Elfen High 2: Skin to Bone, Steel to Rust

[Ende]

Crowley had not a damn idea what was in that portal but he had no intention of allowing it to come out. He started to concentrate on it and break it up. But he needed the demon Laz to provide a distraction-

When Laz was hit by a lightning bolt and knocked flat out on the ground.

"FUCKING HELL!" Crowley yelled. "Isn't the Canadian the one who's supposed to be hit by lightning bolts?"

Pierre's eyes flickered for a second as he saw Laz fall to the ground. He had hurt his best friend. He had hurt his only friend. He wanted to stop, to relinquish his power, to comfort his friend, to tell him that it would be okay. He wanted to be on the same side. He didn't want to fight his only friend.

But it was for a good cause.

It was for a good cause.

It was all for a good cause.

He was doing all of this to save his friend. To save himself. He had offered Lewis a chance for salvation, too, but he hadn't accepted. Of course he wouldn't. Lewis was the type that would go and leap off a cliff because it was brave. What he was doing now was the only way. There was no other way. He didn't believe that the Fae would lose. He was almost completely certain of their victory now. He was doing the only thing he could. And he wanted to go this way, too. He didn't feel bothered by his conscious - there was no good or evil. It was all so subjective. One man's good was another's evil.

And, so, therefore, in his mind, he was doing good.

And so, he was doing good.

And so, Pierre telekinetically gripped Laz by the leg and hurled him at the portal. He felt it weakening, and with his other hand, he re-affirmed it, stabilizing it and making sure it would stay there. Crowley was powerful, but Pierre knew he could keep the portal open for longer. And he only needed a bit longer. That was it.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Crowley had not a damn idea what was in that portal but he had no intention of allowing it to come out. He started to concentrate on it and break it up. But he needed the demon Laz to provide a distraction-

When Laz was hit by a lightning bolt and knocked flat out on the ground.

"FUCKING HELL!" Crowley yelled. "Isn't the Canadian the one who's supposed to be hit by lightning bolts?"

Pierre's eyes flickered for a second as he saw Laz fall to the ground. He had hurt his best friend. He had hurt his only friend. He wanted to stop, to relinquish his power, to comfort his friend, to tell him that it would be okay. He wanted to be on the same side. He didn't want to fight his only friend.

But it was for a good cause.

It was for a good cause.

It was all for a good cause.

He was doing all of this to save his friend. To save himself. He had offered Lewis a chance for salvation, too, but he hadn't accepted. Of course he wouldn't. Lewis was the type that would go and leap off a cliff because it was brave. What he was doing now was the only way. There was no other way. He didn't believe that the Fae would lose. He was almost completely certain of their victory now. He was doing the only thing he could. And he wanted to go this way, too. He didn't feel bothered by his conscious - there was no good or evil. It was all so subjective. One man's good was another's evil.

And, so, therefore, in his mind, he was doing good.

And so, he was doing good.

And so, Pierre telekinetically gripped Laz by the leg and hurled him at the portal. He felt it weakening, and with his other hand, he re-affirmed it, stabilizing it and making sure it would stay there. Crowley was powerful, but Pierre knew he could keep the portal open for longer. And he only needed a bit longer. That was it.

Where was Lewis, you ask?

Allow me to answer that question the only way I know how - an angry hick getting ready to fight.

"Pierre," Lewis said, resting his cold hand (as cold as metal, actually) gently on the boy's shoulder, "put the demon down and finish this fight like it was meant to be."

Lewis turned to Crowley and nodded.

"Stand down," he ordered, "this is my fight."

With that, Lewis smashed his fist into the side Pierre's neck. Hard. Harder than any attack he'd ever delivered before - for, you see, something in Lewis had snapped while he was on the ground, scrambling to get up, to defeat the Fae. Something rose up in his heart, as his thoughts turned to Rosalind and D and Ivy.

Something in him changed and his body changed to reflect that.

In the clarity of death (or close to it), Lewis had decided what he was fighting for. Not revenge for Rosalind, but for the family he still had. For Megan and D and Elfen High, not for the cold corpse of a lost child. And that cold armor encased, a mercurial bronze gushing from his veins and encasing his body. He looked just like Lewis, but made of metal.

He looked like Colossus, not going to lie.

And so Lewis Jameson discovered the power of his family. The power of his brother. The power to defend those who lived.

With that blow to Pierre's neck, he smashed his hand into the back of the boy's head, attempting to end this now. Not for honor, honor could fuck itself. For the living.

[Constaniana]

Jade cursed as the acid sputtered on her lightsaber, making it fizzle, spark and die. The acid hurt. "Four. Three..." she mumbled, realizing she really didn't have time, because the bubbles of force were finally dissipated, and about to trigger. You know how divers get the bends, right? "... two ..." Nitrogen seeps from their blood into their tissues, and when they ascend too quickly, it expands, causing massive tissue damage. That's nitrogen. Unfortunately (or fortunately), Jade had used pure force, each calibrated to become a ten-centimeter-diameter sphere when they dissipated. That's what she got for using contingencies. "... one..."

The sphere simultaneously (or at least near-simultaneously) expanded with sickening cracks throughout the demon's body, rupturing muscle, splitting blood vessels, and crunching bone. For a moment, Jade was safe, her armor of force protecting her, and then there was an even-more-sickening crack as they collapsed, her entire body collapsing in on itself, smashed by the combined force. She fell to the ground, a bloody, broken, torn-up and acid-burned mess, surrounded and half-covered by the sinews and bones of the demon.

She mouthed a couple silent words, trying to speak, and then it all went dark.

For a while William simply stood there, looking at the scene of grisly carnage with a paralysed, horrified expression. Eventually you could discern that William was indeed moving again. He was shaking, his hands trembling feebly.

"I...couldn't save her..." William's voice was weak and faint . "I...couldn't stop that demon.....and now..." He fell silent again, suppressing a sob. His fingers fumbled about, struggling to keep a grip on Excalibur. "Why me? What did I ever do to deserve any of this? I'm only 17...why can't I do...normal things? Going to the beach, making friends, getting in football arguments...." William fell silent again, and he looked down at his feet.

[Ende]

Pierre's eyes flickered for a second as he saw Laz fall to the ground. He had hurt his best friend. He had hurt his only friend. He wanted to stop, to relinquish his power, to comfort his friend, to tell him that it would be okay. He wanted to be on the same side. He didn't want to fight his only friend.

But it was for a good cause.

It was for a good cause.

It was all for a good cause.

He was doing all of this to save his friend. To save himself. He had offered Lewis a chance for salvation, too, but he hadn't accepted. Of course he wouldn't. Lewis was the type that would go and leap off a cliff because it was brave. What he was doing now was the only way. There was no other way. He didn't believe that the Fae would lose. He was almost completely certain of their victory now. He was doing the only thing he could. And he wanted to go this way, too. He didn't feel bothered by his conscious - there was no good or evil. It was all so subjective. One man's good was another's evil.

And, so, therefore, in his mind, he was doing good.

And so, he was doing good.

And so, Pierre telekinetically gripped Laz by the leg and hurled him at the portal. He felt it weakening, and with his other hand, he re-affirmed it, stabilizing it and making sure it would stay there. Crowley was powerful, but Pierre knew he could keep the portal open for longer. And he only needed a bit longer. That was it.

Where was Lewis, you ask?

Allow me to answer that question the only way I know how - an angry hick getting ready to fight.

"Pierre," Lewis said, resting his cold hand (as cold as metal, actually) gently on the boy's shoulder, "put the demon down and finish this fight like it was meant to be."

Lewis turned to Crowley and nodded.

"Stand down," he ordered, "this is my fight."

