Chapter 63: The Battle for Fodlan Part 2

14th day of the Horsebow Moon 1181. Garreg Mach, inner Monastery walls.

Seiros observed her grandson's fight against the Ten Elites with just as much attention as the rest of the battle, but not with more than that. As much as it pained her to admit this, his was only one of many critical places of engagement. There were other places where enemy soldiers had gone through into the monastery town. If the garrison failed, not even Byleth's success would mean much.

The ample distraction he provided was well-used, however. The Ten Elites were true monsters of the battlefield, capable of butchering entire armies, even Nabatean ones; and they were tied up now. The only significant resistance the enemy could put up against her planned counterattack were Thales' mages. Without the support of the Ten Elites, they were expose, and Seiros was happy to exploit that.

"Unleash the golems on the enemy! I want the field swept clean of demonic beasts and these war machines," she ordered, "And tell all combat-ready Nabateans except Indech and Cethleann to get in the air. Our counterattack begins!"

She left further instructions before taking to the sky. It would have been foolish to had into the thick of battle without clarifying the chain of command. Indech was now giving the orders while guarding Fragarach. Wolfgang, once he was relieved by Jeralt, would take over in time. Right now, the Captain of the Knights of Seiros was still engaged in melee, but his Vice-Captain's shift was set to begin soon. Wolfgang was old, after all, and he was more suited to commanding than leading now.

Leading was on Seiros' plate, however. She would be at the forefront of the fight she was ordering her distant kin into. She was many things, not all of them admirable, but she was not a coward hiding away in safety while others died for her.

But before she could take off, the world trembled. Her head snapped in the direction of her grandson's battle. The swathe of destruction she now beheld showed all the signs of the Sword of the Creator at work. Since the original was no more, it could only have been Nemesis using the replica of the weapon. Byleth's position had just become untenable.

Seiros had no doubt that he would have triumphed in a one-on-one fight, but that was not the case. The Elites were still in play, as far as she could tell, and they had the necessary skill and power to navigate a fight between such titans in a manner that enabled them to render assistance to Nemesis. She had to change the direction of her plan and support her grandson now, or he would die.

That was when a pillar of bright purple light erupted from Byleth's position. It was not the same shade as the one typical for Dark Magic spells; it was vibrant and entrancing instead of foreboding. That in itself was ironic, as the phenomenon was very foreboding indeed. The light suddenly shifted shape into a bubble which encompassed Byleth, the Elites, Nemesis, and the immediate surroundings. Then the shrieking began.

The sound was bone-chilling. It reached the entire battlefield, halting the fighting momentarily with its deafening intensity. The shrieking lowered quickly in volume as the bubble of purple light grew denser; it seemed more solid than before, and the sounds remained persistent around it. One could still peer inside, however, and see the effect of the phenomenon.

Then another flash of light occurred. This time, it was small and right next to Seiros. She jumped slightly, but calmed down when she recognised it as the light which occurred during Warp and Rescue casts. When the light cleared, she had clear sight of her grandson, unconscious and crumpled in a heap. He still wore his helmet, but the Rayment was gone. His presence posed questions.

"Emergency protocols successfully executed. Armageddon-Lazarus contingency has been carried out. Psychic Shriek remains in effect until power is expended. Initiating emergency shutdown."

A monotonous voice came from the helmet, after which it dissolved and left Byleth bare-headed. A quick examination revealed that he was exhausted and lightly wounded. He seemed fine for the most part, although a proper check-up would not be the worst thing to perform on him. That he even was in any condition to be examined was the result of the quick and apparently autonomous evacuation from the battlefield. The words the helmet had spewed when he had arrived stank of Hyperion's influence, so she had an idea how this had come to pass. Seiros had many questions still, but there was no time to concern herself with them. She had a counterattack to carry out. After ordering a few people to bring Byleth to Cethleann, she departed to carry out her duty.

"Tell Indech that he is to find out how long this… bubble will last," she said, and then she was off.

As the Immaculate One took to the sky, hundreds of Nabateans followed her. The shadows of their wings covered the battlefield, and the beath attacks they unleashed overwhelmed any resistance they encountered bar Thales' spell casters. Even they could only keep so many dragons at bay, however. The army assaulting Garreg Mach was now as pigs for the slaughter, mused Seiros darkly. She had longed to repay these barbarians for the butchery they had committed against her kind, and the hour of her revenge had come.

So ferocious was the force of her attack, that many of the reanimated warriors started panicking. They broke ranks and fled under the assault she unleashed. This would not have occurred if things had gone according to plan. The demonic beasts Thales' forces had deployed were kept busy by the emergence of golems from the inner defences of Garreg Mach. Similarly, the Titanus, which were supposed to provide cover for the soldiers, were also beleaguered by a large number of golems. An additional thorn in the Agarthan dictator's side was the current unavailability of Nemesis and the Elites as commanders of their forces. As these factors were at play, the foremost elements of the army now solely led by Thales fell into disarray.

