36

Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a boy.

A bit rough around the edges, as all children are in their own ways, but hardworking, excited about the future. In this modern world, anyone could achieve anything if they simply put their minds to it and their nose to the grindstone.

This was a simple, if childish, notion. Childish in the sense that the world does its best to burn such things out of us.

He'd certainly done his best and worked harder than the others. Yet, others succeeded where he failed. He tried again and did better. Fifth, fourth, even third place, on occasion. But not the best.

Never the best.

Because life isn't fair, and some people are simply more gifted, luckier than others.

He felt so very strongly towards these things, towards success and competition and pride. To his peers and his parents, to school and that bright, bright future. But he could not be the best, and he could not gain the admiration of his peers, and he could not make his parents proud of him, no matter what he did or how hard he tried or how much of himself he poured into these things.

He couldn't do anything right. Not at all. Not this way.

And so, he dove back into his studies, his work, his improvement. Not for others, but for himself. Because that is the only thing that really matters, no? This world is cruel, and uncaring, and the only real way to get ahead, to survive that, is to match it. To understand it on a fundamental level… and to take advantage of it, the same way it takes advantage of you.

He scoffed at those who squandered their opportunities, knowing that he would never do such a thing. He spurned those who abandoned their thoughts for action, wasteful feeling, emotional kindling. He buried that which would distract him, from his own uncomfortable body to the peers that would rather party on the weekends than prepare for their exams. He developed, according to his own words, complex after complex, and he acknowledged his own flaws in an attempt to distance himself through self-awareness.

Selfish.

Others had come and gone, but that word remained constant. There is nothing wrong with being selfish, but in a cruel world, where others prioritized comradery and care as a counter to such an unfeeling existence, he settled for himself.

Make your own advantages. Let others settle for greatness.

Move forward, ever forward. Strive to be superior in your own way.

No matter what, I am better than the person in front of me. And if not, I will be.

And then, one day, he died. It is debatable the fault in such circumstance. The man doing his job, though more callously than perhaps necessary, or the man who'd shoved him, who had only hours before lost everything.

The outcome is the same, but his life did not end. Not in the usual sense.

And in that, everything changed.

She found herself in a new world. A worse world, objectively, and yet a better one.

Having thought herself above such things, she found herself… furious. Upset. After so long, such power in her chest felt foreign, and even if they were negative, she felt them so very strongly.

It was terrifying. It couldn't be allowed to persist, just as before.

As before, she focused on looking after herself. Before anyone else, all that mattered was her own life. All that mattered was surviving this Hell of that wannabe deity's making.

She did many cruel, callous, selfish things in this effort. There's no denying that. She certainly wouldn't, and she had no intention of apologizing for them either. Most of them.

She did many things contrary to this, as well.

Perhaps, she even dropped her guard, just the slightest bit. Against her own will, she… could not remain the same as before. Not entirely. Those meat shields were awfully chatty, and she couldn't bring herself to abandon them so readily as she'd intended.

Years passed. Circumstances changed.

She could feel it, deep down. And as she'd once done a world ago, she ruthlessly suppressed it. Knowing it would not help her. Knowing it could only hurt, if she let it. So, she wouldn't.

And yet, as she knew all too well… it only takes one small stab from behind to collapse everything you'd worked so hard for. Or a shove, or in this case, a divine implosion.

She died, even after trying her best. Taking her previous modus operandi, and perfecting it for a new world, and yet it hadn't saved her.

It hadn't saved anyone.

It's the same old story, and more than anything, she was tired of it.

For a short time, she'd honestly just… given up. Gone through the motions.

There was no anger this time, not really. She couldn't even bring herself to care about the one who'd ruined everything this time. What was the point?

Nothing they'd done really mattered, in the end.

-=-

"…I understand fully."

I'll do it.

Even if it means forsaking those ideals…

-=-=-=-

Afternoon

Near the edge of Tempest proper

Tempest, Jura Tempest Federation

Flow state is commonly characterized as a person's absolute absorption into an activity. The gap between decision-making and acting might as well be seamless. An effortless level of utter concentration, a state of mental "zone" in which immersion trumps nerves or hesitation.

Anyone can enter "flow", but some people are more predisposed to it than others. Those with the ability to focus on will, with confidence and experience enough to trust themselves with anything.

It can be great. It can be dangerous.

Tanya doesn't even think.

Her body sparks, Tetra Breaker extending into the dark blue and black energies. Her eyes burn teal, and her secondary reserves scream.

Then, she moves.

The Non-Newtonian ribbons scatter into grid fragments and numbers. The ring of black and blue fire shrinks, then compresses into the nearest shadow.

Hers.

The pavement cracks, and if Drake was blur, then Tanya is impossible to see.

Ahead, events unfold as if a nightmare. Drake is still a blur, is almost there, is already there, lunging, stabbing-

It's not fast enough.

Despite everything. Despite her heart beating an irregular rhythm, despite the shackles weighing down every limb, despite the white-hot needles stabbing into her skull, the vertigo, blurred vision, bruises and bleeding cuts and-

Tanya is not fast enough, but she should be, she knows it. She forces herself, despite everything. The world slows down. Her headache intensifies a hundredfold, like a heavy molten iron encasing her sense of self, solidifying yet not cooling in the slightest.

Any sane person would collapse. They would take the opportunity to run, recover strength, maybe even hide in a deep, dark hole where no one could ever find them.

If she were thinking, she would go about this differently. Right?

No, that's a lie.

There is no other version of this story.

The one who had never known such love, and had finally come to recognize it, now sees it about to disappear before her very eyes. If you need a reason, look no further than that. But in truth, there is no reason at all. She did not think about the consequences. This is not the logical path of self-interest.

For the first time, without any thought or rationale behind the action, her body simply… moved on its own.

Tunnel vision. From point A, to point B, there is only one path. The fastest one.

Shuna-!

Drake knows. He knows. He says something, a single word, for there is not enough time for anything more.

"Astel."

He can sense her. He can do nothing to stop her. Not now.

But he doesn't need to.