With that, Lewis smashed his fist into the side Pierre's neck. Hard. Harder than any attack he'd ever delivered before - for, you see, something in Lewis had snapped while he was on the ground, scrambling to get up, to defeat the Fae. Something rose up in his heart, as his thoughts turned to Rosalind and D and Ivy.

Something in him changed and his body changed to reflect that.

In the clarity of death (or close to it), Lewis had decided what he was fighting for. Not revenge for Rosalind, but for the family he still had. For Megan and D and Elfen High, not for the cold corpse of a lost child. And that cold armor encased, a mercurial bronze gushing from his veins and encasing his body. He looked just like Lewis, but made of metal.

He looked like Colossus, not going to lie.

And so Lewis Jameson discovered the power of his family. The power of his brother. The power to defend those who lived.

With that blow to Pierre's neck, he smashed his hand into the back of the boy's head, attempting to end this now. Not for honor, honor could fuck itself. For the living.

Pierre, hearing a movement behind him, started to turn around.

He was a bit late - the fist smashed into the back of his head like a brick, and he flew tumbling across the war-torn field, nearly a hundred feet, before crashing into a large rock and stopping. His neck was twisted, obviously broken, and his eyes were flickering blue, like an old, broken monitor. The portal which had opened snapped shut with a sound like a clap of thunder, and Laz fell aimlessly to the ground.

"That's not fair." he whispered to himself, and then, gripping at his broken neck with his hands, he twisted his head back into place, with a few sickening cracks and snaps, blue energy flowing from his fingers, until it was healed. It took a few seconds, and then he rose to his feet. The blue fire flickered in his eyes for a moment, and then it vanished.

"No powers?" he screamed, outraged, a blue mist of blood spraying from his mouth. "No powers? Liar! Hypocrite! Everything you ever believed in, and you...you just go and stomp on it. You attack from behind. I...I admired you, Lewis. You were everything that I wasn't."

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,

He coughed again, more blood trickling down his face.

"But you're me. You're...you're me." he gasped, wiping the blood away from his face with his sleeve. Sighing, he shakily rose to his feet, and brushed off his robes.

And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

"You just fight to save your family. I fight to save mine." he said, his face twisting in pain, and then his eyes filled with blue, wiping the hazel from his eyes for, most likely, the final time.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.

"You can die now." he roared, his voice calm and yet furious, and he leapt to his feet and extended his hands forward, a staff appearing from nowhere, landing in his ready hands.

I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

He pointed the rather plain staff at Lewis.

Quickened lightning. he thought, and a golden bolt of death leapt towards the old man.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Where was Lewis, you ask?

Allow me to answer that question the only way I know how - an angry hick getting ready to fight.

"Pierre," Lewis said, resting his cold hand (as cold as metal, actually) gently on the boy's shoulder, "put the demon down and finish this fight like it was meant to be."

Lewis turned to Crowley and nodded.

"Stand down," he ordered, "this is my fight."

With that, Lewis smashed his fist into the side Pierre's neck. Hard. Harder than any attack he'd ever delivered before - for, you see, something in Lewis had snapped while he was on the ground, scrambling to get up, to defeat the Fae. Something rose up in his heart, as his thoughts turned to Rosalind and D and Ivy.

Something in him changed and his body changed to reflect that.

In the clarity of death (or close to it), Lewis had decided what he was fighting for. Not revenge for Rosalind, but for the family he still had. For Megan and D and Elfen High, not for the cold corpse of a lost child. And that cold armor encased, a mercurial bronze gushing from his veins and encasing his body. He looked just like Lewis, but made of metal.

He looked like Colossus, not going to lie.

And so Lewis Jameson discovered the power of his family. The power of his brother. The power to defend those who lived.

With that blow to Pierre's neck, he smashed his hand into the back of the boy's head, attempting to end this now. Not for honor, honor could fuck itself. For the living.

Pierre, hearing a movement behind him, started to turn around.

He was a bit late - the fist smashed into the back of his head like a brick, and he flew tumbling across the war-torn field, nearly a hundred feet, before crashing into a large rock and stopping. His neck was twisted, obviously broken, and his eyes were flickering blue, like an old, broken monitor. The portal which had opened snapped shut with a sound like a clap of thunder, and Laz fell aimlessly to the ground.

"That's not fair." he whispered to himself, and then, gripping at his broken neck with his hands, he twisted his head back into place, with a few sickening cracks and snaps, blue energy flowing from his fingers, until it was healed. It took a few seconds, and then he rose to his feet. The blue fire flickered in his eyes for a moment, and then it vanished.

"No powers?" he screamed, outraged, a blue mist of blood spraying from his mouth. "No powers? Liar! Hypocrite! Everything you ever believed in, and you...you just go and stomp on it. You attack from behind. I...I admired you, Lewis. You were everything that I wasn't."

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,

He coughed again, more blood trickling down his face.

"But you're me. You're...you're me." he gasped, wiping the blood away from his face with his sleeve. Sighing, he shakily rose to his feet, and brushed off his robes.

And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

"You just fight to save your family. I fight to save mine." he said, his face twisting in pain, and then his eyes filled with blue, wiping the hazel from his eyes for, most likely, the final time.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.

"You can die now." he roared, his voice calm and yet furious, and he leapt to his feet and extended his hands forward, a staff appearing from nowhere, landing in his ready hands.

I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

He pointed the rather plain staff at Lewis.

Quickened lightning. he thought, and a golden bolt of death leapt towards the old man, stabbing and tearing through the air like a spear.

Lewis blinked.

"What the fuck are ye' talkin' 'bout?" he asked, before looking down and seeing the metal encoating his body, "Oh. Well."

The lightning bolt smashed into Lewis, but dissipated along his body (nearly) harmlessly. It stung a lot, actually, but Lewis really didn't care.

"Am I made out of metal?" he questioned, "Fuck yes. Just... fuck yes. Thanks, Montie."

Lewis fell into a crouch and smiled.

"Actually, I can't shoot any lightnin' bolts or anythin'," he said, "but then, your bullshit magic can't hurt me. Lewis Jameson fights with fists and sticks."

"THAT WAS EUPHEMTASTIC!" Polarbeard shouted from the sidelines.

"Shut up, ye' stupid goddamn bear," Lewis said, "Now, Pierre? There's a bit more to bein' a man than honor. In fact, you'll find that ignoring bullshit like honor has done a lot more for humanity than adhering to the rules.

I know. I was there."

That said, Lewis charged. But it wasn't a normal charge - it was a lightning fast charge (SPD 9), one Pierre (SPD 6) didn't have any time to react to before Lewis was behind him, wrapping his arms underneath the boy's shoulders.

"I am kinda' sorry," Lewis whispered into Pierre's ear, "I wanted to fight ye', but I honestly don't know how to get out of this. So I'm just gonna' show ye' some mercy and end this now."

Lewis removed one of his arms, grabbed the side of Pierre's head, and twisted. This would kill him, hopefully. Pierre was still a durable bastard and possibly strong enough to slip from Lewis' distracted grip.

[Ende]

Pierre, hearing a movement behind him, started to turn around.

He was a bit late - the fist smashed into the back of his head like a brick, and he flew tumbling across the war-torn field, nearly a hundred feet, before crashing into a large rock and stopping. His neck was twisted, obviously broken, and his eyes were flickering blue, like an old, broken monitor. The portal which had opened snapped shut with a sound like a clap of thunder, and Laz fell aimlessly to the ground.

"That's not fair." he whispered to himself, and then, gripping at his broken neck with his hands, he twisted his head back into place, with a few sickening cracks and snaps, blue energy flowing from his fingers, until it was healed. It took a few seconds, and then he rose to his feet. The blue fire flickered in his eyes for a moment, and then it vanished.

