Author's Note: I know I keep saying that I'm going to end the battle in the next chapter, but, apparently, I lied. I wanted to end it here, but I had a case of writer's block and couldn't find a way to smoothly bring an end to it without making some things sound redundant (I think I've used the word "charge" one too many times) - had to resort to using some more of my horrible humor to bring an end to the chapter. So NEXT chapter should be the conclusion of the battle. I sure hope that some of you folks out there aren't getting tired of reading this because of the consant fighting. To be honest, I'm kinda getting tired of this conflict myself. It's about time for a lull in the story.

Oh yeah, if you see anything iffy in the story (i.e. funky grammar, incorrect spelling, weird shit in general - stuff like that), as always, I'd appreciate it if anyone would let me know. I usually do a good job at proofreading my work, but I do occasionally miss some things. I am human, after all.

So anyways, here's chapter seven. Kind of a long one, so you might want to get comfy; but then again, I always say something along the lines of "get comfortable," don't I?

Ruin crashed through the demonic lines again. This time though, he didn't stop – he just kept on plowing through, emerging out on the other side in short order. Needless to say, dozens of Guards were swept aside in this effort. The demons didn't give chase. It would have been a futile effort anyways.

Scanning the perimeter of the defensive line, Lazarus searched for the hill that his comrade was positioned on. He found it relatively quickly – it was several hundred yards away on another side of the battlefield.

Motioning for Ruin to turn right, the phantom steed heeded the human's command without question. The horse circled around the demonic formation. The demons in the rear echelons turned to growl and roar vulgar threats at them, but they never followed through with their hostility. Some, however, had ranged weapons on them, and attempted to take potshots at Lazarus – he didn't even bother training Mercy on them. They weren't even worth the effort and the two were moving so fast that no projectiles hit him or Ruin.

In no time at all, the duo arrived at the small hill overlooking the battle.

When Dinah saw them coming her way, she moved to greet them.

Right when Ruin was nearly next to her, Lazarus pulled back on the reins. In response, Ruin halted his run and reared back on his hind legs, neighing abruptly. Then, Lazarus smiled to himself and did the one thing he had always wanted to do when he was a kid.

"YEEHAW!" he yelled out, firing Mercy several times into the air.

Then the horse fell forward back onto his forward limbs. Ruin swung his head around to glare at his rider.

"Oh, don't give me that look, buddy. I know you liked it too," he said with a smirk, patting Ruin on the side.

The horse merely snorted in protest as Lazarus dismounted the saddle.

"I didn't know you could ride a horse," a voice called out.

Smiling to himself, he turned around and said: "One of the few things left that you now know about me."

Standing several feet away was Dinah, eyeing Ruin nervously.

The horse sauntered over to this new arrival – curiosity was evident in Ruin's features. He didn't show hostility towards her like he did to Lazarus (said hostility had now morphed into cautious trust; although the human was somewhat annoying). Getting a bit too close for comfort, Dinah stepped away towards Lazarus. Ruin merely snorted and didn't bother to follow her. Instead he turned to gaze back towards the battlefield, undoubtedly thinking of his master.

"Relax, Dinah. This dude is one badass horse."

"If you say so," was Dinah's only reply.

Several seconds of silence reigned between the two as they watched the battle continue to unfold.

What they saw next, shocked them into awe.

War searched. Not the flat plains that the battle was still taking place on – not with his vision. Instead, he looked inwardly. He looked deep down, all the way to his core. He did not have to look long before he found what he was looking for.

Wrath. Raw, unadulterated anger. A swirling and purifying firestorm that was formless, and yet, could encompass virtually anything.

He "reached" forward, groping and grasping for some sort of hold, something to grab on to. He had to touch it. He had to hold it. But above all, control it. Tame it and master it. To wield it as a weapon like how he would wield Chaoseater. And in doing so, he would, paradoxically, lose control. Such was the nature and essence of Chaos.

