Chapter XXXIV: When All Else Fails, Throw a Taru

The demon host which had appeared in the skies over Windurst so many weeks before had been met with far more resistance than they had ever anticipated. From the very moment the gateway separating the waking world from Dynamis was breached, allowing the Vanguard and the Kindred through the doorway, the people of Windurst had fought. With so many attuned to the forces of magic, they had not been able to take the populace by surprise and overwhelm them before any counterattack could be mustered, as they did in San d’Oria, Bastok, Selbina, Mhaura, and Jeuno. The Tarutaru and Mithra which made up the majority of the Federation sensed their peril, and were able to hold the invaders at bay while a hasty retreat was organized into the most guarded spot in the entirety of the city. With the awesome powers at their disposal, Star Sibyl and her mages had erected a barrier of pure magic, one which no force borne of light or shadow could penetrate.

As the hours turned to days, and the days to weeks, the flaw in their salvation became evident. Demons never tire.

The magical energies of Windurst were vast, but not infinite. Kept at a relentless rotation to ensure that the barrier was up at all times, the sorcerers whom were responsible for Windurst’s protection found that their power eventually began to wane, while the monsters outside never let up. Their impenetrable barrier had only put them in the eye of the storm.

As Tyrian stared at the demons charging forward, it became all too clear that the hurricane was finally blowing through.

He felt a jarring blow to his side, and toppled again to the ground as directly over his head; demons without number dived low, swooping down from the air to penetrate directly into the tower. The archer turned his head, too dumbfounded to even speak, and realized Sinti had knocked him over, even as she clutched at him to keep the both of them down as the monstrosities swarmed the battlefield.

“Not again,” she whispered, clinging to the Ranger, “please, not again.”

Dirt struck Tyrian in the face as a set of clawed feet scraped up the ground in front of him. The demons had landed.


Titania struggled to reach her crossbow, firing blindly into the air as she stumbled as best she could into the narrow crook of a doorway. Panting, shock coursing through her veins, she struggled to grasp what had just occurred. So weakened had the mages upholding the barrier been that when the demons concentrated their cry into a single overpowering surge they had been helpless before it, and in that moment, the concentration of scores was broken. Heaven’s Tower was now as vulnerable as a newborn infant placed in front of a charging Bugard. Titania’s mind reeled as she tried to comprehend that she was witnessing the end.

Then, just in front of her, a dark shape flitted by, and she gasped as a pair of hands snatched the front of her tunic, dragging her down. Her jaw rattled as she struck the ground, but she regained clarity quickly as a familiar face materialized in front of her.

“Get inside!” Kaita ordered, pushing Titania towards the slim doorway she had been hiding in front of. “Find a window and shoot at everything flying!”

“But- but – “ Titania froze, trying to form words. Try as she might, her tongue failed her at every attempt.

“Titania,” Kaita called out as she leaped back to her feet, drawing out her own weapon, “this is our last stand. Go down fighting.”

“Kaita, wait!” the Ranger tried to call after her, but it was too late. Kaita vanished, swinging her scythe into the swelling horde.

Behind her, the door opened a creak, knocked free by Titania’s impact with it after Kaita shoved her. Inside, Heaven’s Tower spiraled upwards, panicked Tarutaru running to and fro as they sought to maintain some form of defense. The air was filled with the sound of battle from every direction. Massive booms and bursts of light marked the use of fearsome arcane powers, brief bursts of wind blew from the beating wings of the demons, or the arrows filling the sky. Steel met steel, as the tireless demons met the exhausted defenders of Windurst. Overpowered, outmatched, they all were beginning to understand. This was the end.

Titania could no longer see Kaita, the Dark Knight’s form lost amongst countless other blackened shapes darting by. In the distance, the strange, dark army of Yagudo which had appeared with the demons began their advance, closing in on the open and vulnerable gates of Heaven’s Tower. No one she saw seemed familiar, and everywhere in front of her, a demon’s gaping maw seemed ready to lunge forward. For a moment, just an instant, Titania faltered, and the sting of bitter tears burned her eyes.

Then the rage struck, and the heat which filled her turned tears to smoke as she clutched her crossbow, fanged teeth bared in the moonlight as demons howled all around her. Before she even knew what she was doing, she found herself bounding up the stairs of the tower, halting as she found a window staring out at the field below. All around Heaven’s Tower, the thin line of Windurst’s defenders stood holding their ground, railing against the unstoppable tide, meeting their deaths head on.

