A/N: The reason this took so long to get out is that I'm posting two chapters at once, so hopefully that will make up for this lengthy delay! Again I do what I can, I write when I can and I'm blessed you all still follow! I'm even skipping NaNoWriMo this year (for the first time in like four years) just because I know I don't have the time.

I hope these live up to everyone's expectations and that the big reveals aren't too badly done (I'm not too great at those, so please forgive if written poorly lol)

As always thank you all for the immense support and please enjoy!

"I'm sorry, your highness. There was nothing more that could be done. He's gone..."

The young girl's eyes were fragile and teary. Her fresh face and her stricken expression told of her inexperience, a new apprentice to the Keep's healers. She couldn't have been out of the Magesterium more than a few months by the look of her and this seemed to be the first time she'd ever spoken to someone of noble status with how low she kept her gaze and how uncomfortably she stood in front of Momo.

"Th-thank you," Momo faltered and held her arms ever closer around her.

She had stayed close to the healers and to Genry for a time, but the healers had demanded that they leave the premises as things started to turn for the worst and nothing Momo could say was able to dissuade them. The horrors of death were as averse to her as anything and the state Genry was in was beyond disheartening, but she had one job here, one important thing to do, to stay with him, let him know that his sacrifice was appreciated and known to his Princess and yet even that small duty was ripped from her by the demand of some old Mage.

The news of his death was already weighty, but made so much worse but the enclosing walls of the glimmering prison she'd been provided with and how it kept her so far away from every one of her duties. It was obvious how on edge everyone around her was too, not just this girl. The Tarlson people were loyal to their Lord, but it was apparent how uncomfortable it made them all to restrict the movements of the future ruler of their entire Kingdom on his order.

Luckily, she was not locked away alone here, even if she was the only one in the room that was in captivity.

Tenya's arms were crossed over his chest, back to the wall as he jerked his head at the girl, teeth grit at the floor.

"You can go," he ordered.

She looked nervously between them and then with a brief bow she scrambled from sight, leaving Momo free to express her frustrations in the tight way she held herself and the vicious pace she began throughout the room. Her breaths came fast and choppy with frantic emotion and Tenya's discomfort was palpable.

"Your highness, I'm sorry," he lowered the usual rigidity that plagued his voice for her, "I'm sure this is difficult for you."

"I promised I would stay with him," Momo winced on a frustrated tear, "I-I only stayed here and listened to you because I was supposed to be by his side, but..."

"I know you made a promise, but the healer was only looking after you," Tenya tried to defend, "Death is an unpleasant thing and you are-"

"Young? A little girl? Immature? Weak? Fragile?"

Momo spat the horrible words that she had been called so many times before and stabbed her dark eyes accusingly at the Commander. His shoulders came forward, his demeanor humbled.

"I apologize, your highness..."

"Even you see me so pathetically," Momo cut a tear down her cheek.

"Of course not, I just-"

Momo's fist slammed against the wall.

Tenya's argument fell and he didn't move, just stayed quiet as she drew back her slowly bruising hand. Adrenaline dulled the pain from reaching her conscious thought and she didn't quite know what had made her do it; she'd never lashed out violently like that before. But this was not being told no by her mother or Togata teasing her too much, this was serious. A man had died and her father was in grave danger and she was stuck in this room, being demeaned again.

But maybe there was a reason for that.

Tenya watched her in the following moments of stillness as the jerking pace of her breath came back to a calmer pattern and a disheartening idea began to clarify.

The thoughts passed her lips softly, her eyes fixed on red knuckles.

"Maybe I am what I'm told I am. I've never proven anyone differently... But I want to. For once I need someone to have some faith in me; let something bad happen to me so I can know if I am so fragile."

The thoughtful turn Tenya's mouth conjured a glare from Momo. As foolish as it was, she couldn't help preparing herself to hear the same abject words she was so used to, forgetting in her insecurity about the confidence he'd placed in her throughout their time knowing each other. But that was hard to recall in the midst of so much distress and the way the men around her seemed to constantly disregard her.

Tenya pushed away from the wall and stood at the center of the room, just in front of her, but his eyes didn't lift to hers. They remained thoughtfully on the ground in front of him as she eyed his movements with scepticism.

"Someone in my position stands on a precarious edge, Momo," he explained, "Would it be a betrayal of my oath to Tarlson to ignore my Lord in preference to my King or is that the true order of things? Were my Lord and my King perfectly aligned in intent this would never be a question, but ever since I have known you I have been saddled with this burdensome thought again and again and I can only conclude that there is no correct answer. How can I truly know if I was wrong or right to leave my post at Fuyumi's side to take you here? One was an order from my Lord and the other an order from the Princess."

It was hard not to frown at the unprecedented turn of Tenya's focus. "What do you mean? I don't see what this has to do with me."

"I want you to know… I want you to understand. Understand that this is no small thing and that what I'm about to do will burden me until my dying breath. But loyalty is largely about heart and my heart lies with what is right. And this…" he gestured to the room that she was being kindly confined in under his watch, "This is not right."

The Commander tossed a wary look at the door; it was still latched and there was no sound beyond it.

Momo opened her hands, ready to let her frustration resurface in full, but then he dropped to one knee, lowering his head and resting his fist over his heart. She could do nothing but stare at the physical gesture as her lips parted and failed to speak.

"I do not denounce my loyalty to Tarlson, but I add to my oath of fealty total obedience to the ruling family of Gaetha," Tenya spoke firmly, confidently, "I vow my sword, my blood, and my life to safeguard the enthronement, protect the lives, and foster the ruling powers of my King, my Queen, their family… And most importantly, my Princess."

