A powerful eruption surges through the town. Waves of magma turn surrounding buildings to paste while the flames engulf the golden dragon. It shrieks, slagging off the energy as it screams out a pulse of draconic energy blindly. It misses, but its eyes - like stars shining in the night, glare straight at Masters.

Masters looks across the street through the haze of violent seed. Louisa, where was Louisa? The alleyway where he is supposed to be is in ruin.

An ear splitting noise booms overhead.. The glowing behemoth opens its jaw wide, a ball of light surging between its fangs Another beam! Running out to hit the creature with eruption has left him in the wide open! Masters turns towards the closest alley when the ground shakes.

It lands in the street on gargantuan claws. Its wings curl around the buildings, bracing itself as the beam above it becomes louder, and louder. He sees it flick its head to the right. Masters throws himself to the floor at the last moment.

Pure light grazes the fur on his back with a clean swipe. Dreadful silence interrupts the air, then is broken by dozens of explosions, exploding everything the beam had cut in twain. Radiant fire all around, the buildings begin to topple one by one till something catches them. Frozen time, Darkai's influence has frozen time altogether. Thankfully too, for he would've been buried in an early grave of masonry.

He hears the thing scream. It does not hesitate to rip apart Masters' cover with psychic forces, thrashing them around like playthings. He rightfully decides not to be here when his tomb is opened.

Through the alleyway he reaches the riverside to see the full extent of the destruction. All those streaks of light, the beam, has turned the quiet town into a glistening grave. Buildings which should be standing are warped beyond comprehension into spiraling artworks in which the dark of a world without time and the glowing serpents wage a fruitless war.

Even if this thing is stopped, there is not going to be much left of this town. To think, all the people here…

Masters shoves the thoughts aside, racing further down the streets where he finds a way back into the main street. Taking the split moment to refill his lanterns, he lets a flame go loose as he bursts into the street - throwing it straight at the thing ripping apart the buildings.

It is not so easily blinded. The Dragon kicks off the ruins, leaping high on its four wings out of reach of the slow Infernal Parade. Just as it would open its mouth to spew out a Dragon Pulse it suddenly snaps to the wayside. Louisa, standing atop one of these ruinous structures, casts an Ice Beam. The frigid power overwhelms the draconic force as it grazes the dragon at the other end.

But the beam stays there, trapped in time. Louisa leaps onto the icy walkway with a finger outstretched, sprinting on it into the beast's range and firing off two point-bank shots into its skull. A psychic force grabs Louisa before he can fall to the wayside, transposing him straight into the beast's claws. It holds the Intleon over its head then whips his corpse towards the earth.

Masters sprints over, barely catching Louisa before he becomes a splat on the road.

Louisa lets out a pained "Thanks."

The thing is up there, thrashing mad with its crystal claws. Two point-blank blows are still harrowing no matter the typing or strength. They have a second to breathe.

"Later, thank me later." Masters stands up. "Infernal Parade isn't gonna hit him, Eruption does nothing, and I'm pretty sure it could see us through smokescreen with its psychic stuff. I'm short on options."

He looks at the lizard. Something watery is at the tip of his fingers which does not appear to be his usual snipe shot. He pops open a bottle with his other hand, guns oran, then shoves it into Masters' hand. Masters takes it, briefly overwhelming the spice with healing sweetness.

"I'm gonna try something. I've never used it on the unwilling; it needs contact, I have to get close." Louisa glances at Masters. "Can you help me do that?"

The vagueness did not help, though looking at his hand once more, he understands. Soak, a rarely used move, mostly to give people the chance to breathe underwater. Louisa's Soak, and his Thunderpunch. It is a risky maneuver but their only option is to toss ineffective moves at this monstrosity.

Worry overwhelms him, and his fingers wrap around a dark cloth. The symbol which had been there from the very beginning of his adventurous days, a symbol which has come to define his life. He embraces it, gripping the cloth to his chest and shutting his eyes as the Scream surges through his mind.

On the ground, this thing overhead, its wings and maw fueling a ball of light. He sees himself holding out his arms, bracing himself before his demise and in his final moments he sees four slashes upon the beast's neck. Gills.

The Calamitous Scream leaves him in a sickening stupor. His head pounds, the seed clashing with the temporal ability to form a nauseous mixture. Louisa speaks beyond the haze.

"Break!"