The attackers were thus quickly expelled from the Monastery town. That was how it stayed, however. Jeralt, who now led at the front, was not inclined to go further. Indech also did not consider it worth it to push further. Thinning the lines by stretching the front would have been a mistake. While Seiros' counterattack was having devastating effect, it was not enough to weaken the enemy to the degree necessary for a final charge. Then there was the fact to consider that her power would be needed within the monastery once the purple sphere which entrapped the Elites and Nemesis dissolved.

"It will last for about two hours," he muttered. That was the information that had been relayed to him by the prayer communication group.

It was not a lot of time, but perhaps it was enough for their allies to make headway.

Later. Mountain Pass.

"Send in the relic bearers and crush the enemy!" shouted Edelgard.

After they had broken through the enemy rearguard's defences a few hours ago, the allied army had taken up a fast pace to reach the main force of the undead host. The clean-up of the previous battle was left in the hands of many of the troops who were too exhausted from the fighting to participate in the forced march. They would catch up later once they had finished their job and caught their breaths. The majority of the troops had gone ahead, and they were now finally engaging the enemy.

The soldiers were therefore more than happy to obey the order they had been given. Those who had one of the Heroes' Relics, and their units, moved forward to begin the attack. As this was no time for dallying, they did so with all possible haste. That was a misfortunate occurrence for their opponents.

The first to strike were Lysithea and Lorenz. They passed Thyrsus between them, and its green glow spelled doom for any enemy in range. Said range was substantial thanks to the green-glowing artifact. It propelled their spells well over half a kilometre, which led to a perforation of the enemy lines. Piling on top of that was the power of these spells, Lysithea's more so than Lorenz's. Their initial strike left behind death and devastation.

As the two armies grew closer, the next to unleash the power of his Relic was Claude. Failnaught glowed green as well, and the arrows shot from it flew like bullets. Each of them punched through over a dozen soldiers without problem, and Claude loosened them at high speed. The result of this was that both Agarthan and undead soldiers were prevented from bunching up again after the magical bombardment.

For Sylvain and Ingrid, who led the charge of the terrestrial and flying cavalry respectively, this dispersed formation was a welcome circumstance. Sylvain's cavalry ploughed through the ground forces the warriors of Nemesis had tried to organise while Ingrid swept the sky clear of any disorientated flying demonic beasts and the rare wyvern riders of the undead army. Their assault was quick and clean, and it opened the way for further offensives.

In the wake of the cavalry approached the infantry led by Dimitri, Felix, Hilda and Yuri. The young king scythed his opponents down like wheat; Aeadhbar was living up to it name. Felix was less effective at cutting down the opposition, seeing as his relic was defensive in nature, but he was a terror on the battlefield with his blade skills. His shield also made it nearly impossible to harm him from the back whereas his front remained guarded by his skill and vigilance. Hilda was, despite her protests, also on the forefront, and made a good showing of herself. Freikugel smashed through any target she swung it at regardless of any armour or defence. The big swings she took left her vulnerable, however. Fortunately for her, Yuri was there to cut down anyone who sought to exploit the apparent weakness of the pink-haired woman.

The relentless assault shattered the front of the Agarthan army. Regular soldiers stood no chance against Relic bearers unless they heavily outnumbered them, but the current users were surrounded and aided by an entire army. There was no stopping their onslaught. And so, the push continued without pause or restrained until they eventually reached the end of the mountain pass, where it opened up into a wider field.

That was not a signal to stop the attack, however. As the lines widened, new troop elements rushed to the front. At the fore were additional cavalry complements led by Nader and infantry under Judith. Additionally, mage moved up to provide close combat support. They were led by Marianne, Lysithea, Lorenz, Annette and Dorothea. Lorenz' forces acted as a mobile body guard for the vast mage complement. This enabled Annette or Marianne from leading their soldiers right into the thick of battle. Their Relics made them uniquely suited to fight in close quarters in case enemies made their way past the spells of their troops.

At was at this point that the regular rank and file without Relics joined, although some bore special weapons of their own. At their helm was Edelgard, but there were many officers among the advancing host, such as Raphael and Ignatz. Never far from Edelgard's side was Hubert with his elite mages. They all headed towards the centre of the battle and formed up once they had reached it. They were thus poised as a spear tip.

"Renew the attack!" she ordered. "Crush them beneath our heels!"

She then led the next push with great ferocity. Behind her followed Caspar, Raphael and many of the officers who lacked the wherewithal to direct a battle but had proven to be good unit commanders. The task of overseeing the battle as a whole fell to Claude, who still occasionally performed his sweeps of air and ground forces that could threaten the allied army. He could provide support without losing sight of the battle in a protracted melee. The others could therefore continue to advance without having to worry too much.

As the remaining monarchs of Fodlan pushed onward, Claude took stock of the situation. The attack was still going with a lot of force. Still, it was slowing down as exhaustion mounted. The great progress they were making would quickly turn into overcommitment if he was not careful. He knew the best solution for that was to begin troops rotation. While that would work for many units, he lacked the soldiers to rotate the entire frontline efficiently.

