~.~.~

Title: Inheritors of Flame

Last time: Hibari warned Tsuna about Millefiore's treachery, but it was too late. Byakuran and his subordinates had taken control of the Mafia Land facility in the real world, cutting the Cervello off from the Pacifiers, and stood poised to take out the Arcobaleno themselves, taking the power of the Pacifiers for their own.

Notes: One more chapter after this! ...Which I have not even started, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep to the schedule. Talk about going out with a whimper...

~.~.~

Chapter 23: Endgame

Tsuna jerked awake and, flailing, fell off the couch. As he winced, cradling his sore head, and tried to figure out what had woken him, a pair of dress shoes with a distinctive checker pattern on the nose moved into his line of sight. Following the line of the pants above them, up to the rest of the slightly ruffled suit, Tsuna found himself looking at Wonomichi, who was looking harried and fidgeting agitatedly.

"Quick, quick! You gotta get up! I need your help," Wonomichi insisted, reaching down to haul Tsuna to his feet.

"Wha… What time is it?" Tsuna wondered muzzily.

He'd dozed off early in the afternoon, after a few hours of keyed up waiting. Now, it looked like the sun was setting outside, but Basil and the Varia were probably only just reaching their destination. However, as the last vestiges of sleep cleared from Tsuna's mind, he realized a far more pressing issue.

"How did you get in here?" he demanded. "How do you even know where I live?"

"Well, I… Oh, never mind that!" Wonomichi protested. "We've got big trouble—"

"Boss? Are you okay?" Having heard the noise, Chrome emerged from the kitchen to check on Tsuna. catching sight of Wonomichi, she froze for an instance before reacting — materializing a staff like the ones she used in the game, she dashed to Tsuna's side and pointed it aggressively at the intruder. "How did you get in here?" she demanded. "Get away from Boss!"

Wonomichi flailed a little for a moment, simultaneously trying to cower from Chrome's aggressive warning jabs and to stand his ground with desperate determination.

"Wait, Chrome…" Tsuna started to say, recovering from his surprise enough to remember what kind of situation they were in — and that there were bigger concerns than strangers seeking him out.

The front door opened, interrupting him. "Boss, I have the... You! How did you get in here?" Gokudera had begun to call out, though far less boisterously than usual. His greeting quickly changed tone as he caught sight of Wonomichi, and he brandished his own weapons.

"We don't have time for this!" Wonomichi burst out with enough real anger to make Gokudera and Chrome pause. "Those scary Mare people are doing something, and I can't get in touch with the Cervello at all, and I almost got attacked at the base, and there's something wrong with Master, and... and... at this rate, the balance of the world will be completely messed up! And you're the only one I can ask!"

"What're you guys yelling about? He's gonna wake up at this rate..!" Lambo poked his head into the living room. Taking in the tableau, he focused on Wonomichi and wondered, "How did you get in here?"

Wonomichi stifled something between a sob and a wail.

~.~.~

"So do you understand?" Tsuna asked, looking between the gathered members of his guild.

Yamamoto and Ryohei exchanged a look. "Not… really," Yamamoto admitted. Frowning bemusedly, he ran a hand through his hair. "It's… kinda complicated…?"

"But that's fine to the extreme! Even if we don't get it, we won't let you down, Boss!" Ryohei said. "No… Sawada! We extremely believe in you!"

Tsuna nodded reluctantly. "Alright. Thank you…" he said. "Just remember, don't try to fight them by yourselves. The most important thing is to warn the Arcobaleno. Millefiore are strong, but so are the Arcobaleno. If you work together, you should be able to hold them off long enough for Basil to drive them off in the real world… I hope."

It was not a great plan by any stretch of the imagination. It wasn't even a good one. But they didn't have a better one, and they didn't have time to deliberate.

"Come on, come on," Wonomichi urged, shifting impatiently from foot to foot. "We have to go!"

"That… might not be so easy," Gokudera commented. Since he already knew most of the situation, he had spent the time during Tsuna's explanation tapping away at a couple of screens — flipping through the message boards, it seemed. "The gate to the Citadels is down. It must be Millefiore's doing."

"Then how are we going to get there?" Lambo wondered. That was a pretty big stumbling block, and even Hibari looked over from where he had been pointedly ignoring the proceedings.

"I'll take you," Wonomichi said quickly. "I'll use the last of the special black Flames that Master gave me. It should be enough to teleport everyone where they need to go. I'll just need to really, really concentrate… and I probably won't be able to help you at all after that. I'm… not very strong, not like Master."

Tsuna nodded. "Okay, let's do it," he said.

"Get all close together," Wonomichi instructed, as he cupped his hands together and began to gather a liquid-like black Flame between the palms.

