Once Rei had told his tale, the most surprising thing happened.

A gateway had opened on the grassy fields, composed of trillions of corpuscles of light, and though it was the room that the Silver Net was in, so that the Prison Bottle may be completed. Another thing that was different was that the Heroes of Truth and Ideals had finally perished after millenia of dreamless sleep, and the Dark and Light Stones were nowhere to be found.

As all were about to enter the city, Adaman and Iscan looked back upon Beulah, and wept.

"Farwell, Beulah, the only love that we shall ever know! We shall find no rest until we find thee again, wherever we may, in green spring or dark winter. But we know this is but a shadow of the True Beulah, and it shall endure forever, after the world is mended. Farwell! Farwell, Land of Paradise! We shall see you when we close our eyes for the last time in this world, and come into the next."

And they were gone, the gateway disappearing with a rush of compressing air. Beulah was still, and the Great Dance spiraled overhead.

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All about the night-shrouded city, the rumor of approaching war was to be had.

A broiling fume covered the sun, allowing half-men to walk without fear under the sky. Messengers running into the city ere the gate was closed said that the Black Host had seized the Fen of Gelian and Shaaman-Pah, and they did not come with just simple half-men, but a sort of men from Nuria that had not been seen before, bearded and fearsome.

The king had foreseen the assault, and now the last fortifications and preparations for the great battle were to be made. The Alolans had said that they would come on great rafts, and more troops from the westerly areas of the empire and Crescent Island were inbound.

But they would not reach the city in time. Already, the Black Host, hundreds of thousands strong, had gone many leagues, and in only a hour they would come upon the city. Whispered rumours in the city said that the Captain of the Host was no half-men chieftain or great brigand, but a being of the same order of the Enemy himself.

Laventon seized the Prison Bottle, and began to work with the other weavers to merge the Net and the Bottle together. Adaman and Iscan and the other Logarians joined the armed forces, while Akari and Cyllene left to help with the fortification of the lower tunnels. Lian went to prepare the Mudsdale and Avaluggs for battle, and Rei decided to take unconventional approach to the War, after taking Lian's spy-glasses.

Since there is still a chance that we might survive this battle, Rei thought. Maybe I could give a eyewitness account for future generations. I will go to the upper city, and see what I can do..."

After a run through the bright tunnels to the rear of the city, and a ascent to a high tower, far away from the walls that would bear the brunt of the attack, Rei readied the spy-glasses and peered at the oncoming force, the first waves of the Black Host already coming to the vale that lay before the city.

Lines upon lines of half-men marched onward, bearing torches and spears. Great siege-cannons and mounting-towers were pulled by all sorts of Pokémon. Sometimes, one would go mad and crush countless half-men in its rampage, but there were always more to take their place. Many waved the standard of the Black Host, a banner of darkness, without mark or sigal. Tyranitar, the feared Deathless, stood at the frontal lines like nephilim of old, following the Black Captain.

Lucius rode upon a broken creature, a Rapidash that emitted pure black flame. In his earthly form he appeared as a high sorcerer, cloaked in shadow and black robes, with mail-clad hands and bearing a iron helm. He alone commanded the Army beside the Enemy, his arm was long and his slaves many. All followed him out of nothing less than base terror, and he hated them as much as they feared them.

At a time when the Black Army was only a hundred yards out of range from the gate, the host stopped at Lucius's bidding. Then scores of half-men started digging trenches, putting them safely out of bow-shot. With a grinding and creaking of ropes and great wooden beams, the trebuchets and engines of war were readied, and strange shot was hefted into them by dozens of half-men. Fire filled some trenches, and whether it was fueled by wood or devilry Rei did not know. The fair trees that grew at the sides of the vale were felled, wantonly hewn, and fortifications were made out of them, and groups of crude tents appeared like black stains on the battlefield, black or somber red.

