The Fall of Elfen High (IC, Closed)

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Chris Addison frowned. "I suppose there's some things we could potentially do, but they're stupid and dangerous." said Addison.

"Stupid and dangerous is our forte." came a familiar English voice, chuckling wryly. "Now," Aleister Crowley said, looking around and walking out of a nearby hallway. "I've been looking around and I think I have a plan. And it'll require your absolute faith in myself, understood?" his face turned grim. "Some of you may wind up dying. But I have a plan, and if it works out, I think we can fix everything or at least solve the temporary problem of Leviathan."

Crowley shot a glance at Kronos, raising an eyebrow. "Ah. So you're stuck with us too?" he asked. Kronos returned this sentiment with a glare.

"Watch yourself, Lucifer. I recently killed nearly all of the gods, remember that."

"Sure. And you remember that one of my students drew a picture that blew up the moon and ended the universe, so perhaps fucking with that student's teacher may not be the wisest course of action you can make." came the cheerful reply.

"Aleister Crowley, I love you as a brother," Aziraphale said, "but if you don't stop - what do the humans call it? - ah, yes! If you don't stop 'measuring dicks' with the king of the Titans, I will slap you back in time."

Aziraphale beamed, quite proud of his mastery of human colloquialisms.

"By my approximations," he resumed, "we have about fifteen minutes to work with. Your students are obnoxious enough to distract Leviathan for that long, and no longer. What do you need of us?"

"Four inches." muttered Kronos.

"Shut the fuck up." Crowley ordered.

"Hmm?" asked Addison.

"Crowley's dick. It's four inches when you take away the magical extension he put on it. Just figured I'd let everyone know." Kronos cheerfully said.

Crowley gave a death glare to Kronos, and then cleared his throat. "I need you lot to go deeper into the world of the dead. This is a spinning sun composed of souls, and somewhere deeper here is a switch of sorts that should let me communicate with everyone at once. I think that if we can make communication with everyone in this soul sphere, we can use that energy to wipe away the Fae or perhaps trigger another Gotterdammerung to reboot the universe."

Crowley now paused. "So here's what we need. One of you who is alive will need to die. Kronos will freeze you in place at that exact moment and the rest of us will follow your soul at that exact moment to find where you first start to appear, before you form into a real conciousness. I think that before you appear as Caspian did in this space where Addison offered him a drink is that you should pass through some sort of control room. And we'll appear in that control room."

Karna frowned. "I have no problems with you, Lewis Jameson." he apologised. "But I have direct orders to kill you, and I can't break free of my programming so easily. And I am very sorry about this. But perhaps..."

Back in the soul sun, Kronos felt something kick his mind, causing him to jerk. He blinked, realising that Karna had yanked on his mental chain and was very insistent on something. "Oh, yes." he murmured, waving a hand.

Finally, Karna was free. He could do what he liked.

The Hindu warrior swore to himself silently that when this was over, he would kill Kronos slowly and painfully before killing himself honourably. He then looked at Lewis. "The program controlling me is terminated for now. Shall we punch Leviathan in the dick?"

Lewis nodded towards the earthen ceiling.

"Break the bitch open and let's tumble out like a chicken pot pie of hate," he said. Shortly after, he frowned. "Wait, no, that's stupid. I can think of something better. Aw, fuck it - just throw me at something."

Karna nodded. He grabbed Lewis, and then threw him out of the collapsing inner universe.

They were now sitting in Elfen High, staring out at the Tree which was breaking apart outside. The school had landed upon the Tree now, and Lewis and Karna were seeing fucking dragons land everywhere.

[Astrolinium]

Caspian said, "I can help, I have a sword. Death's pretty painless, really."

He coughed. "Well, the actual dying bit, anyway. The before stuff's not so much."

[Nationstatelandsville]

"Four inches." muttered Kronos.

"Shut the fuck up." Crowley ordered.

"Hmm?" asked Addison.

"Crowley's dick. It's four inches when you take away the magical extension he put on it. Just figured I'd let everyone know." Kronos cheerfully said.

Crowley gave a death glare to Kronos, and then cleared his throat. "I need you lot to go deeper into the world of the dead. This is a spinning sun composed of souls, and somewhere deeper here is a switch of sorts that should let me communicate with everyone at once. I think that if we can make communication with everyone in this soul sphere, we can use that energy to wipe away the Fae or perhaps trigger another Gotterdammerung to reboot the universe."

Crowley now paused. "So here's what we need. One of you who is alive will need to die. Kronos will freeze you in place at that exact moment and the rest of us will follow your soul at that exact moment to find where you first start to appear, before you form into a real conciousness. I think that before you appear as Caspian did in this space where Addison offered him a drink is that you should pass through some sort of control room. And we'll appear in that control room."

Aziraphale glanced at Fred, "Well, I've lived a very long time."

He frowned, "Although, I don't think that, when I die, I exactly get a chance to come back, as you do. Sudden species change, very confusing, you understand. Why don't we just kill Lewis again? That's always worked in the past."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"Carry, you're a bitch." Frederick pointed out. "Just do your thing already so we can save the world again. It's not like I haven't died doing that before." He stated.

---

Meanwhile, the girl that ended the universe was currently running across the ground that sat beneath the burning World Tree, moving through fairy corpses and soiled druids, towards the leader of the latter group.

"Michael!" She called out to the archangel which had given her strength to continue fighting earlier, concerned for his well-being after seeing him get stabbed in the chest by a pussy android. She wasn't quite sure if it did much of anything other than make him stop keeping the tree together, since she knew that he was probably much more powerful and much harder to kill than she was, but she still didn't know if he was okay.

"Are you alright?" She asked him as she reached his side. "Can you put the tree back together?" She inquired, hastily taking out her notebook and drawing a bandage over his wound.

Michael frowned. "You know...I don't think so. I honestly think we may all die. But I CAN try to drag out the process." he said, frowning. "Here's something you can do for me. Create greater bandages and start wrapping them around the tree, to try and keep it together. It will take a near Herculean amount of effort, but I think you can do it. It would certainly aid me."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Aziraphale glanced at Fred, "Well, I've lived a very long time."

He frowned, "Although, I don't think that, when I die, I exactly get a chance to come back, as you do. Sudden species change, very confusing, you understand. Why don't we just kill Lewis again? That's always worked in the past."

"Well, if you can get your hands on Lewis, then go ahead and do that." Frederick shrugged. "But if not, seeing as you're unable to offer yourself for the sacrifice, well, I've died a few times already myself. I don't think another is going to make much of a difference to me, and if it'll save the world..." He trailed off at the end, shrugging once again. He was by no means suicidal, he had long since banished such thoughts, but he knew that his life was worth one life exactly and nothing more. If he could spend it to save several others, then that was, as far as he was concerned, the bargain of his life.

Mentally, he smacked himself for that awful accidental pun and then glanced at Caspian. "I don't think that'll be necessary. These can scramble someone's brain much faster than a sword." He said, raising one of his machine gun arms. "Although if Crowley can find a way to make it quicker, that would probably be for the best."

Michael frowned. "You know...I don't think so. I honestly think we may all die. But I CAN try to drag out the process." he said, frowning. "Here's something you can do for me. Create greater bandages and start wrapping them around the tree, to try and keep it together. It will take a near Herculean amount of effort, but I think you can do it. It would certainly aid me."

Lyra gulped. The archangel that had in the past displayed enough power to defeat even Lucifer was doubting his own ability to fix what was going wrong, saying that it was entirely possible that everyone present would die to the dragons and faery soldiers. It was most definitely not a pleasant thing to hear, not in the least, and if that was true, then this would be the end of everything as she knew it, not just the end of the world, or the end of the universe, but the end of everything. It was a chilling perspective. The end of humanity, certainly. The end of the angels and the demons and the druids, as well. Gods and devils ceasing to exist and leaving nothing to take their place, or worse yet, leaving the twisted creations of Oberon or the dragon that slept beneath the World Tree.

And yet... Michael said that she could help, and the girl, who had truly nothing else but a flying school in the middle of the void, had no choice but to believe in those words.