As they crowded together around Wonomichi, Gokudera found himself next to Hibari. It was not a particularly auspicious position to be in, given Hibari's deep dislike of other people. The hard, focused glare Hibari sent him was not reassuring.

"Don't lose," Hibari said suddenly, making Gokudera jump in surprise. But that cryptic message seemed to be the extent of what Hibari wanted to convey, and he turned away, leaving Gokudera staring at him in confusion.

In response, Hibari's ID cursor popped up next to his head. Catching sight of it, Gokudera's eyes widened, but he had no chance to ask the question on his lips before they were all swallowed by Wonomichi's teleport.

~.~.~

Hibari stumbled a little as he suddenly found himself deposited at the bottom floor of the Cloud Citadel. He had refused to admit it despite Tsuna's concerned prodding, but he hadn't entirely recovered after those hours of sleep. His head was still pounding and his coordination was off. However, he refused to let that stop him.

Trails of purple firefly lights swirled around and above him, but Hibari's attention focused immediately on the staircase near the ruins of the central pillar, leading down into the final chamber. Unlike with Tsuna's visit to Reborn, Wonomichi had left them just outside the boss rooms — to avoid putting them at a disadvantage in case they landed in the middle of a battle, disoriented.

Plunging into the area change darkness down the staircase, Hibari muffled his steps as he emerged on the other side. There was nothing in his immediate view, on the platform and the catwalks below, but he could hear the sounds of combat nearby. An explosion shook the entire pillar, and purple Flames blazed past, from the other side.

Hibari itched to throw himself into the battle, to get his revenge, but he held back, creeping along the staircase until the fighters came into view.

The tide of the battle was obvious — Skull had been thrown to the ground, his impressive health bar down to only a quarter; Kikyo advanced toward him leisurely, his long hair slowly dancing around him like the swaying tentacles of a sea creature.

"You really are the weakest," Kikyo taunted. "How did you ever become selected as one of the Seven Strongest? Byakuran-sama was right. There's nothing to…"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence — Hibari pounced, driving his Flame-wreathed tonfas into the side of Kikyo's head and sending him flying. Taken off guard, Kikyo crashed heavily into the far wall and slid down onto the catwalk below. As Skull gathered enough wits to scramble up and behind Hibari, Kikyo groaned and levered himself up, rubbing at his sore cheek.

"You…" he muttered, glaring. He tried to change it to a smirk, but the expression was tense and twisted. "And… Oh-hoh, so it seems you've finally achieved your full potential… Eleventh."

That had been what Gokudera noticed at the last moment. Something had been added to Hibari's character name since the last time he logged out: "XI" to mark him as the eleventh player to achieve Over Rank. Their last battle had pushed him over the edge of the rank system.

Hibari only scoffed. "Like that matters. I don't care about the way you herbivores split yourselves apart," he declared. "This isn't even close to being the limit of my potential. And you… you're not even close to them or their strength. I'm going to bite to you to death, and this time, no one will interfere."

Kikyo's twisted smirk widened. "Oh? We'll see about that…"

In the background, forgotten by both fighters, Skull slowly backed away.

This time, Hibari wouldn't lose. Not to a scavenger, a parasite, like this. And he was sure — that man wouldn't lose either.

~.~.~

Meanwhile, the other battles were beginning as well.

Crimson Flames blazed through the Storm Citadel's final chamber, wild and potent enough to disintegrate the entire structure in real life — even in IoF's artificial environment, the catwalks trembled and blurred into static intermittently under the assault. The red star beneath them pulsed and glowed even brighter, more and more lights gathering into it.

"Come on, come on! Put up more of a fight, idiot!" Zakuro howled, a maniacal grin splitting his usually dour face. "Die! Die!"

"Those are somewhat contradictory, you know," Fon noted with a faintly wry smile. "Do you want me to die, or fight without reserve?"

He ducked another wide arc from Zakuro's massive battle axe, then sidestepped another sweeping blast of Storm Flames. However, Zakuro simply knocked aside Fon's retaliatory punch and stomped heavily on the catwalk, making it jerk and shake violently — enough to make Fon stumble and be forced to back away.

"Both!" Zakuro shot back without pause, already lunging again. "Fight, and then die! I'll kill you!"

Fon chuckled, dancing out of reach. "Oh, eventually, I suppose," he agreed. "But it wouldn't be very interesting if I just gave in, don't you agree? And…" He smiled faintly, an expression far too benevolent. "I'm afraid your victory wouldn't be at all possible if I gave it my all."

"We'll see about that, idiot!" Zakuro roared.

