Ashton's life was not exactly blessed. A part of him had always known that; how could he be blessed when he had been stripped away from everything he knew twice? And yet, he still believed, perhaps as a way of coping, that he had to be in Fódlan by some divine providence. It was a fool's notion, he would later reflect, and he had long given it up before they entered Shambhala. Ashton was not blessed, but neither was he cursed.
Nemesis' figure in front of him, twisted Sword of the Creator in hand, made him reconsider that stance, if only because of the sheer ludicrousness of the being in front of him. Seiros had killed Nemesis hundreds of years before, years after Ashton had been put on ice, and yet there he stood, golden-red eyes blazing with unearthly fire, and damaged body repaired by red metal and a patchwork of scars.
It was the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen.
"I should have known that this disgusting creature would refuse to stay buried," Arawn snarled, "Mother made the mistake of leaving a body behind. I shall not make the same mistake."
"He hasn't attacked yet. What is going on?" Flayn asked.
HE HAS NOT ATTACKED YET BECAUSE I HAVE NOT ORDERED HIM TO.
Ashton shook his head and grumbled. "Of course you haven't."
DO NOT ACT SURPRISED. I AM NOT ONE TO DISCARD SUCH AN ABLE AND WILLING TOOL. AND NEMESIS IS VERY MUCH BOTH. OF COURSE, I HAVE NO ILLUSIONS THAT HE WILL SURVIVE THIS, BUT PERHAPS, IN THE EVENT HE DOES, HE CAN DESTROY EPIMENIDES BEFORE THEY DO SOMETHING STUPID.
"This god really likes to hear himself talk, huh?" Catherine said.
I COULD SHOW YOU A THOUSAND WORLDS WHERE YOUR ABILITY TO SPEAK WENT UNLOVED, THUNDERSTRIKE CASSANDRA.
"Alright, I think I've had enough. I'm tired of being pushed around," Catherine growled, Thunderbrand out and glowing red. "Let's cut this crusty old dastard down and be done with it."
VERY WELL. NEMESIS, KILL THEM.
As if a switch had been flipped, Nemesis charged forward. And it was only at that moment that Ashton realized he was not alone; lights flickered behind him, glowing red auras that matched Nemesis' own. They were outnumbered. Ashton could even recognize a few of them; they were the Elites, or rather, what was left of them. If Nemesis had been augmented by metal, then the Elites were almost nothing but. And they, in turn, were flanked by the very same creatures that the group had exterminated when they reunited.
Nemesis headed toward Ashton first, and Ashton readied himself. Before they could come to blows, however, Arawn intervened. The half-Nabatean slammed his axe into Nemesis' side, barely scraping the skin there and bouncing off the metal. It was enough to get the King of Liberation's attention, though, and the two began their duel. Ashton wasn't just going to leave his son to fight the man who nearly killed him, though. And so, in contrast to the last time he and Nemesis fought, Ashton struck the former bandit from behind.
Just like Arawn's axe, it merely bounced off the hardened plate metal, and Nemesis did not take kindly to the blow - if the former King of Liberation could feel anything at all. Though the man moved with the characteristic swagger of a self-proclaimed king, Ashton could not feel any sense of life to him. It was like he was fighting an aimless automaton who merely wore the skin of the man who nearly killed him. Beyond the blazing light of his eyes, there was no thought, no fear, no hubris, nothing.
Ashton's right side ached.
Barely able to parry the blow, the Sword of the Creator crashed into the ground, sending bits of rock and dust into the 'air'. As if in a fit of anger, Nemesis smashed it into the ground again, creating a dust cloud that covered him. Arawn was on the other side, and Ashton could hear metal against metal. He charged forward, ready to slam his hammer into Nemesis' head; it had the least amount of metal reinforcing it, and he would be lying to himself if he didn't want to smash it like an egg.
If Ashton ever made it even close to Nemesis, he would not know, as a different weapon clashed against his own, and in the gloom of the dust cloud he could see a different set of dead, fish-like eyes staring at him. A massive axe that looked as if it could cleave a mountain in two kept his weapon from moving forward, and with strength he could barely push back against, he was sent skidding across the ground on his heels.
Goneril. The one with the axe is Goneril.
