Mugen: Infinite Eternal (A Circles of Time tale)
1st Eternity - Camelot
Rated R



THE FUTURE:


     History is like an endless waltz. The progression
     of war, peace and revolution all continue in an
     endless cycle.

                         -Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz



     Magik is arbitrary. Black, white, grey: colour is
irrelevant. Magik knows no love or enmity, no fear or honour. It
only knows itself, that which is magik. The user determines the
shape the magik shall take when it is manifested. It is the user
who can create or destroy. Magik cannot differentiate, cannot be
blamed. The soul is what moves magik, be it a black heart of cold
stone, or a fragile heart of beauty and truth. 
     One day all this knowledge, this magik, shall fade, and be
forgotten, and become just a legend spoken to little children at
bedtime. Magik shall become magic, and shall be given colours.
Only a handful of souls will ever remember such a time as this,
when magik was the life and breath of the Earthworld and its
solar system.
     Time passes, as it always has and always shall forever,
ending yet never-ending in the boundary that marks eternity. And
with time comes change: of worlds, of faces, of legends and
myths. Time does indeed change. But the magik shall always remain
the same, and stay with us until eternity itself comes to an end.
     You can try to forget the magik, but it shall never forget
you. If you were once destined to wield it, you shall wield it
once more. Black, white, grey; it does not matter.
     I am His lordship Chaos.
     One of many writers who have come together to craft an epic
spanning the millennia and legends of a world first created by
Naoko Takeuchi. The Senshi are her children, the original tale
hers to tell. But the other tales and other souls we have drawn
into this realm belong to those who have created Circles of Time.
Naoko has her children, as do I have mine. I, as do all the other
writers of this epic, ask for your permission should you wish for
our children to enter another realm.
     But for now, let the eternal night fall as silence swallows
up the brilliant light of the future. Listen to this last chapter
of a tale I have to tell you.
     For time is of the essence....


               -His lordship Chaos 
                    hislordshipchaos@hotmail.com
                    http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/9897/ct.htm



     The Man With No Name winced as he tried to rotate his arm in
his socket. "This still hurts like hell," he growled.
     "It's your own fault," Haruka replied curtly. "You were the
one who charged in after the Dark Messiah."
     He paused and then conceded to her on that point. "True. But
as far as I am aware, I am also the only one who's faced her and
come out alive. She wasn't meant for me." He scowled, his lip
curling back and revealing his teeth. "And for that, I will kill
her."
     They were standing upon one of the parapets, staring out
into the sunlit countryside sprawled out before Camelot. Their
vantage point allowed for an impressive view of the distant
fields in the horizon, but they were close enough to the ground
that all the moving soldiers in front of the castle didn't appear
like tiny ants.
     Every now and again, a patrolling guard or small group of
people would pass them by. No one paid attention to the Outers,
or the Man With No Name. Whether it was because they had other
obvious things to worry about, or because the Man With No Name
was working some kind of peculiar Shadowspell that no one could
detect, Haruka couldn't be certain. The only certainties she knew
of at the moment were two-fold: there would be war, and it was
only a matter of when; and that their male companion was of
curious and questionable origins.
     "I've been thinking about the meeting Arthur had with his
lords and generals," Michiru said, leaning against her lover. She
seemed unfazed by the growing cloud of dread that was shadowing
this castle, content enough to smile so long as she was next to
Haruka. "Did you notice Lord Endymion?"
     Haruka nodded, her eyes still scanning the horizon line. For
some reason, something being brought with the winds was making
her feel on edge. As if she could sense the impending war by just
a gentle gust. But now the winds were getting restless. Tempests
were awakening and crying out in bloodlust.
     "Endymion looked sharp and controlled, something I sadly
can't say about most everyone else there," Haruka said. "If he's
that cool under pressure, he might become a pivotal figure in
deciding this battle's outcome."
     But Michiru shook her head, her aqua-green eyes momentarily
clouded with confusion. It wasn't often she found herself in such
a state. "That's not what I meant. There was something in the
magik he could summon. Even when it lays dormant within him, it's
something almost identical to that of the Senshi he was with."
     Haruka snorted. "I highly doubt that."
     "You sound insulted," the Man With No Name remarked offhand,
leaning against the battlements. He chuckled, "Don't like playing
with boys?"
     Haruka bristled at the remark and scowled at him, but he
didn't cringe like most anyone else did when under that cold
Uranian gaze. He simply chuckled a little more and then returned
to enjoying the view.
     "His power isn't like ours," Michiru continued once the
brief interruption had ended. "Its echoes are similar but weaker.
A Senshi's magik is broad, but his is not. His magik possesses a
strange focus. And that's what makes him an enigma to me. If he
obviously isn't a sailor soldier, then what is he?"
     She glanced over at Setsuna.
     The guardress of time caught Michiru's gaze, and then shook
her head. "Gomen. I don't know what to make of him. He's
important to all of this, I know, but the 'how' part is what I'm
trying to decipher."
     "Why decipher?" the Man With No Name countered. "Let things
proceed, and decide for yourselves in the aftermath. If he's as
important to the wars as you all believe, then he'll make it out
alive easily enough. That, or he'll go out with a hell of an
exit."
     Setsuna bit her lip, and said nothing in response. To a
degree, the nameless stranger was right. At this point in time,
there was no predicting she could do. She, Sailor Pluto, was now
an active participant in the Messiah Wars. No longer a casual and
detached observer. The only hope she currently had was that the
future was still as it should be; that meant they would win. The
cost of victory was what she feared.
     The name Endymion.
     She knew it well enough.
     He had to survive.
     "Whatever the case, he's none of our concern," Haruka said,
finalizing the discussion on the matter. "Endymion and Venus are
here to help protect Camelot. At the very least, they can keep
this Mistress Nine woman occupied while we find the Messiah of
Light and the Grail."
     She spoke of this very casually. It came from a Uranian
upbringing, a military mindset. Sometimes pawns had to be
sacrificed to buy a means for the greater victory. Deep down
Haruka knew this was cruel, but that was the way of war. And she
refused to back down and simply let the Dark Messiah wipe them
all out.
     "Why didn't you say anything before about other Senshi being
here?" Michiru asked Setsuna.
     Setsuna's magenta eyes narrowed. "I didn't know the Inner
Senshi were starting to awaken. That girl is the first of them,
and doubtless she won't be the last. But I don't know how many
will be here to fight the Messiah Wars."
     She slowly straightened up, scanning the horizon. A few
seconds later, Haruka caught sight of the same thing. Far off,
where trees became silhouetted blurs amidst an equally green
landscape, four shimmering shapes began to move. It looked like
waves of heat rising up off hot pavement. Just a casual
distortion of what should have been a level horizon.
     But something about those ripples were making the Senshi
take notice. The Man With No Name curiously looked from one woman
to the next. "I'm missing something, aren't I?" he asked.
     Setsuna jutted out her chin. "Directly ahead on the horizon
line. Something's coming towards us."
     Suddenly the distortions morphed into solid objects.
Enormous and sleek, they resembled a quartet of oversized
metallic worms. Four elongated bodies hovered a few feet off the
ground, blowing the grasses all around yet leaving no residual
trace that they had ever moved across the land. Two of them were
visibly equipped with heavy artillery turrets.
     The battle skimmers had arrived.
     "Now there's something you don't see every day," Michiru
drawled.
     Haruka squinted her eyes and tried to get a better look at
the approaching objects. "I can't tell from this distance, but
their markings might be Mercurian...or Earthian. But I've never
seen anything like them before."
     "I have," Setsuna said. She kept looking ahead, even when
everyone else turned their heads and looked at her. "They're
called battled skimmers. Aurora was helping sponsor new hover
technology, combining magik and machine. Mercury's scientists
were developing the schematics that would integrate both together
into one flawless system. Earth had the honour of quietly
constructing and testing the prototypes. Once finished, Aurora
was to ensure that all planets received the skimmer technology."
     "My father would be furious if he ever learns of this,"
Haruka remarked with a wry grin. "He doesn't like Aurora
spreading the wealth, as such."
     The Man With No Name hopped onto a battlement, sitting there
with his legs crossed beneath him. The evident height from the
ground far below wasn't bothering him in the slightest, as if he
had yet to understand what fear was. "They seem to be moving
rather fast."
     At the rate they appeared to be going, the skimmers would
arrive at the palace's front gates in about ten minutes. With
only wind resistance to slow them down, there was little friction
to be concerned with. The four watched in idle fascination as the
lead skimmer approached a small grove of trees--and promptly
smashed through them as if they had been nothing more than twigs.
The jarring impact didn't even slow the battle skimmer down.
     "Arthur will be glad to see them," Michiru said quietly.
     "For the first and last time, though?" Haruka responded just
as softly.
     Abruptly a series of shrilling klaxons went off. Down on the
fields below, the soldiers had gone from leisurely lounging
around into a frenzied scramble. Weapons and armour were snatched
up. Shouts, though dim and barely audible from where the Outers
stood, were being sounded everywhere.
     Setsuna closed here eyes momentarily, and managed to pick
out some individual voices amidst the panicked blur of noises.
"They're coming," she announced to the others, magenta orbs
opening once more. "The Armies of Silence are appearing on the
edge of the horizon."
     "I wonder of the battle skimmers mowed any of them down and
didn't notice," Haruka murmured.
     The Man With No Name remained on his perch, studying the
people far below. A gust of wind blew the ends of his black
redingote up into the air, making it appear like charcoal-
coloured wings. He drew the tinted, coin-sized lenses away from
his eyes, murky darkness beholding the ranks being formed on
either side.
     "It would appear we get to join the war after all," he
stated.
     Already the battle skimmers were starting to change course,
separating and moving into flanking positions on either side of
Arthur's immense armies.
     "Shimatta," Haruka muttered. 
     They wouldn't have time to exit. If they wanted to leave
Camelot to complete their own mission, then they would have to
cut through the Armies of Silence first.
     "Look at them," Michiru sighed, shaking her head. There was
an unmistakable sadness in her voice. Neptunians by nature did
not like seeing the destruction of any life. Yet as a Senshi she
knew the destiny of those who took up the sword. "They're going
to fight a war they cannot win."
     "Yet they fight to protect something they believe in," the
Man With No Name said. He paused to study the soldiers who were
now racing into formation. Something about this concept was
fascinating him to no end. It was new and unexpected, and he
found himself liking this trait. "Even in the face of death, they
refuse to run away. There's a strange admiration one cannot help
but hold for such valiance."
     Haruka turned away, pulling lightly on Michiru's arm.
Michiru agreed to the silent and subtle beckoning, turning away
with Haruka. "We should leave before the battle begins," Haruka
said. "We have to find the Grail, and cannot afford to be delayed
here."
     "I thought it was a soldier's destiny to fight," the Man
With No Name countered. "Why leave now when a war has presented
itself?"
     "Haruka's right; this battle doesn't belong to us," Michiru
stated. "We may share a common goal to protect the Golden Empire
from the Dark Messiah. However, the Outer Senshi have means that
are different from Camelot's. Let them fight their battles. When
the time comes we shall fight our own."
     Eyes clouded like a storm narrowed upon hearing that.
     "You might be granted that wish sooner than desired," the
Man With No Name muttered. He closed his eyes and slid his coin-
sized lenses back up the bridge of his nose. His head was lifted
to the skies, and he sat there as if trying to read each motion
of the wind.
     Abruptly a new voice joined the group, startling Setsuna
more than anyone else. It was Charon. "Setsuna?" 
     Not entirely sure where the castle's voice was coming from,
Setsuna awkwardly looked around. More than anything, she tried to
look like she knew what she was doing in front of Haruka and
Michiru. "Hai?" she answered.
     There was brief and chagrined pause.    
     "Ano...sincerest apologies in advance," Charon told her.
     And then suddenly Setsuna vanished.
     Haruka and Michiru leapt back in surprise, both on the verge
of transforming. They scanned the area and found nothing. "What
the hell?" Haruka muttered.
     The Man With No Name merely sat upon the battlements, as if
nothing strange had transpired. "Don't worry," he said with an
odd certainty. "She'll be back." That said, he stood up on the
battlement and then hopped down. Hands in his coat pockets, he
started walking towards the nearest passageway.
     "Where are you going?" Haruka called out after him.
     He smiled again, dark and delicious. "To get better seats. I
desire a rematch with Mistress Nine." He clenched his fist,
cracking his knuckles. White lightning sparked and snaked around
his arm. "I have a death to repay her for."



