The Fall of Elfen High (IC, Closed)

[Nude East Ireland]

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

"Dover Beach"
By Matthew Arnold

Damien Seward kicked a small stone down the road, watching as it hopped its way along, before falling in one of the many large cracks in the pavement. The port city had been long-abandoned and destroyed, the towering home that the Seward fortune once built now in pieces along the beaches, among the rubble of old shops and homes, and floating still in the sea. His home was gone, as was his family and fortune. He was not alone, but it definitely felt that way.

His long coat fluttered in the wind that blew through the dead city, from a poison water that had blackened with pollution, from the rusted machines and shattered corpses that stood vigil over their own lost souls.

"This is our home; our sanctuary," his uncle had told him in his youth.

Some sanctuary this is now, the boy thought, a grim smile appearing and fading with the memory. Memories of abusive caretakers and a genocidal ideology, all kept alive by the spoils of slaughter. The Seward family was gone, and Damien acknowledged that this may not be an entirely bad thing. After all, his father and uncle had even tried to kill him during his time in Hell.

As he stepped over the debris, Damien saw heirlooms and trinkets, most of them old swords and guns, which had long turned to rust. "Decay" was the word that kept sliding through his head, as he observed the gutted carcass of his old home. He was unsure if he should feel heartbroken or relieved. So much gluttony and decadence. He was a changed man now; and what he once was disgusted him. He had vowed to make up for past sins, but he was having a difficult time finding a place to start. Wandering gave him chances to help some people in need; a blind man who needed healing, a widow who needed comfort. These helped, but Damien couldn't help but feel the need to do more. He stopped to observe an old set of rifles; their steel was now brown and coarse, their wood blackened and cracked. He took a deep breath, sighing at the sight.

"They were good weapons, in their time," said a voice from behind. It was a deep, rough voice - one of an older man. Damien turned to look at his sudden guest; a pale man, with black and unkempt hair, though short enough to be managed. He wore a black coat, a fine black suit and red tie underneath. His sunglasses reminded Damien of John Lennon, though he was fairly sure that Lennon had returned to Earth and began touring in Sweden at the time.

"Can I help you?" Damien asked.

The man scratched his chin. "I'm not sure that I am the one who needs helping," he replied. He walked forward, a slight smile appearing on his face.

"Do you know who I am?"

Damien took a moment, but shook his head. He had never seen the man before, as far as he knew.

"Your great-grandfather did," the man nodded, looking around at the devastation. "As did your grandfather and your father. The latter two did not know me personally, but your great-grandfather did. He tried to kill me."

Damien blinked. "You're a vampire? A werewolf?"

"The former," replied the man. "A very, very old vampire. Your great-grandfather, his friends, and his mentor stopped me from spreading vampirism to all of Great Britain. Then they cut off my head and destroyed my home with explosives. It was not the first time my head has been removed, mind you; the first time was the Turks, on Christmas Day of 1476. Sultan Mehmet held my skull in a glass case in his private quarters. He would take his women in front me and curse my name as he did. He was readying for a conquest in 1481, but by that time my body had snuck its way into the palace and I became whole again. Shortly after that, I poisoned him with my own blood and watched him croak."

"You... Are Dracula."

"I would have been surprised if you hadn't guessed, after hearing all of that," the old vampire said, letting out a chuckle. "Yes, yes, I'm that old beast your family has branded as their mortal enemy for some generations."

Damien shrugged. "You seem fine to me."

"I've had time to get over my more violent urges. Your friend, Crowley, helped me at times."

"I could say the time thing."

"Then I suppose we're at an understanding, Dr. Seward."

"I'm not a doctor."

"Ah. Sorry. Your great-grandfather was one of the most talented medical men of his age. As was his old friend, Professor Van Helsing."

"So," Damien said, scratching the back of his head, "What are you doing here?"

"I've come for you, Mr. Seward. Not to fight you, but to work with you. For years, I've been wandering through Earth and Hell, atoning for my past sins by helping those in need. A knight errant, of sorts. I have lived a long life, and seen many things; I have many contacts, and they have told me of you and your own struggle with the demons of your past. We appear to be in similar situations; powerful beings of inhuman nature, searching for a way to help others and wash our hands of our previous misdeeds. My long life of seclusion and isolation has led me to do desperate things in order to find companions - friends. At times, they have harmed others and myself. Now, I have come to offer you a chance to join me in my journey, and for me to join you in yours. We can find purpose together."

"I... I'm not sure what to say," Damien replied.

"I've grown accustomed to silence, Mr. Seward."

"Damien."

"Sorry. Damien."

The boy smiled. "Well. I suppose it's a long road."

"Longer than any that you've traveled before, I assure you."

"Then let's start walking."

And so they began to walk.

In life, there are times when we must push through the horrifying; times were simply waiting is not enough. Positive thinking and productive action must be taken in order to keep yourself in touch with yourself and others. It is easy to fall into depression and hopelessness; anyone can tell you that, but only those who have survived it can make you understand what it is like. Not only can depression be Hell, but life in general can be Hell. Nobody chooses to enter the world, it just happens. Perhaps life is a test, one we must pass in order to accomplish some kind of otherworldly goal. Maybe there is no meaning, and we're all accidents of nature. Maybe it just doesn't matter. But there is one certainty to life; you walk your own road. And you choose who walks with you or how fast you walk. You choose when to stop walking.

We all walk roads, and some of them are cracked and poorly maintained. But some of you have helped me see that the cracks can be jumped over or fixed. And I'm grateful. Some roads will split, some will cross again. But no matter what, it is clear to see that the roads you travel will be great ones.

Whether you like it or not.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

The man sits in his chair, fidgeting.

“You’ll need to talk to me, Rick.” says the other voice, a female voice, quiet, detached, professional. The man nods. He does not answer. He opens his mouth as though to speak to the person across him, but he does not make a sound. His mouth hangs uselessly for a second, then it closes again.

The therapist sighs, crossing her legs and looking at her subject. “You need to talk, eventually.” she says, gently. “It’ll need to happen. I get paid by the hour, but I want to help”

“I know.” comes the response. They sit quietly again. The therapist looks at the man, and scribbles down in her notebook.

“Do you know what it’s like to see the dead?” the man asks suddenly. “Not to just see a dead man in a casket at a funeral. But to actually see a dead man, and know he’s dead because of you.”

“I don’t.” says the therapist, apologetically.

“It’s not an experience you want.” says Rick, his face hardening. “The body smells. It rots. The stench...more than anything, that can be brutal. You don’t realise it at first, not the full enormity. But all men have family and friends. No matter where you are.”

“You were a soldier, Rick.” The therapist reminds him. “Nobody blames you. Not for anything. What ever was done in war is forgivable.”

Rick looks tired and disgusted. “That’s wrong. There’s at least one person who does.:”

That hung in the air for a minute as they were silent again. “How can I help you, Rick?” asks the therapist quietly. “Any way I can. We’ve met three times now, and this is the most you’ve ever said at once.”

“It’s where a lot of this began.” Rick sighs. “I need to go through that first. I need to forgive myself.”

“Only you can forgive yourself, Rick.” the therapist says kindly after a moment. “Please, just talk to me. Then we can help you achieve self-forgiveness.”

But the man shakes his head. “Not now, Sally. Not now. I’ll come back next week.” he stands up slowly, his tall frame towering over the younger woman, but he stays in a permanent crouch. “It’s...it’s too raw. I have too much right now. But next week I will.”

“Rick, there’s no sense coming here if you won’t open up.” Sally says, looking worried.

“There is. I promised a friend I would, a better man than me, his last request to me.” says the old soldier. “And I have honoured that. And one day, I will talk. But not today.”

With a nod, Rick leaves. And the therapist looks at the check he leaves behind, again giving her double the amount he was supposed to give.

I watch this all happen, as I watch everything happen.

Silently, I am everyone's companion. I stand at your shoulder, walking alongside you. If you look, then you'll see my footprints next to you your whole life. And then, at the end, your footprints stop but mine continue.

I watch Rick Sanchez step out into the New York City traffic, quiet. He wears a hoodie, covering his face. He will return back to his home, a small apartment in a fairly nice complex. Daisuke Taka found him the place, and the ISSR pays for it, a stipend for a man once considered the saviour of the world. Now he has something like that reputation still, but far lesser while that of Aleister Crowley grows.

Sanchez knows this, as of course he does. And this is made even more apparent to him when he walks down the sidewalk, another man in the crowd. Then he hears something, a mother's voice.

"Aleister!" comes a scolding female voice in a New Yorker accent. "Come back here! Aleister!"

The voice turns scared now, terrified. A three year old child now stands in the street, a lollypop in one hand. He ran away from his mother as children do, and now is staring down a large truck headed straight for him, the driver hitting the brakes but unable to stop on time, his horn blaring while the child remains scared and frozen, crying in the street.

Sanchez's attention was drawn by the name. It was not too unusual - Aleister had become a common name after the archangel saved all of mankind, spreading like a virus amongst people who wanted to name their children for that hero.

But he saw the child standing in the street. He saw the truck coming. And he saw something else that he could do.

I watch impassively. I know, or I can guess very well, what will happen. The only thing now is to make sure that I'm ready to collect and comfort.

Sanchez, as he would, leaps in front of the truck and pushes the child away. To my surprise, he does not stay for the truck to hit him too. He too prepares to run away from the oncoming lorry.

It is too late. The horrified driver watches as the six foot tall Puerto Rican is hit by his eight wheeled machine of death. He was dead before the truck could even begin to stop. The driver breaks down at the wheel of his stopped truck, crying and weeping, horrified. He opens the door of the truck, getting out.

The first thing he felt was the smell as he looked at what was once Ricardo Gabriel Sanchez. He shuddered and threw up, led away by sympathetic officers who arrived at the scene, who had seen what had happened.

"Who is this man?" asks one officer as Sanchez's spirit rises.

"A hero." the New Yorker woman says, holding her Aleister close. "That's what he is to us."

I let Sanchez hear this as he looks at me, and sees the city around him start to fade from his vision. "Is that all?" he asks quietly. "Is that how I end?"

"THIS FORM OF YOU AT ANY RATE.." I tell him. "BUT YOU WILL GO ON.."

"I'm very tired. I'm not sure I want that." he sighs, sitting down on nothingness. "I was not a good man."

"I CAN'T MAKE A JUDGEMENT.." I reply. "THAT'S FOR OTHERS TO DO. AND I THINK ONE FAMILY HAS, AND HAS DECIDED YOU MAY BE.."

Sanchez gives an exhausted smile. "One Aleister, eh? I did good by one. Christ, he was three or something. It's been three years after that whole thing, he must have been named right after the whole series of events. Three years and all I've done is sit and eat and shit and sleep, frozen."

I remain silent as Sanchez talks. "Even before that, what did I do? I had it all, sure, but what was that worth? I was a terrible leader. I was a terrible man."

I remain silent.

Sanchez is silent now too. "But I did that. I did that last thing. And I guess that's something." he says.

"IT IS SOMETHING." I agree.

We stand now elsewhere, in a desert. Sanchez looks around. "What is this place?"

"A DESERT. I LEAVE YOU HERE. YOU WILL WALK."

"What's at the end?"

"JUDGEMENT. AND REBIRTH. GOODBYE, RICK SANCHEZ."

Rick Sanchez nods. And then he is gone.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"I am proud." said the President on television. "Proud now of this Supreme Court decision that allows sentient non-humans and humans to marry each other. Love is love, and it is regardless of how we feel about it."

Vladimir looked up at his soon to be husband, beaming. "It's done, Aleister."

"Took enough time." muttered the twenty five year old human, his mind already on other thoughts. Support had been growing for this for some time, after all. It was almost inevitable. "There's still other stuff, you know. Harassment keeps going on, and non-humans like you are still underrepresented in media and..."

Vladimir shut his boyfriend up with a kiss. After a pause, Aleister kissed his vampire boyfriend back. "Alright alright." he laughed. "Let's celebrate. Let's get going to Harry's. Apply your sunscreen." he warned Vladimir, who rolled his eyes.

They stepped outside, the Californian sun shining down upon them. The New Yorker squinted, wondering if his namesake had ever expected this would happen when he saved the Omniverse twenty eight years ago. All sorts of beings interacting happily on their lawns in this suburb of Jasper, California. Still a town though now it was a large and diverse city, with Aleister and Vladimir barely getting a sound glance as they walked happily together, hands held.

The civil engineer had come here to help accommodate migrants. Jasper benefited from San Francisco's technology boom, and some people returned from Purgatory occasionally to live here, bringing their old customs here and needing housing. The younger generation sometimes wanted to see the land of their fathers, though some then muttered how they couldn't wait to go back, though they were putting down roots.

Cheers and woots were heard throughout the neighbourhood, and people walked outside with beers and joints in hand, enjoying this new world. "Guys, can you believe it?" a shirtless Javier, a neighbour of Aleister and Vladimir laughed. "Equality, bitches!"

"He's stoned." muttered Aleister.

"Half the state is." pointed out his boyfriend of two years, to which Aleister had no counterargument but a chuckle and a nod.

"That's true. And I saw you checking Javier out."

"I did not!"

"Did too. I saw it." teased Aleister.

They knocked on the door of Harry's house, and the half-demon greeted them with joy. "Dudes!" the demon said, hugging his friends. "I'm so glad you guys made it, you saw what happened right?" he grinned ear to ear. "Fuck yeah, Supreme Court!"

"How drunk are you already, Harry?" Aleister asked, sounding amused.

"Not fucking enough, man. Not fucking enough. Come on!" he waved his friends in. Aleister and Vladimir followed in, accepting the offers of drinks and hugging old friends. Harry turned around suddenly. "Hey, umm...let's keep this low key, everybody. No posts on Facebook and stuff. My dad will call, and he'll be really, really disappointed I'm not being a good Mormon and we''ll get a fight again."

"My concern for your dad's feelings about you is as fake as your religious conviction." Aleister snarked. "Don't worry, I won't do anything." he chuckled. "Drink away, you shitty, shitty, shitty Mormon."

The friends chatted for hours, happy and content, the pleasant buzz of alcohol and weed in them. Harry suggested switching the TV to the cricket match between Sri Lanka and South Africa, but was rebuffed by his friends. "We're Americans, Harry. Nobody gives a fuck about cricket." Vladimir said bluntly.

A noise was heard outside the apartment, as Aleister stood up to investigate. "Probably fireworks." he said, assuring his friends. "I'll check it out."

Sprawled on the couch, Harry gave him a thumbs up, cuddling his werewolf girlfriend Allison. Aleister put the joint he had been rolling in his mouth as he walked outside, to see an unexpected sight.

A tall black man, holding out a knife, a dead man at the end of it. Aleister opened his mouth to scream, but the man looked suddenly at him with piercing eyes. "This is not something you should get involved in." His voice was kind but firm, and Aleister felt himself listening. "This is not something you need to deal with." He pulled his knife, and blue blood gushed out of the man, and Aleister understood what that was. Everyone knew what that colour blood meant. "I will clean up the mess. Don't be concerned - some leftover Fae and other creatures stagger about. I deal with them."

"Who are you?" Aleister asked.

A pause. "A man with amends." he said finally. "And you?"

"Aleister. Aleister Mears." the man had found his voice. "From New York. Moved out here because I had a degree in civil engineering and Jasper needed a lot more housing built to accommodate the new migrants coming here for the Computer Science industry and the ISSR base and-"

"Aleister." a chuckle. "Well, that's a common name now, hmm?" The black man looked at Aleister. "Enjoy your life, Aleister. Live it well and remember your namesake. And forget this from your mind. Live safely. Live well."

Then the black man and the dead body disappeared. And Aleister stared at the darkness that remained, before walking back to tell his friends it had just been fireworks.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

I want you by my side
So that I never feel alone again

"This place feels odd." murmured Calliel. "We shouldn't be here."

"It's Las Vegas, Calliel." Ivy scolded. "It's not going to be Heavensgate, not by any means." The former student of Elfen High looked radiant in a flowing white dress, while Calliel looked handsome in his tuxedo. However, while Ivy was socialising well in this ballroom with various heads of state, Calliel was fidgeting. "Far too much alcohol for any sane person." he muttered, casting a judging glance at a man walking by with a whole bottle.

They've always been so kind
But now they've brought you away from me
I hope they didn't get your mind
Your heart is too strong, anyway

The music played overhead while Calliel and Ivy continued talking at this function for delegates and diplomats of various nations. As head of Heavensgate, Calliel's presence was expected, as was that of his wife's. It was a good place to network and socialise, which Calliel was not necessarily the greatest at doing. But he did try.

"Your best friend is Laz." Ivy replied, taking her husband's hand.

"I said any sane person." Calliel corrected her, feeling more at ease now, and even smiling back at his wife. "And he doesn't precisely fit that, hmm?"

"Where is Laz?" asked Ivy. She didn't entirely approve of her husband's odd friendship with the demon, but she also knew Laz didn't entirely approve of her, so that was alright. They coexisted, happy that the other made Calliel happy.

"I asked him to consume a cannabis edible." Calliel said, looking around. "He is now in deep talks negotiating a trade deal with the ambassador of Lesotho on behalf of Heavensgate. Did you know Laz has a degree in Economics?"

"Laz acquired that degree by drunkenly punching an American in the face while Mr. Crowley watched, and after that poor man merely said he didn't understand cricket."

"It's higher education than either of us have." Calliel said seriously. "I never attended a school, and you dropped out."

"I died, Cal."

"That too."

We need to fetch back the time
They have stolen from us

Ivy glanced around, seeing that quite a few were dancing in the centre of the floor. She tugged her husband along, and Calliel followed with a puzzled expression. "Let's dance."

Calliel didn't hesitate as he once might have. He placed a hand on Ivy's back. "My lady."

"My lord."

I want you
We can bring it on the floor
Never danced like this before
We don't talk about it
Dancing on, do the boogie all night long
Stoned in paradise
Shouldn't talk about it

This was a love that had been a difficult one. From the beginning it was hard, beginning with Ivy's death. And then it went through hell, stillbirth, androids, everything. But she came back to him. She always would. And he always would.

Calliel gave a beautific smile. "Ivy...I am with you. I will carry you through it all. I won't leave you, I will catch you every time. I promise you that no matter what happens, you won't be alone." he said, hugging her deeply. It was a very human gesture, hugging. It always had been. "I love you, Ivy Green. I am here and so are you. And that's why I married you." He said, kissing her gently, repeating the words he had said so long ago when he first proposed.

And, again, that's all that could be said.

A chapter had ended and a new one could begin from this. Love and loss were always parts of life. Life isn't perfect, after all. Life doesn't get perfection. Perfection is anathema to the concept of truly living and feeling, as the very existence of the angels had proven. But perfect moments...people didn't get many perfect moments. But perfect moments happen, and a perfect moment is when the universe as a whole becomes better in some small way. A perfect moment is a drinking father finally throwing a bottle in the garbage with the intention of not reaching back in. A perfect moment is a young man meeting his childhood hero.

A perfect moment is two young and true lovers enjoying the loving calm before the storm. A perfect moment is when a man who never knew love meets a broken girl who desperately needs it. A perfect moment is when they both know the darkness of the past, but are willing to go into the darkness of the future, provided they do it together. A perfect moment is when the darkness turns bright when they both walk into it.

This was a perfect moment. And in some small way, the universe was a better place to be.

And they had now had at least two. And they would have many more.

Shouldn't talk about it

Coldest winter for me
No sun is shining anymore
The only thing I feel is pain
Caused by absence of you
Suspense controlling my mind
I cannot find the way out of here

I want you by my side
So that I never feel alone again

Calliel saw someone in the distance, a woman watching. He set Ivy down from their dance. "I'll be right back." he told her, giving her a final twirl, to the delight of the woman who had never truly been a girl.

He approached the woman. "Lust."

"Calliel." the woman said sensuously. But tired. Unfocused.

"A drink?"

"You drink?" Lust raised an eyebrow. "When did this start?"

"No, I don't. But it's considered polite in American human culture to offer people a drink in situations and locations like this. So I will offer you one and not partake myself."

Lust gave a smile. "A drink would be lovely."

Calliel took a glass of water, Lust a glass of red wine, and they sat on two stools facing each other.

"He's not here anymore." Calliel said simply. "Az. He left some years ago."

"I know." Sadness, perhaps? Was that it in her voice? Calliel wasn't sure. He could hardly read people though he was getting better. This demon was even more of an enigma than humans, and humans were baffling beings. Calliel frowned. He still considered them separate. That was wrong. There were no more angels, after all. They were all human now. And that worked.

A new generation was growing up in Heavensgate. A much more emotional generation, one willing to challenge the norms of the past, one less ready to just listen to authority. A lot of the elders were scandalised by this, but felt themselves changing too. All they could do was ride the wave.

And ride the wave Calliel had, adapting to any situations and scenarios that arose. It was exhausting and tiring dealing with this, breaking down the walls in Heavensgate and integrating the demons and other humans into society, making Heavensgate a multicultural society rather than a segregated one.

It was hard. There were revolts. Riots. Protests. Domestic terrorism.

But there was love. Joy. Happiness. Calliel saw a former angel holding hands and kissing a demon the other day, and he felt that justified everything. Well, it justified everything until a drunk Laz offered to kiss him too "in the interests of world peace", at which point Calliel suddenly and briefly understood where Uriel had been coming from.

"Where do you live, Lust?" Calliel asked. "Genuine question. I see you frequently at these things and other places, and my friends have as well. What do you do?"

"I go here and there." was the vague response.

"You miss him?" He asked quietly. They didn't have to wonder who. There was no response. "Go to Purgatory, Lust. He's there. He might want to see you too. But it's your decision and yours alone. I just feel you might want that."

There was a long silence. "I was created by Azazel, long ago. Just to serve him, do his bidding, so on." Lust said. "There's a history behind my creation, but honestly it's a long one and not worth telling now. But I was enslaved until one day I wasn't. The freedom was exhilarating. It still is. But one day, when it isn't...well, one day I may go to Purgatory."

Calliel held out a hand. "A dance?"

"Why?" Lust asked mockingly. "Because it's custom to do this in American human culture?"

"Yes."

"Go to your wife, Calliel." Lust replied. "I don't want to steal this dance."

Calliel nodded, returning to Ivy Green. And they danced.

I want you
We can bring it on the floor
Never danced like this before
We don't talk about it
Dancing on, do the boogie all night long
Stoned in paradise
Shouldn't talk about it

Shouldn't talk about it

---

"Now, you see..." Laz explained to the ambassador, Michael Sato. "This is in your best interests, mate." They looked over some complicated paperwork, listing terms and conditions. Sato seemed nervous.

Laz was happy. This was a step up from being janitor, something that was now given to various students at Elfen High. It was a dangerous task, sure, but it would give good education and expertise. This job gave Laz the ability to have as much weed, alcohol, women (and occasionally men) as he needed. It was thrilling. It was great. And he would never be outsmarted by a broom again.

"You've made a good case, sir, but I still need to discuss this with my supervisors-"

"Weed?" Laz offered a pipe. "It's pretty kickass stuff."

"Are you offering me cannabis in the middle of an international, interdimensional business agreement?"

"Yeah. Something wrong?"

"You got your own lighter or should I get out mine?"

[Zarkenis Ultima]

A melodious but frail voice at the twilight of life could be heard speaking softly inside the room.

"Oh, yes, that day. I remember it as if it was yesterday..."

It was a cool winter morning; on the northern half of Earth, at least. But I wasn't there that morning. I had wanted to take a small trip after designing a new engine for the ISSR spaceship model, and I had decided to visit some old friends in our Hell, so that morning I was at Hell's Garden, a park of sorts right in the middle of Pandaemonium, Hell's capital city, which was built to replace Dys after the Abrahamic War and contiinued to grow under Alastor's rule. Hell had prospered quite a bit under his rule even back then, really, especially after he married the Queen of another Hell. I've only heard stories of how it was before he seized power, and it's a paradise in comparison. But anyway, Hell's Garden is a very beautiful place, full of trees with leaves of many colors and all sorts of exotic plants. I'm pretty sure I've shown you all the drawings I made of it, oh, and Lillia, you've probably seen it yourself. I heard it was a wedding gift of sorts from the Demon Lord to his wife Alia, which goes to show love can literally trascend our reality.

Where was I? Oh, yes. I was at Hell's Garden talking to a friend who saved me a couple times during the war ten years ago, Ciel Taka, who was good friends with the Queen of Both Hells, apparently. You've probably heard of her; she quickly monopolized production of cannolies across the world. She introduced me to her child, though I was rather confused when she said she and her husband were expecting another, since she didn't seem pregnant at all. I chatted a long time with her, and also with the King of Both Hells, who was my old teacher at Elfen High, as you know. He had plenty of children too, I lost count of how many, to be honest. Lisa, you're engaged to one of them, aren't you? Yes, yes you are. I'm sure you'll be very happy together, he's a good man.

It was a pleasant morning at Hell's Garden, but like most things, it had to end- Oh, don't make that face, Liam. Come on, smile for your mother. See? That's much better. Anyway, I had a busy schedule with my new job as an ISSR engineer, and when I received a call about an urgent meeting with the rest of my team, I had to leave. Fortunately, as I was saying farewell to my friends, the Demon Lord offered to teleport me back to the center of Paris, so I wouldn't have to walk very long to get to the office.

What I didn't expect, though, was that it was raining in the city when I arrived. The streets were empty and the clouds were pouring waterfalls on the City of Lights, so I quickly put myself under the cover of the overhang of the entrance of a nearby restaurant and pulled out my notepad to draw myself an umbrella. From where I stood, I could see that it would only be a few blocks until I reached the office, so I began leisurely walking there while appreciating the sight, because Paris, as I had found out long ago, was a very beautiful city under the rain, though the numerous puddles weren't quite as beautiful.

As I walked, though, I noticed someone following me. At first I didn't pay him much attention; surely he's just another person with an unfortunately-timed appointment, I told myself. But soon I realized that wasn't it at all, and he seemed to notice as well, because he started catching up. I tried to pull out my notepad and draw a weapon to defend myself with, but my luck was such that I stumbled and dropped it on a puddle, making it useless. I stood there in shock for a moment before turning around, only to see that my stalker was right next to me by now. He was a werewolf- yes, Lillia, just like in the song, though this one was far less friendly. Most of them were adapted to society by now, but this one clearly wasn't, so I brought up my umbrella to try to defend myself, while shouting for help, because I knew I couldn't fight off that thing on my own. All my life I've been an artist and a designer; I was a soldier once, but never really a fighter, though I wasn't too bad with that umbrella, for some reason.

It still made a poor weapon, though, one that the werewolf easily tore apart after a bit, but just as I was going to try to bite my finger and draw something else to defend myself with, a bolt sailed past my head and into the creature's chest. It screamed before collapsing to the ground, and I winced at the sound, the death throes of a beast are not very pleasant to hear, after all. I was confused, wondering who had saved me, but then I saw him, wearing that silly red cape of his. His blond hair was long back then, tied up in a ponytail, but his moustache was just as absurd as it was eight years ago. To me he looked perfect, though. To me, he always looked perfect.

"Silver-tipped crossbow bolts, they never fail putting down these beasts. Oh, some werewolves think that it's unfair for us to keep these in stock when they're trying their best to blend in with our society, but what do they have to say about these incidents, hmm? Ah, but where are my manners. I am Alexei, a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle. I hope that this beast has not caused you too much trouble."

Don't laugh, Lisa. Yes, that's exactly what your father said, and he even bowed to me at that last part. I was speechless, barely able to thank him and say my name. I must have been blushing furiously as well, because he caught on instantly and offered to walk me home, saying that I was probably scared after such an incident and that it would be very ungentlemanlike of him to refuse to offer his support during such time, that sort of thing. His boss and some of his associates appeared soon after, though- Yes, Lisa, I'm talking precisely about that man. I probably wouldn't have noticed him there, focused as I was on trying not to make a fool of myself in front of your father, but I recognized him. I recognized that steely gray hair of his, that stern gaze, the aura of power that seemed to surround that man at every moment.

Oh, yes, the machine gun tipped me off, too.

I think he recognized me too, because he did a double take and then told Alexei not to take too long in heading back, instead of taking him away with the rest of his apprentices and going back to the Society's headquarters. Your father looked at him, nodded, and then turned to me with a smile, offering his hand. I was still surprised from having met that man in Paris, it was a stunning coincidence, but either way, I smiled back and took his hand as we started walking back towards my apartment, chatting awkwardly at first but warming up to each other very quickly.

I nearly got fired that day, but to this day I still look at you and tell myself it was worth it.

"And that's the story of how I met your father. I know I've told it a lot, but I felt like telling it again." The voice concluded with a tiny laugh.

But then came the coughing. Lyra's health was quite fragile now. She was old, after all. The hair on her head was still white, but now it was thin, frail, and her skin was wrinkled and creased, though she smiled even through all of this, she smiled for her children, who sat beside her as she lay in bed.

