Harry Potter and the Berserker

by deathbearABC123

Are people truly in control of their lives, or is it some transcendental entity or law that decides? Two will struggle to persist, to fight an unwinning battle against forces of god-like power.

72. Chapter 72 God of the Abyss

Reviews:

Tom2011: Yeah, I wanted to make sure that the fight was done right seeing as it was Zodd's farewell chapter and all as well as trying to highlight the parallels he and Guts shared. Thanks for your continued patience between chapter waits and I hope that this next one will be more intense than the last.

Pyromania101: Indeed, Zodd has met his end. Even though he is my favorite apostle to write for, I knew that his part of the story would have to come to an end at some point and having him go out by aiding (and inhibiting) the main cast felt right for how he developed up to realizing the truth about his own life that he was able to be content with his own choices.

Guest: Mortal Kombat indeed! Zodd put up a good fight, pushing Guts to his limits, something he'll need for what lies ahead.

FuryJoe: Thank you! Glad you enjoyed.

Celexs Draconia: I've said before, but Zodd is my favorite apostle to write for and getting to explore his mentality and I hope Miura actually expands on some of the apostle's pasts whenever he gets back to writing. And the moment between Guts and Femto is at (god) hand. Thank you for reading.

Exiled Soul Nomad: Indeed he did. He found the truth of his own life in his last.

OBSERVER01: That he did, given it was the last fight the two of them would have, I couldn't resist diving into his mindset a little as well.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast: It was a fight well fought and an end that was meant to be. As Guts races to the battle, his foe does the same. And thank you for noticing the second anniversary! I had meant to have this chapter published by then but given how much had to be written... it needed the delay.

Guest: Well I'm glad to see you're a fan of my other story, but I ask that any review regarding my other works be posted to that story, not on others such as this, I will still see the review notification.

erica phoenix16: Not a problem. Sorry if this update took longer than most as I found it to be the most challenging one yet - and vacation as well.

Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J. K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.

---

"You have a report for me?" it was a question, but one to which he already knew the answer. The swirling, twistedness of Rakshas black cloak and bone-white mask emerged from the shadow his white stallion cast down.

"Of course, your Highness," Rakshas spoke with a near-impossible bow of his neck from beneath that cloak of his. He eyed the shadowy apostle from the very corner of his eye, considering if it was meant as an insult given the disaster from earlier in the day. He ignored any slight for the time being and nodded for the apostle to continue. "Those remaining have gathered at the Tower of Rebirth. Those with the staffs have taken to barricading themselves inside while the remaining humans have taken defense outside. Kuhehe!" Rakshas laughed with high octane. "If they actually intend to fight it'll be death by suicide, wouldn't you agree?"

"Their deaths are insignificant; their lives, forfeit. They should have known that meddling in Falconia's affairs would only end in one definitive way." He had given them the benefit of the doubt, he did not have to let their child visit every full moon. They had been warned and they had not heeded his words. The fault was all their own, and yet... he could not find it in his power to hate them for this.

It was unavoidable. This is just the way of things, the flow causality has meandered along the bank. They never learn. They will just continue to make the same mistakes over and over again until their bones are but dust blowing in the wind. Just how many fights had they been involved in since his rebirth into this world from their child? They are just meant to struggle. The brand upon their bodies is the token to be paid. And just as they are meant to fight, to extinguish, I am meant to end, to rule. That was the last thought in his head, the idea, and ambition that I was birthed from.

"What about the Black Swordsman?" he inquired. "Where is he?"

"Ah," Rakshas shifted in his cloak. "He isn't with the rest of them just yet. It seems like he got a little held up taking a bath. The blood will be a pain to wash out, I'm sure."

Grunbeld approached him from the left, many of his apostle units had already unleashed their demonic forms while Grunbeld stood tall in his dragon armor. "His armor will make him a formidable foe to any of our comrades who stand against him." Grunbeld knelt before his horse and even then he was almost at eye level with him. "Hawk of Light, will you do me the honor of letting my division go and face this menace in battle?"

"I will not." Grunbeld looked up at him. "A mad dog is a mad dog, what matters is the one holding the leash. Going after him will overextend our lines. We move to where we know their main concentration to be; the Tower of Rebirth. Captain Zodd and his forces stand in his way as is. Let our best fighter have his fun."

Rakshas chuckled behind his mask. "He had his fun alright. He had a smile on his face right up until the very end. If only his underlings could have felt the same - their faces would look much more at peace for the eternal hell that awaits us."

"Zodd has... perished?" Grunbeld asked in stunned disbelief. "He... must have fought bravely until his very end. All of his fights over hundreds of years to now... we will avenge his passing! I will deliver a hundred blows of righteous fury to those who oppose us in honor of all of the fallen apostles!" Grunbeld's already deep and booming voice expanded with his very being as steam encased his body as the dragon armor he wore became what it was named after. A fire burned from within the crystalline dragon's mouth as his fellow titan apostles gave cheers of agreement.

The bony mask of Rakshas did well to hide his expression which most likely hid a devilish grin of heavenly delight. "You're so eager to go avenging your fellow captain, Grunbeld, even if he did end up betr-,"

"Rakshas, are you up to the task of infiltrating their defenses?" he asked before the cloaked apostle could finish his statement.

"Of course, your Benevolence." He bowed once again. "Maybe I'll get Silat to actually smile. He certainly needs it." His cloak melted back into the shadows cast along the street, scampering along the sea of darkness to seek out his objective.

It was perhaps risky sending Rakshas off on his own given that he did have a previous connection one of the enemy forces. He could end up like Zodd and just-,

Stop thinking about that. I am sure that is not the case. To lose composure now would be a repeat of what happened the last time someone walked away. Is this how he would have felt when it happened? Zodd had all he could ever want here, and he turned his back on us. And now that he's spending eternity in chaos, I... hope that he is prepared.

As he pushed back the thought of his predecessor, his host, he could not help but notice that he had not felt this turn coming before. His slit-pupil narrowed as he cast a look over at the palace which was now lopsided. He did not need to be there to know what was going on inside. A suicide charge is hardly the way for you to go out. Do you really intend to kill four of us by yourself? his gaze wandered back over to where the Tower of Rebirth stood. No. That's what they're here for.

"Lord Griffith!" human cries called to his presence. His helmeted head turned to see that the Midland Standard Army had taken up ranks as well behind him and Grunbeld's titans.

"What are your orders?" "What is your call?" "General Laban is slain and General Owen is nowhere to be found!" "Sir! The palace!"

He heard all of their cries - their prayers which he would answer. "Brave men of Midland and humanity," his voice instantly held their rapt attention. "The days of fighting ourselves are not over. The hostile world beyond our city walls makes for a harsh battle for survival. Try as we may, there are those who would turn to the temptation of dark magical arts than accept the light of prosperity. They have abducted our queen and slain brave General Laban. You have trusted me to lead you this far, I ask this of you all now, help me protect our city."

Even if they didn't know the truth, they knew the fear that was in their blood right now. They knew him as a savior, one to always take the initiative and come out the victor. Let them see him be their savior once more. The belief was there in their eyes clouded by the illusion that confusion could bring, but... that spark, the spark of hope and more importantly - belief shown in their eyes. And that was more powerful than any of them fully realized.

As their swords and spears raised in a unison collective of illusioned grandeur, he spoke once again. "The War Demons and I will finish this attack at the Tower of Rebirth. Those of you in the standard army need only keep those from escaping. Form a containment perimeter around the structure and neighboring streets. If you will ride with me, fight with me, then let your voices be heard now!" Do you perhaps feel it? The suffering that you're surely in right now; I will end it for you all. And you will come for me too, will you not?

Not a single voice was silent. Their voices sounded the trumpets to match the drumbeat of their hearts.

---

He could feel... just about everything.

It was like... the whole world was open to him - to them.

All of it.

Harry had entered his luminous body before on numerous occasions, mainly when he had been studying with Flora and when he had to call upon greater amounts of magic that his body couldn't handle normally. Schierke had said that magic was typically weaker in cities due to isolation from nature and while the capital city would have been no exception to that bit of logic, the addition of the World Tree looming above them amplified any magical aspect to the max as well as serving as a direct connection to the very bottom layer of the astral planes.

He could see their bodies and where they rested. Schierke's glowing body was to his right and Farnese was to his left. Glowing manifestations of their staffs were present in their hands as well. Looking over his own apparition, he had his as well, same with his sword as always when he entered this aspect of the magical world. It was all the same, yet he felt stronger. The fatigue he had felt from his duel with Voldemort seemed to melt away, contain itself to his physical body as his astral form traversed down the hole at the bottom of the tower and into darkness.

'How far down does it go?' Farnese inquired as the blackness gradually seemed to increase around them, but the light radiating from their astral forms acted as a substitute for any sort of torch.

'I was told it was as deep as the tower is high,' Harry recalled what he was told when they had first been here to bust Griffith out of prison. 'But that's just the physical bottom. We'll be going further than that.'