"No powers?" he screamed, outraged, a blue mist of blood spraying from his mouth. "No powers? Liar! Hypocrite! Everything you ever believed in, and you...you just go and stomp on it. You attack from behind. I...I admired you, Lewis. You were everything that I wasn't."

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,

He coughed again, more blood trickling down his face.

"But you're me. You're...you're me." he gasped, wiping the blood away from his face with his sleeve. Sighing, he shakily rose to his feet, and brushed off his robes.

And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

"You just fight to save your family. I fight to save mine." he said, his face twisting in pain, and then his eyes filled with blue, wiping the hazel from his eyes for, most likely, the final time.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.

"You can die now." he roared, his voice calm and yet furious, and he leapt to his feet and extended his hands forward, a staff appearing from nowhere, landing in his ready hands.

I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

He pointed the rather plain staff at Lewis.

Quickened lightning. he thought, and a golden bolt of death leapt towards the old man, stabbing and tearing through the air like a spear.

Lewis blinked.

"What the fuck are ye' talkin' 'bout?" he asked, before looking down and seeing the metal encoating his body, "Oh. Well."

The lightning bolt smashed into Lewis, but dissipated along his body (nearly) harmlessly. It stung a lot, actually, but Lewis really didn't care.

"Am I made out of metal?" he questioned, "Fuck yes. Just... fuck yes. Thanks, Montie."

Lewis fell into a crouch and smiled.

"Actually, I can't shoot any lightnin' bolts or anythin'," he said, "but then, your bullshit magic can't hurt me. Lewis Jameson fights with fists and sticks."

"THAT WAS EUPHEMTASTIC!" Polarbeard shouted from the sidelines.

"Shut up, ye' stupid goddamn bear," Lewis said, "Now, Pierre? There's a bit more to bein' a man than honor. In fact, you'll find that ignoring bullshit like honor has done a lot more for humanity than adhering to the rules.

I know. I was there."

That said, Lewis charged. But it wasn't a normal charge - it was a lightning fast charge (SPD 9), one Pierre (SPD 6) didn't have any time to react to before Lewis was behind him, wrapping his arms underneath the boy's shoulders.

"I am kinda' sorry," Lewis whispered into Pierre's ear, "I wanted to fight ye', but I honestly don't know how to get out of this. So I'm just gonna' show ye' some mercy and end this now."

Lewis removed one of his arms, grabbed the side of Pierre's head, and twisted. This would kill him, hopefully. Pierre was still a durable bastard and possibly strong enough to slip from Lewis' distracted grip.

There was a crack, and then Pierre ripped Lewis's arms off him, jerking away, taking a few steps back. Blue blood poured from the wound, falling to the ground, and Pierre gripped his own neck with both of his hands, energy surging through them.

"YOU CANNOT KILL ME!" he roared, taking out his staff and firing several more bolts of lightning. "I AM A GOD! I CANNOT DIE! I WILL NOT DIE!"

His eyes flickered, and he slumped to the ground, falling to his knees.

"I'm dying." he coughed, and then he rose to his feet yet again, although it was mainly just determination propelling him forward. He was bad at healing. He was bad at using magic, really. It wasn't natural for him. It was an unnatural gift - one that he hadn't figured out how to use well. Dependence on it...dependence on the Fae...it would kill him. His neck was a bloodied mess, and he had healed it badly. Gasping for air, his eyes surged blue yet again, and he tried healing it again - this time slightly better.

Then he fell to his knees yet again. He was dying.

Lewis had won. Lewis had killed him. His strength could keep him alive longer - minutes, hours, maybe even days - but this was the wound that would kill him.

Even the gods were not invincible, and he knew that.

Pierre's eyes filled with hatred. All he had wanted was a fair fight. A chance to show that he was better. A chance to show that he was greater. A chance to show that he was finally who Lewis wanted him to be, a chance to show that he had risen beyond his cowardice.

And it was all worthless. Lewis didn't even believe it.

He wanted revenge.

Suddenly, a single idea sprung through the haze, and, suddenly, he smiled.

And then, he threw his head back and laughed, the laugh of a madman, the laugh of a dying god.

"YOU LOSE!" he screamed, blood pouring from his ruined neck, looking to the heavens, a twisted smile on his face.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Jade cursed as the acid sputtered on her lightsaber, making it fizzle, spark and die. The acid hurt. "Four. Three..." she mumbled, realizing she really didn't have time, because the bubbles of force were finally dissipated, and about to trigger. You know how divers get the bends, right? "... two ..." Nitrogen seeps from their blood into their tissues, and when they ascend too quickly, it expands, causing massive tissue damage. That's nitrogen. Unfortunately (or fortunately), Jade had used pure force, each calibrated to become a ten-centimeter-diameter sphere when they dissipated. That's what she got for using contingencies. "... one..."

The sphere simultaneously (or at least near-simultaneously) expanded with sickening cracks throughout the demon's body, rupturing muscle, splitting blood vessels, and crunching bone. For a moment, Jade was safe, her armor of force protecting her, and then there was an even-more-sickening crack as they collapsed, her entire body collapsing in on itself, smashed by the combined force. She fell to the ground, a bloody, broken, torn-up and acid-burned mess, surrounded and half-covered by the sinews and bones of the demon.

She mouthed a couple silent words, trying to speak, and then it all went dark.

For a while William simply stood there, looking at the scene of grisly carnage with a paralysed, horrified expression. Eventually you could discern that William was indeed moving again. He was shaking, his hands trembling feebly.

"I...couldn't save her..." William's voice was weak and faint . "I...couldn't stop that demon.....and now..." He fell silent again, suppressing a sob. His fingers fumbled about, struggling to keep a grip on Excalibur. "Why me? What did I ever do to deserve any of this? I'm only 17...why can't I do...normal things? Going to the beach, making friends, getting in football arguments...." William fell silent again, and he looked down at his feet.

Then someone hit him in the side of the face.

By someone, I really just mean a demon who got lucky with a magic blast and managed to do William some serious facial damage that could be life-threatening. The demon started to laugh and scurry toward the severely injured boy.

Now Con, have fun with your subplot.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Lewis blinked.

"What the fuck are ye' talkin' 'bout?" he asked, before looking down and seeing the metal encoating his body, "Oh. Well."

The lightning bolt smashed into Lewis, but dissipated along his body (nearly) harmlessly. It stung a lot, actually, but Lewis really didn't care.

"Am I made out of metal?" he questioned, "Fuck yes. Just... fuck yes. Thanks, Montie."

Lewis fell into a crouch and smiled.

"Actually, I can't shoot any lightnin' bolts or anythin'," he said, "but then, your bullshit magic can't hurt me. Lewis Jameson fights with fists and sticks."

"THAT WAS EUPHEMTASTIC!" Polarbeard shouted from the sidelines.

"Shut up, ye' stupid goddamn bear," Lewis said, "Now, Pierre? There's a bit more to bein' a man than honor. In fact, you'll find that ignoring bullshit like honor has done a lot more for humanity than adhering to the rules.

I know. I was there."

That said, Lewis charged. But it wasn't a normal charge - it was a lightning fast charge (SPD 9), one Pierre (SPD 6) didn't have any time to react to before Lewis was behind him, wrapping his arms underneath the boy's shoulders.

"I am kinda' sorry," Lewis whispered into Pierre's ear, "I wanted to fight ye', but I honestly don't know how to get out of this. So I'm just gonna' show ye' some mercy and end this now."

