Negotiator

He'd been planning to back up and be evasive, Blind the SeeD, Slow him down, maybe even Confuse him. In the end, he had time for none of that. It was either block that first strike with his sword or be cut in half.

Alan had put in some training these last few months. Zephon's cheap knockoff sword shattered. So did his right forearm. The impact knocked him back ten paces into a wall, which put him beyond the range of the decapitating second strike. Through the pain, he had just enough presence of mind to cast Protect. Alan's rapier flashed into the spell, successfully blocked, but when the shockwaves reached Zephon's shattered arm they sent him into a screaming spasm. The SeeD stood back, considering, as Zephon added a Shell and a Reflect.

"Huh... you're good with pain. Smart too. I don't have Dispel stocked, a stupid oversight, but I do have Flare, which I believe goes right through Reflect. And so does Ultima. But you took a gamble that I wouldn't waste powerful spells on a random G-Soldier, and you were right. So I have to wait. In the meantime… Draw!"

His Haste vanished from his mind. That had been one of T's best finds. He growled "Sleep!"

The SeeD's eyelid flickered, but he shook off the spell.

"We know Galbadia's practices, soldier. We're all junctioned against Sleep. But just in case… Reflect!"

He had Blind, and a number of pretty decent defensive spells, but if he cast anything now, it'd come right back to him. There was only one thing to do… "Death!"

The SeeD's face froze in numb shock. Zephon giggled.

"What the…"

"I just wanted to see your face. Shame I only had one. Dad told me to keep it for emergencies. Jules was smarter than you, though, so I had to strike first."

Cradling his broken arm to his chest, Zephon smiled internally. A very small victory. He'd never had Death magic. It was illegal to stock it, even for members of the armed forces. Death magic was a way to kill anyone with absolutely no evidence left behind unless someone witnessed the act itself. Anyone caught with Death stocked was charged Accessory to Murder, under the circular but valid logic that with such harsh penalties attached to its possession, the only reason to stock the spell was if you had a killing intent. He stroked his broken arm as gently as he could with his good hand. He couldn't feel or move his fingers right now, and cool numbness was slowly spreading from his fingertips. There might be permanent damage, but that wasn't something he could worry about now.

Meanwhile, the SeeD kept drawing from his mind, Zephon boiling with hate as spells his sister had done who knew what to find were yanked out of his skull like worthless curios. Fortunately, the SeeD was most interested in the offensive status effects, but he couldn't hide anything. Everything he had was there for the taking, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. The rest of his Protects, his Hastes. His Meltdown. His Regen. All gone. Snarling futilely as his entire arm slowly went numb, there was nothing he could do as he was cleaned out. When he was depleted of all his offensive magic but the basic attack spells, and couldn't feel his arm at all, the SeeD spoke again.

"You know, you're pretty well stocked for a G-Soldier, are you related to somebody?"

"I pulled some favours. So, have you decided yet?"

"What?"

"Why you're killing me. For Jules, or for Garden. Or for yourself, maybe? Cause if it's number three, I think you're being a little unfair."

'When you have nothing else left, all you can do is try get inside their head.' Never thought I'd have to use that bit of advice either, Dad.

"Huh?"

"It's not like I've done you any harm here, really..."

"What!" The sword flashed against the Protect, but with his arm now completely numb, it didn't hurt so much. "You have no idea how much she meant to me–"

"Oh please! In six weeks, you won't remember her name."

"Wha – What?"

"No one told you? Junctioning messes up long term memories."

"You'd say anything to throw me off my game right now." True.

"Where did you meet 13, Al? How long have you known each other?"

The SeeD hesitated.

"We've met before, you know. In Dollet. The ultimate hand in your TT deck is Ifrit, Shiva, Quetzalcoatl, Morpheus… And Trepie 13, Juliet. She was pretty powerful, 9944, a good defensive card, all posed with her whip and everything. Unless you lost him in the meantime, and I think you're good enough not to, you also have a card of a former Galbadian soldier called Marcus Schwert. He has hooks for hands in the photo, an 8882 card, with a slight crease on the lower left corner. Inscription at the very bottom, under the trivia box. 'Happy Birthday Dad. From T and Z (you know, your kids)'. So, you think your true love splattered all over the forest down there would remember all that and tell a stranger at random?"

Alan stepped back. "You've played cards with me before… So what?"

