Chapter 26: Noontide
She was huge, as large as the King of Guardians himself, Bahamut. That only made sense, considering she was invoking his full power to become the Guardian manifested, but Squall was undeterred as he shot up at her. She stretched out her wings, kicking off the Fortress and flying out in the open air, well over three times Squall's size.
A blue-white brand of fire and a silvery metal blade stabbed at her heart. Illarra snarled, rearing back as Squall hurtled up toward her, and whipped around, her tail slamming into Squall and launching him back toward the Flying Fortress. He crashed into the deck, metal rending and twisting beneath him, and she dove after the SeeD with inhuman speed, her wings flapping and sending her plummeting toward his position.
Squall shakily stood up, and then looked up in time to catch an uppercut to the jaw from her massive clawed hand, which knocked him up into the air. Before he could really register the hit, she slammed him again, straight down, and Squall crashed onto the top of the Fortress' domed ceiling. His body exploded in pain as she dropped down, driving one of her draconic legs into his stomach, and then leapt off. She touched down on the deck a short distance away, chuckling to herself.
"Weak and pathetic, Squall," she stated, her words vibrating the hull. "You know you can't win, don't you? Not without invoking Griever to reply to this raw, unmatched power!"
"Never," Squall responded, shaking his head. He stalwartly refused to do that. To transform himself into the monster that ran through his veins . . . no, Squall completely denied that impulse.
"Then you'll die," she replied off-handedly. "And nothing will be able to stop my righteous vengeance. If you refuse to battle me as you know you have to, Squall . . . if you refuse to embrace your Elemental powers, then I'll have to crush you like the insect human you really are!"
As she spoke, Illarra raised an arm and rushed at Squall, her hand shooting down at him. He sidestepped in an eye-blink, Lionheart stabbing across and into her hand as her arm rent into the metal, and she reared back, thundering a cry of pain. Even as her left hand retreated, though, her right shot down and grabbed Squall by his shirt and lifted him up. He flipped over the Revolver and made to stab it into her wrist, but she immediately shot that hand down and crushed him into the metal plating at her feet. Illarra raised a leg, snarling in rage and joy, and sent her foot crashing down at Squall's face.
That leg stopped, and she unleashed a shuddering screech of agony, when Squall raised both Lionheart and the Revolver, letting her impale her foot on the two blades. He grinned darkly, but before her could fire his weapons, she tore her foot free and flapped her wings, hurling herself away from him and into the air over the Fortress.
Idiot, you cannot fight her as you are!
Piss off, Griever.
Invoke my power or you will be destroyed! As she is she's a class totally above you! Bahamut will rip you to pieces!
No, Griever. I know why you want me to invoke you. Not going to happen.
You fool!
Shut up, and let me handle this.
Light gathered in Illarra's mouth during the mental exchange, and Squall focused himself, channeling his emotions. This was not a limit break, but a simple redirection of his magical powers and the strength of an Elemental. The energy within Illarra's mouth grew stronger and brighter as Squall gripped his gunblades more tightly.
What are you-
Didn't I tell you to shut up?
Energy cascaded from Illarra's mouth, lancing out in a series of brilliant golden-white bolts that rained down at Squall. He stared up at the attack, and suddenly backflipped, evading the first falling bolt. What followed was an insane, impossible dance, as the SeeD dove forward, then skittered to the side, and somersaulted over the next series of blasts, the energy ripping into the top of the Fortress and piercing several decks below.
The last beam shot down at Squall as he hit the deck, and Lionheart cut across, a white glow erupting around the blue blade of crystallized energy. The beam from Illarra's breath weapon smashed into the gunblade, her blast and Squall's spirit clashing for a brief instant-
And the bolt shot back up at Illarra, batted up into the sky by Squall's indomitable willpower. The dragon above blinked once, caught off-guard, and then took the beam directly in the chest, energy flashing across her body. She was sent reeling for a moment, barely remaining airborne, so shocked was she by the impact.
Below, Squall nodded, smiling tightly.
She has eyes.
That meant that Illarra, for all her power and strength in this form, had no Zanshin.
The transformed woman thundered in rage and looked down at Squall as he turned and ran along the length of the Fortress as fast as he could. Her mouth glowed again as she readied another attack, interpreting his retreat as one of fear or desperation. She didn't see Squall's determined face as he dashed across the roof of the warship, or knew what he was thinking, or the fact that he wanted her to fire.
That's it, Illarra. Fire away. Throw everything you've got at me. Make my job that much easier . . . .
A Dollet soldier fell back a step, blood gushing from his chest as an Estharian cyborg tore his axe free with the crackling, fluid sound of bones being broken. The man hit the floor, dead, and the soldier who killed him followed a second later as Seifer rushed past, his saber severing the man's head. A cyborg rushed past Seifer, only to get smashed into the ground by a Galbadian war robot, which then plunged into the fray, arm-mounted machineguns blazing. Estharian plasma poured over the machine, melting armor and burning through electronics.
White light cut past Seifer as he turned an enemy axe aside, Hyperion stabbing through the gap and biting at his opponent's lung. Serra's attack burned through two enemy soldiers, and Lex dove into the gap, katana flickering and resheathing, then repeating, cutting down another pair of the enemy. Bullets ripped past, swords, axes, and bayonets collided with sparking flashes and resounding impacts, war machines surged forward and were torn to pieces. Blood ran through the halls of Galbadia Garden as twelve thousand SeeD, Galbadian, and Dollet defenders battled for every inch of ground against unending tides of Estharian invaders. The clashing cacophony of war filled the building's corridors and resounded off its walls, the ring of blade on blade, the explosions of grenades, rifles, and shotguns, the screams of the dying, cries of the wounded, and cheers of the victors all mingling in a din of chaos and carnage.
Seifer and his small group had withdrawn from the exterior and into the halls, only to find themselves rushing into another maelstrom of war as enemy troops swarmed into the upper levels. Galbadians, SeeDs, and Dollet troops battled the enemy in close combat, some battling with knives or hand-to-hand. With every passing second, more enemy troops, including lethal cyborg soldiers, stormed the upper floors. The garrisoned troops, the vast majority of them ordinary soldiers, could not match the sheer physical power of the enemy cyborgs. Discipline was rapidly fading in the tremendous melee battle raging through the second floor of the Garden.
The ex-cadet was trying to rally what men he could to his side, but his troops were dying as fast as they were forming up around him. For every enemy trooper that was killed another took their place, and for every Garden soldier that fell there were no reinforcements.
The only good news, at least, was that the enemy Elementals, what few they encountered, were in no condition to fight. Crell's elite troops were so used to their superhuman powers that when they found their strength suddenly ripped from them, they were disoriented and unable to defend themselves. Those Estharians who attempted to use any magic found themselves unable to cast spells.
