Here comes Shadow0Fire, creating joy with every word he writes (For himself at least).

Chrysaor shifted his weight from side to side as he balanced himself on the lurching deck of the Valiant Gale, a ship crewed by several foreign men who spoke in a language he could not understand. They did not seem like pirates however; they were not like the aggressive and violent sailors the Sentinel of Lightning had encountered in mortal life. They were still uncouth and foul-mouthed, but honestly seemed to be a kinder breed of people.

That did not mean however, that they weren't ready to run Chrysaor through at the slightest hint of hostility. The Sentinel had refused to be tied to the mast of the ship, but he did at least agree to lean against it while his captors pointed curved swords and spears at him. There was no chance that they could actually subdue him should Chrysaor decide to leave his assigned place, but for now the fully armored immortal had no desire to do so. He needed to learn something about where he was and how the world had changed during his absence.

So he instead did as he had been asked, and leaned against the large center mast of the Valiant Gale, not at all unnerved by the multiple pointy weapons that were angled in his direction. He had actually been there all night; not sleeping, but instead staring down the night guards that had been assigned to watch him. The guards thought Chrysaor was going to kill them or worse, but he had only been entertaining himself with the sailor's reactions. When the guards had changed shifts this morning, Chrysaor had been no more tired than the day before. A surplus of energy from Valhalla would support the Sentinel for a long time yet, and his need for sleep, food, and other human necessities either did not weigh on him very heavily or did not exist at all.

One of the more lazy guards was dozing off in the midday sun, and his comrades did nothing to wake him, since all of their attention was focused on their charge. Faster than the eye could see, yet lighter than a feather, Chrysaor tapped the dozing man on the shoulder, jolting him awake with a tiny static shock. The poor man's head snapped up and he stumbled backwards, promptly falling to the deck of the ship. Apparently afraid that Chrysaor had hurt him in some way, he wasted no time in scrambling away from the warrior. The rest of his comrades all skipped backwards away from Chrysaor, clearly frightened of the now chuckling Sentinel.

One of the startled men pointed his Shamshir blade at him. "D-don't come any closer! I-I won't hesitate to kill you if I must!"

Chrysaor continued to laugh cheerfully. "Come now, there's no need to panic. I was merely doing him a favor. I can't think of a captain who would be pleased to find one of his men sleeping on duty."

None of the men had a reply for him. They instead cast sideways glances at each other, silently acknowledging that their prisoner made a valid point, and that he didn't seem to have really done any harm to the man who had almost fallen asleep.

Chrysaor took advantage of their silence to continue. "Speaking of which, when will I be able meet the captain of this vessel? There are many important questions I must ask of him."

The Sentinel's question was not answered by any of the guardsmen, but by a rather gruff voice behind them. "If it is as urgent as you say, then we may speak now."

The three guards who were watching over Chrysaor scrambled away from their charge, turning to salute a man on the stairs that led to the ship's stern. He had spiky, rust colored hair that was held up by a headband and a curved sword at his hip. Something about the man's countenance made Chrysaor believe he knew how to use it.

"C-Captain Hwang! There is no need for you to concern yourself with this man, sir! We have him under control!"

The captain stepped down from the stairs and eyed the sailor who had spoken to him with a stony gaze. "Judging by what I just witnessed, you clearly do not have him under control. Double kitchen duty for all three of you."

Chrysaor smirked under his helmet, even though none of these four men could see it. He was not a naturally antagonistic person, but he did not have time for a lengthy interrogation with this captain. If he wanted his questions answered, he would need to earn this man's respect; and the fastest way to do that was to prove himself in battle. "You should be a little more lenient captain. Regardless of who you leave to watch over me, none of them would be able to restrain me. Even you would stand no chance, so you hardly have any right to criticize your men."

The captain turned his gaze to Chrysaor. "Well your impudence is certainly impressive. You talk big, considering that you know nothing of our skills."

Chrysaor tried to put as much arrogance in his words as he could muster, in hopes of goading this man further. He felt unbelievably fake, but he managed to act convincingly regardless. "The level of your skill is irrelevant. Against my power, it's meaningless."

Instead of the scowl Chrysaor had been expecting, the man across from him smirked. Perhaps he realized that Chrysaor was challenging him. "We shall see. Someone return his blade to him. I, Hwang Seong-gyeong, shall not be known to refuse a challenge."

As one of the guardsmen retrieved Naegling from within the ship and returned it to him, Chrysaor couldn't help but further insult his foe. He was kind of getting into the role. "He will however, be known as a fool. No one with any wits about him would challenge me."