                 MUGEN: (-́+) INFINITE ETERNAL
                                
                    (A Circles of Time tale)



                      1st Eternity - Camelot


     The alarms were refusing to abate. They would continue until
the battle had begun, and the klaxons thusly became redundant. For
now, everyone had to be mobilized. Escape shuttles were being
prepared in case they had to fall back. Non-military citizens were
being escorted to safety zones. And soldiers were racing in every
direction to get to their stations.
     Lancelot stalked through the grandiose hallways of Camelot,
ignorant of everyone around him. He was searching for one man
alone. The other knights of the round table were suiting up this
very minute, preparing to journey to the front line of the
battlefield. Chivalry still existed in this day. They would not
lead their people from behind; they would be leading the charge, be
the first to plunge themselves into the vicious war.
     But now disturbing rumours were sweeping through the ranks of
the higher officers, ones that Lancelot could not so easily
dismiss. He had gone because he was already suited up in his
armour, and because he was the Pendragon's closest friend and ally.
     Lancelot didn't bother knocking when he reached the chambers
he had been looking for. If he found nothing on the other side, the
rumours would be proven wrong. Yet he feared of who, not what,
would be there. This was Arthur's personal armoury. If the king was
going into battle, this was where he would suit up.
     And as Lancelot pushed open the door, he found Arthur there.
Three attendants were helping assemble the various pieces of
armour. Auroran artisans had long ago forged an armour that was
incredibly flexible and lightweight, but could withstand crushing
blows from an enemy.
     Upon seeing Lancelot standing there, Arthur silently nodded to
his attendants. They left the room and closed the door behind them.
Arthur resumed working with the final pieces of armour. He wasn't
avoiding Lancelot's stern gaze; he had other more important things
to be concerned with at the moment.
     That only served to spurn Lancelot further. "What are you
doing?" he demanded. He was somewhere between abject terror and
angered indignation.
     Arthur flexed his hand, watching the metal gauntlet move in
accordance with his fingers. "I'm a warrior, Lancelot," he stated
evenly. Frighteningly calm despite the odds that were against them.
"I belong out there on the battlefield. Those soldiers need to see
that I am not afraid; we will need every last ounce of courage we
can muster."
     But Lancelot stormed up to Arthur, desperate and on the verge
of tears. "Let us fight this battle," he implored his king.
"Arthur, no one will think you a coward if you leave now. Should we
be wiped out, the empire will need a pillar of hope, and that is
you. We are all willing to die if it means protecting you. Don't be
a fool and let our deaths be in vain!"
     "Lancelot!" Arthur barked sharply, silencing his knight.
"You're not here to protect me: you're here to protect a dream. And
that dream is more than just me or Camelot. The purpose of the
Golden Empire was peace, and that is what we are fighting for."
     Faded copper orbs turned to a stained glass window resting
high above their heads. A beautiful artistry of planetary dances
and cosmic give & take. A reminder of how insignificant they each
were, yet the impact they could still make when rallying together.
     "I have shed enough blood to turn oceans red in trying to
establish that peace. It means more to me than life itself. If my
death causes the rest of this planet, and all the Solis System, to
unite and fight the Dark Messiah to protect this peace, then that
is all that matters."
     Lancelot vehemently shook his head. "You are a part of that
peace, Arthur! You are the reason there is peace! If you die here
and now, there's the chance that everyone will lose hope in that
dream. And then we truly will be finished, Dark Messiah or not."
     "I am a symbol of that peace, yes, as is Camelot," Arthur
agreed with a sage nod. He slowly crossed the room and picked up
his helmet. Upon its forehead was the crest of Camelot, and the
back of the metallic grey scalp was decorated with wondrously
savage spines. 
     The king studied an aging reflection caught within the shimmer
of the helmet. And Lancelot marveled at how in his darkest hour,
the Pendragon still looked like the majestic dragon in a man's body
that he had once been said to be.
     "But because I was not willing to listen," Arthur stated, the
blame he placed upon himself woven into each wounding word and
syllable. "Morgana brought the Dark Messiah to us. Because I was
stubborn, the millions of lives upon Aurora are gone forever. That
is my fault, Lancelot. In life I shall be forever haunted by that.
But in death, there is a chance to find peace, absolution."
     The burden upon his shoulders remained, but now he rose to
stand eye to eye with Lancelot. The king's copper orbs burned like
fire. Despite his aging appearance, in that moment he was as young
and powerful as he had been decades ago. An older man. A bite still
just as fierce.
     "My resolve is made, Lancelot. I will meet this woman on the
field of battle. And then we shall see what the future holds. Dying
for peace, to have my sacrifice stir in others a desire to protect
this fragile camaraderie we all cherish, is not such a horrible
fate after all."
     There was no room for argument.
     Lancelot knew he had lost. Or else, perhaps, he had never even
stood a chance at swaying Arthur's noble but potentially fatal
intentions. He gave a weak laugh, shaking his head in dismay.
"You're a fool, Arthur," he said quietly. And then ruefully he
smiled. "And I must be an even greater fool for wanting to fight at
your side in battle."
     That in turn brought a smile to Arthur's face. He rested a
hand upon Lancelot's pauldron, and then gave it a hard slap. "They
will sing of this for centuries to come, I promise you," the
Pendragon said. The final piece of his armour was donned: sheathed
over his back was Excalibur. "There will come a time when our
grandchildren will remember this day, even if they no longer
remember us."
     Lancelot nodded as they marched towards the doors. "Let's not
disappoint the bards-to-be then," he agreed, drawing his sword from
its scabbard.


     And Merlin found himself brooding in his private chambers. 
     A room without doors and filled with the things that dreams
and faery tales are made of. No laboratory, but a conservatory. An
inner sanctum where he could disappear from the rest of the world
and its incessant noise, and find a moment of quiet serenity. Yet
even here he could find no peace. His sanctuary could not permit
him to escape the reality that laid somewhere beyond these walls
that both were and were not.
     The aged guise he usually wore had melted away, what felt like
perhaps the final time. Gone was the flowing, fishbone white hair.
Gone was the wrinkled skin which bore the signs of weather and life
experience. All that remained was what he truly was: an Ancient.
Now one of the last ones.
     As far as Merlin was aware, the Raithe was the only other one
left. That was not, however, a comforting thought.
     Drafts of wind blew at his jet black hair, rustling his robes
and youthful form. This chamber of old and near-forgotten secrets
could sense the impending war. It was terrified. He shared in the
concern, but thoughts of a grander scope were consuming him. He
could hear ghostly echoes of the Raithe's voice. Of warnings and
statements made over the span of days and years, originating when
that girl bearing the mark of Saturn had arrived on Aurora.
     'She is the beginning and the end all at once, Merlin.'
     A blossoming young girl turned into a vengeful harbinger that
had already destroyed one planet, murdered countless people, and
was now seeking to wipe them all out. Or perhaps worse. The Raithe
had never spoken of this Mistress 9's origins, and Merlin shivered
at such contemplations.
     'The tides of time are merciless.'
     If this was what had to be done, then they would do it.
     The Raithe knew what was to come, what had to come, but agreed
to work with it regardless--and work with it his way. That made for
a bizarre tangle of free will and destiny. Merlin wondered if he
would share in the same damnable fate.
     'We have a choice, Merlin. Our ends are inevitable, but we
have the chance to let it end as we would want it to be.'
     His eye looked down to his palms, smooth and pale.
     'You used up all your magik, I see.' 
     In creating Illusion he had drained all his powers. He could
stand against the Dark Messiah no better now than a defenseless
peasant. But his magik would slowly return to its full strength.
Until then he had to make one of the most difficult decisions of
his life.
     'The Messiah of Light is here on Earth. Protect her when you
find her, Merlin. Guard her with your last breath and magik. For
she is the beginning of the future, and the end of the Messiah
Wars.'
     A doorway suddenly opened up.
     Merlin stood and cast a sad, mournful glance over his
shoulder. "Good-bye," he whispered.
     Good-bye to Camelot.
     But not to the end of all hope.
     There was a Messiah of Light he had to find.


     Somewhere far away from the brink of war, where tranquil
waters of magik flowed, Serenity turned her head towards Camelot.
She knew nothing about that grand castle and city far beyond the
horizon, not even which direction it laid in. But she could sense
the magik that was starting to manifest and saturate the air.
     The encounter with the mirror, with Raithe-in-the-mirror, had
still left her shaken. She could feel something awaken deep within.
It was stirring to life. Making her skin tingle with even the
slightest breath of magik that blew past her. Her entire being was
growing sensitive to everything around her. Despite the magik that
abounded within Elfhame, she could hear echoes of other magiks that
perhaps came from halfway around the world.
     And it frightened her.
     Kakkyou's warm arms abruptly wrapped around her, driving the
demons away as she felt his heartbeat against her back. Dragon
green eyes were closed. Silver hair danced around the two of them.
He tried to make her as much a part of him as he could, to make her
no longer feel so alone and afraid.
     She had never told him about what the mirror's reflection had
shown her. And he didn't ask, knowing that its reflection was meant
for her only. But he loved her, and could not help but worry
whenever she now trembled.
     There are times when words can do no emotion justice. When
words become irrelevant and can shatter the beauty of a silent
moment. When words mean nothing compared to the magnitude of mere
presence and a gentle touch.
     This was one of those moments.
     Serenity let herself be encompassed by her Elven lover,
finding security in the warmth of his body. Crystal blue eyes
closed. She smiled and nestled her face against his shoulder,
finding sanctuary once more.
     And Kakkyou held onto her tightly, tears starting to fall down
his cheeks as the fears that he might lose her returned to haunt
him.


     Magellan stood upon the battlefield, watching the Armies of
Silence make their relentless advance. It was as if the shadows
were coming alive and spewing forth every last abomination that had
ever been conceived: ghoulish soldiers armed with swords and
shields but no humanity; monstrous beasts who might have once been
animals but were now corrupted by Morgana's poisonous blak magik;
and terrifying creatures never meant to walk the face of this
planet.
     Each one in turn was taking their time to emerge from whatever
darkness happened to be convenient, and stalk their way towards the
front lines of Camelot's armies. The beings moved at a leisurely
pace, but there could be no mistaking their predatory motions.
     "What do you think?" murmured Frederic.
     Magellan glanced over his shoulder, to where Frederic was
standing just behind him. And behind them both were ranks upon
ranks of nervous but determined soldiers. "I think that if we get
out of this alive, I'm going to stay very drunk for the next week."
     That caused Frederic to crack a grin. "Tell you what: we both
survive, and I'll foot the bill."
     On the other side of Magellan, Sailor Venus sighed and shook
her head. "I am not playing nursemaid to either of you two should
that happen," she stated emphatically, though there was a
playfulness in her tone that was helping to break down the tension
they all felt.
     The lord of Vlatmere exhaled deeply.
     Even then, the weight of the curious armour upon his body felt
as if it were nothing. The metallic plates which that questionable
Healer had placed upon him had melted and molded into a liquid now
covering his entire body. It gave him the grace and fluidity as if
he were fighting unclothed. He could only trust in the Healer's
promise that despite the seeming flimsy design, this armour could
absorb blows that would otherwise completely shatter any Earthian
armour.
     A strange rush of adrenaline laced with something else he
couldn't quite name or describe coursed through his body. Magellan
found himself growing acutely aware of where the largest
concentrations of the Shadow armies laid. It wasn't a matter of
seeing as it was feeling. Like catching the scent of an animal in
the wind, and knowing everything about it even when you couldn't
even remotely see it.
     If there was such a thing as steroids for magik, the armour
could have easily been it. But he had paid close attention to the
mage's words. This was the Aroth armour; it amplified emotions and
shaped them into tangible magik. One wrong move on his part, and he
would be claimed by the dark insanity like so many others who had
tried to wear this.
     He would overcome the curse of the Aroth armour.
     There was a woman he wanted to marry when the war ended, a
beautiful blonde Venusian princess who meant the world to him. Life
and death seemed to fade away to a forgotten nothingness whenever
he was with her.
     Myung....
     Murmurs abruptly ran through the ranks of soldiers.
     "What's going on?" Frederic muttered, looking around to find
the source of the sudden whispers.
     Venus was the first to see the cause, and her eyes widened in
surprise. "It's Arthur," she said quietly.
     The Pendragon was dutifully marching through the centre of the
garrisons, followed by his Knights of the Round Table. Excalibur
was sheathed upon his back. He never made eye contact with anyone.
He only looked ahead, to the enemy he knew he had to face, to the
woman he knew he must fight. Mistress 9 was coming for him today.
     It was not his style to keep a lady waiting.
     The determination to do battle, and walk out victorious, was
there in his copper eyes. And because he possessed such a fiery
defiance to death and defeat, so too did his Knights show no fear.
They had all come out to the battlefield for different and personal
reasons. But they all shared a common goal, a single dream.
     Live or die, they would not go down without a fight.
     "I didn't think King Arthur would be fighting," Magellan said.
"Let alone stand in the front line."
     Myung's blue eyes were scanning the troops, studying the
renewal upon their faces. "His appearance is certainly having an
effect on the soldiers, though. His presence is giving them reason
to find courage and stand here."
     But courage would only get you so far.
     Magellan refused to leave the rest of it up to sheer luck. He
silently willed for his helmet, and the collar around his neck
rippled and changed form. Grey tendrils snaked out and encased his
head, forging a visor over his eyes. While the visor was tinted
crimson, he saw everything as clear as day.
     As Arthur and the Knights marched past them, Magellan abruptly
began to follow, cutting his own path through the rolling fields.
Frederic and Venus were one step behind him, each readying their
own respective weapons. Frederic was knocking an arrow in his bow.
Venus was summoning her powers as a Sailor Senshi.
     The soldiers of Vlatmere took up the pace and marched out
behind the trio. And all across Camelot, soldiers of every rank and
stature were following in the footsteps of their king. The four
battle skimmers were swinging around, the pair of troop carriers
remaining in the dead centre of the Pendragon's armies. The battle
skimmers designed for heavy artillery took up left and right
flanking positions. Nothing would get past them unless it did so in
many small and unpleasant pieces.
     "This is it," Magellan stated, brandishing his sword in his
hands. 
     The fate of the Earth, and perhaps of the very future, would
be decided here and now.


     Within the shadow-laden heart of the Armies of Silence, a
woman appeared and made herself known. Tresses of long, ravendark
hair flowed behind her. The provocative black dress that hung
loosely around her supple body rustled in the afternoon winds.
     Upon her forehead she bore the mark of a black star.
     The future sign of the Deathbusters.
     In one hand she held the Silence Glaive.
     Mistress 9 surveyed the diminishing distance between the two
forces, and her violet eyes narrowed. She was to bring Morgana King
Arthur's head--severed or attached to the rest of his body, it
didn't really matter.
     She looked to her left and saw the creatures Morgana had left
at her disposal. She looked to her right and saw more of the same.
She looked ahead...and abruptly sensed a peculiar echo of magik.
Faint, almost unrecognizable, but it was something that caused her
to take notice.
     It wasn't the power of that Auroran whelp of a prince.
     This was something altogether new.
     And enticing.
     The Dark Messiah's lips turned into a savage smile, and she
lifted the Silence Glaive over her head. Pharaoh 90 still required
a means of crossing through space and time to reach here. This
spark of magik would be something worth finding. But not after
she'd had a little fun with these pithy humans first.
     The beings born from shadows and obediently serving her all
stopped as they caught sight of the sunlight gleaming off the blade
of her weapon. They waited for the command to no longer stalk, but
strike.
     The Dark Messiah suddenly smashed the glaive to the ground,
the blade touching the earth before tearing it apart. An incredible
burst of magik exploded and then rampaged towards the Camelot
armies at a blinding pace.
     It smashed into one of the heavy artillery battle skimmers.
     The craft detonated instantly, enormous metal shrapnel blown
in every direction. With a horrific groan, the remains of the
burning skimmer crashed to the ground. Soldiers ran to escape the
second explosion that shook the fields.
     The skies began to rain down fire, smoke and debris. 
     And then with a roar, the beasts of the Shadow Army charged.
     At the front of his own lines, King Arthur lifted Excalibur
over his head and let loose with a loud cry to the heavens. The cry
was taken up by all the soldiers behind him.
     Morgana's demons attacked.
     And the Messiah Wars were christened with blood.


