The Fall of Elfen High (IC, Closed)

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Damien didn't have much time to react to Minh's exploding chest before Crowley's message and knowledge entered his mind, as well as the minds of everyone else. He grabbed Minh's hands and removed them from his throat, and tossed the body onto the ground.

"Well," he began, "Things certainly aren't going well tonight. Lewis!"

He ran over to his friend, giving a smile as he got close. "Lewis, you're alive. Sort of. You seem to be more, er, sentient, than Minh and Fixban. Do you have any idea what's going on? Even if you don't, it isn't good. We should get out of here and help Aleister... who is alive. But then again, you wouldn't have any idea that he wasn't at one point, would you? I'll explain later."

---

Vernil was shocked - at both the emergence of creatures from Bottom, but also the deaths of Mercury and Bowie. And Vernil, being a godly creature, could sense that Oberon was not to be toyed with. He needed to be killed as soon as possible, or stalled. Yes, that's it. Stalled until Crowley could think of something. Kept distracted while the other gods escaped and regrouped and fought his minions.

"I ate the largest city in Hell," the Demonic Prince said, a hint of fear in his voice.

Just then, a trumpet appeared beside Oberon's head and began to blast a shrill sound at the King of the Fae at point-blank range. Not only that, but a beam of energy shot out and engulfed his head. This was not meant to be an attack, more of a distraction. While the beam engulfed Oberon's helm and hopefully blocked his vision - and the noise blocking his hearing - a concentrated cloud of grey smoke and ash poured from the bottom of Vernil's trousers, spinning and dancing through the air as it assembled into a single, large mass. His human form sank into his suit, eventually disappearing entirely as the last bits of smoke flew out of the collapsing three-piece suit.

From the heart of the cloud, a red serpent flew outward, its sharp teeth chomping on Oberon's waist and forcing him back a decent few feet, before the serpent folded in on itself and resumed a human form. Vernil, who was curled into a ball with his feet making contact with Oberon's waist, kicked and sent himself flying back and into the air, flipping to face his opponent. With the snap of his fingers, two powerful discs of energy shot from his palms and made contact with Oberon's chest in quick succession, sending the Fae King backwards even further into the wall, creating a large dent and sending splinters across the room.

Vernil landed on the table and looked to his suit, which lifted towards him and assumed a similar smoke cloud form, surrounding him entirely. The cloud solidified into an armoured figure, who was still very much the Demonic Prince of the Song. He grabbed the wrist of a nearby creature, raising his other fist through the beast's elbow and snapping its arm into two. He snapped the numb fingers off and took the Fae sword in his hand, assuming a defensive stance as he looked to Oberon.

Oberon ignored the attacks Vernil landed, aside from being pushed back a bit. He threw a savage and sudden roundhouse kick toward Vernil's head, laughing. "You ate a city. Congratulations. I ate universes."

[Agritum]

In the same place where Vernil and Oberon are duking it out

Adam from Sheffield was an happy man. His flawless, in-depth coverage of the War In Heaven had finally saved him from an eternity of unpaid intern work in some shitty BBC office in Sheffield, he had managed to start dating that cute receptionist from Berkshire, and for fuck's sake, he was the only man in all of human history who had witnessed and filmed the birth of a new continent in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

He was a celebrity, by all means. BBC considered him their top reporter, and frequently used him as their correspondent for top stories around the world. He had been at galas in the White House, had interviews with the Emperor of Japan, and even got Messi to sign a football shirt for himself. Adam wasn't Bill Gates, but he still managed to have a permanent suite in London's Shangri-La hotel, and drive a nice Ferrari to work.

But even then, Adam felt a bit empty. Almost bored with his new life. Sure, that Berkshire gal was very lovely, and all those visits to the White House were cool, and getting a shirt from Lionel Fucking Messi himself was bloomin' glorious, but Adam still felt as something which he had once enjoyed was missing from him.

That night, he'd been invited to the school for Crowley's funeral celebrations, due to his particular fame. Other than that, he was also acting as the official BBC correspondent for the event. In reality, Adam just decided to sit, kick back, mount a GoPro cam over an helmet to be worn on his head and just enjoy the show, which was very nice indeed.

Or well, it was nice, up until an armored figure entered the place, killing famed musicians Freddie Mercury and David Bowie, before engaging into battle with one of the guests. This made something click in Adam's brain.

He could've easily fled the scene, maybe just leave a frantic and messy video report for BBC to fix and analyze. But not, he didn't want to. In those very moments, Adam realized what he was missing: the same thrill of the War in Heaven, the thrill of witnessing, documenting and publicizing events which would either make most humans cower into fear, or overwhelm them with awe. If there was a God, Adam would have been his scribe.

And so, Adam from Sheffield took some steps away from the raging battle, not turning his sight away from it, and resumed to film it in its entirety, clicking a button on his GoPro which would have streamed Oberon's rampage to BBC. Just as he did so, he witnessed Vernil's smoke-snake-energy disc-kung fu attack, followed by Oberon's roundhouse kick.

Adam couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Awesome. So. Fucking. Awesome."

[Constaniana]

Sir William generally thought he was tough, both physically and mentally. It was hard to argue with the former, certainly. His skin had toughened over the years to be impervious to most weapons, he was extraordinarily physically fit, and when one added in his skill in magic, years of combat experience, and possession of one of the mightiest weapons in existence it made for a very impressive powergrid. And normally he seemed fairly stoic. Elfen High and the Abrahamic War had desensitized him to a large degree, and he had overcome the murderous temptations Excalibur had once filled his mind with. He could keep calm and carry on the with best of them. William had seen innocent people murdered, cities extinguished, and the extinction of two species within hours of each other. Sir Nilark thought he had seen the worst life had to offer.

He was wrong. The Yorkshireman had limits, and this went past those. He had hardly been in this house for the last twelve years of his life, but it had still had memories from his first fifteen. To see the rooms and halls he had played in ruined, to know his family had certainly been slain by the grinning abominations before him elicited a seething cocktail of negative emotions. William felt more utter despair than when Uriel had wiped out humanity in an instant; more denial than when Nixon said he was not a crook; more anger than when Luis Suarez existed. He wanted a hug from his mum to make it better. But these Fae had murdered her. Her, and his dear old grumpy dad, and his siblings, not to mention Robert's wife and twin sons. The maelstrom of feelings congealed into one in particular: vengeful fury. The knight heard Hilde's familiar angry shouting, calling for help and telling him to fight them. He didn't need to be told to do it, but having Hilde around made a nice little motivational boost. William hadn't been able to prevent the Fae from killing his family, but he could certainly keep his albino love alive.

"Yes, my lady," the Tyke growled, turning his attention to the Fae who had tried to decapitate him. How many of his relatives had fallen to that blade? Regardless, the elf was dangerous, and needed to be disarmed. Sir Nilark grabbed the hand the Fae was holding its sword with, and jerked it hard. The Englishman was now holding a severed arm, and decided to put it to good use, by raising it over its owner's head and swinging it down with sufficient force to crack its skull open and dash its brains against the old floorboards.

The next creature to attract William's attention was the abomination that had tried to shoot Hilde. "Bow, meet gun," he said flatly, drawing Excalibur and shifting it to blaster rifle form, before relieving the intruder of the burden of carrying a longbow about by shooting its arm off at the elbow. Deciding to continue his generous streak, William then relieved the Fae's neck of the burden of carrying a head, by blowing it off.

"Now you die," Sir William stated to the remaining four Fae. He then flung radiant blasts at them.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

In the auditorium...

Alastor was still sitting on one of the seats in the auditorium, having reverted to his human disguise for the time being and eating a fistful of popcorn. He was fully aware that this was no longer part of any play, except, perhaps, the cosmic one in which all things played a part, but the fact of the matter was that this was several orders of magnitude more amusing than Nick Bottom's previous performance. The cosmic play was getting quite interesting too, seeing how the Fae had arrived, Kronos was awake and Crowley was alive. In a way it also sucked, because they had just finished a war and apparently another was about to begin. Just after it had been secured, the fate of Earth was about to be decided once again. And, likely, the fate of Hell as well, and it was this which concerned the Demon Lord, for he was the only one there to look out for his land and his dimension as a whole. Not that he blamed anyone for that.

