Chapter 20: Zanshin
He expected darkness, through the blinding pain, and for an instant, he was not disappointed. There was nothing, only blackness, emptiness, through his eyes as his face burned, hot blood sliding down his features. He heard her laughter, her mocking voice as she saw what she had done to him. He could hear her crowing declaration of victory.
Blindness . . . Under normal circumstances it would damn you in this battle, but you are unique.
His sight was gone, and he expected death to come in an instant as his opponent moved to follow through with her attack. But yet, something was . . . different.
Human eyes. Inferior constructs of an inferior biological, mortal specimen, developed for the limited intake of reflected colors of ones' surroundings, and thus allowing you to gain substantial data on the surroundings, including depth perception and changes in objects based on the color-absorbent properties of these objects' exterior layers.
The earth pulsed beneath him. Magic flowed around him, the very energies of existence suddenly perceptible. His normal senses, hearing, taste, touch, smell, they could still operate, and at the heightened state of his current being, they transmitted a wealth of information, but what he was experiencing was beyond any words he could use to describe it. He was no longer looking at the world, but understanding it, down to its very essence.
Color and vision lie. They do not tell the truth. What you need is a more primal sense, a core understanding of what makes up the very reality we all exist in. Humans cannot perceive this, because they are mere mortals, but for ones such as us, those who have gone a step above and beyond mortality, to become part of the very heartbeat of reality itself . . . We understand that reality many billions of times better than mortals can even begin to imagine.
He registered the motion, a shift in her muscles, her mind, and the crystallized energy of her weapon. The gunblade lanced forward, diving at his chest, but everything moved in slow motion as he registered the attack, perceiving every facet of the energy in her blade, every flicker of her life-force as she moved her body, the very air displaced by her moving body and the rippling currents resulting from that flying through the air past him . . . .
Reality, eventuality, cause and effect, probability . . . By registering these tiny, minute things, we can calculate them. Visual perception is weak. It has slowed you down. It has made you rely on those weak orbs when you never needed them. You have become one with me, and you now have this gift of seeing everything, of perceiving reality as it really is, and being able to harness all actions' effect on reality to respond with the incredible gifts you have been given.
Lionheart flashed up, catching Illarra's blade perfectly, and the woman stumbled back, shocked at his precise deflection. It was not the desperate, wild block of a blind man, but the calculated parry of a warrior who had seen the cut before it had even started.
To see reality is the gift you are given, Squall Leonhart. Curse me, hate me, loathe me . . . but do not deny that this perception will make you truly unparalleled in battle. You were blind, but by becoming blind to vision, you have become aware of everything.
Squall raised Lionheart into a guard, and firmed his jaw as blood dripped from his bearded chin, to fall on the icy stones. He could see her, staring at him, shocked and confused as a seemingly blind man strode forward, head and blade locked upon her as if he knew precisely where she was.
What is this?
This perception is what we Guardian Forces call "Zanshin."
I see.
Squall stopped in front of Illarra as she recovered from her shock, moving into a balanced crouch and readying her blades.
"Come on," he told her quietly. "Let's get this over with."
Irvine ducked back around the corner, reloading his rifle frantically as plasma fire stuttered past his position. All around him, Iceblood's revolting prisoner army fired down all angles of the four-way intersection as they pushed forward, gaining ground. As expected, the prison guards had set up defenses along the corridors leading to the entrance of the prison, though they had not been expecting such a sudden and violent assault. The prisoners had broken through the first enemy emplacements with ease, but as they had advanced, the guards had grown more numerous, stubborn, and well-entrenched, setting up portable force field generators that created impromptu cover for them. The escaping prisoners had found their attack bogged down as they neared the entrance.
"Pour it on!" Irvine shouted, rolling around the corner of the intersection and firing a grenade round down the passage, bouncing it off the wall and around one of the emplacements down the corridor. The grenade flew between two of the force shields that the enemy soldiers had set up, past the shimmering defensive barriers, and exploded, blasting several of the guards apart. Surrounding the gunslinger, a force of around sixty prisoners continued trading fire with other enemy troops along the intersection, using plasma weapons that they had looted from their fallen opponents.
"These passages are a killing field," one of the men beside Irvine muttered, and the SeeD nodded. They had a large force, over four hundred troops, but most of the prisoners were armed with only melee weapons, and crude ones at that. In these corridors, those weapons were useless unless they could get close, and the guards had set up their defenses to make a charge with melee weapons suicidal. As it was, only a small number of prisoners had ranged weapons, and Irvine was leading them against the guards while Selphie led the rest of the prisoners as they scoured the secured areas of the prison, freeing the captives in Lockdown and locating whatever weapons they could.
Irvine wished Selphie was here with him now, but knew her mission was critical; the prisoners were angry and motivated to escape after decades of captivity, but they weren't armed for this kind of battle; they weren't SeeDs, or even normal soldiers. They needed guns to win this battle.
Guns are what I'm best at, though.
Irvine popped around the corner again and snapped off another shot, blasting an enemy soldier's head off. He ducked back behind cover as the battle raged around him.
Well, it could be worse. I could be Seifer right now.
Darkness swept through his body, ripping at Seifer's core, blasting into the heart of his very existence. The Governor clenched his teeth as Diablos pumped its dark magic through him, causing his muscles to spasm uncontrollably. Nearby, Nash was struggling to his feet, but at the moment, the evil Guardian Force and Seifer were left alone, Diablos' clawed hand wrapped around Seifer's throat.
Seifer stared at Diablos' red eyes, and as he watched, he caught a momentary glimpse of something that suddenly made him forget the pain. As he stared into the pair of blazing embers, he saw something beyond them, something deeper down. The Governor knew what this creature really was; looking into its eyes, however, Seifer thought he could see deep down. Through those eyes, Seifer saw her.
Two wings, one black and demonic, leathery and reaching out, and a second wing with white, downy feathers. And both wings stretching from a tiny, crying child's back as it lay, confused and uncertain.
The hell? His dream . . .was the child this girl? Serra?
Diablos, meanwhile, had been observing Seifer as well, and its dark chuckle resounded across the chamber.
Do you feel your essence burning, human? Do you feel your utter and complete annihilation approaching? Do you feel my raw power?
Seifer's tortured grimace suddenly shifted to a smile, and he raised his right arm, the sleeve of his jacket still rolled back, and pointed it at Diablos. The Guardian cocked an eyebrow, causing one of its red eyes to shift shape. Magic, even powerful spells, were not particularly effective on it; Diablos had a high resistance to spells, even holy magic.
Of course, Diablos knew nothing about Seifer, so it was quite confused when the synthetic skin of his cybernetic right arm parted, and a cylinder stretching from the beginning of Seifer's cybernetic arm to his wrist popped out, leveled directly at the Guardian's face.
