AN: I wrote this chapter as an extra piece, and one of the few original additions I let myself include. You can skip in entirely and it won't change the story, but this chapter closes a story arc that always irked me to see it incomplete and only mentioned through an elusive Easter Egg in the final dungeon.

BOOK 2: THE TALE OF THE CHOSEN KING

CHAPTER 30 – THE LION'S ROAR

The next day after the briefing, Cor gave them the keys to the other doors along the subway, telling them that the perimeter should be reasonably secure; he and his Glaive had spent weeks clearing it from daemons.

The friends took the exit which lead to a plaza near the Citadel, which they could see clearly. Noctis was relieved of seeing the building intact.

"Fashionably late, I see," said a voice over them.

Looking up, they saw Ardyn standing atop a lamppost, looking at them, his mocking grin all the more infuriating.

"Ardyn…" Noctis grunted.

"Insomnia," he made a theatrical salute. "The Crown City of my kingdom. I bid you a warm welcome."

He snapped his fingers, and fireballs rained upon the city, setting what remained of Insomnia on fire.

"I've prepared something special for you, Noctis."

A magic barrier appeared around the Citadel, a mocking mirror of the Wall that once protected Lucis. Seeing Noctis' look of surprise, he jeered at him.

"Yes, it's the same Wall your father gave his life to sustain. I thought it might serve as a lovely little reminder of your Daddy Dearest. Do you like it?"

"You're sick!" Noctis yelled.

"How could you say that to your own flesh and blood!?" Ardyn exclaimed, badly mimicking a hurt tone. "I'll try to find in my heart to forgive you by the time you reach the Citadel. My little pet will greet you by the gates."

He disappeared in a cloud of black mist.

Not only was the city now on fire: Daemons had started spawning again. The friends cleared the plaza, but the sheer number of monsters made them retreat back into the subway to regroup.

The marshal didn't hide his surprise when he saw they had returned so soon. When the friends delivered the news, his broad shoulders slumped visibly: Months of hard work undone in a few seconds at the snap of Ardyn's fingers.

Noctis offered to serve as spearhead, given that they were more powerful, and now he can the full power of the Ring. Cor sighed tiredly, but soon he straightened his back and asked Gladio to summon all the Glaive in the base for a briefing.

There followed days on which the only thing they did was hunting and surviving but, little by little, they retook more ground from the daemons.

One of the main concerns for Cor was the bases scattered throughout the City. They couldn't disable all of them, but it wasn't necessary. There were three bases stationed on critical points around the Citadel. They all possessed amplificators which powered up MTs and magitek armors. Those were the ones they needed to decommission as soon as possible.

Having the King hunting alongside the Glaive hadn't been in Cor's plans. The only thing they absolutely needed the Ring's power was for decommissioning the bases, the marshal had told him, but Noctis had insisted so much on helping with all the other tasks no one could deny him.

To Noctis and his friends, after having dealt with the daemons and the MTs outside the City, the bases didn't seem too difficult. The marshal accompanied them on each raid, but no victory seemed to lighten up his countenance.

After they returned from destroying the last base, Cor took Noctis aside.

"There is one more hunt," he said, his expression even more severe than was usual on him.

"Sure, where do you want us to go?"

The marshal looked at him in silence for a moment, as if assessing him, or as if thinking what to say next.

"A daemon," he said at last. "It has been menacing the lives of my soldiers ever since we came here to Insomnia. We have been able to avoid it so far, but its existence could interference with our task at hand."

"Leave it to us then."

Cor shook his head.

"I have to go with you. It's something I must take part in, no matter how."

"Care to tell me what's this all about?" Noctis said, sensing that there was more than met the eye.

Cor sighed, passing a gloved hand through his hair.

"I am indebted to an old friend," he said with difficulty. "I have to see that his soul finally rests in peace."

Noctis said nothing more. A quest for vengeance for the fallen was something quite common during those times. Only the Six knew how many friends and comrades Cor had seen fall in the battlefield.

The next day, as they made their way through the streets of Insomnia, Noctis saw the marshal was paler than usual, and more silent. Quietly asking Gladio about it, his friend could only say that it was a personal obsession of him, and that he had tried to kill that daemon for years, ever since they could gain entrance to the city for occasional skirmishes.