For Hwang, that was the final straw. He drew his sword from his sheath and swung it at Chrysaor's armored throat, the blade moving through the air with enough speed to produce sound. However, even this speed was not enough to match Chrysaor's. He had been expecting the attack, making it even easier to dodge. He ducked underneath the blade's deadly edge, his enhanced reflexes serving him well. Instead of cutting into the Sentinel's armor, Hwang slashed the mast behind him instead. Surprisingly, the dense wood offered little resistance to the blade.

Chrysaor used the crouch he was now in to launch himself upward and send both of his feet into the man's chest. It was an unorthodox move, but Chrysaor needed space, and the powerful drop kick would provide it for him. However, Hwang's reflexes were impressive as well,, and he brought the flat of his blade in front of his torso to deflect the blow before it hit him.

Despite the successful block, the force of the attack still sent Hwang flying backwards several feet, and he crashed into the wooden stairs he had stood on a few minutes earlier with a resounding crack. As he landed back on his feet, Chrysaor briefly wondered if he had accidentally broken the man's spine. He had been careful to gauge his strength, but he was unused to actually battling physical enemies. All of his training in Valhalla had been against ghostly apparitions that possessed no physical form; and there had been no need to check himself when it came to force.

His worries were quickly assuaged as Hwang recovered from his crash, and the only thing that seemed hurt about him was his pride. Chrysaor was actually quite pleased with this outcome. If his opponent was defeated so easily, then he would more likely harbor feelings of resentment rather than respect, and that would undermine his goal.

Chrysaor drew Naegling from its sheath, its steel shimmering an iridescent blue, a reflection of the ocean and sky around him. Holding the legendary weapon in front of him, Chrysaor awaited Hwang's advance. Eager to pay him back for the blow he had just taken, Hwang wasted no time in attacking. He rushed forward to attack Chrysaor with a flurry of blows, but the Sentinel parried each of them with his superhuman speed. However, Hwang did not take long to try a new approach. Instead of continuing his futile assault, Hwang retreated a step when his foe was expecting another swing, throwing Chrysaor off-balance when his outstretched blade met air instead of steel.

Taking full advantage of his opening, Hwang lunged at the exposed Sentinel, ramming the tip of his blade into the metal covered abdomen of his enemy.

The attack failed to pierce Chrysaor's adamantine armor, but the force of the blow knocked the wind out of him regardless, causing him to double over. Pulling his sword away from the undamaged body of his opponent, Hwang took advantage of his position to stomp down on Chrysaor's head, sending his helmeted face into the wooden deck, though it did more damage to the ship than him.

Hwang relaxed the foot that rested on Chrysaor's helm, thinking that he had attained victory. However, when he was launched into the air by an uppercut to the face, he was convinced otherwise. Being launched into the air several feet by Chrysaor's incredible strength gave the angered Sentinel plenty of time to spout off another insult before attacking again, though it was out of true anger this time.

"I see your reputation as a fool existed long before this fight!"

Hwang was about to return from his unappreciated flight when Chrysaor used his extreme speed to bolt forward and plant a flying kick in the Korean man's gut. Hwang was sent careening into a pile of barrels, which, upon shattering from the impact, Chrysaor identified as containing rum. His foe lay crumpled in that pile of splintered wood, his clothes drenched in the dark fluid, and Chrysaor was almost certain that the man was down for good this time.

Chrysaor turned to face the rest of the crew, seeking to intimidate them if it would get him answers. "Does anyone else care to test their delusions? I am hardly winded, so I may face another."

His question went unanswered as the sound of heavy coughing erupted behind him. Chrysaor turned to meet the sight of Hwang slowly standing from his pile of broken wood, coughing up blood and clutching his stomach as he did so.

Chrysaor couldn't help but feel a touch of agitation. "Surely you do not plan to fight me still? At this point your bravery can only be considered foolishness. Many people die that way."

While irritated, Chrysaor could still appreciate the nobility of Hwang's reply. "That is true. But… I would rather die young and fulfilled than as an old man on a deathbed."

Hearing his words, Chrysaor found himself calming down quite a bit. "I suppose that is one way to look at it. And if that is the case, I suppose you still wish to fight?"

"I do."

Chrysaor raised Naegling once more, preparing for another bout with this extraordinary man. "It's a futile effort you know. You can't win against me. Not because you lack skill; I am simply too powerful."

Hwang smiled at his response and wiped some of his own blood off of his chin. "Perhaps, but I find that determination and willpower can do wonders."

Chrysaor smiled in return, even though Hwang could not see it. "Spoken like a true warrior. While not my original objective, I will give you the fight you deserve. Prepare yourself!"

Both Hwang and Chrysaor rushed at each other in unison, the two warriors heading for an epic climax to their battle, when they were both blown away from each other by a powerful gust of wind and a young woman's angry voice.

"Enough!"