There was a tremendous flash of light and a resounding explosion, and Diablos' head was rocked back as the cylinder fired. It dropped Seifer, who rolled across the floor, scooped up his saber and leapt at the stunned GF, stabbing the blade through its face.
"You feel your face getting shot off? You feel my .50 cal cannon shooting you at point blank in the head? Do you feel me kicking your bitch ass?"
There was a sudden roar of flames behind Seifer, and he leapt backward, tearing his saber free of Diablos' face as Nash rocketed past him, planting a devastating cross into the Guardian's midsection. Diablos doubled over, and a pillar of flame flashed into existence, launching the Guardian backward with the sheer energy of the blow. Seifer leapt over the explosion, chasing after Diablos, and driving his sword into the Guardian's stomach.
"Not so tough now, are you?" Seifer snarled, smacking his sword across the Guardian's face again. "What's the matter? Letting a couple of mortals beat the hell out of you?"
Diablos thundered in rage and shot forward, slashing across with a fist, which Seifer ducked and rolled beneath, laughing to himself as Nash flew past, fire rippling around his leg as he planted a powerful kick to Diablos' gut.
The two guards at the doorway were aware that the prison was being overrun by rioting prisoners, but they had stood firmly by their station, prepared to fight anyone that came down the hallway. They still stood resolutely when forty armed prisoners, led by a small, petite woman wielding a pair of nunchaku, appeared around the bend down the hall and charged. Both men raised their rifles, and then dropped them as their hands iced over.
Both prison guards stared down at their hands in mixed horror and disbelief as Selphie's nunchaku slammed into their bodies, a rapid barrage of striking iron bars that sent both men to the floor in broken heaps.
"Huh," she murmured, looking at the door behind the two unconscious men, and then down to their bodies. "This room must be important if you guys were guarding it. Should have asked first, I guess." The door did not open as she approached it; doubtless it was locked and had some advanced security measures protecting it. Therefore, Selphie did the next best thing: she planted her hand against the door, willed the portal to ice over, and kicked it in. The metal, weakened by the instant freeze, was shattered, and Selphie and the prisoners with her moved into the room beyond.
"Jackpot!" she shouted.
The room was filled with shelves and stacks of boxes and crates. Upon those shelves and within those crates, all could clearly see, were rows and rows of plasma rifles, energy cannons, and other Estharian weaponry.
They had found the prison's armory.
"Strip it!" one of the other prisoners shouted, and several rushed down the hall to gather more troops as the rest grabbed all the weapons they could carry. Selphie moved to the back of the room, drawn to a line of larger than normal crates. She eyed them with interest as she saw they were filled with high-powered beam rifles and grenade launchers. The tiny SeeD paused after a second, however, when se saw a box behind them, even larger, with familiar Estharian script running across it, and her eyes widened as a gleeful smile cut across her features.
"Whoo-hoo," she whispered.
One salvo was all the Estharian tanks were able to unleash as the wall of charging, thundering spider war machines rushed across the snowy battlefield. Energy exploded across the front of the armored weapons, blasting the front end of one of the machines apart and staggering the rest, but the X-ATM units charged forward heedlessly, barely slowed. The Estharian tanks began to back up, when the war machines slammed headlong into the enemy front, armored pinchers shearing through reinforced Estharian armor and huge legs pounding through solid metal. The leading edge of the line of tanks was crushed underfoot, and the X-ATM units charged on.
Behind them, rushing between the ruined hulks of the tanks, were three dozen Dollet LRVs, their chained tires propelling them across the half-molten snow. The chainguns on the back of each of the vehicles opened up, tens of thousands of rounds erupting from the advancing vehicles and blasting into lightly armored Estharian vehicles, the tremendous roar of blazing cannons drowning out all other sounds.
Each of the spider-like X-ATM units fanned out, driving the enemy back and opening a hole in the Estharian lines, allowing the Dollet vehicles to advance into the heart of the enemy formation. Tanks fired and bolts of plasma cut across the field, pounding the war machines, but the self-repairing mecha pounded through the attacks, crushing Estharian vehicles before them and firing bolts of energy that shredded armor. Absolute chaos gripped the field as the three dozen LRVs broke through relativelyunscathed and began a run straight for the walkers. A second line of vehicles, mostly Zako light combat transports and Estharian scout bikes, formed up to screen the Overlord walkers.
Zell and Rinoa, seated in the passenger seats of two of the Dollet vehicles, could see the Overlord walkers much more closely, and were surprised at the weapons' sheer size. They towered over the battlefield, over twenty feet tall, suspended on four spindly, insectile legs that came together at a rounded, oval metal body, atop which was mounted a huge cannon twice the size of any of the Estharian tanks. As they drove forward, the half-dozen Overlord walkers charged up their main cannons and fired another salvo at the distant defensive line.
"Let's get in there, take 'em out!" Zell shouted, and the LRVs accelerated toward the Estharian screen of vehicles. Plasma erupted from the enemy line, and the chainguns blazed. Bullets and energy cut back and forth across the field. Estharian armor crumpled and troops fell from their vehicles, ripped apart by bullets, and several of the Dollet vehicles seemed to wilt and fly apart, the front end of the transports glowing white and melting under the intense enemy fire. Bolts of magic lanced from several of the vehicles as SeeDs, and Rinoa, poured fire into the Estharian vehicles. Transports and scout bikes exploded, soldiers and SeeDs were hurled from their vehicles with savage burns and gaping bullet wounds, and the two lines slammed into each other. Chained tires crunched scout bikes underfoot, Zakos and LRVs smashed headlong into one and other and went flying and spinning across the battlefield, and both SeeDs and Estharian soldiers leapt from their vehicles onto each others' craft, boarding them and knocking men out of their seats or getting hurled off themselves.
Zell's vehicle flew past the blockade, and then passed over open ground, the Dollet gunner sheared in half by a plasma blast and the driver's left shoulder charred. He tried desperately to hang on as Zell reached across and grabbed the wheel. Plasma slashed past the vehicle, and Zell looked out to see a scout bike wheeling around to face them, and a familiar scarred man sitting behind the controls.
Malachi fired a barrage of plasma at Zell, the energy crashing into the LRV and blasting the driver to charred pieces as Zell leaned back, raising his arms to shield himself. More plasma struck the LRV, melting off armor, and Zell turned and hurled himself from the passenger's seat and onto the snow. He rolled up onto his feet as the scout bike rocketed around the LRV, angling toward the brawler, cannons blazing.
Zell hurled himself into the air, over the plasma, and directly at the scout bike. Malachi was surprised when Zell landed onto the front end of the bike, feet set against the armor plating, and sent a devastating right cross into the soldier's face, hitting with the force of a flying freight train and knocking him off the bike. Zell leapt off as Malachi bounced across the snow, and came up with a flip. The Estharian soldier spread his legs into a balanced stance as Zell charged in, and quickly drew his combat knife, slashing across at Zell as he neared. The brawler stopped his forward momentum instantly.