"Commander…"

His eyes swept up in all seriousness awaiting her response, no hesitation or uncertainty.

But Momo was not so confident.

"Why?"

Tenya lowered his head again, his expression full of severe contemplation.

"This has been on my mind since we spoke at the inn. And I do this because you deserve that faith you desire from me. I have hesitated to give you the trust you are due and I have let you believe these blatant lies about yourself. But Momo, only a person of such immeasurable strength could have made me question my oaths so often in so short a time. I realized as you said these depreciative things about yourself for the tenth time how utterly false they were, how wrong it is that others have made you begin to believe them, and how much proof of that strength I've been given in these few days."

His eyes turned up to her, softened, yet never losing their serious nature.

"Your highness, you were nearly killed three nights ago, you were badly hurt, you were put through immense pain and yet you rushed, still bleeding, to defend me and Fuyumi, to fight against all present proof for what your heart was telling you was true! You looked your attacker in the face, battled with my indecision, faced every obstacle in escaping your own home and still took this long, grueling journey in conditions you have never had to endure, all to stop needless bloodshed and the countless deaths of Tarlson soldiers. Besides perhaps fear for your father's safety, there is no personal gain for you here. Tarlson is no one to you and for your father to decimate us would change nothing about your life and yet you come to our aid as if we were family. You have been belittled by my Lord, by your father, your own people...by me, and yet you still want more than anything to do what is right, even if it means you have to hear these painful words again and again. I have never seen someone burden themselves as you have over the loss of one soldier's life and I cannot help but think that if all our rulers had such values, even the horror of the ether would seem a minor inconvenience to the strength that Gaetha would garner."

Her throat twisted into a knot and there was burning in Momo's chest she had never felt before. It was nothing like the ache of an infatuation or the swell of pride. She'd been complimented many times before as well, by family and many people who were not allowed to contradict her. This was nothing like that. These were the exact words she did not realize she needed to hear, affirmations she had never heard told so genuinely to her.

"Few men have earned my faith by their actions," Tenya exhaled, "Not even the King, not even my Lord. But you have, your highness. You are more noble than anyone who has ever lived under the title 'noble'. I swear on my family name I will never doubt you again. You may lead me to oblivion and, I vow, I will follow."

It was hard to know what to do or say when her world was crashing in a wave of confused emotion, but when she spoke she was still fearful of accepting these things, still looking to find the excuse that would break him of this vow.

"What about Fuyumi?"

Tenya didn't even pause to think about it, simply shook his head. "Fuyumi is as much part of your family now as she is the Todorokis'. She is the common ground between you both and she will always be my duty to protect above all else. But I am confident in you and your intentions above anyone else's. I know whatever you do will also be what is best for her."

The pure, unadulterated faith he had in her intentions choked her to a continued silence, unable to make the right words appear to properly show how it affected her and how deeply she appreciated it.

Luckily, Tenya gave her an opening, drawing his sword and raising its handle out to her, a knight's symbol of total submission to their ruler, "Your highness, do you accept my vow?"

With shaking hands, Momo took the sword, finding it to be heavier than she expected and requiring two hands to wield. She lifted it and took a moment to stare into the shine of it's polished blade, absorbing the distorted image of her disheveled self in it's reflection, dressed like a servant girl, dirtied from the road, drained by the strain of their journey and the devastating emotions that had come with their arrival. It was not a proud, determined, or leaderly face. It was not the face of a queen or even a princess. It was the face of a girl without a single glint of royalty on her garb, without the authority of a crown on her matted head.

She looked from the reflection to the man still kneeling in wait at her feet and he stared back, unfaltering as if he didn't see the mess that she saw or the child that others seemed to.

Doubt vanished, stripped away by the image of faith and hope that knelt before her.

The sword tilted down, the blade tapping gently to one shoulder and then the next, the sharp end moving dangerously close to his neck without ever touching. Her father had told her it was meant to symbolize the power of life and death they were being given over the individual at their feet, that the knight was freely granting this power to them by allowing them to use his sword and that the closeness of the blade to his flesh was a reminder of the severity of such a decision.

"I accept your vow, Commander Tenya Iida," she shed relieved tears as she smiled down at him, "You are ever and will always be a soldier of Tarlson, but today you are a Knight of the Gaethan Realm. Until death you will have a place among the family of Yagi, a home in the Capitol, respect of your King, your Queen, and your Princess. You are a son of Gaetha. May you never break your vow, lest your privileges be forsaken, your house dishonored, and your life be forfeit."

The weight of the words did not fully resonate with either as they were spoken. Both had heard them many times over the years or variants on them. It was the usual acceptance of a Knight's oath and Momo smiled proudly that she'd said them without fumbling; this was only the second time she had ever officially knighted someone.

"Please rise."

Momo readjusted the sword in her hand and carefully held it back out to Tenya as he stood. He took it, sheathed it with equal care, immediately swept up the cloaks they had been given upon entering the Keep. He gestured for her to put it on, but Momo hesitated, looking between the cloak and the Commander with questions; Tarlson was more Southern than the Capitol and thus warmer than she was used to as it was and it was far from necessary to wear indoors. When she saw he was distracted and not about to answer the unasked question she just put it on and moved to her next question.

"What will you do now?"

"We will go to the King and do what we came here to do: mediate this mess before our leaders kill one another over their misunderstandings."

"You will take me to my father?" She locked her knees to keep them from collapsing beneath her.

Her crippling fear around her father's safety had not been diminished by Tarlson's ride to aid him, especially with the King's intentions now known to them. That Dawnfelden Captain seemed to know the most about what they were headed into and seemed to have the right strength of spirit, hopefully without specific Tarlson loyalty, for her to trust he would at least try to truly protect the king. But was one competent warrior enough to guard the King if he was surrounded by ill intended men? Their priorities would be to quell the ether threat, but where would that leave them once the King was safe from it? Would his saviors become his attackers?

