Zomg, hack. It's chapter two. I think this may be about a four or five chapter fan fiction with an epilouge. Funny to think this started out as a one shot. Lawl. Time to find out what Kratos does with that sword! Zomg!

I do not own Tales of Symphonia. If I did, Indignation Storm would be a real skill.

Such a horrible fate to be incapable of making decisions on one's own; cursed to conformity, even if it meant abiding in the words of the devil, disguised as a hero. Curse the lifeless being for having no will to disobey orders, only programmed to follow direct commands and believe the lies that were fed into its brain, like a sponge soaking up dirty water flowing from a stream of mental dross. To make matters even worse, Kratos was exploiting this weakness with his title and position for all it was worth, in a way that would prove most fatal. Some things would never change; some sins could never be erased.

The angel turned its gaze to the side until it came in direct line with a lone sword laying on the ground. Nodding in submission, it bent down, moved the equipment blocking its target with monotone grunts, and grabbed hold of the sword before handing it to Kratos, hilt first in respect. It was heavy, but somehow the angel managed to counter its weight.

He accepted the offering, relieved upon his skin embracing the handle in a sense to grip something cold, yet familiar. Was it okay that he felt at ease when coming in contact with something of his murderous past?

Kratos inspected the sword for any disfigurements, finding a minimal amount. The blade was dull on most of the edge, but his strength could easily make up for its lack. "Turn to face the wall." He pointed to the wall directly in front of the both of them with the sharp tip. A small beam of light danced on the wall as the light from the main hall bounced off the sword.

"What will you do, Lord Kratos?" the lifeless being asked once its back was to Kratos.

"Step towards me a bit," replied the Seraph with a sigh. He shook his head, as if denying the regret crushing his persona.

Almost immediately, the angel took a step back. "Is this adequate?"

"That'll do."

"What are you planning to do, Lord Kratos? If I have permission to ask."

"..." Ashamed, he tilted his head to the side, rather grateful the being could not see, and bit his bottom lip. He could have easily told the being to cease verbal communications, but he did not for reasons of his own.

"I trust your judgment, Sir." The angel's voice was slightly distant due to its position. "Lord Yggdrasill trusted you, therefore, I have no reason to doubt you."

A sharp pain shot through the side of his face and he winced as if slapped. Something in the back of his mind irked him, stabbing at his conscious and memories. Yggdrasill... Mithos Yggdrasill. Damn that name, damn the monster he had created. But he merely taught the boy how to handle a sword, not how to murder a nation or misinterpret the final wishes of his sister. No matter how he twisted the explanation, the blame was absolute; there was no excuse. Enough of trying to explain himself: what he allowed was wrong, there was no doubt about it. But still, he kept finding gentle reminders from the past; they'd never leave him alone, like a stench in the air that could not be removed. They had to stop; no more could exist. This was the end.

With his eyes closed, he said, "I'll try to make this quick and painless." He lifted the sword, trying to keep his mind on the task at hand. It had to be done; there was no turning back now. No, he wouldn't run away. Using the blade as a guide, he reviewed the path he wished it to travel.

Sadly, the angel did not catch on in time. Trusting Lord Kratos' judgement finally proved fatal. It chose to follow the path of the others, therefore, it would die like the others.

Kratos pulled the sword well over his shoulder for force, gritting his teeth. With a silent grunt, he pulled his arm out in an angle and swung the blade with godlike speed. He heard nothing; was he expecting a scream or a cry, possibly a feminine one? The kind of heart-wrecking, compulsive, deafening scream his wife made as his Flamberge pierced her abdomen, ripping her apart like she were merely made of delicate and insignificant paper. But that was different; she was turned into a monster and was already a puppet before Death's door, waiting for entry through any means necessary, whether peaceful or inhuman. Had she not died by the hand of her husband, the exsphere would have returned into the possession of the devil, hence rendering her reason for escape meaningless. Yet... she didn't die at his hand... she was murdered by his hand. The same one that carried her through the night when she was too drowsy to walk; the hands that held their son and rocked him to sleep. The hands of a husband were also the hands of a lover, the hands of a man, the hands of an angel, the hands of a murderer.