The powerful wind flung both Chrysaor and Hwang into the barrels and crates that littered the ship, although Chrysaor's heavy weight caused a lot more damage than Hwang's. Chrysaor pushed a chunk of broken wood off of himself, muttering irritably as he did so. He did not appreciate being interrupted in the middle of his fight with Hwang. Someone was going to get the brunt of that irritation.

However, his feelings of agitation dissipated as he laid eyes on the perpetrator. Standing on the top deck of the ship, where the navigator would usually be steering, stood two young women. One was a tan, short girl with dark, almost greenish looking hair bound up in twin-tails under a funny pointy hat. It was a comical thing for such a young girl to be wearing. Next to her stood a taller woman who was obviously of the same ethnicity as the crew, who had her light brown hair in a braid and her bangs held back with a headband. She was clad in garish orange, and was holding a staff nearly as tall as she with a spear-like blade on the end. It was probably similar to a pike, but allowed for more agility and speed than that basic weapon.

The short tan girl remained quiet, but the taller woman, who was obviously the one that had shouted at them, was in no mood for doing the same. "You idiots! This ship is made of wood, not steel! If you keep smashing stuff, we'll be stuck out here making repairs for weeks! That island we just left is too far away to return to, you know!?"

Hwang shook of a few splinters of wood off of him as he stood. "You are right. Forgive me Mi-Na. I have lost my temper in this fight."

Turning to Chrysaor, he bowed. "I forfeit this match. Let us not continue to damage the ship that carries us."

Chrysaor shrugged, feeling slightly guilty for letting emotion get the best of him. "Let's call it a draw."

The woman named Mi-Na didn't really have a forgiving air about her as she replied to Hwang's apology. "Yeah, well if you two are done, we have a lot to discuss." She motioned to the younger girl beside her. "Well, she does, at least."

Hwang nodded. "Very well. I would not wish to deny the Wind Priestess her wishes. Let us find a more private place to speak."

"You honestly expect us to believe such a blatant lie?!"

Chrysaor leaned against one of the wooden walls of the Captain's cabin, doing his best to convince Hwang, Seoung Mi-Na, and Talim that the world was coming to an end. Needless to say, he was not having much success.

Seoung Mi-Na was fiery and brash, and she made it very clear when spoke. "You actually think we believe that there is going to be some sort of apocalypse that will destroy the world? That's ridiculous!"

Chrysaor nodded. "It is ridiculous; which is why I'm here to stop it. It would be ridiculously unfair if the world ended in the next few years, wouldn't you say?"

His rhetorical question was answered by Hwang. "But you have no evidence to prove that this impending doom is real. There are no signs."

Chrysaor pushed himself off of the wall he leaned on and waved his hands dramatically, hoping to put some emphasis into his words. "But that's where you are wrong. There are actually many signs that point to the End. But they are not so easily perceived as most things are. You are a sailor, yes? Have you not noticed how the seas rage? The fury with which they pound your hull and rock your boat? The torrential rain, even? And have you not noticed, that even in the midst of those storms-"

"There is no wind..."

Chrysaor turned to Talim, the young dark-skinned girl who was apparently a Wind Priestess and had finished his sentence for him. Her voice had been incredibly soft, as if she was afraid of breaking something with it. Chrysaor continued off of her words.

"Exactly. It is unnatural. How can the seas be so wild without any wind? And the earth; it begins to rot, deep down under the surface. The decay that will soon plague this world is growing. It could be months, years, or even decades before you see the full effects of these anomalies, but they are coming, and they signal the End. That is why I am here."

Hwang stroked his chin in thought. "And you say these…anomalies… are being caused by some sort of catalyst? An object here in the world? What is it?"

Chrysaor sighed. "I do not know. Our...leaders are not sure what the Catalyst is, only that it exists. It is up to me and my comrades to discover its identity."

This caught Seoung Mi-Na's attention. "Comrades? You mean there are more of you?"

Eros' Sentinel nodded in response. "Yes. There are four of us, although we do not work together. We are simply separate vassals with the same mission. Our lords sent each of us to different parts of this world to search for the Catalyst."

Seoung Mi-Na frowned as she crossed her arms, leveling an incredulous gaze at Chrysaor. "This is still kinda far-fetched. You mean to tell me that you and some of your buddies are emissaries from God sent here to stop Armageddon? I don't buy it."

Chrysaor raised a finger as he corrected her. "Not God. The Four. There is a difference. They are not gods, merely immortal, as far as time is concerned."

Mi-Na huffed." 'Merely immortal.' That seems pretty god-like to me."

Chrysaor shrugged. "Your understanding of the situation is of little importance. The situation itself is what matters."

Mi-Na pointed a finger at the Sentinel accusingly. "Well I don't believe it! I'm not gonna let you leave until you tell us who you really are!"