There were too many terrifying questions with far too many uncertain answers that her only consolation was the idea of being there, of trying to arbitrate and make one of both of them listen to her for once. Two powerful men like that would likely ignore her again, but she absolutely had to try.

Tenya believed in her though and that meant more than every one of their doubts. She didn't know how they were to escape here, how they would make it out of the Keep, but she was confident in the look in Tenya's eye, confident in his vow. He would make it happen, whatever that took.

Once they had gathered themselves Tenya had Momo stand behind him and then rapped his fist against the door, signalling the guard outside to open to the Commander.

The lock fiddled loudly and he reached a hand back, taking her arm and narrowing determination at the door.

"Stay close and trust me," he nodded, "I will get you to your father no matter what."

"Thank you," she whispered, "I do trust you."

Momo touched his arm gently just before the door came open and their second escape from the clutches of noble walls and noble rules began.

Rain came down in sheets and the scent of fresh mud almost masked the unmistakable stench of blood. Almost.

Katsuki could see on Shoto and Nana's faces as they came upon the sight of the Outpost that they could smell it too, that the aura in the air was inhumane and weighted. It wasn't comparable to the Archdemon and the taste of the death that followed it, but it was tangible and more than enough to strike since unknown levels of fear in the Tarlson army.

For the Tarlson troops they were riding to the defense of their lands and whatever else happened was secondary. But for Katsuki and his group there were two prevailing goals that trumped all else, to find the summoner and kill him, to find the King and protect him. Katsuki's homeland was a place where defense against the ether was paramount, but it was an environment of deep patriotism too. Had this situation not turned to an immediate threat from the ether, Katsuki would not have abided Lord Enji's blatant disregard for the royal family much longer; the Princess was young and obviously a bit foolish, yes, but she was still the daughter of the King and even Katsuki knew that Enji's words could easily have been called treasonous.

As the outline of the outpost walls and watchtower revealed through the cloak of falling water, Lord Commander Natsuo and Commander Tensei demanded order in their ranks and called out commands to their divisions and the Synod Cohort among them.

Katsuki did the same with his own small, motley battalion, which had somehow grown when he wasn't looking; from what he recalled of their last conversation the new round faced girl and her friend with the idiotic expression weren't supposed to continue along with them to fight the Summoner and yet here they were. He wasn't an idiot, though, and any extra bodies and powers were needed.

When barking his orders to follow his lead he expected resistance from the rather randomized group as they had all shown to be stubborn and opinionated so far, but, when faced with the ether itself present on earth, people's fear tended to turn them to the nearest embodiment of leadership and Katsuki was that leader. Even the Mages didn't question him, which included Shoto. Perhaps he'd learned his lesson last time and remembered how he would have been dead at the fronts if it weren't for the Captain.

Though most could already sense it, the first unearthly movement sent a shockwave through the men. The screams cut through the rain next; of fearful and dying men and of the evil and darkness that were demons, Major and minor.

The Tarlson Battle Mages took the front line and the air filled with the glow and light of their magic. The army fell to a halt behind them as a white glow burst towards the outpost and pushed the rain and storm itself from their view while streaks of orange fire cut out in either direction of the outpost's walls, clearing the obstructions to their sight and lighting up the night to see their enemy.

"Shit…"

The gasp came from the Renegade girl with the big cheeks.

All that this strange party that accompanied him had so far seen, and even crossed swords with, were minor demons and a couple Major Demons, but most had never seen anything like this.

Tempest Demons in the horizon, stirring storms and waves and cracking their ears with thunderous crashes. Minor demons and undead scrambled around them like a swarm of ants and an entire half of the outpost's defenses were shredded to rubble and splinters in the blood mixed mud. They were locked already in the intensity of battle, the glistening gold armor of the King's Guard breaking through the cloud of muck to shine in the firelight.

Lord Natsuo had his fist raised, but choked when the scene became clear; it was obvious why. Among those dealing the vicious blow to the King's army were men in tattered Tarlson uniforms fighting beside the demons.

It was jarring to see your own men as walking corpses, but there was no time to consider the shock of witnessing necromancy; they were already dead and the threat had to be handled now. The dead could be mourned when the living were certain of their own survival.

Luckily the Lord Commander cleared his head quickly and he threw his arm forward with a cry, ordering the charge. Commander Tensei followed suit and the Tarlson troops swarmed the battlefield through and around the outpost.

As they had decided on the ride from the Keep, Shoto and Nana took the other Mages in the direction of the Major Demons to work with the Tarlson Battle Mages in subduing the Major Demon threat while Katsuki, Kyoka and the elves charged head on with the rest of the army,

The rain was a drizzle now, but the mud flung like it's own form of downpour at them as the cluster of the frontline galloped over the fallen fortifications. The battle cry of the Tarlson soldiers was as thunderous as the storm the Mages had pushed away.

The undead and the demons found their new enemy when swords came swinging down and the unstoppable force of the battle-ready steeds trampled them underfoot and broke the bodies of the undead beneath them. Relief washed the faces of the survivors, knee deep in grime and their dead, and a resolved cheer passed through them at the arrival of their saviors.

The swords of the King's army swung with renewed strength as hope returned to the beaten down and hopeless.

The forces of the ether inside the outpost's walls were not nearly as large as those outside, but taking back the outpost was paramount. From it they could create a defensive point and give their archers position on the battlements.