'Did I go too far?' Fon wondered, somewhat irreverently as he ducked another swing of the axe. It wasn't just because their battle was only virtual. He wouldn't have acted more concerned in the real world either. After all, it was hardly his first fight, and he had long since foregone youthful tension. Either he would make, or he would not. That was the nature of life. Either way, panicking would do him no good, especially this far into Verde's plan.

Fon hoped to make it, of course. He even felt like they might — make it, succeed, have a future, despite their seemingly certain grim fate for the last ten years.

Having that hope within reach made it harder, somehow. It was tempting to just give up, since the "boss battle" was mostly a formality, if a necessary one, and the foundation of Verde's method had already been completed. At least then he'd know for sure whether it had worked, or whether their hopes had been in vain…

But Fon still felt like he owed it to the Cervello, to himself, and to the other players to complete this properly. He'd lose, but he'd at least give the players, who had contributed so much of their Flames, even unknowingly, something to remember fondly — if with fond frustration.

This one though… he seemed particularly bloodthirsty. It reminded Fon of Kyoya, when he was very young and unable to control himself yet. 'But this man is… far harsher, more disturbed,' Fon noted, dodging another blast of red Flames. 'In fact...'

He carried himself the way someone in the mafia would — the most dangerous, unpredictable denizens of the criminal world, half-rabid attack dogs for the most cutthroat mafia dons. He didn't seem like a civilian at all... at the very least, he had seen real battle.

Still, that didn't mean he couldn't have picked the game up for some reason. It took all kinds, Fon supposed... He just couldn't help but feel uneasy, somehow.

"We'll beat you old relics and become the new chosen ones," Zakuro went on. "It's Byakuran-sama's will, and there's no way for you to—"

Fon didn't hear the rest — as concerning as those words were, his attention had been caught by a small, cylindrical projectile arcing through the air down toward Zakuro. Coming from behind, it escaped Zakuro's notice until the last moment, when it was almost on top of him and the fuse had burned down completely.

Zakuro's eyes widened as he realized the same thing as Fon — dynamite, or rather an in-game high level explosive — but he had no chance to do anything except force out the first syllable of a curse before the bomb exploded in his face.

"Argh!" Zakuro was thrown back, crashing into the central pillar, while his HP bar dropped a fairly respectable amount. Levering himself to his feet, he snarled, "Who did that?! Show yourself!"

"Infighting? Oh my," Fon murmured to himself. "I suppose defeating a tough boss would be quite the achievement. Like two hitmen going after the same mark…"

"Don't take this so lightly! This is far more serious than some mafia squabble — or a game!" Gokudera said sharply, as he jumped from where he had been hiding on the staircase. "And you! Millefiore scum! We're onto your plan! We won't let you or Byakuran have the Pacifiers!"

Fon's eyes narrowed. "The Pacifiers...?"

"So you know? Who told you? Those masked witches? The weakling planner?" Zakuro demanded. But he quickly dismissed his own questions. "It doesn't matter. I'll take you both on! Neither of you is going to get in our way! Eat this! Magma Infiammato!"

Power had gathered in his palm, and when he thrust his hand forward, a blast of scorching magma burst out. Cursing, Gokudera tried to dodge, already knowing there wasn't enough room and time — and the third Over Rank was famous for his powerful, often one hit kill attacks.

"Bakuryu Enbu," Fon called out his own attack — a funnel of wind and Flames in the shape of a dragon shooting out from his palm to intercept and divert Zakuro's magma. Landing gracefully next to Gokudera, Fon spared him a glance before focusing on their opponent. "Is that true? Are the Pacifiers in danger?"

"Yeah… Those guys have the Mare Rings, and they did something to the Cervello. We can't get through to them at all," Gokudera said tersely. "That's why… Don't lose, no matter what."

Nodding, Fon sighed. 'I should've known it wouldn't be that simple,' he thought. But still, he would just have to persevere.

"Tch, like it matters. I won't let Byakuran-sama down!" Zakuro said. 'But I guess I'll have to use… that,' he thought. A odd white Box Weapon appeared in his hand, Storm Flames quickly swirling around it and slipping inside. Fon and Gokudera tensed, ready to retreat or guard as necessary, but Zakuro didn't turn the Box toward them.

Instead, he slammed it into his own chest. His shirt disintegrated, and the Box slid into his avatar's body, dark red spreading from it across his skin. Soon, his entire body had been transformed, his hands and feet growing into massive claws, a thick tail swinging behind him.

"I'll crush you with my Box of Carnage!" Zakuro roared.

Even as he prepared to fight, Gokudera couldn't help but think, 'What the hell, a transformation sequence? Which one of you is supposed to be the boss here? He better not have a third form too!'

~.~.~

"Oh man, really?" Colonnello muttered as his first opponent descended into the boss room.

