, back to his room. Better to just practice melee techniques for now, he thought.

He held out his wrist and commanded in a low voice, "Thunder Spear." There was a soft crackle as the bolt of lightning materialized between his fingers, throwing a dim light over the forest in the background. He casually twirled the weapon over his head in a circular motion before bringing it down to the ground at his feet, exhaling in a simple breath.

Without a second thought, he closed his eyes and launched himself forward, the spear flashing through the air as it struck down several imaginary enemies. He ducked low and aimed a leg sweep at the ground, the blade of the electric lance crackling as it decapitated a few blades of grass. He followed the maneuver with an upwards thrust, the edge of the spear bursting with electricity as he alighted on his feet with the grace of a dancer.

Letting his breath escape in a hiss, he charged forward and thrust his arm forward, crying "Thunder Lance!" There was a brilliant flash as a supercharged bolt exploded through the air, streaking through the sky. Without pausing, he twirled on his feet and gave a sideways lunge, neatly trailing the fingers of his left hand along the ground as an invisible foe lay dead at his feet. He then spun the haft of the lance upwards and roared, "Impaling Heaven!" as a series of waves of energy burst forth from his arm and took the leaves off several branches of a tall tree nearby.

He then swept the ground, spinning the center of the spear in his right hand for several revolutions before launching into his final attack. "Radiant End-"

He lunged forward, and the spear unexpectedly impacted against something hard and immovable. Puzzled, Zeraion opened his eyes and saw Rathias Gardner standing a foot away from him, his gaze turned away from the ranger as a brilliant lance of his own was gripped in the fingers of his left hand, deftly blocking the blade of the ranger's lance a few inches from the side of his head.

"Good evening to you as well, Phoenix." Gardner replied leisurely, avulsing the spear from his grip with a flick of his wrist. "I see you've been practicing."

Zeraion turned a shade of claret, in light of accidentally having tried to assassinate his teacher. "Sorry, Gardner." he muttered with as much clearance as he could muster in his voice. He withdrew the shaft of the long bladed weapon in his grip and lowered it. "Should I keep practicing?" he asked, slightly rhetorically.

Gardner, surprisingly enough, replied with a "No." Wondering at the change in the usually prompt and clear-cut bowmaster's demeanor, Zeraion vanished the lance by clenching his fist. "Why not?" he asked, in as conversational a tone as possible.

"Suffice it to say that there are those who would have you practice…more conventional techniques." the elder bowman replied, with a touch of knowing sarcasm in his voice. Slightly incensed, Zeraion grumpily muttered, "Who would 'those' people be?"

Gardner merely gave his signature dry, omniscient smile and turned away from Zeraion, saying, "Go and fetch the Abyssal Arund. I would prefer you remain armed for this exercise."

Knowing that couldn't be good, Zeraion sulked towards the direction of the hut. He made a rude gesture at Gardner from behind, but he regretted doing it almost instantly as he could almost feel the bowmaster's eyes searing into his back; yet, when he chanced a backwards glance, Gardner was sedately glancing upwards at the treetops.

Zeraion tiredly entered the dimly lit room and found the Abyssal Arund calmly glittering upon the disheveled sheets of his bed, its limber form reflecting the evening's light. He quickly picked up the weapon and felt the familiar surge of power as Athos and he joined consciousness; he saw the elegant carving of the word "Falchion" on its left limb and wondered briefly about it before remembering that Gardner was waiting for him outside, and immediately rushed out the door with the bow in hand.

When he ventured outside, he found Gardner silently gazing at the sky as usual, the first of many stars beginning to appear over the dark orange horizon. The bowmaster glanced at Zeraion, seemingly as if noticing him for the first time, and made a nod of recognition. "Excellent, Phoenix. Since you are here and prepared, I suppose we can begin this evening's torture session." He smiled amicably, while Zeraion merely offered a nervous smile at the bowmaster's caustic brand of humor.

Gardner unsheathed and strung his Shinebow in one fluid motion, the fangs of the dragon-emblazoned weapon sparkling even in the dim light. "Now, I suppose this may sound something like a broken record to you, but you have improved much in the weeks we've been here- and at a much faster rate than I could have imagined. I would like to congratulate you on the progress you've made so far."

Although Zeraion feigned modest embarassment at the bowmaster's words, he secretly felt a deadweight drop in his chest, for he knew that Gardner would not have required him to bring his bow just for a pep talk. His expectations/fears were confirmed when the latter spoke once more, his voice slightly more serious. "Because of this, I think it is time to begin a new stage in your education, a new stage that I sincerely hope will allow you to gain a foothold over Isentryx should you two meet."

At the mention of Gault's name, Zeraion's trepidation simmered into resentment as he clenched his fist- he would kill that bastard for what he did to Grace, no matter what. Surprising himself slightly with his own indignation, he stepped forward and said, "I'm ready."

Gardner raised his left eyebrow a fraction of an inch. "I see. Then I surmise you won't be averse to running…let's see, thirty laps around the waterfall."

The deadweight in his stomach returned somewhat as Zeraion nodded dumbly, his throat dry, and took off. Despite his slight inability to cope with strenuous activity, he found that thinking about Grace rekindled his determination and took the edge off the strain of running. When he finally finished the last lap in what seemed like a several-hour run, he coughed briefly before drawing himself to his full height in front of his teacher. "Done."

Gardner folded his arms, a slightly impressed look on his face. "Well done indeed. I regret that I will have to regale you with a strenuous bit of talking here, so you may sit if you wish." Zeraion's knees buckled briefly in protest, but he shook his head and remained standing.

"So." The bowmaster calmly turned away from Zeraion and began to pace slowly, talking as he walked. "As you've resided here, you've matured both physically and mentally from a young ranger to a much wiser and more capable bowman. You've learned a multitude of techniques and tactics to serve you in battle, and I can honestly say that were the need to arise, you could single-handedly face a large division of Taurospears without facing significant danger."

Zeraion wondered for a brief moment where Gardner was going with all this praise, before the latter continued speaking. "However, I regret having to tell you that because we have a slightly bigger threat on our plate than a division of Taurospears, it falls to me to teach you what more I can to prevent you from succumbing to the scourges of war, including introducing you to a few more…slightly advanced techniques."

In a swift motion, Gardner turned on his heel and looked his student directly in the eye; Zeraion nearly bit his tongue in shock when he saw those flashing orbs of lightning-blue.

"Those include the techniques of a Bowmaster."

Adrenaline blossomed through Zeraion's veins as he considered the implication of the bowmaster's words. Did this mean he was finally going to be a-

"It is true that it is very dangerous for one who is not a bowmaster yet to practice fourth-class techniques, but time, unfortunately, as I've told you countless times before, is not on our side." Gardner's eyes seemed to dilate for a moment before he went on. "I suppose it is also reassuring that you've been practicing Final Attack for some time now, so you should have a good tolerance of practicing dangerous artes." He smiled briefly before folding his arms across his chest. "Which brings me to my next point." His eyes sharpened. "Have you been practicing Silver Hawk?"

Forcibly reminded of a certain episode with an anthill, Zeraion bit his tongue and said, "Yes."

Gardner looked slightly unconvinced, but as usual, he offered no comment. Instead, he chose to say, "Excellent. Then I hope you won't have any trouble with this next technique I am about to teach you…Phoenix."

Gardner then turned away and drew something from the inside of his hauberk; closing his fist, he raised it to the sky and commanded, "Fire Phoenix!"

There was a thunderous bang like a cannon shot, and Zeraion had to shield his eyes as a massive orb of flame coalesced in the middle of the clearing, threatening to burn everything in its vicinity. He strained his eyes through the light and could see the outline of a gigantic bird, much more streamlined and elongated than the figure of a regular hawk, through the conflagration.

Finally, Gardner turned aside his wrist, and the flare-like light in the area dimmed as Zeraion heard a loud bird-like screech. He blinked his eyes several times and could see the figure of a large phoenix, its body ablaze with orange-crimson flame as it clawed the ground, a plume of brilliant fire adorning its head like a crown. The heat was intense, and he could feel beads of sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

Gardner allowed Zeraion to admire the great bird for a moment before he flicked his wrist, causing it to disappear in another flash of heated light. Zeraion could only stare in awe at the smoking patch of burnt ground where the bird had once stood. "How did you do that?"

"Through a combination of dedication, steadfast patience, and elbow grease." the bowmaster replied without batting an eye. "It is my wish that before we leave this island that you at least familiarize yourself with this ability."

"All- all right." Zeraion swallowed, his insides feeling rather dry at the moment. "How do I start?"

"If you are familiar with Silver Hawk, then this should not be too much trouble. Think of it as a fusion arte between Silver Hawk and Inferno. It is not a particularly strenuous or demanding technique, but it does require some practice to get it down pat, so don't feel too bad if nothing happens on the first time- or if you accidentally blow yourself up." Gardner added, (un)helpfully.

Zeraion inwardly winced and nodded, drawing a summoning stone from the inside of his pocket. "Right. F-Fire Phoenix!" he commanded, as a sudden burst of energy suffused him and he struggled to keep conscious.

The stone in his hand suddenly grew extremely hot, feeling like a burning piece of charcoal on his palm. He yelped and tried to drop it, but it felt as though it were superglued to his hand as it began to glow with energy. At the same time, as he strained his eyes to see through the light, he could see the very outline of a crimson-colored bird forming in front of him.

Suddenly, there was a thunderous explosion as Zeraion felt himself being tossed into the air like a piece of refuse, unstable mana shooting painfully through his brain in recoil. He arced briefly through the sky before hitting something hard, cold, and wet- the waterfall, he realized, with a sudden jolt.

As he fought to get to the surface, he opened his eyes and thought, for the briefest, fleeting moment, that he could see her eyes, staring sorrowfully at him as though they wanted to see him for just one more second.

He exhaled noisily, blowing droplets of water out his mouth and nostrils, and climbed out of the pool, his clothes sodden down as his brain felt slightly waterlogged.

"That…went well." he muttered, wringing his hair onto the ground, as his burnt skin still smarted from impact.

Gardner merely gave his student a dry, casual glance, as if Zeraion had done nothing more than tripped over a stone on the ground. "Yes, I agree." He folded his arms. "In Elaesia, Athena and I debated on whether to begin your introduction to bowmastery with Fire Phoenix, Dragon Pulse, or Hurricane." He exhaled softly, his breath a small zephyr in the air. "In the end, we finally decided on the former. Dragon Pulse and Hurricane are mighty indeed, but they carry a very high risk, higher, even, than that of Final Attack, and I argued that it would not do you good to end up amputating your own limbs before you faced off against Gault."

Zeraion opened his mouth to argue that exploding one's self and being thrown under a waterfall were risk enough, but he fell silent in the face of the bowmaster's expression, and settled for pulling himself up to his feet, brushing wet hair from his face. "I'll try again, then."

As he rummaged in his pockets for another summoning stone, he heard Gardner say, "Do not push yourself too hard. Practicing fourth-class techniques is not easy on one's body and mind, and it is not recommended- especially for one so young and inexperienced like yourself- that you practice for more than half an hour."

