Thanks so much for all of the reviews! Seriously, I was floored by all the support. I really, really appreciate it. Anyway... I never thought this would happen, but it did. It took more than two weeks for me to update. I took an actual month off. I'm really sorry. It wasn't an easy decision for me. But, online classes are really pushing my limit, guys. I needed a couple weeks to make time for other things and also rest. Which is why this chapter is similarily short like the last one. But, more stuff happens in here! So, I hope that you still enjoy this chapter.

But in a whole other different topic that I wanan address: Man, I am so glad people loved the last chapter with Canada. His popularity really did skyrocket after his moment of awesome, huh? I think even I'm starting to enjoy writing his character. And now there's the talk he had last chapter with Germany. That was certainly interesting for me to write. Canada comes to terms with the fact that he's not exactly better than his brother, and overall gains a better understanding of reality as well as his brother's motivations. He's ready to step up and be a better person. All in all, it provided quite a bit of catharsis. Glad y'all like the new Canada!

Anyway. Now, on with the show!

Somewhere in the middle of Egypt stressing his mind out over the alarming (frankly, horrifying) information Romania had delivered them, the European himself all of a sudden asked for the girls to leave the room.

"I have some magic-related business to discuss with Egypt here." Romania explained simply, and though chipper Egypt felt that there was more going on under the surface. "And, well, no offense but you girls won't understand or be able to contribute anything of us other than reactions."

Algeria didn't appreciate that rude remark, as evidence by her murderous glare.

"Is it important?" Egypt asked. He already had enough on his mind, between Mother, Rome and now supernatural creatures at the Order's beck and call…

"Oh, very," Something in his tone felt ominous. "So, if you ladies don't mind…"

"Are we being kicked out?" Seychelles asked nervously, glancing at Egypt and Romania back and forth.

Egypt opened his mouth to provide assurance that, no, it wasn't like that. But of course, Romania had to stop him before he could even begin.

"I prefer the term, politely telling you to excuse yourselves from this room." Romania said with a cheerfully toothy smile that wasn't as charming the man probably thought it was. "Don't you have some news to share with the others?"

Romania definitely could have worded that better, if he was even capable of doing so.

A few short minutes consisting of Algeria and Romania hotly bickering, a nervous Seychelles trying in vain to play peacemaker, a not too pleased Monaco voicing her reluctance and a growing migraine later, the three female nations made their way out of the room. None of them were too happy at having to be left out of the conversation, but understanding, thanks to Egypt, that this might be a matter they alone should discuss and the girls need to share the news with the rest of their undoubtedly confused allies.

Once the door closed, Romania's gaze remained fixed on it for almost ten seconds before his head whipped back to face Egypt.

"You really have no idea how happy I was when I found out you came back." Romania smiled, wide but full of palpable relief that puzzled Egypt. "Here I was, all worried about how I'd manage this problem with you out of commission. And now you're awake! This is great, great for all of us."

Now Egypt was very concerned.

He narrowed his eyes slightly in suspicion at the man. "What's this problem that has so glad to see me alive? And that required the girls to leave?"

"They can't know, Egypt." Romania's mildly happy demeanor was swiftly replaced a dire one. "Hell, I haven't even told anybody. I was waiting to talk it over with you first."

"You're telling me there is a dire problem and you haven't told anyone here about it?" Egypt asked in seething anger, hoping that there is a good explanation for this so he wouldn't curse the annoying European.

"…Why, yes, that is precisely what I just said." Romania chirped, thinking himself witty. He sobered even before Egypt glared at him again. "But I have good reasons for the secrecy, Gupta."

"Then cut the infuriatingly cryptic attitude and please enlighten me, just what is going on that you're so eager to tell me of?"

"It's about Mauritius." Just like that, all of Egypt's mounting anger vanished. Romania's expression darkened. "I lied. There is something wrong going on with his mind."

/ / / / /

Botswana felt unsafe.

Granted, it's been that way ever since the African Union meeting. He didn't buy all that talk about peace and fixing the continent rubbish that South Africa spouted off on the last day, even if things had been good so far despite his boss being gone. One of the people spearheading those 'repairs' was the same person who gleefully torture Namibia, cannibalized Botswana, and would've done the same to the others. A person Botswana once thought he could trust.