For now, at least, the Demon Lord watched.

---

In the depths of the school...

Nigh suddenly, Lyra found herself alone in the bowels of the school with naught but the remains of a molested tractor, a metal gate sliced in half and some sort of strange sci-fi vehicle. Sir Nilark and the two women with ridiculous armors had rather rudely ditched her, leaving her to find her own way out.

"How polite." She remarked sarcastically, shaking her head at them, wherever the hell they were now, before turning her attention to the vehicle. It wasn't something she had seen before, but it wasn't the weirdest thing she had ever seen, either, and for ones such as her, whose imagination is their very weapon, learning and attaining knowledge was one way to increase their power exponentially.

Thus, it was no surprise that she easily hijacked the damn thing and began riding the hell out of there.

As she drove away, Crowley's news reached her, surprising her quite a bit. She hadn't witnessed his death personally, but everyone seemed so convinced of it that she saw little merit in doubting them, and yet, he seemed to be pretty much alive. However, things were getting serious, she thought as she continued driving. It wouldn't do to stay here by herself, and so she headed somewhere safer, or at least, more populated. Elfen High didn't seem very safe right now, but she could, at the very least, find strength in numbers. This thought also prompted her to begin drawing as she rode away.

"At least I'm not running off." She said to herself.

---

Somewhere outside...

On one side of the street was a small house. It wasn't big, no, but it was cozy. The walls, painted a lively green, were decorated with all kinds of things, from children's drawings to elegant paintings. There was also an old grandfather clock somewhere in there. On the living room, a family was sitting on the couch, watching television together, when the Fae arrived, leaving no survivors.

The house in question was right next to a significantly larger building where the sound of music filled the air, two melodious voices singing in perfect harmony.

"Have you run your fingers down the wall
And have you felt your neck skin crawl
When you're searching for the light?

Sometimes when you're scared to take a look
At the corner of the room
You've sensed that somethings watching you"

However, one of them suddenly stopped, prompting the other to do so as well.

"What's wrong, dear?" One redhead asked the other, confused.

"Did we ever hire elf cosplayer musicians to play with us, Ciel?" She replied with another question, to which Ciel simply shrugged.

"Oh, I'm not quite sure. Maybe?" She responded.

"In our bedroom?"

At that moment, the Fae stopped playing and picked up their bows, firing at the two redheads, who quickly ducked and ran out of the room, only to find themselves cornered in their own house as Fae popped out from every corner they tried to flee to. It seemed that time had finally run out for the two musicians, who simply couldn't believe their awful luck.

"Well, if that's how it is..." Celes said with resignation, before pulling Ciel closer for one last kiss.

And then, just like that, the wall behind them shattered in a million pieces and in flew a person clad in an armor of gold, red and black, which looked vaguely similar to an Iron Man suit in some ways, but also incredibly different in many others.

Caught up in their own business as they were, the two redheads needed a minute to take notice of it. By then, the Ciel from another world had already knocked away most of the Fae present with the powers granted to her by her compound armor, and was currently fighting one of the Fae soldiers with an energy sword she didn't know the suit had until a few seconds ago. She looked back at the other two momentarily.

"Are you going to start fucking, or can we go?" She asked casually before turning back and killing the creature. "Meet the Iron Maiden, bitch."

"Maiden? You?" Celes asked, to which the armored one sighed.

"Go to Detroit." She shot back, causing much offense, before looking around. The Fae she had thrown off the building with her kinetic blasts were slowly getting off their feet and returning, which was not good. Not good at all. "Anyway, let's get the fuck out of here, we can't stay much longer." She said, heading to the hole in the wall she'd made and preparing to blast off once the other two joined her.

"Wait, wait, wait. Celes, remember the thing!" Ciel said.

"Oh, that's right, the thing! We can't leave without the thing!" Celes conceded, putting her hands to her temples and thinking.

"What thing?" The armored one inquired.

"The thing!" Ciel replied.

"Shut up! I'm trying to remember where I put the thing!" Celes snapped at them, before realization dawned upon her. "The basement!"

"So what floor is this?" The armored Ciel asked.

"Twelfth." Ciel replied.

"Well, fuck that. Hold on, girls." She said, doing her best to put one of her arms around them both while she extended the other one downwards. The two redheads, having a good idea of what she was about to do, held onto her tightly, and perhaps in a rather fanservicey manner, though Ciel was wearing an armor, which helped in staving off this distraction as she blasted several holes through the floors of the building, until they finally arrived at the basement.

Now, the basement was a complete mess. Crates strewn all around containing god knows what. Thinking back, Ciel didn't know how they had acquired all of that rubbish, but it was there.

"I'll get it. Wait here." Celes said, heading deeper into the forest of crates in order to retrieve the mysterious thing, leaving Ciel and Ciel to their own devices.

"So..." The armored one began. "Do you have any cann-" Suddenly, there was a knock on the basement's metal door, and then a bang, and then a kick. The door was sturdy, but they weren't quite sure it would hold, so they swiftly began piling up crates in front of it. It helped that Ciel was incredibly fast, making up for the other one's significantly more sluggish movements. For all her strength and fighting ability she was really lackluster in the areas that the two redheads from this universe excelled.

However, this proved to be a futile effort. After a while, Fae dropped down from the hole in the ceiling. Ciel and her armored counterpart turned to fight them, but then, suddenly, other Fae managed to kick down the door as well, despite their efforts at barricading it. Everything seemed lost.

"COVER YOUR EARS!" Came the sudden shout, and the two complied without questioning, also looking up to see the source of the warning.

There, standing atop a mountain of crates, was Celes, who proceeded to play a solo of epic proportions on the banjo. Somewhere out there, Herman Li bowed his head.

When the dust settled, there were no more Fae. Or crates, for that matter. The door seemed to have melted too. And the ceiling was gone. And there was a small black burning tree with snakes for branches in the middle of the room.

"I might have overdone it a bit." Celes admitted, rubbing her shoulder a bit as she walked up to the other two.

"My heroine." Ciel said to her as she threw her arms around her and gave her a kiss. The armored one sighed a bit once again.

"Look, you two, you'll have plenty of time to fuck when this is all over I'm sure. But not now. I was just coming to do something nice for once but it looks like we've got shit to do." She stated, before looking up and outstretching her arms. Reluctantly, the two redheads broke up their kiss and headed towards the armored Ciel, holding on tightly once again, after which she wrapped her arms around them and took off to the skies.

"So where are we going?" Celes asked.

"Guess."

"Malta?"

"Oh, I wish."

[Astrolinium]

Caspian and Peter whatever blah blah blah.

Anyway, stuff. Important bit!

The message entered Peter's mind and his jaw dropped.

Ganesh had awoken Kronos, the Fae were coming, he had lived as Nicholas Carry, working alongside Vernon Cartwright

Suddenly, he was quite a bit younger, on a rooftop in Vegas, wind whipping through his hair, and Earl was pissing off the side of the building.

Peter walked shakily up to the edge and stared at the bodies. He then looked at the others and said emotionlessly, "He shouldn't have had to die."

He repeated it, this time with feeling. "He shouldn't have had to die."

Again, but louder. And again. He threw his head back and shouted, "Fuck you, G! Fuck you! Stop hiding where you can kill us off one by one but we can't touch you! Come out here and face us with honor! We aren't puppets to be thrown about willy-nilly and then thrown away when it's convenient for your goddamn plot!" He was crying and his face was red.

Caspian looked at him strangely and put a hand on Peter shoulder, calling him back to the here and now. He cocked his head to the side, eyes locking with Peter's, a question passing between them.

Peter said, "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to fucking kill him, for the second time! No, wait, both of them!"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Nilark-Von Wulfbern Estate

"Scheisse! William, go fight those...differently human things!" Hilde yelled, ducking down and quickly removing a smartphone from her pocket, frantically typing a number. "No one invades my home and thrashes it, no one! Especially non-humans! And blacks." she added, finishing to type the number.

In the following minutes, Hilde began to violently bark something in German to whoever was on the other side of the call. William would have managed to recognize the words "get here", "soon", "big guns", "non-human fuckers", along with several German expletives he didn't know the meaning of. Hilde finished the call with an angry "quick!", before starting to crawl away.