Three in total, they were. Two of them women, and one of them a man. Lisa, Liam, and Lillia were their names. Liam and Lisa were twins, nearly identical to each other, one sporting short hair and the other long. They took after their father in both looks and hair color, though they had Lyra's eyes. Lillia, however, was the living image of her mother when she was younger. She had the same soft features, the same white hair. She was the youngest of the three, being five years younger than her siblings. All of them were Lyra's beloved children, though all of them had lives of their own by now.

Liam had taken after his mother, in a sense, as he was a world-renowned artist, famous for his uplifting depictions of how the world was progressing, having healed after the myriad of wars and destructive conflicts Earth and Hell and the other realms had gone through in the past several decades, wars that he had not seen, but whose longer-lasting effects he was able to observe. He had been in many a relationship, but none of them lasted very long due to his fleeting nature, and so, he remained alone. A new muse had visited him as of late, however, so perhaps that was the one?

Lisa on the other hand, had taken after her father Alexei. Alexei had taken the mantle of leader of the Slayer Society after the death of the first High Executioner and founder of the society, Frederick, and now, that same mantle had fallen on Lisa's shoulders, as her father had died eight years earlier in an unfortunate accident. Whereas her twin brother was emotional and artistic, she was stoic and sarcastic, making many a person wonder how they could look so similar yet be so different. Years of leading an order of hunters of supernatural threats to humanity had hardened her, though she still had a soft side, as evidenced by her engagement to Aldurn, twenty-seventh prince of Hell.

Finally, the youngest, Lillia, had taken a far simpler path than either of her siblings, settling down in Pandaemonium and setting up a convenience store. She was fairly successful in her endeavors, simple as they were, and lived comfortably in the capital city of Hell, dating a police officer. She was also the only one among her siblings to have inherited Lyra's gift, as even though the others had some of her artistic savvy, she was the only one who could will art into existence. Of course, her mother had taught her extensively about the uses of this power and the responsibility of having it, and Lillia was a woman of strong morals, so she never abused her power, and only used it for the benefit of her community.

All of them sat beside Lyra on that day, that fateful day when her story finally came to an end.

They spoke for a moment- Hours, perhaps, but it was but a moment, an instant in her long life. But then, her children looked at her with sadness. They had displayed remarkable emotional fortitude in the face of such an event, as it had been long in coming and she had discussed it extensively with them, mitigating the impact, but even then, she could read the great pain they bore by just looking at their faces. None of them said anything anymore, and she wondered why, but then, after a moment, she understood everything.

There was a fourth figure beside her.

"I TRUST YOU HAVE LED A GOOD LIFE?" The fourth figure asked. Lyra nodded, a smile on her face.

"I know that this is probably the last thing you expected to hear, but it's nice to see you again." The old woman stated. It was Death's turn to nod.

"I DID NOT EXPECT THAT, NO." The shrouded figure conceded. "ARE YOU READY TO COME WITH ME, LYRA?"

"Yes, I am. But could you give me just a moment?" She said as she sat up on her bed- a feat that she would never have been able to accomplish in her frail state, had she still been alive. But this was only her soul now.

"IF YOU WANT MORE TIME WITH YOUR FAMILY, I'M AFRAID I CAN'T-" Death began, but was swiftly interrupted by the old woman's giggling.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. I have had more than enough time, thanks to many people, you among them. No, what I wanted was to give you a parting gift." She said.

Death paused. "A PARTING GIFT?"

"Yes, a parting gift. I imagine your job is very lonely, and while I can guess you have grown accustomed to it, I still want to ease your burden, if I can. Of course, if you don't want to think of this as charity, then you can think of it as me replacing what I once gave you." Lyra said. Then, she pulled a white crayon from behind her ear. Nobody ever noticed it there, concealed as it was by her snowy hair, but she always kept it there, right up until her death. She knew it would be useful to her one day, and indeed, it was.

Using this white crayon, she drew something on Death's somber cloak, and willed it into reality. A humanoid figure, of stony skin to withstand eternity, with long strands of hair black as Death's hood, and bright beads of glass for eyes.

"It can make terrific tea." She smiled, recalling a servant she had long ago, a servant that Death was well acquainted with. "It is bound to you now, so it can be with you forever." Her smile grew wider. She had helped a friend.

"We can leave now."

And so, Lyra left this world with a smile.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

The streets of Pandaemonium were bustling with activity, as they always were. Merchants, artists, guardians and scientists of various backgrounds were coming and going through the soil of the great city that sat in the heart of Hell, the pride of an empire and the child of its emperor. Truly, the city had lived up to its name. It was certainly not the abode of all demons, no, but it had fast become a synonym for 'home' to many demons throughout Earth and Hell both. Long it had been a beacon of light for the denizens of hell, a paragon of progress, a source of inspiration. A symbol that united demonkind.

For this, Alastor was glad. As the Demon Lord, he was certainly a symbol that united demonkind, for he was the conqueror of Hell, and its mender. Hero, savior, lightbringer, he had been called these things and more, for he had raised his kind from the darkness, and for that they were grateful. Indeed, he was a symbol to all of them, and he would likely be remembered for a long time. Not forever, because such things were impossible, for one day even the last man to remember him would have to die off, but a long time? That was for granted, and a long time was enough for him, no more was needed.

Yet, flesh and bone, so fragile, make poor symbols. Corruptible symbols. Destructible symbols. A single demon could not hold all of Hell together forever, and though he had worked miracles to help his people, the Demon Lord would eventually fall, sooner or later, like all creatures. He would fall, like even the mighty Leviathan fell. But now, thanks to his efforts, there was another. Another symbol for demonkind to look at when he was gone. Another symbol to hold them together once his time had come. Another symbol to buy them time, to buy time for yet another symbol to rise. The city, so proud, so tall, was corruptible too, yes. Destructible. But it was tougher than a single demon, more patient, more durable. It could stand the test of time better than he could, for sure, and it would be there long after he was gone, for people to look at and say "This is my home. This is something I can fight for." It would live for longer than he would be remembered, and it would be remembered for longer than it would live.

And it would serve its purpose soon enough.

The Demon Lord stood atop the tallest tower in his palace, a place where he found solitude. Two stalwart sentinels stood off to the side, keeping watch on their master should he find himself in peril somehow, but their services were not needed then. Their services would not be needed anymore.

He stood clad in full armor, black as the night, the light of the enormous sun reflecting off of the dark metallic surface. He certainly did not need to wear it, but he felt that he should. Clasped by both of his hands, half of it buried in a slot on the ground, was his sword, the same hellforged weapon that had seen him through many battles, and even through the end of the world. He watched silently as the people below went about their daily businesses, oblivious to the pair of weary eyes that observed them for the last time.

In the end, he had known that this day would come, he had known this for a long time. It had not come during the Abrahamic War, after all. It had not come during the war with Heaven. It had not come during the war against the Fae. He had suspected it might, but it did not. But then, it would have to come eventually, and for a long time, Alastor lived with that knowledge. Thus, he felt strangely indifferent when the day came. The sun still rose, the world still spun. In a way, it was comforting that nothing stopped because of him, it confirmed that he had done a good job with his time. But the fact that this day was like every other was... unsettling, in a way. Day after day, it was the same as this, except that after this day, there would be no more. It was, however, the only thing that put him off about it. He had prepared extensively for this day, after all. Everything was arranged, everything was in place. Hell would be in good hands once his reign was over, and everything would continue as it had in the past.

And, really, that was a good thing. He had ruled for over a hundred years, after all. He had fought in many wars. He had worked many miracles. He had saved countless lives. For that alone, he deserved a little rest, and he had come to terms with the fact that he would be getting it one way or another. He had been on the brink of death many times, but those times, he had fought against it, he had fought off the embrace of darkness in order to live another day, in order to continue with his duty. Now, however, he did not fight. His body, his soul, and every fiber of his being was telling him that it was finally time to stop struggling, that his arduous duty was, at long last, done.

Suddenly, a fleeting breeze fluttered past him, and he knew, deep in his soul, that the time had come.

"I have been expecting you." The Demon Lord said. His voice was raspy, but it carried little of the power it had once held.

"YOU HAVE." Death nodded, knowing this to be true. "YOU HAVE ALSO BEEN VERY BUSY." Death noted. "ARE YOU READY TO COME WITH ME?"

It was the Demon Lord's turn to nod to the reaper. "Go on, do your duty."

"VERY WELL. COME WITH ME, ALASTOR, AND DIE SO THAT YOU MAY BE BORN AGAIN." Death spoke.

Several hours later, one of his children came to see him atop that great tower. When he arrived, he received no response from his father, and only after a long time was he able to realize that Alastor was dead, his armor and his grip on his sword holding him upright even though his soul had long since left his body. It was a painful realization, to know that Alastor, Demon Lord, King of Hell, was well and truly dead, but even so, his child smiled.

He had died standing.

---

The monstruous sun glistened high in the sky over the fields of Hell as the creatures below prepared for what was about to come.

Millions of demons, humans, and all sorts of creatures had gathered there that day for the event that was to take place. They all stood solemnly even despite the awful heat and searing sunlight, their silence sepulchral, something not too inadequate for the occasion, all things considered. At the front of the massive crowd stood the twenty-seven princes of Hell, as well as an assortment of dignataries, diplomats and representatives who decided to attend to the event.

And then, behind them all, dominating the landscape, was what could only be described as a massive funeral pyre. A towering wooden structure it was, and at its core stood the Demon Lord, clad in his black armor, and clutching his sword, just like he had been on his last day.

At the signal of one of the princes, the entire crowd began to sing in unison, a tune that had fast become another symbol for the children of Hell who lived there and beyond, another symbol to bind demonkind together in their path towards the light: the anthem of Hell. With clear voices the masses intoned each verse, each word. From start to end, none of the voices wavered.

Then, as the voices died down once again, another of the princes took a torch and ignited the pyre. It took several moments, but soon, the entire wooden tower was engulfed in fire, the flames surrounding the slumbering figure of the Demon Lord.

And as they watched this, the crowds began to chant once again, this time needing no signal. And what they chanted this time was not a song. What all of the roaring masses chanted as they raised their fists into the air was only a single word, a single name. The name of their hero who would finally rest.

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

Lulled to sleep by the voices of his people, the demon slept at last. His story was over, but the story of Hell was not.

[Agritum]

It was a quite unusually cozy afternoon in the German Chancellery: government activity was going on without obstacles, no major scandals had been brought up in the recent weeks, and the latest bomb-threat had happened a whopping six months ago. The helmeted, gas-masked cyborg soldiers who guarded breathed a collective sigh of relief when its Public Announcement system announced that yet another nonhuman rights terrorist cell had been stopped without being capable of even recruiting more than five people. In hindsight, it probably wasn't an actual terrorist cell, but with nonhumans, you could never be sure.

Reichskanzlerin Hildegard Von Wulfbern reclined in her comfy padded armchair behind the retro-futuristic wooden desk of her office, which sported various monitors and an holographic relay to Hermengarde Von Wulfbern, years 25 but biologically 14, her Intelligence Minister and governmental aide. "Mein Kanzlerin, this month about 6000 nonhumans emigrated from EU territories to the rest of the world, Pandaemonium and other regions of Hell. Apparently the number is on a steady rise." Hermengarde recited with her little girl voice, reading from a bunch of paper sheets in her hands.

Hilde smiled. Offering incentives, free job training and governmental emigration support to every nonhuman who left Germany and nearby EU territories had been a genius idea. The rising, completely coincidental wave of attacks by 'masked hooligans' against nonhuman shops and gathering places had simply made emigration an even more likeable choice for plenty of demons and assorted monsters. The Human National Freedom Party of Europe was doing a service to all of them, helping them returning to their ancestral lands and develope them into better places. 'Europe for Humans, Hell for Demons!", as the Youtube mantra said.

"In other news, the European Protectorate of the Hellades is currently seeing a GDP rise of about 4.20% percent thanks to European Community investment in the public and private sector of the Protectorate." the juvenile-looking homuncula continued, eliciting more smiles from her older sister.

Once known as 'Greece', the Protectorate had been a very problematic territory for the EU to manage, and the source of various political, economical and even partially military confrontation. The entirely accidental explosion of a cargo plane carrying nuclear waste over Greek skies had unfortunately killed about three quarters of the population off, with the remaining survivors becoming raiders and vicious mutants, according to German media.
Fortunately, the EU promptly stepped in with its unified military forces led by Germany, slowly cleansing the region and gradually re-populating it with colonists from all over the union. After that happening, the Hellades went pretty well, and its efficient power-armored police forces were the talk of all of the Union.

"Nonetheless, France has issued more statements of doubts over our policies", Hermengarde continued, "while the UK keeps being neutral on the matter". Hilde grimaced over the mention of the cheese-eating folk to the West, but her smile widened with glee. The UK had seen a sharp decrease in anti-Europeans, both due to the tragical death of Nigel Farage, who had accidentally slipped on an high-intensity laser beam while visiting the German CERN labs, and the great, moderate influence that Principal Edward Nilark had on British politics. He had proven to be an useful ally to Hilde, and to boot, he was even completely oblivious to her actual plans. Such are the wonders of love and husbandry.

Hilde unconsciously fondled her sizeable bust at the thought, eliciting an eyebrow from her less significantly endowed sister. Hilde didn't care: Hermengarde sucked at alchemy, unlike her. She didn't deserve to possess an artificially-engineered supermodel body like Hilde did. Also, unlike Hilde, Hermengarde didn't have any man to keep a leash on using a combination of carefully engineered looks and gorgeous demeanour.

"Finally, your children are doing exceptionally well in school, but they seem to show a slightly worrying aptitude when it comes to racial consciousness. They played with a demon kid last week." Hilde sighed. While Ed was a perfect husband and living pawn, he also had some annoying weaknesses, like being too much accepting of foreign species and trying to instill the same values in his and Hilde's spawn. Maybe she had to indoctrinate her children more. The Intelligence Bureau had lately told her that the Ludwig Method would have worked exceptionally well in doing so. She fondled her boobs a bit more at the thought, before stopping and glancing at Hermengarde's olograph.

"That's enough for today. I need not to hear anything else. Not even news about the US and the Union State. Let me guess, sanctions, sanctions, strongly worded letters, subhumans shrieking against the EU, and silly Youtube parodies with fake subtitles aimed at me? I bet it's that."

Hermengarde nodded. "Especially the Youtube parody part. They also put your speeches on Dubsmash."

"What is Dubsmash?"

"...maybe it's better if we don't talk about it, Reichskanzlerin. Anyways, I believe you have to meet the French prime minister later today in Paris, sister. To discuss nonhuman integration and emigration, EU policy in contrasting hate crimes, and a recent proposal to put an end to the Belgium Integrity Crisis before it brews into a civil war between Walloons and Flanders."

Hilde stood up, hearing the roar of her private VTOL jet on the helipad outside the Chancellery. "Indeed, Hermengarde. At rest now. You can go back playing with ponies."

Hermengarde frowned. "Yes, sister." She replied, cutting the holographic feed. She slouched on her own chair, tired and demoralized by the abuse. "Now that she's Chancellor she's even more demeaning and bossy. But you can understand me, Fluttershy, right?" the homuncula said, lovingly clutching a plush toy to her chest.

Hildegarde climbed in the passenger seat of her jet, surrounded by her ninja bodyguards and various aides, including former football player and cyborg supersoldier Miroslav Klose. "Let's hope this meeting goes well. If that bitch Morgane Dubled goes all bleeding heart sexy chick on me again, I'm rolling tanks through the Ardennes. Mark my words!"

The state jet flew away in the sky, leaving a white trail behind it. Down, in the streets of Berlin, a shadowy figure eyed it, its red eyes glowing in the dark of an alley, with occasional glints of white fur being revealed by the faint lights of the city.

Pets never forget their owners.

Neither did Fluffymeister.

---

The Vatican was an oasis of splendor and goodwill, hidden in the wretched hive that was the city of Rome. Grace humbly walked in the corridors of the Basilica, clad in the pristine habits of a presbyter, accompanied by stern-looking Swiss Guards, and a crowd of constantly squeeing, over-excited Catholic schoolgirls. Her schoolmates. "I can't, like, believe that you're totally going to become the swaggiest Bishop ever!" announced Sandy, the American airhead, fingering her rosary insistently. "Yeah we really needed a British check ter stan' up against dohs feckin Anglicans." added Rosie the Irish girl, while trying to chug from a small bottle of Irn Bru without the Swissmen noticing.

"Ah-ah, that's very fun, girls, but please calm down. Becoming the Archbishop of Malta is going to be a very spiritual thing for me, and for all of us. It's the start of an ever bigger mission to spread the word of Jesus, God and the Pope around the world." Grace said with a nervous laugh. She was totally dying with embarassment: her nomination as a bishop had been entirely determined by her heroic actions during the battle against Oberon, and she had been an ordained priest for only a few months. The fact that her want of chastity and purity was apparently waning down as she grew up didn't help. Even then, Grace thought that it surely was a great honour and duty to care for the spiritual wellbeing of the people Malta, and of her former schoolmates.

Eventually, she and her friends entered the vast Papal Throne Room, where a friendly looking decrepit old man in a white gown surrounded by power armored Swiss Guards happily waved at them and especially Grace. The girl smiled, even after noticing that the Vatican flags and blue stendards were strategically placed in the room to resemble the pattern of the Argentinian flag.

Grace humbly kneeled, and Francisco began performing the ritualistic motions to ordain her as a bishop of the One and True Universal Apostolic Catholic Church of Christianity. Right when he finished putting the bishopric mitre on Grace's gentle head, the windows of the rooms were burst open by mysterious beings who spun on ropes. Grace turned around.

A bear with a knife in its teeth and TNT strapped around it glared at her with the eyes of a predator. The Pope cowered in fear, the Swiss Guards aiming their pulse rifles at the other incoming terrorist bears, while the Catholic schoolgirls fleed the room with a collective 'EEEK!', holding up their skirts to run faster and regaling the Guards with several panty shots.

Grace turned around, giving a grim look at the bears. Her hands reached behind her back, grasping two empty sword handles, one in ivory and the other made of obsidian. She clicked on the buttons on each sword, and long katana laser blades formed from them, one dark as the night, one bright as the day. Helter and Skelter. In doing so, Grace also cut away part of her lower gown, to obtain better mobility. Fortunately for her, she was wearing long pantyhoses.

The fledgling Bishop made a wall run, double jumped horizontally, and then came crashing down on the chief terrorist bear, flexed in an athletic pose, slashing down with both laser katanas.

"I forgive all of your sins, but now, DIE!"

---

Gwen gave a nostalgic look at EH Earth, now just a small pale blue dot in the great expanse of the Multiverse, becoming increasingly minuscule as the Castleship Avalon went farther and farther away from it. Sure, it was a wretched, mad place doomed to remain so for ages to come, but she had come to know its inhabitants and fight along them, savouring the joy of their victories, sharing the sadness of their defeats, and feeling the same degree of toil and exhaustion that had plagued their common struggle. Even then, Gwen realized, things had changed alot since her arrival. Crowley was dead, the Fae had been defeated, Oberon was no longer a menace. She smiled tearfully as her adoptive home slowly disappeared, hidden by the cosmic expanse.

She resumed her travels through multispace, fighting the remnants of the Fae, bringing salvation to universes in peril, and discovering more and more things about the nature of the multiversal expanse. Even then, she knew that one day Avalon would stop functioning, that her voyage would come to an end, that her people would eventually find an home. But in how much time? Gwen couldn't tell. The frequent voyages through the multiverse had given her a bizarre, inhuman perception of spacetime, which couldn't be really expressed in mundane words.

In spite of this, she still found her travels enjoyable, as they took her to an act as an observer to several, wildly different Earths and Milky Ways. She watched in interest as an Earth-like body known as Gaiaca grew through the struggle of gods of good and evil, reaching its industrial age and giving way to a quirky, adventuring group of young heroes who would roam its lands in years to come, and she carefully observed the daily, zany ongoings on a city that was nowhere and everywhere, Blefeld. During her almost eternal voyage, she witnessed several alternative Earths, populated with the most varied and different nations and cultures.

Eventually, her eye came to a world which strongly resembled APS' Earth's past, circa WW2. She gazed down its surfaces, following the daring missions of a group of vampires, werewolves, mages and assorted supernatural commandos fighting an heated war against brutal, occult totalitarian regimes. But this, just like many other planets observed before by the vagrant High Queen, was just one of many, many different stories.


Gwen looked behind herself, right in the eyes of an unseen being, as several fast ticks of what seemed to be a keyboard flowed behind each other, and the void white expanse became filled with words, ideas, things, people.

She smiled.

"Well, this was a fun romp, ol'chap."

[Constaniana]

"Oooh, my lord. I like the sound of that," said William having put the engagement ring on Hilde's finger and returned Crowley's nod with a salute, "I think we'll get along famously, er...what name should I call you by? Saying 'The School' makes you sound like a Time Lord of bricks or something. Unless you're fine with that, I suppose. We'll have time to get that sorted out." Dropping the matter with a shrug of his shoulders, William danced the night away with his betrothed.

---

July 26th, 2031
York Minster

It had been an incredibly busy seven months for William; between the administrative mess that assuming his new post had involved and his increased responsibilities outside Elfen High. He had finally resigned from his presidency, shortly before abolishing the office altogether and setting up elections for prime minister, which had seemed much more difficult than the election Lewis had conducted. Thankfully Hilde's party lost that contest horribly, with the Magnitude-Leonard Democrats winning and putting some Canadian chap named Garrett in power. There were also more straightforward things to see to, thankfully; fixing the monorail that somebody broke last year, clearing out the poop zombies, finally kicking that stupid redneck triceratops up the arse, setting up a powerless committee to investigate the claims of elf abuse at the North Pole, hiring some bloke named Adam as a general handyman, appointing Andrew Jennings as head of the Elfen High journalism department, and placing commemorative plaques in historic locations. They pointed out things like "Here Hilde tackled the future Headmaster and began being wildly attracted to him", "Here Richard hit John Calhoun with a broom, and there was much rejoicing", and memorialised all the dinosaurs who lost their lives in bear-mazes and the overall existence of Billy .

But Sir Nilark had a life outside the school, too, and was surprised to see how much respect he was given in it. King Henry the Ninth made him the Duke of Leeds, Earl of Knaresborough, a George Cross recipient, and a Knight Grand Cross of the Order of the Garter and Royal Victorian Order. Knighthoods in the Order of the Rising Sun, Order of the Dannebrog, Order of the Polar Star, Order of St. Olav and Order of Orange-Nassau among others were quick to follow, along with membership in what seemed like the orders of merit of nearly every country that had one. William jumped up to become one of the top baby names in the country. Already there was speculation over when he would enter UK politics. Seemed people were quite fond of a handsome bloke who had personally thwacked the King of the Fae in the balls with a cricket bat.

Yet for all his mighty achievements, he still felt a bit nervous about what was to come next in his life. The medals on his chest gleamed, but underneath the red Life Guards tunic beads of sweat formed. William kept switching the position of his hands from being in his pockets to hanging at his sides to clasped in front or in back of him, as if he intended to speed up the proceedings with the flapping of his arms. The day seemed to have rushed itself onto him, and it had all gone well so far. His mother and granddad made an ace team of wedding planners, as it turned out. But now he was having concerns over whether Hilde had decided to call the thing off and ran back to Germany with his baby. His best man Calliel seemed to sense Lord Nilark's nervousness, as he gave the tyke a reassuring pat on the shoulder. William was glad that the ruler of Heavensgate was willing to do this for him, though a good portion of his reasoning for feeling like that was because Laz was his backup choice in case Calliel declined. Finally Hilde arrived, and the headmaster breathed a sigh of relief.

She really was absolutely beautiful, like some wintry queen. A coy smile graced her lips, and there seemed to be a tinge of red to her alabaster cheeks for once. It was a bit of a challenge to tell where the wedding dress ended and her soft, cold skin began. William felt bad that his bride didn't have anyone to walk her down the aisle, but her dad had died years ago and her overall demeanour obviously discouraged others from trying to fill the role of father figure to her. In any other woman this situation might have provoked some deep soul-searching and desire to be nicer to those around her, but William was increasingly resigned to the fact that Hilde forgot her Aesop moments at the drop of a hat. He just hoped the children wouldn't inherit such a trait.

For the time being the groom put aside his worrying thoughts, still somehow idealistic enough to give Hildegarde some benefit of the doubt. Weddings seemed like one of the best places for stubborn optimism anyway, a time to idealistically declare your determination to stay in love with someone forever even if they did have some screws loose. He'd spent too many days of his past worrying about everything, back during the wars and his wandering between graduating and becoming a teacher at Elfen High. He was bloody well going to be happy at his own wedding, at the very least. He said "I do" without a moment's hesitation. Maybe he was a fool for rushing in like this, like his sister and dad had grumbled last time he heard them drunk, but he just couldn't help it. Besides, his son would need him there in his life as much as possible given who the other person raising him would be. Lord William strode out of the minster as happy as could be, with Lady Hildegard on his arm as they set off for their honeymoon.

---

June 20, 2040
Whitby

"Right, I've got it all here. Arnulf, here's the black raspberry and flake cone you wanted," Headmaster William began cheerfully, handing the waffle cone to his first-born. He seemed to take after his mother more in appearance, having rather pale skin and red eyes, but had a crop of blood crimson hair from his dad nonetheless, "Banastral gets the Fab ice lolly," A girl only slightly younger than Arnulf with lighter red hair and a more normal skin tone eagerly took the frozen dessert from her father and began ripping off the plastic wrapping, "Wee Christopher gets his strawberry Italian ice," A tiny blonde lad with green eyes eyes cooed and began clumsily scooping it out, flinging some into the sand in the process "And your mother and I split this After Eight double cone." The children all thanked him and then went back to working on a giant sand castle, while William settled back into his chair and took a lick of the minty ice cream before offering it to his wife. He smiled as he looked upon the fortress his children had cobbled together with two buckets and one spade, even if Christopher periodically knocked sections of it over on accident. It had seemed only yesterday when they were still confined to cradles, but now Arnulf was almost nine, Banastral had turned eight back in April, and Christopher would be starting reception and joining his siblings at Elfen High later in the year.

It had taken quite a struggle between him and the missus before they enrolled at such an early age. Hilde was firmly against the idea, crying out about their safety and instead suggesting to send them to a more normal, clean school and letting them decide whether or not they wanted to come to stinky Elfen High when they were teenagers. But William suspected her motivations were less about keeping them safe from actual harm and more about keeping them as far away from non-humans as possible, especially given that the amount of non-humans at Elfen High had risen greatly as they flocked there under William's subtle encouragement to escape the persecution of Hilde's government and her vassals. Thankfully, he had won each successive bout by a combination of assuring her with all the knightly bravado he could muster that he would keep their beloved children safe from any harm and guilt-tripping her over the fact that she spent far much more time at work than with them, so they might as well get the constant presence of at least one parent. Preferably the parent who wouldn't twist them into being as horrifically xenophobic as she was, though he never said such a thing aloud. And he had succeeded in that regard. Both of them played just fine with the other kids regardless of whether how many horns they had, and he had heard from his subordinates over the last few months of the previous school year that the normally brash Banastral was now acting much more bashful around some kitsune boy she sat next to in history. He doubted much would come of it at their age, but at least it showed her mother hadn't gotten to her.

"We've got good kids, don't we?" Lord Nilark said to his lady, smiling contentedly. This really was a good day. The weather was lovely, the kids would get great happy memories, and he got to see Hildegarde acting rarely goodnatured with ice cream alluringly dripped across her chest by accident. Days like this were what told William it was all worth it, when there were days of the kids misbehaving and Hilde was being particularly bitchy and the world just seeming like an utter mess in general in spite of the sacrifices they had all made.

Eventually the day at the beach came to a close, and the family packed themselves back into the dark blue Vauxhall Insignia to drive back to Woolrose Manor. The place had started out as several dozen acres of farmland, moor and a shack he had bought it at auction shortly after the War as the previous owner had been killed by Fae and left no heirs. Since then he'd had a proper two story house built, bought a few sheep to cut the grass around the place, and a horse for the heck of it. It wasn't the most grand of nobleman's estates, but Lord Nilark didn’t have as much free time to devote to building it up as he'd have liked. Perhaps when he retired he could develop the land and house to its full potential with things like an armoury, library and the little railway his granddad wanted to ride about on, but for now he focused himself more on his children and his school.

"Glad to see you lot made it back. You sure wore them out," Granddad Nilark said softly as Hilde flipped the lights on and William carried the sleeping bodies of Arnulf and Christopher on his shoulders. The old man had been sitting watchful in a rolley armchair, wearing a white suit and holding his teddy bear named Ensign Bow-Tie in one hand and a shotgun in the other. William had technically hired him as his butler after his mum had pointed out that the geezer was getting bored sitting around at the farm and wanted to do something different with his life. So Headmaster William put his granddad in charge of assembling an elite team of servants or whatever he felt like. Charles Nilark evidently took the latter option, due to the fact that the only other servants at Woolrose at the moment were an elderly woman from the former East End of London who did the laundry and a retired ISSR engineering officer from Finland who now maintained the garden and pipes instead of main battle tanks. Granddad Nilark spent less time ordering them about with menial chores and more on devising practical jokes to play on Hilde. A favourite of theirs was digging a trench for her to fall into.

