Arusian Crusade: Starfall
Chapter 3: Sacrificial Lion

Allegedly, the proper name of Green Voltron's shield in VF is the Boomerang Shield. But I don't like that name and it's my fanfic so ha. There's not gonna be any Titanic Trident either.
Also, any misrepresentation of the kuji-in should be attributed to Sven's incomplete knowledge, not the fact that the Wiki page is a train wreck...
Enjoy!

Another day, another Doom fleet.

It was starting to get silly.

"You know, I'm sure I remember something about how the definition of insanity is repeating the same action and expecting a different result," Lance muttered as Voltron hovered before the castle, waiting for the fleet to approach.

"It doesn't seem to make much sense." Keith couldn't bring himself to match Lance's derisive tone, though he felt a bit of it himself. The tactics did change. It wasn't complete repetition. But still, he'd have expected something much more strikingly different by this point—the Ninth Kingdom couldn't afford to keep throwing its troops into the grinder like this.

No military ever truly could.

"Pidge, Hunk, you two get those IFF scanners working yet?"

"Mmhmm. Reading the command ship as the Dispater-class Death Defiant. Tagging the others."

"Capital ships are hanging back. Fighters incoming."

"Lance, you want to take this?"

"Do I ever. Draw Magma Pistols!"

They'd tested the new weapons as thoroughly as possible, though it was still hard to do serious training without anything to actually fight. Strawman probably wouldn't stand up too well to Voltron. As best they could tell, these weapons were rather less powerful than the Blazing Sword, but made up for it by allowing the use of secondary armaments while active. Always a plus.

Red Lion's weapons flared into existence now, twin heavy pistols that shot bolts of lava into the incoming fighter squadrons, melting some, solidifying over others and dropping them to the ground in a blanket of hot stone. "I love this so much," Lance chuckled.

"Almost isn't fair," Pidge agreed as the left-hand gun knocked another squad out of the sky.

"No, no, it definitely isn't fair, that's half the fun."

Yellow and Blue Lions started launching smoke grenades as the capital ships drew closer, funneling the fighters into a smaller area, blocking the fields of fire for their backup. "What are they even trying to do?" Sven asked. "They know by now their fighters aren't even a match for the lions, let alone Voltron. If they aren't going to rush in and cover them, what's the point of launching?"

"Never interrupt your enemy when he's making a mistake, Sven."

Keith arched an eyebrow. "Napoleon, Hunk?"

"Hey, I didn't skip every military history class—"

"—Not for lack of effort," Pidge interjected—

"—Just most of 'em."

The dreadnought—the Death Defiant—had led the last few attacks, but now it was hanging well behind its fleet. Keith didn't like that at all, though he was happy enough not to deal with the command ship's firepower. Sven was right about the strangeness of the tactics, and Hunk was right about taking advantage of such nonsense. But still. He wanted to know why.

Needed to know why.

A cruiser flagged as the Six-Winged Shrike moved ahead of its comrades. It was an Orobas-class, a ship Keith actually knew very little about; the model was rarely encountered by the Alliance, but known to see quite a bit more use on the rare occasions when the Drule kingdoms skirmished with each other. Its rarity was due to its primary purpose of punching through dreadnoughts. The Alliance simply didn't tend to build ships that big.

The enemy commander was apparently seeing Voltron as a dreadnought-level threat, and that was probably wise.

"Watch that front cruiser, it might be able to poke some holes in us."

"Hmph." Pidge sounded unconvinced. "Let's see it poke holes in this." The pistols vanished and a green glow gathered at Voltron's chest. "Form Cyclonic Shield!"

Not a moment too soon; sensors were shrieking about a weapons lock from the cruiser, and as Voltron raised its shield the Drule ship opened fire. Keith's jaw dropped, and he had vague impressions of shock from the others as well. The cruiser's frame had actually shuddered from the energy as it unleashed its weapons. For a warship that was unheard of...

Studying the recordings and databases later, he would determine there had been six heavy railguns and a gamma laser involved in the barrage. For the moment all he was certain of was that the impact knocked Voltron from the sky, and it was all he and the team could do to force the robot to land on its feet.

"Holy hells," Lance muttered.

"Yeah," Hunk agreed. "That... woulda poked a holy hole in us."