"Want a rematch, Dincht?" Malachi asked, chuckling, and Zell settled into a guard of his own.
"Why not?" the brawler asked. "Won't take long to paste a punk like you anyway."
Rinoa fared little better than Zell. In fact, her unit crashed headlong into a Zako, and the LRV went spinning wildly out of control over the snow, rolling several times and sending the gunner and driver spilling across the snow and almost making her throw up from the wild motions of the flying vehicle. The vehicle ended up upside down a short distance from the main battle as surviving LRVs and Estharian vehicles began to circle, firing wildly at one another. The Sorceress quickly dragged herself out of the wrecked LRV, her shoulder aching from an impact she didn't remember, and hauled herself up to her feet.
That preternatural sense that told Rinoa when magic was near suddenly flared, and she whirled, instinctively raising a defensive shield as a series of streaking, blazing fireballs rained down around her. The magical barrier deflect the blows, and one of the fireballs slammed into the LRV and blew it apart, destroying the gasoline tank and causing it erupt in a plume of blazing inferno. Black smoke curled around Rinoa as she moved backward, her magical senses crying out that something powerful was approaching. It had to be the enemy'sSorceress.
Moments later, several white-clad, robed men moved through the smoke, brandishing melee weapons and eyeing Rinoa ferociously. One of them shouted something, and more of the men stalked forward, dozens of them appearing. After a moment, their advancing ranks parted, and a woman advanced, clad in greens and purples, and Rinoa narrowed her eyes.
"Rinoa Heartilly," the woman said quietly, her voice almost inaudible over the war raging around them. She bowed formally. "My name is Veronica Anderson."
"You're the Estharians' Sorceress," Rinoa stated, and the woman smiled, nodding.
"Indeed. Now, the required pleasantries are over. Please die." Veronica flicked a hand at Rinoa, and a wave of potent telekinetic power slammed into her, tossing Rinoa back across the snows. Rinoa righted herself in mid-air and sent a wave of crackling lightning back at Veronica, who deflected the bulk of the blast with her hands and a flex of her Sorceress power. However, several of her white-robed minions fell to the snow, twitching as electricity shot through their bodies. A second stream of lightning shot form Rinoa's hands at Veronica, again deflected and flying among her soldiers.
"Impressive," the other Sorceress commented. "I will admit, your powers are strong . . . But you focus entirely on brute force? You have no control, no finesse, no experience. Let me show you."
Icicles gathered around Veronica as she spoke, dozens of them, and then, with a flick of her hands, several of them swept toward Rinoa. She rapidly raised another shield, deflecting the first wave, as the others scattered, circling around Rinoa and coming at her from other directions. Rinoa continued to deflect the icicles with her magical power, but as she was doing so, Veronica channeled up another spell. Rinoa's eyes widened as she recognized the energy Veronica was preparing, and fire lanced from her finger tips, striking the icicles swirling around her and melting them.
Dispelling magic swept over Rinoa, breaking her shield, but the younger Sorceress had already used her fire magic to remove most of the remaining icicles, and she quickly summoned a wall of fire around her to destroy the remaining ones. Veronica watched the display, nodding to herself.
"Impressive," she whispered. "I underestimated your control and speed." She reached out, closing her fist tightly, and Rinoa was gripped in a vise-like telekinetic grip, and was yanked forward toward Veronica. At the same time, her other hand waved in the air, and a shard of stone shot up in Rinoa's path, set to impale the younger Sorceress.
"Shit . . . ." muttered Lex as he picked himself up off the snow. The LRV he had been riding in had caught a stray tank blast, and the rear half of the vehicle had vanished, the front flying off into the air. He didn't know where he'd fallen out, but now he was facedown in the snow and pulling himself up to his feet, face red from the intense blaze of energy that had wrecked his vehicle. The SeeD checked his waist, and found his katana was still there, sheathed in its scabbard. He cast a quick glance around the battlefield, and saw that he had gone pretty far, and was left relatively alone on the snowy fields, with nothing nearby except-
Wham!
-for the giant spidery leg that slammed down into the ground fifty feet away, sending shudders through the snow and dirt. Lex almost lost his footing, but as he regained his balance, the SeeD looked up and saw one of the six Overlord walkers moving past. The cannon on its back began to charge up again.
Crap! I have to stop that thing, but how?
Lex stared at the walker again for a moment, and an idea hit him. It was crazy, insane, and by all rights it shouldn't work, but he had to try it. Clutching his katana tightly, the SeeD rushed across the plains toward the leg just ahead.
There was a sudden roar overhead as Lex ran, and he looked up in time to see two massive red warships swoop past, the barrels of their beam cannons glowing a bright gold light as they swooped in at another Overlord. The two airships, Ragnarok and Render, dove toward their target, and both beam cannons fired at the same time, light lancing down at the walker and striking it dead center. There was a tremendous flash of destructive illumination, and the Overlord in question exploded, rent apart by the two powerful Estharian airships. Ragnarok and Render swooped away, coming around for another pass as Lex neared his target. He stared up at the leg as he neared, and grinned.
"Here goes!" he shouted, and, with all his Guardian Force enhanced strength, he leapt up, halfway up the leg. As the SeeD reached the apex of his jump, he focused everything he had into his arm, and his katana flicked out, before returning to its sheath.
Lex hit the snow an instant later, rolling forward, and whirled around to see the effects of his attack. The Overlord stopped in place, the cannon still charging, and a moment later, the leg Lex had cut fell off at the middle, slamming into the snow. Still, the walker stood, supported by its other three legs, and the iaijutsu SeeD spun on the leg behind that one, nodding.
Overhead, the Ragnarok and Render came around, cannons charging for a second pass, and the five remaining overlords turned their attentions skyward. The cannons elevated as the two ships settled into a strafing run, and fired before the pair of aircraft could maneuver. Four of the huge energy blasts missed, but the fifth slashed in at the Render.
Lex looked up, eyes wide as he came to a stop, and saw the slagged remains of Render's rear port engines, as well as most of the rest of the port side, fly across the battlefield, the remainder of the ship rocketing forward on sheer momentum and the starboard engines. It flew wildly out of control toward the ground as the Ragnarok pulled up.
Then Render suddenly shifted in flight, the engines cutting out, and managed to change direction slightly. Lex's heart jumped as he saw the wounded, destroyed ship angle in at one of the Overlords. The walker charged up its cannon again and took a step backward before the airship slammed into it and exploded, shearing off the cannon and launching the walker several hundred feet backwards, its hull bursting into flame as it smashed into the snow. Two seconds later, the Overlord's power systems failed, and it detonated in a blue-white fireball.