Louisa sprints into the street, a dragon pulse tearing apart where he once stood, and whipping Masters back to his senses. The beast roars, landing in the rubble around Masters as its vile jaws hang above him. Masters flees, trying to reach wherever Louisa fled, but a force matching him stops him in his tracks.

The innumerable invisible hands of Psychic pull, and pull, slowly overpowering him, dragging him towards The Dragon. Masters goes to reach for his lanterns, then feel his arm practically be ripped from his shoulder, becoming another thing for this gravitational force to pull inward. His lanterns full, Masters lets his legs crumble as he throws himself against the mounds of rubble.

Crack! Both his lanterns shatter against the stone. The force takes in the flames, six embers in total, too many to avoid. The four wings bat the majority away, but one connects.

His body hits the floor as the thing reels back, screaming. He feels weak from the psychic squeezing his insides, but he has cut off its grasp. Masters breathes deep dazed, bewildered. He tries to escape but the psychic presence regains its strength and slams him into the earth, shackling with invisible chains.

"Impudent mortal!" It shrieks. "Embrace my radiance!"

Louisa emerges from the shadows. Two Snipe shots ring, which it endures, and answers back with Dragon Pulse. The Inteleon bounds forwards, descending into the pulse, letting it surge through him as he descends on the Dragon. It swings its wing at him, he grabs onto it, throwing himself further and slashing downwards to leave behind a claw mark on Nyarlathotep's neck.

Already weak from enduring the Dragon Pulse, he falls onto the rubble next to Masters. Powerful talons smash down, crushing the Inteleon under them. Louisa lets out a command with his last breath.

"Go, Masters! Now's the time!"

Masters, gritting his teeth, races up the rubble. His fists ignite with electrical energy, and barrels towards the great and terrible beast.

Something tries to stop him, more psychic force. The Dragon howls with laughter as Masters drowns it out with a scream of vengeance and anger, pushing through. Destroy it for the good of everyone, he tells himself, do it for no one else can!

Suddenly, the psychic chains shatter. Through sheer force of will Masters' fist barrels through the psychic armor till it collides with the Dragon's visage, shattering its jaw, cracking its crystalline armor. The electrified blow gives way to another, then another, as Masters unleashes all he can, fueled by the Violent Seed burning inside him.

Its defenses are being torn asunder, the type advantages ripping into it. More and more of those blows rip this thing to shreds - throwing feathers like smoke in the wind. He hears it scream, feels it trying to stop him, but his anger and sense of justice shine brighter than its light, drowning it in his righteous anger.

He feels a discharge from his knuckles. One of them has already paralyzed this thing's form. He readies a first, putting his all into charging a final blow - a strike to end this madness. He hurls his fist down-

Masters can no longer move.

A force, equal to his own, stops Masters in his tracks. Psychic pushes against his own strength. He tries to put everything into this, anything to break their hold, but he is too weak - too mortal. The forces tear through his arm, turning his bones, everything into paste under its immeasurable pressure.

Psychic throws him to the mound of rubble with the Inteleon. His eyes widen, the Dragon standing tall, its face torn by countless blows but its form and body remaining.

"Weaklings, you lot. What did you hope to obtain?"

It hacks, vile, white-hot ichor pouring from its maw. The wounds upon its body are apparent, too many to count, yet shrugging them off like any experienced explorer would. Its four wings fan out behind it, talons at the tips of them furling outwards, feeding energy into an sphere of energy flowing overhead. Its voice booms.

"Be still! Let my light take thee, and fade into nothingness!"

Masters' eyes widen. He has not the strength to move against this psychic force and whatever was embolden Louisa is gone. Both are weak, soon to become fuel for the things' ever-expanding fire.

The orb above shrieks with a familiar sound, something forming overhead. Psychic pushes tighter on his chest. He can barely breathe, yet alone run or muster a move. Masters has to act, lest his final seconds in this plane of existence be wasted.

He wriggles around, strength returning to his limbs but he is still too weak. No more further thunderpunches are to be thrown, no more flames. He has enough time; enough might to do one final thing in this world.

A hand reaches underneath his cloak, gripping something tight. Masters throws himself over the rubble, disposing his body between Louisa and the dragon. He holds out his arms, bracing.

The piercing, ear-splitting scream surges down, crashing all around him. The rubble is turned to fine powder, the ruins around bursting into golden flame. He feels a force strike his open palm, engulfing it, scorching his body as he tries to scream.

