Claude was making his way through the central building of Garreg Mach. He had a bundle of papers in his hand, all with different markings, pictures, and scribbles upon them. Claude held onto them tightly, giving them a firm grip, thus preventing them from escaping his grasp.
These papers needed to get somewhere - this he knew. Thus, he was walking through the central building and approaching the stairs that led to the first floor.
As he did so, a determined expression was implanted on his face. Solidified into his very countenance, the feeling of immense will-power gave him strength, reinforcing the already-important desire to reach his destination.
A deeper resolve was hidden underneath his mask of responsibility.
Upon arriving at the first floor of the central building, Claude immediately rounded the corner, heading down the corridor opposite the audience chamber. He turned to his right, stopping in front of the closed door that led to Seteth's office. With a knock, he made his presence known to the Nabatean inside.
"It's me, Seteth. I got the notes prepared."
A brief silence.
"You may enter."
At Seteth's behest, Claude gently pushed the door open, allowing himself to enter the slightly cramped office space.
Seteth was sitting behind his desk, watching as Claude closed the door behind him. His eyes immediately darted to the papers in the lord's occupied hand. He nodded in understanding and proceeded to halt his current progress in paperwork, despite the mountainous piles of paper that had yet to be worked upon on the side of his desk.
"Welcome, Claude," Seteth greeted him. "I trust your research was not overly disruptive over other areas of your life?"
"Not really. I mean, it's not like I have very many responsibilities here. It's not like I'm at Derdriu right now or anything. I can afford to spend some time doing the things I wanna do, like research." Claude folded his arms, the papers sticking out of his hand. "Not that research is a particularly favorite pastime of mine. It sure does beat doing all that important noble stuff back in the capital, though…"
Seteth smiled. "I would assume so. It does not sound like the most pleasant thing to do."
"Absolutely. Anyway…"
Unfolding his arms, Claude waved around his research papers.
"Here's all my notes on the Crests of the 10 Elites. I've figured out ways to effectively counter each of them. I've also spoken with Teach so I could understand what kind of classes we can expect from each of the Elites - I've got counter strategies for them as well."
"Most wonderful. It seems we shall have quite the advantage in this coming battle. As always."
"Heh, yeah. I'm not complaining, though. It's always good to have an advantage like this. If we didn't have Teach and his foresight, I'm sure we'd have suffered a lot more than we have. Makes me glad he's around."
"Indeed. If it were not for him…well, I shudder to think what may have happened."
"Yeah…" Claude sighed, briefly putting his free hand against the side of his head. "Anyway, do you want to copy down some of these notes? It'd be good to have your own version of them so you don't need to call on me every time you need to read them."
"I was just about to ask if you would be willing to allow me to do that. Please, put them on my desk."
Claude complied with Seteth's request, placing his bundle of papers onto a clear part of the wooden desk, one that Seteth quickly formed by shuffling around some of his prior paperwork. Picking up his quill and pulling out a blank piece of paper from a nearby shelf, Seteth began copying down the key parts of Claude's research.
Meanwhile, Claude stood there, his arms hanging by his side as he looked around the room, waiting for Seteth to finish.
It was then he had an idea.
"Hey, Seteth, you've been looking after Lady Rhea these past few months, right?"
"Indeed I have," Seteth answered, looking up and thus away from his notetaking, which he halted. "Why do you ask?"
"I was wondering about some things. Hope you don't mind indulging me for a little bit."
Seteth paused. He put down his quill.
"What would you like to know?"
"To tell you the truth, there's a lot of things I want to know. Things I haven't even asked Teach about yet. The only reason I haven't done that is because, well, for some things, it'd probably be better to hear them straight from the mouths of whoever's involved."
Seteth raised an eyebrow. He rested his elbows on the desk, joining his hands together and bringing them close to his mouth.
"Such as mine?"
"Heh, yeah. Now, I realize what I'm about to ask might be kind of personal…" Claude grinned. "But I can always ask Teach if I don't get an answer from you. I just thought it'd be nice to ask you first, like what I said earlier."
Seteth temporarily closed his eyes as he sighed. "Very well. What would you like to ask?"
"I want to know about Rhea. She transformed into the Immaculate One back in Enbarr, right? That's not something any ordinary person can do. The Immaculate One was said to have been sent by the goddess herself, and if that's true, that must mean Rhea has some connection to the goddess. If that's the case, who is Rhea? You know, don't you?"
Seteth was silent. He lowered his arms, frowning slightly, and sighed.
"You've cornered me rather well, Claude. I see that your title of Master Tactician is well earned. Though…would Rhea herself not be a more favorable recipient for this question?"
"She's still recovering, isn't she? And besides, I heard she's acting weird lately. Didn't get any specific details or anything, so that's all I know. Because of all that, I figured she wouldn't be the best person to talk to right now. I didn't want to put any stress on Flayn, either. And so, you were the only one left. Sorry."
"I appreciate your consideration for Flayn's well-being. And I understand where you are coming from. I suppose, in this situation, I would indeed be the right person to ask."
