Infinite Justice: Beyond (Marvel,DC,DBZ X/Over, IC, Open)

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

The boy with hair white as snow slowly opened his eyes, finding himself in a familiar environment. And yet, despite finally feeling like he belonged in this place, he was utterly astonished by the sole fact that he was able to open his eyes, let alone feel them opening and be aware of their movement and of the thoughts that this produced. Now bewildered, almost frightened, the boy closed his eyes once again, clinging to the flawed reasoning that if he undid that which had brought him awake, then his consciousness would fade away as well. Alas, it was for naught, for he could still feel the cold wind chilling his fragile pale skin, and the snow falling upon his childlike face, and the beating of his little undying heart. He felt all of these things, and was aware of them, and still he desperately wished that he was not, that he was still in that sweet state of complete thoughtlessness that one could only be aware of by approximation. He tried to forget the glimpse he saw of snow and sky, but in the end, he saw his defeat in the form of an old voice that explained everything.

"I see that your awakening troubles you. I'm sorry for that." The once jolly man spoke. "Like I said, even I don't have enough power to grant you the one thing you wish for. Something like that is far beyond my ability. Even then, I wanted to give you some sort of reward for everything that you've done for the people of Earth every year during the holiday season. I thought that if I couldn't grant your wish, perhaps I could at least let you experience some things that you've never had... even if I could only make it temporary. I thought that it would be a nice thing to do, that you would enjoy it... but it seems I was wrong. It seems that this brought you more pain that I could anticipate. I'm deeply sorry for that, child." The voice concluded.

After hearing those words, the boy opened his eyes, which gazed out at the real world with weariness. Slowly he sat up, looking up at the old man clad in red who watched over him with eyes creased with worry. Necromancer then stood up, looking all around, and as he saw the world that he had always known, surrounding him once again, the full weight of his ever lingering despair made itself manifest once more. The boy's entire small frame began shaking as he clenched his fists, his knuckles going white. "Why..." He muttered softly, even though he now knew the reason which led the misguided old man to delude him and present him with something that he could never have. To see something like that offered to him and then taken away, however, it had a devastating impact, even on the hardened mind of the one who had lived for so long.

"I... I hope you can forgive me..." The old man said as he looked helplessly at the child, ashamed of what he had caused. Necromancer looked back at him, and the man from the North Pole could see small glints of light in the corners of his eyes, but the boy turned around abruptly, still quivering as he shook his head.

"N-no..." The boy mumbled. Even through all of this, he knew that the man's intentions hadn't been wrong. Of course, good intentions didn't matter; after all, the road to hell was paved with them. But even so, there hadn't been many that had genuinely wanted any good for him. Some of those who had aided him or treated him well before did so in hopes of taking advantage of what they thought to be a naive, gullible child and utilize his powers for their ends. Conversely, others did so in awe, in terror, hoping that that demon in the flesh of a young boy would not cause them harm. Others still did it because they were souls in his possession, or because they knew they would be one day. Few were those who showed him kindness without ulterior motives despite knowing what he was, like the girl who approached him in the park the day before. And this made him abstain from harming the old man, it made him temper his overwhelming emotions, for a while.

It made him lie.

"It's... it's not... your fault..." The boy rasped, the words barely leaving his throat as he raised his arm and covered his eyes with it. The man knew exactly what that gesture meant, and felt all the more sorry for it. But he had done what he thought right, and had apologized when it all turned out to be wrong, and so, Santa Claus could now do little more than watch as the boy ran away, leaving his footsteps imprinted on the fresh snow, before finally flying away from the North Pole on the back of that enormous grey dragon of his. As he observed all of this, he attempted to speak.

"Ho... Ho..."

He didn't have the heart to finish.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

---

Seeing that her request had accomplished nothing, Kirisvala noted, with some hesitation, that they'd have to fight to bring in this person... something that Ava seemed to accept quite eagerly, seeing how she immediately charged towards the dragon-like creature, though she missed and ended up doing no harm to the villain. Frowning, she reasoned that they should probably attack in tandem, in order to have a chance of overwhelming their lone opponent in case it turned out to be stronger than it appeared. However, Mars, despite being the smartest of the group, didn't seem to agree with her train of thought, seeing how he immediately charged towards the opponent. Far more shocking to her, though, was the fact that the creature caught his fist effortlessly and then tossed him away. Her eyes went wide at this and she immediately rushed towards him.

"Mars!" She shouted in distress as she moved towards him and caught the large robot with her claws, somewhat struggling to maintain her footing. She succeeded in keeping him from flying away further or crashing into another building, however, and she was content with that, letting out a sigh of relief. What she wasn't content with at all was the fact that the villain didn't seem willing to relent and had so easily dismissed Mars' attack. Glaring at the dragon-like creature, she dug her claws into the roof of the building for stability and then let out a powerful roar that made the air around her vibrate and caused the entire building to shake a little. From the hazy air around her, spears of light materialized, projectiles of pure magical energy that hurled themselves at the dragon villain. They were faster and far more powerful than those she had used in previous fights and missions, proof that her training was paying off, slowly.

[The Starlight]

The Artificer Absolute stood in front of the floating Orb of Cognition which projected a map of the United States, a frown on his face. He had received troubling news, news that made him tremble, not in fear, but in pure, undiluted rage. This was news that he could not ignore, news that was devastating. He had been about to fly out and take care of it, but he realized that he needed someone with him. Someone to make sure that he did not lose himself in his rage, someone to keep him in check. And he truly knew only one person available capable of that. Having the Orb of Cognition float behind him, he strode over to Etla's room, and knocked.

Hearing a muffled "Come in!" he did so, walking in with a smile on his face as he observed Etla beating up some Builders, playing as herself in Craig's VR game. Seeing Etla beckoning him on, he entered the gameworld as himself, needing no headset, tackling a Builder that was about to attack Etla from behind, sticking his hand into it and reprogramming it with ease, eventually doing the same with several others to create an army for himself. Etla decided to switch sides and went solo, the two of them attacking each other head on, Etla plowing through Craig's army, and, to his suprise, Craig himself. As the words 'GAME OVER' flashed over his eyes, Craig frowned. "Since when did you get to Level 200? I'm only at 100..."

Etla laughed. "You're so busy with the Registration thing nowadays, I've had plenty of time to catch up," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "So what do you need, Craig?" she asked, taking off the headset.

"I've got bad news...ARGUS is back." He said solemnly.

The immediate rage on her face made Craig both smile and wonder if she was the right person to keep his own anger in check. He continued on at Etla's asking glance. "I've been getting reports that they're starting up slowly, doing their experiments, creating weapons, and moreover--"he closed his eyes tightly so that Etla would not see the flash of pain and tortured remembrance that flashed across his eyes, "Base..#13 is back."

"Get that teleportation thing on, Craig, and I'll take care of this myself." She said, her armor arraying itself around the Rainborn, her hands itching at her sword.

"No...I need to do this too. I need to obliterate every single base, every piece of technology. But I need you too, to make sure I don't lose myself."

"Are you sure?" she asked gently, moving closer to Craig, placing a gauntleted hand on his cheek. "You know that I can take of them."

"I know," he said, in a broken, crooked smile. "But I think it's time I buried a few of my demons myself."

[The Starlight]

Division, is a most terrible thing for a nation, group, organization or society. Whether it is over moral, ethical, political or social differences, division leaves scars, that takes years to heal--if they can be healed at all. It festers in the mind, it brews bitterness, it creates an amalgamation of factors, feelings and implues that is like a bad potion...liable to explode.