'And... at the bottom is the remnants of Gaiseric's old empire,' Schierke said as she cast a glance over to Harry. He nodded in confirmation. If they needed a strong connection to the past to reach the deepest layer, they need to look no further. Harry tried his best to visualize what exactly it would look like once they reached the bottom. How high would the corpses be, the ones who were sacrificed in order to birth the one now known as Void? Would any buildings be left standing from the chaotic storm that hit? And most importantly, where would they wind up once they got there?

The darkness around them seemed to continue to expand, getting wider and darker as they traveled down this particular vein. And when the light illuminated from their projections cast out below them, Harry was able to see the answers to his previous self questions. 'So, this is...'

Farnese's voice seemed to sound from the multitude of decayed faces staring up at them with hollow sockets and gaping maws, stretching as far as they could see in every direction. The teeth had turned a wooden shade of brown that was laced with a green that the maggots crawled over along with the portions wrinkled flesh that could have been left on a tanning rack for far too long. But despite the obvious decay from over a thousand years among the stacks of bodies that lined entire streets, they all seemed incredibly preserved; almost mummified to a certain extent. Perhaps it could be attributed to the brand that was permanently engraved onto all of their foreheads.

Looking at all of them, Harry could almost feel the brand on his own neck tingle from his physical body up above - as impossible as that should have been.

The buildings that were between the piles of street-filled corpses seemed almost identical to the ones above in Falconia right now. Many structures had cracks running through them and were clearly distorted and upheaved from their collapse, but it all seemed a fully functioning city, one that had been born again through the passing of time.

'This was all Gaiseric's city?' Schierke kept her eyes mainly focused on the buildings around them to avoid those empty eye sockets staring blankly up at them.

'Do you suppose any of them... knew what was happening?' Farnese then asked, her attention more focused on the numerous piles of branded bodies. Perhaps she was thinking back to her time in the Holy See. This was the act of the "god" she had been taught to worship and preach.

'Probably not until it was too late,' Harry answered, memories swimming to the top of his mind about that dark day. Unlike with the Hawks, these people likely didn't know that they had been branded to give birth to a god-like entity. For all they knew, their empire came to an end in a sudden storm once the moon eclipsed the sun. Taking into account the story Skull Knight had told them, that seemed to be the most likely of cases.

All those years to rot away down here, the smell had carried up to the top, Harry remembered that, but seeing what was the cause of it all... it wasn't as if this was his first time seeing dead bodies, far from it. Maybe it had more to do with the fact that these people had met the same fate as those he personally knew had. This was supposed to be him; this was supposed to be Guts and Casca. That same cursed connection between him and these people, between past and future, he was staring at it right now and it was staring right back at him.

'Harry?' Schierke questioned as she saw him sticking the end of his staff out to the branded heads of one of the corpses.

He looked over at her and did his best to try and give her some kind of reassurance in his look alone. 'Just... something that I feel.'

The end of his astral staff made contact with the branded forehead. It wasn't long before the air around them felt...tingly, like a humming coming from inside of a throat that was right against another's ear. Or, more akin to being underwater in the shallows as the tide pushed and pulled above from above with the feeling of being rocked along with it. No, it was more the feeling of standing on the top of a mountain on a hot day but feeling only the cool breeze that passed by from the height. Better yet, it was more the sense of having run through a forest all day before collapsing in an open field and staring up at a starry sky as the feeling of the world spinning mixed with the body's frantic pulse. Or even-,

-it was everything connected at one point.

The underground cavern turned mausoleum seemed to pulsate around them, moving in tune to Harry's, to Schierke's, and Farnese's own breathing and emotion. It was suffocating them, then it was giving them their own city. They were oppressed, they were free; confined and expansive, condensing and sweeping, everything all at once, all at one point.

Woooohh. Wooooohhh. Woooohhh.

Everything all seemed to collapse and built to one direct point, one gaping, winding way that was everything they had gazed at come together at just one. The expanse that lay before them now continued down and down, farther than they had come on their own already. The staircase spiraled down into the earth, seemingly expanding upon itself the entire way down into the lowest of any astral layer.

Harry wasn't quite sure which of them took the first step down on that spirling staircase - it could have been him, it probably was, but it felt there was more than just his body moving down and along those stairs, since they were wide enough to fit the three of them all on one. Yes, his movement was the same as Schierke's who was matching Farnese who was following after them in their endeavor.

Continuing down the stairs, Harry cast a glance up and could see the hole they had entered in to get here above them now. Farnese looked up with him. 'Shouldn't we be farther down than this?' she asked

'What are you talking about?' Schierke asked. 'We're already a decent way down as it is. I can barely see the top.'

'What are you talking about?' Harry asked of her. 'We've hardly descended at all.' Schierke looked over at him in disbelief.

'Are your eyes seeing that, or are you?' she asked in a quietly harsh tone.

Regarding her with a look of skepticism, Harry began to ask, 'What're you-?'

'We're going to a deeper astral layer, one where it's dangerous to venture even to call upon magic for aide,' Schierke then explained. 'So, magic is exactly what's trying to protect us from going any further down. If you don't believe you've moved at all from this spot...' she reached out a hand to touch Harry's own luminous face but her hand, as well as the rest of her body, began to pull away, and when he saw her clearly the next time, '...you'll never make it beyond your own mind!' she had to shout the last bit as Harry noticed that she was farther down the spiral staircase than he and Farnese, looking up at them from where her projection waited.

It was all just a trick. He instantly felt stupid for having fallen for it, especially when it had been ingrained in his mind that belief was what held true power when it came to magic. Pushing any negative thoughts aside, Harry took Farnese's hand in his own and willed his body to move forward. 'C' mon,' he beckoned her forward along with him. 'Don't think too much about it, don't even bother looking back up.'

'Bu-,' Farnese stopped herself from saying more, fighting the urge to look back over her shoulder above them. 'Y-yes. Very well.'

Meeting up with Schierke where she was at on the staircase, Harry felt the air around them grow thicker, his mind becoming more clouded with thoughts. While not good signs by any stretch of the imagination, it was a sign that they were progressing down as planned. Harry never took a look over his shoulder after that first illusion but he had a feeling that he would only see the same darkness above as he did below them now.

oooooooo. _Oooo. _OOoooo.

The black of the dark began to taper off leaving room for a very dull grey to take its place. Dull turned to a normal shade and normal turned to being vibrant. And when even the vibrant grey started to become a moonish silver hue, Harry could see the white shining through at what could only be the very bottom of this maddeningly winding staircase.

The white was almost blinding now, brighter than the sun. He felt the need to squint his eyes as the ethereal light seemed to break through the darkness around them, washing over them with greater force than waves over rocks, eroding them down to mere grains of sand that melded together on the rest of the beach. But the shore that they found themselves standing on was not a lost paradise, but a cage in a trap.

The stairs ended with more stairs. And those stairs curved, mended, and bent all in tandem with each other. They went along the walls, led into doorways that popped back out at a platform with four other intersecting stairs, some ending, and beginning at the same point while heading in different directions. It was a drawing turned reality, embodying the incomprehension of the mind.

'Which way do we-, teacher?' Farnese asked as she noticed Harry had the astral version of his sword at the ready along with his staff. He remembered that Guts had described this place before when he had hunted down an apostle with the title of Count. This same labyrinth of madness had been where the five of them had appeared.

'This is their place,' Harry refrained from naming any of them, not wanting to give power where power was not needed. He could easily picture what they all looked like; the corpse-like skin, the sickening grin and gaping maw, a sultry glance, cold indifference, and plain emptiness.

"Neeeghh!" a sharp whine sounded, snapping all of their attention to an archway to their left. Images, shapes seemed to be forming, however, distorted as they were. There was a clear mounted figure, blurs all around him. Two rounded figures moving faster than they could keep their eyes focused. The two other figures remained more stationary but were far blurrier in comparison.

And then, it was gone. Vanished - as if it had never been there, to begin with.

'The Skull Knight,' Schierke observed the now vacant archway.

'How is that possible?' Farnese asked. 'He isn't fighting here, is he?'

'It's possible,' Harry said. 'With his sword and their powers, I'd say it's likely that they could be fighting through dimensions.'

'I... don't think so,' Schierke disagreed. 'Wouldn't he be doing everything in his power to keep them from coming to a place like this where they draw power from? Fighting them all in the middle layer is difficult enough, it wouldn't benefit him to fight them where they'd be at their strongest.'

'So, how were we seeing that?' Farnese curiously asked once more.

Schierke pondered. 'Likely just the connection to this place. Like before, this place is designed to play on and off of our minds. If one of us was maybe thinking about them then-,' she stopped to gaze over at Harry who silently nodded to confirm her theory. 'Then the way forward should be available to us if we '

ooo~ooo

'You believe so?' Farnese asked.

'Huh?' Harry asked.

'The thresholds,' Schierke said as if repeating herself. 'If one showed us a reflection of the present from just thought, then thought is how we visualize our next step.'