Now? He was nervous and antsy, more than ever. Even getting jumpy at the slightest of sounds. He supposed getting kidnapped in broad daylight like he had been would do that to you. It was starting to worry the others, who were all already worrying about him.

And as much as Botswana didn't want to worry, he was worried about himself too.

Khoisan's many reassurances and the fact that he made South Africa unable to go after them again did calm a lot of his anxiousness. But not all of it.

If any of them, accidentally or not, give South Africa a reason to visit them, that monster will use it in a heartbeat. Especially – Especially if ever decides to…

A shiver wracked Botswana's spine, and the room's temperature felt as though it had plummeted. He felt terrified.

There's still a real chance, however slim, that Botswana will suffer the same torture again, and Khoisan might not be able to save him again. Worse, there's the same chance the others could suffer the same way too. They might even suffer worse. If South Africa's claims of 'liking' Botswana were in any way true, what he wanted for Botswana won't hold a cancle to what he'd do to Namibia, or Angola or everybody.

But that's not the even the whole story of why Botswana was so shaken.

The terrifying possible future Khoisan told him about, where would get dragged away by South Africa and brainwashed, turning into a monster just like him, still haunted him. How could it not? It's horrible.

And worst of all, possible.

Botswana's breathing was shallow as he sat on the floor, lying against his bed. He tried to even his intakes of air, wrapping his arms around himself.

He was alone. He needed space, as well as peace and quiet, which, and no offense to his friends, was not easy when you had Namibia and Zimbabwe under the same roof. Angola stubbornly protested and Namibia was reluctant (even when she did understand, she still worried but the thought was what counted), but Mozambique and Zimbabwe defended him and convinced them. Botswana couldn't express how much he appreciated it.

They have finally left South Africa hours ago. Just like he said he would, Khoisan happily helped them teleport where they wished to go. Speaking of which, there was a bit of a discussion on that, but they all unanimously agreed that none of felt comfortable being alone after what happened.

Wanting to help, Botswana offered to let everybody crash at his house until whenever. That got unanimous approval. They always liked staying over at his place, where you don't have to look over your shoulder so often. So here they were now.

Saying goodbye to Khoisan, after once again thanking him for everything he did for them, was a bit harder than Botswana thought it'd be. But this was a personification he never thought he'd meet.

Before the old man vanished back this home, he asked for a private talk with Botswana. From the dire look in his eyes, Botswana felt nauseous as he had an idea what Khoisan would like to speak of him about.

He was right.

"You are still afraid of your possible future."

"W-Well, it's not something you can put out of your mind so easily."

"I understand." Khoisan's smile was sympathetic, and Botswana somehow felt comforted by that. "But remember what I told you, Sammy. As long as you don't attract South Africa's attention, sort of like you did by intruding in his country, he won't take you to be changed."

Swallowing audibly, Botswana shakily nodded his head. "Y-Yeah. Sure, got it. I'll stay out of trouble."

"I wish there was more I can do for you."

"You've already done so much for us. I owe you so much for saving me – us."

"You owe me nothing. I am happy and willing to help you however possible."

"I'm scared." Botswana blurted out without thinking, but he didn't take them back. It was true and he knew it.

"You have every right to be, even if you're not aware of half of what the Order is capable of." Khoisan said somberly, but his tone also somehow comforting, and his gaze then turned toward the city lights in the far distance.

"He said he liked me." Botswana had been thinking a lot about that for a while, more than he probably should, but he felt that the man was the only one he could talk with about this. "He said that even while torturing me, yelling at me, and biting off my flesh. Is that really true?"

A lot of people might find that a rhetorical question. But with South Africa, Botswana wasn't sure what to think anymore. His neighbor was clearly unhinged, if it wasn't obvious before it sure was now. And if Botswana knew anything about unhinged people, it's that they had a pretty warped view of everything.

"Oh, he does," Khoisan answered calmly without delay, surprising Botswana. "Albeit obviously in his own twisted manner. I can understand why he made an exception for you in his hatred for everyone."

Botswana didn't know if he should feel flattered. A hand unconsciously touched the shoulder, where the scars were healing. "He sure has a way of showing he cares."

"Chris has difficulty expressing genuine affection for those he perceives too different from himself. Such as I, for example."

Botswana regarded him skeptically. "It looked like he hated you."

"If he truly hated me, I wouldn't be talking to you right now." Khoisan actually smiled wryly at that. "He always resented how I never agreed with his methods, and that I have a tendency of intervening in his horrid deeds."