     When it began Sailor Venus made it a point of keeping close to
Magellan, watching his back as the tides of the two armies collided
and then everything became lost in a confusing and brutal blur of
metal and death. The Shadow Armies had yet to push the forces of
Camelot back--but they had already succeeded in breaking through
the first offensive lines, and were now swarming in every
direction.
     Paranoia was keeping her alive as she constantly spun around
to see what was trying to overtake her next. The sea of swords and
thrashing demons was everywhere she looked--and many of those being
mercilessly slaughtered were of the Camelot armies. Some of the
smaller footsoldiers of the Armies of Silence were actually taking
the time to stop and kill those whom they had wounded. But the
larger and far more frightening beasts just left the wounded humans
for dead if they didn't bother instantly killing their enemies
straight out.
     Something moved behind her, triggering her instinctive
reflexes. 
     Venus suddenly spun around and hastily dodged a fury of claws
meant to have torn her arm off. One of the demonic creatures had
selected her as its next victim, and it snarled with rows of razor-
sharp teeth. Spittle and foam dripped down its jaws as it reared up
on its hind legs, towering a good three heads above her. Venus'
blue eyes widened when she realized that this creature had four
pairs of arms, each one moving of its own lethal accord.
     One of the Vlatmere soldiers came racing to her help. The
demonoid whirled, one of its arms snaking out and grabbing the man
by the head. The soldier kicked and screamed to get free, and then
abruptly went still as the creature crushed his skull within its
palms.
     Venus shuddered and tried not to think as she heard a loud,
sickening "Crack!" from the soldier's head. And yet she found her
blood burning with rage. These monsters had no regard for
life...they were mindless killing machines, with no reason and no
cause. Here the people were risking their very lives to save what
they cherished; they at least deserved an honourable death. But
there was nothing honourable about what these demons were doing.
     Something within her snapped.
     And then everything fell into place with perfect clarity.
     The arachnid youma returned to attacking her.
     But unexpected it found itself shrieking and trying to defend
itself. Venus was launching herself at the creature with unbridled
righteous anger, her Senshi powers intensifying each punch and kick
she dealt it. Each movement was growing more and more foreign, yet
incredibly natural.
     She leapt into the air, kicking out her legs as she gained
incredible height and lingered there as if gravity no longer
mattered. The tips of her boots each smashed into one of the
youma's shoulders before she brought her arm down to finish the
attack.
     The force of the impact sent her elbow cracking the demon's
skull apart, a mess of black blood spraying out and staining her
white gloves. Venus found herself not caring, pushing her elbow in
deeper as the monster tumbled over backwards. She rolled back out
into a standing position.
     Her eyes locked on the next Shadow beast nearest her.
     The creature abruptly stiffened and turned its head in her
direction. A number of its hideous comrades also turned their
heads. Dozens of eyes focused on her. They were sensing her powers.
They knew she was different from the others, and far more
dangerous. The youma never hesitated.
     Charged en masse towards her.
     She met them with unnatural calmness.
     Somewhere deep within, Myung watched herself as the Soldier of
Venus with detached interest. She knew that even as brave as she
was, this sort of scene would have caused her to cry out and run
away. But she could feel this surge of energy flowing through her
body, pulsing with each heartbeat.
     The demons converged and tore at her with their claws and arms
and tendrils. Seconds later those claws and arms and tendrils were
torn from their bodies as Venus erupted from the thick of their
ranks, jumping over their heads and somersaulting in behind them.
     Those first to realize what had happened whirled, a trio of
immense goblin-like fiends descending upon her. Their great,
grasping hands reached forward to seize her body and rip her into
thirds...but found nothing.
     Confused gave way to fear in their expressions.
     And then Sailor Venus was suddenly standing before them at a
further distance away. They would never be given the chance to
realize that she had just invoked a Shadowspell. She refused such
heartless creations the opportunity.
     Her form disappeared again, cloaked in Shadowspell.
     Dozens of small black portals opened up around the huddle
cluster of demon beasts. They were now too bewildered to even
attack; this sort of magik was unlike any they had known, and it
frightened them. Many pairs of eyes looked from one churning
wormhole of darkness to the next.
     And then their world went white, as if the sun itself had
exploded. Arcs and lances of light shot out from the portals, a
fury of lightning cutting down anything in their paths. In a few
brief and bloody seconds the battle was over. The corpses of the
demons were laid to waste, black ooze spreading over the subdued
grasslands.
     Sailor Venus reappeared from the Shadowspell.
     Like a newborn child, she had been reborn as the Soldier of
Love. She now understood what it meant to possess such a destiny,
and the power she could wield. There was a lull in the war around
her, the Shadow forces avoiding this area as the stench from their
slaughtered brethren reached them. 
     They knew the young blonde woman was a force to be reckoned
with. And so they quietly left her for their Mistress to deal with
personally.
     Venus looked down at the severed upper torso of one of the
demons. It laid unmoving, but the black substance was still
crawling around of its own willpower. Like a parasite departing a
doomed host, the ichor parted and revealed the soul who had become
this horrific being. It was a human being, a young woman.
     Venus hastily sucked in her breath.
     They were fighting people, other humans?
     But that was impossible; how could a human being have turned
into such a loathsome and remorseless monster? Venus found herself
lacking an answer, and knew that the answers would only come if she
confronted the ones responsible for mobilizing this dark army.
     Another loud, human scream pierced the air.
     Shaken out of her silent contemplations, Venus surveyed the
battlefield. The Earth armies were falling. Slowly but noticeably
falling. From where she stood she couldn't see Magellan anywhere.
The best she could do right now was hope that he was still alive
and fighting. Every inch of her being was crying out to forget the
war and just find him. Yet the part of her that was a Senshi knew
there was duty to protect these people.
     Magellan had his own battles to fight.
     For now, she would do her best to keep Camelot's ranks alive
and strong for as long as possible. Venus took a deep breath and
then raced through the melees. Any Shadow beast that got in her way
was quickly and messily reduced to tatters and shreds of demon
flesh.


     Arthur found himself at the front lines, cutting a swath of
bodies and blood as he marched forward. Excalibur had yet to
undergo its final transformation, the blade proving just as
trustworthy in this form as it always had been in its final, deadly
incarnation.
     He could see his Knights fighting to keep pace with him, but
they were being swept back. Only a few demons actually bothered to
attack him; that made Arthur anxious. He cut down as many as he
could while the moved past him, but the fact that they were
separating him from his armies didn't bode well.
     In the Pendragon's mind, that could only mean one thing:
someone wished to have a private visitation with him.
     The ranks of charging demons abruptly parted, the creatures
smashing into the ranks of the soldiers behind him. Scarlet and
shadow clouds sprayed out in every direction as the warriors were
cut apart by each other's blades and claws, the loud din of shouts
and clashing weapons pierced repeatedly by horrific screams.
     Out from the gap in the ranks of the Armies of Silence
appeared a single person. A woman, taking her time walking down the
fields as if this were an otherwise lazy afternoon. Her violet eyes
were leering at him, long ravendark hair billowing out behind her
form. 
     Arthur froze.
     "The Messiah," he whispered.
     Suddenly one of the Shadow beasts lost its head, the bloodied
stump spurting black ichor as the corpse slumped to the ground.
Stomping over the demon's body appeared one of the Knights of the
Round Table, and his eyes were wide in righteous fury as he raced
towards the Dark Messiah. Galahad let loose with a loud battle cry,
raking the blade of his broadsword across her face and chest.
     Mistress 9 held her ground, her lips pursed in savage
amusement. Without even blinking in a lapse of concentration, she
sidestepped the attack. Her gaze held constant with Arthur,
breaking only momentarily as she spun around and rammed the curved
blade of her glaive into Galahad's side. There was a shower of
sparks as his armour was torn apart like mere paper, rivers of
blood bursting forth to stain the steel of the Silence Glaive.
     Galahad convulsed, coughing up blood which flowed down his
chin and dripped onto his chainmail. Mistress 9 viciously wrenched
the glaive's blade from Galahad's side and pushed the Knight away,
leaving him to slowly die alone on the battlefield.
     Arthur growled, his expression twisting into a hating scowl.
She was doing this only because he was watching. She got off on the
pain and screams. The Dark Messiah began to giggle as she resumed
walking towards the Pendragon.
     "King Arthur," she purred, twirling the glaive around in her
hands. A few stray spatters of Galahad's blood struck her cheek.
She took no notice. "I have a message for you."
     She found that she would get no fear from him.
     He refused to give here that hideous indulgence.
     They circled each other. Ignoring the vicious battles around
them. Ignored by everyone else around them. Mistress 9 gripped the
staff of her glaive with one hand, keeping the weapon behind her
back, blade pointed towards the ground. It was a fighting stance
Arthur recognized from the Auroran samurai.
     "What do you want?" he demanded of her. "What is it that
Morgana thinks she can achieve with this pointless massacre?"
     Mistress 9 laughed, more at his words than at him. He failed
to find what was so amusing. "You foolish human," she said to him.
"You have no idea who's the puppet and who's pulling the strings."
Her evil smile turned into a cold stare. "Where is the Golden
Crystal?"
     So that was what she wanted.
     A brief tide of relief washed over Arthur. He knew full well
that both Aurora's crystal and sole surviving prince were protected
in a place where this woman could never reach them.
     "Gone," Arthur stated. "You'll never find it."
     Mistress 9's violet eyes narrowed. 
     "Then I have no further business with you," she stated. The
power she sought for Pharaoh 90's passage to Earth was no more.
Which meant that the man standing before her no longer served a
purpose in living.
     With a slow, nurturing motion she raised the Silence Glaive
until the polearm was horizontal behind her back.
     "You said you had a message for me," Arthur said, both hands
now gripping the hilt of his blade. 
     Suddenly the blade's sleek and narrow form rippled, the metal
morphing and pulsating as if it were alive. A geyser of molten grey
spewed from the hilt, flying wildly in three arcs of watery
tendrils. They coiled around the blade of the sword. Liquid
hardened back into solid metal, weapon's blade now having tripled
in its size. 
     Arthur's hands were tingling as he felt the flood of magik
flow into the hilt, the grip of the sword itself changing into
something larger and easier for him to grip. What was once a
slender longsword had now become a broad-sided and double-edged
weapon that stood taller than he did. Down along the centre ran
runes which openly displayed the sword's name to all who were close
enough to see.
     Excalibur roared to life, and Arthur let the Dark Messiah see
a weapon that could potentially rival her own.
     "What is it?" he inquired.
     Mistress 9 licked her lips in delicious anticipation of what
was to come next. "Your life is over, Pendragon. I'm here to kill
you."
     Arthur hoisted Excalibur a little higher. "Then stop talking
and get on with it."