"Come on, William, do something!"

"Do you say that all the time?" asked one of the Fae, eyes narrowing as her lips made an amused smile on her black face. "In any case, I think you'll find your headquarters are quite busy..." she said, lightning firing out of her hands at Hilde.

---

In Germany, as they spoke, laughing Fae landed on the the earth, lighting everything on fire. One of the victims was Luis Suarez, who had been on vacation here. Some justice in a now darkening world.

But this very much occupied all German forces to stay home and keep everything as safe as they could. But the portals kept opening as more and more Fae landed. There seemed no end to them.

Sir William generally thought he was tough, both physically and mentally. It was hard to argue with the former, certainly. His skin had toughened over the years to be impervious to most weapons, he was extraordinarily physically fit, and when one added in his skill in magic, years of combat experience, and possession of one of the mightiest weapons in existence it made for a very impressive powergrid. And normally he seemed fairly stoic. Elfen High and the Abrahamic War had desensitized him to a large degree, and he had overcome the murderous temptations Excalibur had once filled his mind with. He could keep calm and carry on the with best of them. William had seen innocent people murdered, cities extinguished, and the extinction of two species within hours of each other. Sir Nilark thought he had seen the worst life had to offer.

He was wrong. The Yorkshireman had limits, and this went past those. He had hardly been in this house for the last twelve years of his life, but it had still had memories from his first fifteen. To see the rooms and halls he had played in ruined, to know his family had certainly been slain by the grinning abominations before him elicited a seething cocktail of negative emotions. William felt more utter despair than when Uriel had wiped out humanity in an instant; more denial than when Nixon said he was not a crook; more anger than when Luis Suarez existed. He wanted a hug from his mum to make it better. But these Fae had murdered her. Her, and his dear old grumpy dad, and his siblings, not to mention Robert's wife and twin sons. The maelstrom of feelings congealed into one in particular: vengeful fury. The knight heard Hilde's familiar angry shouting, calling for help and telling him to fight them. He didn't need to be told to do it, but having Hilde around made a nice little motivational boost. William hadn't been able to prevent the Fae from killing his family, but he could certainly keep his albino love alive.

"Yes, my lady," the Tyke growled, turning his attention to the Fae who had tried to decapitate him. How many of his relatives had fallen to that blade? Regardless, the elf was dangerous, and needed to be disarmed. Sir Nilark grabbed the hand the Fae was holding its sword with, and jerked it hard. The Englishman was now holding a severed arm, and decided to put it to good use, by raising it over its owner's head and swinging it down with sufficient force to crack its skull open and dash its brains against the old floorboards.

The next creature to attract William's attention was the abomination that had tried to shoot Hilde. "Bow, meet gun," he said flatly, drawing Excalibur and shifting it to blaster rifle form, before relieving the intruder of the burden of carrying a longbow about by shooting its arm off at the elbow. Deciding to continue his generous streak, William then relieved the Fae's neck of the burden of carrying a head, by blowing it off.

"Now you die," Sir William stated to the remaining four Fae. He then flung radiant blasts at them.

One of the Fae found her arm separated from her body, to her amazement. Then her skull cracked on the ground, blue blood spilling everywhere.

We can kill now! said Excalibur gleefully, firing away. The Fae who fired a crossbow at Hilde was turned into a bloody pulp, to the serious surprise of the rest. They started to back away, actually afraid of the Yorkshireman right now.

One spun a warhammer in his hand, and with a roar, rushed at William. Backing him up, the other two Fae (who weren't firing lightning at Hilde) blasted fire at William while Excalibur put more bloodlust in his mind.

[Nude East Ireland]

Vernil managed to duck under the roundhouse kick, lowering his head down to his knee and waiting for Oberon to land on his feet. Vernil had ducked in a way that both his sword and head were between Oberon's legs, allowing him to pull his upper body out from under them and slash his sword upward into the warrior's crotch. Though he wouldn't stop at the crotch; he used his strength to - hopefully - slash Oberon in two.

To help with this, he leapt off to the side down the table. This would turn his upward swing into an overhead swing. Its intend was for the blade to rise through Oberon and slice him in half, eventually ending up pointing towards where Vernil was facing, which was away from Oberon.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Vernil managed to duck under the roundhouse kick, lowering his head down to his knee and waiting for Oberon to land on his feet. Vernil had ducked in a way that both his sword and head were between Oberon's legs, allowing him to pull his upper body out from under them and slash his sword upward into the warrior's crotch. Though he wouldn't stop at the crotch; he used his strength to - hopefully - slash Oberon in two.

To help with this, he leapt off to the side down the table. This would turn his upward swing into an overhead swing. Its intend was for the blade to rise through Oberon and slice him in half, eventually ending up pointing towards where Vernil was facing, which was away from Oberon.

Vernil would rip upwards, his sword going through Oberon's crotch, before ultimately stopping right below the Fae's heart (or where his heart would be if he were human). He grabbed the sword in one hand, his eyes glowing with a sadistic glee as he ripped out the sword from his body, his wounds healing quickly.

As he had grabbed the sword, Vernil's leap backfired. Oberon threw the sword away, causing Vernil to go off spinning while Oberon shot a burst of blue light attacks at him.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

In the auditorium...

Alastor was still sitting on one of the seats in the auditorium, having reverted to his human disguise for the time being and eating a fistful of popcorn. He was fully aware that this was no longer part of any play, except, perhaps, the cosmic one in which all things played a part, but the fact of the matter was that this was several orders of magnitude more amusing than Nick Bottom's previous performance. The cosmic play was getting quite interesting too, seeing how the Fae had arrived, Kronos was awake and Crowley was alive. In a way it also sucked, because they had just finished a war and apparently another was about to begin. Just after it had been secured, the fate of Earth was about to be decided once again. And, likely, the fate of Hell as well, and it was this which concerned the Demon Lord, for he was the only one there to look out for his land and his dimension as a whole. Not that he blamed anyone for that.

For now, at least, the Demon Lord watched.

Alastor then got several texts on his mobile phone.

The texts generally came from his demon generals in Hell, effectively boiling down to "Oh fucking shit, sir, they're here."

"Adapting is a bit difficult." came a gravelly voice around four metres from him. The purple mist in the air began to solidify into a human form. Unlike the Fae and most of our major threats, this one didn't have blue eyes. Rather, his eyes glowed a bright purple. In one hand, he held a golden pocket watch, currently kept closed. Aside from that, he had no other weapons.

Currently, only the head and forearms of this man had formed - the rest was still a mist. He looked at Alastor curiously. "You are not the Orc King." he noted, floating toward the Demon King. "What are you meant to be?" A recently formed hand waved over Alastor's face as the demon felt something squirming in his thoughts before leaving. Kronos' eyebrows furrowed. "The world has changed." he muttered, looking at Oberon. "I do hope that you keep to our deal for after the Second Gotterdammerung."

"Gladly." came the reply. Kronos seemed satisfied with this.

At this point, Crowley burst into the room, sounding quite breathless. His eyes opened wide as he looked around. "Oh fuck."

[Agritum]

Nilark-Von Wulfbern Estate

"Scheisse! William, go fight those...differently human things!" Hilde yelled, ducking down and quickly removing a smartphone from her pocket, frantically typing a number. "No one invades my home and thrashes it, no one! Especially non-humans! And blacks." she added, finishing to type the number.

In the following minutes, Hilde began to violently bark something in German to whoever was on the other side of the call. William would have managed to recognize the words "get here", "soon", "big guns", "non-human fuckers", along with several German expletives he didn't know the meaning of. Hilde finished the call with an angry "quick!", before starting to crawl away.

"Come on, William, do something!"

"Do you say that all the time?" asked one of the Fae, eyes narrowing as her lips made an amused smile on her black face. "In any case, I think you'll find your headquarters are quite busy..." she said, lightning firing out of her hands at Hilde.

---

In Germany, as they spoke, laughing Fae landed on the the earth, lighting everything on fire. One of the victims was Luis Suarez, who had been on vacation here. Some justice in a now darkening world.