A demon let its wings go slack, diving towards one of the Mithra on the front lines, a curved blade outstretched toward its intended target. Titania’s bolt was a whisper on the breeze as it struck between the creature’s eyes, shredding its skull in an instant.

Titania let another bolt fly, then another, her precision impeccable. Her single attack was joined by others, then still more, and from all directions death rained down upon the demons. It would not be enough, it would hardly even matter, with the numbers their foes had before them, but it would never be said that Windurst went down without a fight.

“And Altana will know,” Titania said to herself, her bolt finding a home in the throat of another target, “I did beat Tyrian in the end.”

The situation on the ground was in shambles. Even as they struggled against the demons in the air, the implacable second wave of the Yagudo came forward. They were stony and emotionless, and glowing statues carved in rough images of the beastmen were surrounded by rank after rank of the gray-feathered monsters. The ancient texts regarding the Nightmare World described the shadow-spawned echoes of the real world’s beastmen as the Vanguard. Today, as they cleared a path into the last bit of Windurst’s resistance for their demon masters, they earned that title.

Meowolf roared with fury as he tore into their ranks, smashing one in the face with his shield even as he skewered another on the end of his mighty sword. The weapons and armor provided by the Windurstians had been just barely adequate, but in the hands of a man like Meowolf, even the basest of defenses could be turned into something remarkable. Further and further the Vanguard moved past him as he stood rooted to the spot before the main gates of Heaven’s Tower, a stone attempting to split the ocean. The endless horde pressed forward, barely even noticing his presence.

Where Meowolf stood like a rock in a storm, Klades was a hummingbird, the flashes of his sword the only indication of where he was. His feet had yet to touch the ground since his initial attack after diving toward the oncoming foes; he simply propelled himself from one Vanguard Yagudo to the next, his path marked by a stream of corpses. The Onion Samurai bounded from target to target before any had the chance to react to his fluid attacks. The Vanguard only continued charging over the bodies of those he struck down, not even noticing the decrease in numbers. Heaven’s Tower was in their grasp, a gnat biting the body of a dragon was of no consequence.

Dieggo, the forces under his command marshaled for their final act, arched his scythe upwards, gutting a Yagudo as it drew near to the gate. The unit the Captain commanded was now wading in corpses, the blood of Vanguard and Tarutaru alike making the ground slick as they fought on. His soldiers, his comrades, they were brave, and stronger than anyone outside of Windurst could know. For every step the dark Yagudo took towards the final gateway barring them from the tower, they paid for it with carnage unheard of. As the magic users concentrated on the statues on the ground, and the Mithra took on the demons in the air, it was the few true soldiers of Windurst that stood against the Vanguard, to protect Heaven’s Tower to the last.

They would meet their end this day, Dieggo knew, but he budged not an inch, even as the Vanguard forced him back another step towards the gate, his unit faltering around him. Windurst would fight down to the last man, and when the demons finally won, when they had finally exterminated all resistance, they would have naught but a smoking ruin to mark their victory.

Tyrian cried out as his arm was slashed open by demonic steel, but with an animal cry, he retaliated, plunging the knife in his hand through the throat of his assailant. Twisting around, he threw his weapon backwards, drawing and nocking an arrow in the same breath as he let it fly, a demon touching down on the ground only to be taken in the back as the projectile embedded itself between its wings. Without missing a beat, Tyrian reached backwards, not taking his eyes off of the foes in front of him, and tore the knife he had thrown out of the chest of the demon it had landed it. Sinti hung on to his arm, healing magic sealing his wound as the two of them both tried to retreat into the tower together.

“That damn demon blood can’t get through enchanted weapons,” he observed, sheathing the knife he had obtained here in Windurst, while inwardly bemoaning not discovering the acidic property of the demon’s blood in time to save his other dagger.

“We’re almost to the gate,” Sinti yelled at him, trying to overcome the din of battle, “I can see it up ahead!”

Tyrian kept pace as she tugged at his arm, urging the two of them forward. From the side, another demon swooped forward, his blade narrowly missing the Ranger, but his claws taking a shred out of the front of Tyrian’s jerkin. In a flash, Tyrian loosed an arrow, but it missed its intended mark as the demon took to the air in a spiral. He heard Sinti cry out, and shielded his eyes when he turned to see her instinctively release a blast of Holy magic at a demon which had touched down in front of her, roaring for her blood. It cried out as the energy melted away its flesh, a hissing steam of bubbling gore forming where it had been.