From the shadows underneath her boots, in the darkness between cracks in the paved street, it lashes out at her again. A ring, ribbons of black and blue, clinging to her shade.

They cannot grab her like before. There are too few, and many are frayed or worn from her escape. But, for less than second, they lash out from the shadows created by her body, under her legs and arms the folds in her clothing, snatching with a greedy hold her wrists, torso, ankles.

Normally, this would be nothing at all. This altered Greater Spirit has been damaged heavily by her efforts. Even in her own damaged state, Tanya is vastly stronger than it.

Breaking free wouldn't even require a thought, wouldn't even require Tetra Breaker this time.

But these circumstances...

The barriers. Defeating Otherworlders, driving off knights. Saving so, so many people. And this fight, extended as it is, is exhausting. Her muscles cry out to her, her heart pounds in her chest loud enough to give a heart surgeon their own heart attack…

…and, as has been the case since this invasion began, her magicules slowly siphoning out of her. It's only her unique circumstances that put her in a better position than her compatriots. Her own powers, the foundation of her very Being, and her willpower shielding against the downsides of her magical biology.

If the others knew the truth, they would be ashamed of themselves. She is in the same situation as all of them, after all, and yet…

Here she is. Everything working against her.

And even then, despite everything, she breaks free in a mere second. 1/60th of a minute, the space between one moment and the next.

All that, and Drake only gained a singular second in which to act.

More than enough time.

That golden spear spins, Drake reversing his grip.

A single second. A single stab.

SCRRSH!

The point of his spear glints, rivulets of dark maroon dripping down shining gold. Staining the back of Tanya's shirt.

"TANYA-!"

"Silence."

Drake's other hand shoots forward, past her bow and arrow, grabbing Shuna by the throat and slowly squeezing. Lifting her up, helpless. Ignoring her gasps for air, he turns his attention back, over his shoulder.

"Rage. A hypocrisy. Despite my own, I'll still rebuke you." Drake intones, looking the end of his journey in the eyes. Does this salvation live up to his journey to reach it? "Look at yourself. You're no better than a beast. Think of the time and place before losing it."

Drake drops Shuna and yanks his spear free from Tanya's chest, whirling his spear around his body. A golden whirlwind, slashing up in front, then down behind in one smooth motion.

Shuna stumbles back, blood on her lips, a crimson gash carving from hip to shoulder, down to the bone. A similar injury appears on Tanya, though shallower.

Drake grabs Tanya's torn shirt before she can stumble away too. Uncaring of the blood staining his hands, he throws her forward, crashing her into Shuna.

"Then again," He mutters callously, watching as they collide, then collapse in a bloody pile. "I was aiming for your heart."

He is impressed, against his own will. And oddly enough, reaching his goal is not as satisfying as he'd expected.

Don't get him wrong, this isn't some last-minute change of heart. It feels remarkably good to take revenge here. But he was expecting… more.

Perhaps he is no better than her, in the end.

There is no moral intent here. Merely a desire to be better than someone else. And in this moment, it seems they truly are equals. How... unfortunate.

Perhaps this is why he tires.

"…there is still a city to burn." Drake watches their unmoving bodies for another moment, then turns away. He looks to the smoke-filled sky. "Or rather, burn the rest of. There should be enough left for an evolution, at the very least. Not all of this will be a waste."

He begins walking, spear held casually on his shoulder.

Not even watching her choke on her own blood is catharsis to him, nor is the sight of her companion bleeding beneath her. He doesn't even want to see her life drain from her eyes anymore.

How pathetic. He is certain she would not hesitate should the roles be reversed.

This evolution is necessary, then. The taint of humanity sickens him to his core.

Though, why should he enjoy this, anyway?

There is more than one death. Perhaps seeing the death of her spirit had been enough, and anything more was simply icing on the cake, so to speak? After all, the life truly left her the moment she abandoned herself, after he killed-

Drake pauses.

No, that blow was fatal… right? What reason is there to second guess himself?

Under normal circumstances, it'd be deep enough for one to bleed out quickly. The barriers above ensure that even a powerful monster, that may normally shrug off such a blow, would be brought low near immediately.

There's no need to consider it.

"Astel." The being of faux ribbons laces itself around his ankle, sliding up his back and around his neck. It pulses, faintly. Far weaker than before, but that's to be expected. Drake directs it to his left arm, watching as the nearly two-dimensional Spirit wraps around his forearm like a bracer. "It should be a simple matter to restore you here."

At any moment now, he'd be receiving a Demon Lord Seed. Tanya's situation was far more grievous than the pink one. Whether from drowning in her own blood, or from loss of said blood, she would perish as he had promised. The sooner he razes this city to the ground, the sooner-

"Hrm?" His chest is a little hotter than before.

Drake clears his throat, trying to catch his breath. He'd hardly noticed, but that fight had taken a toll on him as well. Forcing his body to such a level as to match his foe, making use of several abilities, restraining the World Serpent… it's not enough to be worried about, but it is worth acknowledging.

Though, it's not really going away.

Astel twitches on his arm, lifting away from the skin slightly. He glances at it, watching as it stretches up, then back, as if pointing behind him. Wordlessly, he begins to turn.

Just in time for his sixth sense to scream. And an explosion of pure aura to light up the world.

-=-

Death is the inevitable end of all things.

According to the popular theories at the time of Tanya's first death, at some point in the far, far future, the last star will wink out of existence, plunging the universe into utter darkness. Everything dies. This has been the case in the past.

This is the inevitable future of all things. Everything that lives, dies.

She's always known that. It's foolish to try to avoid an inevitability.

"…you're terrified, clearly. You don't want to die. Anything is better than that."

Yes, I am terrified. Of course I am.

Tanya pushes herself up on her forearms, one eye shut and covered in blood. She gasps for air, and coughs, trying to gain some semblance of self-control. It doesn't come easily, fluid filling one of her lungs, seeping from the hole in her chest and back.

That she can think at all is a result of her previous life, and the pain tolerance wrought by years of magical warfare combined with her current self's stronger body. And instinctive pain-blocking formulae, which are steadily failing.

It barely helps. She can't even focus.