Serra, on the other hand, was quite capable of using her magic, or rather, the magic of her Guardians, to wreak havoc on the enemy. White light lanced from Phoenix's wing, while shadow poured from Diablos', throwing down dozens of the enemy and clearing breathing room for many allied soldiers. Serra herself reached out with her mind toward her allies, willing them to be safe and protected, and many of them found a strange energy coursing over their bodies, magical barriers protecting them from harm and wounds slowly mending.
Seifer cut and blasted a path down a corridor, arriving at a intersection in the halls where a score of SeeDs and Galbadians had set up a strong, well-protected defensive position. Crouching behind barriers, they traded bullets and grenades with Estharian plasma, but at least here there seemed to be a degree of control and discipline. Seifer paused only for a moment to consult his radio, and his eyes widened.
"What is it?" Serra asked. Seifer's reply was cut off as Diablos raised a wing, blocking a plasma bolt flying at her chest, and Phoenix rippled forth, fire cutting down the offending enemy soldier. She was quickly pulled back behind cover by one of her bodyguards.
"Main courtyard's getting hammered hard," Seifer replied. He looked to her, and then to her bodyguards, and then nodded. "And the command deck is in trouble. They need someone out there to rally the troops before they get overrun! Look, Serra, you-"
"I'll stay here," she replied immediately. Seifer blinked, surprised she had understood his orders before he had even spoken them.
"Okay, right," he replied. "I'm heading for the main courtyard, see if I can back up the troops there! You help these guys hold position here, okay?" Serra nodded, and Seifer stood up. he took a deep breath, readied himself, and opened his mouth.
"Covering fire! I'm heading straight through!" The troops around him shouted an acknowledgement and intensified their fire for a moment, forcing the enemy to take whatever cover they could find, and slackening their shots. An instant later, Seifer shot around one of the barrier and raced down one of the enemy-occupied corridors, ripping into their ranks before they even realized he was there. he charged down the hall, blades flashing and flying out around him as he danced a brutal, vicious dance through the hallway, blood staining the walls, his blades, and his coat as he cleaved a road into the heart of Galbadia Garden.
"Pull all of our units back to secondary defensive positions!" General Randolph barked at his officers and technicians on Galbadia Garden's command deck. He turned his gaze up to the main screen overlooking the command center, and watched as every part of his garden started turning red, indicating enemy contact. The Estharians had taken the courtyards and were swarming into the lower levels, but the upper floors still held, barely. Casualty reports kept streaming in, detailing heavy losses in every area of the Garden. Close to two thousand men were dead, and the numbers were increasing. The fact that they were killing the enemy at a three to one ratio was not easing Randolph's worries; the Estharians could afford those losses, while the allied troops couldn't.
"Sir, central courtyard is reporting heavy contact from front gate and Alpha corridor!" Randolph looked over the screen as the words came in, and shook his head. The enemy had cracked the defenses in the training and residential complexes on Galbadia Garden's starboard side, and chaos had taken those areas. The enemy was pushing deeper into the Garden, attacking the forward command center in the main courtyard. As it was, Kinneas' two thousand men in that area were barely able to fend off the attack from the main gate.
"Get B, C, E, and L companies to reinforce the main courtyard," Randolph ordered, and as the declaration was issued, close to a thousand troops in more lightly engaged areas of the Garden broke off and moved toward the main courtyard. Hopefully that would buy Kinneas some time.
A flash of light momentarily distracted Randolph, and he glanced out the front window of the command center, to see a fleet of aircraft dropping a small volley of missiles and a tremendous shower of machinegun fire on one of the docked Fortresses. Explosions ripped the hull of the ship and he saw hundreds of enemy soldiers shredded by the volley of gunfire, momentarily relieving the pressure coming from that ship. The Ragnarok swooped in, main cannon and autocannons pumping death into a mass of the enemy as they stormed toward the front gate.
While he appreciated Selphie's vigorous supply of air support, Randolph knew that they weren't going to be enough to put an end to the tide. His troops were going to have to fend for themselves until reinforcements could arrive . . . or Laguna could make his move.
"Sir, Corsair transports closing on the command deck!" shouted a technician, and Randolph looked back tot he main screen. He turned, scanning the length of the command deck, and nodded.
"Okay, people, we planned for this!" he shouted. "Issue final orders and give me a direct connection to the intercom, then begin evacuation!" Several of the officers blinked, shocked at the order, but Randolph stared at his men resolutely.
"Are my orders unclear, dammit!" he snarled. "Get moving!"
The technicians exploded into motion, grabbing documents and weapons and computers, while officers started rapidly speaking to the troops on the front lines. As his men moved, Randolph looked out the front window, and saw a dozen enemy transports swooping toward the command deck. Without a word, the General strode across the deck, toward one of several caches of weapons that he'd had placed in case the command deck was stormed. Calmly, he hefted one of the double-barreled rocket launchers Dollet soldiers had a preference for, and loaded it, before grabbing four additional rockets. Resting the weapon on his shoulder, he strode into the middle of the command deck, staring out the window at the enemy as they closed in. His radio chirped as several men hurried out of the command deck, the rest rushing to follow.
The pilot hurried down from his control pylon, and started to run past Randolph, but paused as he saw his commander not budging. The General looked over at the SeeD, and gestured at the doorway with his head.
"Get out of here, son," he ordered. "I'll hold them off."
The pilot looked like he was about to protest, but then nodded.
"Aye sir!" he replied firmly, and hurried out of the room, pausing only to grab a sackful of ammunition and an extra rifle. As he left the room with the last of the officers, Randolph pressed his left hand to his ear, raising his launcher in his right.
"Attention, all personnel," Randolph stated calmly. "Be advised, command deck has been breached by the enemy."
Plasma stuttered down from the transports, slamming into the glass and melting it, opening holes. The Corsairs began to rotate, opening their troop bays, the two closest angling in to drop their cargo.
The rocket launcher kicked, a dull whoomph! resounded across the deck, and the first missile shot directly into the troop bay, blasting every Estharian inside into ribbons and bloody mist, and sending the transport skipping through the air, spiraling down uncontrollably toward the mass of enemy troops below.
"As you can tell from the noise," Randolph continued. "I don't have time for an inspirational speech."
His launcher fired a second time, and the next transport followed suit, hurled away, with body parts hurtling into the air.
"Therefore, I have one simple order for every man and woman still standing and fighting." The sounds of Randolph loading the last pair of rockets into the launcher were likely audible over the radio.
"Hold you positions! Stand together!" Randolph shouted, raising the launcher to his shoulder again. He sighted another Corsair as it came in, and punched a missile straight through its cockpit, the explosion ripping out the backside of the ship.
"Use every weapon you have! Give every enemy soldier a belly full of lead and pool of their own blood to drown in! Stand firm and make the enemy scream and bleed and die! Let the only cover your foes have be their stacked corpses you've piled up in the halls and rooms!"
His final missile lanced out, striking another Corsair in the middle of its anti-gravity system, causing the transport to plummet straight down, into the enemy gathered below. The general dropped his rocket launcher and drew his rifle, turned and walking back toward the doorway into the command deck. With his left hand, he reached into his vest and pulled out an object.
