The humming of engines rolled through the streets of the City of the Ancients early the next morning, and plunged into the forest soon after.

The New Shinra had arrived by now. The delays that the opposing army had made hadn't lasted long. Unlike the PPA, they had field engineers helping them out. They bridged the gap they had made and rolled onward. They were delayed for a while at the cliff area, and in the end it was impossible for them to move their larger tanks and heavier machines down it. However, the engineers went to work right away blasting the cliff into making a ramp. In the meantime, hundreds of troops had been shuttled down on ropes…as well as the more mobile artillery they had. Special cases were brought down on cables that contained miniature, easily assembled and deployed artillery units called Cromwells. It didn't take long for twenty of these to be dropped down the cliff, and then get assembled. But even as they did this, the New Shinra Army advanced the moment they had two thousand troops on the lower level, moving into the city.

They found nothing there but discarded material. Typically, the army had evacuated. That was good for them. They had feared that they would have regrouped at another location, or would have set booby traps at the least. However, it was clear. There was nothing out there. The homes and city were searched and turned up nothing. There wasn't much to ransack, seeing as each home lacked a basement or much in the way of places to hide a person. Even searching cavities and out of the way spots turned up nothing. However, by the time they were sure that the area was secured, the Cromwells were ready, and night was coming to an end. It was then that they fanned out the machines and the troops…and went on the hunt as they made their way to the sea.

Now, the main trail leading out of the Sleeping Forest was filled with troops. Eight of the Cromwell units were flanking them on either side, turning their large artillery guns slowly to scan the horizon. The soldiers themselves were fresh troops from yesterday, having been in the reserve the whole time. Now, they had their guns out and were watching carefully as they made their way south. Although the opposing army had lost their advantage of a bottleneck, it was still possible that they would try a surprise move. And if they ran into any, they wanted to be ready to eliminate them immediately.

The group of soldiers in the lead was especially wary. The commanding officer constantly pulled out a pair of binoculars and scanned the trail ahead. No one had confirmed that the enemy had mines, but there was little sense in taking the chance. It was still dark, although the sun had risen. In this forest, the canopy was so thick that it always seemed to be evening, even at noon. And there always seemed to be some sort of unnatural mist hanging over the air, which did nothing to settle the troops. It decreased visibility far too much. If that wasn't enough…it was so quiet that they could hear their footsteps gently crush the soil beneath them, and the sputtering of the Cromwells as they trudged on seemed a little too loud. All in all, although they had the enemy on the run, it was slow going…and nerve wracking.

The officer lowered his binoculars and swallowed. He continued to hear his boots crush leaves and detritus as he moved ahead. His breath misted slightly in the cool morning day. He tightened the grip on his own weapon. The damn morning… Dark…foggy… It was like they were walking through some sort of structure or cave rather than a forest. And even though the understory was virtually void of any plant life taller than six inches, the trunks were thick enough and numerous enough to create even more obstacles and hiding places. This irritated him to no…

Abruptly, the officer froze. His face stayed stern, but he quickly held up a fist next to his head. Instantly, the company halted. The Cromwells chugged to a stop, and the rest of the convoy began to follow suit. The soldiers at his sides raised their weapons and dropped to the ground, falling into a protective crouch. As the line of machines and soldiers behind them continued to stop, the officer turned back to his now silent team. He motioned ahead, to a nearby tree.

They looked after him. It was dark and hard to detect…but they could just see the edge of what looked like tan fabric flapping in the wind from behind it.

Seeing this, they understood, and turned back to their officer for orders. The man responded by holding up two fingers, and motioning to one side, and then holding up two more and motioning to the other. A moment later, four soldiers rose and broke up to flank the area. The officer stayed back, but they moved in on the tree. They stayed as quiet as they could as they approached, and they held their weapons at the ready. The rest of the men stayed back and waited, watching to see if anything else would spring out of the forest and attack. Two of the Cromwells turned and aimed their heavy guns at it, ready to fire when they had visual. Through this all, the army was almost silent. Everyone held their breath and waited.

At last, the two pairs were on either side of the tree. They turned to each other and gave nods, coordinating their positions. Then, they all looked back and leapt forward as one, twisting around the trunk, and aiming their weapons behind it. The officer looked up, and waited for a word or sign…

A moment later, however…one of the soldiers uneasily stepped back. The officer and other soldiers saw him raise a hand and smack something.A rotting thin log, almost branch like and about a meter and a half high, fell over and to the ground. Attached around the top of it was a cape of the Planet Protector Army.

The officer raised an eyebrow. At that moment…a startling thought hit his head. It had been a decoy…

That was the last thought he managed to think before the previously unseen assailant jumped down from the trees overhead and landed behind him, slashing him from behind as he did so.

The soldiers snapped around in shock, seeing that an officer of the enemy army had suddenly entered their midst. He was young, but his eyes blazed with power, and his large sword that he brandished flickered like a flame as he twisted it about. They soon began to recognize his face from the briefing as New Shinra's most wanted: Ragnar Vice. But that was all they could do. The man moved quickly. He lashed out after landing and sliced through another soldier on one side. Then, he spun around and sliced again, this time first cutting through a soldier's weapon that had been rising to shoot him, and then cutting through the trooper himself. Right after doing that, he snapped around and twisted his blade over his back, making it a guard of some sort. That was good…because moments later another unit just ahead began to fire on him with his own weapon. Other soldiers began to get up around him and turn to the youth.

But it was too late. Ragnar advanced quickly, blocking the bullets that thundered at him, until he reached the one shooting. He lashed out once and cut him down. Another soldier on his side leapt up to attack him while he was doing this, but he simply removed his arm from his weapon and backhanded the person as he approached. Despite how thin and small he looked, he boasted more than enough power to knock this larger, armored man off of his feet and flatten him. As he brought his other arm back to hold his weapon again, he swung up with his opposite leg at another approaching soldier, catching him underneath the chin and knocking him to the ground. After that, he spun around one more time to decapitate a final soldier who was coming up behind him, gun almost ready to fire.

At that moment, Ragnar turned and bolted. He was doing great until now…but suddenly he dropped his massacre and turned to run back into the forest, this time on the opposite side of the trail. It turned out that he must have had a sixth sense…because the moment he was out of the way one of the Cromwell's fired. They had meant to strike him and blow him into nothingness. But now that he was out of the way…the shell continued to sail through the air toward the tree that the decoy had been placed behind moments ago…as well as the four men surrounding it. They only had time to gape in surprise before the shot struck the tree, and immediately blew the trunk into a thousand pieces. The eruption, fire, and shrapnel struck them, and they cried out in pain as they were blown away from the area and flung to the ground.

Using the interruption, the attacker vanished into the woods on the opposite side. However, the remaining Cromwell was still tracking him, and followed him into the woods as he went, preparing to fire…

However, he never received the chance. Two flashes of light suddenly streaked across the body of the Cromwell, and it stopped moving. Moments later…it broke apart into four pieces, along the lines of what appeared to be a gigantic X slice. As it fell apart, the noise caught the attention of the rest of the soldiers, who until now had been totally transfixed on the first attacker.They gaped in surprise to see their other mini-tank sliding apart into pieces…and then to see another body leap over it, flip in midair, and then land in their midst.

This one was even more brutal. He wielded two swords in either hand of different size. With the first, he smacked away the nearest soldier, and then advanced to slice through another with the smaller blade. He finished up by driving the largest one through the next one ahead. Shocked, the other people began to turn around, but they were just in time to see him rush forward and continue to cut through them. The other Cromwell reacted, and turned its massive barrel around to fire on this latest assailant. However, he reacted to it simply. While he was running through one soldier with his smaller blade, he snapped the larger one around and tossed it with enough force that it sliced off the top barrel of the Cromwell at the turret point. The blade continued to shoot through the air afterward, until it reached a nearby tree. Somehow, the man not only managed to put enough power into his sword to cut through thick metal…but it was just enough so that it lost its inertia, so that when it hit the tree trunk it embedded in and stayed there.