Katsuki dropped from his horse now that they were among the enemy and with an almost childish excitement, the elves followed suit. Blades and shields rose in front of them and the chattering, shrieking, bodies of once Tarlson soldiers rushed them.

"What the fuck are-?"

Denki's horror at the oncoming corpses was cut off by the sight of minor demons clawing their way through the undead, yellow eyes bright with a murderous lust.

"Hold your ground!" Kyoka shouted, still from atop her horse, slapping Katsuki with pure annoyance that she thought she could tell them what to do.

But then he saw her lute in her hands and heard her voice crack the air with a sound that grated his bones more harshly than any demonic shriek.

Their enemies stumbled to a slow, hindered pace, like they were being steadily frozen by the wordless tune sung at a volume that could only be described as inhuman. The enchantment on Kyoka's voice vibrated through the air and, though it made Katsuki clench every muscle down to the bone from some deeply buried fear he had tried to forget, he took full advantage of what her magic had done.

The Tarlson soldiers hesitated in confusion and even Commander Tensei stopped mid swing to see the strange magic that was occurring. But once Katsuki cut down the first stalled demon and stomped in the skull of an undead it seemed to jar everyone back to reality.

"How is-?"

"Don't question it Commander, just use it!" Mina laughed and crossed twin blades over an undead throat, separating head from shoulders.

"That's why we keep you around, gorgeous!" Denki cheered on Kyoka, but she stayed focussed on keeping the sound coming from her throat uninterrupted.

With little other choice, Commander Tensei called his men back to action. Magic cut the sky around them and demon shrieks made bones chatter, but the area around Kyoka was calm and deadly. Tensei's men formed up a barrier around her as the battle waged on and Katsuki focussed on doing as much damage as he and the elves could. It was tempting to bark orders, but the Commander had full control of his men and was handling them well, which left the Captain with the rare pleasure of a real fight.

The efficacy of Kyoka's enchantment could not be undersold and that left their radius well controlled in the midst of the chaos, but there was far more order yet to be established here and the men of the King's Army were still struggling even with the Tarlson reinforcements.

Katsuki got sick of just watching their hapless struggle and snapped at Denki and Mina to follow him. He jabbed a finger at Kyoka and despite every cell in his body wishing the sound of her voice would just go away he said, "Keep singing."

Her voice faltered when she nodded agreement and so did her spell, but she regained it before any damage could be done.

Katsuki and the elves broke the line. It reformed behind them, but the Commander's disapproving shout followed them, demanding they stay in the line. It was promptly ignored and the three charged into the brutality of minor demons and the undead.

It was a seemingly endless push through cleaving hands and small bursts of destructive magic, but they remained relentless and relied on the enchantments to their swords and shields to defend them from the attacks of the ether until they eventually made it through to a clustered group of the King's men cornered into the still standing West wall.

Even as he fended off attacks, Katsuki strode right up to the man in a Captain's uniform and shouted over the roar of battle. "Where is the king?"

The Captain was obviously startled and looked over Katsuki with confusion as he cut down a minor demon while maintaining eye contact.

"You're Dawnfelden?" he asked and narrowly missed a burst of magical flame slicing past his ear; it was definitely singed, but the Captain's shock was keeping it from fully registering.

What was it with these Northerners and their constant shock at seeing a Dawnfelden outside of Dawnfell? It was tempting to kick in the teeth of the next person to make that extremely obvious, and not at all shocking, observation.

As he had the thought, an undead without legs clamored along the ground and swung a hand at Katsuki's shin. The pathetic creature didn't have a chance before the heel of Katsuki's foot stamped what was left of it's decayed head into the mud, cracking open its brittle skull. That would have to satisfy his frustration for now.

The King's Captain ducked another strike from a minor demon and threw up his arms before stumbling back and hitting the ground. Katsuki dealt with that attacker as well and the stricken man remained on the ground after his assailant was killed, no shout from Katsuki seeming to shake him from this frozen and unmoving state.

The men around him, Tarlson and Capitol alike, were jumbled, confused, and falling left and right; the only reason any of them were still alive was due to the quick work and nimble strikes of the two cloaked elves compensating for their disorganization.

"Son of a bitch, do I have to do everything myself?" Katsuki shouted at the scattered soldiers barely holding their weak defense, "Form the fuck up and make a damn line!"

They were at first too surprised to act; they didn't know who Katsuki was and the fear in their eyes said they weren't thinking straight. But luckily soldiers were soldiers anywhere he went and understood the tone and voice of an officer when they heard it.

"If you want to see the morning, you'll make a damn line! I'll gut the next man who fucking hesitates," Katsuki lifted his sword to make his threat clear and the men rushed to action.

"Shields in front!" Katsuki continued to shout, putting himself with the front of the line, his own shield at the ready, forming up shoulder to shoulder with them.

Those without shields came behind them and followed Katsuki's demands to strike through the openings between the shieldwall. The air went metallic with the taste of rotten blood and the smell was sweet as it grew stronger with every new body that was dropped before them.

"Captain…"

The officer behind them, still shuddering in the mud, had a perplexed hand in the air, choking on his own lungs as he tried to get to his feet.

The face of an undead was cleaved on the forceful hack of Katsuki's blade over his shield before he ducked behind its safety and shouted for them to keep the formation tight. He fixed the shaken captain with such a vicious look it could have killed a lesser man.

"I'll ask you one more fucking time, Captain," Katsuki barked over the sounds of battle, shrieking demons, and dying soldiers, "Where is the King?"

The officer's jaw fell loose and with a full body shake and a deep swallow he pointed his sword towards the Northern side of the Outpost in the direction of the Pass, merely a looming shadow in the firelight; it was likely the first real use he'd given the blade since Katuski had arrived.