They stepped into the main street, now empty of daemons after the friends and the Glaive had been hunting for days. Prompto was about to comment on it, but Cor raised his hand, commanding silence.

Fuel-fed fires crackled in the distance. An explosion echoed far away, and the wind carried the stench of burned daemonic flesh. Nothing stirred in the main street as they stood there, holding their breath.

Then they heard it. At first they thought it was the wind, but then they realized it was a wailing. It sounded almost human, but it had an unnatural quality to it that made their hair stand on end.

"There it is," Cor murmured, unsheathing his katana.

They all readied their weapons, and slowly advanced behind the marshal. They already knew what kind of daemon it was, as they had killed many of that kind, but it was the first time Noctis had heard such a sound coming from it. Seeing how cautious Leonis acted, this daemon had to be a very powerful subspecies.

Coming out of an alleyway, the daemon appeared at last. A floating form clad in a tattered tunic, three will-o-wisps hovered around it, illuminating the daemon with a ghastly light. The robe was open, revealing a nightmarish body which was nothing but twisted, coiled, blackened branches, and here and there they could see skulls intertwined in the woody knots, as if the monster wore the trophies of its killings. Under the hood, a skeletal face seemed to grin at them, as two gnarly hands prepared the spell to attack its enemies.

They dodged the outburst of energy launched at them, and Noctis quickly understood why the marshal had asked for their help. This daemon was far more powerful than the others they had encountered.

Cor's katana wounded the monster, but it only made a small dent. It was Noctis' sword what seemed to have more effect, though several times he had to use the Ring's powers. But even so, the daemon resisted their onslaught.

A burst of dark energy hit Noctis in the shoulder just as he was about to warp away, making him lose his footing. He heard Gladio yelling, but it was a distant, muffled sound. He felt two powerful hands grabbing at his shoulders with a grip of iron, and he was lifted in the air. Through his blurred sight he saw two points of light, and felt the energy being sapped from him. Then the daemon screamed in rage as a katana wounded it on one of its arms, making it bleed black, dropping the King.

Noctis fell and rolled away on instinct. The daemon had lowered its guard but for a moment, and the marshal had made use of it to slash at its body. Now it was Ignis the one to cleave at it with his spear, while Prompto threw a grenade on its direction.

The King warped to a nearby street lamp to regain his energy, and launched an attack at the monster's back. The blow made it stagger, creating an opening at the front for Gladio to cleave at it. Nevertheless, the monster moved its hands again and the will-o-wisps shone brighter, and Cor shouted a warning for them to step back.

Prompto was nearly caught by the ray of magic light. Scrambling to his feet, the gunslinger readied his gun and shot, hitting the monster on the shoulder. While its attention was directed at the blond, Ignis jumped and drove his spear between its shoulders, to then jump back as Gladio cleaved heavily at the body. It was Noctis' turn, who summoned the Royal Arms and he wielded them to deliver blow after blow on the daemon.

He heard Cor shouting at Gladio just behind him. Turning, he saw his Shield had laid his greatsword for the marshal to step on it. Hefting the weapon with all his might, he propelled the older warrior in the air. Cor wielded his katana with the blade downguards, and landed squarely on the daemon's chest, driving his blade all the way to the guard.

The daemon gave one last, long-drawl howl, which faded away as its body dissolved, leaving only its tattered robe on the ground.

Noctis sat heavily on the tarmac, trying to catch his breath. His friends started cheering each other for a well-fought battle.

"Not bad for a warm-up," Gladio grinned as he helped Noctis back to his feet.

He was about to quip something back, but Prompto tugged at his elbow. The gunslinger jerked his chin towards the daemon's remains, and both Noctis and Gladio fell silent.

Cor stood by the tunic, his katana sheathed yet gripped firmly on his left hand. While Prompto quickly explained the scene to Ignis, Noctis approached the marshal.

"Your friend will rest in peace now," he said.

Far from showing any mirth, the marshal's face was set on a stern mask. He spoke after some time and, to Noctis' surprise, his deep voice sounded hoarse.

"For ten-odd years," Cor began. "I called myself his friend. We sparred and worked together, and our birthplace meant nothing between us."

"Don't tell me…" said Gladio, who had approached them.

But Cor didn't seem to listen.

"I called myself his friend," he slowly repeated through clenched teeth, as if each word was an affront to that memory. "Yet I could never see how darkness slowly consumed him."