"I'm wide a-" Banastral began to insist, only for a big yawn to pop up in the middle of her sentence, "wake." William chuckled a little and began heading up the stairs. Hilde put her arm around Banastral's shoulder and followed her husband up.

"I think we all need to get some sleep, princess," said the headmaster.

"I'm always asleep. And always awake," Granddad insisted from the lobby, waving his teddy bear defiantly. His grandson just chuckled more.

William and Hilde had tucked their brood in and were about to commence parental bonding, when he heard Banastral's voice clearly calling daddy. Lord Nilark sighed, flung his pyjamas back on and trudged out into the hallway. He found his daughter sitting upright and clutching a large book in her hands, with her bedside table lamp on. "What is you wanted, Banastral?" She waved the book at him in the same manner her great-grandfather waved his teddy bear and/or shotgun when cross.

"You forgot to read me a bedtime story. And it's unfair of you to make me wait until tomorrow night to find out what happens at the end of this chapter," the lass insisted.

"You could always read it yourself, you know. I really made sure Elfen High teaches actual literacy," William grumbled, sitting down beside his girl.

"Aye, but it's not the same by myself. I can't do all the voices in my head like you can."

"Bet you could do the female voices a lot better, though," Lord Nilark opened the tome nonetheless and began looking for where they had last stopped.

"But it's hilarious when you try them, daddy," Banastral cackled. Her father rolled his eyes, shook his head and cleared his throat.

"Right, where about we were...oh, here!" said William, before making his voice sound a bit more posh, "The defeated Daemonne lord dropped his sword and staggered further back towards the cliff edge. Aldraniri sheathed Eyilstiid and took a step towards their foe. 'You look pretty tired, mate,' said Aldraniri," Here the Duke returned to his normal accent, "'Why don't you take a nice hot bath?' The knight then slugged the fiery armoured hell-spawn across the jaw and sent him reeling over into the raging lava beneath."

"Justice! Justice!" Christopher cried as ran into the room and hopped onto the foot of the bed, bouncing up and down.

"You're going to back to sleep once I finish this chapter the same as your sister is," William sternly insisted, but he resumed his reading nonetheless, "Aldry turned around to face his friends, when the ground beneath them trembled and the temperature of the the room began climbing rapidly. Flacht swore incomprehensibly. 'Oh my, this is a most alarming development. Perhaps the magical energy exchanged during our battle with the late Lord Igniermeran, particularly the energies of the Element of Fire, greatly accelerated the geological stimulation of this long-dead volcano that the hellish aristocrat mentioned in the plans and plots he divulged to us in when he indulged in a pre-battle monologue. Though what purpose said meddling in the forces of nature would achieve for him is still quite a puzzling mystery to-' Charlie went on, even as the walls and floor shook around them more." The breathy, Cambridge-esque teenage girl voice William tried to do for the Wind Elemental detective never failed to send Banastral and Christopher into complete hysterics.

"'Sweetheart, you know I find it incredibly attractive when you go all intellectual, but perhaps you could hold off on those sweet sounds until we're in less imminent peril of being scalded by magma.' Kroisoto pleaded, when rubble fell and blocked the passageway the band of heroes had taken in," William's posh Scot accent he used for the adopted Aurennian prince was much easier to take seriously compared his love interest's. "Heilaga began pounding away at the rubble with her Dawn Cannon spell, hoping the entrance was merely collapsed and not the entire tunnel. However, the situation grew even worse in the blink of an eye as a massive tidal wave of lava suddenly surged up and loomed over top of them." The kids-all three of them, as Arnulf had apparently heard the storytelling and decided he wasn't that tired after all as well-gasped, and William took his sweet time reading the next words. "Aldraniri and Tristan acted swiftly; the Fire Champion began rapidly absorbing the heat from the lava into himself whilst the Ice Champion swung Fenrirtusk in a wide arc sending a wall of cold to meet the wave. Everything went dark." Duke Nilark closed the book and got off the bed with an eager trollish grin, to the immense protests of his assembled children, granddad and servants.

"Daddy, you can't!" Banastral pleaded, while Ensign Bow-Tie was waved menacingly from the corner.

"Well, I suppose I could read a few more paragraphs..." William conceded, sitting back down and cracking open the Elementals book again, "...let's see...here we were. A few moments after the light vanished there came an embarrassed yelp from Charlie, as Kroisoto evidently repeated his 'mishap' from the Watchtower base beneath the College of Bracksbure. 'Trista-boo, we're not dead!' Lisoette chimed happily." There were few things more hilarious than the headmaster's attempt at Charlie's voice, but the even more breathy and slightly Spanish voice he pulled for Lisoette's dialogue managed to top it. It took a good twelve seconds for the audience to settle down again. "'I guess we managed to make a rock bubble around us in time,' Aldry mused, when the ground shook again. But the sound of seething lava had been replaced by an incredibly deep, long growl. Even in their makeshift barricade the heroes could distinctly hear something emerging from the lava. Suddenly massive claws tore through the rock, and they all stood paralysed at the sight now exposed to them. The conduit of the volcano they were standing in front of was more than a hundred yards in radius, and it was fully taken up by a mass of scales gleaming like molten iron. It unfurled lethargically, revealing a neck the size of a basilisk. Massive golden eyes looked down on the champions with curiosity while they looked back in absolute disbelief. 'You...you're a myth' said Kroisoto.

""Didn't they say that about phoenixes before we found the egg?' Tristan asked, stowing his glaive on his back harness.

'There's a difference between a creature that had documentation and only went away with the passing of Olbruni the Great and something that literally every civilisation whose records we have on the subject doubt that such a thing every really existed,' Heilaga pointed out, stepping over to Aldry's side for some comfort in the face of the her perceived notion of the world being drastically altered," William scratched his head with furrowed brows, "Ooh, new voice. Hm, what to base it on..." He drummed his fingers on the book's cover for a few seconds before shrugging, seemingly having answered his own question.

"'HAH, FUNNY, THAT,' a voice boomed above them like thunder and landslides rolling along," The new voice could only be described as a fusion of a Behemoth imitation and Brian Blessed, "The group stood silent in shock. 'EVERY MORTAL I HAVE EVER MET HAS ALWAYS BEEN FLABBERGASTED AT THE IDEA MY KIND EXISTS. BUT THEY ALL EVENTUALLY STAMMER OUT THE SAME OBVIOUS WORD ACKNOWLEDGING THAT I AM INDEED REAL. NO DOUBT YOU KNOW IT AS WELL; IT IS THE SAME WORD IN EVERY LANGUAGE EVER SPOKEN BY ANY RACE. GO ON, SAY WHAT YOU ARE THINKING,' the being requested. All was silent for a few awed moments, before Aldraniri finally said what the voice wanted to hear.

'Dragon,' the Albrian said."

Duke William stood up once again and shut the book, putting it back on the row of the bookcase his daughter specifically set aside for that series. He tucked her back in and gave her a kiss on the forehead, shooing everyone else back into their own quarters. The Yorkshireman gladly snuggled up next to his wife, and they whispered sweet nothings to each other for a wee while until they were certain the rest of the household was truly asleep. At which point they eagerly disrobed and resumed their deep bonding.

---

June 16th, 2056
Elfen High

Headmaster Lord Nilark looked around his office, ruminating over every bit of the decor he had looked at for so long. As always, the Union Jack and Glasgow Rangers banner flew proudly behind his desk. The suits of armour were like a well-polished timeline, with samples from the hetairoi, cataphract, Vikings, High Medieval knights, Cuirassiers, samurai, and Raxzispikken heavy plate from Hell, but the plates of steel, bronze and lamellar had magitech woven under and over them. The bookcases were filled with all sorts of ancient tomes and Pokemon trading cards. On the weapon rack were hung lances, firearms of every size, enchanted gauntlets and cricket bats. His huge oak desk had been cleared of clutter and biscuits and photos of his family. He was seated in a leather armchair behind his desk with Excalibur leaning against it, another chair just like it across from his with a man about sixteen years his junior occupying it, a white gyrfalcon perched on Duke William's shoulder, and glasses of Irn Bru on the desk for all three of them.

"It's strange to think this is the last graduation at this school I'll officiate. Twenty-five years seems to have gone by in the blink of an eye. The kids are all grown, we've rebuilt from the war..." said William, turning his gaze to the ice in his drink, "Good lord, it's been almost forty years since I came to this place. I remember my first day there...Billy cried the whole time through Crowley's speech, and this Italian kid named...er..Luca, that's it! Aye, Luca. Anyway, he flew through one of the windows in the form of a bird, before some mermaid chucked broken glass at him and Valaran Fixban in disguise beat him up and sealed his magic for an hour. And most importantly, that's when Hilde and I met each other. I stopped her rabbit from mauling a fellow student, and she slapped me in the face and called me a chimp. Love at first sight, eh?"

"I would have thought she would be praising you for your obvious strong human genes and laying claim to your sperm for the good of the Reich or something like that," the other man remarked with the voice of an Ulsterman.

"Ha, not at all, Mr. Hughcert. You see, this was back when she was a bitch to everyone regardless of species and wasn't an albino with a luscious, humongous rack," William took a long drink, before he began chuckling once more. "Remember your first day here?"

The brown-haired man frowned and slumped in his chair, turning his head to the side a bit. "You're never going to stop giggling over that story, are you?"

"No, because it's a hilarious one," William insisted, "I had just finished the Welcome and Welcome Back speech with an encouragement for you lot to make friends and work together, and what do I see? This tiny lad punching a Minotaur to the floor and calling him a Fenian bastard over the fried chicken!" The headmaster laughed outright now.

"So you saw me doing that and figured 'He's the one I want to replace me when I'm gone', sir?" the Northern Irishman asked dryly.

"Not all my decisions are so impulsive, lad. No, I decided on that after I determined you liked the Glasgow Rangers as much as me," William countered, "Let's see, what was my first fight here...oh, not only was Hilde the first student I talked to here, she was the first one I ended up fist-fighting. I went and checked to see if she was fine when I saw that she ran into a wall one day, and she decided to thank me by calling me a stalker and a homosexual before punching the back of my head. We swapped insults and ended up taking turns pinning each other to the floor and flirting with our captive or something to that effect. I won, because she stinks at fighting, but then some gross skeleton teacher came by and she lied her teeth off to it saying I was in the wrong and blah blah blah playing the damsel in distress and all that rubbish," As bad as that story sounded, William still had a slightly nostalgic grin as he thought about it. The gyrfalcon seemed to squawk with disapproval at his owner's wife's antics, "Oh hush, Hurricane. Have a drink." The headmaster picked up the previously-untouched glass and brought it up to his shoulder, where the great bird of prey gave a few tentative sips of the glorious Scottish beverage.

"Still, it's impressive you managed to stay sane being married to a woman like that," Percy confessed.

"Oh, she's not that bad," said William, "Besides, I've had a good life with her and the kids, not to mention you and all the people I've met over the years here."

"Aye, we've had a good run, sir. We'll all miss you here."

"I won't particularly miss you," Gram grumbled.

"Silence, fool," Excalibur ordered.

"You've got no right to treat me that way."

"Knave, I am the god of all swords. Fear me."

"Gram, shut up before I make you turn into a coat-hanger," the younger man warned. The headmaster laughed.

"Percy, you're the best squire a knight could ask for. And an even better friend," Duke Nilark declared getting up from his chair and moving to shake hands with his heir before reconsidering and hugging him instead. This took the vice-headmaster by surprise, though after a few moments he returned the gesture.

"Sir, you're getting emotional," he pointed out.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop now," William shooed Hurricane away for a few moments as he pulled away from the hug and put his robes on, "Let's be off. It'd be right embarrassing if I was late to my last graduation, not to mention the thought of what those kids might get up to if they're bored and getting impatient."

"I left Laz there to keep them all in line," said his squire.

"The Great and Mighty Lazrian can't keep his own cocain in line; how is he supposed to handle several thousand magical teenagers and their guests?" the nobleman jokingly countered as they headed out of the office for the ceremony.

The graduation went on and on, and William suspected the overwhelming majority of those attending were growing increasingly bored. And that was one of the most beautiful sights in the world to him. This school function would be completely, utterly, absolutely ordinary. The demons were here not because Loki ordered them to kill everything that moved, but because they were celebrating their achievements in learning. Everyone here would go leave when this was done and not come home to a ruined house full of Fae; instead, they'd all go out and live happy, contented lives like they should. With the sight of every foot tapping or furtive glance at a Game Boy Grandmaster he knew all the sacrifices he had made were all worth it. Some inbred name Jeboses Zachamia-Hinkleton was the last student in the class and first in his family to receive a diploma, and his scummy, trashy family cheered wildly with the dankest of rap airhorns. The headmaster tried to ignore the smell the Alabamian had left in his wake and approached the microphone for the last time.

"Before we conclude here today I'd just like to share a few final bits of wisdom. Francis, stop rolling your eyes over there in row 17, it's not like you've got anything better to get to in a hurry," His Grace cleared his throat and smiled, "In the words of the great Randy Newman, and I quote, it's the time of your life, so live it well, close quote. I have faith that each and every last one of you will manage that. Some less than others, admittedly," the Yorkshireman's gaze turned steely for a few moments as it passed over row 17 again, "But I've rambled to you lot enough over the years you've had to put up with me. I now pronounce you all graduates of Elfen High. Congratulations, class of 2056!" The graduates began hurling their caps up right as the joint RAF/ISSR flyover arrived, with F-78's, Unicorn Interceptors, and one battle-scarred Neo-Spitfire leading the lot.

Air Vice-Marshal Nilark had begrudgingly accepted promotions to a desk job when it became clear she was getting too old for flying in combat, but she had badgered her way into some ceremonial duties, the Elfen High flyover she helped arrange in particular. Mary had been briefly present at the graduations of Arnulf, Banastral and Christopher, but there was one last such ceremony she was determined to be there for. "About time you graduated from school, Eddie," the Yorkshirewoman said to herself proudly.

The crowd had all left Elfen High by the time William finished the last of his duties for that day. The paladin was walking across the parking garage towards his 2025 F-Type but stopped when he got up to her doors. Instead, he turned around and began looking back the way he came. It would appear he was all alone in the dimness, as would be expected at this hour, when he spotted a short brown-haired man wearing a grey suit clambering out of the stairwell a bit out of breath. The Duke of Leeds recognised the chap as Harold Roastworth, a friend of his from primary school, and waved him over. Harold was nice enough, and sharp as a tack, though he had strong introverted tendencies. If it wasn't for the fact that his family had lived in the Harrogate and Knaresborough constituency and were much sociable as a whole than he William doubted whether Harold would have ever gotten his start in politics. Regardless, the shorter Yorkshireman had managed to work his way up through the ranks of the Liberal Democrats as they steadily won back constituencies until he had become the head of the party in 2050 and the Lib Dems were a force to be reckoned with.

"You couldn't have picked somewhere else to hold this chat, mate? Like your bloody castle?" Harold asked, fidgeting with his necktie.

"We both agreed discretion was a good idea for this, and someone's much more likely to hear things at Woolrose than this empty place," William countered, "So, about the matter we mentioned earlier. Do we have the go-ahead for that?"

"Aye, it seems the other shadow cabinet ministers are supportive now. Still, though, it's strange thinking about what we're planning. It hasn't been done since Lord Salisbury's day over 150 years ago."

"That doesn't mean it's illegal in our age, Harold. Just that nobody else has been clever enough to give it a try. The sweet joys of having a system of government with so many of its aspects set down by spoken tradition instead of written, inarguable sheets of paper."

[Constaniana]

March 8th, 2071
FOB Endurance, 3 miles north of Al Kut

"The enemy is completely cornered now, Your Grace. Since the Israelis took Ubaydah Bin Al Jarrah we've no had further challenges to our air supremacy, and with the Kurdish 2nd Division in place on western Highway 6 we have the city surrounded. The artillery barrage and bomber runs begin at 0430 hours, and we start pushing the hovertanks and first infantry wave towards them at dawn. You, the Royal Dragoon Guards, Royal Regiment of Scotland, and the French 24th Infantry go in from the north. The French 2nd Dragoon Regiment, 16th Hunter Battalion, 92nd and 126th Infantry, Royal Scots Dragoon Guards and Royal Gurkha Rifles come down Highway 6 from the east. Once the battle's in full swing and the enemy is focusing on those groups, we drop the special forces mechas in, the Givati Brigade begins crossing the Tigris, and Granite Battalion storms over the Gharraf Canal. General Askari should have the Imperial Iranian Army here from Amarah by half past nine to join up with the Welsh Guards and make our fourth thrust from the south, assuming there's no sudden massive resistance from an Iraqi army secretly waiting in reserve along their route. Just a few more moves and it's checkmate for President Haseem and his scummy Syrian mates," A Glaswegian man in his 50's wearing a plain brown t-shirt and khakis explained, gesturing at a holographic display of the city in front of him as it showed a simulation of his plan.

"Very good, General Sir Gordon," William responded, nodding. The Yorkshireman turned his attention to a pair of twenty-something women wearing futuristic leather jumpsuits, "And ladies, are you lot ready?"

"Presque. All that remains for us is to have la mechanics complete the new upgrades on our Valvraves and Charlemagne Squadron will be all préparé," the young woman with the blue jumpsuit said with a pronounced French accent.

"Same with Arthur squadron. Don't you worry sir, we'll have Kut conquered in time for tea," a blonde Yorkshirewoman proudly boasted beside the first, her scarlet-clad chest puffing up with pride.

"Dear Captain Stocktree, I do wish you were not always so impétueux about these matters," the Frenchwoman sighed.

"And I wish you weren't always such a wet blanket, Marie. And another thing, you speak English just fine. Why do you always have to throw in random French words with a funny emphasis to your sentences? It drives me up the ruddy wall," her foxgirl counterpart pouted, tail swishing back and forth.

"Mademoiselle Cecilia, my reasoning is, your reaction..." Captain Rovelange smiled a bit, "c'est drôle."

In the face of such behaviour most politicians and generals would have assumed these two were completely unsuited for the front lines in any capacity, let alone piloting the most sophisticated fighting machines in the worlds. General Gordon still rolled his eyes at them. But William knew the fact that they were Elfen High alumni was enough to balance out such concerns. He had carried on like they did when he was their age, and look at how well he had turned out. "Well, I think that about wraps it up. Get some sleep, I suppose. Dismissed." Those assembled saluted the Yorkshireman and departed the command post. He remained standing there, looking at the display as he scratched the beard that had been growing for the last eight weeks since he left. Forty years since we defeated the Fae, and here I am fighting another war. He was even wearing the same Life Guards tunic. But, admittedly, there were a few differences between now and then.

For one thing, William hadn't been Prime Minister when he crossed blades with Oberon.

While his children were in school he was too focused on them and the school in general to sit in the House of Lords as was his right. He was a plain, simple family man without much mind for political squabbles, only occasionally offering his public commentary on current events. The press bought it, and his wife bought it especially. But William had moved behind the scenes, cementing his personal network in all kinds of places. It began with such things as buying up stock in Taka-Jameson as he buddied up to their board of directors and subtly encouraging his best students to seek commissions in the ISSR. He built up his friendships with Alastor, Calliel, and he'd periodically make calls for more tolerance and brotherhood between species. Duke Nilark put the charm on around the aristocracy he had been lifted into. But as his children reached adolescence and required less and less protection he moved to the next phase. His endorsements began helping his protégés into political offices and up the corporate ladder across Earth and Hell. He exclusively leaked occasional advancements from Elfen High to the British government, particularly the military. He seemed to be more vocal in saying that Britain should strengthen ties with the Commonwealth, as opposed to ever-closer union with the Continent. Once he left Elfen High he began attending sessions of parliament, though he still seemed aloof from partisanship by virtue of his criticism of both the Conservatives and Labour.

It was not until the crisp morning of October 14, 2059 when William's masquerade ended. Mr. Roastworth had been in a press conference when a reporter asked him what the Lib Dem's main objective would be if he became Prime Minister next May. Harold gave a funny little smile, said he'd let his party's prospective prime minister explain that, and stepped away from the podium. The journalists all looked terribly confused as they began inquiring about his mental health, until the Duke of Leeds teleported in and they fell dead silent. William's speech had mentioned things like the party's economic policies, or his intentions of reinvigorating and improving His Majesty's Armed Forces and ties with the Commonwealth. But it was his final point that was most remembered: his fiery, indignant demand for respect and equality for all non-humans, saying that if he could come to befriend so many demons after seeing the worst of what they could do then everyone else had an obligation to try as well. Hilde had been more livid about that than when Wayne Rooney, in his final football game ever, miraculously scored from nearly halfway across the field with sixteen seconds of extra time left and brought England victory over Germany in the 2034 World Cup Final.

Nilark's speech evidently struck a chord or two among the electorate, whether it was because he guilted them into voting for him or the fact that he was one of the planet's mightiest heroes. The voters turned out in droves to hand his endorsed party a sweeping majority in the House of Commons, with turnout among the demons of Britain at 93% percent. The United Kingdom flourished under William's leadership, becoming the nexus of European nonhuman life as those that Hilde expelled simply took a train to her husband's country rather than go back to Hell as she intended. Germany hegemony over the EU began to steadily erode in the face of Britain openly denouncing their policies as disgraceful and proof they learned nothing from their history in the 1930's and an emboldened France that began gleefully cooperating more and more with her neighbour across the Channel instead of the institutions of Brussels Hilde had sunk her claws into. The Duke of Leeds rewarded their loyalty by sharing some of the classified advancements he had given Britain years before, on the condition of French assistance with Britain reasserting herself as a global power in carrying out his agenda. Part of the new global outreach had been a return of the Royal Navy to the Far East in force, to support the Indian and Australian fleets and start setting the framework for an Anglo-Japanese Alliance sequel. But as his first decade as Prime Minister drew to a close, one glaring obstacle to William's ambitions for East of Suez: the Suez Canal itself.

You see, the land of the Pharaohs had never managed to fully recover from the Abrahamic War, even nearly fifty years after that conflict ended. It seemed the Omniverse really hated Egypt, as the Fae ravaged when they invaded on that fateful New Year's Eve. For the next few years afterwards the Arab Republic scrambled to rebuild and prevent control of what territory it had from slipping away. But then in 2033 the nation's most stabilising figure, Acting President Mahmoud Bahr, was assassinated. With him gone and Parliament non-existent, the Alexandria provisional government collapsed. Alexandria got its act together by 2038 and rechristened itself as the capital of the Delta Principality, but the other territories it once ruled over stayed in the clutches of competing rebels and criminal gangs. William had to personally intervene whenever a new group took over the canal to ensure that they wouldn't try any funny business with one of the world's main waterways and breaking the legs of the fools who didn't comply to his polite request over the telephone until they understood that William hadn't been asking them to behave. From 2050 to 2069 it had been managed by an enterprising Yakuza ane-san, until she was abruptly betrayed and murdered in a coup launched by a subordinate of hers who was bribed by a quirky, psychopathic warlord who called himself Beowulf Mohammed, ruler of the Sinai Peninsula and leader of a gang called the Ass-Crack Bandits.

William had been cross enough at having to give the "Free trade or broken legs and free trade" speech again, given that Sahyuki was at least a rather classy criminal and they shared a fondness for Cadbury's, but "Beowulf" pompously explained that while the Yakuza might have been content to let a feeble old man order them about, there was nobody in Egypt stronger than him. And to prove his point, his band of thieves captured a French merchant vessel in their waters while he filled up William's inbox with all manner of insults and spam. Normally by this point the Duke of Leeds would have already teleported over there by now and began using the Cricket Sword to break some legs, but this time he gently reminded Mohammed that he possessed enough soft power to kill him twice with a snap of his fingers. The giant called Hilde a whore, and Nilark cut off the transmission without another word. Two days passed, and the warlord began to boast more and more of his glorious achievement in confounding the Prime Minister.

But on the third day, October 17th 2069, William Nilark arrived at Beowulf's front door at last, ready to break more than just legs.

This time Excalibur was steel once more instead of willow, William had at long last swapped his three piece suit for his suit of armour, and the sexagenerian had brought the SAS and BFST in flying mechas along with him to Suez. After cutting his way through Beowulf's body guards and disarming him (again, literally. Sometimes William's sense of humour got morbid, and the brute was even more stupidly stubborn than the Yorkshireman) His Grace used that same menacing calm to explain how he had decided enough was enough with regards to the Canal and that it was time it was under the control of a proper government again-specifically, the British and French ones specifically, and their marines were overrunning Port Said. To add insult to injury, the rest of Beowulf's little rogue state would soon be crushed thanks to the Israeli army rolling into the Sinai Peninsula to wipe out the rest of the Ass-Crack Bandits before one of their other bosses could try assuming leadership. And then William snapped his fingers, and flicked a radiant blast through the warlord's face.

With their hammy overlord dead within the first hour and three of the most disciplined, technologically sophisticated fighting forces in existence making a queue to kick them up the arse the Ass-Crack Bandits fell apart, and it seemed like the intervention would take less than five months to carry out. The Prime Minister returned to Edinburgh, debating what sort of issue to tackle next. But the Syrian Army had been operating some sort of secret base in ACB territory unbeknownst to the coalition forces, who assumed it was yet another Ass foxhole and bombed it to smithereens. The Mujahideen retaliated by denouncing the imperialist zionist dog-pigs and launching missiles at the surprised Anglo-Franco-Israeli troops, turning the 2nd Suez Crisis into the Suez War. It hadn't gone well for them though. They put up stubborn resistance, but nonetheless they wound up pushed out of Syria entirely and forced to take the protection of their sole military partner, Iraq. And things had really gone tits up for the Syrio-Iraqi alliance when the Iranian Empire gave them the gift of a Christmas war declaration.

Duke William had been trying to get the Iranians involved in the war effort against Iraq since the Allies had rolled through Al-Qa'im, but their forces had been bogged down around the frontier of the empire that had once upon a time been where a strange country called Turkmenistan bordered Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan, dealing with a vicious recent spate of rebels, drug runners and border disputes with the Union State. But things had finally settled down there enough for his tennis buddy Emperor Hassan to give in to William's badgering, and the results had proven enormously helpful in shortening the war and trapping the Islamists. And back in January the Knight Grand Cross returned to the Middle East to join them in finishing the conflict he had set in motion, leaving Harold to carry out the day-to-day functions William would have been doing in Holyrood. Suppose I better check in with them again and tell them the good news. He tapped a few buttons on the projector and the map of the provisional capital of home of the Iraqi and Syrian governments disappeared, replaced after ten seconds by a smiling woman in a pinstripe suit.

"No other Cabinet ministers tonight, then?" Nilark asked.

"Aye, Chancellor Harold's down in Harrogate visiting his sick mum, the Foreign Secretary's still at that conference in Denmark, and the rest of them figured they could just read the status report Old Juggernaut Gordon sent once they got back from the Health Secretary's birthday party. It's just you and me tonight, Sir War Hero," she replied, crossing one stocking-clad leg over the other as she leaned back in her chair and turned on her holotablet.

"Right, then. Well, our attack begins tomorrow morning, and the whole army thinks the enemy's right nicked. I should be back in Edinburgh by the end of the week. So what's the latest back in politician-land, Sophie?" the Prime Minister asked his Culture Secretary as he pulled up a chair of his own. The Right Honourable Sophie Edenhill had aged rather well; not to the same degree as Hilde, but still enough to turn heads. Thankfully for William's sake she had given up hitting on him after he got married, finding a husband of her own a few years afterwards. And the fact that her children ended up coming to Elfen High due to their father being a wizard forced them to get platonically comfortable with one another.

"Your approval ratings remain as high as they were when you went to the front lines, Stephen Colbert was wondering when you could come on his programme again..." She rolled her eyes, "Germany released another statement imploring 'An end to hostilities between human nations and a return to the status quo ante of the states of the European Union acting as one, rather than venting reactionary nationalist rage and acting with questionable ulterior motives', as if she wasn't the queen of acting with ulterior motives. I still think the first election that made her chancellor was rigged somehow. Honestly, Eddie, if Oliver was half as manipulative as Hildegarde I'd have filed for a divorce decades ago."

"She's not all bad," William began gently, but the Yorkshirewoman was already shaking her head.

"I swear, if England won the World Cup for every time I've heard you say that..." the MP grumbled, setting her futuristic clipboard back onto the floor, "We've known each other since we were children, and you've ended up confiding in me more than any other government minister. I think by this point I can look past your eight-pack abs and see a few things troubling you inside. We're both excruciatingly aware of just how abysmal she is. If she wasn't then you wouldn't have been so adamant on getting the kids to yourself as much as possible in an environment absolutely packed with non-humans to counteract her influence, wouldn't have been as vigorous in ensuring that your successor at Elfen High kept it as tolerant and welcoming of other species as possible, wouldn't have built up all your backroom alliances across every inhabited planet to covertly work against her. And maybe most of all, I would never have caught you cheating."