"His Guards protect him… He is at the Pass," the man got out in a stutter.

A seething, demonic hand batted against Katsuki's shield but he barely spared it a thought while his eyes stayed on the Pass, on the cacophony of moving shadow between them and where the King was said to be. He waited, knowing but not daring to think it, until the ground itself shuddered and twisted up while a crack of lightning burst through the sky. It lit the battlefield for a moment, but a moment was all that was necessary to show what they were up against.

Demons, large as life, a Shrike and a Kaolin. At their feet the brambling dead, but in even greater numbers were minor demons. They swarmed the Pass like a colony of ants, the bulk of their force still pushing the Pass rather than dealing with the Tarlson Soldiers who had arrived to quell them. The barrage of battle waged on between Mages and Demons just West of the outpost, but North was the direction of the true terror, the silent horrors.

Katsuki cursed and gutted a demon with a guttural sound.

"Keep the line!" he shouted and drew back from the front line. It was not seamless like his own men might have done, but the mix of Tarlson soldiers and Kings Men scrambled to close the gap he'd made.

With less than no ceremony the Dawnfelden Captain strode right up to the Capitol Captain and backhanded him across the face. He hit the ground with a cry and shook his head with the shock of it.

"What are-?"

"Get control of the situation, Captain!" Katsuki fumed, "Keep these men in line and fucking defend the Outpost while I do the rest of your damn job for you!"

The Captain started to push up to his feet slowly. "What do you mean?" He was still jarred but he wasn't stuttering anymore so the hit has forced some sense back into him.

"Mina! Denki!" Katsuki barked back towards the line, "With me!"

"Captain?"

"Every one of these men's life is in your hands," Katsuki wiped the sword against his leg while two slinking figures emerged and came up on either side of him, "Sit there and piss yourself if you want to their blood on your conscience or fucking pull through and lead."

With a jerk of his head the elves followed him from the semi-circle, back out into the fray, swords and shield at the ready.

The Captain shouted after them, begging Katsuki to stay, but he was deaf to his pleas. The lives of these few men would be nothing compared to what could be lost if the Summoner was not stopped. It might have meant the deaths of every man there to leave them in the hands of that scared fool, but it couldn't disrupt his sleep any more than it was already disturbed to have a few more lives on his own conscience.

They cut their way through the skilless enemy, pushing through to the fallen wall between the outpost and the Pass.

At the edge of the outpost and the start of the battlefield, they were met with magic, shrieking, and a roar that was not familiar to any of the battlefields Katsuki had known. The three of them came to a halt on the precipice of the rubble and saw a Tempest Demon collapse to the earth, crushing demons in its wake and sending a last burst of storm over them. They threw up arms to shield their faces from the blast of rain and cutting wind, then dropped them only to see the shocking, bright red twist of a dragon streaking through the sky and colliding with the form of a second Tempest Demon, wings and claws in a vicious flurry.

Jaws fell, but Denki's expression was merely curious as Katsuki tried to piece together the sudden appearance of a creature that didn't even belong in this Kingdom let alone on a battlefield thousands of miles from Dracos.

"What the-" Mina didn't even try to finish the thought.

Katsuki's arms went into the air. "Since when is there a fucking dragon?"

The sky cracked in red lightning and living tendrils of magic struck the massive beast out of the air before they even had a chance to quantify its presence. The elves covered their sensitive ears when the red scaled reptile plummeted, cried out, and impacted the earth with a thud.

"What was that?" Denki shouted, hands still over ears.

"Blood Magic."

Katsuki knew because he's seen it before, the living tendrils that ripped Major Demons into pieces, powered by the living blood of men. But this wasn't like what he'd seen at Demon's Rise. It didn't attack the Demons, instead it beat the Dragon that had attacked their common enemy to the earth and then turned viciously onto the Cohort before it. It could only mean one thing and it stifled Katsuki in place.

"Katsuki, what do we do?" Denki gripped his knives tighter, looking between the Captain and the devolving battle of Mages and demons.

The living magic, the red lightning, came to a sudden stop mid-attack when a similar power crashed into it. Even Katsuki covered his ears at the clash and felt a wave of disorientation burst over the battlefield as titanic powers collided.

He had to shake himself clear of it and beat himself into a realistic perspective, to understand his limitations. Nana and Shoto's power might be enough to fight the Summoner and however much he wanted to think himself a key aspect in this battle, there was little to nothing he could accomplish against power like this. Normal magic he could mostly defend, but this Fallen power was unmatched.

"We have to protect the King," Katsuki forced his feet to move away from that particular battle, "Let the Mages worry about this."

"Are you serious?" Mina gaped, throwing out a hand towards the far flashier fight Katsuki was walking away from.

"Deadly," he shouted back at them, "Keep up, we have a King to save!"

"Shoto! Shoto! You have to snap out of it!"

The world was blood red and black; daunting, heavy, and static. It was Gaetha, he was certain, but it didn't feel like Gaetha, like the real world. It was like Demon's Rise, but somehow worse than the panicked desperation that made every moment a scramble to survive there. The ether felt heavy here and it was debilitating, all too much, like standing still under choppy waters.

The voice shouting at him to come to his senses was far off, but there was a back against his and flashes of green magic bursting around him. He felt his hands lift and magic leave his body, he felt himself cast spells, but he barely registered them, casting instinctual defenses. There was a low rumble in his ears and a muffling that covered the brutal sounds of battle and the cries of death.

No encouragement from Izuku could break the fog, but something that didn't rely on his muddled sense started echoing in his addled brain and jarred him into a minute consciousness.

"Shoto, help, you have to stop her!"