"Well… How do I make him stop 'liking' me?" Botswana asked dumbly. The alternative wasn't much better, but if it'd erase any chance of South Africa taking him away…

"You cannot." The old man informed him solemnly and Botswana's heart sunk. "Not without sealing yourself a horrible end. If there is anything you know of South Africa that wasn't faked by him, is that what he feels, he feels strongly."

Memories of the sheer rage on South Africa's face, the hatred, and the persistent yelling that hurt Botswana's ears, flashed to the forefront of Botswana's mind. Oh, he didn't doubt that for a minute.

"Years of being raised with the wrong morals and painfully torn between different peoples have turned Chris into hurt and hatred given form. He would love to see nations and humans alike die screaming in a mass fire. But for a few certain people he has a special fondness for, such as you for instance, he would instead like to drag them to the same level of depravity as him. To taste true blinding hatred and revel in your insanity."

Botswana was rendered speechless by everything he just heard. South Africa – He was that out of his mind? No, forget that for a minute. So the race conflict was what

Khoisan smiled at him, apologetic and remorseful. "I believe that was part of what you wanted to know about him, yes? Of why he is the way is he today."

"Yeah. But that's– How…" This opened up a whole new bottle of questions.

"Granted, the story is a lot more complicated than that. But I think it is safe to assume you have had enough of South Africa for a time."

He couldn't argue with that. But…

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Botswana asked the question he's been itching to ask for days. "Is it our fault too? Did we accidentally help make him turn out this way?"

"I'm sorry to tell you that that is correct." Botswana may have seen it coming, but it didn't make any less crushing and horrifying. Khoisan's expression was somber. "They put him down for him and his country's faults, all while ignoring their own glaring problems. Chris has always despised that of you all. There are other reasons for his resentment, of course. That said, I know for a fact that only some of them make sense to himself."

Botswana wondered about that.

"I'm aware this is much easier than said done, but don't linger in guilt and 'what if's." Khoisan said in a gentle tone. "Though you, in truth, it will accomplish nothing. What happened cannot be rewritten or ever be repaired. Despairing over the mistakes of the past will only serve to amuse Chris."

Botswana said nothing.

"Wait! Earlier, you said 'a few certain people'." "Do you mean there's other people he would… want to…"

"One person." Khoisan suddenly answered, slightly surprising Botswana. He frowned deeply. "I am debating whether it would truly be best to tell you. You are tormented enough by your helplessness of the situation; best not increase it twice-fold as Chris would want."

The thought made him nauseous, and struck a phantom pain on a certain area of his shoulder.

"I… I get it. Never mind." Botswana said apologetically, hanging his head low.

"Do you hate him? Chris, I mean."

"No. He is a cruel, cruel boy. A person utterly consumed by hatred, both his and not his own. His insatiable hunger for suffering and for flesh has never failed to disgust me. And what he has does, and everything he will ever do, is unforgiveable. But… When all is said and done, I pity him."

/ / / / /

Unquestionably, Igbo was in anguish.

No matter how many times he suffered the full brunt of Nigeria's rage against him, no matter how much Igbo now considered himself dull to pain, the young demon always found a way to set his nerves aflame with agony. Nigeria had always been blessed with a creative mind.

He didn't even want to get into the state of his body after Nigeria and Haiti decided finally grew bored of tormenting Igbo with his perpetual helplessness. Perhaps it helped that he couldn't exactly take a look at himself lying on the ground like this, only feeling the damage done and sensing the pungent smell of blood staining the beige floor beneath him. Perhaps it would be better if he did not know.

But Igbo already knew of many horrible things that could be done to a person. Further trauma was impossible at this point.

Except, he thinks, for what he had been forced to witness.

In spite of the open lacerations on his legs and arms and his missing toes, or a bone he was certain he could sticking out, and gods knew what else, none of it was the true source of his misery. Nor was it the clear fact that temporary death had eluded him in the hours had passed, courtesy of the two brothers.

Because no injury or torment, however brutal and inhumane, could ever compare to the helpless anguish at seeing his closest friend motionless on the ground with her scars bare for to him to see.

No doubt on purpose.

Igbo was used to torture. He was used to heap upon heap of physical and mental suffering, and he had long stopped constantly despairing over it. But Nigeria forcing Igbo to the torture of Western Sahara at Congo-Kinshasa's hands was horrible. And Nigeria knew that.

