The Fall of Elfen High (IC, Closed)

[Nightkill the Emperor]

The result of this did, of course, end up being that the Vimanas focused their cannons directly on William.

The Vimanas fired a projectile that was a liquid alloy of iron, uranium, and tungsten suspended in an electromagnetic field powered by magic. The molten metal, accelerated to a significant fraction of the speed of light, solidifies into a projectile as it is fired, hitting targets with enough force to pierce through most armour, and reliably fired every fire seconds.

And William had just pissed off hundreds of the fuckers.

Time seemed to slow down to the celerity of a molasses-infused dial-up connection for Sir William as the deluge of gunfire surged towards him.

There's no way to get out of this, is there? I'm going to get blown up here. There's just too many of these pointy-eared buggers shooting he thought despairingly, with an expression to match beginning to form before he banished the emotion, clenching his jaw. No, forget what these pricks want. I'm not dying here. I'm going to marry Hilde, get that castle on the mountain she wants, and raise Arnulf right. And you know what? I'm going to give him some brothers and sisters and a nice dog too. So these Fae scumbags and their magic guns can go get stuffed. I can't die here, not now. I can't leave her the burden of my son.

William's mental ramble took a fraction of a millisecond, his perception of time now muddled by the adrenaline his own body was producing as well as the enhancing magic of Excalibur. Drawing on the power of his mythical sword, the knight began channelling his radiant blasts through the mecha, leaving charging orbs all along the wings and hands. William watched nervously as the shells continued approaching, trying to stockpile more power to his attack. Well, stuff it. This should do.

Someone looking on from the outside wouldn't have seen most of what went on, due to the speeds involved. They would barely register the Vimanas opening fire, almost instantaneously followed by the Valvrave glowing white before dozens of beams lanced out like sunlight through a prism, exceeding the speed of the Fae space-bullets as it slammed into them, pushing on back towards the Vimanas.

In the Vimana, one black Fae looked at the bullets flying back at him with wide eyes.

This Fae wasn't a fighter - rather, he was an Engineer. His breed had evolved mainly to build the Vimanas used by Oberon and the other Commanders, as well as the footsoldiers. He wasn't overly fond of his cause, but it was a necessary one. Otherwise, he'd likely die.

Captain Scott Jackson (the Fae have names) faced the approaching mecha and the bullets that he was sending back, narrowing his eyes. In a Scottish accent, he growled to his subordinates. "Alright, lads. Ramming speed."

Their ship slammed into just below light speed, intent on crashing directly into William and killing (or very severely wounding) them all.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

---

Alastor looked around him, at the destruction. He made quite sure not to affect the tree itself, of course, and so it was relatively untouched, at least by his devastating magic, but the Fae did not fare nearly as well. They, quite simply, were unable to get to the tree. With his powers, he made sure to guard it well, destroying any soldiers that attempted to get near. Of course, they just kept coming and coming, and so his efforts had to be constant in order to ensure the World Tree's safety, but he was doing fairly well so far.

However, gazing at the raging battle suspended in the void, he saw the Fae battleships, the vimanas. It was quite obvious that the others were struggling a bit against them, considering that they fired some rather strong projectiles and were quite numerous. The Demon Lord figured that he could use his magic to destroy them one by one, or perhaps even handful by handful, but that did not seem very productive. His mind began calculating thousands of possibilities in mere seconds, before arriving at a conclusion. Perhaps there was something he could do to make things less hard on his companions, but there was a problem: The tree. He was defending it well, but he would be unable to continue that if he went and began trying to help those who were beyond the tree, in the void.

This problem soon resolved itself as he heard a robotic voice shout behind him.

"Defence matrix online."

And as he looked behind, he saw the source.

---

Lyra was drawing furiously, trying to do her part in the defence of the World Tree. If its destruction or corruption would do to countless worlds what it had done to her own, destroying it whole and all of its people, then she had to help stop such a thing by whatever means were necessary. Thus, she was already hard at work, using the energy Michael injected her with to work even faster than she had ever done in her life.

The results were shown quite soon.

"Defence matrix online."

And suddenly, without any prior warning, thousands and thousands of turrets appeared all around the World Tree, all loaded and ready to fire upon any approaching Fae troops. Each and every one of them was guarded by an energy shield that, while not impervious, could withstand quite a bit of punishment.

"Keep coming, I'll just nuke every single one of you!" She shouted at the Faery soldiers.

---

Now the tree was protected. There was no reason he couldn't do something more worthwhile now.

Grinning, the Demon Lord held his hand up. One of the many vimanas on the horizon was immediately surrounded by a dark wall of magic from which it could not escape, though it was also protected from anything outside. In essence, it was cut off entirely from the surrounding battle.

With another handwave, he was gone from where he stood, protecting the tree.

Instead, with a burst of darkness, he now stood in the middle of the ship, a powerful aura surrounding him.

"Hello." He said curtly. "I think you all happen to be in my ship." And with that, he moved to take over the vessel by force.

The turrets fired away by Lyra did a lot to stop the Fae in their tracks. Earth rose up, forming walls against the turrets that the Fae hid behind. "Alright then." muttered one. "Time to be a bit unorthodox."

They stopped charging at the Tree. The druids with their flaming swords looked puzzled, moving backwards, aware that something was about to happen but not sure what exactly...

One of the Fae, a white brown-haired woman, moved forward and opened her mouth. A blue light came out of her various pores and holes, blasting across the atmosphere as her body morphed and changed...

A giant tank now faced them, moving forward and firing out of its own turret. It took the blasts from Lyra's own, but seemed largely unbothered. Fae soldiers moved forward, taking cover behind it.

---

"Fuck." said one of the Fae. Looking around, Alastor would realise each of these subspecies did not look like spiders or humans, but...badgers. Gigantic badgers.

Some memories might come back here, of Azazel beating Chauncey to death as that poor creature looked at Alastor in agony.

Also, these badgers had machine guns pointed at Alastor. Machine guns always were Chauncey's favourite toy.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Without delay, he jumped up, Caspian,
and deftly grabbed his mock-Excalibur,
that Ἄγγελος, which heralds death with steel,
and named for all who from High Heaven fell.
Up on his chair he jumped without delay,
and then he came up on the table too:
he knocked a saucer off on to the floor,
on which it shattered like a warrior's shield
who, fighting on the wrong side of a war
is beaten back by waves of coming steel
and arrows from which finds he no respite,
until at last a mightier man comes
and breaks the shield with strength of arm and sword:
so the saucer shattered when it fell.

And Ἄγγελος he raised above his head,
and letting out a mighty warrior's cry,
"For Jacob and for Peter," so he said,
and launched himself up off the table so
on through the air t'wards Sutekh he would fly
like lonely sparrows feeding in a field,
who, startled by a far-off falcon's cry
take wing up towards the cloudy firmament
without a thought for where and when they go
so long as this one end can be achieved:
that they remove what danger irks them so.
Thus Caspian took flight on through the air.
His mighty sword he swung in one great arc:
for neck of Set he found to be exposed,
his armor all of hats and ball composed,
for difficult it is to hang around
the neck these little witnesses which once
the Romans called testiculi because
who else is witness to our ev'ry deed?