Lewis removed one of his arms, grabbed the side of Pierre's head, and twisted. This would kill him, hopefully. Pierre was still a durable bastard and possibly strong enough to slip from Lewis' distracted grip.

There was a crack, and then Pierre ripped Lewis's arms off him, jerking away, taking a few steps back. Blue blood poured from the wound, falling to the ground, and Pierre gripped his own neck with both of his hands, energy surging through them.

"YOU CANNOT KILL ME!" he roared, taking out his staff and firing several more bolts of lightning. "I AM A GOD! I CANNOT DIE! I WILL NOT DIE!"

His eyes flickered, and he slumped to the ground, falling to his knees.

"I'm dying." he coughed, and then he rose to his feet yet again, although it was mainly just determination propelling him forward. He was bad at healing. He was bad at using magic, really. It wasn't natural for him. It was an unnatural gift - one that he hadn't figured out how to use well. Dependence on it...dependence on the Fae...it would kill him. His neck was a bloodied mess, and he had healed it badly. Gasping for air, his eyes surged blue yet again, and he tried healing it again - this time slightly better.

Then he fell to his knees yet again. He was dying.

Lewis had won. Lewis had killed him. His strength could keep him alive longer - minutes, hours, maybe even days - but this was the wound that would kill him.

Even the gods were not invincible, and he knew that.

Pierre's eyes filled with hatred. All he had wanted was a fair fight. A chance to show that he was better. A chance to show that he was greater. A chance to show that he was finally who Lewis wanted him to be, a chance to show that he had risen beyond his cowardice.

And it was all worthless. Lewis didn't even believe it.

He wanted revenge.

Suddenly, a single idea sprung through the haze, and, suddenly, he smiled.

And then, he threw his head back and laughed, the laugh of a madman, the laugh of a dying god.

"YOU LOSE!" he screamed, blood pouring from his ruined neck, looking to the heavens, a twisted smile on his face.

"Just sit down and die, kid," Lewis ordered, appearing by Pierre's side, "It's better for ye' t accept it and move on."

He bent down and took Pierre's hand in his, smiling awkwardly.

"So, uh, bears," he said, "Punching 'em's fun, huh? If ye' get a second chance, Polarbeard will still be here, probably hidin' in his cave in Sibera. If ye' go lookin' for him... he always likes a fight.

Ye' could've been so much more, kid."

And Lewis remembered who he had been, what his life before Elfen High been.

He remembered why he fought for it.

"Whoever ye' are next, Pierre or someone else," he continued, "visit the school. If ye' take Crowley out of the equation, it's really a beautiful place. Ye' shouldn't turn your back on friends like that. Not even life is worth it."

He released the boy's hand and placed it at his side.

"I keep goin'," he said, "and everyone else stops, no matter how hard they try."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Crowley stared at Pierre in exhaustion. "Damn." he said simply and tiredly. Lewis was handling it and Crowley let him, because he knew enough to let Lewis do this when the American asked. He was barely surprised when Lewis had transformed. Few things would ever surprise him anymore.

He turned to Calliel. "Go talk to Ivy over there." he said simply, watching in case Lewis might need help.

Calliel teleported next to Ivy, looking completely healthy now. "Are you alright?" he asked, grabbing her hand. "Crowley healed me, let me just heal you fully." he said, firing his own healing energy through her as well.

[Ende]

There was a crack, and then Pierre ripped Lewis's arms off him, jerking away, taking a few steps back. Blue blood poured from the wound, falling to the ground, and Pierre gripped his own neck with both of his hands, energy surging through them.

"YOU CANNOT KILL ME!" he roared, taking out his staff and firing several more bolts of lightning. "I AM A GOD! I CANNOT DIE! I WILL NOT DIE!"

His eyes flickered, and he slumped to the ground, falling to his knees.

"I'm dying." he coughed, and then he rose to his feet yet again, although it was mainly just determination propelling him forward. He was bad at healing. He was bad at using magic, really. It wasn't natural for him. It was an unnatural gift - one that he hadn't figured out how to use well. Dependence on it...dependence on the Fae...it would kill him. His neck was a bloodied mess, and he had healed it badly. Gasping for air, his eyes surged blue yet again, and he tried healing it again - this time slightly better.

Then he fell to his knees yet again. He was dying.

Lewis had won. Lewis had killed him. His strength could keep him alive longer - minutes, hours, maybe even days - but this was the wound that would kill him.

Even the gods were not invincible, and he knew that.

Pierre's eyes filled with hatred. All he had wanted was a fair fight. A chance to show that he was better. A chance to show that he was greater. A chance to show that he was finally who Lewis wanted him to be, a chance to show that he had risen beyond his cowardice.

And it was all worthless. Lewis didn't even believe it.

He wanted revenge.

Suddenly, a single idea sprung through the haze, and, suddenly, he smiled.

And then, he threw his head back and laughed, the laugh of a madman, the laugh of a dying god.

"YOU LOSE!" he screamed, blood pouring from his ruined neck, looking to the heavens, a twisted smile on his face.

"Just sit down and die, kid," Lewis ordered, appearing by Pierre's side, "It's better for ye' t accept it and move on."

He bent down and took Pierre's hand in his, smiling awkwardly.

"So, uh, bears," he said, "Punching 'em's fun, huh? If ye' get a second chance, Polarbeard will still be here, probably hidin' in his cave in Sibera. If ye' go lookin' for him... he always likes a fight.

Ye' could've been so much more, kid."

And Lewis remembered who he had been, what his life before Elfen High been.

He remembered why he fought for it.

"Whoever ye' are next, Pierre or someone else," he continued, "visit the school. If ye' take Crowley out of the equation, it's really a beautiful place. Ye' shouldn't turn your back on friends like that. Not even life is worth it."

He released the boy's hand and placed it at his side.

"I keep goin'," he said, "and everyone else stops, no matter how hard they try."

The blue light faded from his eyes, and for a split second, Pierre stared at Lewis.

"I'm...I'm so sorry." he said blankly, his eyes clouding over slightly, and then they focused again.

"I...no, I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry. Lewis, I know what friendship is worth. I was just trying to save him. I was trying to save them. I offered you a chance to join us. I wanted to...I had my reasons...I had my plans. I'm not sorry for how it all went down. You're probably all going to die. I tried. I really did."

He coughed again, blood dripping from his chin, and, wiping it away, he continued.

"Yes, I could have been more...but I could have been so much less."

He looked Lewis in the eyes.

"I just issued the order to kill Rosalind. Azazel could probably override it. He might. He probably will, actually. But I just issued that order. I..."

He coughed blood again.

"She's going to die, Lewis, whether my order follows through or not. She will die. And she was alive. I assure you that she was alive."

He could feel it going - his consciousness was fading away - at least his body had the courtesy to stay alive long enough for him to get a conversation or so. He could probably live on longer if he tried. Magic, willpower...but did it matter? Did it really matter? He had lost. It was over.

"You know...maybe we could've been friends...but that's not the case. Things don't always work out the best way, and I'm not sorry for the way they did work out."

He coughed again.

"I don't need to prove myself to you. You're not a hero. I thought I needed to prove things to you...but it was just myself...and I've proved it to myself...and..."

He was dying. It was everything he had feared. He wasn't afraid anymore, though. He wasn't quite sure why he was still trying - he was on the verge of death, holding on through sheer determination and...hatred? Yes, it was hate. Why? It was almost unclear. Everything was unclear. He cut through the haze yet again.

"Two more things. One, Lewis, please tell Laz that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Tell him that he can still join the Fae, save himself, okay?"

His eyes flashed with blue for a final time.