"Hm." Zeraion answered with an inconsequential grunt and finally closed his fingers around the cool, blue stone. "Fire Phoenix."

The stone grew red-hot in his hands once more as energy began to spiral in front of him, bringing itself together to form what would be the body of a great phoenix. He found that performing the summoning technique the second time around was both easier and harder at the same time- summoning the volatile energy towards himself was slightly easier, but keeping it controlled was too much for his already-drained body. He saw the white-hot outline of the phoenix flash in his mind once more before the mana released itself and detonated, throwing him across the ground like a marionette. When he finally managed to stagger to his feet, he was bloody, battered, bruised, and had dirt on practically every square inch of his body.

Zeraion cursed and spat out a mouthful of earth, raking his scorched hair from his forehead. Seeing his situation, Gardner drew something from his pocket and tossed it over to his student; Zeraion caught it in mid-air and saw it was a vial full of the healing unguent that he had used while practicing his defensive techniques- the one that tasted like sewer water, he remembered with a jolt, as he reluctantly uncorked it. As the putrid stuff flowed down his veins, his burns receded as the aching all over his body stopped, and he resignedly drew out another summoning stone from the inside of his pocket.

"Fire Phoenix!" he commanded once more, as the stone quickly disintegrated in his hand, lending its magical power to his own as the summoning arte quickly took effect. A pattern of red magic spiraled from his palm as white-hot waves of energy quickly materialized in the scorched clearing before him. He clenched his fist tighter and winced as beads of perspiration dribbled down the back of his neck, trying to harness the unstable magic as it twisted and turned from his grasp- it was like Final Attack all over again, he suddenly realized.

Then, all of a sudden, something happened that he never would have believed- as he struggled to maintain the figure of the great fiery bird before him, he suddenly saw a flash of light in the distance that was not from his spell. Greatly surprised, he twisted his head a fraction of an inch away from the clearing, and he saw the tall, elegant figure of Grace Raizen standing just a few yards away from him, her staff clutched behind her back as she sadly stared at him with her beautiful eyes of sky-blue, with the exact same expression that he had seen underneath the tide pool.

Whether it was from utter surprise, or the longing, burning desire in his heart to see her and be with her once more, he concentrated fiercer than he had ever done in his life, and he heard a sudden screech as the body of a great, flame-crowned phoenix suddenly materialized in front of him, letting out a great cry as it clawed the ground with its heated talons.

Then, the results of his mana exhaustion caught up with him, and there was a fierce explosion as the phoenix disappeared into thin air, leaving nothing except a trail of iridescent flame in its wake. Dimly, he registered that there were very painful burns covering much of his body, but he cared nothing except seeing that precious ice/lightning wizard one more time, to revisit the precious halcyon days before the whole mess with Gault.

He heard footsteps in the back of his head and turned his gaze to see Rathias Gardner, breathlessly running towards him as he displayed excitement for probably the first time Zeraion had ever seen him. "Phoenix, that- that was amazing!" he spluttered breathlessly, wiping perspiration from his forehead. "No one has ever managed to fully summon the Fire Phoenix on their third try in the history of Bera! How did you-"

Slightly unnerved by Gardner's sudden rise of interest in his abilities, Zeraion muttered something unintelligible as he wiped a tuft of blackened hair from his forehead. "If- if you don't mind, I'd…I'd like to take a walk and get some fresh air." he said, in a listless tone. "I'm a bit exhausted."

Gardner blinked for the faintest of moments before acquiescing with a nod. "If you must, then by all means, of course."

Muttering a hurried thanks, Zeraion stuffed the Abyssal Arund into his quiver and took off, in the direction where Grace's spectral form had been standing moments ago. The burns he'd acquired from using Fire Phoenix still lingered on his body, but he ignored it- love had completely caught him in its tender, treacherous embrace, and was now pulling him into the forest with reckless abandon.

He could feel the ancient bow thrumming with discontent against his back, which he disregarded, throwing into the back of his mind- quite frankly, he couldn't have cared less what anyone thought of him right now. Grace had completely vanished from physical view, but he could still, somehow, feel her presence in the forest- he silently pounded on throughout the trees, ignoring the tiny voice in the back of his head that told him how corny that sounded.

He heard the bushes to his right rustle, and without pausing to think, he leapt aside and pushed aside the thorny branches, neglecting the many scratches that accumulated on his arms. As he ran, he thought he could hear footsteps, and shouted, "I'm coming!" as he forced aside a low-hanging branch with his arms.

He could almost hear her voice now, and she was close, so close…

With an almighty outtake of breath, he forced aside a group of interlocked tree limbs, the wood splintering as the aching in his extremities skyrocketed, sweat running from the back of his head and running into his hauberk. There were scratches all over the sleeves of his armor and on his cheeks from the thorn bushes, and he also realized he was very thirsty.

He took another deep breath and leaned against a tree trunk for support, glancing at the landscape. He was at Selena Pieralasca's statue, the elf staring stoically into the forest as her gown of cold marble stone fluttered almost lifelike at her heels, a Shinebow of gold-streaked stone slung across her back. Despairingly, he stared up at the figure of stone, his fist clenched, as tears streamed from under his eyelids. He was a fool, a perfect fool to go chasing into the monster-infested forest for somebody he didn't even know was there. Grace had been simply that- a hallucination of his overworked mind. The footsteps he had heard had probably been some wild animal- for Goddess' sake, why the hell had he even bothered to come all the way out here?!

Angrily, he yanked at a handful of his sweat-soaked hair and lashed out with a savage kick at the nearest tree. There was a loud snapping noise as both the tree bark and something in his foot cracked; Zeraion felt pain shoot up his right leg, but he ignored it; the pain in his gut was a hundred times worse, his stomach feeling like a dark pit of despair at this very moment.

He desperately cast one last look at the statue of Athena's great-grandmother before resignedly turning back into the forest and wiping tears and sweat from his face. Gardner would want him back to practice Fire Phoenix, after all…

"Phoenix."

The voice was magical, like a fairy's whisper, and he froze dead in his step as he heard her voice. Her tone had a touch of warmth in it, almost as though she were alive, even though he knew that couldn't be. He silently clenched his fist, his knuckles and his heart throbbing at inhuman speeds. If only, if only-

Zeraion Phoenix turned his head back and saw Grace Raizen illuminated by the evening sun against the marble sculpture of Selena Pieralasca's figure.

Somehow, she now looked different- her blonde hair was now slightly longer and and dangled past her waist, and instead of mage's robes, she wore a strange garment that looked like a cross between a toga and a bikini- but he paid little attention. All that mattered was that she was here, next to him.

Silently, his mouth dry, he took a step towards her, and she did not disappear. She only continued to stare sadly at him with her pearly eyes of blue, as though she knew his sorrow, shared it, was it.

For a second, his mind warned that this could be an illusion, a trap of Gault's, but he shut the thought out almost as soon as the possibility presented itself. Something as pure, as beautiful as this could never be evil, he thought, as he continued to lock gazes with her.

They stood, illuminated in the light of the dim sunset, ranger and mage, eyeing each other with eyes of blue, one with an expression of longing, the other with an expression of sorrow. The silence was so precious, almost tangible, as he tried to say something to her and felt the words die on his tongue.

Finally, after what seemed like a decade- a beautiful decade- of silence, she stood up and walked towards him, as he remained rooted to the spot. Her figure shimmered in the light, and although he knew in the back of his heart that she was nothing more than a spirit, that thought was thrown to the abyss as she touched his cheek with fingers made of real flesh and blood in that moment.

She silently gazed at him as her fingers caressed his cheek, her lips just inches away from his. He wanted to kiss her once more, but to do so now would utterly ruin the moment, so he merely remained stone and savored the moment as it passed.

Finally, she broke contact with him, leaving him feeling eerily empty inside as her fingers left the side of his face. He opened his mouth to say something- anything- but his words died in the face of her radiant beauty, as she turned away, her gaze gone from him.

Then, she looked back up at him, those eyes of pearly-blue scrutinizing him once more.

"Come with me, Phoenix." she whispered softly, as he could do nothing but watch. "There is something I would like to tell you."

"Shining Ray!" The shout erupted through the Ellinian sky as the priest unleashed another measure of his holy abilities, a pair of Crimson Balrogs falling to the forest floor, vanquished by the power of the arte.

Dangerously alighting himself on the back of the gigantic cobalt-blue dragon he rode, Ascion Blade brushed sweaty, slightly bloodied hair from his face and shouldered the spear of light he currently held in his right hand, its enchanted handle firmly in the grip of his fingers.

With a primal yell, he flung the lance from his hand at an enemy on the ground, striking the Taurospear in the chest. It gave a howl of pain and surprise before it toppled to the ground, blood soaking into the Ellinian soil. A mirthless expression on his face, Ascion let sparks of light dangle at the corner of his fingers.

He brushed more sweat from his face and neck as he contemplated the destruction below him; the demonic forces had been severely driven back by his use of the sacramental flame, that holy force which no one dared use due to its staggering power. The ground below him was scarred pure white, a mark of the teenage magician's extraordinary skill and finesse.

He smiled dryly to himself, wondering if Iris had seen him. Of course she had- no one could have avoided seeing him fly all around the city on a wyvern the size of a small house- but had she really known he was there, seeing his face, imagining him in her heart…

He forced himself to put aside the mushy thoughts for a bit and nearly paid for it when a burst of lightning from a Crimson Balrog nearly knocked him off his seat. Cursing himself for his inattentiveness, he rewarded the attacker with a shout of "Reprisal!" The highly efficient arte did its work neatly as it carved the demon into two, the dismembered pieces hitting the ground below with a sickening thud.

To his credit, Ascion took another glance about him and realized with some comfort that the Crimson Balrogs were nearly all gone- most of them were now decorating the landscape of Ellinia with nightmarish shades of claret and obsidian. The few that remained were either avoiding him at all costs or fleeing from where they came.

Unfortunately, he quickly realized that that did nothing to help stem the flow of enemies coming from the ground. Despite their lack of power compared to their larger comrades, Taurospears and Tauromacis had the benefit of swift, deadly melee attacks and much greater range of movement and evasion. Even with his abilities, it would take quite a job to strike them down without hurting anyone else in the process.

Wondering for a moment when Schuyler's courier would get through to Ellinia and bring back reinforcements, Ascion bided his time by setting his palms together and commanding, "Incandesca!" There was an almighty flash of light and a volcano-like explosion as a sudden torrent of sacramental flame poured forth from the ground, catching a wave of demons in its deadly wake. White smoke rose into the air as the beautiful, yet deadly streams of holy fire struck down tens and tens of demonic foes and stripped them down to ashes within moments.

He almost laughed as he thought of how he'd learned this technique- yeah, that would be a great thing to tell Iris after this whole fiasco was over. While reading from a textbook written by an ancient bishop when he was devising the wide-range healing arte, he'd taken note of a section that was labeled "highly dangerous and should only be used in dire circumstances", underlined and bolded several times in the text.