With a swing of his sinewy arm, Tyrian swung Sinti around, taking the lead in running for the gate. There would be no protection in Heaven’s Tower, he knew, not for long anyway, but if there were to be any chance that they could die well, it would be in there, fighting, not exposed and in the open where any random demon might cut them down from the air before they ever saw it coming.

Tyrian almost didn’t realize what happened at first when he lost his grip on Sinti. He turned just in time to see the demon strike the ground in between them, separating their grip on one another. Before he could react, it struck him with the butt of its polearm, knocking him to the ground with a trail of blood in the air behind him. With a hiss in the guttural demon language, it rounded on Sinti with the bladed end. She cried out as behind her, more demons touched down, surrounding her in an instant.

Behind Tyrian, only a few yards away, lay the main gate. He could see Captain Dieggo close by, standing atop a pile of the Vanguard, raised so high that he could strike the attackers in the face. That way lay safety, his brain screamed at him, and this is the only chance to take it.

Sinti screamed, and Tyrian’s knife was in his hands before he even knew he had drawn it.

A demon behind the Mithran White Mage choked as the blade sank in its throat up to the hilt, an action just violent enough to garner the attention of the others. Turning around was the mistake most of them made, as the volley of arrows which flew from Tyrian’s bow plunged deep into their widening eyes. The Ranger plucked his bow like a harp, arms a blur of motion as each note rang out a death knell for a demonic target. The Kindred surrounding Sinti melted away to naught but heaps on the ground, and the Ranger grabbed the Mithra by the hand, pulling her close. Her side was bleeding, her robes slashed open by the demons, but she was conscious, and seemed not to be gravely wounded.

“You should have gone,” Sinti told him, wincing against the pain, “you could have made it.”

“Not without you,” he told her, drawing her near. Supporting her weight, he pulled her onwards. If there were a way he could ensure her safety, if there were any way to make certain that Sinti survived this battle, then Tyrian would happily kiss Death’s lips in exchange.

Klades somersaulted to the ground, a trail of blood following him as he righted himself. The back of his armor had been torn open, and a deep gash marked him where he had been too slow, or perhaps where the Vanguard had been too many. The unrelenting tide had forced him back, and though the demons avoided the aura he radiated, it seemed the Vanguard were not bothered by it in the least. Grasping the hilt of his blade in both hands, he shuffled back, away from his advancing foes, trying desperately to come up with a new plan.

He looked out and saw only an endless army of shadow Yagudo stretched out before him. He had lost track of all his companions, only the ring of combat nearby letting him know that they even still existed. Gritting his teeth, he cast aside the shattered armor, standing bare-chested with his blade in front of him as the Vanguard came down on him.

“Here’s my plan,” he shouted at the Vanguard, “fuck you guys!”

The blade was weightless to him now after so many years of practice. The endless days spent training in the shadow of Ifrit’s Cauldron in his youth, life in the jungle, the time when his existence had been a fight for survival before he had ever heard of Rykoshet or Those Guys, they culminated in this moment. Klades, the storied tamer of the mandragora, the Onion Samurai, knew he was rushing forward into his death. He also knew that everything he had ever been had driven him towards this moment.

With an arc of the blade he felt bone and flesh tear and snap, and he focused his energy into the weapon to release a graceful Tachi: Jinpu strike, an intermediate technique which served his purposes for the time being. He whirlwinded around, a haze of claws and weapons striking off the swirling blade, cutting down those it came in contact with. A lucky shot behind him and he felt his shoulder almost give out, recoiling as he saw blood streaming down his arm. Klades growled audibly, lashing out again, and then with a pounce he was once more in the air.

His mind clear and focused, he became the wind, slicing across the advancing Yagudo ranks as they tightened around Heaven’s Tower. He knew that for all he laid low here at the main gate, there were thousands more all around the enormous tree, that his efforts would not make a difference. He thought of the jungle, of the laws of survival he had learned, and nothing else seemed to matter.

Live, his mind told him. Live as long as you can, fight as hard as you must, your life is all you have. Let no one take it from you without understanding its value. Those were the rules the Onion Samurai had lived by, and on this moonlit battlefield around the center of Vana’diel’s magic, he would die by it as well.