It had been so long since he had thought of the Elites as people rather than fancy last names that the word 'Goneril' felt unnatural in his head. Goneril himself looked less like a person and more like a walking horror. If Nemesis looked mostly like himself, Ashton could barely recognize Goneril except for the axe he wielded. He never met the Elite in his old life, but he doubted anyone who knew him would be able to recognize him either.
Nonetheless, Ashton had a job to do, and he intended to see it finished. Perhaps killing the remnants of the Elites would finally bring him some measure of peace. And hopefully, before long, Seiros would join the fight. He swore he heard the sound of wings in the air.
The Aurora Hammer smashed against Goneril's axe, the name of which eluded him, several times as he tried to break through Goneril's defense. Despite the man looking more like a machine than anything human, his movements were still human enough. Eventually, however, Ashton landed a blow.
The metal that covered much of Goneril's body merely dented with the strike, and Ashton was sent back with a kick to the stomach. He felt bile at the back of his throat, but he was able to keep it down as he looked up.
Ashton was barely able to bring the shaft of his hammer up in time, blocking the axe blow that Goneril had lined up with his head. He was surprised the Aurora Hammer didn't snap in two from the strength of Goneril's attack alone. Ashton didn't let the momentary opening slide, though - he pushed upward with all of his strength, unbalancing Goneril as he then charged forward, knocking the undead Elite to the ground. After that, Ashton just began swinging.
He struck the metal and the little flesh remaining over and over again. Ashton didn't know how many times he slammed the head of his hammer into Goneril's body, all he knew was that, eventually, he saw blood. Metal screeched and tore and flesh split apart under his onslaught, until Goneril was nothing more than a red mass of fleshy and steel. Ashton stumbled back, coughing into his fist before looking around.
Catherine was locking blades with at least two Elites, holding her own despite going up against the greatest conquerors the continent had ever known. Cyril held his own against one, although judging by the scepter relic he saw in the hands of his opponent, Cyril had an advantage so long as he remained close. Flayn was still avoiding combat when possible, offering her healing magic when she was able. Lastly, Arawn stood like a bulwark, bloodied but still moving against the King of Liberation himself.
Ashton didn't waste any time; he'd had enough of standing around gobsmacked anyway. With a grunt, he ran forward. Nemesis was too preoccupied to notice Ashton coming up behind him, and by the time the inhuman conqueror could tell he was there, it was too late.
Using the other side of his hammer, Ashton punctured Nemesis through the side. Just like he had been jumped by the King of Liberation over a thousand years prior, Ashton finally returned the favor. The other side of his hammer long held a warpick side to it, he had simply never needed to use it - his overwhelming strength was usually enough. To get through the hard metal plating, though, it finally came in handy.
Nemesis swung behind him, and Ashton narrowly dodged the Sword of the Creator decapitating him. The King of Liberation was not allowed a reprieve as Arawn reminded him that he was still there with an axehead to the arm. It was barely able to penetrate through the toughened red metal, but it was progress as the half-Nabatean wrenched it free. Ashton and Arawn had no choice but to back away as Nemesis unfurled the sword, its blade becoming whip-like with more than a dozen jagged-edge fragments along it. When Nemesis swung it, it cut through the ground and sent bits of rock through the air.
Ashton coughed into his fist again, watching as Nemesis strode forward, blood seeping from his wounds. It was a wonder in Ashton's mind that the thing in front of him could still bleed.
When the flapping of wings in the air grew too great for Ashton to block out, he at least knew that someone else would be getting her final revenge on Nemesis.
Seiros landed upon the ground haphazardly, barely sparing anything beneath her. Thankfully, only the undead were beneath where she landed, and she quickly got to work. A score of mangled corpses followed in her wake, some falling to her tail swipes and others being blown away by her Aurora Beam.
The distraction she provided was enough for Ashton to get another good swing, this time at Nemesis' head. The King of Liberation staggered backward from the blow, a deep, guttural growl escaping his otherwise placid face even as Ashton lined up another attack, only for a blade to pierce through Nemesis' chest.