"Two. Revenge." he said, and lifting his hands, blasted Ivy with several bolts of lightning, one right after the other. The remaining blue in his eyes instantly vanished, and he started coughing blood uncontrollably. He frowned. It wasn't enough. The girl would live. He hadn't done it right. They were too slow. Somebody would take the blow. It didn't matter, though. It was too late for anything else. It was good enough. He could feel the magic that was sustaining him start to dissipate.

"I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry for anything." he said, desperately clinging onto the strands of life that he still had. "I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. I chose my own path, and I have no regrets." he spat defiantly at Lewis, smiling, then he slumped back against the rock, closed his eyes, and sighed.

"One regret, actually. Tell Laz that I'm sorry. I...I'll do better next time."

And then he died, with one final shuddering breath.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Then Crowley lost it. "NO!" he roared at the lightning blasts that had been fired. "FUCK YOU!"
"There's no way for you to save them all."

"I'll save this one." he growled, leaping forward toward the lightning bolt. Somewhere, Arc 1 James laughed.

These blasts were even more powerful than the ones Nylara had fired, so even someone like Crowley felt himself battered by them, falling to the ground as his left arm fell off. That would grow back, luckily. But one hit him in the eye, popping it. Then it hit him in the socket and then he screamed in pain as it burned inside him.

But he had successfully saved a life. That was one good thing.

On the other hand, OH HOLY FUCKING SHIT HIS EYE!

"There's some kind of fucking irony here, isn't there?" he grumbled to himself, covering his face. He was in darkness. "Heh, you were right, Leah. In darkness, some noble work may yet be done." he said, removing his hand from his face and shifting it only to his left eye, the injured one. "Alright, I need to return to the medical bay. He's dead. Take the corpse, will you?"

[Nationstatelandsville]

"Just sit down and die, kid," Lewis ordered, appearing by Pierre's side, "It's better for ye' t accept it and move on."

He bent down and took Pierre's hand in his, smiling awkwardly.

"So, uh, bears," he said, "Punching 'em's fun, huh? If ye' get a second chance, Polarbeard will still be here, probably hidin' in his cave in Sibera. If ye' go lookin' for him... he always likes a fight.

Ye' could've been so much more, kid."

And Lewis remembered who he had been, what his life before Elfen High been.

He remembered why he fought for it.

"Whoever ye' are next, Pierre or someone else," he continued, "visit the school. If ye' take Crowley out of the equation, it's really a beautiful place. Ye' shouldn't turn your back on friends like that. Not even life is worth it."

He released the boy's hand and placed it at his side.

"I keep goin'," he said, "and everyone else stops, no matter how hard they try."

The blue light faded from his eyes, and for a split second, Pierre stared at Lewis.

"I'm...I'm so sorry." he said blankly, his eyes clouding over slightly, and then they focused again.

"I...no, I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry. Lewis, I know what friendship is worth. I was just trying to save him. I was trying to save them. I offered you a chance to join us. I wanted to...I had my reasons...I had my plans. I'm not sorry for how it all went down. You're probably all going to die. I tried. I really did."

He coughed again, blood dripping from his chin, and, wiping it away, he continued.

"Yes, I could have been more...but I could have been so much less."

He looked Lewis in the eyes.

"I just issued the order to kill Rosalind. Azazel could probably override it. He might. He probably will, actually. But I just issued that order. I..."

He coughed blood again.

"She's going to die, Lewis, whether my order follows through or not. She will die. And she was alive. I assure you that she was alive."

He could feel it going - his consciousness was fading away - at least his body had the courtesy to stay alive long enough for him to get a conversation or so. He could probably live on longer if he tried. Magic, willpower...but did it matter? Did it really matter? He had lost. It was over.

"You know...maybe we could've been friends...but that's not the case. Things don't always work out the best way, and I'm not sorry for the way they did work out."

He coughed again.

"I don't need to prove myself to you. You're not a hero. I thought I needed to prove things to you...but it was just myself...and I've proved it to myself...and..."

He was dying. It was everything he had feared. He wasn't afraid anymore, though. He wasn't quite sure why he was still trying - he was on the verge of death, holding on through sheer determination and...hatred? Yes, it was hate. Why? It was almost unclear. Everything was unclear. He cut through the haze yet again.

"Two more things. One, Lewis, please tell Laz that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Tell him that he can still join the Fae, save himself, okay?"

His eyes flashed with blue for a final time.

"Two. Revenge." he said, and lifting his hands, blasted Ivy with several bolts of lightning, one right after the other. The remaining blue in his eyes instantly vanished, and he started coughing blood uncontrollably. He frowned. It wasn't enough. The girl would live. He hadn't done it right. It didn't matter, though. It was too late for anything else. It was good enough. He could feel the magic that was sustaining him start to dissipate.

"I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry for anything." he said, desperately clinging onto the strands of life that he still had. "I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. I chose my own path, and I have no regrets." he spat defiantly at Lewis, smiling, then he slumped back against the rock, closed his eyes, and sighed.

"One regret, actually. Tell Laz that I'm sorry. I...I'll do better next time."

And then he died, with one final shuddering breath.

Lewis grabbed Pierre's corpse, cradling it like a proper pietà.

"Ye' shitty bastard," he muttered under his breath, "Ye' stupid, stupid fuck..."

Lewis stood up, hoisting Pierre up with him.

And then he grabbed Pierre's foot and head, ripping the corpse in half with a scream of frustration and rage. It wasn't pleasant.

"HOLY SHIT, THAT'S AWESOME!" Polarbeard encouraged.

"FUCK YE', YE' STUPID BEAR!" Lewis snapped. He stomped up to Crowley and grabbed him by the arms, shaking him violently.

"We need to get to Dys! Now!" he demanded, "Teleport us there! I don't have time!"

Lewis was panicking, for his daughter was still alive. Rosalind was alive. In Dys. Oh God, in Dys. In Dys, with Azazel and the demons and their armies, at their will.

Rosalind was alive. In Dys.

"Please, Crowley!" he begged, "She's there! She's alive! Ye' need to help her!"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Crowley looked at Lewis tiredly with his one eye. "Calm down." Crowley said wearily. "Your daughter will live. I want to take you there now. But we don't have the time. Dys is too well guarded and-" Crowley sighed, squating down on the ground. "Fuck it. There's nothing I can say. There's nothing I will say that can help you now. What do you want me to do. Tell me right now and right here, Lewis, what you want me to do. Alright? Just look me in the eyes-" Now he removed his hand from the left eye so Lewis saw the socket. 'and tell me now what you want from me. You're good at yelling orders and bitching at me. Do it now."

[Nationstatelandsville]

Crowley looked at Lewis tiredly with his one eye. "Calm down." Crowley said wearily. "Your daughter will live. I want to take you there now. But we don't have the time. Dys is too well guarded and-" Crowley sighed, squating down on the ground. "Fuck it. There's nothing I can say. There's nothing I will say that can help you now. What do you want me to do. Tell me right now and right here, Lewis, what you want me to do. Alright? Just look me in the eyes-" Now he removed his hand from the left eye so Lewis saw the socket. 'and tell me now what you want from me. You're good at yelling orders and bitching at me. Do it now."

Instead, the metal around Lewis melted away and he passed out in Crowley's arms.

This would be adorable if it wasn't Crowley.

Suddenly, twenty-four bears appeared on the scene - twelve spear-men and twelve infantry. The infantry wore red sashes across their bodies, signifying their membership of an elite caste called "the Grizzlies". The Grizzlies were named for Polarbeard's foes in the War of Republican Unification, from whom the infantry borrowed many of its more complicated tactics. Such was the job of the Grizzlies; doing shit too insane for normal bears.

