"It had, indeed, been a long night for everyone, but all nights must come to an end as surely as the dawn. When the sun finally rose, it brought with it a brand new day.

So, like, I totally meant for the delay. For... drama reasons.

*looks awkward*

... okay, I didn't die or anything but there was an accident a while back and I hurt my arms pretty bad then by the time I recovered, school was back and, well... I had a bad time, basically. I really am very sorry for the delay!

Everything looked so much brighter in the morning—especially right before breakfast time, when the sun was just beginning to make its ascent, new sunshine streaming in from the open windows and brightening the inn and all its inhabitants. At this time of day, you could almost smell the breakfast in the air. After all the events that had led up to the reunion-turned-drinking-party the night before, the sight of the new, calm day filled Hawk with more than a little contentment as he awoke from his place at the Boar Hat's tavern area. Rising, he stretched once, just to hear that satisfying 'crack!', before banging open the largest window, and announcing a hearty greeting for all of the world to hear, loudly enough to startle birds into flight:

"Good morning!"

And, immediately, his morning greeting is met with the groans, grumbles, and disgruntled mutters of the many victims of the drinking games of the night before, once proud, noble warriors and now just bodies strewn amidst the tavern area of the Boar Hat, from their Ban snoring as he dangled from his ankle from one of the hanging lamps, to Hendrickson grumbling and clutching at his head even as he dozed beneath the bar, to even Arthur splayed out over the bar itself, Cath gnawing at his air, the king of Camelot determinedly cuddling with a half-drained bottle of what smelled like Gloucester wine. These were the people those weird time-traveling doppelgangers (and that still boggled Hawk, even now) were trusting to save their future. These people.

It was so tragic that Hawk couldn't help but sigh. "Geez, guys! It's morning!" he squeals, though that only serves to make most groan and cover their ears. "Up and at it! We've all got a busy day ahead of us so let's get started!"

The only response he gets is from their Ban, whose ankle had merely loosened from where it had been hooked over a lamp, leading to him falling flat on his face, right into a puddle of sick (King's, if Hawk was remembering correctly). Despite this, he was still quite clearly far from awake.

"Elaine," Ban was murmuring, muffled but still obviously giggly. "So rough~"

From the bottom of his heart, Hawk sighs once more, absolutely disgusted. "Geez!" He trots over to the fallen Sin and starts pulling him by the scruff of his shirt to somewhere at least a little more sanitary. "As usual, I'm the only useful one around here," he declares into Ban's shirt collar, though there's a hint of a smile on his face even as he says that. "Honestly!"

He drags him to a spot below an open window and leaves him there in the sunlight, sunbeams leaving odd shadows on Ban's sharp, sick-streaked face. He doesn't stir. "Geez," Hawk mutters. He's smiling. "You guys are dumb."

He can't help the affection from his tone. While, normally, having over a dozen dumb drunks stinking up the place would've been absolutely infuriating at the least, but right now, Hawk found that he didn't mind quite as much as he probably should've. Even when they were like this, he was happy to see them. It meant they were alive. It meant they were there. For all that he didn't like having the Boar Hat reeking of sick, ale, and Meliodas' cooking, it also meant they'd had cause to celebrate the night before, and that all of the bodies lying around the bar were just people sleeping off the hangovers and not pin-cushioned corpses. For that reason, just this once, he was happy they were all there, even if they were like this.

Not that he'd ever say it, of course.

"We have a long day ahead!" he declares. "Up and at it! C'mon, Gilthunder!" he says, trotting over to the pink-haired knight, once an enemy feared and respected during their journey to find the Sins, now slumped facedown as he drooled onto what had been a tin of fish pie. "You're going to be heading the expedition later, remember?! You, and Howzer, and Gilfrost!"

"A-and me, too, S-Shir Piggy," a faint, still relatively unfamiliar voice slurred from the corner, coming from the creatively named silver-clad knight as he slowly pulled himself chin first onto a chair. "Don't forget 'bout me sho shoon..."

"Yeah! And that new Silver guy, too!" He nudges Gilthunder with his snout. "Up and at it!"

"Mrblgrfl," was Gilthunder's eloquent reply. "Mrbrl."

At this, Hawk finally just sighs, sniffs, then trots past him to reach where Hendrickson was dozing.

"Up and at it, Hendy! You're going to be with Elizabeth, remember, so get up and get moving!"

In response, Hendrickson turned over onto his back and snored. Loudly, almost proudly, and definitely stinkily.

A veteran of dealing with hungover customers, Hawk recoils to the opposite end of the room, ears clasped over his snout. "Oh, come on," he squeals. "Rude!"

When even that doesn't get a reply, he heaves another sigh, the weight of the world (and all the dumbasses he called allies inside it) heavy on his back. Well, since Merlin said she was going to teleport him and Elizabeth directly to Istar, he supposed Hendrickson sleeping in wasn't too big a deal. And, anyway, since Elizabeth'd had to help heal their Meliodas' injuries after that future Ban had brought him up, it wasn't like she wasn't getting any practice with her druid powers. Even if that practice involved Meliodas getting a lot more handsy than a patient getting a healing session had any right to be, to his eternal frustration.