"They dented my shield." Pidge sounded insulted. He was right; the spiked emerald disc now had a good-sized gouge in the front of it. Good-sized by giant robot standards, which was really quite large indeed. "I'm gonna dent them back."

A tug from Green Lion. Good as his word, the little pilot was taking the lead. Keith nodded, acquiescing and moving Black Lion into the action, and Voltron drew back as the shield crackled with energy. A wall of swirling wind gathered around the disc as well, and after charging it for a few moments, they threw the shield with all of Voltron's technomystical might.

The Six-Winged Shrike had been readying for a second shot, and was woefully unprepared to have a whirling vortex of emerald death come crashing into its bow. The blow caused the cruiser to shudder again, and as the shield bounced back the Drules seemed to decide they'd had more than enough for one day. They fled, again.

Too easy. Still far too easy. Even easier than usual this time, and that made him even more concerned than usual.

"Okay, team. Let's go back... but I want everyone on high alert. That was even stranger than normal, and I don't like it one bit."

And so it begins.

Haggar had to admit to being impressed. She'd watched the tail end of the battle between the fleet and Voltron, and the Destroyer was every bit as fearsome and imposing as advertised. It had taken a full volley from an Orobas with nothing to show for it but a little stumble... yes, she could see why Admiral Yurak, and Commander Cossack before him, had been having so much trouble.

Targeting the pilots was wise. Once Arus was burning, the lions could be dealt with, taken into the custody of the Ninth Kingdom and dismantled so thoroughly there would never be any question of Voltron returning.

Pragmatism suggested keeping the lions intact, of course. Wielding Voltron in the name of the Drule Supremacy. But there was pragmatism and then there was piety, not to mention the sheer distrust that such beasts would obey their new masters. Finding five pilots for the craft would prove quite impossible.

None of this was really her concern anyway. Idle thoughts as she waited.

She turned to the robeast accompanying her, a skeletal blue monstrosity with a dozen spikes jutting from its carapace. "Galcia, remain here. Hide as best you can." They'd come down in some lightly wooded foothills, shrouded by the Death Defiant's fighter compliment and Voltron's own smokescreen. "I'm going to scout and find a suitable ambush site."

Scouting. Such work was probably beneath her, but she was much better suited for it than the hulking robeast, and for Haggar pragmatism truly did trump all.

"I hide," the robeast agreed calmly. She'd chosen Galcia for his patience and composure. "If discovered, I kill?"

"Capture. Kill only if necessary."

"If discovered, I capture. If needed, I kill. As commanded."

"Just so." She nodded and moved into the woods.

There wasn't much to see here; the trees thickened in the distance as they neared the castle. Haggar had noted what looked like a small civilian encampment in the narrow strip of field between the castle and the forest, and that would be a promising place to set the bait when the time came, but she certainly didn't want a battle there. Slaughtering the sheep would bring the shepherds in full force.

Besides, it was King Zarkon's stated policy to avoid civilian massacres whenever possible. Such things inflamed the defenders and resulted in fewer slaves from a conquered world. Of course Arus had already been bombed beyond the point Zarkon preferred, but there had been extenuating circumstances in that case.

Clearly they should've killed more.

Haggar found herself enjoying the forest. It was quiet and soothing, the leaves occasionally rustling from a gentle breeze, a soft emerald glow filtering in through the leaves above. Such a stark contrast from the overcast gloom of Korrinoth. That world had its own charm—especially to a daughter of the chaos goddess—but there was much to be said for occasionally walking in the light. Perhaps she would have to venture to other planets more often.

At one point, though, the beauty of the forest was marred. The trees became charred and blackened, surrounding a scorched clearing where only a scattered handful of sprouts still poked out of the ground. Must have been hit in the initial bombardment. Murmuring an invocation she sought out the past of this clearing, nodded in satisfaction. She was the first to set foot in this place since the trees had been burned away.

It would do. It would do quite nicely.

Something flared at the edge of her senses and she whirled. Something approaching. Close, so close. How could anyone possibly have come so close...

"Mrow?"

As quickly as they'd erupted into action, all her combat reflexes stilled, and the witch allowed herself a slight chuckle as she looked down. A furry black form had come up behind her and was now rubbing its head against the fringes of her robes, purring. "You ought not be here, little one. This place will know blood and danger soon."