"Alright. I'll help." She said, nodding at the archangel, before turning to the World Tree. Waving a hand in front of her notebook, she recalled all the power she had spent in driving away the invaders. Suddenly, all of the defences she had put in place, all of the cannons and turrets firing away at the enemy, they all disappeared, vanishing swiftly in a flash of light. And then the girl started drawing once again. Giant bandages like iron chains sprouted out from beneath the earth in which the tree was set, coiling around it like constricting serpents in an attempt to keep it together. It was true, it was a brutal endeavor, but for the sake of what little remained, she would carry that burden for as long as she could.

Karna nodded. He grabbed Lewis, and then threw him out of the collapsing inner universe.

They were now sitting in Elfen High, staring out at the Tree which was breaking apart outside. The school had landed upon the Tree now, and Lewis and Karna were seeing fucking dragons land everywhere.

Also inside the school, Ciel and Celes were doing their very best to fight off the winged abominations from beyond time with the power of metal.

Noticing other people arriving, Ciel looked at them, glancing confusedly at Karna. "Do I know you?" She asked, remembering something about a glass castle and a rather unpleasant moment with Crowley.

[Nude East Ireland]

"Yes, of course," Damien replied. He turned to the charging mass that was Udovin, only to see Sir Charles Groundbreaker tackle the man onto the ground from the side. The noble ape lifted Udovin over his head with all but two of his arms and tossed him several feet away.

"No," Sir Charles Groundbreaker said, "I can handle this brigand alone. His doom is upon us and I will be the one to bring it in full."

As he said this, he cracked all of his knuckles. "I do not need sword nor gun. I only need my strength and my will to end this chaotic force."

Rurik giggled like a schoolgirl.

"I love you, honorable talking monkeyman!" he laughed, "However, as you might have heard, there is a very loud... thing about to happen! I have to watch this, and clean the shit from my pants, so let's make this quick."

Rurik stomped the earth and a massive spike of ice exploded out. He snapped it in half and raised it over his head.

"Let me kill you!" he roared, running at Groundbreaker.

Damien ran closer to Rurik, breathing a stream of white flames out of his mouth, to engulf both the madman and the icy spike he wielded. Sir Charles Groundbreaker, meanwhile, had charged at his opponent, firing bursts of bullets with his guns, swinging his swords until he reached Rurik and slashed quickly and with extreme grace, cutting through Rurik's skin and clothing, looking for spots where bullets may have penetrated and making sure to push the bullets deeper in with his swords.

Damien, meanwhile, stepped back, most to admire the noble gorilla's ability.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"REMOVE YOURSELVES FROM MY PRESENCE!" The throneless King of Hell roared as the Faery soldiers stood in his way, raising a hand up into the air. A pillar of dark magic erupted suddenly from the ground beneath the demon's feet, engulfing him and the five enemy warriors in the maelstrom of darkness. "Face me, coward! Take your final breath." He growled at the Faery King from behind the pillar of magic. "I'm the closest thing you'll get to an honorable death!" He shouted, before the pillar dissipated. Now the soldiers were gone, and Alastor sat on top of the Helicorn mare, Kiamat. He heard the laughter in his head, heard the words of the dragons, but he paid them little attention. He would deal with that problem later, for right now the total focus of his mind was on an entirely different matter. He waited until the angelic army of the Android Leader had finished firing their volley upon Oberon. Then, the black hellish mount began galloping towards the Faery King.

"Come on! Show me your so-called true hells, coward!" He shouted after the Faery King, raising his sword into the air. "I dare you, I double dare you motherfucker!"

And as his sword was raised high, portals of darkness appeared all around him, following him in his charge. And from them, dark spears began flying forth towards Oberon, constantly shooting forth from the portals. And so the Demon Lord chased after the Autumn King, as the World Tree burned behind him.

Oberon growled, turning around and pulling out his sword - which started making a buzzing sound in the air, morphing into this. Because fuck you, Nat.

Oberon roared, charging at Alastor and slicing at the hellish horse he rode.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Rurik giggled like a schoolgirl.

"I love you, honorable talking monkeyman!" he laughed, "However, as you might have heard, there is a very loud... thing about to happen! I have to watch this, and clean the shit from my pants, so let's make this quick."

Rurik stomped the earth and a massive spike of ice exploded out. He snapped it in half and raised it over his head.

"Let me kill you!" he roared, running at Groundbreaker.

Damien ran closer to Rurik, breathing a stream of white flames out of his mouth, to engulf both the madman and the icy spike he wielded. Sir Charles Groundbreaker, meanwhile, had charged at his opponent, firing bursts of bullets with his guns, swinging his swords until he reached Rurik and slashed quickly and with extreme grace, cutting through Rurik's skin and clothing, looking for spots where bullets may have penetrated and making sure to push the bullets deeper in with his swords.

Damien, meanwhile, stepped back, most to admire the noble gorilla's ability.

Rurik failed to notice the bullets pierce his arms and torso, but he did realize when an angry ape began to smack him with swords. Screaming with blind panic, Rurik slapped Groundbreaker across the face and leaped into the air; his powerful legs threw far away from the gorilla, landing about fifteen feet from his assailant and cracking the ground.

"You cut me!" Rurik wailed, raising his thumb and waving it through the air. A tiny trickle of blood dripped down from directly beneath the nail. Meanwhile, the red organ pudding his chest had been reduced to began to mend itself back into flesh, muscle, and bone with ease.

"NO FAIR!" the Russian howled, a pillar of ice exploding at his feet and propelling him into the air. A coat of ice appeared around his fist and, falling exactly as fast as a 450-pound of unnatural muscle should, he hurled himself at Charles fist-first.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Oberon growled, turning around and pulling out his sword - which started making a buzzing sound in the air, morphing into this. Because fuck you, Nat.

Oberon roared, charging at Alastor and slicing at the hellish horse he rode.

Before Oberon could slash at the Helicorn, a portal appeared in front of the devil mare and its rider. Jumping off of his mount's back, the demon lord landed several feet back, behind the storm of dark spears, charging his sword magical energy. Meanwhile, the beast went on into the portal, exiting through another located just behind Oberon and attempting to kick the Faery King before galloping away with the same speed with which it had once roamed the wastelands of Hell. At that moment, Alastor released his attack, a burst of darkness flowing forth from his blade towards the other king.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Leviathan paused, actually seeming surprised. Then it chuckled. "You have serious balls, Vernon Cartwright." it said as a genuine compliment. "Shame I'll have to correct you...But not just yet. At the time of the ultimate reckoning when I hold all power and can reset the world."

While this conversation was ongoing, something else was going on in the background. Oberon saw Lyra trying to hold the World Tree together, and he copied one of Alastor's tricks. He opened up a portal and suddenly grabbed the girl, dragging her through and allowing her to be kicked by the horse instead of him, and then also allowing her to the face the brunt of the black fire. All the while he blasted blue healing magic through the girl, keeping her alive.

This would cause immense pain, but would also accomplish the primary objectives: Oberon now had a human shield and he had Lyra's attention. "Now, let's all calm down and chat." he said. His voice had returned to the smooth, calmed tones he had held before, a grandfatherly aristocrat rather than a wild, mad beast.

The insanity was now limited only to his eyes, which blazed in bloodlust.

Oberon felt the tree start to crack apart again without Lyra to maintain it. "Halt, demon king." he ordered Alastor. "Or this girl dies. Not physically, necessarily, but the thing I will do to her will make her nowhere near the person she was before. You recall the Jameson daughter? My grandson is not nearly as skilled or capable as I am at dismantling a being. So halt right the fuck now so I can work on saving us all."

Oberon then turned to the undoubtedly now quite wounded Lyra. "So, girl. You blew up the moon once. And now, I'd like you to see what damage you can do to something a bit bigger than that. And do draw like your life depends on it, because it somewhat does." Oberon gestured upwards, as they saw absolutely massive shadow wings rise up, blotting out the stars, red eyes encased in a skull the size of a moon, each scale the size of a continent.

"How much damage do you think you can do to the creator of all?"

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Alastor frowned, but held himself still as he saw his enemy hold the white-haired girl hostage, her wounds healing but the pain caused by the attacks she had blocked tormenting her nonetheless. Cursing, he lowered his sword and looked at the great beast that rose from the tree, casting everything in darkness.