I've never been so terrified in my entire life.

As far as she's aware, there's no reincarnation this time. There's no irritable deity to throw her elsewhere, no convenient new world to land in. If she dies here, that's it. Her story ends.

Can she accept that? After all this time? Her first instinct says, no.

I don't want to die. I need to- play dead, hide, run away. Run very, very far away.

No, of course not. Tanya von Degurechaff has always been a being that prioritizes their own survival. They have always been that selfish, self-serving individual.

I bet I could do it now.

Nothing's changed. They haven't changed at all. Isn't the fear in her chest proof of that? Isn't this shaking, trembling, burning terror, exactly what has driven them for so very long?

Isn't that right, T-----?

…

That's right. Just lay down. Play dead, then run away. Save yourself. Why are you even here, anyway? Everything you've gained, you can gain again. Better, even! There's nothing holding you back from serving your own interests first, just as you always-

Not always.

It is a gunshot to the soul, but Tanya can't bring herself to care anymore. She shuts up her subconscious, her past, and goes to work.

This isn't them, the salaryman, the soldier, but Tanya isn't them anymore. She is only herself, in this present moment.

They would never have cared.

They died. Alone. Cold.

Even if it takes everything… even if I have to…

Her vision fades in and out, spots of black and red.

Beneath her, Shuna dances in and out of consciousness, the barriers and her wound working against any attempt at lucidity. The magicule deprivation is getting to her. The blue and green of her kimono is slowly shifting to a sickly maroon.

…abandon those ideals… I'll do it.

No. No!

I don't want her to die. I won't let anyone else die here.

The pain of the past and the present combine.

Tanya can feel it, more than ever before.

Her previous two deaths had been instant. Now, she can feel it. Every time she blinks, there's another layer overlaying perception, like the Reverse Side of the World's fabric. Something is pulling at her, like a hand grasping the back of her shirt, tugging not physically but internally.

A warmth slowly spreads from the right side of her chest, down into her abdomen. Internal bleeding. Her mouth is dry, shivers starting. Blood loss. Stretched, crisp-feeling skin and muscles. Electric shocks, burns.

Tanya categorizes each of these clinically, like a coroner or pathologist. An apt description.

I can't. I won't. I want…

And yet, despite everything… she starts to glow.

All I ever wanted… no, right here and right now, I want to win! I need to win! Even if it kills me-

Without needing to think, she flares her magic, knowing anything leaving her body will dissipate immediately. But that's not the point.

-despite everything working against me, I'm not going to lose!

Feeling. Flow state. Natural energies.

There are more powers than just magic.

Even if she'd never touched upon them. Even if the effort is too much. It doesn't matter if she can or can't. She's never wanted something so badly in any of her lives.

Doesn't that mean something?

Suffocating in her own blood. Carvings across her torso, face. Smoking scars.

Pure agony. Pure fury. Pure feeling.

She doesn't even think. Her intent alone guides the way.

With the energy signature from Drake's spear already registered in Tetra Breaker, it's a simple matter to break the spatial effect over her wounds, and physical contact with Shuna ensures the same with hers.

This does nothing about the bleeding, of course, and their wounds are far too severe for the inefficient healing magic Tanya knows. Brute force won't work here. There's not nearly enough left in the tank for that, Skill or otherwise.

…what will it take?

What will you give?

…right.

The Unique Skill: Tetra Breaker.

An interesting phenomenon, the combination of multiple Unique Skills into a cohesive whole, retaining the strengths and abilities of the component parts while adding to them. In this case, the Demon Lord Seed granted by Octavius Valentin acted as a catalyst, merging the Unique Skills Tetrabattery Limit Enhancement and Formulaic Casting.

As before, it allows the manipulation of magicules through formulae. Further, it contains a sort of "battery", which once filled may act as a second source of magicules alongside Tanya's own natural self-replenishing internal pool of magicules. However, the new Skill is not limited to these functions.

The Demon Lord Seed catalyst no longer exists, for it was consumed in the process of merging. Thus, the creation of a Skill greater than the sum of its component parts.

This expanded function has been noted and used countless times. Increased efficiency and increased density of magicules is one such example. As is the analysis and manipulation of other magical energies, as long as Tanya's own magicules are used to bridge the gap and her willpower can be exerted.

This includes disintegrating a rogue sinkhole of Mary and Shuna's combined spatial energy, the calming of a magicule storm caused by artificial space-time distortion, the disruption and absorption of spirit magic…

One might say that the fine control Tetra Breaker grants over her own magicules in order to manipulate energies is, by itself, a Unique power. It allows her to interact with other powers.

Tetra… Breaker…

That being said, she's fading, and fast. Shuna is hardly any better. It takes everything in her to stay in the moment. To keep from slipping up.

She'd already fucked up once trying to save her. Like a fool, she'd given in to her emotions and had gotten stabbed for it. She would not fuck up again.

But, she would also not abandon those emotions, as she once would.

With the last vestiges of her sense of self, her intent, she reaches with that power. She reaches, not out into a storm or a spear, but inward. Deeper and deeper, until she finds-

It seems counterproductive – or redundant, and indeed, normally impossible – to persist in such a scenario… but wouldn't you know it, she has more than one source to pull from. Even now, there's something left.

Even if it means…

…Extension!

An aura explodes out of her. A brilliant, miraculous flash of electric teal.

-=-

The only certainty is uncertainty. A bridge, and its river. The shore, and its ocean. Both and neither at the same time. A connection that is, and isn't, and one that is both real and not in every sense of the word.

The most apt descriptor is one that cannot be constrained by mortal language.

Shuna flutters between waking worlds, unknowing what sensations are felt and given.

An ever-shifting forest. A desert sparkling with ice. A mountain in the distance, capped with a tower reaching into the clouds. A grey and blue beach under a stormy sky.

Dreams. It is said that dreams and reality are not perfectly connected, and as such, in certain cases, one may find themselves… slipping through the gaps, as it were.

So, what happens when the dream ends?

Who can say?

Shuna wakes up slowly, and painfully.