'If you say so,' Harry considered the possibility. 'I'll follow your lead then.'

The platform they were on led straight down with the stairs as (self) Harry followed Schierke, followed by Farnese. It didn't even feel like he was walking upsidedown right now as the "floor" seemed to be an inverse reflection of the "ceiling." It didn't make sense, but he went along with it. The stairs then ended at a landing where three pairs branched off going down, up, and down again.

Schierke observed the three pairs at the intersection they found themselves at. "Going up seems to be the safest way, do you agree, Harry?

'I reckon, yeah.'

'Harry. Harry. H" ooo

'Harry!' she shouted in his face.

'What?' Harry asked in sudden defense.

'Where are you going?!'

'I'm going the exact way that you... said...'

~O

Schierke had been yelling because he was so far away. He was staring at their upsidedown forms on another landing while he was alone on the intersection. 'Please,' Farnese begged, 'wait for us!'

'How'd you get over there?' Harry asked, not moving from his current spot. 'I was following you the whole time.'

'No. We were following after you.' He could see the seriousness in Schierke's eyes. She wasn't lying. 'You said this place is playing tricks on us and that we had to focus on where we needed to go. You just took off and we thought you were on to something.' It was happening right now. Had he fallen victim to this place, or had they? 'Just stay where you are, we'll meet you there.'

'Okay.' ~

The girls disappeared behind a bend in the fold of the stairs before coming back into his (place) sight, appearing coming up the steps to the landing where he found himself. Looking at their glowing eyes, Harry tried his best to decipher any hint of madness in them - he didn't. If they were the normal color he would be staring into Schierke's owl-like green orbs and Farnese's sapphire blue ones.

'Now that we're all here we should' OoO

'Like so?' Farnese asked, ~ her place watching them from one of the stairs leading down.

'Farnese, what are you doing?' Schierke asked of their pupil from her own diverging path.

'Stop moving' Harry yelled to her, alone on his own branch of stairs. WhAt?

Farnese darted her eyes between the pair of them and herself. 'Please! What is going on?'

What was going on? Every step forward was three steps back in three different directions. Each time they tried to communicate and formulate a coherent plan, they all heard something different. It had to be the Abyss itself that was trying to prevent them from advancing. If that was the case, it had to mean that they were getting close to where they had to go, didn't it?

None of this was making any sense.

~No Sense~

'Wait!' Harry called out before any of them could say or do anything else. 'Don't do anything else yet!'

Farnese opened and closed her mouth but no sound escaped from her lips. The words finally seemed to form. 'Have you figured something out?' (EscapE)

'I... maybe,' Harry hesitated, not sure how sound his thought would sound. 'I think that rational thought is trying to impede us.' As to almost be expected, the two witches looked at him with expressions of confident disbelief.

Schierke was the first to voice her thoughts in the form of a question. 'What are you even talking about?'

'I'm not talking rhyme or reason,' Harry continued, hoping that they would at least give him the benefit of the doubt and hear him out. 'We came here with the same mentality as we did in the physical, that's why we can't seem to advance. ~~~ That's why every other wizard who tried to go this deep ended up losing their minds.'

Schierke was shaking her head in disagreement. 'Even if what you're saying is true, splitting up isn't going to-,'

'-I never said anything about splitting up!' Harry interjected. If anything, that was the exact opposite of what he was trying to say.

'Yes, you did!' Schierke defended. 'You said we can't advance because we're sticking to what we know and if the Abyss can feel our magical presence, we need to confuse it somehow.'

Now it was Harry's turn to look at her dumbfoundedly. 'Hold on! I never said that last part.' What was she talking about? Was she maybe hearing things? Was she falling under the influence of the Abyss?

Surprisingly, Schierke continued to object to his objection. 'Farnese, help me out. Didn't Harry say - Farnese!'

Farnese was already descending down her set of stairs - their words seeming deaf on her ears. 'This way, teachers. Just as you said.'

The two of them shared a look, their previous debate forgotten at the sight of Farnese going off on her own. 'Wait' one or both of them called to her.

But Farnese didn't stop. She either didn't hear them or heard something entirely different. Her figure was almost hidden as she kept on down the stairs.

They took off after her. The paths they were on seemingly converging once more. Down it went, as did they.

'Farnese!' their voices cried, a surface drowning sound as they spotted her; the archway before her beckoned with a grave silence.

'Wait! Don't'

She walked through it - She didn't come out the other side.

Stretching his hand out to grasp at ghosts, he felt himself going through as well.

-thum

He didn't see Farnese on the other side. He didn't really see anything on the other side. Jelly seemed to have been smeared across his eyes - he was swimming in the stuff, his movements becoming sluggish as he drifted in the gentle hardness of the sea.

~.