Eijiro's voice in his head came like whiplash. It sounded strained, pained, desperate, mixing well with Izuku's similar sentiments, and Shoto whipped around to find the source of the Dragon's panic rushing across the battlefield.

In the swirling chaos of storm, death, and magic, bright white magic pushed Ochako through the horde of the enemy, cutting through minor demons happlessly and rushing headlong into the fray, all of her focus directed on reaching the grounded dragon with an entire Tempest hovering over him and minor demons rushing to rip him to shreds.

Struck by the same fear he saw on her face, Shoto almost leapt to the same task of protecting Eijiro from the oncoming assault, but what stood between them and the Dragon stilled his feet.

The flashing red, the concentrated, roiling, ether breaking the air with the clash of two Blood Mages battering one another and fending off attacks with the most poignant power he had seen since the fronts.

"Ochako, stop!" Izuku screamed after the girl, but she was blinded to all else but Eijiro.

Sweat flung from Nana's brow and her face clenched in effort at the shrouded figure of her enemy. The staff Izuku had given to her twirled and jabbed in prompt strikes adding an amplification and control in her power, but it met ample resistance with every attack and made no such impact as she had created at The Fronts.

Only one person could have the power to face her down so effortlessly like this.

The Summoner.

Shoto burned a nearby demon in a small, controlled blaze, barely registering he had done it while the cohort behind them battled for their lives with the Kaolin, Tempest and the minor demons that swarmed them.

Another demon crumpled into the dirt in front of Izuku and then a strong fist jerked the font of his robe, shaking him awake with the sheer desperation of his large green eyes.

"Shoto, snap out of it we have to do something! Shoto!"

Izuku's teeth were grit, his feet ready to take him barreling away, and it became clear that the only reason Izuku hadn't chased down the girl was fear of leaving the dazed Mage at his side alone in this state.

Red and white hair tousled together when Shoto shook himself of the remaining hesitation. "I'm fine," Shoto lied.

He pushed Izuku in the direction that Ochako was running and directed himself towards the battle of Blood Magic before them.

"We have to stop Ochako, she's going to get herself killed," Izuku said around a grunt as he threw a minor demon from himself and crushed it into the earth.

"No, we need to help her get to him," Shoto shouted back, "A grounded dragon won't be able to defend itself from a Tempest! We have to get her through."

Izuku wanted to argue, it was clear, he wanted to protect Ochako and Shoto was telling him to let her run further into danger, but he also wasn't given a chance to argue as they fell fully into battle.

Ochako wasn't far ahead, but she was very near the crackling, vicious red that made every part of Shoto quiver and what's worse the demon horde that seemed to be flowing towards them was closing around her. She was defending desperately with spells Shoto had never seen, innovative and natural, yet obscure; the products of Bog Magic. But it wasn't enough and, however viciously Izuku fought, he wasn't fast enough to stop her from being overwhelmed before they could reach her.

That strange deafness and disoriented sense of the world around him started to seep back in and Shoto felt time slow as he concluded what had to be done. He tried not to feel excited about it, tried to see it as the evil thing it was, tried to worry what Izuku would think, but if ever there was a time to call on the powers of the Fallen it was at a time like this; when the people he cared about needed it.

"Shoto, what are you-?" Izuku stuttered in his pace when he saw Shoto stop.

"I'm sorry."

It was a tiny burst of magic, a little power that he pointed to his arm and sliced through the fabric of the robe, opening his flesh to the air. He didn't wince, didn't feel the pain, only the instant rush and the instant pulse of power that came from the fresh Blood turning to Magic in his hands.

"Shoto…" Izuku's voice faded.

Far from what he expected, when the world began to tint in red, everything around him resonated with a clarity he had never experienced before. The very movements of friend and foe alike translated differently, efficiently. The hordes that seemed so terrifying a moment ago took on the same threat as a cluster of insects, something so easily crushed underfoot.

Panic was gone, everything but his focused goal a distant thought.

He exhaled slowly.

Tendrils like bloody, burning hands, extended and powered his reach, crashing across the battlefield, cutting the spawns of the ether like a scythe through a wheatfield and dispersing the storm to nothing. All around Ochako the enemy was ripped to shreds and amidst his power-drunk vision he saw the girl's hands fly over her face in shock and terror. But the magic never touched her, never did so much as graze the hairs on her head.

The spells, the magic, felt like an extension of his own reach, like precision tools, like the most natural and right thing he'd ever done and it filled Shoto's chest with new air he had never breathed before. Even his training with Nana never felt like this, the magic had never gripped him in this way.

Something was different. Maybe it was the strength of the ether in the air around him, maybe the closeness to its vessel, but that deliriousness he'd sensed before was gone, like the Blood Magic had cleared the distractions and enhanced his every sense.

No wonder Nana had smiled when she looked the Archdemon in the eye. Blood Magic was intoxicating.

Seeing that their path was cleared in a single fell swoop, Ochako shook herself of confusion and fear to rush to Eijiro's aid, to save him from the relentless torrent of the Tempest Demon, keeping him from getting back into the air.

Though he obviously wanted to, Izuku hesitated to follow, still looking at Shoto like he was something that needed to be looked after. It was short lived. Shoto's attack had shocked more than just his companions and the fight between Nana and the Summoner came to a sudden halt, the silhouette of the once man, now monster, eyeing Shoto and then the girl trying to run past him.

Izuku acted.

"Ochako, look out!"

A sharp red spire bolted from the blackened hand of the Fallen Mage, but it was clear Izuku would not be able to deflect it in time. It didn't even register concern to Shoto in his current state.