"Mrryat." The cat looked up at her with wide green-gold eyes, as if it understood her words, then reached up and pawed at her leg. "Myaow!"

Well then. Any number of spells could have rid her of the creature, sent it fleeing in fear. But Haggar found herself studying it more closely, its claws and fangs and sleek, strong body. A beast built perfectly for speed and stealth and scouting. A beast that could lurk undetected where she could not, raising no suspicions...

She knelt and reached one gnarled hand out to the cat, which looked up and sniffed her fingers cautiously. "Myat?"

"Do you wish to aid me, little one?"

It licked her hand. She would take that as a yes.

Allura had taken to jogging around the lake in the twilight. The scenery was much more interesting than just running through the halls of the castle, and she didn't have to worry about ridiculous things like stairs. Of course there was the river—the rushing rapids which led all the way from the lake to the Greater Arusian Ocean. At one point there had been a bridge, she was pretty sure, but rebuilding that was not high on the list of priorities right now.

Simple enough to deal with in the meantime. When she reached the river she turned around.

Watching the sunset reflected in the water, the princess stretched out all of her senses as far as she could. Drinking in the faint breeze, the shifting colors, the mist rising from the water and the signs of life all around her. Even the wildlife of Arus was beginning to recover. It probably wasn't helping her conditioning, the way she kept stopping to watch birds fly overhead or the shimmer of fish beneath the water, but she really wasn't too worried about that.

As she drew in her surroundings, a faint spark of energy touched her mind. Mystic energy. Not exactly something that was found in nature, so that was interesting...

Following the trace might be foolish. Just might. But it wasn't powerful; she'd never have noticed it if she weren't stretched almost to her spiritual limits. And it didn't speak of danger. So she followed to quell her curiosity, and found a figure sitting by the riverbank, tracing symbols in the sand.

For a moment she was disconcerted by the blue and near-black uniform. She'd gotten used to seeing the Voltron Force's second in either his workout clothes or his armored flight suit, since Keith had him running patrols around the castle after pretty much every fight.

"Sven?"

He jumped, turned a questioning look in her direction. "Oh, Allura. Something wrong?"

"No, I was just out running." As she approached she could see better what he'd drawn out in the sand; nine symbols of varying complexity, written in a vertical line. Though the precise patterns were utterly alien, she'd seen such things before in the course of her own studies. It resembled Arusian runic sorcery. "I felt a mystic energy out here... I didn't know Earthlings did runeweaving."

"Runeweaving? I don't think we..." He frowned for a moment, then followed her gaze, and gave a soft laugh as comprehension dawned. "Oh. Those aren't runes, they're called kanji. Part of the Japanese writing system."

The word Japanese meant nothing to her whatsoever, but she could guess at its context, in any case. "Is that your culture?"

"In a sense." He said it as if that answered everything, and recoiled when she scowled at him. "What?"

Allura crossed her arms. "Do you realize how little that tells me?"

"...Do you really need the long version?"

He sounded more doubtful than secretive, really, so Allura decided there was no harm in pressing. "Yes."

Sven shrugged, apparently convinced. "I'm Japanese by blood, but I was adopted by a Norwegian family as an infant. Everything I know about my ancestral culture, I've learned from books... but I do try to learn as much as I can." A pause as he looked back at the symbols in the sand. "There's something more compelling about learning traditions by choice. Not just following the ones you're expected to."

Adopted. Allura knew what it meant, though adoption was not practiced on Arus; children were either raised by their birth parents or the community as a whole, never taken in by another specific family. But the rest of his words rang true, achingly true.

"I can understand that." She knelt and ran a hand through the water. "I'm pretty sure I understand, anyway. I was born into the royal household, obligated to uphold all the traditions of the Malaika dynasty. One of them is that the third child becomes a mystic, and I chose to take up spirit talking. But spirit talkers have their own ritual and traditions... and I'm loyal to both, I treasure both, but they don't always mesh so well."

Sven nodded. Didn't speak, but didn't need to, and for a few moments they remained in comfortable silence.

Curiosity overcame her again quickly. "So what do the... kanji... mean?"

"It's a protective mantra." He gestured for her to move closer, motioned to each symbol in turn. "They read as rin, pyo, to, sha, kai, jin, retsu, zai, zen."

Allura studied the complex characters and raised an eyebrow. "That seems like a lot of work for such short words." A wince as she realized how that had come out. "Um, no disrespect intended."