And the light, as quickly as it had come, fades. Inside Masters' palm is a Time Gear; Lucario's gear. Cracked, veins of light course through its black metal, the dragon looks down in disbelief.

"A-A time gear…?"

The metal becomes hot in his hands, hotter. The cracks brighten, then tear the gear completely asunder. Masters' entire world becomes dark.

He cannot move. Louisa's face is frozen in fear and acceptance of the end, and this being hovering above him has shock strewn across its visage. Both beings produce not a sound, both are, for lack of better word trapped.

There is no light from his surroundings, neither from the dragon, both are utterly void of any semblance of life. Nyarlathotep's face is stricken with terror, the gold depleted from its body, leaving behind a translucent icy blue husk. The glow behind its star-shaped eyes is replaced by a deep, churning red, as if the soul of this wretched being has been coaxed from its radiant shell.

The being stirs, its wings twitching with life. Masters pulls away from the frozen remains of Louisa, getting to back up hacking, wheezing. The Time Gear, he did not even know why he took it in the first place, but the destruction of it, a temporal artifact, has wrought something more terrible than this light.

Pure, utter darkness. A world without time, nor the laws of space. Masters has brought it to being, even for a moment, and it's in this world where Nyarlathotep's light will fade.

It shakes its icy body awake, slowly coming to. Golden veins streak under its frozen flesh, warming up the being beneath it. Void of its light in this world of Darkness, all it has to rely on is its raw strength, and raw strength alone is enough.

Masters tries to lead it from the body of Louisa but he does not go far before its claws pin him to the street. Fists have torn its face to shreds, the red core is visible, beating like a heart.

It unhinges its jaw. A shimmering blue glow builds between its teeth, Dagon Pulse, yet again, one final thing to finish off this irksome Typhlosion. It sucks in the air around it, drawing a deep breath, then…

Something interrupts it. Lightning illuminates the pitch-black skies, a storm which defies the nonexistence of time and space. The sight does not abate it. It draws in more breath, the pulse becoming larger, it exhales-

And a bolt of golden lightning tears its soak-affected body.

The thunder strikes near Masters, the force throwing off the dragon's hand and pushing

Masters away. Nyarlathotep looks to face its adversary, roaring not in anger, but in pure fear.

Cald in armor dark as night, a majestic warrior levitates on his wings. He brandishes a chipped, old blade, facing it towards the wretched light. His golden eyes, full of fury, stare down the invader.

"Interloper, being not of this world! Never will this world kneel to any light, not even yours!"

A long tail spirals behind him, mail covering the breadth of his being.. He speaks in a voice truly befitting of his radiance, booming like thunder. He shines in the dark, facing a weakened Nyarlathotep with all of his heart and might. He knows who this is, he can just hardly believe he is here in the flesh.

Zekrom, The Calamitous Knight, has come to protect the realm.

He swings his shoulder, hurling someone towards the Dragon. It's Halcion! She unleashes everything upon the dragon below, claw and tusk ripping through everything they can in a righteous Outrage. The being's crystalline armor is torn to shreds, bits clattering against the earth like hailstones.

It seizes Halcion right before she lands. It opens its mouth, its inner light feeding into another ball of energy, using the last of its life force to try and end one of them with its glow. Masters gets to his feet as an Ice Beam careens past him. Nyarlathotep casts the move aside with its wing, but the frozen line of energy remains, a frozen line which Masters grabs onto, using it as a stepping stone to slam a thunder punch upon the beast..

The dragon turns too late to stop him as Masters lands a strike against its jaw. Before it has the chance to bite in retaliation, a boom interrupts it as thunder and raw might combine into a swing of Zekrom's blade, carving straight into the being.

Masters lands just in time to grab Halcion before she shatters on the rubble. Masters, Halcion and Louisa all look up to face the awesome sight.

More, and more light is being forcibly torn out from it, gushing out into the distorted ether, billowing upwards to the sphere over its head. Zekrom, even whilst wielding his colossal blade, barely keeps up with this outsider. Strike after strike destroying its defenses, allowing more of its ichor to flow into his move. It forms to an overwhelming size in moments, ready to unleash utter devastation.

Zekrom sees what is happening. He descends towards the trio instantly, sheltering everyone below with his armored frame, pushing them back with its tail.