The man turned back to the soldier he had just dispatched afterward. With another slice of his sword, he cut off the belt from this man as he fell to the ground. Pulling it up, he turned and began to run toward the tank he had just attacked. The turret was still falling off of the top of it when he reached it, and nimbly leapt onto the treads and carriage that were still standing. He vaulted to the top, as he brought the belt to his mouth, clenched the pin of one grenade (out of three) that was there with his teeth, and ripped it out. As he ran to the edge of the mini-tank to jump off again, he turned and flung the belt back further into the enemy units, back to the companies that had been unable to advance or see what was going on. After that, he did jump off the end of the tank, sailed through the air, and landed by grabbing the handle of his sword, still protruding from the tree trunk. He ripped this out and fell to the ground. However, he landed on his feet, and only staggered a little before he put his sword up and ran off into the woods.

A moment later, the three grenades detonated…scattering more troops in its midst as it did so, and sending fire and shrapnel spraying everywhere within their ranks.

Soldiers snapped up seconds after the explosion, and began to open fire into the woods on either side. However, their bullets were wild, and didn't meet any targets. All they shot were leaves and tree trunks for their efforts. The men were panicked…acting wildly. The whole affair of the two men attacking and leaving had taken about seven seconds. In that time, twenty of their troops lay dead, and two of their Cromwells were disabled. And now, the two phantom warriors had disappeared back into the surrounding forest again, leaving nothing but their damage in their wake.

The soldiers looked around uneasily after that. They had been so brutally ambushed…and only by two people on a sortie run. They had almost wiped out a whole platoon on their own, with barely any shots fired while they were there. They had been cut down as if they were nothing more than grass to a lawnmower. The army hesitated now, seeing that their phantom attackers had vanished back into the mist and darkness. As the gunshots started to die down, and the men began to calm themselves somewhat, the echoes faded to reveal nothing. There wasn't a sound or a rustle of leaves anywhere. It was as if two ghosts had indeed sprung out and assaulted them…

In the end, the officers hesitated. They didn't know how many more warriors like this existed…and they didn't want to go ahead to be ambushed by those two again. Until now, the army had felt safe and protected within its collective unit. But once that attack had happened…their confidence was rattled, and they began to become more aware of their own mortality and vulnerability. The officers did as well…and they realized most suddenly that they definitely wanted these two dead before going much further.

Soon, the soldiers began to scramble around themselves to arrange two companies of soldiers to hunt after their mysterious assailants. In the meantime, the rest of the army would only be moving forward with greater caution and slower speed. Evidently…the Planet Protector Army wasn't done yet…


"Let me go! You have to let me go!"

"Shut up or you'll get a rifle butt to your face!"

Zola hissed from where he was, so intensely that he nearly betrayed his reptile heritage. Apparently, the army didn't yet know that he was truly a basilisk. Ragnar did…but his assault on him had been so frantic and sudden that no one had really known what had been said, or what it meant. That was a point in his favor. His skin was as hard as Kevlar to regular bullets, but focused swords and heavy machine guns could still kill him. He wasn't that eager to give people a reason to attack him irrationally…as humans often did when they encountered his true side.

And yet, that didn't help his current situation that much. Ragnar had gone ahead and charged him as a traitor. Mercifully, Zola found that his life was spared. Unfortunately, he had burned down too big of a bridge with the general. He wasn't going to let him fight now. Instead, he found himself hog-tied with handcuff chains and restraints, curled into a backward O. He had been shipped out early with the evacuating army, thrown into the back of one of the flatbed trucks and not-too-gently crushed in between equipment and other personnel. Then, he had been hauled out with the rest of them to the southern shore, where the rest of the army was gathering.

Zola grunted and looked out from where he was. At the moment, he was still in the truck, although everything else had been unloaded. A guard's feet blocked most of his vision, but he could see beyond it in the rapidly brightening day. Over near the edge of the forest, all of the able bodied members of the army were gathered. This wasn't the sacred Sleeping Forest, but the more conventional woods on the edges. They had large trees just the same…and currently the camp was making use of them. All of the people who could were sawing down the tallest, thickest trees they could find. Those that were down were quickly stripped of their branches and excess twigs, and their trunks were rolled down toward the sandy part of the shore. Another group was here, tying…nailing…screwing…even gluing them together as best as they could to make them the most rigid ramshackle rafts they could manage. They almost had one rather large one complete, but they neededmore. Behind them, further out to sea, the tugboats earnestly waited for them to be done, load up, and get out of there.

And Zola knew right now that the men he betrayed were fighting for their lives, struggling to buy as much time as possible for this.

The news had already reached Zola that Noonian was dead. To say he wasn't sad would be a lie…but to say that he blamed Ragnar or his friends for her death would also be one. He knew Noonian…and he saw Colonel Nanaki come away from the fight. In the end, if he hadn't killed her, she would have. And besides…Zola had already lost so many relatives that he was used to losing them by now. It didn't matter. He knew that the moment he turned his back on Wyvern again…that he would be counted among the lot of humanity from now on. Noonian would have come and tried to kill him eventually, on Wyvern's command. And nothing he could say or do, other than killing her himself, would have stopped her. It was painful…but in the end, deep down inside, he knew there could have been no other way. At least she wasn't helping that madman anymore. He hoped that if she had any decency left in her…that it had gone on to a better place.

However, he couldn't sit at rest here any longer.

"The general needs me!" Zola cried to the man guarding him. "I can kill five hundred men alone! Please-"

Zola was cut off as the butt of a rifle smashed against his face. It was wrenched one way…but Zola felt no pain save for a bit of a tap. It did serve to cut him off, however.

"You've done enough, you damn traitor!" The guard yelled down at him. "What? Weren't satisfied with how many of our people died already? Want to run on back to New Shinra to get a nice reward?"

"Every able bodied soldier who can fight should be out there!" Zola cried back. "And that includes me! Please believe me! If I die, you've lost-"

Another mostly painless smack cut Zola off again.

"I said shut it! Or I'll put a bullet in your leg next! You might as well be yelling something I want to hear!"

Zola sneered and dropped his head again. He couldn't just lie here. The truth of the matter was that Ragnar could never hold him. The only reason that he was in this position now was because he allowed himself to be. He felt he deserved it. However…more important than being punished, he believed, was to act in a way to atone for what he had done. He had been responsible for hundreds of deaths. He had to fight now to save who was left. He was able to do so much… He might have deserved to be here, but it would make more sense for him to risk his neck in Ragnar's service…trying to help him. Cloud had to still be injured from what had happened. Ragnar had to be exhausted from being up for so long, and having burnt up so much energy to keep from freezing. They couldn't fight long…

In the end, the basilisk reached a decision. He needed to help. He had to help. Much as he may have disliked it…he was going to have to disobey General Ragnar yet again.

Shaking his head out of the latest blow, Zola gave a sigh and looked up slightly to the man overhead. "…I'm sorry about this."

With that, Zola balled his hands into fists and gave a quick yank. Instantly, his cuff chains broke as if they were made out of wet paper. He extended his feet next, and did the same to those chains. One more pull broke the link between them, totally freeing himself. In a flash, Zola snapped his body around in an inhuman display of torsion and loose muscles. The guard's gruff demeanor vanished. His eyes widened in surprise instead, and his gun and mouth dropped as Zola was suddenly back into a squatting position, and then snapped to his feet, totally disregarding the pain and stiffness that one would have from being in that hog-tied posture all night. He looked up and gaped at Zola's resolute expression as the ex-lieutenant stood face to face with him.