CIVIL WAR
Duo

Tony Stark stood in front of a portal at a podium, with microphones attached. He spread his arms, in his business suit, and began. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Prison 42. Now we’ve all heard of the revolving door of Arkham Asylum, and how the Bat puts his villains in there and two days later, they pop back out. That is unacceptable. The Bat should know better. We should know better. The supervillains of today are no ordinary criminals. They have felled skyscrapers, torn apart families. But no more. This is a new age. An age of enlightenment, if you call it. There will be no more revolving doors. Prison 42 is the most advanced prison ever built, period. Housed in the Negative Zone, there is only one way in and only one way out. Reed, Hank, Cyborg, and Bruce and I have put our considerable brainpower together to form this prison, with specially designed power dampeners that can depower any villain. Now this is a way to keep superpowered peoples accountable. This is the future, ladies and gentlemen. This is tomorrow today.
---

Superman stood at the back of the Hall of Justice, addressing the world. On his flanks was the majority of the Justice League, but a noticeable and conspicuous absence came in the form of the Batman. Nevertheless, Superman began to speak. “Now I know this may be difficult for some people and heroes, but this is the right way. This is a way to prevent fear. And that fear is reasonable, when there are things like the Watchtower hanging above Earth. We have good intentions, and I’m proud of how many times the Justice League and other superhero groups have saved the earth, and I’m honored to live on this Earth. But as long as we want that privilege to remain, we must be regulated. There must be checks and balances. And so, for full transparency, I have some news to tell the world. I understand that others may be afraid to take the actions that I’m about to take, for fear of family, but I hope that I can serve as a model to others. With that said, he placed on some glasses, fixed his hair and slouched a bit. “The people of Earth call me Superman. But my secret identity is Clark Kent. I was born on the planet Krypton, which suffered a cataclysm, and raised on a small farm in Kansas, by two loving humans I consider…

---

Craig Thomsen stood upon Travenios, giving his own address to the world. “That was quite a shocking revelation by Superman, I respect the courage. More than that, I honor him. I’ve had the honor to meet him several times, and I hope to be able to do so again. But when he says that living on this Earth is a privilege, that is wrong. Our allowed existence on Earth--more than that, our pursuit of happiness and security is a right, not a privilege. Not all of us can reveal our identities as Superman just did. Registration, I strongly believe, deprives heroes of those rights that heroes have more than earned. It is not the only way, and I will continue to fight this until I am either in the grave or it is repealed. Thank you.”

Days since the passage of the Registration and HERO Acts turned to weeks. And it seemed like resistance was faltering. Dozens of heroes had been rounded up and placed into Prison 42, and the Pro-Registration Camp grew everyday. Mutants saw it as a chance to gain trust and hope, Inhumans saw it as a way to make sure that the trust in them would not be lost and small-time heroes saw it as a necessary good, or a necessary evil--depending on whom you asked, that was simply a natural process of the world. Next, the U.S took the lead in the 50-State Initiative, putting a hero team in every state, and so, in a way, a new arms race began. The amount of heroes either born or made rose exponentially, but as superheroes arose, supervillains arose to challenge them. A radical terrorist group in the Middle East managed to create their own first super soldier, and began launching attacks with this super soldier, pledging to create more. However, a special task force of the UN managed to kill the super soldier without much damage done. However, spooked, the United Nations met again in New York and passed the Super Soldier Act, or the SSA, which set a quota on the amount of super soldiers a government could create and issued yearly, mandatory inspections.

It was at this time that Craig, alone in his Imaginarium, picked up his computer and began to write. He knew all too well that they were losing on all fronts, in battles, technology, and public opinion. And so, shutting himself in with the omega password, which only he and Etla knew, he opened a document and typed, ‘The Anti-Registration Papers.’ In the mold of the Federalist Papers, he, along with other writers, would write them under anonymous names, speaking of why Registration was wrong and alternate solutions. He would be Prometheus, one with foresight, the bringer of fire. This, he hoped, would turn the tide of public opinion...

[The Starlight]

The Anti-Registration Papers
The Vision of Registration
By Prometheus

When faced with Registration, that which is proposed in the Superhuman Registration act and the HERO Act, we must look deeper, beyond its superficial nature. In “On the Morality of Registration,” Silent Hero explores the importance of anonymity, and in essence, self-government and autonomy of heroes. Here, I, Prometheus, shall examine what comes next, if this grand scheme succeeds.

Registration appears to be simple, at first glance. All metahuman beings must go to their local Registration offices and register. From there on, they must undergo basic training to demonstrate that they are not a danger to society. However, Registration is much more than that. It is, simply, a draft, a violation of the freedom and personal liberties of heroes. What government cannot do itself, it will attempt to regulate, replicate, and exploit for its own purposes. Note, that this is not an attack on government, I am no proponent of anarchy. Government, in this day and age, is essential to the stability of Earth. However, what government cannot do, it fears. Despite the heroic deeds of superhumans who have saved Earth countless times, the populace, and the government, still regards them with fear. However, the nature of Earth’s superhuman organization sets them as checks to one another, more on that shall be extrapolated in “The Nature of Heroes.”

But what I foresee is a road to war. Already, nations are racing to create their own nationalistic superhero teams, reminiscent of the arms race in the days of the Cold War. With the removal of the Ultra Corps from the world came fear, and chaos. In this day and age, many heroes can stop nuclear attacks, thus, nuclear deterrents have become anachronistic. And so, the nations of the world suppose, what better deterrent than using that which threatens them. Thus, they create metahumans for their own uses, for their own defense, they claim. But how long will it be until wars are fought by metahumans? How long before the Justice League and the Avengers become subject to the corrupt will of government, subservient to the point of invading nations that America disagrees with? And that, dear audience, is the dream of Registration. To control and subvert the metahuman population until they become no more than pieces on a chess card, indentured soldiers to die for the useless aims of war.

But then, the natural question is, why are significant and influential portions of that same population supporting Registration? Because, they either do not see this grand, terrible vision, or believe that it will make the world safer. That if every nation possesses a superhuman team, then the danger becomes lesser for the whole world, and every nation is happy, and no nation can dominate another. However, the problem with this view is that not every nation is ruled by the people, and possesses a fair government that checks itself. All manners of powers can be created, in these days, and how long shall it be until governments use metahumans to abuse their own citizens?

It is claimed that the identities, and weaknesses of heroes will be kept secure, but there is nothing that it completely secure, unless it does not exist on a public database. Registration endangers the security of metahumans and their loved ones. Government itself has constantly and perpetually shown itself to be unable to protect its information from those who want it. Additionally, if future invaders of the Earth wish to obtain information on the weaknesses of Earth’s defenders, these databases give them a perfect opportunity. Do not assume that the likes of Thanos and the Skrulls do not possess alien technology that is superior to that of Earth, no matter the technologically skilled metahumans that Earth possesses.

This treatise will be most certainly attacked as an appeal to fear. And it is exactly that, for Registration presents a future that obliterates the rights of metahumans and threatens the safety, despite being designed for that very purposeful.

He who has ears to hear, let him hear. I am Prometheus, and I too, am very afraid.

---

[The Starlight]

Previously...
After looking upon this...avatar, she lifted her eyes to the sky. Fear of power had served her well, but that age was over. She was Mother Earth. She was stone and rock and earth, she was root and branch, crust and volcano. It was intolerable that these injustices continued. And so, she manifested her will. All around the world, there was a faint tremble, and then a cracking of ground, splitting forth to issue forth itself in human form. And these avatars began to walk, whether they were on plain or mountain, or city, towards the nearest injustice that Valancy had commanded all of Animalia and Plantae to monitor and identify. The orphaned, the raped, the exploited, the oppressed. They had all suffered upon her for too long now.

Mother Earth
The Audacity of Hope

Hope is a beautiful thing. It swells up within the human soul, against all odds, when there should be fear. The audacity of hope….that was what Valancy sought, hope in the face of a world that needed saving, a world that needed a true mother. And she would fill that role to the best of her ability. Valancy focused now, a haven of trees and plants encircling her, as she controlled her avatars around the Earth. Her army of one made many marched across the globe.

Just miles away, in the outskirts of New York City, one of herself, placed a finger upon the wooden door, and it opened for her. She surveyed the house, using the wooden floors and appliances as her eyes, quickly sprinting downstairs, where she came face to face with a wall. Undeterred, she smashed through it, coming up upon a man who faced a cage. Without stealth, she walked forward, batting away an attempted punch and slamming him ungently into the bars. After handcuffing the man, she turned to the women behind bars. Grasping the bars, she bent them with little effort and held out her hand. “I know you’re scared. That’s understandable. But it an all change here, today. Just take my hand.” And they took her hand, and received healing, and a new start.