"Protect your comrades," he stated quietly. "Hold your positions. Kill the enemy. That is my last order. Stand strong, and we'll live through this day, people."
Estharian boots hit the deck behind Randolph as he stood in the doorway to the command deck, and turned around, a tight smile on his face. He watched the enemy rush through the room, some surprised no one was in the command deck, others pointing weapons at the officer. The paused, however, when they saw what he was holding.
"Randolph out," he said, and depressed the trigger on the radio detonator. The doors automatically slammed shut, sealing the enemy inside the command deck, and then the charges Randolph had planted earlier that day went up.
The entire command center for Galbadia Garden erupted in a titanic fireball that hurled debris, flaming Corsair transports, and the charred, shattered pieces of the enemy into the sky over Balamb.
Randolph dropped the detonator to the floor, cracked his neck, and hefted his assault rifle. He turned, and hurried down the hallway, looking for his next battle.
The gunblade came up an inch short, the fires blazing around the Revolver vanishing as Hyne simply willed them to not be. She cocked her head to the side, smiling, clearly amused, as Nash withdrew and launched a stream of fire from his left hand, the heat snuffed out before it even touched Hyne.
"Hm. I didn't think people could cross over timelines . . . . temporal mechanics are most interesting."
Nash didn't respond, instead rushing forward again, an inferno rippling out from his body and blazing toward Hyne as he leapt at her, swinging with a guttural roar of rage. She looked up at the blade as it fell, and raised a hand, catching the sword on her bare palm. As soon as the blade stopped, she pointed her other hand at Nash, and sent him flying across the room once more.
The Elemental tumbled through the air, but managed to right himself as he flew backwards. Searing heat shot from beneath him, the pulsing flames blasting him forward, canceling out the force behind Hyne's blast and sending him hurtling back at her, the blazing heat from his gunblade searing the paint off a tank as he shot past-
Hyne caught Nash by the front of his jacket and, with a mocking giggle like an amused child, spun around and spiked Nash directly into the hull beneath her, sending him bouncing up off the metal and into another tremendous bolt of magic. Nash crashed into the wall on the far side of the chamber and flopped to the floor, groaning.
"This is fun," she said, clearly amused. "I haven't had an actual fight like this in ages. And the fact that you're so angry . . . ."
"You haven't seen me pissed off yet, bitch," Nash snarled, standing up shakily. He raised the Revolver, and pointed the tip at Hyne. She watched the motion, and noted the red edge of the weapon, the razor-sharp, crimson tip standing out distinctively against the silver metal. Nash's features contorted, the muscles of his face tightening as he opened his mouth, letting out a thundering roar of anger.
"You look constipated," Hyne remarked as amber light shot up around the Elemental, the precursor to a Limit technique. Hyne watched, detached and amused, as white light shot down around the gunblade, wreathing the weapon in a shining aura of energy. Nash took the weapon in both hands as waves of power rippled through the deck around him. The amber light faded, and the shining, glimmering gunblade remained.
"And this accomplished . . . ?" she asked. Nash narrowed his eyes as he stared at Hyne.
"I saw myself use this technique a long time ago," he stated. "Pumping all your fury and rage into a beam of light surrounding your weapon. I saw what that attack could do." Nash dropped into a crouch, the Revolver held out before him.
"That power killed Griever," he explained. "It destroyed him, utterly and completely. That kind of power was what I had been looking for, for so long, Hyne. The strength of that tremendous technique, that move that left a blasted zone, tearing through all of Ultimecia's castle and destroying that which is immortal. I made this gunblade to harness that power, and I focused that strength into this refined form."
Nash met Hyne's eyes, and she understood what he meant.
"That energy," she whispered, an excited smile creeping across her face. "That blade can kill anything."
"Even you, Hyne," Nash replied. Without another word, he jetted forward, flames pulsing behind him and hurling the Elemental at his opponent. He cocked the blade back over his shoulder, his body flashing with raging flames as he closed in with Hyne once more. The shining gunblade chopped forward at her head, slicing in unerringly . . . and slowed right as it neared her, the energy in Nash's swing sapped by Hyne's powers. Even so, she quickly drifted back and down, dropping beneath the blade as it swooshed past her head. Nash stopped the sword and sent his gunblade in a backhand chop, dropping it lower. Hyne scooted backward, floating back across the bay and out of range of the blade, but only for an instant, as Nash pursued.
His blade chopped at her again, and a fourth time, each stroke slowing as it neared her and allowing Hyne all the time she needed to drift away, almost effortlessly, he feet never touching the floor as she evaded every cut. Her mocking giggles filled the chamber, further enraging Nash as he hacked away at her, his flames causing metal surrounding the pair to deform.
He charged in with a straightforward thrust, the blade cutting over Hyne's head as she ducked, and then sent the blade down and low, chopping at her knees. She drifted upward, over the blow, and then back quickly as Nash reversed momentum and sent the Revolver flying upward, trying to cleave her in half. The blade fell short, the slowed swing passing right before Hyne.
Then, as the gunblade cut past, she shot in behind the swing and planted both hands against Nash's chest. A flash of light filled the room, and the Elemental stood stock-still, eyes wide, smoke issuing from where Hyne had struck. He took a stumbling step backward, almost losing his balance, but stopped standing shakily. His left hand touched his chest, where the smoking wounds Hyne had inflicted had charred his vest and shirt and burned the skin underneath, and the stared at her, hatred burning in his eyes.
Screaming another enraged roar, Nash shot ahead with an impossibly fast swing, the blade slowing even as it started falling toward Hyne. She started drifting backward, but Nash rushed ahead even as he was swinging, keeping her in range. The blade fell toward her, the blazing light of Nash's vengeance falling toward her, and then he hit the deck, launched across the room by another effortless beam of energy.
However, as the Elemental slowly stood up, a new round of aches and burns assaulting him, he saw the small, innocent-looking girl touching her right arm with her left hand, and staring at the Elemental with baleful eyes.
Silvery vapors trailed from her right bicep, between her small finger, drifting into the air. Nash recognized the vapors for what they really were, and grinned sadistically as he stood, readying the blade in his hands.
Hyne was bleeding.
"Well-struck," she snarled, and Nash chuckled, twirling the glowing blade in his hands before settling into another crouch.
"Trust me, you haven't begun to see what this can do," he replied. "And I'm not going to stop at making you bleed out your magic, Hyne. I'm gonna put this blade right through your gut and watch you scream just like all the people you and Ultimecia murdered-"
Nash's threat was silenced when Hyne raised a hand and sent a column of white light at the Elemental, the beam blasting him backward across the chamber and straight through the wall of the muster bay.