When his leg was hit, he knew his moment was coming. As soon as he hit the ground he went down to one knee, only a burst of chi coordinated with his sword striking out keeping him from being ground under foot immediately. He was bleeding right above his knee, his left leg trembling as the muscles began losing fuel. Favoring his right, he pushed backwards, giving himself a few feet to work with, but they disappeared as quickly as he gained them as the Yagudo surged forward. It seemed no matter how fast he slashed his katana, they refused to be delayed. Klades drew his blade back and pushed out with all his might, a leaping slash of exploding energy, the Tachi: Gekko maneuver which had sliced into Tiamat herself. The Vanguard in front of him crumbled, but as he came back down to the ground his left leg buckled, and more Yagudo simply marched over the ones he had killed. He saw a flash of steel in the moonlight, and all the moments of his life came rushing towards him at once.

They were halted by the ringing of steel on steel, and a dark figure bursting past him from behind. A scythe carved the night air, cleaving with such ferocity that the blood from the Vanguard formed a haze around him. Before he could react, the figure had grabbed him by the arm, shuttling him out of harm’s way just as a barrage of weapons tore apart the ground where he had just been. There was another flash of light, and a Yagudo charging towards him was flung backwards, stunned by a volley of dark magic. Klades looked up, and saw the Star Sibyl’s bodyguard, Kaita, standing over him. Her black armor was wet with blood, staining her practically from head to toe, her scythe soaked in the remnants of her enemies.

“You fight too well to die just yet,” Kaita told him. “A few minutes from now, who knows, but this moment is not yours.”

Klades said nothing as he lurched to his feet, fighting past the trembling in his left leg. He stood side by side with the Dark Knight, both of their weapons extended to the fore. Perhaps he was rushing towards that moment, the climax of all moments before it, but Kaita was right. In this moment, he still had time left to live.

Meowolf felt a tap against his back, and, horrified, realized what he had encountered.

The main gate of Heaven’s Tower was pressing up against him. The Vanguard had pressed them up to the gate itself. The impossibly brave fighting men and women of Windurst had made them pay for every inch of ground they had gained, but now they were at the end. The circle was closing fast, and Heaven’s Tower would soon find itself crushed by the host surrounding it.

Meowolf’s shield, dented and slashed, crushed the ribcage of a Vanguard Yagudo as it rushed him, and the Galka tossed the body aside like garbage as he roared, slashing again with his bloodied sword at the ones seeking to overpower him. Blades and claws bit at him like insects, but the Paladin barely felt them as he stood his ground, refusing to let anything else pass. Lightning and fire rained from the sky as the mages within the tower did their best to help those on the ground, but the weakening of Windurst’s magical forces by the barrier left the attacks with much to be desired. Meowolf began to wonder if that was the reason the demons had allowed it to stay up so long in the first place.

Even as he considered the demons strategy, one flew at him, a dark mass of horns and claws with murderous intent clear. Meowolf gave a shout as he swung his shield up to meet it, batting it out of the air and sending it smashing with concussing force into the gate behind him. It ricocheted off the portal to the ground, and there, with eyes blazing, Meowolf stepped down on its throat, crushing it beneath his heel. He stood on the dying demon, bracing himself against it as he fought off its companions. They were simply everywhere, in every direction. Meowolf became convinced; they had never used the cry which had finally disrupted the barrier because if they had tried it earlier, Windurst’s mages would still be strong enough to drive them back and erect another. Now, there just wasn’t any magic left.

The Paladin’s jolt of realization hit him so hard he almost lost his footing.

“Dieggo!” he roared, shouting for the diminuitive Captain of the forces guarding the main gate. “Dieggo, where are you!”

“Here!” came a voice so small that it barely reached his ears over the roar of battle, but one which filled Meowolf with relief nonetheless.

“Captain, the room where we just came from,” he shouted, “does the teleporter we came out of lead right back into it as well?”

“What?!” Dieggo cried out, a wave of black energy sweeping from his scythe as he cut down another of the Vanguard. “What does –“

“Please, Dieggo, yes or no!” Time was running thin, and Meowolf had one desperate gamble to play out. Shantotto’s words rang in his ears.

“At this point, Samurai, we’ll be dead tomorrow either way. What’s the difference if we hasten things by a day?”

There would be no point in not trying. He was willing to risk it.

“Yes!” Dieggo finally shouted back, the Vanguard so close to them now that Meowolf could no longer even see him. “It will take you right back where we came from!”