     It hadn't been Magellan's intention to lose sight of Myung,
but it was a reality he knew would come about. Somewhere in that
initial clash of sides he was separated. He had pushed forward
while she was forced back by an onslaught of ungodly beings who had
no good reason for being unleashed upon the Earth.
     For that matter, he'd lost Frederic in the thick of the battle
as well.
     But being separated didn't mean he had lost focus either.
Magellan hacked and slashed through the ranks of the swarming
demons, mercilessly shearing apart anything that wasn't human. That
encounter with the reptilian beasts in Vlatmere had left him
knowing just what these creatures were fully capable of. And it
wasn't very pretty.
     A moment's hesitation meant an instant death.
     And that was at best.
     Suddenly Magellan was thrown forward onto the ground as an
intense shockwave roared just above his head. Dazed, he managed to
lift his face off the grasses just in time to see a tremendous
explosion rip through the Shadow Armies, spilling bodies and
grotesque, black blood in every direction. 
     Ocean blue eyes glanced back at the remaining gunnery skimmer,
whose turrets were aiming at any part of the battlefield with a
high concentration of youma. Large pulses of magik, coloured like
a meteorite burning up in Earth's orbit, were being fired off in a
spectacular and deadly display.
     A large number of the demon beasts were concentrating their
attack on the battle skimmer, clamouring one on top of the other in
order to grab hold of the craft's sleek design and climb onto the
upper decks. They were starting to overpower the artillery skimmer
when abruptly one of the skimmers carrying the reserve soldiers
ploughed through and swung around, narrowing grazing sides. But
that was more than enough to either crush or tear apart a majority
of the demons clinging to the one skimmer's hull.
     Magellan managed a grin as he got back onto his feet. "Let it
never be said that Aurora ever gave us faulty designs," he
remarked.
     The glib remark was cut off as Magellan swung around and let
his sword cut another creature in half. The damned things just kept
coming and coming. It was getting to be a difficult task to muster
the stamina needed to kill these beasts when a few dozen sprang up
to avenge the slaying of their hellish kin.
     Black essence splattered across his armour as he sliced
another monster's head off.
     And then something hard ripped itself down Magellan's back. He
let out a surprised grunt and tripped forwards, quickly regaining
his balance. One of the Shadow demons was there, hunched over,
scowling at him. An outstretched arm revealed three feral claws
twitching for a chance to cut him again.
     He could feel the three large gouge marks which now ran down
the back of his armour. More than that, he could feel the armour
rippling and restoring itself as if it had never been scratched in
the first place. A fierce blow like that should have cut right
through half his body, rendering him dead in seconds. But he'd
barely even felt the attack.
     Maybe that mage wasn't kidding about the Aroth Armour after
all....
     Magellan quickly dispatched the stunned creature before it had
the chance to attack a second time. Despite the animal instinct of
self-preservation running rampant, his mind was racing over what
he'd been told about this armour.
     If he lost his sword, the mage had said the armour could
reshape itself to help protect him. It could become spikes. It
could become his sword. It could become damn near anything he so
desired.
     Two more demons charged him dead-on.
     Magellan lowered his sword. Some might have called it
insanity, others suicide. But he had to know. He had to test the
limits of this suit's powers. Ocean blue eyes narrowed; he could
feel magik being channeled through his body, not unlike when he
worked on his roses. A deafening pulse echoing his heartbeat
sounded in his ears.
     The twin demons lunged, a blur of teeth and claws.
     Magellan gave a defiant shout. Suddenly the breastplate of his
armour rippled with a frenzied force, and two metallic tendrils
shot through the air. The pointed edges curved and then punched
through the skulls of the demons, bringing the immense beasts down
instantly.
     Before the corpses even struck the ground, the tendrils
retracted back and rejoined with the breastplate. The recoil caused
Magellan to step back, but other than that he'd felt nothing save
for an incredibly euphoric rush.
     An airborne demon bat screeched and dove after him in seeing
its comrades fall. Without even thinking, Magellan whirled and
flung out a yellow rose. The flower sank deep into the youma's eye,
and with a loud howl the beast tailspun into the ground.
     "I could get to like this," he muttered to himself.
     He resumed cutting down demons wherever he went, becoming an
angel of death in his own respect. A number of soldiers he helped
defend took up arms with him, and followed his lead. They became a
solid and almost unbeatable cluster. Magellan wiped out the worst
of the enemies they found; the soldiers mopped up the rest.
     Magellan found himself having lost his frame of time.
     How long had this battle been going on? Ten minutes? An hour?
From what he could see he knew Camelot's forces weren't doing so
well. But until the order to retreat was sounded, he intended to
take down every last demon he could.
     Yet another demon roared and charged him.
     But abruptly it toppled forward, the left side of its head and
chest separating from the rest of its body. In the shower of blood
that ensued, Magellan saw another human soldier standing there.
     It was Lancelot.
     "Where's Arthur?" he shouted as he saw Magellan.
     Magellan forced back another demonoid before sliding his sword
through its belly. "I thought he was with you!" 
     More demons were swarming them.
     "We got separated," Lancelot said. He angrily hacked at the
nearest youma. "Shit! They're herding us away from Arthur!"
     Magellan twirled his body and bisected an advancing demon,
adeptly launching a barrage of roses that took down five more of
the creatures.
     "We'll find him," he stated, not even remotely doubting the
certainty with which he spoke. "Let's get--"
     His words were cut off as the ground rumbled and then cracked
apart. Dirt and grass spewed in every direction, and Magellan found
himself being launched into the air along with the debris, crashing
onto his back. Through the disorientation, he managed to see what
had burrowed out from the ground right beneath his feet.
     It was like a hellish-looking centipede rearing up, its face
resembling a blend between a skull and a mask. The centipede
unleashed a shrilling cry before bringing its front barbed legs
down.
     One buried itself into the ground, causing the earth to
tremble beneath Magellan. The other leg punched through Lancelot's
breastplate and impaled him. Lancelot screamed in agony as the
forward momentum of the appendage forced him to his knees. A
slender leg, glistening scarlet now, was poking out from his right
side.
     "Lancelot!" Magellan shouted, scrambling back onto his feet.
     But the fire in Lancelot's eyes had yet to die out. Whatever
strength he had left was used to flip his sword around in his hand.
With the blade pointing skyward, Lancelot lifted his head and saw
the centipede's face leering down at him. It gave off a ghostly,
triumphant shriek.
     "What are you laughing at?" Lancelot hissed. He pushed to his
feet, biting down on the searing pain as the gaping wound in his
ribcage was ripped open even wider. With one final shout, the first
Knight of the Round Table rammed the blade of the sword up into the
beast's chin, forcing it in deeper until the very tip punched
through the top of the centipede's head.
     The centipede demon let out a death rattle that made Magellan
cringe and pray there weren't any more like it prowling around the
battlefield. Its final thrashings had it lift its front appendages-
-and Lancelot in the process--off the earth. Lancelot slipped off
and crashed onto the ground. The centipede demon flopped down
beside him.
     Magellan slid the last few feet in reaching Lancelot.
Frantically he cradled the fallen Knight's head in his hands.
"Lancelot, are you--"
     "Find Arthur!" Lancelot snapped, cutting Magellan's words off.
He was convulsing, the blood of his body now looking to be
everywhere but inside of him. His eyes were wide and desperate,
both pleading and ordering Magellan to carry out this final
command.
     The last thing Magellan wanted to do was leave Lancelot alone
in this war. But they both knew he was already dead. Magellan
closed his eyes and nodded, forcing himself to stand and carry on
for the greater good. Lancelot had entrusted him with a task to
protect the Pendragon, their king.
     Magellan picked up his sword and then raced back through sweat
and blood-soaked air.
     Left behind, Lancelot smiled weakly before coughing up another
mouthful of blood. His body spasmed one more time and then went
still forever.


     Mistress 9 wasted no time in attacking.
     Arthur's callous words goaded her on, and more than anything
she desired to rip that damned look off his face. The man was
showing none of the fear she wished the savour from him. He refused
to let fear control him, and that infuriated her.
     With an enraged shout she leapt high into the air, swinging
the Silence Glaive over her head before bringing it down in a slash
meant to cleave the Pendragon into left and right halves. But he
was ready for her. Arthur lifted Excalibur up and countered the
attack, his entire body shuddering from the collision. Yet the
blade remained intact, and he successfully shoved her back.
     Somewhat surprised that he was still alive, Mistress 9 paused
to appraise his sword. "Ara ara," she remarked, brushing aside some
of the bangs clinging to her face. "That's no mere enchanted
blade."
     Arthur permitted his lips to curl back into a savage smile.
"And here you thought I would be an easy kill. Sorry to disappoint,
Milady."
     Hearing that made the Dark Messiah laugh. "On the contrary,"
she replied. "It's making me even hungrier for your magik."
     They clashed once more, and this time Mistress 9 used her
speed. Arthur found himself moving faster than he'd ever had to
before, dodging, ducking and parrying the multitudes of attacks she
sent his way. But he recognized them as Auroran combat techniques,
and was familiar with them.
     But why was Mistress 9 using this fighting style?
     Sparks flew around his head, and Arthur gritted his teeth
before going on the offensive. The Dark Messiah had to hastily jump
back as he slammed the edge of Excalibur into the ground, sending
forth a single, concentrated shockwave of magik which tore apart a
number of demons on the outer ring of their playing field.
     Mistress 9 regarded him coldly. "I'm tired of playing games,"
she snarled.
     "What?" he spat at her. "Don't like the fact that I refuse to
just lie down and die? Or is your power that ineffective?"
     That did it.
     If he'd been looking for something to piss her off, that was
certainly it. Something ignited in the air around the Dark Messiah
with a thunderclap that nearly sent the Pendragon toppling over.
The air was exploding in dark magik, and it was seeking him out.
     Arthur barely had the chance to kick back onto his feet and
raise Excalibur to shield himself from a blow in which Mistress 9
was not holding back any of her powers. She struck the sword with
her glaive. Her full force and magik went into the attack, her body
hovering there in the air. Lightning erupted from between the two
blades as weapon fought against weapon. The world around them was
cascading in hues of red, violet and gold all at once.
     The magnitude of the magik she was flaunting was frightening.
Against the likes of her the Solis System wouldn't stand a chance.
Arthur gritted his teeth and continued to keep her at bay.
     And then Excalibur shuddered with a terrifying upheaval.
Copper eyes widened as a crack snaked across the midpoint of the
blade.
     "No!" he exclaimed in dismay.
     Mistress 9's eyes were alive in glee.
     Excalibur broke in half, the severed end of the blade spinning
wildly into the air. The Dark Messiah never hesitated, letting her
feet touch the ground. She spun around, swinging the glaive in an
upwards arc and slicing Arthur's sword arm off at the elbow.
     With a loud scream Arthur stumbled back and clutched at his
wound, watching helplessly as Excalibur twirled almost gracefully
over his head before the severed end of its blade sank into the
ground. The severed hand still clutching the hilt was thrown off as
the weapon hit the earth with a resounding thud.
     Blood spurted from the stump on Arthur's left arm, crimson
rivers pouring between the fingertips of his gauntlet as he tried
to cover it with his other hand. He found himself fumbling, numb
from the shock of the injury. Unbelieving copper eyes looked at the
Dark Messiah.
     He knew he was about to die.
     Mistress 9 was suddenly in right front of him, their faces
chillingly close. He could feel the cold air from her breath upon
his sweat-drenched brow. And then her hand shot forth, her
fingernails digging into his face, his cheeks, his jaws. Arthur let
out a muted cry of pain as what felt like talons cut into his skin
and drew even more blood from his body.
     Beneath his neck he vaguely felt his body seizing and jerking
like a rag doll. Blood spilled out from his lips and dribbled upon
his breastplate, covering the emblem of Camelot in a thin, red
veil.
     Mistress 9 sneered at him. "Long live the king."
     And then she raked her fingertips down across his face. But
instead of merely breaking skin they cracked through the bones of
the Pendragon's skull, and then ripped. Arthur's entire face was
torn from the rest of his head and skull, a bloodied mess of flesh
and gore now soaking the Dark Messiah's hand. 
     The faceless corpse slumped to the ground.
     The ruler of the Golden Empire was dead.


     The fighting was still just as fierce as when it had first
begun, even though all that was human was slowly and systematically
being wiped out. One of the battle skimmers had set itself upon the
ground and let loose an outpouring of reserve troops. The second
wave smashed into the Shadow armies, and with the now empty battle
skimmer trying to run down and crush any demon in front of it,
Magellan felt a tinge of hope within himself.
     They might just be able to win this war yet.
     Right now, at the very least he was praying that they might
give these creatures something to think twice about. If the Dark
Messiah's forces retreated, that was still a good thing.
     But Magellan had other pressing matters, his own personal
crusade to quest for. Dammit, where was Arthur? It was as if the
battle had swallowed him up. Undaunted and driven by borderline
obsession to find their king, he hacked through whatever demon
beasts stood in his way. The numbers of these ungodly creatures
were getting thicker, something Magellan didn't like.
     He was at the front lines. 
     Why were they all clustering here at the front, when the rest
of the demon army was easily a hundred meters behind them?
     Magellan barely had time to think the matter through before
his armour buckled and then erupted into another malleable spike
which drove itself through the chest of a humanoid monster. His
senses were tickled, and he was distantly aware that the spines
were popping out from everywhere on his body; that last attack had
been from his backside. The Aroth Armour was going out of its way
to make sure he survived this war in one piece. If it sensed and
enemy, it aligned itself with his desire to stay alive and attacked
the nemesis accordingly.
     Suddenly he broke through the worst of the roaring youma, and
stumbled into a patch of the battlefield left virtually untouched.
The demons were using themselves as a barricade to prevent anyone
else from entering. Why?
     Magellan's eyes widened as he saw the fallen form of Sir
Galahad, and he raced to the Knight's side. "Galahad!" he
exclaimed, shaking the man. "Galahad!"
     But there was no response, Galahad's vacant eyes staring up at
the skies. 
     Magellan's gaze shifted to the gaping cut in the Knight's
side. Something had ripped through the armour like it wasn't even
there. The demons were more than capable of such a feat, yes...but
something didn't look right about the wound. Magellan found his
brow furrowing. This wound came from a bladed weapon, unlike any
he'd ever seen before.
     No attack came to him, not even when he closed his eyes and
offered up a silent prayer for Galahad. As he stood back on his
feet, Magellan looked around. The demons were ignoring him. Or else
they were letting someone else take care of him.
     But what could be worse than one of those unnatural--
     Magellan's eyes widened with the realization. "Arthur!" he
shouted, turning and racing across this open space. His wearied
body was given a newfound injection of magik and adrenaline. Fear
seized his every muscle and it work harder.
     Then abruptly he saw someone.
     A young girl.
     Her back was turned to him, and she wore unfamiliar clothing.
A strange dress that barely reached mid-thigh, and clung to her
stomach and chest. Decorated in the colours of white and violet.
White gloves covered her hands and reached all the way to her
elbows. Long boots whose violet colour matched the darkened hues of
her uniform stopped just below the knees.
     And in her hands was a glaive.
     Magellan came to a dead stop, his breathing coming in laboured
gasps. His body was suddenly alive and on edge. The Aroth Armour
was rippling all over him; he himself could sense the strange and
haunting magik surrounding this girl.
     She turned her head.
     Ravendark hair framed her face.
     Violet eyes trembled, pleading with him.
     "Please," she whispered. "Help me."
     Magellan's sword nearly fell out from his hand. He stared in
surprise and disbelief as he recognized her. "Hotaru?" he
whispered. But that was impossible; this girl was of the Auroran
samurai. She should have died with the rest of the planet. 
     "Awaken me," she whispered. "Set me free...."
     And then she vanished like a dream.
     In her place was someone else: a tall woman with long black
hair and a beautiful dress that billowed around her body, driven by
the winds of war. And she too carried a glaive. A chilling giggle
echoed across the battlefield.
     Magellan knew it had come from her.
     "What the hell?" he muttered.
     The Dark Messiah smiled seductively as she turned her head
towards him. "Ohayo. I've been waiting for you, Magellan
Endymion...."
     And there, in her right hand, was the grotesque and mangled
remains of Arthur's face.


