(A/N) Hey guys! I was on vacation for a while, so as a reward for your patience you all get a jam-packed chapter full of excitement and development. In case you forgot- the last chapter was the end of part one. Kratos is about 20, Yuan 23, Martel 22, Mithos 12. Enjoy part 2!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the storyline and this computer- Tales belongs to NAMCO ;;

Chapter 18

~*Five Years Later*~

(Just outside the small Sylvaranti village of Luin)

Two men crouched motionlessly in the brush, eyes roving methodically over their surroundings. Night had just fallen like a blanket of dark film, softening the hard edges with shadows. Their muscles were tense with anticipation and coiled to spring.

Their prey crept clumsily into sight- a mob of crudely dressed and armed bandits. All the more obvious was the torchlight they foolishly brought along, flickering like a beacon in the gloom.

"You'll go no further." The eldest of the two commanded confidently as they both revealed themselves. He had taken a battle-ready stance, his curious blade ghastly in its dreadful arc. The younger beside him had twisted a deceptively ordinary sword out of his sheath and lowered its tip to the grassy terrain.

The would-be-plunderers stopped in their tracks before the two, some taken aback and others snorting in disbelief. One bearing a thick torch and a rusty stiletto laughed raucously.

"I suppose the two of you are going to stop us from taking what we want?" His voice rang somewhat guttural, and he gestured to his fellow thieves with the flat of his blade. There were easily twenty of them in the circle of jittering light. His companions joined in the snickering, many of them regaining their wits after the initial surprise.

"Yes." The firm response was tersely spoken as the younger shook spiky locks of auburn hair from his face.

"It's your funeral." One of the bandits called from the back of the crowd as shuffling was heard.

"We're with the Sylvaranti Internal Enforcement partition," The half-elf clarified calmly, "You'd be much better off if you just turned around and walked away."

"That doesn't change the fact that there are only two of you." The sheer arrogance the words were spoken with reeked of a painful death should it come upon them, "I've had enough of this absurd conversation anyway." A chortle of agreement rose among the others and they descended upon the two peace-keepers with uncoordinated bedlam.

The mild ferocity of the thieves was subdued considerably as their self-proclaimed opponents sprung into action. Unmatched speed and supernatural precision likened the unruly mass to an inexperienced group of clumsy children.

Kratos felt the thrilling rush of adrenaline pulse through his veins when he crisply launched into his first attack. Ducking a sloppy swipe from his left, he cleaved through an adversary's armor, sending the man reeling backwards into his companions. Despite the sheer number of enemies, the Tethe'allan wove between them and felled them in the blink of an eye. His reflexes had steadily improved to the point where deflecting an anticipated blow was as simple as breathing.

The air pumping through his lungs and the sharpness of battle put his muscles on edge- his ears attentive to every step of a boot and whirl of a blade. His Cruxis Crystal had honed his senses to perfection, and fighting like he was currently engaged every one of them. He almost enjoyed it.

Yuan had quickly gotten separated from his comrade, but he wasn't concerned. There were more than enough foes to keep his attention, yet none were skilled enough to warrant it for very long. He cleanly twisted out of the path of an unfriendly fireball and sent his own slice of wind to silence the enemy caster. Any of their magic users had limited abilities, only capable of the most basic of spells. For that Yuan was grateful. It would be a handful to manage both the swordsmen and adept ranged fighters. He cut an outlaw at the knee and easily leapt over the man's flailing sword as he fell.

Sparing a glance in Kratos' direction, he noted the red-head excelling yet again as he ripped through a wall of enemies. Though, Yuan was quickly distracted and pulled back into his own battles.

The rest of it should've been easy.

Kratos extended his free arm and called forth as much magic power as he could without uttering a formal spell. The slender arc of lightning flashed down from above and arrested one of the bandits in his steps, mid-charge. Yuan had taught him much about focusing his mana and filtering it into different elemental forms, but lightning still came easiest to him.

Contrary to the thinning enemy numbers as many collapsed or were too injured to continue, few of those left attempted to flee. Those that turned tail and ran were not followed. Kratos figured none of them would attempt to plunder the city by themselves. However, most of the idiots proceeded to attack recklessly, as if one of them could accomplish what the others had failed miserably at. Scoffing silently at the thought, Kratos shifted his arm a slight degree to parry a blow.