"That's why I'm here. Well, partially. Anyway, mind answering my question? Again, if you don't, I've got Teach, so it doesn't matter much either way. At least I'm giving you a chance to answer for yourself."
"That you are. Very well, I shall tell you all that you wish to know."
A short silence followed, Claude allowing Seteth the time to prepare a suitable response.
"Rhea, Flayn, and myself…we are members of a race known as the Nabateans. We are the children of the goddess, the direct offspring of the Progenitor God Sothis. Nabateans have quite an extended lifespan compared to humans. As a result of this, we have lived for over a thousand years."
"Nabateans…" Claude cupped his chin as he entered a slightly contemplative state. "So you, Rhea, and Flayn are the goddess' kids, then?"
Seteth nodded. "Precisely."
"Well…guess that explains some things. The way you three have been acting, how you know each other, that-" Claude blinked. "Wait. If Rhea is the Immaculate One, and you're from the same race as her…can you transform into a White Beast as well? What about Flayn?"
"Unfortunately, we cannot. Flayn and I have long since lost the power to transform, while Rhea has not. It is likely a result of the thousand-year slumber we once took."
"Thousand-year slumber? What's that all about?"
"It is nothing you should concern yourself with too much. Long ago, I took part in a war. Flayn wished to follow me for a particular battle - I reluctantly accepted her request. Because of the chaos of war, I was unable to protect both Flayn and my wife, who also took part in the battle. That day, my wife fell and Flayn suffered grievous injuries. After burying my wife, I placed Flayn in a restorative slumber while I merely slept. We awoke a thousand years later."
Claude's brows furrowed. "Oh. That must've been a bad time for you. Sorry for bringing it up."
"It is fine. If one cannot withstand the pain of their past, they will never be able to reach into the bright future waiting ahead for them." Seteth sighed. "That is more than I can say for Rhea as of late…" He said quietly.
"What was that?"
Seteth shook his head. "It was nothing. Mere ramblings from a Nabatean who has seen far too much."
Claude briefly narrowed his eyes. He ended up shrugging.
"Alright," he said. "I won't pry into that any further. I do have something else I'd like to ask about, though. Shouldn't be anywhere near as personal."
"What is it?"
"I want to know about the relationship between you Nabateans and those Agarthans. You said the Agarthans want to exact revenge against the children of the goddess because of some punishment you'd given them. What exactly happened there? Could you elaborate on all that?"
"Certainly," Seteth replied with no hesitation. "Before the goddess Sothis created the Nabateans, humans were already living in the world. When the Nabateans were born, we were instructed to act as rulers, sharing knowledge, skills, and power with the humans to help create a truly prosperous society, all while spreading the teachings of the goddess. This society is what came to be known as Agartha."
Claude felt the need to comment but he also felt a stronger need to remain quiet and allow Seteth to continue, thus he did just that.
"However, for some reason I have yet to fathom, the humans - who called themselves Agarthans - chose to reject the goddess' teachings. They warred amongst themselves, gaining power and increasing the level of their technology while doing so. It was then they decided to point their weapons at the goddess herself, the Agarthans likely believing themselves to be some manner of deity. A war then broke out all over Fódlan, one that devastated the continent. The goddess used up large reserves of her power healing the damage the war had brought to the continent, forcing her to retreat to the Holy Tomb so she could enter a deep slumber."
Again, Claude wished to speak, yet he sensed Seteth wasn't quite done so he kept quiet.
"But the Agarthans saw an opportunity. They convinced Nemesis, who was but a mere bandit at the time, to infiltrate the Holy Tomb and kill the goddess. He succeeded in doing so. The Agarthans were able to create the Sword of the Creator as well as the Crest of Flames from her remains. They were both promptly granted to Nemesis, who used this power to commit a terrible massacre of the people of Zanado…my brethren."
"Nemesis killed the goddess? And the Agarthans used her remains to make the Sword of the Creator and the Crest of Flames?!" Claude exclaimed, taken aback. "I…wow. Sorry to interrupt you, Seteth, but this is just-"
"I understand. Looking back, I suppose it is quite the tale. However, I have yet to conclude my tale." Seteth sighed. "Following the massacre at Zanado, the Agarthans used the bodies of my fallen brethren to create the Heroes' Relics as well as their corresponding Crests. Fortunately, there were only four Nabateans that survived - including myself. Seiros rallied the Nabatean survivors and allied with the man who would become the Adrestian Empire's first ever emperor, Wilhelm Hresvelg. Together, Seiros and Wilhelm formed the Empire and started a war against Nemesis and his 10 Elites."
"That war would later be known as the War of Heroes, right?"
"Yes," Seteth said while nodding. "Almost an entire century later, Seiros was finally able to slay Nemesis, thereby taking revenge for the tragedy that occurred at the Red Canyon. However, the Agarthans were still very much alive. It seems that ever since the time of the War of Heroes, they have somewhat forgotten their heritage, their original identity as mere humans. They consider themselves to be superior to the humans that remained above ground, as evidenced by their behavior back in Shambhala."