"Some way you have of saving us all, asshole, hurting the one person helping hold the tree together." He said, lowering his sword and looking at the dragons flying around the sky. If nothing else, it was his duty to at least fend off any who thought of attacking the girl, since he certainly didn't think Oberon himself would bother. Thus, he erected a dome of darkness around the three of them, to hold any potential attackers at bay.

Lyra, herself, coughed out blood as the pain coursed through her body. She had never been very strong or durable, after all, and she would be dead had the Faery King not chosen to keep her alive for some reason. After several moments, she managed to settle down, though the pain she felt was still great. With some effort, she grabbed her pencil and her pad, and then looked up at Oberon.

"You make it sound... like my life hasn't depended on it... since the moment I set a foot in that school..." She said with some effort and pausing often for breath as a curious expression appeared in her face: a pained but still cocky smile. "I don't know how much I can do... but with some luck... it will be enough." She stated as she began to draw, bearing with the pain as the pencil moved swiftly across the pad.

"For someone staring down the face of death, you're remarkably brave." Alastor noted, surprised at the girl.

"I have met him." She began. "I don't fear him." She said, continuing to draw to hold back the creator of worlds.

"The cult was right." She smiled.

And then, from the tree, a thousand chains shot forth into the sky to bind the winged beast that was Leviathan

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Crowley sighed. "Alright. Plan. Let's go for it." he ordered. "Fred, thank you for volunteering." He gave a respectful nod of the head. "Seeing as, in my Carry persona, I had quite changed your life, I'm glad you've agreed to help here. Now let's get to work."

He snapped his fingers. And then Fred's heart collapsed inwards and the man died immediately.

At that exact second, Kronos paused time. Crowley cast a spell and then suddenly everyone connected to Fred's soul seconds before it left his body. There was the sound of glass shattering, and then they all felt pulled forwards as though going through some sort of membrane...

They appeared in a sort of blue zone, just floating there in this vast sea of blue around them, above them, below them, so on.

Then shit changed dramatically.

Alastor frowned, but held himself still as he saw his enemy hold the white-haired girl hostage, her wounds healing but the pain caused by the attacks she had blocked tormenting her nonetheless. Cursing, he lowered his sword and looked at the great beast that rose from the tree, casting everything in darkness.

"Some way you have of saving us all, asshole, hurting the one person helping hold the tree together." He said, lowering his sword and looking at the dragons flying around the sky. If nothing else, it was his duty to at least fend off any who thought of attacking the girl, since he certainly didn't think Oberon himself would bother. Thus, he erected a dome of darkness around the three of them, to hold any potential attackers at bay.

Lyra, herself, coughed out blood as the pain coursed through her body. She had never been very strong or durable, after all, and she would be dead had the Faery King not chosen to keep her alive for some reason. After several moments, she managed to settle down, though the pain she felt was still great. With some effort, she grabbed her pencil and her pad, and then looked up at Oberon.

"You make it sound... like my life hasn't depended on it... since the moment I set a foot in that school..." She said with some effort and pausing often for breath as a curious expression appeared in her face: a pained but still cocky smile. "I don't know how much I can do... but with some luck... it will be enough." She stated as she began to draw, bearing with the pain as the pencil moved swiftly across the pad.

"For someone staring down the face of death, you're remarkably brave." Alastor noted, surprised at the girl.

"I have met him." She began. "I don't fear him." She said, continuing to draw to hold back the creator of worlds.

"The cult was right." She smiled.

And then, from the tree, a thousand chains shot forth into the sky to bind the winged beast that was Leviathan

Then some interesting things happened on the outside.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.

The chains shot forward, grabbing the massive, awe-inspiring dragon god. Leviathan, for its part, seemed absolutely stunned by this. Nobody had gripped it before in such a way or tried to bind it down.

"What is this?" it demanded in a roar that echoed across the stars and sky, massive wings flapping and unable to free themselves from their binding. Oberon gave an ever widening smile as he moved closer and closer.

The dragon god was dragged toward the Tree as observers around watched in wonderment and shock. "What the hell?" asked Michael ultimately. "How on Earth....what?" Leviathan's size should have played absolute havoc with the gravity of the world and his mere arrival should have crushed everyone due to basic physics, but when the universe consists of a school and a tree I don't think anyone can object anymore to this minor lapse of basic physics.

Oberon pulled forward his sword from the hand not holding Lyra. "Well, let's get to it then."

"You cannot kill me." Leviathan said arrogantly.

"We can put that to the test." offered Oberon. He placed his sword down on the ground and grabbed one of Lyra's hands, forcing her to draw out what Oberon needed. One of Leviathan's massive, planet sized eyes widened. "THIS IS MADNESS!" the dragon god said, shaking and straining. The chains began to slowly break and shatter apart as it rose from its prison.

Suddenly, Leviathan was free. It rose upwards, a massive foot slamming down on the ground and firey breath spewing out of its mouth the size of solar systems, but Oberon was swift - a massive portal opened up, causing the fire to reappear over Leviathan's own head.

But the absolute heat emitting from the flames still caused many things around Leviathan to flare up and burn. Oberon, Lyra and Alastor (being the most near) would likely find their clothing and armour had burnt right off though magic sustained their own existence. But doing this seemed to visibly tire Oberon.

Oberon slammed a sword directly into Leviathan's foot. It was a sort of reverse engineering - Uriel had worked out how to absorb souls and drain them for power, and he had indeed used that method when absorbing from Damien and weakening him in that earlier fight. And Oberon knew that same trick now as well.

Through the sword, energy flew out of Leviathan into the Faery King whose body jerked suddenly in reaction to the sheer power entering him.

The dragon shrunk down slightly, in an astonished rage. But Oberon moved swiftly - he opened his mouth and fired that energy back at the gigantic monstrous dragon god.

The blast of intense energy smashed into Leviathan's massive neck. This is when things changed.

The dragon shook slowly, its body shrinking down to a more managable level instead of the insane monster it had been before. It was now the size of a typical dragon and it seemed absolutely fucking stunned by this.

Then Oberon charged forward, slamming his sword into the smaller dragon's chest. Leviathan screamed and howled and then shook, a blue energy bursting from it. Oberon gripped it, absorbing it into his own body and howling in joy.

Leviathan scoffed and breathed, regrowing back to its original size. But it was too late - Oberon pelted Leviathan with blast after blast, each attack like a nuclear weapon detonating on the creator of all things.

"THIS IS BULLSHIT!" declared Leviathan in a fury.

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction while the worst
are full of passionate intensity

Oberon laughed, firing a massive bolt of lightning at Leviathan, holding the beam until the mighty dragon shook its last...and fell backwards into space, still and unmoving.

God is dead and we have killed him.

---

Now, this was felt back in the sun sphere. A sudden feeling of something shaking and the blue light flickering off. Kronos' eyes widened. "Oh holy shit." he said.

Crowley looked at him curiously. Kronos looked back. "Leviathan is dead."

---

They sing for the end.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

And all throughout, Oberon looked at the giant dragon corpse in front of him, and he laughed and he laughed.

Stories need to end.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? -

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Her role in the fall of the dragon god over, Lyra simply stood by as she watched the Faery King pummel Leviathan with blow after vicious blow of his sword and his powers. The heat from the dragon's flame was excruciating... but not much more so than the wounds she had sustained earlier, and so she continued to stand there, even as her clothes burned away, as well as her notepad, taking with it all the leftover radiation and what little remained of the chains that had, however temporarily, served to bind the creator of worlds, the broken metal fading into a dull light that swiftly perished like a candle in a winter storm, drowned out by the abyss that surrounded the World Tree. It was an ephemeral sight, insignificant next to the battle of cosmic proportions that was raging on in the vicinity of the great tree and unnoticed by all, even the one who had brought those chains into existence.

Alastor, too, watched, seeing the enemy he had previously been fighting go and battle with the creator of all things after forcefully making a yung girl bind and nuke it first. The arrival of the heat from the dragon's solar fire was sudden, and the magic that sustained the existence of the Demon Lord's armor was no match for it, the dark magic shaped like black plates burning away in an instant. He frowned, but did nothing to try to remedy that for now. It would have been a waste of power, considering how he seemed to be still alive regardless. He felt his skin burn, certainly, but he had felt that many times before. The fires of Hell had always burned brightly when that world still existed, and the fires of a wronged brother's wrath had touched him more than once in the distant past.