But through the air indeed our hero swung
his mighty sword at Sutekh's neck
with hope a-burning in his steely eye
that it might buy for Crowley some more time.

And thus did the Khan grow puzzled at this bizarre style
But decided to give it a try because of...Fuck it, I won't try.

Set instead just decided to duck, causing Caspian to miss. He then grabbed Caspian's neck with his massive hand, intent on choking him to death.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"Well, I guess it is fitting." She muttered as she began to play on the banjo, channeling her magic into it and giving Lewis, to make explanations short, one hell of a buff.

Lewis grinned viciously and cracked his knuckles.

"Stardust," he said, "I just want ye' to know that I'm really glad I got to come back to life and kill ye' again."

Lewis's flesh was suddenly coated in a pseudo-mercury, a metal fluid which seeped out of his pours and solidified into a second skin. He roared triumphantly, despite not having won anything yet, and leaped at Karna with the teapot in hand, throwing it at the Pandava's face.

Aziraphale quietly finished his tea and sighed.

"I'm really sick of fighting, you know that?" he whined, casually firing a laser blast from his gauntlet at Set.

"Well, fuck you," D wheezed, "at least you still have something to fight with."

Swearing profusely, D raced up to Crowley and tackled him to the ground.

"You and your messiah complex can fuck right off," D growled, slamming his head (which was still very much armored) into Crowley's.

Karna grabbed the teapot...and calmly set it down on the table, holding Lewis back with his left hand. He glared. "You bloody Americans, you just have no respect for tea. None!" he said, sounding disgusted. Then he broke out into a wide smile. "Good to see you again, Lewis. Wish it were under better circumstances. I didn't properly thank you for killing me last time. I hope you can succeed this time."

He grabbed Lewis' shirt by the front, and then suddenly slammed the American down on the ground, kicking him in the groin. "I unfortunately can't make it easy for you though. But I know you can kill me. Try to knock me on my back - it takes some time for me to get up when that happens."

Meanwhile, Kronos sensed Az attacking Set, and decided to deal with that situation. He moved closer to Az, sniffing to cover for his blindness. He pulled out a pistol and started firing in Az's direction, remarkably accurate.

Meanwhile, Crowley stared at D, pushing him off to the side. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he snapped.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Lyra looked at the tank that was apparently a bit too much for even her defence matrix to handle. Clearly, it was time to do something more drastic. There was only one thing left to be done and this was the precise moment in which it had to be done.

The girl tugged on Michael's arm, pointing at the tank.

"Can you do something about that?" She asked.

---

Alastor looked around, noticing the form taken by this new breed of Fae, a form which brought painful memories to the Demon Lord's mind, though they were quickly brushed aside. He strode up to one of the giant badgers even as bullets flew towards him, simply being displaced by quickly appearing and disappearing portals that shielded his person, or even being struck and destroyed by black lightning that lashed out of his form.

"My pet badger Chauncey used to love playing with machine guns." He stated as he arrived next to the giant badger, whose bullets did little to harm him.

"His fate concerned me." He said, grabbing the animalistic Fae by its throat.

"Yours does not."

And with that, he thrust his magic into the badger's form until it burned away. He subsequently moved on to the next ones, intent on taking the ship as soon as possible to enact his plan.

[Astrolinium]

He wheezed and coughed, our hero Caspian,
a-struggling against old Sutekh's grip
around his neck so firm and fast and tight
that Caspian could scarcely catch a breath.

But lo! He thought a clever sort of thing
that one could almost even call a plan:
he'd try to cleave the god Set's arm in twain,
and so secure his freedom in the end --
for if his sword should cut right through the arm,
then surely grip would loose and hero free.
And if his swing should by the god be blocked,
he'd surely have to loose his grip then, too.

And so it seemed a fairly foolproof plan,
but, well, a foolproof plan is proof of fools
more oft than not, who cannot bear to see
the flaws and weaknesses which they have brought
into the plan they've made so craftily
and thought impregnable just as the ship
Titanic was said to be bloody hard
to sink, near to impossible and yet
a-whither doth she lie to-day and now
except at bottom of the deep, blue sea.

But nonetheless, he raised his arm once more
and swinging with a mighty, forceful stroke,
attempted to dismember that old Set
and so relieve attacker of his arm.

[Nationstatelandsville]

"Welsh. And Michael is not here and I don't know where he is, currently. Sorry to break it for you, Udovin."

Gwen was less than thrilled about facing an old ghost of her past. Udovin was small fry in comparison to the Fae, as far as she knew, but there was always the element of change, and after an hundred years, Rurik could have very well been much different from his past self. For that matter, he seemed even more warped and mad than before, which was quite an achievement.

The Queen slowed down the channeling, letting her body rest for some precious seconds, while analysing her surroundings. Grace had since stood up, firing at the Vimanas with her own sword, while the knights and ISSR soldier did the same with their weapons. Someone was keeping them occupied, at least.

Gwen slowly circled around Rurik, waiting for his next move.

"What do you want from him?"

Flash.

"AHHHHH!" a Fae soldier screamed, as he was launched through the air and blasted into pieces by a bright projectile.

"He'll save every one of us!" an ISSR soldier said, raising his rifle into the air triumphantly.

A coffin skid across the ground, before stopping in front of Udovin. Atop the coffin was Sir Charles Groundbreaker, his hair arms carrying a large blunderbuss. He turned his top-hatted head to Grace and nodded. "Greetings, Your Majesty. My sincerest apologies for the actions of this brigand - I assure you that he will not harm one such as yourself. In my universe, I was a loyal servant to the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, the House of Habsburg-Lorraine, and to all of humanity. With your blessings, I will assist you against this foul man."

With that, Sir Charles Groundbreaker leapt down from the coffin and tossed his blunderbuss aside. He opened the coffin, revealing a large broadsword that he took into his hands. "En garde."

Rurik Udovin rose slowly to his feet, the earth around him turning to a deep pool of mud.

"You," Udovin growled between gritted teeth, "are a talking monkey."

For a moment, he seemed to contemplate this. Being so grounded in the excess of insanity, moderate insanity often confused Rurik.

"You are my favorite thing!" he laughed suddenly, "I will keep your corpse as a trophy for your greatness!"

With a slight swaying of Rurik's hips, half-a-dozen streams of water exploded from the pool, solidifying into ice daggers as they flew. Three broke off to the left, flying past Groundbreaker and towards Gwen's face; the other three flew straight towards the gorilla's chest.

"Holy shit, though!" Rurik continued to giggle to himself, "Talking monkey!"