"Yeah, no kidding. They really didn't like us, huh? Good thing we took care of them. They must have thought of themselves as an entirely new, superior race, far removed from the 'simple' humans they once were. At least we don't have to worry about any of that anymore."
"Aside from the ones that managed to escape, indeed. But we shall hunt those ones down in time, which is nothing we need to concern ourselves with just yet." Seteth looked at the quill he dropped earlier and picked it up. "That is all for my story. Are you satisfied with all I have told you?"
"I'd say so. You certainly told me a lot, so it's good that my memory's not bad. There's so much, I'm not sure where to begin with picking all this information apart. Nemesis massacred the Nabateans at Zanado, the Sword of the Creator was made from their bodies, Nemesis wasn't chosen by the goddess…it's all so different from what we were told." Claude frowned. "Why is that, I wonder? Does Rhea have something to do with it?"
Seteth was going to continue copying the key aspects of Claude's plans but he stopped as the Alliance leader continued to make his questions.
"Wait a minute. If Rhea's a Nabatean, then…where was she during this whole thing? Was she fighting with you and Saint Seiros?"
Seteth sighed. "She was indeed fighting alongside us. In truth, she is Saint Seiros."
At that moment, Claude froze.
"That's-no, that makes no sense. Why would she-" He stopped again, his mind buzzing with all kinds of speculative thoughts. "Rhea's actually Seiros…so you mean to say she started a religion all about herself? That's incredibly arrogant."
"Heh," Seteth smirked. "That was precisely how I felt when I first learnt of the Church. I eventually grew to admire its purpose in calming the populace of Fódlan after such tumultuous times in the War of Heroes, but even to this day, I have doubts regarding its overall place in history. Rhea's methods have been less than favorable, I shall admit."
"You must be talking about all that information she's kept hidden from everybody. The truth of Fódlan's history, what you just told me about…she's been purposefully controlling history to better suit her vision." Claude glanced behind him, glaring at the ceiling. "That doesn't sit right with me."
"As I said, it was all to calm the populace. If the truth had gotten out, there is no doubt there would have been endless unrest. The people needed peace, especially after a century-long war."
"I get that," Claude turned back to Seteth, retaining his glare, "but that only delayed the inevitable. She didn't fix the problem - she only put a lid on it. Kept the truth locked away until someone came along and found the key. She ran away from the problem instead of facing it head-on. Someone like that was controlling Fódlan's history for almost a thousand years…?"
Seteth was silent. Claude let out a frustrated sigh, turning around and approaching the door.
"Thanks for the truth, Seteth. You didn't need to go as far as you did, and I'm thankful for that. I should bring this up with Edelgard and Dimitri later…"
"The emperor and the king?" Seteth wondered. "What are you three planning?"
"Don't worry, it's nothing bad. I'm just…thinking about what to do with Rhea." Claude pointed to the papers he put on Seteth's desk. "I'll come back for those notes. See you later, Seteth."
Seteth nodded, quietly allowing Claude to depart from his office. The male Nabatean sighed once he was alone and looked up.
"Seiros…your past is catching up to you. Please, wake up. Wake up and see the present that lies before you."
He closed his eyes.
"Or else you will have no future."
The Resistance continued to prepare for the incoming threat of Nemesis and the 10 Elites, what they knew to be their final battle. Many rounds of intense training were had, fuelled by their burning desires to blaze through the last obstacle standing in their way to true peace.
A week and a half of training passed. Once Nemesis' army seemed to be getting ever closer to the Oghma Mountains that the monastery was built upon, the Resistance moved out, intending to intercept their new, undead enemies.
Despite the vehement refusal from her knights, Rhea followed along with the Resistance army, her ardent expression searing the souls of those who dared to get in her way. She didn't say much - there was no need to. Everybody quickly realized that convincing her to stay behind was a pointless effort.
What surprised them all was that Rhea was no longer wearing the garb of an archbishop. She had put on an immensely detailed golden armor, with a white cloak covering her back. Her head was adorned with a gold crown that appeared to have wings coming out of it, which were nestled by the sides of her head. A flower was also planted into her head, for reasons unknown.
Only Seteth and Lucas knew the meaning behind her sudden change in appearance.
Speaking of Lucas, as per his guidance, the Resistance halted their march only a short distance away from the Caledonian Plateau, a location toward the edge of the mountain range. None of the lower-ranked soldiers knew why they were stopping there of all places, yet Lucas' closest allies knew the exact reason. As such, the Resistance remained where they were, setting up camp for the final time.
Night came and went, although a few individuals were unable to get the sleep they needed. Even so, they marched on, largely unaffected by their lack of rest. They were running on sheer willpower, the drive to fight and protect the world they knew - nothing would stand in their way.
Once dawn arose, the campsite was cleared away promptly. The Resistance made the final stretch of their journey, which barely even took an hour, as the exact spot Lucas (and Byleth) recognized was quite closeby.
An expansive field stretched out before them, damp from the rain and wrought with stone. There were some strange wooden bridges to their far left that hung off the cliff, an area nobody hoped would be necessary for the fight to come. In the middle of the area were two artillery setups, one being an onager and the other being a fire orb. Various ruins, forests, thickets, and heal tiles were scattered around the area as well, all of which were quickly noted by the Resistance's tacticians.