Naturally, that had piqued the teenager's attention, and he then learned that sacramental flame was a highly dangerous technique used to banish demons forever from the earth, and only used successfully in history by two people: Lisandea, the legendary elven prophet of the first war with Razier, and Grendel himself.

Of course, the adolescent priest had no idea that there had been a third person after them; Rafael Wolfen, his very own father and a brilliant priest in his own right.

And that was how he'd gotten himself into this mess, blasting demons into purgatory with claps of his hands while riding on top of a huge dragon- although Ascion made sacramental flame look almost easy, not even Rafael's progeny was immune to such difficult artes. He had sustained a nasty burn on his left shoulder and arm while practicing; the skin and flesh, burned a ghastly, lifeless white, would never heal. Currently, he kept the wound covered with a sleeve at all times- it was the best he could do.

While Ascion silently brooded upon his dragon in mid-air, occasionally taking the time to snipe down an enemy from below with a shout of "Eclair de Larmes!" or "Shining Ray!", Iris, Joe, and Schuyler, among countless others, were still fighting valiantly against the demons that threatened their existence and their home.

"Avenger!" the blonde-haired hermit bellowed upon the ground, flinging a gigantic spectral star composed of three Steely knives fused together at his enemies, while his shadowed replica repeated his maneuver, flinging one as well. The gigantic projectiles crushed one Taurospear into bloody thirds and embedded themselves in the armor of a second behind it, who collapsed to the ground in a bloody heap.

Joseph Stalrigarde silently regarded his fallen foe with a sharp gaze and folded his left hand in his pocket, keeping a shining knife in the fingers of his right. Although it gave him an enormous advantage in battle, he rarely used alchemy on the pretense of not drawing attention, preferring instead to stick to basic shuriken-do techniques.

However, following Ascion Blade's example, sometimes a little attention was needed to turn the battle in their favor.

He shook his head and drew more knives from the inside of his trench coat, flinging them at various monsters hiding amongst the landscape. As they charged at him, he swiftly planted his palm upon the ground and commanded, "Flare Transmutation!"

Elements in the air diffused as the ground blew itself apart in brilliant bursts of red, orange, and white flame, pieces of earth and Taurospear being flung every which way. He swiftly cast his eyes around the ravaged ground; the ground was either burned a brilliant white or a dark black from various spells that had been cast earlier.

"Please." There was a slight scoffing noise behind him and the alchemist turned to see Schuyler Kusanagi standing behind him with her Kage drawn. "You're embarrassing all us fire mages."

A tinge of pink rippled across the hermit's cheeks. "Who asked you?" he muttered, drawing another Steely from his jacket. "In any case, it's all I can do to not get myself blown up here, not with Taurospears swarming the place-"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." There was a laissez-faire expression on Schuyler's face that implied she was paying more attention to the background than him. "I'd like to see more of your ersatz magic tricks later, but I need you to do me a favor."

Joe's cheeks flushed a slight shade of fuchsia. "What kind of favor?" he muttered, tucking his left hand into his jacket pocket.

She gave him a look as though there was a tree growing from his forehead. "I wanted you to check the frontlines and see the stats on the enemy forces." she stated, her voice carrying no indication that she was implying anything else.

The hermit blanched ever so slightly, his face color returning to normal, before nodding and muttering, "Of- of course." Commanding "Flash Jump!", his feet left the ground in a burst of light as he flew through the trees like a bullet.

Schuyler rumpled her hair and muttered something inaudible under her breath as she watched the hermit's shadow streak through the trees. Her father had been right- thieves were idiots.

Well, most of them, at least, as her gaze turned towards the corpses and the scars in the earth that his transmutations had left behind.

She sighed once more, as her mind tried to work through the logistical nightmare that the fight had become. She tried to recall where the magical assault teams were in her mind, but the numbers scrambled with every second as her heart pounded and they gave her a headache.

They had Ascion, of course, and Joseph- certainly, the presence of the sons of the great Rafael Wolfen and Valter Stalrigarde in this battle didn't hurt matters. But be that as it may, two prodigies couldn't take on thousands and thousands of demons swarming the lands of Ellinia.

Two rhetorical questions presented themselves in her mind: How many more demons were they going to have to kill before this battle ended, and where the hell were those goddamned Elaesians? With Ascion and Joe using the best of their abilities, the battle had been in a deadlock; they needed just a few more units to tip the battle in their favor.

That was the last thing that flashed through her mind before a sudden fireball slammed into her chest.

Caught head-on by the devastating spell coming at her, she barely had time to make a sound before the force of the spell slammed her into an incoming tree, the trunk cracking from the force of impact. She hit the forest floor limply as blood seeped from the gigantic scar in her chest, pain exploding through her body as she struggled desperately to hang on to what little life she had left.

It seemed as if the world had turned itself upside down, shades of green, red and blue melting in front of her eyes into monochromatic hues of black and white. Magicians and Tauros became distorted blurs in her eyes as blood seeped from her mouth, pain splitting any attempt at coherent thought in her mind. She had perhaps minutes to live.

Silently uttering a denial and a desperate plea in her mind, she folded her hands across her blood-soaked lap as she prayed for a miracle- but Ascion was probably several hundred feet up in the sky, and he could probably see no more of her than she could of him. She wished somebody- anyone- could see her, but there was no hope left as people rushed by in the heat of battle without taking the least notice of the near-death mage splayed against the tree.

Then, suddenly, a figure blocked her line of sight- a tall, forbidding figure, with long, dark hair streaming behind his shoulders, as his dark eyes pierced through her and a gigantic bow lay slung over his shoulder. Although she could not see his face in her near-death state, she knew well enough to figure out that he was probably not on her side.

She only closed her eyes and waited for death to be swift.

Unexpectedly, she felt a strong, yet gentle hand being pressed against her wound as a voice muttered, "Chakra." Light flashed in her eyes as an iridescent array of magic spread through her body, leaving a warm, comforting sensation that washed through her like a wave. The wound in her chest sealed itself, leaving smooth, slightly tender skin behind as the bleeding abruptly stopped.

Opening her eyes, she realized two things at once: no, she was not dead, and there was somebody standing in front of her.

Her head feeling slightly dizzy, she tried to get to her feet, but the voice held her back, pinning her to the ground with a firm, strong, grip. "Don't move." a rough, gruff voice told her. "You're still very weak and you need to rest."

Obeying the voice meekly, she settled for letting her vision slide back into focus as a wave of color washed over her, reds, greens, and blues returning to their proper place as the sounds of battle came back to her ears. As her pupils dilated, she could see that the person towering above her had long, dark hair and slightly pale skin, a scar at the nape of his neck as a black-winged bow rested in his grip. His eyes were sharp, unfeeling, as he cast his gaze over her as though she was nothing more than a house pet. Somehow, she felt as though she'd seen him before- but from what time or what place, she did not know.

"Hmph." The tall figure gave a shrug and turned his gaze away from her. "You should be thankful you're alive. Not many people can get hit by a fireball from a Crimson Balrog at full force and live to tell the tale."

A tiny pulse of indignation bursting through her veins, she staggered to her feet, despite the aching in her brain, and faced down the stranger with as much dignity as she could muster in her voice. "Although I appreciated you saving my life, I will have you know that I am the leader of the Ellinian resistance forces, Schuyler Kusanagi."

"Although I appreciate your gratitude," the bowman replied in kind, somewhat wryly, "I will have you know that I am a ranger from Elaesia, Traphes Igzarion."

"Igzarion…" She let her lips roll over the unfamiliar name, trying to place just exactly where she'd heard it before. "Have we met?" she asked, out of curiosity.

"Not unless you were at that little skirmish that we had some time back near the Henesys dungeon." he said, in the same wry tone.

"W-wait." she muttered, putting up a hand to steady herself and ease the aching in her head. "Igzarion…You were there when Wolfen got blasted and Blade and Stalrigarde did the alchemic surgery-"

"Yes, I was." he replied, with a wayward wave of his hand. "I see you've gone a long way since I met you last."

"Hm." She brushed off the compliment and eyed Igzarion carefully. "If you came from Elaesia, does that mean our courier arrived there yet? Because Goddess knows we need the reinforcements." she added, in a slightly pleading tone.

Igzarion shook his head in denial. "I wouldn't know. Delinia and I arrived straight from Florina Beach- however, she did mention that Luke was coming here…yes." he murmured, a look of remembrance spreading across his face. "Athena did send at least one regiment to Ellinia, so I believe yes, any messages you may have sent have indeed arrived."

"Well- why aren't they bloody here yet?!" she snarled in frustration, kicking a stone on the ground with her foot (and consequently doing more damage to her foot than the stone).

Igzarion merely closed his eyes and mentally contemplated the war-drenched landscape. "Your guess is as good as mine, Miss Kusanagi."

"Well, in any case…" She brushed a tuft of ashy hair from her eyes and gave the ranger a quick nod. "Once more, I thank you for coming to my aid, and I trust that with your aid- and the rest of the Elaesian reinforcements- we will win this battle."

Igzarion's eyes locked briefly with hers before he nodded. "Yes." With a quick flick of his wrist, he commanded, "Silver Hawk!" The great bird appeared out of thin air with a bright burst of light, clawing the ground at its master's feet as its talons thirsted for bloodshed. Not waiting to take a second glance around him, Igzarion deftly mounted the great bird and soared into the air, his Metus already limbered and strung. The ground quickly disappeared underneath his feet as his altitude rose into the hundreds.

Drawing his bow and scanning the landscape for any enemies that might need slaughtering, Igzarion quickly found a target in a pair of Wild Kargos roaming the landscape and tearing at chunks of corpses on the ground below. "Soul Arrow…Double Shot!" he commanded, light flashing about him as he let loose a pair of golden shafts towards the ground below. The arrows hit their marks with grotesque noises, the bodies of the beasts slumping towards the ground.

A Crimson Balrog slashed at him, but dodging was already second nature to him; he quickly evaded the onslaught and paid retribution by lifting up his fingers in preparation and chanting, "Hell Pyre!" There was a great explosion as dark magic and fire energy fused at the tips of the ranger's fingers before the whole mass launched itself into the demon's prone body, a mangled, burnt mess of sinew dropping to the ground below. Smiling somewhat sardonically as the sensation of bloodlust washed over him, the ranger raised his bow and commanded, "Strafe!"

The four-pronged attack quickly made short work of a Taurospear on the ground below, its mutilated body hitting the ground with a neat thud as its slayer hovered above. Ready to cast an arcane or artificial arte if need be, Igzarion quickly glanced around the landscape, but there was nothing that alerted him to any immediate danger.

There were shouts and explosions on the ground below, and the ranger let his gaze wander to the forest floor, where he could see an iridescent shaft of red-white flame slaking through Tauros and Kargos like butter. Sighing lightly to himself as he put a hand to his forehead, Igzarion guided the hawk downwards and landed next to Arklanser with a soft thud.

"Delinia." he said, alighting upon the ground with his bow in hand, as she pretended not to notice him. "I see you're having fun."