But that was only a moment, before Zola swung his fist around to give a light tap to the side of the guard's head. Light as it was…it jarred the man's head painfully, and dropped him like a ton of bricks.

Zola sighed and exhaled again, but then waited no longer. Bringing his own inhuman agility to bear, he leapt over the fallen man and landed on the ground outside of the truck. Before anyone could stop him, he was taking off for the forest at full speed.


The two creatures circled each other though the void of space, keeping about five hundred feet apart. Bahamut kept his teeth grit, and continued to pant although there was no air here. The latest lump over his eye was only very slowly receding. Across from him, the gleaming body of Wyvern was still smiling. He hadn't stopped smiling in hours. He wanted to smash that look off of his face…but he no longer had the power to do so. He was beginning to feel weak. His muscles were sore, and his body was starting to tire. He couldn't keep this up much longer…and yet Wyvern still had more than enough power to spare.

In the end, there was still no choice but to keep fighting.

Balling his hands into fists again, Bahamut took off for the shimmering being. Wyvern halted when he did so, and waited for him to approach. A moment later, he was on him, and sweeping his leg in an attempt to strike him across the face. He soon cursed himself afterward…because he realized he was getting too slow. Wyvern was able to duck under it this time. However, as he came out of the first leg sweep, he spun around again and drove his leg toward Wyvern's middle. Again…he was too slow. The creature reached out and seized his leg in response. He was held for a moment, and gaped in response. But then…he quickly lashed back his other leg and smashed it in Wyvern's face. The first time had no effect…nor did the second…or the third. By then, it was too late. Wyvern snapped Bahamut around and flung him deeper into the void that surrounded them. After doing so, he opened his mouth and discharged a Mega-Pyron in his direction.

The esper flailed out for a moment, caught up in the inertia. However, he sensed the energy coming in behind him. He could no longer hear these attacks, but he could feel their deadly heat. Gritting his teeth, summoning reserves he knew he shouldn't be wasting, Bahamut forced his body up just as the wave was about to strike him, and just barely let it by underneath as it singed his wings. As for him, he flipped partially backward, so that his body was now horizontal and aimed at Wyvern. Tapping into more of his reserves, he brought his speed up to bear and launched himself once again, throwing himself back at Wyvern. He spun his body around so that both of them were orientated correctly as he did so, and moments later he struck the esper with both fists in the head as hard as he could.

Wyvern actually recoiled a few feet in response to that. However, Bahamut couldn't take advantage. He was tired and dizzy from fighting so long, and he had pushed himself too hard on that last attack. He righted himself again, but that was all he had time for before Wyvern snapped his head back up again. A moment later, a powerful blow slugged him from underneath his jaw, snapping his head up and at an angle. After that, another fist smashed into his stomach, causing him to double over around it. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened to gag. However…he forced his jaw to shut and his teeth to clench. He laced his fingers and hands together, and then swung up with a double fist to catch Wyvern under the jaw, snapping his head back up again. The monster staggered back once more…but only a moment before he suddenly snapped back like a slingshot, crushing his crest into Bahamut's own. He felt his own horns break and begin to bleed as he flew back, and dizziness and nausea overwhelmed him. He actually flailed back a considerable distance. But that was before he forced himself to overexert his body again…and then snapped forward as well to drive his elbow into Wyvern's teeth. The blow was strong enough to actually dent in his front ones, and the thing's smile was distorted into a deformity as he snapped back again.

Face turning angry now…or at least irritated…Wyvern snapped back yet again and swung up his knee to crush into Bahamut's side, snapping a rib in the process. The esper opened his mouth to cry out in pain…but somehow managed to tough through the growing agony in his body. He swung his other fist forward and buried it into Wyvern's throat. Despite the lack of any organs or windpipe there, the monster still winced and reacted in some pain. After that, however, his shimmering eyes opened and blazed violence. Bahamut himself forced the pain in his side down, and glared at him as well.

Abruptly, both swung their fists at each other. However, they both held back on seeing this, and raised their other arms to intercept. Bahamut soon seized Wyvern's fist, and Wyvern seized his. On doing that, both of them widened their palms and grasped the other's hands. Both of them locked, and soon began to push at each other. Their eyes met and blazed the hatred and violence they possessed for one another. There…they held in the depths of space and clashed…as they had in their first battle ages ago.

Bahamut grit his teeth and forced back against him. All of their power was generated by themselves. Here, there was nothing to push off of. It was just the two of them. It hurt… Even the skin of Wyvern was burning him. And his body was barely regenerating at this point. His injuries were still fresh and he was dizzy. Yet still they pushed on. Their respective energies flared up around each other, casting both in a strange aura as they fought on. Wyvern continued to glow brighter and more radiantly, but Bahamut himself generated a cloud of energy around himself. He locked his limbs and kept pushing, ignoring how tired and sore he was. He began to tremble and buckle. His strength began to give out. But still, he forced himself to hold on to the superior opponent… The energy continued to whip around them, sending out streaks of light and auras into the blackness around them. Some went back to Gaia itself and began to light up the sky…

Finally, Bahamut knew he could hold no longer. There was only one thing he could do. Quickly, he summoned everything left that he had. He fully dipped into his reserves and brought them out. Then, most suddenly, he pulled back from Wyvern. The shimmering being was trying to advance on him, but because he yanked his arms back first…he had the briefest fraction of a second to react. And that was what he did…shove all of his remaining power that had been in that clash into his legs. And as Wyvern dove inward, he swung his legs up and gave Wyvern the strongest kick possible to underneath his jaw. The impact was so hard that Bahamut felt his own tarsals break on connection. A ripple rocketed out from them both. Had they been on Gaia…the blow would have swept the entire Sleeping Forest away.

Wyvern's glowing form shot away from Bahamut at speeds to great that he seemed to become a ball of fire or a comet. Bahamut didn't even have time to see what had happened, or how Wyvern had reacted. All he saw was Wyvern vanish into a glowing dot.

Panting, Bahamut slumped down. If he was on Gaia, he would have collapsed. But weightless in space, he could hover in the void. As for breathing…he knew he was getting no air, but he couldn't help it. He was used to it. And he did get rid of carbon dioxide that way. Yet the mechanics of space meant little to him now…

His rib was still shifting in his chest, repositioning itself. His tarsals were taking even longer to heal. His bruises on his hands from the death grip with Wyvern were only slowly lowering. He knew right now that he was using most of his remaining power to heal himself. Although the esper barely had a mark on him, he was almost out of juice. After that…the marks would start adding up rather quickly. Every one of Wyvern's blows had lacerated him or broken one of his bones. As for Bahamut…he didn't even know if his blows were doing anything more than shoving him around. He was losing most of his energy trying to withstand Bahamut's attacks…not actually being struck. He had been fighting him for over twelve hours…and still he wasn't weakening. He had lost a portion of his power…but it was far from enough to even make the creature slow down. On the other hand…Bahamut's body, durable as it was, mighty as it was…it was running out. This fight would be drawing to a close soon…

And he realized he couldn't do it.