Slowly but surely, the swirling firestorm coalesced into a tiny, miniaturized ball. Then, it began to expand. And it did not stop. Unceasingly and tirelessly, the ball grew to even greater sizes, as if it was a star entering the final stages of its life. But this sun was unlike any other – instead of dying, it would grow brighter and brighter, and larger and larger. And once it reached completion, then it would die, exploding outwards like an omnipotent and unyielding supernova.

Dimly aware of the charging Trauma's presence and the closing proximity of the demon, War fed fuel to the internal fires.

For a split and alarming second, the sun suddenly and rapidly shrank to the tiny size it had once been. What was this? What was going on? This had never happened before, not even when he was on the Charred Council's leash – in which the Watcher was limiting a great deal of his power – during when he was fighting against the Destroyer. Not even when he first gained the ability to use the Chaos Form long ago. What was the cause of this? Did breaking the Seventh Seal completely reset his power? Or was it something else?

Quickly, War thought of anything to feed the flames – anything to make him angry. He thought of the time when he openly defied Death and the others, in which Death had then severed his left hand below the elbow and replaced it with the massive gauntlet that now resided there. No – he was insubordinate at the time and deserved to be taken down a peg or two. He knew little, if any, discipline at the time.

He thought of when he learned of the fact that Azrael was misguidedly involved in the plot to preemptively defeat Hell before the Second Kingdom had become too powerful – the conspiracy that had resulted in his setup. No – Azrael was being used and pressured by Abaddon to further the angel's own agenda. Although it was partially the Archangel's fault, Azrael was highly regretful of his actions – redemption was still a possibility for him.

The Charred Council then came to mind, and immediately, his blood boiled. The reason why was not because of the fact that for most of his life he had answered to their authority. The reason was not because of the Watcher, which they had chained to him like a "dog and its master." After all, the hound had delivered retribution, and it was greatly satisfying.

The reason why was for the simple fact that the Council, duty-bound to uphold the law and maintain the balance, had so willingly used him as their scapegoat and personal assassin. Why had the Council even assigned the Watcher to "guard" against War's actions? Of course, the Watcher was to make sure War did not fall out of line. But, what if, the damnable demon had another purpose? What if the Council was observing the Horseman's actions through the Watcher and had been giving new orders to the demon to persuade War to unknowingly fulfill the Council's agenda?

Suddenly, a spike of power rippled through him – from the mini-sun outwards to the very surface of his skin and back again. The star rapidly grew many, many times its original size, before finally consuming War.

The Trauma charged onwards, closing the distance quickly. The accursed Horseman was just standing there, eyes shut and body trembling.

What luck he had – the Council's dog had finally been broken! He would receive great glory from this kill and his name would be known throughout existence as the demon that killed War! All would fear and respect him!

As soon as the Trauma was within striking range, he raised both of his hands up, intending pummel the Horseman into the ground.

With a triumphant roar skyward, he brought his hands down fast and hard.

Just as his mighty hands were about to make contact, a second sun, one very similar to the sun that hung in the sky, formed right there – out of nowhere.

The Trauma did not see the fireball that had formed and expanded into incredible size in less than a second. It did not feel the purifying heat of the sun consume nearly its entire body. It did not even notice that it had just simply ceased to exist.

Ruin watched on, not at all surprised at the sight before him. Beside him, twin intakes of air could be heard.

Beside Ruin, Lazarus stared on in wonder at the sight before him, curious about would happen next.

Beside Lazarus, Dinah stared on in a mix of amazement and awe at the sight before her, nearly terrified at what all of this meant.

And then, the second sun rapidly shrunk into a mere pinprick, leaving a sizeable crater in its place – in this crater stood a terrifying and titanic being.

"Oh my god . . ."

For several seconds, War felt, heard, and saw nothing. The only thing that he could acknowledge was the sun that had consumed him. Then, suddenly, it shrank and vanished. His senses returned, but they were no longer normal.