Then again... Elizabeth might actually like—

He gags as he forcibly puts the thought away from his mind. Nopenopenope, he was not going to think about that, he wasn't even going to consider it, the fact that Elizabeth might—

Might...

... Could it really be true?

Could she really like it when—

Could Elizabeth actually be...

Was she actually just as big a pervert as he was?!

Yeah, no, he was not going to think about that.

Anything was better than thinking about that.

"Damn, that was some party last night..."

He perks up at the voice, the blessedly sober-sounding voice. "Ban!" he exclaims. "You're up!"

The Ban from the future had just sauntered down the steps, still dressed in the clothes he'd been wearing the night before, save for the lack of apron, looking tired but alert and mercifully sober.

Come to think of it, for all that he talked about having a good time and kept prodding at people to take more drinks... did he drink at all last night? He'd left the party pretty early, didn't he and—

"Mooornin', Master~" he greets him, as the Ban he knew always did. Though he seemed a bit distracted as he went over to the kitchen, sidestepping all the people still lying unconscious without bothering to comment. "Guess I went kinda overboard last night," he mutters, surveying the pantry critically. "Not much left for breakfast. And we don't exactly have any leftovers left, eh, Master?" The last words were aimed at him, an easy smirk pulling at a corner of his mouth. "Still, got any requests?"

He can't help his delighted squeal. "You're making breakfast?!"

He might've thought the whole 'reunion drinking party' idea of those time travelers was absolutely, positively frivolous—because of course it was, how could they be thinking of drinking when everything was as unbelievable as it was! For all they know, some people might've just forgotten everything in the morning and they'd have to explain everything again, just because they couldn't resist the urge to party now that they had the chance

But!

... the food really had been absolutely delicious. Even better than their Ban's. He hadn't even known that was possible but it was. And it was delicious.

"Who else?" Ban flashes him a smirk, baring his fangs, as he grabbed—Snatched—his apron with one hand and started prepping pots and pans with the other. Ban might be a bandit and one of the best fighters in all of Britannia as a member of the Seven Deadly Sins (excluding himself and his Mama of course!) but as far as Hawk was concerned, the kitchen was the battlefield where he really shined. "Don't see anyone else rushing to make it. Nice shades, by the way," he adds off-handedly. "Merlin's, right? The Captain told me he'd had her give you a little something."

He can't help but preen. "Cool, right?" he asks, adjusting them so that they caught the light. It was a pair of sweet new goggles, with dark lenses set in round, bronze frames, one fitted with his old Balor's Power Eye and a whole bunch of other neat new features. Apparently, with him wearing them and keeping watch, the Demon clan would never be able to spy on them again. Which was awesome—though since even just the Power Eye feature was busted, he wasn't super keen on trying out all of the other features just yet, at least not until he's gotten her to check on them. He's not too sure how it broke but it did, somehow. Otherwise, that second Ban would be—

Nah, it had to be broken. It just had to be! That weird second Meliodas having low power levels was one thing but that weird second Ban having a power level like that was just...

Yeah, it had to be broken, he was sure of it! There was just no way anyone could get numbers anywhere near that ridiculous. Honestly, he doubted even his Mama could get power levels that ridiculously high. He's pretty confident in his own power levels (as he should) but even he isn't naive enough to believe his could be a number anywhere near—

—A-anyway, the goggles looked really cool and since he was already unbeatable without them, he's sure that he'll be super-unbeatable with them, once Merlin got the bugs worked out.

"They look great," that Ban drawls, though his eyes were fixed on the ingredients he'd grabbed. He'd forgotten to give him any requests, come to think of it, but Ban had already started preparing to cook—that was fine, though, if it was Ban, he could make anything taste good. His hands moved deftly as he worked, dicing onions, tomatoes, and garlic without a hint of hesitation. "M-M-M-M-Miiiild~" he was singing as he readied to cook. "Gooooood night, my precious little brother~"

Suddenly, his eyes were burning. He squints before adjusting the goggles over his eyes. "Yeah, they're pretty cool. By the way, I think that's way too many onions! They're making me cry! And what's with that song, it's seriously lame!"

Ban stops singing, stops chopping ingredients, and he almost wants to say he didn't mean for him to actually stop. "Y'think so, huh?" For a moment, there's a sort of tension in his shoulders but then—"That just means you need to listen to it some more! Really let it sink into your head, eh?"

He groans "Stop!" but it's too late, Ban was now bellowing the song at the top of his lungs, to the grumbling of their many, still-hungover friends still laying around the bar as they finally started to rise from their stupors, the (terrible) singer's own counterpart included, that stupid, lame song ringing in their ears. It was enough to make a guy cry and he was already crying enough from the onions as it is (stupid goggles didn't even stop onion juice, he was definitely getting them looked at). "C'mon, stop that!" he protests. "Ban!"

Of course, Ban ignores him.

Still, singing aside, he was absolutely sure of one thing.

Today was going to be a great day!

"Okay so, drinking is... a bad idea. Have to—urp!—remember that..."