"I want scouts to figure out when our clean-up team arrives. It'd better be soon," he said.

While it was somewhat inconvenient to perform prayer while flying, one of his fellow wyvern riders soon had an answer relayed by the Goddess. "They're not far off. Ten to fifteen minutes until they arrive."

"Good," replied Claude, "Go and relay my orders to the troops fighting right now. Tell them to prepare for rotation in twenty minutes. We'll remind them again in fifteen."

The battle continued in the meantime. The allied army continued their advance with a swiftness that was surprising to them. Some wondered why that was. As they would later find out, the reason behind the lack of defensive competence was the lack of leadership. The warriors of Nemesis considered Thales their ally but not their superior. They hesitated to take orders from him, and the cohesion of their army suffered as a consequence. The troops arrayed against them thus made impressive progress.

Despite this, Claude's prediction came true. The advance was slowing significantly as individual unit commanders reported mounting exhaustion to their superiors. They, in turn, reported that to the higher officers, who then ordered a reduction of speed. Claude did not countermand these orders. He had no need to do so; the rotation was set to begin soon.

The contingent left behind at the last battlefield arrived in short order. They took up proper position for the rotation, and then signal was given.

The foremost troop contingents retreat once the horns were blown. It was standard practice to try and bait the enemy into pursuit, which sadly failed in this case. The enemy did not believe that they would rout. That was fine in Claude's book, even if it was not the preferred result.

"Reserves forward!" he ordered.

In a practiced manoeuvre, the retreating and advancing elements moved into rows with gaps large enough for the soldiers of the other force to move through. They made a seamless switch that way, and the reserves now made up the new frontline force while the previous one rested.

The attack resumed shortly after. The Ashen Wolves minus Yuri, who had gone ahead of them to join the initial assault, and a slew of other, lesser known officers now led the attack alongside Jeritza. Claude remained in overall command as he directed the battle.

As he studied the clash of the two armies, he wondered if they would break through fast enough. There was no doubt that his army would win the engagement as the vast majority of the heavy hitters in the enemy force were at Garreg Mach. The question was whether Fodlan's united forces would arrive before the Monastery lay in ashes. They would know soon enough, as the place would soon be in sight if the push continued as it had been doing.

"Well, ever onward with the meatgrinder," he muttered.

Later. Garreg Mach.

Time was running out, despite the progress the defenders had made. It was true that the attackers were bloodied; over 40'000 enemy soldiers had perished over the course of the battle so far. That did not mean that the defenders had not suffered either; a good third of their number was dead. An additional problem was the renewed ferocity of the enemy assault, likely caused by the allied attack on the enemy's rear. It was not a bad thing in itself, but it left little room to breathe. And finally, the biggest problem was the imminent fading of the purple sphere which kept Nemesis and the Elites trapped.

It was not yet due, but preparations were already underway. Indech was giving the appropriate orders. "Recall Seiros and pull Catherine from the frontline. Get Cethleann, Macuil and Cichol here as well. We Saints and the wielder of Thunderbrand are the only ones here who can contain Nemesis and the Elites. Prepare for Captain Wolfgang to assume overall command until the threat is taken care of."

That said, there was still a bit of time left before that occurred. There was no need to hurry just yet. Indech therefore took a minute to gather a retinue of Knights of Seiros before he handed command over to Wolfgang and departed the command post. On his way down, he and his retinue took pot shots at attacking troops who managed to get on or past the second set of walls as they ran from the intense Nabatean onslaught Seiros and Beon were currently leading.

As he arrived on the scene of Byleth's brief fight with the Elites, he noted that the purple light the sphere emanated was beginning to weaken. It would be showtime soon. The two hours had run out, and the stage was set. The only thing the Saint was still waiting for were the people he had summoned to join him.

He did not have to wait log for their arrival. The first to reach him was Seiros, who changed into her humanoid form as soon as she had landed. Next was Cichol, arriving by wyvern and looking battel ready. Macuil was next. He chose to emulate his aunt and assume humanoid form. Last to arrive were Catherine and Cethleann. The former had likely insisted that she guard the Saint. Their respective postures seemed to indicate as much.

"So it begins," said Macuil.

"So it ends," retorted Seiros. "I killed Nemesis once, and I'll do it again."

Indech shook his head and said, "Last time you did, the Elites were busy somewhere else on the battlefield. This isn't a duel."

"You're right about that. We will have to be careful," added Cethleann.

Cichol nodded in agreement. "Yes, you especially. Should our defeat be imminent, I implore you to flee."

"It won't come to that," said Seiros with conviction. "We will win here."

Indech snorted and said, "I will be winning from a distance then, keep that lunatic Riegan busy."

He disliked being in a crowd, whether that was during a gathering or in a fight. He could tolerate it, but he preferred to be away from others. His combat specialty, that being the bow, therefore suited him well.