The edge came in contact with the being's neck; slicing through cleanly and without any resistance, like a knife through water. The head dislocated from the body with a streamline cut and traveled for a few feet in the air before landing to the ground with a thud. Knees bent slightly, the body followed suit and met the ground with an audible greeting, knocking over randomly scattered equipment and boxes. Exspheres rolled on the floor like shiny, scrounging marbles; they each made a hollow-like sound as they whirled around until hitting an object, most finding their momentum shocked by a wall.

He didn't even realize what happened until he noticed a familiar presence heading towards his current location. Still, the man did not turn around and if it weren't controlled by the undeniable sense of duty coming from the only sane part of his brain, he probably wouldn't even be breathing.

"...tos!" Hastened footsteps accompanied the voice as it grew closer and closer. Within a matter of seconds, Yuan stood in the doorway and blocked the minute amount of light illuminating the room. What he saw was more than enough. "Kratos?!" he questioned.

Kratos opened his mouth to speak, yet no words came out. He merely shook his head and tightened the grip on the sword's hilt. What was there to say? The body, the head, and his dismay should have been more than enough to explain.

"Kratos, what happened?! I heard a scream and came running in here!" Yuan stepped into the warehouse and looked around, trying to make sense of the situation.

A scream? As far as the Seraph was concerned, the room was silent during the incident, like his conscious. Then again, he didn't even hear the sounds of his sword coming in contact with the angel's neck, or the cracking of its spine as it was split in half in a rather frightening position, nor the song of blood spreading all over the wall. How could his ultra sensitive hearing not pick up such a blatantly disturbing, yet familiar sound such as screaming, especially one made during death and agony? Could he have been so distracted that his ears chose not to register the noises? Was he really so used to killing?

"... A scream?" was all the man muttered in a rather droned voice, not unfamiliar, yet disturbing to the half elf.

"Yes... a scream," replied Yuan, slowly noticing something was amidst. "You... didn't hear anything?" He considered the possibly of his imagination playing tricks on his senses. That is, until his eyes met with a rather troubling sight. Blood, fresh blood from what he determined by smell, dripped from a sword in Kratos' hand and puddled onto the floor in a beveled, deep red circle, glistening in the soft light. A few lone drops strayed from the main source; their color as rich and their smell as keen as ever.

"N-no... I did not." Kratos swallowed audibly and tightened the grip on the hilt when a strange impulse hit him. His gaze still upon the blood splattered wall as if he were reviewing his work.

"Kratos, what happened?" The half elf stepped closer, but something about Kratos' stance made him keep a distance, as if the human would suddenly lash out at him in cold blood.

He remained silent for a moment with his feet in the same position. "... I had to do it." Like a magnet, the tip of the sword moved towards the angel's lifeless body.

Yuan gasped and threw his hands upon his mouth as he tried to make sense of the man's words. "Impossible?! An angel survived?!" By now, he should have known that the impossible was indeed possible when Lloyd, a mere human, wielded the untouchable Eternal Sword and reunited the worlds. But wonders seemed to never cease for the two of them; the type of wonders for which he wished to have no knowledge of, the ones that could remain a mystery. "But why is it dead and slain? Did it attack? But there's no way an angel would attack a Seraph."

"I had to do it..." repeated Kratos. Now his once soothing voice took on a darker tone.

Figuring he would get no explanation at the current moment, Yuan sighed and decided to deal with the current matter. "Kratos, I will take care of this room. Just rest outside the door."

Normally, his pride and dignity would demand he lash out at the half elf, reminding him that he was more than capable of doing such a simple task himself. But those parts of him, actually most of him, were dormant and Kratos nodded his submission. He turned around so smoothly, he was unsure if his feet participated at all for it was merely a one-hundred and eighty degree slide. Upon making eye contact with Yuan, he released the sword from his death lock and flinched when it hit the ground, creating a loud toned metallic resonance in the room that bounced off the walls. "... hmmm..." Kratos shuffled his feet as if they were made of stone and trekked out of the room, turning at the door. He nearly slammed his back into the wall and released his leg muscles, allowing his body to fall to the floor and ignored the painful, yet temporary feeling of soft flesh to hard metal impact.