He knew he had to lose in the end, no matter how much it rankled his pride. Verde had emphasized it several times, knowing the personalities of his fellow Arcobaleno. Their HP had to be reduced to zero for the transfer from them onto the illusion to be completed or whatever. Certainly the individual players wouldn't be as strong as the Arcobaleno, but they would come in numbers and if they lost enough times, they would start resorting to — here, Verde made a face — less than honorable tactics.

So Colonnello had grudgingly made his peace with that. It wasn't like a real, battle so it didn't really count, right? Anyway, as long as Lal didn't find out he'd lost to a bunch of, of hobbyists...

Yes, Lal… Verde had promised to help her too, or maybe if they were really lucky, her curse would get lifted along with theirs. Of course, when had they ever been lucky…?

In any case, as long as Lal didn't find out, Colonnello had decided he'd live with letting a bunch of nerds beat him — eventually. But he'd still been hoping to at least get a good workout first, against an impressive opponent.

Instead, a single little girl came down the stairs. Hearing Colonnello's complaints or just seeing his expression, she scowled. "Hey! Don't you dare act all disappointed! I'm going to kick your ass!" she yelled.

"That's quite a mouth you've got on you," Colonnello noted — her ID cursor had popped up, identifying her as Bluebell. "Where's the rest of your team, little girl?"

Bluebell's scowl twisted with a rather disconcerting level of bloodlust. "Killing your Arcobaleno buddies!" she snapped. "Just like I'm going to do to you!"

'Arcobaleno...? How does she—'

He didn't get a chance to even finish his thought. A massive wall of water rose up behind Bluebell, swallowing the central pillar and then crashing down onto the platform. Almost the entire chamber was instantly flooded, including the platform and the catwalks, and Colonnello found himself spinning in an underwater maelstrom, trying to regain his bearings.

As a former member of COMSUBIN, he was no stranger to underwater combat, but this water was all wrong — too heavy and numbing in a way that reminded Colonnello of near freezing cold, but not exactly. 'It's infused with her Flames,' he realized. The Tranquility property of her Rain Flames was slowing his movements and dampening his own Flames.

The swirling currents didn't give him a chance to regain his bearings, and Colonnello could do nothing as he was thrown into a minefield of Box Weapon seashells, which exploded on contact. "That's what you get for underestimating me!" Bluebell crowed, her voice only slightly modulated by the supposed underwater conditions. A blue tail was poking out of her dress instead of legs, and her mobility was completely unimpeded. "Now die, and make Byakuran's wish come true!"

A giant spiral shell appeared over her head, spinning like a buzzsaw. Colonnello's HP was still a ways away from red, but his defense was constantly dropping from being plunged in Bluebell's Rain Flame water, and the attack looked like a finishing move.

'No way… I'm going to lose to a little girl, just like that? I'm never gonna live this down,' Colonnello thought, his concerns at Bluebell's slip momentarily forgotten in the face of wounded pride.

Fortunately, someone else was more on top of things — though being rescued wasn't going to do any good for Colonnello's pride.

"Kyaah!" Bluebell screamed in surprise as the water suddenly parted, cut in two by an invisible blade.

Even taken by surprise, she managed to jump into one of the two smooth walls of water that stood, shimmering softly, for several moments. At the same time, Colonnello took advantage of being freed from her area attack, shooting a grappling hook from his rifle's attachment, he was pulled onto the central pillar and staircase. Landing, he winced a little as his HP finished depleting — he had also been hit by the attack.

Nearby, a little further up the stairs, Yamamoto slowly breathed out as he resheathed his sword. The calm and stillness he displayed while wielding his sword drained away as Yamamoto beamed. "Wooh… Glad I made it in time!" he said cheerfully. "Sorry about hitting you though. I couldn't think of anything else to do… can you use a potion or something?"

"What're you up to, huh?" Colonnello asked suspiciously. "You know I'm the, uh, boss, right? You gotta beat me to win."

Yamamoto chuckled, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, normally," he agreed. "But our win conditions just got changed. My team wins by making sure they don't — which means making sure they don't kill you and take that magic thing down there."

Colonnello's eyes narrowed. "...Start talking. I want to know what's going on," he said, his grip on his rifle tightening. As the water below flowed together again, Yamamoto's technique wearing off, and began to seathe menacingly, he added, "But make it quick. It's going to be a tough fight."

'I'm never, ever going to live this down,' he thought morosely.

~.~.~

Although they were all Over Rank, the power and skill of the Millefiore guild members — the holders of the Mare Rings — was not equal, although the exact rankings might have been surprising.