"Enough talk," said Macuil, "Get ready."

He received determined looks from the others. This would be the most important engagement of the battle, and it would determine the fate of Fodlan. They needed to have their heads in the game. The time was at hand.

The purple sphere rapidly deteriorated ere long. It became easy to see through the purple light within a minute. Then the shrieking could be heard again as the sphere fell apart. To the careful eye, the Elites and Nemesis were now visibly struggling against the hold which kept them trapped, and it showed by their trembling. The psychic shriek ran out of power and died completely only a few seconds later.

Not inclined to give their enemy any sort of rest, the Saints and Catherine attacked instantly. Indech made sure that his bow lived up to its name and shot a barrage of arrows at Riegan to keep him busy. Macuil launched a terrifying barrage of wind spells at Blaiddyd. Catherine engaged Charon, the namesake of the family she had abandoned, in a clash of original and replica Thunderbrand. Cethleann of all people went on the attack as well, for she did not like to stay back and let the others be outnumbered; and the target of her choice was Goneril. Cichol, being mounted on his wyvern, went for the most mobile target of the Elites, which was the remaining one, Gautier. Seiros meanwhile took Nemesis to the task.

There was no time wasted on talking. Banter could be saved for after the victory. Instead, the group from Garreg Mach attacked without preamble or mercy, and took their enemies by surprise. The Elites did not just have that epithet for show, though. They fought back ferociously.

Most were evenly matched. Neither Catherine nor Charon could gain the upper hand in their fight. Their styles were distinctly different from each other, but each swing was countered, every feint uncovered, and every play foreseen on both sides. It was much the same for Cichol and Gautier. Even though the latter was actually stronger, Cichol could activate his Crest at will, which hampered the undead warrior. Riegan and Indech meanwhile played a game of keeping each other out of the fight. They shot and dodged arrows, effectively neutralising the other. Others were not so even, however.

Cethleann had trouble keeping Goneril at bay. The man was clad in a bulky armour, but he was surprisingly nimble. She could not hit him directly with any spells, although several had clipped him. He was closing in on her, however, and she would only be able to keep him away from her for so long. For now, she simply shot spells in his path and healed the others when she could. That was a contributing factor for her being on the backfoot, however.

Macuil meanwhile was dominating his opposition. In spite of Blaiddyd's extraordinary skill with his weapon, Macuil was more skilled with his magic, and a clever fighter besides. A few spells at the Elite's feet had the man unbalanced, a few more had him in the air, and one more nailed him in the chest. The reanimated warrior was thrown back by the spell and landed hard on the ground. He managed to avoid the follow-up blow by rolling out of the way, but he had lost initiative. The Nabatean held the advantage.

Another uneven fight presented itself as the battle between Nemesis and Seiros. While the latter had managed to defeat the former a thousand years prior, the King of Liberation was wise to her tricks now. He knew to keep her at medium distance, swinging his sword in measured patterns and deflecting her every attempt to get into range for a fist fight. She tried the same disarming trick she had employed in their previous battle, only for him to reverse it and ripping her sword out of her hands instead. Seiros was left relying on magic instead, and while she was very proficient in it, she was slower at it than he was at swinging his sword. She could avoid his blows for now, but her exhaustion was mounting faster than his.

The clash of these titans of the battlefield left their surroundings a complete mess. The monastery town was wrecked beyond any hope of repair. The second set of walls suffered for it as well, and more and more troops under Thales' command started streaming into the caps. They made sure to stay clear of the fight between the Elites and the Saints (plus Catherine); the immediate area forty metres around them was a death zone for anyone entering it. Nobody wanted to get in there.

However, there was one notable exception. One knight was daring enough to get into that fight. He had been injured previously, and he had not yet recovered completely. That said, he was still capable of joining that mad clash in his hindered state. He had escaped the infirmary, grabbed a weapon, and set off immediately upon awakening. His name was Byleth.

He donned his helmet once more, although lacking the Raiment of the First Principle, and he joined the fight. He knew that he was not in a state to play to his usual strength of heavy assault and instead focussed on support; and the one most in need of help was Cethleann. His intervention topped Goneril's advance to her and gave her the time she needed to recover and create space between her and her adversary.

"Get him!" he shouted.

Cethleann was happy to oblige, and she attacked. Wind spells and Nosferatu casts made their way towards Goneril, whose mobility was now severely limited by Byleth. The heavily armoured man's situation had worsened significantly. It would not be long before the youngest of the Saints would score a hit, although it would not be a significant one.

As the fight turned into a stalemate, the wider battle became one as well. The previously relentless advance of the undead and Agarthan troops slowed down. Thales was forced to divert troops to protect his command post, seeing as the rearguard had collapsed in its entirety by now. The reason for this soon became visible to all who could spare the attention to look eastward.

"Banners from the pass!" shouted a soldier from the third, innermost ring of walls around the Monastery. "Alliance, Kingdom and Empire! Reinforcements are here!"