Naturally, Polarbeard despised them.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY, YOU GLORIFIED CARTOONS!" he demanded.

"What has happened to the King?!" asked one of the spear-men, "Lord Slotheater sent us here to help him battle a Fae. Are we too late?"

[Nude East Ireland]

"What has happened to the King?!" asked one of the spear-men, "Lord Slotheater sent us here to help him battle a Fae. Are we too late?"

"No, he's alive. Just unconscious," Anton said, suddenly appearing next to the Grizzlies. He was wearing a clean tench coat, something that looked very out of place. It also resembled Calliel's, which isn't really worth noting. He looked at Aleister, and nodded. "We should take Lewis back to Heavensgate and get him healed up. That foot, in particular. When he comes to, we'll figure out our next move." He also nodded to Ivy and Calliel. "Them too. We'll still need them if we're to march on Dys."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Crowley looked at Lewis tiredly with his one eye. "Calm down." Crowley said wearily. "Your daughter will live. I want to take you there now. But we don't have the time. Dys is too well guarded and-" Crowley sighed, squating down on the ground. "Fuck it. There's nothing I can say. There's nothing I will say that can help you now. What do you want me to do. Tell me right now and right here, Lewis, what you want me to do. Alright? Just look me in the eyes-" Now he removed his hand from the left eye so Lewis saw the socket. 'and tell me now what you want from me. You're good at yelling orders and bitching at me. Do it now."

Instead, the metal around Lewis melted away and he passed out in Crowley's arms.

This would be adorable if it wasn't Crowley.

Suddenly, twenty-four bears appeared on the scene - twelve spear-men and twelve infantry. The infantry wore red sashes across their bodies, signifying their membership of an elite caste called "the Grizzlies". The Grizzlies were named for Polarbeard's foes in the War of Republican Unification, from whom the infantry borrowed many of its more complicated tactics. Such was the job of the Grizzlies; doing shit too insane for normal bears.

Naturally, Polarbeard despised them.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY, YOU GLORIFIED CARTOONS!" he demanded.

"What has happened to the King?!" asked one of the spear-men, "Lord Slotheater sent us here to help him battle a Fae. Are we too late?"

Then something happened in Crowley's brain.

"No, my darlings." he said quietly, smiling at them. The Grizzlies would piss themselves now. He started to slowly walk closer. "The King managed to kill the Fae all by himself. You know what else? You're late. You're supposed to be warriors, aren't you? I assume that means being on fucking time to the battlefield." he said, now virtually standing next to them.

Somehow, this one-armed, one-eyed British wizard was currently the most terrifying thing these hardened bear warriors had ever seen, and they knew Polarbeard. "You weren't on time. Everyone always wants some more time or less time, I know. But you know something? Today, you were fucking useless." he pointed at the person who seemed to be the leader. "What's your name?"

[Nationstatelandsville]

Instead, the metal around Lewis melted away and he passed out in Crowley's arms.

This would be adorable if it wasn't Crowley.

Suddenly, twenty-four bears appeared on the scene - twelve spear-men and twelve infantry. The infantry wore red sashes across their bodies, signifying their membership of an elite caste called "the Grizzlies". The Grizzlies were named for Polarbeard's foes in the War of Republican Unification, from whom the infantry borrowed many of its more complicated tactics. Such was the job of the Grizzlies; doing shit too insane for normal bears.

Naturally, Polarbeard despised them.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY, YOU GLORIFIED CARTOONS!" he demanded.

"What has happened to the King?!" asked one of the spear-men, "Lord Slotheater sent us here to help him battle a Fae. Are we too late?"

Then something happened in Crowley's brain.

"No, my darlings." he said quietly, smiling at them. The Grizzlies would piss themselves now. He started to slowly walk closer. "The King managed to kill the Fae all by himself. You know what else? You're late. You're supposed to be warriors, aren't you? I assume that means being on fucking time to the battlefield." he said, now virtually standing next to them.

Somehow, this one-armed, one-eyed British wizard was currently the most terrifying thing these hardened bear warriors had ever seen, and they knew Polarbeard. "You weren't on time. Everyone always wants some more time or less time, I know. But you know something? Today, you were fucking useless." he pointed at the person who seemed to be the leader. "What's your name?"

"Whiteclaw, sir," he replied, stepping up to Crowley, "and I don't much like the way you're talking to my troops. Now, I understand that we were late, but we were ordered not to join the fray of battle until we were needed. If you have a problem, take it up with Lord Slotheater, but bare in mind that he had no way of knowing that this would happen, either. The King joined the battle knowing what could happen. This is the way war works, sir."

Whiteclaw grunted and stepped back, but not before removing a scroll from the personal hammerspace all the bears have for plot reasons.

"Theirs not to reason why," he recited, "Theirs but to do and die. The King instructed us to recite this to you should you begin to question yourself."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Then something happened in Crowley's brain.

"No, my darlings." he said quietly, smiling at them. The Grizzlies would piss themselves now. He started to slowly walk closer. "The King managed to kill the Fae all by himself. You know what else? You're late. You're supposed to be warriors, aren't you? I assume that means being on fucking time to the battlefield." he said, now virtually standing next to them.

Somehow, this one-armed, one-eyed British wizard was currently the most terrifying thing these hardened bear warriors had ever seen, and they knew Polarbeard. "You weren't on time. Everyone always wants some more time or less time, I know. But you know something? Today, you were fucking useless." he pointed at the person who seemed to be the leader. "What's your name?"

"Whiteclaw, sir," he replied, stepping up to Crowley, "and I don't much like the way you're talking to my troops. Now, I understand that we were late, but we were ordered not to join the fray of battle until we were needed. If you have a problem, take it up with Lord Slotheater, but bare in mind that he had no way of knowing that this would happen, either. The King joined the battle knowing what could happen. This is the way war works, sir."

Whiteclaw grunted and stepped back, but not before removing a scroll from the personal hammerspace all the bears have for plot reasons.

"Theirs not to reason why," he recited, "Theirs but to do and die. The King instructed us to recite this to you should you begin to question yourself."

Crowley paused, feeling his mind racketed. Lewis hit him right in the poetry. It was a weak spot for Crowley, who gave a sigh. "This battle seems to be wearing down. Still considerable enemies and Heavensgate will remain under Siege for some time, so the school can be left here. I need to go to the medical bay and heal myself, as well as Lewis. Then we can consider our next plan of action." he said simply, his mood changing. Now, as always, his mind seemed an enigma. You could guess the shape of his thoughts, but not the specifics, not the memories or the calculations or the plans or the pain. You could just guess at that.

He turned around, making a portal back to the school. "Come on. I need to ask Sanchez for a few tobacco patches too." he said, stepping through the portal.

[Hardened Pyrokinetics]

You're an asshole. James shot off to Loki, before strolling up to the arguing angels and Sanchez. "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" He asked casually.

[Constaniana]

Then someone hit him in the side of the face.

By someone, I really just mean a demon who got lucky with a magic blast and managed to do William some serious facial damage that could be life-threatening. The demon started to laugh and scurry toward the severely injured boy.

Now Con, have fun with your subplot.

The demon would have made it over to William. Unfortunately for him, he would never take another step. In a flash Reddy had run over to the demon, slicing his sword through it in a blur. The demon stopped walking, and a moment later his legs dropped off, having been perfectly sliced through. Then its arms dropped off at the shoulders, having also been perfectly diced up. Then finally the head fell off, having been cut through like a blazing knife through soft butter. Reddy walked over to William, putting away his sword. "You look bloody terrible," William managed to say to Reddy, chuckling for a few moments while wincing with the pain it now brought to his face. "You're hardly in a condition to tell me things like that," Reddy replied, although he did look pretty awful. Good-sized chunks of his hair had been cut off or singed by demons, his clothes were slashed through in several places exposing his chest, and there was a gash on his forehead. He sat down next to William, who was laying on the ground, and chuckled for a few moments before growing more serious and sighing. "I suppose now I should tell you this, while you're still around to hear it. The reason we're so similar. Well...."