He smirked. "Welcome to kanji." Pause as he studied the symbols again himself. "The translations vary, but I don't think they really matter all that much. All comes down to the same thing... invoking the celestial guardians."

"Celestial guardians?" That seemed interesting, from someone who traveled among the stars. "Do you believe in that?"

Shrug. "I don't know." The words came easily enough to startle her; Arusian mystics knew precisely what they believed. Had to, or their rituals could never take hold. She knew that even typical Arusians were often more conflicted in their views, but had never discussed the matter with such a person. Let alone someone trying to invoke spirits a galaxy away from their home. "You pick up unusual beliefs in my line of work. Guardians in the stars... it's ridiculous and at the same time it makes so much sense. I don't disbelieve, so it can't hurt, can it?"

"I guess not, when you look at it that way." She watched him for a moment. Sven usually kept to himself... even with her forcing the issue, the conversation was almost surreal. If it weren't for the accent she'd have forgotten who she was talking to a long time ago. "No offense, but I didn't expect you to be so open."

Sven laughed. "I've heard that before." His expression became serious again quickly, dark eyes fixed on the flowing water. "I guess I just don't see much point in talking about myself unless someone asks. I'm content not to be asked... but it's not that I'm really trying to hide anything."

Allura doubted that. Everyone hid things. But she understood his point; no need to argue the details. And she liked this. Just talking, getting to know someone, wandering aimlessly over the past with no purpose or goal in mind. Understanding these warriors as people. "I'd like to know more."

He shot her an amused look, then stood and lifted his gaze to the sky. "Another time. Keith's already going to kill me when we get back, if Coran and Nanny don't beat him to it."

Only then did Allura realize night had nearly fallen. "...Oh." The last vestiges of the sun were vanishing beneath the horizon, though the glimmermoss common to the watery areas of Arus was still lighting the banks of the river just fine. "Will a royal pardon help?"

More laughter. "With Keith? Probably not. We'll just tell him you were beating me up, since you're about to get to that point anyway." He reached up and touched his left shoulder a little gingerly and Allura couldn't help giggling; she'd landed her first successful roundhouse kick there the day before. "I really think you're ready to start sparring with Hunk, he's got more padding."

"Pidge says Hunk wouldn't ever be able to make himself hit me."

"Well then I guess he'll lose the fight, won't he?" A smirk as he reached down to help her up. "Let's go."

Allura cast one last glance at the kanji on the banks as they left. He was probably right... it couldn't hurt.

She hoped it would help.

Lance was on encampment duty, and he was annoyed.

Not annoyed because he was spending time with Allura, of course not. Just annoyed because he was on the ground. Keith had air duty—Keith never had anything but air duty anymore, it seemed like—and Black Lion stood over the camp, watching the proceedings with emotionless golden eyes. Seeing someone else in their lion always made Lance wish he could be in Red right then.

His companion on ground duty today was Hunk, and that always went well. It seemed like the big engineer only had to step into the area and he would immediately be swarmed by every child present. Or maybe they were all lined up waiting for him, hoping each day that when Princess Allura appeared to mingle with their parents, Uncle Hunk would be one of the ones at her side.

Uncle Hunk. He still giggled every time when they called him that, and usually whoever was on duty with him found it equally amusing. Lance had taken to using the name himself, until he'd been threatened with going without dinner for a week if he didn't cut it out. Even pleading to Nanny hadn't worked—the rivalry between those two was still quite serious, but it had also become friendly enough that they couldn't be played against each other anymore.

And there Hunk was, sitting in Black Lion's shadow with half a dozen children, playing some game with marbles and flicking them all over the grass. Whatever he was trying to do, he was hopeless at it. Incredibly hopeless. Also incredibly fake; the guy could pitch machine parts that were much less aerodynamically sound with perfect precision, but if he showed his true skill he might actually win a game or two. He wasn't there to win.

Every child left in the Yazata province loved him.

For his part, Lance loved watching Hunk at work, but he hated seeing the kids. The kids who seemed so cheerful now, yet they'd watched their planet fall apart before their eyes...

How many of them would grow up to be him?

No. These kids had hope. Their world was going to thrive again, and the strike by Zarkon's forces would be nothing but a distant memory. Something they read about in history books when they were learning about how Voltron had awakened and pushed the Drule Supremacy back for good.