He could feel the air rushing around him – and yet, there was no wind. He could feel the temperature of the air climb dramatically as it came into contact with his body.

He could hear the enemy, and yet, no sound had been made by them, no doubt shocked into silence at his sudden transformation. Focusing on the Traumas specifically, he could hear their hearts beat within their chests. He could hear the blood rush through their veins. He could hear their breathing change as they beheld the sight before them.

And as the First Horseman of the Apocalypse opened his eyes, he saw the world in an entirely different perspective. Everything seemed to have an orange, fiery tinge to it. His enemies, however, looked very different. Although they all had their same shapes and sizes, he could actually see their body heat – as if he had been looking through infrared goggles.

Then, War noticed that there were only four Traumas now. What happened to the fifth?

That was when War looked down and learned of the fate of the fifth.

Of what remained of the demon, only its feet remained – just the toes and short cauterized stumps at the very edge of the crater. The skin had been flash-fried, nearly turned to ash from the extreme heat of the star that had consumed the rest of the demon. The twin stumps were already losing heat, beginning to fade to a dull blue color, while the point where the feet was severed from the rest of the demon's body was white hot.

Inwardly, War made a small smile to himself. That was lucky of him. A millisecond later and he would have been flattened under the demon's fists – forget about transforming.

With a slow and deliberate step forwards out of the crater that his transformation had created, War advanced. With each mighty step that he took, the ground underneath his feet shook and burned and melted.

Something . . . felt different. The Horseman could not discern exactly what did though. It felt like he had rested for a very long time, not moving any muscles unnecessarily. It felt like it was his first time walking in this body, as if it had just been born.

But that did not necessarily mean that he was weak and unable to fight. On the contrary, he felt powerful – very powerful. To say that he felt practically unrivaled and unmatched would not be inaccurate.

But he could worry about that later. He walked towards the Trauma corpse that had Chaoseater lodged into its skull. Planting a foot down on the body's shoulder and reaching down, War grabbed the weapon and easily dislodged it from the corpse. As soon as the sword came into contact with his hand, it burst into flames, growing three times its original size. As it left the body, the heat of the flames cauterized the wound it had caused, while at the same time, nearly splitting the head in half as it grew. The stimuli of this action – the head being burned and nearly split apart and his foot touching dead flesh, causing it to burn – caused no discomfort or elicited no disgust.

Now armed, War looked towards his enemy. They looked much more like prey to him now. His current body was incapable of facial expressions – such as smiling. If War could, he would have cracked a sadistic grin from ear to ear.

The two humans stared in awe and trepidation at the sight before them. War had gone from imposing and deadly, to downright hellish.

His body had completely changed. Now, he took on the appearance of some destructive demon. His entire body had blackened and cracked skin, complete with intense heat and fire. His legs were long and powerful. How he walked had changed too. Instead of walking upright, he was hunched over slightly. His legs had changed to allow for digitigrade locomotion – walking on one's toes, which splayed apart like a dinosaur's. A long tail had formed where there wasn't one before, possibly for balance.

On his back, featherless wings had formed, serving no purpose but to enhance his terrifying image. His upper body was barrel-chested. Powerful arms with clawed hands carried the transformed Chaoseater, which now looked like a gout of flame curving away from a simple hilt – complete with hand-guard.

But the Horseman's face was what really affected the humans. Large, curving horns grew out of the side of his head. He had no eyes in the sockets – just a fiery orange firestorm glared out at the world. The same could be said for his mouth – no living tissue – just the teeth and the same, roiling inferno. Overall, his appearance was very animalistic and feral – demonic even.

So there stood War, enhanced and transformed, ready to singlehandedly decimate the enemy. The four remaining Traumas and War glared at each other, on opposite ends of the battlefield. For several minutes, nothing happened. The two opposing forces just simply waited for the other to make the first move – or the first mistake.