Once again, the wall somehow manages to lurch away from her desperate, grasping hands as the floor seemed to rise up behind her as she tried to take a step forward. She wasn't feeling well. The world was spinning, her head was pounding, and her stomach was—oh, to put it mildly, protesting, doing flips every time she tried to do so much as breathe. All she wants to do is lie down, close her eyes, and possibly find a way to bury herself somewhere where neither light nor sound could possibly reach—but even though the floor looked really, very, incredibly comfortable right now, she forces herself to stay on her feet and keep looking. The restrooms, where were the restrooms again? And... where was she?

Oh, right, she was at the in the Boar Hat's third floor, amnesia aside, she does remember that much and she was here because—

Because...

"Urp—!"

The air was filled with the scent of sick once more.

To put it mildly, Diane was not having a good day.

(She was not alone in this)

She feels sick, thirsty, dizzy, and everything hurts. The sun, the noise, the air—everything. Even though she, as the Sins' one (and only) giant, could manipulate the earth as easily as anything, the ground still kept swaying and lurching beneath her feet no matter what she did—and she tried a lot in trying to get it to stop. A lot.

... In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to try and use her powers while inside an inn on top of a giant pig, that was on top of a stone castle, that was in the middle of a bustling kingdom filled with buildings made primarily out of stone. She didn't mean to crater all of those towers but...

Well, Merlin fixed the damage when she came back after she'd teleported Gilthunder's group off on their tasks, so no harm done, right?

Right?!

Her amnesia really is troublesome...

But, somehow... hangover was even worse.

She needed help.

She needed—

"King...?" she calls out, as loud as she could manage through her dry mouth and the way her ears ring even at the sound of her own voice. "Where are you?"

She stumbles trying to get up onto the stairs but manages to cling to the railing before she could fall to the floor, forehead instead smacking hard against the wall. "Kiiing?" she calls out once more, words coming out muffled and miserable as she spoke into the wall. The blessedly-cool wall that had just damnably bruised her already aching head. "Where are you?"

"... not so loud..."

The words are a whisper but it's enough to make her ears ring—not that that's an achievement. She creakily manages to turn her head in the direction of the voice, that wonderfully familiar voice, one she'd come to hear quite a bit over the course of everyone trying to help her with her memories... yesterday? The night before that? The day before that? How long has it been again?

"King?" she finds herself calling out to ask. "Is... is that you...? I could... ugh... really use some help..."

"S-sorry, Diane, it's only me... I'm sorry to disappoint."

She stops. The room, however, does not. "Oh... Escanor," she says, blinking. "I didn't ... see you..."

Escanor was slumped against the far side of the room, a great big bottle cradled against his chest, and, at her words, he slid further down onto the floor, dead-eyed. "It's alright, Diane," he says faintly, eyes unfocused. "That's understandable. Why in the world would anyone notice someone as insignificant as myself... "

"... are... you okay?"

He only looks back at her, tears in his eyes. "Did you hear what she said?!" he wails. "Oh, Merlin. That I ever thought I could have a chance with someone as incredible as you... "

She flinches, both at the words and how they rang in her skull. "I... didn't hear what she said..." she just barely manages. "Wh-what did she tell you?"

"She told me—" he sniffles, loud and hard, into his already wine-soaked cuff. "That she was going with Arthur to personally see Camelot, once she was done teleporting Lady Elizabeth and the others to where they need to be—and would like to know why?!" He doesn't wait for a response, his next words coming out as a distressed whisper. "Because he means the world to her..."

Without another word, he lifts the bottle—whiskey, by the smell of it—to his lips and chugs like a starving baby, all while tears continued to streak down his cheeks.

"Oh, Escanor..." She isn't sure what to say and to hear that Merlin, of all people, had said such a thing... as happy as she was that Merlin had found someone, looking at Escanor, she couldn't help but feel sympathetic. "... Y-you shouldn't drink so much..."

She said it as kindly as she could manage but it only makes him sob and doesn't make him stop. "I know," he wails. "I'm pathetic. But I need it, or else I..."

"But it won't help you. Not really..." It takes everything she has given the way the floor was swaying beneath her feet but she manages to shuffle her way to him all the way over on the other side of the room, leaning to the wall for support, managing to sit down next to him and carefully, almost daintily, prying the bottle from his hands. He doesn't struggle. Despite its size, the bottle feels terribly light. She tries to hope that it was one of the bottles they'd all shared as a group but, given Escanor's state, she can't quite manage to make herself believe it. "D-do you want to talk about it?"

"N-no. I kn-know L-Lady Merlin deserves to be happy but I just... I'm just stupid and selfish and useless..." Then he sighs, and it is heartfelt, lovelorn, and so very weary that despite having barely interacted with him these past few days, despite her only other memories of him being what Gowther had projected into her skull via his Broadcast during that long day before, Diane wants to go on over, give him the biggest hug, and tell him he was being silly, of course Merlin didn't think of him as useless or stupid or whatever other awful words he was using to describe himself—

—But he was already talking again before she could gather up the words to say.

"You have to understand, too, you were in love with the Captain," he was saying, babbling, really, words coming out in a slurred rush. "B-back then and even now, I'm sure, but he's got Lady Elizabeth and it's just—I'm happy for him b-but... y-you know how I feel, don't you?"

"I-I don't know if I can call it 'love'," she manages, though she can only barely hear herself speak through the landslide of words coming from his mouth. "I can't even—I don't even remember anymore, and seeing how much Elizabeth feels about him, I don't... think I feel the same as I used to and, I um..."