Simultaneously, across an ocean, a family of 4 was rescued from an abusive family. To the south, a young man was saved from a gang. And on, and on she went. A young woman saved from rape, hundreds rescued from slavery. A drowning teenager in the Atlantic Ocean. A man who attempted to commit suicide. Her head began to swim, and blood dripped from her mouth and nose, but still, she persevered. And tears, slow, mournful tears dripped from her eyes as she was took the weight of their sorrows, griefs, and pains upon themselves as she healed them. There were already many weights on her back, but she reckoned she could take a few billion more from those who dwelt upon her skin. These were the things she carried. She carried them not with grief, but resolution and solemness. For such was her duty, a duty that her mother had abandoned. It would be a thankless burden, she understood, one that would not be taken away from her, but that was alright. In the end, it would all be worth it.

Observers from space could possibly see a faint glow emanating from the Earth. It was a self-healing, of sorts. But she did not stop with simple salvation. She obtained permits from nations and governments, and create little small buildings with a simple title, ‘The Helping Hand.’ For that was what she offered to all those who she had saved, and to those who sought to escape discrimination, racism, sexism, abuse, rape, violence or any other burden they had suffered. She found, through her avatars, like-minded peoples to chaperone these Helping Hands for her, to create a refuge in the time of eternal storms, a haven, a light in darkness and a homely house. She had planted the seeds, and in time, they would germinate into fruition, she hoped.

Taking her mind off the driver’s wheel, so to speak, allowing her avatars to have some measure of autonomy instead of her direct control, she wiped the blood from her face, and attempted to remove the tiredness from her visage. And then, off she went again, not returning to the JQ Tower--none of her teammates knew that she was back save for Del, who was getting more and more heroic, as evidenced by Del’s rescue of Valancy in the apartment house.

Turning a block, she came before the children’s hospital. She was many things, these days. Mother Earth, superheroine, bearer of weights, fighter of injustice, but perhaps the name she liked best was simple: healer. That was her gift, to take the pain of others, and, after bearing it herself for a time, release it into oblivion. There were so many upon this good Earth that were hurting, and while she could not heal them all at once, she could help those who were the most innocent of all: children.

Everyday for a while, before she had gone to Africa, she had visited the children here and healed whom she could. She wished she could heal all at once, and hated seeing the disappointment on a child’s face when their healing was foregone for another who was in more pain or danger. Speaking to the director, she got to work, greeting the children that she knew and getting to know those she did not. And after playing with them for an hour or two, she did what she had come to do. This time, however, she could only manage two children, one, Abby, who had lost her leg in an accident and Bryan, who had leukemia. Wishing them goodbye and managing to walk through the door, she immediately collapsed, breathing heavily. It felt as if her leg was gone and her blood was boiling, but it was not real. Well, the pain was real, but her leg was still there. Closing her eyes for a few minutes until she recovered a bit, she created a walking stick and stumbled home, realizing but not regretting that she had pushed herself too hard. Going through the lobby after a chat with Mindy, she traveled up to the JQ levels to encounter Katie and Cora comforting each other.

“Sorry for the interruption,” Valancy said, sinking into a chair, closing her eyes, massaging her leg. “I’m back. I had made it back earlier, but then there was an apartment fire and then I had some ideas...anyway. Everything alright?” She queried.

Although she had not noticed, there were new wrinkles and lines on her face that seemed to have magically appeared, which would startle her fellow JQ members.

[The Starlight]

The Anti-Registration Papers
On the Morality of Registration
By Silent Hero
Written by Tomia

When considering the morality of the Super Human Registration Act, we must first question the very nature of registration. The act of registration is in fact surveillance. It is the act of monitoring and the creating of authority over a subject. The ability to register is the ability to control, and the ability to control is the ability to destroy.
Surveillance has long been a powerful tool used by governments to control their citizenry. The idea of the omnipresent authoritative figure has always been the boogey man of society, used to spread fear and paranoia as a way to ensure good behavior and deter crime. This idea was perfected in the prison system by famous philosopher Jeremy Bentham, who discovered that a surveillance state could create a system where the imprisoned subject would regulate themselves without the need for direct coercion, out of fear of being watched.

Now considering the nature of registration and surveillance, we just ask ourselves, what would it truly mean to register heroes? In reality it would mean the end of the superhero all together, for it would eliminate the principles that are at the core of the modern hero. Those principles are anonymity, selflessness, and autonomy.
Anonymity is crucial to the existence of superheroes. It is necessary to ensure the safety and the rights of those associated with extra-governmental justice that is delivered by heroes. Without it, it will be impossible for the lives of these heroes and their privacy to be protected. People may argue, that they do not deserve privacy. They may argue that comparatively, police officers do not have this same protection so it is not necessary for heroes. However, the comparison is a false one. Super heroes are required to work outside the system of the law, it is the only way in which they can reasonably function in order to uphold the structure of the law itself. Indeed, superheroes receive no payment, no funding, and no benefits from their service. It is indeed a public service rather than a profession. There the position must be held distinct from law enforcement, which justifies an anonymity.

Selflessness is the basis of the hero-complex. As stated above heroes receive no incentive for their service and are driven by a desire for justice. It must stay this way, in order for the super hero to remain a true servant of justice. If registration is employed, super-heroes will become little more than government employees, people working for payment, and merely fulfilling a service. That destroys the personal drive and sacrifice that has shaped the modern super-hero. Without this lack of compensation, the superhero will be reduced to nothing more than a mercenary, and the morality of the hero shall be lost.

Finally, is the autonomy that superheroes need to both fight crime, and protect society as a whole. Since we have accepted that heroes operate beyond the extent of the law, and in fact have different privileges than ordinary citizens, we have to also accept the trust to fulfill their duties that comes with that. Heroes must be able to act quickly, beyond the bounds of bureaucracy, otherwise precious lives may be lost. Superheroes are also modern society’s last defense against government. If government becomes tyrannical, heroes must be free to resist it, and to do this they must not be beholden to government entities.

This question of morality then comes to the question of why does government want registration? The answer is that it is terrified of any force that holds power that it is not itself. The purpose of registration is not to protect the people, but rather to protect the people who control the levers of power in society. It the answer to this fundamental question that shows the position of moral bankruptcy, that arguments in favor of registration occupy.

[The Starlight]

The Anti-Registration Papers
The Nature of Heroes
By Prometheus

Prominent pro-Registration figures state that there needs to be a system of checks and balances for heroes. In this piece, I, Prometheus, shall argue the opposite, that the very nature of heroes is a system of checks and balances.

The amount of heroes, over the last 50 years, has grown exponentially. With this growth of heroes came a parallel growth of villains. While some might say that heroes were the cause of villains, I respectfully disagree, moreover, that is a completely different debate, although it is related. As superheroes faced greater and greater threats, they quickly realized that they could not stand alone, that there was no need to stand alone. As we all know, united, a force is strong, and with the right mix of factors, almost unstoppable. But divided...it all falls apart. Teams formed out of this realization, teams such as the Justice Society of America and the Justice League, Avengers, Ultimates, Defenders, X-Men, and countless others. All of these groups have a common purpose, to saveguard the Earth. However, they differ greatly in power levels, areas of interest, and members. Many members of the Justice League and Avengers are metahumans or humans with exceptional skills. The Justice League’s headquarters are in the Watchtower, while the Avengers stay on the ground. The X-Men are comprised of entirely mutants.

This diversity is a blessing. Not only does it provide multiple counters to any danger thrown at the Earth, and creates a level-based defense system, in dire situations, these teams can form up to form an ultimate conglomeration of superheroes at which even the darkest and greatest supervillians must give pause. Such is our might. But in case of scenarios where heroes go rogue, there will always be other heroes to stop them. One superhero group cannot acquire mass influence and power over the civilizations of the Earth without questioning and challenge from the other teams, and so no one team becomes too powerful. And while certain members of teams are very powerful, they each have their match on another team.