The skin across her front stretches in a harsh line. Not painful, but uncomfortable. Her chest is tight, the air itself thick, but breathable. Her limbs are heavy, senses sluggish, with a pit in her stomach she vaguely remembers to be magicule-deprivation.

It feels very much like a swampy soup encroaching over her brain, weighing her down and tattering perception. With a short mental effort, she's able to shove it away for the time being. Her body seems to be doing better now, though under these barriers "better" is only slightly above "terrible".

Further improvement is impossible. Not without someone's help, such as-

Tanya!

Shuna tries to sit up, then flinches, as if expecting some sharp flash of pain. But it never comes, and what she notices instead is the slight weight of something falling into her lap. She looks down, past bloodied, torn fabric, and spots a glint of light along a metallic container.

A familiar flask. Tanya's flask.

With a sinking feeling in her gut, Shuna tugs at the torn fabric of her kimono, and looks inside.

From stomach to shoulder, a diagonal line cuts through the fabric. It is frayed in places, though a rather clean cut as a whole, and leeching out from the torn line are waves of sticky maroon. She presses against the skin, ignoring the metallic liquid staining her fingerprints.

To her horror, she's completely healed. All except for a scar. There hadn't been enough to prevent that, she must realize. Which means…

Meanwhile, Tanya's flask falls to the cobbled pavement with a muffled clatter.

Hollow. Empty.

"I'm not a good person. I know that. I'm fully aware of my own flaws."

Liar. I only know-

Tanya, training the one who'd killed her. Tanya, fighting the Destroyer. Tanya, advising anyone who'd listen. Tanya, nearly losing an arm to save another. Tanya, working late into the night, stressing over scheduling and decision-making, giving speeches, training in the wee hours of the morning, researching magic and history and politics and-

"Nothing I do will ever make up for that. I know that, and I don't care. I don't need justification, or forgiveness. I did what I had to, and I don't feel bad about it. By definition, that should make me a bad person. But..."

Stop that. Stop saying that! Don't you know that I-

The most logical path. Rationale that explains everything away. It's necessary, it's expected, it's required. Being selfish.

If these actions are selfish, then Tanya should be as selfish as she likes.

Except…

This is the one time Shuna will curse her lover for being selfish. Standing against all odds, and for what?

Run away. Let's run away together. The dark thought circulates, and to her shame, she doesn't suppress it. Not immediately.

But that's irrelevant right now. The future does not matter.

"Who has never reached up at the stars in the night sky and wanted ?"

Right now, the stars are burning with all their power. They are alive.

Right now, Shuna is alive. Tanya is alive.

Despite everything, that woman is standing. That woman is still moving, still fighting.

How? And for how long?

"Why" is the better question, technically, but Shuna knows that answer to that one. She'd do the same. There's no reason "why", just as there was no reasoning behind her coming here.

There is no rational explanation. There doesn't need to be.

She wants one, now. Knowing she won't get one. Knowing, if the roles were reversed, it'd be the same.

Shuna can only watch as Tanya walks away. There is more to it than that, she knows too. Heaven and Earth meet at one point, in one woman. There is something more to her.

Tanya walks back to that man, their would-be killer, and in spite of that power, Shuna is terrified of losing her. She'll do anything to prevent that. Even if it means forcing herself up, sacrificing herself, she'll do it.

Even if it means giving up everything, Shuna will do it.

There is no greater love than that. To lay down one's life for…

She tries to get up and fails. It's a pitiful attempt; she hardly even moves.

Cursing her weakened body, cursing these barriers, those Otherworlders, the very World itself for allowing this to pass… cursing herself, for failing in the one thing she'd set out to do. For being useless, again.

So agitated, pained, dismayed is she, that Shuna doesn't notice the pulsing in her chest, her blood and tissue and bones.

No no no… I can't- I need to-

She heaves, rolls over onto her forearms and knees, and retches. Nothing comes up, but bile burns the back of her throat. Spots flurry across her vision, and one arm fails her, her shoulder thudding painfully against the hard ground.

She ignores it as best she can. Forcing herself up. Back onto her forearms, then staying there, catching her breath.

Behind her, she can hear them. Fading in and out of consciousness, fighting to keep herself awake. She fades in, and out, and the sounds of battle have resumed.

How long has she been there? Tanya is up and fighting already, with bleeding wounds that were far more grievous even before Shuna had been healed, and here she is just trying to stay conscious!

Get up. If she can do it- get up already! Look at her! Get up!!

Shuna pushes herself, berates herself, unaccustomed to such pain and exhaustion yet desiring it managed. Desiring better, more out of herself.

Even if it takes-

A glint along metal catches her eye, off to the side. And another, nearby.

Her bow, dropped after Drake had grabbed her by the throat. Miraculously still intact. And a single, silver-bladed, purple-tinted combat knife. A glance at her waist reveals her quiver, with a single arrow left, and the oddly shaped piece of yellow-painted metal she'd swiped from the Assembly Hall before leaving.

Shuna snarls, baring her fangs to the World in open defiance.

-=-

Heaven and the World meeting within her.

And between them and among them, none are more Honored. 

A sensation not unlike walking through a dream.

Despite the absence of her magic, the agony wrecking her body, and the lifeblood slowly dripping away, her heart is still beating. She still continues to draw breath.

That is all that matters.

Her soul is blazing. Brighter than ever. A bonfire bright enough to put even those paltry stars to shame.

The past is gone, and she has no future. Truly, nothing exists except this one moment in time. Death rests at the tips of her fingers. It roars in her veins, her bones shaking in violent fury, her heart pounding with fear.

The Heavens call, yet the World still beats under her feet.

She is not dead. No, she is not dead. She is more alive than ever.

Despite everything…

By typical moral standards, I've never been a good person. I've always considered myself more important than others. The one thing that mattered to me more than anything was making sure I made it. Nothing will change that I am, at my core, a deeply selfish individual.

Blood splatters on the pavement, a deep, painful color stark and leeching into the cracked earth. Tanya reaches up with a shaky hand, dragging her palm roughly across her mouth and upper lip. Her knuckles are stained crimson. She coughs, and it bubbles up in the bottom of her throat. She needs to empty her lung.