"You were a good player, SeeD. You said you'd placed in tournaments, although how you remembered that much I don't have a clue. That kind of player always remembers the backstory of his favourite cards. You think losing a card game to a soldier and then ripping up half a Dollet Street to kill him is a memorable event for most people?"

"I remember… Xu disciplined me for something… What was it? What was it? Damn it, you can't know this stuff!"

The SeeD turned his head away to look for answers somewhere beyond himself, and in a heartbeat Zephon was up and running. He hit full sprint in three strides. Despite all the drawing, Alan hadn't gotten around to taking his Dispels yet, and Zephon removed the barrier over the door without breaking stride. His broken arm was frozen to his chest due to his slow use of ice magic through the conversation, just enough to not activate his own Shell. An added benefit was numbness, as, high pain threshold or not he'd never have had the strength to stand with a broken arm hanging loose.

Slamming the door shut behind him, Zephon jammed the hilt shard of his sword into the jamb and cast the last of his Blizzard spells behind it. The iceballs were heavy enough that even with junctioned strength, Alan shouldn't be able to open the reinforced door. He could summon a GF and take it off its hinges, but Zephon was betting on the SeeD training to kick in and remind him that one G-Soldier with a broken arm and no worthwhile magic left wasn't worth destroying the training centre's security measures for. After successfully counting to five without dying, he knew he'd guessed right.

SeeD always did the right thing, no matter the circumstances.

His coat and bag were where he'd left them at the outer door to the training centre. Painfully pulling on the battered garment, he took the hat from his kit bag and slipped it on over his visor. It was nothing that would fool someone paying attention, but it might get him past a casual glance or two. He took a few steps forward into the hall.

A red spot danced in his eye, and he tried to blink it away. Nothing happened, and he tilted his head in confusion. A crack sounded, and his left ear peeled off like a sticking plaster, his helmet dented inwards as he hit his knees. A second shot punched into his armour just above his left hip, slowed but not stopped. Blood trickled down his leg.

Time passed. He opened his right eye. His arm was still numb, but he couldn't say the same for the bullet wounds. He hadn't lost his left eye, but all he could see was red. Wiping his eye solved that. Without moving his head, he could see the Seed cadet with the rifle perched in an alcove on the central tower, eyes still busy. Hauling himself into cover, Zephon dragged himself along the side of the hall, with his good hand, aware that the one still stuck to his chest would be screaming in pain if he could feel it. When he thought he'd gone far enough, he allowed himself to stand up. He was out of the sniper's field of vision, but still in bad shape. For some reason, he was having difficulty walking straight, and not just out of weakness. His head was bleeding, but that wasn't the main problem. Scalp wounds always bled a lot. The gut shot was trickling, more slowly, but with the bullet still in the wound, it wouldn't stop without medical attention. Professional medical attention. Which was all the way back in the other Garden. If it was available at all.

Nothing easy, is there?

Garden was quiet now. Deserted. There seemed to be a lot of cosmetic damage inside garden, cracked floor tiles, plaster dust, burn marks, but remarkably little actual structural damage beyond a dent or two here and there.

"This place… is really well made."

He stumbled on, good hand resting on the side of the passage to help his balance. If he came to anyone, even a cadet, he was in no position to fight them. Shit, a six year old could probably take him. But Garden was quiet. The students had discovered what it felt like to take a serious hit from a real army, and they were still coming to terms with it.

That was one other of the few advantages Galbadia had on the students. Garden were incredibly well trained, but there was no training that could prepare anyone for being spattered with the blood and brain matter of the best friend you'd spent the last ten years in the same classroom as. Galbadia, on the other hand, knew that having to wipe someone's eyeball off your shoe was no reason to stop fighting. Garden's cadets had never been taught how to lose a battle. It was easy to be trained to kill, but much more difficult to learn how to die. He stumbled on, staggering as the Gardens occasionally clashed, and came on the front gate unchallenged.

Here, the defenders were marshalled, and were handling things better. The main gate was the normal point of access, so there would have training drills for defending it before Garden took flight. Plus, the girl in charge, known only to the Galbadian army as 'Black Hair' up to now was there. Thanks to Seifer, they now knew her name to be Xu Chastein, undisputedly the best field officer in the world. Every officer to try make a stand against her had been thoroughly fought off his/her feet. She should've been posted to the quad, the defence there would've been much more coherent. With Almasy's floorplans, though, it was obvious that the gate was a natural chokepoint with no room for a decent charge, and there was only due to be feints. Caged Blood Souls mixed with the occasional SAM08G to give the attack some spine. Blood Souls lacked punch, but they ate into a defense's stock of Esuna and restorative spells, and were an effective method of softening a line before a serious thrust. But this was Xu. Good use of GFs hit as many attackers as possible. Leviathan was particularly good for throwing back attackers without creating massive structural damage. Watching a real SeeD at work, rematerializing just in time to pat her GF's nose, was enough. There was no way through here. He'd have to take his chances with the sniper.