William's disposition went from a spring breeze to a winter hurricane. "I can be accused of being many things, Sophie; stubborn, dimwit, jackass, too horny, race-traitor, warmongering imperialist, symbol of archaic class repression inherent in our militarist society, reptile steel-beam melting grandmaster of the global Jew Conspiracy. But adulterer is not on that list," He growled through clenched teeth.

"I'm not doubting that you never had sex with another woman after you put a ring on Hilde, Eddie. It's...more subtle than that. I'd just catch you glancing at me every once in a while with this forlorn look on your face for half a second every now and again out of the corner of my eye. You didn't seem to be fantasising over my chest or anything like that. Not that Hilde would give you much reason to, since she's always been more sexy than me. No, it seemed a lot more introspective than lustful. I'm not dredging this up because I'm a homewrecker jealous of the fact that Hilde gets your girth whenever she wants it. It's because you're a very close friend of mine and it bothers me endlessly knowing something's amiss under the surface but never having the chance to talk to you about it."

His Grace fell silent, arms folding across each other. The Yorkshireman was nearly seventy years old now, but due to the combination of demigod blood and residual healing magic flowing in his veins he still looked as if he was in his late thirties. Now, though, it seemed to Sophie as if her boss looked ancient. It was not the lines on his forehead, for there were none, or the tremble of his hands, as they still held Excalibur firmly. No, it was the way his breathing got so slow and his eyes seemed to dim, "I suppose you're right, in a way. Sometimes I still wonder what would have happened if I didn't run from you in Florence. Would I have even come back to Elfen High? " The knight's voice grew softer, more weary, "Would it be possible that Elizabeth would still be alive too, somehow? If I had came back to Yorkshire with you then I would have been there at the house when the Fae first landed, and I could have stopped them before they killed anyone, couldn't I? There's been nights where I've wished desperately you were Lady Nilark instead of Mrs. Edenhill, and Hilde could just be off by herself, with only her sisters to keep her miserable company while I had a blissful perfect family.

"But I have to keep such thoughts for when I'm alone. I couldn't bear to let Arnulf, Banastral and Christopher find out about them, and it would unravel everything I tried to do for them. I stayed with Hilde once I got her with child because I love her, I suppose, but also because I knew the whelp was going to have a horrible, wretched life if Hilde was the only one to raise him, pouring all her hate, cruelty and malice into his innocent mind. So I stayed, and resolved myself to try and balance her out for their sakes. If Hilde was determined to be black at pitch then I would have to be white as snow. Always hopeful, gentle, accepting, cracking jokes, forgiving, seeing everyone as having intrinsic worth where my wife would only look for their usefulness to her twisted plans. Some days I have to force myself to act that way through sheer will, or I'd end up a shattered, cynical shell of a man, and the kids would be no better off than if I had just left their mother. I haven't been perfect at it, I know, but I've tried my best to be a good father and a loving husband. So yes, Sophie, every rational part of my brain knows she's that bad. But I still keep that one ember of hope alive, because I must. I must keep that stiff upper lip and carry on, and nobody else in the world except Excalibur can ever know."

"Eddie, I'm...I'm sorry," the Culture Secretary offered after a good ten seconds or so of uncomfortable silence.

"Eh, it's alright. It could always be worse. And at least being her husband sort of keeps things between our rival blocs from breaking out into war or something. She can't focus so much on frothing at the mouth and ordering the Bundeswehr to mobilise when you're playing footsies with her or texting her invitations to make love in the nearest bathroom. Peace through my bits," Nilark added. He chuckled slightly, but Sophie could tell it was forced.

"Well..." William's impromptu therapist broke into a cheeky grin, "In that case I might have a crisis in my southern province that needs an intervention," She suggested with a wink, pulling her skirt up her leg ever so slightly. Duke William began to laugh uproariously at the pick up line, and the Yorkshirewoman knew it was genuine this time.

"Forget that Ian Duncan cock, I should have you be my therapist. Thanks for this, Sophie. How about I pillage something tomorrow for you? Any requests?" The Prime Minister asked, composing himself somewhat and standing up.

"How about you bring me back some nice weather?"

"You'll be a bit disappointed there. March is the rainiest month of the year in this country."

"Bollocks. Well I'll just have to settle for gold or some priceless ancient treasure or something. Nighty night, Eddie," Mrs. Edenhill pouted, waving briefly before ending the call. With a smile on his face Duke William headed out to check over his equipment for tomorrow, feeling a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

---

November 21st, 2093
ISV North Carolina, approximately 247,000 miles from Earth

William sat on a beanbag chair, humming a peaceful tune as he gazed out the observation deck at the cosmos which his beloved world floated in. He couldn't make out much of it clearly from this distance, but he still knew how much better it was now than when he had first come to it. His web of alliances and friendships had matured to the point where there hadn't been any major international dispute in years, and people spent their energy fixing things instead of breaking them. Like the ice caps and the Amazon. The Aral Sea was one of the four largest lakes on Earth once again and California wasn't constantly on fire. Whales, lions, rhinos, elephants, and that sort of thing were plentiful again, along with creatures like the thylacine, dodo and auroch. Really, the only major environmental catastrophes William could still think of were Ohio and Chernobyl.

As the starship drew closer towards its home planet William proudly began thinking about the other things coming into view. The light side of the moon gleamed with the great domed cities of Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins. They had been but the first permanent space colonies in an empire that now spanned to Mars as well, where the Prime Minister had been visiting. The progress civilisation had made over William's lifetime was astounding, and he was honoured to have played a role in it. Quite the 90th birthday present, if a bit existential. He sensed someone standing behind him, and smiled gently.

"Has the time come already?" William asked serenely.

"It has, sir," said a young woman in black armour with a red stripe.

"Thank you for the update, Commander Churchill. Oh, and before you go there's something I've been meaning to ask you. Are you and Lieutenant Gagarin going to tie the knot?"

"That's, er, we're...I beg your pardon?" The ISSR marine's cheeks went as red as the stripe on her right arm.

"That's still an idiom people use, isn't it? You know, get married, settle down, bear a glorious brood of binational children. Don't be bashful about it, Pyotr's a good man and you two are adorable together. Always nice to see a couple like that," the old warrior stated.

"Well, yes, I suppose I've thought about it sometimes," Victoria admitted, scratching the back of her head, "But don't tell the rest of the crew. I haven't even officially told them I'm dating Pyotr yet, for Pete's sake."

"Don't worry Commander, your secret's safe with me. So long as I get invited to the wedding," William joked, rising from the beanbag, "Come on then, we should go."

By this point the North Carolina was approaching New King's Cross Station, the giant satellite and spaceport connected to the Trafalgar Space Elevator. The ship had other duties to get back to, so the Prime Minister would have to spend a few hours on the station before catching the shuttle back to Earth. With nothing else to do and basking in the lighter gravity New King's Cross was set to, Duke Nilark decided to go for a walk. He passed by a Catholic cardinal and a troll with a sombrero and what looked lime a Salvation Army uniform sharing a plate piled high with pancakes, and thought of his own children's religious beliefs. Banastral had stayed Anglican like him, but his boys had wound up taking the faiths of their brides; Arnulf married Grace Entwistle's daughter, and Christopher fell for a sweet, bubbly demoness named Bridgette. Hilde's reaction to finding out who her third born had asked to marry him made her reaction to the speech William gave at Roastworth's press conference seem like a flash in the pan.

William stopped to look out the window as his thoughts turned to his wife. Sixty-two years can go by quickly, can't it? He had few regrets about all that time, though. It was a good life he had with her, in spite of the amount of grief she had caused him. Thankfully she seemed to do it less these days; whether it was because she was simply getting old or Bridgette's unending kindness had started to convince the Bavarian that demons could be good too. She was still a knockout GILF though. His ruminating was interrupted when a flight attendant ran up to him out of breath.

"Your Grace, there's...a situation...in the conference room on this deck...need help....no time to explain...." She panted, pointing in the direction she came from. Nilark bolted off that way. His hair might have been grey by now, but he was still in shape after all these years. He reached the door the young woman had said needed help, and put his ear up against it, but heard nothing within. The knight drew Excalibur and opened the door, charging into a pitch black chamber. Half a second later lights flashed on that left him blinded, and someone soft tackled him and knocked the sword out of his grasp.

"SCHNUCKIBÄRCHEN!" Hilde cried joyfully from on top of her husband, before she began kissing him repeatedly. William became aware that dozens of other people like Lord Calliel and Emperor Alastor were in the room as they began cheering and popping open bottles. A banner dropped from the ceiling, "Merry birthday, darling spouse. I'm so happy your ship was not delayed, or all the work I put in with this would be wasted. I got you cakes, an Irn Bru fountain, a pinata horde, screens for playing Smash Bros with your friends," She rattled off, barely pulling away from his lips, "And...just for you, my love, I even invited ze nonhumans." The homuncula's cheeks flushed in embarrassment at what she had done, but William grinned at her.

"Aww, that's so sweet. It means a lot to me, really. Thanks for putting all this together, schatz," the tyke replied as he leaned in to kiss her again. At this point they heard very loud coughing in front of them, and Duke Nilark noticed his children were all standing there in varying shades of awkwardness. Arnulf was trying to look away from his parent's impending affection, Christopher was faking the cough to kill the mood and avoid further embarrassment, Bridgette beamed and waved at her husband's parents like she always did, and Banastral was just trying to hold back snorts of laughter at the whole affair, "Alright kiddies, don't get too worked up. Just the first your mother and I have seen each other in a fortnight, no reason to be in a good mood," He grumbled, giving Hilde's rear a gratuitous pat as he helped her get up. The kids rolled their eyes and left the old pair to their own devices.

William put an arm around Hilde's waist affectionately, and she reciprocated the gesture while leaning her head on his shoulders. For half a minute he just stood there nuzzling, truly content to be with his wife. This was one of those beautiful days where he didn't need to force any positivity at all, when life was just grand and joy flowed like Victoria Falls. He was going to eat lots of cake, have a great time with his mates and embarrass all his wonderful children at once. And then when it was all over he'd go to bed with the incredibly gorgeous woman he loved and get it on with her like rabbits. But all these things would happen without the peaceful, prosperous worlds falling apart. In the end, that was all the most powerful man in existence wanted, and he had it. William Edward Galahad Nilark smiled and kissed his wife again with a profound feeling of joy, before going off to kick the snot out of everyone in the room with Mewtwo.

[Astrolinium]

Many years had passed. The walls of the room were some sort of drab beige, cast in alternating slats of shadow and light as the sun passed through the plexisteel window and its auto-blinds. In the bed – an old four-poster queen, the frame made of genuine mahogany – a shriveled old man lay dying alone. His chest rattled as it pulsed up and down in shallow spurts, skin clinging tight to bone, stretched like thin leather over his ribcage. He was a grotesque sight, all liver-spots and graying hairs, eyes clouded with cataracts – but then, the implants still worked just fine.

“I’ll be just like Geordi la Forge,” he said when the doctors had approved him for the implant.

“Who?” the doctor had replied.

That had been years ago, though. The man wondered what the implant would do once his brain had stopped. Would it keep trying to send data to be processed? Would it shut off automatically? He had no way to know, and he supposed that soon it wouldn’t matter. He’d be... well, somewhere new. He’d already died once, long, long, long ago, probably a hundred and fifty years ago, and that hadn’t lasted very long. He supposed that this time, he’d be moving... on.

There was a sudden chill in the room, and the man shivered beneath the thin bedsheet, pulling it further over him for warmth. That did wonders, though, didn’t it? He felt very spry, all of a sudden. He hadn’t felt like that in years, not since he’d been young. He sat up and yawned, looking around the room.

His mood changed instantly when he realized the source of the chill. The man fiddled around on the nightstand for his dentures, popped them into his jaw, and said, “Well, that’s just rude, making me feel all nice right as you show up.”

Death shrugged. “I DON’T MAKE THE RULES ABOUT IT, MR. ALTIER. WELL, THAT’S A LIE, BUT YOU AREN’T GETTING ANY SPECIAL TREATMENT, EITHER.”

Peter sighed, his chest rattling again. “I suppose it’s time. Do you make house calls for everyone, or is this just special because I’ve helped slay a dragon and was the sphinx for a couple decades?”

Death was silent and merely stared at him – through him would be a more accurate answer.

“W[HAT THE FUCK?” Death said suddenly as a young man in his late twenties with brown hair and a scarf appeared next to him with a soft pop.

Peter echoed the sentiment. “What the fuck?”

If he hadn’t already been essentially dead, he probably would have had a heart attack at the sudden sight of Caspian Lawrence.

“YOU’RE DEAD,” said Death. “WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE.”

Caspian shrugged. “You were out, no one was guarding the door, I have a knack for getting around. And the more important of the two people I’ve ever genuinely loved was dying alone. Don’t worry, I’ll go back with him.”

“NO,” said Death, “THAT’S NOT HOW THIS WORKS. THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS. YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN REINCARNATED AND BE FUCKING OFF INSIDE SOME GUY FROM SENEGAL RIGHT NOW.”

Caspian shrugged again. “I haven’t done it yet. I just died a few minutes ago and realized I’d never gotten to this in life – marvelous fun, time travel, don’t you think?”

“YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE.”

“Yeah, we can deal with it later. Anyway, Peter. Sorry I never made it back before now, it seems I had to die before I could learn to control it. Maybe that was that one wizard guy’s secret. The one of the moon. I think he died – we met again later, though. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

Peter stared at Caspian and said, “If I weren’t already dead, I would die of a heart attack right now. Also, fuck off, you could have at least left a note.”

Caspian sighed and crossed the dirty gray carpet towards the bed.

“I wanted to,” he said, “but how do you even begin writing that? ‘Hey, gotta go die, love you xoxo’? I jumped directly to Oberon. Those events shouldn’t even have happened like that after the world was rebooted but... time is tricky, I guess. I’d already witnessed it all so it was set in stone, I guess. You’d think Crowley could’ve fixed it, but he was always a bit of a self-centered cock. And I knew he died, too. The whole time. I’m scattered throughout the whole of Elfen High’s timeline – hundreds and hundreds of years. That’s not—“

Peter gave Caspian a look.

“Sorry,” Caspian said sheepishly. “When you’re dead, you don’t have a whole lot of people to talk to.”

Peter shrugged. “When you’re a bitter old man with no children, nobody talks to you either.”

Death rolled his eyes and said, “WE HAVE A SCHEDULE, PEOPLE.”

Peter held up a finger. “Just... a second, okay? I haven’t seen him in a long time, you know.”

“YOUR SOULS WERE JOINED. THAT DOESN’T JUST UN-HAPPEN. YOU TWO WILL ALWAYS FIND EACH OTHER. YOU’VE BASICALLY GOT THE REST OF ETERNITY TO TALK ABOUT IT. NOW COME THE FUCK ON.”

Caspian looked at Peter. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” he said.

Peter shrugged. “No, it doesn’t.”

Caspian nodded. “Alright, then, let’s go.”

He offered his hand to the dying old man and the two walked off together with Death.

In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter whether or not Peter and Caspian were every truly happy together. In the end, I think what’s really important is this: there was a young boy, alone and afraid, who had lost every ability to trust in his very memories and reality. There was another such young boy, displaced in time, totally unable to make a home or form anything lasting in his life. And these two people found each other and together, they taught each other how to live and to love. They may not have lived happily ever after, but the point is, they lived.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Silly thoughts of small deeds
Everything that once answered to your needs
The thoughtless but kind
The caring but blind
Everything fades away

2031
"Well, everyone, this is the first broadcast of Elfen High Community Radio." said a nervous and youthful Irish-American voice. Kevin O'Shaughnessy was a freshman at Elfen High, starting up a radio station as a hobby, but then actual news was happening now. So that was a problem. "Well, a lot of stuff happened lately. Charles Dance fought another Charles Dance, and it turns out our former headmaster was the child of the Charles Dances. It's all a bit confusing, to be honest. But I won't get into that. Um. Yeah."

He cleared his throat. "But let's get into some news events. The results of a recent survey of Elfen High residents came to light this week. The study found widespread dissatisfaction with our school’s public library. And, when considering the facts, it’s easy to see why. The public computers are outdated and slow. And the fatality rate is well above the national average for school libraries, due to the existence of deadly books who work together to cause a deep and brutal pain to any who, as they put it, "fuck with them". Steve Jacobson, a student from Edmonton, was found dead, his throat ripped out by a science textbook that he was not qualified to read. Remember, everyone - education can be fatal." said Kevin smoothly, now getting a handle on his material. "But let's go to our guest, Daily Show host Trevor Noah."

"Pleasure to be here, Kevin." said Trevor.

"So, Mr. Noah, what do you think of the recent events that have been happening? You...the death of the Omniverse and such?"

"Honestly, Kevin, we black and brown people are entertained. This is hilarious. White people are just overreacting to all this, you know? The rest of us have actual shit to do. You won't believe this, but I have a Snapchat, you know, and I was checking it after we all came back to life...one of my friends was taking Snap stories of the world ending and putting that shit on Instagram too. I mean...at what point do you stop?" Noah laughed. "It seems like the world is ending," he said, putting on a very stereotypically American accent. "Let me take a selfie!"

Kevin laughed too. "Yeah, that's all a bit silly." he cleared his throat. "But seriously, what do you think about all this? What effect is this going to have?"

Noah's voice became serious. "On an actual note, it's going to be a change." he said. "I feel the political atmosphere is going to change dramatically. The Republican government might be even more strengthened since the government in America have handled this well, helping nationalism along. There are so many fucking American flags right now." laughed Noah. "Way, way too many. I feel myself becoming more American as we speak, just looking at all the flags over here in New York, you know. God bless America!" said Noah sardonically in an American accent. "Eastwood came out the other day, you know, holding a Fae's skull in his hands, screaming about how the crystalised blood made him more powerful. Also, "I will be the greatest jobs president that God ever created" "Did you notice that baby was crying through half of the speech and I didn’t get angry?" "I have so many websites" "The American dream is dead" "It was a great night for Mexico" "When was the last time you saw a Chevrolet in Tokyo?" "I think I am a nice person" Donald "I promise I will never be in a bicycle race" Trump was found dead, which people aren't really that upset over. And every building with his name on it burnt down. My old boss, Jon, was crying over that."

Kevin chuckled. "Well, you know, he wasn't the only one to kill some Fae." he said offhandedly. "I shot down a few myself. Did you know Fae blood tastes delicious?"

There was a brief silence. "Ha ha." said Noah a tad weakly. "That's funny, it didn't sound like you were joking for a second."

"Well, I'm not. It's a lot better than human blood."

"I'm a bit busy right now, actually. Lot of appointments. Bye!"

Kevin cleared his throat. "Well, Trevor Noah hung up on us. Not the way I wanted the first interview to go, but oh well. Tomorrow, we''ll have the Mummy on to discuss his time caring for the children of Elfen High. Won't that be exciting?"

There was a pause as someone whispered in Kevin's ear. "I'm being told we actually booked the Zodiac Killer. Well, that still is going to be an exciting interview and you should all absolutely tune in. Till next time, Elfen High. Till next time."

---

The fire was burning bright. But soon, quite soon, it'd go out. It was an inevitability. He watched this occur with some interest, finishing up some last minute affairs. A few species of bacteria wiped out, never to evolve into something more. Some last small gods had been vanquished, never to find more followers. Truthfully, his work had been severely lessened as of late. There was far less to do, and he didn't need to be busy as often. Things were winding down.

Death sat back in his chair, sipping some tea. He petted his dog affectionately, a gift from the girl Lyra. The old companion had stayed with him ever since - Death was the eternal companion of all, and Stanley was the eternal companion of Death.

Death sat back, looking into the flames. The blue light at the centre of the Omniverse was starting to unravel, and Death noticed a last visitor arriving after finally dying. "YOU'RE FINALLY HERE. YOU TOOK QUITE LONG.." he noted. His visitor looked up, surprised.

"I THINK THERE'S ANOTHER PERSON YOU OUGHT TO MEET.." Death said. "SEVERAL." he gave a smile, reflecting on things.

---

2038
In Elfen High, there was silence. There was a person gone, and a tall man standing at a podium, wiping his eyes. "I'm sorry." was the mutter. "I'm alright." he said under his breath to his wife Ciel, who asked he was ready for this. "Just give me a moment."

He cleared his throat, looking out at the crowd, seeing Calliel and Ivy sitting in the front rows, as well as Megan, Hope and Lewis. Headmaster Nilark and his wife watched attentively. Well, William did - Hilde was likely thinking of her hatred for demons and how to kick them out for Germany. The rabbits had sent a representative, though the bears had not. A deliberate snub after Aleister Crowley had not sent one to attend the equinox where they had chosen new leadership. But Daisuke had no concern for that, as the bears were basically a defeated civilisation.

"My friend is dead. Franklin Damien Jameson is dead." Daisuke said simply. "And...that's okay. That was his choice. We're all going to die. D had enough time to explore life, and he decided he didn't want it. He never really was supposed to be alive to begin with. He only was due to a deal with dark forces, and I do think he knew this all along. He was always in a rush and never stayed on the phone long enough. He was, quite frankly, an asshole."

Daisuke paused. "But D was good. He helped those he came across. He cared deeply for his family and friends even if he couldn't show it, even if his inner demons came across. And I loved him. He was a close friend and partner, even if we had disagreements - and did we have disagreements." Daisuke smiled. "D delighted in making me do menial tasks, distracting me, trolling me, but in a tough spot we would back each other up. There was no dispute there. I never had a moment where I genuinely wondered if D disliked me, and I know for a fact he never had that consideration about me. But...nothing changes the fact I'm saying these words to you. Not to him. I know he can't hear me anymore. And that's my biggest regret, the thing I can't take back - the words I never said."

A gust of wind blew through, causing some tears to fall out of Daisuke's eyes. "Sometimes I hear his voice in my head when I'm reading a company report, or as a partner when I work on a new device. I bounce ideas off an imaginary D, to try and work something out. And I have a lot of questions, but I'm talking to myself. When it's on a matter of tech, I can replicate D's reaction exactly. But talking now, exposing my feelings, how much I loved the man...I'm not sure how he'd respond. We never discussed that. In my time with him, we worked. And I regret the words I never said. But that's the sort of man he was. Now, instead of remembering what we didn't do, let's remember what we did. We helped each other. We worked well. And let's remember what he did - he saved the fucking world. Likely more times than proper count, since we did a lot of things in our lab, but he saved the fucking world. All of us owe D a debt. Perhaps in another life we can pay it." He cleared his throat, allowing the next people to take the stand, not really listening.

Meanwhile, Death watched, the spirit of D standing next to him. He gave a nod to the fading spirit, allowing him to see this last thing. Then D moved on.

---

2041

"I don't know what we'll necessarily do here." muttered Sameer, walking out of the elevator in his hotel in Las Vegas, searching for his room. The city had recovered and bounced back from the incident in 2012, and had returned to being the city of sin everyone knew and accepted. His wife rolled her eyes.

"For fuck's sake, Sameer." Supriya scolded. "It'll be fine. Let's relax a bit, the kids are fine in Leicester as is." she told him.

"I suppose." the man reluctantly concluded, bumping into someone as he walked down the hall, the two of them nearly falling. "Terribly sorry." Sameer started to say, but the other man shook his head.

"Perfectly fine." the tall, handsome man said, shaking Sameer's hand. "Have a good day." he said, walking off, taking hands with the woman with him.

Supriya's mouth was agape. "Sameer, did you see who that man was?"

"Awfully nice?" the British Indian shrugged. "It was quite nice of him but-"

"No, that was Lord Calliel, from Heavensgate! You just bumped shoulders with him-"

While the two of them freaked out about the celebrity they had just met, let's shift scene to another part of the city, where Henry, an extremely polite British demon from before, was knocking on the doors of residents of Sin City, determined to convert them to the faith of Mormonism. Perhaps later he'd even swing by Jasper and visit his son Harry.

In general, Vegas returned to its former glory, demons, former angels, elves, dwarves, humans, Indians and others coexisting peacefully. On the news station in one of the bars, a basketball game between the Union State and the USA was on, with the Belarusian player Vladimir having stolen the ball from the American demon-origin player Christopher Narakan. Some demons in said bar watched and screamed in anger, Narakan a hero amongst that community.

And thus the City of Sin continued, gambling, crime and humanity everywhere. And in the dark, a black man did his work, unseen and uncared for. But he worked anyway.

Two detectives rode in their police car, Jackson and Priestcruncher. Jackson, a demon, looked at his partner. "What are you thinking?"

"Life's a pinata. Sometimes you're the one swinging the bat, and sometimes you're the one left scrambling for the last pieces of candy." Priestcruncher mused, taking a drag off his e-cig. "This murder case we're looking for...it's been unsolved for years, you know. That anchor for Silver State News, that Texan investigator, his Mexican pal. And more bodies have piled up. They were hit by the bat, and now our bosses are scrambling for the candy, trying to figure out what to do."

Jackson stared. "What the fuck?" he asked, just sighing. "Alright, so we're searching for the candy-"

"No. Look at my teeth. Think I ever had a cavity? No - I was never scrambling for the candy. I was always swinging the bat." Priestcruncher replied, baring his sharp, sharp teeth. "We'll find out who is behind all of this, and then they're going to be going down, understood?"

They were driving into the desert as Jackson sighed, looking out the window, then he stopped the car suddenly. "Hold on, hold on." he said. "Get your gun. Something's out there." he told his partner, who opened his own door slowly.

"There's tracks." Jackson said slowly. "Human tracks, I think. Look, they go off into the distance here..."

Priestcruncher looked at the tracks, the footprints, and then he saw something else. "What's this?" he asked Jackson quietly. "These marks...they look like a snake's..."

"It's the desert." Jackson said, giving his partner a withering look. "Of course there's snakes here."

"No, no, Jack, these are all wrong." Priestcruncher said, his voice starting to take on an edge of panic. "What drew you out of the car? What did you see?"

"I saw movement." Jackson said. "Really sudden, really fast..." Jackson's eyes widened. "Oh my god."

Hissing noises were heard, as four inch long creatures emerged from underneath the earth. From them, only pure malevolence could be sensed. "Relax, relax." Priestcruncher said, pulling forward his gun. "There's not too many of them, only twenty five at most in the world according to recent estimates."

"Priest, you might want to rethink that." said an increasingly nervous Jackson, pointing his gun at the nearest hissing creature.

"Why's that, Jack?"

"I see at least fifty from where I'm standing."

And that would have been the end of the two detectives if something miraculous hadn't happened. A red light. An explosion. Screeching as someone descended from on high, slamming down onto the ground. Such a blast was heard even amongst people within the city of Vegas. But now many, many dead Crowley's Penises lay on the ground, twitching and giving their death rattles.

"That is not all of them." muttered the tall man. "But that is those here now." The black man turned to Jackson and Priestcruncher. "Do not come to this desert again. Don't you know there are land mines here?"

Jackson coughed. "Yeah, there are, but you sure as hell didn't set them off, you did something els-"

"I set them off as a side effect." the man retorted. "It covers tracks well, to protect you. And so you don't mention me. It would have been simpler to let you die and cleaned it out later. Be grateful for your lives. These creatures...they're being controlled by some other force. A foreign force..." the black man looked concerned. "But it is not your business. Not now. If it turns out I cannot handle it myself or I die, then information will be released. But right now things must be kept secret and private. This is too important - someone else will get it wrong."

"Listen here, buddy." Priestcruncher growled. "You can't just come in here and-"

"I can. And I will." was the calm reply. "All you have to do is be unafraid. And fire some of your bullets into the ground. That sets off the landmines. Miraculously, you lived. Be sure to repeat that story. There shouldn't be more disappearances here. And goodbye. We should not meet again." said the man, fading.

"Who was that?" Jackson said. "What the fuck happened there?"

Priestcruncher took a breath. "I'm not sure. But I am sure that I'm not going to be saying what really happened. Practice our story. After that, I think we should both take some time off the job."

---

2041
"Welcome to today's broadcast of Elfen High Community Radio. This is your host, Kevin. I got some exciting news, listeners! I'm the new theatre teacher at Elfen High, appointed by headmaster Nilark after the last teacher died in an untimely and mysterious accident, followed by his wife when she couldn't keep her mouth shut. I just cannot wait to head the productions here. I already have a great idea, like making In Bruges a play. The bullets will be real instead of fake as well. But more on that later - right now, the news." he cleared his throat.

"The Elfen High Tourism Board asks that whoever is telepathically assaulting the tourists please stop.

According to the Elfen High Tourism Board director, Austin Ende, there were two separate incidents in one week of entire tour buses and trains suddenly shrieking in unholy terror and trying to blind themselves using rolled-up "Visit Elfen High!" brochures – all to the utter confusion of the bus drivers and train chauffeurs.