Irvine pumped another shell into his shotgun and fired a blast, the heavy 10-guage round that blasted forth ripping half of an enemy soldier's head off and sending him tumbling to the floor. The sharpshooter pivoted, firing another blast to his left, cutting down another charging foe, and then to his right, destroying a cyborg as it dove after one of his comrades. The shotgun ran empty at that moment, and he dropped the weapon, pulling out an AB-10 machine pistol as several foes charged him. The pistol scythed across their ranks, cutting them all down in a shower of steel and blood, and Irvine ejected the magazine and rapidly reloaded. Another foe rushed at him the middle of his reload, and he snapped out a revolver and plugged the enemy soldier twice in the chest, sending him to the blood-soaked floor.
Surrounding the sharpshooter, the combined SeeD and Galbadian force protecting the central courtyard rapidly found itself being surrounded and pressed from all sides. An unending horde of Estharian troops pressed the defense at the front gate, and two of the corridors leading into the courtyard were compromised, with hundreds more of the enemy pressing their forces there. Estharians were flooding the lower floors and assaulting the upper levels; the balcony ringing the central courtyard saw heavy fighting as the enemy sought to overwhelm the soldiers providing covering fire up top and shoot down into the defenders below. men were falling left and right, hacked and beaten and blasted, the iron-hard discipline of SeeD and Galbadian and Dollet forces faltering beneath the enormous press of enemy attackers. Slowly, little by little, fallen soldier by fallen soldier, the defenses were crumbling. Even when a thousand reinforcements stormed the room through the only remaining uncompromised corridor, it simply seemed a momentary respite for the defense.
The enemy cyborgs were tearing their regular, unjunctioned forces apart, and the Estharian regulars were deadly opponents themselves. With the defenses in the corridors being overwhelmed and open fighting raging across the floor, Irvine's three thousand troops were suffering badly, rapidly dwindling in the face of overwhelming enemy odds.
The sharpshooter blasted through a dozen of the enemy, loading an AP round into his rifle and firing it into the thickest concentration, but the gap was instantly filled by more seemingly suicidal enemy troops. Charging on with screams of "Sorceress slaves!" and the like, the Estharian troops drove in, assaulting an enemy they believed served a terrible foe and threat to their survival. Irvine fired away as rapidly as he could, reloading when he had a chance, cutting down scores of the enemy with his weapons, but he knew that he was rapidly being overwhelmed. The enemy pressed in around him as the defenses were failing, many of his comrades buried under the enemy advance in a cloud of blood and the clashes of blades. He moved to reload a revolver, and then was sent reeling tot he floor at the end of a cyborg's shoulder.
The Estharian warrior towered over Irvine, raising his axe for a finishing blow. The sharpshooter grabbed a pistol at his belt, raising it as fast as he could, but even then, knowing he wouldn't get the weapon up in time.
Then the cyborg's head was impaled on the end of a pair of blades as Seifer Almasy dropped from above like a blood-stained guardian angel. He landed behind the Estharian, yanking his blades hard, and tore the machine's head clean off, flinging it at another foe and knocking him to the ground.
Irvine was up in an instant, plugging an enemy soldier that dove at Seifer's back, while the ex-knight's blades cut and struck down two more foes directly before him. He whirled around, severing a head with a backhanded stroke of his saber, while Irvine's next shot went over the knight's shoulder, snapping an enemy head back as the round went between his insectile faceplate's eyes.
With the pair rapidly covering each other, they were able to drive back the enemy attacking them momentarily, and start falling back toward allied lines. Within a matter of moments, the two warriors managed to find themselves surrounded by SeeDs and Galbadians once again. The soldiers surrounding the pair took heart at the arrival of their commanders and fought on more ferociously, driving the enemy back and holding on hard. Irvine and Seifer piled a small wall of corpses around them as the battle raged on.
"Prepare to fall back!" Seifer ordered over the din of the warzone.
"What?" Irvine asked, and as he reloaded one of his weapons, he saw what Seifer had meant, even as a SeeD nearby fell tot he floor, riddled with plasma burns. The upper balconies were being overrun, the defenders up above fully engaged with enemy soldiers who kept swarming in. Already several positions had been swept away, and Estharians were firing plasma weapons down into the defenders. With the enemy holding the high ground up above and firing down on the embattled soldiers below, they couldn't hold.
"Move everyone back toward the inner hallway!" Seifer ordered at the top of his lungs. "Get them back tot he main corridor! We can hold them off in there!"
The army started to fall back, tightly constricting itself into a solid semicircular wall, guns and blades all pointing outward and holding the enemy back as their troops began to the retreat toward the one remaining uncompromised corridor out of the courtyard. If they could get inside, they'd be able to stem the tide of the advancing horde and hold out for a far longer time.
A torrent of blue-white explosions resounded behind them, however, silencing that hope. Even as Seifer and Irvine were becoming aware of the detonations, they heard a shout of "Estharians behind us! Rear flank!"
Enemy troops flooded out of the main corridor, assaulting the SeeD, Galbadian, and Dollet defenders along their backside, forcing many troops to whirl to face the unending enemy legions.
Plasma fire from up above intensified, and the Estharians, sensing victory at hand as they encircled their enemy, pressed on harder, seeking to bury the Garden defenders under their overwhelming numbers.
They had cut the power to the elevator. Well, that wasn't going to slow Quistis down. She stood over the lower maintenance panel for the stalled elevator car, pointed a hand at the floor, and let a bolt of magic blast it open. Then, without a second's hesitation, she dropped through the hole, plunging into the gap and plummeting down the elevator shaft.
"Sir, something exploded up there!" one of the men reported, and Malachi nodded, walking into the elevator shaft.
"They're coming," he stated calmly.
"Ready rifles!" shouted one of the soldiers, but Malachi shook his head.
"No, they're not stupid enough to use the ladders to climb down," he told them. "They're dropping straight down the shaft from the upper levels."
"That's-"
"Suicide?" Malachi snorted. "These are Balamb SeeDs, just as tough as you guys are. They can live through a drop from that height." Malachi then grinned, and set his feet beneath him, coiling them for a jump. "But let's see if they can survive me."
Air blasted against Quistis' face as she plummeted, rante coiled in her hands but ready to strike. She stared straight down as she dropped through the shaft, orange service lights flashing past her. Below, something moved, shooting directly up at her, moving into her path. She snapped her whip out and waited a split second as the shape below her - now recognizable as a powerfully built Estharian soldier - drew closer, and then lashed out. The rante shot down at her opponent, and rang against something metal, and then they flew past each other. She swung her whip out, catching it on a pipe along the wall, and her opponent grabbed the wall, hanging on the service ladder just above her.
"Trepe," snarled the man, and Quistis looked up, to see Malachi holding the ladder just above her, knife in hand. He stared down at her. "Didn't expect you of all people to come charging down here for a fight," he whispered.
Her response was to send her whip flying up at Malachi. The Elemental cut across with his knife, catching the blade of the rante on his weapon, and his left arm shot forward, grabbing the whip by its chain. With a right grin, he spun, swing the captured whip over his head and pulling Quistis along. Before she even realized what he had done, Malachi used his insane physical strength to send her slamming into the metal wall directly above here he stood.