His boots crunched on plaster as he retreated back down the corridor. Hearing noise ahead, he took a right turn into the library.

The bookshelves had been clamped in place, but at least one of them had been vibrated free of its moorings and toppled, spilling books and magazines across the floor. There was a desk to his right, but no one at it, and only a muted sobbing from further inside.

His toe brushed paper. He glanced down.

Oh, hey, 'Revenge of Pupuran', that could be valuable. Stuffing it in a pocket, he continued walking. Maybe there'd be an abandoned cubbyhole somewhere he could hide in.

Then a bookcase disintegrated in front of him. He tried to throw out his bound hand and failed, toppling backwards, and slipping twice on discarded books before regaining his feet. The ground cracked under his feet, and a desperate stagger sideways brought him out of range of the Thundaga. Several books caught fire, before a Water from a Different angle extinguished them. It was very neat, precise casting, with no unnecessary splashing around. That meant steam, and before there could be another attack Zephon was crouched behind the main desk.

"Matt, stop!" a girl shouted, running out of the steam. "Are you ok–" Then she registered the Galbadian helmet, and faster than he could follow his head was slammed against the desk, prompting a howl, and a shuriken's tines dug into the dark veneer either side of his neck.

"Wait right there, I'll be with you shortly," she said sweetly, turning away. Nice pigtail.

Unless he mistook the uniform, she wasn't even a qualified SeeD. Once they got over the shell shock, this place was a force to be reckoned with. He couldn't turn his head, but as the steam cleared he caught the scent of burned flesh, and when Pigtail's frantic attempt to talk the kid down began he believed he caught the gist of it.

A SeeD cadet –a boy of ten or twelve, had lost his nerve at the main defence and fled with his little brother… an eight year old, too young for junctions. He'd decided to hide the place he'd always felt safest, the library. Whereupon when the garden's had clashed, one of the shelves had broken free of its clamps, and toppled…landing on the unjunctioned eight year old. Pigtail, the resident librarian had lifted it off him, but there'd been broken ribs, and he was slowly dying. Pigtail couldn't leave her post to get help, and the eldest cadet wouldn't leave his brother… And believing that the Galbadian army was coming to kill them all, the elder cadet had ripped a power socket out of the wall and junctioned Thunder to Elem-Absorb.

It was a brave gesture, but futile. If the Galbadian army got this far, they'd lose a couple of soldiers and then leave him alone until they found a means to cut the power. Or they'd just leave him to starve. Even pigtail could have come up with something, if she'd been willing to harm the poor deluded kid.

He'd heard enough. "Sleep!" he whispered, targeting the sound of crying through the steam and smoke.

"Silence!" came from Pigtail instantly, and cotton wool filled his throat. Then 'Float!' cast at the unconscious now junior classman, and noise of exertion as the smoke slowly cleared and Pigtail dragged them away from the power socket. Zephon, still pinned to the desk, waved one hand to attract her attention. If SeeD were half as well trained as he thought they were, they'd know their most common enemy's handsigns.

I need medic. You Guard, can't desert. Bring wounded to medic.

"And why should I trust you? Esuna, but if you try and cast, you'll be dead before you finish."

He didn't doubt her.

"I'm gutshot. I'll need them to get to your infirmary. Will your Doc treat me if kill kids in front of her?"

"… There's that." But she hesitated.

"Please, damn it! I made a promise to get home alive."

Pigtail looked amused. "Then you shouldn't have joined the army."

He spat at her and missed. "I shouldn't have expected a fucking SeeD to understand. You don't have anyone who'll care if you die."

Pigtail blinked "There's… someone."

At her tone, he grinned. "A SeeD? You think they're still alive? Optimist."

Indrawn breath.

Gotcha. Now quick, build a link, build a link. "I have someone out there too. Or, at least I think I do." She trusted me enough to share a dorm the night before a battle. That's not nothing. But… "Of course, she's probably dead by now. SeeDs never did do mercy very well." 'I have a family'. The most cowardly, pathetic plea for mercy there is. Because only orphans and loners deserve to die. But if it works...