Bahamut weakly looked up and out to the blip. He hoped that this blow had left some sort of visible impact on his foe. Yet even as he thought that…the blip suddenly ceased being stationary. It began to go the left, streaking across space as it did so. Bahamut's breathing stopped. He weakly looked up to it…and saw that the glow was getting larger. He was coming back…and coming back fast. The esper struggled to move…struggled to guard himself. But he was too out of power. He needed to rest longer. His body hadn't received more than a few seconds break since he starting fighting him again… Now, it wasn't going back into action so easily… He was helpless to do anything but watch as the monster streaked closer…

Bahamut never managed to see Wyvern's furious, irritated face…yet still managing a grin of pleasure and satisfaction. Wyvern could sense Bahamut's power well now, after all…and he knew that he was nearly finished. But Bahamut didn't see this. He only saw a blinding flash, before he was struck.

The esper remembered nothing after that. However, as his head was dislocated and two of his vertebrae shattered from the force, his jaw nearly forced up into his head, his body was flung across space with such tremendous force and power that his regeneration was powerless to do anything about it. The strength of the blow continued to hold Bahamut's body parts separate as it struggled to put them back together. As fast as Wyvern had been knocked away, Bahamut traveled even faster. Had he been on Gaia, a horizontal tornado might have formed in his wake, as the air he cut through struggled to rush back in to fill the void his body made. As it was, he rocketed through the vacuum of space causing little damage…sailing far away from the powerful blow that Wyvern had inflicted…

Something got in Bahamut's way. Some force of light gravity began to pull on him again, although he wasn't aware of it. He had been knocked straight against the face of Gaia's moon. Yet he was still senseless, powerless to do anything about it. All he could do was ride it as he sailed through the vacuum, and felt his world behind him fill with gray rocks and matter as he went closer and closer to it… Unable to do anything to stop himself…

Far below on Gaia, a moment later, astronomers all over the world gaped in amazement. In the days to come, it would be chronicled as one of the most amazing scientific happenings of the year, and would be reported on news and within geological and astronomical communities for much longer than that.

Some sort of event on the moon caused an eruption of dust and the formation of a new crater large enough for the world to see.


Ragnar panted as he continued to run, struggling to keep ahead of his pursuers. He couldn't afford to run in a straight line through the forest. He had to zig-zag through the trees. If he kept going in a straight line, they could stop and shoot him in the back. This was getting to be hard. He had a lot of stamina…but even he couldn't keep going forever, especially considering all of what he had been through since he last slept…or ate, for that matter.

The youth kept dodging, twisting and turning as much as he could. He was mindful of the tree roots, stumps, and branches that threatened to trip him, and was light enough on his feet to dodge them. However, they weren't tripping up his quarry nearly as much as he had hoped. Three of them were still hot on his tail, with more following at a further distance. He had to think of something new…

Just up ahead, slightly on his left, was another tree trunk. This one was one of the thicker ones, even though they were out of the older Sleeping Forest. Quickly, he turned and picked up speed, suddenly putting more distance between him and his enemy. It wore him out a bit more, but it did the trick, suddenly surprising them. They moved to speed up, but all they succeeded in doing was screwing up their steps more, making them trip and stumble a bit more. That widened the distance enough for Ragnar to run to the large tree, and zig-zag behind it. However, once on the other side, he quickly froze and pressed his body up against it…and hoped that his enemy was in such a rush to get him that they thought he had just turned and run on, getting out of the clear path of fire.

It seemed to work. A few moments later, he heard a crashing of brush and plants to his right as the three soldiers stood upright again. They soon began to run again, and after a second ran right past where Ragnar was hiding. They had thought for so long that they had their opponent on the run that they had fallen for such a simple trick. However, on passing by and seeing nothing, they froze. They seemed to realize they were tricked, and one of them turned around to look behind the tree. That was all he got before Ragnar leapt forward and struck down this soldier. He quickly swung his blade two more times as he advanced, slicing through the other two.

That, unfortunately, was as much as he could do before a rifle bullet nearly struck him in the head. Luckily, his sword was up at the time, and it impacted that instead, sending off a small shower of sparks. Ragnar spun around and looked behind him, his face lighting up in fear and actually sweating a bit as he realized he had just had a scrape with death. Hehad forgotten about the rest of the company following him. Although these three had fallen into his trap, the others had frozen from a distance when they didn't see Ragnar pop out. And now, they had their guns trained on him and were getting ready to fire.

Ragnar grit his teeth and began to heave again as he spun around back behind the tree again. A crack of automatic weapon fire soon peeled out, blasting off the bark from the back of the tree he hid behind. Crazy as it was…Ragnar took off again shortly after hearing the first spurt. He tried to stay behind the tree as long as he could while he ran, struggling to stay out of range. He had no choice. If he stayed behind that trunk, he'd be a sitting duck for them to ambush him.

The youth groaned at himself. He was getting sloppy. He had made a blatant mistake, setting himself up for those others. He was growing too tired… He was winded now. When he had started, he could have killed those three soldiers without them ever knowing what hit them. But he had been getting so exhausted that he had slipped up. It took so long for him to get moving they actually had been able to look at him before he could strike. And the men behind him had the time to set up again. He was losing strength… He couldn't keep this up much longer. Perhaps volunteering to hold the army off by himself had been a rather bad idea… He hoped it wasn't another critical mistake…and this time a fatal one.

Ragnar finally went out from behind the shadow of the trunk, and then began to zig-zag through the forest again. He was panting and sweating both from exhaustion and anxiety now, but he had to keep going. He had to try and force them on again, until more soldiers got close enough to try and fire again, and then would break off so that they could get picked off. He hoped he had killed the fast ones by now. He was getting too tired…

The young man snapped out of this line of thinking as gunfire suddenly crackled behind him. The leaves were torn up at his feet. Immediately, he felt a cold snap down his spine, and he was gripped with shock. He turned and immediately bolted faster, despite running past his limit as he did so. Yet that didn't help much. Soon, he had to zig-zag again to avoid another spurt of gunfire tearing up a tree to his left. He risked a look behind him as he began to sweat in panic again. He saw that the New Shinra were hounding him still…but now kept their guns drawn. What more, they looked closer, although Ragnar knew they hadn't changed speed. At that…he swallowed again. That meant he had to be slowing down. Quickly, he turned back ahead and pushed himself harder.

Now, Ragnar was the one receiving misfortune. As he struggled to push himself, he also had to keep dodging. The enemy were firing at him a bit erratically, but were getting enough shots close to him to get him to try and move. And now that he was moving faster and struggling to keep moving in enough range to keep them from getting a bead on him, he couldn't watch the ground. He was beginning to trip and stumble as he moved on, and every time the enemy gained on himthey peppered him with bullets. The youth began to breathe harder as he tried to keep going. Exhaustionbegan to grip him. His legs began to burn and the soles of his feet grew tender. He kept sweating, letting the salty fluid fall into his eyes and blind him. His vision blurred as he struggled to move onward more…

Finally, it happened, Ragnar felt his foot hook a tree root. He paled, and then suddenly felt his body slip and fall forward. For a split second…he realized he had flubbed up. He looked ahead of him, and saw the forest vanish overhead as the understory began to come crashing at him.

Then, somehow, he heard the fateful gunshot.

Blam!

"Uh…AGH!"

Ragnar cried out in agony as his body smashed against the ground. His momentum was so great that he continued to spill forward, tumbling across the ground. However, that only drove more pain into his lower right calf. A horrible burning sensation was in it, and his muscles felt like they were locking up in it… His body crashed against plants, wood, and mud as he continued to tumble down, not knowing that his own blood was streaking his path as he went forward. But at last, he came to a halt. Somehow, despite how he had fallen, he had managed to land on his back. His head was up at a higher angle, on some sort of incline, and so he was sitting up when he came to a rest.

He couldn't be thankful for that, however. He was in too much pain.