There were more soldiers in the Black Host than simple half-men or Pokémon. Thousands of men out of the south, swart and stocky, and bearing great axes, with little Pokémon and even less mercy. They had cruel faces concealed by turbans of linen, with black and red scimitars and jeweled breastplates. Even a few Rumhoth out of Old Kalos had come to aid of their Master, wielding spathas and their centurions riding in great wains. Yet all the assembled force marshaled in the field was only but a sliver of the full might of the Enemy, hastily mobilized and crude, with millions more still dwelling in the Pits of Dor Daedeloth.

"Ha!" Some of the soldiers jeered. "Even if the Enemy himself came to our gates, he could not breach them while we remain!"

"While we remain?" Some answered. "For how long? The Evil One has a weapon that has ruined many a strong place since the world began: hunger. The roads are cut. Alola cannot come."

Once the lines of trenches, like a vast web of ant-tunnels, had been completed, the half-men reformed their legions, reading for a charge, and hoisting great battering rams upon their shoulders, and engines of war and siege-towers rolled forward in the vale. While this was happening, another line of defense had been added to the city.

Upon the walls, dozens of Psychic Pokémon were making a energy shield, covering the front of the city with a impenetrable barrier of Light Screen and Reflect, strong as cast iron, and it would not give. Some hewn rocks were cast upon it, and they broke without wounding the wall.

But the Black Host did not waste shot upon the indomitable barrier. With a snap of many thick ropes, strange objects flew, guided by a power and mind of malice, up, up, up, marvellously high, sailing far over the energy wall, and landing in the city below.

Then, by art or sorcery, the flung shot burst into flame, or burst into great blasts. Rei, seeing one object that failed, realized that the Black Host was casting Forretress into the city, slaying themselves to make one last dying assault. Many of the Pokémon died, but it was not in the interest of the Enemy how many should survive or be spared.

Smaller shot followed the Forretress, less ruinous but no less horrific. When the guards of the city came upon the lesser objects to see what they were, they ran away with a cry. For the pieces were limbs and heads of those that had fallen earlier, slain in the advancing path of the Black Host.

Then hordes of half-men began to rush at the gate, and the guards and Pokémon of the wall attacked back through the great energy wall. Thousands upon thousands of half-men were slain, pierced with arrows, crushed by rocks, cut in half, burnt alive, or even drowned in masses of newly-sprung plants. The black blood of the ruined creatures stained the ground and the base of the wall and gate, and yet they still came on, driven by madness, stepping over the great mounds of the corpses of those who had fell before them, or using the heaps as cover.

But the main force of the Enemy was focused on the gate. Strong it was, with proud bars of iron and steelwood, yet it was still the most vulnerable part of the great walls. Many rams and siege machines assailed them, yet the gate held strong.

The nightmarish hours went on. Some warriors of Logaria had scaled the hills around the Black Host and were firing darts and attacks down into the sides of the legions, but they did not stem the tide. The men of the city that had defended the wall were tiring, and new conscripts were necessary, including Adaman and Iscan.

About this time, Lucius came into the fray. The largest ram, with a iron head like a Misdreavus, carried by hundreds of half-men and Pokémon. Hurricanes and bolts of lightning from the Pokémon of the city assailed them, but Lucius commanded them to hold fast.

The ram crawled on. Thousands of corpses blocked the gate, and more half-men ran ahead to clear the bodies. They would fall, but then two more took their place for every one slain. Lucius was able to cut arrows in twain with his blade, and few could set their sights on him without trembling, and the bow slipping from their grasp. For the Evil Djinn had a weapon far quicker than hunger: death and despair.

The ram crawled on. It was set against the gate, but the great doors held steady yet longer. Then Lucius raised his blade, and gave three cries. Thrice the great ram crushed down with incredible force, and them the two doors collapsed, dust rising from their ruin.

Beyond the gate, the garrison of the city prepared for combat. Immediately, swarms of half-men ran into the city, and a foe far greater: The Deathless. Dozens of Tyranitar, immune to nearly all attacks, unfeeling and twisted, smote the defense down, and the armies of death prepared to advance further.