With not much left to do, the Resistance waited. It would only be a matter of time until their enemies arrived. Everyone waited with either bated breaths, constant nervous jitters, or angered glares - depending on the individual.
Rhea was the only one who didn't seem to be reacting to the situation. Her eyes were closed and her head was cast toward her clasped hands, which were in front of her chest. Catherine and Seteth kept an eye on the Archbishop, though the former was much more frequently doing so than the latter.
Lucas was one of the nervous ones, his hands shaking and his entire body quivering with anticipation. However, Dorothea was there by his side, as always. Her presence was more than enough to ease those feelings even if they remained. At times, Rhea would glance to her side, taking a quick glimpse of Lucas before returning to her usual state. Other times, her gaze would linger on the sword and shield he was using. She never acted upon this, which only confused Seteth and Catherine further.
There wasn't enough time for any investigations or interrogations. On the horizon, a specific army was approaching. Dark auras seemed to surround every soldier in their midst, enveloping every part of their bodies.
Rhea opened her eyes as the enemy arrived at the plateau. Her scorching stare was pointed firmly at them all.
"Nemesis…" She said venomously.
"Rhea?" Seteth asked, his voice soft and a brow raised.
"Do not refer to me by that name," she replied, not bothering to turn and address Seteth. "I…am Seiros."
"Ah-!" Seteth was briefly stunned. "That explains why you are wearing that armor once again…"
Her eyes narrowed at the individual leading the opposing army. A muscular, gray-haired and bearded man led his fellow undead soldiers. His jagged armor befitted the powerful aura he was exuding, his dark, red eyes indicating the depths of his new, shadowy might. A white cloak was hung around his shoulders, contrasting the darkness that surrounded him.
Nemesis, the individual in question, was holding onto a sword that greatly resembled the Sword of the Creator, yet it too had a black and purple aura surrounding it. Several magical barriers surrounded him as he walked lockstep with his allies.
Seiros' hands balled into fists, the veins around her knuckles and the back of her hands bulging with severe swelling. She turned to Lucas, her expression softening somewhat.
"Mother. I will not allow that heretic to even lay his eyes upon you. He will suffer a most painful death."
"Mother…?" Catherine whispered to herself, glancing at Lucas for a second.
Lucas returned Seiros' gaze with an uncertain visage. "Um, yeah. Just remember that you won't be able to hurt him right away. We've gotta take down the Elites first because they're powering that barrier of his."
"They are all full of sin." Seiros turned back to the approaching army. "And it is time for divine judgment. They shall all burn in the everlasting hellfire OF MY WRATH!"
"Lady Rhea…?" Catherine asked rhetorically and quietly, again to herself.
"Uh, right, yeah, they'll die. Absolutely. One-hundred percent. But, uh…" Lucas briefly looked at Seiros' hands. "How do you plan on doing that without a weapon, Seiros?"
The saint was quiet. Part of her anger seemed to subside, though the aura of her rage was plain to see. She turned to her mother, her eyes landing on the sword and shield she wielded.
"Mother, please return to me my Sacred Weapons. My sword and my shield…I wish to use them once again, for this battle. Please…" Seiros' expression vastly softened.
"Uh…"
"Accept, you fool!" Sothis exclaimed. "You have grown strong enough on your own merits. You do not need those Sacred Weapons."
"And Rhea does?"
Sothis narrowed her eyes. "Just let my daughter use her weapons. She would only be enraged if you denied her. I would know."
"Oh, alright…"
Lucas sighed, stroking the face of the Seiros Shield one final time. He pulled it away from his left arm and handed it over to Seiros, doing the same with the Sword of Seiros. The saint accepted her Sacred Weapons, promptly equipping them to her person.
"Thank you, Mother. Now…" For the last time, she stared directly at the opposition. "I shall take my vengeance against those who dared to smite you."
"U-uh, as you wish. Just don't get too carried away," Lucas replied as he unsheathed his forged Killing Edge.
It wasn't clear if Seiros had listened to Lucas' request as she made no indication of it whatsoever. Lucas ended up shrugging, choosing to focus on his own battle.
Seteth, meanwhile, mounted his wyvern and flew up slightly, suspending himself in the air in front of the Resistance so he could address them all.
"Everyone! This shall be our true, final battle! The last barrier to peace, the one obstacle preventing us from living the lives we are so desperately reaching for! Our enemies may be powerful and numerous, but so are we! Do not forget that!" Seteth exclaimed, raising his voice, reaching every member of the army he helped command. "We will not allow this illusion of the past to take away all that we hold dear! The lives of your families…"
Annette and Gilbert glanced at one another.
"All of our homes…"
Petra grimaced. Caspar put a hand on her shoulder, causing her to blush and easing her woes.
"And those that we hold near and dear to our hearts…"
Lucas' heart thumped. With his off-hand, he instinctively checked to see if something was still in his pockets - it wasn't. However, Sothis reminded him that it wouldn't be his Myrmidon armor, which allowed him to breathe easily. Dorothea raised a brow but chuckled to herself.