Or at least, that's what Lazarus thought. Another part of him believed that this whole standoff was nothing more than a predator sizing up his prey. Or perhaps, the prey had already been sized up, and the predator was merely toying with the prey. The tension was so thick that Lazarus could probably take a swing at it with his rifles' bayonets – and still not cut it.

But then again, he probably didn't need to – suddenly, the tension snapped like a twig.

And an explosive and frenzied melee began.

With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth, War charged – he charged hard and he charged fast.

Reacting quickly, all the enemy Traumas surged forward simultaneously. There were no tactics this time – this time, it was a battle of strength. And with four of them and only one of him, their chances of victory were higher.

In seconds, the titans of the battlefield clashed.

War made the first move – rearing back his right arm, he flung Chaoseater, once again, like a spear. No luck – the demons ducked and swerved aside just in time. The now massive weapon simply crashed and lodged itself into the ground.

But discarding his weapon didn't stop him. Still charging forward, War lowered his head slightly and ran faster. In seconds, physical contact occurred – the horns on his head rammed straight into the chest of one demon, War's forward momentum stronger than that of the Trauma, sending it sprawling to the ground. War simply ran right over him.

Then, with lightning speed, he completely turned around and rushed back towards the demons. The other three Traumas quickly moved out of the way of the speeding fiery demon. But War tracked one of them and struck out with a vicious backhand to the face, burning skin and sending the demon reeling.

Suddenly, two of the demons collided with him on opposite sides, one from the right, the other from the left. They then performed a maneuver that War did not expect. Completely ignoring the consequences of their actions, the two demons grabbed his arms and restrained him. The Traumas pushed down the pain of War's fiery skin in contact with their own.

Quickly the two other Traumas, one of which had got back up from being rammed by War, charged forward. Like a gang of thugs beating up their opponent, the two demons lashed out with quick strikes across War's face and chest, using their forearm claws as if they were boxing gloves. Blow after blow blasted into him, powerful and unrelenting.

Finally, the jabbing demons finished up their tag-team – one delivered a final series of punches to the ribs while the other delivered a brutal haymaker to his face. At the same time the two demons restraining him suddenly let go – the haymaker sent him airborne and flying backwards several yards.

Quickly, War recovered – righting his fall, he landed in a crouch, before dashing forward as if he hadn't even been blasted by a several dozen punches. Singling out one Trauma, War ducked low of a sideways swipe, before bringing up a fist in a bone-jarring uppercut. The blow sent the demon flying high.

Quickly, War jumped up after the enemy, grabbed it in the face, and threw it back down to earth, before letting gravity do its job. Aiming for the upper body, War landed hard on the Trauma, one foot planting itself on the demons head. It roared in pain as his feet burned skin. War reached down, grabbed its head, and sharply twisted it sideways.

CRACK!

The demon's body instantly went limp.

War suddenly roared in pain as one of the Traumas impaled his back with his forearm claws. He quickly brought his elbow around, bashing the demon in the face – instantly, it retreated. But War wasn't going to let the demon get away. He backflipped off of the body and landed right in front of the offending demon.

But before he could even do anything, the demon lashed out with a swipe to the face. War ducked under the attack and backed off for a second. Right before he was about to retaliate, he heard a battle cry behind him and ducked again – another one, attacking from behind. Deciding that he was at disadvantage, War rolled to the side, only to have the third remaining Trauma bull-rush him. He had no time to react.

The demon crashed into him, sending both flying several yards away, sprawling to the ground – somehow, the Trauma managed to get on top of him, trying it's best to restrain him, completely oblivious to the fact that his skin was burning. War merely opened up his right fist and clawed the demon's face – immediately, it got off him and retreated, clutching its face. War quickly got up and hopped backwards several times.

Neither he nor the demons continued the brawl.

All three of the remaining Traumas had burn wounds all over their bodies. All three were breathing heavily.