Thus, Registration is unnecessary, and even detrimental to the cause. There is no point of sacrificing the rights of heroes so that the governments of the world, whom themselves have committed gross, unaccounted-for, unreckoned crime and remain unpunished. Let me remind the reader again that I am no proponent of anarchy. Government is good and necessary for the well-being of humanity, and has provided much, good change. But what I am firmly against is the overreach of government, not while government is already so powerful. Registration is an effort by the governments of the world to bring the protectors under their own oversight, the beginning to a new night of universal government control over superheroes. And after they finish with superheroes, what will stop them, who can stop them from attempting to solidify that same power over you, my reader? In other words, Quis custodiet ipsos custodes, that is, who watches the watchers?


An ideal government is of the people, by the people and for the people. Superheroes are people as well, and so, government should serve them as well, not try to force them into a box that they can mold at will.

He who has ears to hear, let him hear. I am Prometheus, and protectors, saviors of Earth should not become thralls to the whim of government.

[Tomia]

Young Bloods
Mars was surprised when Kiris suddenly grabbed him and managed to keep him from flying off the building. He was embarrassed though that he had been deflected so easily. "Kiris! Don't worry about me, focus on the enemy!" He called to her, pleased when she charged the dragon and fired energy spears at them. Mars had to admit, he was impressed, it was certainly more effective than what he had tried.

The dragon creature looked up at the new threat and braced itself, creating a bright blue shield of dragonic energy shield around herself, as the energy spears blasted of it, knocking her back a few steps. "Well, that was almost impressive." She said to Kiris, "But I am growing tired of this." She announced, taking a step towards Kiris and creating a large ball of ice around her fist preparing to throw it when suddenly sand was thrown in her face.

"My turn!" Nico shouted, charging forward and building up a large fist of sand.

The dragon stepped forward to him, clearly annoyed and smashed his sand apart with an energy blast, knocking Nico down. She advanced on him though, lifting him into the air and planning to slam her fist into his face. Then she paused however and Nico no idea why, he was suddenly thrown to the ground and turned to the rest of the team. "Are we done here? I'm busy and I'm getting annoyed. Attack me again and you'll regret it."

Cora
Cora was still standing by Katie when Valancy suddenly walked in the room. That was shocking enough to pull her full attention away from Katie. "Valancy? You're...back!" Cora shouted in surprise, running over to her friend and pulling her into a hug.

"We've missed you so much! Where have you been!" She said enthusiastically. She stiffened a little when she asked about what she missed. "Well... It's kind of a long story..."

[Charmera]

Young Bloods
Mars was surprised when Kiris suddenly grabbed him and managed to keep him from flying off the building. He was embarrassed though that he had been deflected so easily. "Kiris! Don't worry about me, focus on the enemy!" He called to her, pleased when she charged the dragon and fired energy spears at them. Mars had to admit, he was impressed, it was certainly more effective than what he had tried.

The dragon creature looked up at the new threat and braced itself, creating a bright blue shield of dragonic energy shield around herself, as the energy spears blasted of it, knocking her back a few steps. "Well, that was almost impressive." She said to Kiris, "But I am growing tired of this." She announced, taking a step towards Kiris and creating a large ball of ice around her fist preparing to throw it when suddenly sand was thrown in her face.

"My turn!" Nico shouted, charging forward and building up a large fist of sand.

The dragon stepped forward to him, clearly annoyed and smashed his sand apart with an energy blast, knocking Nico down. She advanced on him though, lifting him into the air and planning to slam her fist into his face. Then she paused however and Nico no idea why, he was suddenly thrown to the ground and turned to the rest of the team. "Are we done here? I'm busy and I'm getting annoyed. Attack me again and you'll regret it."

It was at this moment that Xyri and Cat turned to each other, then nodded. They had practiced a manuver during the time that the YB spent training, and now was the time to unleash it. Xyri grabbed Cat by the hands and swung her around, sending her speeding towards the dragon foot first. Xyri followed up this strike by rushing the dragon regardless of whether or not Cat hit their target. Xyri aimed a punch to the dragons head.

[Illica Falki]

Vera
Vera landed behind the other group members, grumbling quietly as she looked around at how disorganized the group was, at this point they weren't even effectively fighting a single opponent, something that should be a simple task for a group the size of them. She was about to shout at the group to hopefully get a plan going, but as saw Nico get thrown to the ground she hesitated. She didn't even notice till she heard both Cat and Xyri charge the Dragon. Hoping they can handle the dragon, she goes over to check on Nico. she still hasn't figured out why shes so focused on him, perhaps its some other mutant ability he has, but either way she wants to make sure her teammate is alright.
Ava
Ava was more then a little annoyed at this dragon. It had the nerve to completely ignore her after the attack she pulled, sure she may have missed but the dragon didn't need to just completely ignore her.
Picking up her sword, she quickly rushed the dragon and started quickly slashing the dragon, shouting "Take This you Overgrown Newt!" at the top of her lungs. While she is definitely putting a lot of force into swinging her sword, It's not really big enough to cause permanent damaged to the scaly creature.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

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The magic blasts impacted the enemy, causing smoke and debris to rise up and block her view, but even so, Kirisvala continued roaring for several seconds before eventually stopping to catch her breath. "...That should do it." She mumbled to herself. She knew that their opponent was very tough, having seen her knock away Rocket so easily. However, as the smoke dissipated and the Hadrian heroine took a good look at her opponent, her eyes went wide in surprise. The dragon-like creature was practically unharmed by her attack! What's more, the enemy had absorbed all of it with a strange blue energy shield, and it seemed that the only thing she had accomplished was pushing her back a few feet. In shock, she could only watch as Nico kept the opponent from delivering a blow to her, only to be thrown aside just like Rocket.

Part of her thought that it was not so fortunate that her Goddess had sealed her power away.

But this was no time to regret the past. With an enemy so strong, Mars- her friends were in trouble, and she had to do everything in her power to help them take down the creature. Seeing her teammates already rushing into action, Kirisvala was about to join them, but her better judgment triumphed for once and she stopped to reflect on the actions she would take. Rushing head-first into battle would not accomplish much; there were already three Young Bloods surrounding the enemy in close combat, so at this point she would only get in the way. For the same reason, she couldn't use an attack like the previous one, as even though her teammates could likely distract her and prevent her from shielding herself, she would end up hurting them with the power of the magic projectiles.

In the end, she settled for something she had never tried before, combining her roar with one of her newer abilities. Sinking her claws into the roof once again, she took a deep breath. Instead of unleashing a powerful roar, though, she simply released the air inside her lungs slowly, her face an expression of intense focus. While outwardly it seemed as if she was doing nothing against the enemy, in reality she was letting out a mighty roar, not physically, but mentally, using her telepathic abilities to connect to the dragon warrior's mind and disrupt her with the psychic roar.

[Tomia]

Young Bloods
Nico was surprised when he saw Vera head over to him, turning her back to the enemy for a moment in favor of him. Vera seemed like the type to always focus on the mission first. They had talked a few times like Nico had with everyone on the team. But they weren't close, though Vera didn't seem close to anyone really. Nico pushed himself off to the ground and got to his feet. "Thanks for checking on me. Now let's get back to the action." Nico said with a smile.

Meanwhile the dragon received numerous blows to the head, an attack on her psyche and a tiny fairy who was shouting insults and slashing at her. Needless to say she was fed up. "ENOUGH!" She shouted before jumping into the air and slamming her fists into the roof. The concrete beneath them began to crumble, sending them crashing down into the top floor.

"Watch out!" Mars shouted as the ground fell out beneath him and he landed hard on the top floor. He unsheathed the blades on Rocket's arms and charged the enemy dragon. He slashed at her, but she raised her arms in time to block them. Mars managed to push her back but she eventually threw him off again before turning to the others. "This ends now!" She shouted, aiming a giant blast of fire at the group that attacked her earlier. She aimed her blasts away from Nico, though the sand mutant was too worried about his friends to care. He was trying to use sand to slow the fire but it wasn't working well.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

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Kirisvala hoped that her assault on the enemy's mind would work to allow her teammates to beat her up, but before that could happen the enemy, in a fit of rage, used her raw strength to destroy the roof and cause everyone to fall down with her. Naturally, this broke the Hadrian's concentration, and she could no longer sustain the psychic roar, instead focusing on landing without hurting herself, which was a rather simple task thanks to her claws. Soon, though, she realized that keeping herself safe from the collapsed rooftop was the least of her worries at the moment. Seeing the dragon-like creature knock away Rocket once again, she almost jumped to Mars' side just like before, but decided against it at the last moment, as Mars had told her to focus on the enemy instead of him.