His shouts were repeated across the battlefield, drawing cheers from the defenders and rejuvenating their morale. Flagging units rallied quickly and redoubled their efforts to hold the line. Some were even going further.

"Forward! Drive them back and retake the town!" ordered Jeralt, commander of the frontline.

His motive was twofold. For one, a push was viable because the gaps in the second line of walls was small enough to be held with the defenders' numbers if the town was retaken. And second, it would put the troops in a position to support the group fighting Nemesis and the Elites. That Byleth had been seen in that location played a role in it as well. He therefore had a legitimate reason for the counterattack, but he was not the only one.

Lars and Jana were both very much in support of this course of action. They took Byleth's personal guard, formerly Jeralt's mercenaries, and led the charge. Their goal was to reach the target of their worry and render support. That it aligned with the tactical goals of their commander was simply a bonus to them.

They were not the only ones to take this shift in momentum seriously, however. Thales had diverted a significant amount of troops from the offensive to strengthen his position. The fleeing elements of his allies' rearguard found themselves safely behind a prepared line of Agarthan soldiers. The broken units rallied and joined that line soon after. The advance of the combined army of Fodlan was thus slowed to a crawl.

The battle now stood at the precipice of its fate. Should one side break, either in the clash of Saints and Elites, the Monastery front or the pass front, the battle was as good as decided. Not much was needed to tip the balance of the scales.

As the most likely source of that tipping of the scales counted the fight between Nemesis and Seiros. She had lost her weapon, was on the backfoot, and she was out of breath. The resurrected old man, however, was barely breathing hard, and his sword glowed red. It was poised to strike her down, and she would not be able to avoid the blow. He grinned, and in his moment of victory, he could not help but gloat.

"Time to die, beast," he taunted.

"Oh no, you fucking don't," said a voice from behind him.

"Huh?"

He turned around to see a strange man in black armour. That was as far as he got with his observation before the armoured man punched him in the gut, launching him several metres back. He landed in the rubble of a destroyed house, causing him to release a pained groan. His bearings returned to him quickly, and he tried to take stock of the situation again. The man who had punched him still stood where he had seemingly appeared out of nothing, but now Nemesis noticed a detail he had previously failed to spot. Behind the man was an ethereal, black and red door.

The man then spoke, "No one touches my beloved's family with impunity, least of all you. Now sit back here like a good mutt and see all that you have worked for crumble. Watch in despair as you and your thieving legions are eradicated. And if you're wondering why this is happening, let me tell you this: No one departs from the Underworld without my leave and gets away with it."

The man the clapped his hands together and yelled. "Open the gates! Let's get this show on the road!"

The ethereal door behind the man then expanded to the size of a proper castle gate, and thousands more of the same doors appeared across all fronts. They opened soon thereafter, and Nemesis could only stare in horror at what lay behind them. An army had come, one larger than any Fodlan had ever seen and which the gates then began disgorging rapidly.

One of those who were leaving the gates was a figure clad in white armour. It was clearly a very well-proportioned woman, but that detail paled in the face of the menace she was exuding towards the King of Liberation.

"Behold your doom, Nemesis, for it is at hand," said the figure.

Minutes earlier. Valhalla.

"We're nearly there, boys and girls," I told the warriors that we had assembled.

The army of Einherjar was far larger than I had initially expected. The Norse religion had never had all that many followers. With other religions, most notably Christianity, displacing it, I had thought there would not have been enough of them to amass a force like this. Or at least that had been the case until Odin had slackened the standards for Valhalla to include atheists as well, which ironically had made them stop being atheists. Digressions aside, these circumstances had led to the army of 643'014 of humanity's best warriors and soldiers to prepare for battle.

They were already chomping at the bit. The influx of souls to the Underworld that had been going on for the last few hours only exacerbated this situation. The returning escapees were already paying for their transgressions by providing the energy to speed up the ritual to open the gates. The height of battle still had to be reached, but the Gates of Valhalla also needed time to open; thankfully, that would go faster with power from the souls participating in the battle. I was all for it. The sooner I could let loose the battle fanatics the sooner this war would end.

"Björn, get the warriors ready. The climax of the battle approaches," I said.

Björn was the man the Einherjar had chosen as their general. He was one of the first, and he had distinguished himself not only as a warrior but also as a commander. There were those who were stronger than him, but none with the same combination of talents. He was the one best suited for the position.

Said position being in his hands did not absolve me of having my part to play. I would be the first to cross over into the world of the living and hasten the opening of the other gates from there. I would also determine the places for their appearance. And, during the real climax of the battle, I would ensure that collateral was minimised. My soon-to-be wife would be letting loose, after all, and someone had to keep the mess contained. That would be my job.

Sothis for her part was lost in thought when I glanced in her direction. I took her hand in mine and squeezed it.

"I love you," I told her.

She smiled at me and said back, "I love you too."