Yanking the whip a second time, he sent her careening downward in the opposite direction, toward the wall beneath him. She shot down the shaft at the end of the captured chain, but an instant before she hit the wall, Quistis got her feet under her and planted them against the wall. Malachi managed a blink of surprise before she tugged right back, spinning and sending him slamming into the shaft on the opposite side. He hit hard, denting the metal, and released the whip, catching another pipe in his hand. Quistis snapped the whip over her head and sent it flying at him again, but he twisted around and brought his feet up over the striking blade.
The whip lodged into the wall, and Malachi set his feet atop the blade. With a sneer, he released the bar he was holding and slid down the whip for an instant, then hopping into a dive, angling his knife to stab it into Quistis' face.
With a flick of her wrist, she tore the whip free, while at the same time dropping from her perch and plummeting beneath Malachi. Quistis snapped her whip up at the Elemental, as she fell, the blade lodging in his chest, and before he could blink, she whirled around, flicking her whip straight down. A searing pain shot through the Elemental's chest as he was yanked around and sent hurtling down that shaft at the end of Quistis' whip.
A second later, Malachi impacted solidly with the bottom of the shaft, sending shockwaves through the metal. He coughed, spitting up purple blood, and started to stand up.
His back exploded in agony, and he felt something give as a pair of booted feet crashed into his lower back. Malachi slumped tot he floor, shocked and hurting and out of the fight, as Quistis hopped off him.
"Now," she whispered to him. "Why are you down here?"
Malachi let out a groan of pain, but Quistis, ears unusually sharp and alert, realized halfway through the moan that he was covering up the sound of bootsteps closing in behind her. Whirling around, Quistis snapped up her whip, the blade driving into the chest of a charging Elemental soldier, blood gushing from his chest. the man fell back, pulling the blade from his torso, and raised a plasma rifle.
Quistis was the faster of the two, invoking her Blue Magic and sending shining bolts of light from her eyes into the man's chest, burning twin holes in his armor and sending the Elemental reeling. More of the enemy special forces rushed up to intercept Quistis as she drove her whip against her first foe again, the blade stabbing into the side of his head and sending him tot he floor, where he lay still and unmoving. She whirled to face more of the enemy as they closed in.
Then she found her breath choked off as an arm wrapped around her throat, pulling her back. She started to struggle against Malachi, but the Elemental officer, his wounds already healing, planted his knife against her throat, stopping her cold.
"Check him," he ordered his men. One of the Elementals looked over the downed soldier, and shook his head.
"Hm, you killed one of my men, Trepe," he mused. "Not bad." Quistis didn't answer, her mind racing as she tried to find a way out of this situation.
"There may be more coming in behind her," snarled another soldier, and Malachi nodded.
"We can use her as a hostage," another suggested, but Malachi shook his head vehemently.
"We're not cowards," he snapped. "You disgrace yourself by even suggesting we use a human shield!"
"Then what do we do with her?" the man replied. "If we can't use her as a shield-"
"Then she's not useful to us," Malachi replied coldly.
Quistis realized the finality of Malachi's words an instant before he drew the cold metal of his blade across her throat.
Serra cradled a wounded soldier in her hands as she retreated down the corridor, Phoenix rippling into existence behind her and firing a bolt at the enemy that was pursuing them down the hallway. A dozen SeeDs and soldiers were lining the hall behind them, providing cover fire as the rear guard as the troops in this section of the Garden fell back.
"Retreat!" came a shout from the officer who had ordered the pull-back, who Serra recognized as General Randolph. He fired his weapon at the advancing enemy, cutting them down alongside his fellow soldiers as he lead the rear-guard action.
"Fall back to the dorms complex and hole up there!" Plasma sizzled toward Serra as she hurried down the hall, but Diablos deflected the bolt instantly. More shots flew past, and one of the soldiers behind them went down. Wasting not even an instant, Randolph grabbed the downed soldier with one arm, slung him across his shoulder, and fired his rifle one-handed.
"Grenades out!" Randolph ordered, and his troops hurled their grenades down the corridor, the bombs detonating amidst the charging enemy. The explosion bought the retreating forces enough time to run down the hallway toward the next sector of the Garden, and through a pair of heavy security doors. The doors hissed shut and locked as they passed through, and Serra set down her wounded charge, the man's blood still on her hands. A medic hurried over to take care of the wounded soldier.
"Set up positions and cover that door!" Randolph ordered. "And get these wounded patched up and out of here!" He turned to one of his men. "What's the status in the rest of Garden?"
"We're heavily engaged across the whole Garden," answered an officer. "Nearly every sector has been breached, and all of our secondary defenses are being overrun. We can't hold much longer!"
"We're gonna fucking hold!" Randolph snarled. "No one ever kicked ass by saying they can't! What about the courtyard? How are Seifer and Kinneas doing?"
"They've been cut off, sir," the officer replied. "Enemy forces breached the corridors leading into the courtyard and have them surrounded, and have almost taken the balcony overlooking the courtyard."
"Dammit!" Randolph snarled, slamming a fist against the wall, ignoring the subsequent pain.
"Wait, did you say Seifer and Irvine were trapped in there?" Serra asked, and the officer nodded.
"They've got over ten thousand men storming that room from every direction," he explained. "There's no way we can get our troops through that."
"But we can't just let them die!" Serra protested, looking to Randolph. The general shook his head, punching the wall again.
"That idiot had to go diving into battle headfirst . . . ." he muttered.
"Can't you help him?" Serra pleaded, and Randolph looked up at her, anger and something else, some other emotion Serra couldn't identify mixed into his eyes.
"I would if I could!" he responded. "My army can't break through that kind of defense! Every soldier in the Garden is fighting right now for their lives! Nothing I have and no one here can save those men in that courtyard." Randolph slammed the wall again in anger.
Serra watched him, her own desperation growing. Seifer was in danger at that moment, and there was no way to save him. he had nearly died to stop Diablos from possessing her, and now she stood there, on the other side of the structure, unable to help him.
"They're breaching the door!" came a shout, and Serra looked over, to see white sparks flying from the security door. Randolph looked up, his face shifting to one of cold determination. he shouldered his rifle as he looked at the doorway.
"Stand by!" he ordered. "Set the table! Prepare to fire!" the men scramble dup around him, leveling their weapons at the doorway. Serra watched their movements, and knew from the way they carried themselves that many of these soldiers realized they were going to die in the next few minutes. She saw them steel themselves, preparing to meet death head-on, some trembling in fear. Serra also saw that every man was starting to lose something in their eyes, something essential: hope.
This scene, she knew, was being repeated all throughout the Garden. Every soldier and SeeD fighting for their lives, killing and dying without hope of defeating the enemy that stood before them. There was no escape from this Estharian juggernaut. They knew, every one of them, that they were all going to die before the day ended.
That thought sent something through Serra, an emotion, a sense of anger and a feeling of injustice. These men didn't need to die today. They had their own lives to live, lives they were bravely giving up in the hope of defeating the invading force of Esthar.