Gritting his teeth, crying in misery (forgetting how Bahamut had taught him to stay quiet when injured), Ragnar grasped at his leg. His pants were already stained and dripping. Continuing to writhe against the ground, Ragnar pulled himself up into full sitting and ripped off his lower pant leg. He soon saw his sweating flesh underneath…and saw a dark hole pouring out blood. Immediately, he dropped Ragnarok, which had somehow stayed in his hand until this point, and grasped it with both hands. Part of it was to stop the bleeding…but mostly it was to just wrestle with his own pain. The youth was nearly blinded by it. He had no idea that a bullet could hurt this much… He thought he had already felt enough pain to know all about it.

The young man began to pant, somehow managing to stop fromscreaming. His heart was still racing, and sweat kept pouring from his brow. He looked up and around him. The forest floor formed some sort of bowl shape in this area. He was now at the bottom of it, resting against one of the "edges". The plants here grew longer. If he hadn't been yelling…he realized he might have been able to lie down and hide in the plant growth. But then, through his misery, he realized he had been yelling. He already heard the footsteps closing in on him…like a wounded deer on a hunt.

Soon, he began to see them pop up around him. A New Shinra soldier stepped over the edge and aimed his rifle at him. Two more with automatic weapons sprung on his sides, and aimed their own guns as well. More soldiers came, and continued to spread out. Ragnar, struggling not to cry from the pain, lest it be mistaken for fear, grit his teeth and looked hopelessly around him. Soon, the entire bowl was surrounded by no less than fifteen soldiers. Each one of them lowered their weapons at him. And there he was, bloody fingers clutching his wound. The forest went silent, as the predators had their prey completely cornered.

The young general swallowed. There was no way to fight out of this one…

"Finally got you, you bastard." One of the soldiers sneered.

Ragnar looked defiantly back, his eyes blazing. He could do little else, unfortunately, except sit there and hope that some miracle brought him out of this. His eyes began to dart around the ring, looking at the men surrounding him. He kept his breath held, and there was total silence on the air.

Rustle.

Suddenly, Ragnar snapped his head around. He had heard a sound. It was something like leaves or vegetation moving. It was almost little enough to be confused for a squirrel or bird…especially to ones who hadn't been in this forest before. But Ragnar recognized it as unusual…and something larger. When he reached the source of the sound, however…all he saw was a shaking branch on a tree far overhead…and something that looked green vanish below it, over the ridge of the bowl and behind the men.

The soldiers, however, didn't notice. One of the privates turned to the officer. "What now? Do we bring him in as a prisoner, sir?"

"To hell with that!" One of the other privates angrily snapped. "He killed three dozen of us! Let's grease him right now!" He lowered his head to his rifle sight to emphasize this intention.

However, Ragnar was only looking to the soldiers with mild interest now. Most of his attention was focused on where he had seen something falling. He could see little outside the ring from where he was. However…the vegetation around behind them seemed to shift. It was just slightly more than he would expect from the wind. And it was also directional. It seemed to be moving…toward the angry private.

The officer stared at the wounded man a moment longer. He frowned. "That's General Ragnar. He's the leader of the insurrection. Orders are to bring him in if possible…but kill on sight if unable."

Another private chuckled at that…a dark sound. "Boys…" He asked as he turned his head up and looked to his surrounding platoon. "I don't know about you…but this guy down here ran me so hard, I don't think I got the strength to drag him back. How about you?"

The others let out a dark snicker, and raised their weapons up to their sights. The officer alone, the hard military man, was the only one who reacted with emotionlessness. He looked around the circle for a second, and then back to Ragnar. After a moment, however, he raised his own weapon and aimed it right in between the youth's eyes.

"…Fine. We waste him." He finally said out loud.

The angry private grinned, and began to depress his trigger. "Nice knowing you, mother-"

The dirty word that would have finished this sentence was never sounded.

As the private spoke…a giant green reptile rose behind him, opened its mouth wide, and engulfed his head.

The creature gave a rather loud roar as it did so, shaking the entire area around it. On hearing this blood-curdling sound, everyone, Ragnar included, looked up to it. They soon saw a horrible sight. The private's head was inside a reptilian mouth larger than a crocodile's. The creature's talons had snapped around and sunk into its chest, pinning it against it. The thing that had attacked the private looked like a gigantic, quadrapedal reptile…bigger than horse-sized. It was a pale green color, almost like the leaves of the forest, which had yet to turn despite the onset of Fall. Its eyes were blazing yellow and reptilian. Its massive, carnivorous head had a set of horned frills behind it, spreading out. A long tail swung behind it dangerously.

The private yelled from within the thing's head, a strange muffled cry. He held up his gun and fired wildly, shooting the air and forest. He did so for a moment, before the creature clamped its jaw shut. At that, the gun ceased, the man went totally limp…and a moment later his headless body, gushing blood, collapsed to the ground. As for the creature itself, the platoon watched in grotesque horror as it tipped its head up…and they saw a lump travel from its mouth into its throat that looked head sized. Once the thing finished swallowing, it dropped onto all fours again. It gave a snap of its jaws and a mild cry before lunging forward to the nearest private. It slashed out its razor sharp front claws at him, slicing him open. Gurgling from the sudden drop in blood pressure…just from the depth of the cut…the private fell back and began to pour it out on the ground. The thing snapped its talon behind it next, reaching out to slice through a man's leg…and his femoral artery. He cried out in agony and dropped to the ground…soon to be dead. Still not done, the thing snapped its tail behind it like a whip made of chains. Its long reach sliced through the neck of the next one down, cutting into his jugular. He too gagged before grabbing his neck and falling. At that, the reptile turned ahead again. It hissed and snarled for a moment…but then reared back…and suddenly waddled forward at incredible speed, like a real lizard. In the end, it leapt into the air and lunged at another soldier. He cried out in terror before the thing clamped its jaws around his throat and yanked him back to the ground.

Ragnar paled and felt his stomach churn. His mouth trembled as he saw the bloodbath unfold. The men were stricken with terror…unable to fight back or run from the reptilian monster. It flashed about and cut them into ribbons…devouring some every now and then. Some eventually did get enough bravery to open fire on it…but succeeded in doing nothing. The creature's thick skin buckled a bit under the bullets, but then the bent, twisted projectiles merely fell off of its body. It was like trying to shoot a bullet proof vest. The young general began to quiver…as he saw blood pour down the edges of the basin and run into the bowl area that he was seated in. It was like some sort of nightmarish liquor was filling it. The general, despite his pain, dragged himself away from the edge, trying to avoid getting hit by it. All around him, over the next few seconds, all of the soldiers were butchered by the monster…before it too vanished into the underbrush.

All was silent afterward. Ragnar looked around, quivering for a moment…before he reached out and snatched up his sword. He brandished it in front of him, forgetting about his leg wound…and hoped he could have some hope against this thing though he was still seated…and knowing that it could merely leap on him and tear him apart before he knew what had happened. He panicked and turned his head around him from side to side, trying to see where it would come from next…seeing where it was planning on attacking…

Rustle.

Ragnar's head snapped in front of him again. There it was. Its green head poked out of the underbrush, and raised out to stare at the young general. Its reptile eyes stared unblinking. Its mouth was still covered with blood. A long thin tongue came out and ran along it, licking it off…but also exposing its dangerous teeth that still had bits of flesh stuck between them. The youth felt himself begin to breathe heavily. As best as he could, he held up his sword and prepared for an attack…

Then, to his surprise, the reptile changed.

Somehow…it seemed to force its lips up into a grin.

"I told you that you needed me, general."