"It will soon be over. You'll have your revenge; the world will have its justice; and we all will have our peace. Don't worry about anything. I'll have your back, now and forever," I said.

Her smile widened. She leaned in and gave me a short but intense kiss. The Einherjar who saw this whistled and cheered. Sothis and I both snorted.

"Settle down, you cheeky buggers," I shouted at them, though I was quite amused.

Sothis shared the sentiment. "They are a rowdy bunch, are they not?" she asked rhetorically.

"That they are," I said, "But they're the best. Now get ready. It's about to start."

Our rings glowed and became our armours. We donned our shields as well; we would need them for utility if nothing else. It was sensible in any case. Not using all viable tools at hand out of a sense of pride or arrogance was stupid. I had no desire to endanger myself or, much worse, Sothis.

Further thoughts were wasted, as a door appeared before me. It bore my colours but was plain otherwise. Nonetheless, it was very important, and I knew what it was. This was my ticket to the world of the living.

"Ready for battle! I'm going through," I shouted before stepping through the door.

One punch and a bit of trash-talking later, and the fight was on. The Einherjar were marching forth from the Gates of Valhalla, with which I had surrounded the enemy army, and they stood ready to attack. That had to wait, however. For the opening move of this battle, Sothis had told me she wanted to deal with Thales first. Saving the best for last suited my tastes just fine, and so I had agreed with her thought process.

"Behold your doom, Nemesis, for it is at hand," she said.

Then, she stated to shapeshift. She grew in height, and her form changed to that of a serpentine dragon. She was smaller than any Nabatean, but the power concentrated in her was incomparably greater. She exuded an air of unassailable superiority. Her wings took her into the sky; and she let loose a roar that went through the entire mountain range. The fighting stopped, and all eyes were directed at her flying figure. She looked absolutely majestic.

"Thales!" she shouted. "It seems your people have forgotten just who levelled their great fortresses. You shall remember!"

Her voice was carried across Fodlan, for the wind itself bowed to her will, and did as it was bid. Pure, unadulterated terror seized the hearts of her enemies as she spoke. In others it awoke awe and reverence. Her presence was commanding, and it demanded nothing less than respect. Alas, there would always be those too foolish to heed good counsel.

"Die, Fell Star!" shouted Thales back at her.

His voice rallied his soldiers, and they cast every spell they had at her. Nabateans had fallen to these in droves, and Beon's people had suffered many losses to them. It was for naught, however. Their tricks were worthless in the face of proper preparation backed by power such as Sothis' and mine. The spells were intercepted by a spinning green and gold shield. It was specifically enchanted to negate the weaknesses of its bearers. So, in truth, regular spells would have had a greater impact than the ones geared towards Nabateans. They would still have remained just as ineffective, however.

And even then, she's still wearing her armour. I'm glad I made sure it would fit any form she chose, I thought to myself.

It was also my cue to start with my part of the plan. I raised my shield and activated one of its primary functions. The scales it was made up of shot in every direction and formed up in a dome shape around a large chunk of the enemy army. I then channelled my AT field into the shield and used it to amplify the field. Thus, the main portion of the undead and Agarthan army, including Thales, was trapped in a half-sphere. More importantly, I was now also effectively shielding everything outside the dome.

With that taken care of, Sothis could let loose, and let loose she did. A blue light shone from behind her fangs. Then she opened her mouth and released a breath attack. One of these was devastating enough when used by a Nabatean, but only Sothis was capable of harnessing their true destructive power. She was the Goddess of the star Sirius, the Scorcher; and now she was about to show the world what that meant.

Blue flame-like light spewed forth from her maw. It swept over the battlefield. Unlike cursed fire or my black divine flames, her attack did not burn; it scorched. All hints of liquid and moisture were erased. Plants, bodies and even the ground shrivelled up. Rocks broke apart and the dried-out husks of tens of thousand of soldiers turned to dust in one fell swoop. Thales, the last of Agartha's great Sages, barely even put up half a second's resistance. Everything within the dome bar Sothis had been laid to waste in the blink of an eye.

She surveyed the destruction she had wrought and then descended, landing on the ground and shifting back into her humanoid form. I took that as the signal for me to drop the dome, and so I did. The scales of my shield shot back to my army, reassembling themselves in the complete object. I was now ready and available to help clean up.

Speaking of which…

"Björn, go wild!" I ordered, throwing my voice across the battlefield to him and his soldiers. Having a minor domain of sound sure was handy.

My shout had also alerted the others on the field that the battle was still going on. For most, it was too late already. The overwhelming force Sothis and I had taken along was now crushing the enemy with superior numbers and superior weaponry; I was not about to take swords and spears along when the Underworld had assault rifles and modern armour. A one-sided massacre was only to be expected there. The only place that required a personal touch was the one I was already at.

Scales shot off my shield again, creating small barriers around the Saints, Byleth and Catherine. I disliked the latter, but that did not mean that I had any reason to not protect her. And while none of the seven required my assistance strictly speaking, I wanted to err on the side of caution.