It turns out that this was a good thing, because not a second later the enemy sent an enormous blast of fire towards her and the others. For a moment, she was daunted by the sheer size of the attack, an undeniable proof of her opponent's power. However, once that moment was over, she cast her fears away. She was a Hadrian, a proud daughter of the Black Dragon, and fire was not something that Hadrians should fear. Thus, the girl crossed her claws in front of her, blocking the brunt of the fire blast with them, as the flames did not hurt her. Slowly she advanced against the stream of fire until she broke through. At that moment, she charged towards the dragon creature in front of her, not willing to let her hurt her friends any longer.

"You're not going to get away with your crimes!" Kiris shouted, before letting out another roar while running towards the creature, rearing back her claw to send it towards her as shimmering spears of magic materialized all around her, speeding towards the dragon.

[The Starlight]

War does not end when the last shot is fired. It ends when the embers of hate, fear and confusion that arose are dissipated to the seven winds, when it has become a few sentences in a textbook, and that is all. The blood that was spilt dries to maroon, brown flakiness, sinking into the soul of the Earth. New hope, after the war, arises, that such a war will never be fought again. Promises are made, hands are shook and resolutions are engraved into the heart. But promises are just like chains. Both, eventually, will be broken, and so the old wheel, scarred by time shall roll on. For peace is more than the absence of war.

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CIVIL WAR
End

It was finished. The war had been waged and won, but not without its costs, not without its burdens. For things are always carried in a war, and so it was for this Civil War as well. It had not been a war of right versus unimaginable evil, for both sides had their merits. But both sides had crossed lines, and so, both sides suffered in the end.

Let us start with Travenios, an island not meant to be perfect, but as close as one could get to perfect in this imperfect, mortal world. Craig Thomsen had lifted his lamp beside the golden door, and for a time, all seemed well. Travenios was inhabited by the Hadrians of Earth, safeguarded by the World Dragon Hadrimmelis herself. And yet it was not to be. With the advent of war, another faction rose, who called themselves the Risen. They were led by a young boy whose mother had died, despite Craig's efforts, and so the boy, Rarik grew a hatred for the Artificer Absolute. Funded by Tony Stark in order to start a quasi-war, and developing powers of his own, powers of dismantlement, Rarik arose, and brought Travenios to her knees. And so, when the skyscrapers toppled and the island fell like a forsaken angel back to the Earth, Craig finally engaged Rarik and defeated him.

Craig retaliated by buying up huge amounts of stock in Stark Industries, The Golden Avenger replying in kind, and so they battled indirectly. But real battles did take place between those opposed and for Registration, spats across the country and the world that eventually culminated, after the destruction of Prison 42, in New York City. This, was where the line was crossed. Craig, going against his promise not to include villains in his ranks did so out of anger, fear and desperation, and the other side soon followed. In the battle of New York, in a individual battle between Hercules and Magneto, both combatants went through the JQ Tower, killing countless innocent civilians. And so it was the Justice Queens who stepped forward and said enough. And when the two sides did not listen, they too joined the fight, not on either side, but against everyone, with surprising efficacy.

But it was Captain America, who ended the fight with his surrender, realizing that they had gone too far. But Craig and much of the Secret League would not repent, and so fled the field and continued on. But fate and tragedy was not done with these happenings yet. Captain America was shot and killed while in custody by HYDRA agents posing to be of SHIELD. It was death that won the war and ended the war. The Registration Papers and the HERO Act were repealed. To replace them, and to take care of superhuman affairs, the Tribunal of Justice was created, as per Craig's suggestions, with some amendments. It was independent, yet connected to the United Nations, chaired by an elected member of every single superhuman factions, elected humans with terms of 2 years. The members would then be rotated. The Tribunal of Justice's first chairwoman was Valancy Stirling, the only participant of the Tribunal with a veto, one that could be overruled. As for space, a new space station was created, called the Infinity Terminal, to act as Earth's defense against interstellar threats, and a place for the embassies of alien empires to form. Its commander was an explorer of the Universe, recently returned from a long journey.

The Builder War had ended with tears and an exchange of gifts, but this Civil War would be cosigned to oblivion and the history books with silent, mournful remembrance...

Washington D.C

On a plain outside of the nation's capital, a solitary figure stood. A man shaped of stone, but with a heart of joy and love and loyality. The man stood there, night and day, rain or shine, lifting a Shield towards the heavens. He was Captain America, Steve Rogers, fallen, but not forgotten. Below his feet, on the plaque, was engraved United We Stand."

Before the statue, a man of flesh and blood and silver stood in the rain, dressed simply, hands hidden in his pockets. This was his second visit to the statue, and as before, he either glanced up at the Captain's face or simply looked down at those three word. He was Silverwing, Craig Thomsen, alive, but fallen. The sun had shined with too much heat, and in the end, his wings had been made of wax, not silver, and so he had fallen. "United We Stand. Those words haunt me, Captain. The war we fought in was of my making, and I mourn the fact that you had the mercy to follow me into battle. They called me "A Good Man, The Good Man," you know. But what is good? I would've let the world burn if it had meant that I gained vengeance for my scars, for my torture. But I never realized that I was inflicting scars on the rest of the world in my rage. Perhaps it is better, to go gently into that good night. United We Stand. Divided We Fall. It's so simple, and yet we didn't realize it until the end. And even though Registration was wrong, it served as more of an excuse for me. I went too far. We went too far. And even though we have won, I do not think we are all the better for it, with your loss. But I will do my best, Captain...Steve. It's all any of us can do."

"There's more that you could do," said a deep voice behind him. Craig turned slowly to behold the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, Nick Fury, with a duffel bag in hand that matched his all-black attire.

"Director." Craig greeted formally.

"Craig. You've been busy." replied the Director.

"There's a million things I haven't done, Director. I figured it was time to stop waiting and do them."

"Fair enough, Craig. But there's something that you are needed for. The world needs Captain America. And you're the right person for the job. Will you take the shield, Craig? Will you don the red, white and blue?" Fury asked, holding the shield out towards him.

Craig blinked once, and then collapsed into laughter for several minutes, eventually recovering under Fury's disapproving stare. "I haven't laughed like that in a long time. But this is blatantly disrespectful towards Steve. You want me to replace him, to try to become Captain America weeks after his death, right here? No one becomes Captain America. You must be Captain America, and there's only one person who was that."

"Not two years ago, after a close scrape with Death on a mission," Fury said, "Steve handed me a list of names. There was no title on it, no explanation, just a look, but we both understood. Your name was top of the list, Craig. You have Steve's full blessing." He argued.

But Craig was already shaking his head. "It is an honor, Nick, but I must refuse. I have put this world through too much to make myself into Captain America." He looked back at the statue. "Put it somewhere safe. There will be another Captain America, one day, perhaps it'll be me, or someone else. Or maybe he'll return," Craig added, nodding towards the statue, "when we really need him."

He heard no reply for a minute or two and then turned around to look, but the spy was already gone.


A few days later...
Travenios

A mutant and a Rainborn walked across the beaches of Travenios, kicking sand and quietly talking about their plans for the future. The ring in Craig's pocket seemed to weigh more and more each day, and his mind drifted to think about not his future, but their future.

Etla nudged him, smiling up at her human. "Are you paying attention, silly?"

Craig managed to morph his face into shame as he searched his memory, and then opened his mouth, "Uhh..."

Etla rolled her eyes and chuckled. "I was talking about that science fiction television show? What was it? Stargate? Doctor...something. That's it. Shall we go watch it together?"

Craig smiled, wrapping his hand around Etla as she reciprocated. "Together."