"Oh, of course," Escanor says faintly. "Your memories, I forgot, I'm so sorry, Diane, I'm just so stupid and useless and worthless and why did I ever think that someone like Lady Merlin would ever consider someone like me for—"

"D-don't say that!" Diane tries, through the ringing in her own skull, though Escanor, now huddled in a fetal position and obviously lost in a world of his own making, couldn't seem to hear her. "It's not true at all! In fact, I think you're wonderful! I... I know it must be hard but... I think that... no, I know that..." she hesitates. "As long as... as long as the person I love is happy, I'd be happy, too, e-even if it's not... with me. I... If Merlin really does think that way about Arthur then..."

His eyes well up with tears once more. "You're so selfless...! Y-you're right, of course. And Merlin... Lady Merlin deserves the love of a king... and if he makes her happy then I should just—should just—!"

When he bawls, this time, it's into her arms, with her doing her best to comfort him through her own aches and pains, murmuring steadily, soothingly, into his ear as he sobbed. And while he does... she can't help but think...

It was really weird, actually. Going by all of the memories Gowther's shown her, she used to have the hugest crush on Meliodas... but, somehow, she really doesn't feel that way about him now. He was very dear to her, both for the memories she's had of him before and after Gowther and Elizabeth's help but, romantically, she just didn't...

She just didn't.

Maybe it was for the better. Not once has she suspected that he might actually return her feelings and it was absolutely obvious to the her of today that Elizabeth, her best friend, was in love with him and that he absolutely reciprocated with all of his hearts (all seven of them) but at the same time...

It made her uneasy. Were her feelings really so shallow that a little memory loss could erase it all? Every single trace?

And...

Why was it that she felt so... strongly about King these days if she'd truly been in love with the Captain?

Then, suddenly, while Escanor was still sobbing in her arms

"Blackout Arrow."

—and he fell unconscious, face-first, onto the floor, slumping against the wall before she could so much as say a word.

Over them both, Gowther was standing, fingers still smoking from the attack.

"Gowther?! What the—why did you do that?!" she shrieks, gaping openly at him as he lowered his extended fingers, his Sacred Treasure, Harlot, dematerializing as he did.

"It will be noon soon," Gowther says simply. Without any seeming remorse, he bent to pick up Escanor, hoisting him easily onto his back so that Escanor's head was lolling on his shoulder. Despite the size difference, Gowther barely seemed to notice the weight. "This is standard procedure for us as the Sins. It would be dangerous if Escanor were to rampage. Much less after drinking so much. We cannot afford to wait until the last minute without Merlin's Power Amplify."

"S-still..." Her head was still spinning. "I wanted to talk to him some more..."

"I believe you will have the opportunity," Gowther informs her, head tilting to one side. "The Captains have called for a meeting later this evening. Perhaps you can continue your conversation then, once the Captains finish explaining everything."

Her head spun even more. "What...?"

He tilts his head to the other side this time. "According to the future Ban, the explanation yesterday was merely the 'tip of the iceberg'. We Sins will be getting the full explanation. It's quite unusual, really."

There was even more...?

"We have a very long evening ahead of us," Gowther says. He sounded neither pleased nor displeased about it. Escanor was sound asleep in his arms, seeming without a care in the world now that he was unconscious. "It will be fascinating, I'm sure."

Her head was still spinning, she still felt sick, and she still doesn't really understand yesterday's explanation, much less the look in Gowther's eyes as he said those enigmatic last words. Thinking about it, she didn't even understand her own feelings.

... This was going to be a very long day.

Today was an absolutely awful day!

The sun was bright, too bright, even with their newest companion, Silver, using healing magic to help with the remnant hangovers, the Valley of Fossils was a sweltering hell-hole, and, of course, the giant, gods-damned dragon.

Howzer curses as he just barely manages to sidestep the lash of its enormous, spiked tail, hastily gathering magic into the tip of his javelin just as Gilthunder did the same with his sword from far behind it, before letting it explode with a cry:

"Rising Tornado!"

"Purge of the Thunder Emperor!"

Their magic surges forward, colliding, and clashing to form their combined technique Dragon Castle, a black storm of a tornado large enough to engulf the whole of the dragon and then some, Gilthunder's lightning crackling as it scorched at the beast entrapped in their 'Castle' even as his winds tried to tear the damned dragon apart—

—but all it takes is a beat of its wings and an all-too-powerful smack of its tail and their storm disperses into nothing, the dragon emerging into the skies, scales blackened but seemingly undamaged, raising its head to roar into the skies, the sound enough to send him staggering even before taking into account how the dragon then looked down at them, the gathered knights (and one mage), before honing on him, great red eyes filled with hate.

... This was not a good day for them.

"Freeze Coffin!"

He doesn't see Gilfrost as he's casting the spell but he definitely sees its effects, feels the sudden rush of cold as the spell worked to engulf the dragon all at once—

Another swing of its tail smashes that icy prison before it could fully form but, by then, their newest addition as already high in the air, sword held poised for an overhead strike.

"Purge of the Thunder God!"