But this very much occupied all German forces to stay home and keep everything as safe as they could. But the portals kept opening as more and more Fae landed. There seemed no end to them.

Hilde gave a look of pure hatred at the differently caucasian Fae, evidently disturbed by the presence of an high-melanin non-human being. She held up her arms, and began to project razor-thin energy shields against the Fae, trying to block the lightnings and then slice through the creature. "Yes, I say that all the time because your kind is frankly disgusting, multiversal negress!"

---

The German Army eventually rolled into battle against the Fae, with ex-footballer Miroslav Klose leading an unit of powered armor-wearing super-soldiers into a desperate firefight against the Fae forces with Berlin. After learning of Suarez's death, Klose launched himself in a roaring rampage of revenge, kicking high-yeld grenades in the Fae ranks. He and his unit wouldn't have lasted much longer, but they would have put on an hell of a fight.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Alastor took out his phone upon feeling it vibrate, flipping through the messages he'd received. Most of them were redundant announcements that the Fae had arrived in Hell as they had in Earth, much to his dismay. A few others occasionally contained useful information detailing what actions had been taken to preserve vital assets and fight back the Faerie invasion. One in particular, not belonging to that category, was completely full of gibberish and the closest thing to panicked cries that could be conveyed in text form, and the Demon Lord instantly knew who that was, facepalming. Either way, though, he knew they could fight back. Ever since he had become the Lord of Hell, he had made sure that there were measures in place to make Hell ready not only to go to war on foreign soil, but also to fight back should it see a grand war erupt in its own. Now, such a thing had happened. If his measures were sufficient, if his progress had been adequate, if his developments gave his forces enough of an edge, then Hell would prevail, and if not then perhaps it would fall. Only time would tell. He would have loved to go and help, but something told him that he would be doing his home dimension a greater service by staying here, where the greatest forces were congregating.

"Alea jacta est." He said with his eyes fixed straight ahead, closing his phone.

It was then that he heard the voice. A purple mist began taking a human form nearby, though the Demon Lord could tell that this entity was no Fae. It was something else. It held a golden watch in its hand, and slowly grew more and more complete, approaching him. Alastor raised an eyebrow upon hearing his remark about the Orc King, but then he felt something foreign intruding upon his thoughts. He frowned ever so slightly as the sensation left and Kronos made his comment, realizing what he had done and not appreciating it in the slightest.

"And what are you supposed to be, stranger? Very old, I imagine, given how the Orc King is long gone. What else?" He asked of the ancient.

Afterwards, he glanced at Crowley. "Welcome." He said to the formerly dead archangel and headmaster. "And welcome back."

[Nude East Ireland]

Vernil managed to duck under the roundhouse kick, lowering his head down to his knee and waiting for Oberon to land on his feet. Vernil had ducked in a way that both his sword and head were between Oberon's legs, allowing him to pull his upper body out from under them and slash his sword upward into the warrior's crotch. Though he wouldn't stop at the crotch; he used his strength to - hopefully - slash Oberon in two.

To help with this, he leapt off to the side down the table. This would turn his upward swing into an overhead swing. Its intend was for the blade to rise through Oberon and slice him in half, eventually ending up pointing towards where Vernil was facing, which was away from Oberon.

Vernil would rip upwards, his sword going through Oberon's crotch, before ultimately stopping right below the Fae's heart (or where his heart would be if he were human). He grabbed the sword in one hand, his eyes glowing with a sadistic glee as he ripped out the sword from his body, his wounds healing quickly.

As he had grabbed the sword, Vernil's leap backfired. Oberon threw the sword away, causing Vernil to go off spinning while Oberon shot a burst of blue light attacks at him.

Vernil, who had managed to land on the table, grabbed two of the blue blasts that Oberon had fired at him. However, two more hit the Prince, sending him flying backwards a few feet. He managed to stop, but fell to one knee, taking a heavy breath. He kept his eyes on Oberon, holding out both hands and standing up so that, when looked at from the front or back, he resembled a 'T'. The blue blasts of light he managed to grab were still in his palms, slowly shrinking as he absorbed their energy.

The Demonic Prince of the Song smirked.

---

Suddenly, in the presence of the Celes was an apparition of Vernil, in his human form resembling David Bowie. "Elfen High is in danger," he said quickly. "Come here at once. Find Crowley, he's alive. Give him all of the help you can. Whatever you do, do not fight the one in the black armour."

The apparition flickered, evidently unable to be present for much longer. "Hurry. The world needs Elfen High."

Then it was gone.

---

In Vernil's hands appeared two swords, their blades glowing with the same energy he had absorbed from Oberon's attack. He twirled the swords around, getting used to them, before beginning to approach Oberon.

And I heard, as it were, the noise of-

Suddenly, thunder. Lightning struck the table, just in front of Vernil and suddenly he was gone. Not even a second later another burst of lightning struck the table behind Oberon, and from that blast Vernil flew out and slashed at Oberon wildly and quickly, driving his opponent back as their blades clashed.

One of the four beasts sang, 'Come and see'. And I saw.

Oberon finally broke the furious advance of the Demonic Prince by grabbing one of the blades with his free hand, spinning and forcing his right side against the blade, snapping it in half and throwing the remains he held to the ground. Vernil quickly abandoned the hilt, grabbing the other sword with both hands as Oberon stepped forward and began to take mighty swings with his sword, causing small bursts of energy at the clash of the blades as Vernil's sword began to weaken. The Demonic Prince kicked ducked under one of Oberon's slashes, ramming his shoulder into the Fae King's stomach and summoning a ball of energy in his palm. He brought his palm to Oberon's stomach and fired a blast, sending his opponent into the air. Oberon flipped, landing on his feet at far end of the table.

And behold, a white horse.

Vernil grabbed the blade, snapping it off from the hilt, and leapt into the air. He threw the blade, which broke into many splinters in mid-air, all aimed at Oberon, who began sprinting along the length of the table narrowly avoiding the shards of energy that rained down at him, shrugging a good few off simply through his own endurance.

Vernil, in the air, had jumped as high as the ceiling, grabbing one of the metal supports and hanging from it. He pulled himself up, placing his feet against the ceiling and turning himself so that he was upside-down, looking at Oberon. He bent his knees and kicked outward, breaking the support and giving himself a long, metal pole. He flipped, landing on his feet and smashing the table in half and forcing each side to rise at an angle. Plates, glasses, goblets, all on the table slid down towards the centre, including Oberon, whose boots dug into the table and made tracks. Vernil began running up the table, which began to fall back to its horizontal position.

The two clashed in the centre of the falling table, Oberon's sword cutting through Vernil's metal pipe like butter. A turkey had fallen from the far side of the table, past Oberon. As it passed Vernil, the Prince grabbed it by the leg and spun around in a 360, smacking Oberon in the side of the face with the turkey. The King of the Fae was anything but amused, but both fighters were sent into the air when the table smashed against the ground.

Oberon landed on his feet, overturning bits of the floor. Vernil landed on his back, groaning in pain as he rolled over and struggled to get to his feet. Oberon, already at Vernil, sent his foot directly into the Demonic Prince's stomach, flipping him onto his back. Oberon lifted the same foot up and brought it down onto Vernil's knee, snapping right through the armour, skin, and bone, and driving his foot a few centimetres into the floor. Vernil's groans turned into screams at the loss of most of his leg, and with his hands he fired an incredible blast of energy into Oberon's head, engulfing his entire upper body and even breaking through the ceiling. Vernil rolled away, managing to grab onto a sword, which he threw at Oberon. The King stood for a moment, recovering from the energy blast when the sword embedded itself into his neck armour. He grabbed the hilt and ripped the sword out, tossing it aside and making his way to his opponent.