Gamma, the last to join Millefiore and only under duress, was undisputably the weakest. He hadn't even been the strongest among Giglionero, simply the most dedicated and disciplined. It wouldn't have been wrong to say that Gamma was only in Millefiore to fill a hole. He was, after all, the only Over Rank with a Lightning Flame primary.

Before Gamma had joined, the weakest had been Torikabuto. The difference in their power was small, perhaps even nonexistent. However, Torikabuto had many skills and abilities that compensated for his lack of pure power, assured his usefulness to Byakuran, and made him an opponent that anyone would hesitate to face. Still, his grasp on the physical world was weak, being just a ghost haunting a mask.

Of the strongest, Kikyo and Zakuro shared the second and third spots, followed by Bluebell. She too made up for a lack of power with creative, instinctual control over her Flames — which was how she had made short work on Zakuro once when he got on her nerves too much, and also did the same to Kikyo when she got annoyed with his apparent closeness to Byakuran.

That left Daisy firmly in the middle. Not too strong, not too skilled, but not lacking in either. Combined with the special properties of his body, which he already possessed when the Cervello had him retrieved, Daisy would have made a difficult opponent for even the strongest in both IoF and the mafia.

Of course, Reborn wasn't just "the strongest" — he was the strongest of the Strongest. And he had made short work of his opponent, without ever even realizing that something was amiss.

In fact, he was more brutal and overwhelming than the situation called for. Verde had given him the same speech as the other Arcobaleno, more than once — they needed to lose, in the end. So they would have to set aside their pride and be defeated, even if it was just in a game. For Reborn, who was both too powerful and too skilled, that would most likely mean holding back against the players.

Irritated and worried, which made him more irritated in turn, Reborn had done the exact opposite. He had dispatched Daisy as quickly and thoroughly as possible, and resumed pacing across the platform, carelessly kicking aside the hand he had severed off Daisy, which had tried to make one last grab for his ankle before finally dissolving.

"Soon, he said... How much longer is this going to take?" Reborn muttered under his breath. "How hard can be to just go and find out what's wrong with Luce? He's supposed to be Over Rank! If it's taking this long, something must've gone wrong." Stopping, Reborn scowled. "He better not have gotten distracted by some sob story, or one of his little friends' issues... or agreed to go off with some assassination group, or the Cervello..."

'That unreliable brat!' Reborn punctuated with a vicious thought. Of course, the one he was most angry at was himself — for relying on a civilian boy, and for being so powerless to do anything else.

It wasn't even that Tsuna was unreliable. A better word would be unpredictable. He didn't react the way someone involved in the mafia or with the Trinisette would, and there was so much he didn't know, which made his decision seem foolish. Dragging him into this was...

Cursing, Reborn held back the sharp urge to kick the pillar in frustration.

"What the hell is going on out there...?" he wondered. For someone who prided himself on appearing all knowing, this was the worst situation. Opening his menu, many of the options grayed out, Reborn considered one of the remaining buttons — to contact the admins. "Asking them, of all people… That's so embarrassing, not to mention they'll probably just—"

Without warning or even a hitch in his voice, Reborn spun around — drawing his gun in the same motion — and fired up toward the top of the staircase. The player who had materialized in the boss room in the same moment barely had time to yelp in shock before he was blown off the stairs.

"One after another. I don't have time for you brats," Reborn muttered darkly as he stalked to where the intruder had fallen. "You're pretty tough to survive, but you're not nearly tough enough to… Hm? Aren't you one of Ieyasu's guild?"

"That wasn't extreme at all!" Ryohei complained, rolling to his feet. Despite losing most of his HP, he didn't hesitate to jab a finger toward Reborn and berate him. "What kind of final boss pulls an ambush attack? Stand and fight like an extreme man!"

Reborn glared back, unamused. He looked like he was contemplating shooting Ryohei again, but held himself back. "Did Ieyasu send you or not?" he bit out.

"Huh? Oh, yeah!" Ryohei said, remembering the reason he had come. "He said to warn you! Those other Over Rank guys are up to no good and they're after your magic things! So you have to make sure not to lose!"

Trying to parse this jumbled warning left even Reborn silent for a moment. "That was an Over Rank?" he finally said. "Pretty pathetic. You don't need to tell me — I'm not going to lose. That idiot, did he tell you anything else? Why didn't he come himself, for that matter?"

Ryohei frowned. "Ieyasu was extremely worried about you, you know," he said. "And right now, he's going to fight their evil leader — that Byakuran guy, the one with the special ring. He's doing everything he can, to the extreme."

"...I know that," Reborn muttered. 'That just makes it worse… that I'm stuck here like this.'

