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This is a long chapter, so be warned.

"Damn and blast it! Those confounded wretches!"

Damien turned to his cursing comrade. "What seems to be the problem?" he inquired innocently.

"They are the problem, fool! Look!"

Damien looked about. "Nope. I see nothing."

Skarmandros grabbed Damien's head and pushed him to the ground. "Over the hill!"

Damien got a holding and peered over the grassy knoll. He swore.

Thousands of men equipped with battle-gear, standing in regiment, lay over the horizon. The group at the front was larger, and wore heavy blue riding armour, and were all equipped with heavy weapons. This was the infamous army of Ostia. At the very front of this group were about seven mounted men, all wearing faded blue armour painted over with anti-hex runes and the odd splash of black. They wore bows slung over their shoulders; some carried swords as well, while a few others had axes instead. These were the Fallen, once again in service to the Marquess Ostia.

Behind Ostia's group was a set of lightly clad men in yellow. They all wore fancy robes and most had swords or lances, but there were also several archers. Some were on foot, but the majority straddled beautiful war-bred horses. At the front of this yellow group was a maroon-clad woman with a longbow across her shoulder. This was Louise, wife to Pent, the Marquess Reglay, and the group behind her were none other than the nobles' army of Etruria.

Damien gaped.

"We are so dead."

"You're telling me."

Damien rolled over to face his comrade. "So, what do we do now?"

"We get back to that clearing near Ostia. That's where we'll meet up with Josephine and X. We'll discuss things there."

Skarmandros flexed his wings and flew away so fast and low his wing tips almost touched the ground.

Damien sighed.

"One day I gotta get me some of those."

The fiery aura around him ignited, sending him spinning off in Skarmandros' direction in a fiery meteor.

Had any of the soldiers over the hill the range to have seen them, the only trace of their presence left behind was a small trail of singed grass where Damien's fireball had skimmed the plain.

Archsage Athos stroked his long grey beard. He was troubled by the news that his student Pent and Marquess Hector had brought, but his old, wrinkled face showed no sign of it.

"So…you say that he was supposed to be in Reglay…"

"We captured his friends and everything, Greybeard, but he disappeared. Not even they know where he went."

Pent shifted in his seat. "Will you be able to scry for him, Archsage?"

Athos blinked slowly. "Unlikely, unless he has just committed a particularly evil act, or if there is more than one demon in the area. In such cases, the negative energy can be traced quite easily. Otherwise…he is virtually invisible."

Pent raised an eyebrow. "More than one demon? Is such a thing possible?"

Athos smiled sadly. "Possibly. You never know how many more demons are still out there."

Hector leant back in the mahogany chair. "Can you at least try, Greybeard?"

Athos wrung his hands. "If you wish, you may stay here tonight, and I will have the results by tomorrow morning. But it's doubtful I'll find any trace of him."

Hector winced. "Tomorrow? Any earlier?"

"These things take time, Hector. Now go get some rest."

Pent stood and bowed. "I apologise, Archsage, but we cannot stay in Nabata. If you wish to see us, we will be with our soldiers in Reglay."

Athos chuckled. "Very well then. Good night, Marquesses Pent and Hector."

As the marquesses left the room, a burly axe-wielder in desert garb appeared at the door. He walked in, leaving a trail of sand behind him.

Athos smiled as the man entered. "Ah, Hawkeye. You're just in time."

"You have something for me, sir?"

"Yes. Get the horses ready. We will leave for Reglay tomorrow morning. No matter what the results of tonight's scrying are, I must accompany Pent and his men tomorrow. It is important. I will also need my magic tomes; Forblaze and Aureola."

Hawkeye nodded. "Anything else, sir?"

"Bring Armads. And Durandal."

The sun rose, lighting the sky with a spectrum of reds and yellows. The soldiers emerged from their tents and donned their battle-gear, ready for a new day.

Pent was already up, eagerly watching the horizon. Hector approached him, clapping him on the back.

"What's up?"

Pent smiled. "Athos never breaks his promises."

"You're waiting for the old man again?"

"Look."

Two nomadic horses appeared on the horizon. One was barebacked and yellow, with little adornment save for a small headdress. This one carried a burly axe-wielder smothered in war paint. This was Hawkeye, defender of the Nabata desert.

He escorted an old grey stallion, carrying an even older, greyer man; Archsage Athos, last surviving of the eight 'founders' of Elibe. Both the horse and its rider were adorned in old blue robes with ancient writings sewn into the hem.

The soldiers were pointing at the figures as they dashed down the hill. Pent chuckled to himself as Athos and Hawkeye approached.

"So, you have the results?"

Athos creased his brow. "I have good news and bad news."

"Good news, I know where your demon is. He's in a forest clearing near Ostia."

Hector nodded. "And the bad news?"

"Guess how I managed to find him."

"What?"

Hawkeye grinned. "You wouldn't believe him if he told you."

"He's with another demon." Athos said.

"You're joking, right?" Hector shook Pent. "Please tell me he's joking!"

Athos shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Hector."

Pent sighed. "Tell me of this second demon."

"He is tied to fire. A fiery aura surrounds him, and everything about him is, well, fire. His skin looks like molten rock, and his veins are like rivers of lava. I know little of his abilities, but from what I see, he's most likely insane."

Hector froze.

It was Pent who finally punctured the silence.

"A clearing in Ostia, you say?"

"Yes."

"Where in Ostia?"

"I can take you there."

"Excellent."

Hector rallied up the soldiers.

"Forth! We ride to Ostia!"

It was quiet in the woods near Ostia. Very quiet.

A rabbit sat still, cleaning its ears and nibbling on berries.

Suddenly, its ears pricked up. It had heard something.

Tramp-tramp-tramp.