"Do you think I enjoy being out here?" she replied with a snarl, arcing her wrist upwards and causing the edge of her flaming battlestaff to ricochet off the face of an unfortunate Taurospear. "It's good battle practice, I'll admit that, but this is war, Iggy. This isn't just a training session at Florina Beach or something-"

"Right." the latter muttered, looking as though he could have cared less whether he was in a war zone or a peaceful plain. "There aren't a lot of enemies left- we should be able to take them all out within the next hour or so."

"Have the rest of the Ellinian reinforcements arrived yet?" Arklanser replied briskly, her hair flying behind her as she bashed another Wild Kargo aside with the hilt of her weapon.

Igzarion blinked and sighed. "No."

The rangeress swore briefly before causing her staff to disappear with a flick of her wrist, drawing her White Nisrock instead. "Inferno!" she bellowed, a burst of magenta-colored flame erupting from the limbs of her bow and streaking across the plains. The enchanted flames swallowed anything that dared come close to them, destruction reigning supreme over the plains.

Slightly bored of his own accord, despite the pitched battle erupting around them, Igzarion drew his own bow as well. "Strafe!" he commanded, unleashing a barrage of arrows at a small troupe of Taurospears near them. "So," he muttered quickly as the wounded beasts let out a bloody roar and charged, "what do you suppose your dear Colonel is up to?"

Arklanser's face flushed for the briefest of moments as she accidentally twanged her string a little too hard, sending a burst of magical flame into a thicket several hundred feet away. "He'll come." she said stubbornly, more to reassure herself than him.

"He had better." Igzarion muttered grimly, as he unleashed another Strafe to cope with the monsters that were coming towards him. "If I find out I got dragged all the way here for nothing, I'm going to rip off his-"

"Shut up, Iggy, and enjoy the view." Arklanser snapped back in kind, deftly raising an arm over the destroyed, burnt mess that Ellinia's plains had become. Blood and corpses decorated the forest as red and green dominated the area, like grotesque Christmas decorations.

With two of Elaesia's feared Devil Children entering the fray, the monsters were noticeably thinned, so that the remaining magicians had an easier time dealing with them. Slowly but surely, the battle began to turn in favor of the magicians as Ascion, Joe, Igzarion, and Arklanser spearheaded the main force of the Ellinians, driving the monsters back as hundreds of them were struck down.

Unfortunately, about half an hour into the combat, just when it seemed for the briefest of moments that all would be well and they could go home safely, there was a loud yell above from Ascion. Abruptly, he turned in mid-air and dove towards the ground, alighting with an earth-shaking thud. He quickly petted the dragon once before causing it to disappear with a motion of his wrist, then reappeared next to Schuyler with a quick whisper of "Teleport."

Because she was blasting away at a troop of Tauromacis from above, she didn't notice him until he tapped her on the shoulder. "What is it, Blade?" she asked, seeing the urgency on his face.

"There was a convoy of Crimson Balrogs on the horizon." he reported, his face deadly serious. "I couldn't count them from my current position, but I would have to say it's anywhere between 500 and 1,000."

Schuyler's eyes widened for a brief moment before she swore loudly, the foul language sounding like a broken record in her head. "How much more stuff can they throw at us?!"

"A lot." Ascion muttered, somewhat wryly. "It took those Elaesians long enough; if they don't get here soon, then we're all-"

The dismal statement was interrupted by a thunderous explosion, as both Ascion and Schuyler cast Magic Guard at the same time to protect themselves from flying shrapnel.

The Crimson Balrogs had arrived once more, and this time, they were ready to follow the commands of their master and lord to wipe Ellinia from the face of the earth.

I simply stood there, not knowing what to say.

"Come here, Phoenix." she repeated, her voice and her expression beckoning to me- as did every other part of her body, for that matter.

I wanted to, I wanted to. I wanted to throw myself to the winds and not have to worry that this could be a trap or an ambush of some sort. I wanted to throw myself into her arms, to tell myself this wasn't an illusion.

But alas, it was not to be. Keeping a firm grip on the Abyssal Arund, I silently returned her gaze and watched as she slowly turned away from me, and then abruptly began to walk deeper into the forest.

"Wait!" I shouted, but she acted as if she had not heard, her silhouette disappearing farther and farther among the trees. Not wanting to lose sight of her, I followed, ignoring the countless branches and thorn bushes that grabbed at my arms and face. She moved as a spirit, as a goddess, her spectral form gliding over trees and rocks as though they never existed.

Still keeping sight of her long, blonde hair, billowing behind her in an invisible breeze, I quickly called "Inferno!" to burn aside a large thicket of thorns that stood in my way, pushing aside the burnt mess and soldering on. She did not look back at me as she walked, but I followed her with every step, determined never to lose her again.

Then, suddenly, she turned to the right, and I followed as I saw a few strands of golden hair disappear behind a tree. With the handle of the Abyssal Arund sweaty in my hand, I pushed aside a few branches and found, to my great amazement, that she was standing on the edge of a large meadow, her hair fluttering at her waist as she silently regarded the landscape.

The scene was amazing; it was as though someone had ripped out a piece of the peaceful Henesys hunting grounds and put it in the middle of the large forest on the Isle, the most dangerous things being snails and mushrooms as a light breeze lapped at my cheeks. Here, the thick forest canopy had disappeared, and I could see to my amazement that the sky was visible, a great scene of red, orange, yellow and purple as the sun set, casting the last of its dim light over the grass. It was perfect, so perfect, and Grace and I were in it alone.

Without warning, she turned her head to look at me and smiled, as though she knew I'd been following her the whole time. Lightning and ice crackled at the tips of her fingers, lending her a deadly, yet still more beautiful look.

For the first time in my life, I knew what it meant to truly be in love, as she eyed me upon the sweet meadows of the Isle. Privately, in the back of my mind, I wondered if Gardner had ever felt this sensation before, with the mystery woman of his dreams- who that was, I could only guess, but from his forty years and his life experience, I guessed that Bera's foremost Bowmaster could certainly afford a little romance in his life.

However, thoughts of Rathias Gardner were quickly thrown out of my head as Grace sat down, her back lying against a slanted hill of grass. She looked up and motioned for me to sit down next to her; I obeyed meekly as the soft grass and flowers brushed against my body.

Together, we sat like this, watching the sunset, even though I knew not what her intentions were, or even where she had come from. But, for the sake of the moment, I didn't care. She was here, the same as when I had met her near Selena's statue. It was a precious moment, and I wished fervently in my head that the memories of it would stay forever.

It was she who broke the silence, pensively eyeing the horizon as though she expected something to happen at any moment.

"You've changed, Phoenix."

The sound of her voice stunned me for a moment before I found the courage to reply, "Yes- yes, I suppose." It felt very odd talking to her, since the second-to-last time I had seen her, we had been locked in a deathmatch on the rainy plains of Henesys, but all that vanished when I found myself looking into those beautiful blue eyes.

She kneaded the grass lightly with her fingers and murmured, "I've changed as well, Phoenix, haven't I?" There was something rhetorical, almost regretful, in her voice as she asked the question.

I couldn't reply, despite the fact that dozens of possible answers were dangling on the tip of my tongue. Privately, I could not bear to repeat the truth that rested in the back of my mind- she was dead, her soul in Gault's grasp, no longer the living, breathing being she had been just a few precious years ago.

She silently waited for an answer for about a minute before receiving none, and turned to watching the sunset once more. My insides were burning with curiosity- there was so much I wanted to ask her, but a bit of caution held back my questions for a moment. If Gardner was in this situation, he would probably choose his words with a bit more care. Despite the fact that Grace was here, here at last, I couldn't relax myself completely- after all, there was always the horrible possibility that whatever I spoke here could end up in Gault's ears moments later.

I finally decided to say the one thing I had wanted to say the most since she'd arrived.

"I miss you, Grace." I murmured, as I followed her gaze towards the blood-red sun. Her eyes were riveted upon it, and I couldn't help wondering if she was thinking of the countless people she'd killed under Gault's care when she looked at it.

Her gaze finally turned back to my hand. "I've missed you too, Phoenix." she admitted, a few strands of her hair whipping into her face.

"So…" I tried to think of something to break the ice. "Why are you here?"

She considered the seemingly simple question a moment before responding. "Because I wanted to."

"You came all the way here to see me?" I asked, in a slightly mock tone. Privately, I knew there was no way in hell that Gault would let his best secret weapon wander into the hands of his archenemy.

"Yes, Phoenix." she said, a slight sign of emotion showing in her eyes. "I wanted to see you after all that time in Meteon E'traia. Was that too much to ask?" Her hand was suddenly resting on top of mine, and it was a strange feeling- although I couldn't feel the exact contour of solid mass on my skin, I could feel warmth pulsing through my fingers, almost as if her hand was inside mine.

"How could you?" I whispered, a bit of sadness coming into my tone. "Isentryx would never let you out of his grasp, not after he killed you. I…I wish I could believe that you actually cared so much for me, but it just-"

I broke off the end of my sentence. The pain of holding her bloodied hand and telling her I loved her two years ago was just too much for me to bear.

She sighed and let her fingers caress the ground. "Isentryx…knew about our relationship, Phoenix. He knew about your feelings for me, and he was determined to use this to his advantage. Using an ancient and highly dangerous type of soul transmutation, he bound my soul into a physical form and restored me to this world. By the ancient laws of magic, I am now bound to him and can only follow his will."

Her words were spoken without reproach, yet they struck me like hammer blows. Damn Gault, damn him to hell! For what seemed like hundredth time, my blood boiled in my veins as I thought of him, somewhere in the depths of Victoria Island. Someday, I would find him and make him pay for what he'd done.

I slid my left hand in my jacket pocket and plucked a daisy from the earth with my right, examining it closely as though it were all the treasure in the world. Once upon a happier time, I would have plucked its petals to find out Grace's sentiments, but those days were long since gone.

"Is…" I let the words slip out my mouth before I could stop myself. "Is there any way that you can break free of Gault's control over you?"

She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, raking the ground with her fingers. I could see her choosing her words carefully in her mind as her hair fluttered over her shoulders.

"If Isentryx chooses to do so, he could relinquish his control over my spirit," Grace slowly murmured, painstakingly crumbling bits of earth between her fingers, "although I cannot see why he would ever have any reason to do so."

My blood simmered softly as I crushed the daisy in my fist. If it was the last thing I ever did, I promised myself I would make that bastard ever regret having killed her in the first place.

"Why did you come back?" I asked slowly, a question from the deepest depths from my heart.

Grace sighed balefully and slowly turned her head towards me, her blonde hair falling over her eyes. "I am not sure if I should tell you, Phoenix. The truth…may hurt you more than you think."

"Tell me." I uttered, staring directly into her eyes. "Grace, I care about you. I want to know, and I'll only regret it if I don't find out before it's too late."