Yuan brought his hands to his neck and fumbled around idly until a click was heard. He grabbed the two edges of his cape before it could fall and brought it around his front, folding it neatly and placing it in what he decided to be the cleanest corner in the room. Then he sighed and contemplated on which task to begin first. Possibly the body, for the smell of rotting flesh, especially angelic, would make Derris Kharlan's air supply even more indecent than it already was. Both their senses were acute enough and the scent of blood was already ominous at the present moment, almost nauseating. With that, he stepped forward, kicked away some random equipment, physically moved exspheres laying on the ground that could possibly cause him to trip, and went for the body first. It wasn't heavy or difficult to handle in any sense, but something about it still made his arms feel limp and fatigue-stricken, as if he was weakening every moment he held it. Swallowing his tasteful disgust, Yuan proceeded to carry the remnants out of the door, trying his best to avert his eyes from the severed head. The eyes were still open, gazing with dilated pupils and a grimacing glint. Such a sad ending for a "heavenly" being.

Kratos still sat in the same spot, just outside the storage warehouse; his knees were up to his head and his forehead rested uncomfortably on the caps. His body was contracted as if he had little room to maneuver around; auburn hair blocked any vision to his face. He was silent and didn't even acknowledge the half elf's presence merely inches away from his, refusing to look up. Maybe he was in deep thought, but what could be so deep as to block out the man's sense of alertness and surroundings?

That's when he noticed the steady liquid melody singing in his ear. He looked down and to the right. Blood was dripping from the being's open neck wound. Yuan snapped back and shook his head, remembering the task at hand and shifted the dead weight occupying his arms. The less cleanup he had to do, the better; cleaning up blood was not on his to do list, even if it were his own. With a 'hmph', he summoned his wings and took off to the skies to dispose of the body, leaving Kratos for later time. "What's wrong with him?"

- - - - - -

After a few hours, Kratos made a recovery, though it was anything but a complete convalescence for silence was thicker than ever. Most of the equipment from the room had been relocated to the emergency exit by that time. Throughout his task, Yuan resisted the urge to speak to his companion, having passed him several times, convincing himself that he would receive an explanation in due time.

Blood still decorated the walls, like the ideal canvas of a murder. The room's aura changed, as if haunted by spirits, and the work was completed quickly for both had no desire to stay in the room any longer than required. Two more boxes remained and each took one into his arms. Kratos exited the room first, followed by Yuan, and they stood in front of the entrance for a moment. The look on the half elf's face was more than words could ever communicate. Still, Kratos denied them and summoned his own wings to fly the boxes to their second-to-final destination.

An assorted pile of random materials lay in front of the emergency exit. It took them a while to find a spot to place their belongings for the area was so cluttered. They looked at each other and nodded, acknowledging that they both came to the same conclusion.

"We should begin discarding now." The first words Kratos had spoken in what felt like an eternity. Something in his voice signaled alarm in Yuan, but he pushed the concern to the back of his mind for the time being.

"Yes. I unlocked the control earlier. The exit should be all open. Just open the hatch."

"Alright." Kratos walked over to the wall directly in front of him and scanned it before finding a sturdy metal handle. He reached with both hands, gripping it tightly to compensate for the sweat. The metal was cold and dusty, but Kratos ignored it. Using the power of his muscular shoulders, he forced the handle backwards, yet the door barely budged. He sighed, rather disappointed that even more effort would be needed to do such a simple chore. As if he loved nothing more than obstacles. One right after another.

Yuan looked on patiently. Before he could offer help, Kratos removed the door completely, rather indignantly for he threw the magitechnology slab to the ground as if it were a disease or extremely displeasing. "I think the larger equipment should go first since it'll take the most amount of effort." He directed his attention, and ultimately Kratos', with a nod to the disheveled pile of scrap pieces laying near the door.

One by one, they each took turns picking up a piece and heaving it to the door, only to toss it into oblivion. Their movements were like clockwork, silent clockwork as no sounds came from either of the ex-Seraphim. Occasionally, a moan or the irritating hum of metal scrapping the ground would transmit to their ears, but other than that, hush was domineer. Space was no mystery for they had both seen more than enough of it during their duties on Derris Kharlan. Now the pieces would wander aimlessly into a dark void. They bid no farewell before departure and merely gave a scoffed glance, executing the same fate for all pieces. Slowly but surely, the once great pile diminished into something more small-scale.