Karna grabbed the teapot...and calmly set it down on the table, holding Lewis back with his left hand. He glared. "You bloody Americans, you just have no respect for tea. None!" he said, sounding disgusted. Then he broke out into a wide smile. "Good to see you again, Lewis. Wish it were under better circumstances. I didn't properly thank you for killing me last time. I hope you can succeed this time."

He grabbed Lewis' shirt by the front, and then suddenly slammed the American down on the ground, kicking him in the groin. "I unfortunately can't make it easy for you though. But I know you can kill me. Try to knock me on my back - it takes some time for me to get up when that happens."

Lewis cracked a smile, "My balls are covered in steel, man."

He then jumped up and, to prevent further handicap, tore his suit to shreds. Clad now only in a metal flesh and a pair of striped boxers, Lewis beamed at Karna.

"I'll gladly oblige ye'," he said, falling back into a defensive position and watching Karna warily.

Meanwhile, Kronos sensed Az attacking Set, and decided to deal with that situation. He moved closer to Az, sniffing to cover for his blindness. He pulled out a pistol and started firing in Az's direction, remarkably accurate.

Az stretched out his palm, encasing himself in a glowing blue energy shield.

Suddenly, with the scream of a Viking berserker, Howard tackled Kronos and began to savagely beat him with a chair leg. Gopher stood in the background, pissing himself slightly as he hurriedly loaded a handgun, dodging the stray scrap sent flying by Howard's rage.

"Get to a fucking therapist," the director muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, Crowley stared at D, pushing him off to the side. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he snapped.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" D growled, grabbing onto Crowley's waist in a desperate attempt to hold him back, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Which of the two of us, exactly, has a switch that ends the universe?"

[Nude East Ireland]

Flash.

"AHHHHH!" a Fae soldier screamed, as he was launched through the air and blasted into pieces by a bright projectile.

"He'll save every one of us!" an ISSR soldier said, raising his rifle into the air triumphantly.

A coffin skid across the ground, before stopping in front of Udovin. Atop the coffin was Sir Charles Groundbreaker, his hair arms carrying a large blunderbuss. He turned his top-hatted head to Grace and nodded. "Greetings, Your Majesty. My sincerest apologies for the actions of this brigand - I assure you that he will not harm one such as yourself. In my universe, I was a loyal servant to the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, the House of Habsburg-Lorraine, and to all of humanity. With your blessings, I will assist you against this foul man."

With that, Sir Charles Groundbreaker leapt down from the coffin and tossed his blunderbuss aside. He opened the coffin, revealing a large broadsword that he took into his hands. "En garde."

Rurik Udovin rose slowly to his feet, the earth around him turning to a deep pool of mud.

"You," Udovin growled between gritted teeth, "are a talking monkey."

For a moment, he seemed to contemplate this. Being so grounded in the excess of insanity, moderate insanity often confused Rurik.

"You are my favorite thing!" he laughed suddenly, "I will keep your corpse as a trophy for your greatness!"

With a slight swaying of Rurik's hips, half-a-dozen streams of water exploded from the pool, solidifying into ice daggers as they flew. Three broke off to the left, flying past Groundbreaker and towards Gwen's face; the other three flew straight towards the gorilla's chest.

"Holy shit, though!" Rurik continued to giggle to himself, "Talking monkey!"

Sir Charles Groundbreaker leapt backwards, landing just beyond his coffin, which he kicked. The coffin rose into a vertical position, absorbing the three ice daggers meant for the noble ape. Leaping high into the air, Sir Charles Groundbreaker spun several times, his mighty sword slashing through the air with swiftness and grace that one would not expect from such a huge weapon. He landed upon the ground, facing Udovin, creating a small crater where he landed. Sir Charles, using the momentum from his spinning, brought the sword in a horizontal slash, intending to simply cut through Udovin's waist and end the battle.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Lyra looked at the tank that was apparently a bit too much for even her defence matrix to handle. Clearly, it was time to do something more drastic. There was only one thing left to be done and this was the precise moment in which it had to be done.

The girl tugged on Michael's arm, pointing at the tank.

"Can you do something about that?" She asked.

---

Alastor looked around, noticing the form taken by this new breed of Fae, a form which brought painful memories to the Demon Lord's mind, though they were quickly brushed aside. He strode up to one of the giant badgers even as bullets flew towards him, simply being displaced by quickly appearing and disappearing portals that shielded his person, or even being struck and destroyed by black lightning that lashed out of his form.

"My pet badger Chauncey used to love playing with machine guns." He stated as he arrived next to the giant badger, whose bullets did little to harm him.

"His fate concerned me." He said, grabbing the animalistic Fae by its throat.

"Yours does not."

And with that, he thrust his magic into the badger's form until it burned away. He subsequently moved on to the next ones, intent on taking the ship as soon as possible to enact his plan.

Michael nodded. "Oh, that? Sure." he shrugged.

Suddenly, the tank flew upwards telepathically and smashed back into several footsoldiers before exploding.

"Done."

---

The demon lord then viciously killed all the badgers and took over the spaceship.

Let's reflect on that sentence for a while. It's a nice sentence.

But yeah, he had control.

Have fun, Zark. Have a shitload of fun.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

He wheezed and coughed, our hero Caspian,
a-struggling against old Sutekh's grip
around his neck so firm and fast and tight
that Caspian could scarcely catch a breath.

But lo! He thought a clever sort of thing
that one could almost even call a plan:
he'd try to cleave the god Set's arm in twain,
and so secure his freedom in the end --
for if his sword should cut right through the arm,
then surely grip would loose and hero free.
And if his swing should by the god be blocked,
he'd surely have to loose his grip then, too.

And so it seemed a fairly foolproof plan,
but, well, a foolproof plan is proof of fools
more oft than not, who cannot bear to see
the flaws and weaknesses which they have brought
into the plan they've made so craftily
and thought impregnable just as the ship
Titanic was said to be bloody hard
to sink, near to impossible and yet
a-whither doth she lie to-day and now
except at bottom of the deep, blue sea.

But nonetheless, he raised his arm once more
and swinging with a mighty, forceful stroke,
attempted to dismember that old Set
and so relieve attacker of his arm.

Caspian did indeed remove Set's arm, revealing blue blood gushing out. The masked man looked a bit annoyed at this, seeing his arm fall off with relatively little expression other than a sigh.

He then reached down with his other hand and fired two bullets from his pistol at Caspian.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Michael nodded. "Oh, that? Sure." he shrugged.

Suddenly, the tank flew upwards telepathically and smashed back into several footsoldiers before exploding.

"Done."

---

The demon lord then viciously killed all the badgers and took over the spaceship.

Let's reflect on that sentence for a while. It's a nice sentence.

But yeah, he had control.

Have fun, Zark. Have a shitload of fun.