A veritable pillar of lightning struck it right between its wings, Silver standing over where his sword finally pierced through the dragon's scales, and the dragon falls, grounded. For the first time, when the dragon screams, it's with a trace of agony in its voice as it thrashes about, wings sparking with lightning that seemed to be keeping them from functioning properly—

—But more than anything, it's the absolute rage in its eyes that strikes Howzer as he's propelling himself forward to try and capitalize on the moment of weakness, wind gathered around the tip of his javelin for a Breakthrough. Before his strike could land, before the technique had even been fully realized, the dragon outright grabs him in a fit of rage and tries to crush him, claws threatening to pierce through his armor from the sheer force of its grip.

"Aargh—!"

"Sword of the Thunder God!"

The sheer force of the attack is enough to outright rip through the dragon's arm, lightning-charged sword cleaving through it, bones and all, all while the force of the attacker's charge brought him a good distance away from the rest of the dragon, Howzer in the dismembered hand in tow. Still engulfed in a coat of crackling lightning, Silver cut quite an ominous figure but when he lay his hands on Howzer, it's with surprising gentleness and no pain. In fact, quite the opposite.

"Invigorate."

Comforting magic floods through his system, not erasing every ache but making them more manageable, making him feel... well, invigorated as the magic slowly worked through his veins, enough that he breaks free from the clawed hand's grip purely through his own strength. He still has no idea who Silver is or why that Meliodas insisted they take him with them but, needless to say, Howzer was pretty damn grateful that he was there for them.

"Thanks, man," he pants, wincing as he felt at the dents now marring both his armor and his weapon. He'd have to have them repaired later. "You really saved me, back there!"

Silver doesn't reply with much more than a nod before he's there, ready to strike at the dragon once more, having moved with all the speed of a lightning flash as he brought his sword up for a strike with all the crushing power of his charge. "Sword of the Thunder God!"

But, this time, having grown wary of him in particular, the dragon rears back in time to avoid the attack, unleashing a retaliatory burst of flames in the moment the silver knight's charge slowed as he skidded to a halt—

—only for Gilthunder to intercept the attack, his Heavy Armor of the Thunder Emperor crackling around him and the shield he'd donned for their mission. The fiery attack disperses upon contact with the lightning surrounding him and, with a roar, Gilthunder rushes to bash the dragon right on the snout, making it shriek in protest, before he wedges his crackling shield between its jaws, forcing them open before he then discharged the electricity forming his armor straight into its gaping maw. "Embrace of the Thunder God!"

And, for the first time since the fight began, the dragon outright screams, through the shield in its mouth, its agony all-too-apparent in its earsplitting roar as Gilthunder's lightning fried it from the inside, enough that for a few moments, he could see its insides burning brightly through the thickness of its scales, its bones set alight by the brilliance of it. Then, pained and enraged, it crunches through the shield wedged between its jaws before it lunged, to devour or to ram, Howzer didn't know, but Gilthunder leaps back before it could so, moving with the Flash Movement of the Thunder Emperor, just as Silver rushes forward, moving with the Flash Movement of the Thunder God, sword readied for another strike even while, high above Gilfrost began to bombard the dragon with elemental spells, staff flashing as he unleashed bolt after bolt of fire, ice, and lightning—

—all to no avail, as the dragon, seeming more irritated than anything at his spellwork, moved once more for Gilthunder with preternatural speed, ducking Silver's attack at the last moment before batting him aside with an almost contemptuous swing of his tail as it went for a killing blow, jaws opening wide as a ball of white flames formed from within its gaping maw—and is fired.

"Stop!" Howzer barks, lunging desperately for the dragon, though the distance was too far for his charge to breach. "Don't!"

At near point-blank range, the flames hit before anyone could intervene, not Silver, not Gilfrost, and certainly not himself, before Gilthunder could fully resummon his Heavy Armor of the Thunder Emperor. Before their horrified eyes, the fireball explodes, engulfing the Holy Knight in a screaming inferno of white-hot dragon fire—

"Gil!" Gilfrost screams, anguished. "NO!"

—But then, golden energy flickers briefly around Gilthunder like a second skin and the flames disperse, leaving Gilthunder relatively unharmed, to all their shock. It's only then that Howzer belatedly remembers that Meliodas had apparently asked Merlin to give Gilthunder some sort of protective charm. Earlier, he might've complained earlier about the Sins picking favorites but, now, it only fills him with relief as he finally reaches the dragon once more, javelin extended:

"Rising Tornado!"

His magic explodes upwards in a cage of winds, startling both the beast and the knights before it—and, once again, it doesn't do much, the dragon breaking through the whirling winds with another slam of its tail, but it buys Silver the time to charge forward with his sword, his body crackling with electricity, just as Gilfrost raised his staff in support.

"Purge of the Thunder God!"

"Power Amplify!"

Silver's lightning-charged sword slams through the dragon with enough force to crater the ground beneath its feet, even before the veritable tower of lightning that followed the strike, the ground below and around them outright glassifying from the sheer power of Silver's lightning.

Here, the dragon screams, agonized, desperate, and finally, finally, close to death, staggering backward away from them, armor-like scales disintegrating, the flesh beneath it blackened with burns, but eyes still filled with rage and hate as—

—as Jericho reappeared out onto the battlefield, a bulging sack on her back at a run as she dashed to their campsite where they'd set up a miniature safe zone with the protective charms Merlin had given them for the trip, her sword sheathed and her expression panicked as she spots both them, exhausted, and the dragon, enraged.

