"To hell with whatever friendship we had. I'm going to kill you."

Yurt's unburnt eye lingered on the crippled knight. And then he just shook his head.

"And how do you intend to do that?"

"I…" he expected to have something else to say, something clever. But nothing came.

"Of course," Yurt said, after waiting a moment. "I'll be polite and stand here. Walk to me."

The Champion pulled his sword out of the ground, and took a step. His footing became more firm, and he took another. The steps were clumsy at first, but they became more natural. The whole time though, his eyes were not on his feet. They were focused on Yurt, standing over Yuria. As he got closer, he could smell the blood. Rage stung at him like a swarm of gnats and flowed through his body.

And he charged.

Yurt easily stepped out of the way of his sword and countered. The hook pried off more of his armor, and stabbed into his shoulder through the now missing plates. He roared and his left arm, his shield arm, went limp. A swirl of motion, violent clashes, he thrust his body toward Yurt and tackled him, catching him off guard. They went down together, and he bashed his helmeted forehead into Yurt's unprotected face. Again, and again, and again. Soon, the burns weren't the only marks. But it wasn't enough, he felt his skull passing through Yurt's ethereal frame, and remembered that he was fighting a ghost, and the ghost wouldn't die. Yurt grabbed his head and pulled it away, and in response he swung with his sword. It caught his enemy on the neck. There was no blood, but a wisp of ectoplasm.

And Yurt dissipated again.

No….no!

Out of the mist, again, he formed, his body rising out of the center of the Nexus.

The Champion turned, and looked at him.

"You won that because I wasn't trying," Yurt said. "I'm sorry. I'll be serious, this time."

Again, he rushed Yurt. Again there was a flurry of violence. He was injured, but desperation pulled him ahead, he beat him.

And Yurt reformed.

It went on.

-

The Maiden in Black lay on the dark floor, her blood soaking into the stone around her. Her waxen eyes could not open. Her face could show no expression.

So without any change in demeanor, her arms moved forward, and pushed her from the ground as naturally as if she'd woken up from sleeping. She ran her hand over the cut in her neck, and suddenly there was no longer a cut there at all. The blood on the ground was gone.

She heard the violence in the center of the Nexus, the clanging of swords and armor, and, first picking up her staff, she walked toward it.

There were things that the Maiden could sense, but not see. She knew the smell of her own handiwork, the feeling of its presence. And in between the wispy sound of a soul being damaged and the incoherent cries of pain from Her Champion, she sensed the presence of the Nexial Binding.

She sat down for a moment, and listened to the fight. It was obviously heated. Rage and passions were flaring. Ideologies were settling themselves the same way that differing ideologies always did: violence.

She had to carefully consider her actions here. Right now everything in her was prompting her to do something strictly prohibited.

The Nexus smelled like death.

The stone was cold beneath her feet.

She heard Her Champion cry again. A part of her cried with him, but it hid itself behind her covered eyes.

It was such a simple action; it might as well have been a flick of the wrist. Was that really so bad?

She nodded with herself, consenting with her own arguments. And it was a flick of the wrist, actually, quite literally. She waved her hand.

-

Yurt staggered, briefly and then barely moved out of the way of a sword swing. He glanced around, and once toward his ankle, as the energy of the Nexial binding left it.

Yurt backed off, toward the other end of the Nexus. When the champion tried to pursue him, he held his guard up and prepared to defend.

She didn't see these things. She could sense them.

"What's the matter, Yurt?" the Champion said. "Afraid of dying, again?"

Yurt's burnt face went white. And then he attacked.

Another flurry, this one more violent and desperate than all the others combined. The Champion ducked and dodged, but it wasn't enough, some of the blows scratched his armor, or even penetrated it…and his injured left arm couldn't even hold up his shield.

When they parted again, he dropped it. With his left arm weak, it was nothing more than a dead weight. He held his sword out as he unbuckled his armor. The plates fell to the ground and rolled along it, and his entire body felt lighter. Yurt sneered at him.

"You won't dodge me anymore," The Knight said.

And this time, he was the one to attack. He didn't care if Yurt couldn't die permanently. It didn't matter anymore. Yuria was lying there, she was bleeding to death, and all the miracle users were gone. This was fate, this was justice.

But all the same he still couldn't make contact, something had changed, and now his opponent's entire body was flaring with the desperate, life-or-death adrenaline he'd lacked before. Had the Nexial Binding stopped working? Was this now a fight to the death? He cautioned himself away from such comfortable thoughts.

When they parted again, he heard a voice right behind him, gently murmuring, "You're….you're alive…"

He stepped back, not taking his eyes off of Yurt, but he saw her in the edge of his vision. It was Yuria. She could still speak.