Then the world ceased to exist beneath his feet.

In the middle of the action, a change overcame his entire being. He wasn't deaf, or blind, yet all the same a switch had been flipped somewhere. A numbing sensation might be the best way to describe it, but that didn't altogether fit. It was nothingness. He could not feel the sword in his hand, the weight of his clothing, the wind on his face, or his feet planted firmly on the ground. But he could see them all- hear them all. In fact, his other senses were keener than ever. This new kind of tactile deafness stopped him in his tracks mid-step. So paralyzing was this new feeling that he was ripped from his reverie as he heard more than saw the sword tear through his leather tunic.

He swiftly finished off the offender with a perfectly placed uppercut across the shoulder. Kratos cast a wary glance about himself. That man had been the last of the bandits standing. He spotted Yuan cleaning his blade on a fallen thief's coarse shirt a ways to his right.

Feeling somehow both alive and dead, Kratos pulled off his glove and was met by the searingly fluorescent crimson of his exsphere. It was a side-effect of the crystal, then. Kratos did his best to walk it off and accustom himself to the sensation. He could function just as well, but the device hadn't acted up like this for five long years. That alone was disconcerting. If he lost any more vital functions, he was fairly certain he would no longer be able to hide it.

It was a dreadful secret of his to keep so much from Yuan, but any word of his issues might have resulted in a return trip to Tethe'alla. The symptoms had been easy to live with previously- preferable even in circumstances when both food and time for rest were limited. This new- thing was problematic. he needed to feel to fight effectively. If the crystal was changing again, then more issues might arise. What if the next thing he lost was even more essential? He couldn't go blind for a heightened sense of hearing, or magic capabilities.

No. A return trip to Sybak was necessary now- unavoidable.

An explanation, though, might be narrowly dodged if he could help it. He trusted Yuan with his life, but worrying the half-elf was something he'd done twice in his life. Definitely something he never desired to repeat. Kratos blanked his expression as he'd gotten so good at doing these past years and made his way over to his closest companion.

Yuan looked up as Kratos approached him. The young man's face immediately put him into a state of apprehension. One who didn't know him might think that it was a bland expression- expressing uninterest perhaps. But Yuan had learned to see more than the surface. As much as Kratos hid behind his mask, Yuan had discovered that his eyes were the truest to his emotions. He would never tell the man how expressive those wine-colored pools were, or else he might find a way to visor that as well. Then Yuan would be entirely shut out.

The Tethe'allan was thoughtful, and it looked like he was considering an unsettling matter judging by the distant and heavy-set dullness in his eyes. When he spoke it was in a serious and strangely formal tone.

"Yuan, I need to make preparations to return to Sybak."

Yuan's eyes widened at the impromptu announcement, and he was about to make a rather confused retort when his attention was caught by something even more shocking.

Kratos fumbled with his blade before successfully returning it to his sheath on the third try. Yuan had never seen the adroit swordsman fumble in his life. He didn't think there was a clumsy bone in the man's body- he'd never so much as tripped.

"Are you okay?" He asked instead, put off by the foreignness of it all. He'd seen Kratos sheath his long sword with his eyes shut, simply doing it by feel. Kratos' brow furrowed in supposed confusion, though the half-elf imagined it was mild surprise that he had caught on so quickly.

"Why do you ask?" The proposal was sidetracked as he shifted almost defensively. Yuan took a step closer to examine his face properly. He couldn't peg what it was, but behind the thick auburn locks some essential characteristic was missing.

"You're not acting like yourself." Yuan's expression hardened and he was prepared to demand answers until he saw a growing red stain at the Tethe'allan's stomach.

"Shit!" His own expression was horrified, "You're injured!" The diagonal slash across Kratos' midsection spanned the whole of his abdomen and was bleeding profusely. Kratos looked down at the cut himself.

"It appears I had a minor lapse in concentration." the man listlessly noted as Yuan forced him to take a seat on the hard-packed forest soil.

