Marcus changed his last clip. Made sure the mind-freeing machine on him was still active. Its gentle hum was the only thing keeping him safe from Malachar's powers.
And he started running. With a limp and great exhaustion, toward where they had flown.
After a hundred yards he saw a blood trail. Dark splotches on the brown earth, leading into the forest. His bullets had found their mark.
He entered the woods ahead. Branches scratched his face. Smoke drifted through the trees from the distant battlefield. The sounds of war were muffled here, replaced by the crunch of leaves beneath his feet.
He saw the bird-like creature on the ground, changing its shape back to a man. Dying. Its blood pooled around it as its form flickered between shapes.
Marcus kept moving. He heard crackling ahead. Saw a shadow moving between the trees.
"It is over Victor!" He shouted. "STOP!"
Marcus finally noticed Malachar trying to run on foot. The dark lord was limping badly. His robes were torn. His face was twisted with pain and fury.
Marcus shot toward his general direction. Some bullets hit trees behind him. Some ahead. Malachar instinctively covered his head and fell to the ground.
Marcus finally caught up to him.
For the first time in centuries, the dark lord looked afraid.
"Your days of playing dark lord are over."
He breathed heavily. His body screamed with pain. But his voice was steady.
"Stay down Victor." Marcus said, rifle aimed at the tyrant's head. "Victor Aguillon. Betrayer of Ephus."
Malachar's face twisted with hate. "That name means nothing. You should have died. You ruined everything."
Marcus turned, showing the fire and ash cloud rising from the battlefield. "Really? I ruined? Look at your legacy. Other than ruin and the minds you stole, what did you leave behind?"
"Shut up!" Malachar tried to rise. Marcus pushed him back down with his boot. "I was going to become a god. With the help of all those worlds."
"Don't try anything. Or I will shoot you." Marcus looked back, hoping his friends would come to help apprehend him.
"How the hell are you here again?" Malachar demanded. "Is this your other body?"
"How am I here, huh?" Marcus laughed. Bitter. Triumphant. He pulled out his phone. Looked at it. By some miracle it still had battery and wasn't crushed. He opened the screen and turned the image to Malachar.
"Thanks to Jean-Pierre of course. Remember him? The engineer you worked with? The one who figured out what you really were?"
He saw how Malachar's face changed. Even in that moment, he managed to look even more spiteful.
"Oh. One other thing he did..." Marcus pretended to think. "Hmm. What was it?"
The photo showed an old man in a prison interview room. A man who had died decades ago, but whose words reached across time.
"He killed your Earth body. Burned your notes. Spent his life making sure you could never return." Marcus stepped closer. "But he kept records. Testimonies. Everything needed to build what you started."
"Impossible." Malachar's voice shook. "That machine took me decades to perfect..."
"Maybe here but over there he had that time too. He knew every piece. And once I figured out what was powering it, defying reality..." Marcus smiled grimly. "Did you really think you were the only genius in that partnership?"
Malachar's composure shattered.
He lunged. Magic crackled around his hands. Raw power, no subtlety. The mind-control might be neutralized, but he was still a mage of immense power.
"You're NOTHING!" Malachar hurled lightning. "A peasant! A CHILD!"
Marcus dove. The lightning scorched the tree behind him. He rolled, came up with his rifle aimed.
"And once you lost to a kid from Bordeaux. And once again lost to a kid from Millhaven."
Malachar's face went purple with rage. He gathered more power. But he was wounded. Exhausted. His magic sputtered and flickered.
"Even if you kill me," Malachar hissed, "another will rise. The seeds call to those with ambition. Someone will always answer."
"Maybe. But it won't be you."
The hatred in Malachar's eyes was piercing. It cut through Marcus like a blade. But Marcus didn't want to shoot him in cold blood. He wanted justice. A trial. A proper end.
Crackling sounds came from behind.
Marcus quickly looked back and saw Tom and Commander Cain running toward them. Relief flooded through him.
"Marcus! Are you alright brother?" Tom asked.
"I am." Marcus kept his rifle trained on Malachar. "Come here. Tie him up. We need to finish the war. They will surrender once they see he is captured."
Commander Cain walked up to Malachar. "Kid, I can't believe it. You did it. You are a genius after all." He turned to Malachar. "All the violence you started ends today."
Tom and Commander Cain tied Malachar's hands and stuffed his mouth with cloth. The dark lord's eyes burned with impotent fury. But he was helpless now. Just an old man in torn robes.
They started walking back toward the battlefield. Toward his elites.
"Marcus... congratulations. But Han..." Tom was trying his hardest to hold back his tears. "Han died. Trying to protect me."
His giant ball of joy cousin looked devastated. Marcus was seeing him cry for the first time. The big man's shoulders shook.
Marcus hugged his cousin. He didn't know what to say. There were no words for this.
Han the Iron Eater. The man who had laughed while facing death. Gone.
"He died a hero." Marcus finally said. "He died free."
Tom nodded. Wiped his face. Straightened his shoulders.
Commander Cain started shouting as they approached the remnants of the battle. "MALACHAR IS DOWN! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! STOP YOUR MAGIC!"
He kept shouting. A handful of elites were still fighting. But when they saw Malachar tied up, gagged, being dragged like a common criminal...
Some dropped to their knees.
Some tried to run away.
Some simply stared in disbelief.
But one thing was certain.
They had won.
Valdris had won.
Ephus had won.
Marcus looked at the sky. Smoke still rose from the battlefield. The dead still needed to be buried. The wounded still needed healing.
But for the first time in what felt like forever, there was hope.
Real hope.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt a flicker of something else. His counterpart, on Earth, holding the woman he loved.
Both of them had survived.
Both of them had won their battles.
For tonight, that was enough.
Marcus turned back to his friends. His family of choice. Sara, Aldric, Palwin, Tom.
They had done it.
Against all odds, they had saved the world.
And now, finally, they could rest.