"Bastards!" Lex shouted, looking up at the immobilized Overlord he was fighting. He ran toward the rear leg and hurled himself into the air, grasping his katana once again and focusing his spirit into a single flicker of his weapon as he passed. The SeeD hit the ground as the leg fell away, and with it came the Overlord, the massive war machine teetering over and plummeting toward the ground. It slammed into the snow just after Lex did, hurling snow across the battlefield and sending tremendous tremors across the field.
Three down, three to go.
Hyne smacked headfirst into a boulder and flopped to the snow. She pushed herself up out of the white powder, face red with anger as Alucard moved to Quistis' side, where she lay in the snow. He looked over her and shook his head as she saw the hundreds of ruptures in her skin, blood running all across her body. Quistis stared back up at the Guardian, crimson fluid running down her forehead and beginning to block her eyesight.
"You meddlesome bastard!" Hyne snarled, her playful tone now vanished. "I should rip your essence apart and blast it into the void for that idiotic insolence!"
"You can try, Hyne," Alucard whispered in response as he continued examining Quistis. He looked into her eyes and then ran a hand over her forehead, wiping some of the escaping blood away.
"This is too severe for a curative spell," he muttered to her.
"Am," she croaked, the motion of her mouth and the air coming up from her lungs suddenly painful. "Am I . . . Dying?" Blood began to come up from her mouth. Behind Alucard, Hyne rose up into the air, hovering above the battlefield as Hades stalked toward the pair, scythe ready.
"Worse," he whispered. "Hyne destroyed nearly a third of your body with that attack. I'm amazed you're still alive . . . But you won't last long now." Alucard glanced back at Hyne and Hades, and shook his head at them.
"We'll have to finish this some other time," he called, and Hades froze.
"Oh, no you don't!" he shouted, and started running across the snowfield. However, before he could get close, Alucard, and Quistis, had vanished into nothing. The Guardian of Death stopped, and snarled. He whirled around at a boulder and chopped his scythe through it, slicing the rock in half.
"Coward!" he shouted. "Get back here and face me, you worthless Guardian!"
"Relax," Hyne said, her anger fading away, and she laughed. The little girl glanced at the blood that had pooled in the snow. "Alucard only ran because I used negative energy on Quistis. That fool still cares too much for mere mortals."
"We just going to let him run off?" Hades demanded as his face reverted to its normal, youthful appearance. He settled his scythe over his shoulders again, his human expression clouded with anger and fury.
"We have no choice," Hyne replied. "Alucard has always been able to go wherever he needs. Besides, he and his little girl don't really matter anymore. Not with the Prototype . . . ."
The prisoners had managed to break free of the corridor traps, and had moved up into the segments of the prison where the guards lived, the only part of the complex that needed to be aesthetically pleasing. The room they were in now was an atrium connecting several wings of guard quarters, and beyond, the prison control room. The Iceblood Prison guards had been steadily falling back, mostly due to Irvine's skilled use of firepower, but had set this room up as a deathtrap for the sharpshooter and his team. Portable energy shields had been set up all across the atrium, and over a hundred enemy soldiers had set up behind pillars, benches, and shields, weapons leveled on the entrance the prisoners would be using.
What they had been expecting was for Irvine to charge out, leading his team in a violent assault, which would be stopped by waves of unyielding, remorseless plasma fire. The guards waited intently for the enemy to charge, and die, at the ends of their weapons in this last stand of a trap.
The doors into the prisoner-occupied areas of the prison slid open, and everyone tightened their fingers around their trigger. However, a single man emerged from the entrance, hands raised, head bowed. The guards recognized Irvine Kinneas from his coat and hat. His hands were high, holding no weapons.
After several moments, during which time Irvine advanced into the center of the atrium, surrounded by the watchful eyes of a hundred men, a group of four soldiers broke off from their positions at an officer's order. They closed in at Irvine from four different angles, weapons leveled at him.
"Freeze!" one man shouted, and Irvine stopped in his tracks. He looked up, staring at the soldier who had spoken as he and his three comrades surrounded the sharpshooter.
"Get down on your knees!" the speaker ordered. "Now!"
Irvine slowly nodded, and dropped down to one knee. However, he stopped there, and a slight, almost imperceptible smile cut across his features.
Then Irvine was flying, hurling himself to the side as he pumped his arms. Two AB-10 machine pistols, concealed within holsters inside his sleeves, flew up into his waiting hands as he whirled and sprayed fire on the four men who were even then tracking him to fire. The AB-10s erupted, bullets exploding from them and cutting down the quartet of soldiers with a storm of hot steel.
Half the pistols' magazines were spent as he came behind one of the energy shields, whirling even as he rolled, to face the soldier behind it. Both pistols jabbed into the man's stomach as Irvine pulled the triggers, pumping a slew of rounds into him. As the man fell away, blood flying from his shredded gut, Irvine whirled and fired behind him at another enemy soldier. A third rounded a shield and rushed at Irvine as the pistols ran out of ammunition, his axe held high.
The machine pistols clattered to the floor as Irvine whirled around into a high kick, smashing his boot into the head of the Estharian guard right in front of him. The soldier fell back a couple of steps, but was unharmed for the most part. However, Irvine had used the moment the kick had ought him to draw a Beretta, and jabbed it in the man's face. Three shots later, the MP fell to the ground, quite dead, as Irvine dove behind another of the dozens of portable energy shields. Plasma fire finally stuttered after the gunslinger as he slid his pistol back into its holster and drew his Calico sub-machineguns. Waves of blazing energy cut after him, pounding the shield and rapidly causing it to brighten. Irvine dove behind another shield, firing as he did so, rivers of plasma chasing him as a hundred Estharian soldiers tracked the sharpshooter. Ducking, weaving, and firing, Irvine moved between several shields and got behind a pillar, leaving several dead men behind him. The enemy closed in, rapidly moving to flank the pillar while remaining behind cover, squads fanning out to cut him off.
Pinned down, they have fire superiority. Have to change that, and I know just how . . . .
Irvine tossed one of the Calicos into the air, and then grabbed his hat. He whirled and launched the hat out from behind his pillar. A couple of startled soldiers fired, their shots cleanly missing the flying headgear, which drifted through the air.
At Irvine's signal, the sixty prisoners with ranged weapons rushed out the hallway silently. To draw attention away from them, Irvine spun out from behind cover, catching his tossed Calico, and sprayed a group of moving soldiers, cutting down two of the enemy. The response was immediate and predictable; the enemy returned fire, plasma cutting in at Irvine as he took cover, slamming into the pillar and melting the stone and metal that made up the column. The sharpshooter counted to three as the storm of flame flew in, and ducked low, spinning around the other side of the pillar and popping another opponent with a five-round burst to his faceplate as he leaned out. Irvine ducked back, and by that time, most of the prisoners were in cover and opened fire on the distracted guards. A dozen of the enemy fell in a couple of seconds, before the Estharians moved to regroup and face the new threat. Irvine peeked out, popped another enemy trooper, and saw, to his surprise, that more prisoners were coming out of the hallway, allw wielding Estharian weapons. The standing prisoners in the room kept up the pressure, their guns and plasma weapons forcing the majority of the enemy guards to stay behind cover while the rest moved out wide, flanking around the rest of the guards. Irvine nodded his approval of the tactic and joined in, stepping out from behind his half-molten cover and spraying bullets at the guards. The Calicos ran dry, and he holstered the machineguns and snatched out his revolvers. Before the Estharians could respond, Irvine dove behind another pillar, circling around to the side and firing as he moved. Each blast from his revolvers threw another enemy soldier to the ground.