Somewhere a rooster crowed, and a new line of calvary had charged the first line that had entered the city. The king was with them, and his mighty men and Pokémon. Tar-Adunakor routed the Black Host, and the remnant of the garrison were bade to resist once more. In the charge, spear was splintered and shield cloven, and the advancing hordes were utterly destroyed.

"To me! To me!" Adunakor cried. "Forth Ingold and Ruthbolt! Rally, men of Logaria! It shall be a hour of white wolves and shattered shields when the age of Men and Pokémon comes crashing down into darkness. But it is not this day!"

Thrice the half-men charged, thrice all were slain. On the fourth time, none other but Lucius and the Deathless came in. The defenders qualied before the demon lord's hooded eyes, but Tar-Adunakor stood fast.

The king's Rapidash bucked in terror, and threw him off, running mad into the city. Lucius howled with laughter, and none who were there would ever forget the evil of that sound. Lucius threw off his iron helm, and behold! No head rested under it, but a crown of morgul-iron rested upon a invisible brow.

"Old fool! Old fool! This is my hour!" Lucius cried. "Can you not see that your doom is at hand? This city belongs to me and my Lord! Curse now, and die in vain!"

Then, over the mountains, the first rays of a new sun rose over the snow-capped peaks. The rays struck the eyes of the half-men, but the new dawn gave hope to the men of the City of Caves. The Will of Lucius and the Enemy wavered, and a new presence was to be seen.

Horns blew in the vale far behind.

Another legion of Logaria had assembled far more quickly than Lucius had forseen. They were on foot and horseback, with lances beared, and the Black Host was now beset on all four fronts.

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However, there was another threat to the defenders of the city that could not be seen.

Above Atun-Kaah, a dome of countless demons, billions of them, had gathered over the past few days. The sound of their wings was like a thousand thunderclaps, and the cloud of their sulfurous breath a oppressive cloud. Like insects they swarmed, writhing and pulsing, a great hive. Slowly, they began to descend, and soon the entire city would be covered. Even the most stout of heart would faint with fear, and the city would be lost.

But the Host of Heaven was prepared as well. Over the last two weeks, great warriors had started to arrive at the city. Soon, in every room, closet, storehouse, stable, tunnel, shaft, nook, cranny, and space, heavenly warriors waited.

And waited.

...

The charge of the approaching force slammed into the Black Host like a iron hammer, thousands of half-men dying instantly. The Deathless retreated, and Lucius left the city to keep the armies in order. The gate was shored up, and a new guard was made.

Adaman and Iscan were cleaning up the slain bodies, when suddenly two half-men that had been lying among the heaps of fallen as if dead sprung up, and targeted the recovering Tar-Adunakor.

There was a cry, and the pair of creatures fell dead, their heads separated from their bodies. Iscan's Kleavor calmly washed the black blood off its arm-blades, and Adaman cleaned his blade.

The host of Logaria had reformed, the garrison gathering around the banners of the Vale and the Havens, with the Eagle-knights of the High Guard, bearing armor shining and fair, routing the misshapen beasts that dared to enter the city.

"The tratorius Rumhoth and Nurians shall feel the hard edge of the Sword of Judgement!" Berothrim cried. "We shall not cease our fight until the Kalosi have been driven back to their own gladiator pits and slain for sport!"

"HUZZAH!"

"We shall not cease our fight until the last doughty man of Logaria has been slain in the hills, the final descendant of a ragged house bereft of lordship!"

"HUZZAH!"

"We shall not cease out fight until the children that lie dead in the ruined streets of Shaaman-Pah are avenged, and the soldiers and Pokémon that were hewn even as they lay dead!"

"HUZZAH!"

"We shall not cease our fight until the Black Enemy is hung from a gibbet for the sport of his own crows, and the heads of the dotards of his kingdom roll in the mud, where dogs play in the reek and wallow in filth! Glory to the Original One! Fight, fight for ruin, a blood say, a spear day, ere the sun rises!"