~~.

~~~.

thum

---

It was times such as these where he wished he knew more about magic. Sure, he had his eagle feather wind-blade and Slyph cloak which felt natural to him, but the great beyond was as much a mystery to him as anyone else. From what he could understand, the minds of Lady Farnese and her teachers were drifting to a place he could not comprehend - maybe they couldn't either.

That thought brought him zero comfort as he watched the still bodies of his half-sister and companions. They looked at peace now, almost lost in an etherial sleep, but he at least knew that what he saw was far from the truth of the matter. Only a few minutes had passed since they entered the realm of deeper understanding, but he had a sneaking suspicion that time was working much different for them than it was here. Time was a factor only for those of them left in the physical world, and not for the better.

He knew it was only a matter of time before the enemy forces found their location. Even from this darkened pit, he could hear the sounds of marching and thundering footsteps coming from the surface. Falconia's army had arrived in full force. How long would it be before the screams and cries could be heard from up there? His free hand went to brush some of his blonde hair aside - a distraction from his own thoughts. Trusting others to handle their own end of things was what he needed to do. This is where he was needed, next to Farnese, as he had known for years since father took him into their house. She would live through this - of that, he was certain.

Casting a closed glance over to his only other source of a company - Silat, it was obvious that they would not be talking much, if at all. Any and all conversation would be focused on the events of up there or down here. Silat's own Bakiraka were up there - or, what was left of them. And down here, his own half-sister was mentally and magically drifting in a realm where no one had ever returned from sane.

The silence was an unspoken, mutual understanding.

It was better this way. He was able to put order to his jumbled, chaotic thoughts easier. The contradiction was palpable enough that he would have smiled lightly in a different circumstance. Concentration seemed to work better in this paradox of spaces. The drip of water from above was the sound of a summer storm, the breeze was a twister, the flicker of light from the lamp a raging inferno; the slight shuffle of fabric on the stone floor became the small march of an army.

No, not an army.

His eyelids peeled open.

His body moved and pivoted so fast he became the very cloak that he wore. Tackling Silat out of the way, he cut through the air and the air cut for him toward the slithering shadow that had been slinking its way down the wall.

The invisible puppeteer pulled the string to turn the shadow's head and the both of them got a clear image of a bone-white mask staring at them with red and yellow painted eyes. "You saw me?" it asked. "Bravo! Sneaking my way past everyone up top seemed a little too easy; thank you for actually paying proper attention!"

"Rakshas..." Silat's eyes narrowed sharper than the blades he held.

"Kuhehe! Glad to see you haven't forgotten about me. Just as I'm glad to see you one last time before-!" Serpico imagined Rakshas' eyes must have widened behind that mask of his as Silat, quick as a whip flung a chakram at the cloaked assassin. Rakshas' body contorted at an impossible angle to avoid the disk that sunk into the wall behind him. The assassin looked at it and back to Silat. "How rude."

Silat already had two other chakrams dancing around his fingers, ready to strike out with venom at a seconds notice. Serpico also took a familiar stance, making sure Farnese and his other companions were properly defended.

"I wouldn't put much stock into those, Silat," Rakshas taunted in an almost sing-song voice. "You should know that they need room to properly whisk around. I'm sure this would be big enough if you carved out a bit more. But... who really has time for that?"

Rakshas sprung from the wall straight towards them, the light from the lantern reflected two silvery spikes protruding from his cloak.

Taking the lead this time, Serpico cut upward and the wind heeded his command. Rakshas was sent off course and upward, his mask nearly coming askew had he not grabbed it. He landed and curled to the steps. "Can I consider myself wrong for thinking you an airhead?"

"His blades are poisoned, I presume?" Serpico asked, not putting anything past a creature with little regard for its own life.

"Knowing him, of course," Silat put his chakrams away from his twin katars.

Rakshas' body wilted from side to side, deciding which one to strike at first. "Working alone really is so much better." His poison-coated blades poked back out. "Let's not ruin it so soon."

---

There was nothing.

He was alone.

He was in nothing.

There was only alone.

'Schierke! Farnese!' his words sounded gargled, drowned almost. They barely echoed around this... place. He did not know what to call it. There was no indication he had crossed over from anything to be where he was now. He was quite simply... existing in a plain of nothingness.

His feet could move. He could walk. Yet there was no sound - wooooo - from his feet hitting the... floor?

No, there wasn't. Why would there be?

'Farnese! Where'd you go?!' he shouted as if it held a purpose as if he could get through to whom he called. It was - oooooooo - yes, that's what it was.

Was he leading, or were his feet? It was hard to tell. He didn't know which direction let to where; probably to nowhere - right where he was now. But that couldn't be right. He was basically everywhere in this place right now. He called out again and no response availed his ears in the clear echo that he was encapsulated in and around.

The center continued to elude and discover all of the same nothing - ooooooo-

How long had he been walking now? He couldn't feel his feet, but he knew they were there; it was the same as he knew he still had the astral projections of his staff and sword with him as well. They were as much a part of him now with all his other limbs, same with this emptiness that warped his path; condensing it to a point of focus in endless cascading of torrents that converged upon a single current - oooo - in the vast ocean of liberating insanity.

And in that tunnel, he was going - maybe physically, further down he went with the insanely gentle meander of oblivion's tempting rapids. In that time, the center had to wonder if this was what a mother's embrace felt like. Would this soothing temptation be one that was offered to him one day by a faithful woman once grown?

Sniff.

He looked up at the silhouette standing still a fair distance away from him. The greenish fog around them made her features hard to discern, but he called out to her all the same. '...' a pause from him as the name he meant to call eluded his mind but was recovered by the feeling in his heart. Thum.

'Farnese!' he was upon her now, his hand reaching out to grasp her and turn her around. 'Farnese, are you-?'

The woman facing him was not Farnese.

It had been easy to mistake her from a distance as they were of similar height and age, but up close he didn't know how he had made the comparison. She had fair hair similar to Farnese, but hers was much longer than Farnese's chin-length cut. And while her eyes were blue, they were more a sea shade, turquoise almost with hints of grey around the outside of her iris giving her an almost exotic look to her. Staring her in her eyes it was easy to see the red that was there as well.

She backed away from him.

"What... did you call me?" she tentatively asked, fear gripping the words from her throat.

'...You, you're not-,' he didn't allow himself to finish. She could see him. How? How could there be anyone else this far into the astral layer? Unless she was the astral body of a witch who attempted to travel this far, he could think of no other explanation as to why she should be here.

"I'm not what?" she asked, wiping her eyes as she demanded of him.

'You're not... a witch, are you?'

The fear of surprise was now understanding the confusion. "You think me a witch? Is this some sort of jest?"

'No. I thought- you just... you reminded me of someone.'

"I reminded you of a witch?" she tilted her head, a blur between confused and possibly offended.

'I... suppose so.' Could she be a lost soul of some sort? With the way she almost blended into the environment around them, it seemed a likely possibility. 'If you don't mind me asking, who are you?'

"I'm not this 'Farnese' you were calling for," she replied, her tone playfully wounded. "And I feel I should be asking you whom you are as you intruded upon me."

'I'm... a potter's son,' Harry omitted his name, careful if giving away information could be letting a stranger into his mind. And it wasn't a lie either, not fully.

She studied him. "I see. In that case, I'm a lady's daughter, one of seven to be precise." Seven? -ooooooo-

'And... are any of them here now?' he let his eyes sweep the forming emptiness for any signs of life.

"..." she opened her mouth to give what should have been an easy answer when she paused. "I... I'm not sure. Truth be told, I haven't the faintest idea where they are." She brought a hand to her head as if to rub away her uncertainty. "Perhaps... that's why I'm here. To ~-," she looked up. "Oh, yes, they're all in their rooms. Mother sent us thereafter a dispute of sorts. Please, don't let that notion stain your image of our house."

He was more confused than ever. 'Your house? What are you talking about?'

"That is why you are here, is it not? You seek an audience with our mother. I just feel it is my duty to give a proper caution in advance if she seems less than willing to entertain your proposition."

He opened his mouth, but he did not speak. For the briefest of seconds, the area around them shook and took the appearance of a stony interior with high ceilings and blue and green banners hanging from the walls. It was gone as fast as it had appeared. Erased from his eye.

"Is something the matter?" she asked.

Was something the matter?!

'You think we're in your home?' Harry quietly demanded of her. 'That isn't what I'm seeing.'

She almost looked offended. "I'm afraid that you're not making much sense. If you prove to be a problem I'll have to-~," her eyes started to widen, perhaps seeing the same as he did. "What...? Where did-?" -ooooooo-

'Hey!' Harry cried as she fell to her knees, her hands firmly placed on the side of her head.

Kneeling down next to her, Harry tried and failed to pry her arms away from her head. "No," she lightly whimpered. "No. No. For a second there... I thought I was back. I could have been back. But I'm still..." she stopped talking to herself and looked over in the direction he faced her. Flinging herself at him with more solidarity than he could muster, she buried her face into his chest.

To say he was baffled would be an understatement. She had been seeing the same thing as he had, but for much longer. But now, she was just as lost as he was and she was not handling the fact very well at all. 'H-hey, listen. Please, is there anything you can tell me about what this place is?'

Her expansive eyes were clouded with red again as she stared up at him. "Be truthful, you can perform magic, can you not? Then you can free me from this, can't you? I'll make sure you're rewarded. Land, titles, my own hand, just-!"

'Listen, hey! Just calm down, alright. I came here not too long ago. If there is a way out, it will be through magic.' And here he thought that he wouldn't be giving too much away. But this girl was clearly distraught at being here, a prisoner, like him. 'But listen, I didn't come here by myself and I probably can't leave by myself either. If we want to get out of here, I'm going to need to find the two I came with.'