"We fight to protect them!" Seteth continued. "Every last one of them! Should we fall here, they will all be reduced to nothingness!" He pointed his Spear of Assal at the enemy. "Let us fight so that everyone and everything we know can continue to exist! We have come far since the beginning of this war…victory is now within our sight!"
Fists and weapons were raised into the air as a deafening roar of hope arose from the Resistance army.
"For the final time…attack!"
With another resounding round of battle cries, the Resistance collectively charged in, rapidly approaching the vast opposing army that was coming their way.
Immediately, however, there was a problem. A gigantic cloud of dark mana dispersed across the battlefield. It dealt no damage to anyone, but upon its complete dissipation, the large, rough patches of stone were replaced with a deep purple, toxic substance.
Fortunately, the Resistance was prepared for such a thing. There were several safe spots and paths to take, ones that the swamp didn't quite reach. It also helped that the magical swamp had no effect on any fliers, which meant that people like Seteth and Ingrid were able to fight without any restrictions.
But they still had to coordinate themselves with their allies on the ground (to some extent), who were affected by the poisonous swamp. This prevented all the aerial fighters from going off on their own, though it wasn't as if any of them intended on doing such a thing.
They couldn't, after all. Not when they were assaulted by several undead Wyvern Lords. A considerable aerial fight soon took place.
On the ground, the Resistance was having a difficult time maneuvering around the swamp. The ancient soldiers didn't seem to have any problems with it, as they were moving through it unabated.
This was evidenced when a small group of Swordmasters approached from beyond a collection of dense forestry. Raphael, Leonie, Marianne, and several other soldiers intercepted them, clashing amongst the shade granted to them by the leaves of the trees around them. Raphael's sheer strength allowed him to land hefty blows on his enemies while Leonie's finer movements gave her the ability to effectively evade incoming attacks, thus distracting the Swordmasters long enough for Raphael and the others to do what they do best.
Marianne's healing was quite useful in patching up any scratches or cuts her allies obtained. Her offensive ranged spells also gave her a means of pitching in on the attack without putting her in harm's way. However, she did have her Hero's Relic, Blutgang, which allowed her to fight up close if she needed to.
Not that it was likely to happen, what with Dimitri staying closer to her, effortlessly fending off any enemies with a swing or two from Areadbhar. Halves of bodies pooled around his feet wherever he went, the glowing tip of his Relic becoming covered in blood. Marianne winced at all the death occurring around her, but a comforting smile from Dimitri was more than enough to distract her from what she was forced to witness.
After some time, the group that consisted of Dimitri, Marianne, Raphael, and Leonie, were set upon by a certain mounted foe. Black armor surrounded most of their being, hiding away most of their skin. Any parts of their skin that could be seen were shrouded in shadows, faint pockets of brightness peering out from the veil of darkness.
Dimitri narrowed his eyes at the foe.
"Staring at this one…I feel something within me stir. Could this be?" He pointed Areadbhar at the approaching Dark Knight, who halted in place. "You there! Are you-"
The Dark Knight said nothing, merely pointing their own weapon at Dimitri, much in the same way as he was doing to them. He gasped as he laid his eyes upon the enemy's dark lance.
"That lance…it looks very much like Areadbhar. This only confirms my suspicions. You must be Blaiddyd, one of the 10 Elites - my ancestor. Am I mistaken?"
Again, nothing was said by Blaiddyd. Dimitri frowned.
"Unable to speak? Very well. You are but a mere illusion of the past, given life by those wrought with desperation. Even if you are my ancestor, I will defeat you all the same. I will bring an end to this illusion!"
Dimitri shot himself ahead, intending to engage the revived, mute Blaiddyd with everything he had. Fortunately, Marianne was there too, providing help wherever necessary. Dimitri wasn't alone.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, others were engaged in their own individual one-on-one encounters. Several Fortress Knights came in from the right, forcing those over there to promptly intercept them. Seiros was on this side, cutting through every enemy in her path as if they were hardly even there.
Lucas, Dorothea, Catherine, and Shamir were standing by her, though they kept their distance. Primarily because they were caught up in their own fights, which didn't give them much of an opportunity to look after the archbishop. Though, as evidenced by her unrelenting prowess, protection was the last thing she needed. Anybody that even thought about getting near her didn't survive for much longer.
Catherine remained silent the entire time, save for her grunts and yells whenever performing an attack with considerable effort. She kept an eye on the archbishop, her expression wavering whenever she mercilessly cut down an opponent - to some extent.
"Worried?" Shamir asked after shooting an arrow through the skull of an ancient soldier. "Don't be. You know how strong Lady Rhea is."
"That's not exactly it. Yeah, I'm worried about her, but I just…" Catherine hesitated. "Something's different. I don't know how to feel about her right now."
"I think I know what you mean. Earlier, she called Lucas 'Mother'. Anyone would realize that's not right."
"Not just that, she's calling herself Seiros now. Why…?"