Ragnar blinked once again. Had the thing just spoken to him? He didn't recognize the voice. It was thick and snake-like. However…his brain, now having calmed down a bit, began to work again. He thought back to who had said something like that…and to what he knew already about dangerous creatures running around. At once, it began to click. The youth gaped in disbelief…but lowered his head in slightly and glared at the creature.

"…Zola…?"

The thing kept smiling, and flicked out its tongue in a gesture that almost seemed to be a way of saying yes. After that, it simply turned and scurried off, flicking its tail behind it as it ran. Soon, all was silent around Ragnar again. The youth was left dumbfounded in the center of the bowl.

Ragnar lowered his head and began to breathe a bit heavy again, trying to catch himself. He didn't believe it. He knew that espers and half-espers could shapeshift…but he had never seen one in its full glory. All he had seen were the images that Bahamut sent to his brain. He had never suspected it…never believed for a moment…that Zola really possessed such a fearsome creature and power within himself. But it made sense. No wonder he had no peer in battle. Nothing could stand up to a cloak of human flesh that concealed that monster. Only now did the general realize how little in control of Zola's destiny he had been. He saw now why his blows did nothing to effect it. In fact…if Zola hadn't wished it, he never would have been able to point his sword at him…or restrain him. No doubt, that was why he was here. It would have been nothing for that creature to have escaped the guard and restraints.

However, that set Ragnar thinking anew. Zola…had just saved his life. He was supposed to be working for Wyvern. If anything, he should have finished the job that the frozen lake failed to do. But he had turned on his attackers instead…even after Noonian had tried to kill other officers herself. What did that mean? Was he trying to work on his confidence again? Was he trying to regain his trust so that he could trick him in the future, make it look as if he wasn't all that bad?

Somehow…Ragnar didn't think so. Monstrous as his face had been…gruesome as his blood-covered teeth had looked…he didn't feel as if Zola was malicious when he talked to him. He didn't feel as if he was acting sinister…but was behaving in a sincere fashion. Something about what he had just done made Ragnar start to wonder if Zola had been telling the truth…

"…All this after they managed to shoot you?"

Ragnar snapped his head up again. He had been so lost in his own thoughts, he failed to hear another person coming. But now that he looked up, he saw that someone also covered with blood and panting had joined him at the edge of the hole. This one was no monster, however.

Cloud gaped down in genuine shock, turning his head around at the area and seeing the bloody remains of the platoon that had nearly got Ragnar. His swords were stained with blood, but were joined as one for now. He was holding it over one shoulder to conserve energy, and was breathing hard and sweating as he looked around the area. At last, he turned back down to Ragnar. He looked at him a bit uneasily. That only figured. After all…many of the soldiers overhead looked almost torn into savagely or bit. Some of them had body parts missing.

Ragnar shook his head at this, still breathing hard himself. "It wasn't me. It was Zola."

Cloud raised an eyebrow. "Zola? I thought he had betrayed us."

Luckily, Cloud didn't know yet that Zola was the one who had nearly killed Tifa. If he did…he would have done worse to the reptile than what he had done to these men… However, Ragnar continued. "I thought he did to… He might still be. But he was in his true body here…that of a basilisk. But it was the strongest basilisk I've ever heard of… He slaughtered them all in seconds. But he didn't attack me. He just smiled and then ran off."

Cloud calmed down a bit now, realizing that Ragnar hadn't been the source of this mutilation. He began to step down into the hole, uneasily stepping over the blood trails as he made his way. "Any idea why?"

Ragnar looked down a bit at that, and hesitated. "…He said that he was sorry for betraying us when I accosted him. He said he wanted to help hold off the enemy army while the rest of us ran." The young general paused, and looked around himself for a moment. "…From the looks of it, if he's bluffing, he's doing a very good job of it…"

"Well, let's forget about him for now." Cloud answered as he reached the youth. He stuck Event Horizon into the ground, and leaned over and put his arm around Ragnar. The general let him, and grit his teeth and strained as he pulled him back up to his feet. It was painful. He couldn't walk on that one leg now. He was going to have to hobble on as best he could. Once he was up, Cloud put one arm around Ragnar's middle, while Ragnar himself put one around his shoulder. Both men held their swords with their other hands. Cloud began to lead the youth forward. Ragnar winced and cried out mildly, but forced himself to go along. It was painful at first, but soon the two of them managed to start moving at a fairly good speed.

"Our diversion is over. You're no good to fight like that, kid." Cloud stated as he moved them out. "We need to get back to the army…and hope that our fighting unnerved them enough to keep trying to find us for a few more minutes. In the meantime, we need to get clear before they find us. I don't think we can fight them with you like this."

Ragnar frowned a bit. "…You don't have to sound so condescending, Cloud. You know, I saved your ass yesterday."

"And I'm saving your ass today, so we're even again already." Cloud simply answered. After that, however, he cracked a playful smile and turned back to the young general. "And don't swear. It's very vulgar." He chided in a scolding voice.

Ragnar snorted and gave a slight smile of his own before flashing Cloud an even more vulgar gesture.


Bahamut opened his mouth and tried to gasp. However…he forgot he was still in space. He couldn't breathe here. But if that was the case…why did he feel like he was on the ground? It was sandy, soft, and seemingly barren…but it felt like ground. This was what he first remembered as he gained consciousness. However…he couldn't move. He felt bones broken throughout his body. He had to wait…had to let them regenerate. But by now…his regeneration was barely moving. It had just managed to reattach his neck and fix his cervical vertebrae. But now, it tried to reconnect the numerous other bones that had been shattered on impact.

As they did, Bahamut blinked, and slowly opened his eyes up. He would have groaned if there was any air to send sound through. Where was he? Up above him, the stars in the sky shimmered. But they were in positions he had never seen before. All around him, thrust up nearly a mile high, was a tremendous crater. The dust and dirt that had been in it had been flung everywhere around this world, some of it launched out of its gravitational pull and into the cosmos. He saw all of this…and remembered something like it from the Lunarians. It was the moon. Wyvern had flung him into the moon, and had left this in his wake. Now, it towered up on all sides around him. Some of the dust had settled back on him, and he shifted slightly to have it fall off again.

Standing over him, in space's empty silence…was Wyvern. He didn't notice him at first, and only noticed space. But as his senses came back, he looked up slightly, and saw the shimmering being. Its arms were crossed again. It was smiling. It looked every bit as strong as it had when it started this fight. It didn't seem the slightest bit tired, hurt, or injured. It looked calmly down over Bahamut's form, not at all miffed that the beast had opened his eyes again.

Bahamut swallowed, moistening his dry mouth. His body was nearly burned out again. His muscles were sore and throbbing. His body left the newest blood on it. It was running out of energy. Now, it no longer tried to suck in the blood that it had lost. It had to focus all its power on reknitting his bones. Even when they were reconnected, they were still weak…for he lacked the power to instantly make them functional. His head was starting to hurt. He could operate in space without oxygen, but he was never meant to exert himself this much in space. It was starting to effect him. His own energy was nearly gone. He couldn't even pull off a Pyrin anymore. The last of his juice was being used to rebuild him. And after that…there would be nothing. His entire frame still ached from Wyvern's blows. It became clear to him at this point. There was no way he could possibly win. In the end, he couldn't even wound his foe.

With all that in mind…Bahamut grunted and struggled to roll his still-regenerating body over, so that he could push himself up.

A dark chuckle sounded in his mind. He didn't look up to it. In space, he could no longer hear words. However, Wyvern had more than enough ability to feed him mental messages now. And now…that was how he talked, still in his superior voice.

Bahamut…what do you think you're doing? It calmly asked. Are you getting up? Are you going to try and hit me again? Are you going to continue this pointless fight?