...not that it matters, but I'd be a terrible example of a human being. Call me a monster; you wouldn't be wrong. Even so, I'm still better than this person right in front of me. I swear it.

"What are you doing?" Drake stares, raising an eyebrow. Despite himself, he isn't upset to see her standing. He'd thought such an end for her was rather anticlimactic.

One of Astel's ribbons flutters nervously along his shoulder.

"You should have contented yourself with the end by now." He mocks.

And she looks at him then, and it's like his exterior is being stripped down to his soul.

Through scorched and blood-soaked bangs, her eyes are a toxic, murderous teal.

And she's smiling.

"I never met this selfish person. I only know you."

And that's the crux of it, yeah? The salaryman, Tanya von Degurechaff, they would abandon everything if it led to their own survival. That was their fundamental character flaw. To let go of anything that wasn't themselves.

Drake's frown deepens. "Even in death you stand before me."

Not death, but rebirth. What isn't there to find joyous in this situation?

"I'm not dead." She responds, metal in the back of her throat.

Through the gash in her button up, threads of teal knit bloody flesh back together.

Even as Drake watches, as those initial threads fray and disintegrate, new ones form, keeping her body from falling apart. Magicules slough off her in waves, seeping from across her torso like motes of dust. From the side of her chest, from her face, scattered teal particles fill the air and disappear in a wink.

It should be impossible. Several things, in truth, but most notable is the presence of magicules under a Prison Field. A Prison Field does not suppress magicules so much as it deletes them. Like sound waves canceling other sound waves, he imagines.

Then, for such a visual effect to occur…

Is she exceeding the Prison Field's rate of deletion? Continuously, just to keep her wounds closed, and even as the open air fights against her. He narrows his eyes. How? The sheer cost… how much more could she possibly have? Her natural reserves must be running dry by now. But… no. No, it should be impossible. Without a ritual or Spirit-

Drake's eyes widen, a certain scene replaying in his mind.

With Crow. She didn't destroy it. She disassembled it. She knows what Spirit Magic tastes like. Is she capable of replication? At this stage?

A harsh sound, and he blinks extra hard, as if to clear his vision. But the sight remains the same.

"You're… laughing?"

"Hah…" Tanya coughs, chuckling and wincing in the same second. "…it's all I can do. If was in your position, I would have gone all out from the start. But here-" A shudder cuts her off, and a harsh wince of pain and crimson follows. "-here we are still."

"Here we are." He echoes, suddenly cold. "Neither of us died when we ought, and now I look at my future in you and feel only disgust and sorrow. Neither of us can ever claim righteousness. That is the truth. But I will move on. I will survive, and you-"

"If you really wanted to survive, you should have hidden away somewhere very dark and very, very far away."

She cuts him off, uncaring of the furious flare to his aura it causes. She coughs, eddies and dust particles of magic swirling around her and dissipating in the same instant.

"Instead, you came here. So, I wonder…" Tanya's hand trembles as she brings it up, before clenching into a loose fist and pressing against her chest. "…do you really understand what it means to give everything?"

"No!" Drake rushes her before the statement ends, having no intention of allowing Deus Ex Machina here, at the end.

Faster than one ordinarily could see, one golden thrust, piercing the heart-

CLANG!!!

But not fast enough. Not as fast as before.

His spear is repelled, and Drake steps back, surprised, avoiding a counter slash.

"What is-?" His eyes widen.

Tanya doesn't follow him, lowering one arm and bringing up the other, violently heaving into the crook of her elbow. Her chest expands and contracts unnaturally, and a near mouthful of blood splatters on the inside of her arm, and missing that, the pavement.

As if clearing her lungs.

But Drake doesn't care about that. Not right now.

That sword!

Tanya's bloodied arm lowers, and belatedly, Drake's notices that the gash across her torso, at a certain point, is wider than before. Before shimmering threads of a familiar flavor pull it closed.

In that brief instant, he tastes a glimpse of it. A trickle of an unfamiliar and familiar power along the edge of his senses.

It isn't magic. Not exactly, and not entirely.

"You… you can't possibly be human." It horrifies him, in the brief instant before he can suppress such cowardly emotion. "You would use even- !!"

His breath catches then, his chest oddly tight, and Drake clears his throat and his thoughts. He shoves his disbelief away as fast as possible. She should be dead. How is she not dead?

This is not humanly possible. It's not-

It doesn't matter. Whether or not this is impossible, it's happening right in front of him. This thought grounds him.

It's a little hard to breathe…

"You'd be surprised-" Another horrific cough. Tanya drags her knuckles roughly across her mouth, ignoring the stain, the glow. "-how often I've heard that."

She doesn't inform him that he's right. Only that others also thought, and think, the same.

Her eyes drift down to his side, and the torn fabric from her earlier slash.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" She asks, after a moment. Standing tall, despite pain, death, devastation.

The confidence far from suits this situation. It makes Drake's hackles rise against his own will.

"Funny. A corpse is cracking jokes." He scowls. Somehow, she just gets right under his skin. There's more than one reason he hadn't finished her off – tried to, at least – from the get-go. Pride, ability, power… anger. The arrogance of revenge. "No matter what miracle you've pulled, no matter what damage you perform on yourself, this is the end. You're running out of time, Tanya."

"Yes, there's no time at all, is there?" The magical threads fray and snap and replace. Tanya winces, yet she's smirking.

It's infuriating.

He claims to be above it. He claims they are the same. And yet, here he is, so easily riled up. So easily thrown off kilter. Perhaps, in Xerxes, he had lost more than just Scylla after all.

How dare you still stand there. How dare you act so arrogant, even after I've killed you. How dare-

"Though, if I know that, and you know that… why am I waiting?"

Drake's jaw tightens, until it's forced open by a vicious scratching in his throat. He coughs, and his chest grows even warmer.

"What are you-?!" He jerks, swapping his spear to his left hand and clutching at his throbbing side with the other. He'd been so distracted, so focused, that only now he notices a growing sense of irregularity within himself.

It didn't heal?