Shamir quietly shot another arrow into the face of an enemy that was getting close to Catherine.
"Don't think about it too much," the archer advised. "You're only going to distract yourself by doing that. You know what happens when you lose your focus on a battlefield."
Catherine sighed. "Right." She grinned, intensifying her grip on the hilt of Thunderbrand. "Sorry about that, partner. Let's crush these undead bastards!"
"I'm with you."
Although her doubts weren't erased, Catherine was at least able to put them aside, putting her full focus on the battle ahead. Shamir stood by her partner, preventing her from getting overwhelmed by the number of ancient soldiers coming their way.
The two worked together, protecting each other from danger.
Overall, the battle seemed to be going in favor of the Resistance, though it was by no means proceeding quickly. The ancient soldiers were quite powerful, putting up a meaningful resistance against the Resistance. There was something about the dark power they wielded that made them formidable opponents, far stronger than the average soldier.
The members of the Resistance were fighting for their very lives. Their future was at stake - they couldn't back down. They continued to fight, no matter what.
On the other side of the battlefield, closer to where the bridges were, some of the Resistance's other members were locked in deadly combat. Some foolhardy, lower-ranked soldiers had chosen to go out onto the swamp, attempting to prove themselves in battle. Unfortunately, the swamp slowly ebbed away at their lifeforce, allowing the undead to inflict the pain of death upon those foolish souls.
Another one of the 10 Elites had shown up at this point - a Great Knight named Gautier. Much like Blaiddyd, they were surrounded by the same dark aura, their skin hidden by it as well as their hefty armor. Gautier had been one of the ones to clean up the reckless, lower-ranked soldiers of the Resistance, using the dark version of the Lance of Ruin they wielded. They had then decided to attack directly.
Some of the Resistance's mages tried to slow Gautier's advance, yet none of their spells worked. Annette jumped in, firing off a cast of her strongest spell, Excalibur, causing an intense gust of wind to deliver multiple cuts onto her opponent.
It didn't deter Gautier. They kept going, directing their horse to gallop along the swamp. Gautier pulled their arm back, attempting a wide swing with the Dark Lance of Ruin.
But it was intercepted before it could ever reach Annette. The attack had been parried by the wielder of the true Lance of Ruin.
"So you're my ancestor, huh? Wish I could see more of you. This is pretty disappointing, I'll be honest," Sylvain said with a sigh. "At least that makes this easy!"
Sylvain engaged Gautier, their Lances of Ruin clashing against one another. Annette, no longer stunned by Gautier's speed, joined in on the fight against the Elite, alongside the likes of Mercedes, Caspar, and Petra.
The rest of the battle proceeded as the sun rested firmly into its position in the middle of the sky. Its rays were partially blocked from reaching the ground as a result of the aerial battle that was still going on. Claude, Ingrid, Seteth, and the soldiers they commanded, fought through the ancient Wyvern Lords, thinning out their numbers through sheer determination - something the undead ones lacked.
A problem soon introduced itself in the form of two of the 10 Elites. One of them was Fraldarius, a Falcon Knight, wielding the dark version of the Aegis Shield. Felix, who was busy backing up Sylvain against Gautier, sensed Fraldarius' presence. He looked up and merely shrugged before turning his attention back to his fight.
Alongside Fraldarius was Dominic, who had the Dark Crusher. Annette caught a glimpse of the shadowy, eerie version of her prized Hero's Relic and shuddered, Mercedes helping her to chase that unwelcome feeling away.
Dominic and Fraldarius flew in toward the airborne Resistance members. Fortunately, Claude's Failnaught was the perfect weapon for dealing with such opponents. It had already been instrumental in the effort to take out the ancient Wyvern Lords, though Claude did have to swap it out with a Silver Bow at times to preserve the Relic's power. Against such opponents as two of the 10 Elites, Claude had no choice but to use as much of Failnaught's strength as he could muster.
On the ground, a solid push was being made by the Resistance. Blaiddyd had been defeated by Dimitri and Marianne's combined efforts, who were both later backed up by Dedue, who'd been preoccupied before. With one of the 10 Elites taken care of, only nine remained. It seemed that number would soon be decreasing further as Gautier was being worn down, the same with Dominic and Fraldarius.
Seiros was almost single-handedly leading the charge forward. Several members of the Resistance, namely those from the Knights of Seiros, followed some ways behind her, although the only thing she needed was a cursory heal every now and then. Her sword and shield were providing her with the usual healing effects Lucas had gotten used to, though with the addition of her Major Crest of Seiros, she was receiving the full breadth of those effects. Even the occasional Physic cast wasn't all that useful.
Still, Lucas, Dorothea, Catherine, Shamir, and later Alois, followed along after the archbishop. Despite Lucas having predicted the presence of at least one Demonic Beast, there were none. There was absolutely no trace of Agarthan involvement in the battle, outside of the nature of the revived warriors. While this was noteworthy, the absence of any Demonic Beast was most welcome.