[The Starlight]

Previously in Ragnarök...
And she would have her answer. Not in words, but in the beautiful rasp of thousands of swords unsheathing. And so it was, that the remembered fallen returned.

Ragnarök
Witness

They rushed up and across the mountainside, horns blowing and pennants waving, their flashing swords glinting with the rising dawn. The sun rose up behind them, as if it approved, and all Asgard heard the running of boots. And so they awoke, and looked to the West and beheld their salvation, in the remembered fallen, at hand. They raised a roar, the Æsir upon the battlements, and it was heard by the Xyrixma.

But the Æsir were too busy with joyful reunions, and all Asgard rejoiced. There would be no sleep for what remained of the night, for there were stories to be held, and armies to organize. Out of sight, slumped uncharacteristically upon her throne was Valka. The fire flickered low, and it seemed that it would go out, but a word of air was whispered by the Namer of Things, Valveig Silverhand, heir of the All-Mother. “You require rest,” said Valveig, and it was not a question.

“Yes. I do. With these new souls added to our number, I must decrease so that Asgard liveth. Xyrix’s act of consuming the World-Tree was...brilliant. It deprives us of another harvest, it darkens the spirit and robs the soul of all Æsir of an anchor, to keep them from being swallowed by the void of nothingness, which would reduce all of Asgard to oblivion. And so I have forged a new anchor, myself. But the Valkaforce must be used to do it, and thus is why I did not go out into the field with Thor. I must strengthen you all for the battle you face against the Xyrixma, but my test has not yet come. But I see her, Valveig. One of us will not leave the battlefield, perhaps. “ Valka stated, sighing.

“Then rest, mother. Thor and I shall keep watch. Asgard shall still stand, I swear it. What was it you said to me in hell?” Valveig asked, softly smiling. “Fear not the darkness, nor its terrors.”

Valka chuckled, but obeyed, departing to her inner chambers for some rest. Valveig stood at the hearth for a while longer, a sad smile on her face. “I see it in your eyes, oh mother. But you are Valka Silverhand, All-Mother, Scion, the Eternal. Death shall not have you so easily, for I am the namer of things, and writer of stories, and I also swear that your story shall not end here.” And then she departed to the walls, to watch the rising sun.

The night was uneventful, but the Xyrixma had not been idle. All night they had found the old quarries and carried rocks to hurl at the walls of Asgard. But they had also been busy poisoning the wells, tearing down mountains like forces of nature and leveling hills, to eliminate any advantage of the terrain. When the sun had risen high, they began, hurling literal mountains at the walls. They still held, but there was more impact, and yet, Valka’s work still stood, humming with the power of the All-Mother.

And yet, Xyrix tired of this game. The little Asgardians could remain behind their walls for an indefinite amount of time, with their bountiful feasts. But that was cowardice. They claimed to be the greatest warriors in the galaxy, yet they did not come out and fight as warriors did. Thus, it was her duty to tear down their petty little walls that they thought protected them.

So, she waved forward one of her generals, Glorium, who would have the glory of bringing down the walls of the Asgardians. The Xyrixma casting stones increased their rate of fire and soon hail rained down upon the capital of Asgard as Glorium lumbered towards the towering battlements.

Valveig, upon those same battlements felt Glorium moving through the wind from afar off, shouted to Thor.. The Odinson, swirling his hammer, lifted himself skyward, scanned the area, and thrust his hammer towards the firmament. Dark clouds billowed and gathered above Glorium, and then there was a crack, lightning traveling down and bursting upon Glorium.

But Glorium traveled on.

Valveig shouted the name of the wind, which picked up and pushed against Glorium in an effort that would have uprooted all but the strongest of trees.

But Glorium lumbered on, picking up her pace into a slow trot.

Thor brought another burst of lightning down upon her, and then rain and hail, as Valveig’s winds picked up dirt and stone and blew them around the Xyrixma’s face.

But still she came, less than a mile away now.

Valveig and Thor then exchanged a glance, and then the daughter of Valveig whispered a word, and outstretched a finger. From that finger came forth a tornado which picked up in speed,, Thor adding his lightning to the mix, creating a crackling, thundering lightning tornado, with Glorium being the full focus of it.

The general halted for a minute, attempting to bat away the tornado. In the end, she ignored its sting, and with the steps of a giant, crushed land and beast underfoot, ever closer now. Thor whirled his hammer now, preparing for direct combat, warning his fellow Asgardians back. “Why she doth bestride the narrow world like a Colossus,” he murmured in wonder. And then he felt a cool, familiar weight on his shoulder. “But we shall not have dishonorable graves, Thor. At least, not today.” said the All-Mother.

“Valveig told me you were sleeping, Valka.”

“I was. But my people are under attack, and so I cannot slumber. It strikes me, Thor. That always, our battles have been witnessed. If not by us, then by some other watching deity. Our battles have been written down, our dead remembered and honored.” The All-Mother’s voice lowered to a whisper. “But this war shall go unwitnessed, Thor, if what I fear comes to pass.

“Then we shall have to be our own witnesses, Valka. That must suffice.” He replied, eying Glorium still.

“Indeed. Then, bear witness, on this day, Thor.”

“Witness what?”

Valka stepped past him with a fierce grin and stepped onto the battlements as Glorium prepared to sweep her fist down upon the wall. “Witness me!” She shouted, Gungnir in one hand, her uru hand converted to a sword. And they all bore witness, Gungnir plunged into Glorium’s cyclopean eye and the Silverhand into the Xyrixma’s neck. And then a fire woke within Glorium, but not one of her own making. For these were silver flames and they consumed her being, Valka travelling into her innards and tearing it asunder. Minutes later, she emerged in a splatter of red slime. “WITNESS!” She roared, and they all roared with her.

They had had enough of cowering behind high walls and waiting. Their blood sang for combat. And their Mother saw it in their eyes, realizing that this tide would not be tempered by words of ice. It was time to fight. The Aesir had never fought a defensive war, and they were not about to start there. It was not in their nature. It was not in their souls. Asgard had been attacked many times, but defense did not last long, after the initial assault, they counter-attacked. So it had always been, because they were cognizant of the fact that there would be no one to save them for themselves. There would be no valiant ally bringing reinforcements. The Asgardians had always been their own salvation, and this war would be no different. It could not be different.

And so she thrust Gungnir up towards the air and then pointed it towards the onlooking Xyrixma. The message was clear. And yet, she roared, “Today, we face the monsters at our door, and bring the fight to them! Today, we cancel Ragnarok!”

And at that moment, every single Asgardian leaped from the battlements, weapon in hand, the dead land cracking under foot. They shouted and cheered and lifted their weapons high, and began a steady trot towards fate. Towards Ragnarok. Towards death.

Their approach, Xyrix noted, was not unlike a tidal wave. But no matter. The tide would rise, yes, and then it would fall. But she would make sure that it would not rise again. For all their talk, all their bluster, these Asgardians died like any other. Not in the manner of their death, but in that they could die. The tricky part was ensuring that they did not rise again.

The Xyrixma beside her simply waited, as did all of her great army did. Their slimey bodies bracing as they took the Asgardian charge. In the early momentum, many Xyrixma fell. Then like a noose the Xyrixma lines tightened and the Asgardians charge was halted with neck snapping speed. Now vicious close quarter battles erupted, slime versus Aesir. Heroes and key figures continued to plough through the Xyrixma line with no end in sight.

Valka thrust Gungnir, slashing through a Xyrixma’s bowels, but even then she knew Odin’s spear would be no more than a toothprick, though it stood at five-fourths of her height. No, it was time got something else to be drawn, an ill omen, perhaps, but it would be upon both them and their foes. Too easily she had drawn the weapon before, in battles past. She had not truly understood the weight of the weapon until now, not its physical weight, but what it signified. This sword meant the end, that of things known. But it would also bring an end of their enemies, and that was all she could do. She had brought her oaths upon foes with Oathbringer, now, she would bring their end upon them...with Ragnarok. The Odinsword, Odin had called it, being the vain, old but beloved old man that he was, but Odin was fallen. She would not deliver Ragnarok’s edge upon the Xyrixma. Endbringer, she would call it, and so her mind was set and she thrust Gungnir into the charred and dead land and outstretched her hand, and waited.