Everyone is blinded as streaks of light surge overhead, destroying the lands, rushing towards the largest sign of hostile life. Once by one, they pierce Zekrom like spears, wearing into him as he uses his sword to keep himself afoot - anything to protect the three in his shadow. A great javelin of light goes straight through, and he draws a deep breath, keeping himself together in time to order his fellows upon their one true nemesis.

"Now!" Zekrom shouts, gripping his blade. "Destroy it!"

Halcion and Masters enter the fray as the light fades above, the wounded form of Nyarlathotep landing before them. Masters, pooling all he can into his fist, strikes first - its psychic defenses failing to abate him after pouring its all into that move. Halcion follows with her own, delivering chops to its body, and together they rain their moves down into its form, chipping till the great feathered dragon is unrecognizable.

And Zekrom, letting loose a roar, stands to his feet. He swings his greatsword down, piercing the being's chest, splitting their crystalline armor as a shower of psychic energy gushes outwards. There is a bright flash, everyone is blown aback, then all is left are silvery ashes.

Zekrom crumbles, falling onto the stone alongside his foe. The three warriors rise, Halcion shaking off dust, Masters sighing, and Louisa steadily rising on his own. All three look upon the sight.

The golden one is no more, replaced with frozen remains. A great wound is carved into their face to their chest, revealing more of its red innards to the world - the core of whatever this being is. An echo fills the silent air, stained with pure anger.

"I will not fade till this world has its light devoured, till it is made whole and all of your wrongs are made right." It whispers, its shell crumbling into icy pieces. "However long it may take, I will shadow you to your graves, and bring the order you and your knight deny. I am just - I am all that is right in this forlorn world."

Nonsense. He has heard this before. So sick of it, all of it. Masters matches its fury, spitting and coughing through his words.

"Then I will be there, to put you right to rest. We don't need you, none of us do, we are fine on our own."

"Each one of us, we all came here to oppose you because it is what we want. We believe in ourselves, in explorers and each other to make a right world. If we can't, then the search for it is good enough. We don't need a dictator to tell us what is and what should be. We'll survive without you, as we've done for these last fifteen years."

Masters can see through its hollowed out skull, a single orb which projects a single, pinprick eye. It hisses, its body forming into limbs of ice which melt before they can lay upon him.

"You need me." It says.

"We never did." Masters retorts.

Dent, Rei, everyone. They fought for a world without the meddling of higher powers, a world of peace, untouched by ambition. Rei wanted to feel as if he amounted to something, and he would give his life to Masters' cause - for this, for their freedom.

The three remaining explorers:: Halcion, Louisa, and Masters stand tall, facing this thing now and forevermore. Its final words in this world fall on deaf ears.

"You need me…"

The body melts into nothingness. A single, pulsating red heart of energy is last to fade, and all become smoke in the wind. Everything Masters has fought for, this thing stands in opposition. With it gone, he turns to the one source of guidance: Zekrom.

Zekrom is wounded. Whatever the outsider was trying to charge he endured, taking its full brunt so his fellows may deliver the decisive blow. He covers his chest with a hand, breathing heavily, his sword lying at his feet.

"Zekrom?" Masters says, approaching him.

"This is my name. I am him." He inhales sharply. "I have yet to face an outsider so terrible. The wound they dealt is not fatal, but I will allow it to be so, it must be."

What did he mean by that? Does he…does he want to stay dead? Masters looks to Halcion for answers who stands up and speaks on his behalf.

"I didn't bring you up from nowhere so you can just die of a dumb little wound." Halcion shouts. "Come on, I'm sure one of these two got what you need…"

Masters sees Louisa digging through his things. He produces a Reviver Seed, brandishing it for Zekrom to see. Zekrom shakes his head.

"No, no, you had brought me here to quell a matter." Zekrom inhales. "I have silenced it alongside the being who wrought these troubles. I have done my duty; let me rest."

His aim is made abundantly clear. He wants to perish here, to return to whatever state Halcion had returned him from. Zekrom lets his armored body rest against the rubble, drawing in deep breaths as his eyes remain upon the trio, waiting solemnly.

"I would wager you have much to ask me, do you not?" Zekrom smiles softly. "Please, elucidate me. I prefer to perish in good tidings."

The first to speak is the one with the least to ask. Louisa, holding a hand across his heart, takes a step forward.

"My partner, a Sneasel who works under my society. She got aged by a black time gear, is she to be well?"

The question elicits an amused huff from Zekrom. He answers Louisa with a half-smile.