~.~.~

Knowing his own limitations, Torikabuto had intended to take Mammon by surprise and completely ensnare him within his illusions. Once an illusionist loses control of their senses, the battle is as good as finished, after all.

However, his plan failed. Just as his illusion closed in, plunging the chamber into a confusing, featureless void of swirling shadows, the robed figure he had been targeting faded away into nothing. Somewhere in the shadows, Mammon chuckled. "Is that all you've got? You'll have to do better than that," he said. "I won't fall for such a simple trap."

The fabric of the illusion pulsed nauseatingly, something like a shockwave rolling outward — Mammon turning the trap back on its creator. However, Torikabuto slipped away before he could be hit, disappearing and reappearing behind Mammon. His cloak billowed and bulged, and a mass of snakes appeared from beneath it. Each one sparked with green Lightning Flames as they closed in on Mammon.

"...Perish," Torikabuto commanded.

Mammon's mouth twitched a little, but he didn't move as the serpents made a cage around him. "Fantasma," Mammon called out calmly, and a different snake, yellow with a pale underbelly, appeared around him. Biting its own tail, it formed a protective around Mammon. It spun quickly, deflecting the Lightning Flame-wreathed snakes, which dispersed as they were flung away.

"Hmph. Still not good enough," Mammon noted. Fantasma shifted suddenly, disappearing and reappearing around Torikabuto. It tightened quickly, like a noose around his neck…

Only to close around nothing but empty cloth. Torikabuto's discarded cloak fluttered through Fantasma's coils, and the snake returned to its place behind Mammon's head, like a strange halo. Humming thoughtfully, Mammon considered the abandoned cloth and the shifting shadows around him for any sign of his opponent.

"You're not a player, are you?" he said. "No, you're not a human at all, not anymore. It's possible, after all — leaving behind an imprint of will and Flames so strong that it lingers as a conscious existence. What you'd call a ghost… What a pathetic sight. Did you stumble into this illusionary world by accident?"

'Like Primo,' Mammon thought, remembering Xanxus and Basil's strange encounter with the Vongola founder within the luminal spaces of IoF.

"...Meaningless…" Torikabuto pronounced.

The shadows burst into a massive swarm of moths, swirling around Mammon and momentarily blinding him. "Another trap? That's my line," he noted, sweeping out one arm. Ice appeared all around him, encasing the moths midflight. "You're going to have to do better than that," Mammon repeated, looking around in search of the main body. "I'm—"

His words cut off with a gasp. Through the ice, he had caught a glimpse of the eye-like patterns on every moth's wings. Mammon couldn't look away, and the dark markings seemed to stare back, then blink. Suddenly, they no longer only looked like eyes — they became wide, maddened eyes staring at him pinning him in place.

His body wouldn't move, and Mammon realized with a growing sense of panic that he had been caught. He could no longer control his own senses. He was completely trapped in Torikabuto's illusions.

"...The end…" the ghost's voice whispered.

Mammon could only grit his teeth, spinning around blindly in hopes of finding some way, any way at all out of Torikabuto's illusion.

"Not so fast! Take this — Mist Curtain!" a young girl called out, just as another illusion, belonging to a third person, slammed across the battlefield. She appeared suddenly in Mammon's vision, grabbing his hand and dragging him along. "Recast!" she commanded, jabbing her short staff toward the swirling shadows. Another illusion went up — like defensive barrier like a curtain, as the name suggested, though its purpose was to separate them from their opponent.

Mammon let himself be pulled along until the girl — Chrome, arriving at last — drew to a stop. The empty background hadn't changed, and it was hard to tell if they had even advanced in reality.

"That should keep him back for a while," she said, glancing back nervously.

"Not for long," Mammon said. "So hurry up and tell me what's going on."

~.~.~

The barriers Chrome put up were not hard to break through, individually. They were a rather standard Mist Flame technique meant to separate the player from a powerful opponent and, at a higher skill level, control positioning and the flow of battle. However, Chrome had cast a dozen of them, pushing her Flames to the limit, and breaking through all of them took time even for Torikabuto.

However, neither his masked countenance nor his bearing showed any hint of worry or frustration. He had long since abandoned such human emotions. Neither did he show any triumph when he finally succeeded in breaking through the final barrier — or any surprise in the split second of distraction immediately following, which Chrome used to attack him.

Knowing that her illusions wouldn't be enough, Chrome chose to attack physically. With a sharp warcry, she spun her staff — which extended into a pole, the ornate head becoming a spear tip — and brought it down onto Torikabuto's head like an axe.

Torikabuto couldn't have dodged completely, but he didn't try. Their bodies were just illusions, after all. Chrome's staff tore through his cloak, but the cloth was empty, with no physical form beneath it. A swarm of moths burst out of the tear.

