Tul-La was close, so close to China she almost looked like she was about to kiss him in the mouth, and it made him uncomfortable, but he tried not to lose his cool—his life depended on it. He didn't want to show Tul-La how scared he had been those last days about the possibility of ending up like this, face to face. The chills it brought to his spine to merely remember the last time they had been so close to each other.

"It's been so long." The witch spoke. "Two thousand years?"

"More." China groaned.

"More? Hm. Time flies when you are trapped in a tablet underground, in the middle of nowhere. You look good, after so long. Maybe you put on a bit of weight. You really took care of yourself."

"And you're just like I remembered you: a demented bitch."

"Is that all you've got to say? Come on, you must have been so bored without me..."

Veneciano didn't care if Panama was only grabbing him because he was forced to do it: he broke his nose with a hit with his head and ran towards Tul-La, in spite of Romano's screams to stop. He had no weapons but he had the flaming desire of killing her and that was all he needed. Too bad that intentions were not enough. Tul-La grabbed him by the face and with an impulse crashed him on the floor with such force she could have easily broken the back of his skull.

"You are Rome's grandson, no doubt. Stupidly reckless and with boiling blood, just like him. I'll be with you in a moment. First, let me take care of my old friend, whom I've missed so much..."

"I'll be damned if we've ever been friends..." China spitted.

"You could have been, if you hadn't decided to listen to the others' banter and lies."

"Lies? I saw what you did to my soldiers...What you left of them...I haven't forgotten."

"Oh, please, if you think about it I was doing you a favor, helping you get rid of the weakest individuals in your system."

"And you wonder why all of us teamed up to destroy you..."

Veneciano surprised many letting out an insult in his own language, trying to get up, push her to the floor, to his level.

"Excuse me for a second. I'll get rid of this little pest so we can talk with no interruptions." Tul-La told China, and she turned her eyes to the man at her feet. She lifted a foot, ready to shatter his face with her high-heeled shoe.

America, held by Switzerland, writhed desperately. "YOU BASTARDS! AREN'T YOU GOING TO DO ANYTHING?! ITALY!"

"NO, NO!" Romano screamed too, and struggled to get rid of Portugal's grip.

No one certainly wanted to see Italy die too, but they had seen enough people being exterminated to know what happened to those who defied Tul-La. In some cases, it was self-preservation; in most, they feared for a sibling or friend who would be alone or at the mercy of Tul-La if something happened to them.

However, there was a zoom, a flash of green light and Tul-La let out a scream. China quickly grabbed Veneciano and dragged him away from her, to then turn around to see to which he owned his salvation. And what he saw surprised him as much as everyone else.

"YOU!"

"E-England?" Wales exclaimed, seeing his brother standing at the door, with an old book in his hand and in the other, flames of green color which seemed to caress his skin without burning it. He didn't look very well, but like in other moments of his life, when he was believed to be half-dead by everyone, his green eyes shone with courage and vigor.

"I LIVE HERE, AND I DON'T REMIND LETTING YOU IN!" England continued.

"So you know the occult arts too, huh? Sealand never told me that..." Tul-La limped a few steps towards him.

"Maybe he didn't trust you that much after all."

"Then there's two of us. Why did you come here? I thought you'd be hiding somewhere in shame for what you did."

"I never hide, and less from wenches like you. I've faced things so much worse than you, by far."

Enough talking. England did come come all the way there to chat with such harpy. She didn't deserve words, but a good beating. England threw a new flame at Tul-La, which she dodged by little, and she responded with a ray he blocked barely in time. She threw blow after blow, making England almost to have a permanent shield, and forced him to draw back, cornering him against the wall.

"You fool..." Tul-La did not stop there, and kept attacking, vicious, merciless. "You don't understand either what a nations has to do to become powerful. You let people who drag you down live and defend those who wouldn't hesitate to treason and get in your way. You don't deserve to use the secrets of the universe. You are weak."

"It's so much better to be weak than being like you!" England replied, and failed to hit her in the head, other nations having to run to avoid it.

"You really think you can kill me? Any of you? Try! Come on! Keep trying! I will find another host. I shall take over their body, shape it at my pleasure, consume their soul...Just like I did to Sealand!"

She grinned horribly, and England felt his heart ache, remembering...when he broke the tablet...the short second when his expression changed...

"Do you want your baby brother back, so you can keep torturing him with your despise?" Tul-La mocked him.

"I'll bring him back..." England mumbled. He tried to deliver another attack, but Tul-La hit his hand with another ray and the spellbook fell, leaving him disarmed, and with no protection.

"You can join him, then!" With that said, Tul-La extended her hand toward him and red light steam hit England in the chest, forming what seemed like a thread connecting him and the witch.

England screamed out of pain, fell on his knees, while that thing...

"Your magic should belong to someone who really knows how to use it..."

England's ears were ringing, but he still had the feeling that someone was screaming his name. America? Impossible...was it? He couldn't confirm nor deny it. His head was spinning so hard he had to be on fours. His whole body hurt, his skin was burning. It was so hard to think...He could barely see where he was. He saw none of the horrified faces around him, only Tul-La in front of him.

Sealand.

«Bruv!»

No! He wouldn't give up! Even if it cost his life, he wouldn't surrender! He wouldn't stop until his brother was back!

He didn't know how, but he got to get up. It hurt, the mere action of getting up seemed to tear his muscles. Everything hurt so much...His sight was so blurry...Still, he walked towards Tul-La.

England started to feel like air was being stolen from his lungs. But he still approached her. And as he kept going, everyone in the room saw how he was looking less and less young with each step he took. He started to look in his thirties, forties, fifties. His blond hair lost its color. His face was scarred with wrinkles. He slowly lost muscle, his tweed suit seemed too big for him; then his bones, easily visible, seemed too fragile to walk. But he did. He kept moving forward, towards the witch, the one who took his brother away from him. He was now an old man, barely recognizable, the shadow of himself, a frail being, skin and bones, nothing else.

He extended a trembling, delicate bony hand to Tul-La.

«Sealand! I'm here, Sealand! I've always been, and will always be!»

She barely did anything. One little blow and England dissolved in dust.

America did shout his name, again and again.