“I need you to hold this gate!” the Paladin commanded, “and when I come back out of it, you order everybody back inside!”

“WHAT?!” the Tarutaru shouted back, confused and furious at the demand.

“This is for all of us, Dieggo! If you trust me, if you believe that I will never let what happened to me happen to anybody else, you will do this for me! Can you hold the gate?”

There was a long moment where he heard only the clash of the Windurstian’s crumbling defenses being overpowered by the roars of the Vanguard crushing down upon them. For a moment, Meowolf was afraid the Captain had been swarmed over.

“YES!” the shouted response cut through the air, “but we can last only a few more minutes! Whatever you’re doing, do it now!”

“You have my word!” And with that, Meowolf was gone.

He literally crashed through the gates, careening down the hallway past shrieking Tarutaru inside who thought they were hearing the demons breaking in. The magical transporters interwoven throughout Heaven’s Tower to make navigating the colossal structure possible were situated in front of him. Dashing towards the wall where they were lined up, he stopped at the one which had ejected he, Dieggo, and Klades after the Captain had come to warn them the barrier had fallen. He stopped to catch his breath . . .

. . . and before he could even inhale, he found his surroundings changed. The world had shifted around him, and for a moment it had felt like his whole body had ceased to be, then come back again. He shuddered, then hobbled forward, gasping as he escaped the magic field of the teleporter. Startled, he realized he was where he needed to be. Tearing open the door, he barged in on a once-again shocked Doctor Shantotto.

“Haven’t you people ever heard of knocking?!” she demanded, picking herself up off of the floor. “Is this where all the people raised in barns have been flocking?”

“Why aren’t you out on the battlefield?” Meowolf demanded, immediately realizing that her presence here was exactly what he needed, but still outraged that she was not with her fellow Windurstians as they gave their lives for her safety.

“You ignoramus, don’t shout at me! There are forces at work you can’t possibly see! I can’t leave this room until Yasuchika is ready to go; I miss even a heartbeat and this wizard will blow!”

“When you say blow – “ Meowolf began.

“Expulsion! Cleansing! Call it what you will! All the magic he’s built up will burst from the till!”

“So he won’t actually explode?”

“That won’t really matter when these forces get out!” Shantotto yelled at him, furious. “This room, this tree, all of Windurst will pay for your doubt!”

“I don’t doubt you for a second, Doctor,” Meowolf said, and as the shocked sorceress gasped, he snatched Yasuchika off of the marble bier he was laying outstretched on. “I need you to break the curse. Now.”

“I’m not ready!” she shrieked, “Can’t you hear what I’m saying!? Has your brain been – “

“There’s no time!!” Meowolf roared, practically knocking Shantotto off of her feet. “When the curse is lifted, how long will I have before Yasuchika lets it all out?”

Clearly startled by the Galka’s bellow, and visibly cowed, Shantotto dusted off her robes, adjusting the spectacles on her face. With a sigh, she shook her head, tapping her foot on the ground. “With the end so close to begin with, I guess there’s no reason to spare any strife. I can break the curse now, if you’re ready to face the last seconds of your life.”

“They’re all I’ll need,” Meowolf assured her. She stared up at the enormous Paladin’s face, peering deep within his eyes, and then gave a single nod.

Shantotto’s hands began to glow, and from the ground, a wind rose up and whipped at her cloak. A gleam overtook her eyes, and soon her entire body pulsated with a magical light that tendriled outwards, latching on to Yasuchika in Meowolf’s cradled arms. Both Doctor and patient jolted, Shantotto intoning her words in a voice amplified by her magic so that it reverberated endlessly.

“The curse drawn here, let now be lifted; evil scattered, bring light to the gifted! Mark of the demon carved here in flesh, begone from this realm, grant the soul a refresh! All trace of evil, I command you to vanish! Hear my word and obey – curse, you I BANISH!”

There was a sound like lightning crackling and a thunderous boom. Underneath it, the sound of a demon’s howl faded like a zephyr, and Meowolf could feel the evil presence in the room as it vanished, fading to nothing under the power of Shantotto’s countercurse.

The same Shantotto who was now fearfully backed up against the wall, her eyes fixated on Yasuchika.

In Meowolf’s hands, he had begun glowing. The glow became a shine, and then, almost immediately, surges of lightning began to dance around his inert form. There was a sound, and then a burst, and then a roar as Yasuchika’s body began emanating so much raw magic that Meowolf had trouble even keeping a grip on him. He had only moments left, and a promise to keep.