"Draw!" She took all his remaining spells, leaving him empty headed. He was almost used to it by now, and barely growled. Then she pulled the Shuriken from the desk pausing only to examine his dogtags.

"You know where the infirmary is?"

He nodded. He knew Seifer's floorplans by heart. The Shuriken flashed back into place.

"If they don't get there, I will find you. And if I can't find you, Zephon Schwert, I will ask Xu to dig into the G-Army Records and find those people you're so worried about. I keep a diary, so junctions won't make me forget it."

"Deal." He was sick of threats, but he needed medical attention fast. "You think I'm going to kill a twelve year old for the fun of it, with one arm and no magic, in the middle of a hostile fortress? You think I'd even be able to? They're SeeD trained!"

The junior classman was a wreck, every breath frothing and his body charred black from too close proximity to his brother. But he was still alive. And if he got medical attention quickly enough, he'd live, probably. The elder was not unscathed. His junctions had prevented him from being damaged by the shock, but not heat, and the fingers of his right hand were melted together into one amorphous lump where they'd been wrapped around the wires. Good. He'd be less likely to make any trouble. Pigtail flicked his forehead, and he opened his eyes.

"What–"

"Shh, Matt. We've got to get Terry to Doctor Kadawoki, and I'm going to need your help, okay?"

"So… You're going to help me carry him?"

"No… we're going to need help with that." Matt looked up, and saw Zephon. His coat concealed his armour, but he'd lost his hat, and the dented Galbadian helmet was unmistakeable.

"You want me to get help from him?"

"Do you want Terry to live or not?"

The twelve year old hooked an arm around his unconscious brother's shoulder, and fixed Zephon with a glare.

"I'll be watching you."

"Of course." Pigtail helped Zephon hook the eight year old's other arm around his shoulder, and wrapped a yellow uniform scarf around Zephon's head, With the blood spattering his coat, it might stand up to a casual glance. It wasn't best medical practice, but they had to get him to the infirmary somehow.

They made slow progress, mostly due to Zephon's skewed balance and throbbing bullet wound.

"You do the talking, if there is any." Zephon told the cadet once they were outside the door. A DC accent would betray his disguise instantly.

The boy turned to him. "And why should I protect you?"

Zephon sighed, and drew his chef's knife with his good hand, laying the flat against their burden's throat.

"You know what a Tonberry is?"

"You…"

"Calm, down, I'm not going to hurt him… unless I don't get to the infirmary alive, or somebody attacks in the meantime. Everything will be fine. Promise."

"Galbadians… You don't play fair!"

"Fair? Tell you what… dejunction, ditch your magic and tie one hand behind your back, and we'll see who'd win a fair fight." Zephon had no intention of complying, not least because he'd probably lose. But thankfully, the SeeD cadet valued his brother's life over his own honour.

When this is over, I'll kill you." Threats, again.

"If I'm still alive, you're welcome to. I won't be able to stop you. I've no real magic left and only one good arm."

The cadet glowered, but kept walking, lending support when brother or soldier staggered. Zephon kept his head down and eyes alert, coiled to spring if the twelve year old moved a hair. At that age, he'd have been itching for a chance to be a hero if the knife was to his throat, but wouldn't risk his brother. But nothing happened, and before long, they were at the main gate, where another feint was underway. No one challenged them. Actually, when they saw Zephon's bloodstained empty sleeve, several people pointedly looked away. Matt persuaded the defenders that they didn't need assistance, and they were allowed to keep moving towards the infirmary.

Glass crunched in the corridors in front of the infirmary. There were four guards on the door. No ordinary SeeDs, these. They were far too calm, and moved into position when they saw people approaching without speech or handsigns. If an army charged this door, they'd pay for every step. If they saw where his hand was…

"Stop!"

Zephon felt himself freeze. Twelve year old lunged, and was frozen as well. One guard came forward, roughly searched the junior classman despite his moans, and then pulled him aside and yanked open Zephon's coat. Saw his armour. She drew back a blade.

The infirmary door opened. "What's going on?" A woman with glasses and a doctor's coat. The. SeeD pulled both Zephon's arms out and behind them, the frozen arm coming free with a wet sucking noise. He would have burst into tears if he could move.

The Doctor watched him. "Huh. What did you want?"

The guard stepped between the infirmary door and the fallen soldier. "Doctor–"

"I'm not talking to you. Slow."