"Kyaa!" Chrome screamed in surprise, throwing her arms up to cover her face instinctively. It at least prevented her from falling under Torikabuto's illusion, but the force of his counterattack sent her flying. She crashed into the unseen ground, which let off a heavy, metallic clang, and lay still, apparently unconscious, as her HP dropped.

Torikabuto didn't have a chance to move in for the kill. He had to move back sharply as spires of ice erupted around him, further shredding the edges of his cloak even as he dodged side to side. "...Carnage…" Torikabuto pronounced.

The tattered remains of his cloak billowed out as massive moth wings formed and snapped open from beneath it — the special Box of Carnage that had been given to each holder of a Mare Ring. The shockwave that followed shattered the ice that had converged on him, revealing Mammon himself, protected by Fantasma but momentarily pinned in place.

"...Now, fall…" Torikabuto commanded, the giant dark markings on his wings blinking and snapping open as if they were real eyes.

Mammon's lips curled into a smirk, even as he faced Torikabuto head on. "You first," he shot back.

The apparent failure of his technique made even Torikabuto pause, as he realized the reason — beneath the shadow his hood, Mammon's eyes were closed. Taking advantage of his momentary hesitation, Fantasma released its tail and launched itself at him with an angry hiss.

The pale snake wrapped its coils around Torikabuto's neck, constricting, but before it could seal the circle once more, Torikabuto managed to grab hold of it with a twisted clawed hand that emerged from beneath the tattered remains of his cloak. They struggled for a moment, Torikabuto forced to flail and spin through the air to dodge Mammon's barrage of illusions — but finally he was able to rip Fantasma off and fling it away.

"Tch! Get back here!" Mammon shouted, sending a flurry of sharp ice spears flying after Torikabuto. However, his attack was scattered — by keeping his eyes closed, he avoided falling for Torikabuto's illusion trap, but he also couldn't judge where his opponent was accurately, especially now that he couldn't use his familiar's position as a guide — and Torikabuto wove between the projectiles with only a scant few grazes.

As Torikabuto vanished once more, Mammon was left turning his head blindly this way and that in search of his enemy. Gritting his teeth, he ducked his head and tried to concentrate.

'...Cunning,' Torikabuto thought, watching from behind his veil of illusions, '...but insufficient...'

Silently, he raised his gnarled hand, and the ground began to writhe. The shadows parted into a swarm of the same Box Animal snakes he had used previously, which began to slither across the floor silently toward Mammon.

'...Finished,' Torikabuto thought.

"You're finished," Mammon declared, turning to face Torikabuto.

Before Torikabuto could do more than flinch in surprise, something massive and full of teeth rose up beneath him — a giant eel-like creature with a gaping, sharp maw that snapped closed around Torikabuto.

"...I… was fooled…" Torikabuto realized in the last moment, a small purple butterfly slipped out of the folds of his shredded claok. Then, he vanished into the dark beast's belly.

"...Did we get him?" Chrome asked quietly, sitting up as the illusionary field began to disperse and the boss room reappeared around them.

"Tch," Mammon clicked his tongue irritably. "No… he escaped. Well, he wouldn't have been able to cling to existence for so long if he was easy to destroy. That should be enough to force him out of this world for now, at least. ...Good job playing dead. I followed your marker like we planned."

Chrome smiled — that had been her part, to pretend to be knocked out, while keeping an eye on Torikabuto and marking his location for Mammon with a subtle illusion. It had been a flimsy plan, at best, which relied on Torikabuto forgetting that there was no such thing as being knocked out in IoF, where played would automatically log out if they ever lost consciousness. Fortunately, Torikabuto had instinctively fallen back on real world common sense and become too distracted by his battle with Mammon to pay her any attention.

"As long as you're okay, that's our victory condition," Chrome said. "Boss will take care of the rest."

"Hmph. We'll see about that," Mammon muttered.

~.~.~

Torikabuto had lost his body long ago, and even to Byakuran, he had always appeared as just a powerful illusion, but that didn't mean he had no anchor in the physical world. Otherwise, he would have never been able to linger for as long as he had or act in the real world as decisively.

Heavily damaged by Mammon's illusion, that was where Torikabuto returned — to the mask he was bound to. It rested deep within an abandoned shrine, in a chest that was half covered by pieces of the rotting, caved in ceiling. He would need to rest for a long while to regain his strength, long enough for the outcome of Byakuran's plan to be decided… and perhaps even long enough for Byakuran himself to meet his end, one way or another.