The dragon leaps for her, whether for the burden she bore or out of sheer desperation, he isn't sure, but he's already in motion even before it had begun to move, even through the injuries Silver's slow-acting Invigorate had yet to fully heal, moving with the wind as he aims the point of his javelin towards its blind spot, gathers all the magic he has left, and screams:

"Breakthrough!"

The blast strikes straight through its unprotected underbelly, the condensed wind magic exploding out through its back and shearing through its spine in a burst of gore before it can even scream and finally, finally, the dragon falls.

Dead.

And, exhausted, Howzer follows after, falling onto his knees and leaning on his javelin for support as he tried to catch his breath, satisfaction from the victory making him smile even through the aches that were now all-too-apparent in the absence of adrenaline from the fight, in the aftermath of Silver's healing magic wearing off. They did it. They'd won.

"... I got the apples," Jericho manages to pant belatedly, stumbling as she finally reached their enchanted tent, the sack falling from her back and spilling part of its contents all over their campsite as it did. "Th-three bushels should be enough, right?!"

"It should suffice. I'm sure that even she shouldn't be able to find anything to complain about," Gilfrost answers... frostily, as it turns out he always did when discussing anything to do with Merlin. For whatever reason, Gilfrost absolutely despised her, though Merlin, for her part, never treated him with anything less than her usual wry amusement. "... We did well."

Still exhausted, Howzer falls flat on his back and manages a cheer from his place on the ground next to the dragon's carcass. "We got the apples," he says tiredly, half-heartedly. "Yaaay."

They got the apples.

Yep.

Apples.

Rare amberapples only found deep in the ravines of the Valley of Fossils but still, undoubtedly just apples. Fruits. Three Holy Knights of Liones, an incredibly skilled mage, and an enigmatic but undoubtedly powerful druid knight and the first task Merlin had assigned them was picking apples.

When he'd first read that, he thought that collecting all the ingredients was going to be easy. It should've been easy, really, if it weren't for the fact that the Valley of Fossils was, oh, currently infested with dragons. Not just any dragons either, friggin' hourglass dragons. Some of the most ancient, magical beasts Britannia had to offer. And what did Merlin have to say for herself when she revealed that little tidbit in the microseconds before she'd teleported herself back?

"It's quite convenient, really," she had said, smiling was was, in hindsight, an extraordinarily suspicious smile. "Their heartscales will be a vital component in the spell. I trust you all should be able to handle yourselves?"

The fool he was, he'd said yes immediately. Before they'd even fully read through the list, he'd agreed. Even including the hourglass dragon heartscales, they'd barely even scratched the surface. The list went on for a good few pages.

A list that started... with picking apples protected by obscenely powerful dragons normally only hunted down by full-fledged armies of knights, going by the history Gilthunder had rattled off before the actual fight.

Followed shortly by the grisly act of butchering an hourglass dragon for its heartscales.

He hasn't read it through and through but, whatever else their quest had in store, he is not looking forward to finding out just how Merlin expected them to get the "nose hairs of a saturn titan".

Gilthunder looks at him from the corner of his eye. "Stop that," he scolds, though, to Howzer's ear, even he sounded just a bit less zealous than he usually did. "This is an important mission. The fate of Liones depends on us so take this seriously!"

"Their Liones," Howzer mutters though without any real heat as he plucks himself off the ground, picking up his javelin as he did. "I know, I know! Sheesh! You don't need to have such a stick up your ass, you know!"

He bristles. "Howzer..."

It is then that Silver coughs, making them turn to him, the sound somewhat muffled by his helmet. It's only then that Howzer realizes he's never actually seen their companion without his helmet before. "Any Liones is Liones," he says sternly. "As a Holy Knight, you are sworn to defend it! The king has personally asked us to do well in this task." Then, after a pause. "I hope you can do your duty without complaint, Howzer."

He doesn't mean to but he looks away, shame-faced and feeling very small under the weight of Silver's gaze, ears burning. "Uh... yeah, of course," he manages. "Not a problem! I was just—I'm not complaining, not at all!"

Silver only looked amused. "I thought so," he says, sounding almost fond, even wistful. "No one should ever waste time complaining while on the job, Howzer. You're a grown man now, a Holy Knight... not a child."

"Exactly!" Gilthunder, in turn, looked mollified. "Thank you," he says, briefly aiming a pointed sideways glance in Howzer's direction before turning to face Silver, expression admiring, grateful. "That reminds me, you've been an incredible help so far. You have my thanks, Sir Silver."

And, suddenly, to Howzer's bewilderment, Silver seemed almost... bashful. "Ahahah... don't mention it," he deflects, looking down. What skin could be seen through the slits in his helmet was bright red and—

'Ah.' Howzer was suddenly very irritated. 'So that's why he's tagging along. Jeez, first Vivan and now this guy—he gets all the luck!'