She stared into the horizon before she spoke. "Isentryx was worried that my feelings towards you could be detrimental towards his plans. He attempted to destroy all my memories of you with a powerful temporal arte known as Obliviate. The spell was highly dangerous and it worked to the desired effect, but it also destroyed some of his control over me. During brief lapses- such as this one- I can visit you when I so desire, before I am called back to the halls of Meteon E'traia."

I opened my mouth in surprise and closed it- now I knew I hadn't been hallucinating. She had been here, been here all this time.

"You…really lost all your memories?" I whispered, staring at her and praying it wasn't true.

She gazed sadly at me with her blue eyes and murmured, "All except one, Phoenix."

Then, she drew closer to me and kissed me tenderly with lips that weren't there, as I sunk into her warm embrace, feeling her and imagining she was here right next to me, as memories both painful and bittersweet washed over me from years ago. It was both heart-wrenching and precious at the same time, as I melted into her knowing that it would be the last kiss we would share for a long time.

After what seemed like a precious eternity, she broke away from me, and I could see her sad, knowing smile in the dim light. "Phoenix, I'm afraid we may never see each other again after this."

"Never." I whispered, grabbing at her hand in the grass; though my fingers touched nothing except thin air, I could still feel her warmth on my skin. "Mark my words, Grace; someday, I will save you from Gault's evil clutches. I will bring back your soul, and we can be together again. And then," I added, almost as an afterthought, "when you're back with me, I'll take you wherever you want to go- together, just the two of us."

She almost smiled. Almost. "Anywhere?" she whispered, her voice beginning to fade, just like the sunset's rays.

"Yes, Grace." I whispered, clutching her fingers with what little energy I had left. "Anywhere you want."

This time, she really did smile- although somewhat sadly- as she caressed my cheek with her fingers. "I'd love that, Phoenix." she whispered, her voice growing fainter and fainter by the second.

"Good-bye, Grace." I whispered, as she got up and began to walk off in the sunset, to places I could only guess. As her figure left me, I knew in my heart that this would be the last time I would see her for a long time…but by no means would it be the last.

I would make sure of that.

Before she left the meadow, she turned to face me, and although it was difficult to see her in the dim light, I could still see her beautiful blue eyes, regretfully shining at me through the darkness like stars.

"Phoenix…" she whispered, as a tiny starlit tear fell from her left eye onto the ground below.

"…I'm sorry."

Both Ascion and Schuyler dived for cover as explosions erupted around, above and below them, bodies being thrown through the air as the acrid smell of smoke and blood filled the area once more.

"What's going on?!" Ascion roared through the dark smoke that the explosions kicked up. "I can't see a bloody thing- Dispel!" he roared, light emanating from his hands and illuminating the landscape. "Schuyler! Are you all right?!"

Said fire mage staggered to her feet and spat on the ground. "It'll take more than an explosion to kill me, Blade." she muttered in a dry tone (although with an ominous undercurrent in her voice). "Someone's got to get rid of the Crims quick, though."

"I'm on it." Ascion drew a blue stone from his jacket pocket and bellowed, "Summon Dragon!" There was a familiar roar as the gigantic weyr burst from the air in front of him once more; without a second thought, he mounted the great beast as Schuyler climbed up next to him. The dragon kicked up great clouds of dust as it took off and soared into the air, its wings unfurled as both magicians confronted the wave of incoming Balrogs.

"This is going to take a bit of fancy maneuvering, Blade." Schuyler muttered as the Balrogs bore down on them, claws and wings raised.

"I know, I know." Ascion sighed. "Use the most powerful arte you've got when I say three, okay?" He kicked the dragon's flank, and it obediently rose up into the air as both magicians aimed for their targets. "One…two…three!"

Both magicians cast simultaneously, Ascion roaring, "Incandesca!" while Schuyler bellowed, "Quantum Explosion!" The air seemed to shimmer and vibrate for a moment before the sky exploded. Waves of magical force pulsed through the air as white flame and golden energy collided in midair, gigantic explosions of white flame rocking the landscape and soaring towards the incoming group of demons. The Balrogs barely had time to howl before the great wave of flame consumed them, leaving nothing but snow-white ashes in its wake.

Ascion flew higher into the air, both he and Schuyler looking as though they had just been locked in a gigantic oven for some time. Despite their protective wards, burns and scorch marks still covered most of their clothing, and a strand of Ascion's hair was on fire.

"That…was fun." Ascion muttered humorlessly, sounding like he would have had more fun being eaten alive by a Balrog. "Heal." He raised his wand as a sheen of bright green magic threw itself over the two magicians, enveloping them in a refreshing aura as their wounds healed. Ascion pinched out the glowing ember of his hair and slowly flew towards the ground, keeping a sharp eye out for any demons that might have survived the attack.

"Don't go so fast, I think I'm going to be sick." Schuyler muttered, holding a hand to her mouth. Her face looked a little too green for the leader of the Ellinian resistance forces.

"I'm barely moving as it is." the priest replied, slightly annoyed as he guided the great dragon to the ground, allowing Schuyler to disembark. There was a loud retching noise as Schuyler violently threw up on the corpse of a Taurospear; Ascion put a hand to his forehead and shook his head.

Forcing himself to look away from the vertigo-stricken mage, Ascion looked upwards into the sky and saw that despite the magnitude of their combined attack, the assault had only eliminated the bare frontlines of the Balrog force; hundreds more were still coming at them, ready to attack as they descended upon the now-greatly weathered magicians and thieves still struggling to defend the city's defensive line.

Ascion closed his eyes and muttered a string of elvish curses. Did he really think it was this easy- just cast a big arte and expect this whole thing to end? Fatigue pressed upon him like a two-ton weight as he brushed blood, sweat, and ash from his face.

They had to keep fighting. He had to keep fighting.

He raised his Magicodar and was about to call the incantation for sacramental flame before he stopped himself. He didn't want to drain further into his already-exhausted mana reserves- better to just stick with simple spells for now.

Snapping his fingers, he commanded, "Holy Arrow!" as a very light amount of mana drain came over him. The brilliant bow and arrow materialized in his hands with a burst of light as the projectile flew forward, applying great damage to an incoming Balrog- but unfortunately, it was still alive, and very much intent on ripping his guts out.

Before he could react, the thing slammed its great spiked tail into his body, and he felt the wind being knocked out of him as he flew through the air and crashed into a tree, blood running down his face. His Magicodar had flown out of his hand and was now lost upon the ground somewhere, and he was practically helpless. Even if he had his wand, it would do little good- the Magic Guard he'd cast over himself had drained much of his mana as well as his stamina.

He could only stare up at the figure of the great Balrog as it loomed over him, its great paw raised as dark magic crackled at the tips of its claws.

Then, there was a sudden roar of "Strafe!" and Ascion watched in amazement as four spectral arrows streamed behind him and struck the Balrog straight in the chest, causing it to howl wildly in pain as it searched for its attacker. It got its answer when there was a second shout of "Inferno!" from behind, a bolt of crisp, red-hot flame erupting through the air and barreling straight into the great demon's chest.

With a great shriek, as the torrid scent of burnt flesh lingered in the air, the Balrog fell to the ground dead, and Ascion now had the opportunity to look at his benefactor. Tall, with wild shoulder-length reddish-auburn hair, as a golden-colored Nisrock lay in the grip of his right hand. He wore a sleek blue jacket over his armor plates, as the symbol of a hawk lay emblazoned on the right sleeve of his uniform. Behind him, Ascion could see a large contingent of more bowmen wearing similar clothing, their weapons drawn and strung.

"Are…" Ascion coughed as he looked at the face, thinking that it looked familiar from somewhere. "Are you Elaesian?"

"We're not demons, and that's all you need to know." The ranger brushed a bit of his hair out of his face before he gave a brief salute. "It's an honor to meet you, Brigadier General. I am Col. Luke Sinclaire of Elaesia's Alpha Division, Epsilon Regiment. We were sent by Athena to aid you in defending the city of Ellinia, which we were told was being besieged by Balrogs. Oh, and you dropped this back there." he added, handing Ascion a dark, crystalline object which the latter quickly realized as his wand.

"Well, you could have arrived a bit earlier." Ascion muttered gruffly, pocketing his weapon and drawing himself to his full height (although he was still a head shorter than Sinclaire.) "Nevertheless, on behalf of everyone stationed here, I thank you for arriving in the nick of time, and also for saving my life." Ascion allowed a bit of humility to creep into his voice as he said the last four syllables.

Sinclaire bowed. "Don't mention it. Forward!" he commanded to the bowmen behind him, as they rushed to take the frontlines against the incoming demons. "Oh, by the way," he said in an aside to Ascion as people streamed about them, "have you seen a rangeress by the name of Delinia Arklanser, by any chance?"

Ascion blinked briefly before replying, "No, I haven't received any reports of anyone except you guys arriving in this area. You may want to check with Schuyler Kusanagi, though- she's the commanding officer of the Ellinian resistance. If anyone arrived here, she should know about it."

Sinclaire gave another nod and handed a small box to the priest before striding into the forest, no doubt in search of his lost companion. Ascion's eyes followed him briefly before he silently clenched his wand and commanded "Heal." through his teeth. A wave of bright green mana washed over him, staunching his wounds as though they had never been there. Taking note of the box in his hands, which he realized was a medical kit, Ascion opened the case to find a series of prepackaged pills in a variety of colors. He quickly threw a few blue-tinted capsules in his mouth, ignoring the bitter taste, and roughly stuffed the rest in his pocket as he felt his strength return.

Wishing for a brief moment that Ark could be here with him, Ascion rubbed at his aching eyes and settled for glancing around the landscape. With Sinclaire and what seemed like hundreds of bowmen on their side, they could not fail now. He took off at a quick pace, deciding not to expend precious mana on his dragon summoning for now, and charged along with the rest of the colonel's regiment. The cries of war were renewed as the newly-replenished forces of both sides collided against each other, bolts of fire and lightning whizzing everywhere as the death toll continued to mount.

I need more room to cast. Following Schuyler's example, Ascion flicked his wrist and commanded "Teleport!" Within seconds, he was nestled within the tall branches of a large tree, leaning against its gnarled surface; his sharp eyes scanned the surface of the battlegrounds below. He raised his wand, aiming it at the ground, and commanded, "Holy Arrow!"

A modest orb of white light gathered at the tip of his Magicodar before launching itself towards the ground, piercing a Tauromacis through the skull. Despite the 2nd-class arte's lack of power, Ascion's intellect could compensate for the weak damage, and he flung bolts of light at any enemy that dared show its face, choosing quick stealth attacks over larger, flashier artes.

The fight dragged on as more Tauros and more humans steadily piled up on the plains of Ellinia. A foul stench had already begun to rest over the battlefield, similar to Schuyler's powerful poison in nature as it blanketed both sides with the scent of death and rot. The Balrogs in the air were being sniped at by Sinclaire's regiment of archers on the ground, and the Tauros could easily be taken care of by Ascion, Schuyler, Joseph, and the rest that fought on the ground below.

It seemed that a single decisive moment could decree which side snatched victory from the proverbial jaws of defeat. And unbeknownst to Ascion, Schuyler or anyone below on the battlefield save for Gault Isentryx, that one moment was coming soon.