Vernil had pulled himself up onto his foot using the table as support. His leg healed, though he was still in pain. Oberon made a horizontal slash, intending to cut Vernil in half. The Prince narrowly avoided the blade, which embedded itself into the ground deep enough that it stood up without any assistance. Vernil took the opportunity to kick Oberon in the stomach, hard enough to force him away from his own sword. Leaping onto the table, Vernil then leapt at Oberon, throwing bicycle kicks at the Fae King, who recovered in time to block all of them. When Vernil landed, he ducked and began to punch at Oberon's stomach. His punching turned into a rapid flurry of attacks, barely visible because of their quickness. Oberon's armour began to chip away slightly, but would take some doing to entirely break through. The Fae King seemed almost amused, but that quickly turned into wrath as he grabbed Vernil's head with both of his hands and began to squeeze. Vernil's punching began to slow as his helmet crumpled like paper, blood spurting and gushing out of the small openings. Oberon's fingers finally caved the helm in entirely, bits of skin and brain flopping out and onto the floor.

The black dust form Vernil took began to form, escaping the armour in a last attempt to get away. He needed to retreat and regain his energy.

And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts.

The warrior saw this, and lunged at the smoke. To the surprise of all watching, Oberon grabbed the smoke as though it were a rope, and began pulling it back towards him. The cloud made thrusts into the air, but could not fight as it was pulled back. Oberon's blue eyes lit up as the sound of inhaling could be heard; the black cloud that was Vernil began to be sucked up into the openings in Oberon's helmet, barely able to escape.

And I looked and behold, a pale horse. And the name it said on him was 'Death'.

The face of Vernil's human form briefly appeared in the cloud of black smoke, as did his torso and arm, and he threw a blast of energy at Oberon, which smashed into the warrior's face, but did nothing more than force his head to a slight angle. The human form of Vernil reverted to a black cloud as it was entirely sucked into Oberon's helmet.

And Hell followed with him.

Oberon walked forward, stepping over the empty, bloodied armour, and grabbed his sword's hilt, ripping it from the ground and turning to continue his slaughter.

[Constaniana]

Yes we can. William replied, a grim grin coming to his face ever so slightly. He swung his sword upwards and sidestepped out of the Fae's charge, though his first action seemed like it had missed. "One...two..." The knight counted, wondering how long it would take for the Fae brute to notice holding his hammer was much more difficult all of a sudden. The reason for the Fae's struggle quickly became apparent when his fingers fell to the floor, followed by the warhammer, having been sliced clean off by Excalibur. Sir William relentlessly followed by kicking his knees out from under him, and grabbing the top of its head in his hands, tilting it painfully backwards to look at him. The vengeful Tyke made no sort of judgement or memorable one-liner; he simply chopped the head off and chucked it at the coloured wench trying to electrocute Hilde, hoping it would injure her, or at least distract the Fae enough for Hilde to cut it open a lot and kill it, which was all these monsters were good for.

With that taken care of he turned to look at the Fae who were trying to cook him. "Do you idiots not realise wool is wonderfully fire retardant?" Said William, now immensely grateful for the terrible Christmas sweater he was wearing "Oh, who am I kidding. Of course you don't. Those stupid little brains of yours are too dim to think about anything other than slaughter. At least, your friend there didn't look like she had much intelligent stuff in hers. Though maybe that was just a trick of the light as I dashed them against the floor with her own arm. Shall we see if you two are any better?" The knight was now grinning from ear to ear thinking of the impending violence. His green eyes bored into the Fae on the left side as he cast a small healing spell to repair what damage the Fae might have managed to inflict, and William took out his grappling gun, firing it at the elf he was looking at. As painful as having a metal hook burying itself in your chest might have been, what was undoubtedly worse was when Sir Nilark swung the gun to the right, hammering the Fae with his own comrade. "Well? Feeling a bit smarter since I put your heads together?" The knight asked, reeling the hook back in. "Eh, what do I care. Just hurry up and die," he continued, before firing radiant blasts at their chests.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Alastor took out his phone upon feeling it vibrate, flipping through the messages he'd received. Most of them were redundant announcements that the Fae had arrived in Hell as they had in Earth, much to his dismay. A few others occasionally contained useful information detailing what actions had been taken to preserve vital assets and fight back the Faerie invasion. One in particular, not belonging to that category, was completely full of gibberish and the closest thing to panicked cries that could be conveyed in text form, and the Demon Lord instantly knew who that was, facepalming. Either way, though, he knew they could fight back. Ever since he had become the Lord of Hell, he had made sure that there were measures in place to make Hell ready not only to go to war on foreign soil, but also to fight back should it see a grand war erupt in its own. Now, such a thing had happened. If his measures were sufficient, if his progress had been adequate, if his developments gave his forces enough of an edge, then Hell would prevail, and if not then perhaps it would fall. Only time would tell. He would have loved to go and help, but something told him that he would be doing his home dimension a greater service by staying here, where the greatest forces were congregating.

"Alea jacta est." He said with his eyes fixed straight ahead, closing his phone.

It was then that he heard the voice. A purple mist began taking a human form nearby, though the Demon Lord could tell that this entity was no Fae. It was something else. It held a golden watch in its hand, and slowly grew more and more complete, approaching him. Alastor raised an eyebrow upon hearing his remark about the Orc King, but then he felt something foreign intruding upon his thoughts. He frowned ever so slightly as the sensation left and Kronos made his comment, realizing what he had done and not appreciating it in the slightest.

"And what are you supposed to be, stranger? Very old, I imagine, given how the Orc King is long gone. What else?" He asked of the ancient.

Afterwards, he glanced at Crowley. "Welcome." He said to the formerly dead archangel and headmaster. "And welcome back."

Crowley gave a thumbs up. Then Crowley watched Vernil get quite brutally slaughtered, which got his full and undivided attention, as well as making himself nearly shit himself. He teleported the shit elsewhere rapidly, before it could come out of his arsehole.

---

Elsewhere, a stream of shit would fall upon Luis Suarez's corpse.

---

Kronos chuckled. "I am Kronos, the Titan of Time."

Crowley was very glad he had just relieved himself, and didn't need to do that again. He backed away slowly, eyes widening. "I think that things have just started to go southward." he muttered slowly, seeing that a few dozen Fae soldiers starting to approach. He made a whistling sound.

And a lorry suddenly barrelled through the auditorium, smashing through the soldiers. A Wisconsin license plate could be seen on it. Driving it, with a look of absolute rage against the universe and all it stood for, was Khana Krish, unleashing a primal scream.

Crowley snapped his fingers, causing a portal to open, bringing out soldiers from another world. "FOR THE POPE!" they cried out, swords pumped in the air as they busied themselves stabbing into some somewhat curious Fae. Their swords were generally made out of a very familiar substance - dragonscale. They had brought considerable extras. Crowley took one in his hand, tossing another to Alastor. He looked solemn and tired.

"Shall we cut up these bitches, then?" asked Sir Aleister Crowley.

Kronos' body solidified all the while, the torso done now. Just the legs left.

Oberon spoke again, sounding profoundly entertained by this. "Beautiful." he chuckled, ripping off the head of a foolish Papal State soldier who tried to stab him with a sword. "Absolutely beautiful."

[Nude East Ireland]

Oberon spoke again, sounding profoundly entertained by this. "Beautiful." he chuckled, ripping off the head of a foolish Papal State soldier who tried to stab him with a sword. "Absolutely beautiful."

On the far end of the room, there was a spark.

And a bang.

Another portal had opened, and out of it charged the cavalry. Literally; armoured men on horseback rode through the Fae crowds, slashing and impaling wildly. Soon following the horsemen were burly, hairy men wielding large axes. They began chopping down those that the cavalry had passed, screaming in a language that resembled Old English. But one word was recognisable.

"Godwin!" they cried, "Godwin!"

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Hilde gave a look of pure hatred at the differently caucasian Fae, evidently disturbed by the presence of an high-melanin non-human being. She held up her arms, and began to project razor-thin energy shields against the Fae, trying to block the lightnings and then slice through the creature. "Yes, I say that all the time because your kind is frankly disgusting, multiversal negress!"

Remember when Hilde was against racism based on skin colour?

Anyway, the Fae blocked her by creating a magical shield, in the shape of an actual circular shield. It made a clang when it connected against Hilde's own shields. The Fae then breathed fire directly on Hilde's face.