"Yay!" Lyra cheered after seeing Michael take out the tank, and hugged the archangel for a brief moment before turning back to the battlefield. With the war machine gone, her missile turrets were more than adequate for holding back the invaders once again, and the girl was pleased with this. However, knowing that she couldn't let her guard down with something like the World Tree at stake, she began drawing once again, trying to design something to take out the tanks without Michael's help. He would probably have his hands full soon either way, she didn't want to bother him more than necessary.

---

Meanwhile, in a bridge thoroughly splattered with the blood and gore of a dozen giant badgers, the Demon Lord stood. Walking towards the console, he seized the controls, understanding them quickly enough within the safety of his barrier, before deciding to leap into action.

The barrier that held the spaceship locked away from the battle dissolved, letting the recently conquered ship loose onto the battlefield once more. Except, the ship was different. A coat of darkness seemed to extend through its surface like a shadow, solidifying into a metal of sorts that protected it from harm and giving the ship a much more appropiate appearance for a vessel commanded by the very king of demons.

"Oh, I've always wanted to do this." Alastor said, to no one in particular, before accelerating, heading nowhere.

Or so it appeared at first.

In truth, as he reached the correct speed, a portal opened in front of him, leading him to another area of the battlefield, of the void where a war was raging, an area where several Vimanas seemed to be giving Grace and some of the ISSR men some trouble. However, it did not fire.

No, instead, it rammed right through each and every single Vimana nearby, destroying them in the process while remaining unharmed. The starship's charge, inescapable as it was inexorable, soon cleared the area of Vimanas, allowing the soldiers some time to breathe.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Karna grabbed the teapot...and calmly set it down on the table, holding Lewis back with his left hand. He glared. "You bloody Americans, you just have no respect for tea. None!" he said, sounding disgusted. Then he broke out into a wide smile. "Good to see you again, Lewis. Wish it were under better circumstances. I didn't properly thank you for killing me last time. I hope you can succeed this time."

He grabbed Lewis' shirt by the front, and then suddenly slammed the American down on the ground, kicking him in the groin. "I unfortunately can't make it easy for you though. But I know you can kill me. Try to knock me on my back - it takes some time for me to get up when that happens."

Lewis cracked a smile, "My balls are covered in steel, man."

He then jumped up and, to prevent further handicap, tore his suit to shreds. Clad now only in a metal flesh and a pair of striped boxers, Lewis beamed at Karna.

"I'll gladly oblige ye'," he said, falling back into a defensive position and watching Karna warily.

Meanwhile, Kronos sensed Az attacking Set, and decided to deal with that situation. He moved closer to Az, sniffing to cover for his blindness. He pulled out a pistol and started firing in Az's direction, remarkably accurate.

Az stretched out his palm, encasing himself in a glowing blue energy shield.

Suddenly, with the scream of a Viking berserker, Howard tackled Kronos and began to savagely beat him with a chair leg. Gopher stood in the background, pissing himself slightly as he hurriedly loaded a handgun, dodging the stray scrap sent flying by Howard's rage.

"Get to a fucking therapist," the director muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, Crowley stared at D, pushing him off to the side. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he snapped.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" D growled, grabbing onto Crowley's waist in a desperate attempt to hold him back, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Which of the two of us, exactly, has a switch that ends the universe?"

Karna made a roaring noise and charged Lewis, tackling him, his hands creating Wolverine claws which he stabbed into Lewis' back.

Meanwhile, Crowley spun around quickly, knocking D down to the ground. "Firstly, it was only supposed to destroy the school and much of England, transporting the remains to the moon. It's only my fault that the school is all that is left of the universe." he said, glaring. "And I have an idea that can save us all if I do this." he said, more quietly. "The odds are bad, I admit. Specifically, they are nine hundred thousand nine hundred and ninety eight to one. But there's a chance. Now, D...you can trust me and this may go well. May. I can't guarantee it will - but can you trust me?" he extended a hand out, keeping an eye on the battle around them and making sure someone didn't try to kill him in this pause.

[Astrolinium]

He wheezed and coughed, our hero Caspian,
a-struggling against old Sutekh's grip
around his neck so firm and fast and tight
that Caspian could scarcely catch a breath.

But lo! He thought a clever sort of thing
that one could almost even call a plan:
he'd try to cleave the god Set's arm in twain,
and so secure his freedom in the end --
for if his sword should cut right through the arm,
then surely grip would loose and hero free.
And if his swing should by the god be blocked,
he'd surely have to loose his grip then, too.

And so it seemed a fairly foolproof plan,
but, well, a foolproof plan is proof of fools
more oft than not, who cannot bear to see
the flaws and weaknesses which they have brought
into the plan they've made so craftily
and thought impregnable just as the ship
Titanic was said to be bloody hard
to sink, near to impossible and yet
a-whither doth she lie to-day and now
except at bottom of the deep, blue sea.

But nonetheless, he raised his arm once more
and swinging with a mighty, forceful stroke,
attempted to dismember that old Set
and so relieve attacker of his arm.

Caspian did indeed remove Set's arm, revealing blue blood gushing out. The masked man looked a bit annoyed at this, seeing his arm fall off with relatively little expression other than a sigh.

He then reached down with his other hand and fired two bullets from his pistol at Caspian.

Adrenaline was coursing through Caspian's body, sending his mind on an interstellar viking high, berserk, bloodlust, fight or flight. He ripped the disconnected hand from his throat just as the bullets slammed into his body, piercing his flesh in the left forearm and his side, warm, sticky blood beginning to flow from the wounds.

But Caspian was as a man transformed. He charged forward, the bullets hardly even slowing him, and thrust his sword at Set's stomach.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Karna made a roaring noise and charged Lewis, tackling him, his hands creating Wolverine claws which he stabbed into Lewis' back.

Meanwhile, Crowley spun around quickly, knocking D down to the ground. "Firstly, it was only supposed to destroy the school and much of England, transporting the remains to the moon. It's only my fault that the school is all that is left of the universe." he said, glaring. "And I have an idea that can save us all if I do this." he said, more quietly. "The odds are bad, I admit. Specifically, they are nine hundred thousand nine hundred and ninety eight to one. But there's a chance. Now, D...you can trust me and this may go well. May. I can't guarantee it will - but can you trust me?" he extended a hand out, keeping an eye on the battle around them and making sure someone didn't try to kill him in this pause.

D answered this by punching Satan in the balls.

"I guess I have to," he seethed, "but I don't like it. You're the most unstable, unreliable, irresponsible, impossible cunt I've ever met, and I want you to know that."

D turned away from Crowley and raised his palms defensively; nothing happened, as his suit was irreparably damaged. That said, the rockets were just fine - it was simply that the power cells were leaking, coating everyone around D in a fine mist of cancer-causing lethal radiation.

"Recharge my suit with some bullshit magic and I can provide some cover."

[Constaniana]

In the Vimana, one black Fae looked at the bullets flying back at him with wide eyes.