"Drautos?" Noctis murmured, realization dawning on him. It wasn't a quest for vengeance, but to lay his friend to rest.

"Stop beating yourself over it," Gladio scolded the marshal. "He made his choice and saw it to the end. Be glad that at least you could free him from his misery."

Cor pursed his lips, but nodded after a while. He then knelt and, leaving his katana at his side, he put a hand on the tunic where Drautos' right shoulder should have been.

"Goodbye, old friend," he said, struggling to keep his voice from wavering, his scarred face softening with a sad smile. "May Death grants you the peace you so deserved in life."

He seemed like he wanted to say more, but he then bowed his head as if offering a silent prayer. Noctis stepped away, averting his eyes from the older man to give him some privacy.

Something caught the king's eye: A metallic glint at the edge of the frayed robes.

The wind lifted the cloth enough for him to see two blades lying on the ground, as if the daemon had been carrying them: A pair of kukris, the kind which was common among the Kingsglaive.

These ones, however, seemed customized. The golden hilts were engraved with soft, curved patterns, and each blade had a different motif to it. One of parallel lines, the other made with a spiral design, reminiscent of vines. A charm dangled from each weapon, one made of beads, the other fashioned with two fangs.

He took them, and a jolt shook him. His mind was suddenly flooded with images of war and fire, and that of a man wielding those kukris. He saw General Glauca, whose helmet had been split in two, to reveal the face of Titus Drautos underneath, and he saw one of the kukris being plunged on the Captain's chest.

"Dude, you okay?" he heard a voice nearby.

Noctis shook his head, and saw that he was standing with the blades in his hands. Prompto had put a hand on his shoulder and was gently shaking him. He nodded, but went to Cor, who was already taking his sword and preparing to go back to the base.

"Did Drautos wield these weapons?"

The marshal frowned for a moment.

"I know those charms and those designs," he said. "Those were the weapons of Nyx Ulric. He was Drautos' best Glaive. I remember Titus trained him personally."

Noctis had heard that name before. Ulric had saved Luna from Drautos and from the empire's destruction. The Kings let him use the Ring but made him pay the ultimate price.

Cor shook his head.

"Whichever the case, Drautos seemed to remember him enough to take his weapons with him."

Noctis offered the kukris to Cor, telling them that they should remain with the Kingsglaive, but the marshal said that he should keep them.

"I'm sure his former owner would be happy to lend them to your cause."

The King nodded and willed them away, adding them to his arsenal.

Walking back to the base, Cor remained silent, but the friends noticed that his body language had relaxed, and that it seemed as if a great burden had been lifted from him.

But, despite the happy outcome, there was a question nagging at Noctis. However, he waited until he was alone with the marshal.

How did Cor know that Drautos had been daemonified, instead of killed?

Leonis held Noctis' gaze for a long moment before answering.

It had happened in the weeks after the imperial occupation. Cor snuck inside the City to spy on the empire, and in search for survivors. He was supposed to have been out of there before sundown, but something unexpected happened and he remained there until dark.

The daemon ambushed him, but it did not attack right away.

"It… He said my name," said Cor, his blue eyes wide, haunted by the memory. "I thought it was a trick, but no daemon can talk. I stood there, frozen, maybe for a heartbeat, and then it lunged at me. I was overpowered and ran away, to my shame," he shook his head. "Years later I had a run in with Ardyn. He taunted me, telling me that he might turn my Glaive into daemons, 'Just like I did to your dear friend Titus', he said. Then I knew I hadn't imagined things."

Cor let out a long sigh.

"Knowing Ardyn," he continued. "He might have been playing games with me."

"Daemons can talk," Noctis said. The marshal looked at him in bewilderment, maybe wondering if his King was also playing with him.

Noctis described the encounter with the talking Naga inside the cave, so many years prior, and how it matched the legend of a woman who got lost in that place looking for her child.

"Maybe if the will is strong enough some memories remain for a while," he suggested. "I know it's serves as little consolation, and I wish there was a true cure for the daemonified ones other than death."

After a long silence on which Cor seemed to ponder his King's words, the marshal nodded, pursing his lips.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said. "It would take more than words to atone for my sins, for all the comrades I've lost, but I hope to rebuild this world so they feel proud of it."

The King nodded. A new world where the fallen could be remembered, and the living could make them proud. That was what he would want.