Yes we can. William replied, a grim grin coming to his face ever so slightly. He swung his sword upwards and sidestepped out of the Fae's charge, though his first action seemed like it had missed. "One...two..." The knight counted, wondering how long it would take for the Fae brute to notice holding his hammer was much more difficult all of a sudden. The reason for the Fae's struggle quickly became apparent when his fingers fell to the floor, followed by the warhammer, having been sliced clean off by Excalibur. Sir William relentlessly followed by kicking his knees out from under him, and grabbing the top of its head in his hands, tilting it painfully backwards to look at him. The vengeful Tyke made no sort of judgement or memorable one-liner; he simply chopped the head off and chucked it at the coloured wench trying to electrocute Hilde, hoping it would injure her, or at least distract the Fae enough for Hilde to cut it open a lot and kill it, which was all these monsters were good for.

With that taken care of he turned to look at the Fae who were trying to cook him. "Do you idiots not realise wool is wonderfully fire retardant?" Said William, now immensely grateful for the terrible Christmas sweater he was wearing "Oh, who am I kidding. Of course you don't. Those stupid little brains of yours are too dim to think about anything other than slaughter. At least, your friend there didn't look like she had much intelligent stuff in hers. Though maybe that was just a trick of the light as I dashed them against the floor with her own arm. Shall we see if you two are any better?" The knight was now grinning from ear to ear thinking of the impending violence. His green eyes bored into the Fae on the left side as he cast a small healing spell to repair what damage the Fae might have managed to inflict, and William took out his grappling gun, firing it at the elf he was looking at. As painful as having a metal hook burying itself in your chest might have been, what was undoubtedly worse was when Sir Nilark swung the gun to the right, hammering the Fae with his own comrade. "Well? Feeling a bit smarter since I put your heads together?" The knight asked, reeling the hook back in. "Eh, what do I care. Just hurry up and die," he continued, before firing radiant blasts at their chests.

One of the Fae did hurry up and die. The other realised that perhaps the fire wasn't working out too well, and instead looked down at the bleeding bodies of the fallen Fae. Instead of clotting like humans, they were crystallising. Soon, it would look like beautiful, frozen corpses.

The Fae clapped his hands together, the blood of his brothers solidifying quicker, morphing into crystal daggers that flew toward William's face.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Catching Crowley's motion out of the corner of his eye as he watched legions of otherworlders pour forth and battle against the Fae, Alastor deflty caught the dragonscale sword in his right hand, analyzing it for a moment and twirling it around before smiling ever so slightly.

"Why of course, good sir." He replied, planting his feet firmly on the ground and standing up.

However, he did not move from his spot in order to fight the Fae soldiers, no. Instead, he chose to go about it a different way. There, some distance in front of him, a Fae soldier had seen the Demon Lord stand. With the characteristic murderous glee shared by the rest of his species, the creature charged at what appeared to be little more than a classy black man in a suit. The consequences of his actions would reveal themselves soon enough, however. It only took a moment. A swing of the blade. Two ripples of darkness in the air. The glint of yellow light upon dragonscale, far from where the blade was supposed to be. One moment it took, and the Fae soldier's throat had been slit open, spraying its shimmering sanguine contents everywhere, without his enemy having moved an inch from his place. Another moment transcurred. A thrust forward. More ripples of darkness. The momentary obscuring of a blade painted azure. And suddenly, there was a sword-shaped hole in the warrior's chest, blue blood now leaking from here as well. And then, a final moment. A dozen slashes in the air. A dozen ripples of the dark. A dozen ephemeral lights.

In but three seconds, the soldier fell to the floor in pieces, a pool of cerulean matter slowly spreading from its remains.

Naturally, this did not go unnoticed amongst the surrounding soldiers, even in the wake of the violent battle that was taking place inside of the auditorium, and so, many Fae turned their attention to the sword-wielding Demon Lord in mortal disguise.

But that was not unexpected, and so Alastor continued brandishing his sword, his long reaching attacks tearing through the Faery warriors.

---

"Finally!" Lyra thought as she stopped the strange vehicle that had been left over by the odd cosplayers and subsequently commandeered by her. "A place I can recognize!" She smiled to herself, getting off of that thing to find herself standing in front of the door to the auditorium. There was a truck-sized hole in the wall a few feet nearby, but she didn't think that was too strange. She considered herself too civilized to use something like that as an entrace, anyway, so instead she opted to do what everyone else did and walked in through the door.

Immediately, she found herself facing a rather interesting scene: Elves. Lots of them. The same elves she had faced when she had been trying to help Merlin success in causing the Gotterdammerung. This chain of memories caused her to clutch her stomach with one hand, a reminiscence of the pain that had streaked through her being back then flaring up and causing her to suffer some more.

These elves were being fought by Alastor, Crowley, an army of strange papists with fancy-looking swords, and another army, this one consisting off... What the hell were those, anyway, Celts or something? The girl had no idea and she really didn't want to bother finding out, either.

But, nigh instantly, something stood out. There, behind this scene of war but still very much not in the background at all, was a man in black armor, the blue eyes of a maniac shining underneath the dark helmet, which appeared to have a crown of sorts fused to it. She remembered this man, too, she remembered him well. The death of Caspian was swiftly replayed in her mind, as well as the maiming of Damien, Lukas and Gabriel.

"W-wrong room." She muttered hurriedly, turning around and trying to run out only to hit herself on the head for not realizing the door had closed. Falling on her bum, she quickly turned around once again and, seeing the battle raging on and the man who was there, dragged herself to a corner and began drawing furiously, the level of composture she had shown in the Faery castle all but present at this point in time.

[Agritum]

Hilde gave a look of pure hatred at the differently caucasian Fae, evidently disturbed by the presence of an high-melanin non-human being. She held up her arms, and began to project razor-thin energy shields against the Fae, trying to block the lightnings and then slice through the creature. "Yes, I say that all the time because your kind is frankly disgusting, multiversal negress!"

Remember when Hilde was against racism based on skin colour?

Anyway, the Fae blocked her by creating a magical shield, in the shape of an actual circular shield. It made a clang when it connected against Hilde's own shields. The Fae then breathed fire directly on Hilde's face.

Hilde didn't exactly like black people, but in her mind they were a minor nuisance in comparison to the non-human threat. Also, publicly admitting that she didn't enjoy the company of high-melanin human beings would have undermined her political credentials. Of course, she resorted to hating the ever-living fuck out of black non-humans.


The black Fae was quite resistant, something which kinda pissed off the German homuncula. Hilde swiftly took a few steps behind and threw up a rectangular shield which was slightly curved towards the center. Her aim was to deflect the fire right in the Fae's face and have her be oisted by her own petard. To further this aim, Hilde also decided to shield-charge her like a riot cop.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Oberon spoke again, sounding profoundly entertained by this. "Beautiful." he chuckled, ripping off the head of a foolish Papal State soldier who tried to stab him with a sword. "Absolutely beautiful."

On the far end of the room, there was a spark.

And a bang.

Another portal had opened, and out of it charged the cavalry. Literally; armoured men on horseback rode through the Fae crowds, slashing and impaling wildly. Soon following the horsemen were burly, hairy men wielding large axes. They began chopping down those that the cavalry had passed, screaming in a language that resembled Old English. But one word was recognisable.

"Godwin!" they cried, "Godwin!"

Vernon looked on at all of this, holding his spoon-knife, jaw agape.

"You know, Nick," he said, "you've always had a talent for bullshit, but this is an accomplishment."

Vernon tightened his grip on his suitcase; a simple affair, brown leather, new. It had, in fact, been purchased only that morning for this exact purpose. For now, though, Vernon restrained himself - it would very likely not work on Oberon to begin with.

"Well, bye then!" he said with a short wave, before bursting off. He darted towards the feasting hall - or, as humans called it, the "cafeteria" - to find Ganesh. However, he arrived to find the doors locked with magics primordial. This did not stop him, of course, from trying the age-old spellbreaking techniques of swearing loudly and shaking the handle.

"Fuck!" he shouted, slamming his fist into the unyielding door.

---

"Fuck!" agreed Indra, his own fist bouncing off the other side. He turned to the other gods with a wild fear, looking about the forlorn faces, all confused. They were a long time from the war, and had grown very accustomed to thinking of themselves as, well, gods. How... how could this be happening?

"What do we..." Ares began to ask.