War, however, was a different story. While he did feel somewhat fatigued, he still felt like he could go on like this for a little while longer. But he didn't know how long he would last like this. It was better to end the fight as quickly as possible. And he decided to do just that. It was time to change tactics.

Standing behind the Traumas some distance away was Chaoseater. It was still imbedded into the ground, and it was still transformed – because of this, the grass around the sword had been burned to a crispy black. It was impossible to miss.

Right now, the enemy knew that they actually had a chance against him when he was unarmed. This tussle alone was proving that fact – so if he rearmed himself, victory would come quick.

With that thought in mind, War charged forward.

The demons, perhaps anticipating his intentions, moved to intercept, only to dive aside as War ran into their position. One Trauma, however, held his ground. The demon braced for impact. The two collided with each other, the Trauma skidding backwards several feet – instantly, hands locked with each other as one attempted to push back the other. And thus, a deadlock of physical might ensued.

Interestingly enough, neither of the other two Traumas interfered – either they were letting their comrade fight his own battle, possibly held back by some honorable morality of sorts, or they were concerned about injuring their comrade if they attacked. Either way, War took advantage of this and took his time.

The Horseman resisted the demon's force, but he didn't push back, merely waiting for the demon to tire itself out. For an entire minute, War matched the strength of his opponent – just for the thrill of it, several times he allowed his opponent to push him back, before suddenly exceeding his enemy's strength and pushing him back. Then he would back of for a little bit. It was clearly evident to the Trauma that War was toying with him, and that angered him. The demon attempted a final effort to overwhelm War, pushing hard. Again, War allowed his opponent to push him back.

Then, the predator was finished playing with the prey. Suddenly, and with incredible strength, the Horseman surged forward, pushing back the demon. For a split second, the deadlock persisted, before finally breaking.

War threw the demon to the ground at his feet. Immediately, it tried to get up, before receiving a vicious blow to the face. It toppled again to the ground.

The other two Traumas closed in again – with haste, War stepped over his opponent and ran full tilt towards Chaoseater. One demon pursued while the other stayed behind to assist his comrade to his feet. The Horseman reached his sword in seconds, pulling it out of the ground with little difficulty.

The demon in pursuit instantly ceased his charge.

War glanced back behind his shoulder, glaring at the one demon that decided to follow. He turned and roared threateningly at the Trauma – War took up a slow, stalking pace around the demon. His opponent stood stock-still, waiting for the perfect moment to fall back. One-on-one with War was the last thing he wanted, especially if the Horseman was armed. Fortunately, before War could make a move, his comrades intervened.

Both of the other two Traumas came charging at War, bull-rushing him again from opposite directions. Instead of attempting to evade, War charged head-on at one of the onrushing demons. He swung Chaoseater quickly as he got within striking range. The fiery sword burned a path through the demon's skin, halting the demon in its tracks and sending it several paces back. War quickly turned and met the other demon rushing him with vertical swipe downwards – the Trauma rolled aside, the blade cutting only the air. The moment it finished its roll, it looked up and prepared to make another action, only to have the hilt of Chaoseater painfully smash into his face, falling backwards to the ground – he was vulnerable. War moved in for the kill.

The demon tried to groggily get up, only to receive another punishing blow to the face. Standing to the demon's side, War raised Chaoseater high into the air, inverted it, and prepared to bring it down. Just as he was about to enact his execution, the wounded Trauma recovered and rushed him in a desperate act to save his comrade.

War saw the demon coming, but he didn't act – he allowed the enemy to get in close. However, he underestimated the demon's speed. Just as the Trauma moved within striking range, the demon reared his arm back and delivered a brutal punch to War's face.

Then, suddenly, the demon stopped cold, his arm still extended outwards into his opponents face. He looked down –

– and saw Chaoseater impaled in his abdomen, the wound already cauterized by the sword's fire. For a moment, the two stayed exactly as they were, neither reacting to the damage sustained on their bodies – War's sword lodged in the demon's abdomen, and the Trauma's forearm claws digging into the Horseman's face. Then, War extracted the sword from the enemy, the demon dropping his hand and falling to his knees.