"Are you... truly promising a way out?" she asked tentatively.

'I can't promise anything by myself. But whatever here is, it's beyond what I'm able to do. Please, if you can tell me if there were there two girls who might have come by this way?'

He helped her back to her feet as she pondered what he had just asked of her. "Two others?" she asked. Shaking her head she said, "I'm sorry, but I didn't see any other girls- wait, magic? Other people with magic?" -ooo-

'Yes!' had she actually remembered something?

"Well, they weren't girls." That crushed his hope of finding Schierke and Farnese. "However, I do know now- yes, how could I have forgotten?!" the nothingness around them seemed to convulse once again, but it did not take the shape of a castle interior. It was shaping out to be a tunnel, seemingly made of glass to keep the strange fog away from them - or maybe it had been there all along and was only now showing itself.

'And you said you weren't a witch.' He meant to sound comfortingly teasing, but he could not fully hide the suspicion that he felt right now. How had she just "forgotten" that there might be something or someone else here?

She became aware of the shaping path when she followed his gaze to its formation. "I'm... not. When I thought about what I had forgotten, I felt as if my mind was creating a map, one I would never forget."

'And do you forget often?' best to clear the air of any lingering suspicions he had of her before trusting her with any more information about him.

"If I was forgetful, I doubt that I would remember," her reply bordered sarcastic and serious. "If you're calling into doubt the stability of my mind, however, that I am unsure of." She exposed a spot of vulnerability.

'Hearing and seeing things that aren't real?'

"Yes. In all honesty, I didn't believe you to be real at first when I heard you calling that girl's name. But, when you touched me... I thought you to be a ghost."

'I'm as solid as you.' She looked at him funny.

"...Very well. Forgive me for asking so abruptly and shamelessly, but will you be going the path alone, or... do you require a guide?" she spoke almost like she were afraid to offend him in some way.

'Considering how you were able to show the way, I'd be out of luck if I were to get lost or turned around. If you want to accompany me, that's fine. You might even find a way out yourself.' He left out the part where he was also doing it to keep an eye on her. She hadn't been giving off any hostile feelings or intent to him but given her susceptible nature to the tricks of this place he couldn't be too certain.

That visibly seemed to brighten her up as she led the way to the tunnel, her pace graceful and poised, a lady in waiting.

Harry followed a bit behind her side, not daring to have her behind him or get too far ahead. But his worries were misplaced. The entire time she showed no signs of deception or ill-intent as she kept her pace. She would look over every now and again to make sure he was still there and Harry saw relief etched upon her regal features. It must have been a comfort to know that she was not alone. If he were not here, it would just be silence.

-ooooooooooooooo-

"You're curious about me, are you not?" she broke the silence that was between them. "You're wondering how I'm here much the same as I'm wondering about you."

'The thought has crossed my mind.' Would she actually tell him how she came to be here? 'If you tell me your story, I'll tell you mine.' Or as much as she could understand.

A nod of confirmation. "I mentioned before that I have six other sisters, yes?" he nodded. "Well, I don't know if you have siblings yourself, but when we all want the same thing, arguments tend to break out."

'Over what?'

"I suppose... a better future." She paused to observe his reaction. "Before you ask, think what could be so valuable a thing that it could grant such a wish." Considering this argument was between all sisters and concerned their future, added with her almost aristocratic clothes, the answer seemed obvious. He nodded his understanding. "We had just the silliest way of deciding who it would be. But, when things didn't go in favor of one of my sisters, she said one of the most awful things. We had all said things we regret when we argued, but this time she meant it. I don't really know who started yelling next, I was doing it too, and then mother came in." The comforting smile she had been wearing began to fade. "Everyone was just yelling, so much noise, I wanted to be away from it all and then... I was here."

'Just like that? Your family had an argument and you ended up here? I don't mean to call you a liar, but there has to be more to it than that.'

If she was offended, she didn't show it. She seemed to be thinking hard, trying to pull hidden pieces to complete this puzzle. "I believe... a few other people - nobles, most likely, came in after to settle the whole affair. They offered a solution and it seemed beneficial. After that... I don't have any recollection."

-oooo-

She let the information digest before finally asking, "And you? What is your story?"

'As you already know, I came here with two other mages. We were able to do it under a set of circumstances and we traveled here. But when we got to a certain point, something was happening. I can't really explain what it was, but we couldn't figure out what was going on with ourselves, a bit like your memory. When one of our members began wandering off on her own, I followed and wound up here.'

"You three came here to test your magic?"

'No. We came to... ~ put an end to it.' Was that right?

"Put an end... to magic?" she asked, confused.

'No. Something else.-" ooo- that was it.

She regarded him skeptically. "You don't think I can understand why you're here? It is too... beyond me."

'I suppose it is. But, all you need know is that I need to find them.'

There was silence once more between them.

"That's sweet of you. I confess myself happily jealous that two ladies have one so loyal." She smiled a beautifully playful smile. "And I was hoping to introduce you to my sisters."

Harry couldn't tell if she was serious or just trying to diffuse any tension between them. Maybe a mix of -oooooooooo-

There seemed to almost be the sound of a waterfall, as impossible as that was. Had that always been there?

'You never told me your name,' Harry brought the subject up.

"I could say the same for you," she replied. "How about where we're from, instead?"

'...Midland,' Harry figured it was easier than from a whole other astral world where magic was a common occurrence.

"If you're from Midland, you know who I am."

'So you are as well?'

"No. But given your prince's proposition, you know of my family at the least." -oooooooo-

'Charlotte isn't a prince.'

"Who?"

'You don't know -oooo-'

"This is it. We've arrived!"

The door just to his left could have been right there and he would have missed it completely. It didn't even blend into the nonexistent wall making it an unnoticeable eyesore. Dark, wooden and complete with brass knockers. -oooooo-

He could hear it.

"The one who might be of assistance to you is through here." Not bothering to give a knock, she opened the door.

-oooooo-

The inside of the solar seemed to be purposefully missing a large portion of its wall. It made the sight of the open green field and pitched tents all the more accessible. Outside there was no river or falls.

His companion held a hand up for him to halt as she cleared her throat. "Sorry for interrupting you, I know you're probably hard at work, but there is a young man here in need of guidance. Could you sacrifice a few moments of your time?"

The man sitting at the desk in the center of the solar briefly paused in what he was doing if the halted quill was any indication. Lifting his head up, Harry could see the dark, chocolate-brown hair that was a much more neat style of messy than his own raven head. "Time is infinite. There is no need to rush."

He brought a hand up to brush some loose hair behind his ear. Standing up from his seat, Harry figured he must have been at least 6'6" (198.12cm). Turning to face them, Harry was met with features of hardened softness; high cheekbones, a well-set brow, a long neck which was partly covered by a high collar, and seemingly glowing amethyst eyes.

"You have my sincerest of apologies if I appear to be lacking as of this hour. Time may be infinite, but alas, we are not." He studied Harry with those jeweled eyes of his. "And whom am I addressing?"

"He said he was a potter's son."

"Ah, a noble craft. I've tried my hand at it for a hobby, unfortunate that my hand did not agree." He gave a small dip of his head with his right hand over his heart. The rings on all six of his fingers gleamed brighter than his eyes.

As the warm sun shone in through the hole in the wall, Harry only felt the icy water pour over his head as he could only stand and stare. His sword and staff refused to move. 'You... you're...'

"High Advisor Gunderic," he introduced. "And you are the potter's son who seeks a word with me. I wasn't intending to meet with the masses outside of court, but I will make an exception. What brings you to me?"

Thum. Thum. Ba-thum.

The pounding in his chest was all around him. Circulating in his head in a violent whirlwind stronger than any hurricane. He thought he might pass out, that his legs would give out from underneath him if they were of the same make as he thought.

'You're... dead. You died over a thousand years ago. This isn't... this..' he wildly looked around him, expecting the environment to condense and simply fade away. And it didn't.

"Dead?" Gunderic parroted his observation. "Young man, I can assure you that I am -oooooo-" a shadow passed over his mesmerizing eyes and they dulled. His gaze was off in the heavens, his hand frozen in place as it moved to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. "...No. I was... locked in a tower before this. I thought that I had heard... I'm not entirely sure."

"Then, do you not know of a way out of here?" the young lady asked.

"My lady, I do seem to recall you asking me that very same question when you and I first met. My answer has not changed in that period of nonexistent time." He paced away from his desk, his mind deep in thought. "So it seems to have happened again. Our minds began to get accustomed to this setting where we believed we were someplace else. At least, that is what I believe." He looked at Harry. "You're a new face, but you've surely experienced the same sensation, have you not?"

'...' no sound escaped his mouth. He wanted to believe that this was all just one grand illusion, one he would be glad to know was fabricated by his mind.

"You know," Gunderic spoke once again, "it is considered poor manners to not answer when in the presence of a lady of higher standing and a prince. However, I will suspend with the formalities. We are all the same here."

All he could think about now was, "when will it happen?" When will he see this person for what he truly was? When will the sockets be sewn closed and the skin peeled back as the brain explodes from his skull?

'You're saying... I'm the same as you? You think that I'm-,'

"-My equal here," Gunderic intervened. "Yes, I do believe that. Potter's son you may be, you're but a tad older than my eldest nephew. So please, if something troubles you, best to speak now or hold your peace."

"Please forgive him, my Prince," she gave a bow of her head. "He is merely confused is all, he spoke quite clearly with me on the way here. He seeks two others - witches, to be precise."