When the heat had gone, he walked slowly towards Lyra. With a wave of his hand, robes of darkness enshrouded him and her both, like the armor he had worn until moments ago, but less rigid, sheltering the girl's modesty and covering a good part of his own scarred demonic visage. The reignless ruler, however, said nothing about it and simply continued observing the battle that was raging on, already having a good idea of the outcome.

Lyra was surprised to suddenly feel something over her skin, and looked down to see that she was now covered in what appeared to be black cloth, but felt nothing like any sort of man-made fabric. No matter, she was at least clothed now, and so she looked up at the demon who now stood beside her and mouther a small word of gratitude, which soon received its response in the form of a slow, stern nod, Alastor never taking his eyes of the fight. Lyra turned back to it as well, seeing the shrunken dragon god struggle desperately against the mad king of the Fae.

And as everyone around the tree watched with wary eyes, the creator of worlds breathed its last breath, its heart beating its last beat before it fell back into the void, lifeless. And after observing its falling corpse for several seconds, the girl raised her voice to speak the one question in her mind...

---

"What now?" Asked Frederick irritably, floating there in the formerly blue void along with everyone else who had traveled to the sun sphere along with his dead soul. He was rather disappointed, and in fact a bit ticked off, that someone out there had killed Leviathan before he'd had a chance to give it a few smacks, but at least it was one less problem to take care off. The problem, thus, was that of what the hell they were to do next. He was fairly sure that the mess with the dragons and the fairies wasn't over yet. He looked back at both Kronos and Crowley and repeated his question.

"What now? If Leviathan is dead, then that leaves one more crazy bastard we have to deal with. Are you still going to use the sun's power, Carry?"

[Nationstatelandsville]

Aziraphale coughed, "Could we all recall that God is, quite literally, dead? That can't come without consequence. By no means do I claim to understand most or even any of what has just transpired, but as an angel, I do believe I can claim a certain expertise in theology - and I tell you, this has all the makings of a Ragnarok."

He paused for a moment, "Well, yes, the world already has ended, I suppose - but still, this can't bode well. Certainly not if the Fae have anything to do with it."

---

Lewis smacked his lips with audible disdain.

"Well," he sighed, "that's just cheap. How come no one asked me if I wanted to kill the dragon? No one ever asks what Lewis wants to do."

---

Megan's heartbeat gradually began to slow, her breathing return to normal, but by no means had the fear left her. It simply turned to a more inactive state, sleeping in her mind.

"Michael," she panted, laying on the grass where once the tree stood, "what the fuck just happened?"

The earth near Megan exploded upwards as D tunneled his way out, the rockets on his suit cutting out the second he hit the surface. He collapsed next to his mother and tore off his helmet, revealing for the first time in a long while the boy's face beneath. A sizable portion of his hair had now turned gray and he vomited black blood onto the the grass before him. With a slight gasp, Megan ran to his side.

"Archangel," the boy growled, ignoring his mother, "do we have any idea what we do next?"

[Astrolinium]

Caspian sighed, letting his shoulders slump and his sword droop.

"Well," he said, "it's quite a bit darker now without the blue light, first off. Has anyone got a torch?"

[Constaniana]

"You need to draw," William said as quietly as he could, having gone over to Lyra and Alastor while Oberon was occupied. "I'm guessing King Dickeron still has plenty of Leviathan's power absorbed into his scum ass, and you're the best-equipped to cancel that out. Now, what to replace your pad with..." The knight trailed off as he checked his surroundings, glancing down at his white plate armour. "I'm guessing nobody has some spare scraps of paper to write on, so what I'm wearing will have to do. And use this for ink," William suggested as he took Excalibur out and pressed the tip against his right pinky finger. It took a few seconds until a bit of blood began trickling out, and the Yorkshireman held his wounded hand out towards Lyra. " You can do the thing with the chains again, can't you?"

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Lyra looked at Sir Nilark when he approached her and Alastor, listening to the man's words intently, though she didn't seem to think too much of what he was saying. When he extended his bleeding pinky finger towards her, she looked at it and then glanced up at his face for a moment before taking his finger and placing it against the pristine plates of his armor, using the blood as her paint and the plate as her canvas in order to draw.

"You know, Mr. Nilark, I really don't think that drawing the attention of the man that just killed the God of all things to us is a very good idea." She pointed out casually as she softly dragged the knight's pinky finger across his own chest, though what she was drawing did not appear to be what he had intended. "Crowley's not here, Damien's flying around like an idiot, Lewis is missing, your armor blew up and all of Alastor's magic isn't enough to take on that thing at the moment." She continued, speaking as quietly as William himself had in order to avoid drawing any attention to herself or the others two. "So I think we should not do anything reckless. I'm sure you can tell we are nearing the end of a story, but do you really want to rush towards that end when you're not certain what it brings?" She told the British teacher as she applied a finishing touch to her picture and then stepped back.

What had been painted on William's chestplate was not a thousand chains. It was himself, wearing a clean chestplate and with an uninjured hand.

After a moment, these changes overwrote the knight's reality, the blood painting disappearing and his pinky finger healing. "Oh, and if you were any smarter, Mr. Nilark, you would have brought the bleeding husk of a fairy or turned your shapeshifting sword into a pen." She said kindly, looking up at him with a small smile, though it quickly faded and gave way to confusion as she noticed that his face was harmlessly covered in blood, no doubt a side effect of using pictures drawn in blood to activate her power.

"Whoops."

---

In response to Caspian's request, Frederick belched out a fireball.

"That's the best I can do, kid."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Crowley paused. "This was very unexpected. It was not supposed to happen." he confessed. "I don't know what to say."

He took a deep breath, clapping his hands. "We need to talk to the souls." he stated. "They're here, and they-"

"Yes." said Minh Taka's voice. "We are, Aleister. We are indeed."

The lights slowly turned on again, shining on. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Aleister. Without any bullshit getting in my way." Minh chuckled. "I had started enjoying a nice new life as a Canadian student living in Brazil, you know? But snapping back into this...well, that works as well."

Crowley's face, seen by the blue light of some of the souls turning back on, looked tired. But there was a flare of determination in his eye. His face wasn't "We're all doomed", it was calculating. Things seemed hopeless. Now how could they be fixed? Crowley thought back, thinking back to Spero, to guilt fleeing away, to everything that had been lost. Right now his face wasn't focused on hopeless. It had a different question to ask.

"What can we do to fix this?" he asked Minh.

A pause. "Big question." Minh admitted. "Not entirely sure, to be honest." A flickering of light and briefly a white middle schooler seemed to appear before taking on the more familiar form of a Russo-Japanese teacher. This apparition looked over the group. "And who are you all?"

Kronos looked contemplative and silent. Then he spoke. "Enough nonsense - it's time to be clear here. Oberon has won. Further resistance is impossible. It's time for us to see what negotiation we can get, and what new world I can form by manipulating him."

Minh gave Kronos a Look, one that D was very familiar with and Daisuke was not. It was the look of "You are an absolute fucking idiot for not understanding the simple concept of quantum physics". He spoke very slowly. "And you think you can merely trick Oberon, hmm?" he asked.

Kronos looked furious, spitting out his words. "Listen. To. Me. It's my best option. I don't care for the rest of you. But I spent years, years, locked away in Tarturus, locked away in the cold. I will not allow that to repeat, do you understand me?"

Minh shrugged. "OK. So try to kill me." he looked at the Titan. "You don't get it. The rest of us are all dead, some present company excluded." A nod at Crowley and said company. "Your time stopping powers won't work here. If you want to leave this place and try to work out a deal with Oberon, then do what you like. But don't get us involved in your nonsense whilst we figure out a real plan."

Kronos glared at Minh, raising a hand as if to kill him, but setting it down when he realised the futility of that effort. He sighed. "I'll stay."

"The living are allowed to leave here at any time." Minh noted. "The dead are a bit inconvenienced when we try to do that."

Crowley looked around. "Alright. Let me think about what to do."

Then he paused. "I have a very stupid idea." he admitted.