On the opposite side of the room, the prisoners did the same, flanking the guards and pushing them back to the doors leading into the control room. The guards began to center around that door, hiding behind shields, columns, and anything else they could.
Irvine's eardrums exploded, and even as he was registering the sound, the core of the remaining guards was blasted apart, thirty men obliterated by a tremendous explosion. Less than a dozen men were still alive, many hit by shrapnel, and began to retreat immediately into the control room. His ears ringing, Irvine looked back toward the entrance to the chamber, and saw, to no real surprise, Selphie, hefting a long, massive rifle, looking more like a miniaturized artillery cannon fused with a sniper rifle. The last time she'd used a weapon like that, it had been during the Galbadian invasion of Esthar . . . .
Selphie's mouth moved as she pumped her fist in the air, and Irvine knew she was shouting an enthusiastic "Whoo-hoo!"
And nothing is sexier than a woman with a big gun.
A knife cut past Zell, who stepped in behind the cut and launched a quick kick that brushed Malachi's shoulder, knocking the soldier a step back.
"Come on, can't you do any better?" Zell asked, grinning. "You were kicking my ass last time!"
A knife cut in at Zell's gut, and he had to spin away from the blade and drop down low to avoid another cut from Malachi. the knife sliced through the air, tracing a pattern as Zell worked frantically to evade the deadly precision of the Estharian officer.
"Stuff it," Malachi hissed. "You're still an idiot for taking me on without a weapon." His knife slashed across in an overhand cut, then deftly flipped over into an underhand stab at Zell's heart.
"No weapon?" Zell replied, hopping back. "Huh. Squall heard a guy once say that the body was the best-" Zell stepped in underneath a quick cut and planted a knee to Malachi's gut. "-the most dangerous weapon of all!" The Estharian soldier was lifted up and launched back several feet by the impact, to crash into the snow.
"Not quite," Malachi replied, chuckling as he recovered from the hit, standing up. "Trust me, the Elemental project makes you SeeDs look like nothing."
"Elemental?" Zell echoed. "The hell?" Malachi shot forward, blurring across the distance between them with his inhuman speed, launching into a high kick that thudded against Zell's forearm, the brawler instinctively blocking. Zell countered with a low sweep, which Malachi barely saw in time to flip over, coming out of the evasive maneuver with an arcing stab. The brawler managed to stop the blade by reaching up just in time to catch Malachi's wrist.
Malachi's other fist shot over his caught arm and slammed Zell in the face, knocking him backward, dizzying him for a second, but not enough to leave the Estharian any openings.
"Like I said, it makes you nothing," Malachi stated. "We're going to replace you, all of you. After this battle, there won't be anything left to stand in our way!" Malachi advanced, cutting ahead again with his blade.
"Ha!" Zell replied, dropping back. "All we've got to do is keep you guys back until Trabia Garden lifts off!" He reversed his momentum, leaping forward into a flying kick. Malachi ducked and whirled, spinning beneath the kick and stabbing up, his blade grazing Zell's back. The brawler hissed in pain, and then went stumbling face forward into the snow as Malachi planted a vicious kick to Zell's side.
"Heh . . . who's the real fool?" Malachi responded, staring down at Zell. "It doesn't matter if Trabia lifts or not. We've got two Flying Fortresses, with ten thousand men each waiting to the south; If Trabia lifts, they'll fly right into their teeth." He stepped forward, left foot arcing up into a skull-crushing axe kick.
"Flying whats?" Zell coughed as he rolled away from the axe kick and leapt to his feet. Malachi's boot slammed into the snow, launching a plume of powder into the air.
"You remember, don't you?" Malachi asked. "The ships in my base? Our newest weapons?" Malachi ended his question with another blurring charge, chopping viciously with his blade. The knife cut the air before Zell as he dodged and weaved, bobbing his head and making it very hard for Malachi to score even a glancing hit.
"Those cheap Garden knock-offs?" Zell snarled as he suddenly stopped dodging, stepping ahead and catching Malachi's arm with one of his own, pinning it to his side too close for the Estharian to angle his knife in.
"Can hold ten thousand men," Malachi stated, chuckling. His head shot forward, slamming into Zell's. "Your bunch of bloodied and beaten men can't stand up to twenty thousand of our best! And after Trabia falls, next is Dollet." Zell fell back from the staggering blow.
"Dollet?" Zell grunted as he recovered, but then was launched back by Malachi's flying shoulder block. He slammed into the hood of the Dollet LRV, his skin screaming as it hit the still-hot metal.
"Even as we speak, the other six Fortresses, along with half of Esthar's navy have already captured Balamb Island," Malachi stated off-handedly as he stalked forward, twirling his knife. "It's a staging ground for the invasion of Dollet. Over a hundred thousand of Esthar's best, and an entire battalion of Elementals, just like me, are going to hit Dollet. Nothing you Garden punks, or Galbadia, or Dollet can drum up will be able to stop it."
"You think the combined armies of Dollet and Galbadia can't stop a mere hundred thousand?" Zell replied, standing up. He closed his fingers around the metal of the LRV, ignoring the pain from the heat.
"What?" Malachi asked. "Thinking you can run, Dincht? Tell everyone our plan? Not today. Galbadia and Dollet won't know what hit them. Now, die!" Malachi shot forward, and Zell spun. He grabbed the bumper of the LRV, and whirled, muscles straining.
Major Eric Malachi realized, with a sudden, startling moment of clarity, that backing Zell up against the Dollet vehicle was a very big mistake; instead of trapping Zell, he had actually given him a new weapon.
This understanding came right as the still-hot metal of the LRV slammed into Malachi's face, and the vehicle, swung by its front bumper by Zell like a baseball bat, launched the Estharian Major into the air. Malachi went hurtling end over end across the battlefield as the LRV dropped to the snow. Zell panted for a moment, shaking his head, and then raised a two-fingered salute at the departing Major.
"Suck on that shit, jackass! Frickin' home run! Booya!"
Rinoa flew forward, unable to stop Veronica's powerful telekinesis, so she did the next best thing. Rinoa focused her magic onto herself, and enabled a potent defense an instant before she slammed into the stone spike. Veronica watched, amazed, as Rinoa bounced off the stone skewer, and rolled around it, breaking free of her telekinesis and launching a violent blast of fire.