"HUZZAH!"

...

Lucius was furious. He knew that his master had struck to soon, and with a force to weak. In the moment of apparent victory, his triumph had been wrested from him.

But his arm was long, and his slaves many. He had strange powers and many allies. It would take a still mightier force to defeat the Black Host. Alola would not, could not come. Demon, elohim, Lord of the Black Host, a spear of terror in the hand of the Enemy, Lucius ran into the foray.

...

Many half-men and other slaves of the Enemy had entered the city before the leaguere was reestablished, and were slaying the woman and children who had not already fled into the caves, and men who fought alone.

Rei saw a group of three half-men and a single Kalosi warrior run up the stairs of the tower he was at, felling the hapless levyman who still dwelt there. Rei drew his dagger and leaped down the flight of stairs, as a small creature will jump upon a tower of horn and hide to avenge its fallen mate.

The dagger drove into the Rumhoth's breastplate, the warriors' spatha clattering to the ground. "That's for Arceus!"

SLASH!

"That's for Hisui!"

HRKKKHH!

"That's for Akari!"

THRUST!

"And that's for my old father!"

...

The demons snaked downward in thick columns, ready to deal a great blow to the hearts of those who defended the city.

Cobalion waited. All the Heavenly Host waited...

...

It took only a moment for Laventon to finally set the Silver Weave inside the Prison Bottle.

...

It took only another moment for the Enemy to realize what had been done.

He screamed. His Will deserted his thralls, his armies, his brigands and slave-drivers, he no longer thought of policies and stratagems and his webs of treachery and plots or the consolidation of his power or the defeat of his foes. His slaves despaired, and the Black Host fell back, but he thought of it not.

He only felt Rage, in its purest form, and he commanded, with a furious burst of Will, for the demonic host to charge, to charge with fire and death, and end his foes before it was all for ruin. At his summons, with a rending cry the demons charged, in a last desperate race they flew, and with a storm of wings they fell down, down, down to the city.

...

Unready and surprised, the leagues of demons fell down like sand in a sieve, the city only seconds below them. All drew their blades, and the shining of the swords of Sheol was like the glittering of a sea of dying stars.

"NOW!"

The Heavenly Host, a thousand points of light against the shroud of demons, rose like rain from the ground, and the hordes of hell shrieked with terror.

"The Host of Heaven! The Host of Heaven is upon us!"

The Host of Heaven!

...

Lucius took control of the minds of his thralls. "Stand your ground! The day still can be won! Charge the city, slay all that you see!"

A arrow struck Lucius, and his will was broken for a instant. His armies were being drained, many liters of blood falling by the minute. The remnant of the half-men wavered, and some thought of braking for the hills.

Then another wave of darts came down from the mountains, and men crying out in harsh tongues. The Alolans had come, travelling through secret ways that the Enemy had not blocked or destroyed, and the Black Host only thought of death, and their own demise.

...

Demons screamed as they were disintegrated, and millions upon millions fed the Abyss. They began to break, endless lines crumbling in the light and fury of the Host of Heaven. Sputtering, writhing, fluttering, falling in phantasmagoric streams of red smoke, plummeting into Nothing, pierced by heavenly weapons, withering, blinking, and going out.

...

Lucius and his Deathless charged the broken gate once more. Adaman and Iscan were cast aside, and the Black Captain bore down upon the king once more. Arrows pierced him, but their tips broke when they touched his flesh, and the Deathless went mad with bloodlust.

Then the Captain halted, giving a cry of pain. A blade had pierced his leg, cutting through the demonic sinews with a power that could only have been received in the land of Beulah. Adaman had stuck his sword into the hauberk of Lucius, and even though the blade shattered, it dealt a wound.

...

The demonic host was fleeing, the last fractions of it flying in defeat back to Dor Daedeloth, and the arid and waste places of the world.

Overhead, the Swords of Justice espied the weakened Lucius, and flew down to deal the killing blow.

...