---

Michael looked at D, looking tired and hopeless, but then a vision appeared in front of him, D and Megan. It was like someone peeking out from a hole in the sky. Crowley was looking down at them, Az, Minh, Fred and the rest peeking around him. "Michael? Brother? Ah, excellent - it is you."

Michael looked up at Crowley, at Carry, at Lucifer, his brother. "Lucifer?" he paused. "What name do you prefer?"

"Call me what you like." came the simple reply. "We don't have time to discuss my identity right now with our bigger concerns. I'm going to do a stupid thing."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "I want to note that you've done multiple stupid things in each of your lives. This is not too descriptive."

"Fair." came the response.

"So, what do you have planned?" Michael asked Crowley, hand on his sword as he gazed upwards.

Crowley took a deep breath. "I'm going to bring the soul sun into the tree and merge the two. After that...well, we'll just see how things go. The people alive here will be knocked back into the real world," he said, looking at his group reassuringly, "While the rest will stay with me and help."

Michael blinked. "How exactly will this help us save the Omniverse?" he asked, completely serious and genuine.

"I'm going to absorb the Omniverse." stated Crowley. "Or the dead souls within it, to be precise. I think...I think I can pull that off. Remember Damien Seward. I think I can do that, but on a massive scale."

Michael blinked yet again, but now in understanding as he laughed. "You fucking bastard!" he gleefully said. "You bloody fucking glorious cunt! Yes!"

Minh paused. "Crowley, what are you planning?" he asked.

Daisuke looked up, as he had been in the Iron Man suit fighting alongside Michael and Megan. "Dad?"

Minh looked at Daisuke over Crowley's shoulder. "Oh. Hello Daisuke." he said awkwardly. "I know you have a lot to talk about, but can we have that conversation later?"

Daisuke's face blasted through a hundred emotions in two seconds, as "Can we have that conversation later?" was a promise made to him hundreds of times before but never obeyed. But he nodded. "A few more important things going on now." he agreed, to Minh's evident pleasure and relaxation. "But you were still a bit of a cunt, Minh." A wince from Minh now, with a nod.

"Fair." came the agreement.

Crowley took a deep breath. "It's been a pleasure working with you gentlemen." he said. He snapped his fingers. Suddenly, all those who were still alive in the sphere aside from himself and Kronos were ejected outside.

They materialised next to Michael, Megan, Daisuke and D. The image of Crowley, Kronos and Minh above them faded away.

In the sphere, Crowley looked at Kronos and Minh. "Let's start."

A bright light burst out of Elfen High, rising up in the form of a sphere. The sphere flew out of a chimney in the school, heading out towards the Tree.

THUD.

A thundering noise was heard, breaking through time and space.

"FUCK!" was a noise heard as Crowley screamed it, his body barely able to handle the stress of the souls colliding with the Omniversal Tree. To outsiders watching, a massive explosion occurred as the sphere began to enter inside the Tree.

Oberon saw this occurring as he glanced upwards, his eyes concerned. "Oh no you won't." he growled, moving quickly toward the centre of the Tree to climb upwards toward the sphere. This plan was distracted as he was repeatedly blasted by Michael's energy blasts and Daisuke's missiles, as well as other contributions from the Elfen High gang. In your next posts, feel free to have yourself unleash everything on Oberon.

"I can't do this." muttered Crowley, gasping. His physical body was melting before his eyes, as he glanced down and saw skin tear off and fade away.

Kronos paused and sighed. "Alright." he said, placing a hand on Crowley's arm. "I suppose that it'd be pointless to end the world and have nothing to rule. That was never truly my intention."

Crowley realised what the Titan was planning to do, but made no move to stop him. Kronos was a psychopath and his death would be good and inevitable - the fact he was dying to save the world was a bonus.

Kronos reversed the damages done to Crowley, restoring his body while his own started to be disintegrated. "Fucking Harbinger of the Sun." growled Kronos in distaste. "Fuck you for this."

In a cry of pain and rage, Kronos was disintegrated in a burst of blue light while Crowley's own body was restored. Crowley took a deep breath. "Alright." he muttered to himself. "Alright..."

"You can do this." said a calm English voice. Crowley looked up and nearly shit himself when he saw Oberon standing there. Then he calmed down. Not Oberon. This man held a broomstick.

"Richard." Crowley smiled, his eyes completely blue now as light burst in and out of his body. "Richard, thank God-"

"But you repeat yourself." the janitor noted.

Crowley looked at his mentor. "You're my dad." he said simply. "You were that all this time."

Richard nodded. "That's true." he admitted.

They hugged in this sphere of souls and torment and pain. "I'm so sorry." Richard confessed, holding his son in his arms. "I am so, so sorry..."

Crowley sighed. "Shut the fuck up, Richard. You may be my dad, but I'm pretty sure I'm older than you now."

"You sure about that?" Richard questioned with a wry smile. His face turned serious. "The time has come not to talk of many things, but to do many things. You've gotten a good start on it."

---

Oberon fought off the attacks from the Elfen Highers outside the Tree, but was being pushed backwards. He was, however, able to grab Michael and slam his hand through the archangel's chest, ripping the man in half. Michael was dead before he even fell to the ground.

The Tree began to tear apart faster and faster, ripping itself to pieces as flame consumed it increasingly whilst Oberon laughed manically. "BURN BURN BURN!" he shrieked like a child at a pyromaniac birthday party.

---

Crowley felt his body shaking. "What's going on?" he yelped as he began to feel himself burning up.

"The heat death of the Omniverse, from what I can see." Richard replied. "Take a deep breath. Keep yourself cool and collected. We don't have time for nonsense."

"Agreed." Michael said, appearing now in the soul world. "Oh. Yes. I'm dead now. It was a bit unfortunate." he looked at Richard. "...Is Gabriel here?"

Richard nodded and Michael smiled. "Good. Perhaps this does have an upside. But I'll see him later. Personal isn't the same as important."

Crowley looked out. "Time to do many things." he sighed. He floated upwards, looking around himself. Souls. Each of these blue lights was a soul. A person, a unique individual who had quite likely lived and died thousands of times. And they had a choice.

"I am Aleister Crowley! I am Nicholas Carry! I am Lucifer! I AM THE HARBINGER OF THE SUN!" Crowley announced, accepting his identity at last. "Join me! Work with me and we'll save the bloody world, understood? We'll save everyone! We'll restore this fucking Omniverse and everything will be fine, but you need to work with me!"

"He could just force them to work with him." Michael said, looking at Richard.

Richard was smiling proudly. "Oh, he knows that."

The souls began to glow an even brighter and brighter blue...

"Welcome, Crowley." came a voice that was neither male or female, young or old. It was something timeless and innate. The song of the whole Omniverse singing to Aleister Crowley. Then there was all blueness and nothing more.

---

The Tree was no longer shaking. It was no longer burning. It was alive again, the wounds closing up as it glowed vibrantly. The Tree was alive.

And now facing Oberon, standing in front of Michael's corpse, was Aleister Crowley again. But he seemed more confident. More assertive. His eyes glowed a fierce blue.

And now around the battlefield were ghosts - hundreds of them, standing around, watching, only appearing to those who needed to see them. Sitting down next to Lewis, Minh's ghost spoke. "I think that we can say things are going southwards for Oberon now."

[Astrolinium]

A man in a crowd is only a statistic. So it had been this whole time for Peter Altier of Castle Rock, Maine. The boy who had been the Sphinx, fighting astride that steed. It had, of course, fallen in the fight, and so now he was a young man -- though still the same as ever at heart, certainly he had grown beyond the small boy who had once been called Vomity? -- standing amidst carnage. His jacket was long gone, and the puffy white dress shirt he'd worn has torn here and singed there, utterly ruined, and the skin of his left upper arm was charred and blackened. That would need to be seen to. Distasteful. He had his handkerchief pressed against his nose: blood does not have a pleasant smell, though once upon a time he had thought so, when shaking hands had driven sharp things into his own skin and into that of others.

He shuddered, and then suddenly there was a blue light in front of him.

"Hello, friend," said the ghost of Caspian Lawrence.

Peter's eyes went wide, searching. His voice shook, eventually giving out into a mewling sob. "No, no, no. No. No no no, you can't. You couldn't! You can't! No! No! No, no, noooooooo."