     The lunar world was barren.
     And yet there was a foreign beauty in its desolation.
     Setsuna found herself standing upon the edge of a smoky grey
crater which curved gracefully into the surface of the moon. Above
and all around her was the unparalleled majesty of the darkened
heavens, of a cosmic lightshow as thousands upon thousands of stars
twinkled around her. The folds of her fuku rustled from a wind that
should not have existed. Not in a place where there was no air to
breathe.
     Yet she was breathing.
     It reminded her of when she had awoken upon the asteroid field
that was once Aurora. And so it came as no surprise to her when she
turned her head, pushing aside her long tresses of dark hair, and
saw the Raithe sitting upon the rim of the crater.
     "Somehow I knew it was you," she said quietly.
     He didn't answer her, didn't turn to look and acknowledge her
presence. Orbs possessed with a thousand stars all of their own
continued to look at the daunting blue sphere so close and yet so
far away. Earth was so beautiful from this distance. So peaceful.
     The Raithe was leaning against his shakujyo.
     Another stray burst of unseen wind caused the metallic rings
to rattle and chime.
     An arm stretched forth and motioned for Setsuna to join him.
She accepted. There was no other way for her to get back to Earth
outside of the Raithe's powers. She knew she wasn't powerful enough
yet to invoke her own Sailor Teleport.
     Cradling her Timestaff close to her, Setsuna sat down next to
him.
     "Have you ever stopped to marvel at the wonders of the
universe?" he asked her. His voice made her question if she was to
give an answer or stay silent. "Have you ever dreamed of traveling
to realms far beyond the potential of your own limited
imagination?"
     "You have," she said to him.
     The Raithe nodded. "Humanity is not as alone as we might
think, Setsuna. There are worlds upon worlds who leave us alone
because compared to them, we are infants. Yet we all share a
commonality: the capacity for committing good and evil. Some
benevolent beings I've visited would put us to shame.
Others...well, they're worse than words could describe."
     Now he turned his head and stared at her.
     Timeless cosmic eyes gazed into her own magenta ones, and she
caught but a glimpse of the magnitude of everything the Raithe had
ever lived through. A chill ran down her back, unable to conceive
the depths of what he'd seen.
     "Chaos is but a word, Setsuna. Always remember that the
experience of its true power and form is far more terrifying."
     The Raithe went silent once more, and watched the Earth.
     "Why did you bring me here?" Setsuna demanded.
     "The battle for Camelot does not belong to you or the other
Outer Senshi," he answered. "I could afford the luxury of bringing
you here. And besides, we need to talk."
     She scowled, preferring to stare at the crater than at him.
"There's nothing left for us to talk about."
     He pursed his lips into a thin, somewhat amused smile. "On the
contrary, what we have to discuss means everything. There's been a
purpose to what I've done. My cryptic words and gestures have not
been merely to torment you."
     "You could have fooled me."
     "Hai hai. I'm not without my playful streak, I'll admit.
Sometimes a near vicious sense of humour is all that has kept me
sane as the centuries have passed me by."
     The Raithe leaned forward a little on his shakujyo, the rings
chiming once more.
     "The circles of time move in mysterious ways, Setsuna. You
came back into the past to protect the future. But even moreso than
you currently realize, you will become the true guardress of time.
What is your past remains everyone's undiscovered future. Use what
knowledge you have wisely."
     The small garnet orb nestled in the head of his staff started
to flicker. Another wind blew past them, ushering with it a river
of moondust and mist. 
     Opening up his palm, the Raithe handed her a small key. "Take
it. This is the key to a pathway of time known as The Cherry Way."
     Setsuna took the small golden key into her own hand with some
trepidation--and amusement at the name. "Cherry...Way?"
     It sounded odd, yet vaguely familiar.
     The Raithe gave a helpless shrug. "Don't look at me; I didn't
name it. But the Cherry Way is like a backdoor. Whomever possesses
that key has the equivalent of a VIP pass across time. If you give
it out to anyone, screen them wisely first."
     Setsuna's fingers closed protectively over the key.
     There were no more mysteries being held between them. Every
word the Raithe spoke sounded like a final epitaph. He was
finishing the business left between them.
     "The rules about guarding the gate are more guidelines,
really," the Raithe explained to her. "You won't actually be killed
if you break them--so long as you have good cause to. Guidelines
are meant to keep one from getting arrogant and abusing their
power. Your onee-san will make sure you don't stray too far."
     She asked, "What about you?"
     "I had a liberty you won't," he answered. "I have been
creating a future from nothing, Setsuna. Like a painter I have been
able to choose what colours I so desire to stroke across a canvas
that is called Time. You, however...you will have to guard yourself
more closely than I ever had to. What you choose to alter after
this war will have dire consequences on the future."
     Their eyes made contact once more.
     "I have only set things in motion, Setsuna. That was my sole
task. It is up to you now to ensure they stay in motion, and don't
stray from the proper path."
     Setsuna knew the truth now, even if she wished to deny the
suspicions that had been plaguing her since their confrontation
upon Aurora's remains.
     "So it is true," she said quietly, looking at him in a
different light. "You are the first guardian of time, my
predecessor."


     Sailor Venus downed yet another demon.
     And the youma still kept coming.
     If it wasn't for the seemingly endless energy that was
practically bursting through her sailor battle fuku, she'd have
been discouraged by the overwhelming numbers pouring out against
them. An entourage of demon beasts swarmed around her, bristling
with lethal appendages and almost human faces. She disappeared into
Shadowspell and unleashed a fury of magik upon then.
     The shadowy creatures were reduced to smears on the grasses in
the blink of an eye.
     She dropped back to the ground as her Shadowspell retreated.
One of the battle skimmers ploughed through the warzone right
behind her, sending up a maelstrom of wind and debris. The human
soldiers caught in the skimmers path immediately ducked, feeling
the warm fury of magik from the hovering behemoth on their backs.
A number of the demons didn't realize what was happening until the
bow of the skimmer cut them in half or decapitated them.
     Venus glanced over her shoulder to apprise the casualties, and
saw only demon corpses. That much was to her liking, though she
found herself growing concerned with how long Camelot's forces
would be able to keep this up.
     Her blue eyes scanned the area. Moments later they locked onto
something she would have never dreamed of seeing.
     A man was there in the battlefield, and the only reason she
took notice of him was because he looked completely out of place
there. His garments were black, save for a white cross that ran
down one of the sleeves of an overcoat whose edges draped near his
ankles. A braid of dark brown hair danced at his back as he
effortlessly dodged the swipes of a demon. His hands were in his
coat pockets, and his feet were blurs of colour. The demon grew
agitated and roared at him, bent on tearing the sunglasses--and his
head--from the rest of his body. 
     Venus paused, staring in disbelief as she heard the stranger
laugh at the demon.
     And then be abruptly stopped and straightened as if he
realized he was being watched. He turned and looked straight at
Venus. No longer was he paying attention to the demon. Sensing the
opening it charged.
     The stranger kept his gaze at Venus, not so much as flinching
as one of his arms suddenly lashed out and sent a clenched fist
straight through the charging creature's head. Black gore dribbled
down his fist as the monster's body spasmed before going limp. He
pulled out his arm and then sauntered over to Venus.
     Another demon lunged from him when he was only halfway to her.
The Man With No Name looked up as the shadow fell upon him. Venus
didn't even blink, but suddenly he was gone, and four of the
creature's limbs were flying in different directions. Howling in
agony the creature fell onto its back and writhed on the grassland.
     The Man With No Name stood over its head and then knelt down.
His fingers sank into the creature's dark flesh, and wrapped around
the edges of its ribcage. With a savage yank The Man With No Name
tore the beast's ribcage in half and opened its chest up for all to
see.
     Venus nearly threw up on the spot.
     "I've never had so much fun before," The Man With No Name
remarked to her. His eyes were glowing, relishing these newfound
dark desires. So this was what it was like to be human. To possess
aspects of both light and dark.
     He had once despised Mistress 9 for walking the edge of
darkness. Now he was starting to understand why she liked it. Such
unbridled emotion and power was addictive, a wondrous drug
heightened by the magik he could wield.
     Venus managed to settle her stomach, but it took some time
before she could get her voice back. With a trembling, hoarse
whisper she asked, "Why did you do that?"
     "It wished to kill me in a most unpleasant manner," The Man
With No Name replied, making it sound childishly simple. "I merely
returned the sentiment. You should thank me; I just reduced your
enemy by one. Probably saved a soldier's life."
     "We are not like them!" Venus exclaimed, horrified as she saw
the gore clinging to his hands, patches of the creature all over
his coat. "Don't become a monster yourself in fighting them!"
     The Man With No Name watched as the black essence melted away
from a nearby demon corpse to reveal the face of a young man. Eyes
hidden beneath tinted lenses turned to the Soldier of Love. "Are
you absolutely sure about that?"
     Venus angrily made herself as in his face as she could get.
The Man With No Name was a little surprised about the
confrontation. "This is not what we're fighting for," she stated
emphatically. "We are not like them; we want to preserve life."
     He smirked as he listened.
     "Sacrifice...an interesting concept," he mused. "You strive
for noble virtues and at the same time commit wondrous atrocities.
Not much difference from a demon."
     "Being human means we can choose between the two," Venus
countered, refusing to let him walk away. She seized the sleeve of
his coat as he turned to move, holding him at bay. "Don't lose that
gift just because you get a rush from killing. Don't lose the
beauty of who you are--"
     She looked down at the mangled corpse.
     "--unless you want to become something like that."
     The Man With No Name didn't look entirely convinced. His cold
demeanor remained unchanged. "So I'm to kill without being savage
then? I'm still killing."
     Venus felt her heart sink in knowing he was right.
     She was killing too.
     But it was a necessary evil that had to be acknowledged. As a
soldier she would find absolution later. But as Myung she wanted to
make it through this, and be with the man she cared about. The man
she loved.
     Magellan....
     "The world may not be a good place to live in right now," she
said quietly to the Man With No Name. "But we're doing our best to
make it good. If they win, evil wins. Help us."
     Though she could not see through the shades of his lenses, The
Man With No Name's eyes softened as he heard her appeal. Such a
paradox humanity was. And so he was a part of this paradox. But she
possessed within her a wondrous beauty he could not understand. A
dream he could not name.
     Perhaps that's what drew him to her. Perhaps that was why he
nodded in acceptance of her request. "Very well," he said. "We
shall see whether your ideals survive the sacrifice you are making
for them."
     He turned and walked away before Venus had a chance to smile
in relief, before she had a chance to thank him. The folds of his
coat billowed out behind him. The Man With No Name never looked
back, and quickly became lost in the blinding number of battles
around them.
     Venus had no choice but to concentrate on fighting once more.
     Beyond where her eyes could see, The Man With No Name adjusted
the brim of his coat--pausing momentarily to kill another demon.
Though this time he merely killed it. Swift, efficient and in a
sense, merciful.
     "I saw you with Sailor Venus," a voice from behind him
inquired. "Did she spoil some of your fun?"
     The Man With No Name looked over his shoulder and saw Uranus
and Neptune standing behind him. Splotches of demon essence
contrasted with the white of their uniforms. Uranus' Space Sword
was covered in dark blood.
     "I suppose," he answered them. He shook his head over his
encounter with Venus. "I came here to discover what it meant to
have a thirst for vengeance. Now I'm wondering if I thirsted for
the wrong thing."
     Neptune whirled and aimed the glass face of her Aqua Mirror at
a rampaging worm-thing. The creature squealed as a powerful beam of
light from the mirror struck its hide, and it burst apart like a
balloon.
     "Then we can go now," Uranus said.
     The Man With No Name nodded in agreement. "Hai hai."
     "If we go to the palace," Neptune suggested. "We might be able
to find a transport to take us out. It would be faster than
walking, especially given all the unwanted distractions we're
liable to encounter along the way."
     Uranus sighed, wrapping an around Neptune's shoulders. "Sounds
perfect."
     "Incidentally," the Man With No Name remarked. "Just why did
you two follow me out here? I doubt it's because somewhere deep
down you actually care for me."
     A sardonic smirk appeared on Uranus' face. "You know too much,
and I'm willing to bet you're involved with the Grail somehow." 
     One of his eyebrows went up.
     "And because of that," Haruka added. "I don't trust letting
you out of my sight for even a minute."


     Mistress 9's eyes were already feeding off the mere sight of
him, and it made Magellan inwardly cringe. "I can taste your
magik," she whispered, licking her lips in anticipation. "Such
exquisite power, so unlike what your master here possessed."
     The Silence Glaive rained down scarlet droplets upon the
ground beneath her, the blood sprinkling the fallen body of King
Arthur. Magellan's eyes widened when he recognized the royal armour
of the corpse. Slowly his gaze was lifted to the Dark Messiah, his
ocean blue orbs storming over with horror and wrath.
     "You...."
     It was all he managed to get out from his mouth, and even then
it was a near inaudible hiss.
     Mistress 9 didn't seem troubled by the angered resolve with
which Magellan raised his sword, his shoulders rising and falling
from the deep breaths he took. If anything she encouraged him to
step forward and test his skill. One hand left the shaft of her
glaive, a finger crooking for Magellan to come closer.
     The challenge was accepted before she had a chance to blink.
     Like a maddened tempest Magellan charged, keeping his sword
gripped with only one hand that was raised over his head. A battle
cry shook the field, and he savagely tried to take her head off
with one decisive strike. The Dark Messiah brought up her glaive
and blocked the strike--then jumped back as one solid tendril of
armour arced through the air, falling short of impaling her through
the chest.
      A barrage of golden roses refused to permit her a chance to
catch her breath. But it didn't matter. She was stronger than this
human. Stronger and faster. Two of the roses meant to kill her were
deflected with ease. The third one she caught with a free hand.
     "Mmmm, such fragrance," she teased him cruelly, inhaling the
aroma of the flower. The blossom was then crushed in her palm, the
rose discarded and dropped to the ground. "It has the scent of
magikal death."
     Magellan's eyes were feverishly searching the battlefield.
     At this rate he'd be joining Arthur as a fresh body for the
birds to pick at. There was no more duty to protect the Pendragon;
now more than anything his blood burned for vengeance. But fighting
her was like a mongoose attacking a herd of stampeding elephants.
     "Shit," he muttered, adjusting his grip on his sword. "Where
are you when I need you for a distraction, Frederic?"


     The Raithe's eyes watched the Earth, but not the war.
     From the cold comfort of a distant moon, eyes possessing the
constellations within gazed upon the brilliant blue planet
dominating the reaches of this darkened space. He knew the battle
was raging, that people were dying, that a reluctant ruler was now
fighting for his life.
     That would change very soon.
     And the Messiah Wars would enter the next phase.
     Everything was as he had foreseen it, as he had worked long
and hard to make it come to pass. To know there was no one waiting
for him now that he had reached the end was his burden.
     "My task is almost completed, Setsuna," he said. "My duties
are ending. I was destined to guard the gates of time, and to set
this future on its heading. What I did holds benefits only when
gazed in the long-term. I'm not asking forgiveness from you, just
that you hear me out and remember my words when that future at last
comes." 
     Setsuna found herself unable to speak. Not because of surprise
or disbelief. There was a finality to what he spoke. This was his
final lesson before he...before he did what, then?
     She didn't know that answer.
     She feared to find out.
     The Raithe's shimmering eyes turned to her, and in them she
saw fond affection. As a sensei to a pupil. And as something more.
"I've been training you, Setsuna, to be my successor. The mantle of
time's guardian now belongs to you, its rightful owner."