Ende added, sounding tired and depressed as usual, "Fuck this. Fuck you. Fuck everything."

Ende claims that tourism accounts for millions of dollars annually for Elfen High, and we pride itself on hospitality. He said that if good-hearted families travel to Elfen High only to find their subconsciouses besieged with unforgettable revelations, horrors buried so deep as to be completely indescribable, revealing wholly unbearable new truths, then we certainly can’t expect these people to return…let alone leave good Yelp ratings for local businesses. And that would be a shame, especially after the newest pub, Minh Taka's Old Drinking Room, has been made open to the public. The pub, of course, is named because we've opened up Minh Taka's old drinking room and just decided to make money off it. Headmaster Nilark was at the grand opening ceremony, where he said "The booze is weak, but it should do for you Southern cunts." In any case, that pub and other local business simply cannot thrive if there's no real tourism happening. Please, whoever is psychologically attacking our guests, stop. Only government mandated psychological attacks can be allowed here, like any country. Now, onto our interview with the Prime Minister of Vietnam..."

[Nightkill the Emperor]

---

Outside the Omniverse
It was snowy here in the ground between worlds. An Android observed the snow outside in what had once been a Fae castle, and was no longer. Now it was a hub for Uriel and his group of protectors. Once, the man named Lucifer named himself Protector of the Earth. That was a meek title compared to the responsibilities of this group.

The Fae were almost entirely eradicated and scattered. There were other threats to deal with, but they would be handled in due time. The black man sat upon a spartan, four legged chair, thinking, watching the activity around him.

The Androids scurried about, mapping the Omniverse, showing where they had been and where they would go next. The man watched this frenzied activity with a sort of disinterest and apathy.

“Would you really kill your father with me, the father you sought so hard to emulate? Would you kill me, your only reason for existence, the enemy you strived to fight? I WILL NOT DIE! NOT WHILE THERE IS STILL BREATH, WHILE THERE IS STILL-”

Uriel didn't have regrets about the memory of stabbing the knife into his enemy. He saw it every time he looked at the blade that was soaked in blue blood, blood that would not wash away no matter how he cleaned it. Oberon had left that as a final gift, unwilling in some way to allow his memory to disappear. Every time Uriel used his weapon of choice, Oberon's blood stayed on the blade, his corpse floating through the multiverse, abandoned and forgotten.

He was the new Harbinger. His brother had passed the duty on to him. During that moment when all of the Omniverse was one, they had understood each other. They understood what they wanted. And Lucifer had bestowed this duty onto him, knowing that he would not live long after he was done remaking the world. And now Uriel would once again try to protect what his family had left behind.

Once, he had driven himself with this. With this and a belief in his father's goals, and with a need to do whatever he had to do to kill the beast Oberon and stop him.
But now...there was a lack of care.

“There’s a large Omniverse out there. And stories never end. We will do our part to protect it. My task is not yet complete.” These had been his words when Oberon had fallen at last. But it was a task. A duty. He had always mechanically performed his duties, passionate about defeating Oberon, serving God's teachings, of doing anything he had to. But now Oberon had fallen. God was dead, at his hands.

His face was stone walled to those observing him. One Android moved toward him. "Sir." it said quietly. "There's been some disturbances in the region that is Purgatory, from our home dimension. Would you like to examine it?"

Uriel's eyes looked at the Android in front of him, betraying nothing. "It's our duty." came the simple response as he stood up. "Our work must be done. But...I cannot go recognised. A man must change his face." he placed his hand on his face, and his features shifted. He was evidently older now, grey haired. Taller, lines on his face. "I'll go by myself. I'll send messages if the disturbances need them, if they are not a false alarm. For now, let me examine."

He stood in front of a wall, looking out into it. A swirling green portal formed, and Uriel stepped out into the world of Purgatory. Immediately, he heard a familiar sound...church bells.

---

Within, the Father hurriedly swallowed the last of his sandwich and brushed the crumbs from his lap.

"Father?" came the cracking voice of a young boy breaking into adolescence, "Father! The service is beginning!"

"Quiet, child!" barked the priest, "You think I can't hear those thrice-damned bells?"

With shaking hands and quaking knees, the old priest pulled himself from his wooden chair and rested his weight on the simple wooden cane which he made himself from the branch of a sycamore tree in the church garden. Perhaps he could have simply had one of those fancy new limbs made for him, but that wasn't the point, he had been told as a much younger man. It had taken a long time, but now he understood.

Well, maybe it wasn't such a long time, not by his standards. Though it felt long.

The door to his study creaked open and the boy entered. The Father grunted his disapproval; he had made the mistake of mentioning that his sight was going a bit blurry, and suddenly he was a blind fool to be led around by this boy monk. He had been blind many times over before, but not now.

"What took you so hellishly long to get here?" he grumbled. Honestly, the Father knew not from where this surliness came. The boy was good to him, and he was not angry. Perhaps it was the creaking of his joints, or perhaps it was just his age.

"Apologies, Father," the boy said in a hushed tone, "but quickly! The congregation is ready!"

"They can take their bloody time," the Father replied as he began to make his way forward, "Ungrateful bastards. I've been preaching here since their grandparents were babes in the manger!"

"Father, what is a manger?" asked the boy, guiding him gently by the sleeve.

"Silence, boy. You are embarrassing your entire generation."

"Don't forget, Father. We are holding mass in the town square today. For the solstice."

"Yes, yes, I know. Think you I have lost my mind to the mists of time?"

To some extent, admittedly, he had. Gone were the faces of old friends and family, of his commanders and his masters, and of his soldiers and his lovers. Too much for one head, he thought. Too much living for one man. He thought that, soon, a time would come that he would live no longer. But then, he had thought that many times, and each time before - even if he had died - he began anew as a new man.

Sometimes, some things rose back up from the black sea, though. Before the boy had interrupted his lunch, he had been thinking of a human he once knew, or close to a human. What his name? Something like "crow". Anyways, the Father didn't remember much about him, but he must have been important because his face was clear as day. Not so much his face, anyways, as his eyes. His sad eyes, eyes that carried the heart of the world in them. The Father was so old, he suspected he had eyes like that now.

After some shuffling, the two emerged into the daylight. The Father stood tall and proud as Goliath himself and took a deep breath of the summer air. The sun warmed his skin and he allowed a slight smile to slip onto his lips. He was reminded of a day once, so very long ago, in a woman's arms. A bad woman she was, or so he thought. He might have just been imagining it.

---

Uriel stepped out, joining the rest of the congregation, frowning ever so slightly. This was new for him. It had been some time since he had been here.
He sat down in a pew, watching and waiting, disconcerted by the crowd. Then he realised something new. A man had stepped out.

An old man. A fat one. A changed one. But a man Uriel recognised, as a servant and an enemy both. Uriel kept his expression frozen, looking straight ahead. He waited for the priest to begin speaking, to start his sermon.

Aziraphale. Here. Purgatory had changed, become something entirely new. He heard people speaking in the angelic language, a mix of Latin and Hebrew, but had changed substantially since. He could follow it as angels were conservative and languages didn't change too much, but it was difficult. Time had passed.

The Father tottered a bit as he assumed the impromptu altar that had been constructed in the town square, steadying himself by resting all his weight on his cane. The boy approached to help and was waved away with a grumble.

On either side of the crowd came two young thurifers, dressed similarly to the boy, swinging in the air in strokes of two simple steel thuribles. The Father, his eyes tightly closed, breathed deep the fumes of incense and thought to himself that it tasted all wrong. He remembered still the taste of the incense of his boyhood, almost like cinnamon with the wild and bold flavors of the oils of Heaven, and the solid gold thuribles which held it. Ornate they had been, with proud depictions of the princes of Heaven. This was a very different beast, this incense, a simpler and tamer kind for a simpler and tamer land. These thuribles bore no ornamentation. Some might call the Father a bit of an iconoclast, actually.

Without prompting, the congregation arose in song. It was a short tune, but it was heavy with the grief of a thousand years, conveyed in the thick tongue of the angels of old. Their speech swelled with the ages and twisted in the air as ancient words tend to, and none of them knew now what they said. In truth, neither did the Father, but it was an old song from his boyhood and he liked the title -- “The River of Hardship”. He had by then invented a hundred different meanings for the words, and spoken half of them like the holy truth. It didn’t much matter.

His eyes snapped open suddenly. “ ‘For now we see’!” he boomed in a mighty voice which he had developed over years of preaching. The crowd fell silent. “ ‘For now we see in a mirror, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know fully even as also I was fully known.’ ”

For a moment, the Father allowed those words to hang over the crowd. He peered over them with hard and fiery eyes.

“That is a quote from our Lord-General Agniel, who served as the right hand of the Lord Lucifer in his reign over Heaven,” said the Father, “and, who upon Lucifer’s fall from grace, followed him into battle and died at the hand of the great Lord Uriel himself.”

The Father sneered, “But Uriel was no great lord, was he? There are those among you whose fathers would have recalled him, though long faded are the lives of any who truthfully remember him, save myself and a few others who wander this place. And I can tell you true, having met the man and having seen him die, Uriel was a monster untold.

So can it be said, truly, that Lord Lucifer fell from grace or simply from his brother’s graces? Lord Uriel was a holy man -- yes, most holy! That, no one can deny. And Lord Lucifer was not a holy man, rather the opposite. And I can tell this true, having met the man and having seen him die and having seen him since in many visions and prophecies.”

He scanned the crowd. “Which brings us to the question of what truly is grace. Is it holiness? Is it benevolence? I think neither, and yet both, for they are mere facets of true grace. Divinity and piety are nothing to a man without context, nothing to make him great. For Uriel was divine and pious, yet he enslaved our people and for centuries untold worked at our doom. And benevolence is meaningless also to a man without context, for benevolence alone provides a man simply with good intentions. Lucifer had good intentions, but he brought strife and strife alone to our people, and his war spilled more blood than any until Uriel’s own.

So what is this context that gives man true goodness? What can elevate him to be truly godly?”

He let the question hang long in the air.

---

Uriel listened to this criticism of himself with a stone face, though he had some emotions roaring inside.

And I can tell you true, having met the man and having seen him die, Uriel was a monster untold.

Uriel thought on those words. A monster. That's how they remembered him? He wasn't hurt or offended. He accepted this. His methods were extreme, but they worked toward an end, even if he had to isolate and alienate his family. His daughter had suffered for his goal, but ultimately he was working for good. If others could not understand this, it was on them.

And yet, there was some truth to it. He was slightly shaken, slightly angered. They didn't understand the sacrifices he had made. How the hell did they not realise this?
Uriel raised a hand. "Dedication." he said simply, letting the suggestion hang also in the air. "A willingness to see a goal to an end, so the previous wrongs are righted and one is saved and redeemed."

---

The Father glared at this intruder for some time. He had not expected an answer, and was annoyed at one. Several of the other parishioners seemed to agree, which annoyed him further. With his failing eyesight, however, he could not quite see who this man was. Was it Jeremiah? Jeremiah was an asshole.

“But was not Uriel dedicated?” the priest said, his voice like an echo of a thousand years, “Did he not fight to his last for an evil cause? And was not Lucifer dedicated? Did he not sacrifice his home for selfishness? And was not Oberon dedicated? Did he not give his own life for spite? Dedication is but a quality which enables greatness, but it is not a product of, nor exclusive to, the grace of our Lord.

The truest quality of grace is given to us by Agniel. As he said, ‘And if I have prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing’. Love.

One who has not love has not known the face of the Lord. For ours is a world of cruelty, born of the material bonds which separate us from the truth. We inflict upon one another sin and death in multitudes, and we feel nothing in doing it. Not unless we care for those we harm, not unless we love them. Lucifer and Uriel had grand visions of utopia, of bright new futures, but they paid far too much in blood to justify anything. They had forgotten love, they had forgotten the pain they inflicted on others, and they had forgotten the way of God.

But did not Lucifer act of love? Love for his lost human woman? And did not Uriel act of love? Love for his lost daughter? Yes, they loved these two. But they did not act of love. For when their loves died, they soured and turned all their actions to hate. Close kin are love and hate, but one is the greatest good and the other the greatest evil. But that does not mean we should not embrace love, for without love, our lives are nothing and our souls neutral.

How, then, do we prevent hate? It is a simple answer and a difficult thing. For ours are bodies selfish and minds subjective, and so the greater part of us can only ever love selfishly. We love our parents for their nurturing. We love our spouses for their affection. We love our children for the purpose they give us. And we love our Lord for the salvation He grants us. But that is not true love. True love transcends our selfishness. True love has no loyalty but to the greater good. True love is even and weighs all men and women the same. True love is not love of an individual, nor even of God, but of the all and of the complete fabric of the universe. And true love is selfless, even requiring of us great sacrifice. It is only by this true love can we truly divine whether or not our actions are moral, or godly. It is only by this true love that we can be good, and worthy of the Lord.

Even Agniel himself failed to truly love, for his love for Lucifer drew him away from his love for the common man. For one who truly loves, we must visit now the messiah, the Harbinger of the Sun.

Our savior was a selfish man. He loved only his friends and his lost wife, and for that was often cruel. But in the dying moments of the world, he discovered true love. He left his friends to die, he left behind the memory of his only lover, and he even left behind his self, which had enabled him to love these people. He washed away his life and lived many more, under many names and many faces, for all personae he adopted were but another step on the path to true love. With each washing away of his face and his loves, he came closer to the core of every soul, which we often neglect. And in his final moments, he was able to truly love all, and to restore to reality all. All sinners, all evils, all those who hurt him and stole from him his loves… all. For to truly love is to love without judgment, and to truly love is the only way. He restored his own life of misery and pain, and lost love, for that was the only way to restore anything. A man who truly loves is not a man at all, but unfettered mercy. And he is truly divine.”

---

Uriel was astounded by this argument. Lucifer, being mythologised this way? His selfish brother, who destroyed the world that they all once knew, replacing it with fire? Uriel remembered those battles. They had been his first. They seemed so old now, yet so fresh. Some wounds had never left. Heaven...Heaven had been destroyed, wrecked, falling apart. He did what he had to save his people.

His daughter Hope had never forgiven him. Uriel sometimes regretted what had to be done, but she had archangel blood and was less essential than Michael and Raphael to the governance of Heaven and Heavensgate. Despite his love for his daughter, he allowed it not to cloud his determination to save his people and the rest of the universe. But where was that sacrifice mentioned in this false priest's lecture?

Uriel felt something he normally did not. Anger. Offence. His brother had been mythologised as a great and epic hero when he was anything but. Where was Lucifer when Uriel spent nights restoring the city shattered to pieces while shell-shocked Michael grew more and more into himself. Where was Lucifer when Raphael woke up in the night with nightmares and fits? Where was Lucifer when Uriel tried to pick up the pieces of his mess, while he tried to rebuild a destroyed Heaven, when he sealed away his own daughter, when he made the necessary sacrifices and enslavements to restore his people?

Uriel knew he had not been a loved leader. Not at first. He did what he had to do, and eventually, at the end, he had a very loyal population who dared not speak out. If they did, they would fail, and he would correct them. That was truly loving all, making sure none would sin, looking out for everyone's best interest. Then his brother, his traitorous brother, his older brother, his beloved brother, ended all the work that Uriel had built.

There were no angels left. Not anymore. Lucifer had destroyed all of that in one move.

Uriel had nothing. He was a king without a kingdom, a priest without a flock. He had given everything up to save everyone, but there was no respect. He had given everything up to lead people to a rightful path, but there was nothing now. Nothing but stories made up of facts and lies.

He calmed himself, though his face gave a brief and quick twitch. He remembered what he told himself when he stood over Oberon's dead body, something he could not forget. That blood would never leave his knife.

“I had made mistakes. One does not build cities if one is guided by doubt. But no one could do everything in absolute certainty. I know my beliefs and work elevated me as I know the things I rejected would have destroyed me. But I had become so convinced by my own beliefs that I had stopped seeing the truth. Or the best path. I need to make amends for that.”

He then asked the father another question, remembering other priests called the Father, people who worked as his Correctors. And that was his question. "Is true love not trying to lead people to a better life, a life of no sin or as little sin as possible?" he challenged. "The Harbinger saved everyone, but he also saved the sinners. He left us worlds that are all damaged and sinful, imperfect and flawed. That is the nature of all, of course, but it should be suppressed. It is wrong. How do we work for a better world if we accept and tolerate sin, as your perception of true love implies? Then why are you lecturing and teaching? You should truly love us and allow us to live in sin. What is the point?"
The Father laughed. It was a wheezing thing, air desperately pulled through shattered and dusty lungs ages far too old. He doubled over and coughed violently at the end into the back of his hand, pushing the boy away when he came to offer help.

“And who are you?” he asked between bouts. When it ended, he cleared his throat and stood upright again.

“And who are you,” he repeated, “to sit in judgment over your brothers? Are you perfect, child? Are you without sin?”

The Father smiled. “I am not. I was a soldier. I shed the blood of innocents. I did it in the name of the Lord, even worse. And there were other sins, smaller ones, of which we are all guilty. Doubt is a sin, but we have all felt it. Lust. Sloth. Gluttony. Pride. No man is without these at some point in his life. A good life is not about having no sin, it is about fighting it.

And why, you ask, restore sin to the world? For the simple truth that without vice, there is no virtue. What is a moral man in a vacuum? Stagnant. Without the chance to do wrong, how can do we right? How can we be anything but complacent? The Lord placed sin here for a reason, so that he might test his children and inspire them to greater goods than mere stillness. Does the Lord himself practice virtue in nothingness? There are the Fae. There are other gods. These are the people to whom the Lord wishes to turn from, to be better than. And there must be sin to show us the other way. Would a sinless man have anything to fight for? Could he even know the fight? Would not a sinless man have been slaughtered by Oberon?

Only one has the power to judge us for our sins, and that is the Lord. Our Lord is perfect, or as close as they come. And in that virtue lies mercy, the greatest of them all. For we all deserve to burn. We all are sinners. But our Lord is great, and so we all are forgiven. That is love. Do you not hold within you the capacity to forgive?”

Uriel froze up. Forgiveness. Did he have the potential for that?

He had been shaken to his core here, an awakening that had been built up for some time. But finally, it had struck him wholeheartedly. Forgiveness. That was something emphasised in a lot of doctrines, but Uriel had always held it secondary to purging. And forgiveness could only happen, after all, once someone had acknowledged their mistake and when sin had been purged from them.

But perhaps...perhaps that was wrong. He recalled Lucifer summoning him forward, sending him to fight and defeat Oberon. Why? His brother had been willing to forgive him, to move on, to trust him with this task, though he had no true reason to. Uriel would never have trusted anyone with a task of that importance...but Lucifer did.
Would a sinless man not have been slaughtered by Oberon?

Uriel staggered under that thought. He had killed Oberon. The blue on the knife meant he'd never forget that. As Oberon's book of life shut, a new chapter began in Uriel's. A sinless man would have been slaughtered by Oberon. And then that meant something obvious, but something Uriel had always ignored. He was not a sinless man.
He had, in his own way, led a life of sin. He made grave errors. But that was acceptable. Now...now, did he have the capacity for forgiveness, to forgive the sins of others? Uriel reluctantly realised he had no choice in the matter. Considering his own sinful nature and the things he had done, he had to forgive the sins in others or try to. It would be hypocrisy to not.

Now...self-forgiveness? That was a whole new challenge.

But now he had something to strive toward. He had a goal. He had something he could do, to work toward while he continued the work Lucifier had entrusted him with, had forgiven him to do.

Uriel was silent for the remainder of the sermon. But afterwards, he was the last person to leave the grounds. Him and the Father. Uriel looked at the now much older man, remembering when he was a child and smiling slightly. But he approached the Father. "Thank you for the sermon." he said seriously. "It was helpful. But...I have to request something. I'm going now to elsewhere. I may need to make confession before I go."

The Father blinked heavily and shifted the entirety of his weight onto his cane. His grip on the cane began shaking violently and his breath was short. Why, exactly, he could not have said. He didn’t particularly care at this point in his life.

“Boy!” he said sharply, “Come here and take a confession. Not even you could ruin that.”

“Father,” the boy replied, staying out of the elder priest’s reach so as to avoid being throttled, “I have to go to the kitchen and help peel the corn for the festival.”

“Do what?” The Father narrowed his eyes.

“Peel the corn,” the boy repeated, louder.

“I heard what you said, boy! You don’t peel corn, you shuck it.”

The Father grumbled to himself and shifted his weight back towards the church. He said, “Fine. Leave. This young man can lead me back inside himself.”

“Yes, Father,” the boy agreed. He skipped off, saving his sigh of relief until he was convinced the Father could not see him anymore. The Father did not bother to wait that long.

“What a miserable little shit,” he muttered.

Uriel blinked. "He's young." he replied simply. "Have the capacity to forgive, Father." A glance at Uriel's face would imply nothing but perfect seriousness, but that was absentminded snark. Not to the degree of his brother, but snark nonetheless. He always had been the most human of the archangels. "Shall we go inside, Father?"

---

2055

"And now we are agreed on a peace." said William with some relief, lying back in Crowley's old swirly chair. The old headmaster had loved it, and his successor saw why. It was fucking wonderful. It was an unbelievably comfortable chair, specially designed to benefit those sitting in it and give a feeling of comfort and power. Also, it swirled. William had to resist the urge to start spinning around in it.

Anyway, he looked at Fluffykins, a war-weary general and his rival Robert Bunnatheon. "Now, let us sign this document." he stated. "This will end the civil war once and for all. The Republic of Bunnyistan will gain the lands that they won in the war of 2025, before an assault by the Kingdom of Carrotan. We will return to status quo ante bellum."

Fluffykins sighed, placing his ears over his head. "Finally." he muttered. "Finally some peace."

"This was a long war." agreed Bunnatheon. "Things will be worked out, but the war has ended."

"Why the fuck did this thing even start?"

Fluffykins shrugged. "Historical reasons." he said vaguely. "It's like any war. Generations pass and so on. The old reasons are lost to time."

William blinked. "It's been like thirty five years since Sachin Mankar originally created you."

Fluffykins glared. "Sorry that we go through generations faster than you." the old general snarled, but Bunnatheon held his rival and old friend's arm. "Leave him. He is a human." he said in the rabbit tongue, which was a variation on old Demonic with considerable Bear influences. It was quite exclusively a spoken language, with no written script. If they wrote it, they primarily used Latin or the Demonic script. This was due to long exposure to Demonic culture with the other creatures living within Elfen High, and the rabbits looking up to the bears, partially due to their creator Sachin Mankar being one.

But these things were irrelevant to William, who just leaned back in his chair. His insanely comfortable chair that he blissfully had no idea was made from the skins of werewolves. "Honestly...I'm just glad this is over. There was so much collateral damage. You know, we haven't been able to maintain a janitor in years? I mean, there's a lot of reasons for it, obviously. Richard was an absolute badass, and Laz was too dumb to really realise he was in danger." William noted. "It's become a threat and danger to Elfen High, one that Mr. Crowley was too busy to deal with, but now I need to."

"It's because of this bloody superstition the war was prolonged.' muttered an angry Bunnatheon. "If they hadn't misinterpreted the Maker's word and asked for more war."

"The Maker's word?" asked a bemused William.

"Sachin Mankar, a student here." explained Fluffykins. "He appeared to leaders of the Republic in a vision a few years ago. People thought that was a call to war. It was, of course, under our then leader Idi Amin, who named himself after his favourite human leader. And he also kicked out the black rabbit minority, so..." Fluffykins looked a bit tired. "It was a dark time in our history, before we were able to overthrow him. God, the blood spilled...." he seemed to be going through a PTSD moment.

William shrugged. "In any case, we've settled that. Now, let's look at the devastation, hmm? Call up Adam - it's a good opportunity for us all to have photo ops, you know? The Vatican will send their representatives soon - they'll want to survey this all too."

"Will your successor will be as good as taking this on?" asked Bunnatheon. "To help maintain this peace?"

"I'm sure of it." smiled William.

---

2056
"Welcome to Elfen High Community Radio, everyone. Huge news today as Headmaster Nilark announced he's stepping down from office after years in charge, his successor to be appointed soon. I'm so excited for that election!" Kevin said cheerfully. "It'll be a fantastic exercise in democracy. Truly, one man, one vote. By which I mean, Headmaster Nilark is the one man, and he has the one vote. But, due to Nilark focusing heavily on concluding the Rabbit Civil War in his last days in office, he's gotten some anger from other ignored groups. The dogs, led by Fluffy Hitler Lucifer II and his two assistants Bingo and Peanut, have risen up. The security force confirmed that the dog pack has already attacked a group of elementary school children this morning, around eight, as they were getting on the bus. Injuries were minor, as the children protected themselves ably with their school-issued nerve gas canisters and automatic pistols.

The dogs’ motives are not yet known, although authorities believe it could be meth and/or gang related. More on this story as it develops. Let's hope this doesn't interrupt Mr. Nilark's going away party! That looks like it'll be a real hit. Lord Calliel of Heavensgate is going to sing "Straight Outta Compton", believing it's an innocent song to show his love of humanity. It's going to be great. Lord Alastor stated "I chose this song because I felt it fit Calliel really well." he said, unable to keep a straight face." Well, we certainly look forward to Lord Calliel's karokee!" said Kevin cheerfully. "His wife, Lady Ivy, had no comment other than "I really should stop this, but..." Anyway, our next segment. Today we'll interview a rising politician from America and scientist at the ISSR, renowned for his debate skills - Representative Jon Landsville."

"Hello, Kevin." said a tired and weary voice.

"Hello Jon. How are you doing?"

"Shit. Like everything. Like always."

"Good! What do you think of Headmaster Nilark's retirement?"

"Whatever. He's a cunt, honestly. Never liked him. He's just...too fucking happy." grumbled the Pittsburgh man. "I mean, it's not like he's permanently watching Doctor Who or Matthew McConaughey or Bryan Cranston. What the fuck is there to be happy about, dammit?"

"To be fair, you're speaking from Pittsburgh."

"That is true. Look, I don't know. But at least he's off the world stage now, you know? He can enjoy a nice happy retirement and I no longer need to see him on TV. Also, do you know your candy bars have cocaine in them?"

"Yeah, it was my suggestion! They used to have a lot of them, and then got rid of it, so I went around putting it back in. It adds flavour."

"That kills people, Kevin." said an exasperated Jon. This was a sentence he had to say far too much in his life. "I thought I had made that clear on our Groupme chat."

"Elijah thought it was a good idea-"

"Elijah also hasn't been speaking English for days. It's permanently Latin now. God knows what he's saying."

"I understand it." said Kevin. "I learned Latin the other week, you know. Picked it up from some of the Roman soldiers and Egyptians down in the tunnels of the school. You know, back in 2020, Aleister Crowley and others travelled to the past? Brought a few things back here with them. The Mummy, some soldiers, a lot of weaponry. They've been living down there, quite happily. They also appreciate the finer arts."

"Killing people creatively is not a finer art, Kevin."

"Says you. I've watched your Debate performances."

"I psychologically try to kill them. Then I just feel weird about it and chicken out at the last minute. Completely different situation."

"You'll be at Headmaster Nilark's going away party?"

"Of course. Have to be, representing the US government."

"Good. You're scheduled to sing "Fuck Da Police" with the head of the tourism board, Mr. Ende."

"What."

---

2056
"The landmine exploded. That's the story." Priestcruncher said simply, years later, repeating the story to curious investigators discussing reopening the case. Time had passed. He had retired from the force, becoming a private eye. His partner had gone to spend more time with his family and had become an IT worker. But this incident had always stayed with him. "Nothing more. Jackson and I fired a few shots at the penises, and managed to set off some of the mines. Knocked those fuckers off to hell or wherever they go, and we somehow survived. Lucky thing of it - I managed to cast a spell that got us out of there." he took a drag on his e-cig, looking at the two investigators. "Can I go now?"

One investigator, a black man, sighed, looking at his Chinese partner. "I suppose so. There's nothing further we have to ask. You and your partner have maintained the same story over and over again throughout these last few years." the black man cleared his throat. "You realise we're reopening the investigation? Similar disappearances have been seen in other, nearby states. California has been having some problems especially."

Priestcruncher was already standing up. "Because it's what happened." he said bluntly. "The truth is always easy to repeat. Should I go out the same way as before?"

The investigators waved him out, and Priestcruncher bumped into his partner Jackson for the first time in a year. "Just got out of your questioning?" Jackson asked quietly, and the bear nodded.

"It's fucking idiotic," he growled. "But I can understand what they're going for. Right now, I think we need to stick to our story." he said. "But let's get outside. I need a real fucking smoke, not this goddamn e-cig."

They walked outside in the car lot, looking around at civilisation. "How's the wife and kids?" Priestcruncher asked.

