A/N: First of all, I want to thank rosedreamer101 for editing this. I'll admit it . . . the original version was pretty bad; so send rosedreamer101 a really big thank-you for making it soo much better. Say goodbye to Eriol, everyone . . . this is the last chapter he gives us, and his absolute last appearance is in the next chapter . . . well, go ahead and read.

Eriol's POV . . .

I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain to come; waited for my fate to rear its ugly head, waited to join my Creator in a better place, waited for everything to end, and I waited to lose my beautiful Tomoyo.

Beauty is not the only value of my precious, precious Tomoyo. She is smart, albeit deviously so, and cunning. And she has an amazing gift for clothing design, and for video recording, and for everything in between. But . . . it wasn't her skills that made me fall so irrevocably in love with her . . . it was her personality. She was so caring, and so gentle. Oh, I didn't believe in 'love at first sight'. Yet, after Tomoyo, I did believe. She opened my eyes to a changing world, but there was always one thing that stayed constant: she would always be there for me. Ah, how I love her so . . . I shall miss her dearly.

But, when she dies (of what I hope will be old age and nothing else), I'll be waiting for her.

I waited . . . and waited . . . yet, nothing came. Confused, my eyes shot open.

"I never knew you were one to cower into submission, Eriol . . ." Syaoran stood tall and straight, his back facing me. I had no idea of his expression, but it must have been his steady frown. "I always thought you were better than that."

"If you think I will go down in fear, you are wrong." I told him sternly. How could he accuse me of being a coward? I was doing this for him!

". . . That's the Eriol I know." Syaoran turned his face a little towards me, a slight smile playing across his features. A small dribble of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth, and I saw nothing of his bodily injuries. He had not faced me completely.

"Eh, the brat returns to protect his weak little friend." Satoshi snarled, words dripping with anger. Syaoran had foiled his plan to kill me (despite my better wishes), and Satoshi hated him for tainting his victory. "What a wonderful last moment for the little leader."

He snapped his fingers again. This time, the swordsmen rushed forwards instead of the archers firing their arrows. Syaoran twisted around, automatically attempting to fight them off. As he turned, I saw why I wasn't hurt, not fatally.

Arrows stuck out of Syaoran, from his arms and legs, from his torso and shoulders. One in particular was lodged deeply into his stomach, obviously causing him pain. Yet he didn't let it stop him, despite the slow trickle of blood. When he had said he wouldn't let me die, he had meant it.

I watched in horror as sword after sword sliced into him, but he refused to stand down. He continued to fight to protect me, his own sword dealing much more fatal blows to those who attacked him. One of the swordsmen sliced deeply into his arm, and he cried out in pain. Snarling, he attacked the man with renewed vigor.

Satoshi snarled as well, snapping his fingers again. The swordsmen pulled back, tiredly. Syaoran panted from exertion himself; he'd done more than enough of his own fighting, and protecting me was completely exhausting him.

"You will stop at nothing to protect this weakling, won't you?" He asked Syaoran, pure hatred filling his voice.

"You'll have to go through me first to get to Eriol, and I can stand as long as you." Syaoran shot back, not missing a beat. His performance was ruined when he winced and pressed a hand against his arm. Blood was already flowing freely.

"Have it your way." Satoshi grinned, and the hand-to-hand fighters stormed forwards. They punched and kicked Syaoran unceasingly, pushing in arrows and bruising already-wounded skin. Skin that wasn't already cut or stabbed was now bruised, or scratched. Even so, Syaoran refused to stand down, despite the fact that he was barely standing.

The hand-to-hand fighters pulled back as the archers released another volley of arrows. Syaoran wasn't fast enough to stop them all, so he resorted to covering me with his body. Arrow after arrow pierced into his back, but he only gritted his teeth and whimpered under his breath.

Following the pattern, the swordsmen were next. Syaoran knew that if he continued to hunch over my form, he'd certainly die. He staggered to his feet, the tip of his blood-streaked sword trailing lightly in the dust. Somehow, he still managed to hold off the swordsmen.

But he forgot one person, key to this whole battle-within-a-battle . . .

Syaoran forgot Satoshi.

Just as I realized this, so did my little wolven friend. He whipped around, struggling to race over to me, but was too late. A severe, mind-numbing pain pierced through my heart, and my eyes widened in surprise.

I stared down at the blade protruding from my chest. It was covered in blood . . . my blood. Gasping as the full extent of the pain itself hit me. I grasped the sword and tried to push it out.

Satoshi solved the problem for me. He yanked his sword straight out of my body with the cruelest, evilest, most satisfied smirk on his face.

"Looks like I didn't have to go through you just to kill four-eyes after all, wolf-boy."