     No distraction came.
     Mistress 9 pounced on him, shoving Magellan back onto the
dirt. He coughed from the impact, though the armour cushioned his
fall better than any other coat of metal. The Dark Messiah's glaive
came swooping down like a guillotine blade. Magellan barely managed
to roll out of the way as it tried to shear off his head.
     The blade grazed his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood down
his face. Magellan ignored it. He stumbled to get back onto his
feet, trying to ward her off with his sword. Mistress 9 stalked
relentlessly after him and swatted his weapon away. It was nothing
more than a toy to her.
     Out of the corner of his vision, Magellan saw Excalibur
sticking out from the grass. It was the closest weapon to him, but
could he reach it before he was killed?
     Mistress 9 swung her glaive again.
     Magellan had no time to move. The best he could do was raise
his forearms in front of his face and pray for either a divine
intervention or a swift and painless death.
     The glaive struck.
     His armguard cracked...but didn't fall apart. 
     Magellan was forced a step back and collapsed onto his knees;
his arm felt like it had been painfully broken, causing him to cry
out in pain. But what got the Dark Messiah pausing in surprise was
the fact that she hadn't cut off his arm altogether.
     "Interesting," she remarked.
     Her hesitation was the diversion Magellan had been praying
for. Already he could feel the magik of the armour working to
repair itself, and he was regaining the use of his hand again.
     In desperation he threw himself across the ground, his hand
seizing the hilt of Excalibur and wrenching it from the earth. With
a frantic, fluid motion he raised the broken blade over his face
just as Mistress 9 brought down her glaive. Her attack was parried,
sparks flying as Excalibur held her weapon back. Magellan winced as
he tried to keep her at bay, both hands holding the sword. But even
then his wrists were screaming in pain, his body at the completely
wrong angle to be blocking like this.
     He couldn't hold this up for much longer.


     Lunar winds cried out and rang the chimes of the Raithe's
shakujyo. His smile was fading, the enigmas falling away one by one
like discarded masks. Setsuna found herself staring at a youth who
had seen more centuries than perhaps anyone else. Long hair of
faded copper draped down his back, and his eyes were now a deep
baby blue. The face he had once worn while the being Lord of Ilsa
Esylin.
     "The fact is that when I'm gone, no one will ever know that I
existed," he said quietly. "No one who knew me will be alive to
remember...except for you, Setsuna. And because of that, I want you
to know my name, my true name."
     Momentary confusion wrinkled her brow.
     "It isn't Raithe?" she asked.
     "Raithe?" he remarked, mulling over his own name. And then he
shook his head, suddenly weary of all the games and secrets he had
played longer than his memory could recall. "Raithe is merely a
play upon a creature I know all too well. A wraith is a but a
ghost, hardly ever glimpsed and rarely ever remembered. It suited
me and my vocation well enough that I adopted the name as my own.
     "I have another name, one given to me by a mother whose face
I cannot remember, but whose sweet lullaby still haunts me today
and reminds me that somewhere deep down I am still human."  
     Moonlight Denketsu.
     A melody he hoped would be passed on to his daughter. 
     A quiet request was made to whomever might be listening that
she remember the melody, and sing it to her children one day. The
grandchildren he would never be able to see.
     The Raithe's eyes closed for a moment as he took a deep
breath, savouring the crisp, cool air that was somehow all around
them despite the vast vacuum of space. Orbs that beheld hundreds of
stars and heavens opened once again, and were turned towards
Setsuna.
     "My name," he told her. "is Chronos."


     Suddenly the pulse of a foreign heartbeat roared through
Magellan's ears. Excalibur twitched in his hands. 
     Mistress 9's violet eyes widened as she heard the echoing
heartbeat. "Masaka!" she hissed, sensing the awakening.
     Excalibur exploded back to life, a tsunami of liquid metal
erupting from the pommel and hilt to wash over the broken blade.
Magellan was barely able to hold onto the sword as the magik
practically tore it from his grasp. The tendrils thrashed wildly,
almost shrieking as they tried to fold over what wasn't there.
     The weapon lurched sideways, throwing Magellan along with it.
He fought to keep Excalibur in his grasp, but that was virtually
impossible. Holding the sword steady as its magik kicked and
screamed out of control was making him look away from Mistress 9--
something that was liable to get him killed. And in the back of his
mind, he was frantically searching for an explanation.
     Did the Aroth Armour do this?
     Or was it something else?
     Magellan barely had the chance to give it any further thought
as Mistress 9 let out a shout and raked the Silence Glaive down. He
parried with Excalibur, feeling a solid counter-force stopping the
Dark Messiah's attack cold. Her body was trembling furiously as she
tried to crack the sword a second time.
     But Excalibur refused to bend.
     Suddenly one of the metallic tendrils lashed out, nearly
slashing Mistress 9 across the cheek. She jumped back, hastily
reassessing her opponent. Magellan smiled until the tendril came
screaming back and nearly decapitated him. Within a heartbeat the
Aroth Armour formed its visor, deflecting the rampant power.
     Magellan pushed off from his knees and stood on his feet. The
plates of the Aroth Armour were churning upon his body, crackling
as two distinct magiks tried to feed off each other but could not.
Certainly not when Excalibur was broken and bleeding its magik,
howling like a wild and wounded animal.
     "Come on," he hissed, glaring at the sword as it again tried
to fling itself into the air, the tendrils now starting to melt
into cascades of liquid metal. "Give me something to work with!"
     But Excalibur refused to calm itself.
     Mistress 9 lunged again.
     With an aggravated shout, Magellan hurled Excalibur aside and
braced himself for battle. As Excalibur spun through the air and
fell upon the earth, its convulsions ceased, and the sword went
silent. However, Magellan found himself unable to consider what
that meant.
     The Aroth Armour abruptly churned and flowed into one of his
hands, a spike now reforming itself to become a broadsword.
Magellan raised it above his head with frightening ease, as if it
weighed nothing at all. The Silence Glaive smashed into his
makeshift sword, but the Aroth Armour held, sparks flying as the
blades ran up and down each other's lengths.
     "You don't really think you'll win, do you?" the Dark Messiah
sneered.
     "You might find us Earthians full of surprises," he retorted
through clenched teeth.
     And then he shoved Mistress 9 back as hard as he could. She
nearly tumbled backwards head over heels, but regained her balance
at the last possible second. The Messiah of Silence hovered in the
air, glaring at him. She lunged moments later. Magellan was
waiting.
     Blows met with showers of white hot sparks, and explosions of
magik. The air was saturated with their dueling powers. For every
strike Mistress 9 made, Magellan stopped it and then performed an
attack of his own that caused her to sweat from the effort of
defending herself. Their bodies were dancing together across the
battlefield, a frenzy of clashing magiks causing human and demon
alike to stop and watch.
     Magellan sidestepped a thrust from the Silence Glaive that
tore a long and winding hole through the ground before finally
detonating in the faces of a cluster of demons. He swung the
Aroth's sword, delivering an equally vicious attack that split the
earth where the blade touched. Mistress 9 sprang back as the area
beneath Magellan's feet was scorched and sank into a desolate
crater.
     "Tenacious bastard!" she swore.
     This human whelp was starting to agitate her.
     Why did he refuse to die like she wanted him to?!
     Mistress 9 launched herself into the air, her shadow falling
over Magellan. Black lightning crackled and snaked around her
glaive, coursing down her arms and legs. Her hair billowed out as
she began to let manifest the true power of a Messiah. Deep within
the daimon possessing her shrieked with glee.
     Magellan sucked in his breath as he watched her hover in the
air, summoning what was no doubt a devastating attack. "Please be
able to deflect this," he whispered to the armour. He wanted to see
Frederic and his friends again. He wanted to touch Myung and hear
her voice one more time....
     The armour heard him.
     Magik resonated with a heartbeat, and then quickened.
     With a demonic cry Mistress 9 plunged to the ground,
accelerating at an impossible rate. The blur she became to everyone
else was but a crystal clear image in Magellan's eyes. He watched
her descend and raised the sword over his head to block the
glistening blade of the glaive.
     "SHIN'NE!!" the Dark Messiah bellowed.
     And then suddenly she vanished.
     Magellan awkwardly blinked, nearly tumbling backwards in still
expecting to feel the attack. 
     There was no trace of Mistress 9.
     The tempest of magik had blown itself out of existence along
with her.
     Not sure if he should be wary, frightened, or grateful, the
Vlatmere prince slowly backed away from where he had fought her.
Confused eyes glanced around the battlefield. 
     "What the hell?" he murmured.


     The warmth of the Raithe's lips suddenly and gently pressing
against hers came without warning, and not without a degree of
acceptance. This was the additional fondness that she had seen in
his eyes, ever so often in the past, ever so much more since Aurora
had been destroyed. When he parted, Setsuna wasn't sure to feel
indignant or to draw him back for another kiss.
     "I've been waiting sixteen years to do that," he admitted with
a lopsided smile. "Say hello to my daughter when you meet her,
Setsuna. And good luck on your task. Don't let it break you like it
tried to break me."
     The Raithe took up his shakujyo and rose to his feet. Metallic
rings chimed across a dark void that should not have permitted any
sound at all.
     "And now, Setsuna, I bid you farewell."
     Without the chance to say a word, express a message through
her eyes, or even to reach out with an arm of protest, Setsuna
vanished from the rim of the crater. The Raithe dwelled in silence
and solitude, his final lull before the storm.
     Moments later, Mistress 9 suddenly appeared. Her surprise and
anger was visible despite the distance between her and the Raithe.
She turned and saw him, her violet eyes narrowing. He was to blame
for interrupting her. He was the cause for disrupting her euphoric
bloodshed. Dark magik crackled, causing the dust upon the surface
of the moon to tremble and ripple like watery waves.
     The Raithe calmly took a step forward and prepared himself to
do battle.


     To say Magellan was stunned was an understatement.
     One moment, on the verge of being harbinger fodder. The next
moment, nothing. The Dark Messiah simply vanished--and it appeared
not because she had wanted to. He glanced around the battlefield,
unbelieving of this event, but saw nothing to indicate she'd
returned to a different place. He was alone and virtually forgotten
by human and demon alike. 
     Magellan made his way back to Excalibur and picked up the
blade. It responded to his touch and began to jerk in his grip, the
molten tendrils of magik trying to reshape a blade that was no
longer wholly there. The broken weapon might have looked useless,
but now it was more dangerous than ever before--especially to the
wielder.
     When it came to magik, appearances were always deceiving.
     "Stop!" he hissed as the sword tried to buck itself into the
air. Much to his surprise, Excalibur went silent. Magellan regarded
the sword, not entirely sure what to think. It knew commands, and
what's more obeyed when it heard his voice?
     Almost by instinct, he made to sheath the sword over his back,
even though there was no scabbard. The Aroth Armour changed its
form and secured the remains of the blade within itself, leaving
the decorated hilt and pommel for all to see.
     But now he was left with an opening. Mistress 9 was nowhere in
sight, and perhaps wasn't even anywhere near Camelot. He had to
seize the opportunity while it was still there--and while he was
still there too, for that matter. But what could be done?
     Magellan looked around the sprawling fields of Camelot.
     The Knights of the Round Table lay slaughtered at his feet.
Arthur was no longer recognizable, even as a corpse. The battalion
leaders were either dead or being pushed back, almost right against
the castle walls. One of the battle skimmers was evacuating troops
while defending itself from demon attack. The other troop transport
had crashed onto the surface and was lying there, an enormous metal
skeleton now being ripped apart by demons in search of the humans
inside.
     "We aren't going to make it," he murmured to himself.
     This was one battle they could not win.
     Magellan marched towards the nearest cluster of human
soldiers, almost blas‚ about the demons rampaging around him. Any
who drew too near were either cut in half by the armour or impaled
by a rose. Endymion killed them without blinking, possessed by a
natural calm that required him to barely react or even turn his
head when an attack came.
     A beast resembling the goblins in a fairy tale he'd once been
read as a child lunged, and was sliced in half at the waist.
Magellan didn't care about the black blood being dashed against his
face and armour. He felt beyond dirty and blood-soaked.
     The soldiers looked at him with unexpected awe and reverence.
They awaited his next command, almost eager to find inspiration in
his power and courage, and take up arms against the Shadow Army.
However, the words he spoke were not the words they had been
expecting to hear.
     "Get everyone back to the castle," Magellan stated.
     One man stepped forward, staring at him in blank confusion.
"Sir?"
     Magellan scowled. They were wasting too much time like this,
when good people were dying every second. If they wanted to survive
and regroup for another defense, they needed as many fighters as
they could get. He only hoped Myung had made it through this battle
alive.
     "My name," he stated loud enough so that any survivors within
earshot would clearly hear. "is Lord Magellan Endymion of Vlatmere.
Arthur and his Knights are dead, and I am assuming command. We
can't hold our own out here any longer. Get whatever troops you can
on the outskirts to the battle skimmer, and then have it evacuate
this place. I want everyone else inside the castle within fifteen
minutes, and I want Camelot sealed up tighter than a drum!"
     The soldier nodded and started to race towards the castle,
frantically shouting out to the others. All too quickly they joined
in the flight back towards Camelot. No one was going to argue; they
all just wanted to get out alive. Any demons standing in their way
were either avoided or taken down--though not before a number of
them killed a few stray soldiers.
     Magellan held back a minute after everyone else.
     Solemnly he watched the Camelot forces falling apart.
     "This is it," he said quietly.
     The time to sound the retreat had come.