"Wait," Indra concluded, "and get ready for a fight."

"Don't you get it?" Ganesh snapped, "Don't you idiots get it? The King is come! Oberon's brought him back!"

Zeus's eyes widened, "You couldn't-"

"Father," Poseidon muttered.

"That can't be," Odin said, "Merlin sealed him. No one was stronger than Merlin."

"It wasn't just Merlin," Indra said, "There were others. Yahweh. Ganesh."

"We're all going to die!" Ganesh wailed, his screams subsiding to laughter, and his laughter subsiding to sobbing. All the other gods were silent, contemplating the Titan's return.

Caspian and Peter whatever blah blah blah.

Anyway, stuff. Important bit!

The message entered Peter's mind and his jaw dropped.

Ganesh had awoken Kronos, the Fae were coming, he had lived as Nicholas Carry, working alongside Vernon Cartwright

Suddenly, he was quite a bit younger, on a rooftop in Vegas, wind whipping through his hair, and Earl was pissing off the side of the building.

Peter walked shakily up to the edge and stared at the bodies. He then looked at the others and said emotionlessly, "He shouldn't have had to die."

He repeated it, this time with feeling. "He shouldn't have had to die."

Again, but louder. And again. He threw his head back and shouted, "Fuck you, G! Fuck you! Stop hiding where you can kill us off one by one but we can't touch you! Come out here and face us with honor! We aren't puppets to be thrown about willy-nilly and then thrown away when it's convenient for your goddamn plot!" He was crying and his face was red.

Caspian looked at him strangely and put a hand on Peter shoulder, calling him back to the here and now. He cocked his head to the side, eyes locking with Peter's, a question passing between them.

Peter said, "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to fucking kill him, for the second time! No, wait, both of them!"

"...Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight," Lewis said.

And that was when the bombs exploded beneath their feet, dropping the five into a pile of rubble three floors below. They sat about, dazed and deafened, atop a mountain of shattered cement. Strewn about them were shards of broken metal and crackling wires. Next to Caspian's head was a cracked metal face, glaring at him with the same animosity all of D's armors held towards the world. Before him, the crack grew, and the head fell in two halves.

Lewis rose coughing and bleeding from the explosion. He searched about and locating D, the boy's limp laying atop a chunk of floor, the knife still embedded in his wound. Black blood flowed from the boy's mouth and his eyes were closed tight as the embrace of Death. Wordlessly, breathlessly, Lewis Jameson scrambled towards the body of his son; his breath was shallow and heartbeat struggling, but existent. Lewis took D's head in his arms and for a long while, he stared down with utter horror.

And then something snapped. You can take anything from a man you like - his possessions, his home, his family, his life. Oh, you can take it, and you can push them, but everyone has a breaking point.

And when Lewis broke, something burned deep down inside his soul. The fires of anger woke the cold limbs of his corpse/

"We need to get back to the school," he growled, "No one is allowed to kill Oberon but me, do ye' understand?" He reached inside his coat and pulled out a roll-up Panama hat, which he pulled low over his face, the brim hiding his eyes.

"Ye'!" he shouted, "Money boy! You're some kind of fuckin' dragon now, right? My son is hurt. Get us home!"

[Nude East Ireland]

"...Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight," Lewis said.

And that was when the bombs exploded beneath their feet, dropping the five into a pile of rubble three floors below. They sat about, dazed and deafened, atop a mountain of shattered cement. Strewn about them were shards of broken metal and crackling wires. Next to Caspian's head was a cracked metal face, glaring at him with the same animosity all of D's armors held towards the world. Before him, the crack grew, and the head fell in two halves.

Lewis rose coughing and bleeding from the explosion. He searched about and locating D, the boy's limp laying atop a chunk of floor, the knife still embedded in his wound. Black blood flowed from the boy's mouth and his eyes were closed tight as the embrace of Death. Wordlessly, breathlessly, Lewis Jameson scrambled towards the body of his son; his breath was shallow and heartbeat struggling, but existent. Lewis took D's head in his arms and for a long while, he stared down with utter horror.

And then something snapped. You can take anything from a man you like - his possessions, his home, his family, his life. Oh, you can take it, and you can push them, but everyone has a breaking point.

And when Lewis broke, something burned deep down inside his soul. The fires of anger woke the cold limbs of his corpse/

"We need to get back to the school," he growled, "No one is allowed to kill Oberon but me, do ye' understand?" He reached inside his coat and pulled out a roll-up Panama hat, which he pulled low over his face, the brim hiding his eyes.

"Ye'!" he shouted, "Money boy! You're some kind of fuckin' dragon now, right? My son is hurt. Get us home!"

Damien was silent, but nodded. He took a deep breath, his wounds healing from the explosion. There was a moment of silence before a moment of deafening sound, and where Damien the human had stood before Damien the dragon now sat.

Hop on, let's go.

After they all climbed onto Damien's back, he shot upwards, smashing through the ceiling and straight into the unisex bathroom that had once terrorised the school years before. He returned to his human form, running to the door and looking through the hallway for any danger. "It's clear. The nurse's office isn't far from here. Caspian, Peter, stay behind Lewis. I'll take point. Anything too big for only one of us to handle, Lewis, you run and take him to the nurse. Or anywhere safe. Just get him healed."

He gripped his sword tightly, sighing. "Let's go."

[Nationstatelandsville]

"...Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight," Lewis said.

And that was when the bombs exploded beneath their feet, dropping the five into a pile of rubble three floors below. They sat about, dazed and deafened, atop a mountain of shattered cement. Strewn about them were shards of broken metal and crackling wires. Next to Caspian's head was a cracked metal face, glaring at him with the same animosity all of D's armors held towards the world. Before him, the crack grew, and the head fell in two halves.

Lewis rose coughing and bleeding from the explosion. He searched about and locating D, the boy's limp laying atop a chunk of floor, the knife still embedded in his wound. Black blood flowed from the boy's mouth and his eyes were closed tight as the embrace of Death. Wordlessly, breathlessly, Lewis Jameson scrambled towards the body of his son; his breath was shallow and heartbeat struggling, but existent. Lewis took D's head in his arms and for a long while, he stared down with utter horror.

And then something snapped. You can take anything from a man you like - his possessions, his home, his family, his life. Oh, you can take it, and you can push them, but everyone has a breaking point.

And when Lewis broke, something burned deep down inside his soul. The fires of anger woke the cold limbs of his corpse/

"We need to get back to the school," he growled, "No one is allowed to kill Oberon but me, do ye' understand?" He reached inside his coat and pulled out a roll-up Panama hat, which he pulled low over his face, the brim hiding his eyes.

"Ye'!" he shouted, "Money boy! You're some kind of fuckin' dragon now, right? My son is hurt. Get us home!"

Damien was silent, but nodded. He took a deep breath, his wounds healing from the explosion. There was a moment of silence before a moment of deafening sound, and where Damien the human had stood before Damien the dragon now sat.

Hop on, let's go.

After they all climbed onto Damien's back, he shot upwards, smashing through the ceiling and straight into the unisex bathroom that had once terrorised the school years before. He returned to his human form, running to the door and looking through the hallway for any danger. "It's clear. The nurse's office isn't far from here. Caspian, Peter, stay behind Lewis. I'll take point. Anything too big for only one of us to handle, Lewis, you run and take him to the nurse. Or anywhere safe. Just get him healed."

He gripped his sword tightly, sighing. "Let's go."

Lewis fired his shotgun into a faucet, which buckled and warped under the bullet, the bullet itself ricocheting off of the weaker metal and smashing against the ceiling, before clattering to the ground in a mangled circle of iron.

"I hate guns," he said with some satisfaction while reloading, "Fagboy in the silly accent, take his hands."

Lewis grabbed D by his feet and began to drag the boy behind him, a foot in one hand and shotgun in the other. One might question the intelligence in aiming a shotgun with one hand, assuming one was willing to risk sprouting a bullet in the face.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Remember when Hilde was against racism based on skin colour?

Anyway, the Fae blocked her by creating a magical shield, in the shape of an actual circular shield. It made a clang when it connected against Hilde's own shields. The Fae then breathed fire directly on Hilde's face.