"Witches?" Gunderic repeated. "Hm. Looking at you now, it's a marvel I didn't piece it together sooner. Yes. Two of our other colleagues arrived here not long ago with two young ladies." His two middlemost fingers tapped at his forehead. "How could I forget? With the way the one was dressed, purple attire and hat, she looked just like -ooo-" a tingle seemed to wash over Gunderic and over to Harry as well as his expression clouded once more. "What became of her?"

'...Schierke?' just her name. That's all he could muster out. If something had happened to her while they had gotten separated...

"Schierke?" Gunderic repeated the name Harry had spoken out loud. His expression began to clear. "No. I was referring to a witch my brother and I stumbled across, Flora. This young lady, Schierke, bears a similar attire. I presume that she is of your party?"

'Where is she? What happened to her?' Harry demanded, almost frantically.

"Nothing has befallen either of them if that puts some of your worries to ease." He'd believe it when he saw them, a fact that Gunderic seemed to notice. "Would you like to see them? They're right through here. I'll show you the way." He walked over to where the portion of wall was missing and seemed to pull open a door that wasn't there. He gestured for Harry to step through. He didn't move.

'What are you playing at?' he had been nothing but gracious, courteous, and polite, but Harry knew the truth of who this man was and what he had done. If not for this man, the Godhand wouldn't have been born, apostles wouldn't roam the land, the astral layers would be divided -oooooo-

;magic wouldn't have returned, he wouldn't have been taken from his relatives, he never would have met everyone he had, and he would not be -oooooo-

"Are you coming?" Gunderic stood at the threshold holding open a door that wasn't there. Harry eyed the tents that lay beyond.

'What will I find out there?'

-oooooooo-

Gunderic calculated his replies. "Companions."

For the first time since he got here, Harry felt himself move as he wanted to. It was not by anybody's will except his own. He stepped through the wall.

Nothing of consequence happened. Looking up at Gunderic in an almost inquisitive way, the prince stared back before pivoting on his feet.

"They're waiting over here, alive and without injury before you ask," Gunderic led with long strides that he held back on to ensure he didn't leave Harry behind in his pace. It was a steady walk and it gave Harry time to properly observe the environment around him. The tents were all of a similar size and the banners billowing from the top remained barren of any insignia. Much like this place, they belonged to anyone or thing, whatever the mind could conjure up.

"Tell me, are they the ones you seek?" Gunderic pointed one of his fingers over to where four figures stood. While two were short and plump, they were both distinctly male. But there was no denying the other two others; purple robes and pointed hat and tall and blonde with hair cut to her chin.

They had made it.

"Harry?" a soft voice called from his left.

Standing in the entrance to one of the tents was a man of feminine beauty. His skin was flawlessly pale, his hair snowier than his armor and piercing blue eyes that had him stopping dead in his tracks.

He recognized this one as well.

---

He could feel it was stronger than ever. The rush, the high, the voice.

'Unleash me now. You're almost there already. You'll need me. Do it.'

And he was tempted to do as such. It had been so easy to let the negativity take him over when he first donned this armor, to allow himself to shink down and let it just lash out as he had so often done in nearly every battle before. But his anger had grown with him, manifesting itself being little more than a mad dog that should be put down. When Schierke had used her astral body to help relieve him and to help him keep a clear head before and it had helped out more than the short witch could possibly comprehend. To have someone help ease the burden was not a luxury he had currently.

During his last fight with the Beast Swordsman, both of them had been going all out on one another - or, as far as Guts was willing to push himself. He had no doubt that the second he escaped the armor's grasp he would feel every ounce of pain that had been dealt to him and he could already tell the former apostle had left some parting wounds that would be a joy to deal with.

He had initially wanted to avoid using the armor as much as possible in the event he would lose control of himself. And sure enough, the voice of the beast had been pestering him since he activated it against Zodd. Guts suspected that the only way he had kept it at bay then and even now was due to a new approach he was taking.

Instead of giving in to the rage, in place of letting his mind go numb, Guts simply did his best to block it out.

Keeping himself reigned in was something he had never been exceptionally good at, even if he knew when to really let loose in a fight. But it had worked. Thinking back, whenever he had been in an extreme life-or-death situation, he often survived through force of will and a burst of defiant anger to get the upper hand. How often had he put his trust outside of those very basic factors? He could still be angry and let it concentrate at certain points, but it wasn't something he could continue relying on forever. His sheer force and fury would not be what won them this fight even if it did play a helping hand in some way.

Even as he did his best to ignore the voice, to hold onto the leash himself, Guts knew it was taking an unbelievable mental strain on him. The Berserker Armor made him numb to all manner of physical pain, the tear he was feeling right down his head right now was beyond that.

'Stop holding back. You know you will not be able to win any other way. Let me rip them for you. You want to. You want this.'

Almost to the tower. I'm almost there. I can hear them.

'You hear only because it is loud. Your senses are fading. You do not have a need for them any longer. Let me-,'

I can make it! Guts knew with how fast he was running, he would likely need to rely on crutches once he broke out of the armor'power. He was stitched up only for the sole purpose of continuing to wage battle.

'Not without me.'

I can-,

'You cannot!'

Aarrrr-"Grraagh!" his enhanced, armored legs lifted him off the ground and over the line of mounted soldiers. Judging by their more standard armor and practical weaponry, and slow reaction time, Guts figured that they were just the regular humans of Falconia's army. They appeared to be lined up in a circle of sorts along the streets leading to the tower, encasing the survivors inside.

By the time any of the standard soldiers realized what was happening, Guts was already descending from his jump. Their spears and pikes bounced harmlessly off of the ebony armor as he shot past their enclosing ranks with Dragonslayer held out in front of him to act as a pseudo brake to help him decrease speed, as well as providing a means of parting the ranks of soldiers stationed around him.

As he neared the end of the ranks, the realization that they had an enemy in their midst took hold of the mounted knights and they hurriedly turned direction to face this new threat. Sadly for them, their efforts were all for naught.

With another leap that probably tore all the ligaments in his legs, Guts bound over the last of the ranks, Dragonslayer possibly taking a few limbs from those that tried to pike him from below.

When he landed, Guts realized that his earlier suspicion had been true. The soldiers were meant as a blockade to keep those of the attack trapped in. And they were trapped having to fend off a horde of apostles. The largest of which was leading the charge to the tower, a fiery crystalline quadruped dragon known as Grunbeld.

Fire spewed from the toothy maw of the flame dragon, forcing the survivors back closer to the tower as the other titans moved to flank their captain, the smaller ones would quickly strike, trying to snag a catch. In a flash of metallic hue, a spindly claw was severed from the host body as the culprit was forced back before they could end up flattened underfoot by a titan apostle.

He recognized this survivor even with failing sight.

With a sprint that surely must have torn the ligaments in his heels, Guts was racing off toward the ensuing fray, almost wanting to forget about ignoring a certain voice in his head.

As Grunbeld advanced further, fire billowing from his furnace of a maw, his crystalline foot raised up, ready to stomp out the life of a woman who must have been an insect to him. That was when Dragonslayer spun through the air with a lighter weight than a throwing knife. The massive blade pierced straight through the flame dragon's thick front leg all the way to the hilt.

"Rruugh!" Grunbeld roared a fiery cry as he felt the pain he had from his last encounter with Guts' blade. The swordsman was already rushing forward still, intent on retrieving his blade and maybe taking off Grunbeld's leg in the process.

Not about to stand around as their captain was assaulted, Grunbeld's underlings flanked Guts, a spindly limbed insectoid apostle rammed him from the side and grasped him between the pincers on the top of its head. It lifted its body up to the jaws of an awaiting titan apostle once it realized that its pincers scraped harmlessly off of his armor.

With the enhanced strength allotted to him, Guts easily torn his arm free from the pinching grasp of the apostle and shoved his armored fist straight through the eye of the apostle holding him. "Kuheeenngh!" it screamed as Guts plunged his arm in deeper, his fist closing in on a soft, squishy organ inside of the skull. With a single squeeze to that point, the body of the apostle went limp and dropped back to the ground.

The titan apostle wasn't about to let him go that easily though. The maw of the reptile head still closed in around him and Guts used his right arm to hoist the jaws up with his legs kicked two of the fangs straight off. His own mouth free, Guts fired an enhanced cannon shot straight through the back of the titan's head in a crimson shower.

Guts dropped down into a roll, zigzagging his way through the encroaching apostle horde that sought to encapsulate him. As some smaller apostles sought to pry Dragonslayer free from Grunbeld, Casca and Sir Azan made their joint move. Casca cut one across the face, the ruby pommel of the once wizard's sword became tinted the same color. Azan used his weapon for longer range defense as he kept them from flanking Casca.

In the gap Dragonslayer had wedged itself in Grunbeld's flesh, Casca gripped the handle of Gryffindor's sword above her head and drove it in next to his own. "Ahhn!" she yelled as she tried pushing the blade in deeper. It must have looked no more serious than a splinter, but Grunbeld bellowed in rage.

"Buuuughh!" the scales around his throat began to glow with the energy of a dying star as his crimson gaze looked down upon the insects bothering him.

Casca acted fast in pulling her blade free and tackling Sir Azan back to avoid the torrent of dragon fire that scorched the ground around their feet. In his rage, Grunbeld swatted his leg to the side with enough force to dislodge Dragonslayer from his limb. Grunbeld ceased his fire as another apostle swept in from behind Casca and Azan to attempt to impale them with a stinger.

Knocking Azan to the side once more, Casca wasn't quick enough to dodge this one. Her goblin made armor protected her shoulder from being run through, but the impact was still strong enough to more than likely dislocate it. "Aagh!" he heard her cry in pain.

Hearing that sound pushed an already enhanced Guts forward like never before. He knew he still somehow, miraculously, had control of himself but his movements now seemed blurry, even to himself. The stains on the gauntlets of his armor painted the picture that he had begun tearing through the apostle horde without the usage of his sword which was lying at his feet.