     Upon the grey surface moon, the Messiah of Silence stood and
stared at the daunting blue planet behind her. Earth seemed to
hover there in the darkness, mystic and beautiful. Yet she had
stood upon the planet a heartbeat ago, only to find herself here.
Detached from the war she was so lovingly provoking. Denied the
chance to kill that Earthian prince who had refused to let her
taste his blood and his strange magik.
     Mistress 9 focused her gaze back upon the Raithe.
     He stood there at the edge of a gaping crater, unseen winds
blowing his darkened robes and shaking the rings of his shakujyo.
He breathed the same air she breathed, though there should have
never been air at all upon this lifeless satellite of stone.
     "You did this," she said finally, taking a cautious step
towards him. There had been no warning of this teleport, and she
had been unable to stop the process until it had deposited her
here. The man before her had done all of this.
     He was not a man to be taken lightly.
     If he was a man at all.
     "Who are you?" she demanded, swinging her glaive and resting
the base of the polearm on the moonrocks.
     The Raithe merely smiled. "Someone who wants to talk."
     "You tore me from my war. I was hoping for a delicious taste
of magik when you came knocking."
     "Oh, you mean Magellan?" the Raithe remarked. He shrugged the
name aside like it meant nothing--though silently, he knew it meant
everything. "He's unique, but nothing compared to us."
     "I know what I am," the Messiah of Silence stated. She took
another step towards him. Her piqued curiousity was the only thing
keeping her from trying to outright kill him.
     The Raithe idly wondered how long he'd be able to capture her
interest.
     She continued, "I am the oracle of Pharaoh Ninety."
     "An oracle who has yet to fulfill her duties," the Raithe
replied coolly.
     The raven-haired woman scowled at him.
     That had managed to strike a nerve.
     "And what," she inquired icily. "do you know of my duties?"
     For what felt like the first time a long time, the Raithe let
out a bark of laughter. He laughed at the Dark Messiah, at her
arrogance and ignorance. And as he laughed she fumed, the aura of
her blak magik starting to churn and shatter the rocks around her.
     Before she could ask what he found so damned amusing, he said,
"I'm surprised you haven't recognized the one who carried your
daimon egg across the depths of space, Mistress Nine. Who do you
think found you such a powerful host?"
     Mistress 9 gave pause.
     She was half-believing. The other half was barely being
restrained from leaping forward and tearing him to shreds with her
bare hands. The Dark Messiah began to move closer to him, the
glaive poised to strike if she so desired.
     "Why did you stop me from conquering Camelot?" she demanded.
     "Camelot?" he laughed in reply. "Such a puny place, with such
puny magik. You think you'll find what you're looking for there?
All the magik in Camelot won't bring Pharaoh Ninety to this
system."
     Now he had her full and utmost attention.
     Violet eyes alive in evil watched him carefully.
     "So why fight me if you wish to help bring my master to
Earth?" she asked.
     The Raithe shook his head. He shifted the position of the
shakujyo, metallic ringing echoing across the lunar plains.
"Whoever said I was allied with your master? I'm creating a future,
something that requires me to play both sides. Don't think I'm
helping you out of the goodness of my heart." 
     He leaned forward, knowing starlit eyes watching the Dark
Messiah. "Your StarChamber needs a booster."
     "And my Golden Crystal is gone," she added, swiftly growing
tired of entertaining his presence. "What of it?"
     The Raithe waved a chiding finger at her. "All that magik and
still unaware of how to use it. You want power, Mistress Nine? You
want the Solis System to tremble before you like never before? You
can wipe out a planet with your power...but how about finding the
power to destroy an entire star system?"
     The enigmatic smile that had always been a defining part of
his identity appeared. "Seek the Grail."
     Mistress 9 regarded him oddly. Such a thing she had never
heard of before. Such a power she had never even felt before upon
the face of that Earth planet. "Grail," she repeated. She smiled,
liking how easily the word rolled across her tongue, as if the word
itself was possessed by magik and left a sweet, lingering taste for
her to savour in her mouth. "This Grail can give me power. So where
might I find it?"
     "I honestly don't know," the Raithe confessed. "It's resting
place is hidden even from me. I'm just a messenger, Mistress Nine.
Now it's your turn to decide what you're going to do with what I've
told you."
     She watched him in silence, being quiet almost too long for
his liking, her eyes fixated on his. And then she smiled. Began to
giggle demurely. "I can see the truth in your eyes. And the Grail
is waiting for me somewhere on Earth."
     With another giggle, she stepped back and swung her Silence
Glaive around. "Thank you for being such an entertaining host," she
said. Her eyes turned darker. The curving, pointed edge of the
glaive was nudged underneath the Raithe's chin. "But I have a
prince to kill, and a Grail to find. Which means our conversation
is over...as well as your life."
     Unlike all the opponents she'd ever faced, the reaction she
got from the Raithe perplexed her the most. Everyone was afraid to
die. Whether or not they professed it, the fear existed. Sometimes
they'd be ready to die for a cause, and use that to placate their
fears.
     But the Ancient showed no signs of fear.
     No signs of wanting to fight on.
     His task was at last completed.
     It was time to let it end.


     "Move!" Magellan shouted, shoving yet another straggling
soldier further down the hall. A demon warrior lunged over his
hand, and Magellan buried the sharpened stem of a golden rose right
between its eyes.
     He risked a glance back at some of the panicked and frozen
troops. "Get to the Warhammer! It's our only chance to escape!" 
     A blurring line of soldiers raced past him, most having
abandoned their swords. Some were crying out in fear, desperate to
escape. The others were carrying wounded comrades to the lift
platforms that would take them up to the transport docks and
hangars. Magellan was commanding the last line of defense standing
between the fleeing personnel and the fury of the Shadow Army.
     But getting out of Camelot proved to be harder than expected.
By the time they'd managed to partially seal themselves into the
heart of the castle, the entire place was swarming with the damned
things. A mild comfort had presented itself when Magellan had
caught a glimpse through some of the lancet windows the sight of a
lone battle skimmer escaping the battle.
     Now the only worry was ensuring they could rendezvous with
those survivors later. Magellan swung the towering blade that was
now extending from the top of his gauntlet, taking out entire row
of demons. Their bodies spewed forth shadowy blood, drenching his
already soaked armour. Corpses of human and youma were piling up
all around them, creating a virtual bottleneck. If the demons
didn't want to scale the mounds of bodies and get shot down by a
small group of archers, they'd have to make their way through a
narrow gauntlet--at which Magellan was in the front.
     Very few actually managed to get past him.
     Those that did were usually too wounded to make it through the
next awaiting trio of soldiers.
     "Shit, where do they keep coming from?" he muttered to
himself. The hordes seemed to be endless--and he still had yet to
see Myung anywhere in the castle. Magellan silently hoped that she
was already on the Warhammer, waiting for him. He wasn't about to
disappoint her by not appearing.
     His eyes darted over to one of the doors lining the corridor
as it was flung open. Out tumbled a small and battered group of
soldiers desperate to reach him. Magellan turned to the soldiers
behind him. "Keep your positions!" he snapped.
     A barrage of roses were his escourt, cutting apart any
opposition that tried to get near the men-at-arms. With a leap
defying gravity and possessed by magik, Magellan flung himself
across the grandiose hallway, turning his body sideways and using
the upper wall as a springboard. He ricocheted off the stone,
twisting his form before landing between the charging forces of
darkness, and his fellow warriors.
     His makeshift sword rippled and lost one edge in favour for
two curved ones, becoming a battle axe that neatly reduced the
first of the ungodly beasts to pieces. The Aroth Armour let two
more spines erupt from his back and take out the last of the
nearest demons. As Magellan helped one of the straggling men limp
towards the lift platform, the archers provided cover, flaming
arrows sending up smoke and flames to sent the demons running
around in chaos.
     "How are we doing?" Magellan asked.
     "They've broken down the defensive line at the East Wing," the
captain of the guard stated between quickened gasps for air. He
winced as he clutched his side. "They've smashed through the gate
and are heading this way. There's nothing between us and them
anymore to stop their advance."
     Magellan grimaced. "How long 'til they meet up with our
current unwelcomed guests?"
     Suddenly one of the walls at the far end of the corridor
buckled and exploded, stone bricks of silver bursting forth and
spilling out across the floor. A new horrific legion of darkness
swept out into the hall, crashing into the current wave of demons
they had to contend with.
     Magellan lowered his arm from his eyes as the cloud of dust
settled. He grimaced as he saw the tide of monstrosities flow
towards them. "Where's Merlin when we need him?" he muttered. Had
creating Illusion taken that much strength out of the seemingly old
wizard?
     He handed the captain of the guard over to someone else, and
whirled as he rammed one end of the battle axe through the chest of
a horned monster. Enraged, the beast snapped and thrashed, refusing
to die. Its claws bounced off the Aroth Armour, sending up sparks.
Magellan winced as he drove the blade in deeper, flinching and
trying to keep his head from getting ripped off.
     With a resounding crunch, the axe broke through something
vital in the creature's body. It twitched and spasmed, unleashing
a guttural howl as it foamed at the mouth. The foam dribbled down
its jaws and fell into Magellan's shoulder pauldron. Instantly
there was a hiss as the corrosive saliva tried to eat through the
enchanted metal.
     Magellan tilted his neck as far away as he could before he
pulled the battle axe upwards, slicing through as many vulnerable
organs as he could. In a final gurgle, the demon collapsed and
died. But even as it fell, Magellan could see even more of its kind
were overtaking the corridor, surging towards the handful of humans
protecting the lift elevator.
     "We can't hold this position anymore!" one of the man-at-arms
called out. "Lord Endymion, get onto the platform."
     Magellan refused. "You get onto the lift!" he shouted, waving
them back. "I'll hold them back!"
     "Milord!" one of them protested.
     Magellan hoisted his battle axe up so they could see the
blade. It rippled and changed into a serrated-edged sword once
more. "I'll be right behind you. Do I order!"
     The last of them managed to collapse onto the lift platform.
With a loud whoosh of air it began to rapidly ascend with a
momentary shudder. The soldiers watched Magellan fend off the
overwhelming tide of demons. Even with his magik and his skill, at
best he could only last a few minutes against such lethal odds.
Magellan himself knew that.
     The only problem was how to get onto his own lift and leave
enough distance between him and these youma so they wouldn't get
onto the platform with him. 
     "This had better not be my last stand," he growled, hacking
off a few outstretched limbs. He made a thin smile. "Myung will
kill me if I'm late."
     However, a solution presented itself.
     Magellan froze, along with all the other demons in the
corridor, as a large and gaping black portal opened itself up over
their heads. And then the gates of hell seemed to be unleashed as
the portal let loose with a brutal volley of black lightning.
Magellan hastily leapt out of the way as the youma ranks were
burned or cut apart. Body parts tumbled onto the floor in a rain of
blood.
     Rolling on his shoulder, Magellan came back into a defensive
stance, holding his armour's blade in front of him. "That's a new
one," he remarked, not even sure if he had been that lightning's
real target.
     "You like it, then?" a feminine voice asked.
     Magellan spun around in surprise, raising the sword but
lowering it moments later when he saw Sailor Venus standing to his
right. "That was you?" he said.
     She nodded and winked. "You're welcome."
     In a moment of indulgent luxury, Magellan raced forward and
drank deeply from her lips. She returned his kiss with an equally
fierce passion. The adrenaline and relief in knowing the other was
all right carried them out of the war for a brief instant in time.
     An incensed roar thundered across the hallway and harshly
tossed them back into Camelot. Venus and Magellan turned to see the
second wave trampling their fallen demonic kin underfoot, racing
towards the lift.
     "Looks like reinforcements have arrived," Magellan remarked,
slowly backing away. "We had better get out of here. NOW."
     "They're going to be right on the lift with us at this rate,"
Venus countered, though she was stepping back alongside with him.
     Magellan's eyes caught sight of his reflection in the black-
smeared blade. "Maybe not. Get onto the lift; I have an idea."
     She stared at him, hoping against hope that whatever idea he
had involved both of them making it onto the flight deck. Magellan
stood in front of the lift, spreading his legs apart. One hand
reached back and drew Excalibur out from the armour, the weapon
reacting instantly to freedom.
     Magellan's eyes narrowed as he fought the wild weapon,
concentrating as much as he could on the Aroth Armour backing this
raging magik. The armour responded, slowly snaking its way over his
hand and onto the pommel. Though Excalibur still kicked in his
grip, Magellan found himself a little harder to be shaken. However
the armour refused to touch the rampaging liquid of the broken
blade.
     That didn't matter.
     He was counting on Excalibur still striking blindly.
     But that was his gamble. 
     Excalibur was twirled in his hands until the blade pointed to
the floor. He could feel the Aroth Armour and Excalibur colliding
against the other's magik, almost as potently as they were feeding
off the magik in his own body. An enormous amount of unbridled
energy was being created between the armour and the sword,
incredibly destructive but without a vent or focus.
     Magellan closed his eyes to the enemy and calmed himself as
best he could.
     Three powerful magiks. What he had to was channel them all
into one devastating attack.
     Magellan's body suddenly tingled, his nerves going hyperactive
as the world around him became acutely aware of the magik
saturating his system. The magik of Aroth began to align with his
own strange breed. And then both started attacking the untamed
magik of Excalibur, creating an even greater pool of raw energy.
     It felt like he was creating lightning.
     "Magellan!" Venus cried out.
     His eyes flew open, and beheld the unholy legions right in
front of him. With a loud shout, Magellan rammed Excalibur into the
ground, driving the broken blade and thrashing tendrils through the
floor and forcing it to sink into stone. There was a flash of
light, the entire hallway heaving from the impact.
     The masonwork crumbled from Excalibur's touch, the floor
collapsing and falling into the darkness of the level beneath them.
But the hole kept moving, seeking to engulf others. A long, jagged
crack shot across the corridor, snaking around and between the
multitudes of youma feet. Suddenly the floor burst and caved in.
Bricks no longer held their solid footing and pelted the shrieking
demons who plummeted downwards.
     Numerous creatures frantically clawed over each other to reach
safe ground, others flinging themselves onto the walls. A violent
and tumultuous upheaval now rocked Camelot, and the walls
themselves started to break apart and toss the wayward demons down
to the darkened realms below.
     The second he felt the castle shake, Magellan realized he'd
allowed for too much power in the attack. It wasn't centralized or
doing what he commanded. It was merely acting with unbridled
restraint, the floor beneath him now cracking apart too. He
wrenched Excalibur upwards and then turned. With one desperate leap
he dove for the edge of the lift, the fingers of one hand
tenaciously clinging to it for dear life.
     Venus activated the platform as he clamped onto its outer rim.
She helped him climb onto the ascending platform, leaving the Army
of Silence beneath them in death and disarray. Excalibur, dormant
once again, made a loud metallic 'clunk!' as Magellan slammed it
down onto the lift's floor. His other hand now free, he grabbed
hold of a railing and brought himself up over the edge. The last
thing he wanted was his legs dangling over the side for some high-
jumping creature to grab hold of--and potentially tear off from the
rest of his body.
     "Are we the last?" Venus asked.
     Magellan forced a nod, knowing there were some souls lost
within the castle who would have to be left behind. "More or less.
We can't help anyone else here, or else we'll miss our only ride
out."
     The smallest transports would have already been taken. All
that remained was Vlatmere's own carrier ship, the Warhammer.
     Magellan lifted his ocean blue eyes up to the height of the
shaft. "Please have the engine running when we get there,
Frederic," he muttered.