Ten heartbeats, it took, as she called it too her, and some might have reckoned her unarmed. But they did not know Valka Silverhand, then. And then it formed out of nothingness, still sheathed. Sheathed, it was no more than a colossal sword. Unsheathed, it meant one thing: the end of the universe was at hand. She unsheathed it in a flash, casting aside the sheath. The gleaming sword was two, perhaps three times her height, but she had wielded it before, for now weapon was unwieldy in her hand for long. And so she sung a song of silver and blood with her sword, with Valka having no need of exerting any of her one quickly diminishing power, for the sword had power enough. Slime and blood was splattered all over the field and Valka had soon made herself a hill with slain Xyrixma underfoot. The sun was blocked and the clouds were grey, but Valka Silverhand had a sword in hand and foes to kill. This was what they all delighted in, and so she let loose a shout. “To me! TO ME!!!” And to her they rallied, and pushed out against this first wave.

But nothing could prepare them for the second line.

The less powerful Xyrixma were in the first line, to deaden the momentum of the Aesir and hold them in place. But now the larger Xyrixma were moving forward. Some with individual fingers larger than most frost giants. Some whom pratically dwarfed even the largest first like Xyrixma. The smallest were at about 50 feet tall, and they began dealing massive casualties to the Aesir warriors, smashing them with their massive fists.

To make matters worse, now they were surrounding and isolating key Asgard heroes, picking them off one by one.

The Goddess of Stories and Runes had a story to tell. She always did. But there was no time to speak it, for the story was being written by every step she took and every slash of her sword, Battleborne. Every story had an beginning and an end, and many stories would end by the time day would end. But after day would come night, and that was uncertain. But one thing would be certain about night, that day would come again. When, however, was also uncertain.

Her mother had seemed resigned to her fate, when Valveig had last spoken to her. But that was not the mother she knew, the Valka she knew. This was the Valka they had called Conqueror of Death in the realms of Hell, the Valka who had shouted “Never Surrender,” the Valka who had said to hel with fate.They would write their own stories now, as Valka had said, and the daughter of renascence recalled what was written in the Hall of Remembrance, of Valka’s rise from hell:

“ She walked upon flames unhallowed and stones unbroken...Her eyes blazed and her brow was fair, her hair reflecting golden upon the never-ending flames. Her hand gleamed silver, and her face seemed perpetually frozen in a face of calm despite chaos and battle all around. Gods and monsters and demons ran at the mere mention of her name. She could not be stopped, she would not be stopped. She was legendary. She was a mother. She was Valka Silverhand, and she would not be afraid.” Valka could not bow now.

And as the young goddess fought she spoke some of the last words in that chapter, over, and over again, seeking their meaning. “Where there is hope, there is life. But where there is life, there is death, and rebirth as well, and so the Wheel of Time rolls on.”

The Goddess of Runes had chosen her closest friend to be her shield on that day, her second sword and the eyes on her back. Erza Songheart, was her name, though today, Valveig thought, perhaps the name Lionheart would be more fitting. For Erza, whether her heart was of a lion or of song was of little importance. The Asgardian Hulk looked over at Valveig as the pair together, axe and sword flashing. “This will make a good story!” she shouted over the din of battle, the Hulk grabbing a slimey fist sent crashing down upon them and squeezing until it broke. “It will, Erza, if we live to tell it. And the more we fight, the more I...fear.” said Valveig softly, her words still carrying on the wind. For she had called the wind to her, and though it was hard to grasp, it would obey, and so she sent it to and fro, creating tornadoes and scattering the slime before it could reform again.

The Songheart frowned but made no reply for now, instead shouting out a word. “Frost!” And a wave of frost emanated from her, sending icicles all around. Valveig crouched low the second she heard, and yet still shook ice from her mane as she arose in time to thrust Battleborne into the stomach of a Xyrixma. And then she let it go, commanding the wind to send the uru blade all around them, slashing and stabbing and felling the last of the first wave of Xyrixma that surrounded them.

Erza then turned to Valveig, laying a hand on her shoulder. “We would be lying if we said that we did not fear. We all fear, from the lowest of us, to the All-Mother. Fear is not pleasant...but fear is necessary. In past times we have ignored it, or brushed it aside, but in time, all must face their fears. This is the hour. And we are not craven. We are not the All-Mother in the depths of hell. She was not afraid then, and perhaps is not afraid now. But we are her children, you more than all of us. And so I ask you: Who are you?”

“I am Valveig Silverhand of Stories and Runes. The Namer of Things.” Valveig said, looking deep into the green flecked eyes of her friend.

“And I am Erza Songheart, of Songs and Tales and Poetry.” And the Asgardian Hulk lifted her lips to her carved horn and blew, loud and long, the sound echoing in the valleys beyond and behind, and other horns soon sounded too, and in them was heard strength and courage. But shadows grew above them, and Erza’s eyes widened as she looked above, and they both leapt out of the way as a giant foot came down, from a slimy giant that was perhaps ten score tall.

And Valveig recalled her sword to her, whispering, “I shall not be denied this end.” And then their fight continued.

But the day turned grimmer, as they continued without quarter, without halt. The Xyrixma were colossal, and oft reassembled after what would be a killing blow to any other being, while the AEsir lived but one life before departing to the halls of death. The gates of Valhalla had been opened, but once opened by the living, though All-Mother she was, none could enter, and so the dead went some other place that Valka knew not. And so, as more Asgardians fell, and fewer Xyrixma, hills of battle began to be formed, hills of the slain Xyrixma, upon which the Asgardians gathered too. Each had perhaps a hundred AEsir, perhaps less, with at least one of the great heroes among them, and they mounted these hills so the better to fight their tall foes. That is, all but Valka, who stood alone upon her hill, and was constantly assailed. But they, for the most part did not worry for their All-Mother, all but Valveig, who had kept her own counsel for the time being, hoping beyond hope that the tide would turn.

But it did not turn, and not for the first time in their lives, but perhaps the last, the AEsir were losing.
Volstagg was the first of the great heroes to fall, Glorium’s sister having the better of him, and so the Lord of Feasts, with his great girth fell, slicing off the giant’s head with his final action. His hill collasped under both his and the sister’s great weight, and all who were there perished, all save one. Luck was with the soldier Boluk, who had lent his bow to Valka, him being at the bottom of Volstagg’s hill, and so, had the most time to scramble away. He darted in between Xyrixma fists and legs to Thor’s hill, which was one of the highest left, and he hailed Thor. The coldness of fear in his soul had been replaced with determination, and he strung his bow again and spoke. “In other times I would say well met, Mighty Thor, but here...ill met.”

“Indeed, Boluk,” said the Odinson, his eyes flicking back and forth between the archer and Mjolnir which held the slimes at bay. “I still owe you a drink, but mayhaps I shall have to give it to you wherever we shall go if slain today. “

“I shall rejoice then, when the time comes. But for now, we live.” Boluk said, frowning at the sight of Valka’s Hill afar off. “Should we not rally to her?”He asked, as he shot an Xyrixma in the eye that had slipped past Mjolnir.

“If we had all the winged horses of the Valkyrior, then I would gladly do so, but we do not. The winged horse is a rarity, and the Valkyrior all fight upon their own hills. The All-Mother commanded it, for this was not a battle where her protection was necessary. The Valkaforce will keep her until we rid the Xyrixma here, and then we shall.” The Lord of Thunder said with false optimism.

“Ragnarok has been drawn forth,” Boluk muttered worriedly, scratching. “Indeed,” replied Thor, “And woe betide us all, perhaps. But it was necessary.”

“I do not question the All-Mother, my lord. I wonder and quake at its might.” He said.

“I am afraid, my friends,” said a new voice, the voice of Valveig, a voice that every hill heard, “ that the time is now. When Volstagg the Stout fell, I saw golden essence leave him and return towards Valka’s hill. I saw it with all of our dead, indeed, but at first I counted it nothing, now, I do not.”