What about Valkan VI? No, not even the planet, just the four villages razed to make a point... and really he only even cared about one of those. Had it rebuilt, was it thriving? Or did it still lie in ash because there'd been no one left to bring it back?

He didn't know. Didn't want to know, desperately wanted to know. Couldn't even say which answer he was more afraid of. It would have been so easy to look it up, but he didn't. No sense tormenting himself like that. In the end it wasn't about the village, it was about the lives, lives that couldn't be brought back, lives the Drules would pay for in kind.

...Red Lion, talk to me...

A flicker of response, as there always was. When the darkness began to cloak Lance's mind, he no longer had to brood, at least not so much as he once had. He simply tugged on the bond between himself and the craft sleeping in the distant volcano. Felt its warmth in his mind and let the fire burn the darkness away.

But an unusual sensation accompanied the warmth this time, and didn't fade when he let the link slip back into its dormant state. The hair on the back of his neck was prickling. Something was up... or maybe it was just the contrast. Red Lion's warmth against the chilly breeze. No...

Lance tended to trust his intuition, enough that he referred to it as his radar, though his friends said the only thing that radar ever got him into was trouble. His intuition was shrieking pretty loud right now, in any case. A quick check around the edges of the encampment couldn't hurt anything.

The princess was talking to a pair of ragged peasants who'd just arrived to the camp, so he passed by her and went to his teammate. "Hey, Hunk, I'm gonna go sweep the perimeter. Try not to lose your game too bad without me here to laugh at you, alright?"

"Oh, it's way too late for that. Don't forget a broom so you can make a clean sweep."

Smirking, he opted not to dignify that with a response, and started on his patrol.

He was at the edge of the forest when he felt it, a crackling sensation running down his spine, screaming of danger. His first inclination was to look back at the camp—surely an assassin couldn't have made it into the shadow of the castle? But even looking that direction caused the sense to lessen so he turned again, looked at the branches, found himself staring into two fierce eyes that glowed mirrorlike in the sun.

A cat? You've gotta be kidding. My radar started freaking out about a cat? But even as he was admonishing himself the cat crouched and hissed with all the malice of a demon. ...That is not just a cat.

"Myyyaaaaaow!"

It would be best to go get the others. He couldn't explain why but he had no doubt the cat was dangerous, knew it was far more than it appeared. A big metal cat or two of their own might throw a wrench into whatever was going on. But...

The cat jumped from the branch it was perched on, black fur nearly vanishing into the shadows, and Lance stopped thinking and ran after it. No time to get the others. Even if this thing was a full-on robeast it was an awfully small and fuzzy one. He could get this. No problem.

No problem at all.

It was all he could do to track the animal through the forest. But he was fast too, and it couldn't quite seem to shake him, despite its best efforts. Finally he chased it into a clearing, a scorched area he assumed must be left from some battle or another; seemed awfully small to be the result of a forest fire, anyway.

The new scenery distracted him, if only for a moment. The cat had vanished completely as he looked around, and he swore at himself in some of his lesser-used languages for the slip. "Oh come on, we were having such a fun chase." He moved into the center of the clearing, eyes narrowed, all senses on alert for even the slightest twitch of a whisker. "Here, kitty kitty..."

Something moved. Not a cat. A shrouded form detached from the darkness across from him, a robed figure with glowing golden eyes.

"How unfortunate. I wasn't expecting guests this early..." Violet tendrils shot out at him from everywhere at once, and when he tried to open fire with his sidearms the energy bolts were absorbed into the net as it closed around him. "But no matter. I can deal with you now."

Not just a cat? Maybe it had just been a cat.

It just hadn't been alone.

Oh, hells.

"Sven, Pidge, have either of you seen Lance lately? He's supposed to be out here, but I've completely lost visual."

The voice crackled over Green Lion's comms and nearly startled Sven into losing his balance; he was perched rather precariously on the craft's muzzle, helping Pidge and two of the mice install a sonar beacon he'd dredged up from some scrap heap or another.

"Huh." Pidge, who was flopped over backwards and didn't seem to be having the slightest trouble keeping his grip, looked up and frowned. "Haven't heard from him, though he kind of avoids the hangar if he can help it. He's not just chatting up the princess?"