This Fae wasn't a fighter - rather, he was an Engineer. His breed had evolved mainly to build the Vimanas used by Oberon and the other Commanders, as well as the footsoldiers. He wasn't overly fond of his cause, but it was a necessary one. Otherwise, he'd likely die.

Captain Scott Jackson (the Fae have names) faced the approaching mecha and the bullets that he was sending back, narrowing his eyes. In a Scottish accent, he growled to his subordinates. "Alright, lads. Ramming speed."

Their ship slammed into just below light speed, intent on crashing directly into William and killing (or very severely wounding) them all.

In the blink of an eye, William's Valvrave was floating where the Vimana had been prior to commencing its kamikaze attack. But that doesn't make for good storytelling, so let's break it down at a much slower pace than it happened. William saw the ship coming at him, and began moving sideways to dodge it. However, he changed direction after a few moments, pushing his mecha along parallel with the Vimana, pumping his magic into his fighting machine's engines to increase their speed beyond that of the spaceship. He had drawn his robot's swords out and held them out to his right, with the blades burying themselves in the side of the ship, cutting through at breakneck speeds. In the blink of an eye Sir William had moved past the Vimana, with the adamantine swords still held in his Valvrave's hands, as explosions possibly began roaring through the Vimana. You know, in case you were trying to think of what cool thing should happen.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Michael nodded. "Oh, that? Sure." he shrugged.

Suddenly, the tank flew upwards telepathically and smashed back into several footsoldiers before exploding.

"Done."

---

The demon lord then viciously killed all the badgers and took over the spaceship.

Let's reflect on that sentence for a while. It's a nice sentence.

But yeah, he had control.

Have fun, Zark. Have a shitload of fun.

"Yay!" Lyra cheered after seeing Michael take out the tank, and hugged the archangel for a brief moment before turning back to the battlefield. With the war machine gone, her missile turrets were more than adequate for holding back the invaders once again, and the girl was pleased with this. However, knowing that she couldn't let her guard down with something like the World Tree at stake, she began drawing once again, trying to design something to take out the tanks without Michael's help. He would probably have his hands full soon either way, she didn't want to bother him more than necessary.

---

Meanwhile, in a bridge thoroughly splattered with the blood and gore of a dozen giant badgers, the Demon Lord stood. Walking towards the console, he seized the controls, understanding them quickly enough within the safety of his barrier, before deciding to leap into action.

The barrier that held the spaceship locked away from the battle dissolved, letting the recently conquered ship loose onto the battlefield once more. Except, the ship was different. A coat of darkness seemed to extend through its surface like a shadow, solidifying into a metal of sorts that protected it from harm and giving the ship a much more appropiate appearance for a vessel commanded by the very king of demons.

"Oh, I've always wanted to do this." Alastor said, to no one in particular, before accelerating, heading nowhere.

Or so it appeared at first.

In truth, as he reached the correct speed, a portal opened in front of him, leading him to another area of the battlefield, of the void where a war was raging, an area where several Vimanas seemed to be giving Grace and some of the ISSR men some trouble. However, it did not fire.

No, instead, it rammed right through each and every single Vimana nearby, destroying them in the process while remaining unharmed. The starship's charge, inescapable as it was inexorable, soon cleared the area of Vimanas, allowing the soldiers some time to breathe.

Then Alastor found himself slammed against the wall of the spaceship, which was now falling down into the void.

A grinning and crazed Charles Dance held his throat. "I see you've been fucking with my toys." he said calmly, his voice a contrast with his mad blue eyes. This was not a man who appeared to have been in the general vicinity of sanity recently. "I would like to stop you from doing that."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Rurik Udovin rose slowly to his feet, the earth around him turning to a deep pool of mud.

"You," Udovin growled between gritted teeth, "are a talking monkey."

For a moment, he seemed to contemplate this. Being so grounded in the excess of insanity, moderate insanity often confused Rurik.

"You are my favorite thing!" he laughed suddenly, "I will keep your corpse as a trophy for your greatness!"

With a slight swaying of Rurik's hips, half-a-dozen streams of water exploded from the pool, solidifying into ice daggers as they flew. Three broke off to the left, flying past Groundbreaker and towards Gwen's face; the other three flew straight towards the gorilla's chest.

"Holy shit, though!" Rurik continued to giggle to himself, "Talking monkey!"

Sir Charles Groundbreaker leapt backwards, landing just beyond his coffin, which he kicked. The coffin rose into a vertical position, absorbing the three ice daggers meant for the noble ape. Leaping high into the air, Sir Charles Groundbreaker spun several times, his mighty sword slashing through the air with swiftness and grace that one would not expect from such a huge weapon. He landed upon the ground, facing Udovin, creating a small crater where he landed. Sir Charles, using the momentum from his spinning, brought the sword in a horizontal slash, intending to simply cut through Udovin's waist and end the battle.

This is when, suddenly, Groundbreaker felt a light through his body.

Hanuman himself appeared to him in a vision, smiling. "I bestow my strength upon you." he said formally.

Groundbreaker suddenly grew four more arms and more superstrength. Also, he had kickass swords or guns in each one.

God is great.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Sir Charles Groundbreaker leapt backwards, landing just beyond his coffin, which he kicked. The coffin rose into a vertical position, absorbing the three ice daggers meant for the noble ape. Leaping high into the air, Sir Charles Groundbreaker spun several times, his mighty sword slashing through the air with swiftness and grace that one would not expect from such a huge weapon. He landed upon the ground, facing Udovin, creating a small crater where he landed. Sir Charles, using the momentum from his spinning, brought the sword in a horizontal slash, intending to simply cut through Udovin's waist and end the battle.

This is when, suddenly, Groundbreaker felt a light through his body.

Hanuman himself appeared to him in a vision, smiling. "I bestow my strength upon you." he said formally.

Groundbreaker suddenly grew four more arms and more superstrength. Also, he had kickass swords or guns in each one.

God is great.

Rurik Udovin proudly take this opportunity to be exceedingly stupid.

He took a flying leap at a rather notoriously dangerous god, screaming all the way in Basque. Rurik Udovin does not speak Basque.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Then Alastor found himself slammed against the wall of the spaceship, which was now falling down into the void.

A grinning and crazed Charles Dance held his throat. "I see you've been fucking with my toys." he said calmly, his voice a contrast with his mad blue eyes. This was not a man who appeared to have been in the general vicinity of sanity recently. "I would like to stop you from doing that."

Alastor seemed to be mildly surprised at his sudden change of position, noticing himself against the wall rather than on the controls. It was, people will agree, a strange shift, but once he looked up at the cause of such a casually odd change, his expression, too, changed, and the Demon Lord smiled, a half-affable smile that allowed one to see he was very angry. He did not bring his hands up to try to remove Oberon's own, though he did clench his fists, which were pulsating with burning dark energy, as was his whole form.