Then, Silver coughs once more. "Actually... Gilthunder, if we could have a moment... there's something I have to tell y—"

Suddenly, the ground quakes beneath their feet, strong enough to send the spilled fruit scattering all over the ground, enough to send Jericho stumbling flat onto her back from where she'd been approaching the dead dragon to harvest its heartscales, enough that he, Gilthunder, and Silver only managed to stay on their feet by virtue of the weapons they'd used as supports.

"Over there!" Gilfrost shouts from high above, readying his staff in hand once more. "From that cave...!"

Great beasts were emerging from the cave where Jericho had emerged with their spoils, eyes gleaming with hatred enough to prompt the knights to instinctively take battle-stances, even Jericho from her position on the ground.

They were enormous beasts enough to rival the carcass cooling by their side, with gigantic reptilian heads with crests of curving horns, armor-like scales gleaming silver in the sunlight. Sparks of white-hot flame flickered around their snouts as they spotted the burnt remains by their side. They were, undoubtedly, the brethren of the beast they'd slain. They were hourglass dragons.

An entire herd of them, in fact.

...

This was not a good day for them.

The Boar Hat was quiet in the absence of the knights but that brought Meliodas no joy. If anything, it only drew more attention to his... well, dissatisfaction.

The thought makes him sigh. As does the sight of her back turned away from him.

"Sheesh, Cap'n, any louder and you're bound to catch flies," Ban, his Ban, drawls, his bottle of Aberdeen dangling from his knuckles. "C'mon, Captain, lighten up. Everything's going as planned, right?"

"Pretty much! Gowther says he can probably manage." He tries to pull a smile and but instead has to hide his grimace with a sip of Bernia. Inexorably, his eyes are drawn to the, well, bothersome sight and, without meaning to, he sighs once more.

Now, Ban was looking at him, clear concern in his eyes. "Something the matter?"

He looks up at him once then, after a moment's thought, relents.

"I'm just not used to it," he admits, sighing great and gusty. "Her looking at someone else like that."

She was about to leave, too, as soon as Hendrickson finished packing for the trip. Merlin was going to teleport them halfway across Britannia to Istar and he wasn't going to see her for... well, maybe a day or two, but still. He was already away from his Elizabeth, that this Elizabeth was going away, too...

And she never even really looked at him, not when...

... getting jealous of yourself was stupid. (Though, luckily for him, it was already well-known that he could be a real idiot.)

Ban follows his gaze to see what would've been his room as the Boar Hat's owner through its open door and, inside, the Princess with the Cap'n, the former determinedly fussing over the latter even through his protests, fixing his pillows, proffering drinks, or even offering to help change his bandages. At a glance, he could tell the best thing for him to do now would be to just get some sleep but the Princess looked like she didn't want to leave him her sight. He couldn't blame her, of course. And, by the looks of things, the Cap'n wasn't exactly complaining.

Part of him wants to offer some form of teasing rebuttal but instead, he says: "Yeah, I getcha there," as he turned his gaze to the room where Elaine was staying with him. Not him him, the other him. And, fucking hell, what have their lives become that that shit was actually understandable?

He had his Elaine, he had to remember that. The Elaine here was not his Elaine, but his.

But it was hard.

"I know she's not my Elizabeth," he says, and there was a world of complicated feelings in his voice, joy, sorrow, wistfulness, and, above all, love. "She's... I'm not the one she's in love with. But..." and, here, he hesitates."She's Elizabeth," he says at last. "How could I not fall for her?"

"I know, Captain," he says, and there's a world's worth of weight behind the words, a depth of painful understanding. "But there's nothing we can do about it until we get home. You'd kill you. Or you'd kill you. One of you'll kill you, anyway. I know I would try. Heh, I almost have."

It doesn't change anything, not really. But somehow...

It makes him feel the tiniest bit better. "I know you're right," he says, though he has to down more Bernia before he can say it. "...You're a great friend, you know that right?"

Ban blinks at him, lowering his own drink. "What brought this on? You're being awful sappy, Captain." Despite this, his expression was more playful than confused, and his eyes were, as always, fond. "What's gotten into you?"

"I can't help it!" he says. "I'm nothing but emotions, remember! I'm nothing but sap!"

"Not like this! Are you drunk already?" Then, with an exaggeratedly dramatic gasp. "Holy shit, am I actually winning our drinking contest?!"

"Nishishi! You sure are funny, Ban—"

"S-sir Meliodas?"

Elizabeth was behind him. He hadn't noticed—he actually hadn't noticed—but she'd gone over to him as he'd been talking to Ban, who smirked wryly at him once before pointedly turning away.

"Elizabeth!" He hastily lowers his drink. "What's wrong? I thought you were just about to leave..."

"I was, Sir Hendrickson's already packed but..." she shifts uncomfortably. "Then I thought of you and... I asked Merlin for a few minutes. There's just... something I want to say to you."

As an aside, Ban then very pointedly left the room, leaving them alone together. Him and Elizabeth. Not his Elizabeth but still Elizabeth. Who was looking at him right now as if he were her Meliodas (which he was, he was always going to be hers), eyes bright, cheeks flushed, lips just slightly parted as she leaned in close and—

... In theory, as a soul made manifest, he has no physical body and, therefore, no hearts. Still, he swears he almost felt them stop as her breath misted over his face, then fall as she instead drew close to the side of his head, one warm hand wrapping around the one not holding a bottle and giving it a squeeze.