Ashton expected it to be the Sword of Seiros, but once he was able to get a good look at the blade, he realized it was Shez's unnamed sword. Nemesis spat out blood once before twisting his body unnaturally and sending the person who stabbed him to the ground. The former bandit was then pushed back by Arawn's axe, cutting through a layer of steel. Before long, there was no hope of fighting back.
All of Nemesis' allies were dead, whether by the hand of the others, or by Seiros' rampage. Then, all eyes were on him. All was still for a few moments as Nemesis staggered backward, Sword of the Creator still in his grasp as he looked at the group that was bearing down on him. Ashton half-expected someone to comment, to have some sort of grand speech, or for Nemesis to suddenly find one last shred of intelligence in that scrambled head of his, but there was nothing. Once that moment of silence was over, Seiros led the charge in descending upon him.
Of what happened next, Ashton had very little recollection. He remembered swinging his hammer wildly into the creature that had once been a man, but beyond that, nothing. And when the fighting was over and he could think clearly again, all that remained of Nemesis was a pile of scrap metal and blood, with the darkened Sword of the Creator right by his remains, nobody daring to touch it.
Ashton breathed in and out. In and out. His heart was pounding in his chest, feeling as if it would pop out of his chest at any moment. Thankfully, after a while, he got control of himself, and he looked around and took stock of his allies.
Catherine was the worse for wear, though that was only to be expected with the amount of enemies she took on. Blood covered her body, and thankfully, Flayn was tending to her. Cyril had more than a few wounds of his own, but not as serious as Catherine, it appeared. Arawn was wounded as well, but not as much as Cyril, which was impressive considering he was going toe to toe with the King of Liberation himself. As for Seiros, she was in her human form once again, helping Arawn to Flayn. She barely had a scratch on her, though she joined the battle rather late.
After he confirmed that his allies were for the most part alright, Ashton collapsed.
He held himself up using his hammer, but even then he slumped to his knees, breathing out heavily. The fight with Nemesis had taken a toll on him, clearly. He felt like he could barely get enough air into his lungs.
There was something empty about the whole experience that Ashton couldn't clarify. Nemesis was dead again, but the thing they destroyed was barely Nemesis at all. It felt more like a mindless automaton with barely a hint of the creature that once inhabited said body. He counted his blessings that at least Maurice had been around to give him some closure; if the monstrous Elite hadn't been there, or if Ashton had missed him, then he would've been feeling a lot worse.
Whatever the case, Nemesis was gone, truly gone for good, and Ashton could barely drum up the will to care.
It wasn't long before he felt himself being hoisted up to his feet. Ashton knew who it was without even needing to look.
"It's over," he said, closing his eyes.
"For him, yes," Seiros replied, her voice deep. "But not for us. I should have destroyed his body. Perhaps then we would not have had to deal with that… creature."
"There was nothing left of him," Ashton said, "We might as well have been fighting a puppet. Whatever Nemesis was, was long gone when his body fought us."
"A terrible fate for a terrible man," Seiros said, shaking her head as she brought Ashton to Flayn. "We should not dwell on such things, my love. He is gone now, for good."
Ashton knew that if he closed his eyes again, he would drift off into sleep. He couldn't sleep, though. Not when there was so much to do. Not when-
His eyes bulged open when he saw Shez at the periphery of the group. He went to grab for his hammer before Seiros stopped his hand.
"Not right now. I will take care of this," Seiros said.
And Ashton closed his eyes.
Seiros watched the young woman approach with not a hint of betrayal in her eyes, though that did not stop her from keeping her hand on her sword. Whether by magic or blade, if Shez made one wrong move, she would be destroyed, and judging by the sheepishness with which she approached, she knew this.
"Am I to believe that what you did was not of your will?" Seiros asked, her voice carrying through the airless space. "Or that you always harbored such an entity within you? This Epimenides? Unless you are they, in which case, I will end this here and strike you down where you stand, Agarthan."
"I'm not an Agarthan or whatever," Shez said quietly, "That thing that happened back in Shambhala? That was Arval. Or Epimenides now, I guess. They weren't really clear when I asked them what's going on."
"Things are rarely as they appear."
"Listen, I screwed up, alright?" Shez admitted, "I should've told you all about Arval, but what was I supposed to say? 'There's a petite, pale, androgynous person living inside my head who has been with me the past five years'. Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds?"