Hilde didn't exactly like black people, but in her mind they were a minor nuisance in comparison to the non-human threat. Also, publicly admitting that she didn't enjoy the company of high-melanin human beings would have undermined her political credentials. Of course, she resorted to hating the ever-living fuck out of black non-humans.


The black Fae was quite resistant, something which kinda pissed off the German homuncula. Hilde swiftly took a few steps behind and threw up a rectangular shield which was slightly curved towards the center. Her aim was to deflect the fire right in the Fae's face and have her be oisted by her own petard. To further this aim, Hilde also decided to shield-charge her like a riot cop.

The Fae was shot by her own flame, which caused her to burn up slowly, and she screeched. The armour worn by the Fae started to scorch off, as it did not appear to be fireproof. She stopped breathing fire, but suddenly moved, placed her shield behind Hilde's and pulled back, causing both women to drop their shields. She grabbed Hilde and pulled her back for a kiss, causing her to drop the shield. Not only would this bit of sexual assault enrage Hilde for a vast variety of reasons, the Fae used it as an excuse to stab a glowing blue dagger into Hilde's stomach, pulling back while laughing manically, quite obviously deranged and in pain, like a crazed animal.

Hilde and William would see that the armour on the Fae had almost entirely burnt off - quite easy to kill off now.

[Astrolinium]

Damien was silent, but nodded. He took a deep breath, his wounds healing from the explosion. There was a moment of silence before a moment of deafening sound, and where Damien the human had stood before Damien the dragon now sat.

Hop on, let's go.

After they all climbed onto Damien's back, he shot upwards, smashing through the ceiling and straight into the unisex bathroom that had once terrorised the school years before. He returned to his human form, running to the door and looking through the hallway for any danger. "It's clear. The nurse's office isn't far from here. Caspian, Peter, stay behind Lewis. I'll take point. Anything too big for only one of us to handle, Lewis, you run and take him to the nurse. Or anywhere safe. Just get him healed."

He gripped his sword tightly, sighing. "Let's go."

Lewis fired his shotgun into a faucet, which buckled and warped under the bullet, the bullet itself ricocheting off of the weaker metal and smashing against the ceiling, before clattering to the ground in a mangled circle of iron.

"I hate guns," he said with some satisfaction while reloading, "Fagboy in the silly accent, take his hands."

Lewis grabbed D by his feet and began to drag the boy behind him, a foot in one hand and shotgun in the other. One might question the intelligence in aiming a shotgun with one hand, assuming one was willing to risk sprouting a bullet in the face.

Caspian and Peter looked at each other. Peter clapped his hand to the right side of his head, where his ear should have been -- an old wound gained during his youth in Las Vegas. A soft trickle of blood was leaking out, but he would deal with that later. For now, Caspian rolled his eyes and grabbed D's hands, helping Lewis drag him along.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Catching Crowley's motion out of the corner of his eye as he watched legions of otherworlders pour forth and battle against the Fae, Alastor deflty caught the dragonscale sword in his right hand, analyzing it for a moment and twirling it around before smiling ever so slightly.

"Why of course, good sir." He replied, planting his feet firmly on the ground and standing up.

However, he did not move from his spot in order to fight the Fae soldiers, no. Instead, he chose to go about it a different way. There, some distance in front of him, a Fae soldier had seen the Demon Lord stand. With the characteristic murderous glee shared by the rest of his species, the creature charged at what appeared to be little more than a classy black man in a suit. The consequences of his actions would reveal themselves soon enough, however. It only took a moment. A swing of the blade. Two ripples of darkness in the air. The glint of yellow light upon dragonscale, far from where the blade was supposed to be. One moment it took, and the Fae soldier's throat had been slit open, spraying its shimmering sanguine contents everywhere, without his enemy having moved an inch from his place. Another moment transcurred. A thrust forward. More ripples of darkness. The momentary obscuring of a blade painted azure. And suddenly, there was a sword-shaped hole in the warrior's chest, blue blood now leaking from here as well. And then, a final moment. A dozen slashes in the air. A dozen ripples of the dark. A dozen ephemeral lights.

In but three seconds, the soldier fell to the floor in pieces, a pool of cerulean matter slowly spreading from its remains.

Naturally, this did not go unnoticed amongst the surrounding soldiers, even in the wake of the violent battle that was taking place inside of the auditorium, and so, many Fae turned their attention to the sword-wielding Demon Lord in mortal disguise.

But that was not unexpected, and so Alastor continued brandishing his sword, his long reaching attacks tearing through the Faery warriors.

---

"Finally!" Lyra thought as she stopped the strange vehicle that had been left over by the odd cosplayers and subsequently commandeered by her. "A place I can recognize!" She smiled to herself, getting off of that thing to find herself standing in front of the door to the auditorium. There was a truck-sized hole in the wall a few feet nearby, but she didn't think that was too strange. She considered herself too civilized to use something like that as an entrace, anyway, so instead she opted to do what everyone else did and walked in through the door.

Immediately, she found herself facing a rather interesting scene: Elves. Lots of them. The same elves she had faced when she had been trying to help Merlin success in causing the Gotterdammerung. This chain of memories caused her to clutch her stomach with one hand, a reminiscence of the pain that had streaked through her being back then flaring up and causing her to suffer some more.

These elves were being fought by Alastor, Crowley, an army of strange papists with fancy-looking swords, and another army, this one consisting off... What the hell were those, anyway, Celts or something? The girl had no idea and she really didn't want to bother finding out, either.

But, nigh instantly, something stood out. There, behind this scene of war but still very much not in the background at all, was a man in black armor, the blue eyes of a maniac shining underneath the dark helmet, which appeared to have a crown of sorts fused to it. She remembered this man, too, she remembered him well. The death of Caspian was swiftly replayed in her mind, as well as the maiming of Damien, Lukas and Gabriel.

"W-wrong room." She muttered hurriedly, turning around and trying to run out only to hit herself on the head for not realizing the door had closed. Falling on her bum, she quickly turned around once again and, seeing the battle raging on and the man who was there, dragged herself to a corner and began drawing furiously, the level of composture she had shown in the Faery castle all but present at this point in time.

A cackling sound was heard behind Lyra, and then an Irish accent cheerfully said "Time to go bye-bye!" A hammer swung toward Lyra's face, quite ready to shatter it.

Meanwhile, Alastor would see someone else approaching - Oberon himself, moving through the crowd, calmly, slowly but very assuredly walking toward him like an unstoppable iceberg.

[Constaniana]

One of the Fae did hurry up and die. The other realised that perhaps the fire wasn't working out too well, and instead looked down at the bleeding bodies of the fallen Fae. Instead of clotting like humans, they were crystallising. Soon, it would look like beautiful, frozen corpses.

The Fae clapped his hands together, the blood of his brothers solidifying quicker, morphing into crystal daggers that flew toward William's face.

If we had lots of money in the budget this would be one of those bits with lots of cool slow motion and such. William weaved and ducked from the incoming blades, having quite a few close shaves with the crystal daggers, literally; several small clumps of the knight's fringe were sliced clean off. Then, he caught the last dagger in his hand. It actually managed to cut his palm open, coating the blade's edge in a thin layer of Grade-A English blood. The reckless act reminded William of when he had pulled a similar stunt back when Loki and the Butt Demons had raided the school, and William slew the demon that had attacked him with its own sword. In spite of the bloodlust coursing through his brain Sir Nilark found himself wondering what happened to that demon after it died. But, more importantly, he found himself wondering what the Fae was going to look like with this dagger embedded in its face.

"Magic blood daggers. Nice trick, I'll give you. Shame it won't do you any good, scumbag," President William stated, before rushing at it and driving the crystal blade in between the Fae's eyebrows. The euphoria he felt at his latest kill soon dissipated when he saw the black Fae kiss Hilde and stab her. The Yorkshireman walked over to the two ladies with the same sort of body language one might notice on a very angry doberman. He pulled the Fae arm holding the glowing dagger back, bending it to a position healthy arms generally weren't supposed to be in.

"That's enough out of you, you fenian home-wrecking tramp," William growled, "And for the record, this is how you stab someone," he clarified, before he ran Excalibur through the Fae's gut.