"She will be fine. She will live a long and prosperous life, I presume, with or without you. Time is a fickle; easily toyed with. If you were wise enough to seek the aid of Celebi, she would give your Sneasel elongated life for her trouble. It would be unlike her not to give out unnecessary blessings."

"You knew her?" The words slip out of Masters' mouth.

"Know her, yes. There was a time where conversing with other legendaries was not uncommon. She, save for Dialga, is the only counselor for the temporal domain. She was first to know about the formation of other time gears, those which distort time, used to bind my people."

He draws a deep breath, sighing.

"It was not right for them to do so, however expected. They distorted this homeland to douse the excess of light here, and in doing so, trapped my people in the deepest of dungeons. A sacrifice. They knew what they would wrought. It was a punishment."

Who is he speaking about? Masters wants to ask, though those words would be wasteful. It is the other legendaries, other powers like Zekrom, delivering to his people what the other Darkrai attempted. It has happened once before; did she know? All those gravesites, the husks of armor in the dungeons to the north…no one remembers them.

Louisa is still, looking towards the sky with a solemn expression, then to the wounded knight. He offers a bow, Zekrom stops him.

"You must not honor me."

Louisa nods, stepping down from the rubble into the streets, trying to measure the destruction.

Thus, his attention turns to the remaining two. His golden eyes look to Masters, he must be saving Halcion for last.

Masters' mind begins to race, the concoction of a battle rage and seed powder slowly wilts away, leaving behind an old, wounded ghost.

He feels cold all around. He touches his face, then looks at his hand. Purplish blood, his blood. He tells himself he has been through worse, then takes a deep breath, gazing wearily at the great warrior. Zekrom's wounds are plentiful. Pinprick holes have cut through parts of him, leaving behind scored flesh. How he is still able to breathe and speak is a monument to his sheer resilience.

Masters speaks.

"I have so many things to ask you. There's so much I want to know but there is not enough time."

"Then let it not be dashed, speak what your heart wishes."

A long silence follows that. What is he supposed to say? Each moment he spends Zekrom crawls closer to his demise. Respect his time, Masters thinks, just speak.

"I wanted to be an explorer since I first knew what they were. I found a little stone, and thought it was so strange I just had to find out its secrets. I'd come to meet a friend, together we discovered a plot to see the world covered in darkness, we even went to see it ourselves. It was a battle long fought. We retrieved the gears, we repaired Temporal Tower at the cost of the person most dear to me."

No platitudes, only a knowing, thoughtful gaze. Masters pulls out the mega stone, gripping it tight for strength, to feel his presence again.

"I came to get these gears so I can bring him back. It wasn't fair for me; I couldn't wrap my head around it. I came across another of this man's species, and welcomed this new person, and this memory back into me. I felt warm again for the first time since he left. I didn't admit it to him…"

His fingers tighten around the stone, tighter, tighter to where he can feel it digging into his palm.

"I loved him."

Not romantic, never could be, his for Rei is a different kind of love. Words do it no justice. Even with him gone, he can still feel it, however dwindling. It keeps him here, he will not fade so long as he feels purpose.

"I loved him, and…everything I fought for in Temporal Tower, I learned it was your plan. You want that world. You've reasons, everyone has their reasons. But I lost my friend for nothing, I just delayed your work, and I lost another because another conniving bastard thought they were you. No one does, no one gets to take..."

"We've our regrets." Zekrom speaks.

What does he regret, it is still happening because of him! Because of Darkrai, his team of schemers making everything worse! He can feel Halcion's gaze on his back, watching Masters as tears gush from his eyes. His voice becomes shrilll.

"You regret nothing! It's still going to happen, you've doomed us! And what can I even do-"

With one raised hand, Zekrom silences Masters. He is stricken momentarily, enough for Zekrom to speak.

"There is no greater sin than what I have brought. My actions were mine alone. My ambition was to create a world without a higher influence, unknowing of what I would sew. His deeds brought your world the Dungeons as you know them. Breaking the powers' binds to this world caused Destiny Tower to plummet to the earth, blighting the land."

There is a hint; a tinge of a falterance in his noble voice.

"The one you know as the prince swore fealty to me in my conquest to banish this light, the other has always been at my side. Darkrai foresaw what world was to be created, and what you believe is a plan to conquer or was intended from the start is my will enacted - doing all in their power to ease the falling of this light."