"Now then, back to you," I said to Nemesis.

The man looked with wide eyes at the huge area Sothis had scorched. Nervous sweat was building on his face. He looked terrified, as was right. All these centuries ago, when he had murdered Sothis, he had had no idea what kind of power he had challenged. Now he knew, and I was only too happy to put him at her mercy.

"It's time you had a little reunion with my beloved," I continued.

Before he could react, I had activated my AT field through a scale of my shield again, and used the hexagonal barrier it generated to trap Nemesis in a miniature dome. With him handled, I diverted my attention to the Elites.

"As for the peanut gallery," I said as I turned to them, "You lot have left the Underworld without my permission. Tartarus awaits your arrival."

The five surviving Elites got into gear at that proclamation. I had already wondered for how long I could have gotten away with breaking my own rule of not trash-talking in the midst of battle. It seemed they had finally gotten over the shock of our arrival. Not that it would help them.

Dozens of magic circles formed in front of me. Each of them discharged a bolt of highly concentrated and highly damaging light. Evasion in the classical sense was impossible, and only Charon managed to predict that trajectory of my spells by the alignment of the circles in time. He got away with a pierced hip; the others were perforated. It was a pointless accomplishment, however, as he had lost his ability to evade from the shot that connected. One more magic circle formed, and the bolt that come forth from it pierced his skull.

Since the Elites were now dealt with, I released the barriers around my allies. It was safe for them to be about again. Nemesis remained in his own little bubble, however, even if he was now visibly struggling and banging his red-glowing sword against the barrier. Unless he really charged that thing properly, he was not getting out on his own.

"Alright, who of you needs some patching up?" I asked the seven who had fought the Ten Louts.

I snickered internally at that nickname.

"That was… quick," said Cichol.

I rolled my eyes. "Duh. I'm a God. You won't see me struggle against a bunch of regular humans with shiny toys. Admittedly, each of them was more skilled than I was, but divine powers are bullshit. Now I'm going to ask again: Who needs medication?"

"Why are you even asking? Cethleann is far better at healing than you are," commented Byleth.

While the youngest of the Saints beamed at the praise, I answered, "I need to practice, and I want to kill time until Sothis is finished sauntering over here. I think she's drawing this out for maximum satisfaction."

A groan came from Seiros' mouth. "Please, stop talking. I have no need of a headache on top of my exhaustion."

That only made me laugh. "Sorry about that, but my silence only comes sporadically on its own. Fortunately for you, the main attraction is about to arrive."

Indeed, Sothis had finally reached us. Her first words were directed at me. "Dear, please stop pestering Seiros."

I snorted and replied, "Sure."

Her arrival sparked reactions from everyone. Most were probably quite happy. I, however, was concerned with Nemesis' reaction. The man looked like he was having a tantrum, although it was admittedly far more dangerous than that. He kept swinging his sword at the barrier I had to put around him, and he was actually weakening it gradually. If he kept at it, he would break free within an hour or two. He was unlikely to get that much time because Sothis was here specifically to deal with him.

"Indech, be a dear and give me my sword, please," she said.

The man in question put down his bow and undid a strap around his torso. It was actually less of a strap and more of a girdle on which the sheath of Fragarach hung. He handed the whole thing over to Sothis, who took it with a smile. She promptly pulled the sword from the sheath and inspected it.

"Still just a simple as I remember it. Manannan never was one for embellishments," she muttered. Then she said, "Thank you, Indech. My love, can you let Nemesis out now? It's time I settled the matter between us."

I complied with her request and dropped the barrier around Nemesis. Predictably, he tried to bolt immediately; a bandit he may have been, but he was not stupid enough to think he could win. It was his misfortune that his opponent was Sothis. There would be no escape for him even without my AT field, although I made sure to cast a ward-type spell that would prevent teleportation of all kinds. Even when gloating, one had to ensure that the prey did not get away.

Sothis seemed to think the same way. She grew wings from her back and shot after Nemesis. It was easy for her to catch up with the speed her wings gave her. She swung her sword, but Nemesis noticed in time. He blocked Fragarach with the Dark Sword of the Creator, as I knew it as. He was a very skilled warrior, after all. It was not enough for him to escape, however, and even he noticed. He would have to make a stand.

"You assaulted me when I was comatose. You butchered me like an animal, and now that I have returned, you run away like a coward? No, you do not get to run. Fight!" declared Sothis.

He growled and swung his sword. It took on a whip shape as its segments separated by his will. It was a good move, technically speaking. It opened many angles of attack simultaneously. Sothis was forced to deflect with her own sword and the shield she wore on her left arm. She swung back at him as soon as she saw his attack abating. The short exchange left both of them with small scratches.

"Ugh!"

Nemesis coughed up blood before he could strike again. It was not just a one-time occurrence either. Second by second, he coughed up more. He stared at my beloved as he collapsed, and wheezed out the words, "What… did you do… to me?"