No! She wasn't going to let that happen! Seifer, Irvine, Randolph, everyone here, she had to protect them!
Randolph had fought beside SeeDs before, and he knew what was happening when an amber light surged around Serra as her emotions continued building. His eyes widened as Serra let her emotions rise up, empowering her body and soul.
A black wing erupted from he left shoulder, and a glowing red and gold one from her right. The two wings swept out wide as a cascading black and white light shot up and down her body. The soldiers surrounding her had to shield their eyes as the blazing brilliance filled the corridor.
The door exploded inward, and a legion of Estharians rushed forward, axes raised, prepared for another lethal charge. Their boots pounded the floor as they swarmed forth.
White light and black shadow fell upon them, and a shimmering streak of blazing energy lanced down the corridor. Every Estharian on the left fell to the floor, the life ripped from their bodies. Every man on the right simply collapsed into charred bone and ash as fire cut through them.
Randolph watched as the blaze of light, a furious angel of death that had an instant before been a harmless girl tear through the hallways. She flashed through the passages, burning through every Estharian she encountered. She cut through contested regions, her fire and shadow smiting the Estharian invaders and yet not even touching the Garden defenders, even those engaged in hand-to-hand combat. More than one SeeD or soldier grappling with an enemy soldier found their hands holding a suddenly lifeless corpse or floating ash and charred bone.
Seifer, in the central courtyard, crossed blades with an Estharian cyborg as Irvine frantically reloaded behind him. His three thousand men had been reduced to less than a thousand battered survivors gathered into a tight circle, fighting for their lives. A sea of Estharians surged against the island they formed, and plasma fire stuttered down from up above as the enemy on the balconies pumped shot after shot into the defenders.
Seifer knew, even as he cut down another foe, that the battle was over. The Estharians were going to bury them in a sea of bloody shotaxes and burning plasma, and the only thing they could do was stack the enemy's corpses up as high as they could before the end.
Always thought I would die this way . . . . he mused. Behind him, Irvine kept firing, more desperate to get out of this battle, yet also acutely aware of their inevitable doom.
Selphie . . . sorry it had to be this way. Keep on living without me, okay?
However, those thoughts ended a second later as the rear corridor became a shimmering passage of light, and a shape flew out of the hallway, leaving corpses and charred bodies behind. It flew directly over the heart of the embattled, surrounded defenders and stretched out its arms and wings. Estharians raised their rifles, but couldn't fire on the angelic being, their eyes blinded by the brilliance of its light.
The angel of death looses a scything torrent of fire and shadow, blasting down into the Estharian hordes, perfectly tearing into their ranks with beams of ripping and destroying energy. Bolts of light swept over the balconies, evaporating Estharian soldiers and sizzling between the surviving defenders with surgical precision. The light within the chamber brightened to eyes-hurting levels, and the Garden defenders looked away, shielding their eyes, as the angel rained death and annihilation on the enemy surrounding them. The fire and shadow extended beyond, racing up the corridors and even blasting outside, ripping a terrible swath of divine punishment across Galbadia Garden.
Then, the light faded, and all that remained in the courtyard were Garden's soldiers. they looked up at the being above them, awed by the raw destructive power as burnt ash drifted through the air around them, and saw a young woman hovering overhead, but only for an instant. She toppled forward, dropping toward the floor, and the SeeDs and soldiers quickly caught her before she hit. They gently set her down with shocked reverence.
The crowd of soldiers parted as Seifer and Irvine pushed through them, and saw Serra's unconscious body laying at the heart of the ring of soldiers who had, moments before, been doomed.
Ten thousand Estharians had been burned to ash or had their lifeforces snuffed out in under a minute.
Crell stood in the command deck, dimly aware of the rushing wind outside his office, seeping through the shattered glass window behind his desk. he didn't pay much attention to that, however, as he looked at the holographic displays scattered around his office, showing the progress of the battle. It was rather disconcerting to see such astoundingly high casualty figures, and just seconds before, ten thousand Estharian troops had suddenly had their IF transponders vanish, as if the men had been just annihilated in a matter of moments. An entire Fortress' worth of men, just gone.
That seems to be the norm for today, he mused. Five entire Fortresses destroyed, with heavy casualties among his men elsewhere. But even so, his men were pressing on, and had the enemy drastically outnumbered, and would soon overwhelm the Garden defenders with sheer numbers. It was going to be hell trying to take care of this with the media corps back home, though.
"Brave leader," came a comment from behind Crell, and the dictator whirled, eyes widening, as he heard a voice he'd never expected.
"Loire!" he snarled, seeing the true President of Esthar standing behind him, in full combat gear, with his assault rifle in hand. Laguna Loire stared at Crell, anger and resentment in his eyes as he looked over the man who had usurped his government.
"Brave man, sitting back here in the heart of your base and watching thousands of men die for you, huh?" Laguna asked. Crell snorted as he looked over the President, and noted that, while he was holding his rifle, it was at his side. Calmly, Crell drew his own plasma pistol, but did not raise the sidearm. Laguna watched the motion, but didn't move to raise his own weapon.
"The true commander never enters the battle by himself," Crell replied. "I'm too valuable, for who will lead Esthar through these troubling times if I die now?"
"Nothing but a coward," Laguna snorted. "How many Estharians have died out there today? How many Garden soldiers have fallen fighting off those men who you've sent to their deaths?"
"At last count, fifty thousand in destroyed Fortresses annihilated at Rinoa's hands, plus another ten thousand that just died a few moments ago. Coupled with another ten thousand killed on various other battles in Balamb and Galbadia Garden, we're looking at seventy thousand Estharian soldiers killed in this battle, and I'm guessing about seven to ten thousand more Garden troops have been killed as well."
Laguna stared at Crell, shocked at the absolutely casual and emotionless way he reported that staggering number of deaths.
"Are these men nothing but cannon fodder to you?" he asked, and Crell chuckled.
"You could say that," he answered.
"And the worst part is that none of them know why they're really fighting," Laguna muttered. he jabbed his left hand at Crell accusingly. "You've lied to them, lied to the entire country!"
"These Estharian fools are too trusting," Crell replied, nodding. "They'll believe anything someone in their oh-so-perfect government will tell them. Sorceress Rinoa, responsible for assassinating the President and overthrowing the governments of the west and using Garden as her personal vanguard. Ludicrous! I'm amazed these fools believed me!"
"Because they wouldn't follow your real ideology," Laguna answered, and Crell laughed.
"No Estharian would follow an Adelist's commands if they knew who I was. Nor would they ever follow Virago, the worst criminal and scientist in Adel's regime. I find it ridiculously amusing that all of Esthar is rallied behind the one man that is vilified in the entire country."
"This whole war has been caused by a remnant of Adel's regime," Laguna hissed shaking his head. "A lie created by a murder and a war criminal who's turned my nation into a puppet for world conquest."