Jackson nodded. "Good, you know, good. They're taking about moving westward to Jasper, but the disappearances and stuff, you know-"

Priestcruncher looked up. "Disappearances have been going on in Jasper?" he asked sharply. "The officer had mentioned California, but..." Priestcruncher paused. "There could be something big going on here. No...there issomething big going on here, Jackson. Your new job, as a-"

"Technical consultant." Jackson supplied.

"Yeah, that. Take some vacation days. We're travelling. I work as a private investigator, I make my own hours. But this...this is something worth looking into. I know some groups in Jasper, and if my speculations are right..." Priestcruncher was silent. "Well, if they're right, we could be in for something big."

Jackson coughed. "Wait wait now. Hold on a moment. We don't work for police anymore. Why do you even give a shit? This is completely irrelevant to us."

"You aren't curious?" Priestcruncher demanded. "You don't want to know what happened? What we saw that night in the desert...that was something else. That was bizarre. We can't not pursue this lead, Jackson. Even if it's nothing. Because this is something that I need to resolve. I can't not."

Jackson chewed on this. "I'll call off some days from work." he said finally. "I'll tell Jessica that I'm going to Jasper, just to check the place out, see what's up. How does that seem?"

"Perfect." said his old partner in response. "Now come on, cowboy. We got a long drive."

---

Priestcruncher and Jackson arrived in Jasper, walking into the hotel room they had rented. Priestcruncher began to change out of his day clothes, ready to go into take a shower, get his fur wet and such. "Fucker." he sighed. "That was a long ride."

Jackson sat down on the bed. "It's pretty early. You're already going to sleep?"

"I don't sleep, Jackson, I just dream." Priestcruncher replied calmly. "But we're going to rest for a while, yeah. No sense in searching around while fucked with exhaustion." he pointed out. Jackson nodded, accepting that this was fair.

They sat down and turned on the TV, seeing a Rick Sanchez documentary and a Daily Show rerun with Trevor Noah and Bassem Youseff as the guests, advertising their new comedy film based off a real life story about a mailman in Mali. Then they turned on the President's address to the nation.

"I am proud." said the President on television. "Proud now of this Supreme Court decision that allows sentient non-humans and humans to marry each other. Love is love, and it is regardless of how we feel about it."

"So that court case was resolved." Jackson noted. "Hallelujah." he said with a smile. He looked at Priestcruncher, who had a pensive look on his face. "Oh fuck." he sighed. "Are you going to be critical of this?"

"I just don't think it's resolved yet. Not by a long shot. We don't really belong in this nation, Jackson. I grew up in Alaska, where I could live in solitude with other bears, away from humans. This place, America, it's a country for them. Not for us. No matter what they say."

Jackson sighed. "Just shut the fuck up and enjoy this, man. You concern yourself too much. I grew up in Hell, not on Earth and certainly not here. But I'm proud of this country. I belong here, and my kids belong here. This is a country with advantages. Just being here puts you ahead in the world, you know?" he sighed. "Unpatriotic fuck. Why were you even a detective?"

"I care about the cases, the crime. I care about finding the solution. The country, this artifical construct...I don't care for that. I didn't care for the bear organisations either, which is why I left those. Far too ritualistic for my taste. I admire of my fellows, like my uncle Slotheater, but the civilisation is bound to fall. It's inevitable."

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, buddy."

Priestcruncher looked at his partner. "You don't get it." he sighed. "Your civilisation is evolving. It's progressing. There's stuff happening there, you know? My society is in freefall and collapse."

Jackson turned off the television. "That's true." he accepted. "Demon civilisation is in a golden age. We're progressing onwards, not falling. Hell, even the rabbits are progressing these days..."

---

They slept for some time. Then they heard a sound.

A noise was heard outside the apartment, as Aleister stood up to investigate. "Probably fireworks." he said, assuring his friends. "I'll check it out."

Jackson and Priestcruncher were now both wide awake, looking directly at each other. "You hear that too?" asked Jackson.

Priestcruncher nodded. "I did." he said simply.

They got prepared in under a minute, throwing on their armour and taking a more direct path out of the hotel, climbing out of a window, having specifically gotten a room on the first floor for this reason. "I feel like such a Mexican right now." muttered Jackson. Priestcruncher gave him a dirty look. Jackson realised what he said and gave a apologetic shrug.

They arrived at where they had heard the sound, seeing a young man walking away looking somewhat shaken. "Nothing suspicious happened." he blurted to the demon and bear, running off, clearly about to piss himself.

Priestcruncher was about to call out to the man, but then was interrupted. "Leave him." stated an English voice. Peter Cushing, or a man who looked like him, emerged. Next to him was a short Indian man, eating an orange.

"You really should try these oranges." he told the bear and demon, seemingly not fazed. "They're fucking wonderful."

"Dally died for those oranges." said a regretful Cushing.

"Eh. They're fucking amazing oranges though." the Indian said cheerfully. "I'm Khan, this over here is the Asshole-"

"The Doctor." corrected the alien with gritted teeth. "Just because some of us finished medical school-"

"Oh, like you finished? You probably have a degree with everything but medicine-"

"I do in fact have a degree in-" the Doctor stopped himself and took a few deep breaths. "I'm the Doctor. You two are?"

"Jackson." said the demon, pointing at himself. Gesturing to his bear companion, he said "And here is Priestcruncher."

"Pleasure to make your acquittance." said a thoroughly bamboozled Priestcruncher. "What can we do for you?"

"You can help me." said the Doctor. "I know where that man has gone, and yes - your suspicions are correct as to who and what he is." he directed at Priestcruncher. "He is the former archangel Uriel, and he's hunting down some threats to your world."

"What, Fae? They're all gone-"

"There will always be threats." stated the Doctor. "Some more prevelant than others. And we all work to keep them down, in our own ways. It's a very big Omniverse out there, Priestcruncher, and we all must do our part."

"How'd you know about my suspicions?" asked Priestcruncher, well, suspiciously.

"I didn't." admitted the Doctor. "But it was a bloody good guess." he looked at their hands, resting on holsters. "You have guns." he said matter of factly.

"Of course they do, they're Americans." replied Khan.

"A few lives ago, this would have angered me, but I'm past that rebellious stage." noted the Doctor. He snapped his fingers, and a blue box materialised in front of them. Not with the sound, but merely stopped being invisible. "The invisibility update was quite a good idea." he said smugly.

"That was my update, doc-" Khan began but the Doctor had ignored him, and was ushering Priestcruncher and Jackson inside.

"It's bigger on the inside." muttered Jackson in awe, looking around the room.

The Doctor grinned. "Yes, yes it is." he said. "Now let's go."

"Where to?"

"Former president Richard Nixon."

---

[Nightkill the Emperor]

2062
"Welcome and welcome back to Elfen High Community Radio, everyone!" said a cheerful Australian voice. "Kevin's out today, running his stage production of The Call of Cthulhu. So I'll be filling in. My name is Erin Tikitiky, but you can just call me Erin. It's so nice to be here with you guys today! So, I'm the new school nurse, and you can find me in the medical bay whenever you feel sick or just need something to do. Don't make Dylan angry though - he's my pet chimera. He's a great guy, but has a temper, you know? But everyone does, when some fucking know it all shithead gets in their way." she said happily.

"Now, for the news. The Elfen High Gazette has announced that, due to increased costs, they will be replacing the print edition of the paper with a special new Imagination Edition. Editor Elijah von Astro explains, "Rather than keeping our customers with the outdated medium of real facts, we are allowing them to choose the news that interests them by imagining whatever news they want. This will not only save costs, but allow customers to experience the news as a full colour, full motion experience taking place in a mental world that is tailored to their needs." That sounds really nice, personally. You know, I always get tired of the negativity of real news, which says absolute lies like Australia losing to India. That's not good news. With this imagination edition, we can picture whatever news we want. Welcome to the future, everyone! Subscription to this edition will be compulsory and automatic, and will cost a mere $60 a month. But now, our interview. Everyone, let's welcome Lady Ivy of Heavensgate. How are you doing, ma'am?"

"Quite good, Miss Tikitiky. I had a pleasant ride on the train - wasn't affected at all by the psychological attacks people complained about. It was a shame since I had actually been practicing some psychic abilities and telepathy lately, and wanted to use those. How about you?"

"I'm doing great, you know? It's a wonderful day. The sun is shining, Australia defeated India in the cricket-"

"Actually, I think-"

"Australia defeated India, is that fucking clear?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Well, things are good, you know. We've managed to stop the riots that have been happening in Heavensgate. Father Naxinan and Calliel worked together and were able to address the grievances of the demon population, and Laz spoke the language of the grassroots movement. And Lord Alastor came out strongly against the rioting, which helped since everyone, but especially demons, view him as a hero. Aside from this though, we've been doing really well in Heavensgate. Everyone gets along well, and there are a lot of demons in government now, getting representation. When I first died, that would have been just crazy to even think. Change is happening, and it's definitely happening for the better."

"That's really good to hear!" said Erin. "I'm glad that's the case."

"Oh, definitely. I'm really proud we managed to create a city that really works. Even Auragrad, historically known as a centre of racial equality, is starting to get jealous." laughed Ivy. "I figured it'd be the case though. Calliel is just the sweetest thing. Hard to get angry around him, he really listens to people. Sometimes he listens to them too much. I'm proud of him, but terrified of how long he spends in the office. He barely comes home." joked the First Lady of Heavensgate.

"Well, I think we're all proud and terrified most of the time. Proud because of our achievements, and because we're all amazing and great in our own way aside from the Norwegians. And terrified because life is terrifying. It just is."

2065
"This is the city of Instanbul." explained a Turkish tour guide in clear English, leading them through a museum. "Of course, in another time and place, it was called Constantinople, back when this was a Byzantine city."

The city of Instanbul had developed dramatically in the last few decades, as European businesses moved in. A lot of German firms, as a matter of fact, due to Turkey's extensive historical connections to Germany. However, many Arab migrants had also come in, driven from wars in the Middle East, especially the land of the Pharaohs. There was also tolerance of different species here, as liberal parties had won out in Turkey at long last and a more secular Islam was accepted due to religious revelations. The religion and those practising it had moved forward, away from Saudi influence.

"So," began one tourist in German. "What is this?" he gestured at a statue of a dragon, fierce and mighty.

The tour guide rubbed the back of his head, replying back in the same language as another guide translated to non-German speakers. "Curious story there, you know - we dug up some old ruins a few years ago and found that. Definitely dates back to the Byzantine era. Perhaps dragons then were worshipped as gods, or feared as deadly enemies, or both. Whatever the case, people were definitely aware of them." A glint in the guide's eye. "In fact/, some speculate this statue may not be from our Byzantine, but from the one before the first Gotterdammerung. How epic is that?" he asked, sounding excited. "From a world before ours. That's so awesome!"

"On topic, Ibrahim. Stay away from speculation." his partner reminded him.

Ibrahim cleared his throat. "Umm. Right. Yeah. So, anyway, all we know for sure is that this is from the Byzantines and they knew dragons were real. We also have got statues of other stuff, you know. And this might not even be real dragons, just a deviation of other myth. Like the dragons that existed in myth before we knew they were real were quite different from the truth. This beast definitely resembles the old thing though, the stuff we saw in photographs and such after 2031. All I'm saying." Ibrahim said, raising his hands defensively when his partner raised her eyes at him. "But you know, dragons pop up everywhere. Chinese dragons, Western dragons, Indian dragons, bear dragons, whatever. It's a common theme."

Sorath, his partner, cleared her throat. "If you'll come with me to the next exhibit..." she said pointedly. In the line, Naxanin nodded along, examining the statues and the history. It was a simple detour, as the main reason he was here was for a interfaith submit, as he was recognised as a leader amongst demonic Christians. Naxanin, figured, however, there was no harm in a side trip, was there?

But there was something about this dragon...he looked in curiosity. Then the statue started to glow blue...

"Sir!" Naxanin barked out. "Come here!" The two tour guides turned around, and saw the statue glowing. "Yeah, OK, that's fucked." Ibrahim said quickly in Turkish, pulling out his walkie-talkie and speaking as the dragon statue came alive and screeched, moving and snarling. It shook its wings, flapped them and screeched, flying up into the Turkish sky...where missiles shot it down, the Turkish army having mobilised fast.

"That was not meant to have happened." Naxanin observed, breathing slightly faster, he and the rest of the tour group severely concerned by this sudden emergence.

Ibrahim's eyes, however, was glowing. "Guys, this is really, really exciting! There's something in that statue, something alive, something strong..." he shook his hands. "We got to investigate, we have to observe-"

"I presume the ISSR will do that, I'll call them now, bring the Commander here." Naxanin said, watching the man's face go down. "But I'll put in a word for you. You're definitely educated on the history side of this topic." the demon preacher added. "And that could be helpful..." he said to himself quietly. "Dragons. Dragons are around, or have power? Find the other artefacts you found on the dig where you found this. It's possible...I'm honestly not sure. Lucifer took out all the other creatures, I'm sure. I think. I honestly don't know. But if they're still around, if he failed...we could have a problem. Not just our world, but all of them."

---

2065
"We're so glad you could join us, Lord Calliel." said ISSR Commander Jon Landsville with a slight bow before returning to his seat at the round table in the centre of the grey room, one window revealing a grey sky. "This is definitely something that's worth looking into - a fucking dragon, sir. A fucking dragon. Just...what the actual fuck?" His Pittsburgh accent became evident as he dissolved into profanities, which the now grey-haired Calliel was fine enough with. He had been around humans long enough. They were in Pittsburgh now, as a matter of fact. The city had grown like an octopus, absorbing more and more people into its misanthrophic tendrils, corrupting them with hatred. So the typical process of a Pittsburgh migrant.

Calliel didn't particularly enjoy visiting the city, but Jon Landsville based his operations here. It was odd, really - he said repeatedly he'd leave the city, but now the Commander remained trapped in this hell on earth. Calliel corrected himself - that was quite rude and prejudiced. Hell was developing quite nicely now and he shouldn't have such backwards attitudes toward it. At any rate, because of the magical institutions that had been built in the city since, it seemed unlikely the headquarters of the ISSR would change anytime soon. And now it was time he focused on the task at hand.

"What's this?" he asked.

Daisuke Taka cleared his throat. "Well, it's a statue of a dragon. One that became a dragon, very curiously." he said, looking at the angel. "It's all very strange, to be honest. We aren't sure how or why this has happened." he admitted. "It seems there was something latent in the dragon statue, and then it just suddenly...woke up." Daisuke sounded frustrated. "But, the magic...it doesn't resemble dragons, according to Behemoth. It's Fae influenced, but twisted and used by something else. Used remotely."

"I connected some of our resources." said Jon tiredly. "Even the Mormons have no idea."

Calliel frowned. "Remotely? Can you trace from where?" he asked, standing until it became clear that he should sit. He still made some basic mistakes with this stuff. The younger generation, who were basically human, did not. Calliel took his seat and maintained eye contact with Daisuke, remembering to blink once every five seconds so as not to make it too awkward. "If we can figure that out, most of this issue is fixed, isn't it?"

"Beyond us, I'm afraid." Daisuke sighed. "It'll require a brilliant mind to deal with this." Daisuke leaned backwards. "And I'm afraid finding such a mind would be difficult. I knew a few men like that, but they've been gone for a while now."

Calliel smiled. "I know one left. Do you still grow sativa?" he asked. "In your greenhouses at Elfen High."

The grey haired Daisuke blinked. "Yes, but what -"

"Good." he glanced at Jon Landsville. "Jon, do you have your stash on you? I assume you brought some from Elfen High on your last visit, so-"

"How'd you know?" demanded Commander Landsville, sounding irate and surprised.

"You live in Pittsburgh and have for a long time. There's no way anyone can do that sober." Calliel said reassuringly. "Don't worry, even I couldn't do that. But bring your stash. I'll call in one of my ambassadors."

---

Laz smoked another bowl, setting it down. "California." he stated firmly. "That's where the signal is coming from. Trust me, you just need to look at the maths." he gestured behind him to the huge calculations all over the walls, that Daisuke and Calliel could not even begin to comprehend.

Daisuke shrugged. "Alright then." he muttered. "I'll trust you. Pass that bowl, will you?" he asked. He looked at Calliel. "You want to take a hit?"

Calliel frowned. "It would be immoral..." he said reluctantly. Daisuke and Laz just looked at him.

"Calliel, nobody is really going to give a fuck. It's the 2060s. William made a third of his decisions high."

This was somewhat true. In fact, weed was quite popular in Hell due to Alastor seeing the effects it had on Laz and importing the crop to his empire. He then helped plant it everywhere and encourage its use recreationally and safely, to increase the effects it had on demonkind and aid technological development. It destroyed a lot of standard industries though, like prositutition. Far fewer succubi engaged in it when they realised they could focus on maths and science instead, especially as Alastor had made education free. Alastor was a chronic smoker himself. By regulating it, they also stopped the Mexican drug trade that was trying to make inroads in Hell.

It did, however, stop Alastor from killing Mexicans and fighting the infamous Mexican drug lord Gabriel Fernandez, a dangerous warrior feared by many, coming from the middle class areas of Veracruz. He was still out there, causing hell.

"...That explains a lot, actually." Calliel mused. "Alright. One hit."

---

[Nightkill the Emperor]

No time in particular, outside the Omniverse.

Uriel had spent some time studying. Leaning over some documents, the archangel calmly read through his books. He picked one book, written by a demon author, entitled simply "Skin to Bone". A controversial sequel, "Steel to Rust", had been written but never found as critics found it distasteful and disembowelled the author, as was demonic tradition at that time. Azazel had worked as a literary critic at the time, since he was a surprisingly cultured psychopath. He had once put on an amazing production of Skin to Bone as a younger lad, before full-on insanity had set in. Alastor and Azazel had worked together on it, training their primary actor, the renowned stage actor Chauncey the Badger. Chauncey's performance was lauded throughout the realms of Hell, Earth and beyond as "sensational", "beautiful", "dazzling" and "I literally shit out my heart and cried bitter tears at how nothing can compare to this, and how the mere act of Chauncey's performance made my wife orgasm harder than she ever did with me".
But it contained other information, this book.

"The Fae are a mutable creature - aspects of their bodies can be placed in others, to mutate them further and transform into hybrids."

This is a segment of the book, translated from Demonic. Segments of this book also appeared later in The King in Yellow, but they originated from here. Uriel had come into contact with an inhabitant of that mythical city when he was in an awkward situation some time ago that required him teaming up with an extremely skeptical Doctor, who was later won over by the former archangel when Uriel saved his life. That was a hell of a story. One day it might even get told.

"Song of my soul, my voice is dead,
Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
Shall dry and die in lost Carcosa."

Hmm. That was something, to be sure. Oberon was dead, his corpse floating away between the Omniverse. But there were certainly remnants left, people left...there was some danger left. There always would be. And he would be an eternal guardian. But now he had to make some moves. He looked up at one of his Androids. "Ready the troops." he ordered. "I'm going to go investigate."

One of the Androids looked curious. "Where to, leader?"

"Earth again." he said. "London."

---

2061
The city of London had been recovering from damage for quite some time, after which a lot of people had migrated up towards Scotland and the North to work and live, to the secret pleasure of William. However, over 40 years after that calamity, the city had regrown and rebuilt, attracting immigrants and citizens again, becoming a cosmopolitan metropolis.

A tall black man such as Uriel blended in easily with the crowd of people there. He went to a nearby bookstore, nodding to the bookkeeper who kept his eyes closed and turned the other way. "Welcome and welcome back, my Lord. But make it quick, please." hissed Jeremiah, one of Uriel's utmost loyalists who maintained said loyalty despite all others on Earth believing the man dead. The sounds of the city rang outside, with construction always ongoing.

"I will. Thank you for allowing me to take this entrance." Uriel said sincerely. "Going directly to Heavensgate is not something worth risking."

Jeremiah nodded. "Behind the autobiographies section. Turn the bookcase, and tunnels will appear. Take the one on the left. The one on the right will lead you to Dionysus' pub." said the former angel. "What are you seeking, may I ask?"

"Information." said Uriel. "About the Fae and the Crystals, and perhaps about Carcosa."

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow. "That mythical city?" he asked. "From the play? It doesn't really exist, my Lord."

"That's the speculation. But stories can sometimes be more true than we expect."

"And they never end." Jeremiah said reluctantly.

---

Now he was in the library of Heavensgate, searching for books about the Fae again, and books about Carcosa and the Yellow King. In his head, he felt Oberon laughing.

And then he saw a new book.

The Second King.

Uriel grabbed it, moving further through the library. Meanwhile, on a mobile phone, he double checked some statistics of product being moved in and out of America. It appeared his suspicions had been correct - but more research would have to be done. Uriel was not one to make hasty and methodical decisions. He decided to investigate further, and so vanished from the library in search of collecting more information.

---

2065
Calliel, Daisuke, Jon and Laz appeared, giggling to themselves, outside a warehouse in Jasper. "Fucking hell." chuckled Daisuke. "I haven't done that in some time."

Jon rolled his eyes, unsure how he got into this position. "Fuck everything." he muttered to himself.

Calliel looked at the others, red-eyed. "You know what I could kill for right now?"

"Pizza?" asked Daisuke. "We could try Damien's."

"Damien's" was not a reference to Damien Seward's house or something. It was a popular restuarant chain that Seward had founded in his spare time, his son urging him to do so. And he did kill the competition.

No, genuinely. The slogan was "Papa John's fell before me. The Godfathers fell before me. Herman Cain's skull rests on my belt. Eat at Damien's."

Calliel nodded. "We should do that." he declared. "Let's go out there." the incredibly stoned lord of Heavensgate and one of the most powerful men in the world announced, turning to do that when black armoured security guards appeared, human and bear.

"Eh, what the fuck is this all aboot?" asked one of the bears in a heavily Canadian accent. Canada had been worrying about their bear population for some time, as they seemed to have disappeared as many bears across the world had, deciding that "Fuck this" after the war in Heaven. The civilisation was spending time with their families trying to recover from their fall in 2020. But when they did get out, police work and security work was common.

One of the humans looked up, his nametag announcing his name to be Alan Ramirez. "Sir, you are trespassing upon private property right now, do you understand? Now, go somewhere else and get stoned there."

"We aren't stoned." Calliel instinctively said. Everyone else just stared at him.

Laz sighed. "My friend, you stink of weed and your eyes are redder than Hell's suns. Let's not deny that. However..." he cleared his throat. "Good sirs, allow us entry. I'm Ambassador Lazarian. This is Lord Calliel of Heavensgate, Sir Daisuke of Elfen High and Commander Landsville of the ISSR."

The bear guard and the human looked at each other with raised eyebrows. The bear, whose name tag said "Demonfucker", spoke a lot more politely now. "My error, sir. Please, go right in. Anything that we can do to help."

Calliel nodded, giving a bow as the stoned world leaders and Jon walked into the warehouse, seeing machinary moving boxes from area to area, cranes dripping down, picking stuff up and shipping it away. They also saw quite quickly that the warehouse was bigger on the inside, evidently having borrowed Elfen High technology to do so.

"What the fuck is this?" asked an old white man with a brown coat, emerging from ordering some demon workers to move shipments into nearby trucks.

"Leadership, sir." said the bear. "I thought you'd be interested."

The man looked closer and then smiled. "Oh, my mistake." he apologised profusely, a seemingly genuine smile on his face. "I made a grave error. A pleasure to meet you, Lord Calliel, Sir Daisuke, Ambassador Lazarian and Commander Landsville. I am, of course, former president Richard Nixon."

Jon just sighed. "I fucking hate life." he muttered at the fact Nixon now looked exactly like Joe Biden. But, to be fair, it somehow worked.

"What's going on here?" asked Calliel, looking at the boxes.

"Do you know of the Crystals are, Lord Calliel?" asked Richard Nixon. "My God, they are truly wonderful, wonderful things." he explained. "Formed from Fae carcasses, actually. And after the events of a few decades ago, there were by God plenty of them to use. I've been using them to help keep my vitality...and my virility." he winked.

Jon wanted to kill himself.

"What are crystals though?" asked Laz, curious. Daisuke and Calliel were fascinated by an open box, looking into the glittering green shards inside.

"They're called Crystals." Nixon corrected. "The C is capitalised. See, they have some special features..." he picked some shards out of the box that Calliel and Daisuke were looking at, slammed them into his pistol and then the gun glowed a bright green and blue before it transformed into an assault rifle. He fired said assault rifle off into the air, causing it to hit a nearby wall...which lit on fire.

Calliel pointed his hand at it, sending ice out and dissolving the flames. Nixon looked embarassed. "I appear to have overpowered this..." he muttered. "But the Crystals have a remarkable ability to improve technology. They merely require willpower and intellect and imagination." he explained. "My God, can you imagine the strength of it?"

Calliel nodded amiably. "Certainly, Mr. Nixon. We'll leave you now."

Laz stopped his friend. Jon raised an eyebrow. "Who are you selling to?"

The room went cold. "I think you've overstayed your welcome, sirs." Nixon said quietly. In the time that they had been here, the doors behind them had closed without them noticing, and the guards had moved into formation.

"I'm afraid everything's ending, my lords." said Nixon quietly, pointing his gun at Calliel. "Time to wake up."

Vworp. Vworp.

Everyone's attention was drawn to the side as a blue police box appeared, winking in and out of reality before settling down definitely with a THUD.

The doors opened with a creek as a tall Englishman and a short Indian man came out, followed by a demon and a bear. "Where are we?" asked the demon.

Priestcruncher sniffed. "Seems like it's still Jasper." he said calmly. "The scent is similar. But...we've moved a bit ahead in time."

"You'd be correct." said the Doctor, his feet settling on the ground, Khan now finishing up an ice cream.

"Moved ahead in time -" began Calliel.

"The fucking Doctor?" demanded Jon. "This can't be happening. Just...fuck." he sighed. "What the fuck." he put a hand on his gun, looking at Nixon.

Nixon stared at the travellers. "What the hell?"

The Doctor leaped in, looking around himself. "Crystals, hmm?" he asked. "I see what you're doing here, ol' Richard." he said, staring. "A factory. He's farming here. But what are you farming from? What's going on here, hmm?" he demanded. "What's this whole operation for?"

"Doctor, what does this have to do with the kidnappings?" demanded Jackson. "The disappearances. You know...why we came to Jasper."

"And the dragon statue. The transmission." Calliel remembered, coughing a bit, his eyes still red and his stomach grumbling. Khan looked at him.

"That fucker's stoned." he announced.

"No he isn't." Said Jon, to spite Khan.

The Doctor just looked at them with despair and sighed. "The leaders of this planet, everyone." he stated. He looked at Nixon. "What were you planning here, hmm? What were the kidnappings for?"

"Now, look, gentleman." Nixon chuckled. "I did not arrange for all of those kidnappings, not by a long shot-"

"But you did some." Priestcruncher asked. "And evidently, a transmission?" he asked, looking at the Elfen High crew for details, eyebrow raised. "What transmission was this?"

"In Istanbul, there's a dragon statue." Jon explained to the bear. "It was in some museum. But then it woke up and appeared to have become a real dragon of sorts. We were all baffled by that, but discovered there was some sort of remote transmission that had done it. Sent out the message to activate the dragon."

"So you're saying he...woke the dragon?" asked Khan.

There was a moment of silence for this incredibly stupid Game of Thrones reference so the Indian would realise what he had done, but he just grinned.

Daisuke sighed. "Technically, yes." he admitted, the weed wearing off. But the weed's effects wearing off also meant that Laz had returned to his usual state of stupidity, seemingly baffled by everything around him. Now they just felt very tired and hungry.

Nixon, still pointing a gun at Calliel, just chuckled. "See, I'm not a moron, so I'm not going to explain that to you. My God, what do you think I am? Let's just wrap this up." He fired his assault rifle, the flaming explosive rounds flying toward the former angel...

When suddenly a robotic creation appeared in front of Calliel, taking the hits, falling down to the ground, light fading from the eyes.

Then there was the sound of a man walking in, a swirling green portal disappearing behind him. "I am afraid that this is just beginning." said Uriel calmly, a small army behind him, wielding armoury while Uriel himself held his trusty dagger. "I know what you have been doing. I've spent quite a while studying what's been going on..."

There was a look of absolute amazement from everyone present now, as they stared at Uriel with a mixture of emotions. Shock was amongst them. As was anger. And on one particular face, Calliel's, there was a contorted expression of barely repressed violence. The current Lord of Heavensgate shook with fury, staring at Uriel, his eyes boring holes into the man, his hands twitching as if to attack him there and then. But Uriel paid no heed.

He pointed at Nixon. "He has been kidnapping quite a few humans in the last few years, forcibly and stupidly transforming them into Fae. From that, he then kills them and farms them for the Crystals that result." Uriel explained.

"I'm sorry, are we just going to accept the fact that the man who briefly ended the human race is here and not the bigger threat?" demanded Jon incredulously.

"In this case, I'm not." said Uriel calmly. "I see I'm recognised, however. The Doctor can currently back me up."