Half a dozen barbed tendrils shot out from a more gelatinous apostle in a vain attempt to keep him from his sword. With a shrug of his body, Guts pulled the whole apostle straight toward him, sword extended bisecting the apostle straight through the eye. Flinging the remains aside, Guts made ready to continue carving a path toward Grunbeld when all the action on the field seemed to pause as the collective parties shared in a singular heartbeat.

Clop-clop! Clop-clop! Clop-clop! Clop-clop! Clop-clop! Clop-clop!

The white of the horse offered a heavenly demonic contrast to the now blood-soaked cobblestone streets. Yet those red lakes parted to become rivers, avoiding tainting the pure hooves of one so majestically divine in death. Indeed, the carnage reflected in the polished, shimmering helm was one of memory; from his "birth" to the world that is.

The icy blue stare behind that circular helm ensured that winter had come early to the summer heat, chilling steam of blood with its frosty gaze. They were a pair of eyes that belonged to a flawless face beneath that helm, a face that was worn by an angel from hell. And those eyes and that face belonged to a mere shadow, a man less than a ghost at this point yet wholly real outside of their minds.

Griffith.

Femto.

Guts wasn't sure where the line between them blurred, the only thing he was sure about was the fact that every impulse in his being was screaming, yelling at him to kill him. The beast was probably barking orders at him as well, but Guts didn't even hear those. Among all the screaming and urging, he could clearly feel the deathly calm that had not only enraptured him but the battlefield as a whole.

There were no words exchanged between any of them - perhaps there were none that could properly convey the atmosphere that had been set on this red stage.

The man who would be Griffith just rode forward, his legion of apostle followers parting for him without any spoken command. His saber was a ray of silvery sunlight at night. It seemed a perfect extension of his arm, perhaps on par with Guts and Dragonslayer. But it was not the massive heap of metal that this heavenly devil set his sights - rather, a closer target.

Seeing him riding toward her, Casca must have seen a whirlwind of flashes across her vision; the good, the bad, the worst. She seemed unable to move, either by her own past trauma or by some hypnotic spell that could only have radiated from those icy depths. His saber was pointed right at her as his mount galloped ever closer. Seeming to find resolve from inside herself, Casca raised her own sword in front of her for protection, but they all knew it would offer no solace.

"Grrraaahh!" Guts tore toward the rapidly unfolding painting. Dragonslayer's edge was carving right through the stones as he dragged it along behind him. In a fluid motion, he had lifted the massive blade from off the ground, fully intending to chuck it straight toward the imposter when an impact rocked him from his flank.

An almost whale based apostle had charged him in full force, knocking him off balance and pressing one of its treetrunk-thick legs down on his chest. Gritting his teeth, Guts sank his blade through the apostle's leg and began pressing back up. Seeing Guts overpower a titanic apostle, a gang of smaller ones joined in, raking their claws against his armor, stomping him down and trying to suffocate him as he proved to not feel the pain of their attacks.

Breaking his arm free, Guts wildly began swinging Dragonslayer all around him, attempting to clear the circle that had been formed around him. He bisected and cleaved many of their numbers in two with just a single swing of his sword. And they still kept piling on.

It was clear that they knew that they were going to die by his sword, they had fear in their various eyes, but the fear of Guts was pale in comparison to the one they held for their demonic prince. The more they piled on top of him, the more Guts continued to carve away at their ranks. There was not a single space on Dragonslayer which had not been painted red.

Even in the heat of battle, it seemed that a minute had passed, yet it had only been in the span of a few seconds. Getting back fully to his feet, Guts saw the White Hawk descend down upon Casca, his saber raised in the air.

"Get off!" Guts went to trudge through the pile of corpses he had created as more bore down upon him in the process, trying to drag him back down. Casca raised her blade to defend herself from the coming blow, but it wouldn't be enough.

And oddly enough, the prince stayed his blade. His light eyes boring down into her dark ones with a pensive look about them. His hesitation almost cost him.

Casca moved her sword forward, looking to impale the demon through any gap or chink in his armor. She never found one. In the time it took for Casca to gather her senses, her opponent had been faster. He met her attack and with a circular motion knocked the sword from her grasp, effectively disarming her.

Raising his saber for the killing blow, the white knight struck. His blade cutting through the armor of Sir Azan's back as he repaid Casca's previous action.

"Aggh!" Guts heard the older knight make as the blade cut through his flesh. Casca had little time to help support the wounded knight as the mounted blade made ready to strike again.

Knowing how he would attack, Casca had to let Azan fall to pick up her own fallen sword. When their swords did meet, the impact sounded much louder than it should've. Casca was trying to push her blade forward, both hands gripping the hilt. He held his saber perfectly fine with one hand, not budging in the slightest from her efforts.

Deciding to break the lock, he swung his leg from his saddle and aimed a kick to Casca's face. Left with no choice, Casca had to yank her sword away to cross her arms in front to act as a shield. When his leg did make contact, Casca had to dig her armored heels into the stones to keep from falling over; and even then he stumbled back much farther than she should've.

At that point, it didn't seem to matter how many apostles were piling on top of him, all that mattered was getting over there, to put an end to this - to him. His whole armored body seemed to condense in on itself before bursting back out again. Heads, legs, arms, chunks of flesh, just about any part there was, was sent flying outward as Guts hopped and clawed his way across the battlefield.

He was the darkest of shadows when he appeared next to the white horse. The rider had yet to even look away from Casca to see what was about to happen. And by some miracle of divine intervention, the horse panicked, moving on its own accord and taking the hit to its neck. Its head fell with a squirt of blood in disgrace for its service. The rider moved with all the grace of a circling falcon, his feet not even skimming the ground as he moved by Guts' flank.

If he had not had partial control over the Berserker Armor, he would have taken the hit. His enhanced strength and reflexes allowed him to bring Dragonslayer back around to meet the attack with his own. The massive hunk of metal did not just pass right through the sword, however. It held its own against the tempered metal with the ease of bread cutting through butter.

And it was here that Guts got a close up look at him, his single brown eye glaring with intensity at the cool blue behind that helm. He almost wanted to think that nothing else mattered at this moment. 'Kill him!' That this is all he ever wanted. 'Release me!' The world around them could disappear right now and he wouldn't mind. 'Now! Do it! Give in!'

And he would be wrong.

For all his strength, all the power of his armor, his skill with a sword, there was no avoiding the truth. He would not be able to win this fight.

"You are a struggler, do as you do." "Be better, Guts."

They had been right, both of them.

As he held his Dragonslayer against Neo-Griffith's blade, Grunbeld had advanced up the tower steps, their forces taking shelter. The flame dragon reared up on his hind legs, fire-spewing out from his maw as he slammed his front legs on the tower, shaking it with his might. Casca was assisting Azan back to his feet, fending off lesser apostles and moving to swipe at the White Hawk from his blind side.

With an almost sixth sense, he evaded her attack. Stepping back from the lock he had with Guts, Griffithblocked her blade once again and advanced on her.

Once again, Dragonslayer was thrown through the air with the ease of a throwing knife. And once again, Griffith was a ghost the way he evaded the attack. Guts rushed forward, picking up his sword and taking a stance in front of Casca; a ring of apostles began to surround them.

The White Hawk made no change in expression. His eyes remained cool, maybe not even slipping to its true crimson color.

He spoke.

"Do you finally see it? That dream?"

---

No sooner had those words left Griffith's mouth Harry was upon him.

He seemed to have forgotten the fact that Griffith was taller than him, that they both had swords at their sides, that he would probably be outnumbered if and when the others joined in. All he could seem to focus on now was hitting every square of skin Griffith had exposed. Having to keep a hand wrapped around his neck to steady himself, Harry brought his fist back and out, back and out in rapid succession intent on making the white-haired man feel as much pain as possible.

'Harry!' a familiar voice called his name. He didn't listen. All he wanted to do was to continue to hit Griffith, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain he had caused everyone else.

'Shut up!' Harry yelled, but not at the one who called him. He had always had a silver tongue about him, one he didn't want to listen to. 'Shut up!'

He could feel his eyes start to sting as his arm started to tire. A hand found its place on his shoulder. Lowering his head, he turned to see Schierke and Farnese standing there, their two short escorts waiting back by the other two. Schierke was looking at him with confused concern, shaking her head lightly and attempting to give his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Harry?" he heard Griffith speak again. Not wanting to look at his former commander, Harry forced his head to turn and saw that Griffith did not have a scratch on him. His face was as smooth and flawless as it had been before, no bruises or cuts at all. "Are you alright?"

He felt torn, his stomach feeling akin to a straight cliff while his head was swimming in confused anger. He wanted to just give in to Schierke's comforting touch, he wanted to go back to see if he could hurt Griffith, he wanted to just get out of here completely, go back and help Casca, Guts and all the rest outside. He wanted... he wanted... -ooooo-

"I see that the two of you are well... acquainted," Gunderic strode into the tent, standing between the two of them. "It isn't like me to make mistakes, but I was under the impression that these were your companions. Have you proved me wrong?"

'We're his companions, mister Gunderic,' Schierke found her voice to speak. 'Just us.'

"Just you?" he parroted. "Hm. Well, Sir Griffith, it appears that your memory is becoming as faulty as the rest of ours."

Griffith glanced at the taller man before looking back to Harry. "I don't believe so, your Majesty. I remember quite well. This is a person serving in my Band of the Hawk. Although... he does seem much more mature than I recall. How much time hs passed after I was brought here to recover from my torture?"

The world seemed to have shrunk and shattered in front of Harry's face. '...What?'

"Oh, that long?" Griffith asked with a nervous child laugh. "I hope no one else has forgotten about me either, I doubt Casca has." Schierke's hand was the only thing keeping him from jumping on Griffith again. "At the very least, I know Charlotte hasn't." Gunderic looked down at him.