Bahamut didn't answer. He just plopped onto his stomach. He held there, waiting for his legs and arms to form a bit more.

You must love pain, Bahamut. You keep coming back for it. Not just now…again and again throughout our lives. Every time I've taken you to the edge of death or beyond…and you just keep coming for more. Why? You can't win. You never could win. The situation hasn't changed simply with the passage of time.

The esper still didn't answer. He began to slowly place his quivering arms and legs beneath him. It hurt a bit, and they still weren't fully connected. But he forced himself to start pushing up.

Just lie there, Bahamut. Just lay down. Just give up. Why should you suffer needlessly? Why continue something that's pointless? Is there some part of you in your maddened brain that actually thinks it can still win? That some cosmic act of fate will intervene? That destiny will revoke its sentence?

The esper grit his teeth, and finally pushed himself up onto his knees. He held there, with his arms out, and breathed out more carbon dioxide. He waited to knit a bit more.

I've said this before, Bahamut…but I don't understand you. I never did understand you. Why are you doing this? I truly don't know, so please enlighten me. Why have you kept fighting this long? Why did you start fighting at all? You're smarter than that, Bahamut. I know this. You knew you couldn't win from the moment you started fighting. You knew that all the pain I wracked your body with was only going to get worse. You knew that no matter how much energy or force you threw at me, I'd withstand it. And yet you kept fighting. You're trying to fight right now, even though you can barely stand. Why are you trying to get up?

Bahamut clenched his jaw, and slowly and surely began to move his newly regenerated legs underneath him.

Wyvern's voice began to turn irritable.

Why are you not seeing it yet, Bahamut? Why does this one vision of the future elude you…or why are you trying not to see it? Don't you get it? It's over. Your life is over. This is my world and my time. Destiny has decided against you. Mother has decided against you. How blind are you? How many more of your bones do I have to break before you realize it? How much more of your own blood has to wash your eyes before you can clearly see the truth? Did you think I was just spouting out air earlier, when I kept asking you if you could see the truth? Seriously…I want you to see it. I want you to understand. And yet…here you are…sad…pathetic…mortal…getting off of the ground and still blinding yourself to it.

Bahamut began to push up…and slowly uncurled his body and began to straighten it.

There's nothing left for you, Bahamut! The voice continued, beginning to turn angry. You have no future! You have no destiny beyond today! Is the only meaning left to your sad life going to be breaking your own arms into pieces trying to hit me? Everything else you have is dead! Why don't you just die with it? What meaning or point is there to this futile gesture you're making? Anything? Even a desire to go down fighting me? Do you even understand why you do what you do anymore?

Bahamut finally was on his feet. He wobbled on them, even in this light gravity. However, he turned his tired head over and gazed at Wyvern. He was still there, hovering with arms crossed, blazing with power. However, his smile had vanished, and had turned into a sneer.

Why are you fighting me, Bahamut? WHY?

The esper exhaled one more time. His own weak eyes pierced those of Wyvern's. Compared to him…he truly was some dark dull creature before a god. However, he continued to gaze just the same, without fear or hesitation.

…If you haven't figured it out after these many centuries… Bahamut slowly sent back in reply. You'll never understand.

Bahamut was immediately cast to the ground again by a powerful slap across the face. He was so weak by now that he couldn't even see it coming, or make the slightest move to react. A moment later, his face was eating dirt as he was thrown down once more. This time…he couldn't get up. He had already used all of his strength trying to stand that last time. He had nothing left. Wyvern had even been gentle, not breaking a bone that time. He did cut his mouth, however, and this time it bled without ending. The last of his energy to regenerate was gone.

Wyvern was standing over him now, his hand still peeled back from where it had ended after slapping Bahamut. He glared down on him, and his shimmering eyes blazed. He glared at his fallen body, almost motionless and unable to move, for a few moments of silence. In the end, however, Bahamut heard him snort in his mind as he shook his head at him.

Sad…pathetic…creature… He slowly murmured. Very well…it's time to end this. But I had to ask before I did. Part of me was genuinely curious at this point as to what the answer is, but it seems even you don't know it.

Bahamut managed to lift his head up slightly, but that was all. His eyes half opened and tried to look out.

Pity. Wyvern continued. I genuinely wanted to know. And I felt that I had to. You see…I gave Shinza an opportunity for some last words…a message that she wanted to say to you but never had the chance. I thought I'd tell you them right before I killed you. And since that time is now…I might as well.

Bahamut struggled to move…but was powerless to. Everything was gone. Here, solar energy flowed more easily, but it was barely refilling his drained reserves. Wyvern would have to keep rambling just for him to throw a weak final punch. Suddenly, he felt something seize him in the back of his head, by one of his horns. It burned to the touch, and made him wince. It had to be Wyvern's glowing hand. He winced and recoiled, but could do little else but hang as Wyvern ripped him off of the ground.

Out of all the things she could have said…all of the phrases…she told me something I didn't expect, but I figured must be important, which is why I asked you that just now.

Bahamut felt heat against his face as Wyvern leaned down next to him, holding his own head next to his. It was in a gesture to whisper, even though it was impossible to whisper here.

She told me to tell you… "Share your wisdom". Now then…any clues as to what she might have meant by that, before you die? Any knowledge that you want to share with me?

Bahamut weakly held for a moment, hearing this message but not saying anything. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. He planned on just hanging there until the end. Yet Wyvern held him, and waited…as he merely hung back and waited for the death blow.

Then…time suddenly seemed to slow down.

Bahamut's eyes widened…as he felt a moment of true insight suddenly strike him.

He remembered back to his language studies of Etteca. On Gaia, knowledge and wisdom were two different things. However, the distinction was even greater on Etteca. One never tried to exchange one word for the other. Knowledge was facts and data, nothing more. Wisdom was more ingenuity, cleverness, ability, and philosophy. Shinza had even told him while writing, on one of her complaints about spirituality and opinion, to stop being wise and be more knowledgable. Knowledge was referring to something that could be passed on and was concrete from one person to another. But wisdom…wisdom was talents, abilities, insights…and aptitudes.

Had she meant something more by this phrase?

Wyvern's vision… He had seen himself the victor… But as Bahamut thought again…had he actually? Wyvern's mind was warped. He jumped to conclusions. And he hadn't mastered his precognition like Bahamut. He only saw this through the influence of drugs. Bahamut knew full well that drugs distorted what you saw. That was why he only saw twisted, unusual versions of events that actually came to life on them. What had he said exactly? He said that he had seen Bahamut changing through his different forms throughout time…and that each one had failed to beat him…

However…there was another way to look at that. He was more than just a new body when he changed form. He was different abilities. His original body performed the Sol-Pyrin. His Neo body had the ability to power itself up using the Sol-Velo, and performed the Giga-Pyrin. And then there was the force he hadn't unleashed yet in his new body… Just like Wyvern now absorbed energies from the dead instead of merely darkness…Bahamut's new form absorbed energies from living things instead of just light. The result was the ability to form a much stronger attack than before…but one that he knew couldn't defeat this body…

Wait a minute…

I couldn't beat him the first time either…could I?

Bahamut suddenly remembered…and a new insight came to him. He couldn't contest Wyvern the first time…nor the second. He was outmatched both times…until he used his new ability, something that was considered in the realm of "wisdom" and not "knowledge" in the Ettecan language. That was his power-up moves…the Hyper-Velo and Supra-Velo.

The esper suddenly became aware of it. He realized something. He had been using Giga-Pyrins and Sol-Pyrins this entire fight. But Wyvern never used anything more than his Mega-Pyron. Was that because he felt it was enough?

…Or was it because this new body, different as it was from his true form, couldn't do it?