     And upon the moon, the battle was just as fierce.
     It didn't wholly surprise Mistress 9 to discover that the
Raithe was not longer where she had intended him to be. She drove
the blade of her glaive upwards, meaning to use the driving force
to rip his head off. But the Raithe was suddenly standing a fair
distance behind her.
     No longer was he acting courteous.
     His left hand gripped his shakujyo, eyes filled with a
thousand stars glaring at her. "And to think you are a part of my
legacy," he hissed.
     The Dark Messiah spun around and smashed the blade of her
weapon into the ground. The moon's surface split apart, a jagged
chasm opening up as it raged towards the Raithe. His eyes opened
wider as he summoned a powerful burst of magik, jamming the base of
his shakujyo into the rock. The opening chasm collided with a
barrier, the area bathed in flashes of blue and white as Mistress
9's magik tried to claw its way through. The dust at the Raithe's
feet was rocking and rippling.
     But his barrier held long enough to force the attack to waver
in its potency. There was a moment of weakness. He seized it.
Raking the ringed staff in a downwards arc, he returned the favour
back to Mistress 9. Except this time the rocks rose up from their
resting places around her, skyrocketing out into the depths of
space.
     She hovered in the air, dodging and deflecting the chunks of
rock that tried to batter her left and right. With an angered shout
she unleashed her blak magik, letting it radiate out from her.
There was a split second amidst the flying pieces of earth where
she saw the Raithe standing in her sights.
     Mistress 9 pointed her glaive and sent out a single, short
burst of power. The Raithe screamed as his arm was torn off, a
crimson flood spattering his side as the severed and lifeless limb
spun through the air. It landed next to his feet, fingers twitching
slightly.
     He felt woozy and disorientated with the sudden blood loss,
reminded once more of what it was like to be a person who could not
use any form of magik. He was holding back. He had to hold back,
for the sake of the future.
     But now he grew angry as he listened to the Dark Messiah's
arrogant laughter. The last particles of flying rock were dashed to
shards by an unseen hand, and out from the grey cloud emerged
Mistress 9. A cruel smile was on her lips.
     "Ara ara, is this all the power the last Ancient has?" she
inquired, toying with her weapon's blade.
     The Raithe's eyes narrowed.
     "Just because I'm letting you win," he snarled. "doesn't mean
it's going to be easy killing me!"


     The immense steel form of the Warhammer, its exhaust ports
letting off blasts of steam as it went through the final motions of
its launch cycle, was a welcomed sight for Magellan. The lift
platform came to a stop, and he wasted no time getting off it.
     Venus used her attack to destroy the access shaft for the
lift, sealing off the demons down below--and dropping a lethal
amount of debris on their heads. All the while, Endymion watched
her back. Already a number of demons had decided to scurry across
the flight deck. They all suffered the same fate in the end,
falling to the Aroth armour or his roses. 
     "Let's go!" Venus exclaimed, racing past him towards the
Warhammer. She could see one of the doors in the forward
compartment opened and waiting for them. A foursome of soldiers
were busy keeping the exit cleared, viciously cutting down any
beast attempting to destroy the craft.
     Magellan was one step behind Venus, and made sure he was the
last one to board. He let Excalibur's immense size return to the
harmless-looking sword. The door remained opened as he felt the
Warhammer shudder beneath his feet. He let the spikes of his armour
jab through the head of a demon trying to get on. "Anytime now!" he
shouted down one of the interior corridors.
     Someone was obviously listening.
     The Warhammer began to lift off the flight deck.
     One last youma took a flying leap and managed to catch hold of
the edge of the doorframe. Magellan kicked it in the head and
watched it tumble back onto the castle. Satisfied no more of those
monstrosities could get aboard, he turned and sealed the door shut
behind him.
     The craft shifted and sent Magellan tumbling against the wall.
He scowled and pushed himself back into the middle of the corridor.
A few seconds later found him at the doorway to the cockpit. The
entry hatch retracted sideways into the wall, allowing him passage
into a part of the ship almost entirely encased in glass.
     Venus was waiting there for him.
     And sitting in the pilot's chair was Frederic. Vlatmere's top
archer looked about as grimy and sweaty as Magellan felt. But they
still weren't in the clear yet.
     "About time," Frederic quipped, a relieved look on his face in
seeing Magellan. "What took you?"
     "Elevator was busy," Magellan glibly replied.
     That got a chuckle from Frederic. He punched a few more
commands into the Warhammer's navigation system. "Good to see you
still in one piece, Magellan."
     "Save it for when Camelot's no longer in our sight."
     Frederic nodded, bringing the transport into a higher
altitude. The ship swung itself around for its course heading.
Camelot came into view, and through the panoramic canopy the three
of them were seized with dread. The flight deck was swimming in
black demons, shrieking and churning in waves of grotesque beings
leaping in vain at the Warhammer and clawing at each other.
     "Where did they all come from?" Frederic growled as he eased
the nose of the Warhammer upwards, swinging the craft portside for
a better view. The cockpit--and no doubt the entire cabin--
shuddered with the trajectory of their ascent.
     "They used access corridors, climbed up the walls, punched
through the floor," Magellan answered soberly. "They use whatever
means necessary to try and kill us."
     Suddenly the Warhammer lurched, causing Magellan to brace
himself against the pilot's console. Behind him, Venus gave an
unexpected squeak of surprise in nearly being thrown across the
cockpit. They had changed their course heading, now circling closer
to the castle.
     Magellan's eyes widened as the demon-infested flight deck came
even closer into view. "Frederic, what the hell are you doing?" he
exclaimed.
     Frederic's eyes were narrowed and chillingly calm as he
reached over with one hand and flipped a few switches. One of the
displays came on: the weapons systems had been activated. "Giving
them a send-off," he answered. 
     He gripped the control stick, index finger wrapping around the
trigger. Frederic hesitated, waiting only momentarily to hear an
objection from Magellan. Nothing was given.
     A vicious smile pulled at Frederic's mouth. "Warmest personal
regards from King Arthur," he snarled, and pulled the trigger
mechanism.
     From a chamber saturated with reserve magik deep within the
Warhammer, the primary weapons went hot and fired. It was like
watching neon missiles shoot across the sky, leaving a trail of
scorched air behind them. Volley after volley struck the ranks of
youma, detonating instantly. Explosions the colour of electric blue
rose up all over the flight deck, navy fireballs throwing demons in
every direction. Those beasts who weren't instantly vaporized were
cast into each other or sent hurling over the edge where they
plunged to their deaths.
     A loud, muffled cheer sounded from the ship's belly as the
soldiers watched and applauded.
     All too quickly the magik of the reserve weapons was drained.
Frederic didn't seem to care. Without saying another word, he swung
the Warhammer back around to its original setting and then began to
ascend. The last of Camelot's lofty towers and spires were left
behind, blue skies and billowing clouds now surrounding them.
     Magellan let out an audible sigh of relief, one echoed by
Venus. She reverted out of her fuku and became Myung once more. As
much as he wanted to flop out in the co-pilot's chair, Magellan
knew there was another place he wanted to be: by her side.
     Excalibur was dropped onto the floor. The Aroth Armour sensed
his desire to be free and retracted from his body, the few small
plates falling at his feet. He was still sweaty, covered in dirt
and demon ichor, but that didn't stop him from wrapping Myung into
his arms. Magellan inhaled her scent, losing himself in her warmth
and touch.
     "I was afraid I'd lost you out there," he confided in a
whisper.
     Myung kissed him. "No matter what happens, I'll always be
close to you, Magellan. Now and forever."
     Magellan smiled and nodded. He turned his head back to the
pilot's chair. "Let's get the hell out of here, Frederic."
     "Any particular place?" Frederic inquired, cracking his
knuckles.
     Magellan found himself drawn back to Myung's gentle eyes.
"Home, Frederic. To Vlatmere."
     Deliberately ignoring the kissing session going on behind him,
Frederic laid in the new coordinates and primed the ship's engines.
Thankfully they'd had the foresight to leave the people who were
the Warhammer's living engines out of combat, waiting in the ship
on standby. As a result their engines weren't already exhausted.
Getting to Vlatmere, even with as heavy a load of people as they
did, would be easy.
     Frederic managed a wry grin, glancing back at Magellan and
Myung. "Please have your seatbacks and tray tables in their full,
upright positions, and hang on," he warned them.
     The Warhammer's engines fired.
     And the survivors of the battle left Camelot far behind them.


     Blood ran down his side, a useless stump where his right arm
had once been. The Raithe grimaced through the pain, forcing back
the urge to reattach the limb through (what was to him) a simple
exercise in magik. His eyes flashed in light, the starry heavens
trapped within lost in a momentary supernova.
     Suddenly the moon's surface broke apart, shattered fragments
of rock ripped from the lunar orb and sent hurling towards the Dark
Messiah. Mistress 9 slammed the blade of her glaive into the
ground, erecting a barrier shield. Stones pelted a radiant and
pulsating wall of magik, dashing themselves to dust.
     And then the Raithe was abruptly standing behind her.
     Mistress 9 whirled in sensing his presence, and received a
strike against the cheek from his shakujyo. She stumbled sideways,
nearly losing her hold on the Silence Glaive. The Auroran memories
buried deep within her mind gave her the chance to recover and
right her stance. She swung the glaive around, jabbing it at the
Raithe's face. 
     The Messiah of Silence moved blindingly fast.
     The Raithe moved faster, jerking his head aside as the blade
harmlessly cut the air beside him. Despite having only one arm, he
swung his ringed staff and pushed aside the glaive's polearm before
ramming its base into Mistress 9's chest. She gasped and was forced
back.
     But the Raithe did not pursue taking the advantage.
     She took insult to that. "Why aren't you using your full
magik?" she snapped at the Raithe. "I can feel you holding it back.
Am I not a worthy opponent? Am I not the Dark Messiah who destroyed
Aurora?!"
     He said nothing.
     Only watching her with his cosmic eyes.
     "If you're that bent on dying," Mistress 9 spat in contempt.
"why put up a fight at all?" Violet eyes suddenly widened, and she
understood why she had been brought to the moon. She turned to face
the looming blue sphere that was called Earth. 
     Delay tactics.
     That was all he was doing.
     His entire role had been to keep her away from the war in
Camelot for as long as possible. Mistress 9's eyes looked at the
Raithe, burning with rage. Winds of dark magik made her waves of
hair dance, and the long folds of her dress billow out behind her.
"You bastard," she hissed.
     The Raithe laughed callously. He jammed his shakujyo into the
ground and then let it go. The staff was left behind as he turned
his back on the Dark Messiah and began to walk away. "So you
finally figured it out. That is the difference between us: you
think you know all the right answers...but I know how to ask all
the right questions."
     Her patience with him ended.
     Mistress 9 opened her mouth and let out a howl that ignited
the magik in the air. The lunar landscape shook violently, blackest
of space glowing violet around her form. She became lost in
shadows, the very silhouette of death, her eyes shimmering and
glaring at the Raithe's back.
     He could feel the murderous intent of the churning power
around him. She would never let him go, not now. This moon would be
his grave, and the shakujyo would mark his resting place. Lightning
blacker than night exploded from Mistress 9's body, reaching out
and carving holes and chasms and craters into the lunar realm they
walked upon. It raged around him, wanting him to run in terror, to
plead for his life, to beg forgiveness.
     But the future would be as it should.
     His successor would find her place.
     His daughter would find peace.
     And so, when the end at last came to claim him, the Raithe
didn't mind. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the fatal kiss
of the Dark Messiah's magik. The lightning found him, and ripped
him apart in seconds. There was a fraction of hellish agony before
all was lost in tranquil oblivion.
     Mistress 9 watched with gleeful satisfaction as the magik
imploded, taking the Raithe with it. She turned away, ignorant of
the deafening explosion that occurred moments later, a gale wind
sweeping the moon and causing her hair to thrash about in a
maddened frenzy.
     "So much for the Ancients," she said quietly. Malevolent
giggling echoed across a lunar world where no sound should have
ever existed. The Dark Messiah walked away and then initiated her
Sailor Teleport. She would return to Earth, to Camelot. First to
settle matters with that delectable stranger who'd somehow wielded
Excalibur.
     And then she would find this Grail.
     Pharaoh 90 would be pleased with her.




                      next eternity: elfhame



Thanks:

     To Sailor Skuld, who has always been there to ensure that I
     at last finish what the CoT: Dark Messiah trilogy began. She
     saw the potential in me about 2 years ago when she asked if
     I might help write the Messiah Wars arc, but I don't think
     either of us were ready for just how epic this has all
     become. Not that it's a bad thing....

     To Todd Foster, my Messiah Wars counterpart. A number of the
     scenes between Magellan and Myung are my own retelling of a
     story he has already created. My humblest thanks goes out to
     him for all the contributions he's made to the CoT: Infinity
     trilogy, and the patience he has shown with my drawn-out
     writing.