What a monster we created, Yoruba. Congo-Kinshasa spared no shred of mercy for Western Sahara. His hatred lending with a consuming bloodlust made for an excruciating torment. No wonder they recruited him. So little time with them, but he had so much of the anguish and bitterness toward the world that most members of the Order shared. And it was apparent that he had completely embraced his newfound sadism.

Igbo's pleads accomplished nothing but delaying the inevitable. Then, he was ignored and made to watch.

Helpless. Weak. Pathetically resigned. Nigeria's taunts and degrading insults echoed in his mind still. Igbo watched him beat down Western Sahara. He watched him nearly choke her (too merciful, obviously, but a perfect way to further establish dominance). Nigeria's laughter and endless mocking words ringing in his eyes. He watched Congo-Kinshasa slowly gouge out one of her eyes. Only then did Igbo scream at the absolute horror that he should've been long used to.

Igbo have had his eyes gouged out before. He would endure his owner finding new ways to pull or pop him out without killing him in the process and Nigeria would enhance his senses and nerves to feel every second of the dreadful regenerating process.

That was how it went. Igbo watched his dearest friend scream and bleed while he could do nothing but witness it all. And scream. He freely admitted that he did scream a few more times, even while knowing it would accomplish nothing and only amuse the Africans all the more.

He was only thankful that Nigeria didn't break his deal with Western Sahara and took control of him again. Once was enough. Igbo felt blessed that his friendship with Western Sahara remained unshaken in spite of what he did. How he enjoyed

Then it had to end, and so it did.

She was dead. Temporarily, of course. Igbo could feel it from her, the vague traces of life and the life force gradually returning to the body.

"Saf. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

If there was only there something he could do. Erase the pain of this encounter, or…

That's when Igbo had an idea, one he hoped Western Sahara would not resent him for. One he hoped she'll appreciate. One he selfishly hoped won't cost their cherished friendship.

As someone whose mind had been twisted into something unrecognizable too many times in the past, tampering with the mind in any way was nothing short of abhorrent for Igbo. No one should have that sort of power. It should not even exist. This was a cruel mockery of the free will the creators had generously granted them. But, even so, Igbo will not deny that there were benefits such powers could grant.

One of those was the power to wipe terrible memories from the mind.

A bleeding, lacerated arm rose, trembling, from the floor and he opened his palm

He will erase her memory of the torture, the pain, the trauma that would come as a result. Call him selfish, but he won't stand to see her fall into despair, not when she had already suffered so much. But he will not erase the memories of the conversation that led to torture she would have no memory of.

She deserved to know what had happened even with the lack of memories. Igbo will never deceive her. He would never.

But she will remember nothing of the pain she didn't deserve.

/ / / / /

Tunisia felt lighter, somehow. In a way he truly hadn't felt in a long, long time. It wasn't much, but it was enough that he noticed the change.

And he couldn't deny why this was, though he wanted to out of unbreakable habit.

Ever since the last conversation he had with Hungary, where he revealed more of himself he ever thought he would to anyone, Tunisia was… content? Was that what this was? In their last conversation, Tunisia confessed everything. Everything. What happened to him, his disgusting feelings that arose from it, Morocco's plans for him, his hears, his… just everything. He told her everything, and she listened.

Never in his life had he been this… honest to someone, not since Father Berber. He hadn't ever confessed these things – He knew what would happen if he did – and now he finally had.

Now that he did…. He felt…

And Hungary – She sat there beside him, so close to someone as filthy as him, and listened to every word with unwavering attention. Her face would be set in a worried – worried frown, or become soft in a gentler sort of concern, in a way that reminded him of a less guarded Algeria. Worry, worry. Nothing but true, undeniable worry.

Throughout this whole thing, he never once saw disgust, or the crushing disdain he had always envisioned. She did get disgusted, yes, but it was all toward Morocco and his actions. Not toward Tunisia. And the person she disdained was also only Morocco. Hungary also got angry, but it was also at Morocco. Anger for Tunisia's sake. In summary, nothing went like anything like Tunisia thought they would.

But that was… good?