His hand clenched in the air and a viper fast burst of red sprung around the spike of the Summoner's magic, crushing it into a deadly burst of splinters that reverberated back to their caster and knocked the Summoner off his feet.

Ochako barely faltered at her near death experience, so deeply focussed on her goal and Izuku ran happlessly after, as intent to protect her as she was to protect Eijiro.

The three Mages with Blood Magic in their eyes remained still and watchful of each other and Nana gaped shock at him; she hadn't taught him to do that. It was hard to tell if she was impressed or disappointed.

The Summoner took no more than a moment to get his bearings on the situation and retaliated promptly, catching them off guard with a surge of Blood Magic that attacked Nana with abandon, erraticness, the whipping virility of a living inferno. Nana was barely able to defend fast enough to survive it, but the red glowing barrier in front of her absorbed the major damage before it shattered. What did hit her, hit hard enough to knock her to the ground yards away from where she had stood seconds before, whipped away like a doll in the air.

"Nana!"

Shoto screamed her name as he ran between the Summoner and his mentor already being launched from sight. His hands were alive with power, taking the force of the magic that chased her and breaking it, dispersing the red shards around him harmlessly.

The Summoner's shock was apparent, even behind the cloak and the ebbing darkness that fell from him. If Shoto's head was not firing with the intensity of his powers he would have had the same reaction to the swift and efficient use of his magic, but this felt so right and so natural that there was no room for surprise.

He was alive with power, strength, confidence and seeing that there was only a bit of dirt between him and the Summoner, he saw his opportunity. Now was the time. He could end this here and now.

His arms opened and the red glyphs in his hands pulsed with energy. Every ounce of power in his body poured into the magic in his hands and he dumped his physical strength on top of it, fearless of consequence.

He saw the glint of red beneath the hood of the Summoner, the shine of his empowered eyes turning wide on him and the blackened hand rose, glowing with red magic.

The tendrils of Blood Magic lashed at the Summoner like a battering ram, a cat-o-nine whip, and the limbs of a kraken at once. It was enough to devastate a Major Demon in a single attack. Enough to shred whatever humanity was left in this monster into fragments too small to piece back together.

It hit with a crippling force, but not in the way he wanted.

Shoto stuttered, gasped.

The Summoner threw his arms wide open and Shoto's Blood Magic parted like ice versus a hot knife.

Screams, such horrible sounds, filled Shoto's ears as the force of his magic broke the earth around them and crushed demon and Mage alike, nothing spared from it's diverging wake. The ground tilled into bloody, deadly mulch.

Shoto broke off the stream of magic, stopping the attack and choking on the very power and confidence that had driven him to act so recklessly.

What had he done?

The red tint on the world vanished and he stumbled back in shock and horror. Fear of what he'd done clutched his chest agonizingly until he saw the flush of red wings whipping in the sky and heard the shouts from Izuku and Ochako behind the Summoner, still engaged with the enraged Tempest.

It was a meager consolation in light of what his misplaced spell had cut into the stretch of field on either side of his enemy.

"Impressive…" breathed the Summoner, "But idiotic."

Shoto's knees gave out when he tried to step back and he hit the ground with shaking limbs, empty of strength and his magic ability reduced to its dregs. He'd put everything, everything, into that attack and there was nothing but minor demon corpses and a few dead Mages to show for it.

That rough taunting from the Summoner was right; he was idiotic.

The Summoner stepped forward and Shoto took a breath he assumed would be his last as the Summoners hand burned red over him. "Still, a Mage with talent like that is too good for the Synod. It's a shame I-"

He stopped, paused mid-sentence, like the very words had been slapped from his tongue.

Shoto held that final breath as the Summoner's head tilted at him. His lips parted, his threatening hand faltering, but he was distracted from even that as the dirt under their feet rattled and rumbled.

The Tempest Demon had barely finished colliding into the earth before the massive force of red scales and muscle coursed through the air at them, twisting and diving with its jaw wide enough to swallow the Summoner whole.

"Shoto, run!"

Izuku's voice echoed through the air in a resounding cry and then everything froze.

Orange light, melded with a creeping, inky black, burst from the Summoner and clung to everything, except himself and Shoto.

Nothing moved. Not the demons. Not the Mages. Not Izuku and Ochako, caught mid motion, rising back to their feet.

Not the storm clouds in the sky. Not even the wind.

Shoto sputtered on any coherent word or thought, gaping at the open maw of a Dragon hovering overhead ready to rip the Summoner in two, but trapped in the moments before he could strike.

He waited for it all to be some trick of his mind, but he lifted his hands in front of his face, saw the tainted black stains etching their way from his fingertips to his knuckles and realized for the first time that there was pain firing up his nerves and corruption moving through his skin.

The ether moved inside of him and, but the world was still.

The Summoner stepped closer and flexed his black hand as a weary gasp passed his shadowed lips. He stumbled and caught himself before he could collapse, steadying himself to stand in front of Shoto and stare down at him through the tint of his hood.

He felt like prey, locked in the hypnotic gaze of a predator, seeing clearly his doom but unable to run from it or attack it.

But his poor reaction didn't seem to matter because the threat in the man's posture lowered and his ether black hands pushed the corners of his hood away from his face.

Disgust overwhelmed fear as Shoto observed the patchwork of tainted, blackened skin marking his neck and forming into streaks that swept into his face, wrapping under his eyes and chin like the strap of a helmet, telling the thousand stories of the thousand times he had committed the heinous sins of Fallen Magic. It even seemed to affect the color of his hair, because it wasn't quite black, but wasn't quite red, like the two colors were fighting to both be his at once, the red strong in the glint of firelight.

The blue eyes, tinted in the red of Blood Magic, were narrow on him, like they had a thousand questions and Shoto was the holder of all answers.