She stepped onto the battlefield, her eyes cruel orbs of unfeeling silver as her hair danced about her in a symphony of death.

Her gelid touch extended far beyond the reaches of her fingers. The Balrogs and Tauromacis felt it first as she entered from the west side of Ellinia, a seemingly icy shadow spreading across the bloodstained grounds. The demons of the Sanctuary, crazed with bloodlust, paused for the most fleeting of moments as she passed by, as if they themselves were frightened by the being that lurked on their side.

The chilling effect quickly spread from one side of the field to the next, like icy water. Those that saw her were at once taken aback by her beauty and her inherent danger. Those that didn't could still heard the swish of her robes as she walked across the field, could still feel the icy touch that she brought with every step, almost as if she were Lucifer herself, reincarnated for all the world to see.

Even the nature took notice. Those few trees that had not been cut down or burned to ashes seemed to shiver for a moment, their leaves ruffled by gusts of wind that were not there. The vultures that had gathered at the topmost branches to feast gave loud squawks and flew away to find their meal somewhere else, as did every other creature that happened to be in proximity.

Without even uttering the faintest of sounds, she raised her arm as sparks began to converge at her fingers. Then, all of a sudden, there was an almighty flash of light, as if the very fabric of time and space had stopped to fuse itself into the hand of the waiting mage that stood on the plains of Ellinia.

The light faded to reveal a gigantic lance, its height as tall as two men as it crackled sinisterly with blue-gold lightning. Its great blade was about two feet long, its handle encrusted with great pearls of onyx that seemed to shimmer like demons' eyes. Runes were inscribed on the hilt of the spear, visible in the dim light as she twirled it through the air, burying its silvered head in the ground.

She cast her emotionless eyes across the battlefield, humans and demons locked in a battle for the land as war cries and explosions tore through the landscape.

"Stop." she commanded, raising her left palm.

The effect was instantaneous. Every single being on the plains of Ellinia- whether they be human or demon- froze for a split second, trying to see where the mysterious voice had come from. Her voice, magically amplified through use of a simple spell, carried through the forest with all the authority of Fate itself, emotionless in its tone yet its message perfectly clear.

With satisfaction, she saw that the eyes of everyone in the field were now focused on her and the great shimmering spear in her hand. She continued, carrying out her master's orders.

"You have fought valiantly defending your lands. However, destruction is inevitable. Already you have suffered heavy losses and your forces are greatly diminished. The lives of our demons are nothing compared to those of your friends, of your families, your brothers and sisters. My lord is merciful and does not wish any more blood spilled upon the lands of Bera.

"My lord has bid me deliver the message that he seeks only one amongst you. The rest of you may leave, to return to your families, your friends, your loves. I speak now directly to this person- you have fought bravely against my lord. However, he does not wish that you continue the fighting and senselessly waste the lives of your friends and countrymen. He asks that you join him, and aid him in his determination and quest to reform the world of Bera and reinstate its former glory.

"You have two options. The first is to surrender yourself for the sake of your friends and the ones you love, and prevent further bloodshed from occurring. The second is for you to fight to the death, and have every last one of you slaughtered like animals upon these plains. My lord does not wish to take such extreme measures against the citizens of Ellinia, but if need be, he will resort to violence if his merciful request is not accepted."

Absolute silence fell over the plains as she delivered the ultimatum, not a soul moving, Balrog, Tauromacis/spear, or human. She could see shock and distress scrawled all over the humans' faces, and privately, she smiled- more chaos was good. It would bring more destruction. She hoped they suffered as they died.

Finally, one person, an auburn-haired ranger with a golden-colored hawkshead bow clutched in his shaking knuckles, mustered the courage to call out, "Who is this person you speak of, that your lord seeks single-mindedly?!"

She turned towards him and smiled, a thin curve of death in the rays of the setting sun, and he flinched. "The person I speak of is one Ascion Avelyn Blade, son of the priest Rafael Wolfen and the crusader Avelyn Blade, born on the fourth day of the fourth month of the year AB 2192."

Shock immediately prevailed amongst the humans' astonished expressions as a kind of ripple flew through the ranks of people, all craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the priest before turning back to face her.

However, no one's facial expression, not even that of Ascion Blade's himself, could rival that which struck Iris Gaiden's face.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing- Ascion, the underage prodigy that she'd known since he was thirteen and her classmate in the Ellinian Magic Academy, was suddenly being marked for death by some crazy mage claiming to pledge allegiance to some "lord"? A series of different emotions hit her with surprising rapidity; bewilderment, shock, panic, and finally, something she couldn't quite place. It felt like…dare she say it?…heartbreak.

No, that couldn't be, she told herself, as she shook her head and forced herself to remain calm. He was only sixteen, and for Goddess' sake, he was just a child! She couldn't- she couldn't actually be in love with him…

…could she?

The uncomfortable question presented itself to her for a moment before she heard a strange noise coming from the back of the crowd that the Ellinian forces had become. Craning her neck to see the source of the commotion, she saw, to her utter amazement and horror, Ascion silently making his way towards Grace, his face shadowed as he kept his head bowed to the ground, like a prisoner about to be executed on death row.

Her heart seemed to leap into her throat as he made his way past her, not giving any indication that he had noticed her. As her gaze wildly alternated between Ascion and Grace, she saw the great spear that she carried at her side, and her heart filled with dread.

She didn't know what Grace was going to do with him, nor did she know if he had a backup plan in that comprehensive mind of his, but it probably went without saying that whatever was going to happen when he reached her was not going to be good.

"Ascion!" she hissed urgently, grabbing ahold of his hand like a viper and keeping a vice grip on his wrist, as he winced briefly in pain. His eyes swiftly rose up to meet hers. "What are you-"

"Don't!" she whispered, staring into his eyes. "You- you can't sacrifice yourself for us-"

Her argument sounded weak and pointless as she said it, and she felt her words disintegrating as he silently gazed at her. She didn't know what else to say, save for what she truly felt, and she would have rather died right then and there than admit what feelings she had towards him- or thought she had, at least.

He gave her a knowing, almost gentle glance, and whispered, "I know. And I'm sorry, Iris." She felt his fingers close briefly around hers as he held her hand for one brief moment, and then he was gone, his cloak fluttering in the nearly-nonexistent light.

"No." she whispered softly, as his warm fingers left hers for what she knew in her heart would be the last time.

He had almost reached her, his figure nearly visible through the crowd.

What occurred next happened in the span of about sixty seconds.

As pure instinct kicked into her and she felt adrenaline replacing blood in her veins, she drew her Kage and muscled her way through the crowd, her emerald hair flowing behind her as she pushed the priest to the ground and emerged in the center of the large circle that the crowd had become.

"You'll never take him!" she roared, courage (or could it have been insanity?) lending volume to her voice until it sounded like a megaphone. "What in the bloody hell could you want with him?! He's only a child!"

There were gasps and mutterings about the crowd, but she honestly didn't care at this point, as Ascion's cheeks blushed a dark (and somewhat cute, she realized) shade of fuchsia upon the ground. Her staff, threateningly glowing with sparks, was pointed straight as Grace's face.

Grace merely looked up and stared down the furious mage, her hair flowing down her back as the gigantic spear rested in her right hand. "I see no need to disclose information regarding my master's plans with you, Gaiden."

Iris felt her blood freeze in her veins. "How…do you know my name?" she ventured hesitantly.

"I know a lot of things that you'll never understand, foolish girl." Grace snapped, folding her arms across her chest in the most patronizing manner she could. "Now, stand aside and give up Blade, lest you all perish."

Indignation burst inside the mage's chest as fury flowed through her veins. "If you want him, you'll have to go through me first!"

Ascion paled upon the ground as Grace merely smiled, a thin crescent in the night. "Your proposal is acceptable, girl."

There was a burst of light as someone shouted, "Thunder Spear!", then a massive explosion as the spell hit its target. Ascion felt like screaming as a brilliant flash obscured his vision for a moment- then he realized Iris was still standing. She had cast the first spell.

Grace skidded backwards and glared at Iris, her silver eyes visible through the night as her lance shined through the darkness. "That was your last mistake, Gaiden!" she snarled as lightning arced from the tip of her weapon. "Thunder Lance!"

There was a second brilliant flash of lightning as Grace thrust the gigantic spear upwards, creating a gigantic bolt of electricity that hurtled towards Iris with inhuman speed. She managed to raise her staff and command, "Magic Guard!"- barely blocking the attack. Recovering quickly, she slashed the air with her Kage as the air froze in front of her. "Frigid Grave!"

Large spires of ice erupted from the ground beneath Grace as the arte took effect, pulses of icy magic diffusing through the forest floor. Undaunted, the blonde-haired mage easily dodged all the spikes as though there were wings on her feet, her lance crushing through the spikes like fragile glass. She spun on her feet and roared, "Dragon Buster!"

The Dragon Knight technique created a sonic boom as it exploded through the air, the resulting burst of wind forcing Iris to block with Magic Guard once more. She skidded wildly across the ground, throwing a cloud of dust and dirt into the air as she panted from mana exhaustion. The last time she had seen Grace on the grounds of Elaesia, she had never known her to be this…powerful.

She took a quick glance at the crowd, but she could not see Ascion's face- had he escaped? Staggering to her feet, she saw to no relief that Grace had folded her arms across her chest in a laissez-faire position, taking little notice of the mage in front of her.

"Well, this is a very nice development." Grace's voice carried like a megaphone across the stunned crowd. "Hiding behind a scarlet girl to do your fighting for you…Tell me, Blade, who are you going to use as a shield once I kill her?"

She gave a cruel, cold laugh, as she twirled her spear behind her head, glowing with ice-blue energy. "You are becoming quite troublesome, by the way." she added, turning to the seething ice/lightning mage. "It's time I finished you off once and for all." Her smile widened briefly before she raised her lance. "Excelsis Blizzard!"

Iris' eyes widened as she barely had time to recognize Grace's spell- the most dangerous ice arte known to mages after Absolute and Lancreaver- before a burst of icy-blue light exploded from the tip of her lance, speeding at her with the force of a missile and freezing the ground as it rushed past. It struck her chest head-on, throwing her into the air and slamming her head-first into a tree, as she slid limply to the ground. Blood oozed down her face from a gash in her head.

Grace made her way through the crowd, ranks of terrified mages, thieves, and bowmen moving aside as she shot her prey a hawk-like glare. Iris lay prone on the ground, staring blankly at Grace as crimson continued to sheet down her cheeks. Her vibrant green hair was now matted with streams of red, making her head look something like a morbid Christmas decoration.

Grace sniffed disdainfully as she leveled her spear at the dying mage's head. "Still alive." she murmured, the tip of her lance crackling with lightning. "It matters not. You shall join him soon in the halls of purgatory." She hefted the spear as it began to glow cobalt-blue, preparing to fling it through the defenseless mage's heart. "Die!"

"No!" a voice suddenly bellowed, as the area was illuminated by a gigantic flash of light. "INVINCIBLE!"