They did at least have other strong foes to contend with, however. Namely the 10 Elites, one of which seemed to be targeting Catherine in particular. The wielder of Thunderbrand was shocked to find that her opponent was wielding a dark iteration of her Relic. With the information she already knew, she quickly realized who it was.
"Charon, huh? Not what I expected. And you're a Mortal Savant…?" She grinned. "This'll be interesting. Show me what you can do!"
Catherine began her fight with Charon. Shamir felt an urge to help her partner but instead chose to prevent anyone else from intervening, be they friend or foe. Not that anyone would've wanted to intercept a battle between the two wielders of Thunderbrand, though. At least Shamir's presence and archery skill were enough to provide the two the space they needed for their battle.
Another one of the 10 Elites, Gloucester, was seemingly willing to provide Charon with assistance, but they were killed by Seiros before they could do anything of note.
This meant that only eight Elites remained. Before long, Gautier fell, further decreasing the number to seven. Dominic and Fraldarius were also in danger, with Seteth and Ingrid (respectively) engaging them up close while Claude sniped a few powerful shots with Failnaught.
Almost as if they were aware their numbers were draining, the ancient soldiers pushed ahead. This included the likes of Daphnel, a Holy Knight and another one of the 10 Elites, who was killed via the use of a combination attack from Lysithea and Linhardt. An enhanced Dark Spikes T was just what they needed to reduce the Elites down to six. Ingrid seemingly sensed the presence of Daphnel before their demise, giving only a brief frown before discarding it and focusing on her fight with Fraldarius.
The ancient soldiers' approach also included Goneril, a War Master who took interest in Hilda.
"I'm not interested in any shared history I have with some crusty old person who shouldn't even be alive. You're family? Neat! I can't bring myself to care that much, though. Sorry!" She apologized, insincerely.
Seconds later, Freikugel met Freikugel.
On the other side of the plateau, the Resistance was able to move forward a bit more thanks to the defeat of both Blaiddyd and Gautier. This led to the discovery of another member of the 10 Elites, a Gremory named Lamine. Several of the Resistance's mages detected some unusual mana pulsing through Lamine's body, mana that seemed to resemble that used by the toxic swamp.
Lamine ignored everyone else around them and focused on Mercedes.
"You are…my ancestor?" Mercedes briefly tilted her head in confusion. "I don't know how you're alive, but that doesn't matter now. What matters is that you're in our way, and I can't allow that!"
"Mercie! I think this, uh, undead person might be the cause of this toxic swamp. If we defeat them, the swamp might disappear!" Annette suggested.
"If so, we mustn't delay! Let's help our friends, Annie!"
Mercedes and Annette pooled their efforts together to fight Lamine, the wielder of the Dark Rafail Gem. Mercedes' version of the necklace Relic provided her with increased defense, which is something she was very familiar with. She touched her Relic, reminding her of the boy who passed long ago, before staring at the dark version of the very same Relic.
It renewed her vigor to fight. With her spirit emboldened, Annette's was as well.
Around this time, Dominic and Fraldarius were taken out by Claude, Ingrid, and Seteth. This meant there were only four Elites left. The fight in the sky soon faded once the two airborne Elites were killed, thus allowing Claude, Ingrid, and Seteth to provide support for the rest of their allies.
Claude was only barely able to catch a glimpse of Riegan, who was killed by a combined effort between Lucas and Dorothea. He grinned as he watched the two work together flawlessly, eliminating his ancestor with only a modicum of trouble. Claude chose to relegate himself to aerial firing support, first assisting Hilda, who was more than appreciative of the help.
Together, Claude and Hilda downed Goneril, leaving only two Elites left.
It was at this moment that Seiros stopped, mid-swamp. She turned around, having sensed the source of her anger.
"Seiros…" An almost demonic voice spoke to her. "I will kill you!"
"Nemesis…" Seiros scowled at the wielder of the Dark Sword of the Creator. "I have killed you once before and I shall do so again. I will make you feel the same pain you delivered onto my people all those years ago!"
"My vengeance shall be realized…today!"
"No!" Seiros yelled. "It is my vengeance that shall see the light of day! You will die by my hand!"
With her sword and shield at hand, Seiros rushed in, aiming straight for Nemesis' head with a single slash. Nemesis didn't respond, merely allowing Seiros to do as she pleased.
The sword bounced uselessly off of the barrier Seiros chose to ignore.
"I will not be defeated so easily, Seiros. You, on the other hand…" Nemesis' dark Relic glowed a murky, yet still somewhat bright orange. "Will meet the same fate as your brethren."
"Ah-!"
Seiros leapt back to avoid a lunging stab from the Dark Sword of the Creator, the tip of the blade narrowly missing her chest. She glared at Nemesis, baring her teeth at the revived bandit.
Nemesis grinned maliciously. "This will not end as it did at the Tailtean Plains."
"You accursed heretic…! I will end your miserable existence! I am far stronger than I was back then." Her scowl intensified. "My mother has returned to me! As such, my strength has far exceeded what it was at the Tailtean Plains! My path is clear, Nemesis. Yours lies in the grave!"