Rinoa had, for a split-second, turned her body into living metal with a flex of her transmutation magic, and had deflected right off the spike.
Veronica snarled as Rinoa's body reverted to flesh and blood, and the Estharian Sorceress had to catch and dissipate the fire spell with a burst of ice. Even as she was doing so, Rinoa shot her arms out wide, and lightning shot from them, slamming into the White Robes surrounding her and blasting dozens of them away. She brought both hands together before her and sent Veronica hurtling backward with a stream of hurricane-force winds. Snow, bodies, ruined vehicle hulks, and a single very angry Sorceress went flying away, but, catching a flying icicle spear that almost gutted her, and snarled as Rinoa channeled up even more power.
My only advantage here is sheer power! Rinoa steeled herself as fireballs formed around her. She has a lot more control, but my power is far greater than hers. Its like Squall told me . . . I have most of the power Edea wielded, and all of Adel and Ultimecia's. If I just keep pounding her-
Rinoa circled her hands before her, creating a wide ring of ice that caught the series of fireballs Veronica launcher her way, and with a gesture, Rinoa sent her own bolts of flame raining at the other Sorceress. Precision blasts of ice snuffed out the fireballs, but that was only a distraction as Rinoa reached into herself. She touched her Guardian Forces and nodded quietly as she utilized their power, and her own Sorceress powers in conjunction.
And, being trained by SeeD, I have one thing you don't, Veronica . . . .
"What are you doing?" Veronica demanded as she sensed the strange use of magic within Rinoa, and the younger Sorceress smiled to herself.
"His name is Leviathan," Rinoa explained as a great serpent erupted fromt he air above her. The huge, snake-like water Guardian Force hissed a terrible, unearthly cry, and water rippled forward, shooting across the Trabian plains at Veronica. The Sorceress' eyes widened as the magical water neared, Leviathan's power keeping it from freezing over. Veronica flexed her powers and launched intense waves of ice down at the water as it washed away her minions, and the magically summoned fluid began to freeze over. Rinoa, too, sent waves of cold magic into the water, freezing it as well, and Veronica realized an instant later that Rinoa had wanted her to freeze the waves over.
"What are you-" Veronica demanded, and then Rinoa pointed at the ice. A wave of energy shot through it, shaking the ice, and suddenly the bed of frozen water exploded, like a gigantic icy hand grenade. Veronica instantly raised a potent defensive shield, blocking the brunt of the storm of exploding ice as the shards tore into the remnants of her army, wiping them out. Leviathan's protective shield defended Rinoa against the blast, and even as Veronica was gritting her teeth against the barrage, Rinoa made another gesture and disappeared in a puff of wispy white air.
Veronica did not fail to see this, but she was still focusing on her shield below her when Rinoa vanished. She turned her head, frantically seeking where her opponent had gone, when a hand grabbed her shoulder. Veronica whirled around, preparing a spell as she dropped her shield, in time to see Rinoa right behind her. Fire blazed in Veronica's hand, but then she saw Rinoa's right arm.
That arm iced over, surrounded by cold magic that formed a solid, frozen blade around her hand. Rinoa stared remorselessly into Veronica's eyes as that blade, and the arm behind it, shot forward, stabbing through Veronica's face and into her brain.
"Half the enemy walkers are down!" shouted one of the Galbadian officers over the report of gunfire.
"That still leaves three left," snarled General Randolph as he slammed a new magazine into his weapon. Plasma scorched overhead through the mists as he pulled the charging handle back on his rifle. the powerful report of his weapon sounded an instant later as he pumped round after round into the charging Estharian infantry. The tanks and vehicles were having trouble in the mists, and the troop carriers had taken advantage of the chaos to drop their infantry off nearer to the battle. Dozens of Estharian soldiers were attacking the defensive trench, some even breaking through the badly ravaged lines and fighting hand-to-hand with Galbadian, Dollet, and SeeD troops.
"We can't hold under that kind of firepower," Randolph snarled as he gunned down another enemy soldier.
"We have to retreat!" the officer said, and Randolph looked at him incredulously.
"Retreat?" he asked. "Hell, we just got here!"
"Scout bikes!" came a shout.
"But sir!" the officer protested as plasma flew past, killing another Galbadian. "We'll get slaughtered if we stay here!" And explosion sounded beyond as the firing bike blew apart.
"What the hell are you saying?" Randolph demanded, reloading his rifle again. He reached out as he finished and grabbed the officer. "We're Rangers! We're SeeDs! We're the Dollet 125th! Hardcore badasses, the best that our countries can drum up! And you're telling me we're going to run from some cheap-ass sci-fi movie knock offs and guys in stupid white uniforms?" Randolph pressed a finger to his ear.
"Listen up!" he shouted over all the radios across the defensive trench. "This is General Randolph! I know you guys are getting pounded, but I know you bastards are giving 'em ten times as much right back!" He fired his rifle one-handed as she shouted over the radio.
"These cheap Estharian fucks are hiding behind their damn walkers!" he snarled. "Let 'em stay back there, for all we care! We've got some of our best pounding them as we speak! You guys have to hold the line! Trabia Garden needs us to keep it safe! Those children and civilians will have no one to protect them if we die here! So kill! Kill the bastards! Kill them all! Butcher them, crush them, stab them, choke those fuckers to death with their own intestines and beat them down with their own fucking severed limbs! We're going to fucking hold this line! You understand!"
Randolph's ears popped as over a thousand surviving soldiers responded with an enthusiastic and simultaneous "HELL YES SIR!"
Randolph snorted as he heard the firing from his side of the trench increase tenfold. He reloaded his rifle, which had gone dry in the middle of the speech. The charging lever was pulled back again as he glanced at the doubting officer, who was no longer hesitating. He clutched his rifle intently, nodding.
"The fuck are you doing?" Randolph snarled. "Shoot you some bastards!" Randolph whirled and fired a burst into another Estharian's face as he stepped out of the mists, firing wildly. "Hah! If you didn't want your ass kicked, you shouldn't have stuck it out so far!"
A scout bike flew through the mists, firing as it came, and seventeen separate rifles and two shotguns blasted it at once, shattering the front end of the bike and sending the man inside flying forward. He rolled into the trench and shot up, apparently unharmed. Randolph and several others whirled, firing, but the man made an impossible leap into the air, landing amidst three Dollet soldiers. His axe flew around wildly, slicing down all three men in a couple of seconds. Another Dollet trooper stabbed at the man's back with a bayonet, but the Estharian came around with a sudden chop that shattered the man's head.
"Fuck!" Randolph shouted, pointing his rifle at the man. "That's SeeD-level speed!" The Estharian turned toward Randolph and rushed at him. Randolph fired a couple of shots, which missed as the Estharian ducked and weaved around the bullets, and the General switched his approach, grabbing his rifle in both hands like a staff. He matched the Estharian trooper's movements as he came in with a blurringly fast chop of his shotaxe. Randolph knew not to test the target's strength, and rolled aside, around the man's left, and smashed his faceplate with the butt of his rifle. The faceplate buckled, and the man leapt back, tearing off his helmet, revealing his face.