Small fists tried to beat on Caspian's chest, but they merely passed through his form. Images flashed before him... Gabriel Thomas, dead in an explosion. Vernon Cartwright, broken on the ground. Returning home only to find his mother's tombstone in the back of the town's sad, gray church. Peter felt very alone in the world once more.

"Hey," said Caspian, "stop that."

Peter just shook his head over and over again as his fists fell to his sides. The dirt on his face was streaked by the rivulets of salty, burning tears. His chest heaved as a great sob escaped was ripped from his throat.

"Stop that," repeated Caspian. "Don't cry. The whole universe is about to be saved... maybe this isn't the end of the road for me."

Peter fell to the ground, sitting dumbly. He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in them. "It is. They don't come back. That's how it works!"

There was a pause before he continued, "Everyone I love gets ripped away from me."

Caspian dropped to a squat and rested his ethereal hand on Peter's cheek. "Hey. Not me. I won't be. I'll find a way back."

[Zarkenis Ultima]

The moon turns crimson, the night is bleak

Standing by the tree, Alastor watched as Oberon continued to laugh a maniac's laughter, but his attention was taken away from that when suddenly, a giant sphere of blue light emerged from the school, heading slowly towards the tree. That was undoubtedly Crowley's doing, the Demon Lord thought as he continued to observe, the soul sphere colliding with the tree and causing a grand explosion of light which blinded him for a moment. For the longest time the headmaster had been absent from the battle, but it had not been for naught, it seemed. Crowley had a plan, and if Alastor was reasonably certain of one thing at the moment, it was that Crowley's plan couldn't possibly make things any worse than they were.

But alas, not everyone seemed to agree, and when the Demon Lord opened his eyes, he saw Oberon rushing towards the center of the tree in order to stop the plan from succeeding. Evidently, the general consensus was that this could not be allowed to happen, as everyone around him soon began firing everything they had at the Faery King. Not one to stay behind, and knowing that he still had a part to play, Alastor ditched his sword and held his hand out towards Oberon, unleashing black beam and pouring in it enough power to maim a god. He had no more tricks, no more techniques, the time for those was long gone and now all he could do was use all of his power to stop the Faery King from reaching the sphere. Another beam shot forth from his palm, and after that, another one. Surely, Oberon was beyond the level of a mere skybound deity by now, having absorbed the power of the truest God, and yet, this was all Alastor could do, and so, he did it without hesitation, placing what little faith he had left inside him in the idea that if he managed to buy just one second more, it wouldn't be for naught.

And yet, despite his efforts, and the efforts of his allies, the Faery King kept on advancing, slowed by the onslaught, but never stalled. He continued moving towards the tree, reaching Michael and tearing him apart with ease, as the tree burned brightly. Alastor would have redoubled his efforts to keep Oberon away, had that been possible at all, but alas, he was doing everything he could, and could use no more power than he was. To make matters worse, it seemed that the tree was eager enough to shatter on its own, being torn apart from inside as flames consumed it.

Suddenly, however, the flames were no more. The Tree, which had moments earlier stood on the verge of destruction, was whole once again, and in front of it stood Crowley, and as Alastor witnessed this, a smile crept into his demonic visage. "You bastard, waiting until the last moment to arrive." He muttered, looking around the battlefield. Everyone seemed calmer, for some reason, and he soon understood why.

We place our nightmares on the great tree

"It seems only fitting that one of my kin would live to see the final battle." A voice spoke from behind him, deep as the crevices of nightmarish landscapes, but also calm, and very familiar to the Demon Lord, though it belonged to memories that seemed so distant by now. Regardless, those memories were now awake, and so, with his eyes wide open, Alastor turned around. Standing there, in front of him, was an imposing demon, as tall as he was and with six horns crowning his head. His skin was black and coarse, much like that of the Demon Lord himself, ridden with scars of battles long gone. He regarded Alastor with a quiet stare, eyes like lit embers.

"Father." Was the only word that escaped the Demon Lord as he watched, completely baffled, how his own father, Astaroth, a demon he had killed with his own two hands, strode past him to survey the battlefield. Soon enough, another voice called.

"What is it, dear brother?" It spoke, venomous intent in those last words. "You don't seem very happy to see us." It remarked, and as the Demon Lord turned to face this new arrival, he saw his elder brother, who he had faced and defeated so long ago.

"...So that is what is going on then?" Alastor spoke at last, after several seconds of dumbfounded silence. "The dead rise from their figurative graves?"

"Precisely so, my son. I believe there were human prophets who foretold something similar, though I never did put much stock in their antics. Serves me right, I suppose." Astaroth replied as he continued glancing around the battlefield, occasionally taking a long glance at the tree to gaze at its magnificence. "Still, it is pleasant to be awake once again. Your friend the harbinger has done a small favor to us all." He said.

"More importantly, is that all you have to say to us, dear brother? We have not seen each other for a lifetime!" Alastor's brother Altair stated, and though at first the Demon Lord thought that he was angry still, he now understood that this was merely his gleeful sarcasm, which he had always displayed during his life, before the events that had led to his exile and later his death by the hands of the Demon Lord himself.

We suffer now, for just one night

Heaving a sigh, Alastor spoke. "I am sorry." He uttered, not knowing what else to say. However, this only caused the two demon ghosts to turn towards him, an expression of annoyance on their faces.

"Were I still alive, my son, I would slap you for being a little bitch." Astaroth scolded, causing Altair to snicker. "You have nothing to apologize for, and I believe I had taught you to stand by your decisions. I will not hear a son of mine apologize for nonesense." The older demon said, staring right into Alastor's eyes. "You, my child, did more than any of us could have hoped to do in our lifetimes. That our lives were to be sacrificed in order for you to achieve that is only a fair price." He said calmly, his cold assessment of the facts surprising Alastor. "You united Hell and improved the life of countless demons with your actions, after they spent years suffering under the rule of a fool. If ever in history a demon could be said to have achieved the greater good for his people, then that would be you, my son." Spoke the father of the Demon Lord.

"It is not just our opinion, little brother. It is also theirs." Altair chimed in. And when Alastor looked in the direction of his elder brother's clawed finger, that which his eyes saw took him by surprise once again. Thousands upon thousands of ghosts, of spectral demons who had come back to life for a cosmic moment, all of them standing before him, with him, on the great Tree. Demons of all kinds, who had been destroyed along with the world, were standing there, to be seen by the eyes of their lord. At the front, the Demon Lord could see his best friend, L'Enfer, alive as he had been the last time he had seen him, and next to him stood a scaly fellow he had appointed Inspector Marshall, many other familiar faces around them, including the rest of his kin.

"Father." Alastor spoke after seeing them.

"Yes, my son?" Astaroth asked in response.

"I am not sorry." The Demon Lord stated.

"Then you are free, my son, Alastor. Your regrets are gone. Now listen to your people roar."

Our fears combusting at the sunrise

And as they spoke, every single demon present there, every single one of them, was raising a fist into the air and chanting a single word repeatedly, their voiced merging into a glorious and deafening chorus of praise which confirmed what the old demon had said, bringing a smile to the Demon Lord. Thousands of soldiers, of farmers, of artisans and merchants, thousands of demons of every kind, all of them uttering a single word, a single name.

"ALASTOR! ALASTOR! ALASTOR! ALASTOR! ALASTOR! ALASTOR! ALASTOR! ALASTOR!"

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Lyra watched the soul sphere emerge from the school and begin sinking into the tree in a burst of light which was as beautiful as it was blinding. Oberon soon moved to stop it from happening and she, like the others, easily figured that this was not to happen and so, she quickly bit into her own hand, drawing blood forth from it and using said blood to draw on the roots of the Tree. Hastily, she moved her bleeding hand across the massive roots, and with that act, she summoned her creations into the real world, sneding them forth towards Oberon. But these were not chains anymore, no, now they were massive, living hands made of blood and bones, grasping at the Faery King in order to stop him from reaching the World Tree. They were not powerful enough to stop him, she was well aware of that, but her chains had bound the Dragon God, and her missiles had hurt him and had blown up the moon before that, so, surely, she was at least able to help a bit.