The Summoner cracked the unnatural silence with the sound of his sharp, strong, yet youthful, voice. "Who are you, boy?"

Barely registering the question, Shoto lifted his hand towards the frozen word and continued to gape.

"What have you done?"

"Given us a brief opportunity," the Summoner waved away the question with a blackened hand, "Now tell me who you are before I get impatient…"

"I am... no one," It was as truthful as he could be considering Shoto was by every definition no one of consequence, especially not to this man. "I'm just a mage from the Synod."

"Unlikely," the Summoner touched his chin, blinking down at him, "The Synod does not have Blood Mages. It doesn't even have Mages that are worth a damn. I asked who you are, answer me!"

"Why do you care?" Shoto panted, trying to back away and faltering on his weak limbs, "Why are you dragging this out? Aren't you going to kill me either way?"

The blue of his eyes didn't budge from their intensity on Shoto and the inky black on his finger traced the corner of his lip. The slip in his sleeves showed a myriad of scars all over his skin, marks of Blood Magic use, but they were all clean, precise and not a drop of blood was on him, just like when Shoto had used it the first time and his bloody face became suddenly clean and practically healed.

Tired and impatient as he seemed, the Summoner stayed fairly calm, but viciously resolut. "Answer the question."

Shoto hesitated and swallowed hard.

"My name is Shoto… But I'm telling the truth, I'm a Synod Mage. Nana taught me Blood Magic so that we could fight you… So we could end the Summoning..."

The Summoner was unaffected by Shoto's words, only eyed him with deeper curiosity, "Shoto...Shoto...Shoto."

Every repetition of his name was claws through his skin. Why did he care? Was the Summoner taunting him because he had actually served as a threat to him? Or maybe he simply liked to play with his victims before killing them.

The Summoner pouted a thoughtful, black marred lip as he moved even further into Shoto's space. The blue of his eyes was sharper now, pulled apart by Shoto at the seams to assess every visible inch of him in a way that turned Shoto's stomach.

Weakened as he was, Shoto tried to scurry away, but the Summoner was quicker than him. He took hold of his face and turned it in the firelight, staring for a long time at the three pronged scar that had deformed his face and then at the two tones of his eyes.

Shoto shoved and kicked out at him, but the Summoner was undeterred, behaving as if he were even unaware of Shoto's struggle to push him away as his observations brought him to sceptical glare.

"It's not possible," the Summoner whispered to himself.

"What's not possible?"

Still heedless of Shoto's fight or discomfort, the Summoner twisted his head painfully to the right, pushing his hair away from his ear, taking a disturbing amount of liberty with Shoto's inability to truly defend himself.

"What are you doing?" Shoto sputtered.

A stray finger pressed into a spot just behind his ear, to a place where he could feel his heartbeat pulse. It was the location of yet another scar, one he was born with, one that was unearned and had always stayed easily hidden behind the far more distracting fall of his hair.

"Shoto…" the Summoner said the name again with disbelief and lifted his eye from the marking to Shoto's wide eyed expression.

Something told Shoto to be still and think a moment and in that moment the Summoner's strange intentions became clear.

He believed, somehow, that he knew Shoto. That look in his eye wasn't insanity, it was recognition. But Shoto didn't know him, he didn't recall his face among any Mages he had known at the Magesteriums, although he would likely be unrecognizable now behind the layers of marring sin, even if Shoto had known him.

And yet there was something familiar in the bit of humanity he could still see in his skin and eyes. Shoto was almost completely certain they had never met, but he couldn't shake that there was similarity with someone he had met, though he couldn't say who.

When the Summoner finally loosened his grip, the pressure Shoto had kept pushing against his shoulders sent them forcefully away from one another.

Shoto shook his head, lost and trying with all his might to gather his wits and place the Summoner somewhere in his mind. "Do I know you…?"

"No," the Summoner said, "You don't."

There was very little in his expression and his eyes were distant; they were quantifying the unquantifiable.

With whatever strength he still had in him, Shoto pushed himself back to his feet and the Summoner slowly rose to do the same.

"Then why-?"

"I know you."

"How can you know me? I don't know you." Shoto sucked his teeth on the tender feeling in his fingers, trying not to look at the stains and praying they were not the permanent sort Nana had warned him about, the type that was burned across the Summoner's body.

"You…" To Shoto's complete shock, the Summoner choked on his words.

The world around them flickered and the glimmer of gold and black magic shuddered in it's instability. Shoto knew well the signs of failing magic and while it flooded him with relief, it also drew his attention to what they were about to be thrown back into.

The Summoner seemed to understand this as well and moved out of the attack of the still hovering dragon while he distractedly fisted his dark hair.

Shoto's pulse bounded anxiously as he tried to do the same and get his weak body away from where Eijiro was stalled moments before colliding with, away from the brutal teeth and certain doom of standing in a Dragon's way.

"I never dared to think you survived or that you would have been allowed to exist," the Summoner muttered.

The illusion, the all consuming silence fluttered and prepared to release, but somehow Shoto didn't want it to dissipate, even though its very existence had terrified him up until that moment. It was no longer an unsettling phenomenon, but a force that was staving off their return to the horrors of this battle and the deaths that were certain to follow.

But more than that, far more selfishly than that, Shoto was gripped by questions, questions that needed answers. Questions that only this man could answer and his window to ask them was closing quickly.

"Summoner!" Shoto shouted, "What do you mean? How do you know me?"

Blue eyes angled back towards him in the last agonizing seconds before the world came crashing in and Shoto's entire world was shattered on the simple, smug reply from the man they had hunted across the country.

"I'm not the Summoner, Shoto."