AN: Okay, who missed me? Hmm… alright so only two of you missed me, so what! I'm still going to write this next chapter, and you're still going to read it.

Thank you to all my reviewers, and all the rest of my usual shpiel.

Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Symphonia. If I did, Colette would have died. Just like in this story.

Ch. 16 The Victory and The Aftermath

Bottas' sword came down with a force capable of crushing Lloyds' shoulder, and it would have if he had stayed where he was. Instead, he rolled to the side and slashed at Bottas' ribs with his one sword. Botta was in no position to dodge the attack, and took it at its' full force, causing him to loose his balance momentarily.

That was all Lloyd needed. He planted the heel of his boot into Bottas' side and sent him sailing. He saw that Botta was trying to recover from his little flight, and chose not to give him the chance to land, no matter how awkward his landing may have been. He charged in quickly, and before he realized what he was doing, a thick sheet of sand blasted Botta farther away.

…Change view: Presea…

Presea watches the battle as it progresses and then degrades. The movements of the combatants are extremely quick, some of them too quick for normal people. But Presea is currently a machine, not a person.

Botta has kicks Lloyd with a force nearly comparable to Regals' lighter kicks. Lloyd rolls five meters. Lloyd stands up again. He takes his one sword into a two-handed grip, angling the blade at twenty degrees. Botta begins running forward. As soon as his foot hits the ground, the machine will be able to calculate his speed and rate of acceleration.

"Let me out, I wanna see!" cries the ordinary little girl within her.

"Silence, please," replies the machine. "Something is happening."

"What is it?" the girl asks.

"If Lloyd wins this fight, the odds of our exaction of revenge increases by at least thirty percent, bringing it up to over forty percent," the machine replies. "Now please, I must take in all variables."

"This is no fun," the girl whines. "Why don't I ever get to come out, it's been months since I had a chance to actually be there."

"You did what I needed you to do," the machine explains for the ten thousand and twelfth time. "All I needed from you was to show that hint of your existence, to allow us to get our revenge. Your fathers' life, and my being used like some puppet both stem from the same cause. Also, you get to see and hear everything. You still know what is going on."

"I never wanted revenge though," the girl protests. "And it's not enough to just see and hear. I want to have a say in what we do, how we act."

"If you get that wish, it would jeopardize our revenge," the machine reasons.

"I already said, I don't want revenge," the girl says.

"You are lying," the machine counters. "You are human, and one of the driving human forces is revenge. Can you really say you do not want to kill Magnius for what he has done to us?"

The girl pauses a moment. "But I still want to see."

"When all of this is done, I'll give you total control," the machine says.

"You promise?" the girl asks.

"I promise," the machine replies. The machine intends to keep this promise too, if the girl can do what must be done.

"I just thought of something," the girl says. "What's your name?"

"I do not have a name, nor do I need one," the machine responds.

"Everyone needs a name," the girl responds. "My name is Presea, now pick a name for yourself."

"If you must call me something, call me Beta," The machine doesn't have time for this, every millisecond counts right now. And Beta is a fitting name. Representing the second, better version.

"I don't like that name," Presea says. "It doesn't sound nice."

"You told me to pick, now be thankful that I have amused you that much," Beta says.

"I still don't like it," Presea replies. "How about Sarah? That's a pretty name."

"Very well, may I focus my attention on more important matters now?" Sarah concedes. "I still have to categorize Regals' files D through G, and I'm trying to study this match also."

"Fine fine," Presea says. "I'm sorry I bothered you. I just get lonely in here, all by myself."

Back to the moment. Botta has begun to raise his second foot. All future information for the next few moments is deemed irrelevant.

The next relevant piece of data comes from Lloyd. He kicks Botta seven centimeters below the armpit with sufficient force to send Botta airborne at a speed of twenty five kilometers per hour for two meters. Lloyd then charges on a direct intercept course for Botta at a speed of ten kilometers per hour, accelerating another twenty kilometers per meter. Arriving just before Botta at the estimated location of impact, Lloyd swings his remaining sword vertically, narrowly missing Botta by three centimeters. The force behind the swing, being approximately 253 kilos, causes Lloyd to continue forward and downward, at an angle of 72.2396 degrees. At the impact point of the hilt guard, a shockwave moves through the ground, first loosening the packed down sand, then blasting it upwards, crashing into Botta, and causing him to remain in flight for another twelve meters.

"Impressive," is the only word that Sarah can find to describe what she has just seen.

"Yay, Lloyd!" Presea yells from inside.

…Change view: Lloyd…

Botta was slightly dazed when he finally returned to solid ground but he was recovering, and the fight wasn't over. Lloyd stepped backward slowly to where Gale was laying in the sand, never taking his eyes off of Botta. Those were the only important things at the moment. Botta and the lost sword. Lloyd felt Gales' hilt with his boot and picked it up.

"What did I tell you about those techniques, Boy?" Botta asked, slightly annoyed.

"They're nothing but silly gimmicks that will never work outside of the arenas' controlled environment," Lloyd repeated the words. "But since we're in the arena, why not use what works?"