Tunisia felt repulsed by that thought. Grimacing, then swallowing, his hand clenching the fabric of clothing above his chest. This was wrong. He shouldn't feel glad. Hungary shouldn't even – even though she's…

But that wasn't all. At the end, Tunisia admitted he had no idea what to do. He had no idea how to go against Morocco or do it without everyone. It was in that moment when Hungary smiled and said she would… help him. She will help protect him from Morocco, no strings attached.

He now had help. And he got it when he didn't even ask for it. Hungary will help him fight back, because she cared.

She… cared.

Tunisia couldn't believe how this could make him so happy…

In spite of all of this, Tunisia was still very much scared. Terrified. It was difficult not to be knowing that Morocco was still out there.

And who's to say she'll still stick with him forever once she discovered how depraved Morocco was with her own eyes? He didn't want that to happen.

However, he couldn't help finding that thought laughably ridiculous. After seeing how stubbornly that woman stuck to his side and made him confess everything, and before that, how she viciously fought Morocco in a way Tunisia never could, Tunisia supposed that the only way Hungary would leave was if someone killed her.

Or, if someone hurt her in a way beyond repair.

…Somehow, the thought of Morocco hurting her was the terrifying one of all.

/ / / / /

"What do you mean there actually is something wrong with Mauritius?" Egypt growled with slowly increasing volume. It was a wonder he wasn't yelling at the imbecile instead keeping his bubbling anger within. But perhaps it was the sheer shock of the news...

The extremely shocking news.

The news from the same imbecile, who had the nerve to look a little sheepish, that he lied about Mauritius's mental state.

"I can explain, Egypt. Honest! I told you, I have very good reasons for-"

"You better have a completely reasonable explanation and reasons for this, Romania!" Now Egypt was yelling, glaring flaming daggers at the damn European. "Because I fail to see any reason for this trickery. You're - You're saying you lied to your own allies, and about a potential threat to us no less?!"

"Look, for

"And what about Michelle? She believes Mauritius is fine.

"I said keep it down! Now do you want to hear an explanation or not?"

Egypt seethed and glowered at him still, but managed to muster the necessary restraint to close his mouth.

"Fine. Explain, now."

"Gladly." Romania let out a small snort, but his demeanor was anything but cheery, thankfully. "It's not like I enjoy keeping this to myself as I already, and repeatedly, established. You see, I couldn't have told Germany or anyone else then about Mauritius because believe me, if I did, I'm sure it would've ended badly for everyone."

"But why? How could telling everyone that Mauritius has been compromised end bad for us?"

"Ah, but here's the thing, Gupta. Mauritius hasn't hasn't been brainwashed.

Egypt's mind went blank. "…Excuse me?"

"Oh, you heard right. Mauritius isn't under any kind of programming. Da, I did see a few traces of tampering, and there's evidence of residue of what they tried to force into his train, which should fade with time. But he's not brainwashed. The problem is… more complicated than that, I'm afraid."

The more Egypt listened, the more dread began to seep into his bones and more questions buzzed in his mind. He was befuddled by what he was hearing. And to make it all worse, he hadn't the slightest idea where this was going. But he definitely did not like it.

If Mauritius was not brainwashed, then what was wrong with him?

"Are you saying… you found something else while searching his mind?"

Romania's mirthless, toothy grin had somehow become unnerving to him, yet his eyes blazed with a seething fury.

"Bingo, Egypt. While thoroughly checking his mind for anything fishy, I found something I did not expect to see. It tried to stay hidden from me- Did a decent job, I'll admit. But little can fool this genius here."

Many questions bounced about animatedly in Egypt's head at this new information.

"It tried to stay hidden from you?" He repeated, to which he received a nod. "Just what are you getting at? Just tell me already, you cryptic fool."

"I was getting to it. Context is important, Egypt." Romania said in an infuriatingly patronizing tone as he wagged his finger to and fro. "You want the blunt truth, here it is: There's a fragment of someone's soul in Mauritius."

Egypt honestly couldn't say what he was expecting, but never in thousands of years would it be this.

"What?" Was all he said.

Annnd cliffhanger! Sorry. I couldn't help it, and I need more time to polish what's supposed to follow after Egypt's 'What?'. I promise that the next one won't take a month to be finished. Once again, apologies for the wait, and I hope this chapter proved to be enjoyable. Next chapter: Germany reaches a decision regarding England, and the Anti-Order makes a move. Meanwhile, the Order makes their own. Please review if you have a minute.