"Esthar is better without you, Laguna," Crell stated calmly. he grinned, and then shrugged. "Too bad you don't have the good sense to die in the first assassination I arranged. But now-"
He snapped up his pistol faster than Laguna could react, and fired three shots. The bolts struck Laguna dead center in the chest.
"-I get to fix that . . . problem?"
Crell trailed off as the bolts went right through Laguna's body, striking the wall behind him. The President suddenly smiled.
"Oh, hey, I forgot! I hacked your holographic controls. I'm not really here, Crell. Not that stupid."
The dictator stared at Laguna for a second, gnashing his teeth in frustration.
"Also, one more thing," Laguna added, as if he'd almost forgotten to mention this. "I didn't just hack your holographic controls. I also hacked into the communications system and sent a fleet wide transmission to the entire Estharian military. And I also used your secure comms system to connect back to Esthar through the communications blackout you imposed. And from there I patched into the entire Estharian communications network."
Laguna's smile widened across his face.
"This entire conversation was just sent to every radio, com-link, holographic projector, and nearly every other electronic media device connected to the main Estharian communications network. Which means that everyone in Esthar, plus every soldier and sailor out here, has just heard you confess that you've just lied to the entire country, attempted to kill me, and taken this nation on a false war against an innocent Sorceress."
Zell Dincht stood atop a pile of broken corpses, with over fifty elite Elemental soldiers stacked up around him. the brawler was covered in blood, with maroon and crimson fluid splattered across his entire body. The berserk spell had started to wear off as the enemy had surrounded him again.
then, suddenly, the entire Estharian army stopped in place, the soldiers frozen, as if listening to something. they started looking to one another, whispering and talking, and several officers rushed out.
"Hold positions!" they ordered. "Stand down! Stand down!"
Zell wasn't the brightest fighter in Garden, but he knew what was happening, and he waved his hands at the confused SeeDs, repeating the order.
Seifer was cradling Serra, checking her breathing and vitals, which were, to his relief, normal. She lay back on the floor, dazed and almost unconscious at the exertion of her power.
A shout from one of the SeeDs caught his attention, and he knew that the enemy was coming at them for another charge. Grimly determined to beat the enemy back and withdraw his men, he rushed to the front of his army, readying Hyperion and his saber.
however, when he reached the front of the army and prepared to give orders, he stopped, seeing the Estharian troops, who had been charging in anew moments before, standing at the front gate, milling about in confusion.
Instantly, Seifer pumped his fists into the air, knowing what was happening. Behind him Irvine did the same.
"He did it!" Seifer shouted.
"Laguna pulled it off!" Irvine added.
A resounding cheer shot through the battered army an instant later as the soldiers and SeeDs realized what the pair meant, and that the war had suddenly come to a screeching halt.
Crell stared at Laguna, looking as if he had been hit over the head by a chair. The hologram of Laguna stood there, grinning, and set his rifle down on the floor.
"There's a saying one particular member of SeeD would have for this specific moment," Laguna said. He then pointed both hands at Crell, index fingers extended, and smiled as wide as he possibly could.
"Owned, bitch!"
The look on Crell's face was one of absolute anger, hatred, and indignation. that look, however, was changed an instant later as Laguna spoke once more.
"Now, since everyone can hear me loud and clear," Laguna said. "This is Laguna Loire, President of Esthar, sending a communication to all Estharian military forces in the Balamb region. I have one simple order for you." He stared at Crell, his wide grin becoming a tight smile, that of a man about to lay a long-deserved justice on his foe.
"Take Crell Varines down. Alive or dead, it doesn't matter."
"Sir?" asked one of Malachi's elementals as he wiped his knife, stepping over Quistis' sprawled body. The man looked up at his commander, and from the sound of his voice, things weren't going well.
"What is it?" he asked as a burst of static filled the room for a moment.
"Very bad news, sir," the Elemental explained. "We've been made."
"What do you-" Malachi began, but then his eyes widened. "Wait, what? We've been exposed?"
"Loire just managed to trick the President into confessing on a live worldwide broadcast," the Elemental responded. Malachi snarled.
"Shit!" He sheathed his sword, his face scrunching up in anger and furious contemplation. "This is bad. Very bad. Okay. The bomb's been set, so get everyone back to the sub. We've got to initiate the fallback plan and get the President out of here before the entire Estharian army falls down on him."
The Elementals nodded, and they hurried out of the room, rushing through the passages leading out of the MD Level. Malachi moved to follow, and then paused, glancing back at Quistis' corpse.
Metal rang against metal as he drew his blade entirely on instinct, blocking the blade of a snapping rante.
Malachi stared in shock as Quistis stood where she had fallen, whip in hand, the blood that should have been pouring out of her slit throat nowhere to be found. The cut he had inflicted was gone, a faint white line slashing across her throat the only sign he'd hurt her.
"How the hell-" Malachi began, but as Quistis retracted her whip, she dropped something, a radio. The soldier's eyes widened as he realized what that burst of static moments before had been. She'd alerted the forces in the Garden!
Several shapes dropped down the shaft behind her, landing at the bottom of the elevator shaft with weapons ready. With the battle up above over, the embattled SeeDs could now join the fight below.
Malachi knew he was badly outnumbered, and with Quistis having survived what was apparently a mortal wound, he had a new, healthy respect for her. Discretion was the better part of valor, Malachi decided and he whipped an object from his bet at the floor. Quistis rushed forward in pursuit, but the object, a smoke grenade, exploded, filling the area with a thick black smoke.
Two minutes later the smoke had dissipated, but that was more then enough time for Malachi to escape through the passages and out from Balamb Garden, leaving his bomb behind to deal with the SeeDs.
Quistis let him go, and instead directed her reinforcements to search for the bomb Malachi had mentioned. As they hurried about, she touched her throat, where she had been cut, and remembered Alucard's words. Was this another manifestation of his power in her body?
She disregarded the thought, however, and snatched up her radio. With a bomb in the MD level, Balamb Garden was in critical danger. They had to find it, but if they couldn't locate the bomb, they'd have to evacuate the building.
A storm of blazing light slashed down at Squall as he ran along the top of the Flying Fortress. The pillars of light impacted all around him, ripping through armored plating and buffeting the SeeD. He charged on, not stopping as he crossed the warship.
Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it-
An energy blast from Illarra crashed down hard behind him and sent him hurtling forward, over the edge of the domes structure. The SeeD righted himself, dropping feet first, and started sliding down the exterior hull of the ship. He quickly readied Lionheart, and looked up, waiting for Illarra.
The transformed Elemental swooped overhead and dove, flying down toward the SeeD, intent on catching him as he fell. He watched her descend, judged her speed and direction, and then, as she neared, he stabbed the blade into the hull. The gunblade cut deep into the hull, but slowed him down fractionally, enough to throw off Illarra's descent, causing her to fly past him. Planting his feet against the hull, Squall kicked off into the open air, and dropped down, landing solidly on her back.