"I've… been… sh….shot… Thought…. I'd trade…..Life for life…"

The blurry figure exhaled. "I'm not allowed to discriminate. Bring him."

He never saw the Sleep coming.

000000

When he opened his eyes, the infirmary was quiet. He was armoured, with a section cut away to reach the bullet wound, but his helmet was missing. The Doctor was pointing a needle gun at him.

"I've been around a long time, soldier. These are diamond tipped spikes marinated in Marlboro venom. There's not a single organic being on this planet that this won't bring down. Make trouble, and you'll regret it."

"I'm not stupid, Doc." He glanced around. There was another bed beside the one he was handcuffed to, with the two cadets from the library side by side in it, but the infirmary was otherwise quiet.

"I'd have thought you'd be busier."

The Doctor growled. "SeeDs. They're not used to having access to me in the field, so they're trained to make do with anything less than a missing arm. Speaking of which… wrapping your hand in ice? Bad idea. You're probably never going to have full use of it again, there's significant nerve damage from all the jolts and running around."

A pause.

"Huh… you took that well."

"Arm for a life? Fair trade."

"Galbadians… Anyway, I stitched your wound and took out the bullet, it's here if you want it, some people do. I'd recommend bed rest, if I thought you'd take it. By rights you need a blood transfusion, but I'm not that well stocked, and you're not a student, after all…"

Zephon had to laugh. Not completely impartial, then. Better than he'd a right to expect, though. His broken arm was wrapped in a cast and was now in a sling. He still couldn't move his fingers, but he was feeling much better than he had. Time to go back to work.

"Is there another way out of here?"

The Doctor turned, eyes hard. "And why would I let you leave?"

"Doc… how long have you been working here?"

"…Over ten years. What difference does that–"

"Have you ever treated a live prisoner before?"

The Doctor looked away. "There's a vent near the end of your bed. I'll go sit with my other patients …armed… for ten minutes. Then I call the guards, and if you're still in sight, you're dead. And I'm keeping one with me, so don't even think about hiding and coming back to ambush me."

"With one arm and no magic? What about my knife?"

"You really think I'm going to give that back?"

"My Dad gave it to me… Please… He'll kill me if I lose it, he nearly died to find it."

The Doctor sighed, reached into a drawer, and placed the knife on her desk. "I'm not much good at this spy bullshit, am I? Ten minutes."

"One more thing…"

"What!"

"Sign my cast?"

000000

Crawling through a vent one handed wasn't easy, but it was amazing what you could do under the right kind of pressure. He came out back in the hall.

Garden was deathly silent. The central structure remained almost intact even now, but anything that could be damaged was. His boots echoed in Garden's main corridor, staggering three steps to the side for every two forward, but he met nobody. He slowed down, waiting for a challenge, but none came and passed back into the quad as silently as possible.

Here, there was noise. Moans, whispers… the occasional sob. SeeDs ministering to wounded cadets, or just sitting in clumps holding their heads. Few even looked up as his footsteps passed over cracked tiles, and no one looked further than the grey coat. Still, he was uneasy enough to move into the shrubbery – considerably more tattered than it had been when he'd first arrived. There was smoke hanging in the air from the various mage detonations and explosives, and he stepped through the trees mostly unscathed, until a new noise reached him. Not a wail, slow, measured counting, although the voice was nearly ready to crack. Ghosting closer, he made out a junior classman, a girl of eight or nine, trying to resuscitate two people at once with tears streaming down her face. Against his better judgement, he moved closer.

"You know that won't work, right?"

Her head snapped up at his accent, but she didn't stop pumping. Well trained.

"I'm serious. You can't resuscitate someone through a stab vest. And that leg wound won't stop bleeding by itself. You'll need help, or they both die. Start shouting 'Medic!' or 'Help!' or something. You're not on enemy territory, it's okay to draw attention to yourself."

The girl eyed him warily, but didn't move beyond the rhythmic chest pumps.

"Go on. Shout!"

Silence. She'd even stopped counting.

"Oh, fuck it. MEDIC! MEDIC!" And he turned and ran, slipping and sliding on soil, but eager to get away before someone came to investigate a distinctly Galbadian military distress call. If he was lucky, it would pull SeeDs out of his path.

Before long, he came up against a barricade, built of upturned bikes and general debris, but solid. If SeeD were on the other side, he was dead, but it was his only way out of Garden, and with at least two of its personnel howling for his blood, he wasn't eager to hang around.