"Yes, I'm alive," he said, using all of his willpower not to look at her.

"…you can't beat him." She said.

"I can…" he murmured. His eyes clung to Yurt, standing there, waiting for him to drop his guard even for a moment.

She slowly shook her head, as if it were the most difficult thing she had ever done. "You…you can't. Give me your sword."

"You can't-" he started.

"..No, I…I'm not going to hold it. Put it near me."

"Yuria, give me some idea what you're talking about, please," he whispered.

"I don't have time…I'm dying, you have to listen to me…just-"

"You're not dying."

"I'm dying," she said. "You have to beat him…please…just…put the blade of your sword next to me."

He went completely still, and then did as she asked.

She looked at the sword, and whispered to it, and what was left of her arms ran along its sides. A Violent purple energy surged across it.

"Move quickly…this will drain you…just like it's drained me. Kill him. Now."

He charged.

Yurt wasn't as prepared as he should have been. When the sword swung through the air it caught his scalp. The Champion himself saw the flash of violet fire, and when Yurt stepped out of the way he stood still for a moment, and then grabbed at his head, hissing in pain.

"D…do it…" he heard Yuria whisper, across the Nexus. "Please…

Again, he charged, the sword swung as quickly and cleanly as if it were cutting the air itself. The dark energy swirled and ate away at the world. He felt a rot creep into him, a horrible violence. There was something deteriorating his soul. It festered like acid.

This time, all Yurt did was raise his hook to catch the blow. The wound on his head was spreading, the dark magic eating away at his flesh. When the two blades collided, there was a moment of resistance, and then the larger weapon cleaved through the other. Again, the dark energy ate away at the sides of the hook that fell to the ground, asunder.

Yurt stood with nothing more than a dagger. He rushed in, but his blade was feeble. The Champion put up his sword. The dagger was incinerated against it, and when he swung once more, he swung true. The sword cut Yurt along the chest, and the purple fire now spread along his abdomen. He fell to his knees, and his hands grabbed at the wounds spreading across him, swatting at them, trying to stop them.

The Champion dropped the sword, and backed away from it. He fell to a sitting position in his exhaustion. He couldn't hold it any longer.

Yurt grabbed at the fire, he even grabbed at his burning skin and tried to pull it off. All the while it spread over his skull, burning through the flesh, and then through the bone. The undamaged side of his face was consumed first, making him look like a dregling.

"No..." Yurt murmured. "Not like this, not through your filthy demon arts. I won't…" He looked up at the Champion, and said. "Kill me. Kill me with your sword. Please…not like this, don't let me die this way. Any other way. Any way at all…please…"

The Champion just stared.

"No! Get it off of me! Get rid of it! It's worse than fire, it's worse. It's torture. I feel it eating me, eating everything I am it grabs at me and I can't-" his words broke apart into a scream, and he fell to the ground, rolling back and forth, his hands grabbing at what was left of his head, but then it spread to them, too. It overcame his entire body, and finally his scream was cut short as it penetrated the last shred of his ghostly form, and incinerated that which lay within.

And as the shape of Yurt burnt away. Nothing was left but cinders. The Champion expected his Augite to absorb the soul…but he felt nothing. All that had been Yurt was gone.

He looked down at the Sword again, and the dark energy faded.

"God forgive me…" he murmured, realizing what he had done. "God…if you even exist, please forgive me."

He ran to Yuria, and crouched over her. She lay there, quietly, and her chest barely moved with the still present cadence of life.

"You…you came back…" she murmured.

"Of course I did," he said. "I promised you that, didn't I?"

"You promised…"

And all of the sudden, he frowned.

"I remember what I promised," he said.

"It's okay…" she whispered. "It was a stupid promise, anyway."

The thought occurred to hold her hand, and when he realized he couldn't grief struck him so hard that he wanted to turn away right there. But he couldn't. If he did, she'd be gone when he looked back.

"I'm glad you're back," she said. "You…you are the hope for this world…"

"No…" he said. "I couldn't even save you. Everything that happened with Yurt was my fault. I led him here, I embraced him…I ignored all of his violence…it's all me."

"Stop that. Blame him," she said. "Blame…ugh…"

"Yuria?" he whispered.

She closed her eyes.

"Yuria, Don't…please don't die." He looked up, he glanced around the Nexus. He saw her, sitting there. The idea came suddenly, as if it had already been waiting to be unlocked. "I'm going to carry you," he said to Yuria. "Just hold on, please."

She was silent.

He picked her up. The blood leaked onto him and ran throughout his clothes, but he tried to ignore it. He carried her toward the Maiden, leaving a red trail behind.