Then came time for the much smaller boxes cluttering the area. Once Yuan had chucked the last piece threw the exit, he turned and bent his body backwards. The cracking of the half elf's spine caught Kratos' attention. Fatigue was unimaginable for the both of them due to the Aionis running through their four thousand year old blood, but pain was not.

"Would you prefer to take a break?" Kratos asked, folding his arms.

Yuan shook his head. "No. Unless you're tired." He stretched, popping a few more bones in his arms and neck.

Kratos replied with a grunt. "I'm not. Just concerned about you."

"Then let's begin with the boxes." Reaching for the closest box, he bent over, dug his fingers under its bottom for support, and heaved it upwards.

"Very well." Kratos followed suit and decided to follow in order. The boxes were set up in an orderly fashion; rows of ten, stacked up no higher than seven or eight, and the heaviest were purposely placed on the bottom for stability reasons. So, he started from the top down and both continued in that pattern until only one row remained.

Once again, everything was done in silence, as if they were forbidden to talk, else resulting in harsh punishment. Existing on Derris Kharlan while it was in such a dead state was punishment enough. Kratos lied to himself, convincing the last sane voices in his head that it was his duty to take on the burdens of the past just because he was once a part of them. In reality, he was only on the forsaken mass of mana for his own un-reversible form of discipline: being unable to see the new world or his son for the rest of his eternal life. Then for what reason would he seek redemption? The man's morals were just as twisted as his former companion. In more ways than one, Kratos and Mithos were truly one in the same; blinded from revelation.

That's when a sudden noise broke Kratos' train of thought. A glance to the side revealed the source of the sound. There laid Yuan on the floor, arms and legs stretched out, face down, as if he were permanently stuck to the ground; scattered boxes, some half open with their contents covering the ground, next to, on the side of, and on top of the half elf. He moaned and shifted his weight around for a moment, half expecting to hear hysterical laughter from Kratos.

He received none. "Care to explain?" asked Kratos, ironically. He had yet to give an account for his own melancholy silence after the angel incident.

Yuan tilted his head to the side before looking up. His vision barely came up to Kratos' waist. "... I tripped," he replied through gritted teeth.

"Hmmm."

The half elf scurried around and stood to his feet, almost tripping for a second time. He cleared his throat, bringing his hands to his neck. His face twitched slightly when his hands failed to come in contact with the soft black material known as his cape. Then he sighed, remembering it still sat in the corner of the exsphere warehouse. He made a mental note to retrieve it later.

"We're almost done," Yuan said and silently counted the remaining boxes, trying to direct attention back to the chore at hand. "Just these and then the last row."

Yuan began by cleaning up the aftermath of his fall, putting the equipment and exsphere back into the box. He refused his companion's help and replied that since it was his mistake, he should solely deal with it. Some of the boxes were physically damaged; the fact was ignored and he merely repaired it to the best of his ability, lacking the required materials to properly mend it and the patience to find another adequate, yet disposable form of packaging.

The last row didn't take long. Both were relieved when they realized only two boxes remained on the ground, waiting to be picked up and thrown away without a second thought. And their terminus would be the same as their predecessors, though its location was unknown to the Seraphim. They had no desire to find out.

It was Kratos who threw his last box into the door first. After discarding, he stepped to the side, folded his arms, and looked back, waiting for Yuan to do the same. The Renegade stepped forth until he was close to the exit. He stood there with a rather blank stare, making the occasion more extravagant than it needed to be. Something inside him was holding him back and delaying the command sent from his brain; the one telling his arms to fling the box into oblivion, but he had no clue what or why. Denying his instinct, Yuan shook his head and closed his eyes before throwing the materials away.

"Finally. We've made some good progress." Yuan wiped his hands together, as if cleaning dust from his palms.