Not fully. The skin is upraised and painful to the touch, and slick with sweat and something else, something thicker. He pulls his hand away, and his fingertips are stained, with the oddly tinted maroon of his unusual blood, along with…

Purple and red stained fingertips. His chest is tight, and hot. He's sweating, with discolored sweat… he'd thought these symptoms to be exaggerated exhaustion, but…

Drake looks up, furious, his spear spinning in a blur and without warning.

CRASH!

Red-tinted gold against abyssal black. There's no possible way she should be able to stand, much less deflect his attack.

And yet, sparks fly.

And yet, Tanya stands there, just out of range once more, a blade held out to the side.

"Now, Drake, there's no time at all." One half of Tanya's face glows, the X-shaped gashes on her cheek magically stitching shut, illuminating her smile.

It only pisses him off more, a wave of that rancid feeling washing over him so strongly that he finds himself light-headed.

Or, it's the-

"Poison." He says, forcing any unwellness, exhaustion, pain to the bottom of his perception. His hand comes away from his side, and he grips his spear in both hands. "That shouldn't be possible either. My body should have-"

A flash of black, faster than he expects.

He deflects with a spinning flourish of his spear, lunging in the gap that forms.

Tanya sidesteps, and it's nowhere near fast enough.

It shouldn't be fast enough, but it's like she knows. It slides past her, carving into nothing, and her unarmed hand comes down, grabbing the shaft and slamming down on it with her other arm, the pommel of that sword coming down with a crack!

Drake snarls, yanking his spear free.

A small crack slides down the shaft's underside, but he doesn't notice. It is the first time today he was able to outmatch her physical strength.

He registers this, in the same instant that fury nearly overwhelms him.

How dare-?! His inner voice is a howl of rage.

She should be dead. From before, yes, but not just from before. Just then, she should have died. He should have teleported, taken advantage, and-

"How are you doing this!?"

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, because just then, he couldn't teleport.

"What did you do!?!"

"I don't expect the poison to kill you." She ignores his spoken question in favor of his unspoken one. In the same breath, she flashes forward, and they exchange a rain of furious blows. Ducking, cutting, sidestepping. "A human would have died by now, but you aren't human anymore. Isn't that right?"

Sparks and steel, the upturned cross-guard of Seizon locks against the shaft of his spear, in the space between his hands.

"I could say the same-" He spits through grit teeth. Using his superior size, he presses down, and the road cracks under her boots. "-of you!"

Tanya disengages, kicking away from him. Her smile is gone, replaced by a blank, steely focus.

Again and again, they clash. Better than before, her range and sturdier weapon provides a distinct advantage. And her skill with this blade, as opposed to the katana from earlier, is vastly improved.

…ah. Drake steps into range with a thrust, then steps again with another. Tanya is already moving as he moves, countering each strike.

CLASH!

I think I get it now.

She is slower than before. He hadn't been wrong.

And yet, his spear cannot pierce her. Why?

It seems like she knows his every move before he makes it, is because she does. Not precognition, but close enough without the actual literal ability.

Yes, that must be…

She'd been watching, memorizing, and analyzing his movements and habits this entire time, hadn't she? Add to this his own exhaustion and the poison coursing through his veins…

It's far from the clash of titans from earlier. Neither of them can muster the same calamitous power that had rocked their section of the city. They are a blur to the eye, but they can be seen.

Black and gold. Teal and grey.

Blood drips from Tanya's nose. Blood stains the corners of Drake's mouth.

Someone is going to die here.

He could run away right now. She wouldn't be able to catch him if he left. They would live to fight another day.

And that's the problem. He needs to kill her. If he runs, then he will never get this opportunity again. Which means his only option is to win.

As long as he can win…

Somehow, she'd reversed an unwinnable situation. The only way to do so was to put her own existence at risk, to give everything. But she'd done it. No matter the aftermath, he has a very real chance of losing.

You were right. We can't be the same. In the end, I abandoned them to save myself. The only thing that mattered to me then was survival. But you… you didn't run or hide, did you? You're fighting for something more than I am, aren't you?

He understands a little more, now.

It's okay, as long as he loses. That's her goal.

He'd thought they were the same, and maybe at some point they were similar enough for such a claim. But right now, she doesn't care about survival. She only cares about eliminating the threat he represents to Tempest. That is what winning means to her right now.

But I don't care what your reasons are.

The threads. The threads!

That's right. He hasn't had time to think, but they're important.

Regardless of the source, most of her current power is being fed into those magical stitches. Even if those wounds heal, they are grievous enough that a full recovery would not take hold mid-battle.

Especially not with such a patch job as that. She can replicate the style and "flavor" of the Spirits all she likes, using herself to fill the gaps, but it will never fully take. She's the wrong kind of hybrid for that.

He should know, as a hybrid of a different kind himself.

That's why she's slower, too. Her physical capabilities are no longer being enhanced to the same level as before. Not even close.

But again, the problem is time, not power. They're running out of time.

She must defeat him before she succumbs to her wounds. Before the rest of her burns out that shell of a corpse pretending to be alive. When that will be, who can say?

At the same time, he must kill her for good this time. He has to wound her in such a way that patching up the damage is impossible to even contemplate, much less perform.

Yet, he can't even touch her. Not like this. Right now, they're at a stalemate. They will both continue to weaken until one of them breaks.

And despite everything, he's not willing to bet his own perseverance nor his luck against hers.

If she can do it-!

Without power, perseverance means nothing. If she is so desperate to win, then he… well, he'll simply take a page out of her book.

Drake retreats, and she advances. Deflecting, dodging at the last possible second.

I've given up far too much just to reach this moment. I…

"I'VE COME TOO FAR, HERO!!" Drake whirls his spear, snarling. "I WILL NOT BE DENIED AT THE END!!!"

His aura explodes.

Everything that's left. Right here, right now. Don't just be a part of the situation; control it. Put her exactly where he needs her to be, and then take a risk.

Black and blue flames wreathe his muscled form.

Tanya's eyes widen. Other than wincing and blankness, it's the first clear expression on her face since her earlier smirk. Rather than advancing now, she falls back.