"No more crazy than what has happened," Arawn stated, standing up beside Seiros, who cast him a worried glance. "I am fine now, mother. Though I will admit, it has been some time since I was injured in such a way. I am unused to the pain."
"Then lay back down and rest," Seiros said, "We still have some distance to cover, and that light is not getting any dimmer."
"I would, but then you'd skewer the only human I've come to love in the past century," Arawn said, a deep frown in his face. "And I will not allow that."
"L-lo-" Shez shook her head. "Now's not the time!"
"On the contrary, it is the perfect time," Arawn replied, before turning back to Seiros. "We need her mother, if for no other reason than she can lead us out of here. The longer we stay in this dimension, the more we become a part of it. I half expect some of our fingers to become transparent soon. This place- it is not where the living or anything that we know of should roam."
"So, you would have her not face the consequences of her actions?" Seiros asked.
"It is not about consequences," Arawn said. "If for no other reason than my selfish reasons, spare her."
Seiros was silent for a few moments, before finally, her hand fell away from the pommel of her sword, and she let out a sigh. "There was a time where I would not have hesitated executing you on the spot, Shez. Be grateful that my family is more forgiving than I."
Shez let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, before coughing into her fist. "We need to get moving as soon as possible. Arval won't be idle for long. And I doubt that Prometheus thing will be either."
"It hasn't spoken since we destroyed Nemesis," Seiros said, crossing her arms. "If it wants to speak, there is nothing I can do to stop it. I cannot promise that I will listen even if it does."
SUCH CONFIDENCE. I SEE WHY ASHTON FELL FOR YOU, SEIROS OF NABATA.
Seiros growled, slightly baring her teeth, but said nothing.
Shez looked around, as if she could somehow see where the machine god was by noise alone. It was a fruitless search. She sighed.
"I'm starting to get sick of that," Shez admitted.
"On that, we can agree," Seiros said.
"Excellent. You are getting along again already," Arawn said, clapping his hands before laying back down. "Just make sure you do not rip each other's throats out before we banish the machine god, alright?"
"Is that what we're gonna do?" Shez said before turning around and crossing her arms. "Well, it won't matter until we're outta here, and the only way I can think of is to… to destroy Arval, or Epimenides or whatever."
"Then let us rest here for a while longer," Seiros said, looking behind her shoulder to see Ashton laid out. "I will not lose him again. I will not lose him again…"
Ashton awoke not long after he had first passed out. He grasped at his head and growled; he had a pounding headache that gently subsided after a while. There was somebody beside him, and there were only two people, maybe three, who would do that.
"Are we about to move?" Ashton asked, sitting up as he felt a hand on his back.
"Yes," Seiros replied, "Flayn is finishing up healing our wounds as we speak. You were unconscious for little more than thirty minutes. I was… I was worried, for a moment."
"I'll not keel over because of some hard fighting," Ashton said, letting out a breath. "Maybe that strained my limits a bit, but I'm fine now. I'll see this through to the end."
"I have a feeling that events will play out much faster after we return to Shambhala," Seiros said.
"That so? What makes you think that?" Ashton queried, rubbing his temples.
Seiros looked off to the side, where the growing light still lingered, like a distant star on the horizon. "Call it intuition, if you wish. I have no way to explain it."
"Cryptic. I like it," Ashton barked a laugh. "Just like old times."
"Simpler times," Seiros clarified, looking back down at Ashton. "In those days, all we needed to worry about was an abusive conqueror bent on ruling the whole continent. Now, we have this machine god, this 'Zahras' dimension, and who knows what else. There is so much my mother either did not know, or did not tell me."
"Much as she was comparable to an actual goddess…" Ashton began, before trailing off and shaking his head. "No, that's not my place to say."
A sad smile appeared on Seiros' face. "You are not wrong, my dear Ashton. Even her own children did not know who she was. If she was truly the goddess that I allowed Fódlan to believe she is… such questions will be asked long after you and I are dust."
Ashton closed his eyes. "I love you, you know that?"
Seiros let out a small laugh. "I should hope so! If you came here, spoke to me so many times, allowed me to hold you in my arms, without loving me? That would be a plan that I cannot see the end of!"