Illarra didn't even realize he was there until both blades stabbed between her shoulders, where her neck met her back. The dragon let out a scream of pain as the Revolver and Lionheart plunged in, and Squall set his feet, tightened his grip, and pulled the triggers.
Illarra's thundering of pain increased tenfold, almost deafening the SeeD as he held on tightly, pulling the triggers on his gunblades over and over. The Revolver and Lionheart flashed and fired, concussive force shells ripping into her body, blasting her Elemental form and striking deep into the core of the transformed woman. She tumbled through the air, flying uncontrollably as squall fired and fired, each blast resulting in a scream of agonized torment.
Squall was intent on firing and holding on for dear life, his blasts damaging and weakening Illarra's draconic form. Each impact sent shudders throughout her body, every wound damaging Bahamut's power as much as it harmed her. She couldn't maintain this form for much longer-
So intent was he on finishing Illarra off, Squall never realized that her erratic, tumbling course was taking her straight toward Balamb Garden's command deck until they shattered through the glass and slammed into the ground, the dragon knocking desks over and sending shocked SeeD tumbling away from the impact. Squall was knocked loose, his gunblades tearing out of Illarra's back as she rolled across the main floor, her cries of pain shaking the chamber.
"Commander!" came several shouts as Squall shakily stood up, using the Revolver as leverage to push himself up to his feet. He watched the dragon as she tried to stand, but fell to the floor, rippling energy surrounding her as she defused with Bahamut.
That was fast . . . didn't expect her to give up that form so easily.
The room was in complete chaos, but that came to a stop as the SeeDs regarded the dragon and the SeeD Commander. White light began pulsing around Illarra as she began to shift back to a human form. As this happened, the Commander looked around to his people, and saw from the main screen that the Garden was no longer under attack.
"Did he do it?" Squall asked. "Did Truth succeed?"
"Yes sir!" answered a SeeD officer. "Its over, Commander! We won!"
"Good," Squall replied, looking back to Illarra as her wings began to evaporate, shrinking back into her body as the draconic features began to fade.
"But the enemy managed to slip a bomb into the MD level," another called. "We're trying to find it. Quistis is down there looking for it now!"
"A bomb?" Squall asked. Before him, Illarra was almost human again, tail and long neck vanishing as her features shifted from serpentine to humanoid. He looked around the room tot he SeeDs, and realized the inherent danger. if this was an Estharian bomb, they might not be able to even find it, much less defuse it.
"Issue an evacuation order!" Squall called. "Nida, get this thing over to Galbadia Garden and have everyone evacuate the building!"
"Sir?" Nida called from the command pylon as Illarra, now human once more, stood up shakily, gunblade held loosely in hand. She stared at squall with her gouged eyes, her expression one of hatred and rage.
"Squall . . . " she breathed, and he saw blood seeping down her legs, trailing from her back. "I'm going . . . to . . . kill you . . . ."
"Get everyone out of here," Squall ordered. He raised his gunblade as Illarra steadied herself, the two Elemental facing one another. He glanced at the men and women around him. "Now! Evacuate! That's an order!"
"Die!" Illarra screaming, rushing at the SeeD Commander as his men moved to issue the evacuation call.
The Estharians had instantly heeded Laguna's orders, and were already charging back tot heir transports to hurry to Crell's command ship, to hunt him down and kill him. Seifer watched them charge, and knew that those men, every one of them, was outraged and enraged. Nearly a hundred thousand Estharians had died, alongside tens of thousands of SeeDs and soldiers who had never been their enemy in the first place, all because of Crell Varines' lies and lust for power.
The Estharian army was understandably pissed off, and as they charged over the burned, blasted corpses of their comrades, Seifer knew they wanted blood and vengeance.
Seifer's troops began to disperse, some of the badly wounded collapsing and with comrades rushing to their aid. Others began to take an accounting of the dead, but many simply sat down, exhausted and wearied by the unending, nearly hopeless struggle. Indeed, the entire army in the courtyard would have been wiped out were it not for Serra's sudden intervention.
She had partially regained her senses, and a SeeD medic was with her, helping her sit up. Seifer walked over to the young girl, and crouched beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, her eyes widening as she saw his bloodied, haggard face, and she shot forward, hugging him tightly. Seifer blinked, surprised, and began to lightly return the hug.
"When I heard you and Irvine were surrounded, I couldn't let . . . ."
"I understand," he whispered in response. He pulled away after a moment, and smiled. "You did good. You saved all of our lives." She nodded silently, and looked around the field of carnage, her expression unreadable. Somewhere in all of the violence and death, she had become immune to the horrors of war, somehow.
A shadow fell across the pair, and Seifer looked up, to see a familiar figure towering over them, smoke emanating from his pipe.
"It looks like I'm a little late," Alucard commented. The Guardian of Existence extended his right hand, his left holding his saber, as if prepared for battle. Serra reached up and lightly took his hand, and he helped her to her feet.
"Yeah, you are,' Seifer replied, a bit indignant.
"I'm sorry I could not help in the battle," he explained to the pair.
"What are you doing here?" Seifer asked bluntly. His words clearly told the Guardian that he didn't like his presence at that moment.
"I came to render what aid I may," the guardian answered. he glanced around the room, and then to Serra. "And I have determined Hyne's intent."
"You have?" she asked, and Alucard nodded. He paused, and sighed, seeming weary all of a sudden.
"Yes, Serra," he explained. "She facilitated the development of the Elemental project, but it was not until recently that I realized your importance."
"My importance?" she asked, confused, and he nodded.
"Hyne took you and made you into what you are today, a powerful Elemental," Alucard explained. "She took a special interest in you. Thus, I am very sorry."
"You don't need to apologize," Serra replied. "I . . . am what I am."
"No, Serra," Alucard explained, shaking his head. "I was not apologizing for Hyne's actions. I am apologizing for this."
The rapier in his left hand shot forward, stabbing at Serra's heart. She stood still, not expecting the sudden attack as the slender blade dove at her chest.
It rang out loudly in the still courtyard air as Seifer leapt forward, his saber blocking the strike.
"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.
"Hyne created Serra for a reason!" Alucard declared. "I do not know why, but she is the key to her whole plan! And because of that, I have to destroy her." He looked to Serra, his eyes softening somewhat. "Forgive me. I will make it quick and painless."
"Not!" Seifer shouted, driving the Guardian's sword away and standing before Serra, taking up a defensive position to protect her. "Happening!"
Alucard scowled, and then slowly raised his rapier. With a silent nod, he made a quick flourish with the weapon, and stared own Seifer.
"If you must stand in my way . . . en guarde."
-
Oh noes! Has Alucard turned on the heroes? DoesNash really havea god-killing gunblade? Will Zell find something to punch? Will Hades make another fourth-wall-breaking quip? WillPeptuck run out of Dr. Pepper?What's going to happen in the next chapter? The suspense is killing me! AND I'M THE AUTHOR!
The final chapters of the saga are comming up . . . and trust me, there's still a twist or three left in this story . . . .
Until next chapter!