"I presume that you don't dare to make any inappropriate insinuations about my many times great-grandniece," he didn't say it as a question.

"You presume correctly," Griffith assured the taller man.

The noblewoman politely giggled. "I admire your defensiveness for a girl whom you're never going to meet."

"She is of my blood and none of your concern. And she does not concern our new arrivals here." Gunderic brought the topic back to them. "Would either of you two care to fully explain where you found these two young ladies?" he directed his question to the two shortest men in the space.

A plump man dressed in clothing befitting a jester spoke first. "Young Lady Vandimion came to me in the court. I thought her of higher standing and bid her not to be seen lingering for too long. When she pointed out that there was no court, my mind started to become clearer and I bid that we make haste here."

"Yes! The same happened to me as well!" a man with small, watery eyes hidden behind a pair of large glasses piped up. His white hair was short but wild, sticking up in every direction. "Young Miss Schierke found me tinkering away in the workshop. When I suspected her of being a witch, I bid her to help me complete some of my projects. But there weren't any. I had just been alone. We arrived at the same time as the others."

Gunderic brushed a strand of hair back behind his ear. "Curious, but to be expected."

Seeing that Harry might explode if he spoke, Farnese asked, 'Pardon me, but what is to be expected? What is this place?'

"Dear lady, you came here yourself, you should know quite well what this place is."

'This is... part of the Abyss,' Schierke answered, her hand still on Harry's shoulder, unsure if it was having any effect on him -oooo-

"That it is," the tinkerer piped up.

'But... all of you are dead,' she said as bluntly gentle as she could be. 'You're all from different points in time. The only way you should all be in the same place at once is if- ooooo-'

"Yes," Gunderic nodded, understanding what she was implying. "This is hell - our hell."

The icy feeling swept upon the three of them with force of a blizzard and the subtlety of an assassin's knife.

'We're in... hell right now?' Farnese asked, hoping one of them would say something to contradict it, that one of her teachers would say something to disprove it.

"One aspect of it, yes," Gunderic evenly replied. "We all experience the memory fragments as you've borne witness to. This place will let us remember and imagine certain points in our times right before we arrived here. We're more prisoners of our minds and hearts than to this place." He cast his mesmerizing glance over to Griffith. "Do you remember now why this young man has such a grievance against you? I implore you to think deeply."

Griffith had always been an expert when it came to masking his intentions, but Harry thought he saw one of those cracks make an appearance. "...Oh. That's right. You were there that day. You, Casca, Guts... are they...?"

'They're alive,' Schierke answered for him. 'Although, if Guts were here this conversation would not be taking place.'

~~-ooooo-~~

"Ah... I see." Griffith was silent after that, perhaps trying to recall more. "The last I remember was thinking those two words and then... I was floating down to here. Trinkets, like the one I once had, were being formed from my tears and floating up as I went down. And then there was-," Griffith brought a hand to his chest.

Thum

"...And then I was here."

No. There had to be more than that! So what if Griffith doesn't even know what happened during that damn eclipse, he was still the cause of it! Him, the rest of them too - they had all made their choices, they made their sacrifices.

'And you deserve it,' Harry quietly said for all to hear. They were all looking at him. 'All of you deserve this. The world is the way it is now because of the choices you made, the lives you bargained with. So keep on forgetting and remembering that you're stuck here. The fact that you actually seemed decent at one point in time makes it more fitting.'

Ba-Thum

Gunderic's expression did change, but not how Harry had been expecting. "We all deserve this?" one of his six fingers pointed to a corner of the tent where barrels were stacked. "Would you say the same for him?"

Something shifted behind the barrel and an eye was clearly visible, peering at them with curiosity. A hand poked out followed by feet, and then, a whole little body with long, black hair and dressed in a white nightgown.

'...Gaiseric,' Harry looked at the kid.

"Gaiseric?" Gunderic repeated. "No. I assure you he is not my brother. He resembles my nephews more than anything."

'No,' Farnese corrected. 'That's...the name his mother gave him.'

Seeing the familiar faces, he began to trot over to the mages, looking at Griffith a bit warily but made no pause in his pace. When Harry touched his shoulder, he was surprised to feel he felt more solid than Griffith had.

'Where... how did he get here?' Schierke had to wonder.

"He just showed up at one point, popped right in, yes he did," the jester laced his fingers and nodded his head.

"I've tried teaching him what words I can when he's here," Gunderic added. "It has proven to be an irregular occurrence."

'He disappears once a month,' Schierke filled in the gap.

"Time is irrelevant here," reminded Gunderic. "For you, it may be once a month, here it might seem close to an hour, a second, a day; he is here or he is not."

"He showed up just a babe at first," the noble lady added. "Malnourished and clinging to life, but he only grew stronger over time." That must be the connection he had to Femto.

"But that is not what makes him unique," the tinker voiced his peace of mind.

"Indeed," Gunderic nodded. "Unlike us, he is not bound to this hell as we are. Just his ability to come and go is proof of that. He knows the way."

Harry looked at young Gaiseric and back to the de-facto leader. 'Why are you telling us this? You know exactly why we're here, don't you? You've known all along. Us being here undermines the whole plan of merging the astral layers into one. How do we know that this isn't just another illusion?'

Gunderic didn't even seem too deep in thought. "What does the pounding in your chest say to you? Does it hit the same beat as mine, or has your mind cut the strings attached?" he stared at him, his gaze not faltering in the slightest.

"You ask if this is all just an illusion," the high lady added.

"Yet you ask the wrong question," the tinker chimed in.

"How can we be sure that you all are not just figments of our minds?" the jester added in. "How do we know it is you who is not as you appear?"

Griffith spoke next. "I can only vouch for Harry here. I have no memory after what happened that day and he speaks of knowledge that I do not possess."

"And I for our young Miss Schierke," Gunderic said much to the witches surprise. "Do not appear so dumbfounded. Your attire is far too similar to a person I recall. And as for your Lady Farnese... he seems to recognize all of you." The youngest among them stood off to the side of Farnese's leg, staring up at her with fascination. "I do not know if it possible to accomplish your goal, but I suspect he can lead the way." He looked directly at Harry. "You said your mission would undermine my plan. If you were to fail, you'd be no better than us."

"Trapped in a cage," the highborn lady said.

"A lowly servant," the jester bowed.

"Unable to progress," the tinker chattered with his teeth.

"Failing to see the end of the road and what awaits on the other side," Griffith spoke.

"Just slaves," Gunderic concluded with darkened eyes -ooo- "I can guarantee you nothing. Stay true to yourselves if you can, maybe something will be different."

Harry felt a tug on his hand and looked down to see young Gaiseric tugging on his hand. 'You know?'

'Mag...ic,' Gaiseric quietly uttered the one word and pointed to the tent flap. The outside space seemed to have gone completely and instead of an expansive white, it was now pitched black. 'Deep...'

So, this was it. This was the extent of where they had to go. The magic staff hanging from his back seemed so much heavier now than it had ever weighed before. Schierke and Farnese were both staring forward as well, their expressions matching his as they realized the path they had to take. Young Gaiseric moved forward, pulling the flap aside for them to cross through.

"Harry," Griffithcalled before anyone could take another step. "You don't have to answer me, but I'd like to know... the sacrifice I made, the lives that were stolen, did they matter?"

His voice was even, but the desperation was clear in his eyes.

'Griffith... if you actually have to ask me that, keep on dreaming about that castle.'

He didn't watch to see how Griffith reacted; he linked his arm with Schierke's and hers to Farnese as they crossed through the threshold Gaiseric led them through.

And it was a whirlwind.

WHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSOOOOOOOOOSSOOOOOOOSOOSOOSOOOOSOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

He was in a river, surrounded on all sides by the rapid, eccentric beating of the currents.

~~WWWHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The hurricane, twister, and tsunami were all raging all around him at once, making his ears go deaf to any noise outside of that ungodly torrent.

He called out to Schierke. He called out to Farnese.

His voice was instantly drowned out.

He dared not open his eyes, fearful of the storm that he would see and the horrors it would bring.

WWHHWWHHWHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSOOOOOOOOSSSSSOOOOOOSSOOOOSSSOOOOOSOSOSSOSSOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

He could feel his whole world being warped, twisted by this otherworldly force rampaging around them right now. He wanted to shout for it to stop, to call upon some spell to get them out of here, bring them back to the physical world, to just make this all end.

"You Can'T"

Harry wanted to bring a hand up to his chest as he felt his heart about to burst.

BA-Thump!

WWWWHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The current had lessened now, but the pulling of the cyclone had him feeling they were still going down.

His eyes shot open as he felt another pang in his chest.

Ba-Thump!

"Do you feel it?"

WWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The invisible basin that they were in kept on spiraling down. Down Down.

Down.

Ba-Thump!

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

He was fading. They all were.

Schierke, Farnese... tiny specks from their forms were slowly falling off of their luminous bodies, becoming lost to the circular spiral of chaotic harmony around them. And he was no different.

Ba-Thump!

WWWHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

And he saw it.

Right there in the middle of the cyclone, they were in the eye of it now.

It was no eye, but another.

Ba-Thump!

A shape that they all had, binding them together closer than any hand or blood.

Ba-THUMP!

As he gazed upon it, he knew it could not be real.

"Only what your little mind can comprehend."

It was more of an idea than anything.

BA-THUMP!

But he knew.

BA-THUMP!

'...G...'

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

'...O...'

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

'...d...'

BA-Thump!

Ba-ThUmP!

Ba-Thump!

BA-Thump!

Ba-Thump!

"Ba-Thump"

---

A/N: And the final fight commences. Sorry taking so long with this chapter, vacation kind of got in the way and it was a real challenge as I wanted the Abyss scenes to feel as if nothing is really as it seems and that you don't know what is fully going on. Anyway, until next time. Thankyou for reading.