"We're clones. Well, not in the way that Ciel and Celes are, where Celes is an almost exact copy of Ciel, only with some personality alterations as a result of Fae trolling. I suppose the better word for us would be Replicas. Some time after Loki attacked Elfen High, some ancient ruin was discovered by an adventurous rich man and explorer, named Lord Oliver Reginald Dasparrs. Cliché, I know, but it still happened. Lord Dasparrs decided to bring along his dead friend's teenage grandson who had been depressed ever since Loki's attack on Elfen High had happened, hoping to try and cheer him up somehow. The expedition proceeded along relatively fine, until the group got split up, and it was Dasparrs and the teenage boy alone in a chamber that had a strange-looking mirror,"

"This sounds ridiculous. Is this a bedtime story for me, something to make my last minutes easier?" William asked, not in a scoffing, scornful tone, but with a fading, gentle voice that sounded like it belonged to an old man on his deathbed. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but bear with me," Reddy replied, coughing and seeing blood come up. He was in worse shape than he thought, and he could tell right away that William was too exhausted for healing. If only I still had some of my old healing abilities... Reddy thought desperately.

"Lord Dasparrs was suspicious of an obviously supernatural mirror, but the boy went ahead and foolishly touched it. And I know this William, because I touched the mirror. Edward Craig Bellemew touched that mirror, and somehow it divided him completely,"

"And that's how you were created," Reddy revealed.

"You got all the good parts from my old self. The kindness, the humility, the compassion to seemingly every living creature, not to mention the light magic and healing abilities. But me, the Original, I got stuck with all the bad things that until then I hardly knew I had. Anger, hate, jealously...I became a monster. You have no idea. How I was at the beginning of the school year when I attacked you was saintly compared to how I was in the first moments of my existence. For those first few minutes I was literally pure evil...you have no idea what it felt like to be that way. Of course, you had your minutes of being absolutely good too, although Dasparrs erased your memories of that. He decided that knowing about any of this would only trouble you more, so for your sake he erased your memories of your creation, although oddly enough he let you keep the name you chose instinctively, William, instead of just altering your memories so you'd call yourself Edward again...."

"So...I'm your good half?" William feebly asked, looking appropriately confused. "Well, yes an.." Reddy/Edward clutched his forehead, trying to stop the bleeding. "So...we're...both....going to die?" said William, closing his eyes.

No. A resonant baritone voice said in their heads at the same time, and then everything went white and the pair of them disappeared...

"Where are we?" William whispered, unable to talk any louder, looking around a white sunny room. "Ah, good to see you two here, still alive. Let's get this over with," A familiar voice said, and William and Edward both turned and saw Lord Dasparrs sitting relaxed in an armchair, dressed in a neat white suit. "To answer your question, lad, no, you won't die, either of you. Well, you will in your current states, but I have a plan to fix that," the older man said, sipping from a champagne bottle he mysteriously pulled out of somewhere. "You two are like a pair of magnets that have been cut apart. They don't have a purely negative or positive pull, like you two did when you both first came into existence in your current states, but rather you retain your two sides. But you still will re-unite if given the chance..." Dasparrs sighed, taking another drink. "Basically, you two were destined to come back together anyway. It boils down to the fact that neither of you have a complete soul, despite your full range of morality. Neither of you is complete. Edward doesn't feel happy or kind enough, and William simply now lacks any will to live. I won't force this on you, but we really must be getting back to the main plot now..." Lord Dasparrs said, trailing off at the end as the fourth wall continued to weep.

"Do it. I don't care now..." WIlliam weakly replied, his face pale-or at least the parts that hadn't been scarred by the demon's blast-before smiling faintly at Edward. "Well, this is it I guess..." Dasparrs shook his head. "Nonsense. You'll still be with him. Well, anyway, time to finish all this mess up. I need to hunt a few stags..." William passed out, and Edward managed to pick him up. "So...what now?" Edward said, before William's body and his both began glowing. William seemed to flow into Edward like snowflakes, and soon there was only one of them left. But Reddy had definitely changed.

The teenage boy left standing looked mostly like Reddy, but his hair was much lighter and shorter, like William's. His clothes were mended and white, and most surprising of all was his weapon. It was clearly still Excalibur, but the legendary sword had changed too. Edward's black longsword had merged into Excalibur seamlessly. One side of Excalibur's blade was pure, glistening white, and the other half was an immense and utterly dark shade of black. And then Edward/William/Eldliam was teleported back to Heavensgate.

The teenage boy stood in place, simply getting used to how his new body felt. And oh did it feel wonderful. He had never felt so whole, so complete, so powerful-but enough self-admiration for now. He drew Excalibur and looked at his new reflection on its white surface for a moment before putting it away, and trying to find his way back to Elfen High.

[Ende]

Ivy watched all of this in a mix of confusion and horror, gripping onto Polarbeard's back tightly. Crowley...of all the people in the world, Crowley had appeared and healed Calliel. The two had attacked Pierre - a glorious burst of light launching from Calliel's hand, and another one from Crowley. The Fae had...depowered? The blasts had struck him, and he was bleeding blue blood.

"Lewis!" he howled, "Call them off! CALL THEM OFF!"

Ivy squinted. What were they doing? The Fae was saying something to Lewis, but she couldn't hear any of it. Suddenly, then Pierre's friend, the demon appeared, through another portal. "PIERRE!" the demon roared, hopping out of the portal with two beers. "What the hell are you doing, man?"

He tossed a beer to the Fae, who crushed it in his hand. There was more talking - she felt rather dazed and confused, and none of it made very much sense - her arms were filled with a strange warmth, something she couldn't quite understand, and they were healing...it was all so confusing. The Fae had opened a portal...what was he doing? Crowley and Calliel had just...stopped. She watched in confusion as he opened a portal, and then Lazarian charged, and Crowley was yelling.

She felt like she wanted to help, but everything was unclear. Even thinking was difficult. It was like being somewhere with only two hours of sleep - not a whole lot made sense, and she felt incredibly disoriented. The pain which continued to consistently tear through her arms and back didn't quite help, really. The Fae was...shooting his friend? With lightning? She was confused - hadn't the security guard and the demon been best friends?

And then Lewis smashed the Fae across the landscape. He tumbled across the landscape, and then smashed against a rock, splaying his limbs out, his broken body falling to the ground. He rose, somehow, staggering to his feet, and started to scream at Lewis, but Lewis didn't seem to care. She almost felt sorry for the Fae. She remembered the very first night of the year - it seemed like years ago, now - had it really only been a few months ago? - they had been talking like friends. And now, he was dying at the hands of Lewis. Then, she remembered what he had done to Calliel, and her sympathy faded. He had willingly chosen this path. His fate had been brought upon by himself. The Fae stood and launched another lightning bolt at Lewis, but he shrugged it off. Ivy wasn't sure how. That should have killed him. Lewis grabbed him by the neck, and twisted. There was a horrific crack, and the Fae stepped back, his head twisted, looking almost like Nyarla, in a way.

Ivy could tell the wounds he had received were fatal - she had seen enough blows, and the way the Fae rose, with his neck twisted, blood spraying from it - he was going to die.