"Oh, am I?" He asked innocently. "Well, I'm sorry about that, pal. I hate to barge in on someone else's fun, but someone took away all of mine. An unfortunate situation, isn't it? I'm sure you understand." He said to the Autumn King in a most pleasant manner.

Before promptly delivering a dark magic kick to his balls.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

In the Vimana, one black Fae looked at the bullets flying back at him with wide eyes.

This Fae wasn't a fighter - rather, he was an Engineer. His breed had evolved mainly to build the Vimanas used by Oberon and the other Commanders, as well as the footsoldiers. He wasn't overly fond of his cause, but it was a necessary one. Otherwise, he'd likely die.

Captain Scott Jackson (the Fae have names) faced the approaching mecha and the bullets that he was sending back, narrowing his eyes. In a Scottish accent, he growled to his subordinates. "Alright, lads. Ramming speed."

Their ship slammed into just below light speed, intent on crashing directly into William and killing (or very severely wounding) them all.

In the blink of an eye, William's Valvrave was floating where the Vimana had been prior to commencing its kamikaze attack. But that doesn't make for good storytelling, so let's break it down at a much slower pace than it happened. William saw the ship coming at him, and began moving sideways to dodge it. However, he changed direction after a few moments, pushing his mecha along parallel with the Vimana, pumping his magic into his fighting machine's engines to increase their speed beyond that of the spaceship. He had drawn his robot's swords out and held them out to his right, with the blades burying themselves in the side of the ship, cutting through at breakneck speeds. In the blink of an eye Sir William had moved past the Vimana, with the adamantine swords still held in his Valvrave's hands, as explosions possibly began roaring through the Vimana. You know, in case you were trying to think of what cool thing should happen.

Scott Jackson saw this beast of iron and metal utterly wreck his ship. "Dear Lord." he muttered, his eyes worried as his ship began burning before him. "Parachutes, ladies and gents!" he barked. "This is an emergency. Stay calm and escape the best you can!"

From the burning spaceship, several Fae fell out, magical parachutes guiding them toward safety either on Elfen High or the World Tree. Not Scott though. Grimly, he stayed on the ship, turning the wreckage around. A magic tentacle whipped out and grabbed William's mecha arm, freezing him in place.

"Alright, old girl." Scott said softly to the ship. "Lights out for us."

The ship made a groaning noise as it flamed, but Scott gave a sad smile. "No, I'm not running. A captain goes down with his ship." He spoke aloud, confidentally. "Metal monster!" he told William. "You can escape your metal armour, and you can burn alongside me. I am Captain Scott Jackson, and I am initiating the self-destruct sequence. Goodbye and may you burn painfully."

The ship erupted in a supernova of flaming death, William's mecha caught within the explosion. Screams of sorrow and pain were heard from various members of the Fae Captain's ship as they floated to safety. William himself could either escape, or he could be severely wounded or killed in his mecha.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Then Alastor found himself slammed against the wall of the spaceship, which was now falling down into the void.

A grinning and crazed Charles Dance held his throat. "I see you've been fucking with my toys." he said calmly, his voice a contrast with his mad blue eyes. This was not a man who appeared to have been in the general vicinity of sanity recently. "I would like to stop you from doing that."

Alastor seemed to be mildly surprised at his sudden change of position, noticing himself against the wall rather than on the controls. It was, people will agree, a strange shift, but once he looked up at the cause of such a casually odd change, his expression, too, changed, and the Demon Lord smiled, a half-affable smile that allowed one to see he was very angry. He did not bring his hands up to try to remove Oberon's own, though he did clench his fists, which were pulsating with burning dark energy, as was his whole form.

"Oh, am I?" He asked innocently. "Well, I'm sorry about that, pal. I hate to barge in on someone else's fun, but someone took away all of mine. An unfortunate situation, isn't it? I'm sure you understand." He said to the Autumn King in a most pleasant manner.

Before promptly delivering a dark magic kick to his balls.

Oberon felt the kick hit him as he just looked at Alastor in annoyance. "I'm genetically related to Aleister Crowley. My balls are made of stronger stuff." he said with a sigh, like speaking to a child who had missed an important lesson.

This is when Alastor found a knife made of dark energy stuck in his foot.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Oberon felt the kick hit him as he just looked at Alastor in annoyance. "I'm genetically related to Aleister Crowley. My balls are made of stronger stuff." he said with a sigh, like speaking to a child who had missed an important lesson.

This is when Alastor found a knife made of dark energy stuck in his foot.

"It was supposed to be a symbolic gesture, genius. It matters little to me whether or not your balls, or his for that matter, can hold my foot." Alastor stated, before waving his hand. "Now farewell, Faery King." He said, before disappearing through the wall, through a portal there that quickly closed down. It, however, did not lead back to the World Tree. Rather, it lead back to the battlefield, to a point somewhere in mid-air.

From there, he looked down at the dark ship, still bathed in his power. Thrusting his hand down, he forced the formerly Fae artifact deeper and deeper into the void.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Caspian did indeed remove Set's arm, revealing blue blood gushing out. The masked man looked a bit annoyed at this, seeing his arm fall off with relatively little expression other than a sigh.

He then reached down with his other hand and fired two bullets from his pistol at Caspian.

Adrenaline was coursing through Caspian's body, sending his mind on an interstellar viking high, berserk, bloodlust, fight or flight. He ripped the disconnected hand from his throat just as the bullets slammed into his body, piercing his flesh in the left forearm and his side, warm, sticky blood beginning to flow from the wounds.

But Caspian was as a man transformed. He charged forward, the bullets hardly even slowing him, and thrust his sword at Set's stomach.

It went directly in. Set stared down at his chest. "What the fuck?" he growled out, astounded. "This is not what is supposed to happen. You should be dead." He suddenly punched Caspian in the face hard with his remaining hand. "YOU SHOULD BE DEAD!"

[Nude East Ireland]

This is when, suddenly, Groundbreaker felt a light through his body.

Hanuman himself appeared to him in a vision, smiling. "I bestow my strength upon you." he said formally.

Groundbreaker suddenly grew four more arms and more superstrength. Also, he had kickass swords or guns in each one.

God is great.

Rurik Udovin proudly take this opportunity to be exceedingly stupid.

He took a flying leap at a rather notoriously dangerous god, screaming all the way in Basque. Rurik Udovin does not speak Basque.

Sir Charles Groundbreaker leapt to the side, sliding along the ground. As he slid, he raised his machine guns and opened fire on Udovin. Meanwhile, his other hands twirled their swords, ready to strike.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Karna made a roaring noise and charged Lewis, tackling him, his hands creating Wolverine claws which he stabbed into Lewis' back.