Drake bolts in her direction, the ground smoldering underneath him. He rockets forward, spear extending, and-

BOOM!!!

The tip of his spear against the flat of her blade. Her offhand braces against the blade's other side, as magisteel grinds against magisteel. The ground craters, a nearby street post collapsing.

He rips himself free, with a horrific noise and a spray of multicolored sparks.

She'd blocked it. Of course she had; she'd known it was coming. But he'd nearly overwhelmed her. He could feel it. She's faltering.

Or is that a trick, too?

He can't second guess himself. She's fading. She has to be.

So is he. That rush had taken so much out of him, but he can't stop now. He needs to win. He needs to kill her-!

He has to do it now.

Tanya advances, stabbing viciously under his guard.

Drake steps into her range.

His body jerks, black magisteel punching through his abdominals.

It takes him less than a second to recognize how stupid this idea is. In the same second, he stops thinking, and acts.

"Astel!"

Weakened the altered Spirit may be, it's enough. It lashes out from Drake's forearm, binding tight to Tanya's wrist and around the un-sharp half of her sword. Then, he thrusts-

"Gah-!" Her off hand grabs his forearm, stopping his spear from plunging further into the left side of her chest.

"Grck-!" Bile burns in the back of his throat, as she forces her own blade deeper into his side. His offhand slams down, stopping it from going any further.

The glow across Tanya's torso slowly dims, revealing partially healed flesh and bloody scarring.

Drake's aura disappears. The wound in his side is leaking dark fluid, jagged veins stretching out into the flesh around it.

All that can be heard is the faint crackle of flames in the distance, and their ragged gasps for air.

"Ah…" The teal threads fray and dissipate into the air. For good, it seems. "So not even… giving up everything… was enough."

"No…" Drake hisses, fire lancing through both sides of his torso. "There was no… other outcome. I told you…"

He shoves, trying to stab further. She does the same, and they are barely able to stop each other. They both hiss, grunt from the pain. But one of them is clearly worse off.

"Ha…" Tanya's head dips, then jerks up. Like she's trying oh so desperately to keep herself awake. "So, you... are going to kill me."

Her hold on his forearm tightens like a lifeline.

"I will. I have." His grip on her wrist tightens as well. "I have avenged… them."

"…no. You are going… to kill me." Her hold on him turns painful. It's impossible to notice from this close up, but through her shadowed expression, her eyes are glowing. "And I… am going to save them."

"You're still-!" Drake flinches harshly, her black blade digging in further.

He tries to pull away, tugging on his spear… but Tanya doesn't let him. Her grip on his forearm bruises the flesh, the bones creaking. Her fingernails dig in, dark blood leaking out, and she's up to something what is she doing how is she still-

Even without the drain of those threads, the short burst of physical strength is all she can manage. Barely a couple of seconds. But Tanya is nothing if not an opportunist.

Her right hand is slick, painted red, and her palm slides against Seizon's grey leather, forcing the blade deeper and deeper into Drake's side. She shoves once, twice, centimeters of blade disappearing into flesh with each jerking motion.

Seizon sinks in, spurts of dark, purple-tinted maroon leaking along the black magisteel and dripping to the ground.

He mimics her, forcing his spear forward, holding tight her dominant wrist. But she is stronger than him again, in this brief moment in time stretching past infinity. Despite his greater size, despite his favorable position.

Goddammit. Goddammit!!!

It's all catching up with him at once.

Even so, he tries to flare his aura once more. One last time.

If he can just-

Schlock!

Drake lets go, stumbling back, and Tanya lets him go, collapsing to one knee.

One hand goes to the sword still in his side. The other shoots up, to his throat.

Through the side of it, sticking out both sides, is an arrow.

It is only luck and his own unique physiology that saves him. If he were a mere human…

Astel!

The ribbon-esque Spirit slithers up his arm, over his shoulder, then disappears into the bleeding sides of his neck. Keeping him from choking on his own blood, sealing the worst of the damage.

He looks around desperately for the source, waiting for another arrow to strike. But it never does. A light in the sky draws his attention next. A flare, just over their position.

"Heh…" A ragged laugh, followed by wet coughing.

His gaze locks on his kneeling foe. Fury and fear intermingle. His question cannot be verbalized, but it's obvious.

How?!

In the back of his mind, he recognizes his options. There aren't any.

But, if he wants to kill himself in the process-

I don't want to die.

At the thought, a faint tinge of… amusement from that thing, stuck within the liquid of his own shadow, trickles across the back of his mind.

No. No, she is dying. His spear is through her chest. Her wounds aren't fully healed. Her spirit is-

"You have no idea… what you've done." Tanya says, glancing up at him with a bloody smirk.

Apparently, it's unbroken. But he didn't mean metaphorically.

Drake glares at her.

"How… so…?" He manages to warble out. The arrow missed his spine, but the blood and torn flesh in his throat column don't make anything easy. Astel patches it up, sure, but it's a temporary measure. That, along with the symptoms of poisoned illness weighing down his senses… this has been far from a glorious triumph.

It is a triumph, nonetheless.

…and yet…

Tanya winces, one arm braced against her knee and the other holding onto the spear in her chest. Still, it feels like he is the loser.

"Her rage…" Two gashes like a jagged X on the left side of her face, and a long cut along the other cheek as well. A scarred line from stomach to shoulder, a star-shaped scar on the right side of her chest, and a spear through the other side. Lichtenberg scars, trembling muscles, one eye squeezed shut and the other half closed and glaring. "I've seen it… before. You were dead… the moment you came here…"

Along her now-oozing wounds, a faint flicker of teal threads through crimson once more.

As before, that familiar bubble of irritation expands in his chest.

Even now? Even in this situation, having lost all hope of victory?

Drake takes a threatening step forward, and nearly keels over. A rush of dizziness overwhelms him, followed by waves of heat from his wounded sides.

Like a mental reset, it brings everything into startling clarity. Like waking up from a dream, Drake finally looks around and pays attention to something other than Tanya.

The barriers?

When had they reached the edge of the city? Had she been leading them here this whole time?