Ashton didn't say anything, instead pressing his lips against Seiros', and placing his hand behind her head to deepen it. After a few moments, they parted, and Ashton rose to his feet.
"We have an Agarthan to slay, we should get moving."
What went unmentioned was Shez's appearance. Ashton didn't know where she had come from, but honestly, he didn't care. It was clear that the others were alright with her being there, so he wouldn't make a fuss over it. One wrong move on her part, however, and Ashton wouldn't let the same thing happen twice. Then again, it wasn't as if Shez or Epimenides could send them all to Ultra Zahras, if such a thing even existed.
Still, he kept an eye on her. Just in case.
The pulsating light grew closer and closer, and Ashton felt his headache coming back just looking at the thing. Structures popped up out of the gray stone they walked upon, like tombstones in a graveyard. Nothing lurked about in the darkness, not the red eyes of the masked monsters he first encountered, and not the golden ones of the creatures he and his allies faced together. There was nothingness, and earth-shattering nothingness.
When they finally arrived at the light's source, there was a single arc made of aged stone bricks, and a pale figure lying beneath it.
Ashton had his hammer out, and everyone else soon unsheathed or unhooked theirs, pushing forward slowly before stumbling back.
"W-What…?" Arawn muttered out. "What is the meaning of this?"
Ashton said nothing; he was too shocked to say anything. He expected to hear maniacal laughter, something, anything from the figure that laid below him, but there was nothing. Instead of eyes, there were only two empty, blackened sockets, with their mouth agape in an expression of sheer horror. His heart pounding in his chest, Ashton looked around as if something would jump out, whatever had done such a thing. There was nothing.
"Arval…" Shez said, her voice small and airy as she knelt beside the body. "What did they do to you, buddy?"
Arval, or Epimenides, did not respond. At first.
As if held by an unseen force, Epimenides' head cocked to the side, as if to look at Shez. Shez jumped backward, falling on back before forcing herself up, her summoned blade in hand. A crackling sound - electricity, Ashton remembered - went through the air as Epimenides' body was lifted into a sitting position, before looking around at the entire group. Their empty eye sockets and mouth were filled with an unearthly red light.
"THIS IS THE FATE THAT AWAITS THOSE WHO DEFY ME," said a voice, emanating from Epimenides' mouth, though their lips did not move. "THOUGH I ADMIT, IT WAS A CATHARTIC EXPERIENCE WATCHING THIS PALE GOPHER DIE."
Ashton's jaw dropped. "Fuck."
"FUCK, INDEED," Prometheus replied, "I HAD INTENDED YOU TO FACE EPIMENIDES, BUT THEY TRIED TO… SHALL WE SAY, DO THE EQUIVALENT OF POINT A FIREARM TO MY HEAD AND FORCE ME TO REWRITE A PROGRAM. NONE OF YOU BUT ONE WILL UNDERSTAND THAT, BUT THAT IS THE CLOSEST EQUIVALENT I CAN THINK OF."
"So, now what?" Arawn said, his voice shaking slightly as he held his axe tightly. "Are we to fight this empty husk? What happened to not intervening?"
"I DID NOT WISH TO, AT FIRST. BUT EPIMENIDES FORCED MY HAND. THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME SOMETHING HAS TRIED TO CALL ME TO ACTION, AND I DID NOT APPRECIATE IT THEN, EITHER. AS FOR WHAT YOU SHALL DO-"
Epemenides' body stood up unnaturally, its limbs jittering and lifeless even as it moved. Like a puppet with strings, it pressed Epimenides' hand against the arch nearby, and before long, power gathered in its opening, until a portal of bright light filled the space. Epimenides' head turned to look at the group.
"TIME IS SHORT, OUTLANDERS," Prometheus stated. "I WISH TO SEE HOW QUICKLY YOU CAN REACH MY VESSEL. I WONDER HOW MANY WILL DIE BEFORE IT IS DEFEATED. IF IT IS DEFEATED. GO, NOW. RUN. THIS IS NOT A PLACE FOR YOU TO REMAIN.
Epimenides' body fell to the floor again, completely limp. The puppet had its strings cut.
We're closing in on that end. Honestly, I'm excited for what's to come.