"...Amusing… but only a passing aberration…" Torikabuto mused to himself, his voice just a faint rustle in the still, derelict building. "...Now… to a long slumber…"

But the silence was broken by the sound of a footstep, then another, until someone emerged from the shadows into the innermost chamber of the shrine. "Oya, oya, how harsh," the intruder chuckled. "You're not thinking of just abandoning your boss like that, are you? You might not be from the mafia, but you might as well be. You really are trash just like them."

"...Y-you…? How…?" Torikabuto's presence tensed, but he didn't have the power to flee or fight. He could do nothing as the stranger approached the half-buried chest and casually kicked aside some of the rubble — except that it wasn't a stranger at all. It was Mukuro, or at least an illusion of him. But it was a real illusion, with enough presence to press its foot down onto the lid of the chest, making the old wood creak alarmingly.

"I don't like being toyed with," Mukuro said, his tone cold. "Did you think I'd just go on my way and forget everything you did to me? I've been biding my time, watching all of you. But now, you, your boss, the Cervello… You're all going to pay."

He smirked, lifting his foot up — about to bring it down onto the chest, and the wooden mask inside. Without his physical anchor, Torikabuto would be weakened beyond recovery. Before long, his existence would fall apart and dissipate…

"...I... won't die! I... refuse!"

With a last desperate burst, Torikabuto tried to attack. A hurricane of moths swarmed around Mukuro. But he only smirked wider, unruffled.

"Genju Gagaia!" Mukuro called out, striking back with his own illusion — a murder of crows that appeared with a chorus of loud shrieks, each devouring more and more of Torikabuto's illusion… and his existence.

All too soon, the ruined shrine fell silent once more, broken only by the sharp crack of shattering wood. Then, even Mukuro's figure disappeared, leaving no trace of his presence, except the remains of a broken mask.

~.~.~

"Welcome back, Mukuro-sama," Chikusa said quietly, as Mukuro made his way into the main room of their hideout. As always, he sounded toneless and unenthusiastic, but Mukuro could read the small hint of underlying relief.

"About time," Ken muttered, relaxing far more obviously from his tense, poised crouch on an old dresser. "Are you done with those guys now, Mukuro-san?" He didn't quite dare to sound disapproving, but the whine in his voice made his unhappiness with Mukuro's actions clear.

It seemed that even after a few months, they still felt like Mukuro might disappear if he was ever out if their sight. Being put in prison like common criminals, escaping, being captured by the Vindice, escaping again, only for Mukuro to end up captured again before he could even taste freedom, being passed into the Cervello's custody, then finally escaping for real...

Even for them, things had been chaotic and difficult. Of course, Mukuro refused to be cowed and to duck his head and cower from the world. He would continue to do as he pleased, the way he always had.

"I don't get why you're bothering with those guys. It's stupid," MM said far more flatly, lacking Ken and Chikusa's deep, inherent respect for Mukuro. She was simply the smartest of their cell mates from their short stay in normal prison, where they had been thrown after being cast out from the mafia.

Unlike Birds and the twins, whom Mukuro had also helped escape, as a convenient distraction, MM had been smart enough not to get captured again, and proved a useful contact once they were free of the Vindice. Whether out of her stated desire for money, designs to use their power for her own ends, or some sense of debt, she had even helped them set up the hideout they were laying low in.

"I suppose I'm just vindictive like that," Mukuro said. He stretched, smirking a little as MM closely followed the movement with her eyes.

"It's still dumb," MM said, admirably not letting herself be distracted.

Mukuro liked that about her — or at least found it useful in its own way. He had the ability to control almost anyone, through possession or mind control, but willing, intelligent pawns had more uses in the long term. He'd learned that much from Lancia, whose irritating tendency to hold back against opponents assured that Mukuro didn't try to make use of him again, even after the man had been cleared of charges and released by the Vindice.

"Hmm... Well, I've had my fun for now," Mukuro allowed. "I suppose I'll let them be… for a while."

'Since Byakuran so helpfully humiliated and gutted the Cervello, and dear Tsunayoshi will beat him in turn,' he thought, his lips curling. 'How convenient for them all take care of each other's punishment...'

It was convenient in more ways than one — Mukuro had to admit it, but projecting an illusion into Torikabuto's hiding place had been straining even for him. He'd only been able to do it from watching the ghost do the same so often. Acting through a medium would have been easier, but finding a good host was difficult and it still limited his abilities. Taking on the Cervello and especially Byakuran might have been beyond even him.

After finally gaining back his freedom, Mukuro was in no hurry to lose it again.

'Do your best, Sawada Tsunayoshi-kun,' Mukuro thought, smirking, 'and give that annoying bastard Byakuran and all his little minions exactly what they deserve. I'm counting on you.'

~.~.~

Notes: Foreshadowing? Buildup? Logical progression? What is that?

~.~.~