No. No no no.

He'd done everything right! He'd stacked the deck purely in his hand, so how does she still have cards to play?! How can she possibly-!!!

Calm down. He can still salvage this. He doesn't even need to salvage this.

He'd already won. She's literally dying right in front of him. He'd won already.

Footsteps. A flash of pink.

The other one!

Even she could kill him now. Even-

Voices in the distance, slowly getting closer. They're too far away; he just has good hearing. They won't arrive in time to save anyone, but…

But, in his current state…

"Run away… Drake of Scylla!" His hated enemy calls.

Despite everything, the tone is mocking. Pained, wet with blood, but mocking.

Yet, his fear, his desire to survive surpasses his anger. Drake cuts his losses and runs.

Leaving the victor alone to collapse, and die.

-=-=-=-

Or at least, that's what she thought.

How curious, this one.

Let me tell you a story…

Of that soul who travelled far and wide,

after defying the will of a God.

Who grew, yet denied even herself until the end,

And who persisted beyond that end.

Let me tell you…

How she befriended both Slime and once Enemy,

Accepted and withstood pain for others.

And before long…

Fell in love.

Let me tell you of…

That selfish, greedy person,

Who finally chose to care, more than she should,

And who saved everyone she could.

This time, at least.

For there is no Greater Love than this,

And there is no coming back from this.

.

.

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.

.

Imagine, if you will.

Imagine that the world is fair.

Imagine that a dream, a truly happy one, would not end so cruelly.

Tanya blinks. The world is a muddled, crimson haze. Her eyelids are weighed down by elephants, a fuzzy, steel wool textured heat pressing over her mind.

Madness encroaching from beyond.

She blinks. She is lying on her side in a field. The grass sways, and flowers glow along a supernatural spectrum. A pool surrounds her, half her body submerged, yet she is drier than a bleached skull in the desert.

She blinks. Rough stone and gravel against her fingertips, her side, her legs. Her head rests inclined, on something soft. Or two somethings. Fabric, she can see, creased and in a familiar dark hue.

"Shuna…"

A gasp.

She blinks. A goldish orange tinted storm, a grey beach and ocean. A… presence.

She blinks. Pink fluttering, shimmering in the waning, tinted sunlight.

Even in this situation, she is…

"…beautiful." Tanya murmurs, her voice low and dry.

Drip. Drip.

Something wet touches her face. A shuddering, a trembling above her. Wisps of cotton candy clouds, glittering horns, glimmering eyes…

It hurts.

She lets out a puff of air, and thinks of rain. Of the storm.

…hurts.

Words are being said. They are whispers in her ear, drowned out by the pounding of blood that is slowly softening. Ending.

"T… a…" Muffled, like underwater. Warmth cups her face. "Ta… ya… please…"

That's right. Her name is Tanya. She'd lost everything twice. She'd gained more than she could have ever imagined. She has friends, a solid career, and even-

"Stay awake for me! Look at me, we made it! You need to hold on, help is-"

A full body shudder courses through Tanya then. From her toes to her fingertips, it's freezing, and scalding, and she's-

Shuna's still talking. Rambling.

"-was so worried, I thought I wouldn't make it in time, and- Tanya! Tanya, you need to-"

...trying to keep her awake?

She laughs, a weak, quiet huff of air. But a laugh.

It's impossible to think straight now. She barely remembered her own name. But she knows her. How could she not?

"Shu… na…" Another, singular laugh. It doesn't hurt this time. It doesn't hurt anymore. "I…"

One of Tanya's hands stretches up, then falls. Only for it to be caught by another, warmth encompassing her trembling fingers.

"-please! You need to-!!"

"Shuna." The pounding in her ears, her chest, fades. Just enough to hear, to see her through blurry, swimmy vision. "Shuna. Were we…?"

Shuna's voice hitches. "I…"

"Were we… good?"

A sob. The pain returns.

"The best."

"Ah. That's… good."

How devastating it is. How grateful she is for this moment.

"Why…" Shuna chokes out, tear tracks visible through the haze. "What were you thinking?"

"…I wasn't." Ah. It's the end now. She is so, so tired. She doesn't want to die. She's finally okay with dying, but… she doesn't want to die. She doesn't want to die. "I just…"

The sky above is clouded, darkened by smoke. The stars are hidden behind the Sun's gaze.

"…I…"

Even now, I can't…?

"…wanted to be by your side."

No, I… I have to…

"…I… because, I..." By force. No matter what it means to admit such a thing. "…I love you… you know?"

Shuna sobs. Kisses her. Tears intertwining with blood.

It lingers in the doorway. It's someone to come home too.

Shuna pulls away, her face stained. She says something, to no response other than a fluttering of eyelids… and a small, heartbreaking smile.

"No no- stay awake! Tanya, don't- we made it! We survived, help is coming, so you can't- not now, you can't-!!!"

Her voice breaks. Shuna looks up, and around, frantic.

Shuna holds onto to her, calling out for someone, anyone.

"Please! PLEASE!!!"

There's nothing left for her to give. There is no coming back from this. There is no returning to this same point, or to those precious days. Not while one dies and the other survives. Anything else would require… a miracle.

A true shame, but in the end… they were the best, weren't they?

Tanya's eyes flutter shut.

And finally… finally, she can rest.

-=-

Yes, how devastating. How devastating that we met so late, and that our time together was so short.

But...

I wouldn't trade those precious memories for anything. I am... happy to have met you. To have loved you. More than anything.

More than anything... I would have done anything to make this last forever.

I've accepted it now. I'm okay with it. But…

But even still…

…I…

…I never wanted those precious memories to end.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Known Skills List

Mary:

Common Skill: Thought Communication

Extra Skill: Magic Sense

Extra Skill: Magic Aura

Extra/Intrinsic Skill: Physical Enhancement

Unique Skill: Ability Severance

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< Ah. There you are. >

< It took a long time, but I found you. >

< Did you think it would be that easy? >

< That you could escape? >

< Come now. . . >

< Did you have fun? >

< . . . >

< Did you get it all out of your system? >