"You're Sir Meliodas to me, too," she tells him, bright-eyed. "I... "

His breath catches in his throat. "Elizabeth..."

She seems to steel herself. "I feel the same for you as I do him," she says gently. "And... I'm sure the me in your world would feel the same, if she were in your shoes. And, just so you know...!"

Her face is almost completely red as she breathes her next few words right into the shell of his ear, words the softest, quietest whisper.

"J-just like I told him, I... love it when you're... touching me... s-so, if you want... you can touch me, too."

Her face was beet-red—no, even redder. "J-just..." she swallows. Somehow, the sound makes him swallow, too. Her voice drops down to a barely audible whisper and when he nears to hear what she says next, the faint brush of her lips against the shell of his ear is enough to nearly make him shiver. "O-only when we're alone, o-okay?"

Her breath mists over his skin, warm and familiar, and he can feel his hearts hammering in his chest. It's hard to breathe. Why? Why?! They're only talking, he's not—he isn't some inexperienced kid, he's older than the very kingdom they were in, and, even if he were, he wasn't inexperienced with women—especially not with Elizabeth, of all people. And, technically speaking, he doesn't even really have a physical body, much less any hearts and how could she set them beating like that if he didn't even really have—

"B-but... I do mean it," she says, turning to face him though still unable to look him in the eye. "I meant what I said. Back then and now."

Then she stops as her face turned an even deeper shade of red as he stares at her, stunned, speechless, and awed.

"U-Um! I-I have to go!" she squeaks. "I-I'll see you later, Sir Meliodas—Sir Ban!" she adds, last-minute, with a bow in his direction as he re-entered the bar. "G-Goodbye!"

And she left him in the dust, leaving him looking after her, moon-eyed.

"Damn, Princess. Who knew she had it in her?" In contrast, Ban was smirking. "Hey, Captain," he drawls. "You're gonna catch flies."

He doesn't even hear and if he didn't, he wouldn't have even cared.

This was the best day ever!

The moon shone brightly that evening, casting Camelot aglow in moonlight. It was at night, of course, that demons were at their peak, and so it was at this time that those of the Demon Clan were at their most productive, minor demons heading everywhere this way and that under the instructions of the Ten Commandments.

All around the castle grounds were eggs. Great, gigantic eggs, littered about the grounds as far as the eye could see. Every so often, one would burst open as another of Grayroad's children were born, a fresh gray demon, another addition to their forces. No longer were there any humans on the grounds. Grayroad had seen to taking care of the recycling and, now, the only lifeforms around were the forces of the demon clan and the many who served them.

"Still, we must have more," she rasps, her voices harsh. "To utterly overwhelm, to raze everything in our paths."

"Eh, what do you think I'm doing right now?" was Gloxinia's lazy reply. Another flick of his wrist and yet more of the once primly cut topiaries of the castle grounds burst into wild, violent life, becoming yet another gnarled, monster of a foot soldier. A Cursed Vine Tree, to be precise. "See~," he says, flipping once backward through the air to settle beside his fellow Commandment with an easy smile. "They won't know what hit them."

Grayroad's empty eyes somehow looked doubtful as she turned her gaze to Drole.

He meets her gaze before closing his eye, acquiescing with a single nod. "As it stands, none of the humans should be able to withstand even the least of our forces."

Drole and Gloxinia were busy as well. Though the majority of their new forces would come from Grayroad's efforts, he and Gloxinia were tasked with bolstering their forces with all the golems they could make. Though they didn't currently have the time or energy to spare on raising new Albions, for a world as weak as that of mortal-kind, their dolls ought to easily be enough to sweep through anything Estarossa's own work left behind, assuming there were any.

Not even dolls, Gloxinia thinks dryly. Only cheap puppets. Gerheade—no one of that worthless, traitorous bastard's kind deserved to see even a picture of her, after what that useless, backstabbing monster had done.

Drole's work was less varied but just as strong. Towering golems of stone and earth, eyes flickering with dark flames, surrounded Camelot as sentries, hulking bodies enough to overshadow the castle itself. Drole's silent sentinels' mere appearance would likely deter any simple, opportunistic human. These would serve to guard their new base in the absence of the Commandments or bolster their armies or whatever else they could choose. With all of the Commandments' recovering rapidly with Peronia's help, they would soon be unstoppable.

No, more than that, they were prepared for anything he might throw at them, however many of him there were. Soon, they'd be ready for him, both of him. Soon, he would finally come to his permanent end.

The thought brought neither him nor Gloxinia any joy but, perhaps, it would bring... closure, soon, once it was through.

And it would be, Drole knew. Soon.

Then all the doors and windows of Castle Camelot slammed open as a roar resounded throughout the Camelot grounds.

It was Zeldris.

"Where the hell is Estarossa?!"

I really am sorry for the delay. I hope this makes up for it, even a little.

In case anyone here's also reading my other NNT fanfic, Oft-Sprung Surprise, that'll probably be updated next month along with this.

This'll be updated next month. Can't give a definitive date, given the events, but I'll try.

In any case, look very carefully both ways before crossing streets (not everyone follows red lights!), feedback's an excellent source of motivation, and have a nice day.