Randolph rushed forward again, thrusting with his bayonet, but the Estharian shot his axe up to block. However, the bayonet thrust was a feint, as Randolph's left hand dropped to his side and drew a grenade. Not a normal fragmentation grenade, but a flashbang. Even as the axe was rising to guard against the thrust, Randolph shot up his leg, his boot plowing into the soldier's testicles. The man grunted, doubling over slightly, for despite the armor, the blow had still hurt. However, the real point behind the kick had been to make the man's mouth open slightly.
Randolph's hand jabbed forward, thrusting the flashbang into the Estharian's mouth, and he pulled his hand away, taking the pin with it. The Estharian's eyes bugged open wide as he realized his predicament, but Randolph smacked the butt of his rifle into the man's face and hurled him backward for the seconds the flashbang needed.
The stun grenade went off, and the explosive flash, while not lethal when exploded in the open, was absolutely deadly in a tiny enclosed space, like the Estharian freak's head. The soldier's skull exploded.
Randolph didn't even watch, instead whirling back to the battle, as if the freaky Estharian had never even existed.
Veronica's body vanished in a cloud of purple-pink light, and energy flowed into Rinoa's body. She stood silently as she felt the magic pump into her, the Sorceress power strengthening her body and magic as it poured across her soul.
She opened her eyes as the energy faded, and looked at where Veronica had died. There was no remorse, no pity in her eyes. Veronica had been an enemy for her, albeit a deadly and ruthless one. It wasn't in her character to spout witty one-liners like Irvine or Seifer would have. Instead, she looked away from the ruined battlefield and the dead bodies of Veronica's freakish minions, and toward the walkers beyond. She stared at the Overlords, and considered how to stop them. She had been peripherally aware of the Ragnarok's assault, and saw another Overlord down nearby, legs sliced off. One of the Seeds had done that, was it the one Zell had been fighting alongside yesterday?
Rinoa shook her head. Couldn't get distracted. She stared at the walkers, and checked her powers. She felt a distinct connection with all the energies around her, but a new, stronger connection with her powers to manipulate objects. Had she gained Veronica's control over telekinesis?
She glared at one of the walkers. Only one way to find out.
Rinoa extended her hand at the walker ahead of her, and closed her fist tightly, focusing on the space around the walker. With her power, she called on the space to contract upon itself, to come together. She closed her fist even more tightly, channeling the magic, and then, as if it were a soda can Zell was about to toss away, the walker crumpled inward into itself. The power generator for the cannon collapsed as well, and the entire vehicle detonated in a flashing blue-white fireball.
The Sorceress immediately turned to the other two walkers, focusing on them. She saw the energy buildup in their generators as clearly as she would see a glowing light bulb, and knew they were about to fire again. Every time they fired, more good men on that defensive line died. She couldn't let that happen again!
Rinoa, without any real attempt to focus her powers, reached out with her arms, spreading them wide as she faced the other two walkers as they advanced, side by side. Then, she slapped both hands together. With a sudden whoosh of displaced air, the two Overlords flew at one another and slammed together hard enough to crumple their armor plating. Rinoa tightly clenched her hands, focusing her powers, and pressed their heavy armor together, crunching the metal and compressing both walkers. One Overlord gave before the other, its generator failing and detonating. The fireball consumed the second Overlord, annihilating both vehicles. The shockwave from the detonation rolled across the field, lifting up snow and casting it all about as chunks of molten metal hit the dirt and ice surrounding her.
"Mission complete," she muttered grimly.
Diablos was reeling as Seifer and Nash alternated, the Governor diving in with quick cuts that drew the Guardian's ire, and Nash then rushing in with heavy blows of pyrotechnical power. The fiery magic was what was really winning the battle, for even Diablos, with its resistance to magic, was not capable of deflecting the intense flames of Ifrit's Elemental.
Nash rushed forward with another arcing kick trailing flames that met Diablos' head, sending the Guardian spinning around. Seifer leapt past the scientist, landing on Diablos' shoulders, saber raised high.
"Fortified with iron, asshole!" Seifer snarled as he stabbed the blade into Diablos' mouth. The Guardian Force roared a cry that shouldn't have been possible and managed to reach up, swatting Seifer aside as Nash uppercutted the GF in the gut. A column of flame erupted around the pair, blasting Diablos away. Seifer landed atop a lab table, shaking his head as he hit, breaking through the metal and plastic of the furniture.
"Ow, damn it," he growled, standing, his face going red with anger. "You need to learn to eat a healthy diet!" Seifer clenched his fist as Nash prepared to strike again. "Hold it!"
Nash paused and looked back, in time to see yellow light flow around Seifer's body. The scientist's eyes went wide, and he ducked to the side as Diablos rose up, furious but badly wounded.
"Hey! Diablos!" Seifer called as the yellow light focused around his arm. The Guardian Force stared at Seifer as the Governor grinned. A fireball formed in his palm, and shot out at the Guardian. It slammed into the GF's chest, knocking it back hard against the wall, causing it to crack. The GF shook its head and started to stand as Seifer slashed the air twice with his gunblade. A pair of glowing white lines slashed over the floor, forming a cross that intersected on Diablos' position. In the darkness of the lab, they shone poignantly.
Seifer stared at the guardian for a second as the white light intensified, and then raised a hand. With a smirk, the governor snapped his fingers, and a tremendous detonation of fiery energy erupted from the cross traced on the ground, rising up and consuming Diablos in a torrent of flame and light.
The glare of the detonation fades several moments later, shrouding the room in darkness, but was quickly dispelled when Nash lit up the room with a small flame. He moved across the chamber, as did Seifer, to the spot where Diablos had stood. The demonic Guardian was gone, and in the light of Nash's handheld flame, only a small, black-haired girl lay, clothes missing and crumpled in a fetal position, arms wrapped around her body.
"Is she . . . ." Seifer asked, staring at her face, surprised by the young woman's beauty. His eyes widened as he recognized part of her face.
No way . . . .
"She's fine," Nash whispered, nodding. "Serra will regain consciousness soon. We have to get her out of here, now, though."
Seifer nodded and quickly took off his dirty, tattered jacket. He wrapped it around Serra's body like a blanket, and hoisted her in his arms, still looking at her face.
"Let's get the hell out of here," Seifer whispered.
Impossible. By all rights, he should have been dead, but somehow, despite all of her efforts, despite every feint and stroke and the fact that she had cut out both of his damn eyes, Squall was still standing and still fighting. Blood streamed down the side of his face from his slashed eye, his body was bruised and bleeding from a half-dozen other wounds, and yet he was standing tall, as if unfazed by the injuries he had suffered.