There was a pause that seemed slightly too long before Keith responded. "No, he is most definitely not just chatting up the princess. Wouldn't put it past him to have snuck off with a civilian, though, that's more what I'm worried about..."

Sven couldn't help feeling like maybe their commander was giving Lance slightly too little credit. But only slightly, and besides, he wouldn't mind an excuse to get out of this little operation. He liked mechanics and could follow instructions just fine, but spending much time in the hangar with Pidge only served to convince him that one of them still didn't speak much English. "Want me to go look for him?"

"Please."

Pidge shot him an amused scowl as he dropped, much too quickly, off of Green Lion's nose. "You just want to get out of finishing this."

"Obviously."

Giggle. "Just for that I'm going to save it until you're available again. Get out of here. Slap Lance for me, if whatever girl he's cornered hasn't done it already."

Sven snorted. "Unlikely." With a squeak, Blue joined him on the ground, gripping his shoulder a little too tightly with claws that were very small, but very sharp and powerful nonetheless. "Ease up, girl." Hunk had grown tired of calling all the mice 'it' and assigned them totally arbitrary genders. Sven found it amusing. "You can come if you want, but try not to rip my shoulder off."

"Skriik."

Outside, he found Hunk wrestling with some children—if he could pull his punches enough for that, surely he could manage some sparring with Allura? Not the time—and was informed that the last the big pilot had seen of his teammate, Lance had been heading off on a perimeter sweep. The sort of thing a good and conscientious soldier ought to do while protecting his princess, no doubt.

Plenty of opportunity for trouble.

Assuming Keith would have been able to see if the other pilot if he were anywhere in the camp, Sven went straight for the forest, vanishing into the shadows. Moving as quickly as he could while remaining silent, straining his senses for any hint of... well... anything.

"Skwee. Skriiak-skwee."

He had no idea what that meant. "Yeah, tell me about it."

The forest was sending chills through him. Only Pidge knew the terrain well, and even he hardly knew everything. It would be such a perfect place to set a trap. And as they progressed, Sven couldn't seem to shake the feeling that they were being watched. Nothing coherent, just the sense of malevolent eyes on him, seeking...

The tiny metal claws that had been digging into his shoulder suddenly relinquished their grip and Blue went sailing into the air with a squeaking, chittering war cry. She hit something in midair, something black and furry and much larger than she was. But then again, the little mouse was a robot, not bound by limitations of flesh and blood. And the force of her impact knocked the lunging cat to the ground, where it took a swipe at her that inexplicably dented and tore the metal plating on her side.

No ordinary cat.

Sven froze for just a moment, gripped by indecision. The mouse had possibly just saved his life. This was proof there was a trap. He needed to help Blue. He needed to get to Lance. Blue was just a machine. No, the mice were more than machines, just as the lions were. But Lance was his friend, his best friend...

Honor would dictate that he repaid the mouse's favor. He didn't have time for honor.

Flipping a knife at the cat he broke into a sprint, not even staying to watch where the blade hit, though the shrieking yowl that echoed behind him said it had been a good shot.

The forest was alive now, danger lurking behind every branch, within every shadow. But no longer so silent. The snarls and squeaks behind him were fading as something else began to echo in front of him, a faint hum of energy and what sounded like muffled gunshots.

That was definitely not a dating attempt gone wrong. Though he'd already been running at full speed he forced himself to move faster, closing in on the sounds, reaching back to ensure he still had his weapons though he could feel them as he ran, the sword sheathed across his back, the pouch of throwing knives he'd started carrying when Keith demanded he have something for ranged combat.

He was ready for anything. But he wasn't ready for what he saw when the forest vanished around him into a charred circle of death.

Lance was sprawled on the ground, bound in a glowing violet net, giving his captor everything he had, though his pistol shots passed harmlessly through the web of energy gathered around him. The few which actually hit the webbing were absorbed in a crimson flash, but he wasn't really aiming—he was thrashing against the net, teeth clenched, eyes deadly focused.

That was bad enough. But the true terror was the identity of the captor, a form shrouded in a simple brown robe, eyes glowing with cool malevolence as she attempted to reel her prisoner in. Attempted. Lance's struggles were making that rather difficult, but at the same time his strength was visibly fading, as though the net were sapping the life from him as he moved.