It ran away.

A hawk was flying by in the area. It also had heard the loud sound. And it was coming closer.

Tramp-tramp-tramp.

It screeched as a horde of soldiers marched over the hill, fully equipped, towards a clearing. Just as it did, the army stopped, right by the edge of the forest.

Hector rode to the front of the pack.

"This is Marquess Hector of Ostia! I am here with the combined military forces of both Ostia and Etruria! Surrender and come out with your hands above your heads, or we will attack!"

Suddenly a pillar of flame shot up, reaching up into the sky. It engulfed the entire forest and swallowed it up, and yet not a hair on the army's heads was harmed.

A few seconds later, the smoke cleared, and two demons, a teenage girl and an assassin stood in the smoking crater, completely unharmed.

Skarmandros smiled.

"I don't think so."

"Why did you do that?"

Hector grabbed Athos and pushed him against the wall.

"Why did you do that?" he repeated.

Athos merely smiled. "Do what?"

"You let them off. You said that we wouldn't harm them today. You said…that we would have a full-scale battle, tomorrow."

"What about it?"

"By then they could be far away. And if they do come…they'll be prepared! We could have attacked them right there and they wouldn't have stood a chance!"

"Relax, Hector. I did that to buy us time. Some preparations of our own must be made before we fight them."

"What do you mean?"

Athos pulled a large object shrouded in satin cloth out of his cloak. "No doubt you would remember this," he said simply.

Athos removed the cloth to reveal a beautiful golden axe with a curved edge that made it look even more elegant.

Hector was astounded. "Armads," he whispered. As if in answer, the legendary axe shone brightly.

The marquess slowly took the weapon, cradling it in his hands as if consoling a crying child. "I haven't seen you since the Dragon's Gate," he muttered.

Athos cleared his throat, and Hector's attention snapped back to the old Archsage.

"I am not just giving this to you for the sake of a great battle," he said, "but because demons cannot be killed using conventional weaponry. Only legendary weapons or those blessed by a bishop can kill a demon. If a demon is 'killed' by any other weapon, it will shortly return to the world unscathed."

Hector nodded.

"I will also issue Eliwood with Durandal, as before. And I myself shall carry Aureola, as well as Forblaze, so I think we'll all have a fair chance of taking the demons out." Athos continued.

"But what of the Fallen?" Hector asked. "What demon-slaying weapons do they have?"

"Ah, they have anti-hex weapons, written over with magical runes and the like."

"So, is that everything then, Greybeard?"

Athos chuckled, as he always did, at Hector's ironic nickname for him. "Pretty much, unless you want to have a detailed strategy for tomorrow's battle."

"Nah, that'll be it. I don't like thinking."

Small sparks flew as Skarmandros struck a rock with the blade of his scythe. Jo rolled her eyes.

"Is it sharp enough yet? You've been doing that for the past hour."

Skarmandros grinned, pinning a squirrel to the ground with the point of the blade and smiting it. "A blade can never be too sharp," he advised.

The forest had magically grown back from the blast. None of them knew how, but X had said something about 'cursed magic', and he was eager to leave the area.

Now, he flipped his twin knives, performing all sorts of strange stunts.

Jo turned to Damien. "And what weapons do you have?" she asked. The fire demon whipped an outlandish katana out of his cloak. The blade was blood red and shimmered with a crimson aura.

"Nice," Jo approved.

Damien grinned as he sheathed the blade. "What about you?"

Jo blushed. "I'm not one for fighting."

Skarmandros stood. "Then you're going to have to learn to."

"I don't like it when people get hurt."

"Too bad. There is going to be an enormous battle tomorrow, and we all have to fight. Besides, you really need to learn how to defend yourself."

X cringed. "She has a good right hook, though."

Jo nodded in the assassin's direction. "You see? I can handle it."

"No, you can't," Skarmandros interjected. "The enemy will have legendary weapons, for crying-out-loud! If you don't even know how to fight, you won't last five seconds out there."

Jo grinned. "And since when did you care about me so much?"

Skarmandros smirked under his hood. "I'd rather not say."

Damien sniggered.

"Shut up, you. We'll need some room, so you two can buzz off. Besides, we'll be needing a night watch."

X and Damien walked off, blades in hand. Damien muttered something under his breath.

As the two were out of earshot, Skarmandros turned to his new sparring partner. "Right then. Let's begin, shall we?"

He tossed a machete to Jo.

"I'm not sure about this, Skar…"

"It's all right. I won't hurt you, I promise."

Jo slumped to the ground, exhausted. Skarmandros sheathed his sword. He chuckled. "Well, I think that's enough training for one day."

"Skar…"

"Hmm?"

"About tomorrow…" Jo slowly opened her eyes, sighing. "If we don't make it…there is something I have to tell you."

"Yes, Josephine?"

"Skar…I love you."

"Really?" There was a tone of happiness in Skarmandros' voice.

"Yes."

The demon sat down on the ground next to Jo. "Well then, in that case…I guess I love you, too."

Jo smiled as Skarmandros placed his claw on her shoulder. "I'll tell you what. If we survive tomorrow's battle…I'll make you immortal, eh? Then…we can be together forever."

Jo broke out into a grin. "That would be wonderful."

She leapt up suddenly. "I suppose I'll go get X and Damien, eh? Don't worry, I won't tell them anything." She ran off.

As Jo disappeared from sight, Skarmandros sighed.

He knew he would not be able to keep his promise.

Even if I survive tomorrow…I will have to die someday. It is the only way the curse can be broken…

And when that happens…I can't imagine what poor Josephine would do.

He took his amulet in hand and studied it thoughtfully. He closed his eyes and muttered a swear word as he stood.

Why is life so hard?