He didn’t miss a step this time as he rematerialized on the other end of the transporter, charging with single-minded purpose towards the same gates he had come through minutes earlier. He could see the remnants of Deiggo’s company now fighting in the hall, the demons at the gate, Yasuchika’s body now screeching in his hand as it poured forth a glow which had turned from white to green to orange to gold, and was so bright that it filled the room as soon as he had appeared in it. The Tarutaru’s body was so hot now that Meowolf could feel is skin burning through his armor, but he pressed forward, no other thought in his body.

He effortlessly leaped through the gate and crashed into the Vanguard horde encroaching it. He gave no warning to others, only hoped that Dieggo had seen him, and remembered to give the order to clear out. Then, as the sound of repressed magic boiling over reached the point where it drowned out all the other noises from the battle, Meowolf gripped Yasuchika tightly around the waist, and with all the strength he had in him, hurled the Tarutaru as high into the air as he could.

Klades gasped as he turned his head to see what looked like a star coming out of the ground and burning its way into the sky. Kaita, for the first time, stopped fighting, looking up in utter amazement.

Titania lowered her crossbow, shielding her eyes against the glow of what she saw through the window of Heaven’s Tower. It was climbing higher and higher, gradually slowing down as it reached up into the night.

Tyrian turned his gaze away from where he stood perched over Sinti, jaw going slack as he looked on, all other thoughts erased from his mind as what he saw touched the sky.

Yasuchika stopped in the air, having reached the apex of Meowolf’s throw. So powerful was the Galka’s heave, so strong were the magics propelling the small Tarutaru, that Heaven’s Tower, the battlefield, all of Windurst were now clearly visible from the height he had reached.

There was stillness as encompassing as the grave on the ground below.

Yasuchika’s eyes flew open, and for the first time in a month, he gasped. And a new sun was born in Windurst.

The magical energy pent up inside Yasuchika’s small body flared outwards, overwriting the night with its intensity. The stars faded and the moon vanished in the face of such awe-inspiring light, and the thunder was put to shame by the sounds which it brought forth. Like a star going nova, magical energy illuminated the sky, blinding all those who attempted to look at it. It burned, hotter than hot, sweeping out, pulsing downwards and outwards as the dam which had been building all this time finally broke. Fire and lightning scoured the ground as the winds blasted down, tornadoes sweeping through the city. Waterspouts burst up from the sea, and explosions of fire and light rocked through the Vanguard ranks. The air crystallized into spears of ice which rained down upon the Kindred, batting them from the sky, frozen chunks of demon shattering against the ground, which quaked and heaved, swallowing those attempting to run.

Meowolf stared up at it, watching as it overtook him. The world went white as the light swept over him. For a moment, there was a dark blur of motion in the midst of the explosion, and then, he could no longer breathe.

Inside Heaven’s Tower, the enchantments which kept the tree safe from magical harm were stretched to their limit, the masses barricaded inside by order of Captain Dieggo huddled inside as light too powerful to be blocked out by sealing the portals swept in through every crevice, illuminating the tower such as it had never been before. The entire tree was glowing from the inside out. The Windurstians shrieked in terror, not knowing what was happening, not knowing what to do. Their fear was a far better fate than those outside.

The demon hordes broke, terror and survival instincts overtaking them as the light from above smote them down. The Vanguard perished by the thousands, torn apart by the elemental rage the explosion had triggered. The animated statues trembled as the light touched them, cracks appearing in their surface before they simply burst, the magical energies within them which fed the Vanguard their power spreading to the winds. Frightened and confused, their numbers dropping by the second, the Vanguard army ran from the light in the sky above, away from Heaven’s Tower, towards the outskirts of Windurst itself.

The host of Dynamis was in full retreat.

Gradually, the light died down, and slowly the people of Windurst rose from their positions of fear, drawn by curiosity when the sounds of the demons ceased. None took notice of Doctor Shantotto as she flew by them, rushing up a stairwell towards a window.

She flung it open, hurling out her hand at a singular shape in the distance which hurtled down towards the ground.

“Tractor!” the Doctor shouted, and far away, a burst of magic hit a severely weakened Tarutaru body which had been helplessly plummeting down.