In contrast, Illarra was panting with exhaustion, her face red with anger as she stared at Squall, hatred blazing in her eyes at his emotionless visage, the scarred, bleeding points where his eyes should have been staring at her. She gritted her teeth and snarled viciously at Squall, raising her blades.
The woman dove in, gunblade and knife chopping in viciously in a rapid fire, alternating routine, assaulting Squall at opposite angles. Lionheart swept up, deflecting the attacks with quick, straight parries, flashing crystal meeting flashing crystal, Squall's arms moving almost lazily as he deflected every cut, chop, and stab. A dozen blows later, Illarra fell back, snarling viciously as she circled Squall, who turned to match her, eyeless gaze peering into the woman. Even as he watched, a slight, almost haunted shudder went down her spine.
"What the hell are you?" she whispered.
"I'm Squall Leonhart," he answered quietly. "Nothing more."
She shot ahead again, slashing viciously, her blade met instantly by Squall's gunblade. His left arm shot across, slamming Illarra in the face and throwing her backward, even as the two weapons collided. She flipped up onto her feet and thrust aggressively at Squall's throat, but Lionheart turned the stab aside with casual ease.
"How are you-" she hissed, and spun around into a high kick. The ankle of her boot was caught instantly by Squall's left hand. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped her over, sending Illarra crashing headfirst into the stone. She rolled away, cursing him violently as he stalked forward. She rose up to her feet and stabbed her weapon at Squall once more, but Lionheart shot up, catching the blade and parrying it out wide. In the opening Squall advanced like lightning, his right leg rising into a knee that slammed into Illarra's gut. She let out a lungful of blasted air as she doubled over. Squall whirled around into a circle kick that crashed into her temple, and the woman was sent spinning to the stone.
"You and Griever took my eyes," he whispered, with no anger, sadness, or malice in his voice. "I'm completely not sure what this is I'm experiencing now, this "zanshin" as he calls it . . . ."
Illarra rose up to her feet shakily, but before she could raise her weapons, Squall rushed forward, turning to his left and slamming his shoulder into her chest. Illarra was sent flying backward across the courtyard, and crashed heavily into the stone wall, shattering part of it from the sheer force of her impact and launching loose stones around the battlefield. She dropped to the stone floor, head swimming as aches and pains shot throughout her back and upper body.
After a few moments of laying there, a figure blotted out the sun overhead, and she looked up, to see Squall's silhouette towering over her, Lionheart at his side. As she watched, the man shook his head, long hair waving in the frigid Trabian cold. Illarra managed to move her mouth, not understanding why he was just standing there.
"Finish . . . it," she whispered, and Squall shook his head again.
"Illarra, you've done some horrible things in your life," he stated quietly. "But now that I know why, I know I can't hate you. Your life is a sad thing. You never hated me . . . It was your father, and humanity itself that you hated. You hated the nature of humanity, the forces that drive us to kill and destroy and hurt one another."
As she watched, Squall slowly returned his gunblade to his sheath, and turned around.
"I'm not your enemy, Illarra, humanity is," he said quietly. "I can't feel anger or hatred or enmity for you. All I can feel for you . . . is pity."
And with no further words, Squall Leonhart left her laying there, blood still dripping from his face as he walked away.
-
Oy. That one took some time to finish. Sorry about the delay, I got hit with writer's block partway through, and I was very busy for the last couple of weeks. But anyway.
Several refences throughout this chapter. Spot them if you will. :P
Next chapter, we tie up loose ends regarding the Trabia battle, and prepare for what could be a, yes, even larger war.
Now, fortified with iron! Its the Shout-Outs!
Orestes666: Why thatnk you! I take pride in my fight sequences, though they've become steadily less technical as my writing progresses. That may actually be a good thing . . . .
OniRazz: Big Squall? Hey, that gives me ideas for more fics XD And, y'know, I think Squall won't be needing much in terms of replacements for eyes now . . . .
Daniel Wesley Rydell: Eek. The doom song. D:
Spikestrife: Yeah, Griever's evil. Very evil. And mean, too. He may have a certian similarity to a particular red clad insane superpowerful vampire from a particular anime I like . . . .
Eden Elementals? There might be . . . .
Katy: Ah, I know the feeling. Checking everday for updates. I do that with reviews. And I think Squall does indeed get around being blind by, y'know, not being blind at all XD
Chris Ganale: Why no, those are not Warthogs! AndI did not so often almost write them as "Warthogs" instead of "LRVs" during the prodiction of this chapter. And I did not so rip off the Chief's front Ghost boarding action when Zell took on Malachi. Yeah.
Solid Shark: Yah, I had to cut the duel between Alucard and Hades short. Really, it was over last chapter; I just drew it out to make people angry :P
E: Well, the way I was writing Diablos,it tends to use attacks that drain life and reduce strength. So, the shadow magic it uses can be considered the gravity attacks the one in the game uses, so to speak. And Seifer against Illarra? Hm.
DBZ Fanfiction Queen: I loled at your review XD
That's an interesting notion. Would Illarra's death be a good or bad thing for her? She's not a really happy person right now, you know.
And yeah, technically Illarra and Squall are second cousins.
Arnath Nightblade: Oh, yes, I am very interested in how this vision of Squall will develop. Very interested :D
Prodigy: Sucks about your computer, man. Ouch. :( And yeah, I did cut out squall's eyes. Sucks for him. :P
Stardust Ray: You know I like a character when I'm mean to them XD
TainShairi: Well...griever, he's not a nice person, I'll say that much. he does get off on hurting Squall, however.
Leonhartilly: Squall will get a break soon, hopefully. Maybe for a moment, at least.
Ragnark: Yes. You should have, dangit.
Icedragon6171: Regeneration is malachi's bag. Squall doesn't necissarily regenerate, especially whan that part of his body just . . . kinda slows him down XD
JadeAlmasy: Well, duh. Of course I'm the crazy one!
And I knew someone would like Quistis' defiant nature. Especially in the face of Hyne herself . . . .
Hrm. that fic looks interesting. I may have to give it a look.
Blue: Hah! I knew few would be seeing the presence ofHynein this story! And as for your question . . . what do you want me to say? She's someone's daughter, I'll say that much.
I know about the Rinoa-Ultimecia theory. I'm not a fan of it, myself. It just doesn't click with me, andI haven't heard much decent proof in favor of it; just speculation.
Kimahrigirl: "Freaky" won't begin to describe Griver and Squall, heh.
Narishma: I don't like giving up on a project I've started, especially one this good. I'm planning on going back and continuing Synthesis soon... And thank you for the compliment! Trust me, it means a lot more than you think!
Kolostramin: Yes. I did. :P And as for Dollet/Galbadia against Esthar, its less of medival France against modern USA and more of UNSC against the Covenant. Sort of. :P
Anyway, that everyone? Cool.
Until next chapter!