Meanwhile, Crowley spun around quickly, knocking D down to the ground. "Firstly, it was only supposed to destroy the school and much of England, transporting the remains to the moon. It's only my fault that the school is all that is left of the universe." he said, glaring. "And I have an idea that can save us all if I do this." he said, more quietly. "The odds are bad, I admit. Specifically, they are nine hundred thousand nine hundred and ninety eight to one. But there's a chance. Now, D...you can trust me and this may go well. May. I can't guarantee it will - but can you trust me?" he extended a hand out, keeping an eye on the battle around them and making sure someone didn't try to kill him in this pause.

D answered this by punching Satan in the balls.

"I guess I have to," he seethed, "but I don't like it. You're the most unstable, unreliable, irresponsible cunt I've ever met, and I want you to know that."

D turned away from Crowley and raised his palms defensively; nothing happened, as his suit was irreparably damaged. That said, the rockets were just fine - it was simply that the power cells were leaking, coating everyone around D in a fine mist of cancer-causing lethal radiation.

"Recharge my suit with some bullshit magic and I can provide some cover."

Crowley nodded, placing a hand on D. His suit entirely recharged, and his body was covered in stinky, horrid bullshit. Crowley wore a completely dickish grin before turning back to the door. The smile left his face as he took a breath and started to slowly open the door...

---

Wars have quiet days. They aren't always bloody and destructive. They generally are. But there are rare days of quiet, reflection and peace. Even between deadly fires, plants can grow.

Lucifer rested, waiting. There are lots of moments like that. The devil chewed on some grapes, and sat in a castle, his face worn with thought and focus. He glanced around the castle he had taken, the castle of the Orc King. But now it was his own, and the city of Pandemonium too. But Lucifer had changed the name to Dys, the local Demonic name for it. It seemed...appropriate, as the city had only been taken with the aid of Demonic forces.

The Eternal City, it was also called, since it had stood since before any could remember it. Lucifer liked the statement, though he felt it was tempting fate. Nothing was eternal. Not even Death itself, or the Omniverse, or God. It all fell down eventually.

There was an explosion outside. The war had begun again.

---

Elsewhere and much later, there was another quiet day.

"Perhaps we should keep the turrets up." Crowley mused aloud, looking over at Leah. "It could be helpful. I don't think the Fae will attack here for some time, but it's likely good to be sure of these things..." He stood atop a massive wall, which surrounded a fairly small village.

"The turrets need some mages on guard to work them though." Leah argued. "And we honestly wouldn't do too much damage. They're better suited to healing the wounded who enter here."

Crowley frowned, rubbing the back of his head. "You have a point, I suppose. We'll need to instead call Loki or Fixban if we need that protection." he took a glance at his wife's stomach, a smile on his face. "He's doing well?" he asked.

Leah gave back a radiant smile. "Oh, yeah. I heard him kicking." she giggled, placing her hands upon her enormous belly. Crowley leaned down, hands on his knees, smiling.

"So, what are you going to be, little guy?" he teased. "Are you going to be a reader, like your dad? You want to be a teacher?" he kissed his wife's stomach, slowly raising up, his head just slightly above hers. His eyes looked optimistic and ready, shining young and bright. But they took on a curious look upon seeing the cloud that had passed over his wife's face. "What's wrong?"

Leah chewed her lip. "It's just that..." she sighed. "I don't know if we'll have teachers, Aleister. It's a world of soldiers now." she said. They looked down from atop the wall on the world below, seeing the soldiers there who were working on rebuilding homes, preparing traps, training in the fields. Boys and girls both. Against this enemy, you couldn't be picky. You could any hand you could get.

Aleister Crowley frowned, his eyes furrowing. His was not a frowning face, so it felt strange to him. But he held Leah's hand in his own, squeezing slowly. "If he has to be a soldier, he might. But let's try for a world where he doesn't need to be. I think we can do that. This threat will end, and a new world will rise up out of the ashes of the old."

"I married a fucking poet." snarked back Leah with a laugh. Crowley grinned sheepishly, placing a hand behind his head and scratching.

"Hey, the world needs some of both. It needs its teachers and its poets just as much as it needs its soldiers. And I'm certainly not cut out for the latter role. Can you imagine me as a general?"

"Oh Gods." Leah rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't that be something to see?"

---

Crowley sat at his desk, glasses resting on his face as he read a book in front of him. It was a picture book, with various animals there. The protagonist of this journey was looking for his cow, but would instead find various other animals, whereupon he would exclaim "That's not my cow!" and they'd flip to the next page.

However, for a three year old child, this was the greatest book there ever could be. And so Aleister Crowley grudgingly but lovingly read it every day when returning from his day duties as a teacher or an architect or village councillor. His advice was currently quite sought, and he was glad to give it. But when the sun began to go down, he would be depended on to be back here, this book in hand. Every day he would be back here, book in hand.

Today, he had looked up at the setting sun and realised he was getting late. He had immediately left his chair in the village council room (said chair had comedically spun as he had leapt out of it) and had returned back at this room after leaping over many passing carriages and stealing a horse (which was now neighing outside, galloping away towards freedom as her owner ran after her). Seven o'clock every night. He had promised himself that.

Would a minute have mattered? No, probably not, although children appear to have a very accurate internal clock. Possibly even two minutes would be okay. Three minutes, even. You could go to five minutes, perhaps. But that was just it. If you could go for five minutes, then you'd go to ten, then half an hour, a couple of hours...and then never show. So that was that. Eight o'clock, prompt. Every day. Read. No excuses. He'd promised himself that. No excuses. No excuses at all. Once you had a good excuse, you opened the door to bad excuses.

And so Crowley read aloud. "Is that my cow?" he asked, pointing at the silhouette of an animal that very much was not a cow. "No, that's a sheep! That's not my cow!" he said as the three year old child laughed and giggled, enthralled by this book. Crowley read further, before finishing it. He set the book down. "Alright, young Spero." he said, kissing the boy on the head. "It's time to sleep now."

The boy looked up. "Dad, am I going to be a soldier?" he asked.

Crowley paused as he pulled the bedsheets onto his son. "Why do you ask that?" he asked quietly, thinking back to that conversation he had with Leah three years ago. It's a world of soldiers now.

"Uncle Loki mentioned it." muttered Spero sleepily, as Crowley resolved to have a talk with Loki later. The scholar gave a smile instead.

"You shouldn't have to be one if you don't want to." And I'll try to make a world where you don't need to. He silently resolved. "You're a child, Spero. My boy. You got the rest of your life ahead of you. You can be whatever you want to be." he said, stroking the boy's black hair so much like his own. "What do you want to be?"

"Teacher. Like you." said Spero, his eyes closed so he didn't see the tremendous and radiant smile that broke out across Crowley's face. He picked his son up out of bed and held the surprised child tight, kissing his cheek before setting him back down.

"Goodnight, Spero." he whispered, standing up. He had a council meeting to return to, after all.