Yasuchika did not know where he was, or understand what had just happened. He did not know why Doctor Shantotto, that crazy witch woman, was peering over him, or why he was lying down to begin with. Furthermore, if he were lying down, why was he clearly on a wooden floor and not in a bed? And where was everybody else? All of these questions sprang to his mind, but when he opened his mouth, all he could say was-

“Wasn’t I fighting a dragon?”

Shantotto’s laugh echoed through the tree as Yasuchika blacked out.

Outside, the Windurstians emerged from Heaven’s Tower with marvel sweeping over them. The demons were but shadows on the horizon, and the Vanguard had fled entirely. Tyrian blinked the spots from his eyes as he strained to make out the retreating monsters, but the sight of the explosion had made even the full moon overhead hard to make out. Sinti, her side bandaged, strode up next to him, wordlessly amazed as much as he.

“No,” Tyrian heard behind him, and turned just in time to see Klades rush past, stumbling for some reason. “No!” the Samurai shouted again.

“What – what happened – “

“Where did they . . . “

“Was it . . . Karaha-Baruha?”

“They’re gone – they’re running away!”

“We won! We won!”

The voices of shock and amazement swelling to a fever pitch from the people of Windurst quickly rose to drown out the cries of one man.

Tyrian rushed to Klades as saw him collapse on the bridge in front of the tower, which barely still stood. The Samurai threw his arms towards the sky, giving a primal scream of anger and frustration as he pounded his fists helplessly against the splintered wooden construct.

“Klades, Klades!” Tyrian called, panicked as he knelt down beside the Samurai, “What is it? We won, Klades! The demons – “

“It was Meowolf,” Klades responded, a tear rolling through his dirt-and-blood caked cheek. “I saw him, when I was trying to force them back out from the gate, he ran by me. Whatever that was, he was carrying it, he threw it, and when the light came . . . “

Klades choked back a sob, and Tyrian realized what he meant. Everything that had been consumed by the light had been destroyed. Whatever secret salvation the Windurstians had dredged up, Meowolf had paid the ultimate price for activating it. Tyrian closed his eyes, a lump forming in his throat as he felt Sinti burrow into his side, her wailing sobs muffled only barely by his shredded raiment. He placed a hand on Klades shoulder, and all three bowed their heads, sorrow clawing at them even in the midst of such celebration.

Tyrian’s eyes suddenly snapped open as he felt something through his connection to nature, and with a gasp, he saw a head crest the surface of the water beneath them.

Kaita gasped as she breached the surface, struggling to fill her oxygen-deprived lungs. Klades, Tyrian, and Sinti watched with stunned amazement as, after taking a breath, she dove back under, emerging a second later with another figure in tow, one far larger than her own slender frame.

“I don’t – no way!” Klades exclaimed. He stood still for only a moment before diving bodily into the water, slicing through the surface and breaking through next to where Kaita was vainly trying to make it to dry land on her own. The Samurai grabbed the immense arm of Meowolf, his unconscious body held afloat by the Dark Knight, and began paddling for all he was worth towards the shore. Tyrian tore off his boots, and within moments was there with them.

With a yelp of surprise when Tyrian tore herself away from him, Sinti looked down into the water where he dove, and the flood of realization made her tail stand on end. She threw her heavy robe aside, and, her natural dislike of the water not even registering, dove in, cresting the surface beside Kaita and kicking her legs for all she was worth as she tried to move Meowolf’s massive form to shore.

“Why . . . does he . . . wear all this armor?” Kaita demanded, even as they started to make progress.

Two more splashes sounded behind them, and then suddenly, they found themselves moving forward. Tyrian looked back, and behind them, the both of them combined struggling to lift one of Meowolf’s legs, Titania and Dieggo had joined them. Within moments, they reached the shore. The Galka sputtered, coughing up water. Klades gave a piercing whoop, leaping into the air as laughter burst from his lips. Kaita, Titania, and Sinti, the three of them looking quite miserable at being soaking wet, could not help but join in as Tyrian turned with surprise towards the tiny form of Dieggo, crawling from the water.

“Where did the two of you come from?” He inquired.

The Captain smiled up at him, shaking the water from his hair. “We went looking for you all right away, of course,” Dieggo told him, “when Titania spotted you there in the water we realized Meowolf needed help, so here we are.”

Tyrian could only laugh. It seemed like the right thing to do.

So they laid there, soaked, wounded, and exhausted, laughing as slowly, the dawn began stretching across the horizon, and light returned to the Federation of Windurst.