War turned his attention back to the enemy lying before him, no longer caring of the demon he had just defeated, albeit he was still on his knees. Suddenly, the demon on the ground took a swipe at War's shins. The Horseman merely grunted, ignoring the pain, before kicking the offending limb away and placing a foot on his enemy's throat – the demon tried to roar in pain, but at the same time, War applied pressure, his foot not only suffocating the Trauma, but also burning the demon's neck. It struggled against him, but its efforts were in vain – the demon was losing its strength, its life trickling away. In a matter of moments, the demon stopped moving, dead – either from asphyxiation or the burn wounds.

With only two more Traumas left, War turned to see that the other demon was still alive – just kneeling there, staring at War as the Horseman ended his comrade's life. And he couldn't do anything about it. And he couldn't stop his death either. The last thing he saw was War, assuming an execution stance, the sword Chaoseater held at the side, ready to cut into him.

Then War swung. For the briefest of seconds, the Trauma could feel the sword cut into his neck, before his existence abruptly ended.

With that enemy finally dealt with, War eyed the last Trauma. Interestingly enough, it was the leader from before – the demon covered in war paint. It must have been hard for the demon to see his entire pack killed before his eyes. Indeed, the demon looked angry – very angry. The demon acted on his anger and charged. War did likewise.

Up on the hill, Lazarus, Dinah and Ruin continued to watch the frenzied slugfest down below.

Of the three occupants of this hill, one was pacing back and forth in a slightly bored state.

"For Christ's sake, Lazarus, could you stop that? You're annoying me."

"Dinah, you know that I can't be patient while waiting. And besides, you should blame War – he told me to leave."

"That doesn't mean anything. Now for the love of God, stop moving!"

For a second, Lazarus did. "You know who you remind me of?" he asked.

"I don't know. Who?"

"My dad – he always hated fidgeting." Then Lazarus started pacing again, eliciting a frustrated sigh from Dinah.

"If you're this bored, then do something. Clean your rifle. Twiddle your thumbs. Something other than fidgeting!"

"Wouldn't twiddling my thumbs be counted as fidgeting?" he asked contemplatively.

Growling in annoyance, Dinah reached for her rifle slung across her shoulder and unslung it, ejecting the empty magazine.

"SHUT UP, DAMMIT!" she yelled, throwing the magazine at her comrade; it collided with his head with a painful thwack!

"Ow! What the Hell, Dinah! You don't see me throwing shit at you!" Despite saying that, Lazarus picked up the tiny steel box and threw it back at Dinah. She caught it in midair, throwing the magazine and an insult back his way.

"Hypocritical bastard!" Lazarus did the same.

"Sadistic bitch!" And on it went, the two of them flinging the magazine and insults back and forth.

"Gun freak!"

"Jackass!"

"Shit-for-brains!"

"Overly-intelligent woman!"

"Was that a compliment?"

"Yes, it was."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now then, where was I?" Lazarus said, pausing. "Oh yeah. SLUT!" yelled Lazarus a final time, throwing the magazine with all his strength. Suddenly Lazarus stopped cold.

"Wait, I just got an –" Thwack! Lazarus toppled to the ground. "Ow! Son of a – STOP THAT!

Dinah shrugged. "You started it."

"No I –" Lazarus stopped mid-sentence, sighing. Grabbing the magazine and getting to his feet, inhaling and exhaling, he calmed his anger.

"Whatever – I don't care. I just thought of an idea." Now calm, he tossed the magazine back at his comrade and walked towards Ruin – she caught it again and returned it to its place in her rifle.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Just stay here. I'll be right back."

Just as he was about to mount Ruin, he stopped, making eye contact with the fiery horse, as if asking an all-important question. The steed shook his body, and averted his gaze. Seemingly satisfied, Lazarus mounted the saddle, and in seconds, the two were gone.