She did, however, leto ut a gasp of horror as she watched the Faery King rip Michael in half, dropping his carcass afterwards and watching the Tree burn. The Tree was suffering, being consumed by flames and being torn apart from the inside, and though she doubted that she could do anything about it, she was about to try to use her power to keep it together for a bit longer now that Michael was dead... but alas, it seemed that her efforts were not necessary, for soon the sun merged with the Tree, and the Tree was whole again, alive and unscathed. And after the sun had merged with the Tree, its Harbinger stood in front of the Faery King.

Smiling, for the whole of creation had avoided destruction once again, the girl sat down, and with her still bleeding hand, she began drawing some more on the roots of the World Tree as she looked around. She saw no ghosts, but she did see blue lights floating on the battlefield, and was content to think that they were watching, so she simply continued drawing, this time for simple leisure and not for war.

The ghosts she was meant to see were all behind her, watching her draw. She felt them and smiled, but they never spoke, and she never turned around.

---

One of the many ghosts standing in the battlefield wandered idly, mostly unseen by those still alive. He walked and watched as the others briefly reunited with their families for one last time, though he had no such pleasure, and didn't want it, either. He was old when he died, and felt he had lived enough. He had seen enough of those who he had come to call friends, and of his family as well, and so, figuring that this was a fitting end, he continued observing as the Harbinger of the Sun, who he had once called Carry, stood before the man who had killed the Dragon God, watching them as he walked alone.

Well, mostly alone.

"It took me long enough to finally die for good, didn't it?" He commented idly as he stood still, his hand going into his pocket and resting there. His arms no longer bore lead-spitting machines of death under them, and in fact, he no longer had both arms. But this did not seem to bother him; in fact, as far as he was concerned, his body felt much more... natural... than it had felt in decades, and he was content with this.

"I guess all that's left for us to do is watch, old friend." He said to the ghost keeping him company, a small reptilian creature sitting on his lone shoulder.

[Nationstatelandsville]

He had been six, he remembered. Not the equivalent, but really, genuinely six. That's young for a human, unfathomably young for an angel.

He was an underdeveloped six-year-old at that; some might argue he'd never quite developed at all, rather grew slightly taller until being broken into a million tiny pieces. To the other angel children, he was a delightful little toy - small, slight, a crop of goofy blond hair just above watery eyes far too prone to crying, and he made the most delightful squeaking noises when hit. Many of the adult angels felt the same, particularly in the clergy, but most had just ignored him. Heaven is - or, well, was, must remember that - a very busy place after all, who had time to deal with one little runt of a boy? He'd make it to basic training and either man up or break down then, they all figured, at least those who bothered to figure at all.

But that changed when he was six; well, no, looking back it hadn't at all, but certainly it felt as though it had. Why was he even there? He was in the church, but it wasn't mass, was it? No... school? No, it was night time.

Ah, yes! A dare. It was a dare. Of course it was a dare. No matter who they are, children love dares. How could he forget that? That bastard boy from two houses down - what was his name? Oh, it doesn't matter; that miserable son-of-a-bitch, he'd dared Aziraphale to go to the church and bring back one of the rosaries from the statue of Lailah. Hm, how the universe had loved its little jokes even back then. But, yes, he had dared Aziraphale to steal the rosary, and so he pretended to have studies in the church library - which was frankly a ridiculous excuse, but no library under Uriel held much useful information at all. Father Josiah had let him stay after school on the condition that Josiah would watch over him the whole time; but Josiah was an old man, a tired man, and he had fallen asleep over a copy of Zacheriah''s Sepulchrum de Scientia.

It was just after dusk, maybe an hour, when Aziraphale had finally worked up the courage to leave the library and make his way into the main body of the church. Lailah stood just in front of the door, before the pews, with a statue of Michael across from her. Aziraphale sneaked in, quiet as a mouse ("Mousy"! Yes, that's what the stupid bastard boy had called him to get him into this in the first place!), and approached the statue. Even then her beauty struck him; it was no saintly, virtuous beauty like the Mother Mary of humanity, but something far more terrifying. He should have known then and there that she'd be trouble, but he had never made any claim of high intelligence.

As his pudgy little fingers had curled around the necklace, a deep, booming voice had echoed across the pews. "And just what do you think you're doing?" This was about when the young Aziraphale remembered that his church had no statue of Michael.

When the Second Consul of Heaven catches you stealing from a church, shitting yourself is the appropriate response. Somehow, Aziraphale did not do so; perhaps he was too terrified to do even that.

"Um, I..." he stammered, his eyes wide and his hands trembling as he let the rosary go.

"Are stealing," Michael said, "If Father Josiah knew that, he'd cut your hand off. Are you right-handed, boy?"

Aziraphale shook his head.

"Lucky, then," Michael continued, "Josiah's too fat and stupid to cut off any other. Still, you'd not like to lose that hand, would you?"

Aziraphale shook his head again. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Quiet," Michael growled, "I'm not going to tell him, don't be an idiot. I have more important business with the old man than a scrawny little boy stealing necklaces. You do know who I am, yes? Good. Because then you know that, were I to speak a world, just a single word... who put you up to this?"

Aziraphale clammed up now, his jaw locked. For whatever stupid, childish reason, he was more terrified of that goddamn kid than he was of the savior of Heaven itself.

Michael cracked a slight smile at this, "Oh? Keeping a secret? My brother would torture you here, but I've never found that effective. Listen to me here, Aziraphale - you're better than them. You don't have to do what they say. Now, if you'll excuse me, Josiah and I need to talk."

Michael pushed past the young angel then, the dank smell of wine hanging in his breath. Aziraphale would only realize that years later; at the time, he was more amazed that Michael - Michael! - had known his name. No, that's not true; at the time, he was too busy running home to care about anything else, but that was the message he took from his youth.

Aziraphale wished he could say that the archangel's meaningless compliments had actually changed anything in his life. They hadn't, but looking back, they were always a precious memory of his. Even when he grew older and realized how little it had meant to Michael himself, at least that didn't change.

And now Michael was dead. Josiah was dead. Lailah was dead. Heaven was dead. Aziraphale was also dead, and alive again in a new way he didn't quite understand. Things change, memory fades, but some things, some people... for whatever reason, they stick. In death, very little actually dies.

All these thoughts come now to Aziraphale in an instant. And within another instant, he had picked a sword from the corpse of one of the Fae and was stabbing madly at... something. Nothing, maybe, or perhaps an army. He was lost in the battle; he was a soldier, after all. But his mind was not there. His mind was elsewhere.

For even he knew this was an ending.

[Constaniana]

William silently wiped the blood off his face with his cape, not knowing how to reply to Lyra. But then Michael and the others began launching attacks on Oberon anyway, so he joined them. If the mad king was going to kill them all anyway William wanted to at least frustrate him for as long as possible. With that in mind, the knight began spamming megaton radiant blasts, trying to vent all his fury and frustration with what might have been the last chance he'd ever get to be obnoxiously stubborn . However, his raging concentration was broken by a telepathic growl from Excalibur.

I demand blood sacrifice, mortal. Nearly chopping Oberon's nuts off is not enough for me.

"Shut your gob," said William, to Excalibur's displeasure, "He's too far away to stab and I don't need your pew pew lasers. You can't solve everything with a blaster rifle."

I am older than three universes, child; I will not be sassed by you! Now you shut your gob, and let me blow up Oberon, the sentient sword demanded, before assuming the form of a bazooka. Sir Nilark gave a frustrated sigh as he heaved the weapon up onto his shoulder, firing what looked like a tank round at Oberon.

"I don't mean to bruise your ego too much, mate, but he's getting away. I don't see how a few tank rounds will change that."

Then the problem is not enough tank rounds, assclown, said Excalibur, before transforming again. More barrels popped out of the ludicrous weapon, followed by a scope and a claymore bayonet.

"Now you're just trying too hard," William declared, though he grinned merrily as he pulled the trigger of his very own rotary cannon. Excalibur roared to life, spewing a volley of magic depleted uranium towards the malevolent monarch. As satisfying as the sheer number of explosions was, William was right in that it wasn't doing too much to stop Oberon's charge towards the World Tree. He said nothing as Michael died, only gritting his teeth and trying to will Excalibur to fire faster. And then suddenly, the great tree fixed itself and Crowley appeared again. Not wanting to get fired for shooting his boss, Sir Nilark lowered his weapon and returned it to sword form. He looked on silently, when he noticed something that made him wonder if his years with Elfen High had finally made him snap, driving Excalibur down into the ground.