"Very true," Botta laughed. "How about we make this quick? I've hit you about five times now, you've hit me twice. I'm not going to count the gimmick. If you can hit me more than I have hit you within the next five minutes, you win."

"That means I need four points," Lloyd said. "Since you want this to be quick, sure."

Having said those words, he ran forward, blades ready, straight to Botta. The rules had changed now, this had to end quickly. Botta was running toward him also, but he was also making gestures with his hand and he was mumbling something. He was getting ready to cast a spell. Botta stopped mumbling and pointed his hand at Lloyd, and he jumped aside as a rock shot through open air exactly where his stomach had been an instant before.

Lloyd then jumped into the air, landing just behind Botta. He turned around finding himself still facing Bottas' front, and his sword preparing to strike his arm. Lloyd blocked with Thunder and slashed at his face with Gale, effectively breaking his nose.

"One," Lloyd said. He then followed up with a quick flurry of attacks to Bottas' torso. Botta blocked the attack effectively, then sidestepped, hoping to find an opening he could strike at. All he found was Thunder, smashing into his side. "And that's two."

Botta jumped back, and Lloyd didn't pursue. They stood facing each other. Botta had been in stare-downs like this before, it was a chance to judge ones opponent and try and read when, how, and from whom the next attack would come. Lloyds' posture, and grip told all, and Botta saw the outcome of the fight instantly. He would loose.

"I guess that's it then, you win," he said with a smile. Then dropping his sword, he turned to face the audience and shouted at the top of his lungs, "I SURRENDER!"

…Some time later…

"Now, I suppose you have a few questions for me," Botta said. They were sitting alone in the waiting room, which was surprisingly empty at the time. Lloyd's face was covered with mixed emotions. Pride mingled with confusion, happiness alongside dissatisfaction.

"I do," Lloyd said angrily. "Why the hell did you give up like that?"

"You were planning to fake a pincer stab at my gut," Botta explained, breaking down what he'd realized. "I'd have moved to block it by stepping back, and when your swords crossed, placing my sword in between. But like I said, it would've been a feint. Instead, you would have reversed your grip on both swords, and then strike both of my arms. I'd still be trying to block the pincer, and I'd have lost."

Lloyds' jaw was hanging in amazement. "How did you know?"

"It's a little trick I learned in my youth, and don't ask how old I am. My only answer will be too old to be young."

"That's fair, I guess. So why did you train me? Why help me beat you?"

"The first rule of being the champion is that you can't quit, you must be dethroned by another," Botta explained. "I've wanted to leave Meltokio for ten years now, and I've been forced to stay here. The battlefield calls to me. I want to find a war, and die, fighting a great enemy. I couldn't do that if I couldn't leave."

"Why not take the fighters with you, and go help down in Flanoir?" Lloyd asked.

"The war in Flanoir is not just," he reasoned. "The king is fighting for land, Flanoir has done nothing to deserve this. And I couldn't make the others fight for Flanoir, it would be treason, and we'd have to fight the kings' army. I want a war where I'm on the right side, where I know what I'm fighting for. An uncomplicated war. I suppose that's too much to ask in this day and age."

"Not entirely," Lloyd said. He then went on to explain to Botta of his plans to invade the Desian Empire. "I know I don't have things well organized yet, but I've got to kill Forcystus. And it's not just that anymore. I've been free for eight months now, and can't believe how good it feels everyday. To wake up and know that anything I do, it's for myself and anyone I choose to serve. I left friends at the Ranch, and there are slaves in other areas too. I want to give them the freedom they're owed. You want in?"

"I suppose this is exactly what I was asking for," Botta said. "I'll help you as I can, though I probably won't be useful for anything more than making corpses."

"Well, we're also going to need someone to get the other fighters in shape, especially the lower ranks," Lloyd said, smiling

"You mean Bugs will be used as something other than a human shield?" Botta smiled back.

"Well, that may be a lost cause, but it might help if they had a decent teacher," Lloyd suggested.

"I think I could find someone to do the job," Botta said.

"Really? Does he have a name?"

"Yes, he's called 'Drill Sergeant Botta."

…That evening…

Capricorn was sitting at the same stool in the same bar that she went to every night. The same drink, the same crowds, but a different yet still good music. She came here so often that she was a regular. Her informant had also become a regular.

Zelos sat down in his seat on her left and a Rum and Fizz slid into his hand.

"Lloyd won, he's the champion," he said taking a sip.

Capricorn wasn't surprised. Lloyd had shot through the ranks quickly, rarely loosing a match, and when he did loose he'd come back the next day and utterly crush his opponent. He was a natural, born to fight. And now he was the champion.

The ice in her glass shifted slightly as she stared down at it. She had no choice. She had only one option. She would have to kill Lloyd as legally as possible.

"What time does the arena open tomorrow?" she asked.

"Crack of dawn," Zelos said, also staring at his glass. "You sure you want to do this?"

"I have to," she explained. "It's to protect him."

AN: Da di dah! Chapter 15 is done! So what did you think? Please review! I tried a new style with the Presea scene and I need opinions. Be as brutally honest as you can about that part. And don't forget to comment on the rest also. See ya next time at Ch 16: The Choices She Made. Laters!