The Doctor nodded. "It's true." he said. "I trust Uriel. He's searching for redemption, a second chance. It's worth giving it to him right now. We've worked together on a few threats in the past."

Uriel nodded. "But the greater threat here is Nixon. Or...the Second King, trying to bring about his haven of Carcosa." he turned, accusingly. "You've been harvesting the converted humans, using them to create your Crystals. Then you're going to use that to aid your army and take over the world, won't you? Sending that transmission out to Istanbul, trying to see what other old technologies you could use or control in your goal...Richard Nixon, The Second King, successor to Oberon." Uriel declared. "Is that not the case?"

Nixon paused for a while. "You have some details correct." he acknowledged. "But I, my friends, am not the Second King as people predicted could be possible." he said smoothly. "A few years ago, in 2055, on request from some benefactors, I set up shop in Jasper. Great place for that - extremely magical, you know. Huge industries for me to tap into, and I managed to take over leadership of the remnants of the Thules." he said. The Doctor winced. He knew a lot of this had been coming, but couldn't stop it at that time, which is why he had to bring Priestcruncher and Jackson forward. Fixed points in time.

Nixon continued "I was almost given away when one of my Fae-hybrids escaped, and I was worried the whole thing would be given away. Fortunately, you killed it for me." he nodded. "Quite nice. Thanks for that. I'm not the Second King. Merely someone who'll get help when he does come about. Oberon...was just too destructive. Too dangerous. Our new lord is going to be far more agreeable, someone who can handle his responsibilities and be a good hand on the world." said Nixon with a smile.

Priestcruncher paused. "Wait, what about the Crowley's penises?" he demanded. "They attacked us."

"Controlled by us, yes. Remotely, like we managed to control the dragon in Instanbul. It has Fae components, you know. Crowley did."

Uriel seemed somewhat baffled. "If you aren't the Second King, then..."

"Enough chatter." Nixon said bluntly. "It's time to move on."

Then the gunfire began.

Uriel ducked behind a wall, his knife at his side as Nixon's guards moved towards him. At the same time, they pointed their weaponry at the Elfen High crew, causing Calliel to throw up an energy shield to block bullets. However, Nixon's guards began grabbing Crystals and slamming them into their weaponry, upgrading them from simple pistols to submachine guns or assault rifles, one transforming into a turret and resting on the ground, blasting away at the shield that Calliel had created around the Elfen High crew. "We need to get some of those Crystals." ordered Daisuke. "I can figure some things out with it."

"The TARDIS!" barked out the Doctor. "She has a shield around her, we can use that. Come on!" Moving backwards, Calliel buckling under the strength of the attacks, they moved closer to the TARDIS. Just as Calliel's shield was about to break, Uriel teleported behind the bear operating the turret and slit his throat, before turning the turret around at the guards.

Nixon glared, raising his hand and holding Uriel up in the air telekinetically. "You're ruining quite a few plans right now." he said very calmly. "I can't allow that."

Then there was a knock on the door.

"Hello." said a cheerful Yorkshire voice, kicking down the door. "Have you heard the word of Jesus Christ?"

"Took you long enough, Campbell." grumbled Jon.

In the doorway stood a tall man, 6'3". Campbell Const, infamous leader of the Mormon mercenary groups, known for his psychopathic and dangerous methods, but an associate of the ISSR all the same for being quite helpful. He had responded to the Commander's text before they had gone through the portal, being informed that things were quite likely to go southwards. In one hand, he held what looked an awful lot like a tuba. Until he blew into it and energy beams blasted out, attacking enemies. Also, frankly appalling music. There were stories about this, about how he had fought William nearly to a draw once by preaching to the Anglican until he got annoyed. William and Campbell famously hated each other, but united on being fellow Yorkshiremen. William did consider Campbell far too Americanised though. And also a tad insane.

But he was here, and with him were many other mercenaries, wearing pleasant psychopathic smiles and armoury. "Let's go for this." he said cheerfully. "Jon, I'll handle this, alright? What are those crystal things now?" he asked, looking at some of the spilled over boxes.

"Capital C." Daisuke corrected, grabbing a few himself. "Slam them into your weapons. They'll make them stronger."

Campbell raised an eyebrow. "Gosh darn!" he said happily. "That's awesome! Billy Jr, grab a few will you?" he said. "Let's have some fun."

A distracted Nixon then was punched by Uriel, slamming down to the ground. "Who is the king?" demanded Uriel. "Answer me, now!"

Nixon coughed. "A new man...well, a combination of some old ones." he said, leaping upwards. "His strength made my body powerful, stronger, greater. And he will lead us into a new world, transforming this Earth into a greater world, greater than even Carcosa."

"What the hell does that even mean?" Jon demanded, hiding behind Khan. "This is bullshit."

"That transmission...it's being sent as we speak." declared Nixon. "It's still going."

---

The theatre teacher, Kevin O'Shaughnessy, looked at his script for MacBeth. "You know, it's got some problems, but I seriously think this is the way to go." said the Irish-American earnestly. "This is our chance to make history."

"No." said the headmaster bluntly, Aleister Lewis Seward looking up at Kevin. "No, we are not casting HAL as MacBeth. That is not going to happen, understood? And we aren't setting it in a volcano either. And no, you cannot summon a volcano in the auditorium again. That caused us a lot of issues before."

The son of Damien Seward sighed, leaning backwards in his chair. This fucker reminded him of a lot of his father in that innocent psychopathy he displayed, a complete naiveity that he was fucking insane and dangerous. But, like his father, Aleister kept an eye on Kevin because he was far too dangerous to be allowed outside the confines of the school.

Aleister had always lived a dangerous life, being born as a dwarf to Damien Seward and raised by him and Dracula. So, frankly, when he started to attend Elfen High, it was far safer than his old life. He drank a soda while looking over Kevin's proposed script. "This has MacBeth killing the audience."

"Not actually killing." Kevin corrected. "Just maiming him a little."

Aleister sighed. "We'll need to discuss some more things later, regarding your job performance."

"I put a love of theatre in the kids!" Kevin protested. "Come on now, just because some of them got a bit loopy and went to the seaside-"

"The seaside? They committed suicide, Kevin." Aleister got out of his chair, looking up at the much taller man. "Look, go use Minh Taka's Old Drinking Room right now. I think the Mummy is there right now, since it's his break. He's good company." Minh Taka's Old Drinking Room, or The Old Drinking Room, was now not just a room, but a full-fledged bar. William had figured it'd be good to get some income, and the staff and students had agreed wholeheartedly with that proposal, especially after the Incident of 2041, after which relations with the Republic of Vietnam were damaged almost irreparably.

Aleister Lewis strided through the halls, watching the school progress and move around him. It had become even more of a country than it originally was, he mused as he sat down at the nearest McDonald's. "Hamburger and fries, please." Aleister Lewis called out, looking at the nearby statue of Aleister Crowley that stood outside the restaurant, in between the McDonald's and the Chipotle. Aleister Lewis reflected on his namesake. Now that was a man. He had never met him, obviously, but his legend was one that could not be avoided. It was everywhere. And he had earnt that right, becoming a hero everywhere. "Aleister" was nearly as common a name as "John" these days. That's the sort of thing that happens when you save the Omniverse. It did put a bit of pressure on this Aleister, just because his family had actually known the original. But then Aleister Lewis Seward would shrug, not give a fuck, and move on with his life.

"Ah, Erin Tikitiky, pleasure to see you." said Aleister Lewis with a wide smile. "How are you?" he asked the school nurse, offering her his fries. "The new kidney transplant suiting you?"

"Oh, definitely!" said Erin cheerfully. "I have a surplus now, after those Norwegians lost all theirs. They bled really fast, you know?" she said, holding up her knife, now washed clean of the blood that had covered it.

"Australian kidneys are, to be fair, quite valuable to Norweigans. They probably figured they could get a lot of money from it. Too much of a risk, as it evidently turned out." chuckled the headmaster.

The school shook slightly. Then a voice came over the intercom. The voice of the school itself.

Sir? We have a problem.

---

Uriel looked at Nixon. "Transmitting...?" Jon wondered aloud while Uriel's brain raced in thought.

"The dragon statue in Istanbul...that was a test run." Daisuke concluded.

"They're going for the big guns...they are going for Elfen High!" Uriel finished. "He's trying to take over the school..."

"The school is hugely powerful." Nixon explained, still on the ground. "We can utilise it to create our new world, starting there...but first..." he slashed at Uriel, his gun transforming into a sword, but Uriel grabbed his arm and snapped it off in one smooth, methodical motion speaking of a lot of practice.

"We do not have the time for this." he said bluntly. "None of us do. Doctor, take us to Elfen High."

Jon looked at Uriel. "What do we do about Nixon then, hmm? We can't just leave him behind to escape."

Uriel responded by tossing Jon the sword that was in Nixon's hand. "Handle him." he nodded at Campbell as well. "Do your jobs."

"Hey Jon, don't have a frown!" Campbell cheerily said, covered in blood, holding the severed head of a bear in his hand. "This will be fun!"

Jon and Campbell went back to back, surrounded by enemies. "Nothing is ever fun." said Jon mournfully.

Khan glanced at the Doctor. "I ought to help out." he said, taking a discarded pistol from a dead gun and slamming Crystals in, shooting an approaching bear guard in the head and walking over towards Campbell and Jon.

The Doctor, now inside the TARDIS, growled in frustration. "I can't reach Elfen High! Shields have been set up, the TARDIS is not powerful enough to break through this!" he exclaimed, fiddling with the controls.

"Why do you keep using the same lever over and again?" Laz observed. "That's no good use."

The Doctor responded with a glare. "Don't criticise my work. You are not intoxicated enough to do so."

"Hold on, Time Lord." Daisuke interrupted, his hands containing a box of Crystals. "We just need some upgrades."

The Doctor gave Daisuke a look.

Vworp. Vworp.

---

Erin blinked. "What's going on now?" she asked, keeping her dagger on her.

"Not me this time!" swore Kevin, charging in.

He's right. It's not him...it's something trying to take control, to break in. grunted the school. To take...control. That last word came off sounding robotic, distorted, like the school was in pain.

He's a-coming...do you hear the new King?

Vworp. Vworp. BOOM.

The TARDIS slammed down, settling inside Elfen High in front of Aleister Lewis, Kevin and Erin. The Doctor ran out, his eyes jerking around the area. "Everyone, prepare!" he barked. "Something is about to happen, something big, but-"

Daisuke's phone rang, and he picked up. "Hey, Ciel! Yeah, things are okay, listen it's a bad time so-"

The ground shook. And the battle nearly begun.

"Actually, can you come to Elfen High? Right fucking now?"

There was a civilisation considered dying, pathetic, ravaged due to the Abrahamic War. And since then, radical elements had been growing in that society. Fury had been growing as they found themselves enraged by their loss of status, an honour-bound culture that had trouble accepting this fate.

Three decades ago, swept by bigger concerns, Aleister Crowley had ignored a request by the bears to attend the Equinox, where they elected new leadership. Shame. Perhaps if he had, then radical elements wouldn't have held the power they did now. Perhaps the bears wouldn't have inspired the dogs into revolt and terrorist attacks in 2041. Perhaps they wouldn't have encouraged race riots in 2062. But they did do these things, resulting in evermore blood being shed. Blood that was used to power a sacrifice.

Azazel had realised that it was possible to revive the dead using Fae technology and twisted science. A breakthrough. The man was utterly insane, but he was intelligent, something none could deny. A revolutionary scientist in his own way. The bears had looked at this, and decided to revive an ancient leader, but different. More motivated. So for this, they revived two leaders.

---

"The plan is coming together well." chuckled Nixon, feeling changes occur. "The Second King rises now."

Khan frowned. "This seems like a problematic issue." he said. "What is going on, anyway?" They circled around some of the guards, before Nixon pulled out two katanas and charged, howling.

---

It was evident that people were trying to open portals- green flashes occurred, but never managed to really get anything through. I'm being hacked, sir. said the school. But I can fight this off.

"Fucking cunts." muttered Aleister Lewis Seward, pulling out his pistol. "Let's deal with this. Keep defences high."

Yes, sir.

But the enemy had a different strategy. They had, after all, a man on the inside. Or a bear on the inside. Priestcruncher felt a pain in his backside and doubled over as a portal opened.

"What the fuck?" asked Jackson.

"Call William." muttered Aleister Lewis to the AI around the school. Still, unfortunately, HAL.

This shit again? demanded the school. First it was Laz...

But the portal had indeed opened, and a bear army marched out of it. They had taken hints from Loki's method - Lord Loki, ruler of Asgard now. But it was serving them well. The army marched out, wearing armour and wielding shotguns, assault rifles and each carrying some Crystals on them.

That reminded Daisuke, who started tossing the Crystals to staff and students with a hurried explanation of what they did. Uriel watched this, putting dots together. "Of course..." he murmured. "The bears. Trying to get power again, hmm?" he demanded.

"Indeed." said a booming, confident voice. From Priestcruncher's portal emerged a tall white bear, but with sharp blue almost human eyes. But eyes devoid of any empathy. Just coldness like ice. Familiar eyes.

Uriel's own eyes widened as he remembered a king's corpse, floating through space after he had killed the man. The bears and Nixon had acquired Fae corpses. With that, they had manipulated bear and human DNA. That was obvious. But the person they had used was evident now. He should have put these dots together.

The Doctor looked at Aleister Lewis. "I'm going to get the civilians out of here." he said. "You need to deal with this threat, but I need to be sure that they are not in danger."

The short Englishman nodded. "Agreed." he said, shooting an approaching bear soldier dead on between the eyes, his specially made bullets easily going through the armour. "That's the utmost priority."

The Doctor started ushering people into his TARDIS, keeping bear soldiers out.

The bear creature with Oberon's eyes jerked forward a bit robotically. "You were still being made." Uriel said quietly. "You aren't finished yet, are you?"

No response. Just a stare. A cold look at Uriel's face as the jerking monster moved forward, evidently not fully in control of itself, but slowly growing more confident. "You know how what they did to me?" he rasped, his voice deep, his voice vibrating, echoing. "How I was made?"

"Sacrifices." said Uriel. "Blood spilled over the course of time."

"Riots in Hell. Wars between rabbits in the school...sacrifices upon sacrifices." His eyes narrowed. "Come die with me, little priest." Now Oberon's eyes stared back at Uriel, who felt there wasn't just this new creature looking back, but the Fae King himself, alive in some undying form, covered with rage and fury and a lack of understanding at this twisted form. Ironic considering he helped Azazel achieve it for the first time, a dark art the bears had picked up. And whatever was left of Oberon, it was furious at the last man it saw whilst alive.

"What the hell is going on?" whispered Aleister Lewis Seward to Daisuke, who bent over and quickly got him and the other staff up to speed. Laz glanced at the monster that had been formed.

"I can try to trap it away...." he volunteered. "I know the tunnels fairly well."

"As do I." came the retort.

The Second King slammed a paw down on the ground, cracking the surface and causing Uriel and itself to fall down. Shaken, Uriel started to stand up, now in the tunnels underneath the school, but found himself tackled by the bear, slammed down toward the ground. With a grunt, he kicked the creature in the chest, pushing it off.

"No." he snarled, gripping his dagger. But now it was just smokey, with the monster unseen.

"You have no idea what I've gone through to be here." came a robotic, crackling tone in the darkness. "What I was created as after my deaths...the pain as I was born to lead these creatures, these bears...lost and hopeless. They desperately want a saviour, to the point where they manufacture one rather than try to rise up themselves.

Uriel looked around, unable to see where the sound was coming from. "I observed the world move as they worked to build me, used sacrifices to power me. But Polarbeard was not the only one who they used to make me. There was one man who they respected, even in hate, a man they acknowledged had some worth after his actions."

Oberon. It had to be.

Then, from behind, Uriel felt himself punched and falling to the ground, groaning.

Aleister Crowley's face looked down at him. "The genetic material was not difficult to find." he said, in a voice that resembled Crowley's very closely, though with echoes of the others who made up this new creature. "He left it all over the world. It's an irony really that they chose him."

Uriel looked up at the Crowley-esque creature. "That may have been their mistake."

A raised eyebrow. "However do you mean?" he asked, grabbing Uriel by the neck and slamming him against a wall. "I'm afraid you don't understand. I am the perfect creation, a force of sheer strength, capable of anything." he said confidentially, strongly, a laugh in his voice.

"Who was not meant to live." stated Uriel quietly. "You weren't supposed to exist, whatever you are. It's painful for you. And you know what? It's painful for me too, to see this." he kicked the Aleister copy in the chest, slamming it down to the ground partially with the element of surprise. "You wear my brother's face, but you aren't him. You never will be."

---

Aleister Lewis saw that the TARDIS was filling with civilians. "We got a hundred or so here." said the Doctor quickly. "I'll make a quick trip out, to get them to some safety, then I'll be back as soon as you know it." The headmaster gave his nod of consent. But as the TARDIS was starting to fade, a bear threw a hatchet at it, which slammed it off course as it disappeared.

Vworp vworp. BOOM.

The Doctor swore in Gallifreyan. "We went back to where we were!" he realised, but the doors had already been opened with angsty civilians, who now walked out into a warzone, unaware that they were. As soon as they heard the bullets, they shrieked and went back inside. Except for three.

Erin, Elijah and Kevin walked outside, the latter grinning widely. "Blood!" came the excited exclaimation.

Jon saw this in between avoiding bullets from Nixon and the "accidental" attacks by Khan both, and sighed. "Fuck me. Just fuck."

"Later, Jon." Kevin said, marching out with his lightsaber. "Let's have some fun first."

The left of the building then blew up and a vicious black beast tore into the warehouse, ripping apart several soldiers as he did so.

"Don Ferandez?" asked a Mexican soldier who had blown it open with his bazooka to the sleeping Mexican drug lord next to him. "Estamos aquí."

The drug lord yawned. "We can't stay too long." he muttered. "My cat will get hungry, you know."

"We brought him along, sir. He's already out in the battlefield, having killed a few of the enemy."

Gabriel just stared at his henchman. "If he's doing the bloody work, why the fuck did you wake me up?" he demanded.

"Well, sir...it's also your birthday."

"Oh."

Jon sighed, speaking into his phone, which was heard then in Gabriel's car. "Hello Gabriel. Please don't make me regret allowing you into the country. Limit the damages, this will be hard to cover up."

"Chinga tu madre." muttered Gabriel, heading back to his nap as his pet monstrosity masquerading as a cat did the work.

This is when Nixon growled, his body twisting and morphing, growing into something indescribable. What I can describe is that it had tentacles, each holding a sword or a gun merged into them as he grew taller and more monstorous, changing into his true form. "Enough fucking around." he bellowed.

Thus, Gabriel's cat, Khan, Elijah, Jon, Erin, Campbell and a smiling Kevin charged toward Nixon, roaring and screaming as the TARDIS disappeared to real safety and to get more civilians out of danger. Uriel's Androids joined them in providing covering fire, allowing our heroes to charge forward.

---

Aleister Lewis Seward walked through this bloodied carnage, keeping his people safe, throwing up magical shields and gunning down some bears with his weaponry. Other times, he would summon portals and drop them off into other parts of the school, locking them up or letting other creatures have their way. The dinosaurs were quite pleased.

As was ex-headmaster, now Prime Minister, William Nilark, who had gotten the earlier call. "Great to be here, eh?' he demanded, pleased to be ripping apart opposing forces.

"Shut up William." said Ciel, using her music to paralyse large portions of the army. Despite bringing all they could muster, the bears were falling quite easily to Elfen High. Ivy had come to help as well, trapping people in her vines. Years ago, back in 2018, it would have been far more bloodied when the weaker demons had emerged to attack, quite fewer in number too.

But the school had grown strong. An identity had formed. The most dangerous thing here was Kevin now. They dealt with this threat quickly, methodically, swiftly and efficiently. The bears fell quickly to the new generation, trying to rise up but unable to pose a true threat to those of the school.

Meanwhile, underneath in the tunnels, Uriel fought the creature wearing his brother's face, punching him repeatedly in the face. "Things have changed since my brother was Harbinger. Until the end, he ignored his duty, unwilling to face it, unwilling to truly guard his universe. He was a selfish man. He loved a select few. Until the end, when he realised true love, when he was willing to fight for all."

The other creature hissed, showing himself to be more bestial now. "There is no true love." he declared. "Only hate. Only death."

Uriel gave the creature a look of pity. "That's where, my friend, you are dead wrong." he apologised, standing upwards. "And if you were anywhere near the man you are disguised as, you'd realise that."

There was a howl as the creature moved towards Uriel, who punched it in the face again and again and again, the monster barely able to get a blow as it edged backwards under Uriel's blows. "What the hell are you?" it said, looking at him in astonishment.

"Your reckoning." Uriel replied, raising a hand glowing with blue light. But then the creature changed its face, shapeshifting into a new disguise to dissuade Uriel. The disguise of his daughter, Hope.

There was no hesitation as Uriel smashed his fist down.

But then something happened. A massive, psychological attack. The bear had built off a lot of creatures. Not just Crowley, or Hope, but many, many people, including former residents of Heaven who had been tortured by Uriel. They had been testing these psychological assaults for some time on tourists to Elfen High, and did it again here.

Across the school, the people fighting the bears fell to the ground, screaming and whimpering as their worst demons mentally combated them. Priestcruncher fell to the ground swiftly, his eyes dead. Aleister Lewis wept as he dropped. But Ivy stood standing, seeming unaffected, but noticing everything around her as her own husband fell down.

---

Uriel was now, in his mind, in a dark room.

He was now slammed to the ground, shackles on his wrists, bruises upon his face.

"You are Uriel." said a voice, an ecstatic yet furious one. "Former ruler of Heaven. Former dictator of Heaven." came the laughter out of the darkness.

"Yes, I am..." Uriel coughed. "What do you want? What is happening here?" he demanded, a panic growing as he found he couldn't use his powers here.

"My wife was arrested for being an enemy of the state. She was...questioned." A silence. "Her arms bear the scars of those questions." out of the dark stepped out a white man, but by his demeanor and way of movement, Uriel could see what he was. An angel. Or a former one. As his eyes settled, Uriel realised who it was. Calliel. "I took over Heavensgate after the fall. I cleaned up mistakes, I helped people restore themselves to life. And now, we're all going to die." Calliel said. "But I, Lord Uriel, am thrilled to be able to avenge what you did to Ivy and others." he snarled.

"I do not remember that name!" protested Uriel, now genuinely and completely terrified for the first time in his life, his natural arrogance leaving him. "I remember every name, but I did not attack her, she must be mistake-"

"YOU DID THIS. THIS IS KNOWN!" the other angel roared, repeatedly punching Uriel in the face, with absolutely no mercy or strength held back. his voice echoed and boomed in Uriel's subconcious as he was hit, before the man grabbed Uriel and slammed him against the wall. "IT WAS YOU ALL ALONG! YOU GAVE THE FUCKING ORDERS! NOT JUST HER, BUT SO MANY OTHERS!"

"Calliel." A female voice said quietly. "Stop."

Calliel dropped Uriel, who whimpered on the ground, gasping and exhausted. "Is this real? Or an illusion?"

"It can be both, in a way." Ivy acknowledged. She nodded at Calliel, who dissipated. "I'm real. The bears launched some sort of psychological attack on everyone, but I was fine."

"How did you escape?" demanded Uriel, coughing and weak.

"I was stronger than that. I was broken once, but I'm better now. I improved on myself." she looked Uriel dead in the eye. "I didn't think I'd ever be able to face you." she said. "And what was done to me, on your orders. What was done to so many."

Uriel was silent.

"After my husband and I first arrived to Heavensgate after the Abrahamic War, decades ago now, I was afraid to ever leave our home." she said softly. "So I would stare out in the window into the alley, and I would see this cat looking for scraps. One day some children, human slum kids, came into the alley and trapped him in a box. I watched them light firecrackers and drop them in the box. I could hear him howl from three stories above. So finally, I had a reason to leave my home." she said. "I chased the children off after a good scolding, not telling Calliel about what they had been doing - they were just dumb kids. They would learn by life not to continue such tasks. I rescued this cat and I brought him home. He sat with me when I read, slept with me, and he purred. Richard, Calliel and I loved him." Ivy smiled, lost in thought as Uriel looked on.

"But, every once in a while, he bit me or scratched me. He did this because sometimes he...sometimes he forgot that he is safe now."

Ivy's words choked in her throat as her eyes turned wet and angry.

"So I forgave him when he bit me." she said haltingly. "Because I remember what it is like to never feel safe. And that is because of you. Because of you, I was afraid. Because of you, I wasn't sure how to trust or love. And I am not the only one." she wept. Uriel stared on.

"So today, I ask only one thing of you: I ask you now to show me the respect by acknowledging what you did to me. That you remember giving the orders to torture, interrogate and question me. And that you remember."

Uriel opened his mouth. And shut it. "Yes." he said simply, his own eyes welling in tears. "Yes, I did. I gave that order. And I gave many, many more. And that order, and so many orders, haunt me always, weighing on my mind, defining me and what I am. Each and every one. I remember them all, being assured in them, believing it was right, mathematically looking at it. I did this. And...and I am sorry. I am sorry for everything."

Ivy stood upwards, extending a hand to Uriel. "Your nightmare was to face this. My husband shared it - because his nightmare was to face you again, to give into a rage that he thought beneath him." she explained gently. "I'll lead you out of here first, before he comes back to this and kills you in this dream, shattering you. I'll have a long conversation with him later - a conversation I think we both need to have."

"Why are you doing this?" asked Uriel to Ivy quietly. "Why did you come into my nightmare to save me? You could leave me here, and everyone would believe you are in the right."

"We are all capable of being a lot of things when we think we're right. But I will not do that. I will not be that."

Then Uriel woke up, without the wounds Calliel did in the nightmare, and looked at the stunned misshapen creature. "What the-" it began.

Uriel slammed it with his fist, killing it immediately, tears still in his eyes.

My time is drawing thinner
I'm just a tired old sinner
No chips left on this shoulder
No pride in growing older

But when your borrowed time is through...
I'll be with you
Redemption blues

No man can truly outlast
All the mistakes of his past
There's no haven here for me
That's safe from my memories

But when your borrowed time is through...
I'll be with you
Redemption blues
I'll be with you
Redemption blues

And justice ain't no lady
She's a twisted, battered whore
She's laying bruised and naked
On a bloodstained wooden floor
Our days are over
Times have changed around these parts
There ain't no more cowboys
Only men with violent hearts

It was swift and brutal, the uprising of the bears over almost as soon as it began. The world was simply too powerful now, too interconnected. And people learnt from the mistakes of the past.

But Uriel held the shattered body of the creature pretending to be his daughter in his arms, and despite himself felt a deep regret and wept in exhaustion and a knowledge this would continue.

Upstairs, the violence continued for a brief period, but it would not last too long. The bears simply could not match the force of Elfen High, which had called in the European armed forces and the iSSR as backup. Uriel decided now would be a good time to make his move. He opened a portal to disappear silently, dropping the corpse of the very briefly lived creature to the ground as it changed back into a bear form.

"Wait." said a calm, authoritative voice.

Uriel turned around to see a short man looking up at him, blood splattered across him. "You came back." said Aleister Lewis simply. "Why? You had lived, escaped. A fugitive everywhere. Why did you come back to help?"

The black man opened and closed his mouth, sighing. "Redemption." he said finally. "Atonement. A desire to forgive." he explained.

"Have a seat." commanded the dwarf, creating two chairs for them both. They sat. "The bears are being dealt with as we speak. Their uprising resulted in very few deaths on our side. I'll attend each funeral personally, however." said the tired man.

Uriel raised an eyebrow. "You would?"

"Of course. A leader must care for his people." said Aleister Lewis simply. "Now, tell me about what happened here, context."

Uriel looked at the dwarf with respect as he explained the events leading up to this. The new leaders of Elfen High evidently were quite different from their predecessors in many regards. Though it was unfair to his brother to think so, of course. Lucifer did the best he could with his problems. This younger generation was more optimistic, more sensible, more fair. Flawed, of course, but everyone was. But they were better than those before.

Uriel realised now, more than ever, how wrong his old views had been. People naturally improved. He didn't need to force anything. He felt like somewhere, Richard was smiling. "They acquired Lucifer's DNA." said Uriel simply. "That may have to be taken care of better. They even managed to control the Crowley's Penises with it. That's caused some hell in America. They need to be hunted to extinction."

"I agree. Huge flaw." said the namesake of the man being discussed. He looked wistful. "i wish i hadn't been born after he died, you know. He seemed to be a real hero. Sometimes - not often, but sometimes - it's hard to live up to that. I feel out of my depth."

"My brother?" asked Uriel, privately thinking that Aleister Lewis was much more prepared than either of his namesakes.

"Yeah. I forget he's your brother sometimes." the dwarf said.

"I never do."

"Yeah, suppose you couldn't." Aleister Lewis produced a bottle of water and started drinking it. "What do you do now? Why this sudden turnaround?"