"You should've said something earlier!" Panic was rising in his voice. Pushing up his companion's shirt to inspect the damage, Yuan felt his heart stop. The cut was ghastly- not more than an inch deep, but ragged and uneven. Clearly the culprit sword had not been sharpened for some time, causing the flesh to tear viciously along a blunt edged blade. He tore a long strip of his own tunic to bind the wound, all the while putting as much pressure on as he dared. The life-giving fluid seeped through his fingers in seconds, as free-flowing as rain.

Desperation rose in his throat, suffocating him with a new fear he hadn't realized he'd had. Kratos couldn't die. He wouldn't let him. Not like this, not here, not ever if he had anything to say about it.

They were brothers in everything but blood. The helplessness Yuan felt as his best friend was fading threatened to engulf him.

"Don't die, Kratos. Don't you dare die on me!" Yuan's breathing was more labored than the Tethe'allan's. In fact, it appeared as if the man was scarcely breathing at all. He only knew the most basic of healing spells, but his hands were already glowing faintly with the pure white light. His first-aid was crude at best. He tightly wrapped the cloth strip over the wound and frantically tied the knot. He noted with little relief that the bleeding had slowed with his magic, and the cut had miraculously missed any vital organs as far as he could tell. The scarcity of light made it difficult to be certain.

"You need a doctor." The Sylvaranti had composed himself. Kratos had to be moved to Luin, which wasn't very far from their current location. Though, managing to move Kratos without aggravating his wound more would be challenging by himself. Evidently, the red-head had come to the same conclusion and shifted to stand.

"It's okay, I can walk." His blank tone wasn't tinged with hurt in the least, even when he tweaked his injury while standing. Yuan was quick to support him, yet it appeared as if he didn't need it. Caught between a state of awe and horror, the half-elf couldn't decide if Kratos was in shock or had a high tolerance for pain. Either way, the make-shift bandage was nearly drenched through. They had to move quickly.

Kratos followed Yuan's lead through the darkened brush with a strange effortlessness. He felt none of the pain of the injury, but all of the symptoms of extreme blood loss plagued his body. His vision was dancing in and out of focus, and his limbs were weakening. His body was not following his commands as it should.

When Yuan had pointed out the jagged wound, he had been dumbfounded. Likely he would not have noticed until his body had failed him. The thought troubled him. As soon as he was recovered enough to travel, he would need to remedy the problem. He could only hope that the Cruxis Crystal might be safely removed.

The lit streets of Luin came into sight as they rounded some thick underbrush. The moonlight and house lanterns alike reflected in the glassy stillness of the surrounding lake. Using that as their guide, they shakily found the path to the first bridge and began to cross it. Though he didn't feel the pain, Kratos knew the cut had to be bad from the gory coating of ruddy scarlet that lay in slick layers over his hand. He quickly returned it to where it was applying much needed pressure. Black spots crept in front of his eyes and he knew that he would probably black out soon.

It was peculiar how distant it made him feel- as if his mind was detached from the failing vessel that was his body. His sense of self was somewhere far above- observing yet unfeeling. Scanning his choppy field of vision, he finally laid eyes on an undersized wooden construction that he knew to be the resident healer's home. He was beginning to lean heavily on Yuan in order to maintain upright, but in an attempt to take another step, he found he could walk no further.

Then the world went black.

Astonished as Yuan was that Kratos could walk, he couldn't help but feel a lump of anxiety settle in his stomach when his friend began to stagger. When he went completely limp, the Sylvaranti was barely able to secure his grip on Kratos' shoulders before he pitched forwards onto the ground. As luck would have it, they'd pretty much made the distance. He half dragged, half carried Kratos' unconscious form to the old oak door and rapped feverishly on its surface.

"Open up! Please, it's an emergency!" He bellowed while carefully monitoring Kratos' shallow breathing and ghostly pallor.

A flustered looking man opened the door. Upon seeing the slumped over, blood-stained figure on his front step, he didn't ask any questions and admitted them right away. After hoisting Kratos inside, Yuan could do little other than watch with bated breath as the gash was cleaned and stitched and bandaged.

Only when he was certain Kratos was going to be okay, and was repeatedly assured by the doctor, Yuan allowed his mind to wander. Staring down at his hands crusted with Kratos' blood, he took a seat in the offered chair. He'd been so cemented in the present that he hadn't given any thought to how it had all happened. The bandits weren't a very accomplished group of fighters. At the very least they were not nearly the worst they'd seen while with the Sylvaranti Internal Enforcement Division. Kratos hadn't even been injured since Yuan was able to snag the position after they'd first met up at Latheon Gorge.