"Maiden," he said to her.

"What ist thy will?" she said, her face as blank as ever.

"Please…" he begged. "Yuria is dying. Bind her to the Nexus. Please, please bind her."

The Maiden just sat, she showed no expression.

"Why aren't you answering!?" he said. "I asked you to bind her!"

The Maiden stood, and raised her staff. Calmly and carefully, she lit it.

"What are you doing!?" He ran at her, carrying Yuria, shoving her into her face. "I'm begging you! I'm begging you for everything that I have left! Bind her to the Nexus! Please! I need her!"

The Maiden looked down at him once more, and then started walking up the stairs. She lit one candle. Two. Like an animal, he crawled after her, begging, fighting back his tears to at least sound coherent.

And not once did she respond.

And in his arms, Yuria's final drops of blood leaked from her wounds.

That was where she died.

-

He sat across from her, staring at her blank face.

"Why won't you do it?" he asked.

She didn't respond.

"I'm just asking you to help me, once," he said. "I'm just asking to have what I want, one time."

She carefully reached, and grabbed a golden bowl. Inside there were a few pieces of bread. She felt around, and finally managed to wrap her fingers around one. The crust flowed through the gaps in her knuckles as she stuffed it into her mouth and chewed it messily.

"It's not even for me," he said. "I just want to help her. That's all I want. I made her a promise. Let me keep it."

She swallowed.

"I've done everything that you've asked me to!" He stood. "I've killed countless demons! I've died countless times! I've lost my own identity for you! And you won't do one thing, once, when I'm just asking you to save a single person for me! Am I a tool to you!? Do you just send me out to fight battles so that you don't have to!? You don't do anything! Everyone is dead, now. Everyone! And you did nothing to stop it! Even after the fact, you won't bring one of them back. No, not a single person. You're just going to leave their souls floating around out there…food for your beloved Old One!"

She just sat there.

"Are you even listening to me?"

She reached into the bowl, pulled out a piece of bread, and handed it to him.

He kicked the bowl, and when he did she immediately held up her hands, backed away, and cowered, in a practiced motion. The bowl flew off of her lap and rolled down the stairs. Bread scattered along them.

He glared at her, and she started shaking. Soft whimpers came from her frame.

As he looked, he realized how pathetic and defenseless she was, and his rage turned to disgust.

For a moment longer, he watched her cower, then he scoffed, and went upstairs.

-

"You are the hope that the world will be mended. You are everything to us."

He looked the childlike statue in the eye, "you have a terrible way of showing it."

"An explanation is required, I understand."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I don't want to hear it…whatever it is, it isn't an excuse. And it's not an excuse for me to keep doing this, either. No one person should have this much responsibility. No one person should have to deal with this. It's a matter for an army…not just a single soldier."

"You promised that you would grant my request."

"I didn't know your promise would entail this," he said, as he unsheathed his sword. He placed it before the foot of the statue. "I'm sorry, but I am a human being. I have my own wants and desires…and you don't care about them. I'm done."

"Reconsider, please."

He stood up.

"I'm asking you reconsider."

He turned, and walked past the dead statues, that had deteriorated over time. The children who had frozen themselves in order to remain the only hope for the world.

"This is a plan a thousand years in the making. Without you, it can't succeed. Please."

The Champion didn't listen. He reached the end of the catwalk, and exited.

-

"I'm sorry, Yuria," he whispered, looking over the dead body. "I'm sorry that I'm not what you needed me to be. I'm…I'm…"

And then he broke apart. His entire frame shook with grief. Violent sobs wracked him and he fell to his knees. Every time he thought he was going to stop, he looked up again, and he saw her there, mutilated. Yurt was on him, everything that had happened was. He had done this. He had bled her out like a pig. She was dead because of him.

The entire world was being swallowed now, and good. To oblivion with this world, in which the souls of the dead lingered and were eaten by the strong. In which love couldn't flourish because of violence, and every grace, every miracle, and every prayer was secretly a veneration of something vile. No more. And he meant it this time. No more.

The Maiden in Black listened silently to his cries. For a moment, she went still. But only for a moment. She had to move on. There were many more candles to light.

-

Alright, so, this is actually going to be the last chapter of this story for a while. College is starting to kick my ass, and I'm also trying to write a(n actual, legitimate) book as well as various short stories that I'm hoping will get published. This is a very fun diversion for me. That being said, I do hope to continue it, and in the (eventually) upcoming chapters I hope to actually get into the Maiden in Black stuff that I've been putting aside for the Yurt/Yuria plot line. Which (as you can tell) is now clearly over.

Anyway, farewell for now. Consider this the end of Season 1, if you will.