Sven cast about frantically in his mind for the name, though he knew who it was. King Zarkon's chief advisor, the most powerful witch in the Ninth Kingdom. The Alliance had managed to gather a surprising amount of information on her, considering she'd been serving the Supremacy—and the goddess she was said to be descended from—for nearly five centuries...

Haggar.

Everything came and went in an instant, then he drew his sword and lunged, slicing through the energy web with a hiss of pain as feedback shot through his body.

"Sven!"

The other warrior was shaky when he stood, though the usual flames danced in his eyes when he turned to face the witch. No. This won't work. He didn't like these odds, didn't like them at all... and liked them even less when he saw his friend discard one of his guns, realized there was a smoking hole in the side of the weapon.

"Lance, get out of here."

He looked affronted by the suggestion. "What? I'm not leaving you here with—"

"Go get the others! I'll hold her until you get back."

A snarl. "Absolutely not. You go get the others. If someone has to stay here it should be me."

Sven clenched his fists. There was no time for this. "Do not make me pull rank, Lance. You're faster than me and I'm stronger than you. Go. Now."

"Sven—"

He whirled, eyes gleaming so cold they burned. "That's an order, McClain!"

Admittedly he had quite a few other things on his mind at the moment, but Sven couldn't actually recall ever giving a direct order before. From the shock that passed over his friend's face he suspected Lance was thinking the same thing. And maybe that was why he really stopped arguing.

It probably wasn't his respect for authority.

"Fine. But be careful, damn you."

He watched Lance just long enough to be certain his friend was really gone, then turned to face Haggar, who was studying him with a sort of venomous bemusement. "I am your opponent," he said softly, quite certain she wouldn't understand if he used the proper Japanese for the challenge.

"Very well. Either one of you will suffice."

This was madness. To enter this battle alone was sheer madness. But he was a navigator and his kind were known for madness, weren't they?

Gathering himself, he forced the fear down as best he could. His only hope remained what it always was. Keep his composure, make the witch lose hers.

And hope the others made it... quickly.

No matter. The game does not change, only the players.

As her original victim scrambled from the clearing, Haggar studied the new human carefully. He wore a similar uniform, but blue rather than red, and without the jacket. His hair and eyes were dark, and his expression was infuriatingly close to disdain. Disdain from such a creature? That was unacceptable. Unforgivable. But she would not fall for the tricks of an animal; she would not make the first move, would not leave herself open as he was seeking.

For a long time they simply stared at each other, and as they did her trepidation grew. This human made her uneasy. It was not fear. Only unease, the faint sense of a chill running through the air between them, a hint of confusion as they stared each other down and she realized things were not as she'd predicted they would be.

For a Daughter of the Wyvern to even be uneasy was a rare thing indeed.

Wait for it. You are superior in all things, including patience.

She waited. Still the human did not move... Haggar certainly wasn't going to strike first. In the end it was all the same to her. The longer he stalled, the more likely his friends would arrive to support him, and she could eliminate the entire batch of upstarts at once after all. Let this one suffer for the sin of disquieting her by watching his friends die before him. And yet... there was something...

He smiled.

This hardly seems a time for smiling. "Do you welcome death, human?"

To her shock, he bowed. Shallowly. But such a gesture of honor—the very concept of honoring a foe—ought to be beneath these creatures. "What are you waiting for?" he asked softly. Sincerely. "Do you think I'm frightened of silence?"

Interesting. "If your claim to being intelligent life were true, you would know to be afraid."

"No." He raised his eyes to the sky. Just for a moment. "I know something of your goddess... Sarga. She lives among the stars, does she not?"

Haggar's eyes widened, their glow intensifying. She would not have imagined an Earthling would know anything of her ways, but more importantly... "You dare defile the name of the goddess with your human tongue?" She raised her hands, whispered an invocation, and a dozen illusions shimmered into being at her sides. Her shadows surrounded the human, whose eyes darted over them warily.

Yes. Now he was in her web. She would keep him there, toy with him as she willed... but he was still smiling and it was doing more than angering her... she was beginning to hate him. Hate caused irrationality, fear and infatuation. Hate was a weakness. With some effort she cast it aside.

The effort was mocked when he laughed. "Is that all it takes? I can say it again."