Yuan had his share of scratches, but neither of them had come so close to death as this. The fresh mortality of his human companion was like a bucket of ice water to the head. Somehow Yuan had always thought of Kratos as superhuman- a unique being that didn't make mistakes. He learned quickly, had a flawless memory, was an incredible swordsman and now spell-caster, and yet a mob of simpletons had bested him? A lapse in concentration indeed. There was more to it than that. He'd settle for asking questions upon Kratos' awakening.

His own reaction to the injury had been alarming as well. He couldn't afford to freeze up when a life depended on him. Where had that come from? Even now, he only felt a need for Kratos to be okay. For some reason he couldn't precisely lay a finger on, he'd chosen the Tethe'allan of all people to open up to. Kratos clearly had greater reservations in that field, but Yuan had seen glimpses of the good person beneath the facade. The point was that Kratos knew him the best and he liked to think he knew Kratos better than any other as well. The man was now quintessential to his life, and yet Yuan had never known how dangerous that could be until now. They were the archetype of friendship, and Yuan never wanted to picture a world where Kratos ceased to exist. Maybe it was because he modeled good intentions and open-mindedness, or because he never wanted praise for doing the right thing. In his mind, the death of Kratos would be the death of integrity, because so much of Symphonia was lacking it. The match to honor was loyalty, and that's what Yuan was.

He didn't stray from the bedside once. Long after the healer had finished his work, Yuan lay in an exhausted sleep, flaccid in his chair beside Kratos' supine figure.

Mithos shuffled his belongings around to better fit in the pack, roughly yanking out his kendama to carry instead. The garish coloring was embarrassing, but it was his only weapon, so he had to deal with it.

"Are you ready to go, Mithos?" His sister's melodic voice rang from around the corner, accompanied by footsteps. Her head popped out from behind the adjoining wall in their suite, an appraising look on her face framed by her green bangs. Apparently satisfied that he had what he needed, she nodded and slung her own bag over her shoulders and plucked up her staff from its usual location in the corner. Mithos eyed the artfully twisted wood with distaste. Why couldn't he use a staff instead? They looked so much cooler. Resigning himself to learn sword play as soon as possible, Mithos fell into step behind Martel as they left their room.

Trailing her down the stair case, Mithos could see Xilia waiting for them outside through the open window. He could hardly suppress a sigh. Why did she have to come again? Martel could handle almost all of the technical work and Xilia couldn't even defend herself against the monsters they would no doubt encounter. And she was annoying.

Humans were useless. They couldn't use magic, and most couldn't even expel their chaotic mana with an attack. Which begged the question- why were they taking her along, again? Mithos held his tongue though. Last time he'd voiced such comments, Martel had lectured him on equality and discrimination. He still held that he had a valid point. The humans were most of the driving force behind the growing mana depletion along the border regions. Particularly smart humans like Xilia, that derived ways to use nature's mana instead of their own. Hence his general dislike for the woman.

They had reached the door of the inn that had become their makeshift home for the past several years. Coming and going by the research institute had become commonplace, but this was a special occasion. Today they would embark on an adventure. Mithos felt the excitement flutter in his stomach, quickly growing to replace his initial irritation. Not even Xilia could wreck a journey like this one.

The researcher's glasses were flashing in the morning sun as she greeted them.

"I hope you all have enough provisions." She adjusted the straps on her rather large backpack. "We'll be gone for at least three days, if not more." Martel smiled that smile that meant she was humoring her. Mithos almost snickered- it was very clear that Martel preferred packing light, as she always had. They borrowed what they could from the forest when they traveled. Xilia was still ignorant to the expression, despite how long they'd worked together. Some relationships grew with time, but Martel and Xilia's had never seemed to grow past the acquaintance stage. Perhaps as a researcher, Xilia was just poor with other people.

"Yes, we have enough. We should be off before the sun gets too high."Martel led the way, purposefully heading for the southern entrance of Sybak. Mithos felt a jump in his step. They hadn't left the small village for quite some time, and it was suffocating. Martel would allow him to go about town all he wanted, but there was never much aside from universities. The benefit to an intellectual city was the amount of books they had in their ample libraries. It was remarkably ironic how many shelves they had based solely on learning magic, when he'd met few casters within Sybak. Either way, he'd practiced in his spare time and was now reasonably capable when it came to magic, though he was by no means an expert.