There was a massive explosion as the lightning-tipped javelin exploded forcefully against an invisible barrier, sparks flying everywhere as several people in the crowd shielded her eyes. Grace watched emotionlessly as the light cleared to reveal Ascion kneeling over Iris' motionless figure.

"Get up. Please, get up." he whispered softly, touching her cheek, and for once, she obeyed, pulling herself up using his hand as support. She blinked and saw him closer to her than he'd ever been in her life, his face just inches away from hers.

"I'm sorry." she whispered, echoing his words from just minutes ago. "I'm sorry it had to be like this-"

He ignored her words and pressed his fingertips to her scalp, muttering, "Heal." There was a soft glow of emerald light as her wound sealed itself up, leaving her skin as flawless as it had been.

"Ascion…" She felt like there was a black hole in her gut- of all the times and places she had to reveal her feelings, why did it have to be now, when he was about to- to…

Without saying another word, his face as emotionless as Grace's above him, Ascion hugged Iris, his arms wrapping tenderly around her body as his head rested at the base of her shoulders. She felt heat creeping up her from her toes to her head as his small, warm body pressed against her, his face turned towards the ground as he embraced her. Even from her current position, she could see the slightly revolted expressions of the people in the crowd, but for once in her life, she truly didn't care.

He broke away from her rather too quickly for her to enjoy the moment, however, his expression looking more business-like than amorous. She opened her mouth to say something, but she was silenced by his deathly expression.

"Don't move." he commanded her, before turning his back on her and facing Grace, his expression a visage of blinding fury. A few people stepped back as they saw the Brigadier General's face light up with anger they had never seen before, not even in his worst moments. A kind of suppressed fury radiated off of him as though he were giving off heat.

"You." he snarled, raising his Magicodar and pointing it directly at his adversary. "I never thought I'd see you again, Grace."

"And I you, Blade." she replied. Her voice had lost its demonic, amplified edge, and now sounded human- as though she were alive once more. "I must admit that it is certainly quite a surprise to see you here." She tossed a handful of her spectral hair behind her back. "I thought you would let her die for sure."

"Countless people have died already." Ascion snapped, not taking his eyes off Grace. "I won't allow another to die in my stead."

"Admirable sentiments indeed." Grace replied coolly, staring upwards into the night sky. The sunset had faded, leaving starlight in its wake. "If that is what you desire, then so be it."

She waved her spear-like staff, and Ascion felt something like a gust of wind ripple across his cheek as Grace's arte took effect. Glancing around him, he could see that she had surrounded them in a miniature force field, effectively shutting out all other contact. It would be just them in a fight to the very end.

It was hard to believe that the crafty, beautiful girl that had sent him a birthday present and briefly been his older brother's love interest was standing here in front of him, bent on delivering him to "Lord Isentryx"- in other words, he suddenly realized, Gault.

"Of course." he muttered silently to himself. "Everything Rathias Gardner said was true. It must have been soul transmutation."

Grace merely looked amused. "You catch on fast, Blade." Slowly, she hefted her spear to her shoulders, its edge bursting with demonic lightning. "Now, if you value the life of your friends and the welfare of Ellinia at all, you will surrender yourself to me."

"I defeated you once before at Elaesia." Ascion steadfastly replied, refusing to be intimidated. "I won't hesitate to do it again."

Grace's smile did not fade as she stared at the priest before her. "You are a bit too overconfident for yourself, Blade. Do you think that just because you are the son of the great Rafael Wolfen that that automatically allows you to win every magic duel you fight?" She tossed her head back, her blonde hair glinting in the starlight. "You cannot imagine the power that I have been endowed with since I last saw you. Thanks to Lord Isentryx, I now know artes that could potentially destroy the world several times over. And you still wish to stand against me."

"Shut the bloody hell up and fight if you've got the guts!" Ascion roared, his wand shaking in his hand as he abandoned what little self-control he had left. "Prism Lancer!"

There was a bright flash as the great spear of light materialized in his hand, and then the duel began.

"What?!"

Ark Rafael Wolfen stared, dumbfounded, at the leader of Henesys-Elaesia as she calmly sat at her desk, acting as though a furious crusader with a vein bulging in his temple was not in the room.

With absolute patience, Athena Pierce calmly shuffled the papers on her desk and gazed up at the wild-haired axeman with her almond eyes. "I have told you that Brigadier General Ascion Blade, along with High Captains Iris Gaiden and Joseph Stalrigarde, were sent to Ellinia at seven o'clock this morning to retrieve a gravity arte from the Ellinian Research Institute."

"No- not that." Ark put a hand to his sweaty forehead. "I've been walking for at least twelve hours and I haven't eaten since then, nearly got myself killed with a couple of Tauros ambushes, and you're telling me that my brother happens to be in the same place as a wide-scale invasion involving untold thousands of demons-"

A flash of anger betraying her resolute patience, Athena folded her hands upon her desk. "I assure you that your brother is not in any danger, Wolfen. He is an extremely skilled and powerful magician that shares a bloodline with your father, one of the greatest priests that Bera has ever known. I have sent Epsilon Regiment of Alpha Division led by the more-than-competent Col. Luke Sinclaire to deal with the threat, and if we report any deaths I am more than sure your brother's name will not be on the list."

"…" Ark silently growled something inaudible under his breath, which was fortunate for him, because if Athena had heard him he would have found himself in a very uncomfortable position. Choosing to ignore the crusader's current state of mind, Athena raised her gaze upwards. "Be that as it may, I must thank you as well as Ryden and Aslan for bringing several hundred reinforcements from Galiaen." Her voice wavered for the briefest of seconds as she spoke the name of her former home.

Seeing that he was not going to get any closer to Ascion staying in Athena's dreary office, Ark straightened himself up to his full height. "Thank you, Athena." With a resolute air, he strode out of the room and closed the door firmly behind him.

"Well, how'd it go?" Ryden asked briskly.

Ark settled for answering with a violent gesture of his hands. "We have to go to Ellinia."

"I hate to admit it, Wolfen, but I think a meal might actually be a good idea at this point," Marron replied, sliding a hand into his pocket, "because in case you haven't noticed, none of us have eaten anything for the past twelve hours-"

"I wasn't inviting you to go along, Dariel, but he is my brother." Ark snarled, putting dangerous emphasis on the last two syllables.

"It doesn't matter." Marron stretched his arms above his head and gave a yawn, which he tried to pass off as a casual look. "I've been walking twelve hours; I can walk another."

"Good. Then I assume you're coming." Ark muttered, his bloodshot eyes roving sharply across Ryden, Marron, and Lisande before he stomped out into the hallway, his axe jangling across his back.

"All right, then let's go." Ryden murmured in kind, putting a hand on the hilt of his sword and preparing to leave, but he found himself blocked by the edge of the Paladin's sword. "Dariel, what-"

"You don't have to go." Marron muttered, resheathing his Heaven's Gate. "Lady Lisande needs to conduct reconnaissance with Athena regarding the troops, and someone needs to watch over her. Besides, I promised Wolfen I'd do him a favor."

"It's no trouble, Seles; I can go." Lisande spoke up.

The Paladin's left eyebrow twitched for a moment before he spoke, somewhat grudgingly. "I can't have you two risking your lives, as if we don't have enough people in Ellinia-"

"We're going." Ryden said flatly, ending the conversation as he strode after Ark, Lisande following shortly after.

Marron blinked, staring at the empty space where the two sword-users had been for a fraction of a moment before collecting himself and haughtily striding after them, ignoring the astonished looks he got from passersby in the hall.

The end came much faster than he thought.

He saw so many things at once; Iris, still lying on the ground as she stared at him; Joe and Schuyler, standing among the crowd as they stared at him in trepidation, their faces pale; and above all, Grace, rushing at him with the edge of her spear ready to tear him apart.

He lashed forward and managed to parry her blow, a shower of sparks exploding into the air as the two arcane weapons made contact. Undaunted, she followed up with a second slash in midair, aiming to cut him apart. He blocked her blows one after the other, the wind quickly being knocked out of him as he struggled to keep up with her movements.

This was so different from the time they had fought upon the plains of Elaesia. For one thing, Ark, as well as everybody else, had been with him.

This time, he was alone.

The fact echoed briefly in his mind as he ducked a slash from Grace, sparks flying over his head and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. As he dueled, missing death by inches at a time while raising his lance to block one strike after the other, he reflected on the fact that he'd never be able to get a good hit on her at this rate. He was having enough trouble trying to cope with her melee assault as it was.

"Teleport!" he muttered under his breath, a flash of blue light enveloping him and depositing him several yards behind her. In an instant, she whirled around to aim a slash at him, but he was too fast for her. Raising his hand, he roared, "Incandesca!"

A holy rune appeared on his palm as a sudden burst of white flame erupted from his fingers, heading straight at Grace. Her eyes widened briefly for a second before she twirled on her feet and swung the spear ahead of her to block the incoming flames.

Although he didn't expeect much to happen, he was shocked when the flame dissipated just inches from her face, repulsed by a single swing of her wrist. He could only gape in amazement- how could she have have blocked such a powerful spell with a simple guard?

"Sacramental flame." she whispered, and Ascion could feel goosebumps crawling up his arm as she said the words, almost as if she were mocking him. "A technique used by only the greatest wizards known to time, able to bring down the greatest demons in a matter of seconds."

Her eyes flashed with lightning as she leveled the spear at his head. "Did you really think it was going to be that easy, Blade?" She bolted forward and lashed out at him with the great javelin. "Impaling Heaven!"

A gigantic burst of light obscured Ascion's eyes as he felt himself being thrown into the air by a great force, crashing into a tree with a thud. He attempted to get up, but Grace swung her spear and commanded, "Absolute!" He felt icy steam shoot across his face as the ground opened, and the next thing he knew, a gigantic explosion of ice crystals had caught him dead in the center of the arte's area of effect. He rolled across the ground limply, gashes and blood streaking his body.

Silently, Grace strode over to him, eyeing her prey as she raised the lance.

"Pathetic." she whispered, her voice unheard by all but him. "Truly pathetic…I would have expected more from Zeraion Phoenix's younger brother."

Rage boiled in Ascion's veins as he staggered to his feet. "Don't talk about my brother!" he bellowed, his wand clutched in his shaking knuckles. "He was in love with you, and you betrayed him! How could you do this to him- to us?!"

Grace's eyes seemed to flicker for a second, showing the faintest bit of what looked like remorse in her sky-gray pupils before she said, "Times have changed, Ascion. You're no longer the child you were several years ago, and your brother isn't either."

Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, but he swore he could see what looked like a bead of light make its way down her left cheek before she spoke.

"When you see your brother again, tell him I'm sorry." she whispered, before she holstered the spear and aimed it towards his heart.

Suddenly, there was a loud cry of "Ascion!!" that seemed to shake the trees, and Ascion managed to summon the strength to lift his head upwards.

Unbelievably, through the crowd of people that surrounded him and Grace, he could see someone frantically pounding on the invisible barrier she had cast; someone wearing plates of blackened blue, with a great axe slung across his back…

"Ark?" Ascion whispered softly, in disbelief.