"YOU CANNOT KILL ME!" he roared, taking out a staff and firing several more bolts of lightning. "I AM A GOD! I CANNOT DIE! I WILL NOT DIE!" she heard him scream, although it was faint - she couldn't hear anything out of one of her ears, and, placing her hand to it, it was bleeding.

Continuing to watch, petrified (there was nothing she could have done to help), she stared as the Fae fell to his knees, tried desperately to heal himself, and then fell to his knees again. He was dying. Lewis had killed him. Suddenly, she heard him start to laugh.

"YOU LOSE!" she heard him scream faintly, and then he slumped to the ground again, falling into Lewis' arms. He started to sputter a few last words - Ivy couldn't hear them.

Suddenly, Calliel teleported next to Ivy, looking completely healthy now. "Are you alright?" he asked, grabbing her hand. "Crowley healed me, let me just heal you fully." he said, firing his own healing energy through her as well. Ivy nodded.

"I'm fine." she said, sighing in relief as the pain in her arms faded away, and the bones locked back into place. "The only thing that truly hurt was when I thought you were dead. You're not. I'm fine." she said, gazing off into the background, watching the Fae talk to Lewis. She could pick up a few words, but nothing made very much sense.

And then, suddenly, she heard diabolical laughter, and the Fae stood for a final time and launched several lightning bolts at her. In the split second she had before they hit, it flashed through her mind - it reminded her of Zachariah - his final action was to kill her - and she realized that these would kill her. She would die here - in her lover's arms - smote with lightning from a dying god.

Suddenly, Crowley leapt in front of her, and she stood there, watching in shock, as he took lightning bolt after lightning bolt. They struck him, and his arm fell off, blood spraying from the wound - but he survived, and started to heal himself.

She was utterly confused. Crowley had saved her. Crowley. Not just once - but twice now - he had healed Calliel, brought him back from the brink of death itself - and then he had leapt in the path of lightning.

"Why?" she thought out loud, staring at Crowley, who was healing himself.

Suddenly, she heard a scream, and she turned away from Crowley and watched as Lewis tore the Fae's corpse in half. She shuddered - what had he said? What had he done to Lewis? Even a dying god had some power - had he been cursed? She leapt off Polarbeard's back and ran towards him, but then he ran past her, and she saw that he appeared...well, fine.

"We need to get to Dys! Now!" he demanded, "Teleport us there! I don't have time! Please, Crowley! She's there! She's alive! Ye' need to help her!"

Ivy was confused - who? Who was alive? Had they captured Megan? Suddenly, Lewis passed out, and he fell into Crowley's arms. A few bears showed up, and they started to argue with Crowley. She ignored them, and turned to Calliel.

"Do you know who he's talking about? Lewis, I mean? Who's in Dys?" she said, and then, before she could get an answer, Crowley spoke up, and he was creating a portal.

""This battle seems to be wearing down. Still considerable enemies and Heavensgate will remain under Siege for some time, so the school can be left here. I need to go to the medical bay and heal myself, as well as Lewis. Then we can consider our next plan of action. Come on. I need to ask Sanchez for a few tobacco patches too." he said, stepping through the portal.

Ivy nodded, and quickly stepped through the portal, grabbing Calliel's hand gently and pulling him through with her.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

You're an asshole. James shot off to Loki, before strolling up to the arguing angels and Sanchez. "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" He asked casually.

"A general lack of cooperation." Michael said, his voice cutting through Sanchez's and Raphael's. "There's a bit of difficulty since the generals all have different goals. Which is why I'm glad Loki brought you back here." Michael's face and voice was expressionless, but this same lack of expression proved he expected this. "Which is why I'm taking a third option. I can somewhat grant minor powers to humans- in this case, telepathy to help you advise the generals and direct the armies. You did come up with the plan to save Heavensgate."

[Hardened Pyrokinetics]

You're an asshole. James shot off to Loki, before strolling up to the arguing angels and Sanchez. "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" He asked casually.

"A general lack of cooperation." Michael said, his voice cutting through Sanchez's and Raphael's. "There's a bit of difficulty since the generals all have different goals. Which is why I'm glad Loki brought you back here." Michael's face and voice was expressionless, but this same lack of expression proved he expected this. "Which is why I'm taking a third option. I can somewhat grant minor powers to humans- in this case, telepathy to help you advise the generals and direct the armies. You did come up with the plan to save Heavensgate."

James laughed. "And you expect them to listen to me?" James asked the archangel. "Look, I agree with you, we need someone to keep things co-ordinated. Unfortunately, nobody ever listens to me, least of all Crowley or your stick-up-the-arse brother." He crossed his arms. "While I appreciate the offer, I highly doubt that it's going to help anything, not unless someone forces everyone to listen to my orders."

He paused. "Also, how in Yahweh's left testicle did I save Heavensgate, exactly?"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"A general lack of cooperation." Michael said, his voice cutting through Sanchez's and Raphael's. "There's a bit of difficulty since the generals all have different goals. Which is why I'm glad Loki brought you back here." Michael's face and voice was expressionless, but this same lack of expression proved he expected this. "Which is why I'm taking a third option. I can somewhat grant minor powers to humans- in this case, telepathy to help you advise the generals and direct the armies. You did come up with the plan to save Heavensgate."

James laughed. "And you expect them to listen to me?" James asked the archangel. "Look, I agree with you, we need someone to keep things co-ordinated. Unfortunately, nobody ever listens to me, least of all Crowley or your stick-up-the-arse brother." He crossed his arms. "While I appreciate the offer, I highly doubt that it's going to help anything, not unless someone forces everyone to listen to my orders."

He paused. "Also, how in Yahweh's left testicle did I save Heavensgate, exactly?"

Michael casually saved James' life with magic. While James said whatever shit he wanted, the soundwaves changed before they were audible to everyone else. So Michael basically dubbed James over so that everyone heard "I don't expect them to listen to me, however. I agree with you, Lord Michael that we need someone to keep things under control. Unfortunately, I doubt anyone will listen to me, including Crowley and Lord Raphael, though I am sure they both have their reasons. I appreciate the offer, but I doubt anything would change unless people are given a reason to listen to my suggestions. Also, I am not sure if I deserve the honour of having saved Heavensgate."

Michael gave James a small nod, acknowledging that his life had just been narrowly protected.

Then he spoke. "You know both magic and technology, something that most of us lack expertise in- we know one or the other, but not both. When Sanchez and Raphael first got here, things were confused and chaotic but then when Elfen High came we got everything together and now the demons have been pushed radically far back. Though some of us fear this, we need you. If not, we'll find someone else for the job."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Crowley barged into the school and headed down toward the medical bay immediately. "You guys alright?" he roughly asked Calliel and Ivy.

Calliel nodded gratefully. "Yes, thank you. We're fine."

Crowley nodded, sitting down in the medical bay and proceeding to grow back his arm and get an eyepatch because fuck yeah.

Calliel sat down in another room in the medical bay, largely healed as was Ivy. But it would be a good idea to rest for a while. "I didn't know what I'd see when I came back to Heavensgate." he noted. "After I had woken up from the coma. But...it's so different now. Seeing it like this, now I can pass judgement on it myself...It's not what I had expected." he sighed. "I've lived here for most of my long life, but it feels like I've just started to see it." he stared down at his shoes. "I also want to say I'm sorry. Before you had left for Earth again, I had lied to you. You asked me if anything had happened while you were resting and I lied and said nothing had happened because I didn't want to bring up the bad memories when these could be our last moments. But...in life we need to see the good and the bad. So I just want to say I'm sorry for having lied. When you had nearly died, your soul went elsewhere. You had apparently talked to Lucifer and been tortured by an angel in Heaven. That's how you had gotten that cross shaped scar. I'm sorry I had deceived you."