Shrugging out of his grey coat, he left the now tattered garment where it lay and raised his hand, openly approaching. A scope flashed, and then a bullet punched into a tile beside his left toe.

"Name and campaigns?" Completely neutral, accentless voice.

"Zephon Schwert, DDT, DEF, DCP, LCR, OWG.

"How many bus routes in DC?"

"Aw , come on, anyone who has been there knows that. 22."

"What was the last thing General Roce said before we launched?"

"Trick question. He never addressed us directly." Rumour had it the General hadn't left his room since the journey began, suffering severely from flashbacks from his last trip to Centra. All the logistics had been left to his subordinates.

"Alright, one more… What's your father's middle name?"

"What? Simon."

The soldier extended a hand to lift him over the barricade. "Welcome back."

"What would you have done if I'd been from Winhill?"

"Then the army wouldn't miss you anyway. Nice cast. How'd you get it?"

"I sweet talked the school doc. Nice woman. Hope she's still alive. But… how've things been going here?"

He looked around. Blueclad soldiers were everywhere, repairing bikes, bandaging shrapnel wounds, eating rations, or simply sitting in clumps, waiting. There were several dozen blanket wrapped bundles near the buildings edge where they wouldn't get underfoot.

"Phenomenal. We lost most of the first wave, but they didn't go down easy or quick, and the SeeDs ended up having to use a lot of pretty tough magic. The battle didn't really finish until some idiot cadet cast Quake, which put an end to things but also hit about forty of the home team. When our second wave hit, the one really well stocked with status effects, the cadets broke rather than face us, and the SeeDs were carried along with the tide. Rather than push into a bottleneck, we raised a barricade."

"Hasn't there been counters?"

"A few. But c'mere, lemme show you something." They moved back further towards the edge of the quad, where a jagged scar in Garden's body proved that despite all appearances all the Clashing had actually achieved a small degree of damage. With his balance problem, Zephon was leery of going to close to the edge, but was eventually persuaded to look down.

"What the hell?"

"Crazy, isn't it? She must be junctioned, or she'd have been shaken off by now. Of course, nobody wants to report her dead to her dad, so we sent down some industrial clamps to help her hold on, on condition that she doesn't try climb. Thing is, the SeeDs don't know she'll be able to cling, so they can't throw GFs or destructive magic at us. They've tried to counter twice, and every time we threw them back with destructive spells. She must be worth a lot of money to them."

"Shit… What kind of spells?"

The soldier smiled.

"See for yourself…" He pointed.

Five stone SeeDs stood nearby, a full squad. Petrified, and if close attention was paid it was possible to see that they had been hit with Pain first. Probably the whole second wave had been ordered to neutralise one squad. Every now and again, a soldier would walk up to the statues and stroke them. Zephon glanced at his rescuer, who grinned.

"Yep. We're stocked to the gills with SeeD's own magic, the kind even they can't just shrug off."

Silence, for several heartbeats. Then the soldier grinned.

"They're all yours."

Zephon moved close, raising his good hand to brush the nearest stone forehead. It had been pillaged, but anything was better than an empty head.

Triple? Useless alone, but I'll take it.

The SeeD's consciousness was fighting him, but there wasn't a lot it could do.

Firaga, that could come in handy.

Meltdown? Sure, I'll take it.

Ooh, Flare. How did everyone miss that?

Float, won't do me any harm, I guess.

And then deep in the recesses of the SeeD's mind… He resisted, but was exhausted from all the earlier pillaging, and Zephon's mind closed around the spell and drew it out, stumbling away from the SeeD with blood trickling from his ears, eyes, and nose but with Aura safely ensconced in his mind.

Aura was an absurdly rare spell. A single one was worth 50K on the open market. More at auction. He had to sit down with the weight of such power in his mind, until the bleeding stopped.

A couple of soldiers turned to him, but he waved them off, successfully fighting off a fit of lightheadedness. A number of dry heaves later, he sat up.

"I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"I'm fine. How about you?"

"We're doing well. Squall, he's the garrison commander, had to fight personally to repel the light thrust on the second floor."

Generally, a commander having to draw steel was an early sign of an impending defeat for his side. But SeeD were not the type to go down easily.

The PA system crackled. Garden's commander was rallying his troops. For a final push to take the fight to Galbadia.

Several soldiers stood, stretching. The commander eyed Zephon.

"They'll be coming soon." He gestured to a nearby paratrooper.

"Get him out of here."

Something struck his face, and then he was falling.