That was all he could say before the spear thrust itself forward with a cry of "Thunder Lance!"

Then there was a brilliant explosion as light swallowed his vision, a moment of searing, absolute pain, and then he was gone.

"Ascion!!" Ark Wolfen roared, pounding the invisible barrier that separated him from his younger brother as hard as he could, ignoring the rivulets of blood that seeped from under his gauntlets. "Ascion, can you hear me?! Say something!"

Ascion gave no sign that he had heard, his eyes glazed over as he continued to stare up at Grace, his life in her hands.

"Ascion! Damn it!" Ark swore furiously, as he unsheathed his axe and swung it with as much force as he could against Grace's shield. "Sovereign Gale!" Bursts of wind pressure flew off the crusader's axe as the edge of the gigantic weapon made contact with the barrier, but it was to no avail. He felt an immense shock run through his body, as though he'd run headfirst into a brick wall, the recoil causing him to drop his axe.

"Ascion!" he yelled furiously, desperation beginning to distort his features as he clawed madly at the shield. "Do something!"

Quickly, Ryden, Marron, and Lisande unsheathed their blades and aimed slashes at the magical ward, but they enjoyed no more success than Ark had moments ago, the shield continuing to hold fast.

He saw Grace open her mouth and begin to speak, but he could not hear a word she was saying. Frantically, he pressed his ear against the invisible barrier, and he could hear the faintest of sounds as she spoke.

"…see your brother again, tell him I'm sorry."

Then, she plunged the spear downwards into Ascion's chest.

"NO!" Ark found himself screaming, as the point of the gigantic blade ripped through his brother's body, a great cloud of crimson suddenly decorating the ground. Behind him, Lisande shrieked and threw her hands over her mouth, Ryden's jaw fell open, and Marron swore under his breath, clenching the hilt of his sword in his hand.

He saw Ascion's body twitch for the faintest of seconds as electricity pulsed through his body, and then all of a sudden, there was a gigantic explosion as the barrier finally broke, throwing Ark backwards at full force as he crashed into Marron behind him.

Ignoring the pain that was shooting through his body, Ark staggered to his feet off the Paladin and half-staggered, half-ran to the smoking crater that had been where Ascion had been moments ago. Almost maniacally, he sifted his fingers through the burnt ground, the acrid, metallic smell of scorched blood in the air. Several shreds of bloodstained fabric remained in his hands as he brought them up; the remnants of Ascion's cape.

In despair, Ark slammed his palms into the ground and began to sob, crying for the first time in what seemed like years as he clutched the remains of his brother between his fingers. The pendant around his neck fell open, the picture of the three childhood siblings fluttering towards the scorched ground.

Promise me you won't die, Ark…

"Ascion!" Ark cried, as the burnt remains of the priest's cape fell to the ground, great sobs wracking his body. Tears flowed down his cheeks, instantly absorbed by the thirsty ground as his palms shook upon the blackened forest floor.

I promised Dad I would take care of him...and now he's gone, just like Mom...and it's all my fault...!

-----

"Rafael!" the woman cried, as a burst of nerve-wracking pain exploded through her body.

"Avelyn!" the dark-haired man gasped back, tenderly clutching his love's hand in his own. "You'll be all right, I promise!"

The child merely tottered on the stool that had been set in front of his mother's bed, his unsteady four year-old legs trying to keep their balance as he strained to keep his balance. Dark hair hung from his head that almost grazed his shoulders- his parents had rarely bothered to give him a haircut since his birth. Next to him, his two year-old brother sat on the bedsheets, curling up to his mother's right leg as though it were all the treasure in the world.

"Rafael!" the woman repeated, tears flowing down her cheeks as she fiercely grabbed her husband's hand. "It...it hurts so much!"

"Don't talk like that." The man's voice was almost pleading. "You have to be strong, Avelyn. You're a warrior, the best of the best. You have to survive. For Ark...for Zeraion...and for our third son."

"I...I don't know if I can...!" she howled, fresh tears running down her cheeks. "Find...a doctor, please...!"

The priest shook his head as an overwhelming guilt rested in his heart. He loved his wife so much, and he couldn't bear to see her in so much pain. As a swordswoman, a crusader, she had always been so strong, able to take the blows for both of them when they had been young. Now she was suffering, and he was helpless to prevent it. All he could do was hold her and keep telling her it would be all right.

"I can't leave you." he whispered, clutching her hand tenderly. "The pain reliever arte I've cast over you can only hold for so long, and if anything were to happen to you, I would never be able to live with myself."

Her only reply was a fresh cry of pain as her contractions rocked through her. It felt as though the very gods were against her as something akin to a lightning bolt exploded through her with every passing minute. Her child was still buried in her womb, the large bulge apparent through the bedsheets.

"Mommy's hurt!" the older child cried, as he crawled onto the bed and cuddled up next to his mother and younger brother. "Do something, Daddy! Anything!"

Rafael's voice carried a measure of desperation. "I'm...I'm doing all I can, Ark." he replied quietly. The truth of it shamed him; the fact that he could do nothing while his beloved Avelyn suffered tortured him to no end.

"It's coming!" she screamed, her voice loud enough to wake the entire village of Henesys, and Rafael immediately dropped his wife's hand and ran to the foot of her bed. "Push!" he commanded, breathing almost as hard as she as he worked furiously to help her deliver the baby. He was no obstetrician, but he would gladly have done anything to ensure the safety of his wife and unborn child.

"Mommy, I love you." The two young children cuddled closer to their mother's heaving chest, and Avelyn's face visibly relaxed even as the most severe of contractions rocked through her body, her newborn son gradually working his way out of her. Rafael gave a cry of triumph as the child's body began to make headway, its smooth head entering the air.

The weak sound of crying began to make its way through the air as Rafael finally stood up, his face and robes splattered with blood. He carried a crimson-stained bundle in his arms, which he gingerly handed to his wife. She cooed as the baby entered her grasp, and it stopped crying.

"He's...beautiful." she whispered weakly, her strength gone as she cradled her newborn son in her arms for what she knew would be the first and last time. "He looks just like you, Rafael. Look," she said, turning to her two sons, holding the bundle closer to them. "Ark, Zeraion, meet your new baby brother. His name is...Ascion. Please, take good care of him."

As Ark reached out to touch his newest sibling, he felt Avelyn's body suddenly relax and stiffen as her beautiful blue eyes closed, and he suddenly knew, deep down in his heart, he would never see his mother again.

-----

Tears continued to flow down Ark's cheeks as he clutched the few remnants of what remained of his baby brother, perfect to the very end. Nothing mattered except the few bloodstained fragments of what had once been Ascion Blade- of what had once been the younger sibling he had taken care of and cherished so deeply.

Mother...I'm so sorry...

"…Ascion…!!"

-----

He opened his eyes.

The sky was serene and blue, light streaming down from the heavens as a few fluffy clouds fluttered above his head. The air had a clean, fresh scent to it as he breathed, and he could see that flower gardens were planted around him, as petals and butterflies danced through the air. Fairies seemed to be calling through the distance, their light voices echoing in his ears.

He was in Orbis.

The pain, he noticed, was completely gone. In fact, he didn't feel even the slightest bit of discomfort as he pulled himself to his feet and examined himself. He seemed to be dressed in robes, although unlike the ones he'd been wearing in Ellinia, they were a shade of gentle ivory, much like Iris' jacket.

There was a brief tinge of pain as he thought of her, still trapped upon the plains of Ellinia. He had to get to her- he could take the airship and be there within minutes-

Or at least, that's what he would have done if he hadn't seen that the airship station had vanished. In fact, as he looked around, he saw the one thing unique about his location; there were no buildings whatsoever. The stone paths and gardens of Orbis were still here, but the houses had completely vanished, as if he were in a ghost town.

He definitely wasn't in Bera anymore, that was for sure.

A slight bit of discomfort (he was too indignant to use the word 'fright') made its way into his veins as he looked around, trying to find something that could possibly help him out of his current situation. He tried calling to the fairies that fluttered about him, but he suddenly realized with a jolt that even though he opened his mouth, no words or sound came out. It was as though he had been struck dumb.

Knowing that he wasn't in Orbis, he tried waving his wand and casting a spell, but although he wordlessly said the incantation, nothing happened. Well, it wasn't as if he had expected anything to happen in this place anyway. He no longer struggled; he could only stand back and accept this place for what it was.

Then, all of a sudden, he saw a single figure moving towards him from the distance, its outline shadowed as it slowly drifted towards him.

He tried to move his arms and legs, but couldn't- he found that he was frozen to the spot, as though someone had cast an immobilization spell over him. He watched the figure as it came closer; as it neared him, he could see that it was apparently female, with sleek, long, waist-length hair.

Chocolate-colored hair.

He silently opened his mouth, but no words came out; however, he couldn't possibly have said anything even if he had been able to. He could only watch as the woman drifted closer to him, with hair the same color as his. She was wearing an elegant silver-colored cuirass, with ruby rose-shaped earrings dangling from her ears. A thin sword of black crystal hung in a sheath at her belt, its ornate hilt poking from her waist. Metallic gauntlets of black and gold adorned her knuckles, as a matching pair of greaves covered her heels. A white-colored cape swished at her ankles as she reached the stunned priest, still frozen to the ground with his mouth open.

Avelyn Blade smiled and reached out her hand, tenderly caressing her youngest son's cheek with her fingers. As her hands touched his skin, he could feel a warmth blossoming over his body, and he realized that the wounds Grace had left were quickly healing at her touch. Ascion gazed into his mother's beautiful, pearly eyes for the first time and saw that they were wet.

"You've been so brave, Ascion." she tearfully whispered, teardrops of bittersweet joy streaming from her eyes as she took him in her embrace, her hair tickling his shoulders as mother and son were finally together for the first time in sixteen years. He wanted to open his mouth and tell her how sorry he was, how sorry that she had lost her life giving birth to him, but the words wouldn't come.

Behind Avelyn's shoulders, he could see the figure of another person, slightly taller this time, as it made its way towards them. As the distance between them shortened, he could see jet-black hair hanging from the man's head and barely grazing his shoulders, his hair extremely disheveled upon his head as he walked. He wore robes of gold-streaked blue, the convoluted handle of a wand poking from his belt. Like his wife, he too wore a cape, its color a deep night-black. Its hem grazed the ground as he walked, coming to a stop just a couple of feet from his wife and son.

"We're very proud of you." Rafael Wolfen smiled faintly as he gently laid his hand on his son's shoulder, his strong, yet gentle fingers imparting a fatherly love that Ascion hadn't felt for nearly a decade.

The teenager blinked tears from his eyes as he stared at his parents, finally back with them after all these years. There was no pain anymore, and as he felt his mother's arms and his father's touch, a single thought echoed in his mind for the last time.

Ark...Zeraion...I'll be waiting for you. Forever.

Ascion Blade, the youngest son of Rafael Wolfen and Avelyn Blade, smiled and closed his eyes.