A little irritated with her attitude, Chrysaor had trouble keeping his snark in check. "You could not stop me from leaving even if you wished to. You lack the power."

Mi-Na's face flushed with rage. "Oh yeah? Let's take this outside, I'll show you just how much power I have!"

Before Chrysaor could point out that Mi-Na was the one to originally advise against fighting, Talim stepped between the two quarreling people. "Stop it! We can't fight each other here. Violence is not the way to solve this."

Chrysaor let his anger drain from him as she spoke. Talim was right. How shameful, for a Sentinel to be acting this way. Of course, he had not had thousands of years of peace and solitude in Valhalla like the other Sentinels did; his feeling and thoughts were still widely ill-tempered. He backed away from the group of three.

"Yes. Forgive me: I let my anger get the best of me."

Mi-Na said nothing, but her face did have a somewhat apologetic look to it as she crossed her arms. Talim smiled slightly, happy that the dispute had been quieted. She turned to Chrysaor, and spoke.

"I have a way to tell if we can really trust you. If it is alright… would you remove your helmet? So that I may see your eyes?"

Chrysaor fumbled for a moment in response. No one except Eros had seen his face in ten years… He knew that he looked just like he had when he had first entered Valhalla; Sentinels did not age. But he honestly couldn't recall what he himself looked like. It had been so long since he had seen a mirror, or even a reflection of himself in the water. He glanced at a mirror that hung on the wall in the Captain's cabin. He wondered what he would look like, if he removed his helm and gazed into it. Was he scarred? Handsome? Ugly? Did he have noteworthy features? Blue, green, or brown eyes? He didn't know. He had never thought about it since he had entered Valhalla. And he wasn't sure he wanted to think about it now. He thought carefully before answering Talim's request.

"…Yes. It is quite alright. I ask for only a moment."

Tira sat perched on a high tree branch in one of the many untouched forests that covered the land that was the border of Germany and Poland, slowly making her way to the Asian border. She had spent most of the day walking, killing any unfortunate travelers that she met on the road. Unfortunately, they had not done much to entertain her. Their only reaction was to flee or cower, which was hardly any fun.

She ran her armored finger across the edge of Eiserne Drossel, admiring the sharpness of the ring blade. She really loved its shape. A circle that never ended. Sharp all around on the outside, so that the only safe place from it was inside the circle itself. It fitted so well with her. No one was safe except for the person inside her. Which was just her. And so everyone was in danger when she was around. The fact that she held so many fragile lives in the palm of her hand excited Tira to no small extent.

Caw!

Tira's thoughts were interrupted by the cry of one of her ravens descending towards her from above. As it gripped the edge of her ring blade with its talons, she immediately recognized the abnormal white streak that ran down the raven's forehead. It was her favorite.

"Oh, Archimedes! You're back! Did you find anything interesting? A town maybe? Or some more merchants to kill? Hopefully more fun ones this time."

Caw!

"Aw… OK then. Good job, Archimedes. You can go rest with the others now. They're roosting in that tree over there, I think."

She pointed at an oak tree a few yards to her right, where many of her Watchers were perched. Archimedes cawed once again, but instead of joining the other ravens, it opted to perch on Tira's shoulders, careful to keep its talons off of her skin.

Tira scratched the top of the bird's head. "Aw, I love you too, Archy! You're my favorite! But don't tell the other guys, 'kay?"

Caw!

With that last answer from Archimedes, Tira suddenly turned sullen. Her other side had been quiet most of the day, content with the amount of killing that had been done, but now that it was over, she was rearing her ugly head.

Why are we still sitting here? We should be moving again, not wasting time!

With this, another argument would begin in Tira's own mind, against none other than herself.

But I'm tired! I don't wanna walk anymore today!

Are you completely stupid? Nightmare said we had work to do, and we'd better get it done! He's counting on us, remember?

The jolly Tira smiled for a moment. Oh yeah… he said he wanted me to get done and come back safely… he's worried about me…

Her gloomy side was not so warmhearted about it. That's not important. Soul Edge is the real master anyway, not Nightmare. All we need is Soul Edge and ourselves.

And Archimedes!

…And Archimedes.

Tira's jolly side wasn't really convinced that she had to move again now, but her alternate self was irritable and wanted to go for a little while longer. Tira was OK with that, since she would have to cross several more leagues before finding a town where she could get a carriage or some other transportation. If she had to walk all the way to China, she would be a year older and a lot more irritable than usual. So for now, a little more walking wouldn't hurt.

"C'mon, Archy! The rest of you guys too! We can go a little further before it gets dark!"

And so the deranged servant of Soul Edge hopped down from her lofty perch and headed back towards the road, followed by her flock of Watchers above, an ominous sign for anyone wise enough to heed it.

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