“Explain, Valveig, if you will,” stated Thor, frowning, and the voice carried by the winds continued.

“When Xyrix ate the World-Tree, the sky darkened and the stars lost their light. And then all Asgard wailed, and I felt a void in my soul. Yggdrasil is our anchor to this realm and dimension, and when it was lost, all was threatened. And so my mother shined like ten thousand suns, and spoke two words to me: “Fear not.” And then she reached out a hand, and the Valkaforce has entered me, and filled the void. Valka, I believe, has become Scion of Asgard in truth, Yggdrasil personified. But that did not come at a price. The Valkaforce that the All-Mother would have to smash these foes is diminished and lies within us, saving us from death, but dooming Asgard in the end. For Valka to be restored, and to drive back these foes...we must all die. Death is not new to us, but this death...shall be different. Perhaps we will be reborn, i cannot say, the stories speak none of that, and perhaps not, but if we die, it will be a good death as any. We have lived long lives and night comes for us. Today is as good a day to die as any other. Though the sun does not shine, we are all here, unbroken, unbent, undefeated. What say you, brothers and sisters?” spoke Valveig, a sad smile on her face.

“Aye,” said Erza.

“Aye,” Sif’s hill, and Bruunhilde’s and Fandral’s.

“Aye,” said Boluk and Thor’s hill.

The God of Thunder looked up at the dark sky and bared a grin, fierce and promising death. “Aye. Thunder and blood. Valveig, scatter the hills so that we do not are not little mites to these slimes, but instead little giants. Hic sunt leones,” said Thor, and every hill raised the cry.

“When shall we know when the time is at hand?” asked Boluk, checking his arrows one last time.

“I will raise the shout. A shout that no one will forget.” He said, and waited for Valveig to do her appointed task. And when it was done, he brought the rain and stormclouds...and the thunder. The Mighty Thor raised his hammer after the rain had gone on for a few minutes, and everything was silent, save Valka’s hill, and the rain had halted for moments. And then the Son of Odin, Lord of Thunder and Master of Mjolnir whirled his hammer above his head and shouted. “FOR VALKA!!!!!!!”

And then he charged down his hill, and all Asgard followed him, shouting one last battle cry...one last time. Valka had served them well, and so, they would serve her better and die for her. But first, as many of the damned slimes would come with them to wherever their dead souls would go. Thus, Thor swore. And as Valka brought her oaths, he too kept his, to the very end. The majority of the Xyrixma turned from Valka, some staying to keep her at bay, turning to meet this wave of flesh and blood and steel and honor.

And Valka, gaining a view, looked out in horror and cried out, “No! To the hills and not to me! Stop this folly!”

But it was not folly, Thor thought and he looked up and gave Valka a smile that revealed his intent. And the All-Mother’s eyes widened, but she pressed a slimy fist to her chest and nodded, and then fought all the fiercer, fighting her way through the Xyrixma to reach her children. She would die with them, if she could.

“For Valka!” the Asgardians shouted again, and then all was battle. Tidal wave their first charge may have been, but this second was the greater by far, and the Xyrixma lines buckled. They fought wildly, with tooth and nail and shoe and head and sword, dragging their foes down to the void with them. And as they died, orbs of gold left their bodies and returned to Valka, who then was able to come closer and closer to her children. But not quickly enough. Both she and they knew that all too well, but they snarled their teeth and swung their swords and axes and bows and spears all the same. Soldier and hero fought and bled and died, but delivered death as much as they received, though new Xyrixma constantly flooded the field.

They died, as they had shouted, for Valka. They died as brothers and sisters and fathers and mothers, all of them. Some died in fear, perhaps, but that did not dishonor them, for all men fear, who would not? They had lived, they had witnessed, they would die, but they would rise again, Valveig thought. Little hope remained, but hope could never be quenched. And where there is hope, there is life. But where there is life, there is death, and rebirth as well, and so the Wheel of Time rolls on. She remembered, sharing a bloody grin with Erza.

And as Valka felt the flames of life from the other side of the wall of Xyrixma flickering out, she attempted to drive through them all the quicker, but they would not stay dead. And so she summoned her weapons of old, all the powers she had acquired over her long story. Oathbringer and Gungnir shimmered into existence and slashed at the wall, and she awakened the Destroyer and commanded it to her side, though it was soon faced by Xyrixma. As the Valkaforce returned to her in greater strength she whipped it towards the Wall of Slime and burrowed at it. She awoke the Vokoronian Collective within her and with her left hand used telekinesis to uproot the wall of slime beings that would not let her pass. On that finger too, appeared the Nord Corps Ring, and she blasted loyalty and honor at them as she sensed fewer and fewer flames flickering, flames that it was her sworn duty to keep. “I fight for a new tomorrow.” She muttered as she felt the wall weakening, and heard prayers. And so she let loose all the power she dared, to save her children and her only daughter.

Three Asgardians remained. One was mighty, one had a lion’s heart, and the last had a story to tell. And as the Xyrixma charged toward them, Thor turned his head towards Erza and Valveig. “Well met, adventurers, but it appears that this story is ending, or at least our part in it. I know what end Thor Odinson shall make of this. It appears that all else have beaten us there. No matter. Well met, and farewell, I say.”

“Farewell, Thor. You were always the best of us. But nay, the story shall not end” Valveig spoke, tears streaming.

“No Valveig. There is no best of Asgard. We are all the best and the mightiest. I shall not share that title. We are Asgardians. We are Mighty. And perhaps you have the right of it, with this story. We shall see. And I hope you shall make a song out of this, Erza.”

“I shall, Lord Thor. It shall be...worthy.” Erza said in a choked voice, and Thor smiled at her voice. “Indeed it will be.”

“XYRIXMA!” The Lord of Thunder boomed as he strode away, hammer in hand. “Once I would have said that I needs have words with thee...but the time for talk is almost over. You know my name, but I shall tell it to you one more time. Thor. And I stand and die for Valka.” And then he charged them, hammer swinging, the names of the remembered slain on his lips. And he refused to die, Thor Odinson, until every name had been said. He was bloody with wounds, but many had fallen. Many more would fall in his final stroke. And so Thor said the last name. “Thor.” And with the last of his strength, he grasped Mjolnir and shouted one last time, the hammer channeling his God-force and all the energy within the hammer into a mighty Godblast that obliterated all the Xyrixma surrounding him and many more besides. And then Thor Odinson fell. And so did Mjolnir, splintering asunder, the hammer too, no more.


The last two children of the All-Mother looked at each other and dried their tears. There would be plenty of time for tears later. And they waited for their deliverers of death to come, 5 generals of Xyrix, the Queen, it seemed, was saving her strength for Valka. “And who are you little people?”

“Today?” Erza asked. “We are Valka’s children. And Valka will see her children avenged.” And then Valveig spoke the Name of the Wind, and Erza spoke another word, and so they fought, Valveig the very wind, Erza, a breaker of worlds. 2 generals fell before them, and Thor had slew 3 himself, so he had the better account, but it was again no matter. And so when the Xyrixma smashed and stomped and finally caught the wind and broke the breaker, they begged not as they laid with their eyes up at the firmament, death approaching. And Valveig heard the cry of Valka, who had finally broken through, but all too late. “Stories end not, but chapters do, mother. Mourn me, avenge me, but I command you not to follow me into death until the time is right. And the time is not this hour. Farewell,” she whispered to Valka through the wind, but she had no strength to hear her reply. She turned her head to her Lionhearted friend.“We are dying, Erza.”

“Damn these slime creatures, they have had the better of us. Let us see if they have the better of your mother. It’s of no matter in the end, I suppose.” Erza replied with a grunt.

“How ought we do die, Songheart, do you think?”

“With sword and axe in one hand, you in the other, and a smile on our lips.”

“Aye, that is the way we Asgardians die.. Is it not?” and Valveig coughed once before grabbing Battleborne and lifting it high, Erza doing the same. The young lion grabbed the Hulk’s hand tightly, their blood mixing. “Let us see...where this next story takes us. This was a good story, I should think. For in the end...

“We die free.” They spoke together.

And then, once more, Valka Silverhand was the Last Asgardian.