All three Sacred Swords pierced the hell-forged chestplate of the Black Captain, and with a cry that was never heard in the world again, Lucius was gone.

...

No courage was left in the half-men. They ran for the mountains, and none ever came back again. The only news of the fate of the Black Host that ever came back to Dor Daedeloth was a whispered tale of the wrath and fury of Logaria.

The men of the Black Host fought valiantly, and gave no quarter. But they too were slain, and all who sued for peace and pardon were reprieved, and taken into the city to be kept as prisoners of war.

Now all who remained in the city were put to work undoing the work of the Black Host, and burning the great mounds of corpses and smelting the great store weapons and armor for slag.

The Battle of Atun-Kaah was over.

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At the throne of the king, a last debate had been called.

"We have crafted the Bottle, and repelled this rushed assault." Adunakor said. "But we cannot stay here forever, a eternal guard. If it be in a hundred years, the Enemy will assemble a army far greater than this one. We have won for a time, and slain his Captain, but it is only a temporary feat. The Enemy knows that he may pierce our gates, and we have lost many men. Millions of our warriors are assembling, but we cannot match the full armies of the Evil Djinn, for this one was a mere appetizer on the banquet of the War of Wrath."

"Then we must go to the Land of Shadowy Horror with all our forces, while the Enemy recovers his strength!" Beroethrim said. "We may imprison the Evil One before he can retaliate!"

"Nay, admiral." Artherim said. "We can not march on Dor Daedeloth so lightly. Power lies there, a evil that does not sleep. The land is Sheol on Earth, and the sheer dread of it can be enough to break even the most hardy. And the Enemy has hardly emptied his bottomless pits, which he has dug so exceedingly deep. We must gain further strength. Still, we do not know how we are to even to imprison the Evil One, if the time comes soon."

"We can only hope that the Host of Heaven may intervene," Adaman said. "And there are two that have to power to oppose the Enemy in manly combat. The elohim of Space and Time, Dialga and Palkia. If they were bidden to act, in our moment of greatest need, they may indeed defeat the Evil Djinn, as they have done in the past."

"So, this is it?" Targon laughed. "We are to wait till our forces have been assembled, and perhaps, on a scant hope, have the two great Princes of Time and Space contest with the Enemy for us? I do not know of any law in Deep Heaven that would prevent such a thing from happening, but it may our only hope. I suppose it is settled at that."

Tar-Adunakor settled the matter, and within hours many troops started to amass in the Field of Asphodel at the mouth of the vale before the city, and many letters and official notices poured in, saying that the armies of Alola would continue to come, and more troops were inbound.

It was then decreed that all the members of the Golden Company would receive gifts and recognition for their heroics, as had been done when the first Golden Company had returned from the Ered Engrin, and prevented a scheme of the Enemy.

Cyllene was given a enchanted robe that could hide her from unwary eyes, and diminish evil powers in the area. Adaman had his blade reforged, and was given a coating of the rare crystals that grew on a Gigalith's body, making it nearly indestructible, and could channel sunlight to blind his foes. Iscan was given a similar reforging of his battle-axe.

Lian was given a small phial that could create unsullied light, even in the darkest places, and his spy-glasses were improved by the best tinkerers. Laventon was given a guarantee that schools in Logaria would open to teach the art of Capture Ball making, and that Capture Balls would be used to improve the lives of all, as they had done in Hisui.

Akari was given a bow with a strand of horsehair so finely polish and tuned that it could make shots of a far greater distance than her little bow normally could, and far more accurate. Berothrim was promoted, and Artherim was put in the mention of the Annals of the Kings and Queens of Logaria. Targon declined any bounty, for he wished to go into the wild and foil the schemes of the Enemy further.

As for Rei, he was begotten to a silver-forged model of the Legend Plate, and a dagger so sharp that it could cut the very air, yet it would not cut its bearer.

"And for Rei..." Adunakor said, and then paused. "I am sorry, Young Master, but I wish to know your last name."

"My last name?"

"Berlitz."

"Rei Berlitz."