"I see. You do seek death, then." Haggar raised one hand, gathering energy, and each of the shadows did likewise. Their forms were false but their power would strike true. "But you will not have it so easily. In her name I will teach you fear!"

Derision shone in his gaze as he focused on her; it took a supreme effort to keep the surging hatred back. Humans weren't supposed to be so cold, so focused. They were supposed to lose their tempers, snarl like the animals they were, charge and break. Exactly what he seemed to want from her, in his arrogance.

"Let me teach you something." His voice was calm, but the contempt remained in his eyes. "There is an all-devouring god at the center of this galaxy... the darkness at the core of all life, which even the stars bow to." He sheathed his blade and looked over the illusions around him with something that was almost amusement. "I've been there. Touched that darkness. Bent it to my will. And you think you're going to lecture me about fear?"

Enough. She'd heard enough. She wasn't actually certain what he thought he was going on about—some human delusion, undoubtedly—but blasphemy was blasphemy. She didn't much care if he knew what he was saying.

"I wonder if you can retain that arrogance when your flesh is melting from your bones." The energy continued to build among her shadows and she gestured again, increasing their power, waiting for her adversary to make the move he surely had to make if he meant to escape his impending doom.

Yet he remained still, mumbling something under his breath, something she couldn't quite make out and didn't really care to. What does he expect to accomplish? He'd gone to such lengths to spark her temper, and now he wasn't even trying to defend himself. Earthlings. Foolish, incomprehensible creatures. The universe would be better off without any of them.

A dozen thunderclaps echoed over the clearing as Haggar's spell discharged, firing from each of the shadows at once. She wasn't a fool. Such an attack would be relatively easy to sidestep, if the human were paying attention—which he really didn't seem to be, but it was rather hard to tell at this stage. But the mirror images did not all aim at where the human stood. They varied their angles, just slightly. Enough to turn the entire circle they surrounded into a blazing hell of power. Impossible to dodge.

Impossible...

At the last moment he jumped, the spells passing harmlessly beneath him. Drawing his sword again he lashed out at the nearest shadow and it vanished under the touch of the blade.

Vanished? It should not have vanished... the witch barely held back a cry of surprise as every one of the shadows dissipated. How? He'd broken her spell—it was impossible. He was an Earthling, and Earth had no mystical tradition to speak of, certainly nothing worthy of her caution. HOW?

"I already told you, the stars are mine. They hold no fear." He landed before her, eyes dark and cold as the sacred void. "You'll have to try something else."

"You've only sealed your doom, infidel." Haggar braced herself, countered his first few strikes more by reflex than thought. Her thoughts were elsewhere. Whatever trick he may have used to dispel her illusions might have made him confident—and, she grudgingly admitted, he had reason to be proud of that feat. But if he believed he'd conquered her he was still only a fool, and would still die a fool. Breaking a single spell did not rob her of her formidable arsenal of magic.

But... no.

If he wanted something else she would give him something else. Magic was only the first line of her formidable defenses. Imbuing her staff with power she lunged without a word, striking with a speed and focus the greatest Drule martial artists would have envied.

He had time to raise his sword, to try to block. She could've altered the blow, but at this point in the fight she simply didn't feel like it. Be destroyed! The glowing staff came down on the blade, shattering it completely, continuing to rip a burning gash down the human's chest.

Something stung her. Just below her shoulder, two slivers of metal had dug in. Throwing knives...? Her golden eyes settled on the human as he sank to his knees, breathing shallowly. One hand still gripped the useless sword hilt, while the other held one last knife. "You dare?" she murmured. "You dare claim dominion over the stars... and you dare spill the blood of a goddess?"

Several long, shuddering breaths before he could answer. "The stars do not care... and the gods do not bleed." With a flick of his wrist the last knife sailed through the air, tearing her hood and barely missing her face.

Insolent to the last. This one was no longer worthy of her personal attention. His blasphemy was too great. But that was why she'd brought Galcia along... insurance. Intimidation. But mostly just to complete work that might, perhaps, be beneath her after all. And now it was time to end this.

"It is good that you do not fear the silence, brave little Earthling." As her minion's shadow loomed over the human she saw his eyes widen. Perhaps... perhaps he had finally, belatedly, learned fear. But she had no more time for games. No more time to educate the dead. "Be silenced forever!"

The robeast's strike did not silence him. Quite the opposite. It made him scream.