---

"How the fuck is that chair still spinning?" asked a councillor at the meeting, looking at where Crowley had been sitting earlier. "Good of you to rejoin us, Aleister." was the sardonic response of the councillor, Imran. He smoked on his pipe, offering it to Aleister. Crowley shook his head in refusal, and Imran shrugged. "You'll pick up the habit eventually."

Crowley chuckled. "Whatever you choose to believe, Imran." he said, sitting down in his chair which then miraculously stopped comically spinning. He took a look around. "Had urgent business to attend to, but it's done now. So, you were speaking about Uriel?"

Imran nodded. "It seems that he's looking for something, or someone, in this area. Angel spies have been sighted here. They land ever so briefly, but they are there. And then they disappear again." he explained to Crowley, who seemed contemplative.

"We have no qualms with Uriel that I know of." he said slowly. "I don't understand. He generally stays in his Heaven and rarely engages, though Michael has helped fight against the Fae. But Uriel merely seems to be fanatically devoted to his absent God...This is a mystery. We need to keep tabs on this."

"I received a message from Mr. Richard, also." Imran said, unfolding a letter. "He says that we should stay wary. The war has been growing more and more destructive, but they have a plan to end it." Crowley raised his eyebrows.

"End the war? That's fantastic news!" he declared, a smile on his face. "It has gone on for far too long, longer than either of us have been alive." He couldn't wait to go back home, grab Leah, pick her up and spin her around in joy. A world of doctors and teachers and hope, not soldiers and warriors and cynicism. he thought he would say to her.

Imran did not seem too pleased. "I only wish I could share in your joy, my lord-"

"Just call me Aleister, Imran." said Crowley automatically, his standard reaction whenever someone tried to ascribe nobility to him. It wasn't his place to be an aristocrat, after all.

"Aleister. Mr. Richard does not appear to be too joyful about this, warning that it is a dangerous process. It could go badly. But he thinks that this, this Gotterdammerung, is truly the only option that they have." explained Imran, looking worried.

"Gotterdammerung. Twilight of the Gods." mused Crowley. "Loki mentioned an Oracle he met who once told him about something like that, or a Ragnarök. The beginning of a new world..."

"But the death of ours." Leah finished, entering the council room, looking at Aleister. "I checked on the clinics. The refugees are healing, and I found some good doctors in the group. See which ones are likely to be good instructors, Aleister."

Crowley nodded, his mind preoccupied. "A new world will rise up out of the ashes of the old." he said, smiling. Leah gave a cautious smile back. Imran looked cynical, his brow furrowed.

"Just because it does doesn't mean it will be better." he pointed out. Crowley paused.

"Point taken." he reluctantly conceded.

---

Crowley sat quietly and alone in his Graveyard, meditating on the dying Earth before him. His eyes averted from the statues around him.

He poured himself a drink. A new statue had appeared in this Graveyard, and Crowley took a brief look at it. Minh Taka. Azazel had killed him. But now Azazel was in this Graveyard too, somewhere.

Crowley took a deep breath. The drink was good. The drink kept him numb, able to go on. He was hardly a man, after all. Just a corpse with a heartbeat, with wounds below the skin that ripped and hurt and enraged him every damn day. Every fucking day. Every fucking day. Every fucking day. Every fucking day. That desperate rage, that hatred, that misery.

Crowley knew something very true, a truth that he knew that everyone knew about him, the sole certainty in his life. Aleister Crowley was worthless. Every fucking breath he took was a breath wasted.

He wondered idly if he could stop his breathing, whether that would kill him. But then he'd just start breathing yet again, giving into it at the last minute.

He wondered what it would like if his name joined those already here. Lewis's name was somewhere here too. Shit, so was Valaran Fixban. Richard.

He was so old now. So very old.

A drink. A chug. He wanted to drown in this, drown in a sea of numbness and silence. It was so much easier that way, then facing himself. He had looked in the mirror this morning, hardly recognising the man looking back at him. He glanced down at his hand, bandaged. He had picked the glass shards out shortly afterwards. He would need a new mirror.

Another drink. This bottle was endless. Deliberately so. Perhaps if he never moved forward, there would never be a past. Just the present. Just now. Just him and this bottle. So simple when looked at that way.

Life was simple then. Just stay still. Don't move on. He was worthless, but this bottle...ah, it helped. It helped him. The dull pain in his hand helped him, as did the pain in his wrists and elsewhere. That was a good pain. That distracted him.

He shut his eyes to keep away the ghosts. They were there. They were sad. They wanted to know why they weren't saved, why they were dead. Crowley could face them later. Later when he proved he couldn't save himself too.

Simple life. Simple bottle.

He suddenly threw the bottle to the ground. "FUCK YOU!" he roared suddenly into the empty space. "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU DIE DIE DIE DIE FUCK YOU!" he screamed at the only person in this pocket universe.

"Fuck me." he said sadly. He was alone. Alone with the ghosts. And the rage. And the hatred. And the misery.

Worthless life. Worthless bottle. Worthless Crowley.

---

Now, in the modern day, Crowley paused. The memories had struck him, all at once.

Lucifer, as a proud general and fighter. This man's life was defined and ended in war.

Crowley, a loving husband. A proud father. A destroyed man. A man who loathed war and tried to run from it, but it followed him.

But where someone was destroyed, someone new could rise out of the ashes.

As the late part of his life as Crowley and his life as Nicholas Carry, he had run. He had contemplated. He had reflected. He lived in peacetime. But it was time. No more running.

The door opened. A beam of shining light was there behind it.

And then a child's sobbing.

Let's rewatch an old scene. Once more, with feeling.

Crowley had repressed these memories for a long time. He didn't want them. He was intent on taking them to his grave, never intent on seeing them again. Megan had seen them once, when she was in his head, but he had still managed to twist some memories.

Leah was dead now, Uriel's angels having had killed her. And Crowley watched them slowly approach Spero...

Crowley watched his son look up curiously, a sort of fear on his face, the fear of a three year old around strangers. He began crying out. "Mummy? Papa?"

"I'm sorry." Crowley said aloud, tears on his face. "I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry I couldn't save you. I..." he choked. "I failed you, my Spero. But I can't let this consume me."

He waved his hand.

The scene disappeared just before one angel smashed his hand down on the young boy's skull, crushing it brutally as the father watched, helpless.

Two new graves appeared instead. The graves behind the door Crowley would never open.

Leah.

My Spero. My hope.

Then the world began to fall apart.

The Graveyard made a shaking noise as the skies split open, revealing a bright red glow. The Earth in the distance cracked open, destructive flames moving everywhere, heading toward this moon. The school's pillars started to fall apart and crack, making a horrific noise as they did.

Crowley looked back at D. His face was...peaceful. He was calm at last. His eyes looked focused, determined...but calm. "Run." he ordered. "Run right now, the way we came. I'll be along."

The statues started to crack and break, the names shattering with them.

Crowley knew the names by heart. And it was time to move forward and let that be in the past.