Seiros and Nemesis clashed once more, their grudge reborn. Although Nemesis' barrier remained, thus preventing Seiros from doing any damage to him, she still tried. As long as she continued to breathe, she fought against the target of her anger.
Meanwhile, the Resistance persisted with their offense. They were beginning to vastly outnumber the ancient soldiers, meaning the advantage lay with them. The swamp was still an issue, even though there were workarounds such as constant use of healing from various sources and simply staying away from it.
Fortunately, Lamine drew their final breath, having been defeated by a combined Excalibur and Ragnarok cast from Annette and Mercedes, respectively. Upon Lamine's defeat, the swamp subsided, becoming replaced with the series of rough, gray rocks that were there beforehand.
No longer was the swamp an issue.
Only one Elite remained, as well. Charon was the final one to be killed, following a fierce, personal encounter between them and Catherine. Once Charon was down, the barrier surrounding Nemesis dissipated.
Despite this change in circumstances, Nemesis' demeanor was unchanged. Seiros, however, was fully aware of what this meant. She could now afford to be far more aggressive in her approach.
"I see it now, Nemesis. Your end is nigh!"
Seiros, as quickly as she could, sped toward Nemesis. She performed a leaping diagonal slash with the Sword of Seiros. Nemesis, however, parried the attack with an upwards sweep of the Dark Sword of the Creator. The tip of his shadowy blade also tore through part of her armor, leaving a cut on her arm.
The injury didn't stop her, as after recoiling from the parry, Seiros went for a fierce stab. A quick one, at that. Quick enough that Nemesis was barely able to avoid it, having received a small hole in his chest. He tried a wide slash in retaliation, but Seiros blocked it with the Seiros Shield, using the momentum from her block to go for another stab.
Nemesis tried to avoid it in the same way as before. Seiros was quicker, unfortunately, thus leading to a larger stab wound upon his bare, well-defined chest. She wasn't quite done yet as Seiros then performed a slice with her blade while it was still lodged into his body. He cried out in pain at the same time as she yelled, their oxymoronic sounds combining to form a true melody of battle.
Gritting his teeth, Nemesis channeled significant power into the Dark Sword of the Creator. He unleashed an upwards slash with the elongated variation of his Relic, intending to land a deep, powerful blow upon his long-standing opponent. However, Seiros saw this coming. She quickly pulled her sword out of his chest and decided to leap over him, avoiding the slash entirely while also landing behind him.
Before he could respond, Seiros elbowed him in the neck, following it up with a swift laceration in the same spot. Pressing her advantage, Seiros unleashed a series of deft cuts, unloading them all onto Nemesis' back. She finished her combination with a leaping kick, sending Nemesis crashing to the ground.
Seiros put the edge of her blade to the back of his neck.
"I will not give you the satisfaction of final words!" She exclaimed, her eyes widened with rage. "Feel my wrath…feel the fury of my mother! DIE!"
Before he could gasp or make any sounds other than that of breathing, she stabbed him once, twice, thrice - many times over. Nemesis' neck and the back of his head were riddled with bloody holes.
"Die, die, die, DIE!"
Catherine heard the archbishop's yells. She cut down an opposing ancient soldier before turning around, observing Seiros with a wide-eyed look of confusion.
"What are you doing, Lady Rhea…?"
"What's wrong?" Shamir asked, facing the other way while killing an undead soldier. "What's happening over there?"
"It's Lady Rhea. She's…" Catherine hesitated. "She's stabbing the ground."
"What…?!"
Upon the confirmation of her kill, Shamir turned around, observing the same sight Catherine had been seeing.
Seiros was continually stabbing the earth, even as ashes of black were blown around her in the wind. With Nemesis' defeat, the bodies of all the remaining ancient soldiers, as well as the ones of those that fell during the battle, all dissipated into ash.
The battle was over, yet Seiros continued to fight.
"What the hell is she doing? She killed Nemesis, so why…?" Shamir continued to ask.
"I don't know." Catherine shook her head, her brows furrowing. "I've never seen her like this before. I don't understand, why is she…"
"You needn't concern yourself, Catherine."
From up above, Catherine and Shamir watched as Seteth landed next to them on his wyvern. The women looked at him with expectant gazes.
"Seteth, do you know why Lady Rhea's doing that?" Shamir questioned, pointing with her thumb to the sight, which was still going on.
Seteth looked over to it and sighed.
"Let us focus on returning to Garreg Mach," he replied. "The battle is over. We have won, and now Fódlan has finally found its peace." He turned to the two women. "Inform the others. We shall begin our departure immediately."
Seteth dismounted his wyvern, bringing it along with him as he walked over to Seiros, who was still stabbing the ground. Shamir frowned, her eyes narrowed as she watched him leave. Catherine was staring at the ground, her mind wandering into an abyss.
Although victory had been obtained, an awkward air lingered.
Author Notes: I hope you had God Shattering Star ready for this one. Anyway, Nemesis and the 10 Elites have finally been defeated, and it looks like there are no more battles left to fight! Come back next time to see how the aftermath of all the fighting unfolds!
Thanks to Frost for beta-reading!
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