"Hullo there, Eddie," said Mrs. Nilark's ghost. Her second son sniffled, "Oh, you took off the jumper I got you."

"Mum, don't you start," Mary Nilark grumbled, sounding exasperated already, "You're lucky Eddy wore it as long as he did. If Elizabeth had inflicted that abomination on me I'd have put glycerol in her tea or something."

"I changed my mind on it when he came home. And mum liked the idea more than I ever did," Elizabeth stated, sounding a bit indignant

"Alright, I won't say another word about it," Mrs. Nilark replied, "Oh, what's the matter with you, Eddie?"

"I failed you all," the knight said downheartedly, "If I had come home sooner like I meant to you lot wouldn't have been butchered by the Fae..."

"Don't you start up with rubbish like that either, soldier," Mary snapped, "Everyone else got killed too, so there's no use starting up another whinging angst arc. You want to talk about something tragic? Let's talk about your taste in girlfriends."

"Oi! I don't make fun of your wimpy boyfriend, so don't you start on Hilde!" William fumed, as Mary cackled and grinned.

"Right, dodged that moody bullet," the pilot said, "I was only joking. She's not too bad, I suppose. Well, maybe she could use some more time in the sun..." Truth be told, Mary Nilark thought Hildegarde could use many things. This included such improvements as anger management therapy, a wardrobe that had some t-shirts and dresses instead of leather jackets and Nazi costumes, and a kick right up the arse. But for the sake of appeasing her little brother she kept quiet about those suggestions.

"Well, I'm just glad we have a chance to get together like this again. Sorry we weren't around for you more, son," Mr. Nilark said, being uncharacteristically sentimental. Normally the fondest thing William's dad would say would be something like glancing up from reading the Harrogate Adviser, giving a thumbs up or a pat on the back and saying 'good job son', before returning his attention to his newspaper, "It might be a bit late for this sort of thing, I know, but I'm proud to call you my lad, William," The dead farmer reached a wispy hand over to affectionately rustle William's hair, when his wife took their other three children by surprise and tried to pull them in for a big hug.

"Mum, we're ghosts. This won't work," Robert pointed out to the matriarch of the family after a few moments.

"It's the thought that counts," William insisted. It was nice to have one last moment with his family like this, especially since he wasn't sure what would happen to their souls after this, what with all the spanners the Fae had thrown in the works of the afterlife. The thought that his son would never see his grandparents, aunts and uncle saddened him greatly, "...I love all of you," he said out of the blue, causing his mum to try going in for another hug in vain. It was at this point that the tender reunion was interrupted by the sound of a cough from an old scruffy-looking man. The Nilarks were silent for a few seconds as mental gears ground about, before Mrs. Nilark recognised him first.

"Dad? What are you doing here?" The eldest Yorskshirewoman inquired, confused, "It's lovely to see you again, but, well...you sort of left us hanging with the whole 'you dying inexplicably' thing."

"Yeah, what happened to you Granddad?" William added, scratching his head. The geriatric ghost tugged the ethereal beard that hung down to his collarbone for a few seconds and also scratched his head.

"Well, you got me. By all accounts, it doesn't make sense," Charlie Nilark confessed, "All I know for certain is that I punched Thatcher at some point. And good job graduating or whatever it is you ended up doing with magic, William or Francisco or whatever your name is." This answer satisfied all the Tykes, and they began catching up with the old ghost, but William stepped away from them to look around the battlefield a bit. And then yet another ghost showed up, much to William's surprise. He recognised her much more quickly than when he had last seen her in Naples.

"Hello again, Sophie," said William. Another six years had passed between the two seeing each other, and it seemed to him as if she had become even more ravishing since then. He felt a pang of regret over Naples in hindsight now, thinking about the life he might have had if he hadn't gotten scared and ran that day. Would he have come back to Elfen High at all? It was one thing for him to have returned to the school when he didn't have much else left in his life, but what if he had already had a good job? A stable, emotionally fulfilling relationship with a good woman who wasn't a Nazi, and mended ties with his family?

"Hey, handsome," the Yorkshirewoman said back, a faint smile coming across her face, "Long time no see. You look like you're doing well."

"Er, aye," William couldn't help feeling a bit awkward about the fact that he looked healthy when most people in the Omniverse were quite dead. A few moments of silence passed between the two, as William scratched the back of his head nervously, "...sorry about running away back in Naples."

The apology hung in the air as a few more seconds of silence passed between them. "Well, it was ages ago. We've both moved on by now..." Sophie paused, and sighed, "Oh, enough of that rubbish. I'll be frank and say I was pissed after that happened, and thinking about it still gets me a little riled up, but I guess there's really nothing I can do about it now," She frowned, letting her shoulders sag as she looked at the redhead curiously for a few moments, thinking hard about something, "Unless you want to try being the first man to shag a ghost, I suppose..." She added at last, winking slyly and puffing her chest out a bit.

"Well, as lovely as that sounds, I'm, er, seeing another woman now, and I sort of knocked her up, and she's a tad frightening about this sort of thing, and, well, erm..." The battle-hardened veteran stammered, as his cheeks turned red and he instinctively gazed at Sophie's rack.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Steinbeck once said, "It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone". Or, Megan thought he had; really, literature was always slightly beyond her, and she only recalled that because Professor deBoys had made her write a paper on it. Then failed her.

Fuck him. Well, he was dead now anyways, so what's it matter? Somehow that thought brought Megan a little comfort, even now; but then she had always suspected herself of having a bit of a vindictive streak. Rick had told her that, once; Lewis many more times, usually while dodging something heavy.

OK, small comforts. Good. Good. She was almost on top of things again. Where was she? Ah, yes; the fading afterimage of a dead world.

So, less on top. OK, OK, panic. Fine. Panic is natural. Panic can be controlled. But how?

Shit. Why didn't they ever teach her this at school? The proper operation of a polymerase chain reaction machine was little use in fighting faeries. What did she know about faeries?

"Faeries don't exist, child," her grandfather had growled to her one afternoon, polishing his blunderbuss in the summer sun.

"How do you know that?" Megan whined, "All the old stories-"

"Were made up by men with too much time on their hands," he had said, "You see how life is here. Imagine doing all this with no blunderbuss to polish. How would that be? Get to makin' up stories with that much time on your hands. Now, maybe there's a little magic in the world - I'm still convinced your grandmother's a goddamn witch, and I have no idea what spell made me marry her."

"Fuck you, Frank!"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, MARGARET, THERE ARE CHILDREN! But, look, Meg, the point is this - even if there is magic, there ain't enough of it for it to matter much. Take what little there is and don't over-think it. There are no faeries. Just bad men, and the English."

Come to think of it, it was best not to dwell on the past. Drunk old men are very rarely sources of wisdom, which is why we make so much of it when they are. At the very least, the memory had calmed her. It was time now to focus on the present.

But what present? Her husband was dead and on loan for various mystical reasons, thrice over. Her daughter was dead. Her son was suicidal, and off in the midst of some great battle. But where? Was he safe? Well, no; no one was safe anymore. And she knew by now that no blood of Jameson was going to be found if he didn't want to be.

Wherever D was, he was surrounded by faeries, and they wanted to kill him. Well, fuck that.

Megan turned to an approaching Fae and shot it dead in its eyes.

"COME ON, YOU GLOWING STAR CUNTS!" she howled, "FIGHT ME AND DIE!"

[Astrolinium]

Milne once said, "Nobody can be uncheered with a balloon."

Eric Manischewitz, like many who were present on the battlefield that day, found himself confronted by a ghost from his past. It was not his mother, not his father, not a sibling or a friend from grade school. No, instead, it was a different sort of long-lost companion.

"Balloon!" Eric shouted as the spectral terrier ran up to him, tail wagging. Three times his will urged him to clasp her, and he started towards her, three times she escaped his arms like a shadow or a dream. And the pain seemed deeper in his heart.

Parnell put his arms around his husband as Balloon's tail stopped wagging and the dog looked dumbly up at Eric, unable to understand why her master could not hold her.