Perhaps…that was why Wyvern stayed the same in the vision while Bahamut changed. Bahamut was still an esper, not this creature that Wyvern had become. He still had his accumulated powers and abilities. But Wyvern…he was something else. He was only what his new cells had been programmed to be. The Sol-Velo was irrelevant now. Both of them had ascended beyond it. However…Wyvern, much intelligence as he had now, never learned the Hyper-Velo or Supra-Velo. It took Bahamut months to learn them himself, smart as he was.

Share your wisdom.

Time returned to normal. And now, Bahamut's eyes were opened wide. His mouth hung a moment…but then slowly shut and began to smile. Wyvern was wrong. His vision hadn't been prophecizing his victory…but his flaw.

Shinza…thank you.

Unseen by Bahamut, Wyvern's head turned at this. The mental message had been out loud, and he had heard it. What? He asked in growing confusion. What was that?

In response, Bahamut felt his weak body forcing himself into a grin.

Supra-Velo.

Moments later, Wyvern was knocked back away from Bahamut as a new wave of red energy suddenly enveloped his body. Suddenly, a distinct red light was swarming around him, and the force was so great that Wyvern, to his shock, found his body thrown off from him. The force ripped against his own mighty body and pushed him away…nearly throwing him to the ground. The creature managed to stop himself as he flew back, but then leaned back up and gaped at what he saw. He couldn't believe it…

Bahamut did not fall to the ground as Wyvern released him. Instead…he put out his hands and held himself firmly, without falling down again. His legs stiffened as they filled with new strength…new power. It began to make his muscles bulge. His lungs began to work faster, and his heart began to rush as he felt new strength in his bones. His regeneration went to work, and immediately strengthened his bones and body. The cut on his lip was sealed. His eyes began to blaze with new power as the red light continued to swarm around him. His wings unfurled.

No…no…this can't be possible…

Clenching his hands into fists again…Bahamut began to push himself off of the ground. It was easy here, in this weightless environment. Soon, he was standing on his feet again. Now…he was the one who smiled confidently. And now, he slowly turned his head and body over…to glare at Wyvern with that same look. The shimmering being gaped back at him, its own burning eyes raised in surprise. Its arms hung back uncertainly…almost as if it was going to recoil from him as he stood. For now…Wyvern too could sense power.

And he sensed that Bahamut's had just surpassed his.

No! This can't be! The creature shrieked in his mind as his jaw clenched and he fumed from where he was. You're dead! You were as good as dead! This can't be right… I'm supposed to win! This is a trick!

Looks like you're the one with the bad memory now, Wyvern. Bahamut answered much more calmly. You forgot about my power-up moves.

The radiant creature hesitated where it was. It was dumbfounded. It thought this was over…but now his opponent was standing again…and he could sense he was even stronger than him now. The Supra-Velo had more than pushed him beyond him. And now…the shocked creature could only stare in new horror…seeing that the dead foe had come back. He couldn't believe it. It wasn't possible… He had to be imagining this…

Face filling with rage, Wyvern sneered at Bahamut. You can't hold that form for more than a few minutes! Not after the beating I gave you!

Bahamut leveled his powerful gaze at Wyvern, and kept smiling.

…What makes you think you'll last that long?

Wyvern's eyes widened. He actually recoiled a bit, not expecting that sort of dangerous reply. Now…his godlike impression began to crack. His nerve began to break. He was still here… His foe was still alive. He was laughing in the face of fate…of destiny… He was still coming back…again and again…no matter how mighty that he became… Somehow, he was always here to challenge him again and again…and he just wouldn't die!

Growling, Wyvern snapped forward and lunged at his foe. He was on him in a moment. Bahamut saw him come…but didn't bother moving. Soon, the towering radiant being was over him, and with all the power he could immediately bring to bear…he slugged Bahamut across the face.

Bahamut's head went flying down, and his neck turned as well. He closed his eyes and winced against the power. Wyvern, teeth grit, eyes blazing with a mixture of shock, fear, and anger, glared at him, wanting to see him fall…wanting to see him moan…wanting to see him die…

However…his mouth soon loosened…and he began to hover back again.

Bahamut hadn't even shifted weight. He opened his eyes again, smiled, and then leaned his head back up and into the previous position. His eyes burned with strength as he continued to beam at Wyvern.

The shimmering being felt himself actually quiver. That…couldn't be. He was the strongest thing in the universe now…the mightiest creature. That blow would have punched a hole through a land mass. And yet…Bahamut had taken it. He was still standing. He was always still standing… No matter how many times he burned him and broke him…he was always still standing. It was like he was an immortal…or a devil…or a curse…or a nightmare. And here he was… Mighty and ultimate as he was…Bahamut was still here. Still alive. Still fighting…

The shimmering being actually hovered back slightly…backing away from Bahamut.

Then, he froze. His eyes widened again, as he realized what he was doing. He was retreating. He was moving away from him… Him…the man who had cost him everything…the bastard that took everything away from him…the creature that ruined him and his life… And now…he was still alive! He was doing it again! Hissing, turning to rage again, Wyvern swung his fist again.

This time, Bahamut snapped his own arm up even faster.

His own glowing fist struck Bahamut's…and moved no further.

The creature's eyes widened again. Bahamut was still smiling as he held him. He didn't shift at all. Wyvern looked back to his hand, and grit his teeth. Sneering, he tried to push it onward, tried to get through. Bahamut didn't even flinch. He didn't even shift. He held him firmly…not yielding at all. The thing began to foam at the mouth. He pushed harder and harder, and began to quiver underneath the fist, struggling to push it through. The heat of his body was even smoldering Bahamut's flesh. Yet it couldn't go through. He couldn't push him past it… He couldn't believe it…but he was actually holding him back.

Abruptly, Bahamut's smile turned into a stern frown.

Suddenly, his razor-sharp, whip-like tail snapped around, flashed in front of him, and then swung itself down on Wyvern's elbow.

His glowing appendage was neatly severed from his body.

Evidently…Wyvern could feel pain from something like that…because his mouth opened in agony and his eyes winced as they glared at the severed stump that had been his arm. He recoiled in a mixture of shock and pain, bringing up his other glowing arm to grasp the place where it had been. As for Bahamut, he looked at him for a moment more, watching him recoil in agony. Then…he snapped forward like a gunshot and backhanded Wyvern across the face with his free arm.

The creature's head was violently snapped in one direction. If he had bones, they could have been broken from it. Three teeth went flying from his mouth before his body was torn away with violent force, rocketing away from the moon and back into the heavens. It was every bit as strong the blow that Wyvern had given Bahamut only minutes ago, and soon the shimmering being was sailing again into a glowing dot, before going even farther and nearly vanishing. This time, Bahamut's force wracked Wyvern's entire body, nearly making his super cells separate. His wings were nearly ripped from him as the force pushing his head exceeded that of his wings. And now…he was the one powerless to do anything to stop himself.

Bahamut glared at the dot for a moment, before looking down to his body and the arm he held. He could sense that the cells within it were still alive. He turned his head down, and looked to the ground of the moon. Slowly floating down to rest on it were the teeth that Bahamut had knocked loose. Glaring coldly, he threw the arm on top of them, and then summoned a Mega-Pyrin. A second later, he blasted them all at point blank range. A massive fireball erupted from the moon in his wake, and a terrific explosion pounded an even deeper crater into it. But Bahamut stood their calmly as the fire and dust washed over him, and kept scanning the dirt until he saw every single cell in those pieces disintegrate and die.

Once that was done, Bahamut turned back to the vanishing dot…and then launched himself at full speed for it.

Now…the truly final battle would begin.


To be continued...