Sothis did not dignify his question with an answer. Instead, she watched as more and more blood left him. The man was basically coughing his lungs out. It was not a good death he was experiencing right now. It was not like the gruesome nature of his end was undeserved, though. I was moved to pity by it, however, and I decided to tell him what was happening… once it was over, that was.

It did not take long for him to breathe his last. I could see his soul vacating his body, and I took the opportunity to grasp it with my power. He would receive a personal farewell message.

"For your information, Nemesis, the sword on Sothis' hand is Fragarach. It's the divine sword of the Irish Gods. That may not tell you much, but I assure you, it's a weapon of great acclaim. Among its abilities is one you will find very interesting: Any wound the sword deals is lethal, even a tiny scratch," I told him. I turned away from his soul to Sothis, and asked her, "Do you have anything to add?"

She nodded and said to Nemesis, "A death for a death. Our debt is settled. Let this be the end of our grudge. Return to the afterlife now and endure your rightful punishment."

With that said, she turned away. That was my cue to finish up here, which I did. A cloud of black devoured Nemesis' soul, sending it straight to his rightful place in the Underworld. Since there was nothing to watch anymore, I also turned away.

Our small audience meanwhile just stood there, not sure what to make of things. I decided to help them along a little.

"Cheer up, people. The war's over. We've won!" I said with a smile.

Sothis chimed in, "That we have. Let us organise the necessary post-battle operations and then celebrate."

"What about the battle? The armies?" asked Cichol.

Macuil snorted. "Pay attention. What are you hearing?"

Only then did the others notice what Macuil, Sothis and I already knew. The sounds of battle had ceased. Celebratory cheering was heard instead.

I smiled. "As I said, we've won."

Two hours later. Garreg Mach, war room.

After the resounding success in the field this day, the political leaders of Fodlan and beyond gathered in the war room. Victory had been attained, but there were still issues to be discussed, although the truly weighty diplomatic talks could wait for later. The gathering's purpose was mostly to get a bit of work done before the grand victory feast.

Seeing as nearly everyone was exhausted and in a festive mood to boot, the meeting would be kept short. Since Sothis was one of the few people to not be on her last legs, she moderated.

"The war is over, and there will be political shifts. All of you have fought together, bled together, and achieved victory together. It is my sincere hope that the bonds of friendship you have forged over the course of this war continue to strengthen. A new era of cooperation lies ahead of us if you, no, we all work together," she said.

Claude chuckled and said, "I'll be the first to hop on board there. I liked being unified behind a common cause, so let's keep it up."

"Yes. Together we are stronger than separate," commented Dimitri. "I would welcome such a development."

Edelgard agreed as well. "That is indeed the case. In military and social matters, we can accomplish much together… so long as we head in the same direction."

"Sounds good to me," chimed in Nader. "His Majesty's likely going to approve if Khalid says it's worthwhile."

"My grandfather will also have liking of working beside the other countries," said Petra.

Left unsaid was that working beneath the other countries was out of the question. Since that was not the intention of anyone present anyway, the topic warranted no further explanation.

"We'll, we can discuss what it means to pull on the same string later, so long as we do end up talking. Besides, we can't decide anything anyway since we're lacking a few heads of state. The king of Almyra; spokespeople from Duscur; the king of Brigid; representatives of the Tribes of Norweg; and a proper diplomatic party from Agartha are all going to be needed," Hyperion summarised the situation. "For the sake of convenience, I propose we combine the peace conference with greater diplomatic talks. That way we can combine the two matters and expedite the process to find common ground."

"Sounds good enough to me," said Beon. "Give us a date, and we'll be there."

The others appeared to be in favour as well. A quick, informal vote was cast, resulting in unanimous agreement to combine peace talks and wider negotiations. The path forward was therefore clear.

Sothis then said, "We are in agreement. Letters announcing our victory and the intention for an international conference will be sent to the relevant parties. Does two months from now sound good?"

"Make that two and a half," said Nader. "Travel times to the Almyran capital are extensive."

"Noted," said Sothis. "Then it's settled. The preliminary date of the conference shall be the 1st of the Ethereal Moon."

Appreciative grumbling and nods were exchanged, and Sothis decided to end the meeting.

"If that is all, let us go and prepare for the feast. To peace!"

"To peace!" echoed the rest.

AN: Hello there, dear readers!

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter, as it is the last "main" chapter of the story. I don't know how well of a job I did with the battle and the final confrontation between Sothis and Nemesis, but I hope you have found it satisfactory.

For those of you who are waiting for the resolution of the political side, and also want to see more of the characters, I've got something in the works. There will be two epilogue chapters. One will deal with post-war Fodlan, its political climate, and the characters who live in and around it. The second one will close the final overarching arc of the story.

As usual, I would like to thank all those who have followed, favourited and reviewed. Your criticism and praise are appreciated.

With that said, I release you into the wild, my dear readers. Until next time. Stay happy and healthy, everyone!