"True it may be that the world may need a higher power. Not it, nor this Nyarlathotep, deserve such a throne. The people need to guide themselves, a collective guided by the thoughts, the love, the protection of others. That is the world I fought for, not one which is clad in Darkness. If it cannot be undone, then I will see it come peacefully."

Zekrom leans his head back, falling against the rubble, facing up at the sky. The smoke is cleared, both the light and the darkness here have warred each other into a stalemate. Rubble falls all around, the buildings shifting back into their natural states, however ruined they may be. The sounds of The Sea wash over them, bringing cold air and peace to land. Stars shine overhead indifferent to all.

"No darkness, no tyrants, just people choosing to live. Such a naive notion, to believe I could force it upon you all. Even peace…I couldn't…"

The fringes of his mouth curls into a smile. Exposing his wounds to the salty air, his arm weakly reaches for his blade. He grasps it by its blade, turning its hilt towards…Halcion.

"The coldness of death is my atonement. I fought the mortal sent by the light, and it's when they struck me down did the weight of my actions take their toll. I cannot perish as you do as much as I wish it so. Take my stone - my heart, let it sit in the deepest depths of a dungeon, never to be touched."

Halcion stares at the sword then at the man who it belongs to. She wraps her hands tightly around the handle, wielding it with heft as it falls to the floor. Halcion's eyes dart between everyone.

"Whatever you want of me, I can't do this." Halcion says. "This is yours, it's always been yours."

"I bequeath it to you. Do the act, lay me to rest. I ask neither to be worshipped nor honored, merely remembered."

It is clear whatever has been fueling her throughout the battle is fading. The Haxorus looks on in horror, the weight of the sword chains her on the spot. Her mouth moves, nothing comes out until she looks to Masters with pleading eyes.

"Let him do it!" Halcion stutters. "You've gotta have a grudge, you-"

After this, after speaking to the man most responsible for all the woes of the world and his in turn, Masters cannot say for certain if he bears a grudge - he does not have the anger in him anymore.

Masters shakes his head. Zekrom, in turn, speaks for all.

"You have idolized me, you have honored me. You bear the heart of my squires. Those who see me for the person I am become my knights, my hands. They see that I am their equal, as equal as this flesh may allow."

He crosses his arms across his chest, pulling down the chainmail to reveal his bare neck. Zekrom sighs contently, facing the cosmos with a smile.

"Slay me, Halcion. Bear my sword, I am ready."

Halcion's grasp tightens, so tight her claws dig into her own palms, drawing blood. She hefts the sword overhead, resting the behemoth of a greatsword upon her shoulder. Her eyes line up a clean blow, ready to drop at a moment's notice. Looking down upon him with unmistakable awe, he smiles back.

"Carry that blade - carry it to the break of dawn. When the light crests after a world of darkness you will know the peace I have striven all my life for. If only I could be there to share with thee, for my sins stay my feet, and I atone evermore."

She shuts her eyes. He can hear her heart thumping in her chest. She shouts, hosting the blade high, then in a fell swoop slams it against the earth. Swift, painless, Zekrom's body disintegrates into black ash which the wind carries into the Sea of Time, scattering in its warped waves, lost but not forgotten.

Masters may not forgive him - it is likely he does not want to be. But what Masters grants the Knight is a thing he never grants his ilk: respect. Immortal, he lived the life of an explorer. Made mistakes, developed regrets, became endowed in fame, he knows the feeling all too well for the Grass Continent showered him in countless praise the moment he returned from Temporal Tower alone, so utterly alone. It is because of Zekrom he has come to an understanding about this world; of himself.

Though there may be countless troubles, endless setbacks, grief and misery, there is always a dawn waiting for them. Zekrom's world of peace, a new friend after so many years, a treasure at the end of a treacherous voyage. This pursuit is why he became an explorer. Happiness needs to be fought for.

A set of footsteps walk up towards them, Louisa. As the ashes near Halcion's feet part, they see a sphere lying in the rusted armor. She plucks it, and embraces the black stone, holding it close to her bosom and the sword in another, sheltering his remains in her admiration.

"Is it done?" Louisa asks.

Truly? It will never be, as long as they have something to strive for.

Masters looks at him, a smile curling up his bloodied face. The warmth of the mega stone returns, reminding him of what he has fought for. Halcion lifts the blade onto her shoulders, nodding to the Typhlosion.

Masters answers.

"It is done."