"I found religion."

"You didn't have it before? Religion seems to be the biggest thing we learn about you in schools, you know."

"No, i didn't follow religion then. I followed myself." Uriel's face twitched in what almost seemed like a smile. "You learn about me in schools?"

"Nothing too good." allowed Aleister Lewis. "Monster, psychopath, that kind of thing."

"You don't feel unsafe calling me that to my face?"

"It doesn't seem you are one nowadays."

Uriel stood up now. "Then i'm succeeding in my goal, i suppose. Can you clean up by yourself now?" he inquired.

"Yes. We've got this covered. We've had worse happen. Feel bad for the bears, you know - they clearly planned this out for a while and then at the end just snapped. Probably pressured to start earlier than they had wanted."

"Nixon is still fighting those men in Jasper. Shall we deal with it?"

Uriel nodded. "My Androids are there too." he said, opening a portal again, pointing into Jasper.

---

They didn't have to do much, it turns out. Nixon's bleeding body lay on the ground as Kevin stabbed it over and over again with a gleeful smile on his face. Gabriel winced. "Dude, calm down." he said, eating a taco. "That guy's basically done for."

"Fuck you." hissed Nixon with his last gasps, spitting at his assailants.

"So, I dunno." Khan was explaining to Jon. "If you want to give this a listen, you absolutely should. Spread it around the iSSR and stuff too. i put my blood, sweat and tears into this." he said, handing the white man a CD titled The Krishna Khan LP. "I'm really trying to see if i can make this work, you know?"

Jon stared at the tape in a sort of sadistic joy. "Oh, don't worry." he said in a falsely reassuring tone. "Everyone will hear this."

Elijah just looked irritated, as his own hiphop album had failed to take off on Earth, though it enjoyed a huge following in Heavensgate, as he rapped entirely in Latin. Also, Const, who listened to it all the time as he shot and tortured enemies of the faith and took way too much joy in doing so.

Uriel looked around, seeing everything dealt with. The Androids had locked up and jailed Nixon's guards and soldiers, and the Crystals had been placed into boxes. Jon nodded. "We'll use what's already been made and place a ban on manufacturing more. i saw some of the hybrids. Being morphed into a creature like that is beyond painful."

Uriel merely nodded back. Aleister Lewis looked impressed, though at Kevin he sighed "You can really stop now, Kevin. Nixon's dead."

"That's been said before."

"Fair enough." he looked at Uriel again. "You're going now?"

"Yes. We'll likely meet again." stated Uriel. "Tell the bear and the demon the Doctor will turn them home. it's time for me to continue my journey now."

"Where are you going?"

"There's always threats." said Uriel vaguely. "Not just Fae. Other beasts. The Two-Faced Man. The Higher-Ups. Savage Lee. Creatures and men and women you don't want to bother yourself with unless they come to you. But I'm going to finish them off. The Omniverse won't have these threats if i'm around. And perhaps I can even wipe out the city of Carcosa, where the Fae and other monsters are said to be born. But that's another tale."

Aleister Lewis nodded. "Maybe i'll hear it later then." he said with a smile.

"Perhaps." nodded Uriel. Another portal opened and his Androids stepped followed, ultimately followed by him.

Redemption blues
My time is drawing thinner
I'm just a tired old sinner
Redemption blues
My time is drawing thinner
I'm just a tired old sinner
Redemption blues
My time is drawing thinner
I'm just a tired old sinner
My time is drawing thinner
I'm just a tired old sinner
Redemption blues

My time is drawing thinner
I'm just a tired old sinner
My time is drawing thinner
I'm just a tired old sinner
My time is drawing thinner
I'm just a tired old sinner
My time is drawing thinner
I'm just a tired old sinner

[Nightkill the Emperor]

"It was impressive." The Doctor acknowledged to Ivy. "You did quite well with breaking us all out of the nightmare." he told her.

"Agreed." said Calliel, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked in a quieter tone, trying to lead her away, but she stayed put.

"As much as I can be." she told him. "But Calliel...I saw that vision. That was indeed you attacking Uriel, wasn't it? Not an apparition?"

Calliel was quiet.

Ivy hugged him. "It's okay, Calliel. It's okay. You couldn't have protected everyone. And he...even he deserves a second chance, alright?"

The Doctor nodded. "This is true, Lord Calliel." he said softly. "Anger is there. I feel it constantly myself. But you can't give in to it."

Calliel spoke now, his voice breaking. "I was so angry. So possessed by that rage. But...I just love you, Ivy. So much."

"I know." she replied softly. "So do I. But we need to talk."

The Doctor nodded, now turning to Jon. "Landsville, help clean this up. There may be bits of Nixon's organisation left. Khan and I have to leave. But I'm certain you'll see us again."

Jon looked at Khan and felt a fundamental sadness as the TARDIS lifted off.

Vworp. Vworp.

"Fuck." Aleister Lewis sighed. "Go ask Erin to get me a drink off the top shelf, will you? I think we all need one now."

2080

Aleister Lewis, now much older, walked through the hallways of Elfen High confidently, glasses on his face and book in his left hand. They had finally dealt with the dangers of the library. The books knew who the boss was now. Now, to deal with the fact that the old science classroom on the third floor seemed to have a banshee nobody could find that was screaming at all hours of the day. Even the werewolves couldn't sniff it out, but everyone heard the shrieks. So for now the third floor was sealed off.

It was a school board meeting now. He didn't care too much for these, but they were necessary. "So," said Aleister Lewis, walking inside and getting right to business, arriving at 1 pm on the dot. "What should be the first topic of discussion?"

"Well, we've made some progress on the hallway on the fourth floor of the Chemical and Environmental Engineering building." said Professor Rajasekar hopefully, the Tamil man coughing. "The hallway is now fully finite in breadth."

Aleister Lewis broke out into a grin. "That's great news! Why aren't you happier about it?"

"Well... it still appears to be infinite in length. But the fact that it no longer swallows light itself indicates that this is merely due to the limits of perception, and the hallway does now possess an end." Rajasekar coughed. "Somewhere."

Aleister Lewis sighed. "For fuck's sake." he muttered. "Fine. Alright. How long have we estimated it is?"

"There's no real measuring equipment that can state that. But we've estimated it'll take at least four human lifetimes to traverse it, so..."

The dwarf gave the Tamil a death glare. "Alright. We'll try to deal with it later. Let's bring in our new professor, who'll present his dissertation now."

Jon Landsvile coughed, standing up. After he had quit the ISSR recently, he was finally pursuing his true passion - applying to teach Philosophy and Literature. "Anyway, for my dissertation I shall compare Shakespeare’s unproduced and unpublished play, Orgy in Dys, with elements of Chaucer’s unwritten childhood daydreams." he said, opening his mouth to begin, but was interrupted by the alarm system.

Err, Headmaster Seward? Another kid has gotten lost within the second floor of the Chemical and Environmental Engineering building.

"For fuck's sake. Landsville, join Professors Chen and Moorthy in dealing with that. That'll do instead of a dissertation."

"I worked on this sonofabitch, you cunt!" said the offended Pittsburgher.

"Yeah, sounds bueno." waved Aleister Lewis, focusing on the new item at hand as Sophia Chen and Raj Moorthy went to deal with the lost student with Landsville. "Now, Professor Fernadez, you'll be teaching Economics here?"

"Well, my cat will be teaching economics. I'll be snorting cocaine in the backroom. She can't type, so I had to fill out the application."

"You're already better than most of our staff." admitted the headmaster. "You're hired. Now, next item on the agenda, our new courses. History 311 – History of Post-War Britain, taught by Dr. Green. Alternative History 133 - History of Nazi Britain, taught by Dr. Cerise." Aleister Lewis looked up. "Nazi Britain?"

"It's really fascinating." Dr. Cerise said earnestly, her blond hair and blue eyes looking at Aleister Lewis as he sighed. He had hired her out of the remnants of the Thules, but occasionally some things came out. "Just don't use this as a training ground." he muttered.

"Would never dream of it." she said, though the headmaster could tell a lie when it was spoken.

"Computer Science 180 – Java Programming and Hatred, taught by Professor Arjun Khan-"

"It is lies! It is all fucking lies and hatred!" snarled a destructive force of nature.

"Settle down, Professor Khan." replied Aleister Lewis, unphased. "Biology 371: Cloning and You and You, Math 261: Magical Mathematics, Math 251: Integral Calculus, so on..." he sighed. "Seems like it works."

"Math 251 seems like it'll be hard." observed Christian O'Neil, an Irish professor of Biology 278: Alcohol, Weed and You.

"Stop being so white about it." said Aleister Lewis. "At any rate, that should be good. Now, if this meeting is wrapped up, I'll deal with some other stuff. Goodbye, ladies, gentlemen and those who don't fit in either." he said with a nod, walking out.

---

"I do miss him." confessed Ivy Michaelson nee Green with a wistful smile as she and Aleister Lewis drank tea together. She was old now, very old, but still full of vitality and energy, a twinkling smile. "Richard came by to the funeral, funded it entirely himself so the taxpayer here wouldn't have to though everyone was willing. But Calliel wouldn't have wanted that."

Aleister Lewis and Ivy looked out the window quietly, seeing the city of Heavensgate moving outside. Aleister Lewis blinked. "Not to alarm you, but a man outside is taking a piss on a cross."

Ivy made a scoffing sound. "One of those bloody atheist movements. Richard Dawkins found Heavensgate and is trying to cause a fuss. Annoying, isn't it?" she asked as a human and demon guard grabbed the man and dragged him off.

Aleister Lewis chuckled. "How is Richard? Enjoying his life?"

"Oh, certainly. After he was done at his job in Brussels and then after he left his job at your school-"

"Yes, he was done after Kevin's performance of Romeo and Juliet. it did go overboard, I admit. There was certainly less Satanism in the original play."

"Yes. Anyway, after that, he's been doing really well at his job in Jasper as a business executive. He's happy in America now. And really, that's all a parent can want, right? Happiness for their child." she smiled. "Our daughter Jane is also doing really well now, but you know that."

"Yes, I have to meet with her soon, as well as Loki and Thor." laughed Aleister Lewis. "Lady Jane of Heavensgate. Grew up fast, hasn't she?"

"She's less than five years younger than you." said Ivy sharply but warmly.

"Yeah, but even so." muttered the headmaster. "Do you know how fucking weird it is to meet with your ex-girlfriend as an important world leader?"

"Least it's not a current world leader, like your predecessor had to deal with." observed the former First Lady of Heavensgate. "Poor William. He was surprisingly less whipped than I thought though, good on him."

Aleister Lewis finished off his tea. "It was a pleasure to see you again, ma'am." said the dwarf, shaking the hand of the older woman. "I'll pay my respects at Calliel's grave before I go."

Ivy nodded, her eyes unfocusing as she remembered old memories. His smiling face. Those dances, oh, those dances. For an awkward angel who never knew music, Calliel could dance. That had been a love. A true love. She looked at a photograph of him smiling, his arm around her, Richard and Jane also in the picture, smiling at the camera. The photograph was off, of course, because it had been taken by Laz, so it was taken upside down and you could clearly saw Laz's finger. But it was a memory. And she had so many.

Quietly, she heard him whisper to her, appearing as a vision. "I'll never leave." the wisp of a ghost said. Was it actually him? Was it just a hopeful daydream. "I'll be with you, always. Always in your heart. And soon, you'll join me, alright? But don't wait for it. Live for me. But I'll be never be truly gone, alright?"

Then he was gone, and only the music was left.

Well, holy moly me oh my
You’re the apple of my eye
Girl, I've never loved one like you

Man, oh, man, you're my best friend
I scream it to the nothingness
There ain't nothing that I need

Well, hot and heavy pumpkin pie
Chocolate candy, Jesus Christ
Ain't nothing please me more than you

Home, let me come home
Home is wherever I'm with you
Home, let me come home
Home is wherever I'm with you

La la la la
Take me home
Mama, I'm coming home

I'll follow you into the park,
Through the jungle, through the dark
Girl, I've never loved one like you

Moats and boats, and waterfalls,
Alleyways, and payphone calls
I been everywhere with you

Laugh until we think we'll die,
Barefoot on a summer night
Never could be sweeter than with you

And in the streets you run afree,
Like it's only you and me,
Geez, you're something to see.

---

"Endings...are always hard." said Kevin quietly on his radio show. "When I started this radio show nearly half a century ago, i never imagined it'd become so popular and huge, but it has. I'm thankful for that. You listeners have been amazing, and I'm glad to have navigated this time with you. Thank you, and thank you to those who chose not to pursue legal action, and fuck you to those who did." He cleared his throat. "Alright. Anyway, our final show, at least with me as the host. So, today-"

There was static and distortion. Kevin cleared his throat. "Err, listeners, there seems to be something going wrong here, we're getting a frequency from somewhere else..."

"What the fuck is this?" demanded a distinctly British voice. "Who the fuck am I talking to? Did the hallucinogenics work? Evidently more than I expected."

"Hold on, who is this?" Kevin asked.

"You fucking well know who I am. Aleister fucking Crowley, who the fucking cunt are you"

"Aleister Crow- wait, hold on, please. What year is it?"

"2029." said the voice. The sound of a bottle opening was heard, it being chugged. "But it all may as well be over, to be frank. Who gives a fuck?" said the depressed voice.

"Listeners, it seems that we've broken through time and are now actually communicating with the real Aleister Crowley. This is so excitin-"

"Who cares? Yes, it's fucking me. There's only me. Fuck me, fuck you, fuck this." he sighed, sounding tired and depressed. "Who are you? I remember you somehow..."

"Kevin, sir. From 2080. And it's an honour-"

"2080?" Crowley's attention perked. "So you know how this turns out. You know how I turn out. Before you do, just remember. I do my best with what I have. And I don’t have much." he took a breath, and asked very timidly. "What happens? How does it go?"

"It goes well, sir." Kevin replied quietly. "It goes well. You'll be alright."

"Huh. I guess that's something to await." he said after a pause. "That's nice." The static died. And he was gone.

Kevin seemed a bit shaken and surprised. "Well, listeners, you heard that. Wow! What a blast from the past, right?" He said, as the static returned.

"Who's this?" asked that same voice, but sounding different. Sharper. More aware.

"Crowley?"

"How do you know me?"

"Sir, my name is Kevin. I'm a professor at Elfen High-"

"Elfen High? What the fuck is that?" he said sceptically.

"Sir, I'm from the future. Long, long in the future, it seems. I assure you, i am from your school. I'm looking at a statue of you right now, actually - it's quite magnificent."

"Why is there a statue of me?"

"Well, you were Headmaster, sir!" Kevin explained, excited again. "A hugely revered figure. Someone everyone knows. Sir, you were so well known. Not a man on Earth doesn't know who you were!"

There was silence on the other end. "People know me?" he asked quietly. "The school becomes a thing? I become headmaster?"

"Sir, you win. You succeed. And because of you, we all do. Sir, you gave us all more time. You're the stuff of legends!"

"I-"

The static went out. And so did the connection. Kevin blinked. "I think that's it, everyone." he said softly. "But let's hope that did some good, right? But as we go out, I want to feature a cameo by a certain musician. And before we go, please remember to attend my latest play, alright? But without further ado...Live from my studio, everyone, welcome Young Empires."

"No, I won’t lose hope
No, I won’t lose sight
But heaven is a place I just can’t find
Run from the shadows and run to the light
Running from a past I left behind
Haunted by a memory that I just can’t set free
Searching for the man that I used to be

I’ve made my sacrifice in the ashes of
But heaven is a place I just can’t find..."

---

Elsewhere, Priestcruncher cracked open a beer with Jackson and Corvallis Sanchez on the islands of Kirbati, which had been restored by Fen a while back with magic. The tides had been stopped, and the islands existed peacefully again, everyone happy. Priestcruncher and Jackson had chosen to take a vacation here after returning to their time, and then had decided it was useful to just move here permanently. It was a beautiful place, really.

Priestcruncher looked up at the sky, the sun shining bright. "We did it. The last Crowley's Penis was killed. And i think any remnants of Nixon's old organisation is gone for good now too." he said, taking a smoke.

"Good fucking news." muttered Jackson, having a drink. "Good fucking news indeed."

Corvallis, who had moved here some time ago and was their neighbour, just shrugged. "Just relax, guys. And you know, that new play by Kevin O'Shaunwhatever is going to play soon. Jackson, turn on the TV, will you?"

The play started soon after. It was an original work based off true events. It was called The Fall of Elfen High. It would win many, many awards, especially for the musician Gavin Duane's cameo at the climax.

Priestcruncher sighed, looking at Jackson. "I never told you what I saw in my nightmare, you know. All that time ago, in the school."

Jackson shrugged. "I never told you mine. It still bother you?"

The bear shook his head. "I stared into the abyss. The abyss looked back. And I stared it down there. And then...I don't know. But ever since, I've felt better."

Jackson gave his friend a smile. "Well...best that we can all hope for, really."

---

We could go on forever. We really, honestly could. There's so much. There will always be so much. The world is massive. There's so much built in here.

Stories never end. This is a truth. We can talk about this forever. We can talk about the Great Mormon Civil War. We can discuss the Chinese invasion of Mars. We can talk about how the space race advanced and humanity, demonkind and others spread to the stars and met creatures there, and more threats and more adventures and more love and more hate and more stories. Hell, we can talk about the day when Headmaster Billy the Sixteenth of Elfen High defeated the Pittsburgher threat, as after the Cataclysm that city flew into the stars and tormented the good people of our Solar System, and how Billy the Sixteenth managed to defeat the Pittsburghers through eldritch knowledge gained from his time in Upstate New York.

There are just too many stories, going on infinitely. They'll never stop.

But let's try to find a good point to make it stop, or at least give the illusion of a conclusion. Let's give a few last tales.

Let's go back to the beginning of this epilogue.

---

Aleister Crowley coughed, leaning back and sighing. "Where am I?" he asked.

"DEAD." said Death simply. "NOT JUST YOURS THOUGH."

Crowley stared at Death in confusion. "Sorry?"

"THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS, CROWLEY. WHERE WE ALL END." explained Death patiently. "YOU ARE AT THE END OF ALL THINGS. AT THE END OF THIS OMNIVERSE." he said, not unkindly.

Crowley gaped. "Wait...did I fail?" he asked quietly. "Did we fail in saving everything?"

"YOU SUCCEEDED." said Death quickly and reassuringly. "BUT EVERYTHING FADES. IT'S INEVITABLE. DO NOT WORRY ABOUT YOUR FAILINGS. YOU SAVED EVERYTHING, AND THOSE COMING AFTER YOU HELPED TO MAINTAIN THAT. BUT ALL THINGS GROW OLD. ALL THINGS FALL AND DIE. IT IS INNATE."

Crowley paused. "You told me once that one day everything would end and you would be there to take care of it. Is that this time? How long has it been since I died?"

"ALEISTER, IT HAS BEEN MILLIONS OF YEARS. YOU DID GOOD."

"Yeah. I think I can work with that."

"WE'RE JUST WAITING FOR THE LAST SENTIENT BEING NOW, THE LAST PERSON TO COME JOIN US."

"Oh? And who would that be?"

A gasp was heard. Crowley turned around, and saw a very old man, impossibly old, looking back at him. His eyes, however, were energetic and active, looking alert.

"YOUR WORK IS DONE." said Death gently.

Uriel stood up slowly. "Really now?" he asked, breaking into a genuine, honest smile. "That's a new thing. I'm retired?"

Death placed a hand on Crowley's shoulder, causing a jolt of energy to go through him as he absorbed the multitude of memories that burst into him, giving Uriel's life story after his own death, causing Crowley to understand how his brother had taken on the task of being the Harbinger of the Sun.

The brothers embraced.

"How old are you now?" asked Crowley warmly.

"Old." replied Uriel. "I have long outlived everything else, brother. It's been...it must have been trillions of years since I saw you, from my end, since we had that battle."

"Yes, this meeting has happened in slightly less fucked up circumstances." Crowley allowed. He let go of Uriel.

"Glad to see we're all a family again." said Richard, approaching with a beaming Raphael and Michael. But then so many more. Lewis. Minh. D. Daisuke. Calliel. Ivy. Ciel(s). Damien. Aleister Lewis. William. Hilde. The Mummy. Billy. Daniel. Laz. Everyone who had ever played a part were here now.

Crowley looked astonished. "What's going on?" he asked, as did Uriel, seeing so many figures. Trillions of figures, their souls dancing in the blue lights.

"THE COILS OF THE OMNIVERSE ARE UNRAVELING." said Death. "EVERYTHING ENDS, MR. CROWLEY."

"No more runs." said Minh with a wide smile. "We've done them all, Aleister."

"Do all of ye' fuckers have a fucking addiction to sentiment?" demanded an irate voice standing next to an Irish woman.

A memory flashed back to Crowley now.

---

Crowley looked up, seeing Minh in his office. "What do you need, son?" he asked, not paying the boy - he would always be a boy to him- too much mind. He was looking more at the extremely good request he had been given to try and banish Piers Morgan from Europe, to force the Americans to deal with him. This was a proposition that Crowley was very willing to get behind.

"Err, well..." Minh fidgeted. "Headmaster, why did you pick me from my home in Russia?" asked the now young man, whose English was almost completely British, but still had considerable Russian influences in his English, shown by his hesitation and slowness between words.

"Well, we're always trying to help out kids." said Crowley, a bit surprised by the question. Kids normally did not just ask him why they were taken. "You could have caused some damage with your powers then, after all."

The young man sat down in the chair in front of Crowley. "I suppose I could have." he admitted. "I was a bit of an aggressive cunt when I got here."

Crowley laughed out loud. "That's a very true point." he grinned. "You quite were. But you aren't now, are you? You keep running You always do. Remember that, I'll definitely remind you if I need to." he said.

Minh smiled, guessing he would hear those words frequently in the future. He looked at Crowley nervously. "Al...I'm going to be a father." he said.

Crowley blinked. "That's bloody wonderful news! Blimey, you're going to be a father? This calls for a drink!" he said, waving his hand as various types of alcoholic beverages appeared on the table. "Cor, that's fantastic!"

Minh shook his head. "You don't see it, Al." he explained. "I don't know if I can do it..."

Crowley chuckled. "Look, mate...you can handle anything. You've dealt with quite a lot of shit. Something mundane as married life shouldn't break you. Hell, I've had a lot of those." he shrugged.

"Did you ever love any of them? Had any kids?" asked Minh. Crowley looked back blankly, as a memory returned to him, before being brutally smashed down.

"Never been much of a concern." he said briskly. "Never had any kids."

Minh gave a thin smile, guessing there was a lie. He extended a hand to his old friend. "Thanks, Al. I'll try my best."

Crowley chuckled, but instead pulled Minh into a hug.

---

Events like this shaped everyone's life. Again, Crowley realised that he had loved. Everyone. Everything was connected, and he could see the connections as bright as day, he could see the lines that linked them all together. And it was all quiet, it was all ending, and it was all...perfect.

There wasn't any more time for improvement. There couldn't be, not anymore. It was the end of the world as he knew it.

And he felt fine.

He leaned forward, embracing one after another, dancing between the crowd, before he came upon someone.

Leah, his wife, his truest love, smiling radiantly at him, holding their son Spero in her arms. Crowley embraced them, crying.

It was all closing up now.

Smiling
Spinning 'round and 'round
Holding hands
The whole world a blur
But you are standing

Tears streamed down Crowley's face, and he saw Uriel standing in the distance, uncomfortable despite it all. He gestured to him, and the former archangel walked forward, being hugged and held by hundreds.

"Should i give a speech or something?" Khan asked Jon.

"Could work in these circumstances." Jon concluded.

Khan shut up to spite Jon.

"WE'RE CLOSING UP SHOP, EVERYONE." said Death gently.

"Where to now?" asked Crowley, looking up.

"ANYWHERE."

And then it all ended. There was a flash of white light.

Death was alone. And quiet.

When the first living thing existed, he was there, waiting. When the last living thing died, his job finished. He put the chairs on tables, turned out the lights and lock the universe behind him when he left.

And then he would go.

But...there was one thing left.

He petted Stanley, smiling at his eternal companion. "LET'S GO. WE HAVE SOME CLEANING UP TO FINISH."

---

A long, long time ago.

Crowley sighed, sitting on a bench. There was a lot going on right now. Frankly, just too much, with his wife's dead, the destruction of their village, and the death of...well, a lot. It was tiring and exhausting. But maybe, just maybe, if he exhausted himself enough, his mental exhaustion and physical exhaustion would cancel out.

It was a silly hope and the wizard knew full well it wasn't possible. But sometimes you'd believe even the impossible to feel better.

"God fucking hell." he told himself, sitting on the bench, his head in his lap.

He had failed. Massively. Leah was dead. And others. God. Fuck. He wept, his head in his hands, wanting death.

"Well, listeners, you heard that. Wow! What a blast from the past, right?" came a voice out of nowhere, in his head.

He looked up, startled. "Who's this?"

"Crowley?"

"How do you know me?"

"Sir, my name is Kevin. I'm a professor at Elfen High-"

"Elfen High? What the fuck is that?" he said sceptically.

"Sir, I'm from the future. Long, long in the future, it seems. I assure you, i am from your school. I'm looking at a statue of you right now, actually - it's quite magnificent."

"Why is there a statue of me?" demanded Crowley incredously. After all, it's not like he would amount to anything.

"Well, you were Headmaster, sir!" the voice explained, incredibly excited and happy. "A hugely revered figure. Someone everyone knows. Sir, you were so well known. Not a man on Earth doesn't know who you were!"

He was quiet, comtemplative. This was just a daydream, of course. It was absurd someone was speaking to him from the future. Absolutely absurd. "People know me?" he asked quietly. "The school becomes a thing? I become headmaster?"

"Sir, you win. You succeed. And because of you, we all do. Sir, you gave us all more time. You're the stuff of legends!"

"I-" Crowley began, but the voice cut out. And he was alone again. He sighed. it was just a daydream. Absurd. But he was...he was hopeful now. He might grow into something, if he kept himself encouraged. The depression was there. It always would be, really. But he might...he might move beyond it one day. This dream had given him something as he sat on the bench, sighing. "God..."

"What's wrong here, then?" Richard asked, somehow there. The fact he had been called by this was quite amusing in retrospect.

Crowley glanced up. "Nothing much, sir. Nothing much. Just tired from running and all." He decided not to mention this daydream. It'd seem absurd.

"Well, why stop now?"

"...Because I'm exhausted?" Crowley asked, smiling ever slightly now as he looked up at his mentor.

"When you hit that level of exhaustion, only thing left to do is to go on. You can't get more tired, can you? It's like life. You can't get more fucked after a certain point. You may as well keep running and get better at it. Then you'll run better and better each time."

Crowley paused. "Perhaps you have a point there, sir."

Richard smiled smugly. "I always do. Now, I'll come with you on this one. One more run, alright? Then I'll talk to you about something new we're thinking about."

"Hmm?"

"A school. An idea. Valaran and I have been seriously discussing this, as has Loki. A school where we can help people out, people with powers and gifts, help them integrate into society, master their skills, grow stronger."

"And what do you want from me?" asked Crowley, turning. "I can hardly manage myself, let alone others." He said even as his mind was blown. The school...it would be real? Was this more than just a dream? A prophecy? An actual conversation from the future? Anything was possible at this point.

Richard looked at him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You can manage a lot more. You need to believe, son. Just do that. I believe in you, alright? Look, we want you to help Valaran with this project. It'll be good for everyone. But first...let's run for awhile."

From somewhere else, a radio station far in the future, music played.

No, I can’t lose hope
No, I won’t lose sight
And I won’t stop looking for heaven’s light
I hear the angels singing when I close my eyes
And I can hear the bells ringing like a siren’s cry

And I can feel it in my bones
Every time I think of home
(You’re not alone, you’re not alone, you’re not alone)
It still haunts me like a ghost
But I know we’re not alone
(You’re not alone, you’re not alone, you’re not alone)

And I can feel it in my bones
Every time I think of home
(You’re not alone, you’re not alone, you’re not alone)
It still haunts me like a ghost
But I know we’re not alone
(You’re not alone, you’re not alone, you’re not alone)

They ran one more time, and then they ran a second lap, and a third. And then, ultimately, Richard buckled down to the ground, laughing, now himself too tired to keep going.

"Holy hell." Richard laughed. "You're dammed good at this. What are you, eh?"

Crowley grinned, his smile spreading wide on his face, a certain arrogant, innocent and happy charm.

Crowley looked at his mentor and father figure, and he saw Loki approaching, as well as Valaran, and so many others. In his mind, he imagined the future and what it could bring. Regardless of whatever, he wouldn't be alone.

"Oh, you know," he began, scratching the back of his head as he helped Richard up, reflecting on his life and what could come. He'd always have someone. And so will everyone. Nobody is completely lost. There is always love. There is always loss. And there is always life. And we're all, in our own way..."Stuff of legend."

---

"GOODNIGHT, BHENCHODS."