But a glint caught his eye, even though they still remained closed. His head shot to the side and his cerulean hair swayed from the force of his movements as he peered at the box he most recently discarded. It was drifting farther and farther away with each breath. Some of the materials had fallen out of the box; mostly exspheres, with a random key crest or two floating pass. Suddenly, he gasped loudly, almost tearing his throat in half. He rammed his now sweat drenched hands into his pockets. They were empty.

He shook his head violently and frisked his own body, hoping to find the object of his concern and quell his fears. "Oh, Martel! No! Please! No!" cried the shaken Seraph, as if his voice would somehow command the ring to come back.

Kratos eyed Yuan suspiciously, rather frightened by such unusual behavior. Didn't take him long to realize something was amidst. He resisted the urge to ask questions, feeling it would only put the half elf into more of a frantic state. But he did feel uncomfortable watching Yuan in such delirium and being unable to do anything about it.

By this time, Yuan had searched his body several times in an indignant manner, even going so far as to search his boots and hair. His arms were soar and some red and bleeding scars decorated the places on his face and neck where he accidentally scratched himself. He reluctantly returned his gaze to the equipment drifting in outer space, fearing what his sense of sight would reveal. His angelic eyes widened in revere as he concluded his hypotheses and his heart sank to the lowest part of his being, still seeking to descend even further.

Without saying a word, he dropped to his knees; the landing created a sound that indicated the impact must have been painful, possibly even tangibly damaging, but his face was too distorted to see anything going through his mind. The half elf's body shook compulsively, as if he were having a seizure of tremendous proportions, and his hands became even more sweaty as his fingers scratched at the ground in a manner suggesting he were digging a grave. Blood puddled from under his nails and mixed with the dust, creating a dull brown colored blob of ooze.

Kratos could no longer remain silent as he was oblivious to the source of Yuan's dismay. "Yuan, what the hell is wrong with you?!" He still kept a distance as he planted his feet firmly into place, but prepared himself to move into action should a need arise.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words formed. His throat was drier than the Triet desert. "...ri...ri-" Coughing violently, he gasped for air as if it were too thick to transfer properly to his lungs and his eyes moistened with tears. Breathing was much more difficult than it should have been and he wouldn't have been surprised if his heart failed him as well. Parts of him wanted to jump into outer space and retrieve the ring, but even strengthened by his exsphere, the probability of a successful execution was slim to none. He was fully aware of it, and that's what hurt the most.

"What?!" The other Seraph grunted angrily, rather upset with not being able to make sense of the shaken Renegade's words. "I can not help if I do not know."

He had lost the ring once before, but it was found by compassionate hands. His stubborn actions had stopped him from finding it in the first place as his hostility put up an impenetrable shield of four thousand year's anger and regret.

Yuan's hair, ripped from its neatly tied ribbon as a result of his bodily ransacking, cascaded down and over his face, shielding any views to his still disheveled features. Sharp pains engulfed his chest, making it uncomfortable to inhale and nearly impossible to exhale. Frequently, he'd choke on the words he tried to articulate. He gave up trying to speak and went mute as he tried his best to control the erupt reactions, failing miserably.

Kratos turned to look out the emergency exit, for he remembered it was the last sight the elf half saw before breaking down. He spotted a glint of metallic light, the same Yuan had seen, and adjusted his eyes to fix upon the shape until he could make out the source of the problem or something familiar that would be kind enough to give him a hint. When he saw it, he sighed heavily, and returned his gaze to Yuan, still knelt on the floor. Martel's engagement was drifting further and further away, and neither of them could reach it in time. The situation was hopeless.

But now, there was no possible way he could retrieve it. Yuan looked up with glistening aquamarine eyes and tracked the path of the engagement ring until it became nonexistent. This time, it was gone for good.

Gone forever.

Oh noes! Kratos killed the last remaining angel on Derris Kharlan! But why was he so... out of it? And Yuan lost Martel's engagement ring for good! Highly doubt Lloyd will find it in space xD If you're still confused, he tripped over something and when he fell, the ring dropped into one of the boxes. Poor Yuan; he needs a hug -snuggles Yuan plushie- Oh wells. What will happen next? Only I know... and one other person, lol. All I'll say is this fan fiction earns its genre truthfully. Gonna keep my mouth shut though; you'll just have to wait and find out! Bwhahaha! Stay tuned for the next chapter!