All the better for this 'expedition'.

Martel and Xilia said they had pinpointed several specific locations that had the densest mana on the planet. His sister told him these spots practically exuded life energy. Though not quite on the scale of the Great Kharlan Tree, they controlled the flow of mana throughout the world- the balance if you will. However as the magitechnology was advancing, these places were going haywire. It seemed as though the mana flow was irregular and fluctuated by the day. Nevertheless, they needed to see what made these spaces so special.

The nearest location they could find based on a wide array of mana sensors was to the southern region. The mana in Sybak flowed towards the choppy seas that raged inside Tethe'alla's largest bay. From what they could tell, the swirling mass of natural mana centered like a storm on the outcropping of rocky shoreline. It was near impossible to predict what might lie at the heart of such an energy flux, and Mithos anxiously awaited the unveiling. Martel postulated that they could be offspring of the Great Tree, in juvenile form, but Mithos felt something more exciting stirring. Whatever it was felt more alive to him.

The uneven distribution of mana in the world was leading to instability in the local plant life, and more importantly the appearance of monsters. Hordes of them were surfacing in the dearth of equilibrium, and anyone that couldn't fight was encouraged to stay within town borders for protection.

Mithos refused to be such an insignificant, he wanted to explore and fight and discover the mysteries that Martel described to him. This was just the beginning.

He nearly cheered when they left the gray cobblestone boundaries of Sybak and were met by unadulterated woodland. He supposed it was the elven blood in him that felt so attuned to nature, because Martel was the same way. The freer air was exuberant, and he felt more and more alive as they put distance between themselves and the dull realm of study.

Martel was ecstatic to getting out the door and into the world, but her recent findings were troubling. Mana deprivation was occurring on a whole new scale- it seemed even the Great Tree was having difficulties keeping up. She'd always been taught that there was unlimited energy held within the planet, and that the Yggdrasil was the primary way for it to be fixed into mana. Mana was life.

These new weapons were sucking up the life from the soil, yanking it away from local flora and fauna to transform it into destruction. In more than one way it would crush everything if they weren't careful. Her new findings were not encouraging. Mana levels everywhere had dropped considerably. And it wasn't for lack of trying to get the world educated on the problem.

They didn't care.

She was beginning to understand that both Sylvarant and Tethe'alla would rather obliterate the world before admit defeat. Martel had always thought pride a good thing. It gave people standards, and the gall to never back down from a belief. Now she saw how it could be the downfall of everything and everyone. She kept these things to herself though. If Mithos heard her ramblings, then what might happen?

She was an optimistic person in general. Intelligence was a virtue, as was tolerance. But she couldn't tolerate this level of stupidity. Every living being had a duty to this world, and she would sooner die than give up on a way to save it. Though she couldn't be sure, a part of her suspected that this project would be the answer. The key to solving the unsolvable equation.

Mithos had broken her out of her thoughts as he broke into a run ahead, leaving her and Xilia behind in favor of scaring birds off of their perches. She chuckled shortly at his uncomplicated happiness. She often forgot that he was just a boy- of twelve no less. She trailed her fingertips along the rough bark of neighboring trunks as she let herself forget for just a moment. Xilia's silence was unusual, but welcome, and Martel let herself be overcome by the sounds of the forest. Here was so much like home. She found solace in any cluster of trees, they were soothing in their liveliness. She focused on the present.

They would need their wits about them to make it to their destination. She could already feel the monsters stirring far ahead, a darker force on her peripheries that had no sense of consciousness. From what she knew, the mass appearance of sinister creatures had no specific source. They were not even sentient, for all their flocking. That made them dangerous- especially when neither she nor Mithos were good in close combat situations. She smiled despite herself, as Mithos' golden head caught in a patch of sunlight. He felt it, too.

The mystery of the mana crisis loomed in the distance- and she wasn't going to miss out on it.

(A/N) So that's the end of the first chapter in Part 2. I'll bet you guys know where this is going, too. Hope you liked... Review?